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Not only has Larry Fink got a blog (or his assistant has?!) he also wants your help naming his forthcoming book on celebrity.

Kate Winslet, Oscars 2009. © Larry Fink

Edmund Clark who I’ve mentioned before here, here and here, was named in the Photolucida 2009 Critical Mass Top 50.

Statement:

“I am trying to see through the eyes of these men to look for images in their surroundings in Guantanamo and their post-prison homes … which explore themes of imprisonment or entrapment, and which contrast the humanity of domestic life with the demonised representations of them that were used to justify their treatment.”

and

“The narrative is confused and unsettled as the viewer is asked to jump from prison camp detail to domestic still life to naval base and back again … [and] to explore the legacy of disturbance such an experience has in the minds and memories of these men.”

© Edmund Clark. Ex-Prisoner Home: Censored letter from daughter brought back from Guantanamo.

© Rene Burri/Magnum Photos. Brazil. Sao Paulo. 1960 / Back of print.

I spent last week on the phone to Mark Lubell, managing director of Magnum Photos; David Coleman, curator of photography at the Harry Ransom Center; and Eli Reed, photographer, Magnum member and UT professor.

The upshot was The Story Behind the Legendary Magnum Archive Sale, an article over on Wired’s Raw File blog.

There’s a couple of great quotes, my favourite is this from Coleman, “The boxes are marked with three-initial codes. I haven’t quite broken the codes that correspond to all the photographers. Robert Capa is CAR but then also BOB, which is funny. Bob.”

It was a story I really wanted to report on because I do think this is an astounding “incentivized” outcome for all involved. Read the article for details.

I do still wonder what will happen in 2015, though?

Source

I just came across one of Rigo‘s works in a book about prisons, but I can’t find it online so I wanted to share that which I could find.

I wondered if Rigo had done anything else. Turns out he has and he’s passionate about criminal justice abuses. Aside of his piece above in support of Mumia Abu Jamal*, Rigo has done works to rally support for America’s other most famous political prisoner, Leonard Peltier*.

Rigo also painted TRUTH (2002), an epic mural on Market Street in San Francisco, which I used to cycle past most days a without knowing its reason for being. It commemorates the 2001 quashed conviction of Robert H. King, one of the Angola 3, after 32 years of incarceration, 29 of which were spent in solitary confinement.

(Source)
* Yes, I know I could have chosen from thousands of links for Mumia and Peltier, but I chose their Twitter profiles with my eyes open to how bizarre it is. I have wondered if we live in a post-revolutionary world in which our radicals are reduced to blips of 140 characters, but then I figure the famous and infamous of the past have always survived on soundbites. I guess I ask that you use Mumia’s and Peltier’s Twitter feeds as one of many starting points for learning about their cases.

 

In November, Daniel Shea published the first offerings of his Baltimore series. As subjects go, the people and objects within America’s industrial-urban cities are common, but Shea’s edit had enough variance that I took note.

By studying people writ large and small in their environments, photographers such as Mark Steinmetz and Paul Graham have produced monographs in the past year that tread this familiar territory without repeating past sentiment.

Shea has prevailed in a tough domain; the two most common elements of photography being people and the street, it is difficult to create something that is novel to the viewer AND faithful to the subject.

My problem with much contemporary American photography is that it is rarely geographically anchored. Of course the monotony of elements within the great American conurbation is an identified problem many photographers have paid particular attention to – mainly through the adoption of typology.

Shea was thinking differently. He thought of his subject in terms of the tableaux and when you see the bent telegraph pole you can’t help but think of Hogarth’s upturned chiars.

Despite Shea’s uncertainty. I think he has created something unique, whether it is something Baltimore is yours to debate.

Q & A

Outside of its own region, Baltimore is one of the least well-known and least-recognised American cities … and now it is the least well-known American city to feature in The Wire. My first question, why Baltimore?

I lived in Baltimore for five years, four years going to school, and one year teaching. A few months before I moved to Chicago, it occurred to me that I had never done an extensive photography project about Baltimore.

This project started with a very simple premise. I wanted to apply the loose narrative style I was developing in other bodies of work to Baltimore. However, originally I was interested in removing all overt political undertones and topical-driven readings to create images that clearly demonstrated the process. The process was also simple, walk around, talk to strangers, find objects and situations that presented themselves as interesting and/or sublime, etc. In other words, one of the most basic ways photography is used.

Why is the project ongoing?

Before moving, I worked on this for about three months. At that point I had an edit that felt too rushed and too simple. I realized Baltimore had many interesting elements that needed to be considered more carefully. In the summer of 2009, I revisited the city, this time shooting large format and considering the landscape as a tableaux. Additionally, I was shooting on the fly, continuing to interact with people and following my instincts. With a new edit after that trip, I feel like I’m finally comfortable with the narrative that I’m developing. In the next month (March, 2010) I’m headed back to photograph again.

What sort of reactions did you get from your subjects?

The interaction normally begins with my quick line – what I’m working on and why I’m interested in photographing people. Sometimes I just talk to people about the same everyday shit we all talk about. When I feel it’s appropriate, I’ll simply take someone’s photograph without asking. People are overwhelmingly willing to participate. I end up talking to a lot of people about their history in Baltimore.

How do you hope your narrative of Baltimore will crystallize over time?

I don’t have strict political intentions. There are people much more suited for delivering a guided narrative of Baltimore to the public, like David Simon and the writers of The Wire.

That being said, I am interested in saying something specific, and I’m on the verge of figuring out what that is exactly. It feels much more philosophical than political.

Could you be taking photos like these in any American urban area?

This is a great question and something I ask myself every time I’m out shooting or editing these photographs. I strongly believe in the responsibility of authorship, especially when people are paying attention to what you are doing.

Here’s the problem with this series: the photographs feel place-specific to me, and I don’t know if these details are effectively rendered. Baltimore subtly expresses its character in ways that I hope to capture in the images, but I don’t know if that will translate to a larger audience.

Lately I’ve been photographing impoverished, underserved, etc areas of Chicago for a much more politically driven project about food, and when I was showing some of my friends the images, they jokingly suggested that I slipped some of them in the Baltimore series.

By focusing wholly on the decaying element of an urban environment (which, as a side note, caters so nicely to my misanthropy), it’s easy to see the work as commentary on the social infrastructure of inner city America. That’s why the people are important in this series. The people in the series are nurtured by Baltimore. And some of the landscapes have really conflicting elements, and that too feels very specific. People who look at a lot of photography will understand that this is about Baltimore because I made it, but I still have to account for a larger audience.

Is this a project about poverty?

By default, of course. I think about poverty constantly. I’ve worked in several inner city schools, and as an outsider, I understand the perverse effects of living in poverty. It’s profound stuff. In terms of fixating causes to oppressions, we can quantify poverty as the most crippling and baseline element. Baltimore is at large a city affected by poverty, and it would be impossible for me to avoid taking pictures that reference poverty’s long-standing determination.

The other side to this is of course the fact that poverty doesn’t need to be the defining element in a project about inner-city America, a pitfall that sometimes feels hard to avoid.

[My underlining]

PART THREE IN A SERIES OF POSTS DISCUSSING PHOTOGRAPHERS’ ACTIONS AND RESPONSES TO THE KILLING OF FABIENNE CHERISMA IN PORT-AU-PRINCE, HAITI ON THE 19TH JANUARY 2010.

Michael Mullady just gave an interview to CALIBER SF, the second half of which reflects upon his recent experience in Haiti.

The image atop the interview is of Fabienne Cherisma, the 15 year old girl shot dead by police in Port-au-Prince. I have talked about the circumstances and the photographing of her death here and here before.

In addition to Garcia-Rawlins, Grarup and Laban-Mattei, I did not know that Mullady had also followed her corpse down the street.

Warning: The image is graphic. It is so close in. I should’ve offered the same caveat in my earlier posts. The more I deconstruct the images of – and pass on information surrounding Fabienne’s death – the more I feel like an intruder into a scene that should never have been.

WORDS

Read Mullady’s interview

Mullady talks generally about his career and then moves on to talk frankly about why he went to Haiti (last minute), how he wasn’t prepared for it, and how he now has a commitment to telling the stories of Haitians in the “immediate future”. He offers observations on the social/security fabric of Port-au-Prince.

On Fabienne:

“One day while covering the situation, a young girl was shot just a few feet from where I was standing. People had jumped onto a collapsed building and were running over roofs to get inside stores were merchandise was buried. It was a split decision, but I decided to follow the people to get more intimate images. Putting myself into that situation was possibly something I should have thought more about. In the moment, getting the photograph was all I was thinking about, not my life. That bullet could have been in my head. It was that serious. The cops were not looking at who was in the crowd, they were just shooting. To think I could have lost my life in an instant is terrifying. That day I realized the dangers of working in hostile situations as a journalist and that any day could be your last. When I saw that girl laying on the ground and the agony on her families face, I thought about my own family and the agony I put them through every time I leave the country to work. I never want my parents to have to go through losing there only son. That situation impacted me very deeply and I have yet to speak to anyone in detail about it, you guys are the first. I will share one of my images from that day with you guys.”

On Jim Nachtwey?!:

“I always admired James Nachtwey. Believe it or not, I actually got to meet him in Haiti. It was surreal to look over one-day and see him working next to me. Wow.  I couldn’t believe it was really him. Everything I had dreamed about and strived towards became real in that moment. He was no longer a golden god in my eyes but a colleague, working to illustrate the same situation I was.”

On the day-to-day situation:

“The way I see things in Haiti is very different then I imagine you guys to see it through the news. Aid is here, but there are so many people in need and not everyone is receiving proper attention. Things have definitely positively progressed, but it’s going to take more time to help everyone in need.”

“Haiti is plagued by corruption. I have witnessed it first-hand, police stealing aid supplies and keeping them for themselves or selling them to wealthy people. This type of thing is a reality in Haiti. I’ve seen it on many occasions.”

“Before the earthquake, Haiti was in a bad situation so after this I fear for their future. Many Haitians whom I’ve spoken with express they want to become and American colony, such as Puerto Rico. Being an American, it’s been difficult to answer those questions for people and even more difficult knowing that if I told them what I really thought, it would not be what they wanted to hear.”

CLOSING THOUGHTS

Mullady’s candour is to be acknowledged. He could do to turn-down the Nachtwey-worship, though.

After reading the article and seeing the picture, however, I cannot shake his earlier quote:

“Many people believe photojournalists to not be artists and consider other genres of photography to be “art.” What I strive to do is bleed these lines. First and foremost, I would consider myself an artist, a visual artist whose subject matter is humanity. I live for light, obsess over sophisticated compositions and spend as much time as needed to make the exact frame I’m envisioning. A large distinction is that I intend to make images for the world to see, via publications, not images just to hang on a wall.”

Is to “bleed the lines” an incontestable perspective on one’s photojournalism? What happens when one is framing a composition of a murdered teenager? Has this perspective been more common than we’d like to acknowledge in recent images of Haiti?

– – –

ALSO IN THE ‘PHOTOGRAPHING FABIENNE’ SERIES

Part One: Fabienne Cherisma (Initial inquiries, Jan Grarup, Olivier Laban Mattei)
Part Two: More on Fabienne Cherisma (Carlos Garcia Rawlins)

Part Four: Yet more on Fabienne Cherisma (Linsmier, Nathan Weber)
Part Five: Interview with Edward Linsmier
Part Six: Interview with Jan Grarup
Part Seven: Interview with Paul Hansen
Part Eight: Interview with Michael Winiarski
Part Nine: Interview with Nathan Weber
Part Ten: Interview with James Oatway
Part Eleven: Interview with Nick Kozak
Part Twelve: Two Months On (Winiarski/Hansen)
Reporter Rory Carroll Clarifies Some Details
Part Fourteen: Interview with Alon Skuy
Part Fifteen: Conclusions

Chris Jordan. Prison Uniforms, 2007. Installed at the Von Lintel Gallery, NY, June 2007.

Chris Jordan‘s populist brand of socio-enviro-photography deserves our respect. The skills necessary to direct (what I presume) is a team to composite his images, is small fries compared to his ability to sell his brand. He brings to surface issues as varied as breast augmentation for teenagers, deaths by smoking, prescription drug overdoses and airline plastic cup wastage.

Jordan argues that all these issues are tied together by our collective denial and connected by our search for a global view obscured by the massive numbers (billions, trillions) which we cannot realistically fathom. Jordan reckons his illustrations help us feel, and thus have us consider and alter own behaviours.

Critics would say that Jordan plucks issues at will, and given their variance, he might just be a fraud. Aren’t we supposed to specialise in our advocacy? Don’t we pick one topic?

I’d be sympathetic to this view if I thought Jordan was picking the latest cause célèbre, but he isn’t. Jordan represented the 2.3million US prisoners with 2.3million prison uniforms (I discussed this before).

Prison reform has never been sexy. Prisoners rights are rarely considered and that is because many of us suspend our emotions toward those put behind bars. Heck, even rape is considered humorous when it is put in a prison setting.

Whatever your take on Jordan’s craft and motives, his research and discussion of issues is passionately informed. For me, most of the time Jordan trumps my cynical view that he’s just selling a cute visual idea.

The closing two minutes of this well-circulated TEDtalk is convincing enough. Yet, I’d forgive people who thought of him as a sellout.

Jordan’s assertion that US citizens are in denial about their prison system is dead on.

Thanks to Stephen Sidlo for the reminder of Jordan’s work.

EMAIL

prisonphotography [at] gmail [dot] com

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