FAREWELL TO PHOTOKINA
With the demise of Photokina, the global photography community has lost a lot more than just its premier international trade show, contends Paul Burrows.
After 70 years, the world’s biggest camera fair is no more. Covid-19 was probably the final nail in the coffin, but Photokina had been in decline for a while. Paul Burrows looks back at the exhibition’s heyday and considers the wider implications of its demise.
My first Photokina was in 1986 and it was quite a shock. Nothing could prepare you for the sheer size of the thing and the physical effort required to cover everything to ensure a comprehensive report for the magazine. I’d joined Camera back in 1982 and so had covered a couple of Australia’s own photographic trade shows but, size-wise, these were broom cupboards compared to the multiple halls of the sprawling Köln Messe exhibition complex.
Quite a number of German cities have a messe – it translates into English as 'trade fair' – with year-long programs of big international trade shows, a tradition rooted in the country’s status as a global manufacturing powerhouse. In addition to the biennial Photokina, the Cologne complex was also the venue for major exhibitions of motorcycles, stamps, model trains, art, food, furniture, sporting goods and toys. To support these shows, and the tens of thousands of visitors who travelled from all over the world to attend them, Cologne has hundreds of hotels, restaurants and bars… many of which have no doubt been victims of the Covid-19 pandemic and the resulting cancellation of trade shows all around the world. As far as Photokina is concerned, Covid-19 is more the straw that broke the camel’s back than the main reason for the decision to end it permanently.
Back in 1986 though, the 19th Photokina – subtitled the World’s Fair Of Imaging (or Weltmesse des Bildes in German) – was thriving and attracted over 1,300 exhibitors from 37 countries who occupied all of Köln Messe’s 14 exhibition halls. In fact, Halls 13 and 14 were dedicated to “professional media”, which mostly meant cinematography and video products, including lighting and audio. So the show really did span the whole gamut of image-making. These were the days of paperbased press kits and you had to go and pick them up individually from each exhibitor’s stand, which meant a lot of walking… a lot of walking. Strategic planning was required to plot the most efficient routes through the halls, mostly in relation to the press centre, which was a welcome refuge after a good few hours pounding concrete floors. The catalogues were weighty tomes routinely running to over 500 pages, and even came with a pull-out potted version in case you didn’t want to lug the main thing around (which I most definitely didn’t).
In between trawling for press kits, there were press conferences in one of the Messe’s congress halls and whatever interviews or product previews you’d organised before leaving Australia. Inevitably though, consecutive press conferences would be at opposite ends of the complex… you might've been lucky to snag a vacant taxi that would do a big loop around the outside of the Messe to deposit you at the nearest entrance, but this was still quicker than walking and well worth every pfennig. Alternatively, well, you’d just have to walk.
Crowd Scenes
In 1986, Photokina was still a trade-only show, but the hall aisles were still very crowded, so progress on foot would be painfully slow (partly also because, after the first day, you’d have sore feet). In 1988, the show was opened to the public for the last couple of days, so you simply had to get all your legwork done earlier as it became
At the height of film’s popularity, Kodak, Agfa, Fujifilm and Polaroid all occupied either their own halls or entire floors at Photokina.”
impossible to move around easily, at least in what became known as the “amateur halls”. If there had been a significant product announcement, the crowds would be 10 deep or more around that particular company’s stand… and the likes of Canon, Nikon, Minolta, Pentax and Olympus built big and elaborate stands in those days. At the height of film’s popularity, Kodak, Agfa, Fujifilm and Polaroid all occupied either their own halls or entire floors at Photokina.
In later years, no doubt in response to complaints from footsore journalists, the press centre introduced shuttle buses to get you between the halls, but quite often these wouldn’t be where you’d want them to be, so you’d end up walking anyway. Needless to note, having the right footwear was essential, especially as you’d become increasingly loaded down with press kits as the day progressed.
Quite a number of the exhibition halls had two levels and, in the glory days, the vacant spaces between them – and also the interconnecting walkways – would all be taken up with photography exhibitions. In fact, there were photo exhibitions all over Cologne during Photokina and, for that week or so in September, the city seemed to eat, sleep and breathe photography. Well, the sleeping bit could be a problem because despite the huge number of hotels big and small, Cologne always ran out of beds for Photokina. Many visitors ended up staying in nearby cities such as Düsseldorf or Bonn and travelled into the show each day by train (conveniently the Messe has its own railway station). River cruise ships were also brought in to serve as floating hotels moored on the Rhine. For my first three Photokinas, this was my accommodation and, really, the only thing going for it was the location as the Köln Messe was just on the other side of the river. Today’s European river cruisers are luxurious vessels with suites but, back then, they were fairly basic and designed for short trips. In 1986 I stayed on a Dutch vessel called the Jan Elshout – it’s seared
When the program of supporting photography events was wound down, Photokina lost an essential ingredient.”
into my memory – and my tiny single cabin was on the waterline near the engine room. I suspect that when the ship was actually cruising, this was crew quarters. It was barely big enough for me and my suitcase, but once the press kits started to mount up at the end of each day – and we’re talking maybe up to 100 very substantial packs of paper and photo prints presented in heavy-duty folders – any movement became increasingly restricted. An endof-Photokina ritual was stripping the press packs down to the bare essentials for transporting back to Australia, but no matter how ruthless I was, I always seemed to end up with an excess baggage charge. Of course, this could have something to do with the many and varied promotional giveaways that I simply couldn’t bear to part with… so I still have the Kodak travel clock, the Paterson (the darkroom company) jeweller’s screwdriver kit, the Nikon glass paperweight and the Leica tin of little lollies (although, of course, the lollies are long gone).
Night Life
The nights were just as busy as the days with both formal dinners and informal get-togethers. The highlight was the Kodak International Press Dinner for which invites were highly prized, not only because it was always a lavish affair, but because pretty much anybody who was anyone in the world’s photo media would be there, as well as Kodak’s big wigs from the president down, along with a smattering of ‘big name’ photographers. Also a big deal was Agfa’s dinner held at its Leverkusen HQ – taken over by the Nazis during the Second World War – and which always ended with a spectacular fireworks display accompanied by Handel’s Music For The Royal Fireworks.
If you hadn’t already made plans to meet at some bar or restaurant, you’d inevitably run into other members of the Australian photo industry at some point during any night of Photokina week. Partying to the wee small hours was a common occurrence… except, of course, if you were a hard-working journalist with an early start in the morning (well, later that morning).
All joking aside, it were these human interactions that also made Photokina so important. It was truly a global gathering and, from a journalist’s point-of-view, provided the opportunities to talk with senior company executives, exchange ideas and opinions with members of the media from all over the world, cement relationships with PR people and, more generally, simply take the pulse of the industry. It might have been physically exhausting (some of it self-inflicted I’ll confess), but I always returned from a Photokina with renewed enthusiasm for photography and all that it encompassed. Even before Australian Camera joined TIPA in 2010 – making us part of a global family of photography magazines – the Photokina press centre was the meeting place for editors and journalists from all over the world. Many of the contacts made here have been lasting, and nowhere else provided the opportunity for a relatively small group of people who do a very specific and specialised job to gather for a few glorious days of discussion, debate, argument and gossip.
Binning Paper
Of course, with successive shows, things got easier for the hardworking journalist (that’s me, by the way). From 1992, I managed to move onto dry land and into a hotel room which, to be honest, wasn’t
much bigger than a ship’s cabin, but at least it didn’t move around and make chugging sounds. The press kits quickly transitioned from paper to CDs and DVDs, then to USB drives and, finally, to direct downloads. Reports could be filed on the spot from the press centre, and the organisers finally got around to having a proper press day before the show opened.
This ensured most of the major press conferences were done and dusted by the end of the first open day, leaving much more time to scour the show for the oddities and the unusual. Except that, by now, it was evident that Photokina was steadily becoming smaller.
During the mid-2000s, the
Köln Messe was significantly remodelled. The big set of halls closest to the Rhine were sold off and redeveloped into TV studios, only keeping the original facades that dated back to the 1920s. New halls were built at the northern end of the complex to help consolidate the site and also modernised it in terms of access, security and facilities (including a smart new press centre). The current 11 halls provide over 284,000 square metres of exhibition space. The 2006 edition of Photokina was the first to occupy the new space and took up 10 of the 11 halls but, from then on, it’s been shrinking and, in 2018 – which now turns out was the last one – it was down to five. The whole of the northern end of
The global photography industry has lost its market square… the place where we all met to trade, to talk and to take stock of where we’d come from and where we were going next.”
the complex was closed off, which included that shiny new press centre. A temporary one was set up closer to the action and the whole thing had a feeling of gloom about it (even if, product-wise, it was actually the most exciting Photokina in many years). A number of my German colleagues in TIPA were already predicting that the end was nigh even before the ill-conceived May 2019 show was cancelled.
Milestones
The first Photokina was held in May 1950 when the German camera industry was still thriving and was keen, post WW2, to promote itself to the world. It was an annual event for the first three years and then moved to the biennial frequency, although the dates moved around a lot until the mid-1960s when was fixed at autumn, a very pleasant time to be in Cologne. It had been gradually taking on a more international flavour virtually right from the start and obviously that continued as the Japanese took over as the world’s leading makers of cameras and lenses.
As the show increased in size – in terms of both exhibitors and visitor numbers – it became an important launching pad for new products and there have been some very notable ones, including the Leica M3 (1954), Hasselblad 1000F and SWA (1954 too), Asahi Pentax prototype (1954), Pentax Spotmatic prototype (1960), Rolleiflex SL66 (1966), Olympus M-1 (1972, and subsequently rebadged OM-1), Rolleiflex SL66 (1974), Fujifilm DS-1P (1988), Kodak DCS 100 (1990, although you had to know who to talk to, as it was still essentially under wraps), Canon EOS 5D Mark II (2008), Panasonic Lumix G1 (2008) and Fujifilm X100 (2010).
The traditional trade show has been declining in importance as a marketing tool essentially since the Internet made the distribution of news and product information so much more immediate. A global audience can be reached in an instant. Photokina is no different, but with the added impact of just how dramatically the digital imaging technologies have changed every element of photographic practice.
Quite a number of the traditional photo brands have gone and there’s been increased convergence with the consumer electronics and computer sectors. Photokina never really succeeding in attracting the likes of Apple, Adobe, Microsoft or the major computer brands despite them now being an integral part of digital imaging post-camera. And, of course, the smartphone has decimated the lower end of the camera market, all but wiping out the point-and-shoot compact.
Essential Ingredient
In many ways in the digital era, the emphasis has subtlety shifted from the camera to the image, although of course, the two still go hand-inhand. My experience of Photokina in the 1980s through to the mid2000s was also of the extensive city-wide program of exhibitions, workshops and seminars, latterly under the banner of Internationale Photoszene Köln. The catalogue for these events was also almost as weighty as that of the equipment expo. The 2006 edition, for example, listed over 70 venues hosting photography events of one sort or another. Just about anywhere you went in central Cologne during Photokina week, you’d see photography on display. It also meant that many wellknown photographers made the biennial pilgrimage to Photokina, either to exhibit themselves or simply to see what everybody else was doing (and, of course, also to look at new gear).
A particular highlight was the outdoor exhibition in 2000 that featured all 1,000 images from Owe Ommer’s massive
1000 Families project. The large weather-proofed print panels were displayed from the cathedral square all the way across the Hohenzollernbrücke – the railway bridge over the Rhine – to the Köln Messe. As well as representing a physical link between the city and the main event across the river, it was also a symbolic one between the picture and the process.
When the program of supporting events was wound down (2010 was the last), Photokina lost an essential ingredient. Indeed, right from the start in 1950, it was always intended that Photokina would be both a showcase for camera gear and an international photography exhibition. With the sizzle gone, all that was left was the steak and, in the digital era, this had also lost some of its tastiness… pixels being rather more clinical than crystals. To be fair, there were a few attempts to refocus on the image and what the new imaging technologies could achieve – rather than just the technologies themselves – but a lot of this was left to the individual exhibitors and it lacked the variety, scope and depth of a comprehensive and complimentary photography festival. From being a complete celebration of all things photographic, over the last decade Photokina declined into essentially just another equipment expo.
So there will be no more Photokinas and, as a result, the global photography industry has lost its market square… the place where we all met to trade, to talk and to take stock of where we’d come from and where we were going next. This communication and interaction, both professional and social, was the true value of Photokina, even in the latter years, when working photographers mostly stopped going. It certainly helped that Cologne is such a congenial and comfortable city, which made Photokina even more of an immersive experience. For those of us who were fortunate enough to experience many Photokinas – my tally is 17 – there’s a fund of great memories... time has even put a gloss on the sleepless nights and blistered feet.