PORTRAITS BY

HENRI CARTIER-BRESSON
INTRODUCTIO BY
E. H. GOMBRICH

A BULFINCH PRESS BOOK

LITTLE, BROWN ANO COMPANY
BmìTON • NEW YORK • TORONTO • LOKDON
Design created and directed by Robert Delplre

Copyright O 1998 by Thames and Hudson Ltd, London

Photogr&phs copyright O 1998 by Henrl Cartler-Bresson/Magnum

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ISBS 0-8212-2562-6

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 98-66346

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PRINTED IN GERMANY
Plwto[1raphy is an immediate reaction,
drawing a meditation

H. C-B.
 THE MYSTERIOUS
ACHIEVEMENT OF LIKENESS

Tbere is a mystery in tbe acbievements of portrait likeness in wbat­

ever medium, wbetber you tbink of sculpture, grapbic art, painting
or pbotograpby - a mystery, not to say a paradox, wbicb is rarely suf­
ficiently appreciated. 1 After all, tbe impression of life usually rests on
movement. How, tben, is it possible tbat tbere are images wbicb give
us tbat feeling of standing face to face witb a real person, masterpieces
of tbe art of portraiture wbicb live on in our imagination, sucb as
Leonardo's Mona Lisa, or possibly tbe Laughing Cavalier of Frans Hals;
among tbose portraits of wbom we know tbe sitters, Houdon's bust of
Voltaire comes to mind, and in tbis selection, tbe striking pbotograpb
of Jean-Paul Sartre (Plate 47) taken in 1946, wbicb, for many of us, bas
fixed tbe image of tbe cbampion of Existentialism?
Indeed, bere tbe mystery is compounded by yet anotber, because
after ali, we bave no way of knowing if tbese portraits bad acbieved a
convincing likeness. Would familiarity witb ber portrait bave led us to
pick out Mona Lisa in tbe streets of Florence? And would we bave recog­
nized Jean-Paul Sartre or otbers of Cartier-Bresson's sitters at a party?
Maybe tbere is only one thing of whicb we can be absolutely sure: it is
tbat these men and women cannot bave presented precisely the aspect
recorded in tbeir portraits for more than a passing instant. Tbe very
next moment tbey may bave sbifted tbeir gaze, turned or tilted tbeir
head, raised tbeir eyebrows or lowered tbeir lids, wrinkled tbeir fore­
head or curled their lip, and eacb of these movements would radicaliy
affect their expression.
Thougb language can describe some of tbe movements of tbe facial
muscles, our sensitivity to tbe sligbtest nuance far exceeds tbe power of
words. When we cali tbe face 'tbe mirror of tbe soul' we mean that we
intuitively judge a person's character by the dominant facial expression.
That is why Shakespeare's Hamlet is shocked to discover that 'one may
smile, and smile, and be a villain'. He evidently forgot that there were
many more kinds of smile than language can ever fully describe: the
superior smile, the ironie smile, the joyful smile and the welcoming
smile - their exact meaning depends on the rest of the configuration of
the face, and even on the posture of the body; in this respect the effect
of the interplay of muscles and features might be compared to the
expressiveness of music, where by the shift of one semitone, the key
turns from major to minor with its attendant change of mood. In both
instances we are less aware of individuai changes than of their resultant
'global' impression.
The most striking evidence for this global character of physiog­
nomic likeness is offered by the successful caricature in which ali the
component features of the face are distorted, without affecting the
resemblance of the whole.
I do not know if Cartier-Bresson has ever indulged in this wicked
game, but his drawings in pencil, crayon and pen prove him to be an
eager explorer of the varied landscape of the human face. As a photog­
rapher he is confined to a medium which objectively records and arrests
the movements of the face - freezes them as it were - and this deaden­
ing accuracy surely renders the task of conveying a person's character
more difficult than it is in other more flexible media.
To fully appreciate this difficulty, we must realize that any phys­
iognomy, however crudely drawn, gives us the impression of a person­
ality;2 the reason why so many snapshots look to us unconvincing is
precisely that they seem to represent not us, or a person we know; they
look alien and unfamiliar. We dismiss a photograph as 'a poor likeness'
when we do not recognize the expression as belonging to the repertoire
of the person we know, not that the sitter is always a reliable judge in
this matter - after ali, looking into a mirror we are easily tempted to
adjust our face to our taste. I am also aware that portraitists tend to

I André Pieyre de Mandiargues, 1991

 f},f � t'-1
\
i· 'l
�' s .
H )
dread the spouse who complains that there is 'something wrong about
the mouth' in the portrait of her husband, which does not seem to be
right for her - but here I am convinced that her reaction is based on a
genuine response. The difficulty of catching the exact expression the sit­
ter's intimates can accept as a likeness should not be underrated.
This problem inherent in achieving not an expression but the
intended expression was known to artists throughout history. In fact, in
the early fifteenth century, Leone Battista Alberti quite correctly wrote
that it is not easy to distinguish in a painting a laughing from a weep­
ing face. The development of this skill fills the history of art and has
recently been described in a masterly book by Jennifer Montagu.> which
deals with one of the main landmarks in the conquest of the intended
expression, a lecture by Charles Le Brun on Expression given at the
French Academy in the seventeenth century.
The need to achieve a correct and legible expression arose from the
demand of what was called History Painting - the illustration of events
from the Bible, legend and ancient literature - a skill which culminated
in the anecdotal subjects exhibited in the Salon. The special task of the
genre of portraiture, however, was felt to lie elsewhere. From time
immemorial the portrait was not so much intended to commemorate
the private individuai as the public figure. The seventeenth-century
author Roger de Piles, 4 who had many sensible things to say about the
art of the portrait painter, insisted that the chief task of the portraitist
was to represent the role of his subject according to the conventions or
rules of Decorum:
'. . . portraits . . . must seem to speak to us of themselves, and, as it
were, to say to us - Stop, take notice of me: I am that invincible king,
surrounded with majesty-I am that valiant commander who struck
terror every-where; or who, by my good conduct, have had such glo­
rious success-I am that great minister, who knew all the springs of
politicks-I am that magistrate of consummate wisdom and probity­
I a m that man of letters who is absorbed in the sciences. . . . I am that

Il André Laude, 1994

famous artisan, who was so singular in his profession, &c. And in
women, the language ought to be . . . I am that high-spirited lady,
whose noble manners command esteem, &c-I am that virtuous,
courteous, and modest lady, &c. -I am that chearful lady, who delight
in smiles and joy, &c. And so of others. In a word, the attitudes are the
Ianguage of portraits and the skilfui painter ought to give great attention
to them.'
These conventions dominated portraiture in the past. Thus, the aim
of the Roman portrait was generally to express gravitas - the stern and
serious mien of the pater familias; while a master of the Renaissance,
such as Verrocchio, was abie - in his equestrian statue of Colleoni - to
monumentalize the fierce mien of the ideai condottiere, and in his busts
of Fiorentine ladies, to embody the sociai ideai of the gracious smile
which his pupil, Leonardo, then transfigured in the haunting expression
of his Mona Lisa.
It is a well-known fact that the conventional ideals of decorum were
taken up by the first photographers when the camera needed long expo­
sures. The sitter had to keep stili and generally assumed the familiar
pose appropriate to his social role and dignity, and even in our century,
the 'society photographer' continued to portray sitters in conformity
with these stereotypes.
There is an amusing satirica! passage in a novel by the American
writer Allen Wheelis5 that opens with a photographic session for a med­
icai publication. As the committee members, whose portraits are to be
taken, come in one by one, they are encouraged to take up the poses
of their predecessors displayed in oil paintings on the wall; but the
hero of the novel refuses to adopt the recommended pasture, which
he castigates as a lie: 'With the crossed legs, you claim repose, tran­
quillity. I am not fidgety and restless, jumping about on the edge
of my chair, no idea what to do and where to go. Everything is under
contro!. With the straight shoulders you say dignity, status, no matter
what comes up, this guy has nothing to fear, is caimly certain

/Il Kem Payne, 1991

of his worth and his ability. With the head turned sharply to the left, you
understand that someone is claiming his attention - no doubt hundreds
of people would like this guy's attention . .. ', and he goes on to mock the
pretence of the heavy tome held on the knees, and other attributes
of the successful practitioner.
\Vheelis's hero rebelled against the stuffy respectability of the estab­
lishment. Yet even if he had insisted on being photographed in shirt
sleeves, with a cigarette in his mouth, he could not bave avoided rep­
resenting a recognizable type. My late friend tbe painter Sir William
Coldstream, wbo was an excellent portrait painter and a great observer
of men, told me tbat before he started on a portrait be did not tell tbe
sitters - as some do - to 'be na turai'; he told tbem to 'sit exactly as if
you were having your portrait painted'. Tbat, after ali, was tbe reality
tbey sbould not try to deny or evade. In this respect it could be claimed
tbat most portraits must be seen as tbe result of collaboration, a com­
promise between the portraitist and tbe sitter. Almost any adult, in the
presence of a camera, will become self-conscious and assume a pose.
Tbe more solemn the occasion, the greater will be tbe desire to 'far'
bella figura'.
Naturally, tbe brief exposure, tbe 'snapsbot' tbat bas become possi­
ble through tbe development of different lenses and films, bas made it
possible for the camera to catch tbe person unawares, and it is tbis pos­
sibility which bas largely weaned us from the conventions of tbe soci­
ety photograpber. Yet it is also tbe snapshot that bas alerted us to the
perils of the frozen image, tbat so often presents us witb a grimace,
ratber tban a really living face. Many photograpbers bave developed a
routine of taking a large number of random sbots from whicb tbey sub­
sequently make a selection. As far as I know, Cartier-Bresson has always
preferred to lie in wait for tbe telling moment.
The portrait painter, the grapbic artist and tbe pbotograpber must
be aware of another decisive cboice, even before tbe selection of tbe
desired expression. I do not know if a code bas ever been proposed for

IV Self-portraic, 1987
this special task, but it might start from the two basic aspects conven­
tionally used in police records: the full face and the profile. These con­
cero the permanent features of the head and, if it does not sound too
childish, one might suggest that it be coded in terms of the direction in
which the nose points, describing a quarter-circle from the frontal to the
profile position. What is relevant here, as always, is the interplay
between the structural and mobile parts of the face. Most noticeable of
these, in the frontal view, are the eyes; in the profile, it is the position
of the head on the neck.
Codes for postures of the body have in fact been developed by stu­
dents of acting and of dancing, but there is one vital aspect that tends
to elude them - what might be called the 'tonus', the degree of tension
animating a movement, which decisively affects our response, both in
life and in art.
These selected variables are merely outlined here to emphasize
the outstanding range of positions explored and utilized in the art
of Cartier-Bresson. The standard 'shot', the full frontal view with the
eyes looking at the photographer, is rare. If he does use it, it is to record
two opposing attitudes or expressions, largely distinguished by tonus: in
the one, the sitter is engaging the attention of the photographer - even
arguing with him, as in the case of John Berger (Pia te 131) or Frank
Horvat (Plate 17). But the frontal view can also indicate that the sitter,
used to being photographed, has turned towards the camera and waits
more or less passively for the click. The portrait of Stravinsky is a case
in point (Plate 41), as is that of Duchamp (Plate 82), who sits back and
watches the procedure with an air of ironie detachment. In one of the
earlier photographs in this selection, that of Irène and Frédéric Joliot­
Curie (Plate 27) of 1944, the couple conventionally face the camera, but
their pasture and their hands appear to reveal a profound embarrass­
ment. The moving portrait of Rouault (Plate 14) in his old age, taken
in the same year, has a similar air of resignation, much in contrast with
that of Picasso (Plate 91), who faces the lens half naked, with extreme

V Yoccs Bonnç/'oy, 1979

self-confidence. Such self-confidence is also conveyed in the profile por­
trait of \Villiam Faulkner (Plate 10), while Max Ernst (Plate 76) and his
wife are observed in pensive mood.
These two basic positions are experienced as relatively static - one
could imagine the pose to bave been held for some time, except where
the movement of the eyes introduces a dynamic element. The photog­
rapher Martine Franck (Plate 18) is a telling example: she looks away
while dreaming aver her teacup. Even the portrait of Harold Macmillan
(Plate 48), which comes closest to the observance of conventional deco­
rum, is given a special twist by his sideways gaze.
The element of time becomes more prominent in cases where the sit­
ters appear to be turning to look at the camera, as in the enchanting por­
trait of the pianist Hortense Cartier-Bresson (Plate 124), and that of the
painter Avigdor Arikha (Plate 29), not to speak of that of Pierre Colle
(Plate 123), whose upside-down head is shown emerging from a crumpled
bed. \Vhile these scenarios may bave been planned, there are also exam­
ples in this selection which show the photographer's luck and skill in
catching a significant moment. I would put the portrait of Coca Chanel
(Plate 35) among these; she seems to be engaged in lively conversation,
and quite unaware of the camera; also that of the confident and cheerful
Che Guevara (Plate 96).
I must leave it to the readers to continue the search for categories,
or possibly to invent new ones; but one relevant variable stili remains to
be mentioned, since it is characteristic of ali Cartier-Bresson's pho­
tographs: his attention to the composition of the image, which he never
allows to be cut or cropped. It clearly makes a difference whether he
shows us the head of Lucian Freud (Plate 79) far down in the right-hand
corner, while the rest of the image is taken up by his easel, or whether
the famous head of Camus (Plate 118) fills nearly the whole frame.
It is noteworthy, however, that Cartier-Bresson's drawings never
rely on these compositional devices. Here his searching eye and band
concentrate on the isolated head and its expressive features.

VI Jean Leymarie, 1993

 These experiments take us to the final mystery of our response to
the human face: the astonishing fact that, though we readily recognize
our feliow creatures from the repertory of their gestures and move­
ments, nothing more easily destroys or upsets our process of recognition
than what we cali 'disguise': go out and buy a conspicuous wig - prefer­
ably of a red colour and with long hair - and don it, and you will see
with what astonishment you are greeted when you enter, so disguised,
the next party you attend. How can this failure of recognition be
explained? It appears that we must assume that our perception of peo­
ple starts with categories. \Vhen a stranger comes into a room, we
immediately register whether it is a man or a woman, the approximate
age, and most of ali, whether it is 'one of us' or an outsider. Every one
of the symptoms of expression gains its validity and meaning only in
this pre-established context; without such preconceptions we could
never manage to interpret the infinite nuances of human appearance
and their social significance. An initial mistake due to disguise will
result in confusion upsetting the process of recognition that leads from
the generai to the particular in a smooth curve. Actors and producers on
the stage make ampie use of this tendency of the human mind to cate­
gorize people according to what they wear, according to their bearing
and their role; a mask covering half the face will prevent recognition,
and it is not without reason that medicai textbooks create anonymity by
obliterating the eyes of patients illustrated. This remarkable fact also
has a bearing on our reaction to portraits - portraits of the past and
portraits of the present. Because it turns out that, if you take the face
out of its isolation and put it into the habit or the uniform of another
age or calling, it looks entirely different. I bave mentioned elsewhere6
that members of the eighteenth-century Kit-Cat Club, displayed in the
National Portrait Gallery, all look very much alike to us, transformed by
their conspicuous wigs. Indeed, when we look at old family albums and
come to members of earlier generations - the men with their bowler
hats and their moustaches, the women with their high collars and

VII Ruca Sculoul, 1976

r
tightly laced dresses - we begin to see them as types rather than as indi­
viduals, and find it hard to react to these images as we would to that
of a contemporary. This observation has a bearing also on the exhibi­
tion of Cartier-Bresson's portraits of bis contemporaries. How will they
look, once their ways of dressing and behaving bave receded into the
past? We cannot tell; but since we are not put off by the attire worn by
the sitters of Titian, Van Dyck, Rembrandt or Velazquez, we can be con­
fident that they will retain that spark of life that only a master was able
to impart to the photographic portrait.

E. H. Gombrich
December 1997

NOTES

l. I havc discussed some of these issucs in 'Thc Mask and the Facc:
thc pcrccption of physiognomic likeness in lifc and in art',
The Image arui the Eye, Phaidon (Oxford), 1982.

2. In my hook Art atui /llusio11, Phaidon (London), 1960, l refer to this ohservation
as 'Topffer's law', after the Swiss painter Rodolphe Topffer, inventor of the comic strip.

J. The Exprcssion qfche Passio11s, Yale University Press (Newha,·en and London), 1994.

4. l quote from the English edition of 1743: The Pri11Ciples ofPai11tin.g, J. Osborn
(London), pp. 168-179, translated from the Frcnch, puhlished in 1708.

5. The Scheme ofThin.gs, A llelen & Kurt Wolf hook, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich
(New York and London), 1980, copyright i\Jlen Wheelis.

6. loc. cil. under note l.

Vlll Jean Genoud, 1994

PHOTO PORTRAITS
l Ezra Pound, 1971
 3 Glenn Seaborg, 1960

2 Lily Brik-Mayakovsky, 1954

4 Alfred Stieglitz, 1 946
5 Iran, 1950
6 Robert Flaherty, 1946
7 The Pelopponese, Greece, 1953
8 Concierge of the Musée Auguste Comte, Paris, fonnerly Sarah Bemhardt's maid, 1945
9 Kashmir, 1947
10 William Faulkner, 1947
11 Pablo Picasso, 1967
 13 Alexander Calder, 1970

12 Edmund \Vilson and bis son, 1946

14 Georges Rouault, 1944
15 Jean Renoir, 1967
1 6 Arthur Miller, 1961
17 Frank Horvat, 1987

18 Martine Franck, 1975

19 Gjon Mili, 1958
 21 Robert Oppenheimer, 1958

20 Hiroshi Hamaya and his wife, 1978

22 Pierre Bonnard, 1944
23 Henri Matisse, 1944
24 Truman Capote, 1947
25 Mary Meerson and Krishna Riboud, 1967

26 Mélanie Cartier-Bresson, 1978

27 Irène and Frédéric Joliot-Curie, 1944
28 Barbara Hepworth, 1971
29 Avigdor Arikha, 1 985
30 Calle Cuauhtemocztin, Mexico, D.F., 1934
31 Tériade, 1951

32 Catherine Erhardy, 1987

33 Paul Léautaud, 1 952
34 Carson McCullers and George Davis, 1946
 36 Raymond Mason, 1993

35 Mademoiselle Chanel, 1964

37 Cordoba, Spain, 1933
38 Somerset Maugham, 1951

39 Martine Franck, 1986

40 Georges Braque, 1958
41 Igor Stravinsky, 1967
 43 Louis Aragon, 1971

42 Nancy Cunard, 1956

44 Louis Kahn, 1960

45 Pier Luigi Nervi, 1959

46 Paul Valéry, 1946
47 Jean-Paul Sartre, 1946
48 Harold Macmillan, 1967
 50 Cecil Beaton, 1951

49 Lord Drogheda, 1967

5 l Pierre Bonnard, 1944
52 Julien Gracq, 1984
 53 Cyril Connolly, 1939

54 Robert Lowell, 1960

55 Giorgio de Chirico, 1968

56 'Le Baron', Chouzy, France, 1945

57 André Pieyre de Mandiargues, 1991
58 Abbé Pierre, 1994
59 Susan Sontag, 1972

60 Carson McCullers, 1946

61 Alberto Giacometti, 1961
 63 Mohammed Ali Jinnah, 194 7

62 Henri Laurens with Tériade, 195 1

64 Eunuch of the last Chinese imperlai dynasty, 1948
65 Koen Yamaguchi, 1965
66 Tenzin Gyatso, Fourteenth Dalai Lama, 1991
 68 Georg Eisler, 1993

67 Max Emst, 1955

69 Harold Pinter, 1971

70 Ntichael Brenson, 1981

71 Louis-René des Forets, 1995
72 Colette and her companion Pauline, 1952
73 Sam Szafran, 1 996

74 Igor Stravinsky, 1946

75 Francis Bacon, 1981
76 Max Emst and his wife Dorothea Tanning, 1955
 77 Katherine Anne Porter, 1946

78 Svetlana Beriosova, 1961

 80 Simone de Beauvoir, 1947

79 Lucian Freud, 1997

81 André Breton, 1961
82 Marcel Duchamp, 1968
83 André Pieyrc de Mandiargues and Léonor Fini, 1933
 85 Pierre Josse, 1961

84 Igor Stravinsky, 196 7

86 André Pieyre de Mandiargues, 1933
87 François Mauriac, 1952
88 Alcxcy Brodovitch, 1962

89 John Huston, 1946

90 Edith Piaf, 1946
91 Pablo Picasso, 1944
92 Ousmane Sow, 1995
93 Warsaw ghetto, 1931
94 Oaxaca, Mexico, 1934

95 Madurai, India, 1950

96 Che Guevara, 1963

97 Martin Luther King, 1961

98 René Dumont, 1991
99 The brothers Joseph and Stuart Alsop, 1946
100 Tony Hancock, 1962

101 Marilyn Monroe, 1960

102 Ted Dexter, 1961

103 RobertKennedy, 1962

104 Robert Doisneau, 1986
105 Saul Steinberg, 1946
 107 Mare Chagall, 1964

106 José Bergamin, 1969

108 Eleanor Sears, 1962
 109 Joe Liebling, 1960

110 Paul Scofield, 1971

111 Dominique de Ménil, 1960
112 Duke and Duchess of Windsor, 1951
 113 Zoltan Koda.Iy and his wife, 1964

114 Christian Bérard, 1946

115 René Char, 1977
 117 Bram van Velde, 1977

116 Vallabhbhai Jhaverbhai Patel, 1948

 118 Albert Camus, 1947

119 Alexander Schneider, 1960

120 Jeanne Lanvin, 1945
121 Samuel Beckett, 1964
 123 Pierre Colle, 1932

122 Hungary, 1964

124 Hortense Cartier-Bresson, 1979
125 Jakarta, Indonesia, 1949

126 Krishna Roy between Rita and Tara Pandit, 1946

127 Joe the trumpeter and .May, 1935
 128 Balthus, 1990

129 Elisabeth Chojnacka, 1991

130 Jean Genet, 1963
131 John Berger, 1 994

132 Alberto Giacometti, 1 961

133 Cari Gustav Jung, 1959
134 Warsaw ghetto, 1931
 INDEX OF NAMES Alsop, Joseph and Stuart 99

Aragon, Louis 43

Arabic numerals refer to plate numbers, Arikha, Avigdor 29

Bacon, Francis 75
Roman numerals to the drawings
Balthus 128

'Baron, Le' 56

Beaton, Cccii so
Beckett, Samuel 121

Bérard, Christian 114

Bergamin,José 106

Bergcr, John 131

Beriosova, Svetlana 78

Bonnard, Pierre 22, 51

Bonnefoy. Yves V
Braque, Georges 40

Brenson, Michael 70

Breton, André 81

Brik-Mayakovsky, Lily 2

Brodovitch, Alexey 88

Calder, Alexander 13

Camus, Albert 118

Capote, Truman 24

Cartier-Bresson, Henri IV
Cartier-Bresson, Hortense 124

Cartier-Bresson, .Mélanie 26

Chagall, Mare 107

Chan el, Mademoisellc ( Coco) 35

Char, René 115

Chojnacka, Elisabeth 129

Colette 72

Colle,Pierre 123

Connolly, Cyril 53

Cunard, Nancy 42

Davis, George 34

de Beauvoir, Simone 80

de Chirico, Giorgio 55

de .Ménil, Dominique 111

des Forets, Louis-René 71

Dexter, Ted 102

Doisneau, Robert 104

Drogheda, Lord 49
Duchamp, Marcel 82 .Mauriac,François 87

Dumont, René 98 .Meerson, Mary 25

Eisler, Georg 68 :Mili,Gjon 19

Erhardy, Catherine 32 Miller,Arthur 16

Ernst,Max 67, 76 Monroe,Marilyn 101

Faulkner, William 10 Nervi, Pier Luigi 45

Fini, Léonor 83 Oppenheimer, Robert 21

Flaherty, Robert 6 Pandit, Rita and Tara 126

Franck, Martinc 18, 39 Patel, Vallabhbhai Jhaverbhai 116

Freud, Lucian 79 Payne, Kem III

Genet, Jean 130 Piaf, Edith 90

Genoud, Jean Vlll Picasso,Pablo 1 1,91

Giacometti,Alberto 6 1, 132 Pierre, Abbé 58

Gracq,Julien 52 Pieyre de Mandiargues,André 57, 83, 86; I

Guevara,Che 96 Pinter, Harold 69

Hamaya, Hiroshi 20 Porter, Katherine Anne 77

llancock, Tony 100 Pound, Ezra l

Hepworth, Barbara 28 Renoir, Jean 15

Horvat, Frank l7 Riboud, Krishna (Krishna Roy) 25, 126

Huston, John 89 Rouault, Georges 14

Jinnah, Mohammed Ali 63 Roy, Krishna see Riboud

.Joe the trumpeter 127 Sadoul, Ruta VII
Joliot-Curie, Irène and Frédéric 27 Sartre, Jean-Paul 47

Josse, Pierre 85 Schneider, Alexander 119

Jung, Cari Gustav 133 Scofield,Paul 110

Kahn, Louis 44 Seaborg, Glenn 3

Kennedy, Robert 103 Sears, Eleanor 108

King, Martin Luther 97 Sontag, Susan 59

Kodaly, Zoltan 113 Sow, Ousmane 92

Lanvin,Jeanne 120 Steinberg, Saul 105

Laude, André II Stieglitz, Alfred 4

Laurens,Henri 62 Stravinsky,Igor 41, 74, 84

Léautaud,Paul 33 Szafran, Sam 73

Leymarie, Jean VI Tanning, Dorothea 76

Liebling, Joe 109 Tenzin Gyatso, Fourteenth Dalai Lama 66

Lowell, Robert 54 Tériade 31, 62

McCullers, Carson 34, 60 Valéry, Pau) 46

Macmillan, Ilarold 48 van Velde, Bram 1 17

Mason, Raymond 36 Wilson, Edmund 12

Matisse, Henri 23 Windsor, Duke and Duchess of 1 12

Maugham, Somerset 38 Yamaguchi, Koen 65

 Henri Carcier-Bresson would like especially
to thank Daniel Mordac and his team at Pictorial Service
and Marie-Pierre Oift'ey at MlqJnttm Paris.