Photo by Vivian Maier
Tennessee Williams, where are you? Come and get your girls!
(via photographsonthebrain)
Bas Jan Ader
All my clothes, 1970
Gelatin silver print, 28 x 35.5 cm
‘All My Clothes’ recalls an affecting biographical moment: the frantic actions of the artist’s own mother when given 15 minutes to prepare for detainment by the German Army during WWII resulted in her flinging her clothes out of the windows.
(via floresenelatico)
Relatum - Position
Relatum - Expansion Place
Relatum - Discussion
Relatum - Residence
(via lormiguel)
Margaret Bourke-White working at the top of the Chrysler Building, New York, New York, 1935.
(via lettertojane)
Edwin Wurm
Selbstportrait als Gurke (Self-Portrait as a cucumber), 2008
acrylic and paint, variable dimensions
installation view at Jack Hanley Gallery, New York City, 2010
(via notational)
"This is the same problem I have with digital photography. The potential is always remarkable. But the medium never settles. Each year there is a better camera to buy and new software to download. The user never has time to become comfortable with the tool. Consequently too much of the work is merely about the technology. The HDR and QTVR fads are good examples. Instead of focusing on the subject, users obsess over RAW conversion, Photoshop plug-ins, and on and on. For good work to develop the technology needs to become as stable and functional as a typewriter."
“Toy Fatigue”, Alec Soth (via valerian)
This is so so true. You can hardly learn photography with a digital camera anymore. You can take pictures, and you can learn digital manipulation, which sure, that can be an art form. But it’s not really photography at that point.
(via eastling)
(Source: tokyo-camera-style, via notational)
Carl Andre, 3rd Steel Triangle, 2008 with Ahmet Ögüt, intervention of 2 tape measures, 2011
(via thingsorganizedneatly)
But there is no female counterpart in our culture to Ishmael or Huck Finn. There is no Dean Moriarty, Sal, or even a Fuckhead. It sounds like a doctoral crisis, but it’s not. As a fifteen-year-old hitchhiker, my survival depended upon other people’s ability to envision a possible future for me. Without a Melvillean or Kerouacian framework, or at least some kind of narrative to spell out a potential beyond death, none of my resourcefulness or curiosity was recognizable, and therefore I was unrecognizable.
True quest is about agency, and the capacity to be driven past one’s limits in pursuit of something greater. It’s about desire that extends beyond what we may know about who we are. It’s a test of mettle, a destiny. A man with a quest, internal or external, makes the choice at every stage about whether to endure the consequences or turn back, and that choice is imbued with heroism. Women, however, are restricted to a single tragic or fatal choice. We trace all of their failures, as well as the dangers that befall them, back to this foundational moment of sin or tragedy, instead of linking these encounters and moments in a narrative of exploration that allows for an outcome which can unite these individual choices in any heroic way.
I will also admit that I think fixed narratives can be pretty dangerous. As vessels that shape our sense of self, they can be narcotic, limiting, and boring, and our development as humans is directly tied to our ability to cut across these simplistic story lines rather than be enslaved by them. Keystones in the arch under which we pass into a landscape of adolescent narcissism—that is what I think of fixed narratives. But they also keep us safe. They mark our place in society and make sure we’re seen. Therefore, the only thing more dangerous than having simplistic narratives is having no narrative at all, which is deadly.
…An excerpt from Green Screen: The Lack of Female Road Narratives and Why it Matters, a brilliantly examined longread that addresses a fundamental element of travel. We recommend you read the whole thing. It’s important.
(Source: conveyorblog)
