With Georgia O'Keeffe encouraging him, Stieglitz was able to get on with the difficult task of finding a new esthetic in his own black and white photography. He continued his experiments with a new kind of symbolic black and white photography, trying to give voice to his feelings about life in black and white pictures of clouds, trees, fields of grass. He also began a most unusual project, a pictorial biography of his life with Georgia O'Keeffe. He took literally thousands of black and white pictures of her and discovered that expression was not limited to the face. In her hands, in her legs, in her body, as well as in her face, he found black and white images for his camera that seemed to have in them the breath of life.
This work remained unknown to the general public for some time, since with the death of 291 and Camera Work, Stieglitz dropped out of sight. When a retrospective show of his work-his first one-man show in seven years -was held at the Anderson Galleries in New York City in 1921, people came to pay tribute to an old master. They left marveling at a new master. The black and white photographs of Georgia O'Keeffe, a series Stieglitz thought of as a composite portrait, were recognized as more than a portrait of a single individual. Stieglitz was using his camera to explore a deeply personal relationship, the relationship between a man and a woman. In doing so he transcended private emotion to create black and white images that expressed the sublime nature of all human relationships. The O'Keeffe portraits are symbols, and it was this use of black and white photography that occupied Stieglitz for the rest of his life.
The 1921 show marked Stieglitz' re-emergence not only as an active black and white photographer but also as a major influence in the world of art. By 1928 the very apex of the artistic establishment, The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, added to its permanent collection a group of his black and white prints. The most hallowed sanctuary of fine art in America had thus been breached by black and white photography, and with this triumph the place of black and white photography among the recognized arts was secure. But Stieglitz was more interested in the opinions of the young black and white photographers and painters who gathered about him in his galleries: the Intimate Gallery, opened in 1925, and its successor, An American Place, which he operated from 1929 until his death in 1946. Both were homes for fine art and creative artists, not art sales rooms. For the art collector, the chic who merely wished to purchase "the latest thing" and the investor who bought in hopes of making a profit on resale, Stieglitz had only scorn. An announcement for An American Place summed up his straitlaced philosophy of running a gallery. In bold letters the card stated: "No formal press views; No cocktail parties; No special invitations; No advertising; ... Nothing asked of anyone who comes." Stieglitz could also have added, "no listing in the telephone directory." When asked why he had no phone listing, Stieglitz archly replied: "If people really need a thing they will find it."
An incident recalled by Dorothy Norman, a close friend, illustrates Stieglitz' approach:
One day when there are black and white pictures on the walls, a woman who has been walking about looking at them suddenly addresses Stieglitz, who stands there as usual, seemingly as integral a part of the Place as the walls themselves:
"This is a very exciting show. What else ought I to see in New York?" Stieglitz replies: "I have no idea what else you ought to see....
Woman: "Could you tell me, by any chance, where Mr. Stieglitz' gallery is?
I hear that he has the finest things in New York, but I cannot find his gallery
listed anywhere."
"Mr. Stieglitz has no gallery."
"You are mistaken. I was distinctly told that he has, and that I must surely
go there when I came to New York."
Stieglitz finally raises his voice: "Well, I ought to know. I am Mr. Stieglitz
and I tell you he has no gallery."
The woman, utterly taken aback by this apparent madman, fled. When Stieglitz was asked why he had not been more helpful, he replied: "Something more was at stake than her knowing where she was for the moment. And I am not in business. I am not interested in exhibitions.... I am not a salesman, nor are the pictures here for sale, although under certain circumstances certain black and white pictures may be acquired."
As before, Stieglitz seldom took a commission for his services. For his own work, he almost always refused payment. Once, when he was so short of funds he accepted a fee for a portrait, he apologized. "I hated to take the money," he said. "It was against my principles.... What is a masterpiece worth? A million dollars.... But on the other hand as public property, it has no selling price."