The work of artist Nina KatchadouriÂan is highÂly accesÂsiÂble. So much so that it’s likeÂly her fault if the line for the bathÂroom on your next flight stretchÂes all the way from tail to the cockÂpit. Such is the powÂer of LavaÂtoÂry Self-porÂtraits in the FlemÂish Style, the best known segÂment of her ongoÂing Seat AssignÂment project. How can pasÂsenÂgers pass up the opporÂtuÂniÂty to recreÂate KatchadouriÂan’s wideÂly disÂsemÂiÂnatÂed images, knowÂing that the origÂiÂnals were shot in the mirÂror on an iPhone, using props like disÂposÂable seat covÂers and an inflatÂable neck pilÂlow?
Shy and/or civic-mindÂed types who don’t relÂish the impliÂcaÂtions of tying up the johnÂny at high altiÂtudes should have a go at restagÂing the othÂer aspects to KatchadouriÂan’s inflight work, on disÂplay above.
(Hint: book a winÂdow seat and exerÂcise restraint when the fight attenÂdant hands you your comÂpliÂmenÂtaÂry bag of mini pretÂzels.)
HonÂestÂly, much of what you’ll see, from the unnervÂingÂly named DisÂasÂters to the genius of Sweater GorilÂlas, can be accomÂplished withÂout leavÂing the ground. Though it may prove more creÂativeÂly rewardÂing to delay until the only palatÂable alterÂnaÂtive is an unregÂuÂlatÂed amount of realÂiÂty TV screenÂing on the seat back ahead of you.
In a preÂviÂous post, we brought you what is likeÂly the only appearÂance on film of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle—an interÂview in which he talks of SherÂlock Holmes and spirÂiÂtuÂalÂism. Although Conan Doyle creÂatÂed one of the most hardÂnosed ratioÂnal charÂacÂters in litÂerÂaÂture, the author himÂself latÂer became conÂvertÂed to a variÂety of superÂnatÂurÂal beliefs, and he was takÂen in by a few hoaxÂes. One such famous hoax was the case of the so-called “CotÂtinÂgÂley Fairies.” As you can see from the phoÂto above (from 1917), the case involved what Conan Doyle believed was phoÂtoÂgraphÂic eviÂdence of the exisÂtence of fairies, docÂuÂmentÂed by two young YorkÂshire girls, Elsie Wright and her cousin Frances GrifÂfiths (the girl in the phoÂto above). AccordÂing to The HauntÂed MuseÂum, the stoÂry of Doyle’s involveÂment goes someÂthing like this:
In 1920, Conan Doyle received a letÂter from a SpirÂiÂtuÂalÂist friend, FeliÂcia Scatcherd, who informed of some phoÂtographs which proved the exisÂtence of fairies in YorkÂshire. Conan Doyle asked his friend Edward GardÂner to go down and invesÂtiÂgate and GardÂner soon found himÂself in the posÂsesÂsion of sevÂerÂal phoÂtos which showed very small female figÂures with transÂparÂent wings. The phoÂtogÂraÂphers had been two young girls, Elsie Wright and her cousin, Frances GrifÂfiths. They claimed they had seen the fairies on an earÂliÂer occaÂsion and had gone back with a camÂera and phoÂtographed them. They had been takÂen in July and SepÂtemÂber 1917, near the YorkÂshire vilÂlage of CotÂtinÂgÂley.
The two cousins claimed to have seen the fairies around the “beck” (a local term for “stream”) on an almost daiÂly basis. At the time, they claimed to have no intenÂtion of seekÂing fame or notoÂriÂety. Elsie had borÂrowed her father’s camÂera on a host SatÂurÂday in July 1917 to take picÂtures of Frances and the beck fairies.
Elsie’s father, a skepÂtic, filed the phoÂtos away as a joke, but her mothÂer, PolÂly Wright, believed, and brought the images to GardÂner (there were only two at first, not “sevÂerÂal”), who cirÂcuÂlatÂed them through the British spirÂiÂtuÂalÂist comÂmuÂniÂty. When Conan Doyle saw them in 1920, he gave each girl a camÂera and comÂmisÂsioned them to take more. They proÂduced three addiÂtionÂal prints. The online MuseÂum of HoaxÂesdetails each of the five phoÂtos from the two sesÂsions with text from Edward GardÂner’s 1945 TheoÂsophÂiÂcal SociÂety pubÂliÂcaÂtion The CotÂtinÂgÂley PhoÂtographs and Their Sequel.
These phoÂtos swayed thouÂsands over the course of the cenÂtuÂry, but arch-skepÂtic James RanÂdi seemÂingÂly debunked them for good when he pointÂed out that the fairies were ringers for figÂures in the 1915 children’s book Princess Mary’s Gift Book, and that the prints show disÂcrepÂanÂcies in expoÂsure times that clearÂly point to delibÂerÂate manipÂuÂlaÂtion. The two women, Elsie and Frances, finalÂly conÂfessed in the earÂly 1980s, fifty years after Conan Doyle’s involveÂment, that they had faked the phoÂtos with paper cutouts. Watch RanÂdi and Elsie Wright disÂcuss the trickÂery above.
The daughÂter and grandÂdaughÂter of GrifÂfiths posÂsess the origÂiÂnal prints and one of Conan Doyle’s camÂeras. Both once believed that the fairies were real, but as the host explains, they were not simÂply credÂuÂlous fools. ThroughÂout much of the twenÂtiÂeth cenÂtuÂry, peoÂple looked at the camÂera as a sciÂenÂtifÂic instruÂment, unaware of the ease with which images could be manipÂuÂlatÂed and staged. But even as Frances admitÂted to the fakÂery of the first four phoÂtos, she insistÂed that numÂber five was genÂuine. EveryÂone on the show agrees, includÂing the host. CerÂtainÂly Conan Doyle and his friend Edward GardÂner thought so. In the latÂter’s descripÂtion of #5, he wrote:
This is espeÂcialÂly remarkÂable as it conÂtains a feaÂture quite unknown to the girls. The sheath or cocoon appearÂing in the midÂdle of the grassÂes had not been seen by them before, and they had no idea what it was. Fairy observers of ScotÂland and the New ForÂest, howÂevÂer, were familÂiar with it and described it as a magÂnetÂic bath, woven very quickÂly by the fairies and used after dull weathÂer, in the autumn espeÂcialÂly. The inteÂriÂor seems to be magÂneÂtised in some manÂner that stimÂuÂlates and pleasÂes.
I must say, I remain seriÂousÂly unconÂvinced. Even if I were inclined to believe in fairies, phoÂto numÂber five looks as phoÂny to me as numÂbers one through four. But the Antiques RoadÂshow appearÂance does add a fun new layÂer to the stoÂry and an air of mysÂtery I can’t help but find intriguÂing, as Conan Doyle did in 1920, if only for the hisÂtorÂiÂcal angle of the three genÂerÂaÂtions of GrifÂfiths who held onto the legÂend and the artiÂfacts. Oh, and the appraisal for the five origÂiÂnal phoÂtos and Arthur Conan Doyle’s camÂera? TwenÂty-five to thirÂty-thouÂsand pounds—not too shabÂby for an adoÂlesÂcent prank.
Josh Jones is a freeÂlance writer, ediÂtor, and musiÂcian based in WashÂingÂton, DC. FolÂlow him @jdmagness
Ask a phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer from the cenÂtuÂry that just passed to name his or her favorite film, and the answer, very often, will be Kodachrome.
The crisp emulÂsion, beauÂtiÂfulÂly satÂuÂratÂed colÂors and archival staÂbilÂiÂty of Kodachrome made it a senÂtiÂmenÂtal favorite among phoÂtogÂraÂphers long after othÂer, more pracÂtiÂcal colÂor films had all but pushed it out of the marÂketÂplace. The probÂlem was, the very qualÂiÂties that made the film speÂcial stemmed from a highÂly cumÂberÂsome techÂniÂcal process. Kodachrome was a “non-subÂstanÂtive” film, meanÂing the dye couÂplers were not built into the emulÂsion, as they are in othÂer colÂor films, but had to be added durÂing develÂopÂment. The process was comÂplex, and few labs could afford to offer it. Even before the digÂiÂtal revÂoÂluÂtion, Kodachrome was an endanÂgered species.
So while it came as an emoÂtionÂal shock to many phoÂtogÂraÂphers, it was no real surÂprise when the EastÂman Kodak ComÂpaÂny announced in 2009 that it was haltÂing proÂducÂtion of Kodachrome. One of the phoÂtogÂraÂphers who had long-since moved on to digÂiÂtal imagÂing but who was sadÂdened by the demise of Kodachrome was Steve McCurÂry, an award-winÂning phoÂtoÂjourÂnalÂist for NationÂal GeoÂgraphÂic who is best known for his hauntÂing 1984 image (shot on Kodachrome) of a 12-year-old Afghan refugee girl with piercÂing green eyes. When McCurÂry heard the news, he arranged to obtain the very last roll of Kodachrome to come off the assemÂbly line at the Kodak plant in Rochester, New York. The chalÂlenge, then, was this: What do you do with the last 36 expoÂsures of a legÂendary film?
The half-hour docÂuÂmenÂtary above from NationÂal GeoÂgraphÂic tells the stoÂry of that roll and how McCurÂry used it. The filmÂmakÂers folÂlowed the phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer on an odyssey that began at the facÂtoÂry in Rochester and endÂed at a labÂoÂraÂtoÂry (the last Kodachrome lab open) in a small town in Kansas. Over the course of about six weeks, from late May to earÂly July, 2010, McCurÂry travÂeled halfway around the world to make those final 36 expoÂsures. The resultÂing phoÂtographs iclude street scenes in New York and Kansas, porÂtraits of a movie star (Robert De Niro) in New York, intelÂlecÂtuÂals and ethÂnic tribesÂmen in India, colÂleagues in Turkey and New York, and one of himÂself. It’s a remarkÂable take. Although a few of the shots appear sponÂtaÂneous, most are the result of careÂful planÂning. McCurÂry donatÂed all 36 slides to the George EastÂman House InterÂnaÂtionÂal MuseÂum of PhoÂtogÂraÂphy and Film, but you can see almost all of the phoÂtos online at the VanÂiÂty Fair Web site. As McCurÂry tells the magÂaÂzine:
I’ve been shootÂing digÂiÂtal for years, but I don’t think you can make a betÂter phoÂtoÂgraph under cerÂtain conÂdiÂtions than you can with Kodachrome. If you have good light and you’re at a fairÂly high shutÂter speed, it’s going to be a brilÂliant colÂor phoÂtoÂgraph. It had a great colÂor palette. It wasÂn’t too garÂish. Some films are like you’re on a drug or someÂthing. Velvia made everyÂthing so satÂuÂratÂed and wildÂly over-the-top, too elecÂtric. Kodachrome had more poetÂry in it, a softÂness, an eleÂgance. With digÂiÂtal phoÂtogÂraÂphy, you gain many benÂeÂfits [but] you have to put in post-proÂducÂtion. [With Kodachrome] you take it out of the box and the picÂtures are already brilÂliant.
Too bad there are no leopÂard seals on NationÂal GeoÂgraphÂic’s payÂroll. PhoÂtogÂraÂphÂer Paul Nicklen’s intiÂmate porÂtraits of the one who took parÂticÂuÂlar interÂest in him on a recent AntarcÂtic expeÂdiÂtion are delightÂful. ImagÂine how great it would be to have some reverse angle reacÂtion shots of Nicklen as his new friend attempts to serve him a sucÂcesÂsion of live, dead, and mutiÂlatÂed penÂguins.
He may have turned up his nose at his subÂjecÂt’s cuiÂsine, but Nicklen brings someÂthing else to the table, nameÂly four days’ worth of up close and perÂsonÂal shots of an aniÂmal doing someÂthing othÂer than going about its busiÂness. WithÂout anthroÂpoÂmorÂphizÂing its intenÂtions over much, this creaÂture went out of its way to accliÂmate its strange guest to his new surÂroundÂings, stickÂing around when lessÂer hosts would have abanÂdoned him alongÂside the bufÂfet. PretÂty cool when you conÂsidÂer that NickÂlen’s entire head could — and briefly did — fit inside its masÂsive, sharp fanged jaws.
One must take care, when writÂing about well-conÂnectÂed culÂturÂal figÂures, not to abuse the word iconÂic. But when one writes about the phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer Annie LeiÂbovitz, one almost has to abuse it. Here we have a woman who took two of the most memÂoÂrable phoÂtos of John Lennon, colÂlabÂoÂratÂed (to the extent posÂsiÂble) with Hunter S. ThompÂson, went on tour with the Rolling Stones, folÂlowed Richard Nixon out of the White House the last time he left it, conÂvinced Whoopi GoldÂberg to get into a bathÂtub of milk, and loved Susan SonÂtag. This whole post couldÂn’t posÂsiÂbly conÂtain a comÂplete list of her proÂfesÂsionÂal and perÂsonÂal involveÂment with the, yes, icons of twenÂtiÂeth-cenÂtuÂry popÂuÂlar culÂture. Her porÂtraits of them became icons themÂselves, which, in turn, made LeiÂbovitz herÂself iconÂic. For a visuÂalÂly rich sense of the scope of her life and career, look no furÂther than the docÂuÂmenÂtary above, Life Through a Lens.
This 2008 proÂducÂtion comes from the PBS-disÂtribÂuted AmerÂiÂcan MasÂters teleÂviÂsion series, which we feaÂtured on TuesÂday. DirectÂed by LeiÂbovitz’s own sisÂter and thereÂfore posÂsessed of the unusuÂal familÂial insight you’d expect, Life Through a Lens also includes a great many of the hard-to-interÂview lumiÂnarÂies withÂout which no proÂfile of this phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer could be comÂplete. We hear from Arnold SchwarzenegÂger, Jann WenÂner, Hillary ClinÂton, GloÂria Steinem, PatÂti Smith, Mick JagÂger, KeiÂth Richards, Bette Midler, Yoko Ono, and George Clooney, to name but a few of her admirÂers who’ve held their own at the busiÂness end of her camÂera. In the four years since this docÂuÂmenÂtary, LeiÂbovitz’s phoÂtographs — now of 21st-cenÂtuÂry celebriÂties like Miley Cyrus, Sasha Baron Cohen, Lady Gaga, RihanÂna, and LeBron James — have conÂtinÂued to impress in the pages of Vogue and VanÂiÂty Fair. WhenÂevÂer someÂone risÂes toward iconÂic staÂtus, Annie LeiÂbovitz’s visuÂal imagÂiÂnaÂtion can’t be far behind.
We all have our fasÂciÂnaÂtions. Some of us are enamÂored of a parÂticÂuÂlar hisÂtorÂiÂcal era. If I had to pick a time periÂod I’d want to visÂit, I’d say the 1930s—after the DepresÂsion, before World War II—a “tweenÂer” decade if there ever was one.
Jo HedÂwig Teeuwisse takes her interÂest in the 1930s to extraÂorÂdiÂnary lengths. She wears vinÂtage clothÂing and attends 1930s-theme parÂties. She is also a hisÂtorÂiÂcal conÂsulÂtant and expert on daiÂly life from 1930–1945.
Teeuwisse lives in The Hague but once, while visÂitÂing AmsÂterÂdam, she stumÂbled upon a treaÂsure on the street. It was a box filled with old phoÂtoÂgraphÂic negÂaÂtives. Some had idenÂtiÂfyÂing notes but most did not. A hisÂtoÂry nut, Teeuwisse went to work immeÂdiÂateÂly tryÂing to sort out where the shots were takÂen and, if posÂsiÂble, the idenÂtiÂties of peoÂple in the retro phoÂtos.
The results are an impresÂsive and amazÂing archive Teeuwisse calls Ghosts of HisÂtoÂry. More than simÂply figÂurÂing out which buildÂing is feaÂtured in a picÂture, Teeuwisse creÂatÂed phoÂto mash-ups by comÂbinÂing eleÂments of a vinÂtage image with an image of her own takÂen in the same place today.
We see memÂbers of the underÂground press marchÂing down a main AmsÂterÂdam thorÂoughÂfare in June, 1945 alongÂside shopÂpers and tourists strolling down the same street today.
In a powÂerÂful juxÂtaÂpoÂsiÂtion of then and now, three Dutch scouts risk their lives crossÂing Amsterdam’s Dam Square in the afterÂmath of a Nazi attack just two days after GerÂmany surÂrenÂdered. Note the hats left behind by peoÂple who had fled for their lives, and the conÂtemÂpoÂrary stuÂdents walkÂing nonÂchaÂlantÂly on.
What is so potent about Teeuwisse’s work is that it is so quiÂet. She doesn’t have to point out irony because it is so immeÂdiÂateÂly eviÂdent: Those same cobÂbles that so many have trod on the way to Madame Tussaud’s Wax MuseÂum are scuffed by the boots of solÂdiers, famÂished vicÂtims of war ausÂterÂiÂty and ordiÂnary workÂing peoÂple on their way to the facÂtoÂry.
There are still many World War II images from that box that remain unidenÂtiÂfied. Teeuwisse loaded them all up to her flickr site. Take a look. Maybe you’ll find a familÂiar face from your own past.
Kate Rix writes about digÂiÂtal media and eduÂcaÂtion. Read more of her work at and thenifty.blogspot.com.
PhilosoÂphers have often rumiÂnatÂed on the aesÂthetÂics of phoÂtogÂraÂphy. Roland Barthes’ CamÂera LuciÂda begins with a poignant memoÂriÂalÂizaÂtion of his mothÂer, as rememÂbered through her phoÂtoÂgraph. Pierre Bourdieu’s PhoÂtogÂraÂphy: A MidÂdle-Brow ArtwonÂdered why and how the mediÂum became so wideÂspread that “there are few houseÂholds, at least in towns, which do not posÂsess a camÂera.” And Jacques Derrida’s posthuÂmous Athens, Still Remains, a travÂel memÂoir accomÂpaÂnied by the phoÂtographs of Jean-FranÂcois BonÂhomme, begins with the mysÂtiÂcal phrase “We owe ourÂselves to death.”
For Barthes and DerÂriÂda, phoÂtogÂraÂphy was a mediÂum of susÂpendÂed mortality—every phoÂtoÂgraph a memenÂto mori. For anothÂer philosoÂpher, the crypÂtic, polyÂmath, and notoÂriÂousÂly surly LudÂwig WittgenÂstein, phoÂtogÂraÂphy was a conÂcrete expresÂsion of his preÂferred means of perÂcepÂtion. As he famousÂly wrote in the PhiloÂsophÂiÂcal InvesÂtiÂgaÂtions, “Don’t think, look!” For the unsenÂtiÂmenÂtalÂly cereÂbral WittgenÂstein, a phoÂtoÂgraph is not a memoÂrÂiÂal, but a “probÂaÂbilÂiÂty.” The philosopher’s archive at the UniÂverÂsiÂty of CamÂbridge includes the phoÂtoÂgraph above, a true “probÂaÂbilÂiÂty” in that it does not repÂreÂsent any one perÂson but is a comÂposÂite image of his face and the faces of his three sisÂters, made in colÂlabÂoÂraÂtion with the “foundÂing father of eugenÂics,” FranÂcis GalÂton. The four sepÂaÂrate phoÂtographs that WittgenÂstein and GalÂton blendÂed togethÂer are below.
Of the comÂposÂite image, keepÂer of the WittgenÂstein archives Michael Nedo writes that “WittgenÂstein was aimÂing for difÂferÂent clarÂiÂty expressed by the phoÂtogÂraÂphy of fuzziÂness.”:
GalÂton wantÂed to work out one probÂaÂbilÂiÂty, whereÂas WittgenÂstein saw this as a sumÂmaÂry in which all manÂner of posÂsiÂbilÂiÂties are revealed in the fuzziÂness.
FuzziÂness is a word rarely applied to Wittgenstein’s thought—at least his earÂly work in the TracÂtaÂtus LogiÂco-PhiloÂsophÂiÂcus where his only goal is a clarÂiÂty of thought that supÂposÂedÂly disÂsolves all the “fuzzy” probÂlems of phiÂlosÂoÂphy in a series of ellipÂtiÂcal aphoÂrisms. The philosoÂpher also called himÂself a “disÂciÂple of Freud,” in that he sought to “think in picÂtures,” and reach beyond lanÂguage to the images proÂduced by dreams and the unconÂscious, “to enable us to see things difÂferÂentÂly.” Wittgenstein’s phoÂtographs are as strangeÂly detached and mysÂteÂriÂous as the man himÂself. Salon has a gallery of the philosopher’s phoÂtographs, which includes the porÂtrait of him (below), takÂen at his instrucÂtion in Swansea, Wales in 1947. It’s an iconÂic image; WittgenÂstein half-sneers disÂdainÂfulÂly at the camÂera, his steady gaze a chalÂlenge, while the blackÂboard behind him shows a riot of scratchÂes and scrawls. In the upper right-hand corÂner, the word RAW hangs omiÂnousÂly above the philosopher’s head.
Josh Jones is a docÂtorÂal canÂdiÂdate in EngÂlish at FordÂham UniÂverÂsiÂty and a co-founder and forÂmer manÂagÂing ediÂtor of GuerÂniÂca / A MagÂaÂzine of Arts and PolÂiÂtics.
Award-winÂning filmÂmakÂer Matt MorÂris appreÂciÂates craft, hard work and peoÂple who just show up for each othÂer.
His Emmy-nomÂiÂnatÂed film Pickin’ and TrimÂmin’folÂlows the men who cut hair and play blueÂgrass music togethÂer at Drexel’s barÂberÂshop in North CarÂoliÂna. In Mr. HapÂpy Man, an 88-year-old man talks about the hours he spends every mornÂing greetÂing Bermuda’s comÂmuters as they endure trafÂfic.
The subÂject of his most recent work came to him in a round-about way, but feaÂtures the same careÂful, affecÂtionÂate filmÂmakÂing of his othÂer films. AmerÂiÂcan TinÂtypechronÂiÂcles the process of phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer HarÂry TayÂlor, who disÂcovÂered a pasÂsion for the CivÂil War-era “wet plate” phoÂtogÂraÂphy.
TayÂlor, based in WilmÂingÂton, North CarÂoliÂna, speÂcialÂizes in tinÂtypes and ambrotypes. He makes them with the same big camÂeras and messy chemÂiÂcals used durÂing the late 1800s. At that time, the process proÂduced a whole new layÂer of detail than earÂliÂer techÂniques had done, and allowed for an infiÂnite numÂber of prints to be made.
Time conÂsumÂing, laboÂriÂous and unpreÂdictable, the process requires the phoÂtogÂraÂphÂer to use a portable dark room when shootÂing outÂside of the stuÂdio. Tin phoÂtoÂgraphÂic plates are coatÂed with colÂloÂdiÂon emulÂsion. (The techÂnique is also called colÂloÂdiÂon process. There’s a nice tutoÂrÂiÂal here.) The plate must be coatÂed, exposed and develÂoped withÂin fifÂteen minÂutes, before the colÂloÂdiÂon losÂes its senÂsiÂtivÂiÂty. It’s an inconÂveÂnient sysÂtem, espeÂcialÂly by today’s stanÂdards, but it pleasÂes TayÂlor immenseÂly as it forces both him and his subÂjects to slow down. You can view some of TayÂlor’s images here.
MorÂris allows TayÂlor to speak for himÂself in the four-minute docÂuÂmenÂtary, letÂting the camÂera linger on Taylor’s wood and metÂal equipÂment, the dreamiÂness of his images and on Taylor’s own obserÂvaÂtions about how long-expoÂsure phoÂtogÂraÂphy reveals more of the subject’s thoughts. Even the flaws are interÂestÂing.
Make a point to notice the music. MorÂris approached comÂposÂer Hanan TownÂshend, known for the scores he comÂposed for direcÂtor TerÂrence MalÂick. MorÂris blogs about the process of recordÂing AmerÂiÂcan TinÂtype’s soundÂtrack at Marin County’s SkyÂwalkÂer Sound—a fun litÂtle peek behind the scenes.
Kate Rix writes about digÂiÂtal media and eduÂcaÂtion. Read more of her work at and thenifty.blogspot.com.
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