Animalia at knit.
Animalia at knit.
Stefanie Schneider (born 1968 in Cuxhaven) is a German photographer living in Berlin and Los Angeles. Schneider is known for using expired Polaroid instant film material to achieve an effect of washed-out colors and random artifacts from the deprecation of the chemicals.
Speckled, overexposed and miscolored, Stefanie Schneider’s suggestive photography breaks with the conventions of the trade. The expired Polaroid films she uses conjure the kind of surreal distortion associated with road movies.
“In The Solitude of Ravens Masahisa Fukase’s work can be deemed to have reached its supreme height; it can also be said to have fallen to its greatest depth”. So begins Akira Hasegawa’s afterword to Fukase’s The Solitude of Ravens, which was originally titled Karasu (Ravens) when it was published in Japan. There can be few photobooks sadder, lonelier, or more tragic than this sequence. Fukase had been famous for the joyous photographs he took of his wife but the marriage dissolved in 1976 and the emotions depicted in Fukase’s portfolio began to reverse direction.
Despondent Fukase became infatuated with the raven of his native Hokkaido, ten years worth of photographs of these birds make up The Solitude of Ravens. Published in Japan in 1986, it was republished in the United States in 1991. Soon after, Fukase fell down a staircase after returning drunk from a night out. He has been in a coma for the last 14 years. The photobook he left behind is a triumph of photographic expressionism, a record of a man who turned inward, leaving behind pure images of personal grief.
The raven is a creature heavy with imbued meaning. Edgar Allan Poe’s Raven, whose “eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming”, was a conflict of darkness and light. There is a dangerous loneliness to the singular bird and a great gloom to the flock that weighs down a sky. Perched together on a spindly tree, they sit in apparent melancholy. The raven lends itself to a particularly Japanese aesthetic. Elegant and strong in silhouette, it could be said to resemble a calligraphic marking. One image in the book is of a large aeroplane blocking out most of the viewfinder, its outline resembling the raven.
When Araki Nobuyoshi’s wife Yoko died of cancer in 1990, the great photographer descended into his own gloom. His visual vocabulary became one of vast skies, and the memory of Yoko was metaphorically preserved as photos of their pet cat. The departure of Fukase’s wife, also named Yoko, left no room for fond rememberance. It was on pilgrimage to the northern Japanese island of Hokkaido that he adopted the raven as the symbol of the pain which never left him.
The Solitude of Ravens was Fukase’s last work before he plunged into coma. This is a monumental and pivotal work in the history of photobooks underscored by the terrible tragedy of the photographer who created it.
Gucci became daring and going downstream and decide to change the wardrobe to sell to boys?
Another talent from Vamcouver, Canada.
Here is a creative photographer with his own touch of surreal ambiance and retouching works.
I LIKE. LOVE THEM ALL.
A former editor for the German fashion magazine Petra, Jil Sander opened her first boutique in Hamburg in 1968, selling her own pieces alongside those of celebrity designers like Sonia Rykiel. Though her “purity” aesthetic—austere suits and coats, embellishment-free cashmere knits, and monochrome silk dresses in whites, browns, and blacks—helped establish her cult following, Sander’s last collections as the label’s designer departed from the spartan formula with strokes of color (sherbet-hued dresses, white jackets painted with blue streaks) and flair (fringed separates, sequined numbers). New creative director Raf Simons has furthered this proposition with appliquéd shorts; electric red, orange, and blue outerwear; and blousy, one-button coats.
And Raf Simons, the current chief designer for Jil Sander, are back with the usual luxe-minimalism, impeccably tailored suits, and knits in an array of experimental cuts and techno fabrics again.
Sometimes too much portfolio or commercial advertising of work isn’t good so here’s personal shots of Will Van Overbeek.
Gisele Bundchen in a Water
A poor and crippled Hong Kong man who became a cultural icon for his unique Chinese-style street graffiti has died at the age of 86, sparking nostalgic calls to preserve his vanishing legacy.
Tsang Tsou-choi, dubbed “The King of Kowloon” after the district he lived in — was a Hong Kong original, who never saw himself as an artist but was hailed internationally as one.
A grubby man who looked like a tramp and who many thought barking mad, Tsang spent five decades roaming the metropolis — often shirtless and on crutches — scrawling his idiosyncratic calligraphy on lamp-posts, walls, phone boxes, pedestrian underpasses and electrical boxes.
“To some extent he’s quite cuckoo,” said leading Hong Kong fashion designer William Tang, a longtime admirer of Tsang who used the graffiti as a motif for several clothing ranges.
“I started to look at the calligraphy carefully and found it’s not just a joke. It has some kind of power, which is very raw, very original,” Tang added
Some say Tsang’s Chinese-style calligraphy, peppered with obscenities and abuse toward Britain’s Queen Elizabeth — is naive and an eyesore. But its quintessential Hong Kong symbolism has inspired other artists, including local film-maker Fruit Chan, and has drawn international acclaim.
sang’s admirers say his unique art slowly permeated the local consciousness and became a part of the city’s collective memory.
“The most important thing is it’s so consistent. It has become an icon and people recognize it — and that imprints in people’s minds,” said legislator Patrick Lau.
But Tsang’s acts of vandalism antagonized both Hong Kong’s British colonial rulers as well as the territory’s leaders after the 1997 handover to China.
The police pitted themselves against the graffiti artist in a cat and mouse game for years, effacing his work wherever they found it and detaining him several times.
Tsang stubbornly kept at his task — even on crutches in his 80s — but was forced to retire when his legs finally gave way.
His works are now in danger of vanishing completely. Only a few examples of his art remain, including a pillar at the Star Ferry Pier, sparking calls by legislators, art critics and preservation experts to save these vestiges.
“I don’t see any reason why they should be removed,” said Bernard Chan, a member of the Executive Council — Hong Kong’s top policy advisory body and the Antiquities Advisory Board.
Lau Kin-wai, an art critic and friend of Tsang’s for many years, called on the Hong Kong Art Museum to mount an exhibition to pay full tribute to Tsang’s legacy.
“He has already become a cultural icon and part of the collective memory of Hong Kong. (His work) is important for our future and past,” Lau said.
Exhibition images via http://flickr.com/photos/kookii/