Portraits of an Era

The future chronicler of the Great Depression was born in 1895 in Hoboken, New Jersey. At age 7, she contracted polio, which weakened the muscles in her right leg and left her with a lifelong limp. “I think it perhaps was the most important thing that happened to me,” Lange said later. It made her more determined, she would say, and more empathetic toward others.

As a teen, Lange was drawn to photography. At the time, few people had cameras. With no idea how to use one, she got a series of jobs in nearby New York City and learned. Working with a portrait photographer taught her how to put people at ease when they posed in front of a lens. 

At age 22, Lange relocated to San Francisco. There, she opened a studio and built a successful business taking portraits of wealthy clients. But in the early 1930s, the Great Depression changed everything. Lange lost a lot of business. Out on the city’s streets, unemployed men waited in long breadlines or at soup kitchens for food handouts. Following her instincts, Lange grabbed her camera one day in 1933 and headed outside.

The future storyteller of the Great Depression was born in 1895 in Hoboken, New Jersey. At age 7, she got polio. It weakened the muscles in her right leg, leaving her with a lifelong limp. “I think it perhaps was the most important thing that happened to me,” Lange said later. It made her more determined, she would say. And it made her more empathetic toward others.

As a teen, Lange was drawn to photography. At the time, few people had cameras. She had no idea how to use one. But she got a series of jobs in nearby New York City and learned. Working with a portrait photographer, she learned how to make people comfortable posing in front of a lens.

At age 22, Lange moved to San Francisco. There, she opened a studio. She built a successful business taking portraits of wealthy clients. But in the early 1930s, the Great Depression changed everything. Lange lost a lot of business. Out on the city’s streets, unemployed men waited in long breadlines. They waited at soup kitchens for food handouts. Lange followed her instincts. She grabbed her camera and headed outside.

That wasn’t a simple task. “I wasn’t accustomed to jostling about in groups of tormented, depressed, and angry men with a camera,” she later said. Plus, Lange used a large, bulky portrait camera called a Graflex. Her small size, and her limp, made it hard to carry. Yet Lange kept conquering her unease to get back on the street—“to see if I can just grab a hunk of lightning,” she told herself. 

In the summer of 1934, Paul Taylor, a professor who studied agricultural economies, saw some of her street photographs at a gallery. “He had never seen photography that had the emotional impact of hers,” says Linda Gordon, a Lange biographer. That year, a California government agency hired Taylor to document the conditions of farmworkers. He took Lange with him as a photographer.

That was not a simple task. “I wasn’t accustomed to jostling about in groups of tormented, depressed, and angry men with a camera,” she later said. Plus, Lange used a large, bulky portrait camera called a Graflex. Her small size and her limp made it hard to carry. Yet she kept overcoming her unease. She kept going back on the street—“to see if I can just grab a hunk of lightning,” she told herself.

In the summer of 1934, a professor saw some of her street photographs at a gallery. His name was Paul Taylor. He studied agricultural economies. “He had never seen photography that had the emotional impact of hers,” says Linda Gordon, a Lange biographer. That year, a California government agency hired Taylor to document the conditions of farmworkers. He took Lange with him as a photographer.

She saw firsthand the plight of migrants from Great Plains states who were fleeing the devastation of the Dust Bowl. During the 1930s, some 200,000 of them streamed into California, looking for work. Jobs on farms were scarce and paid hardly anything. Then when the picking season was over, the migrants had to move on again in search of work, in an endless cycle. 

Lange’s years of making people comfortable in front of a camera served her well. “I think that she deliberately emphasized her limp and her slowness,” says Gordon. Lange used the time to talk to her subjects. Getting them to relax into what she called their “natural body language” allowed them to let down their guard, Gordon says. The resulting images offered revealing glimpses into people’s everyday lives.

She saw firsthand the troubles of migrants from Great Plains states. They were fleeing the devastation of the Dust Bowl. During the 1930s, some 200,000 of them went to California looking for work. There were few jobs on farms, and those paid hardly anything. When the picking season was over, the migrants had to move on again in search of work. It was an endless cycle.

Lange’s years of making people comfortable in front of a camera helped her work. “I think that she deliberately emphasized her limp and her slowness,” says Gordon. Lange used the time to talk to her subjects. She got them to relax into what she called their “natural body language.” This allowed them to let down their guard, Gordon says. The resulting images offered revealing peeks into people’s everyday lives.

In 1933, U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt began to implement a series of programs, called the New Deal, to pull the U.S. out of the Great Depression. During the summer of 1935, Lange began to work for the federal government, now taking her camera throughout the Southwest.

While she sometimes traveled with Taylor or had a driver, Lange also went out by herself. She was alone on that day in March 1936 when she encountered Florence Owens Thompson at the Nipomo pea pickers’ camp. With her trained eye, the photographer zeroed in on the mother’s face. 

In 1933, U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt began to launch a series of programs. It was called the New Deal. Its goal was to pull the U.S. out of the Great Depression. During the summer of 1935, Lange began to work for the federal government. She took her camera throughout the Southwest.

Sometimes she traveled with Taylor or had a driver. But Lange also went out by herself. She was alone that day in March 1936 when she met Florence Owens Thompson at the Nipomo pea pickers’ camp. With her trained eye, she zeroed in on the mother’s face.

“It is a face that is at once very stressed, lined,” says Gordon. “At the same time, it is a face of great beauty.” It belongs to someone who has seen a lot of hardship and yet has great strength, she explains.

For the final shot, Lange had two of the children tuck their heads behind their mother to highlight Thompson’s face. In that moment, Lange created Migrant Mother. It is more than just a photographic record of a subject in the field, Gordon says. It is also a work of art.

“It is a face that is at once very stressed, lined,” says Gordon. “At the same time, it is a face of great beauty.” It belongs to someone who has seen a lot of hardship and yet has great strength, she explains.

For the final shot, Lange had two of the children tuck their heads behind their mother to highlight Thompson’s face. In that moment, Lange created Migrant Mother. It is more than just a photographic record of a subject in the field, Gordon says. It is a work of art.

Within days, the San Francisco News ran three of the photos along with articles about Nipomo. Already, Lange’s visit to the camp had prompted the state of California to rush food to the stranded migrants there. Soon other newspapers around the country began to publish the photos. Through them, Americans came to see how some of those on the margins of society lived. 

Lange continued to work. A number of her photos over the next few years captured people on the move—walking down long roads or piled into cars with all their worldly belongings. She made many images of sharecroppers, farmers who earned almost nothing working land they didn’t own. But along with struggle, Lange documented moments of ordinary family life—including kids at work and play.

By 1939, the worst of the Great Depression was over. Lange left her job with the government a few years later. She continued working until her death at age 70 in 1965. Yet the photos she took in the 1930s remain her best known. “I am trying here to say something about the despised, the defeated . . . the helpless, the rootless, the dislocated,” she wrote of her images from that time. 

Foremost among them is Migrant Mother—today perhaps the most reproduced and imitated photo of all time. The image of Thompson is so well-known, it has been compared to Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa.

The photo’s power as both history and art remains undimmed over time, writes scholar Sarah Meister. “It continues to resonate with struggles that persist in the world,” she says. “A single photograph can help anchor our understanding of the past—and [identify] a challenge we want to address in the future.” 

Within days, the San Francisco News ran three of the photos along with articles about Nipomo. Already, Lange’s visit to the camp had prompted the state of California to rush food to the migrants stranded there. Soon other newspapers around the country began to publish the photos. Through them, Americans came to see how some of those on the margins of society lived.

Lange continued to work. Over the next few years, a number of her photos captured people on the move. They showed people walking down long roads or piled into cars with all their worldly belongings. She made many images of sharecroppers, farmers who earned almost nothing working land they did not own. Lange did not just document struggle. She also captured moments of ordinary family life—including kids at work and play.

By 1939, the worst of the Great Depression was over. Lange left her government job a few years later. She continued working until her death at age 70 in 1965. Yet the photos she took in the 1930s remain her best known. “I am trying here to say something about the despised, the defeated . . . the helpless, the rootless, the dislocated,” she wrote of her images from that time.

Foremost among them is Migrant Mother. Today it may be the most reproduced and imitated photo of all time. The image of Thompson is so well-known, it has even been compared to Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa.

The photo’s power as both history and art has not faded over time, writes scholar Sarah Meister. “It continues to resonate with struggles that persist in the world,” she says. “A single photograph can help anchor our understanding of the past—and [identify] a challenge we want to address in the future.”