Showing posts with label documentary photography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label documentary photography. Show all posts


I spent some time sitting in John King Books the other day, talking with Scott Hocking and thumbing through boxes of old snapshots and Detroit ephemera when I happened across this photocopied 1987 calendar with a collage of collapsing and dilapidated houses that looked like something somebody could have made last week after driving down any residential street in the city. There is something about this humble Detroit house architecture that is so distinct, particularly because it is so often photographed in this charred, collapsing state.

This calendar was made more than two decades ago and looks as though it could have been made yesterday. There are undoubtedly vacant lots today where these houses stood crumbling in 1986, and there will be vacant lots in twenty years where all the crumbling houses stand today. That is how a city disappears, and this little token reminds us that nothing has stopped it from happening over the last 23 years.

*UPDATE*

Sweet Juniper reader David e-mailed me with some information he dug up about the original calendar. It seems like it was created by a local bookstore owner named Jim Monning:

From the Chicago Tribune, November 3, 1987:

With his own money, Monning printed a calendar, called "Greetings from Detroit: the City of Urban Angst," and began selling it this year. It is full of pictures of dilapidated and abandoned houses in his eastside Detroit neighborhood. The 42-year-old bookstore owner says he was tired of listening to suburban friends, who had not visited Detroit in years, accuse him of being down on the city. He also was galled, he says, by a calendar published last year that was filled with only lovely pictures of Detroit. "This is the view I see daily, that my neighbors see, and what the children see on their way to school," he says, holding up his calendar, which he sells for $1. All of the profits, he adds, go to buying security items for his elderly neighbors.


Since he began selling the calendars, Monning has received a few obscene calls and a steady stream of angry remarks from customers, who wonder why he is pushing such a gloomy vision of their city. But he is undaunted and promises to have his 1988 version ready soon.


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This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.


When I was in Virginia last week UVA photography professor William Wylie was in charge of looking out for me, and while I was waiting to talk to a group of students he showed me some of the equipment they use and a book of his photographs published last year, Carrara, which included some really lovely black and white photographs of the world-famous marble quarry at Carrara in Tuscany and a number of color portraits of the men who work there. When my wife and I were in Italy a few years ago her cousin from Lucca pointed out the quarries on a drive to the Cinque Terre, and he told us that the prized marble had been being extracted from the hills there since before the Roman times and that Michelangelo found the prized stone for his David there (I vaguely remembered some scene from a pre-adolescent reading of The Agony and the Ecstacy set in Carrara). Much of the late Roman forum was built of Carraran marble. And perhaps most importantly, at the beginning of the most recent James Bond movie, Bond drives his car through the quarries while avoiding the bad guys.

I recall William or someone else saying something about how the marble is nearly gone, and if so he has lovingly documented a dying industry. I really, really liked his portraits of the workers there. I have been working on a few portrait series myself behind the scenes here in Detroit and the work is much more challenging than the architectural stuff I usually do. I love the straight on, full-body portraits of the men in their work clothes, all of them coated with a fine patina of white marble dust. That's how my dad always looked after a day in the shop.

 These men are Italian, so of course there is some worthy fashion going on here (check out that pink shirt and the jaunty hat on the last guy). They sort of remind me of the early Sartorialist portraits, except these are guys I can actually admire (instead of wishing I could push them into an open manhole cover). Wylie uses an 8x10 camera and the quality and craftsmanship really shows in the actual prints. The marble makes one hell of a backdrop.

 

Spending weeks in the Tuscan countryside, eating, drinking, taking large-format photos of hunky Italian marble cutters in a historic location. . .how many times do you bet he's been asked how he got that gig?

Here's a short video he shot on location:




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This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.




I read some story a last week about a guy in the Pacific Northwest who maintains one of the last fleets of film photo booths around, and how the number of booths still operating nationwide was depressingly low. We were big fans of all the photo booths at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk and my wife lost a mitt full of our developed shots when she left her wallet in some Lebanese Restaurant years ago. So I was disappointed when I took the kids out to Marvin's Marvelous Mechanical Museum only to discover they sold their last film-based photo booth to some eccentric millionaire dressed all in red who took it with him when he moved to Nashville with his supermodel wife.  All they had was one of these digital booths that spits out a print in ten seconds and it's not even close to the same. At least Japanese purikura give you hello kitty-esque options. And this raggedy Mac camera application doesn't cut it either.

Then I read this morning that the Henry Ford museum is digitizing their photo collection and putting it on Flickr, starting with a promising collection of vintage photo booth portraits. I've wasted countless hours in the Library of Congress' digital photo archives and I love it when universities and smaller museums put their collections online, so I'm pretty excited about the Henry Ford doing this (I am a bit obsessive about Henry Ford lore so I hope some of his personal photos go up there). I hope they add to the photo booth collection as well.

Most of the people in these photos are anonymous; some are famous, or rich, or powerful, but you wouldn't know it from their faces. The photo booth is the great equalizer. It reminds us that to its unwavering eye we're all pretty much the same.




This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.







[click here to see the above photo in all its glory]

Dylan Vitone's massive 360 degree panoramas were the talk of the David Weinberg Gallery's opening in Chicago the other night, for good reason. The photos were so filled with life. I find some portrait photography to be forced and sometimes even exploitative, but Vitone's panoramas are so populated by beautiful people and the vibrant city itself that everyone was just walking around smiling. Most of the photos in the show were taken in Pittsburgh (one of my favorite American cities) and this one, in particular, made me want to try out the panorama effect in my dad's auto body shop (just for fun). Vitone's panoramas take hours to compose and sometimes contain the same subject more than once, even though they look like a 360 degree moment in time.

The show was really nice. I was the youngest and least-experienced of the three guys whose work was displayed. Jay Wolke's 1980s shots of life along the Dan Ryan expressway in Chicago , of course, were huge and beautiful and inspiring as well.




This blog is intended solely to share the things I come across that inspire me. If I have posted a copyrighted image, I have only done so to the extent necessary to comment upon or discuss it; I will always include a link to the original source of the image if that source is online or acknowledge the source if it is in print. If I have reproduced anything of yours here that is copyrighted and you want me to remove it, please do not hesitate to contact me and I will do so right away.