FOLLOW US ON:
GET THE NEWSLETTER
CONTACT US
The crash of the anvil at the nightclub school: Sheila Rock’s New Romantics
10.07.2023
09:50 am
Topics:
Tags:


 
In the ever-evolving tapestry of fashion and youth subcultures, the New Romantics of the 1980s emerged as a vibrant and revolutionary movement. Known for their flamboyant style, gender-bending fashion, and a passion for all things theatrical and Bowie-related, the New Romantics left an indelible mark on pop culture via groups like Depeche Mode, Duran Duran, Culture Club, and Spandau Ballet. And there was also Visage, the post punk synthpop supergroup comprised of members, then present or former, of Magazine (Barry Adamson, Dave Formula), Siouxsie and the Banshees (John McGeoch), Ultravox (Midge Ure, Billy Currie) along with Steve Strange and Rusty Egan, who arguably started the whole scene by giving it a place to flourish, first at a West End dive bar called Billy’s and later at the Blitz nightclub.

Embedding herself among these after dark denizens, photographer Sheila Rock captured this extraordinary scene like no other.  Rock’s remarkable images of the New Romantics preserves a moment in time when fashion, music, and rebellion converged to create a cultural phenomenon. She’s put together a new book of these portraits titled New Romantics - From Billy’s to the People’s Palace published by MOONBOY Books.

I asked Sheila Rock a few questions via email.

How did the New Romantic scene first start to get off the ground?

Sheila Rock: The name ‘New Romantics’ didn’t come into use until much later – but the scene was really born with the Bowie nights at Billy’s in the autumn of 1978.  Steve Strange and Rusty Egan chose this very run-down bar on the edge of Soho as the location for their nights dedicated to the music of David Bowie and of course it attracted a highly creative crowd – many of them had been part of the punk scene, including Steve himself, so they were predisposed to dressing up and having a good time and cared little about what others thought! 
 

Rusty Egan, left, Steve Strange, 2nd from right, at Billy’s 1978
 
When did it reach critical mass and which media outlets first noticed?

The Face and iD magazines were probably the first to report the movement in relation to what people were wearing - and Spandau Ballet were regulars at the Blitz so reports of their low-key/secret gigs around London started to appear in the music press along with photos of their exotically dressed followers. It was the usual kind of osmosis, where a small cult becomes mainstream by attracting attention – almost a form of self-destruction.

Spandau Ballet released ‘To Cut a Long Story Short’ in October 1980 and it became a hit as did Visage’s single ‘Fade to Grey’ when it was released a month later; of course Steve’s unique look attracted a lot of attention – he was interviewed on primetime television in the UK and the song was played around the world and Steve’s photo appeared in countless music and fashion magazines which I suppose heralded a change in the way the regulars at the Blitz felt about the night they had built around themselves – everyone now wanted to go and the queue became unmanageable; famously, Steve turned Mick Jagger away as he was not sufficiently well-dressed to gain entry.

By 1981, when Steve and Rusty held the Valentine’s Day Ball at People’s Palace, bands like Ultravox, Japan and Depeche Mode had reached a broader public and brought the dressing-up culture to the fore.
 

Depeche Mode, 1981
 
The people who went to Billy’s and The Blitz, what sort of day jobs did they have or were they mostly on the dole?

Many were students – fashion and design particularly; Stephen Jones, the milliner, was a regular at the Blitz.  It was a young crowd, so understandably some were unemployed or had yet to find their role – many regulars went on to become stars; Spandau Ballet, Culture Club, Visage, Ultravox, Sade, Wham!, Bananarama – the DJ Jeremy Healy was a regular, as well as some lesser-known but super-stylish bands like Blue Rondo a La Turk and Animal Nightlife
 

A young George O’Dowd, right, at Billy’s, 1978
 
How friendly was this scene? Were the participants more interested in looking good and posing or having a good time?

I think most people just wanted to have a good time whilst looking great – I’m sure there was rivalry, there always is where style is concerned – but the overall feel was one of a close-knit group of like-minded people enjoying themselves in a city which was, at that time,  a grey metropolis scarred by strikes and unemployment – a far cry from the London we know now. 
 

Arriving at People’s Palace by Tube, 1981
 
How dangerous was it for the New Romantic types to walk around London, or take the Tube, dressed like that? 

I don’t think it was dangerous as a rule – punk had already given the general public some exposure to counter-cultural style, but physical violence was not a common issue - although I’m sure there were incidents; there was certainly name-calling and taunting, but most young people shrugged this off.  People rarely travelled to clubs on their own, going in groups was much more fun and of course there was safety in numbers! (photo)
 

Jane Khan, Patti Bell and friend at People’s Palace
 
Who had the most elaborate outfits?

The Birmingham-based designers Jane Khan and Patti Bell created some wonderfully outlandish outfits – and Martin Degville, who became the frontman of Sigue Sigue Sputnik was incredibly imaginative.

What was the mix like in the Blitz? Girls vs. boys, gay vs. straight, black vs. white?

The whole ethos of Billy’s and the Blitz was based on style and attitude – if you had both then you were welcome.  The balance between girls and boys was probably about equal – but what you have to remember is that those clubs were not set up attract gay or straight, black or white – dressing up, Bowie and a good time were the prerequisites!  You can see from the photos how tiny the Blitz was, everyone squeezed in together. 

Aside from the people who went on to be notable or famous, were there any other characters who especially stood out?

In a scene where ‘dress to excess’ was the byword, it’s hard to pick out specific individuals – but the young girl I chose to be on the cover of the book expressed an innocence and creative flare I thought looked beautiful.
 

Scarlett Cannon, right
 
Another striking and imaginative figure was Scarlett Cannon – she always looked amazing – her style has become something of a legend, with her dramatically cropped and sculpted hair and stark makeup. 

Stephen Linard was a stylist by trade and his clothing combinations were always exotically full-on.
 

Stephen Linard at People’s Palace 1981
 
Tell me about the new book.

The New Romantics book is a social document of a particular time where music and fashion were celebrated. 

Whilst I dress in simple black, I am forever attracted to theatrical and flamboyant self-expression.  Clothes make a statement. The New Romantics scene caught my attention, and I was compelled to photograph club life and the individuals that made it happen. Young people were having fun and exploring their creativity. 

Nightclubs were the catwalks and an inspiration for new ideas. Electronic pop music punctuated the scene and bands like Visage and Depeche Mode were the heroes. This book captures the zeitgeist of this all too brief movement; a moment when lipstick and colour ruled. 

New Romantics - From Billy’s to the People’s Palace is published by MOONBOY Books as a strictly limited edition of 800 copies on 1st November.  Advance orders are now being taken at www.moonboy.space
 

Posted by Richard Metzger
|
10.07.2023
09:50 am
|
Naked Vegas: Kelly Garni’s Images of the Showgirls, Strippers & Sex Workers of Las Vegas


A photograph by Kelly Garni that graces the cover of his new book, ‘Naked Vegas: The Highs and Lows of A Photographers Journey’ (2022).
 

Kelly Garni has led a pretty storied life, his entire life. As a young teen, he became best friends with another teen, as kids do. Except Garni’s friend happened to be Randy Rhoads—a then budding guitar prodigy who would define the ultimate heavy metal sound with his instrument. Garni, who played bass, and Rhoads would go on to form Quiet Riot in the mid-70s along with vocalist Kevin Dubrow and drummer Drew Forsyth. The music put out by this original configuration of Quiet Riot is foundational, not just to heavy metal, but to glam and punk not just musically, but also in the way they dressed. Bow ties, polka dots, spandex and leather, with lots of the outfits coming from the ladies department. Their appearance created a stir at Garni and Rhoads’ high school, so much so they would routinely leave school quickly to avoid getting beat up by students who just didn’t get it. This changed once Quiet Riot started getting the attention they had worked so hard for and deserved. They were so popular, they were invited to play their high school prom even though Garni and Rhoads were barely attending classes anymore. Their classmates were no longer lining up to give them a beatdown, they were cheering for them in a swanky ballroom in Burbank. They would open for Van Halen who was coming up at the same time in Southern California. Garni’s time in Quiet Riot came to an abrupt end after an incident involving a gun and a drunken threat to kill Kevin Dubrow.
 

An early photo of Quiet Riot (Kelly Garni is on the left) and a ticket stub from their gig with rivals Van Halen, April 23rd, 1977. Photo by Rob Sobol. Source.
 
In a transitional move not unlike David Lee Roth’s in the same decade, Garni became an EMT in Los Angeles in the early 90s. As detailed in his wonderfully conversational new book Naked Vegas: The Highs and Lows of a Photographer’s Journey, he recalls the day his ambulance driver brought a 35mm camera along with her. Garni had never really used a camera and after getting some tips from his driver, he was hooked. At least until the demands of his job saving lives in LA became too time consuming, and his infatuation with photography waned. Thankfully that wouldn’t last and in the early 90s after going through what Garni describes as a very “painful divorce” he would rediscover his love of the lens. He spent time studying in the library and would chat up employees at camera stores. He built his own darkroom. Garni has never had a lack of self-confidence, and this of course worked to his advantage as he was embarking on what would become decades of photographing beautiful women merely by approaching them offering to take their photo and give it to them for free in order to hone his craft. So enthralled with the idea of photography becoming a legitimate career move, he quickly went into a bit of debt building a photography studio in his home in Las Vegas. Then Garni got the call that started it all from a modeling agency in Las Vegas that had seen some of his images. In a stroke of luck (or more likely Garni’s eye for a pretty girl), several of the girls he had recently photographed were actually working models. He would spend the next two decades taking photos of Vegas showgirls, strippers, models and sex workers, mostly in the setting of the Nevada desert. Here’s Garni on what he calls his favorite part of his life thus far:

“The next 20 years of my life (beginning in 1993) were by far my favorite. It was everything I loved. I made good money, was constantly around beautiful women, it was a non-stop party, and I was only in my early 40s. All that works for me. I had timing on my side when I started this. Timing and luck, the single greatest pairing in the history of the world for anything good that can happen to you.”

 

Garni getting artistic in the desert. All photos courtesy of Kelly Garni.
 
Garni’s assertion about this being the favorite part of his life makes sense, especially given the fact that he was living in Las Vegas during the 90s when “mega-resorts” were being built as quickly as possible. In ten years time Vegas would build massive themed “family style” resorts such as Bellagio, MGM Grand, the Luxor, Treasure Island, Mandalay Bay, the Venetian, Paris and Excalibur. Along with this, the resorts featured enormous convention facilities to help accommodate the 900 or so conventions held in the city each year. At the time, modeling agencies were making a ton of money by deploying “booth babes” to hand out company-specific merch to attendees in an effort to lure them into the all-important sales pitch from the staff inside. Garni would end up creating something called a “Zed Card” for loads of booth babes, which naturally got his images more lip-service within the Las Vegas photography industry. Though he also did other kinds of photography, demand for his nude photography soon took up 50% of his overall business. Interestingly, in his book, Garni makes it very clear that while he loves photographing women (as one should), he does not derive any kind of “enjoyment” in full-frontal nude photography as he feels it is “demeaning” to women. However, prides himself in not turning any client down, regardless of the nature of the request. Garni is a lot of things, has seen a lot of things, and has done a lot of things. Sometimes bad things (remember his desire to kill Kevin Dubrow?). But that does not make him a bad guy, and his catalog of photos in Naked Vegas convey a deep sense of admiration and respect for his subjects, even if they are buck naked. Now you might be wondering, did anything the level of “what happened in Vegas, stays in Vegas” happen to Garni during one or more of his shoots? You better believe it. And just like the debaucherous stories intertwined within the world of rock and roll, Kelly has a few shady stories about some of his clients which also reinforce his work ethic—never turn a client down. Here’s a doozy:

“Some people made this business down right creepy. This middle-aged couple came to me for pictures of a worship service at their church. They were both pastors. I guess they did alright, they had about a hundred people there donating right and left. They first asked me to do family pictures, and later, some senior pictures of their two sons. Finally, they asked about the wife doing some nudes. I thought the request was a little strange, I mean, these two were preachers. But I suppose there’s nothing wrong with a married pair of people of the fi=aith wanting some spicy pictures. Except they wanted shots that were VERY spicy. The creepy part was that during the entire shoot, the husband stood behind me. Watching. Breathing heavily. It made my skin crawl. The guy was really getting off on this. My mantra is to turn down no work no matter the nature, they became good customers in that they did these shoots several times with the husband getting more excited each time, which was always uncomfortable for me. I heard they got divorced. I don’t miss them though—they were icky to work with.”

 

A few call girl cards featurning Garni’s photographs.
 
In addition to the women who worked in Vegas, Garni also did quite a lot of photography for aspiring Playboy models. And many of the images in his 153 page book are of women projecting that image. His photographs were also widely used by Vegas call girls for their business cards. If you visited Vegas during the 90s, you will remember being bombarded by people, sometimes kids, aggressively handing out fliers and cards on the strip. Most of these handouts ended up on the sidewalks of the strip itself (something I can attest to as well), creating a sidewalk plastered in photos of half-naked women with red dots on their nippples (or not). As Garni never turned any work down, he would joke that when people asked him where they could see his photographs, he said just go to the strip and “look down.” Garni spent quite a while photographing Vegas sex workers and to say he’s seen it all is an understatement. He formed friendships with many of the women he photographed and would always ask them this question; ” What’s the weirdest thing you ever had to do for a client?” As you might imagine, Garni has an arsenal of sordid tales, including one wild one about a customer the girls called “The Balloon Guy.”

“Given the number of girls who have told me about ‘the balloon guy,’ he must have spent quite a bit of time doing ‘his thing’ around Vegas. And he must also be very rich, and very old. Balloon guy would book a large suite in a major hotel. Then he would make some calls. He’d order close to a thousand balloons, small, medium and large, but not filled with helium as he wanted balloons laid on the floor. He had ‘balloon people’ spread the balloons all over the suite, covering every inch of the floor, carpet, or tile. The bathtub would be filled with water and then covered in balloons. Then the girls would arrive, strip naked and remove all their jewelry. Balloon guy was naked too, Viagra-fueled and ready to go. It was showtime. The girls were then told to sit hard on the balloons and pop them using only their bare bottoms. Hence no jewelry. Apparently, that’s cheating. Pop! Pop! Pop! He would follow them around whacking off, and then, only when the last balloon left this Earth, did he himself pop so to speak. The girls said this all took about an hour.”

The Balloon Guy sounds like he belongs somewhere in Quentin Tarantino’s character lexicon, as do some of the other stories in Naked Vegas. In it, Garni takes us along with him on his journey through Las Vegas with his eyes and lens pointed squarely on the women of Las Vegas—models, sex workers, strippers, and exotic performers, you name it. Through his photos and experience, he illuminates the some of the underbelly Vegas is known for, by navigating it himself for the first time as a self-taught photographer. Naked Vegas: The Highs and Lows of a Photographer’s Journey, is available now via Garni’s soon-to-be-redesigned website or here. Like the other images in in this post, most are NSFW. But you didn’t like that job anyway.
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
With many thanks to Kelly Garni and Marcy Johnson.

 

Previously on Dangerous Minds:
Under the Neon: Mole People of Las Vegas
Art Spiegelman: The Playboy Years
Bunny Hop: Peep inside the Playboy Clubs of the 60s, 70s & 80s
Playboy Playmates recreate their iconic covers 30 years on
Salvador Dali’s bizarre but sexy photoshoot for Playboy, 1973
Woody Allen gets into a pillow fight with a six-foot brunette in the pages of Playboy, 1969

Posted by Cherrybomb
|
10.24.2022
02:52 pm
|
‘Generations’: Exclusive interview with legendary photographer Scot Sothern
05.11.2022
08:52 am
Topics:
Tags:

scotsothern_weirdo
‘Wierdo.’
 
Scot Sothern grew up in a photographic studio. His old man photographed weddings and portraits. He told him: When you take a portrait of the bride you gotta see her with the same love the groom has for her. It was a lesson Sothern never forgot.

Sothern worked around the studio. He started in the dark room then ended up taking wedding photos. He was expected to take over the family business. Sothern wanted to be a writer or maybe an artist like Andy Warhol.

It was the late 1960s. A time of revolutions. Sexual, social and political.  Sothern quit home in Springfield, Missouri and headed for Southern California looking for teenage dreams of sex ‘n’ drugs ‘n’ rock ‘n’ roll. He wasn’t making it as an artist. He wasn’t making it as a writer. Instead of giving up Sothern thought “fuck it, I’ll do whatever I want.” He started taking photographs. Kids making out at the skating rink. Working guys drinking at a bar. White working class people on the periphery. But no one was interested.

In the 1980s, Sothern documented the junkies, winos, and hookers. He followed his “hard-on.” He photographed his subjects with the same love a groom felt for his bride. He shot with a flashbulb or used sunlight. Nothing else. He showed his father his work. He liked the composition, the lighting, the power. The subject matter not so much. His brother thought he was “degenerate”. Sothern’s work said as much about his life as it did about the women and men he was photographing. He wrote the down their conversations. A short story of their lives. Still no one took an interest.
 
scotsothern_lowlife
From ‘Low Life.’
 
1990: Sothern has motor bike accident. He stops taking photographs. He starts writing. But no one’s interested. He returned to photographing the people most politicians want to forget. The poor, homeless, and fucked-up.

It took 40-years for Sothern to get established. 40-years of rejection slips, and sorry this ain’t our kinda shit letters. In 2010, John Matkowsky at the drkrm Gallery in LA put on Sothern’s first solo show Lowlife. At the age of 60, Sothern had arrived.

Over the past decade, Sothern has exhibited across the USA and in Europe. He has published several books and launched a parallel career as a writer. This month, These Days will exhibit two major Sothern exhibitions under the title Generations: Sothern’s earliest personal photographs, Family Tree 1975-1980, and his most recent body of work, Identity both of which “explore time, change, and the multi-directional evolution of America.”
 
scotsothern_generations
 
Tell me about your new exhibition ‘Generations’?

Scot Sothern: Well, Generations consists of two different bodies of works. The Family Tree photos were shot nearly fifty years ago and I think the original impetus was all about making my photography something more than portraits and snapshots. I was still in my twenties and mostly running wild, with little respect for the societal norms. I decided the best way to rationalize my lifestyle was to call myself an artist.

The other half of Generations, Identity, comes from looking for something new and wearing my politics on my sleeve. America has changed to a very different place since the Family Tree series, a lot the good of the Baby Boomer generation has decayed or was merely a delusion in the first place. A lot of things got fixed but in general America is fucked-up. I’m inspired by anger and I find I am inspired by younger generations of people who are reclaiming the identities that had been previously been kept in the closets.
 
scotsothernfonz
‘The Fonz.’
 
More from Scot Sothern after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
05.11.2022
08:52 am
|
The Beautiful Game: Amazing photos of seventies English soccer fans

01spreidutdcity.jpg
 
In the 1970s, British soccer had a bad reputation. It had a rap sheet full of gang fights, stabbings, riots, and murder. Football fans were labeled hooligans. Thugs who, according to some newspaper editors, were on the verge of taking over the streets and destroying society. No one was safe.

Most weeks the tabloids churned out tales of some aggro outside a stadium. The red tops were peddling fear. The public bought it. Once the news starts reporting on something, it becomes real.

These gang fights between rival soccer fans were mixed in with tales of skinheads, bovver boys, razor gangs, and thugs who dressed like Alex and his droogs from A Clockwork Orange out for a little bit of ye old ultra-violence. There was truth in the stories, but soccer violence wasn’t as widespread as often reported. Certain clubs attracted gangs who were more interested in a punch-up on a Saturday afternoon than watching the “beautiful game.”

To put it context, these were kids who had missed the mythical nirvana of sixties excess. The sex, drugs and so-called revolution of the swinging sixties only applied to about a few dozen people who were rich and famous and living in London. For everybody else, the sixties were dire, poverty-ridden, and filmed in black-and-white. Only American TV shows like The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Batman, and Lost in Space gave any hint there might be a better, more colorful world out there.

When the seventies arrived, for most of the public it was like suffering the biggest hangover after a party to which you had never been invited. Unemployment was on the up. Strikes were almost every week. Power blackouts meant kids lived by candlelight on whatever their mothers could spoon out of a tin. Under the new Tory Prime Minister Edward Heath, a pompous condescending charlatan, politics was being removed from the grubby hands of the working class. Politicians despised the populace. Heath signed up to Europe and the world of white middle class technocrats and academics who would attempt to disenfranchise the working class and their so-called ignorant opinions over the coming decades.

The press were happy to go along with this. They tarred youngsters as ne’er-do-wells, thugs, hooligans, filthy little fuckers who should be sent into the army. Pop fans were deluded. Soccer fans were thugs waiting to kick your fucking head in.

Most of the people who thought this—politicians, journalists, religious leaders—wanted to crush the young. These people were mainly middle-aged ex-soldiers who had fought in the Second World War and returned to a country impoverished, in ruin, and held captive by rationing. The seventies soccer fan represented everything they feared—thuggish mobs ready for violence who if they were ever smart enough to get together might one day topple the establishment. Fat chance.

This was one way of looking at it. The other was how the fans saw it. Soccer was a release. A pleasure to be shared with passion. Something that made youngsters feel part of a community. Fans created their own fashions. Decked their clothes with players’ names, managers, and their club crests. They had their own beliefs. And their politics changed from xenophobic and racist to becoming supportive and champions of multi-ethnicity. White working class football fans had more friends from different ethnicities than any white male government or media broadcaster or board of directors.
 
07spreidutdcity.jpg
 
Between 1976-1977, Edinburgh-born photographer Iain S. P. Reid documented fans of Manchester United and Manchester City. Reid had graduated in Fine Arts from Sunderland University. He then moved to Manchester where he was studying for his Masters in Fine Art when he picked up his Leica camera and started photographing the two sets of rival fans.

In 1978, an exhibition of his work was held at the Frontline Books, Piccadilly, Manchester. In his introduction to this exhibition, Reid wrote:

I worked on a series of portraits of football supporters. I was given a grant by the Arts Council to facilitate this project. As can be imagined, this caused a minor furore in the local Manchester press. I was infamous for a while. Most of the work was exhibited in 1978 in the Frontline bookshop, 1 Newton Street, Piccadilly.

The chief interest in the whole body of work was the way in which the football supporters of Manchester United and Manchester City used to dress and treat the whole match as if it were a carnival. Despite all press reports, there was very little violence, and the fans I found most helpful in assisting with the project. They were always aware of the angle I was taking with the work. I carried around copies of the photos I was going to be using to show them I was not exploiting them by misrepresenting them in any way.

In the late seventies, Reid moved to Aberdeen, Scotland, where he worked on an oil platform. He then became a social worker. He had a passion for helping others and spent his time working with drug addicts and the homeless.

Reid died in November 2000 from cancer. After his death, boxes of his photographs were discovered. These are now shared via a Facebook page, are available as art prints, and will be published in a book with 15% of profits going to a cancer charity. Reid’s photographs capture more of the joy and camaraderie of seventies’ football fans than all the tales of violence peddled by the media. See more of Reid’s work here.
 
03spreodutdcity.jpg
 
011iainspreidutdcity.jpg
 
See more of Iain S. P. Reid’s work, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
06.19.2020
10:30 am
|
The Bold and the Beautiful: Photos of Jarvis Cocker, Tess Parks, Brian Jonestown Massacre & more

08alainbibal_brianjonestown.jpg
Brian Jonestown Massacre.
 
A small act of kindness can change everything. Alain Bibal was gifted a camera for his fiftieth birthday. It changed his life.

He started taking photographs of the thing he was passionate about—music. His first outing with his camera was to an Arctic Monkeys concert. He took a picture of lead singer Alex Turner. The image featured the singer’s head projected onto one of the screens at the side of the stage. The photograph was different. Eye-catching. It was picked up by the press. Alain Bibal was now a rock photographer.

But being a rock photographer (or just a photographer) is never that easy. It is something one has to work at constantly. Bibal started taking photographs of the bands who visited his home city Paris. Brian Jonestown Massacre, Tess Parks, Jarvis Cocker, the Limiñanas, Angel Olsen, and the Lemon Twigs. He traveled to England where he photographed Sleaford Mods, Suggs, Dandy Warhols, and Nick Cave. His work appeared in magazines, newspapers, and websites.

Bibal started taking pictures in his teens and twenties, then drifted into the world of work. Getting a Leica camera for his fiftieth changed everything. It reignited his talent and long held desires to be creative. He had always loved the work of rock photographers like Pennie Smith and Kevin Cummins. Photographs that were gritty, real and captured an unguarded moment of truth.

Bibal works on film, digital doesn’t interest him, working on film is more disciplined, demands more concentration. When embedded with bands at concerts or on tour, Bibal uses only two rolls of film to capture that perfect image. It means he has to stay focussed on telling a story with his camera that connects with an audience. His resulting pictures are brilliant, powerful, and iconic.

The moral of the story: be kind, you might just change someone’s life.
 
09alain_bibal_tess.JPG
Tess Parks.
 
01alainbibal_doherty.jpeg
Pete Doherty.
 
03alainbibaljarvis.jpeg
Jarvis Cocker.
 
010alainbibal_sleaford.jpeg
Jason Williamson—Sleaford Mods.
 
More of Alain Bibal’s brilliant work, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
02.13.2020
08:28 am
|
Boho Life: Photographs of a young Patti Smith (NSFW-ish)
01.08.2020
11:13 am
Topics:
Tags:

011htimsittap.jpg
 
When Patti Smith first met Judy Linn they were two young artists just starting out on their careers. It was one-nine-six-eight. Smith was a poet, born in Chicago, then raised in New Jersey. She’d worked in a factory, had given birth to a daughter in ‘67, given her up for adoption, moved to New York, where she met a young man called Robert Mapplethorpe.

Linn was a photographer, born in Detroit, who had come to New York to study at the Pratt Institute. She showed great promise, a natural flair, a real talent. She graduated with BFA in 1969.

After they met, these two young women worked together, collaborated, daydreamed, conspired to change the world. Some people set themselves goals. Write them down. Make a plan. Put the plan into action. Linn took photographs of the movies she and Smith created in their heads. It was the start of making their dreams real.

They were living in Chelsea Hotel. Linn was making money taking pictures for papers and magazines. Smith was working in a bookshop supporting Mapplethorpe.

Linn photographed Smith “because she was taking photographs of everything.”

Patti posed for Judy because:

I was eager to be Judy’s model and to have the opportunity to work with a true artist. I felt protected in the atmosphere we created together. We had an inner narrative, producing our own unspoken film, with or without a camera.”

We were two girls with no one to please.

Linn and Smith chose props and clothes to create their pictures. Some looked posed. Some look like they captured a moment of spontaneous intimacy. Unselfconsciously caught off-guard. Each picture presents an image of emotional truth. We’re in that moment with them, wondering what happens next. Here’s where their future began.
 
01htimsittap.jpg
 
02htimsittap.jpg
 
03htimsittap.jpg
 
More of Judy Linn’s photographs of Patti Smith, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
01.08.2020
11:13 am
|
Incredible photographs of L.A.‘s punks, mods and rockers from the 1980s

01maryloufulton.jpg
 
Most journalists, bloggers, writers, and what-have-yous hope to find that one special thing very few people know about and get the opportunity to bring it out to the attention of a wider audience. It’s the one big story most hope to get at some point in their careers. Rarely do stories fall into laps, they have to be earned, written, shaped and created. But then again, sometimes you get lucky.

A couple of weeks ago, I was friended-up on social media by a guy called Immanuel Martin. I had no idea who he was or why he’d think I’d ever be fun to know. A day or so later, a message popped up in my in-tray. It was from Martin. He sent me an email detailing the life and work of a photographer he knew called Mary Lou Fulton. She was now in her eighties and living with her family in California. Martin explained how he had met Fulton when she worked as a photo-journalist back in the 1980s. He said that she had documented the punks, the mods and rockabilly gangs who hung around Los Angeles. Her work had been published in L.A. Weekly. Martin was one of the young teenage punks Fulton had photographed. He first met her and journalist Patrick McCartney at a Social Distortion and Redd Kross gig in January 1983.

“Like many punk shows in LA,” wrote Martin, “that particular night ended up with the LAPD arriving to shut the show down and then ensuing chaos as the LAPD overreacted and the punks rioted. It was across the street on Sunset Blvd where Mary Lou and Pat McCartney caught up with my friends and I for an interview. Mary Lou snapped several photographs and we chatted. Though Mary Lou and Pat were in their 40s, my friends and I were impressed with their genuine interest in our subculture and non-judgmental attitude. They seemed to have real empathy and understanding for us as kids just trying to be who we were but facing constant harassment by the LAPD and media seeking to paint punks in the worst possible light.”

In Reagan’s America there was no place for disaffected youth. Punk was seen as the lowest of the low and considered by some as a genuine threat to the stability of honest, decent, hard-working Americans, kinda thing. It was the same old BS that’s been spun since Cain and Abel.

A month or so later, Martin caught up with Fulton and McCartney again, this time at an Exploited gig at Huntington Park’s Mendiola’s Ballroom.

“It was an epic bill that night,’ said Martin. “with local LA punk bands, CH3, Youth Brigade, Aggression and Suicidal Tendencies. However only Suicidal Tendencies got to play before the LAPD showed up to shut the show down. They arrived in massive force with it seemed only one intention; to beat anyone they came across without regard for their affiliation to the event. The events that night are well documented so I won’t give a play-by-play here. However it was that night, that Mary Lou and Pat McCartney, journalists, faced the same LAPD violence that we faced. Both were viciously struck by the cops with their batons. Mary Lou ended up in the hospital with a broken rib.”

That night was later documented in an article written by McCartney with Bob Rivkin called “Cops and Punks: Report from the War Zone on the Destruction of a Subculture” in October 1983. The article was illustrated by a choice selection of Fulton’s photographs.

Mary Lou Fulton started her career working in advertising before she moved to Hollywood to work on commercials and documentaries. She showed considerable talent and a strong artistic flair. Fulton started taking more and more photographs which led her to becoming a photo-journalist traveling the world and working for various magazines and newspapers.

Sometime in the late-seventies/early-eighties she became fascinated by the punk rockers she met and photographed on London’s King’s Road. She liked their style, their vibrancy, and gallus attitude towards life. Back in L.A. she started documenting the local punks and all the other different youth cultures which were then flourishing in the city and becoming more prominent with the rise of MTV.

Martin and Fulton lost contact. He began his own career while Fulton continued with hers. Years passed, until one day around 2006/7, Martin rekindled his friendship with McCartney. They exchanged emails and kept in touch. It was after McCartney’s death that Martin contacted Fulton. They discussed her photographs and the hundreds of pictures she had taken of youth gangs during the eighties. Martin thought it was imperative that Fulton’s work was brought to a wider audience. He tried various sources but none, sadly, showed much interest. That’s when he contacted me. Like Martin, I think Fulton’s work brilliantly captured the energy and camaraderie of the various youth subcultures in London and Los Angeles during the 1980s. Her work deserves recognition for its artistry and cultural importance. Fulton’s work deserves to be seen by as many people as possible. And I hope this little blog here can start something happening.
 
05maryloufulton.jpg
 
04maryloufulton.jpg
 
014maryloufulton.jpg
 
More of Mary Lou Fulton’s photographs, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
11.20.2019
02:02 pm
|
It’s Murder on the Dancefloor: Incredible Expressionist dance costumes from the 1920s

012duhrkoop.jpg
 
Lavinia Schulz and Walter Holdt were a wife and husband partnership briefly famous in Germany during the early 1920s for their wild, expressionist dance performances consisting of “creeping, stamping, squatting, crouching, kneeling, arching, striding, lunging, leaping in mostly diagonal-spiraling patterns” across the stage. Shulz believed “art should be…an expression of struggle” and used dance to express “the violent struggle of a female body to achieve central, dominant control of the performance space and its emptiness.”

In his book, Empire of Ecstasy—Nudity and Movement in German Body Culture, 1910–1935, author Karl Toepfer notes that “Husband-wife dance pairs are quite rare on the stage; in the case of Schulz and Holdt the concept of marriage entailed a peculiarly deep implication in that it also referred to a haunting marriage of dance and costume.”

The couple created dances and costumes together and at the same time, so that bodily movement and the masking of the body arose from the same impulse. Schulz was a highly gifted artist whose drawings and sketches invariably startle the viewer with their hard primitivism and demonic abstraction, but Holdt assumed much responsibility for the design of the costumes and masks; for most of the costumes deposited in Hamburg, it is not possible to assign definite authorship to Schulz. The mask portions consisted mostly of fantastically reptilian, insectoid, or robotic heads, whereas the rest of the costumes comprised eccentric patchworks of design, color, and material to convey the impression of bodies assembled out of contradictory structures.

According to Toepfer, these costumes “disclose a quality of cartoonish, demonic grotesquerie rather than frightening ferocity.” The couple gave these designs descriptive names like Toboggan, Springvieh, and Technik, which they also used as titles for their performances. Their designs sought something pagan, pre-Christian, that tapped into the “redemptive organic forms of nature and the animal world.”

Little is known about Holdt. What is known about Schulz could be written on a postcard. Born in Lübben in 1896, Schulz studied dance and performance in Berlin in 1913. She became associated with the Expressionists who rebeled against the rigid, traditional forms of art in favor of a more subjective perspective. In dance, this meant abandoning the austere, mechanical, and precise choreography of ballet for more expressive, fluid, and personal interpretations. Schulz moved to Hamburg, where she married Holdt in April 1920. The couple had a tempestuous relationship. Schulz has been described as possessive and jealous, while Holdt was considered “untrustworthy” which I take to mean he played around a lot. The difficulties and emotional insecurities in their relationship fed into their work. According to Toepfer:

The Schulz-Holdt dance aesthetic does seem to embed a powerful masochism, not only in the marriage between dancers but in the equally passionate marriage of mask and movement. But the dances of this strange couple were also a kind of bizarre, expressionist demonization of marriage itself, the most grotesquely touching critique of pairing to appear in the whole empire of German dance culture.

The couple moved away from Expressionism and sought inspiration from the supposed purity of pre-Judeo-Christian, Aryan-Nordic culture—which kinda almost sounds vaguely National Socialist. They lived an austere existence in direst poverty. Their home was basically one room with little in the way of amenities or even a bed—they slept on straw. They wanted to live without money and desired a society where everyone was given an equal share on the basis of their needs. Between 1920-24, the couple performed their dance routines to the bewildered and often antagonistic audiences of Hamburg. Though some critics appreciated the pair’s talent and startling originality, this praise was never enough to pay the rent.

In 1923, Schulz gave birth to a son. In 1924, the couple were photographed in their costumes by Minya Diez-Dührkoop. That same year, on June 19th, four days before her birthday, Schulz, no longer able to withstand Holdt’s (suspected) adultery, shot her husband in a jealous rage several times at point blank range before turning the gun on herself. The couple were discovered dead lying on their bed of straw with their infant son between them.

Schulz and Holdt would have been long forgotten had not their designs and costumes been gifted to the Museum für Kunst und Gewerbe Hamburg (MKG) in 1925. These precious artefacts were rediscovered in 1989 and are available to view online in the full glory of color.

Below are some of Diez-Dührkoop’s original photographs from 1924 of Shulz and Holdt’s costumes.
 
09duhrkoop.jpg
‘Toboggan.’
 
015durhkoop.jpg
 
03duhrkoop.jpg
‘Technik.’
 
More expressionist delights from Shulz and Holdt, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
05.30.2019
06:34 am
|
Fun in the Sun: Pop culture icons catching some waves and a tan
08.08.2018
10:43 am
Topics:
Tags:

019onbeacymm.jpg
Marilyn Monroe after a swim in the sea.
 
Since the 18th-century, doctors have prescribed a trip to the beach or seaside and bathing in (or even drinking) seawater as a restorative cure for good health. This was at first mainly something the wealthier classes only could afford but when Niels Ryberg Finsen won the Nobel Prize in 1903 for pointing out that the sun’s rays (or “radiation”) could help treat lupus vulgaris and rickets, the general public started taking a greater interest in sunbathing and even in sun worship.

Spool forward a few years to 1911, when William Tyler Olcott wrote a popular book Sun Lore of All Ages which told a brief history of sun-worship explaining it had long existed but had become unfashionable, or rather suppressed, with the rise of religion. This idea of sun worship and sunbathing as a valid ancient culture became more important after the end First World War when there was a massive rise in holidays and rest cures at the seaside.

This all became tied-in with the fashionable ideas of youth, vigor, vitality, etc, etc, which a few years later would become utterly warped by the Germans under Adolf Hitler’s National Socialists which promoted a mythical belief in racial purity not appreciating they were in fact the offspring of sex with a monkey’s butt. Still, the Nazis aside, holidaying on the beach and mucking about on the water never lost its appeal because of the strong belief that the sun is good for you (which it is—in moderation) and the seaside revitalizes the body (which according to scientists it does, something to do with the sound of the sea’s waves altering the rhythms of your brain). Moreover, when getting a tan became the in-thing, sometime around the 1920s, no one wanted to be pale and interesting anymore as it signified being of a lower class—the inverse of what it once had been. This didn’t really catch-on until after World War II, sometime during the 1950s and 1960s, when suddenly everyone wanted to catch a few rays.

Celebrities always use the beach as a place to show off their beauty, their latest look, or to promote a new record or film. For many a youngster catching snaps in supermarket mags was once the only way they would get a glimpse of some famous hotshot movie star without their clothes on. The following is a selection of some of our more iconic stars showing off whatever they’ve got to offer on the beach.
 
01onbeachytb.jpg
The Beatles never missed a photo opportunity.
 
023onbeachybb.jpeg
Surf’s up for The Beach Boys.
 
02onbeachymd.jpg
Madonna strikes a pose but it’s hardly beachwear.
 05onbeacyet.jpg
Elizabeth Taylor.
 
More fashionable beachwear, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
08.08.2018
10:43 am
|
The strange allure of decayed daguerreotypes
06.18.2018
07:01 am
Topics:
Tags:

05dagemmagilligham185160.jpg
Emma Gillingham, circa 1851-60.
 
Nick Cave has often said he likes Elvis Presley during his late, fat, drug-addled period because those “final concerts were absolutely riveting and incredibly moving just because of his psychological and physical pain.” Presley’s whole life experience as a performer was condensed into those two-hour shows, where he often forgot his words, but never lacked passion.

There is something similar going on with these decayed daguerrotypes taken by Mathew Brady sometime between 1840-60. Daguerrotypes were the first commercially successful photographic process invented by French theater-designer Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre in 1839. Each picture was made by exposing a small sheet of polished light-sensitive silver-plated copper to capture an image. Taking a portrait took time, which meant sitters had to be clamped into position so no movement would blur the image. This image was then made visible by allowing fumes of mercury vapor to the coat the copper plate. The resulting picture was fixed with chemicals then rinsed and sealed in glass. Daguerrotypes were easily marked and as the fixing process was unstable it meant the pictures decayed and changed thru time and handling.

I grew up in Edinburgh, a city rich with history and filled with old buildings whose original functions have changed but their structures maintained until, for some, they become too worn or dilapidated and were demolished. Old buildings like fat Elvis or decayed daguerreotypes become, and are changed by, use or experience. The faces on daguerreotypes become lost, like features reflected in a misted bathroom mirror. The body shapes and small fragments of skin are recognizable but their function or meaning has been usurped by organic patterns of decay which alter the image into strangely beautiful and alluring works of art open to imagination.
 
016dagwillcbouk4459.jpg
William C. Bouk, ca. 1844-59.
 
03dagunk4460.jpg
Unidentified woman, ca. 1844-60.
 
06dagunkwom30ya4460.jpg
Unidentified woman, ca. 1844-60.
 
More after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
06.18.2018
07:01 am
|
Frank Kunert’s darkly surreal and humorous miniature worlds
04.05.2018
09:28 am
Topics:
Tags:

03kunclimbiholid17.jpg
‘Climbing Holiday’ (2017).
 
Welcome to the miniature world of Frank Kunert, where everything is a little topsy-turvy and nothing is ever quite as it seems like a stairlift that can fire its unlucky occupant out of a window like Mrs Deagle in Gremlins or a funeral plot disguised as a bedroom for two eternal lovers.

Kunert’s handcrafted miniature models are inspired by the history found in the “decayed facades of suburban houses” of his hometown of Frankfurt.

[S]ometimes when I’m out walking and looking at these houses it sets off a train of thoughts in my head, and then later something comes out of it which reveals itself as an idea which I can perhaps use in a picture.

This can often lead to a play-on-words which suggest to Kunert another reality like the hotel on a concrete pillar in “Climbing Holiday” or the cramped accommodation of “One Bedroom Apartment.”

[S]ince houses play such an important part in my pictures it seems obvious to me that I should occasionally refer to the way words are used in property advertisements. For it is precisely when they’re writing advertisements that people try their hardest to make language excite great expectations. The question is always: what would the writer or the speaker like to say, and what does the reader or the listener actually hear? And that’s where my play on meanings begins. And though the titles of my pictures don’t actually lie, they can nevertheless be somewhat misleading.

Though darkly humorous and surreal, Kunert’s miniature worlds contain a recurring motif: “our deep human desire for security and our fear of loss, as well as our anxiety regarding the transitory nature of life.” He spends days painstakingly creating his miniature worlds preferring a handcrafted “analog” approach rather than the hi-gloss of digital effects.

Born in Frankfurt in 1963, Kunert became a photographer’s assistant after leaving high school. He then worked for various photographic studios before becoming a freelance photographer and artist in 1992. Since then, he has mainly focussed his attention on the creation of his miniature worlds.

More of Kunert’s work can be seen here, while prints of his work can be ordered here.
 
02kuneternlov14.jpg
‘Eternal Love’ (2014).
 
01kunflyinhi17.jpg
‘Flying High’ (2017).
 
More small worlds, after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
04.05.2018
09:28 am
|
Dead Babies: The Island of the Dolls
03.21.2018
11:13 am
Topics:
Tags:

01deadol.jpg
 
There are many stories about the Island of the Dolls. There is the story of the man who lived on the island who hung hundreds of dolls from the trees. Some said he hung the dolls because he thought they were alive. Others said he did it to appease the spirit of a dead girl who he had found drowned in waters near the island. Then there were those who said the dolls were possessed by evil spirits, whose voices could be heard at night calling for the living to join them.

The man was called Don Julian Santana. He moved to the island some sixty years ago. The island is a small area of land located in the canals of Xochimilco, to the south of Mexico City. One day Santana found the body of a young girl who had drowned in one of the canals. This grim discovery obsessed Santana. Whenever he returned to the canal where he had found the body he discovered discarded dolls in the water. He began to hang these dolls from the trees. It was said the girl’s ghost haunted the island and Santana offered up these dolls as a way to appease the girl’s troubled spirit and to protect the island from evil. But no one really knows why he did it.

Over the next five decades, Santana covered the trees with hundreds of dolls—dirty, broken, discarded—that hung like corpses from the branches. The place was called Isla de Las Muñecas—Island of the Dolls.

In 2001, Santana was found drowned at the very spot of the same canal where he had found the girl’s body. Now Santana’s family look after Santana’s eerie shrine which is open to the public—details here.
 
02deadol.jpg
 
03deadol.jpg
 
More gruesome things, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
03.21.2018
11:13 am
|
The ‘Facekini’: What the fashionable Chinese wear on the beach
03.05.2018
08:27 am
Topics:
Tags:

01facekini.jpg
 
In his series of award-winning photographs documenting swimmers on the beach just outside the city Qingdao, China, photographer and movie producer Philipp Engelhorn captured an unusual (but sensible) trend for the fashionable young Chinese wear on the beach—a protective mask or facekini (脸基尼).

The facekini looks like the kind of beachwear Leigh Bowery might have designed. It is a full-head covering that protects the wearer from the damaging effects of the sun and from being stung by those giant jellyfish that lurk in the sea. The mask also stops other irritants like insects and wind-blown sand. The facekini is made of lycra or rubber and has holes for the wearer’s eyes, nose, and mouth.

German-born Engelhorn, who is the founder of independent movie company Cinereach, described the facekini as “sorta like Mexican wrestling” in the sense it’s reminiscent of those masks worn by lucha libre wrestlers. The Chinese take sun-protection very seriously and prefer not to tan when visiting the beach. These masks cost a couple of dollars though many young beach bums prefer to make their own headgear and matching bodysuit. As Engelhorn describes it:

Posing proudly in the early morning light, the swimmers at Qingdao Beach show off their protective gear. The outfits consist of bright hoods that cover their entire faces like balaclavas, while the rest of their bodies are also clad in colorful swim gear. From a full bodysuit of scarlet polka dots, à la Yayoi Kusama, to smart swim-dresses that wouldn’t look out of place at a dinner party, each swimmer displays a unique expression of their personality and fashion sense.

Zhang Shifan, a former accountant who owns a swimwear store in Qingdao, invented the “face-kini” in 2004. Since then, the facekini’s popularity with beachgoers has grown year-on-year even getting the seal of approval from glossy fashion mags and the Skin Cancer Foundation. You can buy your own funky facekini here and see more of Philipp Engelhorn’s work here.
 
02facekini.jpg
 
03facekini.jpg
 
04facekini.jpg
 
More facekinis, after the jump…

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
03.05.2018
08:27 am
|
Medicine Women: Photographs of the pioneering students at the world’s first medical school for women
02.26.2018
08:42 am
Topics:
Tags:

01womdoc.jpg
 
Though many women worked as nurses in hospitals and within the medical profession, it was deemed “inappropriate” for a woman to become a doctor. This changed when Elizabeth Blackwell (1821-1910) became the first woman to receive a medical degree in America and the first woman on the Medical Register of the General Medical Council.

Born and raised in England, Blackwell traveled to America to fulfill her ambition to become a doctor, where she privately studied anatomy under the tutelage of Dr. Jonathan M. Allen. As a woman, Blackwell faced tremendous obstacles in achieving her ambitions. It was suggested she disguise herself as a man to gain admittance to medical school or move to France where she could possibly train as a doctor. Blackwell’s mind was made up and she was determined to go through with her studies despite enormous opposition.

The horrors and disgusts I have no doubt of vanquishing. I have overcome stronger distastes than any that now remain, and feel fully equal to the contest. As to the opinion of people, I don’t care one straw personally; though I take so much pains, as a matter of policy, to propitiate it, and shall always strive to do so; for I see continually how the highest good is eclipsed by the violent or disagreeable forms which contain it.

The argument against Blackwell’s hope of a medical career was double-edged. Firstly, it was claimed women were inferior and therefore not up to the work. Secondly, if women were capable of becoming doctors then this would be troublesome and unnecessary competition for male doctors.

Blackwell applied to twelve different schools. In October 1847, she enrolled as a student at the Geneva Medical College (now Hobart College). Her admittance was decided upon by the male students who were told if one student objected to Blackwell’s admission she would be barred. The 150 male students voted unanimously in her favor.

On January 23, 1849, Elizabeth Blackwell became the first woman to achieve a medical degree in the United States. Her actions opened a door to which there was no way of closing.

The Woman’s Medical College of Pennsylvania was established in 1850 as a school solely for the training of women in medicine. The college was the second medical school for women opened in America but the very first medical school in the world authorized to award women the title of Medical Doctor or M.D. It would go on to become one of the most pioneering and inclusive medical schools in the country, accepting students from every ethnicity, creed, and nation. Students traveled from as far afield as India to study at the school.

The college was originally set up by Quakers who believed in a woman’s fundamental right to education. They also firmly supported full equality between the sexes and were understandably flummoxed by those men who vehemently argued against it. The idea for a women’s medical college had long been considered a necessity. Dr. Bartholomew Fussell argued the case in 1846, two years before Dr. Samuel Gregory opened the Boston Female Medical College, in 1848. Fussell was inspired by his dead sister, who he claimed would have made a brilliant doctor.

Originally called The Female Medical College of Pennsylvania, the school was situated at 229 Arch Street, Philadelphia. The college offered women the very rare opportunity to “teach, perform research, manage a medical school” within a hospital setting. This led to the establishment of the Woman’s Hospital in 1861. These were hard-won achievements. Rival men-only medical schools refused to accept many of the women students and doctors—on one occasion “cat-calling” and “jeering” women students in attendance at the Pennsylvania Hospital where they were to receive clinical instruction. But the blow had been struck and the forces of reaction inevitably crumbled.

The following selection of photographs show what life was like at the Woman’s Medical College for these young heroic women who fought and won the right to become doctors. The school went onto become active in the Feminist movement of the 19th and early-20th centuries. The college and hospital merged with Hahnemann Medical School in 1983, before joining Drexel University College of Medicine in 2003.
 
02womdocs.jpg
Students came from all over the world: Anandabai Joshee, Kei Okami, and Tabat Islambooly, photographed at the Dean’s Reception on October 10, 1885.
 
03womdocs.jpg
Inside the packed operating room, North College Avenue, circa 1890.
 
05womdocs.jpg
Student life 1890.
 
More photographs of America’s first women doctors, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
02.26.2018
08:42 am
|
A lonely planet full of isolated unhappy souls: One man’s potent takedown of ‘antisocial’ media
02.20.2018
11:05 am
Topics:
Tags:

01mcampauantis.jpg
 
When Facebook switched on just over a decade ago, a friend described the shiny, newly minted social media platform as being like a great big cocktail party where one could drift in and out of conversations (drink in hand no doubt) meet new people, renew old acquaintances, and share ideas and information. It didn’t take too long before I started thinking Facebook was more like Sid Caesar’s writers’ room where the writers screamed out their material in the hope of getting picked every time the old comedy kingpin Caesar popped his head in the room to see what was cooking. The big difference being these writers’ scripts were gold, whereas Facebook was mainly filled with dross like the endless loops of viral videos featuring pandas sneezing, men with bulging eyes, and cats getting all surprised when they’re tickled. Even our means of responding to this “wonderful content” was limited to just a “Like” button. There were no laughing/crying faces or other emojis back then.

Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg’s noble dream of meaningful interaction bringing people together was now but a cold caller’s White Pages. Then came Twitter which soon fell into a moronic inferno of abusive trolls who seemed to think the platform was solely invented to help them deal with ther anger management issues. Next was the empty hall of mirrors better known as Instagram and the utterly pointless connectivity of Linkedin which merely confirmed the deep nagging suspicion that being part of this group was like sending your resume to the mad cat lady down the road.

Now I’m sure for many many people social media’s a groove and a gas and has helped them successfully navigate their world and given them the belief they are somehow relevant to whatever it is that’s going on. Good. That’s fair. That’s really nice to hear. Still, let me hazard a guess that maybe for some—maybe just a disgruntled few—social media ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. In fact, it’s very disappointing. And if all those reports that are always wheeled out every time some old school media outlet wants to score a point are true then social media platforms like Facebook, like Twitter, like whatever, haven’t made people happier, sunnier, calmer, more fun-loving peeps but more frustrated and lonely.

Now before y’all jump in and say but…but…but… etc. If one can see faults in Heaven then it ain’t perfect and maybe we can do something about it to make it better—but can that ever happen if we haven’t the means, the tools, to correct what is wrong?

But that’s just my two cents, you can keep the change.

Digital artist Mike Campau has also been wondering about our social media world and its effects. Campau is a highly respected and very successful digital artist who’s worked with a list of names more impressive than an award ceremony guest list. One of his recent projects is ANTISOCIAL which uses photography and CGI to ask questions about our social media world as he sez in his pitch:

Social Media is starting to get some pullback, and rightfully so. Each platform has its own problems, but all have had a large impact on society as a whole, both good and bad.  Each image takes place in an empty parking lot which is a symbol of our singularly isolated posts but placed in a location where it can be easily seen by many.

See more of ANTISOCIAL and Campau’s work here.
 
More lonely planet, after the jump…
 

READ ON
Posted by Paul Gallagher
|
02.20.2018
11:05 am
|
Page 1 of 13  1 2 3 >  Last ›