remerge

Good work is good work

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(all images copyright respective photographers)
It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. Ive had a few emails asking that I bring the posts back. Okay, I’ll try. 
This morning I was floating around the web, going to my usual spots and I noticed this wonderful post about a new show at the ICP called “Urbes Mutantes: Latin American Photography 1944-2013.” Aside from, say Graciela Iturbide, the show seems to be chock full of names Ive never really heard before, including Paz Errázuriz who took the above photo. If youre anywhere near New York and can drop by, it looks well worth it. Also check out the New Yorker’s post and preview gallery here.

Cheers!

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted. Ive had a few emails asking that I bring the posts back. Okay, I’ll try.

This morning I was floating around the web, going to my usual spots and I noticed this wonderful post about a new show at the ICP called “Urbes Mutantes: Latin American Photography 1944-2013.” Aside from, say Graciela Iturbide, the show seems to be chock full of names Ive never really heard before, including Paz Errázuriz who took the above photo. If youre anywhere near New York and can drop by, it looks well worth it. Also check out the New Yorker’s post and preview gallery here.

Cheers!

It is with some sadness that we learned that Wayne Miller passed away so recently. But the man lived such an extraordinary life that I think a celebration is more in order than a mourning party.
Ill leave it to other blogs to talk about his place in history, instead Ill share a story about my brief encounter with him.
While at graduate school at the Missouri School of Journalism, I had the pleasure of escorting him around town while he was there to receive the Missouri Honor Medal. The first night we had dinner and over a gin and tonic he regaled us with stories from the Magnum heydays. My favorite part of the night was a story about how they liked to refer to Cartier-Bresson in those days as Hank Carter. The following night we had dinner at the house of the Dean of the journalism school. I picked him up in my ratty old Honda Accord, littered with film canisters. He immediately noticed the film canisters and his eyes lit up with a smile. He approved of the mess. When we got to the Dean’s house we walked in and they offered us drinks. Wayne ordered a Wild Turkey and I followed suit. We ended the night having conversations about the future of photojournalism with other students and professors from school. Wayne didnt seem very optimistic. But I was new to the game and very enthusiastic. I should have heeded his wisdom.
All of this was happening at the same time that his book about the south side of Chicago had been published. I bought a copy and had him sign it. Wayne Miller was an extraordinary man. And his life, stretching from his days documenting the aftermath of Hiroshima to his work on the south side of Chicago should be celebrated and honored. Here’s to Wayne Miller! Im so glad I had the opportunity to meet him.

Do yourself a favor and take a look at his work here.

It is with some sadness that we learned that Wayne Miller passed away so recently. But the man lived such an extraordinary life that I think a celebration is more in order than a mourning party.

Ill leave it to other blogs to talk about his place in history, instead Ill share a story about my brief encounter with him.

While at graduate school at the Missouri School of Journalism, I had the pleasure of escorting him around town while he was there to receive the Missouri Honor Medal. The first night we had dinner and over a gin and tonic he regaled us with stories from the Magnum heydays. My favorite part of the night was a story about how they liked to refer to Cartier-Bresson in those days as Hank Carter. The following night we had dinner at the house of the Dean of the journalism school. I picked him up in my ratty old Honda Accord, littered with film canisters. He immediately noticed the film canisters and his eyes lit up with a smile. He approved of the mess. When we got to the Dean’s house we walked in and they offered us drinks. Wayne ordered a Wild Turkey and I followed suit. We ended the night having conversations about the future of photojournalism with other students and professors from school. Wayne didnt seem very optimistic. But I was new to the game and very enthusiastic. I should have heeded his wisdom.

All of this was happening at the same time that his book about the south side of Chicago had been published. I bought a copy and had him sign it. Wayne Miller was an extraordinary man. And his life, stretching from his days documenting the aftermath of Hiroshima to his work on the south side of Chicago should be celebrated and honored. Here’s to Wayne Miller! Im so glad I had the opportunity to meet him.

Do yourself a favor and take a look at his work here.

Cristobol Olivares, Chile.
Dig dig dig and you will find. Peel back the layers of white noise and sometimes you find work like this that makes you stop and pay attention. Olivares’s work clearly pays homage to other photographers working today (particularly Christopher Anderson).
I am so interested in this digging, exploration, and finding work that isnt recycled by a handful of sites or magazines or tweets. Even more interested in seeing work that is underreported. It reminds me of the HUNGER that gripped me so long ago.
Go check out more of Olivares over here.

Cristobol Olivares, Chile.

Dig dig dig and you will find. Peel back the layers of white noise and sometimes you find work like this that makes you stop and pay attention. Olivares’s work clearly pays homage to other photographers working today (particularly Christopher Anderson).


I am so interested in this digging, exploration, and finding work that isnt recycled by a handful of sites or magazines or tweets. Even more interested in seeing work that is underreported. It reminds me of the HUNGER that gripped me so long ago.


Go check out more of Olivares over here.

Zanzibar. Rolls off the tongue enticingly. Conjures up mystery and fever dreams….I hear music; I smell the sea; I feel the sun beating down. Transported. There is a whole story (or at least the hint of one) in this picture.
I went to school with Toru Morimoto back in the day. I remember when he came back from Kenya with all this incredibly intense work, including work from the 1998 US Embassy bombing (story here). So glad to see that Toru is still out there hard at it, making compelling work. Never give up, they say, never give up.
See more of his work here.

Zanzibar. Rolls off the tongue enticingly. Conjures up mystery and fever dreams….I hear music; I smell the sea; I feel the sun beating down. Transported. There is a whole story (or at least the hint of one) in this picture.

I went to school with Toru Morimoto back in the day. I remember when he came back from Kenya with all this incredibly intense work, including work from the 1998 US Embassy bombing (story here). So glad to see that Toru is still out there hard at it, making compelling work. Never give up, they say, never give up.


See more of his work here.