Alan Hagman, a veteran Los Angeles Times photographer who captured defining Southern California images with his camera and as an editor relied on a skilled eye to tell stories from Seattle to Singapore with powerful and arresting pictures, has died at his home in Long Beach.

In taking portraits of the famous — Margaret Thatcher, Sean Connery and Rudolf Nureyev among them — she made them relax. In war zones she was unflinching.

Jill Freedman was in a league of her own. Some people knew her work but many more should have. She was elusive and forthright and not beholden to anyone. She didn’t really pursue commercial jobs to float her documentary work like many of her contemporaries and she did not kiss ass.

now Charlie Cole, the American photojournalist behind one of the four iconic Tank Man photos taken during the infamous 1989 Tiananmen Square protests in Beijing, has also passed away. Cole was 64 years old

Robert Frank’s The Americans greatly influenced the course of 20th and 21st-century photography. His contemporaries, and those who followed, reflect on the enduring significance of his work

The world has lost another photography great this week. Fred Herzog, an early pioneer of color and street photography, died in Vancouver on Monday at age 88. Herzog started photographing in and around Vancouver in 1953, making images awash with vibrant color – complex, mysterious, exuberant, and full of life, much like the city he photographed. As David Campany noted in his introduction to the book Modern Color, Herzog “observed the grain of that city as it lived, worked, played, and changed . . . . Few other bodies of photography in the history of the medium have come close to the richness of Herzogs extended city portrait.”

nation that is premised on an idea—not on an alleged shared bloodline or eons of history on common acreage—is prone to periodically question exactly who and what it is. The matter that binds Americans, as much as any doctrine or document, is the pursuit of a definition of who Americans are. There are facile adjectives applied to us—optimistic, volatile, swaggering—but they more often seem to apply to pretensions that we wear before the world. Who we are in our unguarded moments, and even what portion of people are included in the word we, is another matter entirely. This is part of the reason that Robert Frank’s photographic essay “The Americans,” published in France in 1958 and released in the U.S. a year later, is both an indelible reflection of American culture and one of the works that helped define it. To produce it, Frank, who died this week, at the age of ninety-four, spent two years scouring the country in a used car, courtesy of a Guggenheim grant, a contrail of dust his most constant companion.

Photographer Robert Frank, one of the most pivotal figures in history, has passed away at the age of 94. Frank’s 1958 book The Americans redefined what a photograph could mean and is arguably the most influential photo book of all time. Your favorite photographer’s favorite photographer. Frank has inspired generations and continued to photograph, make films and publish books until his death.

Robert Frank died today. As Sean O’Hagan wrote for The Guardian “it is impossible to imagine photography’s recent past and overwhelmingly confusing present without (Robert Frank’s) lingeringly pervasive presence. Frank was 31 in 1955 when he secured the Guggenheim Grant… He shot around 28,000 pictures. When Les Americains was published by Robert Delpire in France in 1958, it consisted of just 83 black and white images, but it changed the nature of photography, what it could say and how it could say it… it remains perhaps the most influential photography book of the 20th century… (Robert Frank) caught what Diane Arbus called the ‘hollowness’ at the heart of many American lives, the chasm between the American dream and the everyday reality.” One of the photographers I know in Cape Breton, Chad Tobin, @tobinchad, has been photographing Robert Frank at his summer home in Mabou, Nova Scotia for ten years now. He and Robert Frank had a special connection.

It may be impossible to convey to people who weren’t percipient in the early nineteen-sixties the profound, exulting shock that Robert Frank’s “The Americans” delivered to me, among many others, at the time of its release. The book, which was published in the United States in 1959, ranked with Dylan, Warhol, and Motown as a revelation something like a celestial visitation and something like being knocked off a cliff into a free fall so giddy as to obviate any fret about hard landings. The toughest part, from today’s perspective, was that the impact of Frank’s pictures had only passingly to do with their social, political, and otherwise thematic content, now so serviceable to this or that mode of critique. We were formalists then, and anti-formalists—not alternatively but both at once. Frank had exalted photographic form by shattering it against the stone of the wonderful and (oh, yeah) horrible real.

The photographer Robert Frank died on Monday, on Cape Breton Island, in Nova Scotia. He was ninety-four. Frank’s pictures were spontaneous and imperfect—usually grainy and overexposed, often crooked—yet consistently devastating to behold. I bought his best-known book, “The Americans,” when I was sixteen, in part because Jack Kerouac had written the introduction, and I was young enough to still be thoroughly and guilelessly enraptured by Kerouac’s beautiful, ecstatic ideas about personal freedom. Frank shot the book in 1955 and 1956, after receiving a Guggenheim Fellowship, which allowed him to crisscross the country in a Ford Business Coupe, with his 35-mm. Leica camera and hundreds of rolls of film. He was always looking—peering in and out of windows, ducking around corners, lingering off to the side of the action. There is something furtive and nearly supernatural about his photographs. It often feels as if his pictures aren’t of vistas or faces or rooms, but of secret American feelings. “He sucked a sad poem right out of America onto film, taking rank among the tragic poets of the world,” Kerouac wrote.

Legendary Vancouver photographer Fred Herzog has died. He was 88.

Mr. Frank’s visually raw and personally expressive style made him one of the most influential photographers of the 20th century.

Peter Lindbergh, the German fashion photography icon who is was credited with ushering in “the rise of the supermodel,” passed away yesterday at the age of 74. The announcement was made earlier today through Lindbergh’s official Instagram account.

Ms. Wyman photographed for Life, Business Week and her own enjoyment, satisfying “an immense curiosity to learn and understand the lives of others.”