Eleanor Callahan, wife and muse of the late Harry Callahan died yesterday at the age of 95. I don't think there was a photographer who loved his wife more or longer than Harry Callahan loved Eleanor. The couple met in 1933 when both were working at Chrysler in Detroit. She was 17 and he was 21 and for more than 50 years Harry photographed her the way his hero Ansel Adams photographed mountains - with respect, and awe, and love, at all times of the day and night and in all kinds of weather.
Eleanor's plain beauty made the photographs timeless. Her faith in her husband's taste and judgment allowed the most intimate pictures. Here's hoping that a match made in heaven continues where it began.
