Mike Brodie - A Period Of Juvenile Prosperity
"In 2003 at the age of seventeen Mike Brodie was living in Pensacola, Florida, still at High school and working part time bagging groceries. He decided to visit a friend in Mobile, Alabama choosing to train hop and ride illegally. In fact he ended up getting on the wrong train and travelled for three days in the opposite direction to Jacksonville, Florida. Days later, Brodie rode the same train home, arriving back where he started. Nonetheless, it sparked something and Brodie began to wander across the U.S. by any means that were free - walking, hitch-hiking and train hopping. His photographs are of the rough and ready band of young outsiders he met whilst travelling. The soft, warm portraits reveal a romanticised and bohemian view of the transient community." [LN-CC]
FERN LEIGH ALBERT
This is an incredibly intimate project by LCC postgraduate, Fern. We were not surprised to find out that this is a community of people that she has started living with, for although there are no formal portraits in the series the people who do appear in the images are relaxed and completely at ease. The absence of formal portraits adds to the project, these images are as much about the space that these people occupy as the people themselves. It makes us want to leave London and head to the woods. See the rest of this project and more work here.
Even while staying still, how much did they change over time?
(Relation in Time, 1977)
"Swoon", The Face, April 1999
Photographer : Mario Sorrenti
Model : Malgosia Bela
electric earth, 1999
Eight DVD installation
The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles.
Exhibition photo by Brian Forrest,
double self portrait, 1979
at the AGO right now
Björk in Drawing Restraint 9, directed by Matthew Barney, 2005
Adam Broomberg & Oliver Chanarin - People in Trouble (2011)
In 1972 Daido Moriyama first published what would eventually be enshrined as a classic of photographic books, albeit one that, like all such modernist classics, must have seemed an abomination at the time. It was originally titled Bye Bye Photography Dear, and its pages were a direct assault on all the preciousness of American and European paradigms of the form. The images were rampantly blurred, grainy, scratched, and often just muddled shades of gray. The compositions were negligible, if they could be called compositions at all. Moriyama’s pictorial choices seemed to have been made completely at random, and the reproductions often included the sprocket holes at the negatives’ edges, like a film gone completely off its track.
Moriyama’s own recollection of the project contextualizes it best as the timely product of a turbulent and revolutionary-minded period: “Perhaps the authority of the failed negative, with all its inherent possibility, could be restored. I imagined I could construct a book — a book of pure sensations without meaning — by shuffling into a harmonious whole a series of childish images.”
Now reissued for the first time in his own country, a new edition bears some slight changes befitting its slightly more ceremonial revised name. Farewell Photography is a bit larger than its predecessor, with a cleaned-up white cover and matching slipcase to boot. None of the original negatives or prints exist, so reproductions were made directly from the first book, though, curiously, the contrast was “corrected,” yielding much crisper images in full tones of black-and-white. There is no text whatsoever, and the pictures run bleed edge to bleed edge throughout, like a controlled detonation between covers.
With thirty-five years’ hindsight, it’s easy to see the book as the spiritual godfather of the garage-band aesthetic that dominated commercial design in the eighties and nineties, typified by Raygun magazine and4AD Records. The visual aesthetic of punk owes Moriyama a debt, as does every art school naïf who has ever taken it upon himself to boil his negatives; piss in the developer tray; mangle, staple, and tear at his prints; or otherwise molest the mechanics of the medium to achieve what by now are fairly standard results.
Moriyama, of course, has his own distant roots in the avant-garde precedents of collage, Dada, Pop, and so on, but the one aspect intrinsic to his work that should be recognized is its status as a unique reflection of Japanese culture and history. Moriyama’s relation to the Provoke and Gutai groups (the latter having disbanded the same year as Bye Bye was originally published), and his influence on today’s artists abasing themselves in otaku ironies, unmistakably phrase his work as a shattered and horrified response to a postwar landscape laid literally and spiritually bare.