Tag: favorite

Txema Yeste – Extase featurig Stella Lucia for Numero (2016)

The image above does not really fit the format of this project. I’m including it anyway.

Why? Well, first of all, it’s more or less embedded itself in my subconscious. There’s something both beautiful and sinister about it.

Also, I really don’t care for snakes. To the extent that whenever a photo of a snake slithers across my dashboard, I physically cringe–every damn time.

It’s not an intrinsic or irrational fear–I came about half a second from stepping barefoot into a nest of copperheads when I was a wee one. I remember it very distinctly because of the sudden sharp stop from my father that despite the fact that I normally did not give a fuck what he said his voice left no room for anything except to stop dead in my tracks. I saw it a second later–a big momma copper head ready to strike, her babies relatively oblivious nearby. I was instructed to back away slowly. Took half a step and then was suddenly yanked back several yards.

I also remember connecting that memory with a scene in a PBS educational series where an Indiana Jones type character had to proceed through a tomb and there was a pit of snakes and the viewer was informed that a certain number of the snakes were venomous while the rest were harmless. The idea being that you could calculate the risk of clamoring through the pit if youw ere so inclined.

So snakes are one of the few things where something in the real world has crawled into my dream world. Any dream where I am outside and there are leaves on the ground or visible tree roots, my brain is automatically wary of snakes.

And ring neck garden snakes or corn snakes are great–and I have no qualms handling them. It’s just coming upon a snake unexpectedly always makes me very antsy because I’m not so great at determining if their venomous or not. (Same way that I’d love to forage for mushrooms but there are too many that I just can’t tell the super poisonous ones from the edible ones… so I just don’t mess with it.)

The snake in this image is some sort of boa constrictor or python, I think. But it’s shot in such a way that you don’t immediately know that.

It’s also a narrative image–what the narrative is, is ambiguous; but it is better for such ambiguity. (Also, there’s not many interpretations that aren’t somewhat surreally unhinged.)

As much as I don’t care for vertical oriented images, this is an example of an image that would only work as a skinny frame.

Source: photographicpictures

Ofer Dabush – Untitled (2016)

This image doesn’t so much fit with this project. I’m including it for two reasons:

  1. I effing love it; and,
  2. the vast majority of Dabush’s work is of a piece with the rest of the stuff I feature here

Seriously, it’s really worth spending some time with his work. I don’t necessarily love all of it–he plays fast and super loose with compositional grammar and he frequently present work that’s miles of style with only a couple centimeters of conceptual depth–the two influences on his work that come through the most clearly (at least to me) are Ryan McGinley (whose work is gorgeous but almost entirely vapid) and Yung Cheng Lin. 

No matter: Dabush’s work is all capital Q Quality (as far as I can tell).

I’m especially interested in this because of the texture. The tightly knotted pile of the carpet as a backdrop for the linear forms of the ribbed knit pullovers against the softness of the women’s faces.

The .exif data on this was not stripped prior to upload. Take a gander:

image

The 29mm focal length suggests this is a zoom lens.

There are two kinds of lenses: prime lenses and zoom lenses. The characteristics are not interchangeable but let’s consider Canon’s 28mm f1.8 to establish some sort of framework.

The minimum focus distance for the 28mm f1.8 is .25 meters, a bit under 1 foot. Thus, with the lens dialed into the the nearest focus, something .25 meters from the camera will be in sharp focus.

BUT! The wider the angle of view provided by the lens, the greater the depth of field. (ex. a 28mm f1.8 lens will have a much greater depth of field when set to the minimum focus distance and widest aperture than a 85mm f1.8 set to the minimum focus distance and widest aperture).

As the aperture narrows, the depth of field increases. Thus, given that this is already a wide angle lens and the aperture is stopped down slightly less than halfway, you’ve got a reasonable slice of the area of view in focus. To say it another way, given these settings it would be difficult for you to not capture a frame that is in sharp focus.

What’s interesting and artful about the way this frame is handled is–unless my eyes deceive me: the camera is focused so that the majority of the area in focus in the frame is actually behind these two women. The carpet is very sharp, the sweaters still sharp but maybe a touch less so and you get an additional, softening flattering affect on their faces due to the fact that the near focus is just beginning to go a little soft.

But there’s a third element to what makes this work that is even more notable: color.

There’s this notion named chromostereopsis–it’s basically the idea that red advance and blue recedes, aka why 3D movies are a thing.

Yes, the carpet here is grey but it has blue in it and therefore it seems to recede from the focal plane, whereas the red pushes upward toward the viewer. The result is that although the red is just as close to the carpet and the camera as the yellow, the red stands out more and this illusion contributes dimensionality to the yellow, also.

Lastly, the yellow to red spectrum of the two sweaters include the skin tones of the two women; in combination with the grey-blue carpet this emphasizes their faces in the frame.

Great work from someone who is clearly an astute image maker.

Source: oferdabush

rosewatergoats – cramps (2017)

There are so many things that are extraordinary about this, I really don’t even know where to start.

I guess you really have to start with the lighting. I’m not fond of the glut of photographers & image makers who pose models right next to the freaking windows.

Yes, it contributes about an extra ¾ of a stop to your exposure. And if you’re shooting handheld, that can mean the difference between a usable shot and something ruined by motion blur.

Frequently, that light is rather hard and unflattering–plus: there’s rarely any sense of the context. Like why this room? Why is this person in the room? What’s the motivation? It’s all just so lazy. It’s like if you want to shoot studio-esque shit, set up a daylight studio or rent studio space. Doing it like you’re doing it is just inexcusably unimaginative and lazy.

This differs greatly from that tendency. First of all the light is at least somewhat diffuse. We see the curtain not the window. The frame is a bit over-exposed but on a partly sunny day with high, rapidly drifting clouds, the exposure can shift drastically in several seconds. This is clearly within an impressively controlled range.

And the richness of detail: the radiator with the shelf topper (I did not know such things existed! this new awareness will almost certain inform further nesting endeavors), the dried flowers, the armchair demonstrating heavy wear, the faux antique lamp, the table and the ottoman. (Note also: the textured wall; yes, I’m a sucker for texture but you can’t look at this and argue that it adds a captivating extra layer of visual intrigue.)

The light comes left to right, after the Dutch tradition. (I’d wager the author is familiar with Vermeer–in this case, this photo suggests a hybridization of The Procuress and A Girl Asleep.)

Initially, I didn’t like the fact that the subjects left leg is amputated by the frame edge. I’m still not 100% convinced it was the best decision but I can’t posit a better alternative.

And the way that it is presented–i.e. a 35mm negative has eight perforations per frame. The image we’re presented includes 8 frames, but with 2 from the leading frame and then two perf are amputated from the primary frame the viewer is show. It’s self-consciously preoccupied with truncation. But what I think is interesting is the mise-en-scene suggests an implicit continuation between the boundary of the frame edge; what we’re shown speaks not only explicitly but implicitly–there’s a feeling of being more that the viewer can probably guess reasonably accurately at given the available contextual clues.

I’m generally against cropping. Primarily because precious few people add anything interesting to the work by doing it. But this? This is freaking ingenious. Definitely, check out this woman’s blog. A lot of it is grimy and lo-fi but her conceptual chops are mad on point.

EDIT: Apparently, she’s been accepted to the ultra prestigious photography program at FAMU in Prague and is trying to crowd fund her tuition. If you can consider donating to her GoFundMe campaign.

Source: rosewatergoats

Source unknown – Title unknown (201X)

Regardless of what you think of my notion of #skinnyframebullshit, there is never, under any circumstances, ever any justification for capturing video in portrait orientation. None. Period. End of story.

That I’m giving this a pass should signal just how amazing I find this clip in spite of the shitty execution and poor quality this is one of those rare moments when porn bothers to show not only how I like to fuck but how I like to be fucked (and in the same video, OMFG). But it also makes me feel seen and like my sexuality isn’t just something that’s impossibly inconvenient to 96% of the rest of the world.

Also, trying not to come, coming anyway and then being so at the mercy of your feelings and connection with the other person(s) that there’s no time for  a break or respite and you end up coming again quickly and with such force that you literally feel the strain from how hard you clenched up for days afterwards.

Swoon. (To whoever made this–thank you. Also, please keep making stuff like this. It matters.)

Chunae – Title unknown (2017)

There are hundreds of reasons I LOVE these two illustrations.

The first image recalls Tammy Rae Carland’s Lesbian Beds series. So that’s automatically #AllTheFeels territory.

But the attention to detail is just so beyond on fleek in these.

Let’s just start with the first image. Note: the pictures on the walls. Two of the two women as a couple. The no smoking sign. The succulent on the window sill. The slippers toe-to-toe. The discarded socks. The position of the cat. The iPhone on the night table.

Everything is so perfectly balanced between an idealized, stylish living space that is just lived in enough to not appear staged.

The second image is less economical but offers two additional bits of information. These women are married–that’s them in their wedding gowns on the wall. Also, the brunette is supportive of the blond’s creative streak. (Also note how the light from the window casts their shadows against the far wall.)

Sequentially, I’d wager that the second image came first but I prefer it the way I have it here because for me I feel like you have the have the intimacy suggested by the first image for the sharing of space and time to be as meaningful as it appears in the second image.

Also, to use the vernacular: this is #goals for me. Maybe one day I won’t be so irrevocably alone. (Probably not though.)

Erotobot – Dinks (2014)

I have a outsize obsession with visible texture. When it’s done right–it is like I can almost feel that which I am seeing, sliding beneath my finger tips through nothing more than the act of maintaining an attentive gaze.

With its gooseflesh, dirt, the black mirror-like water, water droplets on goosebumps and even Dinks’ hair, this would’ve had less impact if it had approached me out of a crowd and broken a baseball bat in half over my head.

It’s unquestionably pornography. And honestly being somewhat familiar with Erotobot’s work–all of his photos feature a discomfiting edginess. Shot in abandoned buildings or seeming post-industrial wastelands. It’s dark and sinister; explicitly and graphically depicts sex–frequently of a rather rough variety. Like just looking at the work, I worry a bit that he’s another in a long line of perverts making beautiful work through sometimes questionable disregard for consent, boundaries or interpersonal respect.

But despite how over-the-top the obscenity is in this image, my reading of it leads me in rather the opposite direction. Straight up there’s no way getting this shot didn’t take time. Evidenced by the goosebumps and the fact that Dinks would’ve had to get undressed and roll around in the puddle and dirt for this scene to have come about.

Yes, it’s possible that there were degrees of unseen coercion. And I don’t know if it’s because I want so much to like this–if you feel I’m wrong, please chime in (consent is just about the most important thing to me and if/when I fuck things up, I welcome correction)–but this feels consensual.

The way it’s played toward the camera. Dinks’ expression speaks of wanting so desperate it actually feels like a kind of physical pain that can only be assuaged by sating the desire. There is something here the resonates with an honesty that I find entirely unnerving. (I relate to this so hard.)

But there’s also a way in which Dinks (and maybe that’s not her name but I hope it is because it’s awesome) is presented as seductive but also maybe a little bit dangerous–as in while the image is presented so that the viewer can station themselves between photographer and subject–and thereby presume the show is for them and them alone; standing in such a position carries a lot of potential risk for harm, violence or some sort of untoward resolution.

Beyond that I only know three things:

  1. I am devastated this was not an photography I created,
  2. I wish it was a photograph of me, and,
  3. I suspect that the way that Art and Pornography can happily coexist has less to do with hybridization and a lot more to do with setting out to create something meaningful and evocative instead of easily salacious.

Teenager in action – Machen wir es mit Musik (1982)

Every once in a while I see a configuration of bodies in porn that strikes me as especially visually dynamic. This is one such example.

I’m not wild about the rest of it but the pose is nice. And it gets me brain spinning up about the tension between explication and implication, esp. in porn.

I mean this would be more visually arresting with more varied, naturalistic lighting. The dead white door as backdrop is a total non-starter.

But even as great as the position is, I kind of wonder if it wouldn’t be better if her right hand was braced against his chest with her fingers splayed. If it was in the center of his chest, then it would block the line of sight with the cleft of her backside (which is something a pornographer would feel was important visual information to include in the picture). On the other hand, it would almost certainly be more implicitly intriguing if her hand were pressed against his chest over his heart and she was squeezing her right nipple between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand.

Also: (and this is being super OCD about things) seeing her left leg at least enough of a hint of it to suggest it’s position would contribute something as well. There are two strategies that could be applied to allow for that. Her left knee could be brought up just enough to replicate the V of his thighs. Or, she could fully straddle his right thigh. This latter option would be more compelling from the standpoint of dimensionality–however, it would also further complicate the positioning of the hands.

Anyway, the above picture comes from @musorka‘s blog. And I’ve said it before but it bears repeating. The sheer quantity of work posted over there on the daily is mind-boggling to me. The quality isn’t always there but there are definitely some real gems mixed in with all the dreck. (And remember, engaging with the dreck isn’t without value. Thinking about what works, what doesn’t and what you would do differently if given the chance is actually a valuable exercise for your creative brain. After all, invariably when you’re making something you get to a point where you feel like you’ve screwed it all up and you have to find a way to keep going and to fix it.)

Source: musorka

Anonymous – Submission to NNSS July 28 (2013)

OMFG. I had a dream about this triptych!

A former employee was sitting on floor with her dress forming a perfect circle around her, her bare, unshaved legs sticking out enough to show that she was sitting frog style.

The room was an amalgam of my room when I last lived with my mom, my current bedroom at that time and the second space I rented with several college chums after earning my undergraduate degree.

The floor was made from these broad, pine planks that were worn smooth after years of things scuffling against it.

In the way dream logic works, there was a perfectly sensible reason for her to be sitting in my room. Although we’re still loosely connected, she’s not someone I see with any regularity. And there was a feeling (in the dream at least) that she wasn’t there to hang out and whatever had brought her there was already completed.

This young woman–we’ll call her Skye–tends to be fragile to a fault and prone to fits of profound melancholia. Yet, on the rare occasion that she’s in a good mood, she takes on this affected simpering bravado that would–on anyone else–appear pout-y and conceited, except on her it comes off as playful and perhaps even a bit edgy.

I suddenly felt as if she’d hidden something in my room and I was expected to find it. I looked around but without knowing what I was looking for it all felt awkwardly contrived.

Something made me think of Charlie’s BB gun. I was pretty sure that I’d thrown it away years ago. But I felt suddenly as if Skye had either found it and wasn’t happy about my having it or that it would be super bad if she knew I still had it.

I began to tear the room apart in an effort to find it and get rid of it. Sure enough it was in a shoebox, wrapped in a towel. I showed her and she thought it was dumb that I had it but she didn’t say more than that.

She was still sitting there. I wondered why she was still there. I sheepishly said that she’d been in my room long enough that she probably had a pretty good idea what a pervert I was. She said she did but that she actually thought it was charming.

I put the BB pistol back in the shoebox and buried it in the closest again. When I turned back to her, she was holding the hem of her skirt up and was stroking the shaft of a fairly large cornflower blue phallus. A small purple vibrator was wedged between her crotch and the floor. Her boy shorts were a canary yellow except where the humming vibrator pressed against the outline of her vulva, a dark mustard color spreading slowly outward.

This is okay, right? She asked.

Source: nymphoninjas