“Native New Yorkers Richard Avedon (1923-2004) and James Baldwin (1924-1987) met as students at DeWitt Clinton High School in the Bronx in the late 1930s. They became friends while writing for and editing The Magpie, the school’s literary magazine. Even as teenagers, they, in their writing, dealt with profound issues of race, mortality, and, as Avedon wrote, ‘the future of humanity’ as World War II closed in on them,” according to Pace/MacGill Gallery.
The New Yorker writes about the upcoming exhibit at Pace/MacGill Gallery in New York:
In 1964, Richard Avedon and James Baldwin published “Nothing Personal,” their collaborative exploration of American identity. This fall, a facsimile edition will be released, along with a set of previously unpublished photographs, and an introduction by Hilton Als, which is excerpted here. An exhibit of material from the book goes on view at Pace/MacGill Gallery on November 17th.
Veteran combat photographer Finbarr O’Reilly, on assignment in Afghanistan, and Sgt. Thomas James Brennan of the U.S. Marine Corps struck up a friendship in one of the world’s most hostile environments, amid an uncertain war, the photojournalist writes in a Lens blog post.
It was 2010 and both had found themselves amid Taliban territory in southern Afghanistan’s Helmand Province, when a grenade explosion knocked the soldier unconscious. O’Reilly made photographs of the immediate aftermath, unaware then that the event would bind the two men’s experiences in untold ways.
We don’t often discuss the issue publicly, but war correspondents experience similar rates of post-traumatic stress as combat veterans (about one in four, according to experts). The causes can be different, but guilt plays a prominent role for both. During his years in combat, Sergeant Brennan did and saw things that will haunt him forever. My own conscience is nagged by the fact that I was paid to photograph people at their most vulnerable while being able to do little to help. I took pictures of Sergeant Brennan moments after he was injured and nearly killed. Our odd alliance offered us both a shot at redemption.
Jonathan Bachman, a freelance photographer on assignment for Reuters, witnessed protests in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, when he spotted a black woman standing in the middle of a road, arms crossed as she faced a line of police officers in riot gear. Her long, flowing summer dress billowed in the summer breeze, as armed cops moved in to arrest her.
“She had no facial expression at all,” Bachman said. She just stood there.”
The image of defiance represented the spirit of the Black Lives Matter movement, which had grown out of recent police shootings of African American men, and it soon went viral, running in hundreds of news outlets over the following day.
In its account of Bachman’s experience behind the photograph, Reuterswrote:
The Atlantic magazine called the image “a single photo from Baton Rouge that’s hard to forget,” while the BBC hailed it as “legendary.” The Washington Post said it “captured a critical moment for the country,” while Britain’s Daily Mail website called it “an iconic arrest photo.”
Yet Bachman said he never considered himself part of the story and never even posted it on his social media profiles.
“I was just doing my job,” he said. “I felt like this was going to be an important photo, so I just took it.”
“The photographs women take of women can be a tool for challenging perceptions in the media, human rights, history, politics, aesthetics, technology, economy and ecology; to get at the unseen structures in our world and contribute to a broader understanding of society,” she writes. “What you can get is not always what you might see.”
Berehulak, a three-time Pulitzer finalist and two-time winner, documented 57 homicides in 35 days in chilling detail in the capital of Manila.
The photo reportage, titled ‘They Are Slaughtering Us Like Animals,’ depicted the aftermath of extrajudicial killings on urban streets — from the bloody crime scenes to the child mourners left behind, from the victims’ empty homes to the overworked funeral homes that struggle to deal with the body count of vigilante violence.
“For powerful storytelling through images published in The New York Times showing the callous disregard for human life in the Philippines brought about by a government assault on drug dealers and users,” the Pulitzer Prize jury wrote.
The FENCE is a series of large-scale photography exhibitions printed on vinyl mesh and installed outdoors in 7 cities: Boston, Brooklyn, Atlanta, Houston, Santa Fe, Durham and Denver. Each exhibition is on public view for a minimum of 3 months in areas with massive pedestrian traffic, ensuring an unprecedented audience for your work.
NEW YORK — India, with its complex history, mix of cultures and massive population, represents a world unto itself that is at once a force to be reckoned with on the global stage and an unknowable land to outsiders. It is this veil that artist, teacher, theorist, curator and photographer Bhupendra Karia sought to pierce, and in the process humanizes the nation with a unique, visual synecdoche that reflects his cultural awareness and personal vision.
Among the most striking images in the exhibit: A vertical B&W print of a turban, a shawl and a rifle hanging on peg embedded in a terra cotta wall. The deceptively simple image evokes India’s cultural identity (or one segment of it), its struggle for independence, and the violence of Partition in 1947 — when lands occupied by the British Empire were carved into Hindu and Muslim nations to form what is current-day India, Pakistan and Bangladesh. Estimates of the death toll vary between 500,000 and 1.5 million, marking one of the most tragic periods in modern history.
Karia’s Population Crisis project produced views of urban life in Bombay (Mumbai), from the manual labor of men lugging cloth, tied in bundles, on their backs, to the quotidian hustle and bustle of commerce and transportation clogging the city’s streets in every direction, with such richness in its subjects to provide the viewer an immersion, however brief, into life in India; from food vendors preparing to distribute lunch orders in stacked tins from crudely constructed wooden carts, to residents making their way around tenement-style, colonial-era housing.
In the second half of the 1960s and the early 1970s, Karia undertook extensive photographic journeys that would last weeks, sometimes months, at a time, logging some 80,000 miles across India’s rural landscape — likely fueled by an anthropological impulse to explore and record rural India and its native creative traditions–textiles, pottery, and architectural decoration. The resulting project comprises a quarter-million images, which Karia edited down to a portfolio of 74 photographs that he called “the meager harvest of my first 20 years in photography.” Twenty of those images are included in the current exhibition, Bhupendra Karia / India 1968-1974, through March 19 at sepiaEYE, with selected work from the Karia Estate, comprises two projects, Selections from the Portfolio and Population Crisis.
Owen Mundy has taken online cat pictures to another level.
On the surface, his website, I Know Where Your Cat Lives, appears to be a feline-lover’s dream, offering up random pictures of public photos of a wide range of kitties from all over the world.
But in his Kickstarter campaign to help raise funds for web hosting, Mundy of Tallahassee, Fla., explains a deeper purpose to his efforts.
“This project explores two uses of the internet: the sociable and humorous appreciation of domesticated felines, and the status quo of personal data usage by startups and international megacorps who are riding the wave of decreased privacy for all,” he writes. “This website doesn’t visualize all of the cats on the net, only the ones that allow you to track where their owners have been.”
The Kickstarter campaign runs through 9 August 2014.
Jenna Garrett waded through countless Facebook self-portraits, or “selfies,” for a new exhibit that examines the concept of the online identity.
As part of the Aperture Summer Open project, Garrett’s series, “The Public Profile of An American Girl” comprises nearly 5,000 public images of young women posted to the social-media website.
“It’s very important to me that the work be viewed as an installation—there is something really visceral about seeing 500 images of people licking one another. So much of what we do online feels intangible—people post photos, share their entires lives and say so many things without so much as a thought. Making images online a physical thing (public images that anyone could stumble upon and see) changes the dynamic entirely,” she tells Cool Hunting.
Garrett’s series is part of a larger body of work, titled “The Public Profile Project.” In one of its pieces, “Pretty/Ugly,” she creates a disturbing mosaic of YouTube videos from a recent phenomenon in which teenage girl invited viewers to weigh in on her looks.