"Grace was different from others in another important way. She was charming, kind and gentle, so much so that I kept looking for the other side of her nature to show up. Gradually, I came to realize that there wasn't any other side. She didn't have one set of ‘company manners’ to be used in public, and another set which she used in private. She was, like a pure gem, genuine all the way through."
- Maurice Mountain, Sr., writing about meeting the woman that would become his wife of over fifty years.
When my grandfather turned seventy, he sat down and wrote a memoir, which, over the past few years of my life I've turned to in attempts to get to know him as he passed away before I was old enough to realize what a gift grandparents could be. So often, I find myself caught in the traps of life, thinking long and hard, pawing through columns of metaphysical debates in the depths of the internet, only to find that the greatest wisdom that could be instilled upon me about life and love are right in front of me. I have always really liked that passage, but now as my skepticism towards the female gender mounts, I relax knowing that it will only serve to hold you back. Life may be a game of poker, but not everybody's bluffing.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
The Stress!
Tell your friends, "Once, I lived!" And please, don't let your visions of tomorrow cloud the beauty of today.
Monday, December 7, 2009
We have all the time in the world
It's Christmastime, and I'm coming to the conclusion that some of the best love songs ever written were James Bond themes. Give 'em a listen and check out some shots from Saturday night.
Nancy Sinatra - You Only Live Twice (from You Only Live Twice)
(zShare)
Carly Simon - Nobody Does it Better (from the Spy Who Loved Me)
(zShare)
Louis Armstrong - We Have All the Time in the World (from On Her Majesty's Secret Service)
(zShare)
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Ira Glass at Syracuse University
In a moment of educational bliss, Ira Glass, host of This American Life, graced Syracuse University's own Hendrick's Chapel to give a powerful and educational talk on storytelling, radio, and the future of journalism.
Already a fan, I came hoping to be surprised and inspired. While he maintained his usual candor and demeanor, I left this talk with a bit more than from his usual weekly broadcasts. If you're interested in hearing what he has to say about storytelling and the methods he uses, you can search for him on YouTube and watch the videos- he basically repeated the same rhetoric he does on videos there. His methods, tried and true, are brilliant, simple, and beautiful. He truly is unique in his simplicity of mind and straightforward way of storytelling. He expressed well-thought ideas about how to approach the next wave of journalism - with a sense of humor, with a sensitivity to people, and with, perhaps most importantly, a central theme on the humanity of stories and how imporant stories are to people. Using Arabian Nights as an allegory to the importance of stories (they may save your life!), Glass briefly brought us into the world where words shout themselves, and the beauty of straightforward storytelling transcends into spirits that last longer than the sounds that carry them to our ears and rock us to our cores. The stories of heartbreak, awkwardness, hope, betrayal, and new beginnings are central to humanity, for within the stories of other people, we learn more about ourselves as we, if only for a few moments, are the storyteller too.
What touched me most about the entire talk, was that during the question and answer portion, a nine year old boy used his question to ask for a handshake. It made me a bit emotional, thinking that this nine year old was touched as equally by his talk and the weekly experience that is This American Life as it touches me every week. Whether you're nine or ninety, the stories on the show ring true to the human element that exists within us all, and I felt inspired to know that somehow, 1.8 million people per week (and 500,000 more on podcasts) tune in to share the silences and moments of sensitivity that break through to fits of laughter that Mr. Glass brings to the radio.
Already a fan, I came hoping to be surprised and inspired. While he maintained his usual candor and demeanor, I left this talk with a bit more than from his usual weekly broadcasts. If you're interested in hearing what he has to say about storytelling and the methods he uses, you can search for him on YouTube and watch the videos- he basically repeated the same rhetoric he does on videos there. His methods, tried and true, are brilliant, simple, and beautiful. He truly is unique in his simplicity of mind and straightforward way of storytelling. He expressed well-thought ideas about how to approach the next wave of journalism - with a sense of humor, with a sensitivity to people, and with, perhaps most importantly, a central theme on the humanity of stories and how imporant stories are to people. Using Arabian Nights as an allegory to the importance of stories (they may save your life!), Glass briefly brought us into the world where words shout themselves, and the beauty of straightforward storytelling transcends into spirits that last longer than the sounds that carry them to our ears and rock us to our cores. The stories of heartbreak, awkwardness, hope, betrayal, and new beginnings are central to humanity, for within the stories of other people, we learn more about ourselves as we, if only for a few moments, are the storyteller too.
What touched me most about the entire talk, was that during the question and answer portion, a nine year old boy used his question to ask for a handshake. It made me a bit emotional, thinking that this nine year old was touched as equally by his talk and the weekly experience that is This American Life as it touches me every week. Whether you're nine or ninety, the stories on the show ring true to the human element that exists within us all, and I felt inspired to know that somehow, 1.8 million people per week (and 500,000 more on podcasts) tune in to share the silences and moments of sensitivity that break through to fits of laughter that Mr. Glass brings to the radio.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
China Town
I watched 500 Days of Summer last night. I quite enjoyed it, it's quite a story. I have one like that.
A shot from China Town this past weekend when I went home, best viewed listening to slow violin-infused indie folk.
A shot from China Town this past weekend when I went home, best viewed listening to slow violin-infused indie folk.
Friday, October 9, 2009
The 2009 Nobel Peace Prize
You know, Woodrow Wilson got a Nobel Peace Prize for founding the League of Nations, and that shit failed.
They gave Yasser Arafat one, too, for "the promotion of peace in the Middle East" which is arguably one of the many things he did not do in his lifetime. The list of laureates is varied and astonishing.
I'm not a political scientist; I'm not even a regular scientist. I do wax political from time to time, though. It should be said that I'm not a source of knowledge on these sorts of things. But, its my personal belief that the prize exists to say "Please keep trying to make peace, because with enough tries you may succeed" rather than "thanks for all the peace, man." If you don't think the election of the first black American President doesn't promote tolerance or hopefulness, and change the shape of global peacemaking, you're ignoring the other 7 billion people on this planet. Future elections, globally, will have new precedence and tone. Obama's presidency alone is a global step in the right direction towards peace.
But, I say, the prize should have gone to the American people for showing the world that the rules of life are still being written. America, as a country, promoted the kind of tolerance, change and forward-thinking that I personally feel the Prize exists to pay homage to. However, as Presidents often are, Obama is the face of the American people on an international scale for his tenure, and he will be the face of our successes, as well as our failures.
They gave Yasser Arafat one, too, for "the promotion of peace in the Middle East" which is arguably one of the many things he did not do in his lifetime. The list of laureates is varied and astonishing.
I'm not a political scientist; I'm not even a regular scientist. I do wax political from time to time, though. It should be said that I'm not a source of knowledge on these sorts of things. But, its my personal belief that the prize exists to say "Please keep trying to make peace, because with enough tries you may succeed" rather than "thanks for all the peace, man." If you don't think the election of the first black American President doesn't promote tolerance or hopefulness, and change the shape of global peacemaking, you're ignoring the other 7 billion people on this planet. Future elections, globally, will have new precedence and tone. Obama's presidency alone is a global step in the right direction towards peace.
But, I say, the prize should have gone to the American people for showing the world that the rules of life are still being written. America, as a country, promoted the kind of tolerance, change and forward-thinking that I personally feel the Prize exists to pay homage to. However, as Presidents often are, Obama is the face of the American people on an international scale for his tenure, and he will be the face of our successes, as well as our failures.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
The Memories I've Forgotten
My computer is running low on memory. Not that I don't have extra storage space. I have plenty of that. I'm just low on space on my laptop. At roughly 15MB per file, my photographs, as well as my vast library of music, each eat away at about 140GB each, leaving my Finder screens with anything between "1.8 GB Available" to "4 GB Available."
So, in a desperate measure to download The Chi-Lites entire discography, I decided to boot up Lightroom and take out all of the photos I don't need. And, in the process, coupled with the music playing ("Breathe" by Telepopmusik and then "Feel Good Lost Reprise" by Broken Social Scene), I felt an enormous rush of emotion come over me as I perused, my finger held down on the forward arrow, the entire library of my digital photographic experience shown to me in fast forward like Ed Kashi's Iraqi Kurdistan without any talent. In a few short minutes, I brushed through the 10 thousand or so photographs taken in the past 14 months, and as I had initially decided to delete some of the "non-takers," I found that process to be ultimately impossible.
You see, in all of the imperfect frames and the poorly exposed photographs that just didn't quite make it, there was a reflection of myself. All of these memories I myself had forgotten, lost in my day-to-day activities that made me focus too much on the future and not enough on the past. I tried to delete some, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to delete a single file, save the pure black exposures (which escape me to this date why they weren't deleted at the time of their import).
All of these moments I had forgotten. Though many will never see the light of day (I am very sensitive about showing my own work, and only show what I like, which is very little), they exist and serve their purpose. Displayed, in a rush, you could watch my photographic eye evolve (or in some cases, devolve). So many of these images represent me. The places I have been. From Syracuse to Slovakia, Auschwitz to America; from heroin addicts to haircuts and all the way to the Inauguration of Barack Obama. They are what my eyes have seen. And I don't want to forget them.
So, in a desperate measure to download The Chi-Lites entire discography, I decided to boot up Lightroom and take out all of the photos I don't need. And, in the process, coupled with the music playing ("Breathe" by Telepopmusik and then "Feel Good Lost Reprise" by Broken Social Scene), I felt an enormous rush of emotion come over me as I perused, my finger held down on the forward arrow, the entire library of my digital photographic experience shown to me in fast forward like Ed Kashi's Iraqi Kurdistan without any talent. In a few short minutes, I brushed through the 10 thousand or so photographs taken in the past 14 months, and as I had initially decided to delete some of the "non-takers," I found that process to be ultimately impossible.
You see, in all of the imperfect frames and the poorly exposed photographs that just didn't quite make it, there was a reflection of myself. All of these memories I myself had forgotten, lost in my day-to-day activities that made me focus too much on the future and not enough on the past. I tried to delete some, but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to delete a single file, save the pure black exposures (which escape me to this date why they weren't deleted at the time of their import).
All of these moments I had forgotten. Though many will never see the light of day (I am very sensitive about showing my own work, and only show what I like, which is very little), they exist and serve their purpose. Displayed, in a rush, you could watch my photographic eye evolve (or in some cases, devolve). So many of these images represent me. The places I have been. From Syracuse to Slovakia, Auschwitz to America; from heroin addicts to haircuts and all the way to the Inauguration of Barack Obama. They are what my eyes have seen. And I don't want to forget them.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
My Life Resumes Meaning
After a week of working my ass off helping Martine Franck pull some Cartier-Bresson prints from the Magnum Warehouse and the final week of my Spanish courses at Columbia, my exhausted body collapsed and my brain stopped working.
Now, well rested, my life resumes proper meaning. For, in this week of madness, something miraculous happened. A track from Radiohead's new EP leaked. And with it, I present to you, with no commercial breaks, the future of the greatest band on earth. Title is currently being thrown around as "These Are My Twisted Words."
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Dan McPharlin
Just look at this shit. It's amazing.
And now, check this out:
The Damned - Life Goes On (1982)
The Killing Joke - Eighties (1984)
Nirvana - Come As You Are (1992)
© Dan McPharlin
And now, check this out:
The Damned - Life Goes On (1982)
The Killing Joke - Eighties (1984)
Nirvana - Come As You Are (1992)
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Erin Mulvehill
© Erin Mulvehill
He visto antes; en mis sueños.Mi compañera Erin es un buen fotografo.
I am in Spanish class. I have been drinking.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Sometimes
Work drags on and seconds pass like hours, songs come at random, and for a few minutes, the world collapses like raindrops dripping from an oiled windowpane. I like these moments.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Jason Eskenazi
Whilst browsing what I consider to be the best blog for photojournalism, Lens @ the New York Times, I came across Jason Eskenazi. And, as can be expected, he blew me away.
The above shot is from his project Vanishing Points, a series of reaction shots from New Yorkers around New York City on September 11, 2001. This amazing series of images can be viewed here. Armed with what appears to be a single wide-angle lens, a Leica, and rolls of film, Eskenazi went out and made a series of images that showed veteran calmness and virgin emotion. All of the images express a sense of disbelief, wonder, and confusion. The faces of the people on the streets capture unbridled responses, reactions to the most horrific scene New Yorkers of this generation had been privy to. In each of the frame, I see a piece of New York's infinite and underlying spirit; it floods the memories of the days shortly thereafter of the similar feelings we all had. I, no more than a boy, remember moments of utter confusion and amazement coupled with too much information and not enough answers. Too young perhaps to fully comprehend the event at the time (I was 13, after all), these images allow me to re-investigate a situation that through flashes and winces, I remember vividly as a ball of confusion and a blur of disaster and fear.
Furthermore, he put together a pretty interesting mulitmedia piece with some interesting interviews for Time Magazine, which can be viewed here.
And, the Kings of Convenience - Mrs Cold, for you.
Furthermore, he put together a pretty interesting mulitmedia piece with some interesting interviews for Time Magazine, which can be viewed here.
Lastly, this is the image that brought me unto his work. There is so much to say about this image, that I'll opt to say nothing. Just look at it. It's pretty damn good.
What make me happiest to come across Eskenazi's work is that this is all he's done. He's 49, and though I'm not positive, seems to have happened into photojournalism as he grew older. Last night, I was talking with my mom about how I don't want to finish college, though I will. I explained that there isn't a major for what I want to do, which is to be basically a vagabond for a few years and put together books. I plan to move to South America, bum around and just live my life, writing and shooting photographs as I see fit. Working from job to job shouldn't bother anyone, especially if they're not in the fields one plans to pursue actual recognition in. For me, it's so much that the journey is the destination, and I don't have any problem with being 50 before anyone starts to give a shit about my work, if ever. I feel you should be out there doing work for yourself, and no one else. Working here at Magnum, I see so much work of people that just kept shooting, shooting, shooting and then one day reviewed all of their work and was like, "Oh yeah, hey, I could probably make a book out of this stuff." Sebastiao Selgado, Danny Lyon, Chris Steele Perkins, Bob Adelman, Erich Hartmann; they all seem to have done this, and I admire them each equally. The point is to be out there shooting, and maybe one day, after years of doing something else, you'll turn out a book that people kind of like.
What make me happiest to come across Eskenazi's work is that this is all he's done. He's 49, and though I'm not positive, seems to have happened into photojournalism as he grew older. Last night, I was talking with my mom about how I don't want to finish college, though I will. I explained that there isn't a major for what I want to do, which is to be basically a vagabond for a few years and put together books. I plan to move to South America, bum around and just live my life, writing and shooting photographs as I see fit. Working from job to job shouldn't bother anyone, especially if they're not in the fields one plans to pursue actual recognition in. For me, it's so much that the journey is the destination, and I don't have any problem with being 50 before anyone starts to give a shit about my work, if ever. I feel you should be out there doing work for yourself, and no one else. Working here at Magnum, I see so much work of people that just kept shooting, shooting, shooting and then one day reviewed all of their work and was like, "Oh yeah, hey, I could probably make a book out of this stuff." Sebastiao Selgado, Danny Lyon, Chris Steele Perkins, Bob Adelman, Erich Hartmann; they all seem to have done this, and I admire them each equally. The point is to be out there shooting, and maybe one day, after years of doing something else, you'll turn out a book that people kind of like.
And, the Kings of Convenience - Mrs Cold, for you.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Dash Snow
Today, or probably last night, the world of modern art loses another to the Forever 27 Club, Mr. Dash Snow. A well-connected, well-to-do delinquent, probably with daddy issues and a fear of popularity, Snow was a bit of a downtown NYC legend of art. That is to say that people admired his tragedy, like Kurt Cobain.
© Dash Snow
All the things that always aggravated me about Terry Richardson, apply to Snow. Lack of talent or expertise was passed off as intent and the world of art suffered as another bullshit artist peddled their bullshit wares. I maintain that without a wealthy art-collector aunt, Snow would have remained out of the art circuit and thus off of this page. Akin to how Richardson really worked his father's connections and kept doing his own thing until it was attributed to be his "style" or how Andy Warhol was really a talentless hack thrust into limelight out of sheer adoration of his awkwardness; Snow was your atypical hipster hero, and the injustice of it all continued to inspire his rebellion.
However, while I don't necessarily maintain he was "an artist," he was however a creative, and equally tragic, individual. His work has shown in Vice magazine (which isn't really saying anything other than that the guy could party, given his published work), and he had a budding following, including reviews from Juxtapoz to the New York Times, and his death has garnered support for his work. A collection of his polaroids create a portrait of the man's life, and he appears to have stoked his fire and burned his fuel out long before we could really be presented his true body of work. And, like Arizona State to Obama, I am going to withhold any praise due to his current body of work.
I must admit, though, that he captured interesting moments in an interesting life at an interesting threshold of events. His journalistic intentions of capturing his life appear both pretentious and self-glorifying, and of the type that I generally despise due to the sheer onslaught and overabundance of said type of art, but I admire the situations he put himself in though I would prefer to have stumbled upon a shoebox full of these images ten years from now in someone's forgotten closet than on the Art Beat on the New York Times' website. When I first became aware of his artwork, it was via Vice Magazine's Photo Book. Amongst that context, his work fits in, but does not stand out, except perhaps for the humor. The above image is one of my favorites, for reasons I do not believe were intended (such as the cutoffs because the Polaroid camera he was probably using was most definitely not equipped with a viewfinder, so the composition was definitely just a happy accident). This worship of false idols angers, excites, and forces me to create and to justify not only my opinion, but my own body of work and set of skills. In this, I consider Dash Snow to be a powerful inspiration.
© Dash Snow
All the things that always aggravated me about Terry Richardson, apply to Snow. Lack of talent or expertise was passed off as intent and the world of art suffered as another bullshit artist peddled their bullshit wares. I maintain that without a wealthy art-collector aunt, Snow would have remained out of the art circuit and thus off of this page. Akin to how Richardson really worked his father's connections and kept doing his own thing until it was attributed to be his "style" or how Andy Warhol was really a talentless hack thrust into limelight out of sheer adoration of his awkwardness; Snow was your atypical hipster hero, and the injustice of it all continued to inspire his rebellion.
However, while I don't necessarily maintain he was "an artist," he was however a creative, and equally tragic, individual. His work has shown in Vice magazine (which isn't really saying anything other than that the guy could party, given his published work), and he had a budding following, including reviews from Juxtapoz to the New York Times, and his death has garnered support for his work. A collection of his polaroids create a portrait of the man's life, and he appears to have stoked his fire and burned his fuel out long before we could really be presented his true body of work. And, like Arizona State to Obama, I am going to withhold any praise due to his current body of work.
I must admit, though, that he captured interesting moments in an interesting life at an interesting threshold of events. His journalistic intentions of capturing his life appear both pretentious and self-glorifying, and of the type that I generally despise due to the sheer onslaught and overabundance of said type of art, but I admire the situations he put himself in though I would prefer to have stumbled upon a shoebox full of these images ten years from now in someone's forgotten closet than on the Art Beat on the New York Times' website. When I first became aware of his artwork, it was via Vice Magazine's Photo Book. Amongst that context, his work fits in, but does not stand out, except perhaps for the humor. The above image is one of my favorites, for reasons I do not believe were intended (such as the cutoffs because the Polaroid camera he was probably using was most definitely not equipped with a viewfinder, so the composition was definitely just a happy accident). This worship of false idols angers, excites, and forces me to create and to justify not only my opinion, but my own body of work and set of skills. In this, I consider Dash Snow to be a powerful inspiration.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Dina Goldstein
This shit is awesome. Check out her portfolio.
Her series of images titled Fallen Princesses is so good. It is the exact type of humor and thinking I enjoy. I find all of the images to be pleasing, but this one of Jasmine is my favorite because it is really fucking funny.
And, to boot, she has one of the easiest-to-navigate and visually pleasing websites of any photographer out there. Do yourself a favor and spend a little bit of time on her site.
Magnum
It's 9:45 am. I got up at roughly 7:15, didn't eat breakfast, got on a train and paid twice the fare because it was "peak-hours" and then the damn thing broke down, delaying me thirtyfive or so minutes. Now, I'm at Magnum, starting my internship.
I have a final exam in my Spanish class later today.
Today may suck.
In other news, last night I re-stumbled upon The Family of Man, and I must say, it's a pretty sweet book.
As my brother prepares for his trek out to Burning Man, I find it almost necessary, given recent events, to display a Cristina Garcia Rodero photo from said event. David Sutherland would really approve of this image- the frame is filled, the moment was waited for, and my god did she control the background. Oh and there's some sick nasty layering, booyakasha.
I have a final exam in my Spanish class later today.
Today may suck.
In other news, last night I re-stumbled upon The Family of Man, and I must say, it's a pretty sweet book.
As my brother prepares for his trek out to Burning Man, I find it almost necessary, given recent events, to display a Cristina Garcia Rodero photo from said event. David Sutherland would really approve of this image- the frame is filled, the moment was waited for, and my god did she control the background. Oh and there's some sick nasty layering, booyakasha.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Paco Peregrin and Burial/Four Tet
© Paco Peregrin
I don't know who this guy is, I don't know where he came from, but I am glad I came across his stuff. Take the time and browse his website. From his bio he appears to be a Spanish photographer, who, as it seems, has an eye for style, grace and composition. He studied as a painter and it makes sense, looking at his work, which, for all intensive purposes, is pretty fucking good.
When I was over at Impact Digital with my class a few months back, the head of the retouching department said that a lot of the guys working there had painting backgrounds, and, now, in my own pursuits, I find myself gravitating towards heading back into painting. Not that I don't paint now, which I do, but I do bullshit abstract stuff with colors that I pass off as painting. I really need to get my hands on some oils, a good teacher, and start to explore the other world of capturing expression.
And this song, called Moth by Burial and Four Tet, is FUCKING AWESOME.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
A long Hiatus
After a long hiatus from the blogosphere, I've decided to resume the postings on this blog. I haven't shot much recently, partially to my dismay and partially to my enjoyment, but today I bring to you a bit of inspiration and a bit of me. In the coming weeks I plan to start shooting a story on my friend who is now becoming a boxer and to prepare to eventually ship out to Burning Man where I'll work on a profile of the people, the place, and the event itself, granted I don't have anything to do that week.
© Jonas Bendiksen
Jonas Bendiksen is not an unknown name. Currently taking prizes and releasing photos like a madman, the guy is shooting constantly, consistently, and diligently. As a member of Magnum, he's pursued his own stories on the areas of his own interest (that I share) in the former Soviet Union, which he chronicles in his book Satellites. He beautifully explains that to him, much of these forgotten and ignored areas are the aftermath of areas that used to "orbit" around Moscow, this beacon that acted for so many years as the center of a universe that we, in the West, don't even consider part of our galaxy.
I know that from my own travels through eastern Europe, I found myself continually on the opposite side of an invisible fence, as if the mere connection through similar experiences was almost impossible to make because I felt that my childhood and adolescence could not even be considered in the same category as those I saw in Moldova, Transdnistria, and beyond. It was a strange feeling and in the promo for his book, Bendiksen explains a similar feeling.
I recently interviewed to intern at Magnum and the interviewer, Matt Murphy, explained that Bendiksen was an intern at Magnum and following it, he decided that he would go out and put together a portfolio, and here we are, years later, viewing his work as the budding talent of the photographic world. It's strange how humble these beginnings often are.
No word on what I'll be doing this summer, because I'm pretty much left in the dark, broke, with nothing to do but sit and wonder about what I've done wrong or right; and for that matter if I really want to do any of it. I'm at a turning point in my life, when I'm about to graduate college and hopefully, if luck prevails, drop off the face of the planet and delve deep into my own interests - writing a book, photographing for it, and getting the hell out of Dodge and into whatever comes next. I contemplatively smoke cigarettes and often think about what to do when all the dreams I have dissolve into nothingness like tears in rain (Bladerunner anyone?) and I'm left to my own devices to survive and I just ask myself, "Do you really want to do that?" My potential appears limitless but all I want to do right now is grossly underachieve, for in my eyes, that is an achievement in itself.
© Jonas Bendiksen
Jonas Bendiksen is not an unknown name. Currently taking prizes and releasing photos like a madman, the guy is shooting constantly, consistently, and diligently. As a member of Magnum, he's pursued his own stories on the areas of his own interest (that I share) in the former Soviet Union, which he chronicles in his book Satellites. He beautifully explains that to him, much of these forgotten and ignored areas are the aftermath of areas that used to "orbit" around Moscow, this beacon that acted for so many years as the center of a universe that we, in the West, don't even consider part of our galaxy.
I know that from my own travels through eastern Europe, I found myself continually on the opposite side of an invisible fence, as if the mere connection through similar experiences was almost impossible to make because I felt that my childhood and adolescence could not even be considered in the same category as those I saw in Moldova, Transdnistria, and beyond. It was a strange feeling and in the promo for his book, Bendiksen explains a similar feeling.
I recently interviewed to intern at Magnum and the interviewer, Matt Murphy, explained that Bendiksen was an intern at Magnum and following it, he decided that he would go out and put together a portfolio, and here we are, years later, viewing his work as the budding talent of the photographic world. It's strange how humble these beginnings often are.
No word on what I'll be doing this summer, because I'm pretty much left in the dark, broke, with nothing to do but sit and wonder about what I've done wrong or right; and for that matter if I really want to do any of it. I'm at a turning point in my life, when I'm about to graduate college and hopefully, if luck prevails, drop off the face of the planet and delve deep into my own interests - writing a book, photographing for it, and getting the hell out of Dodge and into whatever comes next. I contemplatively smoke cigarettes and often think about what to do when all the dreams I have dissolve into nothingness like tears in rain (Bladerunner anyone?) and I'm left to my own devices to survive and I just ask myself, "Do you really want to do that?" My potential appears limitless but all I want to do right now is grossly underachieve, for in my eyes, that is an achievement in itself.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Meredith Banzhoff Advert
I was approached not too long ago to create an advertisement of sorts for my friend Meredith Banzhoff, who studies, or rather studied, fashion design here at Syracuse.
This is the end result:
This is the end result:
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Bruno Dayan
Bruno Dayan; I've only recently come across his work, but I'm quite impressed. I suggest taking a look at this portfolio.
© Bruno Dayan Photography
© Bruno Dayan Photography
His images have such an appeal to me: they are beautiful, they are sensual, they are provocative, they are moody. Each photo encompasses great skill and his portfolio is wholly impressive. I find his work to be moving and complex, as the man uses and sculpts many lights. He has a skill set I admire greatly and interesting painterly compositions with new edge to them.
He uses multiple exposures beautifully and seamlessly. He has excellent models and uses their abilities well, creating an expanse of images worth display. Looking at his work, I admirably note how vital good makeup is and how it can really create much needed tension. My own weaknesses as a photographer manifest in my attempts to comprehend the processes of these photographs, but they compel me to think and to create, for this is an inspiration.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Erwin Olaf
Erwin Olaf may very well be my favorite photographer. Weird, moody, compelling, downright bizarre- ah, how I love those four adjectives! Olaf encompasses all four and with an impressing and beautiful collection of images he calls his portfolio, I can do nothing more than honor him with a simple homage to him here:
© Erwin Olaf
This collection, titled "Separation" is something out of this world. I don't know where this idea came from, but I love where it went. Please, if you do nothing else today that I would approve of, check out his images.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Passion Pit
This is another from the Vault; a food shot:
Last day of classes; the year's gone quick. How much there is yet to reflect, but another day.
I'm now going to offer my review, short and sweet, of The Reeling, a new Passion Pit track, and Moth's Wings, another new Passion Pit track; both found on the popular page of The Hype Machine; hipsterdom's constantly-updated graphic interface of coolness:
The Reeling:
The song starts to suck when they start singing. I don't know why they have a chorus of what I think is children's voices and I wonder who they think they are. Upon second listen, I realize the only reason I like the song is because it reminds me of another, better song.
Check it out:
Passion Pit - The Reeling (the video is kind of cool)
Pogo - Alice
Moth's Wings sucks about the same, only more.
I want to now offer alternatives to the world of horrible music; even a remix of Bat for Lashes and a new Moby track for the hipster within us all:
Last day of classes; the year's gone quick. How much there is yet to reflect, but another day.
I'm now going to offer my review, short and sweet, of The Reeling, a new Passion Pit track, and Moth's Wings, another new Passion Pit track; both found on the popular page of The Hype Machine; hipsterdom's constantly-updated graphic interface of coolness:
The Reeling:
The song starts to suck when they start singing. I don't know why they have a chorus of what I think is children's voices and I wonder who they think they are. Upon second listen, I realize the only reason I like the song is because it reminds me of another, better song.
Check it out:
Passion Pit - The Reeling (the video is kind of cool)
Pogo - Alice
Moth's Wings sucks about the same, only more.
I want to now offer alternatives to the world of horrible music; even a remix of Bat for Lashes and a new Moby track for the hipster within us all:
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Kidnapped
I'm starting a series of images I'm titling "Felonies and Misdemeanors". This is one of the four images I made this weekend pertaining to it:
Monday, April 20, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
A Work in Progress
Here's a shot from the past week. And a bit of retouching magic. I need feedback.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Alicia Hansen
My class went to meet with Alicia Hansen a few weeks back, and I hadn't looked at her stuff. Now, sitting and plotting out my life, I looked at her stuff seriously. Her special projects blow my mind.
© Alicia Hansen Photography
http://www.aliciahansen.com/photo.html
And in other news:
I'm a big fan of this song this week:
Friday, April 10, 2009
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Jeff Wall
Jeff Wall has always amazed me. I don't usually buy into the whole art-scene hipster the-mundane-becomes-interesting-if-you-make-everything-in-focus sort of attitude, but Wall has always seemed to have some sort of intention and his essays come across with clear intent and skilled craftsmanship. His backlit transparencies are a sight to behold, and his work is, at first glance to an unaware eye, completely boring and out there, but upon second glance, you see this guy has done everything on purpose. He doesn't have a website, which baffles me, but his work is floating around the Internet. Here I've selected a piece of his work that I love. He remade a Hokusai (most people know him for: the Great Wave) woodblock print. This is from "A Sudden Gust of Wind" which is part of: 100 views of Mt. Fuji. Check it out:
© Jeff Wall
© Jeff Wall
Friday, April 3, 2009
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Torkil Gudnason and Jackson Pollock
I read GQ. I like the articles, and sometimes there are good photos and of course there's the fashion advice I generally ignore, but it's been pretty influential in changing from sneakers to shoes and sweatsuits to just plain suits. Torkil Gudnason provided some pretty great images for an article titled, "From Russia With Prenup," and well, I looked him up. I was quite impressed with his range and style. Check this out:
© Torkil Gudnason
Jackson Pollock is out of this world. I remember having to sit down after seeing "Summertime #9A" 1948, at the Tate Modern when I was in London. Couldn't find a great image of it (it's like 8 feet long), so here's this, "Lavender Mist #1" 1950:
© Whoever owns the copyright to Jackson Pollock's stuff.
© Torkil Gudnason
Jackson Pollock is out of this world. I remember having to sit down after seeing "Summertime #9A" 1948, at the Tate Modern when I was in London. Couldn't find a great image of it (it's like 8 feet long), so here's this, "Lavender Mist #1" 1950:
© Whoever owns the copyright to Jackson Pollock's stuff.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Retouch opinions needed & the most beautiful song I've heard this year
I spent too much time over the past few days trying to figure out where this needs improvement. Hopefully you can't even tell where I've retouched, but you can probably tell where it needs work. It looks so much better in .psd, but meh. I haven't a preference for B&W versus color.
Much love to all who partied hard this weekend, and a big up to Ra Ra Riot for impressing me at the Westcott.
Cue the song below when looking at the photos, because that way maybe they'll appear more beautiful. It's called Samba da Bençåo and is by Bebel Gilberto.
edit: I put side-by-sides to make this process easier.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Unedited Photo
I had a friend come up. She and I spent a few hours in the studio, and here is a photo I made. It's been retouched for about six minutes. Other than that, it still requires a bit of work. We'll have her stay up and let's see how much she changes.
Edit: Originally had two photos, deleted one due to redundancy.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
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