Category Archives: twitter

Famous Subjects

I’ve been keeping a list of these in my head since I find them interesting. Especially the street photos where the subjects aren’t actually posing. I don’t have much to add but when I saw someone start tweeting these, I chimed in with the ones I knew of.

Well, one thing that I do find really interesting about these is how they help us understand the way the photographer approached the scene. In the case of Elevator Girl and Grenade boy, we even have contact sheets* to go with the stories. Learning the back story helps us understand the famous image better.** It’s always nice to be reminded how a photo doesn’t exist by itself.

*Elevator Girl’s contact sheet. Grenade Boy’s contact sheet (which he commented on).

**Jörg Colberg has as nice essay looking at Migrant Mother.

#ReplacePeterLorreWithR2D2

So I was a bit disappointed to realize that I’m conversant ion very few Peter Lorre movies. I was tempted to include a reference to Arsenic and Old Lace except that I couldn’t make it work. Is just as well, these three are all movies I really really like and would recommend to anyone.

Anyway, motivation came from here.

Chris Hadfield Gallery

A collection of photos from Chris Hadfield. These are all from twitter since, even though they’re NASA images, I’ve been unable to find them on NASA’s page. This is a shame since it means that the higher-resolution images  aren’t easily accessible for the public.

Most of the photos are not tied to super-specific locations and are instead little details from all over the Earth. I found myself particularly drawn to his eye for patterns and textures. As a result, I ended up picking a lot of sandy and rocky photos.

This is also my first time really doing this sort of thing with someone else’s photos. One of these days I’m going to have to do this to my own…

The Australian Outback is effortlessly crazily beautiful. Continue reading

Chris Hadfield

I remember feeling joy and wonder about space exploration when I was a child. As I aged, everything sort of got routine and, while still theoretically interesting, was no longer evocative in the way it used to be. The only space stuff which excited me were collections of old space imagery or provocative think pieces which suggested that space had become a dumping ground of spent experiments. I don’t think I was the only one who thought like this either. There’s been a sense that we need to discover something new or go to Mars in order to jump-start our interest in space again.

Turns out that all we needed was a tweeting astronaut. Chris Hadfield’s tweets, photos, and videos have brought a sense of humanity to the space program. It’s not that he was funny or a geek or took some fantastic photos, it’s that he took us with him and allowed us to enjoy the giddy excitement of seeing our world from space. We’ve outgrown the Blue Marble sense of the Earth and have moved on to wanting to see details and reminders of our Earth from a different viewpoint.

The Star Trek tweets have to be saved though since they’re the easiest point of entry. Hadfield obviously grew up well-versed in Star Trek and still believes in the optimism of the show. That he’s able to be one of us, and makes the same kind of jokes that we’d hope to make is what made me follow him.

That he also insisted on posting photos of various cities he flew over endeared him to the world. I think we all like seeing our hometowns from space. I certainly am no exception. The photos of the Bay Area remind me of flying into SFO and the sense of home and “I’m back” which comes with that. But they’re also from a much higher viewpoint and reveal more of the entire area than I’ve ever seen.

San Francisco Bay Area. The sun glint really shows the water and cloud flow patterns.

San Francisco and the whole Bay Area. Taken at an angle, it is easy to see the entire layout of the bay by night.

Hadfield’s city photos help enforce the idea that the Earth is home to all of us. Yes, we all know this. But it’s not something we think about daily. Seeing the photos, and people’s reactions to them, from all over the world is a daily reminder of this concept. I particularly like how he explicitly posted images of Mecca. Given recent events, the idea that there is no they is hard for a lot of people to understand.

Makkah (مكة), spiritual home to over a billion of us.

Makkah (مكة), spiritual home to over a billion of us.

—Chris Hadfield

In the same way that his politics are subtle, so is his environmental message. He doesn’t take photos and show/decry devastation as much as he could. He will occasionally call a pit mine a blight on the landscape. But more often he just shows us the way things are and lets us connect the dots.

Mississippi delta - heartland topsoil flowing relentlessly into the Gulf of Mexico.

Mississippi delta – heartland topsoil flowing relentlessly into the Gulf of Mexico.

—Chris Hadfield

As with Misrach’s photos, there’s a subtle power in just confronting us with how things are and forcing us to ask the questions ourselves. In the case of the space photos, we still can’t see many of the things we build but we can see our footprints all over the planet. That paradox of sorts is already plenty food for thought and was at the heart of Paglen’s Last Pictures too.

It’s not all seriousness up there though. Hadfield took time to record all kinds of videos from how crying and tears (don’t) work in space to chats with Captain Kirk. And there are just some silly fun examples thrown in too.

What I really like though is how he understands how art and science should work together. He sees beauty and wonder wherever he looks and he attempts to communicate what he’s seeing to us both with his words and his images. It’s not enough for him to show us the technological feats of engineering which placed humans in space. He chooses to show us the details which catch his eye and, many times, provides descriptions which explain his thinking rather than just giving us geographic location information.

It’s a shame that NASA’s image archive doesn’t seem to have many of his photos available. Or if they are available, I can’t find them. His images and descriptions don’t fit in with the rest of NASA’s heuristics—making them either impossible to file or even more impossible to find.

I’ll post a collection of my favorites tomorrow. Until then, I’ll put this one up since it doesn’t fit with the rest of my selection but does capture a lot of what I like. Every photographer eventually takes a photo of the moon rising. Hadfield took his fair share of them as well. This is my favorite.

Tonight's Finale: The full moon rises over the only planet we have ever called home.

The full moon rises over the only planet we have ever called home.

—Chris Hadfield

It’s only fitting that after five months of tweeting from above, he signed off with a cover of Space Oddity and a message of hope. Humor and heart. I didn’t realize how much I had come to enjoy and look forward to his photos and tweets. While I know he’ll continue tweeting from Earth—his tweets about his readjustment to gravity have been extremely interesting—I’ll miss his unique viewpoint from space.

Spaceflight finale: To some this may look like a sunset. But it's a new dawn.

Spaceflight finale: To some this may look like a sunset. But it’s a new dawn.

—Chris Hadfield

The best part about him being on Twitter is that I could send him a thank you tweet for bring the joy and wonder back. I don’t know if he read it. It doesn’t matter if he did. It’s pretty clear that my feelings on the matter are similar to many many other people’s. And that’s been just as enjoyable an experience to see as well.

Art vs Science

In science centers, we try to combat the notion that science is complex work for a limited, rarified few. So we focus on the idea that “you can be a scientist” and that “science is fun.” Do these democratizing messages prevent us from pursuing interesting ways to present the extraordinary genius of some scientists and the incredible complexity and repetition of scientific work?

In art museums, we try to combat the notion that art is something your child can do, and if you like it, it’s art. So we focus on the idea that “artists are special” and that “art is complicated.” Do these elitist messages prevent us from exploring useful ways to honor the creativity in everyone and the simple pleasures of aesthetics?

Nina Simon

It’s hard for me to emphasize exactly how much I love this blogpost. I’ve long been somewhat frustrated by the way that art and science is presented in the museum context. If anything though, I think the problem is that most museums seem to have one specific viewer in mind when they put together they’re programming.

Science museums are almost always aimed at kids or people who don’t really know science. This isn’t a dumbing-down issue, it’s great to focus on education. Education is a combination of “this is how to understand what’s on display” and “if this is interesting to you, you can do it too.” Which is great for kids and a fantastic way to jump right into the displays. The problem is that that there’s typically no alternative presentation available. It’d be fantastic to be able to go to a science museum and take the tour for people who have college degrees in mechanical engineering. Unfortunately, those sorts of tours aren’t available.

The best experience I’ve had at a science museum in this regard was at the Computer History Museum. My guess is that this was because the Computer History Museum caters to people who already know about the field and can count on non-experts being accompanied by a geek who is more than willing to serve as a tour guide.

As a result, science museums become places you take your kids—and which you avoid unless you want to deal with kids. Which is a shame. The idea that we stop learning science once we graduate from high school doesn’t help anyone.

The one positive though is that most science museums include a heavy local focus. Even if it’s at a gradeschool level, I still try and visit science museums wherever I go so I can learn about local history—whether it’s the geohistory of the region, whatever natural phenomena occur locally, or what kinds of fish populate the area’s waterways.* The science is still basic but I can use it to extract the story (and myths) of the area.

*Natural history museums, science museums, and aquariums are almost always partially-local. Zoos, not so much.

Science museums also typically do a good job at explaining process. Part of the “you can be a scientist” thing is selling the myth of work and dedication by explaining how a scientific breakthrough doesn’t come out of thin air. Instead it comes as a result of hard work and comes out of a lot of surrounding context. When science museums show science, this process is as much of the exhibit as everything else.

Art museums though are almost the exact opposite. Across the board. They’re hard to take kids to since there’s rarely an entry point. They’re not just about “artists are exceptional,” they also tend to require a background in art history just so you don’t feel inadequate.  And many of them don’t even focus on the local.

There’s also a tendency to push, and for museumgoers to succumb to, the idea that “this art is important, therefore you should like it.” Which is complete crap and only furthers the idea that you have to know before you go. In the same way that the museum shouldn’t assume you’re a neophyte, you shouldn’t have to be an expert before visiting either.

Most art museums don’t even provide any background on the artistic process. Sometimes you can get context from the exhibition. But you very rarely see on display information explaining how an object was crafted. SFMOMA occasionally provides ephemera to go with important exhibitions but on a per-piece level, the only museum I’ve seen really explain craft is the Fogg Museum in Harvard* which showed—right next to the objects—xrays revealing the underpainting, displays about the composition of the pigments, and diagrams detailing the different composition of stone sculptures.

*Which I saw over a decade ago so I have no idea if it’s still like this.

I’d love for museums, both art and science, to have multiple tracks for different educational or interest levels among their guests. I’d also love for them to explain how everything is made and what its function or application is. And what context, both historical and in the related field, the object or concept on display comes out of.

I wish all museums could be locally relevant and both educate locals on their history as well as enlighten tourists on what is locally distinct.

And every museum should strive to inspire all visitors to take up and participate in the concepts on display. “Anyone can do this” does not have to be inherently patronizing. If it were, photography wouldn’t be nearly as popular as it is today.

AP Art History

Eadweard Muybridge, The Horse in Motion, 1878

Alfred Stieglitz, The Steerage, 1907

Dorothea Lange, Migrant Mother, 1936

Diane Arbus, Child with Toy Hand Grenade, 1962

Cindy Sherman, Untitled Film Still #21, 1978

Barbara Kruger, Untitled (“I shop therefore I am”) 1987

This was interesting from both a photography point of view and a general art history point of view.

Art history-wise, the canon is homogenous and full of jargon. A lot of the questions and things you’re supposed to know are, quite frankly, boring and don’t do anything to encourage the appreciation of art. This is very sad.

I’m not enough of a generalist to comment more here, however as someone who likes modern art and photography, I find photography’s role in that canon to be particularly interesting. In every modern art museum I’ve visited, photography is always kept in its own discreet section, partitioned off and away from the rest of the works on display. It’s not relegated to an inferior status, just that it’s kept distinct from the general trends of the time.

I’ve never understood the distinction. Especially when you have artists like Jay Defeo, Ed Ruscha, John Baldessari, Robert Bechtle, and Andy Warhol whose work includes, references, or converses with photography. I enjoy modern art and I particularly like when photography exists in context with what everyone else is doing. In all media. But this rarely happens.

Which means that I was actually somewhat surprised to see any photography get posted. And as I noted, I don’t disagree with any of these photographs being on the “photos you must know” list. All six are hugely important to both to art and to photography.

At the same time, just looking from a photography point of view, there are a lot of things missing. No landscapes. No views of the city. No still-lifes. No patterns or textures. No color studies.

No non-American photographers* and no non-white photographers.**

*Very surprising considering who’s in the canon of photography history.

**Not surprising at all as this fits in with the rest of the Art History Canon.

It is nice to see though that there were twice as many women as men. Unlike the rest of Art History, there are a lot of female photographers who have been accepted by the establishment. At the same time, yeah, yet another grouping which suggests that female photographers only take photos of people.

#FlakPhotoOnlineExhibitionTitleGenerator – Day 2

Picking up where it left off yesterday.

And I think this is about it for this concept.

#FlakPhotoOnlineExhibitionTitleGenerator

Joking around because the previous Flak Photo exhibition was Looking at the Land and the next is Making Pictures of People.

To be clear, this is about how a lot of photography seems to cover the same topics over and over again. I stopped once I found myself ending up totally rehashing [internet photographer] jokes again.

Bitcoin

Yeah, I’m kind of shaking my head about the Bitcoin bubble. Not that I think the idea of Bitcoin is stupid. Just that the current implementation is a recipe for disaster.

I do like that Bitcoin has provoked a serious amount of discussion and realization into how bizarre and brilliant the concept of money is. I just have a hard time accepting it as currency when it’s not particularly useful for buying things and you have to convert it to another currency for actual banking purposes.

That said, as a replacement for PayPal or the currency equivalent for LAB colorspace? Bring it on.

Roger

I’ve always been a movie watcher and movie lover. I grew up watching all kinds of films with my parents and was lucky enough to be able to see classics on the big screen as well. When I went to college, I became an avid movie watcher. Typically a couple movies a week. Often more. Once I graduated, my movie watching increased to the point where I was watching a half-dozen movies a week  via Netflix alone.

For the fourteen years between my entering college and becoming a father, Roger Ebert was my trusted guide. Not in the sense that I always agreed with him or thought that his reviews were the pinnacle of movie writing. But his love and passion for movies drove me to seek out what I liked and educate myself about cinema.

I read him every week. All his reviews. And all his columns. And eventually his tweets and his blogposts.

Today’s news hit me hard. Harder than I expected. I hadn’t realized how much he was a part of my intellectual routine. I see things better because of him. I think about things better because of him. I’ve discovered so many things I love because of him. And now he’s gone.

I didn’t discover The Third Man because of Ebert but it’s the first movie I thought of as being appropriate to watch in his memory. I didn’t have time to watch it tonight. I don’t have time to watch many non-kiddie movies anymore. Maybe this weekend. But I fired up the last scene on youtube. I needed that long, elegiac sigh today.

Thank you Roger. I’ll miss you.