le marais, may 24, 2011
© anita aguilar
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Showing posts with label black and white. Show all posts
Showing posts with label black and white. Show all posts
inspiration: kertész "on reading"
on view now through february 13, 2011 at the carnegie museum of art in pittsburgh is a collection of 100 photographs by andré kertész (a photographer less well-known than, but highly esteemed by, the likes of henri cartier-bresson, robert capa, and brassaï) devoted to the pleasure of reading.
hungarian born kertész was the son of a bookseller, with a deep interest in poetry --he was drawn to these public, yet intimate moments throughout his career.
as so many drift (surge?) toward e-readers, it could well be that these snapshots take on even greater appeal. they celebrate the romance, not just of reading, but of the books and newspapers themselves.
hope you like them.
greenwich village, new york (woman on rooftop reading), may 30, 1962.
andré kertész, american, b. austria-hungary, 1894-1985.
gelatin silver print © courtesy estate of andré kertész/higher pictures 2007
carnival, paris (woman reading behind stage), 1926.
andré kertész, american, b. austria-hungary, 1894-1985.
gelatin silver print © courtesy estate of andré kertész/higher pictures 2007
new york (boy eating ice cream on a pile of newspapers), october 12, 1944.
andré kertész, american, b. austria-hungary, 1894-1985;
gelatin silver print © courtesy estate of andré kertész/higher pictures 2007
***
more on the exhibit here
if you can't make it there this winter, you can buy the book...
ladies' day: hitting the high line
a hat this big, not unwise with today's winter winds...
richard galpin's viewing station
***
clear sky, cold wind...(big smiles)
all photos © anita aguilar
detour
at the start of every work day, i step off the 5th floor elevator, say hello to shawn, our receptionist, tap my picture id on a small, square black pad by her desk, and swing through our office's glass double doors. i take a several rushed steps. my eyes are always drawn to the wide windows on the right, windows that overlook union square park. i might smile a bit every day because of them.
but i always make a left, down a high and long, artificially bright corridor, to my dim, windowless cubicle. those front windows--all that sky, sometimes the sun-- tease me all day, every day. from time to time, on my way to or from a meeting in our conference room, i'll stop and have a lookout. (it's fun to be the one towering over the trees. i like seeing how we new yorkers move.) but i don't allow myself time every day to enjoy it. i'm not sure why. i should never be too busy to appreciate that view.
i stopped tonight:
not a great picture, but a good idea.
i stopped tonight:
with the g10. union square park, dec 2, 2010.
will stop again, soon.
read a good poem: chaplinesque
fdr drive. nov 21, 2010. © anita aguilar
***
the resonant, true (and not outrageous) thing i read yesterday about the wikileaks:
The quality of the conversation is determined by the level of trust.
(via david brooks)
i spent part of last evening, then, reading poems on the idea of trust.
but i eventually found my way here (not sure what it may mean to you, but hope you like it)
i spent part of last evening, then, reading poems on the idea of trust.
but i eventually found my way here (not sure what it may mean to you, but hope you like it)
****
Chaplinesque
We make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits
In slithered and too ample pockets.
For we can still love the world, who find
A famished kitten on the step, and know
Recesses for it from the fury of the street,
Or warm torn elbow coverts.
We will sidestep, and to the final smirk
Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb
That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us,
Facing the dull squint with what innocence
And what surprise!
And yet these fine collapses are not lies
More than the pirouettes of any pliant cane;
Our obsequies are, in a way, no enterprise.
We can evade you, and all else but the heart:
What blame to us if the heart live on.
The game enforces smirks; but we have seen
The moon in lonely alleys make
A grail of laughter of an empty ash can,
And through all sound of gaiety and quest
Have heard a kitten in the wilderness.
We make our meek adjustments,
Contented with such random consolations
As the wind deposits
In slithered and too ample pockets.
For we can still love the world, who find
A famished kitten on the step, and know
Recesses for it from the fury of the street,
Or warm torn elbow coverts.
We will sidestep, and to the final smirk
Dally the doom of that inevitable thumb
That slowly chafes its puckered index toward us,
Facing the dull squint with what innocence
And what surprise!
And yet these fine collapses are not lies
More than the pirouettes of any pliant cane;
Our obsequies are, in a way, no enterprise.
We can evade you, and all else but the heart:
What blame to us if the heart live on.
The game enforces smirks; but we have seen
The moon in lonely alleys make
A grail of laughter of an empty ash can,
And through all sound of gaiety and quest
Have heard a kitten in the wilderness.
--Hart Crane (via the poetry foundation)
monochrome class: the high line
jen and sheena
my turn (thank you, sister)
november 13, 2010
all photos © anita aguilar
monochrome class: the nypl
went to the new york public library (my new favorite neighborhood haunt) to check out a tight little collection of portraits they've assembled for the "recollection" exhibit. frame after frame of big name photographers, though the ones i'm recalling now are eugène atget, berenice abbbott, brassai, helen leavitt, walker evans, robert frank, cindy sherman, joel meyerowitz, david wojnarowicz and (a really cute) william wegman (i'm not usually a fan). i also really liked two from photographers i'd never heard of before: a self portrait by louis faurer and a trude fleishmann early portrait of a hedy lamarr, as an ingenue, and these:
from margaret bourke-white "raymundo, coffee worker, brazil." gelatin silver print, 1931, which was transferred to the collection in 1986.
edward schwartz, "mexico." gelatin silver print, 1954, which he donated to the library in 2000
the gorgeous haya harareet, photographed by eve arnold in the 1950s, which was transferred to the collection in 2006.
the exhibition will be on view through january 2, 2011. if you're in the bryant park neighborhood and would like a break from the frenzy that surrounds the area, thanks to the lord and taylor flagship, the citipond (hooray, actually) and the holiday market, you could take a quiet stroll through. expect quite a few camera hounds (tourists and me), but still, it will be nice.
here's my practice from the day:
apparently i caught the eye of a tourist from san francisco, a lean, older japanese man, with a ponytail and a cap and a nice compact camera. i could tell that he'd been watching me as i worked my way up, down and around a particular stairwell, crouching, leaning. he smiled at me once, not in a leering way, just sort of as an acknowledgement of what i was trying to do. eventually he came over to chat with me and give me a few tips. i must really have looked like i needed some? one i tried right away--in a low-light situation, in order to minimize "hand shake," set the 2-second timer. it worked pretty well.
all photos (unless otherwise noted, i.e., the really good portraits ) © anita aguilar
november 6, 2010
fall: into black and white
a couple of weeks ago i slipped into the mary boone gallery to catch lee friedlander's recent western landscapes on the last day of the exhibition.
individually and as a collection, the photos were tonally soothing.
anyway, i went both ways--took one black and white photography class at SVA which wasn't great (and i wasn't great at it). i'll occasionally convert color images to black and white, but mostly as a way to salvage a poorly exposed shot.
last year, i came across a short interview with ny times photographer todd heisler--i think his black and whites are so elegant--and i remembered almost every bit of advice he offered (it was after reading this that i started to play with curves; i also employ his post-prod "time limit" to judge a particular shot) but i didn't really adopt his use of the monochrome setting. but i've decided that's the next step for me, to shoot, and try to "see," in black and white...(though this is there is so much nice new york color right now, it's gonna be hard to resist).
some were haunting.
some were pretty.
(i maybe love fallen trees and bark a bit more than the average person, as any poor soul who saw all my snapshots from bryce canyon will attest? i have tons of photos like this, taken with my very first point and shoot, a canon A95)
but what stood out to me was how perfectly exposed the friedlander black and whites were. no heavy shadows. no blowouts. how did he do it? a white sky and dark bark give a lot of contrast--you really have to know light and metering to find the right balance.
when i started to really become interested in photography a couple of years ago, even before i bought my digital slr, i sought advice of everyone i knew that was a photographer (enthusiast or pro) or photo editor.
when i started to really become interested in photography a couple of years ago, even before i bought my digital slr, i sought advice of everyone i knew that was a photographer (enthusiast or pro) or photo editor.
one friend recommended that i take a black and white film photography class, she said it would be the best way for me to understand "light," which sounded incredibly romantic to me--the sensitivity of the film and paper, all those groovy chemicals, the "big reveal," in the bath.
everyone else simply said, eh, shoot "raw" in color and convert it later, which struck me a little as cheating?
(voila! i mean, that took 5 seconds. and it's not bad, eh?)
anyway, i went both ways--took one black and white photography class at SVA which wasn't great (and i wasn't great at it). i'll occasionally convert color images to black and white, but mostly as a way to salvage a poorly exposed shot.
***
last year, i came across a short interview with ny times photographer todd heisler--i think his black and whites are so elegant--and i remembered almost every bit of advice he offered (it was after reading this that i started to play with curves; i also employ his post-prod "time limit" to judge a particular shot) but i didn't really adopt his use of the monochrome setting. but i've decided that's the next step for me, to shoot, and try to "see," in black and white...(though this is there is so much nice new york color right now, it's gonna be hard to resist).
these first test shots reveal...there is a whole lotta learning to do.
union square, nov 3, 2010
union square, nov 3, 2010
union square, nov 3, 2010
all photos © anita aguilar
ooh la la raccoon (eyes)
but i like the black and white room...
at reiss 313 bleecker street, bet barrow and grove, nyc. may 6, 2010.
at reiss 313 bleecker street, bet barrow and grove, nyc. may 6, 2010.read a good poem: the diner
11am at joseph leonard. nyc.The short-order cook and the dishwasher
argue the relative merits
of Rilke’s Elegies
against Eliot’s Four Quartets,
but the delivery man who brings eggs
suggests they have forgotten Les fleurs
du mal and Baudelaire. The waitress
carrying three plates and a coffeepot
can’t decide whom she loves more—
Rimbaud or Verlaine,
William Blake or William Wordsworth.
She refills the rabbi’s cup
(he’s reading Rumi),
asks what he thinks of Arthur Waley.
In the booth behind them, a fat woman
feeds a small white poodle in her lap,
with whom she shares her spoon.
“It’s Rexroth’s translations of the Japanese,”
she says, “that one can’t live without:
May those who are born after me
Never travel such roads of love.”
The revolving door proffers
a stranger in a long black coat,
lost in the madhouse poems of John Clare.
As he waits to be seated,
the woman who owns the place
hands him a menu
in which he finds several handwritten poems
by Hafiz, Gibran, and Rabindranath Tagore.
The lunch hour’s crowded—
the owner wonders
if the stranger might share
my table. As he sits,
I put a finger to my lips,
and with my eyes ask him
to listen with me
to the young boy and the young girl
two tables away
taking turns reading aloud
see a fine picture: fritz henle
this one is for my sister:
frida kahlo at xochimilco, mexico, (1937). by fritz henle. via judith puckett-rinella @ the moment blog at nytimes.com
some of fritz henle's work seems familiar--or is it merely an appealing, recognizable style?
in any case, his name is new to me.
the harry ransom center, a humanities research library and museum at the university of texas at austin, is presenting a retrospective exhibition "fritz henle: in search of beauty," which will run through august 2, 2009.
i won't make it down to austin this summer, so i'll have to be satisfied with online gallery-viewing, or the book.
from what i've seen so far, my favorites are photos that he shot over a two week period in paris, in july 1938, for time magazine. the photo essay never ran in time, but several photos were picked up years later by the ny times magazine, and published in book format in 1947.
if you're interested in henle's recollections of the "paris 1938" experience, here's the link.
frida kahlo at xochimilco, mexico, (1937). by fritz henle. via judith puckett-rinella @ the moment blog at nytimes.comsome of fritz henle's work seems familiar--or is it merely an appealing, recognizable style?
in any case, his name is new to me.
the harry ransom center, a humanities research library and museum at the university of texas at austin, is presenting a retrospective exhibition "fritz henle: in search of beauty," which will run through august 2, 2009.
i won't make it down to austin this summer, so i'll have to be satisfied with online gallery-viewing, or the book.
from what i've seen so far, my favorites are photos that he shot over a two week period in paris, in july 1938, for time magazine. the photo essay never ran in time, but several photos were picked up years later by the ny times magazine, and published in book format in 1947.
if you're interested in henle's recollections of the "paris 1938" experience, here's the link.
white flower: refined
flower, vase, and black wall at bddw display.2009 architectural digest home design show. pier 94, nyc.
white flower: everything is a blur
the simplest presentations are my favorite. white flower, glass vase, black wall, via bddw.
2009 architectural digest home design show. pier 94, nyc.
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