snapshots

because blogging is too hard and facebook is exhausting

Princess. (Part of ongoing series titled, “Crap that Shows up in the Alley.”) Taken May 18, 2013 with iPhone 5.

Princess. (Part of ongoing series titled, “Crap that Shows up in the Alley.”) Taken May 18, 2013 with iPhone 5.

carlosbaila:

Marina Abramovic meets Ulay

“Marina Abramovic and Ulay started an intense love story in the 70s, performing art out of the van they lived in. When they felt the relationship had run its course, they decided to walk the Great Wall of China, each from one end, meeting for one last big hug in the middle and never seeing each other again. at her 2010 MoMa retrospective Marina performed ‘The Artist Is Present’ as part of the show, a minute of silence with each stranger who sat in front of her. Ulay arrived without her knowing it and this is what happened.”

“En los años 70, Marina Abramovic mantuvo una intensa historia de amor con Ulay. Pasaron 5 años viviendo en una furgoneta realizando toda clase de performances. En 1988, cuando su relación ya no daba para más, decidieron recorrer la Gran Muralla China, empezando cada uno de un lado, para encontrarse en el medio, abrazarse y no volver a verse nunca más. En 2010 el MoMa de Nueva York dedicó una retrospectiva a su obra. Dentro de la misma, Marina compartía un minuto en silencio con cada extraño que se sentaba frente a ella. Ulay llegó sin que ella lo supiera, y esto fue lo que pasó”

nprradiopictures: On the night of the shootings in Newtown, Conn., a woman named Aline Marie attended a prayer vigil at St. Rose of Lima Roman Catholic Church, which was packed with local residents and the media. After about 45 minutes, Marie saw the statue of Mary and knelt down to pray. “I sat there in a moment of devastation with my hands in prayer pose asking for peace and healing in the hearts of men,” she recalls. “I was having such a strong moment and my heart was open, and I started to cry.” Her mood changed abruptly, she says, when “all of a sudden I hear ‘clickclickclickclickclick’ all over the place. And there are people in the bushes, all around me, and they are photographing me, and now I’m pissed. I felt like a zoo animal.” What particularly troubles her, she says, is “no one came up to me and said ‘Hi, I’m from this paper and I took your photograph.’ No one introduced themselves. I felt violated. And yes, it was a lovely photograph, but there is a sense of privacy in a moment like that, and they didn’t ask.” On the other end of the camera was AFP photographer Emmanuel Dunand. Based in New York, he had arrived in Newtown that day. He says he was overwhelmed by the assignment of having to photograph residents during such extreme grief. “I have two kids,” he told me. “It’s the type of story you never want to cover, ever, and being a dad … all you want to do is put down flowers, you don’t want to take photos.” But, he said, it was his job to make photos to help tell the story to the world, and in the midst of so much raw emotion, he tried to be discreet with his camera. If he sensed that someone was bothered by the camera, he simply put it down. What It Feels Like To Be Photographed In A Moment Of Grief Photo Credit: Emmanuel Dunand/AFP/Getty Images What are your thoughts? Should photographers interact with their subjects in moments of grief, or is it more respectful to leave them alone? Interesting perspectives on the role/responsibility of a photographer.

nprradiopictures:

On the night of the shootings in Newtown, Conn., a woman named Aline Marie attended a prayer vigil at St. Rose of Lima Roman Catholic Church, which was packed with local residents and the media. After about 45 minutes, Marie saw the statue of Mary and knelt down to pray.

“I sat there in a moment of devastation with my hands in prayer pose asking for peace and healing in the hearts of men,” she recalls. “I was having such a strong moment and my heart was open, and I started to cry.”

Her mood changed abruptly, she says, when “all of a sudden I hear ‘clickclickclickclickclick’ all over the place. And there are people in the bushes, all around me, and they are photographing me, and now I’m pissed. I felt like a zoo animal.”

What particularly troubles her, she says, is “no one came up to me and said ‘Hi, I’m from this paper and I took your photograph.’ No one introduced themselves. I felt violated. And yes, it was a lovely photograph, but there is a sense of privacy in a moment like that, and they didn’t ask.”

On the other end of the camera was AFP photographer Emmanuel Dunand. Based in New York, he had arrived in Newtown that day. He says he was overwhelmed by the assignment of having to photograph residents during such extreme grief.

“I have two kids,” he told me. “It’s the type of story you never want to cover, ever, and being a dad … all you want to do is put down flowers, you don’t want to take photos.”

But, he said, it was his job to make photos to help tell the story to the world, and in the midst of so much raw emotion, he tried to be discreet with his camera. If he sensed that someone was bothered by the camera, he simply put it down.

What It Feels Like To Be Photographed In A Moment Of Grief

Photo Credit: Emmanuel Dunand/AFP/Getty Images

What are your thoughts? Should photographers interact with their subjects in moments of grief, or is it more respectful to leave them alone?

Interesting perspectives on the role/responsibility of a photographer.