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With his camera, Lartigue doted on the somatic beauty of French summers—the sporting life, fast cars and the splash of swimmers at play. Strange, then, that the world has so long neglected his work in color. Perhaps it’s a remnant of midcentury photography’s black-and-white orthodoxy, which Lartigue merrily defied. Contemplating an orange in a letter to Anaïs Nin, for example, he once wrote, “It’s about showing that it shines in the sun […] that it’s not a dead object.” Lartigue:

Kinfolk 24 twenty-four

This story is from Kinfolk Issue Twenty-Four

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