Finding inspiration is essential for artistic growth, especially when it comes from understanding the legacy of those who influenced you. One recurring name in my research is Eugene Atget, whose work inspired a wide range of photographers like Joel Meyerowitz, William Eggleston, Yutaka Takanashi, Daido Moriyama, Lee Friedlander, and Walker Evans.

Atget spent nearly 35 years photographing Paris, producing around 8,500 detailed negatives. Though often linked to modernism for his precise documentation of time and place, his connection to the movement is debated. Atget likely didn’t see himself as part of any artistic movement—his primary goal was practical: to create reference images for painters, offering subjects like landscapes, monuments, and reproductions of art.

In the early 1900s, as Paris underwent major redevelopment, Atget focused on documenting the disappearing “old Paris,” even branding himself as a creator of a photographic collection of its views. His work not only influenced street photographers but also others like Ansel Adams, who praised Atget’s ability to reveal beauty in everyday scenes and considered his images among the earliest examples of true photographic art.

Atget’s influence on Ansel Adams was made possible through the surrealists, particularly Man Ray, who had been Atget’s neighbor. Man Ray bought Atget’s work and shared it with others, including his assistant Berenice Abbott, who later acquired many of Atget’s prints and negatives. Along with art dealer Julien Levy, Abbott helped promote Atget’s legacy, contributing to the first internationally distributed photo book featuring his work, published in 1930.

Lee Friedlander’s work has often been compared to that of Eugene Atget, most notably in the Princeton University exhibition Two Views: Atget and Friedlander. The show highlighted how visual influence can be carried forward and transformed across generations. It focused on shared subjects—like storefronts and reflections—that Atget photographed in Paris and Friedlander reinterpreted across various cities worldwide, incorporating elements like mannequins, telephone poles, and rearview mirrors.

Friedlander and Atget’s work was also paired in the book Parks and Trees, highlighting shared themes like nature and public space. Friedlander is often seen as a stylistic descendant of Walker Evans, who was deeply influenced by Atget. While all three photographers created distinct work, their shared ability to elevate everyday scenes forms a clear artistic lineage.

Evans admired Atget’s instinctive ability to transcend his subject matter, believing that true photography captures more than reality—it reveals something deeper, something poetic or universal that most images fail to achieve.

Though Evans never explicitly credited Atget, writer Matthew Harrison Tedford highlights visual similarities that suggest his influence—such as the use of signage in Evans’ “Cinema, Havana” and Atget’s “122, Boulevard de la Villette,” and storefront imagery in Evans’ 1963 photo “Dress.” These subjects were also explored further by Friedlander. Additionally, both Atget and Evans chose to work with outdated, cumbersome equipment, despite having access to newer technology, reinforcing the connection in their photographic approach.

Yutaka Takanashi photographed Tokyo much like Atget documented Paris, making their comparison a strong example of drawing inspiration without imitation. In his series Machi, Takanashi captured lively areas as eerily empty, echoing Atget’s depopulated Paris scenes. Both used long exposures—sometimes up to 20 minutes—to remove human presence. Takanashi directly cited Atget’s modernist influence, aiming to show the world in detail without sentimentality, stating, “With Machi, I tried to get rid of being poetic.”

Daido Moriyama was influenced by Atget’s long-term dedication to photographing a single city, mirroring his own commitment to documenting Tokyo. When photographing in Paris, Moriyama jokingly expressed frustration, saying every alley felt like an Atget photo. He published Paris only because he believed he had captured something distinct from Atget’s iconic vision.

Joel Meyerowitz has spoken often about Eugene Atget’s profound influence on him, calling Atget “the bedrock we [modern photographers] stand on” and placing him alongside Robert Frank in the pantheon of greats. He admires Atget’s modernity, technical mastery, and consistent vision, despite the challenges of his time. While Meyerowitz’s work differs stylistically, his deep reverence for Atget is clear—especially in how he values Atget’s role in preserving the continuity of photography as an artform, encouraging reflection and connection with the past.

William Eggleston once noted that great work can come from staying in one place, citing Atget as an example. Both photographers share a focus on the ordinary, revealing meaning in the overlooked and mundane. This approach continues a long-standing tradition in photography—turning “nothing” into something meaningful. So, when you feel uninspired, remember you’re engaging with over a century of photographic legacy shaped by artists like Atget, Evans, Friedlander, and Eggleston.

In The Pleasures of Good Photographs, Gerry Badger explores how Atget’s photographic voice rose to prominence thanks to exhibitions curated by John Szarkowski. Though Atget didn’t see himself as an artist, Badger argues that his work marked a shift from mere observation to lived experience, blending objective documentation with subjective perspective. He sees Atget as a bridge between 19th-century topographical photography and 20th-century documentary art, influencing photographers like Evans, Frank, and Friedlander—and even today’s photo-diarists. Reflecting on this lineage, I’m beginning to see how Atget’s legacy has shaped my own work, and I hope it helps you discover the influences behind yours.