Ruohomaa, Kosti

Kosti Ruohomaa grew up on New England farms, but increasingly throughout adolescence, his artistic nature emerged, despite his father’s aspiration that he become a farmer himself. Nonetheless, he apparently did inherit the fortitude of a New England farmer; combined with his creative aptitude and later with some fortunate professional contacts, it led him eventually to become a luminary in the world of 20th century photojournalism. At the same time, he never left home: his roots in the rugged landscapes and among the resilient characters of New England were tenacious. He became an astute observer of a life and culture which had begun to slip away as technology progressed and forever changed American society. But Ruohomaa’s archive is more than a document of time, people and place: his images helped to shape a public perception of rural New England and its traditions, particularly of the state of Maine.Ruohomaa’s parents, Selim and Sofia (née Kartano), emigrated separately from towns in Western Finland to Quincy, Massachusetts as late teenagers during the 1910s. Both had grown up on farms, and after marrying in 1913, shortly before their son’s birth, they slowly fashioned a life based upon industry and a relationship to land. With help from a friend, they purchased 150 acres of farmland at the heart of Vermont’s Green Mountains in 1919. The farmstead, situated in the hamlet of Andover, was part of a Finnish community; the Ruohomaas moved into the old inn on the property, tended the farm, worked the woods, and established a cooperative shingle mill. Shortly thereafter, Selim’s brother-in-law, who had settled with his wife on Dodge Mountain in Rockland, Maine, wrote to the Ruohomaas about the pending sale of a neighboring farm, which had been the estate of an affluent local physician during the later years of the 19th century.The Ruohomaa family eventually purchased the 241 acre parcel, and moved to Rockland in 1924 when their son was eleven years old. The land faced east toward a panorama encompassing southern Penobscot Bay (for which our museum is named), with Chickawaukie Pond sprawling below. Not far north, and in the distance further east, they had glimpses of other mountains on the Bay—Beech Hill, Megunticook, Blue Hill, Cadillac, as well as the peninsula of Owls Head south of Rockland. In the mid-1920s, this richly varied margin of land and sea still produced a living for innumerable farmers and fishermen. Crews still cut large ice harvests from Chickawaukie Pond. The family began cultivating native lowbush blueberries on the farm, a labor-intensive crop covering many acres and requiring seasonal help.Kosti Ruohomaa must have been deeply impressed by the adults he knew through his parents and their livelihood: plain, hardy New England folk, unafraid of hard work, often outdoors, bearing up obdurately under the elements. They were unmoved by middle class concerns, the trend toward suburbanization, modernization, and consumerism. Their values and priorities emerged from a love of heritage and an essential impulse to remain self-determining. They were an unpretentious and conservative lot. As an adult, he watched their traditional culture give way as industry and technology changed livelihood, families, communities. They would later become central figures in in his photography.Despite the vast stretches of woodland and soils which tend to be stony and acidic, farming has long been a significant occupation in the state. The scale and methodology of farming shifted after the Civil War with the the expansion of railways, increased access to distant markets, changes in equipment technology, and later, the manufacture and use of synthetic pesticides and fertilizers, and family farms began to disappear. In spite of this decline, small farming persisted stubbornly in rural America in the mid 1920s, as much on the coastal plain of Penobscot Bay as in countless other pockets of the country. As a child of farmers, through spending time around other  men and women who operated small farms throughout his life, Ruohomaa came to appreciate their practicality, resolve, and mettle. It’s clear from his own account and from viewing his photographs that he was deeply struck by the laconic satisfaction he saw embodied in ordinary people who spent their time outdoors, using their hands for the skillful direction of natural processes. Farmers engendered a profound connection with land, and for Kosti a connection with home, with his parents.Later, as a working photographer, he spent time at sea and in ports following fishermen. One wonders if he was drawn to them instinctively. The New England fisherman of the early to mid-twentieth century was an icon: uncowed by harsh weather and skillful at reading conditions, expert in inherited skills, governed mainly by common sense and the fraternity of other fishermen, resistant to change and interference. Like farming, fishing began to change dramatically in scale and practice as the result of technological advancement: synthetic cordage replaced vegetable fiber for nets and lines, large diesel engines replaced small gas engines, and fish finding electronics emerged after the war, along with further declines in fish stocks and increased government regulation. Here was another staid figure in the cultural landscape whose way of life became vulnerable.Ruohomaa’s esteem for rugged individuals and his love of place naturally followed one another. Maine’s primitive granite coast is etched with countless inlets, and Penobscot Bay is peppered with spruce-clad islands. Blueberry barrens, low coastal mountains, mixed woodlands, and working waterfronts still distinguish this part of the country. New England weather can be dramatic, and he found that he gloried in it (late in his career, in a letter to his friend Jim Moore, he described a rough crossing to Monhegan Island: “I cannot complain. Calm seas make lousy pictures.”). The intensity of the seasons is both an ordeal and  its own reward. Thick fog, sea smoke, fiery autumn foliage, the somber hush of snow, bitter cold, sultry heat, riotous growth, and the shifting moods of light throughout the year color the landscape in ways which are much celebrated.Ruohomaa internalized this world. Immersed in its marvels, and surrounded by flinty, self-reliant Yankees, the young Kosti Ruohomaa first experimented with photography using a box camera, the same one his mother had brought with her from Finland to make a record of her arrival in the new land. The rigors of farm life, the majesty of the Maine coast, and the nature of his early heroes profoundly informed his work in years to come.In addition to his early experimentation with photography, he developed an interest in literature and poetry, and thrived as a student. Given the expectation placed on sons raised on farms, he was fortunate to finish high school. Departing still further from tradition, he went off to the School of Practical Art in Boston, with his mother’s blessing (and probably financial support). After graduation, he stayed in Boston for a few years after landing a job as an illustrator with the Forbes Lithographic Art Company. Later, at age 24, he took a temporary leave from Forbes and rented an apartment briefly in Manhattan, there to apply for an apprenticeship with Walt Disney Studios. While in New York, he purchased a Rolleicord, his first camera. He navigated the rigorous application process, which culminated in the review of candidates’ final pieces by Walt Disney himself, and at the end was one of the few artists selected out of hundreds who applied. A few months later, in the spring of 1938, he moved to Hollywood to join their effects department, initially as an intern. There, his training was further refined at the Annex, Disney Studios’ in-house art school. When not drawing effects for Fantasia and Pinocchio, Ruohomaa schooled himself in the workings of his “Rollei”. He also studied with west coast magazine photographer Will Connell at the Art Center School in Los Angeles. It was most likely in classes with Connell that Ruohomaa learned about picture agencies such as PIX, with which he was briefly associated, and then Black Star Agency. Connell held private forums in his home, open only to photographers who were committed to the art; Ruohomaa was among those invited. This mentorship made a permanent impression on him, and led to his decision to become a freelance photographer. By 1940, his first published photographs appeared in the Los Angeles Times “Pictures to the Editor” section, where he was described as an “enterprising photographer.” He studied camera magazines and journals, looking for articles which would improve his technical understanding of cameras and lighting equipment. A 1942 scrapbook contains his hand-pencilled copy of the Zone System diagram, developed by Ansel Adams as a replicable way to balance light in a photograph (although Adams taught classes at the Art Center School, it is not known whether Ruohomaa had any instruction from him).On a trip east in 1942, Ruohomaa brought a small portfolio of selected photographs to show to Kurt Kornfeld, president of Black Star; two years later, in April of 1944, Ruohomaa signed a contract with them. It was the beginning of a lifelong association which promoted his photography nationally and overseas. Black Star was incorporated in 1935 in Manhattan by three recent refugees from Nazi Germany, who brought with them a fresh European aesthetic in photojournalism, characterized by pages of large black and white photographs which dynamically captured the news. Many at Black Star—Founders Kurt Kornfeld, Ernst Mayer, and later Black Star president Howard Chapnick—treated Ruohomaa warmly, regarding him as a protégé and offering tremendous support to his artistic and professional growth. This environment of cultivation helped foster his rapid rise to success. Almost immediately, under contract with his agency, Ruohomaa began to shoot for Time, Inc., with whom Kornfeld and Mayer had built an amicable relationship. For the next twelve years, his work appeared regularly in their publications, most notably Life, and also Time, Fortune, Artforum, House & Home, New York Times, and later, Sports Illustrated. In 1946, he joined the American Society of Magazine Photographers, a membership he held proudly for the rest of his life. As his career progressed, he was published on the covers and in the pages of many other well- and lesser-known magazines: Look, Saturday Evening Post, National Geographic, Fortune,  Ladies Home Journal, Parade, Pageant, and Holiday, among many others.Through his long association with Black Star, Ruohomaa had the opportunity to travel the U.S. and  make its thorough acquaintance, as he was sent around the country to cover stories and produce saleable images. His employers recognized and respected his affinities: wild places, rural scenes, portraits of people with character, rough weather. In 1948, he made a 10-month tour of Europe, producing numerous photo essays in England, Ireland, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Germany, Austria, Italy, Greece (he also side tripped to Libya). Increasingly, he was given his head, to the point where his contract was revised in 1957 to give him much more freedom to conceive his own assignments. From the beginning, his love of poetry found expression in the way he saw and composed. A lyrical sense and a deep appreciation for his world characterized his photographs. As his friend, the famed painter Andrew Wyeth, remarked: “I kept returning again and again to his work. His honest photography possessed the disarming simplicity of a child’s nursery rhyme. As in a good painting, one is forever finding something new and fresh and true.” (Dietz, Lew and Ruohomaa, Kosti. Night Train at Wiscasset Station. Garden City, NY: Doubleday and Company, Inc, 1977. Print). He was unselfconscious about setting up a scene, directing his subjects, finding an arrangement of visual elements which expressed his intention eloquently. He masterfully built contrast, texture, and mystery through his use of natural and artificial light, but his skill was such that artificial lighting usually seemed natural in the images. He was reflective enough to understand that his gift for photography owed much to the richness of his experience, the breadth of his opportunity, and his drive to learn all he could. A press release for the retrospective exhibit of his work at the Smithsonian in 1964 quotes Howard Chapnick: “He pleaded for young photographers to get thorough training in the arts, philosophy, history, literature and the other disciplines that make for a perceptive mind. ‘Instruct your young photographers,’ he said, ‘that anyone can learn to use a camera, but an empty head can’t do a damn thing with a camera.’”Ruohomaa was affable; he clearly enjoyed people. Simultaneously, he was quite private. He returned often to a camp he kept on Dodge Mountain on his parents’ land, to enjoy its tranquility and the comfort of his roots. He struggled throughout his adult life with alcoholism, which began to degrade his health. Late in life he became paralyzed by stroke and was confined to a wheelchair. Regardless, he continued to photograph, relying on help from a private nurse and a hoisting apparatus to lift the camera for him. His later work reflects his immobility, but is no less poetic; he experimented more with  abstraction and nature studies.He died in 1961 at the age of 47.