Ottawa Citizen, Canada
October 25, 2007 Thursday
Final Edition

Spinning Churchill; How Karsh created the ‘Roaring Lion,’ the iconic
portrait of Winston Churchill

Paul Gessell, The Ottawa Citizen

On Dec. 30, 1941, Yousuf Karsh created one of the most famous
photographs of the 20th century, a portrait of a stern, resolute
Winston Churchill staring down the enemies of the Free World from the
Parliament Buildings in Ottawa.

Karsh had been forced to resort to trickery to obtain the hasty photo
session in the Speaker’s apartment in the House of Commons. And he
had to resort to more trickery in the darkroom that night to improve
Churchill’s look and to create an iconic image of an undaunted
wartime leader.

This was a photo of the British prime minister to rally the allied
nations. Within days of its publication, Churchill’s popularity shot
up 10 per cent at home. The photo was published repeatedly in
magazines and newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. It became a
weapon in the wartime propaganda machine, a symbol of the enduring
strength of the allies.

Who knows what might have happened if Karsh had not fiddled with his
first shot and instead of a "roaring lion," as the photo came to be
nicknamed, it had shown what the camera initially captured, a tired,
old man with a pair of soft, feminine-looking hands? Or what if Karsh
had simply offered the world his other photograph of a harmless
Churchill merrily smiling like a jovial figure on a Toby jug? Would
the photo have energized our troops and rattled the Nazis?

The story behind that Churchill portrait is told in detail, like
never before, in a forthcoming biography of Karsh by British Columbia
author and art historian Maria Tippett. Portrait of Light and Shadow:
The Life of Yousuf Karsh is hitting bookshelves this week courtesy of
House of Anansi Press Inc.

Tippett has previously produced warts-and-all biographies of such
Canadian artists as Emily Carr, Bill Reid and Frederick Varley.
Tippett’s take on Karsh is largely positive. She calls him a
"myth-maker" and one of the greatest photographers of the 20th
century despite his tendency to be a "court photographer" more intent
on pleasing customers than revealing flawed characters.

"He gave a face to people who touch all of our lives," Tippett
writes.

But sometimes that face, or shoulder or arm or torso, was not quite
what nature had provided. Karsh’s first wife, Solange, would apply
makeup to the faces of subjects to cover flaws. Negatives were
retouched to hide or improve a person’s overall look. In the final
prints, a glass eye could suddenly look like a real one; a withered
arm could be masked; dowdy people could become vibrant. Call it
virtual plastic surgery.

Karsh even touched up the royals, just as famous Old Master portrait
painters created canvases to flatter their powerful patrons. Consider
the portraits created by Karsh of the then Princess Elizabeth and her
husband, the Duke of Edinburgh, in preparation for a 1951 visit to
Canada. Elizabeth termed the photographs "delicious."

"She had good reason to be pleased," writes Tippett. "Karsh had
instructed his technicians to eliminate every line and blemish from
her face and from the duke’s and conversely to highlight every other
detail in the portrait. The result in one critic’s view, was
‘disastrous’ because the character of the royal pair had been
sacrificed to the attention given to his uniform and her dress."

Karsh, by that time, was world famous. The Churchill portrait had
made his name.

Churchill was unaware that day in 1941 that, after addressing the
Canadian Parliament, a photographer awaited him in the Speaker’s
chambers. Canada’s prime minister, Mackenzie King, wanted to be
photographed with Churchill, so the Canadian politician was part of
the plot.

King steered Churchill into the room where Karsh, his camera and
lights were waiting. Before the startled Churchill could complain,
Karsh pulled the omnipresent cigar from his mouth and took his first
picture, the one with the supposedly feminine hands. Then came shot
No. 2, the Toby jug. A third, hasty, forgettable one was of Churchill
with King. The session lasted only a few minutes.

"When Karsh saw the first image in the developing room, he knew that
his work was far from over," Tippett writes.

Karsh wanted to make Churchill look less haggard, stronger, more
solid and with more gravitas. Cropping was necessary to reduce the
protruding, left, chicken wing-like elbow so the overall composition
could be more pyramidal. Cropping also pulled Churchill to the front
of the picture, reduced his "corporeal bulk and gave him a
commanding, heroic presence that was almost superhuman." Middle tones
were added to Churchill’s face and what Karsh called his "shocking"
feminine hands to create a more imposing figure.

"He had to bring the buttons on Churchill’s coat into focus and give
a sharper definition to the ring, watch chain, handkerchief, the top
button of his shirt and the notes that protruded from Churchill’s
pocket. He had to improve the tonal gradation of the picture and deal
with the overexposed areas of the negative that had been burned out
into white."

The result: A tired old man in the initial negative became a roaring
lion in the final print.

Actually, both the roaring lion and Toby jug photos were immediately
offered to the Canadian magazine, Saturday Night. The editors chose
the lion. Soon British and American newspapers and magazines,
including Life, published the lion. The photo appeared in shop
windows, on posters and on other wartime propaganda.

It is difficult to determine what, if any, effect the photo had on
the war effort. More certain is the effect it had on Karsh’s career.
With that photo, a star was born.

Karsh titled his 1962 autobiography In Search of Greatness. Indeed,
much of his career was spent seeking out celebrities to photograph.
His portraits became so famous that celebrities started seeking him
out. They all wanted the man from Ottawa to photograph them. They
called it being "Karshed."

Karsh was born Dec. 23, 1908, in Turkish Armenia. When Yousuf was
just 12, the family fled to Syria. A few years later, Yousuf sailed
from Lebanon to Canada to live with an

uncle, George Nakash, a photographer based in Sherbrooke, Que. Yousuf
became an apprentice and spent two years in Boston further learning
his trade, although his initial goal in life was to be a doctor.

In 1931, Karsh moved to Ottawa, and soon became the official
photographer for the Ottawa Little Theatre and, from that perch,
started producing portraits of Ottawa’s elite, including a succession
of governors general.

Karsh’s secret in snagging customers was to appear sophisticated but
exotic. He cultivated Old World manners and a charming accent. He
wore a fedora and cape and bowed in greeting. Ottawa fell for him.
The world followed.

Ottawa remained Karsh’s home for most of his adult life — he died in
Boston in 2002 at age 93 — but he travelled the world photographing
movie stars, politicians, royalty and others. His portraits became
the definitive portraits of the rich and famous, from George Bernard
Shaw to Indira Ghandi, Elizabeth Taylor and Mikhail Gorbachev.

He loved them and they loved him. He made them look like they wanted
but he still captured their essence and made us all feel we
understood them a little better.

Next year is the centenary of Karsh’s birth. The Portrait Gallery of
Canada, the main repository of his images, plans to launch a touring
exhibition of Karsh’s work. Galleries in other countries are also
planning shows to mark the occasion.

In the end, Karsh became as famous as the people he photographed. In
2001, the International Who’s Who compiled a list of the most
influential 100 people of the 20th century. Karsh was there. He was
the only photographer and the only Canadian. More than half the
people on that exclusive list had been photographed by Karsh.
Churchill, of course, was one of them.