‘Twas gamma, and the hypo part
Did fix and harden in the trays;
All Steichen was the Modern Art,
And the finegrain out–grays.
“Beware the Camerawock, my son!
The Minny Blur, the focus trick!
Beware the contact bird, and shun
The red–green stirring–stick!”
He took his flashgun sword in hand:
Long time the picture tale he sought,—
So rested he by the tripod tree,
And shuttered, which he ought.
And as in panchromat he stood,
The Brodovitch, with focus fuzz,
Came reflext through the ballet wood
And Weegee’d as he does!
Life, Look! Life, Look! And Argoflex
His tripod blade went clicker–clack!
He left it red, and pictures bled
And went a– Pixing back.
“And has thou Karshed the Graphic House
Come to my arms, my Kodak boy!
Oh, Eugene Smith, Oh Feininger!”
He Black–Starred in his joy.
‘Twas gamma and the hypo part
Did fix and harden in the trays;
All Steichen was the Modern Art,
And the finegrain out–grays.


-John R.Whiting


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Just for fun