Photographer Helen Levitt dies at 95

In 1966 I began to look at and buy photo books. The first two I bought were A Dialogue With Solitude and A Way of Seeing. A year later, on my spring break, I visited New York City for the first time. Well we all know that New York is the city of "wonders and miracles" and happy accidents. One day I was walking down 5th Ave. At 55th or maybe 54th St. I saw John Levitt walking uptown alongside a beautiful middle-aged woman (younger then, than I now). John (a college classmate) saw me, stopped and we said hello. John said, this is my aunt, Helen Levitt. I said something about having bought her book, and John said, I was a photographer. Helen then said, "We're going to see a movie, want to come with?" I did.

Over the years, I would visit Helen now and again. She would always tell me news of "Johnny" and we would chat about this and that. I know that the word chat is not the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of Helen, but she did, tersely. I rarely showed her photographs, and when I did she was honest: she like some, disliked others. But because our little relationship was grounded outside the photo world we could just talk about the big world. On a few occasions I would be in NY and call and she would say, "I'm not feeling well, call me before you leave town." So visits missed. One time in the mid or late 90's, I stopped and bought a bunch of flowers on my way to visit, unsure as to her being a flower person. She liked the flowers, took them in a matter of fact way, and found a right-sized vase in short order.

In my review of Here and There, I suggested that a reprint should have a list of illustrations, wondering in particular who was in an unpaginated photo mid -book. One of the two men, under an oak (I think) tree out in the countryside was clearly James Agee, but the other, I could not place. I sent a copy of my review to Helen and received a nice little post card of thanks. A few months later, I received another post card identifying the second man as Delmore Schwartz. Almost a year ago, another post card arrived , unbidden, noting that she could not remember if she had answered my question, but that the other figure was Delmore Schwartz.

Well you can make of that what you will. For me, beyond the obvious failure of memory (you go and be better at 94!), was the evidence that she was still engaged with her work, with her obligations to her audience, and to the memory of old friends. So if you don't know, google Delmore, remember Helen with half of the large heart and quiet wisdom she left us, one wonderful, lyrical frame, after another.