The story of Willy Pragher, the greatest photographer of interwar Bucharest

By Bucharest Team
- Articles
Few visual artists managed to capture the essence of a foreign land as faithfully as Willy Pragher did. Born in Berlin on May 4, 1908, under the name Wilhelm Alexander Prager, he became known to the world as Willy Pragher. Although German by birth, much of his childhood and cultural formation took place in Bucharest, in the home of his grandfather, Moritz Sigmund Prager.
A destiny shaped between Berlin and Bucharest
Moritz was a highly regarded fur merchant, praised even by prominent figures of the time, such as Dumitru Furnică-Minovici, who described him as “a leader of Bucharest trade.”
Beyond his business activities, the grandfather was also a supporter of the Roman Catholic Church in Romania and owned several significant properties, among them the former residence of Baron Bellu.
The atmosphere there, filled with elegance, tradition, and art, left a lasting impression on young Willy and awakened in him the passion for photography.
Pragher discovered the camera as a window to the world. Fascinated by detail and the play of light, starting in the 1920s he began to travel across Romania, exploring villages, towns, mountain areas, and plains.
He was not merely a traveler with a camera around his neck but a keen observer of Romanian realities, determined to preserve them for future generations.
Romania through the lens of an artist
The photographs taken by Willy Pragher hold both documentary and artistic value. Throughout his life, he built up an extraordinary portfolio: over one million images, including 6,000 glass negatives, 27,000 color slides, and about 400,000 prints or negatives on film. Today, this immense archive, preserved in Freiburg, is a treasure for researchers and lovers of history alike.
What set Pragher apart was his ability to capture both contrasts and the authentic beauty of Romania. Interwar Bucharest, his beloved city, was undergoing accelerated transformation: from an oriental-style market town, it was turning into a modern capital, with wide boulevards, modern apartment blocks, but also old boyar mansions with shaded gardens. Pragher described this reality as “a metamorphosis in leaps,” a coexistence of past and future.
His photos depicted not only monuments but also everyday moments: overcrowded trams, noisy marketplaces, religious holidays, as well as portraits of the city’s poorest inhabitants. At the same time, Pragher documented the life of the elites, managing to create a complete image of a capital in the midst of Europeanization.
Interwar Bucharest through Willy Pragher’s eyes
The capital of Romania during the interwar period was a space of contrasts, and the German photographer knew how to capture this unique blend.
Old oriental-style houses coexisted with modern buildings of Western inspiration. Vibrant cafés, glamorous balls, but also poor neighborhoods became subjects for his camera.
In his images, Bucharest appears as a living organism, in a constant process of change. Pragher neither judged nor idealized: he documented with almost scientific rigor, but also with the sensitivity of an artist who knew how to find beauty in diversity. Thus, his photographs stand both as historical documents and works of art.
Passion for traditions and heritage
An essential aspect of his work is his interest in Romanian traditional culture. His archive contains around 30 photographs of folk art objects from the collection of Dr. Nicolae Minovici’s Museum. Pottery, wooden items, textiles, icons, and decorated Easter eggs were captured with remarkable attention to detail and lighting.
Although undated, these images were archived in 1941 and cover a broad span of his activity. They are not just simple visual reproductions but also reflect Pragher’s respect for the beauty and authenticity of Romanian traditions.
Another memorable set consists of photographs taken at Easter 1942 at the Old St. Elefterie Church in Bucharest. There, Pragher captured both the religious and the communal dimensions of the celebration, managing to illustrate the central role of faith in the lives of Romanians.
Witness to history in troubled times
Not even the war stopped him from documenting reality. Pragher photographed Bucovina, Bessarabia, Sinaia, and, of course, Bucharest, preserving for posterity crucial images of a Romania swept up in the turmoil of history.
Around 1939, he became the official photographer and graphic artist for the OSIN Fuel Distribution Company, which gave him access to industrial zones and allowed him to immortalize workers, factories, and infrastructure. Through these frames, he also captured the economic pulse of the country, not only the cultural and social one.
Nevertheless, the growing political tensions and pressures of the era eventually pushed him to leave Romania. He departed, yet he never completely severed his ties with the country where he had spent his childhood and youth. Greater Romania, as he knew and photographed it, lives on in more than 12,000 of his images—an invaluable archive for collective memory.
Life after Romania and the legacy in Freiburg
After the war, in 1950, Willy Pragher settled in Freiburg, Germany, where he continued to live and work until the end of his life, on June 25, 1992.
In the years spent there, he focused on organizing his archive and collaborating with cultural institutions, fully aware of the historical value of his work.
Today, his collection, preserved at the State Archives in Freiburg, represents an inestimable source of knowledge. Historians, anthropologists, artists, and photography enthusiasts study and admire his images, discovering through them a past brought back to life in black and white.
A visual chronicler of Romania
Willy Pragher was not just a German photographer who spent some time in Bucharest. He was a visual chronicler of a fascinating age, a witness to the transformation of interwar Romania, and an artist who managed to combine technical precision with emotion.
His photographs are more than simple documents: they are stories, moods, fragments of life. They show interwar Bucharest with its brilliance and contradictions, but also the deeper, rural Romania, captured with respect and sensitivity.
Thanks to him, we can look back today and better understand how Romania appeared in the past century. He kept alive the memory of a time that otherwise might have been lost. In his frames, cities, villages, people, and traditions remain immortal.
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