dimanche 27 juin 2010

Leon Levinstein

Joueurs de hand-ball, Lower East Side, New York, 1950s-60s

"A good photograph will prove to the viewer how little our eyes permit us to see. Most people only see what they've always seen and what they expect to see. Whereas a photographer, if he's good, will see everything."
Ecouter une interview (1988) dans laquelle il parle de son travail.

samedi 26 juin 2010

Katie Orlinsky

Oaxaca, Mexique, 6 novembre 2006.
Son site ici

Aneta Kowalczyk

D'autres photos ici

Rodney Smith

Son portfolio ici

Margaret M. de Lange

George Tice

"In viewing his photographs, one realizes the sustained effort and mastery of process, the infinity of experimentation, that must have preceded their making... George Tice ranks as one of the foremost photographers of his generation."

Harvey Fondiller, Popular Photography.

D'autres photos ici

jeudi 24 juin 2010

György Stalter

Budapest, 1984
Sometimes there is much talk about Gypsies, but usually they are enveloped in silence. Their existence is a burden for everyone: for teachers, neighbors, for politicians. Whether we want to "elevate, integrate or assimilate” or to liquidate, segregate or regulate them, the discourse is always about them and not with them.
We always know just what the problem is: there are too many of them; they are different; they are strange, they don’t follow our moral codes, they are workshirkers, they are criminals – shall we go on with the list? We don’t know what they want, how they want to live. In Gypsy classes, in huts on the outskirts of villages, in prison, on state benefits?
Or do they perheps have desires like we do? Or are they really so unalterably different? How many times have we run around the same lap, and for how many centuries have they been running?...
It is painful to realize how much we, the so called majority, are not present in these photos. Everything there belongs to the Roma – the house, the pullover, the goat, all the absences. Gypsyland. It only seems to be a part of the segment of time and space called Hungary. It is another country, another towns, another Budapest: our Hungary is not like this. And yet our Hungary is like this.
This Gypsyland is in our Hungary, nevertheless, we visit it as foreigners. We watch and observe its inhabitants, a shocked group of tourists, while they look through us. They don’t see us as we tiptoe through their empty rooms, they don’t hear our sighs, our hushed greetings.We can’t leave our words there – how could we, without credibility, validity or meaning?
Gradually everything emigrates from Gypsyland, and only the people remain.
They don’t have anything to say to us, but they did have something for the photographers: flower, cooking-stove, portable stereo, wife, kids. Heavy, simple sentences.
The gestures in front of the camera contain neither accusations, nor desires. All they have is certainty, wisdom and recognition. Peace. These people are beyond their Gypsyness. It is merely an ID card. A brown stamp that keeps and detains them in Gypsyland. But they are more than this: they are proud, happy, exhausted, sad, in love. If only we knew just this much about them, the days of Gysyland would be counted …
György Kerényi

Tony Ray-Jones

Wormwood Scrubs Fair, London, 1967

Tony Ray-Jones (1941-1972), whose photographic career spanned only one decade, defined a new way of looking at his own society — with irony, nostalgia, compassion and humor. He was prolific in his short 10 years, and his point of view exerted an enormous influence on the development of British documentary art photography from the 1970s through the present.
Ray-Jones stated that his aim as a photographer was to capture the specific British aura, the nostalgic potential and surreal humor in ordinary situations. (Lens Culture)

jeudi 10 juin 2010

Larry Wiese

Sans-titre, Long Beach, CA, 2005. Image de la série "Menschen"

"My photography doesn’t define what I do, rather it defines how I think. My work has been characterized as dark, gothic, moody and somewhere along the line as "neo-pictorialist". Someone once remarked that to understand my work was to understand the differences between Vivaldi and Wagner. What my work "is" or where it "fits in" doesn’t really concern me.

Sans-titre, Santa Monica, 2008. Image de la série "Mask"

"My photographs are metaphorical, they are from my imagination. They reflect the way I see and feel about those things which arouse my curiosity and imagination. Each of you may see and feel something different, this is as it should be. I feel there’s little value in "art-speak", self-indulgent analysis or pseudo-intellectual rhetoric. Venturing beyond the mere emotion of seeing and feeling, and attempting to understand what was intended or meant to be or is or isn’t, is irrelevant, it is the viewer who, after all, makes the final determination of meaning."

Sans-titre, Seal Beach, 2007. Image de la série "Recall"
D'autres images sur son site

Giacomo Brunelli

Robert Bergman

Lire une conversation de John Yau avec Robert Bergman dans The Brookly Rail

samedi 5 juin 2010

jeudi 3 juin 2010

Robert Doisneau

Un regard oblique, Robert Doisneau, 1948 pour Life magazine.

“The photograph appears to give a certain prominence to a woman’s look. Both the title of the photograph and its organization of space indicate that the real site of scopophilic power is on the margins of the frame. The man is not centered; in fact, he occupies a very narrow space on the extreme right of the picture. Nevertheless, it is his gaze which defines the problematic of the photograph; it is his gaze which effectively erases that of the woman. Indeed, as subject of the gaze, the woman looks intently. But not only is the object of her look concealed from the spectator, her gaze is encased by the two poles defining masculine axis of vision. Fascinated by nothing visible — a blankness or void for the spectator — unanchored by a ‘sight’ (there is nothing ‘proper’ to her vision — save, perhaps, the mirror), the female gaze is left free-floating, vulnerable to subjection. The faint reflection in the shop window of only the frame of the picture at which she is looking serves merely to rearticulate, en abyme, the emptiness of her gaze, the absence of her desire in representation." Mary Ann Doane