Moonrise over Princeton

On Sunday, Dec. 7, 1941, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, prompting the entrance of the United States into World War II. Less than two years later, U.S. Camera magazine printed "Moonrise, Hernandez, New Mexico," a photograph taken by Ansel Adams, America's best-known camera artist, to honor the bravery of the nation's soldiers. "Moonrise" — depicting a serene yet desolate western landscape at sunset — served as a symbol of the conflicting patriotism and solemnity that characterized wartime America in the mid-20th century. Though it began as a commemorative photograph, "Moonrise" currently forms the focal point of the exhibit "Print the Legend" at the University Art Museum.

Photography curator Joel Smith describes Adams' photograph as an image "for aesthetic reverence, astronomical calculation and wicked satire." Though countless exhibits have showcased Adams as an artist, Smith has approached him from an innovative angle. The exhibit, on view through Jan. 13, centers on a single print — its production, its meaning and its impact on photography as an artistic medium. And much of the impact comes from the image's unique history and the controversy surrounding it.

The photograph came about when, en route to Santa Fe, Adams could not help but pull over to capture what lay before him with his 8x10-inch view camera. Adams at first said he took the picture using a light meter moments before the sun fell. Seven years and many prints later, his story transformed into one of technical prowess. The picture was actually taken without a light meter, Adams said; based on his knowledge of aperture, he adjusted his lens in relation to the moonlight. Thus, the legend of "Moonrise" sprouted from the questionable word of its creator.

Adams took only one photograph before the sun dissolved beyond the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The single image became his "most difficult negative" and an object of personal and public obsession. About 13,000 signed prints of "Moonrise" were printed and sold from 1941. Throughout his career as a commercial photographer, Adams experimented with the negative from the town of Hernandez for his own satisfaction as well as for the art market. In order to appease public demands, Adams heightened the dramatic content of "Moonrise" by intensifying the negative: He brightened the foreground and increased the contrast of its key elements. By 1948, then, both the original story and the straight print had been altered.

The question of which alteration occurred first remains unanswered. Whatever the chronology, "Moonrise" — as a representation of symbolism and methodological expertise — generated hysteria amid a growing art market and remains popular today; in 2006, one of Adams' earlier prints sold for over $600,000.

By excluding 396 of the estimated 400 Ansel Adams photographs in the University archives, Smith has succeeded in providing an intimate view of "Moonrise" as a pervasive phenomenon. Four different prints of "Moonrise" comprise the bulk of the exhibit. Spanning over 40 years, they create a visual timeline of Adams' journey in the printmaking process.

The earliest of the prints, from the '40s, originally belonged to the MOMA but was given to the University in the '70s, along with 500 other photographs. Adams himself gave the second print to Princeton's former curator of photography, while the third print, from the '60s, became part of the University collection this past January as a gift from a Class of 1986 alumnus. The fourth print is from the '80s and is the reason for the exhibit; a man with a keen interest in photography lent the University this print from a museum. It will be returned to him by January.

Adams' "most difficult negative" has created a place for itself in the vernacular. Whether approached as a serene western landscape, a tribute to those that served in World War II, a technical feat or a reflection of photography as a medium of fine art — the omnipresent importance of "Moonrise" is undeniable. This exhibition explores what that significance is all about.