There’s a common thread that ties together each of Gusmano Cesaretti‘s photography collections. Each collection displays his uncanny ability to capture a specific place and time, in a way that feels almost mythical, and yet also deeply personal. While each series, taken as a whole, paints a sort of romanticized portrait of the place in question, the idiosyncratic details of each picture tell a story of their own. The pair of collections currently being shown at Los Angeles’ Roberts & Tilton gallery– the first documenting 1970s East L.A., and the second depicting the harsh realities of Panamanian street life– put some of the most powerful examples of that particular talent on display.
I don’t listen to Norwegian black metal. Until about two hours ago, I couldn’t have told you anything about it, and after spending the better part of that time learning about it, I can’t say I’m rushing to find a download link. But Until the Light Takes Us is just a fascinating film, and for that hour and a half I was immersed in a subculture completely foreign to me. Released to mixed reviews in 2009, the film is the product of directors Aaron Aites and Audrey Ewell’s vision, a documentary compiled through years of interviews and archival footage with some of Norwegian black metal‘s most controversial figures.
That most critiques of Until the Light center around the overly sympathetic, romanticizing tone it takes toward its subjects only makes sense. The story of black metal is, after all, primarily documented as a result of controversy– a series of church burnings, a handful of murders, and some grisly suicides, to be more specific. Beyond that though, the film explores the troubling ideology behind those actions, and behind a cultural phenomenon that captured the world’s attention at its peak in the mid-’90s. For those curious enough, it’s an experience, to say the least. Read on for the full movie.
Glenn Ligon is certainly not the first artist to use America as a conceptual framework through which to explore his own identity. But through some combination of Ligon’s unique experience in America, and the biting wit and keen insight he brings to that discussion, his contribution stands as something definitive and original in contemporary art. Most noticeably, Ligon’s art is about being black and about being gay in America. But far from transparent or obvious criticisms about race or sexuality, Ligon’s work is highly conceptual, offering personal meditations that match the complexity of the subject matter he’s approaching.
Sunday, January 22nd marks the last day of Ligon’s Americaat LACMA, a large-scale, mid-career retrospective commemorating the 61 year-old artist’s life and work so far, and all I can say is that I wish I had gone sooner. The exhibit is both rich in ideas, and diverse in style and form, showcasing Ligon’s evolution as an artist through a comprehensive survey of stylistic experiments. Neon signs reading “America” and “Negro Sunshine” welcome viewers. In another room, huge prints of images from the Million Man March tower above. Perhaps most common in Ligon’s work, however is the use of text, as messages about identity, repeated poetic mantras, and excerpts from a chorus of different voices of black American history– Zora Neale Hurston, Richard Pryor, or early ’90s Ice Cube– line the walls throughout.
On paper, no. I for one, have not come across any person that has thought of or committed suicide as a result of an iPhone. However, in the town of Wuhan, China, some 300 have threatened to do just that. Well, not exactly, let me rewind.
Foxconn, the single largest private employer in mainland China manufacturers many of the products we cherish so deeply in America. Motherboards, camera parts, tablets and yes, iPhones are just some of the products that Foxconn manufactures, making up a sizeable chunk of the $150 billion consumer electronics industry. Employing close to one million employees themselves, Foxconn is responsible for nearly 40% of that revenue annually.
So what’s with all the suicide talk? Well, since 2007, 17 people have committed suicide at one of the various Foxconn plants throughout China. So frequent are the suicides that giant nets have been set up around the exteriors of facilities to prevent against people jumping. Most recently however, some 300 workers threatened to commit suicide at one Foxconn factory in response to the companies unfair labor practices. According to various reports from anti-government Chinese news sites, Foxconn employees had asked bosses for a raise but in response were told to either quit with a months worth of compensation or keep their jobs at their usual salary. While most workers decided to leave, the company never compensated the remaining workers. What resulted was today’s breaking news in regards to the suicides.
When Mirra “The Mother” Alfassa founded Auroville, she stated, “Auroville is meant to be a universal town where men and women of all countries are able to live in peace and progressive harmony, above all creeds, all politics and all nationalities.” Moreover, she wrote, “The purpose of Auroville is to realize human unity.” More accurately, Auroville is a grand experiment in attempting to bring the utopian ideals of the ’60s into fruition in a real, living, breathing community. Located in Southern India, the township boasts 2000-plus residents who live mostly in harmony, on a limited budget, taking part in a constant set of experiments in economic solidarity. For many, the idea of individual property has been abandoned altogether.
Understandably, the results have been mixed. The economic base is limited, and farming efforts have not always been successful. Politically, consensus-based decisions have often proved to be an obstacle to effective, timely decision-making. Still, the example is pretty fascinating, and Auroville represents a unique vision for community. Perhaps what fascinated me most initially though was the architecture. Designed by French architect Roger Anger, Auroville’s design plan was rather ambitious, looking to house upwards of 50,000 residents. At the heart of its spiral design lies its centerpiece, the Matrimandir, a massive golden sphere that serves as a center for meditation and the practice of integral yoga. Keep reading to see more, and learn more about Auroville.
Last year, the world lost a true revolutionary. It seemed that only in the years leading up to his death, had greater pop culture begun to realize the true impact and importance Gil Scott-Heron had had on its own landscape. Though hip-hop and jazz historicists, vinyl collectors and political minds had been singing his praises for decades, it seemed that the last few years of his life saw that well-deserved reverence reaching an unprecedented level. The release of his final album, I’m New Here, a collaborative effort with XL Recordings founder Richard Russell, and the posthumous Jamie xx remix project, We’re New Here served to further cement his place as a luminary of modern music and culture.
Today saw the release of The Last Holiday, an autobiographical memoir written in the last years of Gil’s life. The memoir tells the stories of some of the more formative moments of his extraordinary life and career, using one particular story as a sort of centerpiece through which others are told. “The Last Holiday” refers to Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, and more specifically to Gil’s experience touring alongside Stevie Wonder as a part of 1980′s Hotter Than July Tour, during which he and Stevie helped to campaign for MLK Day’s status as an official holiday, all to the tune of Stevie’s “Happy Birthday”. In the excerpt below, Gil writes beautifully and poetically about childhood memories, about his experience with Stevie, and about the tragedy of fallen heroes. In the wake of his own death, his insight seems all the more poignant now.
And I thought I knew some folks that were yatted up. Working out of Bangkok over the last decade, French-British photographer Cedric Arnold turned his attention a few years ago to the ancient Thai tattooing tradition known as Yantra. Steeped in spiritual tradition and mysticism, Yantra tattooing entails an intricate and painstaking process, performed with a long bamboo stick, and typically administered by monks. Sacred Ink, shot on a variety of different cameras, represents Arnold’s attempt to capture a unique aspect of the culture in which he’s immersed himself.
“A body, used as a canvas, every inch of skin filled with sacred text and figures of mythical creatures, all forming a protective shield. A boxer, a monk, a construction worker, a policeman, a soldier, a taxi driver, a shipyard worker, a shaman, a tattoo master; men, women, and their inked protection from evil spirits and bad luck. Enter the world of Thailand’s spiritual “Yantra” tattoo tradition.”
Utilizing photography as a means to empower children, photographer Raul Guerrero traveled to Tanzania this past summer to share the joys of photography with students. Giving disposable cameras to nine children, Raul let the students photograph their own environments, providing a unique glimpse into the children’s everyday lives. Hoping to create a photography book from the children’s photographs, Raul has created a Kickstarter to help fund the development of the book. Chatting with him about his experiences in Africa, Raul offered his insight into the challenges of the project and what he wants people to take away from his work.
They are known as the Black Hebrew Israelites. A community of 300 African Americans who at the heart of the Civil Rights Movement, uprooted their Chicago community in search of sanctity abroad. Finding their home in the Negev Desert of Israel, the community forged a new culture, blossoming into a flourishing village of over 5,000 citizens today. Their community, known as the Village of Peace is founded upon the virtues of health, family and enlightenment.
Drawing their practices from the Torah (Old Testament), The Black Israelties do not consider themselves “Jewish” in the conventional sense, although their practices are influenced by the ancient text. Self-sustaining, self-governed and self-educated, the community has managed to exclude many of society’s ills from their livelihood. With no guns, no gambling, and no homelessness or alcoholism, the seemingly utopian lifestyle of the Black Israelites allows us to reconsider the values of our own culture at home.
Traveling to Israel in the Summer of 2010 to visit their friend Shaleem whose family lived in the town of Dimona, it was there that brothers Sam and Ben Schuder first learned of The Village of Peace. Receiving valuable perspective on life within the village, Ben and Sam left Israel determined to return. In 2011, after months of preparation, the brothers returned to Israel with their Berkeley-based crew, Niko Philipides, Aaron McCreary, Jack Madigan, Vincent Hobbs, and Brandon Katcher to learn more about the culture of The African Hebrews. Their documentary in production, entitled The Village of Peace documents the history of the Black Israelites, while highlighting the significance of their legacy. Currently in post production, the initiative can be supported through Kickstarter, as the team is welcoming donations to help present the film to world.
The year was 1976. With a soaring crime rate, the birth of hip-hop, and an emerging street art scene in New York, photographer Robert Herman found himself in the midst of a burgeoning cultural renaissance. Armed with his Nikon, Herman set out to capture the environment around him, the city becoming his boundless photo studio. With his first published photographic book, entitled The New Yorkers close to completion, I had the chance to chat with Robert about his experiences as a photographer, his techniques, and the lessons learned from capturing strangers on the street.
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So take me back to New York in 1976. What brought to New York initially?
I was living on Long Island as a kid and my parents owned movie theatres in the city so I was always going into town to work with my father in Brooklyn. I ended up in Manhattan because I decided to go to NYU film school. And while I was in film school I decided to take some still photography classes as an elective. And that’s how I got started.
Consider this one evidence in support of our mission statement. I can’t say I know what I was up to July 24th, 2010, but apparently that day, as are all days, was full of peculiar and extraordinary happenings around the world. Shot by filmmakers around the world, both amateur and professional, Ridley and Tony Scott’s Life in a Day is a pretty substantial time capsule, capturing for future generations what it was like to be alive on that particular date. Real stories, real people. For us, some of the footage here will be more ordinary than others, but the project as a whole is pretty phenomenal, if only for its scope. Either way, it’s worth the watch.
Is there anything better than hanging out with your friends? Probably not. Friends are just about the tightest thing in life, perhaps right behind family, although they oftentimes double as friends themselves. But like I said, we gotta utilize these weekdays and really get it in. These times won’t last forever. Amassing a colorful collection of famous faces, the pictures within capture celebrities of the past in some of their more candid moments. A settled reminder to take more pictures and enjoy yourself.
“Eight years ago, sixty families occupied the Galpao da Araujo Barreto, an abandoned chocolate factory in Salvador de Bahia, Brazil. Prior to establishing this place, these families lived throughout the dangerous streets of the city. In 2003, these families came together to seize this deserted factory, which lay in ruins, and they transformed it into a home.”
It’s rare that the story you hear most frequently about a place or a culture is in fact, the whole story. We all love City of God, and we’ve all heard horror stories of poverty and crime in the favelas of Brazil. A few months back, Tiago offered us some thoughtful meditations on the vast disparity between rich and poor, made obvious to him simply by taking a walk through two different neighborhoods in Rio.
That reality is very real. But Sebastián Liste, in his stunning photo collection Urban Quilombo, offers a hopeful, if also difficult, picture of urban community, even in the midst of poverty and hardship. The hallmarks of these kind of collections are all there — drugs, prostitution, violence, the works — but the picture of this community that emerges is holistic rather than superficial, revealing a complex reality that defies simple categorization.
The year was 1997 and the Gap was in need of a spokesperson for their “easy fit” jeans. Soliciting the rapping prowess of one LL Cool J, Gap executives commissioned LL to perform a 30 second freestyle for their nationwide television commercial. But little did they know, LL had ulterior motives.
Rocking a light blue Fubu cap in the commercial, executives foolishly disregarded the LL’s subtle clothing item, allowing him to visually promote the urban brand within the television spot. Initially referencing the easy fit jeans within the first few bars of the freestyle, LL continued on, “G,A,P gritty ready to go. For us, by us, on the low…”
“For us, by us, on the low”? The significance of the phrase is undeniable. What transpired was one of Gap’s biggest marketing blunders, and subsequently FUBU’s introduction to the world. It took Gap executives a while to understand exactly what LL had pulled off, but once they did they were furious. Plugging the FUBU brand on Gap’s dime, LL managed to introduce FUBU to a national audience, telling that same audience to buy it “on the low.” The following year FUBU earned upwards of $350 million.
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