Ducati photo by Lydia Marcus
Photographed July 24, 2008 in Porter Ranch, CA
Friday, July 25, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
THE ENGINEER
I was in the backyard taking a Polaroid of the pool tile when the portrait lens viewfinder attachment for my 195 fell off and sunk to the bottom of the deep end of the pool. My Dad fished it out with the skimmer and after I dried it off, I tried to take a photo of him but couldn't focus at all with the rangefinder. The little glass window on the attachment was totally fogged over with condensation. The 195 can be hard enough to focus in bright light, but here I was in the dim light of twilight with a film of fog over the rangefinder. I took a closer look at the attachment and figured out that there were teeny, tiny screws that held it together and that it could be opened up and really cleaned. My Dad, the lifetime engineer and Mr. Fix It took it upon himself to do the repair and cleaning for me. Now that he's had both his cataracts removed in the last year, I think he can actually see better than me! Once he got the attachment open he told me, "You clean glass with alcohol. I learned that when I worked at a lab at Northrop." I don't really know anything about my Dad's time at Northrop, so I asked him what kind of lab he worked in and he told me that he inspected parts for guided missiles. From as long as I can remember - from early childhood until college graduation - the only company my Dad worked for was Hughes Helicopters (as in Howard Hughes). He was a Quality Control engineer and under his watch there were never any helicopter accidents due to parts failure. Unlike most companies that want to get rid of their older workers, Hughes (then taken over by Boeing) begged my Dad to stay on with the job when he retired at the age of 70. Having worked full-time since he was 18 and with me finally out of college, my Dad had enough of working and retired despite the bonuses dangled before him. Anyway, back to the present - after a few swabs with alcohol and dealing with the tiniest screws known to man - my Dad got the viewfinder attachment clean and clear again, in fact I think it was actually cleaner than when I started. So dropping it in the pool turned out to be a happy accident indeed!
My Dad begins the repair as Lucy The Boxador looks on.
Polaroid 195 shot
The Engineer photos by Lydia Marcus
Photographed July 5, 2008 in Encino, CA
My Dad begins the repair as Lucy The Boxador looks on.
Polaroid 195 shot
The Engineer photos by Lydia Marcus
Photographed July 5, 2008 in Encino, CA
Monday, July 21, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
THE SWIMMER
My Dad swimming freestyle laps captured in Polaroid Time Zero.
I like that my shadow is in the shot.
For a comparison, here's a Fuji Instax 200 shot. The blues are much more vivid and saturated in Instax (actually much more so than in reality).
Dad doing the backstroke.
Polaroid 600 Film taken with a Polaroid SLR 680 SE
Instax makes the water swirls look like fire.
A portrait from Polaroid 195 with expired Polaroid ID-UV Film.
The story below is an article I wrote for the Los Angeles Times about my father, his lifetime connection to swimming, and how swimming saved him from the Holocaust. It was originally published in the Times' Calendar section in 2005. Many people who have known me as a writer have read it, but many of you who know me from my photography have not. I think it's a very relevant accompaniment to the photos seen above.
Swimming Out of Troubled Water
by Lydia Marcus
03-30-2005
Los Angeles Times
The lasting mark my father, a Holocaust survivor, has made on me is not from the tiny bits he has shared about his past, but from what he hasn't said. My dad has always told me that he had to draw an imaginary line between his past and his present to be able to emotionally survive and live his life. Since I understand his coping mechanism, I've never really delved into deep conversations about his personal history. One of the few aspects of his early years he would mention was the swim club Hakoah. Yet it wasn't until I saw the documentary "Watermarks," which opens here Friday, that I learned how it saved his life.
My dad, Fred Marcus, began swimming in Vienna as a little boy. As a teen, he participated at the Hakoah Vienna Sport Club, and eventually escaped the Nazis by emigrating to Uruguay, where he became a national swimming and diving champion for longer than a decade. He kept on swimming when he emigrated to the U.S. in the 1950s, and in the early 1970s taught me (at 3) to swim freestyle. Today, at age 83, he's still swimming.
I've never prodded my dad about his past, but after we saw "Watermarks" together last week at the L.A. premiere, we began to talk about it. He delved deep into his memory and reached into his private drawer of swimming mementos to show me saved Hakoah items I never knew existed -- a cloth bathing suit and a patch bearing the Hakoah name and a Jewish star, competition medals, and a Hakoah newsletter from the 1950s published to keep its members connected around the globe.
"Watermarks," directed, written and produced by Yaron Zilberman, unearths the previously untold story of the Hakoah Vienna Sport Club and its formation in 1909 in response to the Aryan Paragraph that forbade Austrian sports clubs from accepting Jewish athletes.
Zilberman, 38, an Israeli Jew who's lived on and off in the U.S. the last 12 years, stumbled upon the story while doing research for a film he was producing on the world's greatest soccer stars. He learned about the Hakoah's 1920s-era soccer team, which gained acclaim as the first team to defeat an English team on English soil. With no men alive from that team, Zilberman chose to concentrate on the living members of the women's swim team that was the "flagship of the club" during the 1930s.
Zilberman felt a personal connection to the female swimmers, who reminded him of his late grandmother, a Holocaust survivor and one of the people the film is dedicated to.
Almost all of the women featured in the film are swimmers whom my dad knew as a teenager. The film follows how swim team president Valentin Rosenfeld and women's swimming team head coach Zsigo Wertheimer arranged through illegal and legal means to get their female swimmers and most other Hakoah athletes (including my dad) out of Nazi-occupied areas.
Discovering the Hakoah ("The Strength" in Hebrew) was a "complete surprise" for Zilberman, who said in a phone interview that his own image of Jews prior to World War II had been either an "Orthodox, a bohemian, philosophers, artists, but definitely not sports people." For Jewish young people who were used to being discriminated against, the Hakoah served as a place where they could fit in.
Despite their many athletic successes, the Vienna Hakoah came to an end when Austria was annexed by Nazi Germany in 1938 during the Anschluss. My dad recalls going to the Hakoah's Dianabad swimming pool after the Nazis had taken it over and being confronted by a sign that read "No Jews allowed."
Soon after, his family fled to Brussels, where they essentially lived in hiding for a year. It was there that my dad received the most significant letter of his life.
He recalls: "Dr. Rosenfeld notified us there was a possibility to get out of Europe, to emigrate, and if I was interested I should go to the Uruguayan consulate." One week later, the 18-year-old began the monthlong journey there by boat -- with only the clothes on his back, one suitcase, 10 American dollars and his father's gold and lapis ring, given to him in case he needed to sell it for cash.
That was the last time that my dad would see his father, who was first interned by the Nazis in the Pyrenees and later died at Auschwitz just days before it was liberated. That 10 dollars soon went to the family of two Hakoah swimmers, who took him in in Montevideo, but he still wears his father's ring today.
Zilberman believes that Rosenfeld's story of saving the Hakoah members is "by itself a film" and has already been approached by a Hollywood producer who wants to make a movie about the Hakoah's escape operation.
Although the Hakoah Holocaust survivors do not bear the tattooed mark forced upon many concentration camp survivors, Zilberman says "at the same time they also have a mark." For someone like my dad, Zilberman feels that mark "is below the flesh, in a way. It's a watermark; you don't see it, but it's there."
I've always intuitively felt that mark within my dad, but now because of Zilberman's film, his long-buried history has been allowed to surface. Now when I see him swim, I know that each stroke has sustained his survival.
POST NOTE: July 16, 2008:
My Dad is now 86 years old (he turns 87 in September). He still swims, as these Polaroids and Fuji Instax shots attest. In the original story I wrote how my Dad kept on swimming despite different traumas in his life. I can also add that my Dad has kept on swimming after the death of my Mom in late 2002. My Dad doesn't talk much (to me or to anyone else), but consistently the only place we seem to ever have real conversations is either in the pool (usually while relaxing in the Jacuzzi) or while reclining across from each other on chaise lounges facing the pool. For both of us, water is magical, spiritual, and restorative.
An important fact that was edited out of the original story is that the reason my Dad was able to be issued an Uruguayan visa was that Uruguay was accepting minors and my Dad was under 18 years old at the time that the visa was approved and issued. My Dad actually turned 18 while in transit to Uruguay. The timing of the visa was impeccable - the difference of a week's time could have been life or death for my Dad. Pretty amazing.
I like that my shadow is in the shot.
For a comparison, here's a Fuji Instax 200 shot. The blues are much more vivid and saturated in Instax (actually much more so than in reality).
Dad doing the backstroke.
Polaroid 600 Film taken with a Polaroid SLR 680 SE
Instax makes the water swirls look like fire.
A portrait from Polaroid 195 with expired Polaroid ID-UV Film.
The story below is an article I wrote for the Los Angeles Times about my father, his lifetime connection to swimming, and how swimming saved him from the Holocaust. It was originally published in the Times' Calendar section in 2005. Many people who have known me as a writer have read it, but many of you who know me from my photography have not. I think it's a very relevant accompaniment to the photos seen above.
Swimming Out of Troubled Water
by Lydia Marcus
03-30-2005
Los Angeles Times
The lasting mark my father, a Holocaust survivor, has made on me is not from the tiny bits he has shared about his past, but from what he hasn't said. My dad has always told me that he had to draw an imaginary line between his past and his present to be able to emotionally survive and live his life. Since I understand his coping mechanism, I've never really delved into deep conversations about his personal history. One of the few aspects of his early years he would mention was the swim club Hakoah. Yet it wasn't until I saw the documentary "Watermarks," which opens here Friday, that I learned how it saved his life.
My dad, Fred Marcus, began swimming in Vienna as a little boy. As a teen, he participated at the Hakoah Vienna Sport Club, and eventually escaped the Nazis by emigrating to Uruguay, where he became a national swimming and diving champion for longer than a decade. He kept on swimming when he emigrated to the U.S. in the 1950s, and in the early 1970s taught me (at 3) to swim freestyle. Today, at age 83, he's still swimming.
I've never prodded my dad about his past, but after we saw "Watermarks" together last week at the L.A. premiere, we began to talk about it. He delved deep into his memory and reached into his private drawer of swimming mementos to show me saved Hakoah items I never knew existed -- a cloth bathing suit and a patch bearing the Hakoah name and a Jewish star, competition medals, and a Hakoah newsletter from the 1950s published to keep its members connected around the globe.
"Watermarks," directed, written and produced by Yaron Zilberman, unearths the previously untold story of the Hakoah Vienna Sport Club and its formation in 1909 in response to the Aryan Paragraph that forbade Austrian sports clubs from accepting Jewish athletes.
Zilberman, 38, an Israeli Jew who's lived on and off in the U.S. the last 12 years, stumbled upon the story while doing research for a film he was producing on the world's greatest soccer stars. He learned about the Hakoah's 1920s-era soccer team, which gained acclaim as the first team to defeat an English team on English soil. With no men alive from that team, Zilberman chose to concentrate on the living members of the women's swim team that was the "flagship of the club" during the 1930s.
Zilberman felt a personal connection to the female swimmers, who reminded him of his late grandmother, a Holocaust survivor and one of the people the film is dedicated to.
Almost all of the women featured in the film are swimmers whom my dad knew as a teenager. The film follows how swim team president Valentin Rosenfeld and women's swimming team head coach Zsigo Wertheimer arranged through illegal and legal means to get their female swimmers and most other Hakoah athletes (including my dad) out of Nazi-occupied areas.
Discovering the Hakoah ("The Strength" in Hebrew) was a "complete surprise" for Zilberman, who said in a phone interview that his own image of Jews prior to World War II had been either an "Orthodox, a bohemian, philosophers, artists, but definitely not sports people." For Jewish young people who were used to being discriminated against, the Hakoah served as a place where they could fit in.
Despite their many athletic successes, the Vienna Hakoah came to an end when Austria was annexed by Nazi Germany in 1938 during the Anschluss. My dad recalls going to the Hakoah's Dianabad swimming pool after the Nazis had taken it over and being confronted by a sign that read "No Jews allowed."
Soon after, his family fled to Brussels, where they essentially lived in hiding for a year. It was there that my dad received the most significant letter of his life.
He recalls: "Dr. Rosenfeld notified us there was a possibility to get out of Europe, to emigrate, and if I was interested I should go to the Uruguayan consulate." One week later, the 18-year-old began the monthlong journey there by boat -- with only the clothes on his back, one suitcase, 10 American dollars and his father's gold and lapis ring, given to him in case he needed to sell it for cash.
That was the last time that my dad would see his father, who was first interned by the Nazis in the Pyrenees and later died at Auschwitz just days before it was liberated. That 10 dollars soon went to the family of two Hakoah swimmers, who took him in in Montevideo, but he still wears his father's ring today.
Zilberman believes that Rosenfeld's story of saving the Hakoah members is "by itself a film" and has already been approached by a Hollywood producer who wants to make a movie about the Hakoah's escape operation.
Although the Hakoah Holocaust survivors do not bear the tattooed mark forced upon many concentration camp survivors, Zilberman says "at the same time they also have a mark." For someone like my dad, Zilberman feels that mark "is below the flesh, in a way. It's a watermark; you don't see it, but it's there."
I've always intuitively felt that mark within my dad, but now because of Zilberman's film, his long-buried history has been allowed to surface. Now when I see him swim, I know that each stroke has sustained his survival.
POST NOTE: July 16, 2008:
My Dad is now 86 years old (he turns 87 in September). He still swims, as these Polaroids and Fuji Instax shots attest. In the original story I wrote how my Dad kept on swimming despite different traumas in his life. I can also add that my Dad has kept on swimming after the death of my Mom in late 2002. My Dad doesn't talk much (to me or to anyone else), but consistently the only place we seem to ever have real conversations is either in the pool (usually while relaxing in the Jacuzzi) or while reclining across from each other on chaise lounges facing the pool. For both of us, water is magical, spiritual, and restorative.
An important fact that was edited out of the original story is that the reason my Dad was able to be issued an Uruguayan visa was that Uruguay was accepting minors and my Dad was under 18 years old at the time that the visa was approved and issued. My Dad actually turned 18 while in transit to Uruguay. The timing of the visa was impeccable - the difference of a week's time could have been life or death for my Dad. Pretty amazing.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
SWIMMIN' & BBQ'N ON THE 4TH
Last week I had a 4th of July party. Despite leaving four cameras outside (two Polaroid cameras - my SLR 680 SE and my 195), a Nikon D40, and my waterproof Sony U60, I was so busy being a hostess that I barely got any photos of the day. And the only photo of myself turned out blurry. As much as I love taking photos, the day was about sun, bbq, and socializing, so picture taking be damned. I spent what little free time I had in the pool, so the majority of shots came from the Sony. During the day we noshed on fresh fruit (watermelon, pineapple, peaches, nectarines, apricots), had a bbq dinner of shrimp skewers (a big hit!) made by Cathy Thaden, burgers and hot dogs (Kosher beef and turkey) cooked up by the grillmaster Serena), and for dessert I served ice cream sandwiches, bars, and drumsticks to help beat the heat plus I honored my Mom's memory by making her famous confetti jello for the very first time. I'm saving the photos and recipe for the confetti jello for a future post.
My appetizer and condiment layout
Ice Teas - The labels are askew because I put them on while the pitchers were attached to the brewer and couldn't really see what I was doing. I had a TON of soft drinks and waters too, but no photo.
Polaroid Time Zero shot - my single TZ shot of the day. I only have about 150 shots left of the stuff and that's it, so I gotta conserve! Blue and water always look great in TZ so I thought this was a good subject for it. These American flag inner tubes were only $2.99 at Leslie's pool supply!
John was the first to figure out that the best place to hang out was in the pool.
Dave and John
Paul, Serena, Gale, and John. They had a pretty good game of catch football going on for quite some time. John managed to lob me in the face when I thought I had made it clear that I was taking a time out to have a conversation with someone standing on the deck. Luckily, the football is basically like a big, squishy sponge so I was just fine.
The rest of these shots were taken with my ancient Sony Cybershot U DSC-U60 - a waterproof 2 megapixel digital camera with a fixed 33mm lens that has a fast 2.8 aperture.
Lucy The Boxador, Caroline, Baby Diana, and Paulus
Me and Serena - of course the only blurry shot I took all day was of myself! DOH!!!
Sonya
Danny and Rhea
Masha
Lawrence
Rhea
Baby Diana
Danny and Rhea's son Sebastian
Paulus, Dad, Lucy
Paulus, Dad, Lucy
Lucy being brave and coming up to the edge of the pool.
Lucy is pretty sensitive to new people and especially to men in general. I didn't know how she was going to handle having the backyard invaded with people. I expected a lot of barking and freaking out but she did really well. The only time she barked was when people came up the driveway, but once they were in the backyard she didn't make a peep. I could tell she was a little nervous, but she was a trouper and always wanted to be outside with me and the guests despite the major heat that had her panting for most of the day. I guess I was preparing for the worst and she pleasantly surprised me with dealing with a totally new situation and stimuli. And she didn't even beg for food or pester people who were eating. Lucy gets an A+ for her first 4th of July in the Marcus home!
Paul and Masha
Paul
Sebastian
My appetizer and condiment layout
Ice Teas - The labels are askew because I put them on while the pitchers were attached to the brewer and couldn't really see what I was doing. I had a TON of soft drinks and waters too, but no photo.
Polaroid Time Zero shot - my single TZ shot of the day. I only have about 150 shots left of the stuff and that's it, so I gotta conserve! Blue and water always look great in TZ so I thought this was a good subject for it. These American flag inner tubes were only $2.99 at Leslie's pool supply!
John was the first to figure out that the best place to hang out was in the pool.
Dave and John
Paul, Serena, Gale, and John. They had a pretty good game of catch football going on for quite some time. John managed to lob me in the face when I thought I had made it clear that I was taking a time out to have a conversation with someone standing on the deck. Luckily, the football is basically like a big, squishy sponge so I was just fine.
The rest of these shots were taken with my ancient Sony Cybershot U DSC-U60 - a waterproof 2 megapixel digital camera with a fixed 33mm lens that has a fast 2.8 aperture.
Lucy The Boxador, Caroline, Baby Diana, and Paulus
Me and Serena - of course the only blurry shot I took all day was of myself! DOH!!!
Sonya
Danny and Rhea
Masha
Lawrence
Rhea
Baby Diana
Danny and Rhea's son Sebastian
Paulus, Dad, Lucy
Paulus, Dad, Lucy
Lucy being brave and coming up to the edge of the pool.
Lucy is pretty sensitive to new people and especially to men in general. I didn't know how she was going to handle having the backyard invaded with people. I expected a lot of barking and freaking out but she did really well. The only time she barked was when people came up the driveway, but once they were in the backyard she didn't make a peep. I could tell she was a little nervous, but she was a trouper and always wanted to be outside with me and the guests despite the major heat that had her panting for most of the day. I guess I was preparing for the worst and she pleasantly surprised me with dealing with a totally new situation and stimuli. And she didn't even beg for food or pester people who were eating. Lucy gets an A+ for her first 4th of July in the Marcus home!
Paul and Masha
Paul
Sebastian
Thursday, July 10, 2008
MOVIE STARS AND THEIR NAMESAKES
It's weird the random things that trigger stories. I was sitting at my computer with my Uncle Myles, helping him look at auction listings for movie lobby cards. Myles has a pretty big collection of lobby cards and movie posters from the 1930's and 1940's. I think he has every lobby card that Cary Grant ever appeared in. Myles doesn't have a computer or email - in fact he still types on a manual typewriter - so sometimes he comes over to my house to check out online auctions. After we were done looking at the lobby card listings, he wanted me to search for an image of Francis X. Bushman, a silent screen star who was in the original "Ben Hur." I've vaguely heard the name, but am not really familiar with the actor. One of the ebay listings had a photo of Francis with one of his children. The ebay seller had listed some biographical information and part of the info detailed his marriage to actress Beverly Bayne. 
So we're reading this info and Myles casually says to me, "Oh that's the actress your Mom was named for." What????? I had never heard this story before. My Mom always told me a lot of stories but somehow this story had never emerged. What makes this story even more significant to me is that I was also named for an actress, or rather a part played by one. My Mom had a few female names she tossed around before I was born. Even though there was no way to determine a baby's gender when I was born, my Mom just knew she was going to have a girl. Her top name choices were Madeline, Valerie, and Lydia (my Mom was in a bowling league with a Lydia and liked the name). I think Madeline was tossed out because my Mom didn't like the idea of me being nicknamed Mad or Maddie. Valerie was eliminated because with my Dad's Austrian/German accent, he would have pronounced it "Walerie." And my Mom thought (erroneously) that no one would take Lydia and shorten it into a nickname - all of you who call me "Lyd" can stop laughing now. But it wasn't until I was born and my Uncle Myles saw me in the hospital and saw my exotic eyes and looks that he told her that she just had to name me Lydia, inspired by my resemblance to exotic film star Merle Oberon who played the title role "Lydia" in a 1941 United Artists film.
Here's a lobby card from "Lydia" that my Uncle gave me a few years ago. I love the tagline, "If I can't have all there is of love...I don't want any." I pretty much agree!!! But this is the part that cracks me up, under "Lydia" it says - "A Free Woman" - I guess a pretty big statement for 1941.
So the movies have obviously had a big impact on my family's life. I always knew about my connection, but learning about my Mom's was really neat too. My Uncle Myles is really the last connection to my Mom's history and my Maternal side of the family. That's a good thing and also kind of scary too. He's in his mid 70's and won't be around forever. I wonder what other nuggets I can unearth in completely random ways.
Here's my Mom and Myles in a Polaroid Joycam shot.
So we're reading this info and Myles casually says to me, "Oh that's the actress your Mom was named for." What????? I had never heard this story before. My Mom always told me a lot of stories but somehow this story had never emerged. What makes this story even more significant to me is that I was also named for an actress, or rather a part played by one. My Mom had a few female names she tossed around before I was born. Even though there was no way to determine a baby's gender when I was born, my Mom just knew she was going to have a girl. Her top name choices were Madeline, Valerie, and Lydia (my Mom was in a bowling league with a Lydia and liked the name). I think Madeline was tossed out because my Mom didn't like the idea of me being nicknamed Mad or Maddie. Valerie was eliminated because with my Dad's Austrian/German accent, he would have pronounced it "Walerie." And my Mom thought (erroneously) that no one would take Lydia and shorten it into a nickname - all of you who call me "Lyd" can stop laughing now. But it wasn't until I was born and my Uncle Myles saw me in the hospital and saw my exotic eyes and looks that he told her that she just had to name me Lydia, inspired by my resemblance to exotic film star Merle Oberon who played the title role "Lydia" in a 1941 United Artists film. Here's a lobby card from "Lydia" that my Uncle gave me a few years ago. I love the tagline, "If I can't have all there is of love...I don't want any." I pretty much agree!!! But this is the part that cracks me up, under "Lydia" it says - "A Free Woman" - I guess a pretty big statement for 1941.
So the movies have obviously had a big impact on my family's life. I always knew about my connection, but learning about my Mom's was really neat too. My Uncle Myles is really the last connection to my Mom's history and my Maternal side of the family. That's a good thing and also kind of scary too. He's in his mid 70's and won't be around forever. I wonder what other nuggets I can unearth in completely random ways.
Here's my Mom and Myles in a Polaroid Joycam shot.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
HAPPY NEWS
Even though I post a lot of my work here on fotonomous and a few other places on the web (like flickr, facebook, myspace, jpg), I'm actually fairly protective of my work. I usually post pretty small versions and sometimes I hold back a few pieces that are just for me. In the case of my Polaroid photo of Sandra Bernhard ("Sandra's Stare") 
I hadn't shown it anywhere until I decided it was a worthy candidate to participate in JPG Magazine's Polaroid Portrait competition. I'm not big on online photo contests but I think that JPG Magazine has some great work up and I like that they have so many themes you can contribute to. So after much deliberation, I decided it was time to publically unveil Sandra. I posted it on jpgmag.com, flickr, and on fotonomous. I've never gotten as much positive feedback online as I have for that photo. People really seemed to dig it - fans of Sandra, fans of Polaroid, just photographers in general. I'm sure Sandra's celebrity status added to the recognition, but I also know that the portrait stands alone as a great photo. Sometimes I question the ability of a photo to stand alone. Sometimes I question the quality. Sometimes I question the interestingness (is it interesting to just me or also to other people?). In the case of this particular shot, I had the more rare case of confidence all around. I uploaded to the jpg competition fairly late, so I didn't know what my real chances to place were. I've submitted to jpg before and never had one of my photos declared "HOT" (which puts the photo in a whole other viewing category "sort photos by hotness" - meaning many more people see your photo). Well Sandra got declared "HOT" - my first jpg victory! When you submit to a jpg competition, they always let you know if you placed or not. I've had several emails saying sorry, try again (well actually the tone was a little nicer than that). But it had been awhile and I hadn't received any news about the Polaroid Portrait competition. Well as of late last night, I have fantastic news to report, "Sandra's Stare" is being published by jpg magazine in their next issue! I don't know if I'm the sole winner of the competition or one of several. But not only is jpg publishing my image, they're also paying me (wow, actual currency!) and giving me a free year's subscription. Color me very excited! So thank everyone for the great feedback on the photo, thanks to Sandra for being a great sitter, and I'll report more when the image gets published.
I hadn't shown it anywhere until I decided it was a worthy candidate to participate in JPG Magazine's Polaroid Portrait competition. I'm not big on online photo contests but I think that JPG Magazine has some great work up and I like that they have so many themes you can contribute to. So after much deliberation, I decided it was time to publically unveil Sandra. I posted it on jpgmag.com, flickr, and on fotonomous. I've never gotten as much positive feedback online as I have for that photo. People really seemed to dig it - fans of Sandra, fans of Polaroid, just photographers in general. I'm sure Sandra's celebrity status added to the recognition, but I also know that the portrait stands alone as a great photo. Sometimes I question the ability of a photo to stand alone. Sometimes I question the quality. Sometimes I question the interestingness (is it interesting to just me or also to other people?). In the case of this particular shot, I had the more rare case of confidence all around. I uploaded to the jpg competition fairly late, so I didn't know what my real chances to place were. I've submitted to jpg before and never had one of my photos declared "HOT" (which puts the photo in a whole other viewing category "sort photos by hotness" - meaning many more people see your photo). Well Sandra got declared "HOT" - my first jpg victory! When you submit to a jpg competition, they always let you know if you placed or not. I've had several emails saying sorry, try again (well actually the tone was a little nicer than that). But it had been awhile and I hadn't received any news about the Polaroid Portrait competition. Well as of late last night, I have fantastic news to report, "Sandra's Stare" is being published by jpg magazine in their next issue! I don't know if I'm the sole winner of the competition or one of several. But not only is jpg publishing my image, they're also paying me (wow, actual currency!) and giving me a free year's subscription. Color me very excited! So thank everyone for the great feedback on the photo, thanks to Sandra for being a great sitter, and I'll report more when the image gets published.
Monday, July 7, 2008
CHRIS & DON. A LOVE STORY
This weekend I went to the Nuart to see Chris & Don. A Love Story. Chris was acclaimed writer Christopher Isherwood ("Cabaret") and Don is famed portrait artist Don Bachardy. They got involved in Los Angeles in the early 1950's when Chris was 52 and Don was just 18. Their relationship lasted more than 30 years until Chris' death in 1986. When they met, Chris was famous and Don was just arm candy. Eventually Don became as famous and prolific an artist as Chris. They were out as gay men and as a couple at a time when that was pretty much unheard of. Don (still painting in his 70's) is interviewed throughout, and there's lots of great archival stills and home movies. If you want to see a great love story go see this! The fact that the film is also about two great artists is just icing on the cake.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
I SHOOT PEOPLE
I know it's shocking news to digest, but I shoot people too. Sure they're not as sexy as cars or as cute as dogs, and sometimes you even have to give them directions, but I try not to hold it against them.
This past Sunday I spent the day with some guys from two different flickr groups - Los Angeles and Los Angeles Strobist. We practiced shooting Strobist style with our speedlights (i.e. off camera flashes). I really prefer shooting in natural light to any kind of artificial light, so my favorite part of the day was later in the afternoon when we switched to impromptu outdoor shooting. The shots below were photographed in the small pool area of Bill's apartment building and in the long, tree lined corridor that ran between his apartment and the building next door.
This is Bill, our wonderful host and organizer for the event.
And here's Arash, Bill's younger neighbor we drafted into modeling duty. He turned out to be a fabulous subject.
This past Sunday I spent the day with some guys from two different flickr groups - Los Angeles and Los Angeles Strobist. We practiced shooting Strobist style with our speedlights (i.e. off camera flashes). I really prefer shooting in natural light to any kind of artificial light, so my favorite part of the day was later in the afternoon when we switched to impromptu outdoor shooting. The shots below were photographed in the small pool area of Bill's apartment building and in the long, tree lined corridor that ran between his apartment and the building next door.
This is Bill, our wonderful host and organizer for the event.
And here's Arash, Bill's younger neighbor we drafted into modeling duty. He turned out to be a fabulous subject.
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