'V Shape on Ground'(1971-1974): Since first picking up a camera in 1957, Eggleston's work is said to find 'beauty in the everyday'
His influence on contemporary photography and photographers is far-reaching and has inspired the likes of Martin Parr, Sofia Coppola, Andreas Gurksy and Juergen Teller.
Talking about the award Eggleston comments: 'The world is in color. To paraphrase my friend John Szarkowski, my attempt has been to see simultaneously, both the blue and the sky as one thing.'
Astrid Merget, Creative Director of the World Photography Organisation comments: 'William Eggleston is a without a doubt, one of the great pioneers of our time. His influence on colour photography and subsequently on many of today's most revered working photographers, is one to be admired, respected and awarded.
'We are honoured to have the opportunity to present the Outstanding Contribution to Photography award to William this year.'
'Minnows Sign' (1971-1974): The majority of the prints are from his iconic Los Alamos and Dust Bells series
'Louisiana' (1970-1974): Eggleston's images capture the ordinary world around him, creating interest through sharp observation, dynamic composition and great wit
'Election Eve' (1976): Eggleston's influence on contemporary photography and photographers is far-reaching and has inspired the likes of Martin Parr, Sofia Coppola, Andreas Gurksy and Juergen Teller
Four Freedom Riders are flanked by newsmen on arrival at airport in New Orleans, Saturday, May 27, 1961, after posting bond in Jackson, MS., where they were arrested with 23 others at an interstate bus station. They are, from left, David Dennis, Doris Jean Castle, Julia Aaron and Jerome Smith. All live or attend school in New Orleans and walked quickly through the airport without incident to a limousine.
Lucretia Collins, 21, Freedom Rider from Fairbanks, Alaska, walks to a plane in Jackson, May 27, 1961, after being freed from the county jail on $500 bond. (AP Photo) #
The highly influential American photographer Joel Meyerowitz has produced Taking My Time, a retrospective monograph giving an unprecedented insight into his mind and work.
Meyerowitz, 74, is a street photographer who began photographing in color in 1962. He was an early advocate of using color photography at a time when it wasn't regarded as serious art.
In an interview where he recalls his early life as a photographer, Meyerowitz describes how he spent as much time on the New York streets as possible.
He would walk all day, seeing himself and his friends as 'fishermen in the stream of Fifth Avenue' who were 'sifting all the human information that flows on the streets.'
Meyerowitz photographed all over the U.S. and the globe. The images below include photographs from New York, Massachusetts and Florida in the 1960s, 70s and 80s.
Legendary photographer Joel Meyerowitz would walk the streets of New York City as much as possible. This steamy scene outside Gucci dates from 1975
'Florida, 1965' Joel Meyerowitz was an early advocate of color photography at a time when it wasn't taken seriously
A tired friend gets a lift in New York, 1965
'New York City, 1963' Joel Meyerowitz saw himself 'sifting all the human information he found on the streets'
'Doorway to the Sea, Provincetown, Massachusetts, 1982' Meyerowitz photographed across the U.S. and the globe
A social engagement in Wellfleet, Massachusetts, 1977
Going to the movies in New York City, 1963
An awkward scene in New York City, 1963
An appealing Florida pool in 1978
Ballston Beach, Truro, Massachusetts, in 1977
(L-R) Freedom Riders Julia Aaron & David Dennis sitting on board an interstate bus as they & 25 others (bkgrd. & unseen) are escorted by 2 Mississippi National Guardsmen holding bayonets, on their way from Montgomery, Alabama to Jackson, Mississippi. (Photo by Paul Schutzer//Time Life Pictures/Getty Images) #
The Alabama state troopers and National Guardsmen escorted the bus to the Mississippi state line and then departed. Mississippi Governor Ross Barnett warns the Freedom Riders to "obey the laws of Mississippi." On May 24, 1961, as the buses arrived at the Jackson, Mississippi bus station, the Riders debarked and entered the White Waiting Room. Jackson Police Captain, Capt. Ray, was waiting for the Riders and asked them to leave the white waiting room. When the group failed to heed the order they were arrested and taken to the city jail. (AP Photo) #
Fifteen Freedom Riders that arrived on a second bus in Jackson, Miss., are loaded into a paddy wagon at the bus station, May 24, 1961. They entered the "whites only" waiting room and were arrested for being in violation of state laws. (AP Photo/Horace Cort) #
A Freedom Rider is shown the way to the paddy wagon in Jackson, May 24, 1961, as a second bus load of the integration supporters arrived. Fifteen in second bus were arrested when they entered the white waiting room of the bus station. After the arrests, Gov. Ross Barnett decides to send the Riders to the Mississippi State Penitentiary in Parchman, Mississippi to teach the Riders a lesson. (AP Photo) #
A view of Parchman Prison's maximum security unit in Parchman, Mississippi is seen Jan. 9, 1962. After their arrival at the prison, the Freedom Riders were subject to strip searches, beating, and hard labor. More Freedom Riders from across the country vow to fill Parchman Prison before giving up the Freedom Rides. (AP Photo) #
Jack Young, attorney for the 27 Freedom Riders tells newsmen in Jackson, May 26, 1961, that his clients have elected to remain in jail "at least for the present." Additional Freedom Riders from across the country vow to take the place of the jailed original Freedom Riders. (AP Photo/Fred Kaufman) #
In this Nov. 11, 1958 file photo, Edward M. Kennedy, and Joan Bennett, kneel on the altar and receive communion from Francis Cardinal Spellman, Archbishop of New York at the nuptial mass at St. Joesph's Roman Catholic Church in Bronxville, N.Y.
Robert F. Kennedy, left, Counsel for the Senate Rackets Committee, confers with his brothers Edward Kennedy, center, and Sen. John F. Kennedy during a committee hearing in Washington, D.C., in 1959. (AP Photo) #
Sen. Edward Kennedy, center, flanked by his brothers, President John F. Kennedy and Attorney General Robert Kennedy, at the White House in August, 1963. (JFK Presidential Library via The New York Times) #
Sen. Edward Kennedy, third from left, walks with his brother, Attorney General Robert Kennedy, and sister-in-law Jacqueline Kennedy, during the funeral procession for his slain brother, President John F. Kennedy, outside the White House in Washington, Nov. 25, 1963. (Abbie Rowe/National Park Service/JFK Library via The New York Times)
Mad Men style: This image from 1963 depicts four women at the Puerto Rican Day Parade in New York City in bright shift dresses and white pumps, with their hair styled into beehive do's
Transition: Joel Meyerowitz launched his career in the 1960s, working primarily in color, which marked a shift from black-and-white photography
Unlike the carefully staged shots and stuffy formal portraits, Meyerowitz’s street scenes are pulsating with life and action while capturing a singular, unique moment.
Many of the photos taken between 1962 and 1977, which are presented in Part I of Howard Greenberg Gallery’s exhibit this fall, give off a distinct sense of the time and place.
For example, one image in the exhibit from the 1963 Puerto Rican Day Parade depicts four women decked out in colorful shift dresses, white pumps and signature beehive hairdos familiar to any fan of the popular AMC show Mad Men.
Change of scenery: Meyerowitz traveled to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, in 1968 to document the sun-drenched beach scenes in the resort town
Moody: This 1977 picture shows an empty porch at dusk in Provincetown, Massachusetts
Food for thought: Meyerowtiz captured gritty street life wherever he could find it, like in this 1978 image from St. Louis
Meyerowitz used color, as well as black-and-white film, to depict the vibrant scenes of everyday life, from a beautiful brunette smoking in a Time Square restaurant to a woman in futuristic white sunglasses walking hand-in-hand with her significant other in Central Park.
Although much of his work focused on documenting New York City street life, Meyerowitz also ventured beyond the Big Apple, traveling to Florida, St. Louis, Missouri, and Provincetown, Massachusetts, where he continued documenting scenes ranging from the gritty to the frivolous.
Vintage style: While much of Meyerowitz's work was in color, he at times reverted back to black-and-white photography, like in this 1962 shot from Times Square
Candid camera: Unlike the carefully staged shots of years past, Meyerowitz¿s street scenes are pulsating with life while capturing a singular moment in time, like this couple kissing outside a Times Square cinema in 1965
Back to the future: A woman in futuristic white sunglasses walking hand-in-hand with her significant other in Central Park in 1965
Through his remarkable work, Meyerowitz helped overcome resistance to the idea of color photography as serious art, making the form universally accepted.
He went on to win multiple awards in his field and had his images featured in over 350 exhibits in some of the world's most prestigious museums and galleries.
As dates go, October 5, 1962, isn’t famous. They don’t mention it in school history lessons, nobody very important was born or died then and no world-changing events made the headlines.
Perhaps the most newsworthy event of that day was the London premiere of the first James Bond film, Dr No.
But, 50 years ago on Friday, and unnoticed by all but a couple of hundred teenagers in Liverpool, The Beatles’ first single, Love Me Do, was released.
Icons of an extraordinary decade: The Beatles provided a great soundtrack to the Sixties
And, in that moment, it seemed that the torch was passed from one generation to the next. Nearly three years late, the Sixties, as we think of them, had begun.
Obviously few of the changes, for good or bad, which that decade brought were as a direct consequence of The Beatles. But, by reflecting their time so famously, the band put to music the attitudes of a new and confident youth that appeared overnight to brush aside the staid Britain of their parents. And the funny thing was, no one saw it coming, least of all The Beatles.
The conception of a new era hadn’t been how the future had looked just three weeks earlier on September 11 when the group had driven down from Liverpool in their van to London’s Abbey Road studios.
It hadn’t seemed that way to their record producer, George Martin, either, when he’d agreed to pay each of them the union minimum of seven pounds ten shillings (the equivalent of £137 today) for the session and a royalty of one-fifth of a penny each for every disc sold. (Their manager, Brian Epstein, got another fifth.)
The James Bond film Dr No starring Ursula Andress (pictured left) was the most newsworthy event on 5 October 1962. The music at the time was pretty straight with Cliff Richard (right) releasing The Young Ones
George Martin wasn’t taking much of a risk, but, as every other record label in London had already rejected the group, why should he?
Nor was the record welcomed with any excitement outside Merseyside, where the day after its release the band had a reality check when they found themselves performing at a horticultural society dance in Port Sunlight.
It’s been said that to increase sales, Brian Epstein ordered 10,000 copies himself, but even that could only push Love Me Do to number 17 in the charts. And it certainly wasn’t played on TV’s Juke Box Jury. Musically, the world was a pretty straight place then: Cliff Richard had started the year with The Young Ones, but the biggest hit that summer was I Remember You — by a yodelling Australian called Frank Ifield.
For The Beatles, though, even making the top 20 was a breakthrough, and their next record, Please Please Me, would top charts around the globe.
But what was the world like half a century ago, back then on October 5, 1962? What else was happening? Who were the stars? What were ordinary people reading, watching, talking about?
Well, nothing too outlandish — that was for sure. While ripples of change may already have been stirring, they were going largely unnoticed.
Two months after the death of 36-year-old Marilyn Monroe in August, Marlon Brando was playing a fat Fletcher Christian in Mutiny On The Bounty and Elvis Presley was committing career suicide in cheap Hollywood beach movies with terrible songs — carelessly leaving a vast musical vacuum in his wake.
Two months after Marilyn Monroe (left) died in 1962, Marlon Brando (right) starred in Mutiny On The Bounty
Most of the big films of the year were backward glances, like the D-Day epic The Longest Day and Lawrence Of Arabia; and although Len Deighton’s new nameless hero in his first spy novel The Ipcress File was born then, it wouldn’t be until 1965 when Michael Caine put flesh on him in the cinema version that the character would become a Sixties icon.
Meanwhile, solid Agatha Christie thrillers such as The Mirror Crack’d From Side To Side plodded on in the libraries, which was where most people got their books.
Altogether it seemed a quiet, insular time, with a global population of around three billion, which is slightly less than half of what it is today, in which Eastern Europe was a far-off place of grey, grim Communism where few people from the West ventured, and where East German border guards shot anyone who tried to escape over the wall built the previous year to divide Berlin.
And when a man called Nelson Mandela went on trial accused of treason in Johannesburg on October 11, 1962, the case was largely ignored outside South Africa. He would stay in prison until 1990.
As for a Britain approaching the end of Empire, the average UK house was worth £2,670 (around £48,000 today), the average annual salary was £800 (£14,000 now) and a Ford Cortina, the flashiest new family car of the time, cost £591 (just over £10,000 today).
With almost full employment, the austerity of the Fifties might have been over, but there was still an ingrained unfairness and waste in the education system — especially if you were a girl.
Flashiest new family car of the time: In 1962, a Ford Cortina cost £591 (just over £10,000 today) Only four young people in a hundred were getting into university (with three of those being boys), and bright girls were encouraged to go to teachers’ training college.
So, all in all, things looked modestly exciting for the young in 1962.
But there’s something else, and this cannot be stressed too strongly. The year 1962 was a million miles from the image of the swinging Sixties we’ve come to know.
Some teenagers in a few clubs would have tried amphetamines, known then as purple hearts, but, with cannabis rare, heroin and cocaine the habit of a tiny, invisible few, and LSD unknown, there was no big drugs problem.
And although smoking was common, binge-drinking was hardly known, certainly among teenagers.
With a shorthand typist just out of secretarial college in a provincial town lucky to earn £5 (£88 today) a week, and a London bedsitter considered expensive at £4 (£70 in modern terms) a week, few young people could afford much more than a couple of halves of bitter.
The fabled, or perhaps even mythical, Sixties decade of sex, drugs and rock and roll was as yet nowhere in sight.
London's Carnaby Street (pictured), in the early Sixties, had a couple of shops which sold daring clothes
By the 1960s, Carnaby Street proved popular for followers of both the Mod and hippie styles. Many independent fashion boutiques, and designers lined the sides of the street
Nor were the clothes as daring, revolutionary and colourful as they would very quickly become. This was pre-mini-skirts when, despite Mary Quant’s best King’s Road efforts, college girls around the country dressed like frumps, and fans at Liverpool’s Cavern would wear curlers in their hair all day at work, to take them out just before The Beatles came on stage at night.
London’s Carnaby Street had, as I recall, a couple of shops which sold relatively brightly coloured, and thus daring, clothes for boys, but V-necked Marks & Spencer sweaters were what most young blades wore on a night out, and everyone had a sports coat and flannels in the wardrobe.
As for sex, although the Pill had been introduced a year earlier, it wouldn’t be available for some years to single girls, who would even then have to run the gauntlet of some fierce questioning by moralising GPs. Social attitudes were very different.
Despite Mary Quant's efforts in the early Sixties, the mini skirt was yet to take off
When John Lennon’s girlfriend, Cynthia, had told him in June that she was pregnant, his instant response had been to marry her. On the cusp of fame, the timing was hardly opportune for him, and, worried about adverse reactions from fans, the fiction that he was single was maintained for a year. But marriage had been ‘the decent thing to do’.
Early Sixties Britain was, therefore, still tied by tradition and conformity. It was also a very stratified ‘know your place’ country, where Civil Service-type rules of politeness, decorum and respect for one’s seniors ruled.
At the Abbey Road studios, for instance, musicians (the people who actually made the music recorded there) had to use the tradesmen’s entrance. Such general deference was, however, about to be torn apart. Just three weeks after Love Me Do was recorded, a new programme was aired for the first time on the BBC. It was called That Was The Week That Was, and with satirical impudence it made fun of the great, the good and the pompous.
Not only did TW3 (as it became known) make David Frost an overnight star, it marked a sea-change in attitudes towards politicians, which grew to hilarity when the sexual hanky-panky of the Profumo Affair began to leak a few months later.
Until then television — still in black and white and only featuring the BBC and ITV — had vacillated between being cautious, worthy and dull, the most popular programmes being Dixon Of Dock Green and the Western series Bonanza. So it’s no surprise that, apart from one short, solitary piece of film by Manchester’s Granada TV, there is no footage of The Beatles playing at the Cavern — although they appeared there 292 times.
Ground-breaking technological change for television had, however, already arrived. When the Soviet Union had thrown its first Sputnik satellite into orbit in 1957, Cold War defence worries had been the most common reaction.
But, if The Beatles had gone home to watch a special late-night programme after their Cavern appearance on July 11, 1962, they would have seen the future in the shape of the first live images from America.
Relayed to Britain through the satellite tracking station at Goonhilly Downs in Cornwall, and with the voice of Richard Dimbleby lilting in excitement, the nation watched and waited for a satellite called Telstar to come over the horizon and show us — what? A car, I think, driving along a road more than 3,000 miles a way. It might have been mundane, but it was mesmerising, too.
And what was top of the charts three months later, on the day Love Me Do was released? Telstar, played by the Tornados.
The Beatles didn’t know it, but all through that autumn they were living the last three private months of their lives before impossible fame would overtake them in 1963.
The Cuban Missile Crisis: President Kennedy meets with U.S. Army officials in October 1962
Soon, however, in moments of black humour, it may have occurred to them that they might be living the last few months of their lives altogether.
It certainly crossed my mind when, on October 22, President Kennedy went on television and announced to the world that the Soviet Union had installed intercontinental nuclear missiles on Cuba, and that the U.S. Navy would now blockade that island until they were taken away.
It was a confrontation that, it was agreed later, came rather too close to a nuclear war.
I was a student in London at the time and marked Kennedy’s sabre-rattling television speech by putting up warnings around the Georgian hall of residence where I lived, saying that missile-watching from the balconies was not allowed as they were structurally unsafe.
There were many other such jokes, but I remember being quite pleased the following morning to discover that I hadn’t been vaporised overnight in an atomic holocaust.
With black CND (Campaign For Nuclear Disarmament) badges pinned to many student scarves, there were demonstrations outside the U.S. Embassy that week — even some outside the Soviet embassy.
Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll: Drugs became more popular as the Sixties progressed
What other memories of that autumn when the Sixties really began? Well, it was a time when people wrote lots of letters, hence the flip-side of Love Me Do being PS I Love You.
Although it’s unlikely any of the Beatles would have noticed, it was the season when Liverpool Football Club rejoined the First Division under their new manager Bill Shankly.
Then, in December, there was a simply unbelievable smog, in which you couldn’t see a lamp-post until you walked into it, and which killed 60 people.
Now, I’d like to be able to write that I’d been one of The Beatles’ first fans, who went out and bought Love Me Do on the day it was released. But I can’t.
In fact, it wasn’t until the start of the long frozen winter of 1963, when, in January, I heard Please Please Me on the Light Programme’s Housewives’ Choice for the first time, that I realised what I’d been missing. And by then, so did everybody else.
Looking back at that following year of 1963, as the Sixties began to flower, it seemed to me that the world I was living in was changing from black and white to dazzling colour.
Perhaps, later, as drugs began to permeate through society, it became too dazzling. But, all the same, it was an astonishing and often exhilarating time as class barriers tumbled and opportunities multiplied.
Suddenly the future looked exciting.
As I say, The Beatles weren’t responsible for most of the changes of the Sixties, but from October 5, 1962, they proved a terrific musical accompaniment to them.