Hans van Manen Remembers Photographer Erwin Olaf

A black-and-white studio portrait shows an older man in glasses, a leather jacket and a tie looking straight at the camera with a lit cigarette between his lips, representing Hans van Manen.A black-and-white studio portrait shows an older man in glasses, a leather jacket and a tie looking straight at the camera with a lit cigarette between his lips, representing Hans van Manen.

The Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam is currently hosting “Freedom,” the largest-ever retrospective of Dutch photographer Erwin Olaf (1959-2023). Spanning four decades, the exhibition reveals an artist whose meticulously staged images transformed photography into theater, charged with beauty, tension and control. From early portraits of nightlife and queerness to his later reflections on power and vulnerability, Olaf’s lens captured both the poise and fragility of human presence.

For Olaf, dance was inseparable from photography. The turning point came in 1984 when he met Hans van Manen, already an internationally acclaimed choreographer and photographer, who immediately recognized the younger artist’s instinct for composition. Their meeting marked the beginning of a lasting friendship and artistic dialogue. Dance offered Olaf a language of discipline and precision: each movement, like each frame, had to be deliberate. His extreme close-ups of dancers turned flesh into sculpture, revealing the strain, elegance and sheer labor of performance.

To coincide with the exhibition, Observer met Hans van Manen to revisit those early encounters and the creative partnership that shaped their practices. In our conversation, he reflects on their exchange, the lessons of light and the choreography behind every photograph.

Let’s go back to the start: when did you first meet Erwin Olaf and what struck you about him?

More than 40 years ago. Erwin was working as a journalist for Sek, a queer magazine then. He came to photograph me for an interview, and we started talking right away. The following month, I photographed him. We had no money at the time, but I still remember when he got his first Hasselblad camera. That’s a big moment for any photographer. From then on, we had a fantastic relationship. We talked about photography constantly.

A man wearing a white conical hat stands with his forehead pressed against a blank wall while a video camera on a tripod records him from across an empty room, creating a scene of deliberate absurdity characteristic of Erwin Olaf’s April Fool images.A man wearing a white conical hat stands with his forehead pressed against a blank wall while a video camera on a tripod records him from across an empty room, creating a scene of deliberate absurdity characteristic of Erwin Olaf’s April Fool images.

He was 24 then. How do you remember him at that age?

Very curious about art and photography. When he came into my house, he was surprised by what was on the walls. I had an important collection of Robert Mapplethorpe photographs, which I later gave to the Rijksmuseum.

People often call you a mentor in his search for a voice.

We always exchanged ideas, and I had a lot to say about what he photographed. Not criticism, more like real conversation. Erwin may have liked calling me a mentor, but I wouldn’t describe myself that way. We had a deep friendship from the beginning until his death.

But you introduced him to fine art photography…

I talked to him about the power of technique and the magic of light. Sometimes one light is enough to create miracles. I developed 150 ballets and often did the lighting design, so I know light. For me, it wasn’t difficult to get it right when I photographed. Erwin used light differently because he worked on a large scale, which demanded another approach. If you compare his early and late pictures, you see how his lighting evolved. Technique is essential, but once you master it, you have to add your personality. You have to put yourself in.

How did Olaf influence you?

Not so much in my work. I knew what I wanted, and he knew what he wanted. He preferred listening to speaking. He might show me ten pictures, I’d give feedback, but he wasn’t very critical of me. Also, he showed me more than I showed him.

An atmospheric photograph shows a man steering a long wooden boat carrying two veiled figures across a mist-covered mountain lake, part of Erwin Olaf’s Im Wald series.An atmospheric photograph shows a man steering a long wooden boat carrying two veiled figures across a mist-covered mountain lake, part of Erwin Olaf’s Im Wald series.

Let’s speak about the exhibition at the Stedelijk.

I’m sure it will be a great success. Many people who have never seen Erwin’s pictures will discover his work. I try to understand how hard it is to organize a retrospective. How do you present a whole life and divide it into rooms? It’s difficult to create a balanced rhythm with photography. Some parts feel full, others minimal. Some good pictures are missing, too. I’m strict because I’ve seen them all.

How about its title, “Freedom?”

Erwin was a freethinker, absolutely emancipated, and that drove him. From the nightclubs to the fight for equal rights and activism. But there’s always a fine line between someone’s life, his work and what ends up in an exhibition.

A black-and-white photograph shows a nude pregnant woman in thigh-high boots standing beside a shorter nude figure in a Roman-style helmet, both arranged in a stylized, theatrical pose typical of Erwin Olaf’s early staged works.A black-and-white photograph shows a nude pregnant woman in thigh-high boots standing beside a shorter nude figure in a Roman-style helmet, both arranged in a stylized, theatrical pose typical of Erwin Olaf’s early staged works.

Some pictures sparked debate at the time for being controversial. How did he handle criticism?

We photographed many nude men, and we found it normal. Early on, there were bad comments because people interpreted the images in stupid ways, but that changed over the last 20 years. Erwin also photographed many nude women, in such a beautiful way that no other photographer in the Netherlands did. Of course, people mostly talk about the men.

In the exhibition, there’s a section on dance, including Dance in Close-Up, made for your 90th birthday. What stays with you from making it?

I spent three weeks showing Erwin documentation of all my ballets, and he chose what to use. Then we spent a full week in the studio with the dancers. I directed them, and Erwin made the pictures. It was a great coordination, and the images became a fantastic book. In the show, there are only slow-motion videos from my works Trois Gnossiennes and Two Pieces for HET. They’re beautiful, but they weren’t easy to film. You have to be precise with the dancers’ positions. One video has a lift, the other a pirouette. You must give exact directions on when and where to start and stop. The dancers need specific energy for a spotless result. These are very technical works. Erwin was always good with video.

This was your last project together…

He loved my ballets, and this was probably the most abstract project he ever did. He usually had a thing for storytelling, but not here. On the last day, I told him, let’s take a picture where we bow. So we stood there, hand in hand like we were on stage, as if everything had finished after seven days of hard work. It’s not easy to be present up there for so long.

A color studio photograph shows Hans van Manen and Erwin Olaf standing side by side, holding hands and bowing deeply toward the floor as if performing a final curtain call together.A color studio photograph shows Hans van Manen and Erwin Olaf standing side by side, holding hands and bowing deeply toward the floor as if performing a final curtain call together.

His images are theatrical by design. Did he enjoy directing people on set?

Of course. If you look closely, you can find him in all the details. He knew how to compose beautiful pictures. I think of his Im Wald series in the Bavarian woods. I’ve never seen woods like that. Nature is vast, and there’s only one small human. Because of that scale, you feel how majestic the place is. It’s very poetic. He had many such pictures. That personal work ran alongside the commissions and shows the difference between a ‘photographer’ and an ‘artist’.

Olaf once said, “I have become my photographs. What I create is me.” What do you wish people understood about him beyond the images?

That he was open-minded and proactive. He always said what he wanted. I remember he once spat in someone’s face because the man said something terrible. I told Erwin he was wrong and the only thing to do was apologize. A month later, he did. He was reasonable in the end. He spoke with the man, and they settled it. He went far in everything he did in public. An exhibition gives only a tiny sense of who he was. A fantastic person. I loved him very much.

Since his passing, has your memory of him changed the way you watch dance or look at photographs?

The last time I saw him, he had so many ideas—some serious and some scandalous—and he shared them from his hospital bed. It was deeply moving. He was the only person I could truly talk to about photography. It’s strange that he isn’t here, strange to talk about pictures that aren’t there. In choreography, I always set the start and the finish so the piece holds. I try to give my memories of him the same structure, or they fall apart.

Erwin Olaf’s “Freedom” is on view at the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam through March 1, 2026.

An exhibition gallery shows two large projected images of male dancers on dark walls, with a brightly lit room of close-up portrait photographs visible through a doorway, illustrating part of the Stedelijk Museum’s Erwin Olaf retrospective.An exhibition gallery shows two large projected images of male dancers on dark walls, with a brightly lit room of close-up portrait photographs visible through a doorway, illustrating part of the Stedelijk Museum’s Erwin Olaf retrospective.

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