Phil Bergerson A life in photography
“ The contemplation of things as they are, without substitution or imposture, without error or confusion, is in itself a nobler thing than a whole harvest of invention.”
—FRANCIS BACON
PHIL BERGERSON’S DISTINGUISHED PHOTOGRAPHIC CAREER has been completely entwined with art and education. After abruptly deciding to quit teachers’ college one week before graduation in 1968, he was at loose ends until he read Helmut Gernsheim’s History of Photography. “A little paperback…and it just blew me away,” he recalled recently. “It spurred me on to think that I could become an artist if I used a vehicle like photography.” He enrolled in the Photo Arts Department of Ryerson Polytechnical Institute (later Ryerson University, which will be renamed in 2022 in the spirit of reconciliation with Indigenous peoples).
Over the years since he decided on photography as his métier, Bergerson has become an artist of international renown and a much-loved and respected professor at Ryerson. Ironically, before becoming an artist, he had to become a passionate teacher of photography. The one informed and inspired the other. At first, the two overlapping paths in his career created enabling conditions for Bergerson’s creative work. But in time, his educational and related organizational activities became a constraint towards fulfilment of his dream of becoming an artist.
Bergerson’s achievements as an educator were prodigious. As a professor, he had the credibility of the institution behind him, and the wherewithal to “make things happen,” as he has noted. He began by inviting W. Eugene Smith, the American photojournalist, to speak at Ryerson in 1975. Smith had worked at magazine and his reputation as a photo essayist had reached almost mythical proportions. It was an audacious move, and the 350-seat auditorium was packed. The audience was enraptured as the emotional Smith, in tears and between sips of whisky, explained why he considered his iconic photograph, “Tomoko in the Bath”—his “Pietà of the 20th century”—a “failure.” He felt that it could not possibly convey the depth of suffering of the young girl, who was tragically born with severe disabilities after her mother had unknowingly ingested fish contaminated by mercury effluent. Now it was the audience who was in tears (including the author of this article). This is the kind of cultural experience that Bergerson introduced to Toronto. He set the bar high. By 1989, he had invited 112 speakers: photographers, historians, theorists, curators, experimental filmmakers, media artists, and educators.
