Wednesday, December 16, 2009

My Projects

Mapping


I cannot read a map, so ever since my parents were no longer leading my excursions I have hit up gas stations to tell me where to go.

Maps are impossible, Mapquest imperfect, pedestrians misleading, but gas station attendants are spot on with directions. In fact they do more than give you the most straightforward run down of lefts, rights, straights and street names; they give you a little taste for the area’s flavor. Maybe, in order to clarify directions, the attendant will reference some monument or billboard, a piece of the landscape that would have otherwise gone unnoticed had Mapquest been the guide. Or perhaps their voice will be the first you’ve heard of the local accent and their manner different from what you know.

The station can also give you an impression of the area. In Massachusetts, at least, people must really be into truffles because they are always sitting there for you to grab when checking out.

Although I’m limited to traveling in areas where the gas stations are plentiful, at least I can take a little more away from a place than I would have by using a map.

I wanted to pay homage to the gas clerks and the experience that allows me to find my way.











Emulation

For this project I choose to emulate Bob Dylan. Dylan once said about his lyrics, “I have nothing to say about these things I write, I mean just write them. I’m not gonna say anything them, I don’t write them for any reason, there’s no great message.” Though Dylan’s music seems to try to convey a message, there is often no meaning behind his poetry, he simply constructs language and gives it to his audience to do with what they will. I tried to do the same with images, constructing them very intentionally without having any message I was trying to convey behind them.







Persona


I wanted to use this project to discuss the different primary agents that play a role in determining persona. The middle collage represents societies/ our role in stereotyping who someone is. Rather then trying to say that we judge blindly I was thinking about how we perceive the way someone presents him or herself to the surrounding environment. The panel to the left is meant to separate the notion that the individual has her own power regarding how she is perceived. The last panel refers to my own agency as the photographer to manipulate the situation and mediate the way society determines the subject’s persona. My intent is not to suggest that anyone agent has more power over the situation then any other but just to reference the various ways different parties interact in the formation of an individuals’ persona.










Utopia

Most of the people I have met from New York have a connection to their hometown that takes on a different flavor than the way non-New Yorkers understand home. While there are a few people I know who aren’t completely keen on “The City,” many natives build up New York to almost paradise status, always comparing other cities to their utopia of a home.

For this project I examined two different ways to understand New York.

The first perspective I examined, addressed by the top six photos, is that of my Grandpa. My Grandpa, who has lived in the apartment on the corner of East 3rd and Avenue A from which I shot since 1963, spends much of his time alternating between looking out his bedroom window and his kitchen window staring at the street life. I would always pity my Grandpa when I saw him doing so, figuring he was resigned to the activity because his old age limited him from doing other more exciting activities. But, when I sat in my Grandpa’s seat with my camera, I understood the pleasure of simply enjoying the street life and characters of New York, especially when I saw one of my 14 year old campers walk past, my Dad coming back from a walk, and a man walk by in an aluminum suit. For my Grandpa, New York and the ability to watch the street life is a perfect match and I doubt he could love living anywhere else so much.

The second perspective views New York in the way it is consumed and presented commercially. The bottom three images were all taken outside of Macys on 5th Ave on Black Friday this year. This is one the Utopian image of New York I find being presented in popular culture.

I choose to combine these two perspectives to juxtapose a more personal Utopia and a commercialized Utopia.










Saturday, September 26, 2009

Abu Ghraib 

Burger King Ad

Obama/ Hitler Combo
Spank Rock
Tom Ford Ad

Aaron Carter
Ron Jeremy 
Anti-Semitic Cartoon
Minstrel

Rotten Eggs



3 Strangers





3 People I'd Like to Know
Mort Saul



Shepard Fairey
James Franco

3 People I know
Brother Isaac
Friend Gabe
Friend Dede

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Influences




Possible Emulation 
William Klein




Bob Dylan
Leopard-skin Pill-box Hat

Well, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat Yes, I see you got your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat Well, you must tell me, baby How your head feels under somethin' like that Under your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat. Well, you look so pretty in it Honey, can I jump on it sometime ? Yes, I just wanna see If it's really that expensive kind You know it balances on your head Just like a mattress balances On a bottle of wine Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat. Well, if you wanna see the sun rise Honey, I know where We'll go out and see it sometime We'll both just sit there and stare Me with my belt Wrapped around my head And you just sittin' there In you brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat. Well, I asked the doctor if I could see you It's bad for your health, he said Yes, I disobeyed his orders I came to see you But I found him there instead You know, I don't mind him cheatin' on me But I sure wish he'd take that off his head Your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat. Well, I see you got a new boyfriend You know, I never seen him before Well, I saw him Makin' love to you You forgot to close the garage door You might think he loves you for your money But I know what he really loves you for It's your brand new leopard-skin pill-box hat.
Mr. Tambourine Man 
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand,
Vanished from my hand,
Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet,
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship,
My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip,
My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels
To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way,
I promise to go under it.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun,
It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind,
I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're
Seein' that he's chasing.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.

Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me,
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you.
Visions of Johanna
Ain't it just like the night to play tricks when you're tryin' to be so quiet?
We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it
And Louise holds a handful of rain, temptin' you to defy it
Lights flicker from the opposite loft
In this room the heat pipes just cough
The country music station plays soft
But there's nothing, really nothing to turn off
Just Louise and her lover so entwined
And these visions of Johanna that conquer my mind

In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's really insane
Louise, she's all right, she's just near
She's delicate and seems like veneer
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
The ghost of 'lectricity howls in the bones of her face
Where these visions of Johanna have now taken my place

Now, little boy lost, he takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery, he likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall to be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall while I'm in the hall
How can I explain?
Oh, it's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna, they kept me up past the dawn

Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower freeze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, "Jeeze
I can't find my knees"
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel

The peddler now speaks to the countess who's pretending to care for him
Sayin', "Name me someone that's not a parasite and I'll go out and say a prayer for him"
But like Louise always says
"Ya can't look at much, can ya man?"
As she, herself, prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes ev'rything's been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain
Quentin Tarantino