Filtering by Tag: PHOTOGRAPHY
I came across this amazing photo by Ted Streshinsky for Corbis while doing some research.
Here's the caption:
1969: National guardsmen, called out by Governor Reagan to quell demonstrations, surround a Vietnam war protester during the People’s Park riot. The guardsmen herded protesters into a carpark with bayonets
The WSJ has a cool profile of Jean Pigozzi and his pool parties:
Everyone, it seems, came for a swim. Elizabeth Taylor visited in 1993, and "after like three minutes she said, 'Mr. Pigozzi, are you going to buy me a diamond?' I said, 'Why?'" he recalls. "She said, 'I ask every man I meet to buy me a diamond. And sometimes it works.''
I read Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist Lynsey Addario's memoir, It's What I Do: A Photographer's Life of Love and War, and liked it very much. Is it an extraordinary work of masterful nonfiction? No. Is it the riveting account of a woman who has bigger balls than you do? Yes. There may be too much love story in this war story for man readers, but ladies looking to live boldly in a world that isn't made of pixels will be inspired by Addario's fearless approach to love and war.
“Madam,” Haleem said, “the commander’s men are worried you can’t drink your tea through your veil. They would really like for you to drink your tea.” The whispers continued, and if it weren’t for the veil, I would have had a difficult time concealing my smile. Only among Muslims is the hospitality so great that they cannot bear the notion that someone’s tea will be left untouched.
Haleem had another brilliant idea: “I know! You can stand in the corner of the room, with your back facing all of us, and lift your veil to the wall and drink your tea. Once you finish, you can replace your veil.”
And so, in a room full of some of the most vicious fighters against the United States and everything it stood for, I stood in the corner and faced the wall as I drank my tea.
When I was in New York in June, I had the happy opportunity to be photographed by my photographer friend Clayton Cubitt. Maybe you read about him in Vanity Fair, or maybe you've seen his sexy popular Hysterical Literature videos, or maybe you dig his Instagram. He lives in a Brooklyn bento box with his cool girl KT. In any case, he shot a photo of me which is the new background for this website and the photo you see here. I picked this one because I think it represents how I feel most of the time: thinking too hard about something.
Buy THE TUMOR! "This is one of the weirdest, smartest, most disturbing things you will read this year."
Dear. Ms. Susannah Breslin,
My name is [redacted], and I am writing to you on behalf of [redacted] in [redacted], CA. As a Feminist and an academic, I am familiar with your work analyzing the sex industry in America, and I appreciate your objective outlook on such a controversial subject. I am reaching out to see if you would be involved in a constructive discussion on erotica, specifically looking at artists like [redacted] and his platform, [redacted].
In addition to nude, pin-up style photography, [redacted] features [redacted].
I am looking for esteemed authors and journalists, such as yourself, to incorporate [redacted]'s work in the greater discussions of erotica in our society.
I would be interested to know what you think, and what points you might bring to the discussion. Please let me know if you have any questions.
Thank you, and best regards.
I'm not clear what you are asking for here?
Thank you for responding. Based on your portfolio, your blog would be an excellent platform for discussion of how [redacted]’s work fits within the adult industry as a representative of erotica. Considering your mindful readership, I think this could spark an interesting debate.
We know [redacted] is one of countless “Adult-content” sites available, but his work seems to have an almost playful relationship between Models and Photographer.
Here at the office, we agree that because the models are presented respectfully and there is no degrading content on the site, [redacted] speaks to a certain fantasy style and should be classified as erotica. Is it soft? Hard? What’s the differentiating factor between the two? That’s for you and your readers to decide.
Let me know if that has answered your question, and I'll be happy to answer any others you may have.
Are you offering me compensation?
Unfortunately not, but I thought I would reach out to you because I really do appreciate your perspective and I am a fan of your writing. If you have any interest that would be great.
I think his work is terrible, and he's paying an ad company to ask bloggers to write about him for free. That's what I think. Does that help?
Thank you for your feedback, sorry to bother you.
Steve Diet Goedde is an amazing photographer, a friend, and one of the nicest guys I've ever met. (He took the photo of me above years ago.) Currently, he's doing a Kickstarter for the first book in his forthcoming three-part, 25-year retrospective, Arrangements. If you're a fan of great photography, beautiful ladies, and/or fetish, you will want to own this volume. He's also got some special editions for those who think they're fancy.
Jason Reitman, gross, tells the Huffington Post, gag, that he created a real porn site for his movie about the internet and the people who patronize it.
"'We had a guy whose job, full-time, was to look at porn ... and find thumbnails so we could create Pornhub pages so that it looked as though someone was searching things and things were coming up,' Reitman told HuffPost Live's Roy Sekoff. 'So that guy, for weeks, he just watched porn and came up with thumbnails and titles to clips.'"
Klaus Biesenbach, cooler than you'll ever be, is interested in this new Artforum cover.
"this picture of the current @artforum i carry around for nearly a week, wanting to instagram it on a special day where there is not much before and after, as i feel this is such an important, groundbreaking piece that there needs to be a bit of distance even on instagram to allow for it to be. william pope. l, foraging (asphyxia version) (detail), 1993-1995/2008, digital c-print, 19 1/8 x 18 1/2" from the series 'black domestic project,' 1993-95"
According to RubMaps, Lucky Star is closed. But the day I was there, the flashing sign was spelling out O-P-E-N.
Like Dong Fang Spa, it's located in southwest Florida. Naples, to be exact.
According to Sarasota Magazine, "Naples is winning the battle for billionaires." In 2011, it had the second "highest concentration of millionaires in the country."
It also has a not insignificant number of massage parlors.
Per RubMaps, the "Masseuse Style" at Lucky Star is "Korean." Payment is cash only. There is no parking for semis. And an hour will cost you $70.
If you have never read them before, RubMaps reviews are a genre in their own right. They're, for the most part, friendly, guy-next-door accounts of visits to massage parlors, littered with double entendres ("my rod"), acronyms (HE = happy ending), and human insights ("She had a bit of a bouncy personality"). Frequently, they comment on house technique ("shew as [sic] trying to churn out some butter") so others can decide if they'd like to patronize the place.
A while back, I wrote about weed, real weed, being used in manicures (see: "For Marijuana Smokers, A Weed Manicure Is High Fashion"). I came across this interesting image recently. Found on That Darn Rachel.
The image above is by Roger Kisby and from BuzzFeed's "49 Insane Photos from the World's Largest Porn Convention." Last year, I went to AVN and SHOT Show. As I recall it, the gun show was first, and the porn show overlapped near the end, so I spent several days shuttling between back and forth between guns and porn. It wasn't the hardest job I ever had. I suppose I felt a bit of nostalgia looking at Kisby's pics, and I pined a little remembering my SHOT conversation with a guy about animal urine. Maybe I'll go again next year. We'll see.
The husband and the wife killed the dog. They hadn't been married that long, and in some ways it felt like the first important they had done together. The wife looked around to check on the dog in the backseat. It was hanging its head out the window and smiling. It had no idea what was coming. The husband and the wife stood on either side of the vet as he injected the chemicals that would kill the dog. Six hands on the animal. The husband crying. The dog leaving the earth.
Time: 11 minutes
Word count: 92