I met René Burri in Vevey, Switzerland, on the sunny terrace of a lakeside hotel. He told me, in the space of a few minutes, several stories about the good life, as his eyes sparkled and his cigar moved gracefully through the air.
He was there for an exhibition of his famous portrait of Che Guevara, or more precisely, objects derived from the image: boxes of candy, cigarette holders, posters, pins, T-shirts, pillows, wine labels and even Santa Claus hats. Che, the icon, de-contextualized to the point of absurdity.
Burri spoke in his habitual easy manner about their 1963 meeting in Havana, where Burri was on assignment for the magazine Look. It all started with a delayed plane, and Burri feared he had missed out on the opportunity. Later, he accompanied a journalist for an interview with Che Guevara at the Ministry of Industry. Burri was frustrated by Che’s combat gear, his irreverent habit of chewing his cigar. But he was also fascinated by the way he carried himself, like a revolutionary. “He was arrogant, but so was I back then!” says Burri. They recognized themselves in each other, and felt a tacit, mutual respect, sharing the same incredible charisma.
Every story Burri told became an amazing, captivating, hilarious adventure, which earned him the unconditional attention of all, from the women he loved to his admiring friends. With his irresistible verve, he started a tradition at Magnum, which he joined in 1955: every year at the General Meeting, Burri turned into a flamboyant ringleader, cheerfully directing the photographers to pose for a wacky group photo that everyone would remember. These family portraits alone reflect his importance at the agency, spreading his aura beyond his incredible photographs.
