To express admiration for Ansel Adams (1902-1984) in art journals of avant-garde opinion has for many years been totally uncool. Even before the 1970s, younger landscape photographers, resentful of the gigantic shadow he cast, were less apt to emulate the tonal virtuosity of his black-and-white prints than to make pictures that mocked his Edenic views of the American West and stentorian visual rhetoric
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