Between 1909 and 1915, Russian photographer/chemist Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii traveled across his homeland, using the relatively new technology of color photography to document what he saw. Outfitting a private train car with his own dark room equipment, Prokudin-Gorskii captured landscapes, buildings, and people in a series of breathtaking images. Given the rarity of vibrant color photography from this era, Prokudin-Gorskii’s work is all the more striking: Without sepia tones’ time-distancing effects, the characters in these images feel right there, full of stories of a bygone era and a diverse, colorful culture on the brink of revolution.
Some inspiring artwork from Carolina Niño. The level of detail in her work is amazing. Just a small portion of a full image is a composition on its own. Be sure to check out her portfolio and if your are interested in prints you can find her on S6.
In terms of digital reproductions, there really isn’t much of Roloff Beny’s work online. So when I came across this Wine & Bowties post with gorgeous scans of Roloff Beny’s work in India from 1969, you bet I was totally stoked! (note: There are more images on their blog, so follow the link posted above)
From the write-up:
“…Beny was a world traveler, and India is one of a number of his works which could effectively be described as a love letter to the place it documents. One of the most impressive examples of his eye for color, scenery and natural beauty, India finds Beny exploring a place with no shortage of gorgeous landscapes, architecture, and rich culture. In some ways, these images read like an idyllic Westerner’s portrait, an aesthetically idealized version of a complex place…”
The fantastical black-and-white nudes of Asger Carlsen‘s Hester series are nothing if not provocative. The NY-based artist works in limbs and lumps, torsos and bulges, constructing figures that are human and yet not quite, and “shooting” them in gritty greytones. The resulting images are alternately grotesque, graceful, and thought-provoking. If you can suppress your gag reflex long enough, Carlsen’s deformed forms possess a strange beauty, and an unblinking skepticism about photography’s capacity for realism.
Over the past few years the creativity and aesthetic of the ski movie has reached exciting new levels. Whether you’re remised about it or not, the days of the Warren Miller lifestyle film are quickly fading, if not already gone. Studios like Sweetgrass Productions, Sherpas Cinema, Teton Gravity Research, and Solomon Freeski TV – among others – have redefined the genre with next level editing, production and storytelling.
Presented here is the teaser for Valhalla, a Sweetgrass Productions film set to be released in Fall of this year. I love the aesthetic they’ve created, and can’t wait to see the full movie if this is any indication of how it might turn out.
During the holidays I stopped in at a used book store and came across a wonderful photography book by Canadian artist, Roloff Beny. ‘To Every Thing There is a Season: Roloff Beny in Canada’ is a photographic essay exploring Canada during the 1960’s. The book contains poems, landscapes, portraits, architecture, and graphic design that is visionary for the time it was printed. Like a Boards of Canada album, the book puts my mind in a cozy, nostalgic place.
A little research reveals that the book was the official Canadian gift to visiting heads of state during the country’s 1967 centennial year. He’s also authored a number of other acclaimed photography books I’m hoping to pick-up in the near future.
Beny’s work is included in the collections of The Metropolitan Museum and the Museum of Modern Art in New York, the National Gallery of Canada and the Art Gallery of Ontario. In 1971, he was made an officer of The Order of Canada. In 1984, at the age of 60, Beny passed away from a heart attack in his Roman studio overlooking the Tiber.
You can view a more complete set of photos in this FLICKR SET I put together.
Inspired by a recent episode of Roman Mars’ wonderful podcast 99% Invisible, I sought out a few images of WWI-era “dazzle” ship camouflage. Rather than blending a target with its surrounding colors and textures, dazzle (aka “razzle dazzle” or “dazzle painting”) deliberately caused ships to clash with the sea and sky, creating eye-aching shimmer effects and making it difficult to discern the craft’s direction, speed, and distance. The hope—and it was a hope, as dazzle inventor Norman Wilkinson’s theories were never properly proven—was that the bedazzle’d ships would so confuse enemy submarines that their torpedoes would never meet their mark. The nautical old guard, as one would expect, rejected Wilkinson’s sweetly cracked vision; the artists of the era’s burgeoning Cubist movement, however, were utterly delighted.