Ministry of Culture, Bradesco and Museum of Modern Art of São Paulo present.
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GEORGE LOVE: BEYOND TIME.
Curated by: Zé De Boni



George Love: Beyond Time kicks off MAM São Paulo's 2024 exhibition lineup. This is a retrospective of one of the key figures in the history of 1960th-century photography. The exhibition brings together a significant body of work by the artist, who played a key role in the New York-based Association of Heliographers. The association was instrumental in experimental and avant-garde color photography in the early XNUMXs. George Love, along with the Heliographers, contributed to the consolidation of authorial photography and its liberation as a faithful and literal representation of reality.
An African-American born in Charlotte, North Carolina, United States, in 1937, George Love arrived in Brazil in 1966. Along with his then-partner, Claudia Andujar, Elizabeth Machado traveled through the Amazon. Both conducted essays for Realidade magazine in 1971 and published the book "Amazônia" in 1978. While Claudia Andujar became known for her work with the Yanomami, George Love distinguished himself with aerial photography at a time when this was not so common.
Curated by researcher and photographer Zé De Boni, the exhibition presents a broad selection of the artist's career, encompassing not only images of the Amazon, but also photo essays shot in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, experimental editorial initiatives, and commercial works, such as the series on the construction of the Itaipu Dam. George Love: Beyond Time is the first major exhibition about the artist and sheds light on a work still little seen but revered by photography enthusiasts. This catalog features, in addition to the curator's texts, excerpts from the artist's diaries, letters, and testimonies, expanding the understanding of his work and his thinking on photography.
MAM São Paulo, which holds one of the most important photography collections in the country, thus contributes to the dissemination of photography, especially a little-studied segment: the remarkable work of George Love from his experimental phase to his most mature period, close to his untimely death in São Paulo in 1995. At a time when the climate crisis is increasingly evident, the exhibition George Love: Beyond Time draws attention to the artist's visionary and still relevant gaze, as well as to diversity and urgent environmental issues.
Elizabeth Machado
President of the Board of Directors of the Museum of Modern Art of São Paulo.
Caue Alves
Chief Curator of the Museum of Modern Art of São Paulo.
Zé De Boni
Curator.

In the wake of Brazilian photographic culture in the second half of the 20th century, one name was among the biggest references: George Love. A charismatic artist, he was always surrounded by an aura of mystery, which bordered on legend, as well-known as he was enigmatic, due to how much he was exposed and how hidden he was.
Operating in an era of intellectual effervescence, behavioral questioning, and changing customs, George displayed intense brilliance in his achievements, professional interactions, and private interactions. The light he brought to the space spilled over the walls and resonated with the atmosphere and the people within, who glimpsed the infinite possibilities of this remarkable means of expression.
His work in the cultural, editorial, and corporate worlds expanded the horizons of photography, paving the way for his time. Consciously or not, generations of Brazilian photographers have followed his inspiration and model, which stands out among the roots of our contemporary world.
Calling him a genius isn't hyperbole either. George Leary Love was born on May 24, 1937, in Charlotte, North Carolina, United States. A Black, only child in a simple, cultured family, he completed his first higher education before the age of 20. He also adopted the camera early, envisioning professional opportunities in travel photography, represented by image archives, an important market at the time, with which he would remain involved throughout his professional life.
Settling in New York for further studies, he soon dedicated himself to photography as an authorial creation, having his first exhibitions in Manhattan galleries, giving courses and lectures. Thus, he was accepted as one of the youngest members of the Association of Heliographers, a select group of American photography exponents who promoted the art, proposed its expansion, and innovated in the use of color prints in exhibitions. George Love identified with this proposal, so the association's ideology is key to understanding the work he developed throughout his life.
Soon, the young photographer became vice president and coordinator of the association's gallery. It was an intense two years, from 1963 to the end of 1965, until the organization's closure due to lack of resources.
The prospect of a new path was offered to him by a rare foreign heliographer, who encouraged him to venture into the South American continent. In January 1966, George joined Claudia Andujar in Belém for an unusual expedition deep into the Amazon, a veritable epic journey to the land of the Xikrin. They returned to Belém, traveled upriver to Iquitos, then Lima and Bolivia, and re-entered Brazil via the famous "death train." They settled in São Paulo, in an apartment on Avenida Paulista, got married… and the rest is history.
The first major impact of George Love's presence in Brazil was the sensation he caused in early 1967, when his photographs began appearing in reports and essays in Editora Abril publications. He entered journalism with carte blanche from Roberto Civita and the support of editors like Mino Carta to creatively address everyday subjects. Eclectic and highly adaptable, intelligent and insightful in incorporating modernity into visual illustration, he portrayed fashion and customs, motorsports, and travel for publications like Claudia and 4 Rodas.
George and Claudia were featured in Realidade magazine, hailed as a landmark chapter in Brazilian journalism. Their growing success exploded with the special issue on the Amazon in October 1971. Amplified by the transcendent images of a still poorly understood region, the myths took hold. The term then applied to all three: Realidade magazine itself, Claudia Andujar with the Yanomami, and George Love with the stunning aerial view of the Amazon landscape.
This upward trajectory propelled George into other spheres. He subsequently left Editora Abril, but continued his journalism career with the equally unusual Bondinho magazine, from Grupo Pão de Açúcar, producing memorable work. However, his stint was brief, as was his time at Novidades Fotoptica. In that publication by Thomaz Farkas, he dedicated himself to promoting the art of photography and teaching the technique, continuing what he had introduced in Realidade.
Professionally, he shifted to the corporate market, which provided him with better financial returns, and applied all his experience in aerial photography and audiovisual for electric power and technology companies. With the receptiveness of clients who recognized his creative virtues, such as Mário Chamie at Olivetti, he paved the way for a visual production outside of advertising conventions, incorporating the approach practiced among his former colleagues in New York. Among the 42 photographers who passed through 865 Lexington Ave., none brought the concept as intensely into the commercial realm as George Love, who, at this stage, can be defined as a Corporate Heliographer.
The resources she earned from the commercial sector were reinvested in her research and personal photography projects, primarily in continuing her work in the Amazon region, where she would return several times, always exploring a spatial perspective. Her dedication to promoting visual culture and teaching photography found support in Pietro Maria Bardi, who opened the São Paulo Museum of Art for the couple. At MASP, which had focused on photography from its inception but lacked a photography department, Claudia Andujar and George Love established the Photography Laboratory, where the term "laboratory" referred not to the developing room but to the work of developing talent and encouraging the use of the medium. They made their mark. The museum became a relevant address in the emerging São Paulo photography scene.
The two led solo, group, and international exhibitions, courses, and avant-garde events, and also took the opportunity to exhibit their own works in various exhibitions and screenings. They worked together throughout the 1970s, but by the mid-XNUMXs, the couple had already separated.
Mutual respect remained, as did the grand joint project, nurtured over several years. Based on thousands of aerial images taken by George and Claudia's extensive period living among the Yanomami, they published the photography book "Amazônia" in 1978. As a collective, the authors felt no need to identify themselves individually, perhaps because they expected this to be automatic, requiring only a minimum knowledge of both. With the support of their commercial client, Matias Machline's Sharp Group, a project by Wesley Duke Lee, sophisticated printing by the renowned Regastein Rocha printing house, and a luxurious finish for the time, the image selection, layout, and graphic treatment had a strong personal connotation, with the striking film edges inviting interpretation from the reader.
Only later, in private interviews, did George reveal the message contained in this resource. Censored, with its circulation prohibited (only a fraction of the intended volume was distributed informally and without advertising), the book instantly became a rarity. But, unlike most human creations, the work's impact has only grown since then, becoming yet another authentic myth. Amazônia is hailed as one of the most remarkable photography books of all time.
In 1980, George Love moved away from the Amazonian theme. There was a clear trauma from the episode in the book and a notable distance from Claudia. His focus shifted to compiling a visual inventory of São Paulo, collected since his arrival in the city. He presented it in the solo exhibition "Diários" and in the edition "São Paulo – Anotações." This personal book was paired with "São Paulo – Registros," a collection of old photos of the city, organized by George himself.
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Both were launched by the newly created Eletropaulo, under the command of Lucas Garcez, who also entrusted George with the documentation of the last days of Sete Quedas and the construction of the Itaipu Power Plant.
His personal life after his divorce was marked by fleeting relationships, with self-protective attitudes, resistant to deeper attachment. It would be futile to delve into the photographer's love life if he hadn't left a clear display of passion and ecstasy captured in images of his idyll at the Sarapuí retreat with Rosilis. More than just intimate moments, his legacy offers another clue to understanding the egocentric nature of his work—as he himself stated, for how could one explain using images taken from such a distance to feature prominently in his work on São Paulo? By including photographs of disparate subjects, even the construction of hydroelectric dams, his own interpretation was to understand the author as a link, a conductor of the work, embracing the entire context of his personal experience.
In contrast, George's personal conflict with the oppressive city earned him an installation projected at MASP, titled "Illustrations for Kafka's Diaries," with a distinctly depressive tone. His restlessness and unstable health subsequently led him to move to Rio de Janeiro, where he stayed for a year and a half. He photographed the city using the same techniques he had used in São Paulo, using the same resources in a different context. It's clear that his plan was to give his work a level of relevance equivalent to that achieved with "Notes." With little time to mature, these impressions remained unpublished.
He returned to São Paulo without resolving his health issues. He returned to the theme that had inspired him, producing a limited-edition book for Pancrom that represented his own visual identity: Service Order 8696 – The Amazon Basin from the Air. The work featured 26 images and had a mystical meaning, resulting in yet another enigma whose interpretation is guided by the notion of self-portraiture.
George Love was still able to exhibit his "Views from Above" one more time in 1985 before retiring to exile in his native country. In fact, he returned to New York depressed and professionally disorganized. His health continued to decline, which he refused to face. Even so, he continued to explore his world photographically with the same brilliance as in his prime. He was welcomed by Barbara, but he lived in a distressing ostracism. He lacked the people who provided the space for him to exercise his seductive gift as a master and magician of the image. He reacted by returning to the São Paulo scene, where he attempted to reconnect and reverse the lost decade, but found himself overwhelmed by ideas and navigating a desert of possibilities. Inevitably, his health reached a critical point.
He fought to complete a new book, another Amazonian testament, which this time would be his final act. He also counted on the beautiful gesture of Cida Fontana, a supporter of his greatest moments. But at 58, he couldn't resist taking on this work and seeing it printed. What remained was his Soul and Light, and all his work beyond time.
A native of a southern state in the United States, George Leary Love spent his youth close to the epicenters of segregation. He enrolled at Atlanta University at a young age and arrived already aware of the struggle for integration, through stories told by his mother about the heroic participation of a distant ancestor. He distanced himself from this context between 1958 and 1960 and moved with his family to Indonesia, where his father served at the embassy. He began photographing in this traveling environment. Upon his return, he settled in New York for further studies and participated in the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), an important civil rights movement. Curiously, his archive contains no examples of this activism. And throughout his career, he barely touched on the topic; it is rare to find relevant material in his work.
The Southern US, 1960s
The heat, the dense, static air – the violence.
The madness of violence, embedded in immobile souls,
in tense gestures, ready to explode in
moments of despair. The aggression is real.
The act of death hangs permanently in the air.
There is no pride in race. It was annihilated by
hatred between races. There is no love for life, only
preoccupation with death. The stagnation of the will,
the stagnation, the monotony. Waiting for the explosion
of sex, of religious ecstasy, of violence, always.
The Southern US, 1970s
The memory of the suffering profile, the purification
of hatred in the many deaths. There is something that
is expected, indefinite and immeasurable.
From me and my mother with much love
to my father.¹
This text by George Love reveals a hidden side, like so many others, of his personality. The photo essay A Raga for Twilight, Iris magazine, November 1979, was a rare opportunity for George Love to directly address the racial issue and his home environment. The words were stronger than the images themselves, something unusual in his entire work, as the visuals maintained a timid distance from traumatic social dramas. Many of the photographs were from a trip to Mississippi in 1965, which he labeled Deep South, whose contacts reveal common formulas and a distracted George. The selection also drew on other sources, such as the sky in one place, a weapon in another, his own mother on vacation, and the grave of his father, who didn't experience a fraction of the hardships that many others are known to have suffered.
Despite all his talent, this blockage arose while photographing Harlem for journalistic documentation during the Civil Rights era. Under the protection of his long lenses, he rarely approached people and rarely interacted, contrasting with the example of the masters he had known.
In a photographer who demonstrated such confidence and pride, this limitation seems paradoxical. But it's consistent with his words, as he defined himself as an artist fundamentally focused on himself. One could interpret that, in his evening lament, George Love used a social issue to evoke an inner scar.
George Love at age 8, 1945.

Opening of the Iris magazine essay, November 1979.

¹ LOVE, George. A Raga for Twilight, Iris magazine, November 1979, pp. 14 to 29.
New York, early 1960s. A yellow wall and a red gate. It was the call that led George Love to definitively embrace photography. Soon, he was exhibiting color works, a novelty on the circuit, and giving lectures in the heart of Manhattan. In mid-1963, he joined prominent figures in American photography in the newly formed Association of Heliographers. He became vice president and coordinator of the gallery that same year. He spent time with Scott Hyde and Syl Labrot, his inspirations in visual proposals, and definitively adopted the group's ideology, which advocated photography as a new reality beyond the formal representation of the object. With the dissolution of the association at the end of 1965, George set out on new adventures, encouraged by a fellow heliographer, Claudia Andujar.
George Love arrived in Indonesia at age 20, already a university graduate. It was a time when he began using photography to collect memories of his travels around the country, its neighbors, and Europe. He described the moment of his first photograph, of hoardings in Rome, as a true conversion to the use of visual expression. And he cited on his resume the importance of photographing the Borobudur temple in the heart of Java, an achievement more significant in his memory than the preserved slides convey.
When he returned to the United States, he settled in New York to study philosophy of art at The New School for Social Research. From this period, he kept two letters from his dying father, concerned about his son's choices and the management of his limited resources.²
There, George Love had his second epiphany, that of Kodak colors, a moment in which he took photography seriously as a personal tool. The importance of this event is evident in the care with which he preserved those images and his early studies of abstract perception, which he revisited until his final days.
Photo from the series exhibited at the Association of Heliographers' press conference, New York, 1964.

Image cited by George Love as a symbol of his conversion to photography, ca. 1962.

His professional career began with the same travel photos, which were a key category in image banks. Many of his earlier photographs bear the stamps of Rapho Guillumette and Photo Researches Inc. on their frames. He supplied these distributors for a considerable time, later concentrating his archives at Kay Reese & Associates. He undertook further travels and, curiously, came to Brazil in 1962, stopping in Belém, Brasília, and Rio de Janeiro, after passing through Suriname, capturing images of exoticism for the eyes of major cities. Other black-and-white works from that period suggest a commercial context, but there is no reference to the motivation for the most significant set, the beautiful documentary essay on the Vermont Railway.
In 1962, George Love's name appeared on invitations to group and solo exhibitions. Press releases show that he was active on the New York circuit when, in the second half of 1963, he became a member of the Association of Heliographers. Very little has been published about this association and its importance in establishing major names in American photography. George always mentioned it with great pride for the position he held and especially for having worked with figures such as Harry Calahan, W. Eugene Smith, and Walter Chappell, who founded the group. It was a cooperative based in a prime location on the Upper East Side, where it maintained an image archive and presented exhibitions of its members in its pioneering gallery. Annually, it held large group shows in the distinguished Lever House and was frequently featured in the New York Times photography critic's page, which highlighted its pioneering role in introducing color photography to the art market.
The association began with seven photographers, and in his presentation, Chappell formulated the guidelines that the group followed, proposing a photograph freed from the mission of faithfully representing the object photographed.
"A HELIOGRAPHY is not only the product of the external, visible sun, but also of the photographer's internal sun, manifested through the interaction between the camera and human vision. Drawing on their experiences and ideas, heliographers seek to create proposals that transcend the mere literal recording of a scene or event."³
It was a justification or ode to abstraction, derived from his very particular conception, previously expressed in the book Under the sun, which he shared with two future heliographers.
“…the abstractions captured by the camera represent the fusion of two worlds: the invisible and the visible. They are the product of the encounter between the human mind and the related images of nature.”⁴



This counterpoint to documentary photography is evident in the work of many of the members, and its indelible mark can be seen throughout George Love's subsequent work. The principle dissipated within the association as membership churned, as Chappell lamented in the article years later. He listed 42 members in his memory over the two and a half years, but at no point did the group exceed 20 participants. The mentor himself moved out of town in the first few months and left the management of the sophisticated space, which he had obtained through a friend, in the hands of members who had not participated in the original creation and management. George Love soon became vice president and administrator of the gallery. Together with Scott Hyde, president, they maintained a thriving activity, as evidenced in the newspaper archive.⁵
The Association of Heliographers' dynamism lasted until the end of 1965. George kept few documents from that time, which are now in the library of the University of North Carolina at Charlotte (UNCC). A makeshift piece of paper lists the distribution of photograph sales for 1964. Other letters refer to the association's debt collections, while a statement from the president outlined plans for 1966. But that January, the association dissolved, and George disappeared from New York and ventured into the interior of South America.
Group exhibitions at Lever House were held annually, and it is about one of them that the critic's laudatory mention of George, Hyde and Syl Labrot appears,⁶ precisely the two colleagues who influenced him the most⁷ and with whom he shared ideas and visual affinities long after they parted.
² Letters from George Bishop Love, undated (ca. 1960), and from June 16, 1961 (days before his death). George Love Collection.
³ The Association of Heliographers, Heliography catalog, New York, 1963.
⁴ Between 1963 and 1965, the Heliographers or George Love individually appeared in more than 40 articles by critic Jacob Deschin in The New York Times.
⁵CHAPPELL, Walter. “The emergence, manifestation, and eventual eclipse of the Association of Heliographers 1960-65”. History of Photography Magazine, New York, 2000. 24:2. P. 180-182. LABROT, Syl; CHAPPELL, Walter; LYONS, Nathan; BRAZILLER, George. Under the Sun – The Abstract Art of Camera Vision, Inc., New York, 1960.
⁶ Jacob Deschin commented: “George Love has samples of his color prints in a variety of subjects and treatments; the blue monochrome is a daring one, and his pictures of windows at night suggest a new direction for him.” The New York Times. “Camera Notes: Heliographers in top photography display,” July 26, 1964 [p. 15].
⁷“Love, photography with love”, Folha de S.Paulo, 1st section, January 31, 1971.
In January 1966, George Love arrived to meet Claudia Andujar in Belém. They headed to the heart of Pará to document isolated indigenous people. They encountered the Xikrin community in transformation, driven into mercantile activity by a missionary who was opening an airstrip. George took few portraits and scenes, focusing on collecting sounds to offer to institutions. His greatest revelation was recorded in a diary, in which he recorded, with an outsider's insight, the epic struggle to overcome the rapids of the Itacaiúnas River, life in the village, and the preparation of his cargo of indigenous objects to export from Peru. There, he observed the archaeological work at the Pajatén ruins, which left a lasting impression on him. They passed through Bolivia and, after about six months, began sharing projects and a residence in São Paulo.
A 1965 letter from Claudia Andujar suggests that her joining the Association of Heliographers was late and that it was there that she met George Love⁸The origin of their shared plans is unknown, as is the time when Claudia met Rose, George's mother, but it was to her that she addressed him at Christmas that year. Her brief card indicates that there was already a romantic connection and that his trip to the Deep South was recent. Despite the suggestion that the two exchanged letters, a message she asked to be sent to George shows that she was seeking to encourage him during a period of indecision: "Tell him that I think he still has much to offer and to do that will bring him happiness and reward.⁹".
Claudia, now more experienced, had invited George to join her on a South American travel project. George shared some details about this trip in an interview:
I arrived in Brazil... on January 16, 1966. So I was with Claudia, and we traveled through the Amazon from January to May. In May we entered Peru, Bolivia, and ended up returning to Brazil through Corumbá.
I arrived with nothing!... The night before I left, the apartment was cleaned out. I was left with... 4 or 40, I don't know how many dollars, an old Exakta camera, a 40mm Mikro Kilar lens, practically no film, a Uher 4000 Reporter camera, which was the reporters' old warhorse.
Sometimes I used Claudia's camera... Basically, I recorded sound. I recorded a lot of sound from the Xikrin Indians, who we visited, and those recordings are still with me today.¹⁰.
George Love walked along the trail while the boat overcame another rapid, 1966.

Claudia Andujar with Xikrin child, 1966.

Notebook of the trip to the Xikrin territory: George Love, an important American, 1966.

The main objective was to locate native communities in remote locations that might be of interest to publications, especially those from abroad. Claudia arranged the meeting in Belém and waited there with trepidation for ten days, with all her plans meticulously planned. Their first destination was the Xikrin territory in the interior of Pará, following the guidance of a Swiss researcher who would be in the village for a limited period. To get there, they would have to leave Marabá on a small private boat, with a pre-arranged date. Despite all the setbacks caused by the consular visa delay, George arrived at the end of January, even in time to experience a Carnival ball at the Marabá Military Circle. They departed from there on February 3rd.
The documents he kept lend further precision and detail to this story. In his precious travel diary, he recounted the dramatic ten-day journey up a river with many rapids in flood stage. The notebook's cover reads "George Love – An Important American," which can be interpreted in several ways. His descriptions of places and events, along with commentary and criticism, reveal his out-of-place personality, strange to everything and everyone. But his pure, almost naive account of the local inhabitants, social issues, and activities among the indigenous people reveals details of this so-called humanistic approach, with all its imperfections and flaws.
The indigenous people, who sought themselves out and announced themselves as such to the distant public, were already transformed by contact, especially with those who claimed to study and protect them. The missionary who followed in the same boat to settle among the community revealed plans to open an airstrip there. George not only reported this in his diary but also photographed the land-clearing operation, which Father Carón was overseeing with the participation of the aforementioned ethnologist René Fuerst. The Swiss, who had no academic training, was actually a prospector who collected objects and art from indigenous peoples to replenish the collections of European museums. Photographers needed his information to also produce exotic content for consumer markets. Bonds were formed that lasted for years. The opportunity was seized by Claudia and George, who returned with the desired content on their films and sound tapes. He took some striking formal portraits and some documentation of the Xikrin, respecting her priority. In some scenes, the activity coordinated by outsiders can be seen, such as the collection of chestnuts destined for sale or the production of handcrafted pieces, certainly necessary for collectors.¹
Claudia Andujar photographing the activities of the Xicrin, 1966.

George Love and Claudia Andujar in Peru, May 28, 1966.

George himself, inexperienced in approaching local inhabitants, let alone in ethnology, followed suit and organized a collection of Xikrin art, with 73 pieces that are now housed in the Museum of the American Indian (Smithsonian).¹² He had a noble justification, like everyone in this field, even stated on his resume. But the documents he kept reveal the same financial objective as his advisor. Today, his photographs make us reflect and question what was given in exchange for those sophisticatedly crafted objects proudly carried by indigenous children.
The return from Xikrin territory became another story, transporting the cargo to Peru, because shipping it to the US from Belém would be difficult. In Peru, George had been assigned a task by Horizon magazine: to monitor archaeological work at the Pajatén ruins, high atop a remote mountain.¹³ The images were published, and the experience remained forever etched in George's memory. Continuing south, fulfilling other tasks planned by Claudia, the couple arrived in São Paulo in the second half of that year. The letters kept by George show that the issue of the Xikrin objects and their recorded tapes persisted for quite some time. Through them, we learn that the sound recordings were not casual research but had already been previously discussed with Yale University. However, upon his return, the institution reneged on the agreement, and so George began trying to sell them to other entities, unsuccessfully, as can be seen from his interview.
The Xikrin objects became a mess, according to correspondence exchanged with Boris Malkin, another native art dealer and friend of the couple.¹⁴The Polish man's letters are amusingly scandalous and reveal the fierce competition with his Swiss rival in the market that supplied collectors. He warned George about his negotiation style, then offered advice on prices and potential clients, cursed everyone and everything, demanded that Claudia hand over the Peruvian collection he had hired her to sell, and warned her not to try to sell the Xikrin photographs in Europe, which was the domain of René Fuerst—the same Fuerst who, after being prevented from exploring this territory, cried out to the world against the genocide in Brazil.
It's fascinating that George kept these documents, which can now be read from new perspectives.
⁸ Letter from Claudia Andujar to Scott Hyde, September 23, 1965. UNCC – J. Murrey Atkins Library Special Collections and University Archives at University of North Carolina at Charlotte, Charlotte, North Carolina, USA.
⁹Letter from Claudia Andujar to Rose Leary Love, December 22, 1965, and letter from Claudia Andujar to George Love, January 23, 1965. George Love Collection.
¹⁰Interview by George Love with Zé De Boni, ca. 1993.
¹¹FRANÇOZO, Mariana. “Ethnographic collecting in Brazil (1955-1975): interview with René Fuerst”. Bulletin of the Emílio Goeldi Museum of Pará. Human Sciences, v. 12, n. 3, p. 789-800, Sept.-Dec. 2017. FUERST, René. Xikrin. Amazonian Birds of the Amazon – 5 Continents. Milan, 2006.
¹²Available at: https://americanindian.si.edu/collections-search/search?edan_q=xikrin.
¹³ “The lost city of Pajaten”, Horizon magazine, Autumn 1967
¹⁴Correspondence of George Love and Borys Malkin, researchers and institutions, between the dates of March 19, 1966 and August 15, 1969. George Love Collection.
George Love never imagined he would work as a photographer in Brazil. A chance encounter led to his hiring by Editora Abril. The offer was appealing: to apply his creative talent to topics he wasn't familiar with. He covered fashion, costumes, and automobiles, eventually landing the prestigious Realidade magazine. He made history with photo essays that explored the visual and conceptual possibilities of his subjects rather than the so-called impartial documentation. He brought meaningful content often overlooked in the magazine's pages. But he didn't consider himself a photojournalist, as he saw in that space an opportunity to promote photography at a time when its popularity was growing. With Claudia Andujar, he strengthened his intellectual partnership and family ties, as when he received a visit from his mother at Christmas in 1967.
I came to Brazil without really knowing what I could do here. And I had no idea, to be exact, that I would pursue photography. I was part of a group of American photographers; we had a photography gallery in New York, on Lexington Avenue and 65th Street, and we dedicated ourselves to that as visual artists. So, being a photographer as a visual artist isn't like that, or at least at that time, it wasn't a big deal, a way to make a living... I thought about other things and ended up getting into photography because, one night, at a cocktail party, I met Roberto Civita.
Roberto approached me... and said, "Are you a photographer? Have you ever seen a soccer game?" I said, "No, never in my life..." "Then great! You have a job!"... Because around here we photograph a lot of soccer games. I think photographers in Brazil have taken every conceivable, even unimaginable, impossible shot of a soccer game. For a new shot, you'd have to be someone who's never seen the game, or even heard of it."
So, he then employed me, and I started working for Realidade, and, for the first four, five, six months at least, I was a sports photographer for Editora Abril.¹⁵
Realidade Magazine, February 1968 (p. 28-29)


Rose Leary Love, Love's mother, in Copacabana, January 1968.

George Love in the studio April, 1968.

George Love and Claudia Andujar, November 1967.

George Love worked for some of the publisher's most popular publications: 4 Rodas, Claudia, and, eventually, Manequim. The story of his hiring as a sports photographer serves as a parable for what he did with fashion. He created images that could not be labeled as illustrations or records, emphasizing mode and expression, in tune with the boundaries that specialists in the genre were expanding. In fact, still unknown to the public, he debuted in Realidade magazine in January 1967 with a portfolio featuring images by several photographers, which celebrated motherhood. George and Claudia Andujar shared a page—she with a photo of a prostitute, and he with a photo of a young Xikrin mother—with captions that illustrated the prejudice that still prevailed, even in a publication considered avant-garde. His eccentric take on soccer appeared the following month and again a year later, the second most striking, for its focus on the fans/sufferers, indifferent to what was happening on the field. Always acclaimed, Realidade received the same evaluation from George:
In reality, in the first four or five years, we lived through a unique moment, not only in Brazilian journalism, but in journalism worldwide.
There, he enjoyed his creative freedom to present expressive solutions that departed from the visual routine. But he also resorted to conventional journalistic models when the topic demanded it. Sent to the United States in 1968, he rediscovered the issue of civil rights, this time with due sensitivity, in the article "Power to the Black People."
In the material he preserved from this period, it's clear that he offered far more options than could fit in the magazines. But this didn't bother him, as the profusion of leftovers would fuel his personal work in constant recompilation.
On a personal level, George Love adapted very easily to the Brazilian lifestyle. His correspondence reveals the surprise of his American friends at his disappearance and where he had settled. From a distance, his mother was delighted with her only son's professional success, valued his partnership with Claudia, and worried about keeping him in touch with his family. Even in a period of physical decline, Rose used her meager savings to visit them in late 1967. They celebrated Christmas at Claudia's mother's house and toured Rio. Back in the US, Rose described the flight in a letter:
Oh! I got to see Brasília. The plane stopped over there, and I got an aerial view of the urban planning and some of its buildings. It looked amazing! We stopped over in Manaus and then flew over Mato Grosso and the vastness of the forest. I mustered up enough courage to look at the Amazon River and the forest below. Was that view incredible?¹⁶
¹⁵Interview by George Love with Zé De Boni, ca. 1993.
¹⁶Letter from Rose Leary Love, January 11, 1968. Love Collection.
To capture the public's attention, Realidade magazine created special themed editions, and the opening of the Amazon was the first project. A large team covered the region in the first half of 1971. George's mission was to showcase the landscape and suggested that this would only be possible with aerial photography, given the vastness and diversity of the environment. He certainly remembered his late mother's words about the sensation of flying over the Amazon River. With adventures he later recounted, he captured a number of photos far beyond what could fit in the magazine. He thus built a rich visual inventory, well suited to the image banks that represented him and his personal work. The October 1971 issue was a resounding success, but also his farewell to Realidade and Abril.
Rose passed away in June 1969; in early 1971, George refreshed her memory, flying over the Amazon in the service of Reality. One can imagine that the words of that letter were etched in his subconscious, if not in his living memory.
The magazine had been losing circulation for about a year. A controversy arose, like "How can we save Realidade?"... This was much discussed. Then, a journalist friend of mine named Raimundo Pereira had a very simple, very clear idea. He thought the magazine needed to delve deeper into certain topics. So he proposed forming a magazine produced by two teams. Suppose the magazine comes out 12 times a year, and that eight issues are called regular, or routine, issues, and four are special editions. Then the special edition team would work separately, because they would have more time to thoroughly explore the subject of each special issue. While the monthly, routine, issue team... would also be a team that worked for less time to delve a little less deeply. Raimundo conceived of the first topic to be addressed by a special issue as the opening of the Amazon. So he set up a plan involving a team of at least 50 people. I believe we went beyond that, if memory serves me, 70 people... The work was planned in the second half, or perhaps in the last three months of '69 [1970], and occupied the team from January to May or June of '70 [19711]. We had, for example, Luigi Mamprim, who was very experienced in contact with Indians, new hikes in the forest, etc., who was supposed to do this kind of thing; Jean Solari was supposed to photograph the killing of a jaguar; Claudia went after Indians, more intimately, etc., etc. I was given the landscape part, and Raimundo asked me if I thought it was possible or how I could photograph the Amazon landscape. I said that, for me, this could only be done from the air, because of the immensity of the subject, the need to travel within a very large area in a relatively short space of time, the need to collect a certain variety of images of this subject, and the need to be able to see this subject. It's a bit like asking: how would you photograph planet Earth? Well! Knowing what we know today, space would be the only way to photograph planet Earth, for sure. So I went there, it was in early April, I believe, 1970 [1971], and I stayed until June.
Realidade Magazine, special edition “Amazônia”, photos by Claudia Andujar (left) and George Love (right), October 1971.

I kept flying and doing this, everywhere, and I had money from the magazine. But the magazine money ran out, so I asked for more. Then it ran out, so I asked for more. A telex arrived, because back then there was no fax machine; there was an old telex machine in Belém, Pará. And I was the telex operator. Then a telex machine came from São Paulo: "Fuck, it's over! You've already spent, I don't know, 14 billion cruzeiros just on air taxis! Impossible! Stop this immediately! Where's George?" And I was on the telex machine saying, for example: "I don't know where George Love is! The last time I saw him was about two weeks ago, and he was going to... I don't know, I think he was well west of Manaus, but only God knows where." Or for example: "I heard Claudia Andujar is going after another tribe of Indians. Tell her to come back, because the cost of this, the cost of this, the cost of this..." "Ahhh! I'm sorry she left yesterday. Now... There's no way to locate someone already traveling through the Amazon! I'm so sorry, but what can you do?" And so on. ¹⁷
George kept samples of telex, agendas, notes and flight schedules.
When we returned from the Amazon with all this, we held meeting after meeting. Our goal was to keep everything concise and faithful to what we had seen. I was faced with the unfortunate fact that I hadn't taken a single photograph of the Trans-Amazonian Highway cutting through the jungle, and that Manchete had already become famous for publishing it in every imaginable way. And I had never photographed it.
Telex conversation between Love, in Belém, and Raimundo Pereira, at Editora Abril, São Paulo, 1971.
George Love's notebook during magazine work Reality in the Amazon, 1971.
List of Santarém air taxi flights, 1971.

Magazine cover Room, January 1973.

That's a lie! I took a picture, but I said I'd lost it in the fog or something. Even when the photos were being analyzed, I got a phone call: "Fuck! What? There's nothing on the Trans-Amazonian Highway?" "No! Oh, I don't know, it's gone... I don't know where, I'm not even going to look."
Time passed. The magazine came out. With much trepidation, the publisher decided to publish a thousand copies of a magazine that [in the past] had sold 500 copies—yes! This magazine had, if I'm not mistaken, 304 pages. It disappeared from newsstands at the end of the second day. It was on the black market, selling for three times the cover price by the third day. By the fourth day, the publisher had already entered into a conference to determine whether it would be necessary to reprint the magazine.
Now, this is another example of what I said: when what could be called a creative impulse, a journalistic impulse, acts accordingly, with seriousness, it becomes, among other things, commercially viable. But, in my experience, most business owners don't like this. They would like—and this should be understood as a human need—to imagine that the magazine is published, bought, and the articles are believed, because of their work.¹⁸
There's a story, repeated by many, that after this issue, the entire staff was fired for political reasons, censorship, dictatorship... George Love's naively romantic account allows us to imagine more reasons, at least for his dismissal. When we consult his collection of Amazonian photographs, we see, from the Kodachrome frames stamped with the date "MAY 1971" and the flight indications marked in pen on the white frames, corresponding to the notes in his notebook, that he produced an immensely larger quantity than the publisher needed. This endeavor accounts for most of the Amazonian images he used in his personal work. It's also clear that the magazine lacked the iconic photographs that made him famous, but it can't be guaranteed that this was the editors' decision or because they hadn't seen that part of the production. It's clear, even given his unique film selection, that George used his own material and personally handled the processing, as was common practice for him.
A little over a year passed, and he was featured in the renowned Camera magazine, where he recounted another independent trip and plans for a book with Claudia Andujar. The photographer reports:
I chose to focus primarily on aerial views. Considering that this type of photography in the Amazon requires extensive flight times and, consequently, high costs, the project was only possible thanks to the support of the Brazilian Air Force, which provided planes and pilots, practically on demand.¹⁹
His extraordinary production of visual images and environmental records fed the collection of his representatives in New York and established George Love as a synonym for aerial photography of the Amazon.
¹⁷Interview by George Love with Zé De Boni, Ca. 1993.
¹⁸Interview of Love with Zé De Boni, ca. 1993.
¹⁹Camero Magazine, January 1973, pp. 14 to 22.
In addition to Editora Abril, George Love participated in several editorial initiatives that emerged in the early 1970s. These were showcases that gave visibility to his work and where he encouraged the use of photography. He was the photography editor and photographer for Bondinho magazine, a publication of a supermarket group, a limited but highly influential publication. His experience was remarkable, but brief, as was his time editing two specialized magazines, Fotografia and Novidades Fotoptica. As a reference for the growing community of amateurs and professionals, George was able to explicitly discuss the technique and language he mastered and showcase himself in those spaces with the eccentricity of the avant-garde of the time.
O tree The growth of photography in the early 1970s reflected the industrial evolution of equipment and processes, as well as the sociocultural transformations of the previous decade. In this context, practicing photography was an act of liberation, and flaunting one's equipment represented glamour and youthfulness. The austere norms of photo clubs were being overcome, and informal courses proliferated. Beginners drew inspiration from innovative publications.
Cover of Fotoptica magazine, March 1971.

Page from the magazine Novidades Fotoptica, March 1971, with work developed in the printing house at the time of printing.

“St. Paul Essay”, Novidades Fotoptica magazine, 1979, fleece test.

Besides George Love being one of the highlights of Realidade, his striking visual solutions could be followed in the biweekly magazine Bondinho, which emerged in the São Paulo scene in the late 1970s. There, he was the photography editor himself and enjoyed the freedom to pursue his formal research, adding important building blocks to the construction of his personal vision of the city. His role as an influencer in both magazines was complemented by initiatives that encouraged the use of photography, guiding the first steps, such as the course he prepared for Realidade, published while he was flying through the Amazon. This was his introduction:
Photography is no longer a complicated technique, and it's becoming easier to understand every day. Today, most of the time, you don't need in-depth technical knowledge to take pictures: you just need to know certain basic rules—which is good, because anything that frees you up to create is automatically the best option. To begin with, it's important to know that a good photo can be taken with a common, inexpensive camera. If I say, "It's good to have an interchangeable-lens camera," it's obviously because I believe it. But you can, without any interchangeable lenses, achieve a beautiful photographic expression, much better than mine. I say photographic expression because the idea of photography changes daily, allowing for forms of expression and seeing things in the most varied and imaginable ways. Everything depends on your creation—the machine can replace humans only to a certain extent. I hope that by reading this guide, you'll become interested in photography, even if you've never taken one.²⁰
Bondinho Magazine, cover and inside pages, January 22, 1971.

Interestingly, Bondinho magazine addressed the topic almost simultaneously. Even during the short life of Revista de Fotografia and his brief stint at Novidades Fotoptica, George's didactic streak was evident, always addressing technical frontiers and the multiplicity of expressive solutions. He served as editor, keeping abreast of international developments and leveraging the space to showcase his own work. In the March 1971 issue of Novidades Fotoptica, he took advantage of his privileged access to the printing press to create the final product in print—that is, the pages featured not mere reproductions, but what he considered the work itself. He followed the trend of using offset printing as a medium, closely modeled on the work of his colleagues Scott Hyde and Syl Labrot. But, as an alternative to methodically controlled work, he allowed chance to play a role in the process. This is how he was introduced by Roberto Freire:
For George Love, whatever the subject photographed, it is his personal world, his own person, that he seeks to discover and understand… he believes that the world and people are constantly evolving, that we create and conceive reality, and thus it will be captured and shown in photographs, recording things that are more internal than external. Hence, one could perhaps say that this essay is a self-portrait of the artist, involving the people most closely connected to him on an emotional and affective level.²¹
There, he demonstrated his complete maturity, as he juggled multiple activities and projects, enjoying the fullness of his competence. There's a remarkable consistency with what he would say in an interview more than 20 years later. George consciously constructed his universe of images from an eminently narcissistic perspective, in his own words, providing another key to deepening our understanding of his work and trajectory.
This stint as a director of specialized publications was remarkable, even if it was short-lived. Now off the press, in 1979 he appeared again in Novidades Fotoptica with the work "St Paul," based on introspective graphic counterpositions. It was the pilot for a personal artist's book project, and that presentation featured images he had already arranged in sequence for the screening, all on the same theme: "The effort it took to find his place in a city like São Paulo?²²
²⁰Realidade Magazine, “Learn to photograph. It’s simple”, March 1971, p. 105.
²¹Novidades Fotoptica Magazine, year 14, no. 48, March 1971.
²²Novidades Fotoptica Magazine, “St. Paul Essay”, 1979.
Avant-garde and eccentric are terms that best describe George Love's work at MASP, always in partnership with Claudia Andujar. Falling under Bardi's wing, they coordinated the museum's Photography Laboratory, a highly sought-after workshop for teaching technique and expression. For just over a decade, they organized solo exhibitions and major group shows. The highlight was Photography Week in 1974, a pioneering event and the fruit of George's personal efforts during the couple's separation. Even more remarkable were his own solo shows, which employed projections with surprising soundtracks and spatial designs, created by George himself. A musical show with projections in the open space and a visual jam session became legendary, witnessed by a limited audience.
In 1969, George Love held his first "show" at MASP. Two years later, he created an experimental event, as he called it, using a powerful projector and prisms that scattered his images across fabrics hung around the large mezzanine room. The heat from the light source burned and punctured the slides, and people interacted with the projections, ensuring that nothing was repeated.²³ And in 1973, he directed a similar projection featuring photographs by Claudia Andujar. George also composed the soundtracks and handled all the production of the necessary accessories for his creations, according to Dan Fialdini, who was responsible for the museum's exhibition setup at the time. For the exhibition "The Brazilian Family" (1971), which featured portraits of ancestors and contemporaries collected from the community, George created a projection with sound, which visitors could watch from church pews. Dan says it was one of the most moving things he saw at the museum: people leaving the screening in tears.
The São Paulo Museum of Art has focused on photography since its inception, but lacked a dedicated department or curator until the centralizing figure of Pietro Maria Bardi opened the space to Claudia Andujar and George Love. Still in informal management, they coordinated major events, both individually and as a duo, always timely and pioneering.
Installation project made by photographer on the back of a film canister, 1971.
Poster at MASP, ca. 1969.

Documentation of the 1971 installation by George Love himself; his shadow illustrates the interaction the public could have with the work.

Projector in the MASP Photography Week exhibition room, 1974.

Slide punctured by the heat from the projector at the MASP installation in 1971.

Documentation of the Eletropaulo Year I exhibition, MASP, 1982.

An important photographer at the time, Ray Metzker, who emerged in the United States after I had already traveled, I saw him for the first time at MASP. The same can be said of Lee Friedlander's work. For years and years, MASP had an astonishing frequency of photography exhibitions. In 74, we produced the Photography Week there. Bardi, myself, Luís Osaka—basically the three of us, and a few others—had the idea of an exhibition somewhat reminiscent of the '22 Week, with photographs from all over the world inside the museum, which was an ambition clearly impossible to achieve. At the time, Brazil was very closed, with problems importing and exporting works of art... We pushed here, pulled there, and in the end, we had 65 photographers, all of Eastern Europe was represented, some from the Soviet Union... Japan... Italy was represented by Bardi himself. And it was a week! We managed... to bring two important American photographers, Syl Labrot and his wife, Barbara Labrot, to give lectures and exhibit as well. There were a series of lectures throughout the week on a wide variety of subjects… And the week of 1974 was something that can be remembered to this day.²⁴
The event, held in November, began early that year, when Claudia was in Roraima fulfilling her scholarship commitment. George wrote letters to support her work and monitored any problems she encountered. Still in August, she announced her decision to separate. She wouldn't return until the end of the year, but she still had at least one photo of herself in the exhibition: George Love in a sensual pose in the house they shared in Sarapuí.
Claudia coordinated Greater Sao Paulo 76, where George was just one of dozens of photographers. In 1977, he directed the exhibition series The Brazilian Landscape. The last major event held was Eletropaulo Year 1982, in XNUMX, with the collection of historical images of the old Light.
While George Love's achievements at the museum were full of creativity, avant-garde work, and competence, his documents reveal a lack of the formal protocol required for the activity. The photographs he took of the exhibitions were more visual essays than documentary reports. Failures in returning used works or poor technical documentation were no obstacle to occupying that space. Perhaps it was a great virtue of MASP's indifference to this, providing the ground for George to freely exert his remarkable influence on both casual visitors and those who attended his workshops.
The workshop experience, the MASP Photography Lab, was extremely important. It was there that I, and I think Claudia and everyone, discovered the feeling of learning as participation. It didn't take long from the moment it began, when I started telling people: "Well, the MASP workshop is incredibly valuable to me because that's where I learn." I always felt I learned much more than anyone else in the class. When I went in there, whether I was speaking or someone else was speaking, representing a point of view, even antagonistic or something like that to my own, I was still learning tremendously.
…The photography concepts that were formed in the MASP Workshop were as important as the creation of the book "Amazônia" and the experience of having spent time in the Amazon. Here I must say something that will become obvious: at that time, the São Paulo Museum of Art was run by Bardi. Bardi gave this business a brilliant boost. Bardi was never an easy person and never stopped being a genius. And I believe that this workshop and the things it achieved were something that would not have been possible without his initial help: a seed!
…We had a certain attitude toward photography… this attitude later influenced people, opening them up to new options… I would say that this is the phrase: discovering photography as a form of expression, discovering, even more so, photography as a form of self-expression… Being helped in this, in a certain open-mindedness. Now, what I call, however, an open-mindedness is something that emerged in the world more or less simultaneously…
I have always had respect for the Brazilian eye and idea in photography.²⁵
²³ MARQUES, Hernani. “The magic of the Chinese photo”, Folha de S. Paulo, June 24, 1971.
²⁴ Interview by George Love with Zé De Boni, ca. 1993.
²⁵ Interview by George Love with Zé De Boni, ca. 1993.
Of George and Claudia's cultural activities, only sporadic courses generated any income. But their success opened the door to commercial work in the corporate image segment. Calendars, annual reports, brochures, and books carried works that retained his signature. George took on more conventional tasks, such as documenting factories and construction sites, where he dedicated himself to his physical limits. Even in this demanding field, he displayed the creativity of a true heliographer. His work included a stand and projection design for Olivetti, the 1981 Eucatex annual report, the audiovisual project Les Barrages, about the Brazilian electrical system, and an exhibition for Eletropaulo. The construction of Itaipu and the farewell to Sete Quedas marked the decline of his commercial activity.
Parallel to his involvement in the cultural promotion of photography, George Love worked on commercial projects, which was more than just a means of supporting himself and his projects. It was largely a creative activity focused on corporate themes. His company, Lovisual, in partnership with Claudia, was founded in 1970 and targeted institutional pieces for large companies. The materials used were often derived from their personal work. George gradually became known for his sophisticated visual creation in a refined market niche.
Similar to what he received at publishers and the museum, his corporate work was supported by certain visionaries who trusted his ability to amaze the target audience, to the point of entrusting him with the entire design, which went beyond the visual. This was the case with the audiovisual project Les Barrages, when Lucas Nogueira Garcez was director of the São Paulo Energy Company (CESP); with Mario Chamie at the Olivetti.com pavilion; with Mathias Machline's Sharp Group profiles; and with Guido Santi's 1981 annual report for Eucatex. George dealt directly with senior management, as his notes reveal.
Self-sufficient, he worked practically alone, an unusual and problematic thing in this market. He never mentioned having an assistant. This is clear from the tapes.²⁶ which he recorded as an account of his 1975 trip to Sudan, photographing for Mercedes-Benz. On that assignment, George encountered a series of problems and lacked the support of someone he trusted. Perhaps, if he had, he wouldn't have gone through the experience again, which he jokingly recounted in an interview:
I once tried to do an industrial project here in Brazil. It was for an agency, a client who had eight large factories in southern Brazil to be photographed in seven days. And I said, "Ah! I'll do it!" So I actually photographed eight factories in seven days, fueled primarily by beer and wine from Rio Grande. On the seventh day, I passed out. That's it!... I was taken to I don't know where and woke up in a hotel room, and people were all around the bed! I was thinking, "Oh my gosh! I think I'm screwed, I think I'm going to die!" Crazy, right? Pure and simple nonsense! But that's what went through my head at that moment. And people left the room to let me sleep. And what did I do? I saw that, next to the bed, on the nightstand, was my camera! I grabbed my camera, raised it above my head, and started photographing my face. Imagine! I was dying! What was the crazy guy thinking about capturing the last drops of sweat for? But also, what can we do? An effort toward self-knowledge.²⁷
This is just one of his many narratives about using self-portraits to reposition himself, attributing to the process the power to rescue him from great pressures or "near-deaths." It was Lucas Garcez who brought him to Eletropaulo, where he produced two books and an exhibition at MASP in 1982. Later, Nelson Garcez allowed him to witness the construction of Itaipu and the farewell to Sete Quedas. Through his archive of images, one can see a less efficient, scattered, and redundant George Love. His time at the energy companies soon ended, other doors were closing, and George Love felt the internal pressure for change more intense.
Olivetti Pavilion with projection designed by George Love, 1970.
Eucatex Annual Report, Love Project, 1981, UNC Charlotte J. Murrey Atkins Library.

Sharp Group institutional brochure, ca. 1978.

PEM Engenharia Calendar, with images of the Amazon, 1980.

Mercedes-Benz Calendar, in partnership with Claudia Andujar, text by Mário Chamie, 1976.

Self-portrait of one of George Love's "near deaths," date undetermined.

²⁶ Material archived in the UNCC library.
²⁷ Interview with George Love by Zé De Boni, ca. 1993. The same story was reported in the article “The Magic of the Chinese Photo,” by Hernani Marques, in Folha de S. Paulo, June 24, 1971.
Right after the special edition of Reality, George revealed his intention to publish a book with photographs of the Amazon together with Claudia. The project dragged on, but was maintained even after the couple separated. Finally, in 1978, bringing together the ideas of Wesley Duke Lee's project, Regastein Rocha's printing press, and a special text by the poet Thiago de Mello, the book Amazon was printed. A major setback shook them: the text was censored, removed from the binding, and the edition was reduced to a fraction of what was anticipated. The relic, preserved by few, features George Love's landscape in the first part, followed by Claudia Andujar's indigenous world, with an air of mystery that invites various interpretations. The author's explanation reveals this breath of genius with clarity and simplicity.
The idea of publishing a book with images of the Amazon with Claudia Andujar appeared in a letter from George Love to his aunt Fannie, back in November 1971, in which he remembered his mother.
The trip to the Amazon is part of a major book project about nature conservation and indigenous cultures. We both invested practically everything we had in the expedition, which proved extremely costly (you have to rent a plane, and so on, and traveling in the forest is difficult and expensive in terms of equipment), but we're confident the result will be a rich harvest and a good book. We've already arranged for publication in Brazil and then hope to launch it in the United States. While working on it, I recall some of the topics we discussed in our conversations related to Rose's wishes. Some of the money she left me will be used for this, and I believe she would be pleased to hear that.²⁸
Two months later, he wrote about the outcome of the trip, optimistic that the book would be published very soon. The letter recounted his first contact with the Yanomami village and the Catrimani mission, where Claudia would later undertake the photographic work that established her and dedicate herself to the cause of that people. It also included a curious description of the Catalina seaplane and his delight in photographing from the rear gunner's position. The silhouette of that window can be seen in the frame in some important photographs he used.
I think the trip was a huge success; we photographed more than we anticipated; now that I think about it, the book is already well underway. It will take two to three weeks to complete the film development. We went from here to the mouth of the Amazon, where I covered huge flocks of birds and nature reserves to the north, while Claudia photographed waterfalls on the Jari River, a major tributary of the Amazon, northwest of the delta. Then we covered highway construction and towns south of that region, and then I went to a point about 600 miles upriver and spent some time flying over several tributaries in the central Amazon, photographing from the air, while Claudia tracked wildlife west of Manaus, about 1.000 or 1.200 miles upriver. Then, a large Brazilian Air Force seaplane picked me up and took me to Manaus and then up the Rio Negro, which is the largest tributary of the Amazon and very beautiful (the water is dark red and clear at the same time). The plane had a sort of tunnel in the tail and the floor removed (it's not really a floor, but a kind of large triangular door). I lay on the floor of this area and had a perfect vantage point for aerial photography. We flew about 5.000 miles round trip to Manaus, which took about three days (seaplanes are slow and need to land several times). During this time, Claudia was in Manaus, still photographing wildlife, and I met her again on the way back, and we continued on to Roraima, where she planned to go into the interior to study some indigenous tribes. We flew over a beautiful mountain range between Brazil and what was then British Guiana (these flights are made in small single-engine planes with the doors removed to allow photography, and are often cold and windy) and captured what I believe to be the first images of certain regions—a very spectacular waterfall and more. Then we went southwest to the same area, which is now forest, and photographed the Indians—Claudia was more involved in photography there than I was, and I managed to record some of their music. I arranged with a priest/scientist who works with this tribe to send microphones and a large quantity of magnetic tape to help with the music recording. Then back to Manaus and home; it took about two months, much longer than we expected.²⁹
Despite the initial impetus, the book was in the works for much longer. The couple made their last trip together in May 1974 and separated when Claudia dedicated herself fully to her work with the Yanomami. Only in late 1978, with George's special commitment and the sponsorship of his Manaus client, Sharp, was it finally published. Amazon finally completed its production. But it wasn't without further setbacks, which contributed to its mystery.
This book emerged from convictions that were both Claudia's and mine about the nature of photography itself, about the experience in the Amazon. And it was an effort to reconcile ideas we had about photography with ideas we had about the Amazon. It wasn't exactly what you'd call a very traditional approach, where, for example, I'd want to put together a book of my portraits of painters... But then, what happens? If it were something like that, the important subject would be the painters. And the desire at the time was that the important subject would be the Amazon: one. Two: it was necessary, this was very much on everyone's mind, to break once and for all with this idea that a photograph is a so-called faithful representation of the subject...
Personally, while teaching photography, I came to affirm, something I maintain to this day, that... every so-called good photograph managed to be a self-portrait, pure and simple. And it was through this egoism, the idea of the self-portrait, that the photographer attempted to reach an understanding with the world. Even though there's a mirror here, I'll portray myself in the mirror, curiously, so I can better see what's behind me, what's a little out of sight. I want to engage with the world, so I'll photograph this world. This act isn't about portraying the world, but myself. And in this mirror of myself, perhaps I'll be able to see what I call my world, or "the world." Bigger than me.
If you look through this book, there's this pair. What happens is this: this is photography... [p. 39]. Here [p. 38] I changed the color loading on the plates and even the rotation sequence of the photolithographs so that it would artificially become something else. The eye should then look and ask: "But what is the truth?"
There are other things. Here, this is the photo [p. 10]... and here only the black plate was printed [p. 11]. This is the photo [p. 71], and this is part of the leader of the same film [p. 61]. In other words, here you see, as we expected, very clearly, this is film! It's not the sky, it's the sky recorded on film. Therefore, this book is not a book about the Amazon. The Amazon lives here [points to his head] and there [points forward]. This is a book about films. Since it's a book about films, among other things, we'll reproduce films... And let's open the book, the first plate... It's a film [p. I]. That doesn't exist in the Amazon... So, from beginning to end, it's like this.
And the book follows a schedule. The entrance is meant to be mysterious, gradually becoming clearer. When the landscape plane is becoming clear, one enters, through this same device [p. 701, into the forest, symbolized by a semi-indecipherable leaf [p. 71]. Then, once again, entering the indigenous world, this indigenous world disappearing, moving, vanishing, becoming abstract. Finally, the last photograph, the human being itself dissolves into the stars [p. 145]. Recorded… on… film! [p. 144] Just the film. And after this… but what is this? [p. 146] Black [p. 1471 this is the beginning printed upside down [p. 148]. Closes the cycle.
[This] was never understood because of the way the book was handled. It's known that this book was never released to the public. One of the things that was removed from it was the entire explanatory text. That solved the riddle: without the explanatory text... Bye! And, on top of that, it simply never came out. You have this today because, during the censorship era, there's no other word for it; for various reasons, it was decided to bind a certain number of books with only the image pages. In the rush, I've seen this here in your book, suitcase pages... the paper that the printer wastes for nothing, that they throw away.
See this here? This is a pain! This is something that would never have been bound normally... And if you look here [at the binding], do you see how it plays? Because the special text was this thick. Which was right here.
…The text was written by Thiago de Mello. And when I say explanatory text, that in itself deserves an explanation. Because it's not just an explanatory text for the images. It's a poetic text that aims to recreate the experience of the Amazon. We thought that was enough, and I even believe it would have been enough, for the reader, having read this poetic text, of poetry and recreation of atmosphere, where atmosphere, not the subject, was the problem, to be adequately prepared to plunge into these images where atmosphere, not fidelity to an imaginary subject, whatever it might be, would have been the problem. So, when I say explanatory text, that doesn't mean a series of captions. But his text was removed, and the book's print run was also cut. A certain number of books were bound. The mass of pages, etc., was thrown away. The photolithographs also disappeared, the text disappeared, the books that were bound were few, and at the time, a ban was imposed on the circulation of this book within the country. This book, so to speak, is forbidden… A relic.³⁰
View of dirt runway through rear gunner's eye of Catalina seaplane, 1971.

Book Amazon, by Claudia Andujar and George Love, Praxis Publishing House, São Paulo, 1978.

Case, p. 38-39, p. 10-11, p. 70-71, p. 48-49, p. 6-7, p. 8-9, Cover

²⁸ Letter from George Love to his Aunt Fannie, November 4, 1971. George Love Collection.
²⁹ Letter from George Love to his Aunt Fannie, December 30, 1971. George Love Collection.
³⁰ Interview by George Love with Zé De Boni, ca. 1993.
An artist who used photography, by his own definition, George Love sought a personal interpretation of his world. His background was conventional photography. With mastery of the equipment, elementary techniques yielded unusual results in his hands. What he called experimental photography was based more on experience than experiments, so everything could be resolved with a single click. Or he was fascinated by the "mishaps of chance" he collected. Such is the case with the suitcases, randomly printed graphic sheets that he bound in exclusive editions. Everything was used as a work of art: proofs and printing plates, graphic film, or the much-vaunted film ends. He created projections, designed spaces, used sound, staged events, and designed prints. He was free.
George Love was self-taught in photography. His work process was inspired by contemporary models, based on the control of agile equipment and the selection of diverse, sensitive materials. Lightbox selection was as important as perceiving the visual opportunity in capturing the shot. This is how he described it in his book:
I usually use motorized cameras set to the maximum frame rate—there's a lot of previewing, often in terms of sequences rather than single shots, and sometimes I don't look through the viewfinder if I'm sure I'm capturing what I want.³¹
It wasn't a matter of trial and error, as he athletically controlled his reaction, drawing on experience with a process that required hours, days, or weeks to achieve the desired result. He used sequences in the projections, which he conceived as thought-provoking installations—a pioneering multimedia artist. He used flaws and accidents when aesthetically appealing or pertinent, creating a vast collection of film clippings and uncontrolled light inputs. Everything was used to enhance beauty or strangeness.
Rare silkscreen prints made during MASP Photography Week, 1974.


Signed proof of printing, date undetermined.

Signed offset poster, 1980.

With creative freedom, he resorted to what he called experimental photography, but which would be better labeled unconventional. This involved using unusual films, such as Ektachrome Infrared, or altering processing, or even reproducing the photographs themselves to add effects. He masterfully explored elementary processes described in Kodak's basic books, which could be obtained from third-party laboratories. George was not a printer and did not make the laboratory his workstation, contrary to the American tradition maintained by his fellow heliographers. He had a strong affinity with the work of Scott Hyde and Syl Labrot, cultivating the multiple realities imprinted in a work. And he achieved this effect with a single click through reflections and superimpositions, without the need for extensive technical work. A very rare exception to this rule are the engravings in silk screen which he did during Syl's workshop at MASP, when he came to Photography Week.
His two colleagues followed a trend of the time of producing printed works in offset as a final product, George found a way to embrace the idea directly through his access to printing presses, since his publishing days. The book Amazon He had this concern, so the pieces he produced were limited edition pieces and did not function as simple reproductions. Combining this principle with his fascination with accidental results, he collected, framed, and sold photolithography films, proof sheets, and printing plates, as he told a magazine in 1979:
George Love divides the perception of images into several generations and manages to identify each of them: the image seen by the eyes, the image seen through the machine, the image printed on film, the image printed on paper, on the photolithography, on the printing plate, on the paper on which it is printed, the transformations through printing itself, and so on. He then takes advantage of all these phases, or generations, as he likes to call them, and utilizes them in his work. According to him, all these phases are quite useful, so much so that he plans to release four books by the end of the year, using only printed pages from his other works, but which were used to adjust the printing press. These are extremely limited runs and executed almost like handicrafts.³²
This brilliant idea could be a chapter in itself. The truth is that George managed to produce a few volumes, which he sold to private clients. Like many things he left behind, these author's books remained unrecorded: no one knows how many were produced, who bought them, or whether they are preserved. But his fascination with the process was captured in an interview.
I was talking to someone here in São Paulo today, and they were commenting on a series of photographs I took in 1983. I was saying, "Yeah! I actually liked that; it was really good. But the best thing about doing that and even publishing it was the machine case." A case is when, at the printer, someone is adjusting the machine, color, register, and so on. They run through many sheets of paper with mismatched register, color, etc., and then they're thrown away. When they finally get it right, they run the sheets. I was there collecting the case, which I thought was the most beautiful. So I had done that work, that work was printed... I went to the printer, not to check the accuracy of the photograph's reproduction, but to collect the case, which had nothing to do with the photograph. I collected them and then assembled books, bound them by hand. And I sold them to my clients. I sold them just like I talked about selling portrait installations. So why not sell a hand-bound book out of a suitcase? So I said, "Look! It's the same! We could even run it here, but what's going to be useful later is the suitcase. So let's make a diary, calendar, book, or whatever the hell, entirely out of a suitcase. Random mishaps!" ³³
Printing plate, probably proofs, of images of Amazon, which was exposed in the Photography Week from MASP in 1974.
Printing plate with images of cats, date undetermined.

³¹ TOLEDO, Benedito Lima de. Paulo Notes. São Paulo: Eletropaulo — Electricity of São Paulo SA, 1982.
³² RODRIGUES, Zeca -Clic!”, unidentified magazine. UNCC Archives
³³ OLIVEIRA, Moracy R. de. *News and projects. On the return of George Love”, Jornal da Tarde, July 26, 1979, p. 17.
George Love abdicated Amazon in 1980 to showcase the product of his interaction with the city of São Paulo. The exhibition Diaries, at the Album gallery, summarized in 25 Cibachrome enlargements the essay he would publish two years later. The book Sao Paulo – Notes functioned as a contemporary pair of Sao Paulo – Records, which contained photos from the old Light archive selected and edited by the photographer. But, in contrast to the documentary images of the past, Anotações offered a unique perspective, with a deeply personal context, fueled by emotions and memories. It brought together photographs from his editorial and corporate days, as well as family and intimate events. And the geolocation didn't necessarily correspond to the metropolis, but to George Love's heart.
The shift in focus at the end of the decade wasn't the end of a cycle, but a return to his traditional way of creating expressions through a selection of photographs taken in a wide variety of contexts, from casual observations to technical works. The methodology remained unchanged, as this was how he produced his first exhibition at MASP.
The link was always his presence and his inner perception. The work on the light table, which he emphasized in lectures of the time, was almost a form of therapy, reclaiming personal impressions and selecting the important building blocks for a message that emerged from within. The subject could be a cat, a dog, or any other animal, but the cat would take priority because of George's affinity for these creatures. The moment, too, concerned an intimately important fact. Only the photographer knew the explicit meaning of the setting, the ground, or the lamppost, but his senses reflected on the observer, who lived with the same icons. What held attention was not the subject itself, which could be trivial, but its transposition into photographs laden with mystery, which would be interpreted according to each observer's particular experience. George Love was explicit; it wasn't documentation, but personal expression.
Shortly after the exhibition Daily, he began working with the electric power company's documentary collection. The glass plates and old films received a modern treatment, which he conveniently called restoration. He lacked the training and support for such work, but his recreations in the laboratory and at the printing press were unique and exclusive, resulting in this precious book. São Paulo — Records.³⁴
Book São Paulo – Notes, front and back cover, 1982. p. 82-83, p. 70-71, p.100-101


As a harmoniously crafted contemporary complement, a second volume brought together a more extensive selection of George Love's Diaries, under the title São Paulo – Notes.³⁵ These were two books ahead of their time, going beyond the rigid documentary framework. This perception is evident when comparing the visuals with the opening text of the personal book. Benedito Lima de Toledo's beautiful essay describes São Paulo at the time and offers a glimpse into its curious origins, but its conventional format contrasts with the selection of photographs, which were not mere illustrations. Their inclusion would be yet another example of using a literary essay to support a photographic work, which was certainly unnecessary. More in tune with the visuals is George's own text, which points to his own experience as an editor. This is the best way to interpret it.
This book represents a selection of photographs taken between September 1966 and the first days of February 1982; spanning the time from the moment I first attempted to connect with this city—still strange and intimidating to me today—to the time it and I made our peace, though not without some mutual awkwardness. To use an old American expression, I would say we agreed to disagree.
The photos span four phases; not in chronological order, sometimes in parallel, but nonetheless defining four facets of the life I had here.
The first is formalism, flat abstractions, and multiple exposures, in which one perceives a concern with the sense of the passage of time. This is the first, where the city emerges beneath a painting of itself.
The second is journalistic: I confront strangers, almost brutally. Typical is the sequence of people walking near Patriarca Square, or the families in Brás.
The third is about introspection, perhaps not very accessible to the observer, since, at the time, I was the most interested observer, and I had no interest in translations. A photo of clear water, with an ill-defined shadow, depicts my own shadow, and at that moment I thought I was photographing for the last time in my life. It's melodramatic, but true.
In the end, something simpler, more casual: a desire to talk to others and to listen. On New Year's Eve 1982, I photographed a nativity scene in a dark room, next to a television with a boy's face. Together, tradition and the transient: the passage of time. Then, my cats play, and playing gives me a signature to my work. Cats playing speak volumes about my philosophy of the moment. One more page, the day ends, and with it the book. Closed.³⁶
Our intimacy with George Love's work allows us to identify images of work from his editorial and corporate phases, and even from various private moments. There are many personal references, of unique importance, that evoke the experiences of yet another citizen among millions, incognito and camouflaged in the metropolis, this one also with subtle identification. His main strength lies in the form he uses to compose his diaries and notes. They could be from anywhere and would have the same meaning, because he borrows this term from the tradition that dates back to Stieglitz.³⁷ But it is São Paulo, George Love's São Paulo, that fuels his internal conflicts and provokes his photographic reflections. Because it is his city, his private events are important. And, since he is the reference, he enjoys the freedom to include images from places far from his own city. His girlfriend in his refuge appears in the exhibition portfolio. His cats are also there and in the book. And the photographs that signify the work on the covers of Sao Paulo – Notes are of the pool and the sunset view from his house in Sarapuí.
Lecture during his exhibition at the Album gallery, by Zé De Boni, April 1980.


³⁴ LOVE, George; TOLEDO, Benedito L.; PONTES, J.A.O. São Paulo – Records. São Paulo: Eletropaulo – Electricity of São Paulo SA, 1982.
³⁵ LOVE, George; TOLEDO, Benedito L. São Paulo – Notes. São Paulo: Eletropaulo – Electricity of São Paulo SA, 1982.
³⁶ Ibid
³⁷ Alfred Stieglitz (1864 –1946), American photographer who influenced generations of artists and coined the term “equivalent” to identify photographs or other works that refer more to the author’s inner perception.
"Life with Rosi + Gatão – Puí": two boxes of slides marked this way reveal much of George Love's emotional side. Puí is Sarapuí, a small town two hours from the capital where he and Claudia built a house. After their separation, George kept the refuge, where he imagined his "sky studies," his private "forest," and enjoyed a corner of nature with a clear horizon. Gatão is a reference to one of the photographer's philosophical tutors, all with given names but always referred to by this nickname. Rosi is Rosilis, his young girlfriend, a photo lab professional who took care of all his Cibachromes. The images, along with others scattered throughout his archive, reveal moments of ecstasy and a powerful source of inspiration. Gatão, Rosilis, and Sarapuí all appear in Diaries and Notes.
Sarapuí was a village with 1.200 inhabitants in its urban core when it was discovered by several artists and creative professionals, including George Love and Claudia Andujar. The couple built a house to enjoy their retreat from the metropolitan tensions. After their separation, the space remained his, and he continued to use it as a source of inspiration and recharge. A series of experimental photographs, which he called "Sarapuí – The Forest," featured variations on the theme of the vegetation of a local forest, which he used sporadically in presentations. He also mentioned his desire to further explore his "sky studies," and it was there where he could spend time contemplating the clouds.
More than space, intimacy was the motivational support for someone who never fully absorbed the losses of his mother and his great intellectual partner. A new girlfriend brought back this comfort and the freedom to translate all the sensuality of their relationship into images. This phase with Rosilis occurred at the height of George Love's career, between the production of the books Amazônia and Anotações. And it was so important to him that it received special mention in the latter.
After the Eletropaulo editions, he increasingly confused the importance of his personal world with the collective, even proposing a project to be developed right there in Sarapuí, as a notable center of attention. In a letter to Cornell Capa of the International Center of Photography (ICP), he stated:
Last year, two independent proposals were submitted. One proposed living in a small town, located a moderate distance from São Paulo, for a specific period of time to examine the changes brought about by proximity to the metropolis. This study would involve the use of both old photographs of the area and personal insights…³⁸
His enchantment with Sarapuí and Rosilis ended with his move to Rio, but not for that reason. Later, he would suggest in his notes that his entire decline stemmed from the "loss of Puí."³⁹ It is moving to find the strips of a film with such dull images, kept in a laboratory envelope labeled: “The last pictures of Sarapuí.”
Photograph from the series Life with Rosi + Gatão – Puí. ca. 1981.

Photograph from the series Sarapuí – The Forest.

³⁸ Letter to Cornell Cover, June 18, 1983 (approx.). George Love Collection.
³⁹ Computer-recorded notes, topic number 115, May 29, 1994. George Love Collection.
George Love was asthmatic and said that São Paulo's pollution suffocated him. He constantly threatened to move. Once, he asked a friend to use a vacant apartment in Rio de Janeiro because he was going to work there for a month. He stayed for a year and a half. Alongside ordinary 6x6 aerial photos, one can see that he sought a visual approach to the Marvelous City in the style of Notes, with anonymous life shifted from the streets to the beaches. Only his superficial impressions remain. Certainly, he lacked interlocutors and the guidelines that would allow him to penetrate the various spheres of the urban environment. Although he maintained mastery of sharp perception and reaction, the unfinished work did not surpass the level of self-plagiarism. His images convey loneliness.
In his accounts of his arrival in Belém and later São Paulo, George Love used the word "horror." For someone with extensive international experience, there may have been a hidden explanation. Today, by reading his private notes, we can better interpret a certain depressive tendency, surprising in such a charismatic character.
Another little-known aspect was his constant dissatisfaction with his surroundings. Rosilis, in a private interview, recalled a quote from photographer David Zingg: "The best place in the world for George is the place where he's not!"⁴⁰ . Was it restlessness, dissatisfaction, or difficulty adapting? He suffered from asthma, and urban pollution didn't do him any good. But that didn't stop him from living for a long time in São Paulo, supported by corticosteroids and the ever-present inhaler. The respiratory condition was a real, undisclosed problem, but the stories that have been constructed, claiming he photographed from the air due to this limitation, border on fiction. This legend ignores the fact that for every hour of flight, he spent days on the ground, whether in Belém, Santarém, or a village, disregards the obvious amazement reflected in his images, and finds no correspondence in his notes. By the early 1980s, he was already showing symptoms of Cushing's syndrome but was unable to wean himself off cortisone. He increasingly saw the alternative of a change of scenery as a solution. In a letter to his agent in New York⁴¹, he suggested that he could work as a correspondent in other South American cities, such as Lima or Buenos Aires. So, he seized the opportunity offered by his friend and supporter Anna Carboncini⁴² to set up his base in Rio de Janeiro. His archive of that city contains many medium-format aerial views, others panoramic, which suggest commercial work. He had already participated in a tourist book.⁴³ about Rio in the previous decade, but this phase, according to him, was more contemplative and less photographic. His 35 Rio stickers show an attempt to come to terms with the city, in a daily therapy, much like what he had developed in São Paulo.
What remained was the embryo of a work never used in his publications. His schedules at the time are unknown, but he certainly didn't have the network of contacts, friends, clients, and supporters there. Rio was a time of isolation, an escape that lasted until he missed the ground that sustained him. In São Paulo, the situation had already been changing even before his departure. The sources of work and, especially, the great patrons of his work were progressively dissipating.
Photographs of Rio de Janeiro, date undetermined.


⁴⁰ Interview recorded on video at Zé De Boni's studio on April 11, 2022. Zé De Boni Archive.
⁴¹ Letter to Kay Reese, June 28 (1981, probably). George Love Collection.
⁴² Story told by Anna herself in an informal conversation with Zé De Boni in 2022.
⁴³ According to George Love's notes, it was a book published by Kosmos (Rio de Janeiro, 1976), information pending confirmation.
George Love's last exhibition at MASP, in 1984, was a delirium. It was a line of argument spray-painted on the walls, accompanied by examples. The grand plan was to propose the use of very small-format cameras, 110 film, to create photographic works affordably, for a quarter of the minimum wage. The thesis resonated with his colleague Scott Hyde's proposal to create fine art at affordable prices and a quest for popular access to photography as an expression, long before camera phones. It included explanations about the amount of information captured in a tiny frame, still hardly sustainable at the time. But in his defense, we found interesting 110 film images in his archive, which were not used in that exhibition.
George Love's genius was always praised by Bardi in his cover letters. And when one of his projects pleased his mentor, he had practically carte blanche to realize it at MASP. The themes that came to mind pointed in all directions, such as the exhibition on ancient pharmacies and folk medicine, which is listed on his resume.⁴⁴ Other proposals never came to fruition, such as an exhibition on the city's antennas, recalled by Dan Fialdini,⁴⁵ with a clear philosophical implication of the blossoming of the age of communication. Another event that didn't come to fruition was a proposed projection and setting for 1984, the description of which included this excerpt:
The exhibition unfolds against a backdrop of images that are not; pure light, projected and sometimes interspersed "randomly" with certain images from today; with a soundtrack taken from Pink Floyd; and with walls or partitions, on which are interspersed "quotes" from Plato and Orwell (not always from the book 1984, as he wrote a lot, but usually from it). These "quotes" are hand-painted in color.
Thus, the atmosphere of an unprecedented conversation is created: a three-way conversation between Plato, Pink Floyd and George Orwell, about the possibility of man knowing the future of his world, and where concepts such as the line between this reality and illusion, the possibility of truly perceiving reality and even the usefulness of this attempt come into play and are, in an allegorical way, examined.⁴⁶
However, in 1984, he held what would be his last exhibition at MASP. In "Half of the Half," he proposed ways to explore the virtues of photography in an accessible way. The press release described it as follows:
Two aspects justify this event and its respective name. The first is the attempt to demonstrate the extremely accessible possibility of photography (an extremely high-cost activity) while spending far less than one would imagine. A pragmatic justification, then. Another aspect is behavioral, as the need for expression is blatantly heightened in times of such adverse circumstances as the present. The very survival of the individual as a human being depends on the fulfillment of this need for expression, and Half of the Half, applicable to any other art, shows how this is uniquely linked to creativity.⁴⁷ General plan of the exhibition "Orwell, April 4, 1984." George Love Collection. George Love's aim with this event is to provide an educational environment that, by reviving the fundamental (and even physical) principles of photography, will enable the creation of new production alternatives at significantly reduced costs and for virtually home production. On the other hand, he is committed to showcasing his research with low-cost photography, demystifying the aura that emanates behind every work or exhibition presented in a finished, and therefore closed, form.⁴⁸
It was a completely unusual presentation at the museum, with an informal analysis written on the walls, accompanied by examples of simple portraits and images from his portfolio unceremoniously pinned there. The argument had weak and circumstantial points, but the intention was authentic, reflecting the economic crisis and the decline itself. It's worth reproducing his brainstorming:
It's Angela. She's important.
I started like this 13×18 cm; 10×12 cm. Heavy.
I switched to 6×6; too.
I switched to 35mm. It was still heavy; too much, sometimes, I thought of 110 (12,5×17mm).
They immediately said: Crazy! 110 is too small!
I laughed... I did some research. Researching, in research, will have failures. Learn from them. Those who fear failure do nothing; worse, they do bad things and pretend they're good (new format, same creativity).
The 110 low cost, being able to create; show that yours exists. Then Angela. (in the end) I always researched. Every achievement is a learning experience.
This strange game has a name: packing density… As in, + information signals. …Computer science (non-digital, because digits have limits, and we play without limits here) in less space. That started this and that, that didn't work out! Learn, rethink. Give it a break.
Now, less film, less money. I happily started research (more!) with MASP and the Procolor laboratory for: with Cr$ 25.000 – 1 camera, 1 film, developing, and making 1 30x40 cm enlargement.
A little hard, right? At first it was… Failed… Same… Again.
Invert signal increase size of negative.
From Cris… Michelle 3×5,5 mm… Zizi.
Here 1st generation… 2nd generation… Everything came from here.
A new film arrived. The Fuji HR100 in 110, 24 plates. I called them "micro-chips." And new ideas.
3rd generation…
And Angela… From half of the negative on 12.
You can enlarge it a bit more: 1m x 60m, or thereabouts. There's no inherent limit... 3mm.
The size is 1/2 of the minimum. 4 to 12 mm... Another type of chip with a lot of information. Special computing... No need for a computer: it comes with it.
Interested in research. Computers were sometimes; I am – I mean, not pretty, but I don't know, ugly like that (?)… It wasn't a “mistake”. I tried to play without limits, but there is. +/- 300 mm… It's either 8 or 80.
Today, 10-9-84; 10 months 10 days later 1 camera + 1 film + developing and 1 30×40 = 35 to 40 thousand (I can show you). Our inflation is m/m 5,5% per month. Ok?
Take photos: as space decreases, costs decrease. Cinema, video… But find your language! Act. Create your world!
George Leary Love.
George reinforced there, on the walls and in lectures, the theme of his dedication to the courses he taught for years at MASP and elsewhere. Fascinated by the power of the image, he envisioned a world not of passive consumers, but where each citizen could actively use this tool for self-expression. This radically changes the meaning of the term "egocentric," used to define his own work. Despite the fragility of its technological analysis, which would be contradicted in the light of time, Half of the Half was a celebration and a foresight of the widespread use of photography, long before cell phones, Instagram, and other personal image distribution networks, to convey personal impressions and, consequently, the most varied expressions.
Documentation made by George Love of the exhibition Half of the Half (MASP, 1984).


“It’s Angela. She’s important.” Photograph that opened the exhibition Half of the Half (MASP, 1984). Original enlargement on transparency.

Claudia Andujar photographing young Yanomami, ca. 1974. Image on 110 film from the George Love Collection.

⁴⁴ Resume written on September 1, 1986, documented in his image collection. George Love Collection.
⁴⁵ Informal conversation with Zé De Boni, May 2023.
⁴⁶ General plan of the exhibition Orwell, April 4, 1984. George Love Collection.
⁴⁷ Press release for the exhibition Half of the Half. George Love Collection.
⁴⁸ Documentation made by George Love of the exhibition Half of the Half, 1984.
While teaching photography, I came to assert that every so-called good photograph managed to be a self-portrait, pure and simple. And that it was through this egotism, the idea of the self-portrait, that the photographer attempted to reach an understanding with the world.
This explanation by George Love is fundamental to understanding his work, especially the 1985 book. In Service Order 8696 - The Amazon Basin From the Air, he revisits the Amazon, recognizing it as an image of himself, heightening the importance of this limited edition. The fingerprint mimicking the waters of a river among the first photos fuels this interpretation, while the biblical quote demonstrates that he was addressing posterity. The title, however, is yet another enigma, one we can only speculate about.
In contrast to his questioning of finished works the previous year, George Love returned to the Amazonian theme in 1985, selecting a sequence of images for an exclusive, limited-edition publication by Pancrom. It was a summary of his major work, which emanated an aura of mystery, like his first book, adding a riddle embedded in the title: Service Order 8696.⁴⁹
The few texts he brought reinforced this impression. They were a few verses from Saint Luke (11/33-35 and 12/2-3), a parable based on light and the eye. A phrase from his friend Charles Capelle interpreted reality as a projection of the imaginary:
You see what you think you see. And what you think you see is real.
And, in the author's own words, his work transcended from the real to the dreamlike plane.
Such infinity cannot be photographed. Logically, it is permissible to have dreams. I didn't photograph it. I must have dozed off and dreamed.
The nostalgia of the words is felt throughout the edition. They're not just favorites; each photo chosen was symbolic of his involvement in every aspect, from the professional to the sentimental. In just 26 photographs, his greatest fascinations were present: the submerged dunes of the Rio Negro, the beaches and sandbars of the Tapajós, the incredible green tide, the view of the Anavilhanas, a winding river, and the rapids—his favorite, called Chuvisco. He even included a reference to the publication in the magazine. Room and the memory of the Catalina window. His dominion over that territory was represented by the choice of a virtual cross formed by the boundary points, symmetrically positioned in sequence, from Marajó to the border with Colombia, and from northern Roraima, which opened the series, to southern Pará, at the end. He arrived from the sky and ended in search of light.
The epilogue consists of two photographs of the Xingu River taken from high above on a commercial airliner, a typical farewell view of a place intimately explored. The author contemplates a view equivalent to the one described by his mother, but what he sees is the film of an intense life in that world down below, searching for the primordial image. The Amazon seen from above is his signature, his identity, his flawless self-portrait.
To complete this mystical sense, the sequence's opening includes the image of a fingerprint magically carved by light in the dark waters of a river. If this seems far-fetched, George would use the same image as the signature at the beginning and end of a PhotoCD he made years later, featuring his latest Amazonian selection.
Service Order had a small print run and limited distribution. The number 8696 appears on some folders of photographs left behind by George Love, suggesting he envisioned repeating the idea. Also in his notes, the number was occasionally listed among his possible projects, such as a reissue or even a new theme. All that remained was to decipher its meaning to complete the interpretation, and one path was in a drawer beneath the computer he used in Mamaroneck.⁵⁰ A small wallet containing his identity photos taken in Brazil bore the traditional warning at the end, something like: "If you need more photographs of this work, please order by number – OS: XXXX." OS stands for Service Order. It would be the final piece of the puzzle, fitting perfectly into the concept of George Love's self-portrait. However, the number was not recorded; all the material contained therein was delivered to the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, but their collection does not include the PVC card, only his portraits from various periods stored in museums. The lack of confirmation does not invalidate the proposed interpretation, but the origin of that magic number remains undeciphered. But why explain everything about an author who excelled in mystery and was eminently enigmatic?
Book Service Order 8696. The case contained a notebook with 26 images and a cassette tape with sounds recorded by George Love in the Amazon. UNC Charlotte J. Murrey Atkins Library


⁴⁹ LOVE, George. Service Order 8696 – The Amazon Basin from the Air. São Paulo: Pancrom, 1985.
⁵⁰ Zé De Boni stayed in the same room at Barbara Livesey's house in 1997, when his objective was not so much research, but to tell George's ex-partner about the episodes of his last year in Brazil, of which she had little knowledge.
The exhibition "Views from Above" was a complement to the book "Service Order." It served as the final statement of someone about to embark on a new path. Logically, we can reach this conclusion after the facts made it clear, as George Love would soon retire back to the United States. Reprocessing the sequence of images, reminiscent of his work in Pajatén and Realidade magazine, internegatives were made to produce the enlargements on color photographic paper. The new copies made for this retrospective use the same process as at the time, using the original internegatives.
It was a true, explicit farewell, giving more meaning to the book that was being produced almost simultaneously. For the first time, George Love openly included images of destruction, albeit aesthetically explored. Perhaps more accurately, it would be interpreted as a surrender of his insistence on purity, considering his argument in the introduction to his exhibition Views from Above:
For me, this century is the last in which there remains an interrelationship between humans and nature on Earth. This interrelation brings great benefits to humanity, but here, it seems those who benefit don't seem to care much about it. Since we can do almost nothing against the destruction, it was to record, to have a memory of this moment and this interrelation that I photographed the Amazon.⁵¹
The words contrasted with his entire previous discourse, like a remorse for relinquishing his egocentrism and considering the documentary value of his work. And his choice of images also seems to differ from his traditional approach. His thesis was disintegrating, and from then on, his quest was to prove himself useful, to accomplish recognizably important things, whatever the direction. But photography presented itself as a disappointment, as he revealed in the same exhibition:
I've exhausted everything about photography. I've explored everything it has to offer. Now I have to expand. And to expand, in terms of photography, I'm left with communication.⁵²
Vistas do Alto was held in a convenient location, but outside the mainstream. The Fuji Salon exhibition guaranteed him support for the production of the enlargements, at a time when he was gradually feeling disjointed. With grand ambitions for his archive of images not only of the Amazon, he still had to prove to the public his merit, which, in a culturally mature environment, would require no introduction.
It is from this exhibition that he romantically describes the experience of photographing the vastness from small planes, which we never tire of remembering:
The doors are removed from the plane. The wind blows in. There's no way to talk... You talk to the pilot, who's up front, using signals. You climb. My ears start to hurt from the height. They hurt so much, for so long, that I forget they're hurting. You weave in and out of clouds. Rain hits the plane's wing pads and makes a strange sound. You hear this sound and suddenly you don't know where you are anymore, because everything around you is white. You're in a cloud. Then you emerge from the cloud, look down, and see only trees. Suddenly, you're in another cloud. You emerge from it and see more trees. Suddenly, rain. The rain, at that speed, hurts when it hits your face. You protect the aircraft, but you can't protect yourself. Suddenly, you remember your ears are hurting. Then, you're inside another cloud, and the notion of time no longer exists. Now you're truly on your own. Time and space no longer exist. You can't quite tell if you're flying high or low. At that moment, you begin to photograph what is uniquely and uniquely yours. The pilot feels the same way. You both act as a team. You're two bodies with one head. A good pilot puts you at the right angle, and then you start shooting... clack... clack...⁵³
If it seems arduous and risky, it was even more critical to invest everything he earned in that venture. But, for that very reason, in the Amazon, he was free, without the obligation to satisfy whoever would bankroll him. His withdrawal occurred when new opportunities arose with the creation of laws to encourage culture. But, similarly, the market was more populated by a new generation, for which he had fought so hard, which imposed a more adaptive competition on his centralizing romanticism. Without much formality, shortly after the book and the 1985 exhibition, George Love left the São Paulo and Brazilian scene, returning to his old New York.
Poster for the exhibition Views from Above, Fuji Hall, São Paulo, May 1985.

⁵¹ OLIVEIRA, Moracy R. de. “The beautiful and unreal Amazon, from above”, Jornal da Tarde, May 14, 1985.
⁵² LOVE, George. George Love: Images between Reality and Illusion, Fuji Moment, May 1985.
⁵³ Ibid
In 1986, George Love returned to New York and relied on friends to help him adjust to the change he'd brought from Brazil. He rewrote his resume, but he was disconnected from the local market. Introduced to Barbara Livesey, he settled into one of the rooms she rented in her large house in Mamaroneck, a suburban town. He became involved with this textile history teacher and received the support he so desperately needed. There, he led a domestic life, sharing a computer and telephone, and continued to photograph extensively. However, he demonstrated no professional activity, spending much of his time in his room. He produced a documentary for community television with comparisons between photos of the Amazon and a local river, which he cited on his resume as a major achievement. He also photographed his private life, highlighting the contrast with his past in São Paulo and Sarapuí.
There was something very strange when George Love said he was stopping exploring photography. His admirers, colleagues, and friends wouldn't understand, in the conditional tense, because the statement went unnoticed. Self-sufficient and arrogant, he wasn't in the habit of sharing decisions or taking advice. He got rid of his equipment, left some belongings with friends, mostly part of his collection, gathered as much as he could, and moved to the United States.
Barbara said he was very poorly settled when she met him. He soon took up residence in a small room in her house on Beach Ave.⁵⁴ The dashing photographer was a magnet for the house's tenants, especially those of the opposite sex. But it was with Barbara that he forged a bond, and from then on, he enjoyed tranquility and warmth. His room was packed with his collections, books, photos, and equipment. He spent long periods locked away there, using the Macintosh available in the main room. His archives show that he continued photographing and remained interested in researching non-linear processes. He explored the characteristics of Polachrome, following its principle of extracting the possibilities from each material rather than trying to imitate previous technologies. This is how he viewed electronic photography, in its infancy when he tested it:
I was a consultant for Sony for a while there, doing electronic photography work. I'll tell you one thing: at least for now, I think this situation will change soon, but so far, electronic photography stinks! However, you can do good things. Because good things come out when it's used for its own sake, not in an effort to imitate film results.⁵⁵
Like a good illusionist, he used wisdom to mask the accuracy of his information, a clear example of the traps historians can fall into when they literally follow categorical statements of self-promotion. The use of the word "consultant" is an exaggeration for someone who has only tested a specific piece of equipment, and every photography professional knows how this relationship works. A company marketing publication featured an interview about the test with the opinions of two photographers, and in the introduction, George said he studied to be a nuclear physicist, a "novelty" at the time. ⁵⁶ In his latest resumes, George included this consultancy and highlighted the production of a documentary for a local community TV station. ⁵⁷ But that video didn't convey the kind of impact it had in the good old days; it was a private work for a limited audience, and the broadcaster itself didn't preserve the piece. All that remains is the oral memory of the description of its creation, in which it compared the mouth of the Amazon to a small local river: The Mouth of the Amazon Is in Rye.
The contrast between the significance of these resume topics and the great achievements that had propelled him reveals the state of despondency that befell someone who had always felt the need to be important. Indeed, with his health compromised, living on a small pension, and without prospects, he was aware he was deluding himself. He reconnected in Brazil to make up for lost time and returned here in 1992, taking advantage of the free airfare he still had. He came, went, came, went, and, surprisingly, especially for Barbara, in early 1994 he packed up all the things he could manage and returned permanently to São Paulo.
Moments of Domestic Life with Barbara Livesey, ca. 1988.


Visual research in New York, between 1986 and 1994.



⁵⁴ Interview by Barbara Livesey with Zé De Boni in May 2013.
⁵⁵ Interview by George Love with Zé De Boni, ca. 1993.
⁵⁶ Recorder, volume 1, number 3, Summer 1988, published by Still Image Systems, Sony Information System Company.
⁵⁷ LMTC, Larchmont, Mamaroneck Community Television. Bulletin and schedule, June 1993.
Around the same time he was exhibiting his Diaries and Notes on São Paulo, George Love created an installation at MASP called Illustrations for Kafka's Diaries. Quotes from the writer surrounded a projector that displayed harrowing images, representing his conflicts in the same metropolis. The slides were preserved, but without the sequence markings and sound. Their exhibition is, therefore, an inaccurate recreation of the original project. Analyzing his collection and documents, other photographic dramas George must have felt become evident, and thus three complementary projections were created. The texts on the wall are taken from the photographer's own diaries and notes and reveal existential questions that his arrogance hid. The interview, recorded in 1993, a time of his greatest crises, reveals George Love's eloquent and radiant personality.
Projections:
Illustrations 1 is the original series dedicated to Kafka.
Illustrations 2 is about the degradation of the Amazon, which George rarely showed. It was undoubtedly painful, even for someone who could be equally photogenic when a burned field was exposed.
Illustrations 3 it is the conflict of the destruction of Sete Quedas for the construction of Itaipu, even though George anesthetized himself with logical explanations.
Illustrations 4 It is his drama upon returning to the United States, where he witnessed a nature much poorer than his Amazonian alter ego.
George Love's diaries and notes, whether handwritten or typed, are often difficult to decipher.
Notes from phone conversations, draft letters, meeting agendas, prescriptions, shopping lists, assignments, and projects—everything was intertwined. Listed in generally numbered sections, they amounted to dozens of tasks to be dealt with simultaneously, sometimes on the same date. He proposed assignments on topics of interest to him, which he imagined would be receptive to specific clients, covering a range of topics beyond photography, such as suggestions for developing a car for Volkswagen.⁵⁸
At one point, his list of editorial projects had 38 items, of which only one came to fruition: The Amazon Basin from the Air. He experienced this turmoil in the years before his departure for the United States. When he returned to São Paulo, he picked up where he left off and intensified his almost desperate quest to support himself with highly relevant work. His lists, still in notebooks or on the computer, only grew, including photographing the solar eclipse at Itaipu and a trip to the Tropic of Capricorn or Latin America to promote the ethanol-powered car. He talked about taking this energy solution to the UN, an item noted on his resume, as well as a certain "vermiculite"!
Incorporating technological innovations such as digital photography, he had the occasional success of producing the first essay distributed on computer disks in Brazil for an erotic magazine.⁵⁹ Motivated by this isolated event, he took the initiative to propose transforming the publisher's magazines into electronic media products to be distributed on CDs or over the network. He anticipated the type of equipment needed for production and for consumers, as well as the topics of articles and new publications, always relating topics that were familiar to him and of personal interest. These proposals were addressed to the publisher's executives, to whom George assured that he himself could handle the editorial planning: "...given the necessary equipment...I could set up a publication on my own."⁶⁰
The conviction in his competence would lead him to create the company Tiragem Limitada⁶¹ , intending to address those same topics in wish lists or dreams, which seem more like delusions. But this might not have been apparent to his interlocutors, as outwardly he maintained the same proud posture and rousing speech, as can be seen in the video interview recorded during the same period. He also disguised his marked physical decline, suffering silently, with the complicity of his new partner.
His diaries reveal this drama and also expose the depressive tendency that even those closest to him did not suspect:
I'm feeling very bad. I'm extremely dehydrated and can't seem to recover from the flu. My glands are very swollen, and I'm experiencing intermittent depression, accompanied by mood swings... Someone who suffers severely from allergies and lives in an environment full of pollution and stress can't hope for anything better, nor can I stave off the crisis. The only solution is to leave. My conviction: most of my problems are fueled by neurosis; the neurotic connection cannot be broken in solitude. As I argue in The Human Echo, loneliness leads to self-loss, to a lost self. The starting point is, of course, the overwhelming feeling of inability to do anything. There are infinite things to do, but the only thing I can think of is to spend more time lying in Marcos's storage room.⁶²
His affinity with Kafkaesque literature made perfect sense and was already described in the notebook from his first trip with Claudia Andujar to Brazil. The encouraging message she sent in December 1965 takes on a new meaning and aligns with the episodes George recorded in his notebook. The outpouring seemed entirely contained in his heyday, but even then, his separation from Claudia was a traumatic experience that shook him to the point where he continued to cite this disappointment until late in life. During his economic and physical decline, the depressive entries in his notes grew in number and drama, along with his lack of awareness of the dimension of the outside world. When organizing sequences of conflicting images into themes that were so important to him, it is pertinent to use his own texts as accompaniment, following the formula he employed in the exhibition dedicated to Kafka.⁶³ Illustrations for the Journals of George Leary Love is a tribute to the creative and visionary genius who enchanted us when life betrayed him.
Images of the four audiovisual sequences (Illustrations for the diaries of George Leary Love) prepared for exhibition at MAM in 2024. The themes are: São Paulo, Amazon, Itaipu and New York.




⁵⁸ Series of letters addressed to Mattias, at Volkswagen do Brasil, 1984. George Love Collection.
⁵⁹ Playboy Magazine, October 1994.
⁶⁰ Series of letters to Thomas Souto Correa, 1994. George Love Collection.
⁶¹ Contract drafts, January and March 1995. George Love Collection.
⁶² Note by George Love, originally written in English, dated April 9, 1994, when he had recently resettled in São Paulo. George Love Collection.
⁶³ LOVE, George. Illustrations for Kafka’s Diaries, MASP – São Paulo Museum of Art, São Paulo.
After about eight years in hiding, George Love returned to the São Paulo scene, trying to reconnect. He had many professional ideas that made more sense to himself than to his interlocutors. Returning to the Amazon series, his definitive selection was digitized and transposed onto a PhotoCD, signed at the beginning and end with the same fingerprint used on Service Order 8696He received support to make another book, inspired by mystical inspiration, with images from the same edition possible. However, his severely compromised health prevented him from pursuing this project as he had always done, nor from seeing the printed copy. Due to the way it was conceived and the circumstances of its publication, Soul and Light – About the Amazon Basin is George Leary Love's final testament.
Amidst various attempts at professional and economic recovery, a path opened up in 1992. Still traveling between the two hemispheres, George Love was busy producing a new edition of his personal work on Amazônia. The book proposal was being offered to potential clients, and he was already envisioning various options for electronic media distribution, mapping out possible sequences in advance, taking into account the diverse range of topics that interested him.
Reading his notes, it's clear that if he had been given free rein to produce works on such diverse subjects, he would hardly have cemented his personality's strong connection to the Amazon. George Love's story is a prime example of the consolidation of an image built through the perception and receptiveness of interlocutors, supporters, and the public. While attempting to embrace the world with such diverse themes, he was led back to his most relevant subject by the circumstances offered by his network of contacts. If he suffered from not being able to financially benefit from his far-fetched ideas—which, ultimately, didn't take off in the last decade of his life—his success came precisely with the theme that truly touched his core, his philosophy, and the trajectory of his life. It wasn't the Amazon that would be showcased in the new project, but George Love's mystical reflections.
The work took shape in his notes, sketching out the epic style that artists commonly adopt. He initially rehearsed the title: "Every soul hungers after the light/All souls hunger for the light/Every soul yearns for the light... for the light."⁶⁴ He began to refer to him as Every Soul, or even TA.
He even suggested The Amazon Basin and the Human Mind, rehearsing his speech: "This book, as well as the text contained within, is not a documentation of the Amazon Basin. It is a work of universal scope."⁶⁵ These concepts matured in 1994:
Every Soul
The text's weight is a journey through thought, from rejection to integration + the environment, to acceptance. The Amazon Basin is chosen solely—"only"—as the vehicle for this journey. Thus, the text is crafted more carefully than initially intended… being partly poetic… of life as a whole, without false duality.
It seems correct that the references derive from "noble science." Science has been part of the problem of duality. By establishing an apparent opposition between the objective and the subjective, it creates confrontations such as science versus art, versus religion or faith, as well as a devaluation of the unknown. This pits it against the acceptance of the mystical and creates the conflict between mind and brain, among other things.⁶⁶
There, George Love expressed his contrition for what he had written in his notebook on his first Amazonian trip. Among many passages mentioning depression and feelings of loneliness, he had written early on a heavy observation about the people who ventured into the backlands to meet remote inhabitants: "The motivations of these people... remain a mystery... I am a creature of the city..."⁶⁷
However, after so long enduring loneliness in cities with millions of inhabitants, despite all his success and social circles, he chose the Amazon environment as the embodiment of his philosophy, his faith, and his persona. In one of his final notebooks, he rehearsed the pitch for his new product:
I traveled for 20 years, farther than any distance, to see a golden feline reveal the lessons engraved here, one by one, and to realize that absolutely everything is the same thing. What we call the environment is the Cosmos, and the Cosmos is God.
[…] Every river flows into the sea, and the sea does not fill; nor do the rivers rest. Every study, every cry, every prayer leads to God, and God is infinite.⁶⁸
The publication project was embraced by Isabel Duarte's publisher, who began fighting for its implementation. George sent her a draft of the script:
[The Amazon] is the setting for dialogues where the darkness of the waters suddenly evokes emptiness, chaos, the beginning of everything from the Bible, or the black hole of physics. Such associations come from the experience of someone who explores the magic and power of God in creation, capturing with his lens the movements, colors, and textures of nature and relating them to the yearning of the human soul in its journey toward light.
(Study of physics = leads to God Bel I think I'm crazy!!!!)
(Any real study, taken to its ultimate consequences, leaves us before the mystery of the divine. I didn't freak out; neither did Rasputin [sic]).⁶⁹
When searching for book financiers, the publisher presented the work as follows:
(The author) recounts how he learned, through continuous contact, to respect and admire this nature, even revering it at times. Thus, the aversion provoked by his first contact with the forest was modified and refined to the point of becoming adoration, contributing to his own renewal and personal transformation... the concern was to maintain chromatic unity and fidelity to the concept—"man's incessant search for light."⁷⁰ Unfortunately, although he proposed this philosophical concept, George Love did not dedicate himself to writing the specific text for the book as he had hoped. With his health rapidly deteriorating, he was unable to follow the proposed schedule. The book was finally adopted by Sadia through his great supporter Cida Fontana, but George never saw its completion. Another critical text was provided, and the commitment was fulfilled by publication. postmortem of his definitive self-portrait: Soul and Light.⁷¹
Book Soul and Light – About the Amazon Basin, 1995.

⁶⁴ Artist's notes and correspondence. George Love Collection.
⁶⁵ Ibid.
⁶⁶ Ibid. Original in English.
⁶⁷ Diary of the Trip to the Xikrin Territory, February 1966. George Love Collection.
⁶⁸ Ibid. (1).
⁶⁹ Ibid. (1).
⁷⁰ Ibid. (1).
⁷¹ LOVE, George; KLINTOWITZ, Jacob. Soul and Light – About the Amazon Basin. São Paulo: MD Communication and Publishing, 1995.

1 September 1986
Introduction
I pursued both arts and sciences, as much as possible, simultaneously. It wasn't entirely intentional at the time, but it ended up being beneficial.
Since then, my work has focused on uniting technical and cultural objectives. I chose photography as my medium, later evolving into communication, primarily visual, which required the study of both technical disciplines and artistic approaches.
In turn, this sparked my interest in the world around me, constantly motivating me to observe and record, again within my possibilities, the environment in which I live.
It is essential to communicate these observations to others. Communication that lacks aesthetic or cultural foundations becomes sterile and is often ignored. Since pure aesthetics are also often disregarded if not coupled with environmentally relevant content, the integration of these two interests has been fundamental to my work. This effort, combined with my desire to communicate, evolved into an interest in informing, not just conveying messages. I spent most of my life outside the United States, my home country, in places where resources were often limited. This forces one to learn to do more with less and, often, to share this knowledge with others. To avoid reinventing the wheel, it is also necessary to study some history. Considering that in many areas, we are still collecting data, I seek to use my perspective to gather this information and preserve it. This data relates to human beings and their environment. This approach is the only way to explain my interest in topics as seemingly distinct as the city of São Paulo and the Amazon Basin.
This journey can take you much further if you allow it; currently, for example, I'm interested in the social costs of pollution, but that's just a nascent interest shared by many more advanced thinkers.
In any case, to borrow a phrase, if all expenditure is energy expenditure, and if energy expenditure is human expenditure, what I have observed leads me to believe that all human expenditure is, ultimately, time expenditure.
George Leary Love
Birth & Standardization
United States of America, May 24, 1937. Nationality: American
Studies
– Atlanta University (Ford Foundation Early Initiation Program) [between 1953 and 1956] – The New School for Social Research, New York [between 1960 and 1962]
Training
Mathematics, philosophy, philosophy of art, economics, computer science
Between 1957 and 1959, I worked as an assistant for the United States University Assistance Program in Indonesia, based in Jakarta and operating nationwide. In 1960, I traveled to India, Thailand, and Malaysia.
During this period, I developed a fascination with photography, particularly photographing the Borobudur monument in south-central Java. After leaving the United States government service, I traveled through Europe and finally settled in New York.
At that time I began to study photography and became a member, and even president [vice president], of the Association of Heliographers, an American group that established a photography gallery – I would say one of the first – during the revival of interest in photography as an art form in the 1960s.
During the same period, I organized a small field team of photographers for SNCC [Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee], an American civil rights group, to document social change in the United States, operating out of Atlanta, Georgia.
Between 1961 and 1965, I divided my time between New York and Atlanta, organizing and mounting exhibitions for the Heliographers' Association (the group included Paul Caponigro, Minor White, Wynn Bullock, Walter Chappell, Larry Clark, Syl Labrot, among others) and supporting SNCC in the production of educational films on voting rights, the development of an archive of photographs and recorded interviews, among other activities. This fieldwork involved a great deal of one-off training and logistical support with field laboratories. One of the fruits of this effort was the organization of the exhibition "Now" at the School of Visual Studies in New York, in which I also participated.
In 1962, I traveled to Brazil to observe the construction of Brasília, and from that experience I developed a growing interest in Latin America.
In 1966, I moved to São Paulo, Brazil, and continued working both in Latin America and elsewhere. My work was divided between editorial and corporate advertising projects. Personally, I began to focus on downtown São Paulo and the Amazon Basin. For nearly ten years, I dedicated myself to documenting the basin through low-altitude aerial photography and also documented São Paulo's urban growth.
I often experiment extensively with photographic images in built spaces, exploring transparency, motion, optics, and photochemistry, with a particular interest in the durability of the color process.
As it was my custom to supervise any printing work personally at the print shop and sometimes to get involved in the natural from layout, to bookbinding, among other activities, I began to consider the durability of both printed material and photographic printing.
Around 1981/1982, I collaborated with Studio 5 in São Paulo to produce highly durable printed images. While it's difficult to estimate precisely, a durability of over 200 years seemed achievable.
In 1981, I began working for the São Paulo Electric Power Company, which at the time had an extensive photographic archive dating back to the 1890s and continuing until around 1950. From that point on, there was a gap in the documentation, which grew longer and longer as time went on. I was invited to "fill" this gap with my own work produced between 1966 and 1982 and to train a documentary group within the company, which would be responsible for recording the city's development up to the year 2000. This goal was achieved with the publication of two books: one with my work and the other in which I was responsible for the restoration methods used. To my great satisfaction, the documentary group continues to work to this day, receiving increasing support, even after my departure from the company in early 1983.
The company's president believed that this continuous and well-documented archive would be extremely useful for the study of energy and its interaction with the environment and development, especially since the archive covered all aspects of urban growth. This vision was, in part, intuitive and instinctive, unsolicited; but it seems quite plausible.
From 1983 to the present, I have worked in a variety of fields, focusing primarily on increasing the versatility and reducing the costs of photography and visual communication in general. I also developed a budding interest in the interactions between text and image, as well as in the physical sciences. Examples of my work in this area include an exhibition that illustrated excerpts from Daily by Franz Kafka and extensive research into the use of low-cost, small-format film such as 110.
Special projects
1. Three institutional calendars for Mercedes-Benz in Brazil, focusing on the Amazon Basin, Brazilian archaeology, and the Brazilian people, for the years 1973, 1974, and 1975. The projects on the Amazon Basin and Brazilian archaeology were particularly interesting. In the case of the second, I developed innovative optical techniques to enhance images of rock art in caves that were later dynamited.
2. Photo editor for the magazine the cable car (São Paulo) and as editor of the magazine Photography (São Paulo). Considerable experience in editorial management between 1969 and 1973.
3. Photography in Chile, Colombia and Argentina for animated TV films for Braniff World Airlines.
4. I was responsible for the design of the Olivetti Brazil pavilion in 1970 and 1972. This work involved a comprehensive concept, encompassing architecture, exhibition design, construction supervision, and monitoring during industrial fairs. In both projects, I used projected images, and in the first, they moved in both directions on a 360-degree screen that surrounded the pavilion.
5. I trained the SNCC (civil rights) documentary group to document social change in the United States as the civil rights movement progressed. I provided often improvised field laboratories, carried out rudimentary archival organization, and recorded a large number of audiotapes.
6. Working on organizing the group, alongside highly qualified professionals, was the most enriching aspect of my years at the Heliography Gallery. In 1977, I organized and mounted a posthumous exhibition dedicated to Syl Labrot, one of the group's leading figures, at the São Paulo Museum of Art.
7. Portfolio Amazon Hyleia for the FormaEspaço collection in São Paulo. This work, created directly from the art directors' colored separations, was a particularly fascinating process: printed chromes were modified, duplicated, and reintegrated so that the visual impact remained unchanged. While this may seem trivial today, at the time it represented a significant practical learning experience in image processing.
8. Audiovisual Dams, for the exhibition Images of Brazil, 1973, in Brussels. This work consisted of a photographic essay on four dams or hydroelectric plants, accompanied by Japanese classical music. The objective was not so much to demonstrate the industrial character of the dams, but rather to highlight their artistic potential.
9. I organized the Photography Week, with the participation of approximately 65 photographers from various countries. Although Asia had limited representation due to logistical issues, most other countries, including those from Eastern Europe, were present. The United States Information Service (which still existed at the time) brought personnel and facilitated the entry of photographs into Brazil. The exhibition was accompanied by a series of lectures given by invited guests, which were broadcast on television.
10. I recorded approximately 50 hours of magnetic tape documenting ceremonies and music of Brazilian Indians in southern Pará and western Roraima between 1966 and 1974. In addition, I sent a collection of Xikrin material culture to the Smithsonian Museum of the American Indian.
11. Between 1966 and 1984, I collaborated extensively with the São Paulo Museum of Art Assis Chateaubriand in organizing its photography exhibition program. This partnership has always been one of my main interests in Brazil.
12. I participated in a wide range of television and radio programs about Brazilian photography, ranging from police photojournalism to debates on the differences between television and photographic images. I found it logical to use one visual language to discuss another, and thanks to the generosity of some producers, it was possible to overcome the usual limitations of television in most cases.
13. In a slightly different vein, I accompanied an archaeological expedition to the Peruvian site of Pajaten, discovered by the American Gene or Eugene Savoy in 1966. This site was considered by the professional archaeologists present to be the only one of its kind in all of Peruvian history. Photographs of the expedition were published in a 1966 [1967] issue of the magazine HorizonI highlight this experience because the city was "rediscovered"—by complete coincidence—by an American expedition in 1985, which classified it as one of the most significant finds in the history of Latin American archaeology. I informed the team about Savoy's earlier discovery as a matter of courtesy. Personally, I have a desire to revisit the site, built by a civilization that barely used straight lines, with every conceivable construction line being curved.
14. In 1974, I organized an experimental concert that combined projected images with a chamber orchestra, in homage to the American musician Henry Schumann.
15. During 1976, I was photo editor of the weekly newspaper Here in Sao Paulo, dedicated to an in-depth analysis of the city. Although enriching, the work was tiring because, in addition to editing the other photographers' work, I had to do most of the lab work and some coverage personally.
16. In 1977, I created Ciba photomurals for the Telephone Museum, located at Telesp's headquarters in São Paulo. This was my first experience with large murals—approximately 3 x 4 meters—enlarged from 35mm film stock. This project was made possible thanks to the immense patience of the lab technicians, who, in some cases, were challenged to accomplish what seemed impossible.
17. I have begun the process of organizing my work on the Amazon Basin to be preserved by an organization better equipped to catalog and preserve the cards than I am. My goal is to create a living memory, with regular updates to memory banks, microfilms, etc. Sound recordings are also part of this project.
18. In 1981, on a personal initiative—and therefore on a smaller scale—I began sending some Brazilian Indigenous artifacts abroad for preservation. This is because expansion into the Amazon often involves conflicts that can threaten the survival of these materials.
19. The "Half of the Half" project arose from the idea of purchasing a camera, a roll of film, taking photos, developing them, and making a 30 x 40 cm (12 x 16 inch) color print, spending only a quarter of the minimum wage at the time. This goal was achieved after approximately 60 days of experimenting with compact 110-format cameras and new high-resolution emulsions. Subsequent experimentation revealed a range of creative possibilities with the 110 format, facilitating sequential photography and enabling the production of larger prints than previously thought possible. I gave lectures and presented an enlargement of negative #112, approximately 50 x 80 cm (20 x 32 inches). This experiment and the exhibitions that followed were designed to help overcome fears of the high costs typically associated with beginning photography in Brazil and attracted considerable attention. Furthermore, it was demonstrated that film's information storage capacity was greater than previously thought. A digitized video portrait proved noticeably inferior, a result that was expected but uncertain until then.
20. The exhibition Eletropaulo Year I It began as a simple exhibition to launch books from the electric company's archive. However, as it developed, it evolved into a space to display a small portion of this collection and to encourage the new documentary group with an informal collective exhibition of their work. Growing public interest led to the exhibition being expanded, leading the operational divisions to contribute heavy equipment to improvise a public amusement park in the courtyard below and behind the museum. The interest generated helped to involve the documentary group in filming projects for television and other media. It is quite likely that this exhibition, despite its modest initial objectives, contributed significantly to the consolidation of the concept of documentation, drawing public attention to the fact that an electric company can be responsible for preserving a part of the city's own memory.
21. For the United Nations, I attempted to provide data on the Brazilian alternative fuels program, including engineering information, fuel samples, and reports on vehicle tests conducted in collaboration with Volkswagen do Brasil. A particularly relevant topic is emissions control for ethanol-powered cars, which will be a central issue in the next two years, as such controls are now mandatory. It is important to note, however, that the pollutants found in ethanol have a different composition than those in gasoline. Furthermore, there is ongoing discussion about the possibility of moving beyond ethanol and exploring the use of vegetable oils in small diesel engines. Efforts are planned to test this hypothesis. Furthermore, the installation of hydroelectric plants in the Amazon Basin is already underway, and a new system, consisting of two dams, is being built. This system promises to be almost 20% larger than the Itaipu Hydroelectric Plant.
Late publications
LOVE, George Leary – The Mouth of the Amazon River Is in Rye [The Mouth of the Amazon River Is in Rye], documentary for community TV | 1993 | LMC-TV | Mamaroneck, NY.
LOVE, George Leary – Soul and Light – About the Amazon Basin, book | 1996 | MD Publisher | São Paulo.
DE BONI, Zé – Verde Lente – Brazilian Photographers and Nature, book and exhibition | 1995 | Arts Company | São Paulo.
Verde Lente – Brazilian Photographers and Nature, collective exhibition | 1997 | MAM São Paulo.
Amazon, collective exhibition | 1998 | Itaú Cultural | São Paulo.

⁷² Original written in English by George Love

Deep South, 1965.




Harlem, New York, 1968.





Vermont Railway, ca. 1963






Travel photography, 1959-62.



Xikrin Community, 1966.








Football, magazine Reality, 1967-68.



Fashion, magazine Claudia, 1967.



Magazine 4 Wheels, 1970.


“Long live the colors”, magazine Reality, 1970.




“It’s explosive”, magazine Reality, 1968.

“Power to the Black People”, magazine Reality, 1968.







Images for a special edition of Realidade magazine, 1971.





Cover of Camera magazine, 1973.

Essays in photography magazines, 1971-79.



Bondinho Magazine, 1971.





Electronic generation image for Sharp, ca. 1977.

Images from the audiovisual Les Barrages, 1973.



Images of Sete Quedas and construction of Itaipu, 1978-84.








Medium format corporate work, 1970s.








Images from the book published in 1982.

















Images from the book Amazônia, published in partnership with Claudia Andujar in 1978.


























Images from the book Service Order 8696 – The Amazon Basin From the Air, published in 1985.













Images from the exhibition Views from Above. São Paulo, 1985.








Images from the posthumous book Soul and Light – About the Amazon Basin, published in 1995.

Images of the Amazon that are part of the photographer's definitive selection, 1970s.





Images from the posthumous book Soul and Light – About the Amazon Basin, published in 1995.













Portrait of George Leary Love, unknown artist, 1970s.

execution
Museum of Modern Art of São Paulo
curatorship
Zé De Boni
collaborators
Amanda De Boni
Fabio Jara
Joao Salgado
Rodrigo Lins
executive production
Elenice dos Santos Lourenço
Ana Paula Pedroso Santana
expographic project
Pedro Mendes da Rocha
Bianca Yokoyama
Graphic project
Paulo Otavio – POG art design
editorial coordination
Renato Schreiner Salem
photos
George Love
George Love Collection
b&w photographic enlargements
Joao Salgado
color photographic enlargements
Gibolab
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Zé De Boni
digital retouching, reproduction of documents and period works.
Zé De Boni
Joao Salgado
audiovisual Black and White Studio photographic stickers
Giclee
moldings
Capricho Frames
execution of the expographic project
Secall Scenography
conservation
Fabiana Oda
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Tamine Gesualdi
Thalita Noce
montagem
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KBedim Cultural Assembly and Production
luiz83
MReneé Art Production and Editing Phina
Services
ATM Janus
English translation
Paul Webb
proofreading
Highlighter
Press office
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execution
Museum of Modern Art of São Paulo
curatorship
Zé De Boni
executive production
Elenice dos Santos Lourenço
Ana Paula Pedroso Santana
texts
Cauê Alves and Elizabeth Machado
George Love
Zé De Boni
Graphic project
Paulo Otavio – POG art design
editorial coordination
Renato Schreiner Salem
editorial assistance
Gabriela Gotoda
English translation
Paul Webb
proofreading
Highlighter
photos
George Love
George Love Collection
Ipsis ㅤ
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Barbara Livesey
Dan Fialdini
Dina
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International Cataloguing-in-Publication Data (CIP) (Brazilian Book Chamber, SP, Brazil)
George Love : beyond time / production [production] São Paulo Museum of Modern Art ; curatorship [curatorship] Zé De Boni ; English translation [english translation] Paul Webb ; exhibition design [exhibition design] Pedro Mendes da Rocha. — São Paulo : São Paulo Museum of Modern Art, 2024.
Exhibition from February 29 to May 12, 2024. Bilingual edition: Portuguese/English. ISBN 978-65-84721-14-2 1.
Contemporary photography 2. Love, George, 1937-1995 3. Artists' books I. Museum of Modern Art of São Paulo. II. Boni, Zé De. III. Rocha, Pedro Mendes da.
24-189631 CDD-770
Indexes for systematic catalog:
1. Photography: Artes 770
Eliane de Freitas Leite – Librarian – CRB 8/8415ㅤㅤ
The Museum of Modern Art of São Paulo is available to anyone who may wish to express their views regarding the license to use images and/or texts reproduced in this material, given that certain authors and/or legal representatives did not respond to requests or were not identified or located.
Note from the MAM São Paulo Curatorship
MAM is aware of the complexity and sensitivity of displaying images of unidentified Indigenous people, especially when such images were taken by individuals outside the same ethnic group or culture. The museum makes efforts to identify the Indigenous people portrayed through research, and the MAM São Paulo Curatorial Department is fully available to anyone who may wish to comment regarding the identification and/or image usage rights of these individuals.
The printed catalog was composed in PT Sans and PT Serif fonts, printed on Master Blank 270 g/m2 (cover), Alta Alvura 120 g/m2 and Eurobulk 130 g/m2 (core) papers, in February 2024, by Ipsis printing company.