On the front of the book, Weegee: Spectacle of Society, we see two striking self-portraits, revealing the enigma behind this renowned photographer. In the initial image, he peers at us as if from a criminal’s identification photo, a flash-bulb camera in hand and a long, signature cigar extending from his tight-lipped mouth. The other image, distorted and comical, presents him as an amusing character, emphasizing his eccentricity. These contrasting representations from the same lensman give us a glimpse into the duality of Weegee’s craft.
During an interview in 1965, he introduced himself as Arthur Fellig, confessing that he barely recognized this name anymore. He noted he had created an alter ego, Weegee, a persona that he found overwhelming and chronically persistent. His analogy was akin to the literary characters Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, implying the photographer was torn between two identities.
Weegee’s claim to fame lies in his explicit photographic documentation of New York City during the 1930s and 40s, fearlessly capturing criminals, violent crime scenes, horrific accidents, and devastating fires. He has remained a revered figure with a reputation as an astute entrepreneur and a crucial documentarian of the social atmosphere during the middle of the last century.
Weegee’s original back story began in Zolochiv, Ukraine, where he was born in 1899. In 1910, he immigrated to America. Being just a teenager of 14, he left school to help his family through an assortment of jobs. It wasn’t until 1935 that he became a freelance photographer, armed with a shortwave radio tuned to the Manhattan Police Department’s frequency, giving him a swift advantage at crime scenes.
The origin of Fellig’s pseudonym is as intriguing as his pictures. He professed that the name Weegee was inspired from the Ouija board, implying his seemingly psychic ability to predict the time and location of the next crime in the city.
The graphic nature of Weegee’s photography is undeniable—each frame replete with gore-drenched streets, lifeless bodies riddled with bullet holes, misshapen vehicles, and depictions of raw desperation. His trademarks included high-flash photography, creating art that is unflinchingly sharp and well-lit, as if he sought to thrust the public face-to-face with the raw reality of the city’s hidden dark side.
Weegee’s work is nothing short of a social autopsy—subjecting the underbelly of New York and its night terrors to a public scrutiny through powerful images. This theme, despite the violent content, tends to blend with the expected media shock-value detachment common in today’s ever-circulating image era. His art is a stark reminder of society’s tacit acceptance of violent imagery in media.
From several of his works, Weegee’s fascination with the aspect of spectacle is obvious. One can discern this in photographs where onlookers and passers-by form a theatrical silhouette against scenes of catastrophe and cold-blooded murder. In one striking example, a Brooklyn school girl turns into the centerpiece of ‘Their First Murder (1941)’, peering at the scene of crime with wide-eyed curiosity.
The book title, “Society of the Spectacle,” is taken from French theorist Guy Debord’s ground-breaking 1967 essay. Its selection provides a persuasive argument on behalf of Weegee’s later works. These are interpreted as an extension of his fascination with a society that is increasingly self-obsessed.
Weegee’s creative flare allowed him to remodel famous personalities, transforming their faces into exaggerated, clownish figures. From Marilyn Monroe to Chairman Mao, his “caricature magic” visuals supply unique and comedic critique on the perception of fame and its absurd distortions, a perspective that was notably ahead of his time.
Included in the prints are scarcely-seen shots from Weegee’s time on the set of Stanley Kubrick’s emblematic film, ‘Dr. Strangelove’ (1964). These images depict the cast members through a fish-eye lens, creating comically distorted depictions that transform them into monstrous figures.
While Weegee’s primary body of work is centered around blunt depictions of crime and despair, his later works showcase a deep interest in spectacle and manipulation, both in terms of content and photographic technique. These diverging facets lend him a multilayered image, like the self-portraits on his book cover.
The continual fascination with Weegee lies in this intertwining of grit, novelty, and dark humor. Existentially grounded in ordinary and extraordinary realms, he ventured into capturing life’s dualities, with this anthology serving as proof of his intrigue toward society’s spectacles.