Francisc Nemeth

Portfolio

VM: Name three photographers whose works have inspired you and whom you admire.

Francisc Nemeth: Fate had it that I did not have an older photographic artist around me, a master from whom I could learn and who could inspire me. I certainly liked the images I saw at exhibition openings, but I had my own style; I never considered copying or imitating anyone. I entered the ranks of photographic artists at a young age—people I had read about earlier in Fotografia magazine—and I immediately operated at a level similar to the older generation, with whom I became friends. I couldn't say I admired them; I simply valued their talent and their works. I could mention my close friend, Marx Jozsef Hon EFIAP, along with Mircea Faria EFIAP, and Gheorghe Lăzăroiu EFIAP.

Speaking of inspiration from someone else, I had only one exception. I was inspired purely technically, not artistically, by a work exhibited at the International Salon of Photographic Art of Romania. At the opening, I stopped in front of a color piece that made me wonder: how on earth was it created? It was titled "Nocturne at Scano" (Nocturnă la Scano). It was a night scene where the sky was quite bright, and almost all the building windows were lit from the inside. It looked almost surreal. With so many interior lights, the sky should have been black.

I eventually figured out how such a thing could be achieved, and in 1975, I created an outstanding color image myself: "Nocturne at Vulcan" (Nocturnă la Vulcan). Using a Praktica LTL camera with a 20mm f/4 Flektogon lens, I climbed onto the roof of a 9-story apartment building. I mounted the camera on a tripod and closed the aperture to its maximum of f/22. Using a locking cable release and setting the shutter speed to Bulb (B), I waited for the sun to set. I calculated that the exposure time corresponded to approximately 1 second. The secret I found to realizing this image was a very soft black chamois leather glove, which served as my manual cover for multiple exposures.

When the sun set and the sky was still quite a bright blue with few clouds, I placed the glove over the camera in such a way that it completely covered the lens. I triggered the shutter using the cable release, locking it open on Bulb. The glove solution was necessary because repeatedly putting the standard lens cap on and taking it off could slightly move the camera, and then the repeated exposures wouldn't overlap perfectly.

I carefully lifted the glove from the front of the lens for one second and put it back—that was the first exposure. I waited half an hour until it got quite dark, and when I noticed a car approaching with its headlights on, I lifted the glove again to expose the car's lights on the street and the lit windows of the apartment buildings. There were few cars back then, but still enough to trace the yellow and red light trails from the taillights. For every car approaching from different directions, I repeated the exposure. Meanwhile, the locals were moving from their kitchens to their living rooms and vice versa, turning on the lights, which I recorded with each exposure. Since it was night, the landscape exposed during the first exposure remained intact; only the new lights were imprinted on the image. Color photography was in its infancy back then. We could only find low-quality negatives manufactured in East Germany, compared to Kodak, Agfa, or Fuji, which we couldn't even dream of. Nevertheless, "Nocturne at Vulcan" turned out to be a highly successful piece. It was even acquired by the Academy of the Socialist Republic of Romania, chosen from the images I had in my personal AAFR portfolio.

A few years ago, I had a surprise. I discovered on the internet that an individual using the pseudonym "anahoretu" was receiving hundreds of likes for my image, "Nocturne at Vulcan," which he had posted claiming all copyrights. I confronted him: "How dare you use an image that does not belong to you, which was created before you were even born?" His reply was: "What does it matter, the author is lost in the mists of time anyway." I didn't tell him I was the author. I just wrote back that the author is alive and can be found if you look for him, and he hasn't been lost in the mists of time just yet!

VM: Many young photographers are caught in the trap of copying famous styles to gain quick validation. What steps would you advise them to follow in order to find their own visual identity?

Francisc Nemeth:  My advice to young photography enthusiasts is to study as much as possible. Practice makes perfect; you must work hard. The level you reach in your creative work is confirmed by participating in International Salons of Photographic Art, which are competitions where thousands of works from hundreds of authors around the world are submitted. It is almost like a sport—you have to qualify. A jury of luminaries selects the most successful works to be exhibited, in limited numbers, depending on the gallery space capacity. It is a great achievement to have works accepted for an exhibition. To also win awards is truly exceptional. If you limit yourself to just "Likes" on Facebook, that doesn't qualify you. It may only please you to be appreciated. I also recommend that you join the Association of Photographic Artists in Romania (AAFR). By being part of the most important artistic organization, you will consider yourself an artist, and you will be supported on the path of self-improvement!

My famous friend, Eugen Iarovici EFIAP, shone especially through the books he wrote on photographic technique and art. The dedication he wrote for me in his book, "Mastery in Photography" (Măiestria în fotografie), ended with these words: "...with the advice not to leave your camera unused for too long."

I give this same advice to young people, just as I gave it to the young members of the two photo clubs I founded in the Jiu Valley: the Electron Vulcan Photo Club in 1974 and the Cristal Petroșani Photo Club. With the former, I organized seven National Salons of Photographic Art, "Fotofolclor" (1979–1985), and six National Biennials with the Cristal Photo Club (1978–1988).

I thank the Good Lord, in whom I have a diamond-hard faith, for giving me the chance to still have the strength and inspiration for creation at the age of over 82. I have edited, entirely by myself, right up to the "ready-for-press" stage, two photography albums: "Shades of Passion" (Nuanțele Pasiunii, 2013) and "Woman, the Eternal Enigma" (Femeia Eterna Enigmă, 2014). The publisher only gave me the ISBN number; I sent the PDF layout to the printing house. For all my personal exhibitions and others, I do not accept any help from anyone. From the layout and printing to the mounting, laminating, and passe-partout framing, I do everything myself.

VM: What is next for you? Are you currently working on a project? Do you have any plans for exhibitions, photobook releases, or new themes you are eager to explore? – If you wish, you can also mention future projects within the association here.

Francisc Nemeth: At the moment, we are preparing a collaborative album featuring nature photographs and poems written by a remarkable lady who writes exceptional verses inspired by the images in the album.

Vemen Magazine: Thank you, Maestro! It was an honor for us to speak with you and learn so many interesting things about your impressive career. We wish you much success in the future and look forward to many more extraordinary images.

In an era where billions of images are rapidly consumed and forgotten on ephemeral screens, encountering a master who has lived and shaped the history of photography is a rare privilege. Francisc Németh, with a career spanning over six decades, is an artist for whom photography has always been a profound dialogue with light, nature, and time. From his early darkroom experiments and the rare solarization technique seen in his masterpiece “Quo Vadis,” to his courageous transition into the digital age at 65, his story is a masterclass in tenacity and pure vocation. We invite you to discover an exceptional conversation about the art of truly "seeing" and the inexhaustible force of a pioneer who continues to inspire.

VM: How did your relationship with photography begin, and what was that first moment you knew it wasn't just a passion, but a way of life?

Francisc Nemeth: Ironically, in my early years, I was terrified of cameras. Seeing photographs where people were reproduced with such exactness, at 3 or 4 years old, the only explanation I could find was that the camera did something inexplicable to put people on paper: for a moment, the people had to die—how else could they end up there on paper?! And then, a moment after being placed on paper, they came back to life. But being so little, I thought maybe I wouldn't make it... They could only take pictures of me with the photographer hiding behind the corner of the building without me noticing.

I was an eighth-grade student in 1959 in Târgu Mureș when I found a small 2-lei booklet in a bookstore titled: "Learn to Photograph." That was the moment of grace. With my pocket money, I bought the cheapest camera available in stores: an IOR (Romanian Optical Enterprise) for 115 lei. Then came a Smena 2, a Werra, and in 1972, a professional-level Praktica Super TL, with which I started creating fine art photography.

Since my middle school years, I had loved drawing, and in the years that passed from my first contact with photography until I could afford the Praktica camera—which cost five months' salary—I taught myself everything I could find about photographic technique and art from books and magazines. I subscribed to the Fotografia publication edited by the Association of Photographic Artists in Romania. I was in love with fine arts. I bought everything I could find about painters, including the collection: "Biographies, Memoirs, Essays," and painting albums. I collected postcards with reproductions of famous paintings, stamps with art reproductions, all through international correspondence. Thus, in the 13 years between my first contact with photography through that little booklet and my professional start, I managed to build a visual culture autodidactically, which allowed me to transition directly into creation. After equipping my darkroom with a high-performance enlarger, I opened my first solo exhibition in 1974 with standard 30x40cm exhibition prints.

In the summer of 1975, I submitted photographs for the first time to a national-level photographic art exhibition-contest in Cluj, where my photograph "Mary" was exhibited—this was my baptism in photographic art. In September 1975, in Suceava, I won my first award, an Honorable Mention. After that, I successfully participated in all the exhibitions organized in Romania. I was awarded at almost all of them and attended all the exhibition openings.

My most memorable success was at the Brașov Photographic Art Biennial in 1984, where out of the four photographic art genres listed on the invitation (Landscape, Portrait, Reportage, and Essay), First Prize was awarded to the works: "The Mountain" (landscape); "Satisfactions" (portrait); and "Vortex" (reportage), submitted by yours truly. When I received the results, I couldn't believe it was real. I called the president of the Brașov Photoclub, who confirmed it. He told me about the heated discussions during the jury process when they realized three first prizes went to a single author. The president of the jury, Assoc. Prof. Eng. Sylviu Comănescu, calmed the spirits when he asked: "Gentlemen, what are we actually awarding, the works or the authors?", and the answer was: the works. The interesting part was that the work "Quo Vadis?" (essay), which was exhibited but not awarded in Brașov, was awarded the Bronze Medal at JAU-Brazil two weeks after this event. I was amused by the thought: what would have happened during the jury in Brașov if this one had also taken first prize?!

VM: You have lived and created during the film era, where every frame was carefully rationed, as well as in the digital age, where everything is instantaneous. How did this transition influence your thought process and the construction of an image? Do you still miss the darkroom?

Francisc Nemeth: I am a maximalist; I do not accept half-measures. This helped me realize my works exactly as I had imagined them. Tenacity allowed me not to give up until I achieved the desired result. I thoroughly enjoyed working in the darkroom. I experimented with many recipes for chemical solutions and even had a series of innovations published in photography magazines, surprising my colleagues. There is much to tell about that, but this is not the place for it.

In the era of negative or slide film, you were forced to be mindful of the limited number of frames at your disposal. I loved "capturing the moment," the ephemeral instant, after which I would immediately envision the final work in my mind. With digital photography, you see it the very next second, that is a massive advantage. If I managed to get two exhibition-worthy pieces out of a 36-exposure roll, I was satisfied; that was roughly my average.

Since 1977, I had been participating in International Salons. I was the first photographic artist in the history of Hunedoara County to have works accepted and exhibited in international photographic art salons. By 1985, I already had works exhibited in numerous salons across four continents. This entitled me to the AFIAP (Artist of the International Federation of Photographic Art) distinction, awarded for results in international salons patronized by the federation. A year later, in 1986, I qualified for the Excellence EFIAP distinction, which was the most important international recognition at the time. In a way, the only higher honor was the Hon EFIAP, awarded entirely exceptionally for outstanding services to photographic art.

The socialist regime restricted the possession of foreign currency. When the Association of Photographic Artists in Romania (AAFR) submitted my dossier with international results to the International Federation of Photographic Art for these distinctions, it was necessary to attach a fee of 10 DM (West German Marks) to cover the cost of the ID card and badge. Even though the amount was minuscule—about the price of a pack of cigarettes—the AAFR could not send the dossier because they could not exchange that sum into foreign currency. I felt betrayed!

Looking through the catalogs received from international salons, I realized that in many cases, I was single-handedly representing Romania with exhibited works out of dozens of colleagues who had also submitted theirs. Thus, the Romanian tricolor and Romania itself appeared on the frontispiece of art galleries somewhere far out in the world solely due to my merit. That was a magnificent feeling, hard to match, the kind that brings tears to your eyes. And after all that, to wake up to such a categorical refusal... This injustice, compounded by others, made me stop sending works to photographic art exhibitions for three decades. Years passed; I didn't give up photography, I simply didn't submit my work to any exhibitions.

When pixel-based digital photography first appeared, I didn't take it seriously. I thought that images made of dots could not be compatible with artistic quality work. But after seeing an A4 digital color photograph printed out by a neighbor, I realized this had a future. It was 2009. That’s when I switched to digital. I changed my gear. I equipped myself with a Sony camera, a fairly powerful PC, a scanner, and A4 and A3+ printers. At 65 years old, I taught myself everything all over again.

In 2016, I returned to the international circuit, once again participating in international salons across five continents. I recovered what had been denied to me 30 years prior: the FIAP distinctions, and even more.

Following the advent of digital photography, the number of people who believe themselves to be photographic artists after their first successful "snap" taken with a mobile phone has grown exponentially. FIAP was forced to multiply the criteria for distinctions. To motivate those who had achieved the Excellence distinction to continue participating with their works in international photographic art salons, FIAP added another series of levels: EFIAP/Bronze, Silver, Gold, Platinum, and Diamond. I reached the EFIAP/Gold distinction, which satisfies me completely, though I still respond to some invitations to remain active. Participation fees are serious obstacles for pensioners.

VM: What do you consider to be the main difference between creating an excellent single photograph and building a cohesive visual series?

Francisc Nemeth: I was not preoccupied with creating series of photographs. I sought to express what I had to say with a single image. Instead, I created Diaporamas, which today are known as "slideshows." Diaporamas were series of slide images that, through projection, transitioned into one another by cross-fading. They were projected using two slide projectors onto a screen, with musical accompaniment. I handcrafted a "comb-type" device myself for the diaporama projection. The background music was played from a reel-to-reel tape recorder. I recorded the chosen music from LP records.

I had many successes with various diaporama series. The most memorable success was with the diaporama: "Seasons" (Anotimpuri), which I also presented to the elite of Romanian classical music, who participated as guests at the festival: "The Month of Culture in the Jiu Valley - June 1985". Present were: the Madrigal Choir led by conductor Marin Constantin, professors from the Ciprian Porumbescu Conservatory in Bucharest led by the rector, composers, and music critics—over 40 people. Let me recount, as concisely as I can, this event that left a mark on me:

On June 8, 1985, at 10:00 AM, I was at work when I received a phone call from the Petroșani Party Municipality, assigning me the task (which was actually an order) that at 5:00 PM I had to project the "Seasons" diaporama at Cabana 5 Sud Lupeni in front of a delegation from Bucharest. I experienced then, I believe, the most intense emotion of my life. I was caught off guard. My slide set was incomplete. I had sent some of the slides to international salons. I had to quickly reconstruct the set, supplementing it with other images. This took until 1:00 PM. When I wanted to choose the tape with the appropriate music, the power went out (during that period, there were daily power outages to save energy). The electricity didn't come back on until 4:30 PM.

I didn't have time to do a test projection with the modified set, which no longer matched the original number of images. Each season had a melody chosen by me, without consulting a musician, and the projection's duration had to overlap exactly with the music's duration. The projection of the seasons followed without interruption for each season, starting with winter. You can imagine the difficult situation I was in. With the original diaporama, I had gotten used to timing the projection duration perfectly with the musical chords from memory. Now I actually had a different set, with a different number of slides, which I never had the chance to rehearse. With the elite of Romanian classical music in the room, the musical background I had chosen without consulting a musician was another extremely critical point. So, everything was as unsuitable as it could possibly be. To fail in front of such a select audience would be a total disqualification.

I was hoping the delegation would be late to the hall so I could do a test run before they arrived. It wasn't meant to be. I had barely set up my equipment when they started entering the room. My heart was in my throat. The hall was a performance room with a small stage. The tables were arranged in a "U" shape. On one side, the delegation; on the other, the Party officials of the Jiu Valley. In the middle sat the First Secretary, with the Conservatory's rector and the Madrigal Choir's conductor to his right. I, like a student who showed up to class without doing his homework, sat in the very last seat.

I had my equipment set up in the middle of the room facing the stage. Appetizers were prepared on the tables. After they sat down, the First Secretary waved me over. Dazed with emotion, I went to him, and he whispered: "Look here, Comrade Nemeth, we have some special guests here, international-level artists. We thought we should present something artistically special to them as well, and we thought of you. Are you ready?" What can I say, I didn't even have a voice; I just nodded. "Then start the projection while they have their appetizers."

I don't even know how I made it back to the projectors. The lights went out, and with trembling hands, I began the projection. After a few projected frames, the applause started, and it didn't stop even when I finished the projection. They were giving a standing ovation. I had gone from agony to ecstasy. I wanted to quickly dismantle the equipment and disappear from there. I carried them out to my car. The standing applause continued; they called me back and overwhelmed me with more praise than I had ever received in my life. The composer Dumitru Capoianu told me: "Sir, it was extraordinary; you should know I had tears in my eyes." It was like a dream!

I apologize for these details, but without them, you couldn't understand what happened.

Eminescu told his critics: "It is easy to write verses when you have nothing to say..." This is true for any creation. "A picture is worth a thousand words..." Many things can be learned in this world; they say we learn as long as we live. However, to be able to create artistically, you must receive that Divine "spark" at birth, which is also called talent, without which you cannot go far! Many look, but few are those who truly see! If a moment, a mood, or an event catches my attention and conveys something to me, then I record it on film or on the digital sensor, and through the photographic language, I try to pass that feeling on to those who wish to see it.

In a series of images, like I had in the diaporama, the flow of the idea is important, expressed also through shapes and spots of color. Ask a mother of several children which one she loves the most? She won't answer you easily. I have multi-award-winning images, even with gold medals. In artistic creation, appreciation is subjective; there is no unit of measurement. We can consider the most successful work to be the one appreciated by the most people. The former AAFR president, Ștefan Toth, said that while participating in various international juries, he once asked one of the jury members: "How should a photograph be, what qualities must it have, for you to propose it for an award?" The answer was short: "If I like it!" De gustibus non disputandum!

Digital photography is much easier to produce; there is a whole range of tools, including Photoshop, that help you realize whatever crosses your imagination. I have many successful digital images that I like very much, but those I achieved with much greater difficulty, with a lot of inspiration and hard work, are closer to my heart. I wrote to you earlier about the exceptional success in Brașov; that record was never achieved by anyone else, neither before nor after. Those three images were awarded both before and after at other exhibitions; I like all three of them. Yet, "Quo Vadis" remains the closest to my soul.

"Quo Vadis Domine?" is a biblical expression. It is said that Saint Peter asked Jesus this when he met him on the road to Rome. The photograph: Quo Vadis? (in English, Which Way?) was exhibited in Tokyo in 1984, and the organizers asked for my permission to keep it for a year to be part of a select traveling collection exhibition in major cities across Japan. After a year, I received it back laminated, mounted in a thick 3mm passe-partout at a 50x60 cm format, exactly as it was exhibited in the traveling exhibition, bearing the label in Japanese. It holds a place of honor on my living room wall.

VM: What is your most cherished photographic project? And why?

Francisc Nemeth: For a long time, I was preoccupied with the idea of depicting humanity's struggle for survival through the photographic language. In the '70s and '80s, I could roam the surrounding hills alone without being exposed to any dangers; nowadays, that is no longer possible. At one point, I was climbing a hill. When I reached a plateau, I saw a broken tree near a fence, looking as if it were crying out for help. Next to the fence, there was also a path. With the clear sky as a background, I photographed the tree. I was thinking how wonderful it would be for the composition to have a person next to the tree. I lingered there for a while, shooting macro images, and suddenly I noticed someone approaching, climbing up the hill. I took a hunter's stance with my Pentacon Six camera, equipped with the 180mm f/2.8 Sonnar lens. When the man reached the perfect spot, I took the shot. In that very moment, I already envisioned the final photograph in my imagination, with solarization in flames in the darkroom. The next day in the darkroom, on my third solarization attempt, I achieved exactly what I wanted: "Quo Vadis?"

I don't know if this is the image for which people will remember me. It will probably be my first solo exhibition from 2014—digitized and digital, printed in A3+ format, laminated and mounted in a 4mm thick black enameled hardboard passe-partout at a 50x70 cm size. It consists of 60 frames presenting the history of the city of Vulcan in pictures between 1964 and 2014. The exhibition has been permanently displayed on the walls of the Vulcan City Hall council chamber ever since. The lamination protected the images from ultraviolet rays, and they haven't faded at all after being exposed to light for 12 years. For this body of work, I was honored by the city hall in 2014 with the title of Honorary Citizen of the Municipality of Vulcan.

I have read about artists who sometimes go through a creative void. I have never experienced such a thing. You must love nature and life. "Nihil sine Deo!" God is Love, without Him we are nothing! When you look at the world with love, it will offer you extraordinary moments and experiences that you can pass on through the photographic language. I call this the spectacle of nature.

VM: After so many years spent behind the viewfinder, what still surprises you today? What makes you raise the camera to your eye with the same enthusiasm?

Francisc Nemeth: Nature can offer you extraordinary moments or shapes that surprise you, completely capturing your attention, and in your concentration to frame the subject as best as possible, you can put yourself in danger. I experienced such a moment myself on a late winter day. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and I set off toward the Parâng peak all by myself. As they say, "armed to the teeth." In my camera bag, I had several lenses. On my shoulder, two cameras: a Praktica MTL with a 20mm f/4 lens, a Pentacon Six with a 50mm f/4 lens, and in its leather case, the 180mm f/2.8 Sonnar lens.

At one point, I spotted a strange shape on the frozen snow cornice that resembled a human face. To be able to frame the image, I had to descend about 3 meters down a very steep slope covered with snow frozen solid as concrete. I took the shot and tried to climb back up. I was wearing fur-lined boots with anti-slip soft rubber soles. I struck my heel in vain for support; the frozen surface wouldn't yield. The slope had an incline of about 60 degrees. I didn't have a single metallic object on me besides my cameras. The ice wouldn't give way no matter what I tried. My gear was more of a hindrance.

I struggled for about two hours until I managed to climb back up. I could only help myself with my bare fingernails. When I reached the top, I was soaking wet with sweat and adrenaline. If I had made one wrong move, I wouldn't have been able to stop until I hit the bottom of the abyss from the 2,500-meter altitude where I was. They probably would have identified my remains by my camera gear. Was "Ice Face" worth it? Hard to say. Ten days later, it was exhibited in Calgary, Canada. That is Passion!

VM: Every artist faces creative blocks. Have you ever gone through one, and how did you manage to regain your visual voice?

Francisc Nemeth: I have read about artists who sometimes go through a creative void. I have not experienced such a thing. You must love nature and life. "Nihil sine Deo!" God is Love; without Him, we are nothing! When you look at the world with love, it will offer you extraordinary moments and experiences, which you can pass on through the photographic language. I call this the spectacle of nature.

VM: Does the physical print still make sense in an era where the majority of people consume images on their phone screens?

Francisc Nemeth: The classic silver-gelatin image is immortal; the support (the paper) may yellow, but the image itself, which is made of metallic silver, remains intact. Nowadays, there are printers that use special inks that withstand the test of time. What we see on a screen is fleeting; it is not tangible.

VM: If you were to be remembered by people for a single photograph you have taken, which one would it be? Please tell us the story and the emotion behind it.

Francisc Nemeth: "Quo Vadis". I do not know if I will remain in people's memory with this image. It will probably be my first solo exhibition from 2014—digitized and digital, printed in A3+ format, laminated and mounted in a 4mm thick black enameled hardboard passe-partout at a 50x70 cm size. It consists of 60 frames presenting the history of the city of Vulcan in pictures between 1964 and 2014. The exhibition has been permanently displayed on the walls of the Vulcan City Hall council chamber ever since. The lamination protected the images from ultraviolet rays, and they have not faded despite being exposed to light for 12 years. For this body of work, I was honored by the city hall in 2014 with the title of Honorary Citizen of the Municipality of Vulcan.