sábado, 22 de julio de 2017

Vivian Maier ( 1926 -2009)

Vivian Maier, New York City, 10 de septiembre, 1955.

No es difícil imaginarla. Alta, morena, pelo corto y vestido largo, un poco arrugado, seguramente demasiado viejo. Con una Roiflex colgada alrededor del cuello, siempre. Distante, enigmática y misteriosa, así nos la describen hoy. Pero ¿quién es Vivian Maier? Lo cierto es que poco se sabe de esta mujer, excepto lo que nos dejan ver sus fotografías: señoras elegantes, parejas felices, niños en la playa, una mujer y su bebé... su propia sombra. Autorretratos frente a espejos, cristales, reflejos en un vagón de tren... Experimentos y encuadres que, en la mayoría de los casos, no llegó a ver nunca.

Vivian Maier, norteamericana de ascendencia francesa y austrohúngara, dividió su vida entre Europa y los Estados Unidos, regresando a Nueva York en 1951. En 1956 finalmente se instaló en Chicago, donde trabajó como niñera durante más de cuarenta años. Pero nunca dejó de fotografiar. Llegó a acumular más de 2.000 rollos de película, 3.000 fotografías impresas y más de 100.000 negativos. Fueron los tres niños a los cuidó en los 50 quienes la ayudaron en sus últimos tiempos. Y en esa época, sin que ellos los supieran, uno de sus armarios se vendió en una casa de subastas de objetos de segunda mano. Lo hizo para saldar deudas y contenía cientos de películas sin revelar. Fotografías de toda una vida, miles de retratos a gente de la calle. John Maloof era el comprador.


Autorretrato de Vivian Maier tomado el 18 de octubre de 1953 en Nueva York.

Vivian Maier en un autorretrato de 1953.

Nueva York, sin fecha.

Chicago, sin fecha.

Chicago, enero de 1956.

Nueva York, sin fecha.

Sin título, 1954.

Sin título, ni fecha.

Sin título, ni fecha.

Autorretrato de Vivian Maier sin título ni fecha.

108th St. East, Nueva York, el 28 de septiembre de 1959.

Philippe Halsman / Trabajando con Salvador Dali (1940s)

In 1941 Philippe Halsman met the surrealist artist Salvador Dali. The two artists began to collaborate and work together in the late 1940s. A famous collaboration between the two great artists was In Voluptas Mors a surrealistic portrait of Dali. In In Voluptas Mors Dali seems to be standing in front of a large skull which is in fact a tableau vivant composed of seven nude models.

It took Halsman over three hours to arrange the models which was done according to a sketch drawn by Dali himself.

Apunte para Fotágrafos y Surrealismo

Kodak / 50 Aniversario de Instamatic (1963)

March 2013 marks the 50th anniversary of the Kodak Instamatic family of cameras. These cameras, featuring the instant-loading 126 (Kodapack) film cartridge, were by far the most successful of the time. Instamatics, like the Brownies they replaced, were the entrée cameras for a new generation of photographers.

Some of the accolades associated with this iconic 1960s-era camera are: • The Instamatic provided the amateur photographer an inexpensive, well-made, and easy-to-use camera • The Instamatic was the most successful Eastman Kodak Company camera since the introduction of the Brownie camera of 1900 • More than 50 million Instamatic cameras were sold worldwide between 1963 and 1970, with 7.5 million sold within the first two years of production • It was introduced at a time when camera innovation was dominated by German and Japanese companies, proving American engineering could still produce competitive products • The Instamatic 100 was designed by Frank A. Zagara, who won a Certificate of Design Merit from the Industrial Designers Institute • The cartridge-loading system was a bombshell success, copied by numerous camera and film manufacturers around the world • The 126 cartridge was designed by Kodak engineer Hubert Nerwin, with patent number 3,138,081 granted June 23, 1964 • The name Instamatic name became synonymous with snapshot photography, similar to the Kodak name during George Eastman’s time

We’ve currently got one on display in the entrance gallery – if you’re in town stop in and check it out.

Tomado del blog de George Eastman House.

viernes, 21 de julio de 2017

Stephen Hodgetts: «Vintage Tools»

Stephen Hodgetts, Vintage Tools, England. 2014

Chema Madoz: «Una alcantarilla convertida en escurreplatos»

Chema Madoz: Una alcantarilla convertida en escurreplatos

Hebe Robinson / «Echoes of Lofoten»

Around 1950, families in small and remote fishing villages in Lofoten, Northern Norway, were offered a lump sum from the Government to leave their homes and relocate to more central places. They also committed never to return and resettle.

This was part of the governmental plan to centralize and modernize the nation after the Second World War. Communities that had survived for centuries in a hostile environment on the border between steep mountains and rough sea, totally isolated during the winter months, collectively decided to leave.

Neighbors and friends through generations packed everything they owned and left their homes and each other. Villages were totally abandoned within months. Due to shortage of building materials, they dismantled their houses and brought their homes with them as well, leaving only foundations. The traditional self-sufficient ways of life were lost, and a part of the coastal culture with it.

Today, 60 years later, nature has reclaimed the areas. Looking closer however, signs of lived lives still remain; stone fences and foundations still stand, surrounded by hidden paths and traces of gardens with herbs and flowers.

In this photographic project, I am bringing families and their lives back to the villages they once lived. Historic photographs from these places are returned to where they once were taken, linking past and present. The project is about passing of time, history, destinies and changes in society. Pictures and their histories are from descendants of those in the pictures.

Hebe Robinson

Johan Kristian Alfred Nilsen married Hanna Sofie Petersdatter. They had seven children and a foster son. Kristian was killed in 1944 by a mine that had been washed ashore by a storm. He was standing outside his house when it exploded. Three days before the accident, he wrote a letter to his daughter where he praised God for having such patience and not punishing them for their sins, but protecting them from accidents and illness.

Edle, Anne and Fredrik were the last generation growing up in Hermannsdalen. From November until April the family lived completely isolated. When Edle was eight years old, her grandfather took her and her sister Anne to the top of the mountain. From there, they could look down on their neighbours in the village Vinstad. She had never seen other houses before.

The wood gathering party poses for a group photograph.

Kalle and Astrup drinking outside the barn. After a long and isolated winter, it was time to enjoy the company of friends and family. Parties were arranged, although the guests had to walk for four hours to get there. In the midnight sun they danced to music from the wind up gramophone and drank homemade rhubarb wine.

Haying in Hermannsdalen. The hayfields were rich and fertile, but hard to get to. The men had to tie ropes around their waists on the steep hillsides. Two of the girls from the farm in Hermannsdalen are posing with three young men helping out during the haying.

Heiderg, Jacob and Fredrik are visiting the Myhre family. Visitors were rare, and a good opportunity to bring out the camera to document the happening.

Jørgine gave birth to eight children in this house, and she herself was born there. She lost three of her daughters there, too. Her daughter Fredrikke died in the winter at the age of 16. They had her lying in a shed as it was impossible bring her to the churchyard until spring. Every night her little sister Anne went to her to say goodnight. Jørgine is projected on the wall of her home for 90 years.

German soldiers are in Hermannsdalen to detonate mines that had been washed ashore. Gustav and his son Fredrik did not want the soldiers to enter the house. They were not considered guests. And inside, Jørgine, now close to ninety years old, laid in bed pretending to be ill with an illegal radio hidden under her blanket.

Mathilde was shy in front of the camera.

Alfred, Arne, Roald, Arnolda, Nanna, Torleif, Jon, Finn and others, out walking, probably on a Sunday after church.

Klara with her brother Almar.

Fair weather party.

(Interesante la manera en que esta técnica de collage se empieza a utilizar, para rescatar historias)

Chema Madoz 1958

Chema Madoz © Diego Sinova

Nace en Madrid, en 1958. Fue discípulo de Javier Valhonrat en los talleres de fotografía del Círculo de Bellas Artes de Madrid. Estudia Historia del Arte en la Universidad Complutense de Madrid, carrera que simultanea con los cursos de fotografía del Centro de Enseñanza de la Imagen. En 1983 realiza su primera muestra individual en la Real Sociedad Fotográfica de Madrid. Desde 1990 comienza a desarrollar el concepto de objetos, tema que será una constante en su fotografía hasta la fecha. La obra de Madoz se acerca a la variante de las esculturas perecederas; caracterizadas por una sencillez total, siempre en blanco y negro con una cuidadosa iluminación y primorosa simplicidad en la fabricación de los objetos que fotografía.


Premio Kodak España (1991)
Premio Nacional de Fotografía (2000)
Premio Higasikawa Overseas Photographer del Higasikawa PhotoFestival (Japon) (2000)
Premio PhotoEspaña (2000)



Le gusta viajar por carretera y contemplar cómo evoluciona el paisaje ante la ventana de su coche. Chema Madoz  se mueve profesionalmente entre la fotografía y la escultura, pero tiene alma de copiloto. En su trabajo predominan las ideas sobre la realidad. La fantástica idea que dio origen a la nube convertida en árbol fue creciendo a medida que corrían los kilómetros; luego la fue ordenando, entrelazó elementos y la construyó para poder retratarla. Vista sobre la página entra bien por los ojos, todo queda en su sitio. En una primera impresión causa una ligera extrañeza, luego aporta confianza y al final invita a la sonrisa. Forma parte del mundo personal de su creador, aunque en este caso corra el riesgo de resultar demasiado atractiva y que el espectador se quede en esa primera etapa y se dé por satisfecho. Carece de ese revulsivo que surge de imágenes más secas. Pero, como el resto de su obra, tiene múltiples lecturas, empezando por el aura poética que desprende. No se trata de algo que busque, pero surge de entre esas nubes perdidas en el cielo y del árbol que no clava sus raíces en la tierra. Poesía y fotografía coinciden en que ambas trazan conceptos e ideas con los mínimos elementos posibles. Como en esta foto, aunque no se trate del territorio habitual de Madoz. Sus imágenes suelen ser más áridas, con menos paisaje. Técnicamente ha sido construida como se hacían los collages antiguos: dos imágenes superpuestas, una del cielo y otra de un árbol, puestas una encima de la otra. Sencillo de técnica pero nada fácil de resolver. Detrás quedan muchas horas de espera para cazar la nube que mejor se adapte a la copa del árbol y a su ligero y volátil tronco.

Amelia Castilla

“ESTILO PROPIO” Aunque hoy nadie duda de su talento para mezclar elementos al servicio de la emoción, el artista tardó en hallar ese “estilo propio” que le ha convertido en uno de los fotógrafos más auténticos y reconocibles del Estado, Premio Nacional de Fotografía en el año 2000. A finales de los 80 su trabajo se centraba en la figura humana y sus instantáneas guardaban relación con el reportaje callejero. En Tabakalera hay sólo unos pocos ejemplos de aquella primera época en la que una crisis creativa le hizo dar un giro de 180 grados. Madoz pensó: “¿Para qué buscar en el exterior lo que está en mi cabeza?”. Y se encerró en su estudio, rodeado de las ideas y objetos que desde entonces protagonizan su mágico universo.

Parte de un reportaje de Juan G. Andrés tomado de Diario de Gipuzkoa 21 de julio 2017