Posts tagged Photography
"I first encountered the South African photographer Zanele Muholi two winters ago in her native country. I was so shy and in awe of her work that I half-hoped she wouldn’t remember that last encounter. 

"As the foremost chronicler of black lesbians and transgender people in South Africa, Ms. Muholi is an artist and activist, advocating for rights for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people on a continent where they are under attack. We met at a Cape Town hotel amid a crowd of people, waiting for the Nigerian musician Femi Kuti to perform. 

"Ms. Muholi was playing pool with a stylish gang of girlfriends, all slouchy denim and cool T-shirts. We started talking about mutual friends, my writing and whether her femme friend — who was present — was gaining too much weight. 

After a little while, she turned to me seriously. “So, Alexis,” she said, a smile drawing out on her face. “Why are you so interested in L.G.B.T. people, anyway?” I said something about being a loyal ally. “O.K.,” she said, still wearing a teasing smile. “Allies are important, too.” 

Photographing a ‘Difficult Love’ in South Africa

"I first encountered the South African photographer Zanele Muholi two winters ago in her native country. I was so shy and in awe of her work that I half-hoped she wouldn’t remember that last encounter.

"As the foremost chronicler of black lesbians and transgender people in South Africa, Ms. Muholi is an artist and activist, advocating for rights for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people on a continent where they are under attack. We met at a Cape Town hotel amid a crowd of people, waiting for the Nigerian musician Femi Kuti to perform.

"Ms. Muholi was playing pool with a stylish gang of girlfriends, all slouchy denim and cool T-shirts. We started talking about mutual friends, my writing and whether her femme friend — who was present — was gaining too much weight.

After a little while, she turned to me seriously. “So, Alexis,” she said, a smile drawing out on her face. “Why are you so interested in L.G.B.T. people, anyway?” I said something about being a loyal ally. “O.K.,” she said, still wearing a teasing smile. “Allies are important, too.”

Photographing a ‘Difficult Love’ in South Africa

I was 12 years old and paging through a photo album; my memories of the days seemed to fade in the photo’s recreation. In some pictures, I am a mud brown, in others I’m a blue black. 

Some of the pictures were taken within moments of one another. “You look like charcoal,” someone said, and giggled. I felt insulted, but I didn’t have the words for that yet. I just knew that I didn’t want to be seen as a quality of a dark black that would invite hatred on my skin. 

A year later, it was 1988 and the overhead kitchen light burned the dullest yellow as my mother placed four proofs on the table from an Olan Mills photo session. Each wallet-sized print contained various permutations of my little sister, my mother, father, and me. She wanted to know what we thought.

I considered each of the images. I couldn’t see my face. 

“Why do I look so dark?” 

“Maybe it’s just dark in here.” 

She flipped the curtains upward and wound them around the curtain rod to let the dull winter light in. It didn’t help. The clothes were OK — the bright blue vest over a striped blue shirt underneath. The updo wasn’t the camera’s fault. But my eyes looked like sunken holes in a small brown face, and my pupils were invisible. 

“I don’t even look like me.”

The photos were horrible. Mom was kind of blown out on one side; my father’s hair, a scalped crop fro, disappears into a faux marbled background. He’s half brown and tan, teeth capturing the strobes’ glare. My mom had saved up quite a bit of money to try to create a pastoral scene of domesticity of our rough and ragged family to give to loved ones.

I just couldn’t understand how the camera could get us so wrong.
Photography is balancing an equation between light and documentary. Beauty and storytelling. Honesty and fantasy. The frame says how the photographer sees you. I couldn’t help but feel that what that photographer saw was so wildly different from how I saw myself.

Is that how you see me? Could you not see blackness? Its varying tones and textures? And do you see all of us that way? 

Teaching The Camera To See My Skin

I was 12 years old and paging through a photo album; my memories of the days seemed to fade in the photo’s recreation. In some pictures, I am a mud brown, in others I’m a blue black.

Some of the pictures were taken within moments of one another. “You look like charcoal,” someone said, and giggled. I felt insulted, but I didn’t have the words for that yet. I just knew that I didn’t want to be seen as a quality of a dark black that would invite hatred on my skin.

A year later, it was 1988 and the overhead kitchen light burned the dullest yellow as my mother placed four proofs on the table from an Olan Mills photo session. Each wallet-sized print contained various permutations of my little sister, my mother, father, and me. She wanted to know what we thought.

I considered each of the images. I couldn’t see my face.

“Why do I look so dark?”

“Maybe it’s just dark in here.”

She flipped the curtains upward and wound them around the curtain rod to let the dull winter light in. It didn’t help. The clothes were OK — the bright blue vest over a striped blue shirt underneath. The updo wasn’t the camera’s fault. But my eyes looked like sunken holes in a small brown face, and my pupils were invisible.

“I don’t even look like me.”

The photos were horrible. Mom was kind of blown out on one side; my father’s hair, a scalped crop fro, disappears into a faux marbled background. He’s half brown and tan, teeth capturing the strobes’ glare. My mom had saved up quite a bit of money to try to create a pastoral scene of domesticity of our rough and ragged family to give to loved ones.

I just couldn’t understand how the camera could get us so wrong.
Photography is balancing an equation between light and documentary. Beauty and storytelling. Honesty and fantasy. The frame says how the photographer sees you. I couldn’t help but feel that what that photographer saw was so wildly different from how I saw myself.

Is that how you see me? Could you not see blackness? Its varying tones and textures? And do you see all of us that way?

Teaching The Camera To See My Skin

Photo Essay: Stranded in Sweden by Matilde Gattoni and Matteo Fagotto
Once they were respected and successful, they had money and power. Now they’re broke, roaming like ghosts in a foreign land.
These are the stories of 12 young Syrian men who used to be rich businessmen, global professionals and members of prominent families. They sacrificed everything to escape war and reach Sweden, the only country granting them permanent residence.
Far from discovering the paradise they dreamed about, some now lead an invisible life in bleak suburbs and remote villages, isolated and unable to find work. Cut off from their loved ones, they are stuck in a limbo between a comfortable life they cannot forget and a tough, new reality. Some of the people asked to keep their faces out of the photos, to protect their families still in Syria.
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Photo Essay: Stranded in Sweden by Matilde Gattoni and Matteo Fagotto
Once they were respected and successful, they had money and power. Now they’re broke, roaming like ghosts in a foreign land.
These are the stories of 12 young Syrian men who used to be rich businessmen, global professionals and members of prominent families. They sacrificed everything to escape war and reach Sweden, the only country granting them permanent residence.
Far from discovering the paradise they dreamed about, some now lead an invisible life in bleak suburbs and remote villages, isolated and unable to find work. Cut off from their loved ones, they are stuck in a limbo between a comfortable life they cannot forget and a tough, new reality. Some of the people asked to keep their faces out of the photos, to protect their families still in Syria.
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Stranded in Sweden by Matilde Gattoni and Matteo Fagotto
Once they were respected and successful, they had money and power. Now they’re broke, roaming like ghosts in a foreign land.
These are the stories of 12 young Syrian men who used to be rich businessmen, global professionals and members of prominent families. They sacrificed everything to escape war and reach Sweden, the only country granting them permanent residence.
Far from discovering the paradise they dreamed about, some now lead an invisible life in bleak suburbs and remote villages, isolated and unable to find work. Cut off from their loved ones, they are stuck in a limbo between a comfortable life they cannot forget and a tough, new reality. Some of the people asked to keep their faces out of the photos, to protect their families still in Syria.
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Stranded in Sweden by Matilde Gattoni and Matteo Fagotto
Once they were respected and successful, they had money and power. Now they’re broke, roaming like ghosts in a foreign land.
These are the stories of 12 young Syrian men who used to be rich businessmen, global professionals and members of prominent families. They sacrificed everything to escape war and reach Sweden, the only country granting them permanent residence.
Far from discovering the paradise they dreamed about, some now lead an invisible life in bleak suburbs and remote villages, isolated and unable to find work. Cut off from their loved ones, they are stuck in a limbo between a comfortable life they cannot forget and a tough, new reality. Some of the people asked to keep their faces out of the photos, to protect their families still in Syria.
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Stranded in Sweden by Matilde Gattoni and Matteo Fagotto
Once they were respected and successful, they had money and power. Now they’re broke, roaming like ghosts in a foreign land.
These are the stories of 12 young Syrian men who used to be rich businessmen, global professionals and members of prominent families. They sacrificed everything to escape war and reach Sweden, the only country granting them permanent residence.
Far from discovering the paradise they dreamed about, some now lead an invisible life in bleak suburbs and remote villages, isolated and unable to find work. Cut off from their loved ones, they are stuck in a limbo between a comfortable life they cannot forget and a tough, new reality. Some of the people asked to keep their faces out of the photos, to protect their families still in Syria.
ZoomInfo

Photo Essay: Stranded in Sweden by Matilde Gattoni and Matteo Fagotto

Once they were respected and successful, they had money and power. Now they’re broke, roaming like ghosts in a foreign land.

These are the stories of 12 young Syrian men who used to be rich businessmen, global professionals and members of prominent families. They sacrificed everything to escape war and reach Sweden, the only country granting them permanent residence.

Far from discovering the paradise they dreamed about, some now lead an invisible life in bleak suburbs and remote villages, isolated and unable to find work. Cut off from their loved ones, they are stuck in a limbo between a comfortable life they cannot forget and a tough, new reality. Some of the people asked to keep their faces out of the photos, to protect their families still in Syria.

Shadowed by Secret Servicemen President Barack Obama arrives at Schiphol Airport to attend the Nuclear Security Summit in the Hague earlier this week. The crisis over the Crimean peninsula has cast a shadow of its own over Obama’s agenda. He planned to discuss further sanctions against Russia with European leaders; but Europe’s dependence on Russian oil and other economic considerations will complicate the conversation. And while international events have demanded the president’s attention lately, a key part of his domestic agenda is in the news as March 31 approaches—that’s the deadline by which uninsured Americans have to sign up for health care coverage.
Photo credit: Peter Dejong/AP

Shadowed by Secret Servicemen President Barack Obama arrives at Schiphol Airport to attend the Nuclear Security Summit in the Hague earlier this week. The crisis over the Crimean peninsula has cast a shadow of its own over Obama’s agenda. He planned to discuss further sanctions against Russia with European leaders; but Europe’s dependence on Russian oil and other economic considerations will complicate the conversation. And while international events have demanded the president’s attention lately, a key part of his domestic agenda is in the news as March 31 approaches—that’s the deadline by which uninsured Americans have to sign up for health care coverage.

Photo credit: Peter Dejong/AP

Photo Essay: Tokyo Trains for the Next One by Nicolas Datiche
For Japanese, the disaster of the Tohoku great earthquake is a nightmare that never goes away. Three years ago the 9.0 magnitude quake struck the Sendai region on March 11, 2011.
In Tokyo, the word “Jishin,” meaning earthquake, is a big part of daily life and culture. Signboards on the streets indicate the nearest emergency shelters and an earthquake forecast alert app, made by the Japanese Meteorological Agency (JMA), is on everyone’s smartphones. The people try to stay alert for the next big disaster.
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Photo Essay: Tokyo Trains for the Next One by Nicolas Datiche
For Japanese, the disaster of the Tohoku great earthquake is a nightmare that never goes away. Three years ago the 9.0 magnitude quake struck the Sendai region on March 11, 2011.
In Tokyo, the word “Jishin,” meaning earthquake, is a big part of daily life and culture. Signboards on the streets indicate the nearest emergency shelters and an earthquake forecast alert app, made by the Japanese Meteorological Agency (JMA), is on everyone’s smartphones. The people try to stay alert for the next big disaster.
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Tokyo Trains for the Next One by Nicolas Datiche
For Japanese, the disaster of the Tohoku great earthquake is a nightmare that never goes away. Three years ago the 9.0 magnitude quake struck the Sendai region on March 11, 2011.
In Tokyo, the word “Jishin,” meaning earthquake, is a big part of daily life and culture. Signboards on the streets indicate the nearest emergency shelters and an earthquake forecast alert app, made by the Japanese Meteorological Agency (JMA), is on everyone’s smartphones. The people try to stay alert for the next big disaster.
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Tokyo Trains for the Next One by Nicolas Datiche
For Japanese, the disaster of the Tohoku great earthquake is a nightmare that never goes away. Three years ago the 9.0 magnitude quake struck the Sendai region on March 11, 2011.
In Tokyo, the word “Jishin,” meaning earthquake, is a big part of daily life and culture. Signboards on the streets indicate the nearest emergency shelters and an earthquake forecast alert app, made by the Japanese Meteorological Agency (JMA), is on everyone’s smartphones. The people try to stay alert for the next big disaster.
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Tokyo Trains for the Next One by Nicolas Datiche
For Japanese, the disaster of the Tohoku great earthquake is a nightmare that never goes away. Three years ago the 9.0 magnitude quake struck the Sendai region on March 11, 2011.
In Tokyo, the word “Jishin,” meaning earthquake, is a big part of daily life and culture. Signboards on the streets indicate the nearest emergency shelters and an earthquake forecast alert app, made by the Japanese Meteorological Agency (JMA), is on everyone’s smartphones. The people try to stay alert for the next big disaster.
ZoomInfo

Photo Essay: Tokyo Trains for the Next One by Nicolas Datiche

For Japanese, the disaster of the Tohoku great earthquake is a nightmare that never goes away. Three years ago the 9.0 magnitude quake struck the Sendai region on March 11, 2011.

In Tokyo, the word “Jishin,” meaning earthquake, is a big part of daily life and culture. Signboards on the streets indicate the nearest emergency shelters and an earthquake forecast alert app, made by the Japanese Meteorological Agency (JMA), is on everyone’s smartphones. The people try to stay alert for the next big disaster.

Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
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Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo
Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici
Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.
They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.
http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/
ZoomInfo

Photo Essay: Railway Renegades by Valerio Polici

Becoming an adult is a complex and sometimes painful process. Terrified by this transition, some people stay in a halfway stage before youth’s tranquility and carelessness vanish forever. I decided to tell the story of this suspended state through several communities of young graffiti writers that I followed for two years in Europe and Argentina, who have found the perfect tool to evade adulthood. Graffiti lets them linger in a limbo of myths, legends and heroic deeds.

They are drawn to the appeal of being an outlaw, the obstacles, and the theatricality of their targets. This is the story of their escape and to a certain extent also about mine.

http://valeriopolici.tumblr.com/

Big Shots: Flag of My Fathers 
An anti-government protester uses a Venezuelan flag to protect himself from tear gas in San Cristobal, Venezuela, Feb. 23, 2014. The capital of Tachira State, bordering Colombia, is the site of the some of the fiercest protests against the government of President Nicolas Maduro.
(Photo credit: Meridith Kohut/The New York Times/Redux)

Big Shots: Flag of My Fathers

An anti-government protester uses a Venezuelan flag to protect himself from tear gas in San Cristobal, Venezuela, Feb. 23, 2014. The capital of Tachira State, bordering Colombia, is the site of the some of the fiercest protests against the government of President Nicolas Maduro.

(Photo credit: Meridith Kohut/The New York Times/Redux)