Biography

Discussion

‘I’ve always been a passionate amateur photographer, my whole life long’, Maurits Binger professed in 1916. The quantity and quality of the photos Binger left behind, however, paint a somewhat different picture. Once he turned to film, he allowed his old hobby to fall to the wayside for the most part. From that moment on, he came to see photography as technically more limited and out-dated. After having worked for six years in the film profession, Binger was unable to imagine he had ever spent so much time in the past producing ‘plain still-standing photos!’ Because Binger’s photos were scarcely influenced in any way by artisanal and artistic convention, and free of any pretence, Maurits’ photos are nevertheless worth examining. On the contrary, the obvious influence of theatre and film resulted in unique shots taken by as early as 1900, foreshadowing the dynamic narrative trend found in film.

As part of his apprenticeship working at the printing company, Maurits Binger was educated in photography in Great Britain, France, and Germany. His schooling is likely to have been chiefly technical in nature. Nothing is known of possible contacts with other photographers during the time he spent abroad.

The earliest mention of Bingers’ photography dates from 1893. In this year, Meinard van Os praised several photos of glaciers taken by Binger in Switzerland, describing them as ‘very beautiful’ and ‘providing positive proof of the zealous ambition of the person who took them.’ By contrast, one ‘A. Censor’ spoke of these photos more critically. Binger himself, it appears, was also to be seen in these glacier shots, and in the opinion of the viewer, these images conveyed daredevilry more than beauty!

At an exhibition held in Haarlem in the same year, Binger submitted a beachscape. Meinard van Os praised its ‘artistic conception’. Comments of this nature, however, leave one rather at a loss, when the images being discussed are non-extant, as is unfortunately the case with this photo. Emrik & Binger published one group portrait of club members that Binger took at Nigtevecht in the Tijdschrift voor Photographie (‘Magazine of Photography’) as a collotype: a photo from which his passion for group activities in a club-like environment can be deduced.

Binger’s photo De werkstaking (‘The Work Strike’) was disseminated on a wide scale in the Tijdschrift voor Photographie in 1894. This theatrically staged scene shows a small group of men dressed as factory workers—possibly employees of Emrik & Binger—standing in a bar. The moral of this serene image could very well be that too little work in combination with an excess of alcohol can lead to violence: to the shock and revulsion of those standing around, a wounded person lies on the floor, while the perpetrator clenches his head in total despair, with the hammer still in his hand. Through the theatricality of the poses, this photo exposes social problems that were current at the time, while simultaneously defusing them. In this respect, Binger’s photo is similar to moralistic scenes devised by photographers such as Oscar Rejlander and Henry Peach Robinson, which garnered tremendous success. Like them, Binger too was inspired by poetry. De werkstaking was based on the work of Francois Coppée (1842–1908), a celebrated French poet who was well known in the Netherlands, once described by Lodewijk van Deyssel as ‘the singer of the Parisian bourgeois class and family life’. Also published was Binger’s photo In het Ketelhuis (‘In the Boiler House’), included in an album about the Internationale Tentoonstelling voor Fotografie (‘International Exhibition for Photography’) of 1895 and printed as a phototype by the ‘Steendrukkerij voorheen Amand’ (‘Lithographic Company Previously Amand’). In this case, his photo was one of the entries. The industrial character of this shot and the working ethic of the three labourers around the fire appear less posed than the photo De Werkstaking.

In the first decade of the twentieth century, Maurits Binger produced numerous portraits of young children. His daughter Nanny looks coquettishly into the camera, lifting up the edge of her dress, holding her house pets, or—when she gets older—gazing at herself in the mirror. Binger preferred to make a series of photos for these narrative genre scenes, incorporating the element of time and suggesting a sequence of events. His daughter Nanny and, in 1903, A. Peters, who later appeared as an extra in films made by Hollandia, played the leading roles in these ‘stories’. Peters posed, for instance, as a Victorian angel for sentimental shots with titles such as Prayer and I Like My Bath, as well pouting for I Don’t Want a Bath. In these shots, Binger rarely shied away from using background canvases and cardboard attributes, including a large egg.

On occasion, Binger ventured out with his camera as a veritable amateur photographer, primarily depicting festive events held in Haarlem. In 1903, he donated his photos of carriages in the flower parade to the city. Three years later, he presented the city with masquerade portraits taken at ‘chivalry parties’ organised by the Wilhelmina Committee, of which he was a board member. Binger was not the only one interested in this subject, nor was he the only one taking photos in such a frontal, unadorned style. Piet Clausing, G.A. Vernout, and other photographers also shot portraits of the inhabitants of Haarlem, donning their masquerade costumes in the years just after the turn of the century. It was Maurits’ father, Charles Binger, who began taking masquerade portrait shots a few decades earlier.

Maurits Binger devoted significant attention to the technical aspects of photography. The printing company had familiarised him with photomechanical processes, with which even his best photos were distributed. For his amateur photos, Binger typically relied on small-format daylight paper.

Binger’s public endeavours were usually related to technique. In 1894, he wrote about electric lighting in the magazine Lux. A lecture presented at the HAFC (Haarlems Amateur Fotografen Club, ‘Haarlem Amateur Photographers Club’) in 1895 addressed the topic of ‘prints of portrait shots with artificial light: a. Gas bulb light; b. Shot with Magnesium lamps; c. Lightning light.’

In 1894, Maurits Binger presented a ‘sciopticon’ lecture using glass lantern slides to the employees of the Nederlandsche Gist- en Spiritusfabriek (‘Netherlands Yeast and Spirits Factory’) in Delft. During these years, the sciopticon was a popular portable alternative to a lantern slide projector. It was the yeast factory’s director, J.C. van Marken, who took a progressive stance when it came to the living and working conditions of his employees and who had invited Binger to organise such an evening. Acquaintances from the HAFC and the AAFV (Amsterdam Amateur Fotografen Vereniging, ‘Amsterdam Amateur Photographers Association’) had assisted him with gathering the necessary material, but Binger had also produced lantern slides of the Agnetapark from negatives shot by Van Marken, who himself was an amateur photographer: ‘Following the projection of the portrait of Mr. and Mrs. v. Marken, which was very well received, a series of domestic landscapes, genre images, reproductions of paintings, as well as cityscapes of Haarlem and its environs, were projected, repeatedly alternating with several numbers played by the orchestra.’ The entire event reminds one of film screenings, which were to occur some time later.

Binger repeatedly outlined the advantages of photomechanical processes for his audiences of amateur photographers, including the unlimited number of editions, the permanence and uniformity, the wide variety of tints and dimensions obtainable, and particularly the speed and precision. Better than one’s own holiday snapshots, Maurits recommended that his audience buy the collotype prints available on the market as travel souvenirs, as they remained colourfast and vivid thanks to the printing ink used. With this propaganda, he somewhat forgot that character sometimes wins out over uniformity, no matter how technically perfected. In 1894, Maurits spoke proudly of an Emrik & Binger reproduction of a drawing by Charles Rochussen. Technique and art had approached each other very closely, when members of an artist’s society had been unable to distinguish between the reproduction and the actual drawings placed together in the same portfolio. Contrary to artworks made by hand, quality of this kind was inexpensive: ‘Without the collotype, these wonderful drawings would have remained stashed away in Mr. Sijthoff’s portfolio, whereas every lover of art could now have them in their possession.’

During a lecture in 1897 at a meeting of the AAFV, Binger provided an overview of the various printing processes, in order to make the labyrinth of ‘-phies’ and ‘-ypes’ somewhat more comprehensible

There was certainly a connection between Binger’s experience as a printer and his hobbies, photography and film. Just as with his father Charles, we sometimes observe conflicts of interest. For instance, commemorative printed matter for the ‘Vereeniging Koninginnedag’ (‘Queen’s Day Association’) was done for free on a regular basis after 1900. In the personal sphere, Binger made rather jocular collages of Emrik & Binger’s photo reproductions, used in conjunction with portrait photos. Reproductions of militiamen paintings—Haarlem’s specialty—apparently served as a suitable, light-hearted framework for family snapshots. These collages are a parody of the famous series of publications by G. Geffroy, Les Musées de 1’Europe (‘The Museums of Europe’), published by Nilsson & Lamon in Paris (a brother-in-law of Maurits Binger). ‘Framed’ are Maurits and his family, in costume and in position. These photomontages—as a comical note in the family album—are somewhat reminiscent of the humoristic masquerade balls and group formations found at festivals and fairs. There was also a connection with Hollandia Films: Emrik & Binger published a series of picture postcards that mobilised soldiers of the Dutch army could send without requiring a postage stamp. Hollandia film stars, such as Annie Bos and Mimi Boesnack, were featured in scenes in which fun was made of the crisis situation in neutral Holland. The actor Fred Homann appears as a scruffy figure in one postcard bearing the caption: ‘I can never be surprised by the soap crisis/ Because I’m not used to washing myself.’ There is nothing to indicate that Binger took these shots himself.

According to an interview in 1919, Binger experienced his first film viewing in a cellar beneath the Café Riche in Paris in the year 1896, about a man opening an umbrella. Nothing is known of this film and it is likely that Binger’s memory was failing him: Lumière’s sensational shows took place at the Grand Café.

Binger made a name for himself chiefly by devoting all of his free time, starting in 1913, to Hollandia Filmfabriek (‘Hollandia Film Factory’), the film company he established himself. Like the Emrik & Binger printing company, Hollandia strove to build a reputation and distribution at the international level—a goal it most certainly achieved. Besides being a business enterprise, for Binger the film factory was still first and foremost a hobby, a ‘personal passion of mine, my “petit pêche” [little peach].’

Hollandia was known for the quality of its technical finishing, its sumptuous and richly detailed film sets, and the extensive, regular film crew in its proud possession. Binger was highly involved in the actual film production and viewed the acting and editing as far more important than the film’s storyline. He often personally inspected the film sets and props prior to the shoot. On one occasion, he is said to have asked the operator/head cameraman Feiko Boersma: ‘Is the lighting right, Feiko? Are the ladies’ toilets radiant enough?’ The simple storylines of the Hollandia films were often compensated by their brilliant film photography, for which Binger was partially responsible.

In 1916, Binger stated that what made film ‘a special art, but nevertheless art’ was the film actors’ power of expression. Annie Bos—one of his contracted actresses—was especially a star in the ‘grand gesture’, then so popular in the theatres. An excess of expression was likewise a trademark of many of Binger’s own photos.

In 1918, Binger wrote about the important role of photography in film: ‘In order to direct a film with any success, one has to have a sound knowledge of photography. By no means am I referring to the technical aspects—though this too is often useful—but primarily to the artistic portion, so that one can, in advance, take account of how or what one wishes to bring to the screen, what needs to be shot or assembled, in order to avoid any later disillusion.’ Binger described film manufacturing as the production of a series of photos meant to convey the intention of the performers and the director. Retouching, which was still a customary practice in professional photography, was not an option when working with film. Binger viewed this as a handicap, as the intense lighting of the studio lamps and the enlargement in the format of the film screen greatly exacerbated every artificiality, such as wigs and makeup.

Binger was not the only person with a background in photography at Hollandia. The photographer W.H. Idzerda was also involved in the company. In 1919, Idzerda signed a report as a representative of the company, perhaps even as its director. In any event, he worked for the factory as a film director and filmed in Haarlem, Groningen, and the province of Limburg. Prior to Hollandia’s bankruptcy, Idzerda left the company in a dispute. Both Binger and Idzerda saw film as an elaboration of what could be achieved with photography. It was Binger, however, who made this connection most evident in his work.

Considering the wide range of his personal endeavour and various activities, photography for Maurits Binger was but one component of a more generally focused energy and creativity. Yet it was precisely because of this broad orientation that he was able to realise several original works in the area of photography. Binger’s light-hearted photos shot in his own private circles—related to the drama of theatre and the serial sense of time found in film—stand as engaging deviations from the customary conventions of photography in his day.

Documentation