John and Jane Doe's

Photo: Arne Svenson

Photo: Arne Svenson

I love portraiture and history, both are about trying to get something right that concerns a certain amount of mystery- whether real, or imagined. It's never all that easy, and usually considerably harder than it ever even suggests. How much is ever really known, how much can ever be revealed?

History tries to solve the enigma through exhaustive research, documentation, personal accounts. Portraiture purportedly ties to reveal an inner mystery through overt physical appearance and gesture. Of course, either method concerning either genre is limited in both its scope and its ability to divulge any definitive, meaningful truth. But that never does stop anyone from trying...

Arne Svenson attracted a lot of attention for his essay on anonymous people photographed through the windows of their homes. But he's a lot more than just some perv with a camera as some people would have you think, and once you see his Unspeaking Likeness series, you begin to see the common theme of identity that runs through much of his work. These portraits are more than mere conjecture, they are based on recreations from actual physical evidence- and are probably more accurate in capturing their physical likeness than any photographic portrait is capable of capturing any (living) subject's "inner self."

Painting: Sarah Honan

Sarah Honan's Blink explores much the same ground, except from a painterly perspective, again addressing the mystery of persons unknown- people whose lives and histories have been lost to us, a nameless representation of their likeness all that remains of their earthly wanderings...

George Georgiou- Last Stop

Many of these photos from Last Stop lack the masterful compositions usually exhibited in a typical George Georgiou photograph, and for obvious reason- you can only compose so much from the vantage point of a moving bus. But what he does manage to capture is nevertheless testament to an unfailing eye which still devours all worth seeing despite the self imposed limitations.

Of course, he's far from the first to do such a bus assignment, Tom Wood's wonderful All Zones Off Peak being the first that comes to mind. But despite the firmly planted derriere, it's simply amazing just how many alluring dramas and curiosities he does manage to find out and about in the public commons. Did I mention I'm a sucker for accordion bound books?

Yet another this year on the if only I had money (book) list- we're only at the start of Spring, and they're already starting to pile up...

Water, $$$ & Western Civilization

“A new brand of dot.com millionaires and generally Silicon Valley money moved into San Francisco with bags full of cash and no manners and very little education in the great culture of Western civilization,” Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

We're currently in one of the worst (if not THE WORST) droughts in California history. Many a Californian municipality has already begun imposing serious water restrictions on it populace. But drought minimization efforts here in San Francisco range from non existent to absolute minimal. Could it possibly have something to do with all the construction cranes that have become ubiquitous throughout the city the past couple of years? Could it be because there's just so much money pouring in from all these recent high tech firms (both start ups and established) that no one wants to rock the boat in whatever puddle is left to rock? Would this most recent wave of high end $$$ look elsewhere if they heard that water access would be cut several hours a day? Of course, it makes little difference either way to the scores of homeless that literally litter our streets despite this plethora of high tech income.

And for 1/2 hr every Friday at lunch hour, you can see a regular handful of these dot.com, start up, millionaire wannabes deftly maneuvering around the homeless on the streets as they pick up latte cups and napkins off the city streets with their mechanical grabbing sticks. This is their officially sanctioned method of "giving back" to the city they've invaded, in return for which, San Francisco has bequeathed them with millions in tax incentives as they price local, long time residents out of home and... city.

Alec Soth's B&W Songbook Blast To The Past

Photo: Alec Soth

Most deja vu's seem unconsciously initiated, even though they are usually triggered by the most nuanced of external stimuli: a familiar scent or accent, a string of musical notes or peripheral sighting... Such was not the case upon seeing Alec Soth's prints from his latest book and endeavor named Songbook. It was as if I fell asleep in a Soho (NYC) photo gallery in the latter seventies, only to reawaken from my coma at The Fraenkel Gallery on the left coast in late winter 2015. The style, sensibility and content were definitely the most familiar of continuities, as if the color (let alone digital) revolution had never, ever taken place. Even some of the clothing styles in the photos (taken between 2012 and 2014) are eerily reminiscent of the seventies! The one thing that assured me that I had not entered some bizarre temporal rift were the post eighties, wall sized prints.

Photo: Alec Soth

Of course, Mr. Soth, who was born in '69, is a tad young to have experienced the gallery scene back in the day, though I'm sure he's familiar with the work produced then. I had seen, and was quite impressed, by some of his earlier B&W work, and his latest stuff most definitely does not disappoint. It has a primeval vitality that is absent in his color work (good as that is)- isn't it supposed to be the other way around? I find much of his color work more... contemplative. But his B&W stuff jumps! All sorts of things seem to be going on behind the scenes that we're not quite privy too: humor, confusion, spontaneity- life! In one shot a house seems about to be engulfed and devoured by massive, eerily advancing vegetation; in another, the most beautiful (and threatening) of billowing cloud banks is about to swallow an unsuspecting motel whole. There's a reason these photos celebrate the small time scenarios of daily life- everyday life is not always to be trusted.

Photo: Alec Soth

Addendum: With Mr. Soth being who he is in the great pantheon of all things current- could this, maybe, possibly be the unwitting harbinger of the ages that finally catapults The Great B&W Revival that never was and was always meant to be? Will a great legion of imitators and innovators alike finally rally to the hallowed silver halide round table of monochromatic imagery? Maybe, possibly (not)...

'71

One of the best "war is hell" flicks ever- and in my All Time Top 20 Movies. All traces of war rhetoric sentimentality are left at the Hollywood door; no right and wrong, no justice, truth or grand ideologies. Everyone gets turned into something they don't wanna be, save for those who already started as such. When everything around you is compromised, everyone on every side is expendable.

So we're left to deal with the uneasy realization that we create our own problems, and contrary to present day mythology- shooting our way out just prolongs and worsens them. Super heroes do not save the day, no miracle man vanquishes the evil doers with his magic gun. And we never do learn...

You Will Be (So) Missed...

Because what other journalist, news anchor, or reporter will ever rise (or even possibly ever aspire) to this level of humor, honesty and truth to power???

Genesis- Erratum

It's been pointed out to me (see commentary) that Vale Mining Co did not fund Salgado during the shooting of his Genesis project (alas, my staff has failed me again). Obviously, I was in complete error in that assertion.  Vale helped fund his exhibit at The Natural History Museum.

So let's be clear...

Who owns and has ultimate control of his work? Who could have told the Natural History Museum to go screw themselves should they even consider accepting blood money from such an organization? And finally, who willingly gave his blessing to- and then defended Vale?

Here we have a major name artist and so called environmental activist openly embracing and further advancing and legitimizing this most brazen form of greenwashing. Imagine, had he said- "Not on my watch, not with my work!" His exhibition would have gone on regardless, smaller in size perhaps, or in another venue- but the publicity alone from his refusal to play along with those despoiling and poisoning our planet for greed and profit would have sent a resounding message reverberating worldwide on how individuals and institutions should lead, instead of falter.

The Salt Of The Earth vs. Sebastião Salgado

OK, OK! So I am no doubt at least partly to blame, I'm the one who put Salgado on the god like pedestal, for all that he has shown and taught us photographically, concerning not only the human condition, but the state of the entire planet. I'm the one old enough to know better; no one is perfect- we're all mortal and flawed and sinful and weak... And I was also wrong when I said that Burtynsky should have been more openly critical of the giants of industry and commerce that he so famously documented in Manufactured Landscapes. Truth is, had he been so, he would have never been granted the access necessary to photograph in the first place- and the resulting images would have never even seen the light of day, let alone spoken as loudly as they did. 

But goddang, Sebastião! Now, whenever I hear your hallowed name, think of the spectacular work you have produced, the eyes and minds you have awakened- the grand legacy you sought to so gloriously immortalize will forever be tainted and marred by the rationalizations of such lesser men. I don't know what the budget was for Genesis, but maybe if you had taken one less helicopter ride, had your book weighed one pound less- had your exhibition prints measured in feet, rather than... meters, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't have had to accept money from Satan himself in the guise of Vale Mining ("a Brazilian mining corporation that in 2012 was voted the worst company for human rights and environmental credentials")! For in doing so, your work has not only documented what man has wrought upon this once great planet, it also explains how all of us, great and small, have contributed to that destruction- be it in full knowledge, sheer ignorance or absolute denial...   Update: Erratum...

Back In The Day...

A Boy and His Dog  (aka- Stan & Bob);  Photo: © S. Banos

One often looks back on one's youth through a nostalgic haze that conveniently filters out the negative- until you cut through the haze and start remembering in earnest. Moving into NYC (even from its outer boroughs) would mark a definitive milestone in anyone's life, it most definitely did in mine. It was 1980, the height of the Punk/New Wave scene, and New York still had a coupla remaining years before being meteorically launched into warp speed gentrification. 

The New Year's Eve photo that will never be surpassed, Studio 54- Photo: © Tod Papageorge

Thirteen in '69, I desperately craved to participate in my own version of The Sixties (which really started in '63 and ended in '72), but had well given up as the mid seventies devolved into a "modern" version of the '50s- the advent of disco pretty much signalling the final death knell. And then, a funny thing happened at the end of the decade, this thing called... Punk. And all of a sudden there was this crazy energy out on the streets again. No, it wasn't the unavoidable, universal sea change of the sixties; it was on a much smaller scale, but there nonetheless, if you chose to acknowledge it- in all its pre-digital, unconnected wonder!

New York was still in its post Gerald Ford, Drop Dead doldrums- ads in the Village Voice still advertised 3rm apts in Alphabet City/Loisaida renting for $650 (with the understood agreement that anything you were foolish enough to move in would be automatically removed free of charge), a heroin renaissance was still to occur, and crack had yet to be invented. Williamsburg was still Hasidic and/or Puerto Rican and nowhere near hipsterdom- in fact, anyone from the outlying boroughs was condescendingly referred to as "Bridge and Tunnel." This was also the time when you could walk out unto any East Village street on any given day and see the likes of Quentin Crisp, Afrika Bambaataa, The Beastie Boys or any of thousands of indie rock celebrities and wannabes. Robert Frank drunkenly burned original prints from The Americans in his loft on the Bowery, Alex Harsley held shop at The 4th St. Photo Gallery, and Hip Hop was about to spill from the Bronx and invade the the rest of NYC, the nation and the world.

Photo: © Ken Schles- who & where to go for more of a sense of the period...

Of course, this last ditch reverberation of The Sixties could not possibly endure unabated; it too would implode, and  by 1985- the tsunami called gentrification, fueled by unbridled greed, crack and mass Madonna commercialization inevitably dawned and triumphed. And just as jellyfish are now consuming the earth's vast oceans filling the void once occupied by fish- bodegas and local, centuries old Lower East Side storefronts were replaced, seemingly overnight, by a plague like torrent of small art galleries whose owners saw and promoted not art, but their own dreams of $$$ and art world stardom. Within a year, most would not even linger long enough to become memories, replaced by... upscale boutiques- it would never be quite like Paris.

The look Madonna popularized the world over... several years before she appropriated it; London,  Photo: © S. Banos

Youth would expend its final, semi-glorious gasp, my dog would soon depart- and New York, of course, has always had a way of cashing in on one's dreams, sweat and determination... and crushing them all the same. The photo biz (like everything else both seen and/or imagined in this town) was incredibly cut throat and competitive even then, I wanted no part of that hustle and would soon embark on a Special Ed career that would well occupy my time for years to come in Harlem and Oakland, CA when I made the move to the Left Coast. Marriage, a blog, pet cemeteries and the dawdling years of middle age awaited...

Everything You Know About Drugs Is Wrong...

Yeah, pretty much everything... from the way they affect our minds and bodies individually, to the way they affect society as a whole. We've created and perpetuated so many long standing myths about drugs, that we've come to believe them as basic truths. See how quickly they dissipate into disrepute when held to the light of the most basic of scrutiny...

Will straighten ya out right quick!

Taking The Heat

Gotta give the guy his props- dead wrong as he may be. Unlike others who only spring to "action" from the comfort of the internet where they can bully in anonymity- this guy's at least willing to stand and take the heat on his own. Something to be said for that...

Photo: © S. Banos

Photo: © S. Banos

Photo: © S. Banos

Photo: © S. Banos

The Face of Arrogance- Personified

  

Come on, look at that mug- would he try to deceive you??? 

How Good Ol' Boys...

...remind someone that he's only the "House N'##@r."

How Much Would You Pay?

Photo from Self-Publish Be Happy by Lucas Blalock

For this masterfully done book brimming with photographic art and originality...
How 'bout $83.00?

Lucas Blalock. Self-Publish Be Happy, 2015.

Lucas Blalock. Self-Publish Be Happy, 2015.

Self-Publish Be Happy (SPBH) Book Club Vol. VII by Lucas Blalock. Self-Publish Be Happy, 2015. - See more at: http://blog.photoeye.com/2015/03/book-of-week-pick-by-remi-faucheux.html?utm_source=photo-eye&utm_campaign=7153e953d0-API_Newsletter_Volume_2_Number_167_24_2014&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_867a4f7ae2-7153e953d0-87968493#sthash.ZoPV47Pi.dpuf

Self-Publish Be Happy (SPBH) Book Club Vol. VII by Lucas Blalock. Self-Publish Be Happy, 2015. - See more at: http://blog.photoeye.com/2015/03/book-of-week-pick-by-remi-faucheux.html?utm_source=photo-eye&utm_campaign=7153e953d0-API_Newsletter_Volume_2_Number_167_24_2014&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_867a4f7ae2-7153e953d0-87968493#sthash.ZoPV47Pi.dpuf

Important Analog Firmware Update!

Least, that's what I call... Daylight Savings Time! For those of us still operating with a set ISO, one that does not extend into six figures, that extra hour of daylight is one helluva glorious thing... Welcome back!!!

Leviathan

The setting is the hinterlands of Putin's present day Russia. Cold, corrupt, brutal. Save for the raw, minimalist beauty of the surrounding seaside, the reality is- it could be a lot of places throughout human history...

They say you don't see and think straight when you're depressed. One of the biggest, all time lies we constantly tell each other- just to keep each other going. When we're down and out, we basically see things as they are, stripped of unrealistic hopes or pretension- when we're not, we merrily look the other way. Most times, things don't get particularly better; for many... luck, life itself, means they just keep going.

In many places, Russia being one of them, if you don't have the connections, the money, the privilege- your existence is merely circumstantial...

Speaking Of Inequality...

  

 There's always an underlying reason, or two, or... when the pot blows!

The Scourge Of Inequality

Fukushima- Antoine d'Gata

Had I the money, Fukushima by Antoine d'Gata would be on my get NOW list... One thorough, photographic synopsis of our world in microcosm- past, present and future at the dawn of the 21st century. A B&W time capsule fully cataloging the folly that is mankind.

The Face Of Ignorance

Whether it's White Supremacist Nazis burning books, or Jihadi crazed fundamentalists- this is what IGNORANCE looks like... and it always leads to, is concurrent with, was preceded by, a blatant disregard for the value and sanctity of life itself.