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…ya don’t saaaay…

dogs
by Elke Volgelsang

From an interview with the photographer (with more photos):

Dogs are funny characters. They find pleasure in the most mundane things. My dogs are my joy, inspiration and constant source of laughter, though they can be shy and sad as well. They have also comforted me in bad times—dogs have all the emotions that human beings have.

I try to explore the emotional, funny, quirky side of dogs and dog photography. I would definitely say that they enrich my life, and I hope I can at least give them back half of what they give us. It’s an homage to dogs, life and photography.

 

 

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Madame Schröedinger’s Cat, 1998
Duane Michals, photographer

From the series, Quantum, via Carnegie Museum of Art

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via My Modern Met:

Taken in the 1920s, the photos present Kahlo—who was born in 1907—as a young woman…these rare, earlier photographs help us to fill in the gaps and and see the artist like we’ve never seen her before.

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greenwich village, nyc
photo © Craig Bagno (bagnostian)

Working from home these days…missing the pack…following the muse…

For all artists – ways to improve your artistic vision – from photographer and teacher, Robert Rodriquez, Jr.:

Let go of identification and labeling. Learn to see the world as color, masses, values, shapes and edges.

 Develop a curious mind. Cultivate a childlike awareness and freedom, as if you have never seen nature before.

 Understand your own personal visual biases, those objects and colors that you notice and those that you tend to ignore.

 Study the art of others, especially painters. Try to understand their compositional choices and how they establish their focal point.

 Practice developing a vigilant eye. Always look for artistic potential wherever you are.

 Study light and all it’s variations; warm, cool, side, front, back, reflected, and diffused.

 Work to improve and sharpen your visual literacy. Learn to identify what separates a captivating image from a technically proficient image.

 Forget making masterpieces, learn to value practice.

Excellent advice from an incredible artist…

Robert Rodriguez, Jr.Robert Rodriquez, Jr.

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I can see the weekend from my house!

marsder san juan islandsSan Juan Islands       © Derrick Lin

See more at Derrick Lin’s Instagram

oxford circusTongue at Oxford Circus        © Bob Mazzer

Second week into new job…deep in the woods…posting light…

[more on photographer Bob Mazzer here]

…and if you haven’t figured it out already, I’ll be sleeping in:

© Jeff Kopito

He was always in a sharp suit or tux. Regularly at the Met Gala or the Council of Fashion Designers of America Awards to support his wife. Never caught stumbling out of the hot club at 4 a.m. He’d already been to a lifetime’s worth of parties.

He read a lot. He collected art. He painted. He and Iman socialized with the parents of their daughter’s friends at school. He spent his remaining time meaningfully and productively, and largely here.

He understood that in our minds we all held a picture of David Bowie, or Ziggy, or the Thin White Duke. It allowed him to walk among us disguised as himself, David Jones.

– excerpted from David Bowie: Invisible New Yorker
The New York Times, 1/17/16

bowie NYT 2David Bowie outside the Carlyle Hotel on the Upper East Side, circa 1980.
Credit Art Zelin/Getty Images

Post-eulogies…it was this photo that did it for me…famous, anonymous, style & elegance…

Only the Dead Know Brooklyn
by
Thomas C. Wolfe
(excerpt)

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“You come wit me,” I says. So when we gets onto duh train I says to him, “Where yuh goin’ out in Bensonhoist?” I says. “What numbeh are yuh lookin’ for?” I says. You know – I t’ought if he told me duh address I might be able to help him out.

“Oh,” he says, “I’m not lookin’ for no one. I don’t know no one out deh.”

“Then whatcha goin’ out deh for?” I says.

“Oh,” duh guy says, “I’m just goin’ out to see duh place,” he says. “I like duh sound of duh name – Bensonhoist, y’know – so I t’ought I’d go out an’ have a look at it.”

“Whatcha tryin’ t’hand me?” I says. “Whatcha tryin’ t’do – kid me?” You know, I t’ought duh guy was bein’ wise wit me.

“No,” he says. “I’m tellin’ yuh duh troot. I like to go out an’ take a look at places wit nice names like dat. I like to go out an’ look at all kinds of places,” he says.

“How’d yuh know deh was such a place,” I says, “if yuh neveh been deh befoeh?”

“Oh,” he says, “I got a map.”

“A map?” I says.

“Sure,” he says, “I got a map dat tells me about all dese places. I take it wit me every time I come out heah,” he says.

And Jesus! Wit dat, he pulls it out of his pocket, an’ so help me, but he’s got it – he’s tellin’ duh troot – a big map of duh whole goddam place with all duh different pahts mahked out. You know – Canarsie an’ East Noo Yawk an’ Flatbush, Bensonhoist, Sout’ Brooklyn, duh Heights, Bay Ridge, Greenpernt – duh whole goddam layout, he’s got it right deh on duh map.

“You been to any of dose places?” I says.

“Sure,” he says. “I been to most of ‘em. I was down in Red Hook just last night,” he says.

“Jesus! Red Hook!” I says. “Whatcha do down deh?”

“Oh,” he says, “nuttin’ much. I just walked aroun’. I went into a coupla places an’ had a drink,” he says, “but most of the time I just walked aroun’.”

“Just walked aroun’?” I says.

“Sure,” he says, “just lookin’ at t’ings, y’know.”

“Where’d yuh go?” I asts him.

“Oh,” he says, “I don’t know duh name of duh place, but I could find it on my map,” he says. “One time I was walkin’ across some big fields where deh ain’t no houses,” he says, “but I could see ships oveh deh all lighted up. Dey was loadin’. So I walks across duh fields,” he says, “to where duh ships are.”

“Sure,” I says, “I know where you was. You was down to duh Erie Basin.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I guess dat was it. Dey had some of dose big elevators an’ cranes an’ dey was loadin’ ships, an’ I could see some ships in drydock all lighted up, so I walks across duh fields to where dey are,” he says.

“Den what did yuh do?” I says.

“Oh,” he says, “nuttin’ much. I came on back across duh fields after a while an’ went into a coupla places an’ had a drink.”

“Didn’t nuttin’ happen while yuh was in dere?” I says.

“No,” he says. “Nuttin’ much. A coupla guys was drunk in one of duh places an’ started a fight, but dey bounced ‘em out,” he says, “an’ den one of duh guys stahted to come back again, but duh bartender gets his baseball bat out from under duh counteh, so duh guy goes on.”

“Jesus!” I said. “Red Hook!”

“Sure,” he says. “Dat’s where it was, all right.”

“Well, you keep outa deh,” I says. “You stay away from deh.”

“Why?” he says. “What’s wrong wit it?”

“Oh,” I says, “it’s a good place to stay away from, dat’s all. It’s a good place to keep out of.”

“Why?” he says. “Why is it?”

Jesus! Whatcha gonna do wit a guy as dumb as that! I saw it wasn’t no use to try to tell him nuttin’, he wouldn’t know what I was talkin’ about, so I just says to him, “Oh, nuttin’. Yuh might get lost down deh, dat’s all.”

“Lost?” he says. “No, I wouldn’t get lost. I got a map,” he says.

A map! Red Hook! Jesus!

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davidson_brooklyn gangNew York City. 1959. Brooklyn Gang
photo by Bruce Davidson

[Short story originally published in The New Yorker,June 15, 1935…read it all over at the Southern Cross Review…]

© Bill Israel

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