Clarence Hudson White - Post Death

Post Death

Although White and Stieglitz had tried to reconcile their differences before White died, Stieglitz never forgave White for breaking from him in 1912. Upon hearing about White's untimely death, Stieglitz wrote to Kuehn, "Poor White. Cares and vexation. When I last saw him he told me he was not able to cope with twenty years ago. I reminded him that I warned him to stay in business in Ohio ‒ New York would be too much for him. But the Photo-Session beckoned. Vanity and ambitions. His photography went to the devil." In spite of these words, Stieglitz had 49 of White's photographs, including 18 created jointly with Stieglitz, in his personal collection when he died.

The White School continued to operate under the direction of Jane White until 1940, when she no longer had the energy to keep up with the long hours and many students. Her son Clarence H. White Jr. took over for her, and for a short while he was able to increase enrollment. However, a poorly timed move to larger quarters to accommodate the new students coincided with the mobilization for World War II, and the School's enrollment soon plummeted. It finally closed in 1942.

In 1949 White Jr. was offered the chance to set up a photography department at Ohio University, and he continued in his father's footsteps by establishing a school there that was "second to none". White Jr. died in 1978 at the age of 71. The Photography School at Ohio University is now known as the School of Visual Communication.

Read more about this topic:  Clarence Hudson White

Famous quotes containing the words post and/or death:

    My business is stanching blood and feeding fainting men; my post the open field between the bullet and the hospital. I sometimes discuss the application of a compress or a wisp of hay under a broken limb, but not the bearing and merits of a political movement. I make gruel—not speeches; I write letters home for wounded soldiers, not political addresses.
    Clara Barton (1821–1912)

    I agree that we should work and prolong the functions of life as far as we can, and hope that Death may find me planting my cabbages, but indifferent to him and still more to the unfinished state of my garden.
    Michel de Montaigne (1533–1592)