These Three Things

Someone aphorised the following to Cesar, who passed it on to me in turn:

There are three types of fashion photographers: the ones about the clothes, the ones about the girls, and the ones about the photograph.

The greats--Avedon, Penn, Meisel to name a few (but aren't there only a few?)....they were about all three.

Ever since I heard this, I can't help but sift through my mental rolodex and image gallery and sort all the photographers I know in my mind. It becomes instantly apparent who belongs in which category. Thoughts?
Demarchelier-the clothes, Juergen-the photograph, Testino-the girls, etc....

Discuss! Comment! I want to know!
(above: my mood board for this past weekend's shoot).

Like a Friend

Reminded by one of Luxirare's posts how much i adore and am mystified by Camille Bidault-Waddington, insofar as an amazing stylist, influencer, muse of Lagerfeld and Olivier alike, and [FORMER] ladyfriend of the great Jarvis Cocker. Oh, Jarvis Cocker.

This Lula spread caught my eye because the aesthetic is less vampy and hardcore than the Purple Diary makes her out to be. Olivia--good idea with the mask, you have one on your wall just like it. Let's use it.Could you just die? The most enigmatic couple ever [was]. So jolie-laide, so languid, so sexed-up. She has such an illustrated face--as if it were drawn and then turned to life. Also, something about her reminds me of Angelica Huston.
Lula spread from Scout Holiday, 2nd photo from NYTimes

**Breaking: Apparently, the news came out today (same day) that they are no longer together, which is strange that I just posted on it and makes me believe in beta waves.

Very Editorial

For our last shoot in Baltimore this past weekend, I was really trying to focus on clothing with more photographic drama--in the silhouette, cleaner lines, less obscured, more articulate. I like these shots in the same vein, an old T Magazine editorial (i think) from photographer Paola Kudacki


Also, I love this shot (styled by Nicoletta Santoro, unsure of photographer). Very precise and simple and gorgeous, everything works, even the exaggerated hair and overly antiquated processing.

All photos taken from calikartel

Old San Juan

Frankie Says Relax

I know. For shame--I had a groove going, writing on the regular, and then I leave the city for four consecutive weekends and... I'm afraid this post will be all disjointed.

I just got back from 8 days on the island of Vieques: with a tan, a bit of a sinus infection (kicking the habit!), and a jellyfish sting to show for it. In my real life, I take astoundingly little time to slow down--if i have an hour free in the city, I fill it. Have we met? I'm the one on the subway tapping away at my phone furiously sending emails waiting to be sent. So it was oddly unsettling to be so relaxed and far from things for so long (but don't worry, we still had 3G service). It was also completely delectable not teetering on heels for a week or bothering to wash the sea water from my hair (um, the whole week). I can't help but think of that great quote from Mel Brooks' great Space Balls--"Princess, take ONLY what you need to survive" and she takes the four LV suitcases and the industrial hairdryer (druish princesses--my dad uses that joke with me entirely too often). Well, apparently what I needed to survive eight days (with my family!) on a tiny Caribbean island (wild horses! bioluminescent algae! roosters!) was an assortment of floral rompers (from my Baltimore thrift pillaging sessions), my Panama (from Argentina, hah) and one faded denim shirt with a black stallion patch on the pack. Needless to say, I was in early 90's (or Chloe Sevs for OC) heaven, while my mother raised her eyebrow at what really were some fugtastically bad looks.

Also, my brother was highly ashamed that against my better judgment I watched Twilight on the plane. I don't really want to discuss this, yet feel compulsive about admitting it.

To compensate for this, I immersed myself in some decidedly un-fashion reading: Frank O'Hara's anthology (worth its weight in gold even when you have to pay per pound on Cape Air). Ah, how does one even begin to talk about Frankie, brilliance upon brilliance, wit upon rythym, and the devastating kickers. Also, I finally cracked open Susan Sontag's Colected Essays which continue to blow my mind, and you should take the time to revisit her Notes on Camp.

With O'Hara and Sontag, all i could think was how relevant--their pursuit of taste, O'Hara in the 50's, Sontag in the 60's. Their words resound with the type of sensibilities I appreciate (or judge...or create) aesthetics by. It's all intertwined: fashion and social interactions and romance and revulsion and pleasure and beauty. Sontag writes of any aesthetic work, "in almost every case, our manner of appearing is our manner of being. The mask is the face." There's also that delicate balance of finesse and accomplishment and inauthenticity by way of force. "The greatest art seems secreted, not constructed." (Both quotes from On Style)

Her Notes on Camp is particularly relevant to the hipster phenomenon of sharply honed irony and meta-awareness and the obviousness of it all (see exhibit A), yet i find myself swimming in the midst of this quote: "To name a sensibility, to draw its contours and to recount its history, requires a deep sympathy modified by revulsion." Andre, are you feeling me?

I also dented distinguished art critic Peter Schjeldahl's Let's See (New Yorker writing compilation) at the behest of the wonderful Olivia. Each column is better than the next, and the man writes so well he clearly conveys the nearly unintelligible. Find his reviews of John Currin, Nan Goldin, Alexander Calder, Picasso and Matisse, and more, here! I'll pepper this post with more quotes from him later.

So the bottom line is that I feel all kinds of refreshed and invigorated, and when thinking about upcoming projects, just want to immerse myself in such smart challenging sources from obscenely intelligent people-- far away from all the same old shit magazines, street style blogs, and Balmain jackets (though they really are delirious on, $11,000 worth of love). And you should read all these books and please try and forget that I mentioned that thing about Twilight. And if you can't forget, read this amazing article published in the Atlantic Monthly about why its worth seeing.

Photo Credit, artist Shira Toren aka my mom

Even Children Get Older...

This is my brilliant cousin Lior at the Seder last night. I'm not going to even tell you how old she is (lets just say she rivals ms. tavi). But i'm ready to hand over my style laurels to her.

New York I ('m Not The Only One That) Love(s) You

There are photographers for the art, photographers for the craft, and then people like me who take photographs to help register in their own head the way they feel in the world around them.

It's not imagining your life as different than it is; it's just a way of orientation; finding your footing and asserting the things that perk up your attention when other people don't see anything. It's trying to make sense of confusion or alienation or love or boredom or wonder or lightness or weight, translated into color, shape, perspective, expression, and action. It's voyeuristic, it's self-reflective, it's cathartic.

I am obsessed with Erin Toland's blog: My NYC in Color

All these photos are hers. I find them relatable, wondrous, obvious (in a good way, as in, the punctum is so clear), and inspiring. It's not that they necessarily remind me of my photographs--but they remind me of why I photograph. Because how could you not?





A photographer friend likes to chide me by quoting Lost in Translation "I guess every girl goes through a photography phase,"--and I like to think it's outright bullshit (and patronizing at that)-- ..."You know, horses... taking pictures of your feet." It probably isn't entirely untrue. Then again, people have been drawing uncomfortable parallels between me and cliched Scarlett Johansson characters and i do not like it one bit.

Incidentally, you can see some of my photography on this very blog!(you see, i clicked on the "photography" label, in essence, doing the work for you!) here

Fruits of my Labor

"It's like a rap video every time I see you, but instead of pouring Dom and Hypnotiq on me, I'm covered in Nars and Armani everytime you leave."
-Olivia, artist

The Wire

Baltimore Salvation Army. My mecca.

All of the above, $5.

Are you KIDDING me?