a world of wonderlands.

Every once in a rare while you stumble onto something that is so delightful, so inspiring, so completely you, but that you never would've even known to seek out. Something like the Alice in a World of Wonderlands exhibit at the Grolier Club. 

We were in New York last year, took the subway over to Central Park from the Bowery, and were being directed around construction on our way to the park when I saw Alice on a little sign. I walked over and saw that it was an exhibition, free to the public, on around-the-world translations of Alice in Wonderland. Of course I couldn't miss it. It wasn't a big room, but I spent at least an hour there and could've spent a few more if I had been alone. 

Alice, the original.

The information about various translations was interesting to say the least, but for me, comparing the various illustrations was just incredible. I was so surprised by the number of non-blonde Alices (including the original, Alice Liddell) although it shouldn’t be surprising considering how many of the world’s peoples have dark hair. I left wishing the book was a compilation of the illustrations rather than the translations, but at least I was able to find images of a few of the more remarkable covers online.

death wears diamond jewelry

I love this way too much. I can't stop bookmarking posts from this blog.

modern art

I was really looking forward to going to the SFMOMA again. Until I got there. Wandering through the Face of Our Time photography exhibit, I came into a room of framed photos of "New Orleans" and Hurricane Katrina. I've seen these photos a million times, I've seen the real things, but something about the way they were hung and framed in the art museum really broke me down. This is not talent, this is not art. This is definitely not original, I've seen these exact photos taken by multiple others, and there was nothing high-quality or original about the way they were photographed. This is not speaking for people that have no voice, this is not showing the world injustices to incite change. This is capitalization off of personal tragedy, tragedy experienced by people with digital cameras and flickr accounts who could have shared these exact images if they wanted to. This is not even New Orleans in most of the photos, it's St. Bernard Parish, but I guess that doesn't conjure the same effect.

(Here's my dad, the actual face of that time. He is typical of the majority of homeowners in St. Bernard Parish. Not what you were expecting? Let's focus on the graffiti instead, that's more New Orleans-y.)

I remember my brother telling me a story about when he was helping my dad clean out his house after the storm. They worked on it for hours after work every day, in a mostly deserted town. He told me about how people would drive down the street and get so excited when they saw him and my dad working, wheelbarrowing piles of ruined possessions and dumping them on the front lawn. They would pull up the car and roll down the windows and take pictures and talk to each other about how great it was to find something so great to photograph - that something being my family's destroyed lives.

(Photography taken from the car on the way home. Think I should donate it to SFMOMA? Oh, wait, they already have one...)

I thought a lot about why these photographs bothered me so much. I didn't have the same reaction to Jim Goldberg's photographs of the refugees in the Democratic Repulic of Congo, considerably more tragic. Was it just personal? But I came to the conclusion that the major difference is that even if other people were covering the exact same subject at the exact same time, they could not have taken the same photograph as he did. And that is the difference.

In the Realms of the Unreal

I just watched this documentary on Henry Darger. It's fascinating; such an incredible and sad life story. His art is so innocent and weird:

The Albert Einsteins are here

Oh my, I love these Alberts so much!

We got the brainstorm for this awesome art project a while ago, and finally realized it. And it's just as good as I imagined.

They are hanging right by our front door, and every single time I come in, I say out loud: I just love these Alberts so much!

So, the art is all creative-commons-licensed photos from Flickr, which in this case meant we could print a copy for non-commercial use (as long as you attribute it). The awesome thing is that we've seen one or two of these Einstein graffitis in real life. So cool that you can search Flickr and find the photos that you missed taking!

Here's the photos we used:

Photo by Locace.

Photo by Jakedobkin.

Photo by Setlasmon.

Photo by Jonas B.

Photo by Indrasensi.

Photo by Peter John Chen.

grafitti+art

One of my favorite things about New York has got to be the quality of grafitti. Particularly, all the Albert Einsteins. Here's Woody and Albert on the same block! (Ok, Woody was actually part of an art exhibit: Mr. Brainwash Icons Remix show, which sadly, was closed.)

It's funny but I just realized that when my hubby gets really old, I expect him to look like one or the other of these guys, or maybe a mix.

(That's a compliment, right? Love you baby!)

Rough Beauty - Dave Anderson

Gotta get this out the way: I bought this book (used) for $3.19! I'm so excited about that! I've been wanting it for years...

Anyway, it's by a photographer named Dave Anderson. Right now he is exhibiting photos taken in New Orleans during the Katrina rebuilding, but this book is of his last exhibition, Rough Beauty.

I don't know why these photos speak so much to me; I've seen variations of them all my life. They are simultaneously so familiar and heartbreaking and repulsive and innocent. They were actually taken somewhere called Vidor, Texas, which I've never been, but they feel like my home.

I found him, by chance, when I had to do a presentation of a modern photographer who was inspiring to me for a photo class a while back. And then right after that, got to see his exhibit, by chance, after wandering into a small museum next to our hotel on a trip to Chicago. I've wanted the book ever since, and I'm so glad to have it.

iphone camera love

Why I Love My iPhone, Part 2

The built-in camera, along with a few apps, has for the most part replaced my digital slr and photoshop. Especially for throwaway blog pictures; most of the photos on this blog were taken with my iPhone. And since my phone's always with me, I always have a camera handy, with nothing extra to carry.

Here's the built-in camera app with full screen preview, you hit the little camera icon to click away:

Then you open PhotoGene, to crop (I love the square crop!) and edit exposure and levels:

 

This is what you get:

Then CameraBag, where the real fun begins. It has filters that stimulate different camera effects, including holga and lomo cameras (my favorites):

 

Here's the lomo (lolo):

Here's the helga (holga):

And you can also combine filters. Here's the photo with lolo applied, and then helga:

There's a CameraBag group on flickr, where you can really see the potential.

This is only semi-related, but very interesting. This artist, Jorge Colombo, sells prints of digital art "painted" directly on the spot using an iPhone app called Brushes. (Buy these prints here, for $20, better hurry!)

   

One of them was recently the cover of The New Yorker. Pretty unbelievable, if you ask me.

Can you believe this dude painted that with his finger on his iPhone screen? Crazy.

etsy art

he noticed

I absolutely adore this John Clark print, I bought a while back from etsy. It reminds me of falling in love, of catching your breath when he looks at you and not being able to think of anything else, of this song.

Z

Here's another recent purchase - a black and white photograph by Elle Moss. It's exactly the type of haunting, grainy, beautifully mysterious self-portrait I wish I could take. All of her self-portraits are incredible.

the city that never sleeps

And lastly, a few years ago I asked my sister to give me art for christmas. She bought this photo from etsy, then collaged the glass to add these words: it's your life. have fun. relax. experience the unfamiliar, unexpected. redefine your comfort zone. Love it.