Emil Otto Hoppe 1875-1973

Emil Otto Hoppe 1878 -1973 __________________________________________________________________

Bill Jay

Emil Otto Hoppe was the undisputed leader of pictorial portraiture in Europe between the years 1910 and 1925. To say that someone has a “household name” has become a cliché, yet in Hoppe’s case the phrase is apt. Rarely in the history of photography has a photographer been so famous in his own lifetime among the general public. In the early years of his career, the American comedian, Raymond Hitchcock, then the rage of London, improvised an additional verse to his popular song “I’m All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go” to the effect that he could not even go to Hoppe’s studio because the photographer was sitting in the stalls in front of him.

During the run of the play “The Green Flag” a large portrait of the leading lady, which Hoppe had made a few days previously, was placed in a prominent position and served as an excuse to introduce his name during the play.

Inspired by the talk given by Hoppe at the Royal Photographic Society, E. T. Hopkins wrote for Punch a 52 line poem based on the photographer’s remarks. This poem is worth quoting in full as it typifies the reasons for Hoppe’s fame and how his work differed, stylistically, from the typical studio portrait of the day.

I remember, I remember,
How of old our portraits lied, Making April of September
And the sitter satisfied;
How each little blemish faded, Yielding to artistic stress
And the stubborn chin was shaded Nicely into nothingless.

Never then the crow imprinted Ugly footmarks near the eye; Wrinkles, which the mirror hinted Lenses passed politely by.

Any nose a thought tip-tilted Caught the flawlessness of Greece, And our freckles fairly wilted
At a camera’s caprice.

Negativing every passion
Thus our faces surely sank
In the photographic fashion,
To a pure and spotless blank.
Till at last they won perfection Drained of mere expression’s dregs, Oval, even, past correction
New created – just like eggs.

I remember! Ah, the sorrow

When a cherished custom dies! That was in the past; To-morrow Proofs shall not idealize; Photographs shall bluntly copy, Though the egotist make moan, (Perish all the tribe of Hoppe) Just the features that we own.

Of course, much of this fame was due not only to the fact that he had a pure, aggressive style but also that Hoppe specialized in portraits of the famous. It is difficult to think of a prominent name in the fields of politics, art,literature, and the theater who did not
sit before his camera in his equally famous studio, Sir John Millais’ former home in South Kensington. He was the Cecil Beaton of his day. In fact, Sir Cecil has publicly
acknowledged his own debt to Hoppe in these generous words, which are from the introduction to Hoppe’s autobiography:

If as a school boy in the holidays, someone had told me as I sat poring over the reproductions of E.O. Hoppe’s photographs in various magazines, that one day I should be asked to write an introduction to the Master’s works, I could not have believed that life held such rewards. Now, I pen these few sentences with the same feeling of awe that I approached Millais House in South Kensington, when I went there fifteen years ago, in vain, to see if there was a display of chef d’oeuvres, outside that Holy of Holies where the pictures were taken…

I used to pray that each week would produce a new group of Hoppes in the magazines, and when these reproductions were placed in a sort of magic lantern that I possessed, and enlarged to gargantuan proportions on the wall, the effect was almost overwhelming… (1)

It seems incredible that someone could have inspired such awe among photographers, and such popular adulation among the public, and have been forgotten so quickly and completely. E. 0. Hoppe lived until 1973, when he was 95; long enough to read, in Helmut Gernsheim’s History of Photography (2), the news that he had died in 1967! Not

many get to read their own obituaries.

I was fortunate in meeting E. 0. Hoppe on several occasions during the last months of his life. Evenathisadvancedage,hismindandmemorywereextremelyacute. Ateachvisithegaveme notes, scraps of reminiscences, jottings of ideas which he had prepared before my arrival. In my last meeting, he gave me access to all his scrapbooks, personal writings and manuscripts.

A fraction of this information forms the content of this article. (3)
In one of his notes to me, E. 0. Hoppe divided his photographic life into three periods. I quote:

1910-25. Pure portraiture. Members of the upper strata of society.
1925-35. Human documents. Types of the lower strata of society whose faces tell their life history.
1945-71. Devoted to the publishing of books (over 30) and to journalism. Also some experimental photography.

It was for the first period that Hoppe became a household name – and it is this aspect of his work, “pure portraiture”, that I have dealt with in this introduction to his life and work.

Early Life and Career:

Emil Otto Hoppe was born in Munich on the 14th of April, 1878, the only son of a prominent banker, proud of his French Huguenot family descendancy. Soon after his birth, the Hoppe family moved to Vienna where Emil received a fine education, completed in Paris and Munich (4), and acquired his Austrian accent which was to remain with him for the rest of his life.

It was a cultured, comfortable upbringing, free from discord and insecurity, which not only colored his own personality but enabled him to mix with kings and commoners (5), and to be tolerated, and seemingly accepted, by both.

In 1895, at the age of 17, his student days were over, and the question arose as to his future career. His father wished that his son would follow his footsteps into a bank. Even though he “had no learning towards that at all… in order to pacify my father I agreed …”. He duly served his apprenticeship in banks in Munich and Berlin for ten years. In later years, Hoppe was to write, “I owe much of my success as a photographer to the discipline of banking. Nor was I unhappy in a bank. The hours were reasonable, and my hobby of photography gave pleasant relaxation.” (6)

In 1903, Hoppe was given his first camera and in the following four years an accelerating series of awards in open photographic exhibitions and competitions inevitably led to a disenchantment with the secure and unexciting life of a banker and a growing interest in taking to the camera professionally. Midway through this period of change in attitude, a seemingly unrelated incident was to have a profound effect on Hoppe’s career. His father had arranged for Emil to spend two years in the Shanghai Banking Corporation, an experience which would undoubtedly “broaden my outlook.” The first leg of the journey to China was from Vienna to Southhampton, before boarding a steamer to Shanghai. But his travels were interrupted in England. He met an old friend in London, one of his school friends from Vienna. Hoppe not only joined his office at the London Stock Exchange, but also married his sister. For the next two years, life seemed good – a new wife who shared his love of the arts, and a secure job with excellent prospects. Unfortunately, photography was much too tempting to relegate to a mere hobby. His work was becoming more appreciated but it was not yet distinctive. In 1907, The Daily Mail offered a first prize of 100 pounds in an open photographic contest. This was a handsome sum for those days and Hoppe resolved that if he won the contest he would abandon banking for professional portraiture. A few weeks later he was awarded the prize, and with 100 pounds in capital opened his business in October, 1907, in a small flat at 10 Margravine Gardens, Baron’s Court, near Hammersmith, a street composed entirely of artists’ studios.

There was, of course, intense family opposition to the idea; his friends were unsympathetic. As one of them remarked, “You are mad to think of becoming a photographer. Only just married and now contemplate jeopardizing security for a wild goose chase. You ought to show a little more sense of responsibility.” About this time, Hoppe fell suddenly and inexplicably ill. He later felt that this illness might very well have been due to psychological causes, “a rooted prejudice in the sub- conscious against the prospect of a lifetime of routine.” Fortunately, his doctor was not only a man of understanding, but also an enthusiastic amateur photographer. With his encouragement and his young wife’s support, E. 0. Hoppe recovered quickly and began his second career as a maker of portraits. His avowed intent was to break loose from the artificiality which was typical of the average studio of the period, and to “produce work in which character rather than flattery (was) the dominant note.”

In this case, idealism also proved to be good business. His portraits, strongly individualistic in comparison to the contrived staginess of the usual commercial work of the day, became known and admired by a growing circle of sitters. Two years later, in 1909, business was good enough to risk moving his studio to Baker Street, a much more central position than Hammersmith, in the Southwest suburbs.

It was during his Baker Street period that Hoppe’s name attracted the label “the photographer of

men.” His portraits of women were considered too frank. One of his first sitters was Frank Brangwyn, whose Hoppe portrait was seen and admired by Ingrams, proprietor of the Illustrated London News. Ingrams sent 23 other famous men to Hoppe’s studio and published the results as a special supplement of the magazine.

This is a convenient point at which to analyze why Hoppe’s portraits were considered so distinctive. It was a combination of three factors – Hoppe’s careful “research” before each sitting, his unusual studio layout, and his camera design.

In striving for success in portraiture, Hoppe’ believed that

the cultivation of a sincere and cultured personality is of paramount importance…they (the sitters) will respond readily to a photographer who can talk in an interesting and informed way about a variety of topics; and response, though it may be brief as a cloud passing over the sun in summer, is that note of vital humanity which, when captured on a photographer’s negative, makes all the difference between a likeness that is wooden and without merit and a work of art.

For this reason, Hoppe only photographed by appointment, enabling him enough time to research his sitters’ backgrounds, personalities, and hobbies as themes for conversations in the studio. On being summoned to photograph King George V, Hoppe found that his subject was a keen philatelist and, primed for a talk on stamps, was able to take a relaxed picture of the king discussing his hobby. It did not need much research to learn that Caruso sang! But Hoppe was delighted when his sitter agreed to be photographed singing “La Traviata” while the photographer’s wife accompanied him on the piano in the studio. Hoppe believed that the photographer “whose mind is cloistered like a darkroom” could not be successful in portraiture. He made it a point to read the leading daily newspapers and the best weeklies. In addition he was a keen student of psychology all his life, since the photographer “can never stop learning about human nature.”

Hoppe’s studios in Margravine Gardens and Baker Street were unconventional for the time. He was convinced that the artificial environment of the conventional portrait studio invariably led to stilted, hackneyed pictures. He dispensed with painted backdrops, fluted papier-mâché columns and balustrades, and designed his own studio to soothe a sitter rather than encourage restraint and tension. His studio resembled an informal drawing room, with pastel draperies replacing artificial backgrounds.

The photographer’s camera was no less conventional. He commissioned a London manufacturer “whose principles were horrified by my ideas”, to build him an 8 X 10 inch format reflex camera. This camera had several advantages over the conventional type. Hoppe could watch the image on the focusing screen up to the actual moment of making the exposure; the plate was in position all the time, obviating the need to divert attention from the sitter at the most crucial moments in order to insert the plate-holder; and there was no need to use a dark cloth – “Diving one’s head under yards of black material, getting entangled in it while trying to keep up a muffled conversation, then emerging wild and disheveled to face a startled, uncomfortably amused, or slightly contemptuous sitter, is not, in my opinion, the best way to establish relations between subject and photographer.” (7)

The large format was considered a necessity since enlargements were rarely made. Hoppe preferred to contact print his glass plates onto platinum paper, or occasionally carbon. He loved the results of platinum paper because of their “cold austerity”, and of carbon, particularly when applied to wood instead of paper, because of their “richness of tone and quality.” He did not favor the gum- bichromate process, so popular at this time among artist-photographers. He felt that it suggested artificiality and manipulation, and too often the results were “horrors of misapplied energy…perpetuated by the ignorant.”

The two years E. 0. Hoppe spent in Baker Street were successful and rewarding. His portraits of men were becoming imbued with his own style – a harsh, clear, spartan and uncontrived approach which was gaining admirers among the upper strata of society. In his credo, Hoppe wrote: “I never wanted to be just a photographer. I wanted to become the photographer of the most interesting people.” He assumed, probably correctly, that society and theater people would not bother to visit a studio if it involved even a short cross-city journey. He wanted his studio to be in the most amenable area of London for the rich, influential and famous.

Cromwell Place seemed ideal. It was, and to some extent still is, a smart, wealthy neighborhood in South Kensington – a society suburb a few minutes walk from the Victoria and Albert Museum, Knightsbridge and Hyde Park. Sir Cecil Beaton lived a few streets away from Hoppe’s studio in the magnificent former home of John Everett Millais, one of the young founders of the Pre- Raphaelite movement.

It was his wife’s idea to rent Millais House on a 37 year lease. Capital was raised with a mortgage company and the Hoppes moved into the four-storeyed, 27 room mansion. The number of rooms seems a trifle excessive for a photographer, yet very quickly every inch of space was utilized. The domestic rooms in the basement become workrooms; the housekeeper’s room became the enlarging room; the kitchen became a finishing room; two pantries became printing and developing rooms; the silver room became the room for the storage of chemicals. Two of the largest rooms became studios, one for artificial light work and the other for natural light work. The second floor was devoted to offices and plate storage. E. 0. Hoppe and his wife lived in a large comfortable flat on the third and fourth floors, completely self-contained with its own front door.

The gamble of setting up a studio in a historic house, without a showcase or even a sign on the door to indicate the occupant’s business, paid off handsomely, accelerated by a piece of good fortune that occurred in the first year. Sergei Diaghilev had brought his ballet company to London, and the complete cast was photographed by Hoppe. He had for all intents and purposes the exclusive right to photograph all Diaghilev’s ballets and the artistes taking part in them. The results were exhibited at the Fine Art Society, Bond Street, which published sets of the studies in photogravure. The photographs were also the subject of Hoppe’s first book, Studies from the Russian Ballet, 1912, a portfolio of fifteen prints.

In the following years, Hoppe’s portraits included: George Bernard Shaw, Thomas Hardy, Rudyard Kipling, Henry James, Alice Meynell, Marinetti, Fedor Chaliapin, Jacob Epstein, Clemenceau, Sir Edward Elga , John Galsworthy, Eugene Goossens, Augustus John, Maeterlinck, Max Reinhardt, John Singer Sargent, most of the crown heads of Europe, and Mussolini, Ataturk and Hitler, to name only a few of the famous and infamous of his sitters.

By now, Hoppe was also photographing women, but with the same direct attention to character, rather than subtle flattery, that had characterized his male portraits. All this changed in 1922, with the publication of his Book of Fair Women. Hoppe was no longer dubbed “photographer of men”, but “connoisseur of women’s beauty.” The reaction was extreme. Hoppe’s mail was full of indignant demands for an explanation why the writer’s favorite actress, wife, mistress was not included. He was even offered a substantial amount of money to publish another volume containing the portrait “of a lady whose reputation flew like a tattered banner over Mayfair.” Randolph Hearst “commanded” Hoppe by telegram to come to the U.S.A. in order to judge a beauty contest. Since Hearst had mentioned an extravagant fee, Hoppe obliged. A leading New York daily announced his arrival with, “Great Britain’s challenge to America.” Rivalry was intense, excitement ran high. The results were syndicated to 384 newspapers from the Atlantic to the Pacific and resulted in a book which created an equal stir in Britain, where it was reviewed in practically every newspaper in the country. Not all were as bigoted and unbelievable as this example by the London correspondent of the Daily Despatch:

The Book of Fair Women, which Mr. E. 0. Hoppe has just produced, raises an interesting

problem to those of us who are more familiar with what the Americans call the Nordic type of beauty. It seems…that Mr. Hoppe is asking a little too much of us when he asks admiration for Indian, Hawaiian, and Chinese beauties. There may be Venuses among the Hottentots, but it must either be a very educated palette that appreciates them or people capable of blinding themselves to the natural distaste for colour. Mr. Hoppe’s book raises the question: Is it possible for a coloured woman to be beautiful? (8)

A studio in a London landmark, the notoriety of his sitters, and the furor over his book of beauty; these factors accelerated Hoppe’s widespread fame.

Another aspect of Hoppe’s portraiture which emerged in 1922 and, like his expansion into the realm of female beauty, was marked by a publication, was revealed by Taken From Life by J. D. Beresford and containing seven rich photogravures from photographs by Hoppe.

In his introduction Beresford states: “The chief credit for this book must be given to Mr. Hoppe. It was he who invented it, accepting me later as collaborator… and now that the book is finished, I feel more strongly than ever that the photographs are the truly descriptive matter and my letterpress no more than reference which may serve to check the readers’ inferences.”

Taken From Life comprises interviews by Beresford with seven members of the lower strata of British society, each person’s biography accompanied by a Hoppe’ portrait. In this sense the book may be compared with John Thomson and Adolphe Smith’s Street Life in London. But there the comparison ends. Beresford is quick to point out that any social message is incidental: “I had nothing more in my mind than the presentation of certain little pieces of human history…” He apologizes for any intrusion of a criticism of the society that produced such poverty as he describes by stating that “these references can be easily overlooked; and those who don’t hold with that sort of thing may skip the relevant chapters.”

Even Hoppe’s photographs of the subjects, artistically and tastefully arranged in the studio, serve to isolate the poor and, deprived from their social milieu, appear disengaged with the whole process. “John Tritton”, for example, is described as a middle-class man who “slipped into the gutter and his speech degenerated.” The cause of his slip was that he left a nagging wife and took many part time laboring jobs. Beresford’s unhelpful diagnosis of this type of social disease is that John Tritton was an “unstable adrenal type” and that “my own hope in this matter lies in the future development of our study of the endocrine glands.”

“Mrs. Starling”, was an unhappy woman for whom her children brought no joy. Beresford says “There is nothing to be done for Emma”. “Divorce would not have helped her.”

“Franz” could be bribed to do anything – even to be photographed! Franz had two passions: the piano and violin – but no money to support his talents, so he took to drugs. Beresford commented: “I steadily refuse to pity Franz.”

But the activity of Millais House did not center on Hoppe’s portraiture alone. His studio provided a fine setting for exhibitions and E. 0. Hoppe generously gave space to many young artists whose work was exhibited there for the first time. He staged sets and designs by Herman Rosse and Robert Edmund Jones, exhibited Polish Batik and Graphic Art, presented a series of musical evenings attended by representatives of many embassies (and visited by Queen Mary), and displayed the arts and crafts of Rumania (visited by Queen Marie). Perhaps the most memorable exhibition was the theater designs of Gordon Graig – although most of the stage and society visitors were as anxious to see and meet Ellen Terry and her son, as his work. For many years a marionette theater was installed in Millais House, and exhibited at the International Theatre Exhibition held at

the South Kensington Museum in 1922. Hoppe designed the sets for a marionette play at this exhibition and also organized the American section. His experiments with the marionette theater led to a deeper involvement with the theater proper. Millais House eventually became the headquarters of a club called “The Plough”, the object of which was to produce plays that were new and original in concept and had not been previously staged in England, Members of the committee included: Ernest Thesiger, Augustus John, Jacob Epstein, George Sheringham, John Galsworthy, Lady Diana Duff-Cooper and Lady Lavery. In the four years of “The Plough’s” operation, ten plays were produced.

Meanwhile, E. 0. Hoppe had gone to America, in order to open a New York studio, where he received a cable asking him to return to produce the club’s first motion picture film. His lecture engagement could not be canceled, and when he eventually returned to London “The Plough” had virtually expired.

In addition to these non-photographic activities, E. 0. Hoppe was already acting as art editor of Colour, besides being New York correspondent for several London journals. Hoppe was equally active in the area of established photography. He was a founding member of the London Salon of Photography, the exhibitions of The Linked Ring, a famous and influential group of art photographers.

In 1908 he arranged an exhibition in London of the “German Pictorial School” which included prints by Hofmeister, Duhrkoop, Erfuth and several photographers trained by Frank Eugene at Professor Emmerick’s school in Munich. He was invited by the German Photographic Association to take his own one-man show to Munich in January, 1909; he returned to London with a one-man show by Rudolph Duhrkoop.

Early in his career, Hoppe submitted about a dozen prints to an exhibition organized by The Linked Ring and was delighted when they were all accepted and “hung on the line.” He said, “This proved to be one of the important milestones of my career.” In 1909, an International Exhibition was held at Dresden which contained probably the largest exhibition of photography to that date. The accredited British representatives were E. 0. Hoppe and Sir Benjamin Stone. Hoppe was in charge of the pictorial section while Stone looked after the records branch.

These activities are particularly intriguing to the photographic historian. Hoppe’s relationship with both the Royal Photographic Society and the Linked Ring; his contacts and associations with Continental photographers as well as his peers in Britain; his implied reputation as creative artist as opposed to Stone’s documentary expertise, at a time when Hoppe was moving into the documentary world – all offer tantalizing possibilities for further research and comment. Hoppe’s pen-portraits of his photographer-colleagues provide the historian with unique glimpses of their personal characteristics enlivening otherwise cold biographical details.

Hoppe himself was awarded many one-man shows, at a time when these were a rarity for photographers, the best of which were at the Goupil Galleries, London. The first, in 1913, was accompanied by a catalogue with a foreword by John Galsworthy: “One could go on indefinitely praising the selective psychology shown by these portraits. And it is by power of selecting type, and the exact moment in which to fix expression, that a photographer reaches the heights. To be a really great photographer he must first be a great psychologist…”

Hoppe’ was also busy writing articles to the British amateur photographic press. His opinions on the role of photography seem commonplace today, but in the 1920s they were controversial. He was violently opposed to excessive manipulation of the image, particularly if the aim was to make the print resemble a painting, believing that photography should be true to its own characteristics. He had a “horror” of afterwork. In fact, the only compromise Hoppe made to the taste of the times was his own special soft focus effect (which Cecil Beaton admired so much). The soft focus lens was

used on the enlarger, not on the camera. In addition, the iris diaphragm was slowly opened and closed during the printing exposure which “spread” the highlights into the shadow areas so that “the final effect is a roundness which I have not found it possible to obtain by any other method.”

E. 0. Hoppe had joined the Royal Photographic Society in 1906 and was elected a Fellow one year later (the year he turned professional). He quickly found that the Society was too conventional and stereotyped to suit his own personality (“if you have seen one exhibition you have seen them all “) and if he became one of its more open critics, he was pleased that through its meetings he met many photographers who were to become his close friends. He was given a one-man show at the Society’s headquarters in 1910 (April-May) and was elected a member of its Council in 1914, the year Furley Lewis became President, of whom he wrote:

In my opinion, he was the foremost art photographer of the time. He was extremely handsome, charming and dressed the part of a typical Chelsea bohemian. It was impossible to mistake him for anything but an artist since he looked the part entirely. He loved music and would play his favorite composer, Grieg, on the piano with great skill. On a visit to Ireland, he married a simple Irish girl and, in vain, tried to teach her an appreciation of music. Furley drifted into photography from his work as a process engraver. He became enamoured with Russian pictorial art while visiting that country and began to make massive bromoils on his return to England.

Perhaps the closest of these friends was Alvin Langdon Coburn, although Hoppe had met him while he was still working in the Stock Exchange, prior to becoming a photographer himself. Hoppe asserts it was through the encouragement of Coburn that he was able to make the rash decision to become a professional portraitist. This was in the days before Coburn’s marriage, when he was living with his mother in Bloomsbury. He and his mother spent each Christmas with the Hoppe family in their 16 century farmhouse home – Coburn playing the part of Father Christmas for Hoppe’s small children.

Horsley Hinton was a very different character:

He looked like a lieutenant in the army, very straight and strict. But we got on well together and he was very helpful to me, by defending my point of view against the home-baked and old-fashioned photography beloved at the Royal Photographic Society. Our only disagreement was over his method of combination printing. To my mind this was a pictorial representation of subjects that did not exist. But I must admit that he had good taste. His pictures did not display an offense against tone values, which characterised the excessively handworked pictures of so many photographers of the period.

Hoppe was never a close friend of Frederick Evans, although they had a mutual respect for each other, and for the medium of photography. They believed that a medium is debased by attempting to control it in ways that destroyed its inherent characteristics. Evans’ fiery temper prevented him from making many close friends, but he was almost universally admired for his superb craftsmanship. “He was the high priest of purity”.

End of An Era:

At Millais House, from 1911 to 1929, E. 0. Hoppe reached the peak of his career as a portrait photographer, and a period that made his name internationally known. By the late 1920s, E. 0. Hoppe realized that he had reached a turning point in his career. Looking back he reviewed twenty years of professional life – the famous people he had photographed, the honors he had been awarded, his rich and full experiences. He was the most famous portrait photographer in Europe. “Then it suddenly dawned on me that youth was no longer on my side. I was nearing the half- century mark.” “Repressed wanderlust” proved too much of a temptation. Moreover, his son and daughter had grown up and left the family to find lives of their own. His understanding wife, as in

1907, encouraged him to make the decision, pointing out that traveling meant he could take his camera to people in their own environments rather than expect them to visit his studio. The publishers of Orbis Terrarum (9) invited Hoppe to become one of their contributors. His job was to spend a year in each country featured in the series.

Hoppe accepted the assignment, thus beginning the second period of his life, as a travel photographer. From 1930 until his retirement in 1945, he switched to the field of journalism with a camera, and made extensive travels across Europe, the American Southwest, Australia and New Zealand, India and Borneo, Sumatra and the Far East, etc. publishing over 30 books of his words and pictures.

Up to the age of 92, Hoppe was busily exploring the close-up world with his camera, producing abstract images in his garden and home. These periods of his life deserve further study.

Footnotes and references:
1. Hundred Thousand Exposures, Introduction by Cecil Beaton, Focal Press, London, 1945.
2. The History of Photography 1685-1914, Helmut and Alison Gernsheim, McGraw Hill Book Co., New York, 1969, p. 594.
3. Although Hoppe’s memory was acute when it came to personalities and events, it was vague on the matter of dates. I have attempted to verify his own dates from various other sources.
4. Several sources state that Hoppe also lived in Heidelberg during his early life, but when and why are not known.
5. In later years, E. 0. Hoppe would not only photograph most of the crown heads of Europe but also live for months with a band of wandering Rumanian gypsies; photograph the most beautiful women of America and live with the Navaho Indians, and so on.
6. Hundred Thousand Exposures, Focal Press, London, 1945, p.10.
7. Hundred Thousand Exposures, Focal Press, London, 1945, p.11-12.
8. Scarborough Post, 26 October 1922.
9. A series of books, each devoted to a single country. Each volume cost 30 shillings, sold over 100,000 copies, and was illustrated by more than 300 photogravure reproductions of photographs. Hoppe’s first volume in the series was Beautiful Britain, followed by books on Czechoslovakia, the United States, Australasia and Insulinde (Dutch East Indies).

Published in Studies in Visual Communication, Special Issue, University of Pennsylvania, II (2), 1985.