I belong to the generation for whom the word association response to ‘Getty’ is ‘oil’. The generations who follow will either not know what or who the ungoogled Getty is or was, or their word association response will be ‘museum’. Kind of like ‘Carnegie’ has now been fully mapped through to ‘hall’. As opposed to ‘steel’, that is, which is how Andrew and the rest of the Carnegie clan made most of their now very old money. A princely portion of their fortune was used to build the place you can only get to with ‘practice, practice, practice’ as the old joke goes.

Given the distinctly mixed reviews the inky black, sticky, smelly stuff has been getting for decades, I’m sure the surviving Gettys will be happy to eventually shed the current subconcious, pervasive association in favour of this vastly more noble enterprise.

Having visited The Getty Museum and marvelled at its exquisite temple-like architecture by Richard Meier, it is an edifice the likes of which anybody would be only too happy to have their name associated. It’s that good. The Getty is sheathed in glistening white Italian travertine and floats serenely astride a confluence of mountain ridges overlooking the bustling greater Los Angeles cityscape. 1

While my wife and I were on our guided exterior tour on a warm and sunny southern California day many years ago, a flight of Harvards — AT-6s or Texans, if you must — flew by at eye-level, presumably on a loose formation joy ride out of Santa Monica Airport or some such place. That sealed the deal. I turned to Michelle and asked her, salty eyed and voice trembling:

“Is this heaven?”

In an additional irony on that wonderful day, Michelle and I were so gobsmacked by the exterior of The Getty, we never made it inside. If we had, I might know what this gorgeous structure actually housed, in terms of physical art. To this day I really don’t, which is entirely on me I realise. Some day she and I will return and find out.

However, the Getty name crossed my desk recently in a most unexpected way. They are the ongoing acquirers, fastidious curators and diligent digitisers of important collections of artful, historical photographs. The digitised version of the superb photo chosen for this month’s cover is just one stellar and startling example. This belongs to the collection of 274 mostly aviation-oriented images by Italian photographer Fédèle Azari 2 who lived from 1895 through 1930. Incidentally, Azari was quite the fascinating character and I hope to write about him in more detail in the not-too-distant future.

In a visionary step, the Azari photographs were purchased by The Getty way back in 1984 from the late Daniel Wolf. He had a broadly significant role in developing the museum’s approach to curating their photographic collection. Clearly, Wolf had an eye for what constituted transcendent, collection-worthy images: in addition to the remarkable Azari photographs, his portfolio also “included works by Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange, Walker Evans, Robert Frank, and other marquee names”. 3

All that said, I believe I have saved the best part for last. Despite whatever substantial sum it took to acquire the Azari collection, my curator contacts at The Getty provided this rock-my-world statement:

“The Azari photographs you find on our website are all public domain material. You are welcome to download and reproduce them for any purpose.”

Once again, I’m gobsmacked. In an age where it seems like all the great historical photographs have already been snapped up and paywalled by the likes of Getty Images, 4 Alamy, Shutterstock and their brethren, I think about all the wonderful things these ‘open source’ photographs can enable for the aviation community. Once again I am compelled to ask:

“Is this heaven?”

Actually, no, there isn’t. On the other hand, there is an informal opportunity to actively contribute to the further development of the Azari collection at The Getty Museum. That same person who rocked-my-world above also provided this interesting additional comment:

“I cataloged some of this material when I first came to The Getty, about a decade ago. I am sure that some of my language and descriptions will seem foolish to an aviation expert such as yourself. I would be appreciative of any corrections you feel qualified to offer.”

First, I’m happy to overlook the innocent misapprehension of my being some sort of “aviation expert”. There are days when I believe I know less than real experts have already forgotten. What I do have is access to a ‘bully pulpit’, of sorts, and an audience of about one-thousand of the smartest aviation people around: that would be you, the BluFly community.

If you browse through the Azari photos and can provide “language and descriptions” or “any corrections” to the captions to these photos I’ll be more than happy, if required, to help facilitate contact with The Getty Museum. Together, I’m confident we can collectively provide invaluable written enhancements to this resource for future generations to enjoy.

In the exceedingly unlikely event I someday make Getty-like money — or, in fact, any otherwise unencumbered funds — I vow to be as generous with them as the Getty heirs continue to be with their fortune. The Azari and other photographic collections of The Getty Museum are an awesome resource for all to enjoy and for that we should all be thankful. Go forth and create.

That’s it for this month’s column — please let me know what you think of it along with the rest of what BluFly has on offer this month. 5 Until then, thanks for reading and engaging with our posts on Bluesky, Threads, LinkedIn and Instagram. 6

Fair winds and blue skies.

Terence C. Gannon
Managing Editor

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