OCASIO!!!

Although I no longer live in NYC, sure is nice to know that amidst all the rampant indifference, gentrification et al-  

something positive is coming on outta there...

So... Let's Review!

In the last coupla weeks, we had: a White woman call the police on Blacks having a BBQ, a White man question a Black mother and child on whether her daughter was clean enough to swim in a pool, a White woman who calls the cops on a Black girl selling bottled water, White neighbors who call 5-0 on a Black (uniformed) fire inspector performing his duty (with the fire engine parked on the street), and most recently- a White woman assault an invited Black teenager out of a community pool! And hey, what does any of this count for without at least one unnecessary shooting death of an unarmed Black youth by a... White cop?

So... what's the one common thread in ALL these instances? Hhmmm...

Honestly, I had thought that at least some of these practices had been consigned to the dustbins of US history- but our Fascist Orange Dotard has managed to inspire and normalize the very worst in some of us, for old times sake! MAGA Baby!!!

ADDENDUM: And if you think it'll stop anytime soon... think again! And again, and again...    And... 

David Goldblatt

Photo: David Goldblatt*

Unlike most photo-documentarians and or journalists of the time, David Goldblatt took a different route in depicting a society based on racial degradation. He showed us a different aspect of a history and policy that helped reflect and reveal the everyday evil. He depicted how Whites and Blacks interacted with each other- and how they didn't. He wasn't one of the famous Bang Bang Club photographers that documented the explosive demonstrations and other infamous events that kept South Africa on the world map during the turbulent Apartheid era.

 
Instead, he showed what mundane, routine life was like, behind the scenes in: homes, neighborhoods and city streets. He provided a much more nuanced vision of what Apartheid was about, the everyday hypocrisy and inequality of daily life behind a system that strained to appear normal, but was anything but...



*Who knew one could find humor (and-so-much-more) in a White pointing a gun at a Black in Apartheid South Africa? And yet... there it is!

Not Quite... That Desperate!

Some people probably think I'm some kinda photo competition junkie- I most assuredly am not. True, I gave it The Full Nelson this year- just to say I didn't approach it half assed, but even then, I have my... scruples. For instance, I always pay close attention to ownership/copyright, stay away from slick competitions like that sponsored by a certain glossy B&W magazine, and most recently upon reading the particulars, was inspired to respond to  Photo Alliance (a respectable San Francisco photo organization) which had an open call for work this summer:

Really? Seriously? If one should be so fortunate as to win this competition (upon paying the $45 entry fee)...

Without a car, it takes a minimum of two hours+ to get there- from San Francisco alone. One would therefore have to pay round trip tickets to drop off their art work, pick up their art work, and- should by any chance they want to attend opening night....

If Stefan Kirkeby is serious about promoting new/unknown art, he should either show it in his "co-owned" San Francisco gallery, or at the very fucking least- provide a free venue in the middle of god knows where San Anselmo! Never been, but something tells me I can't afford the rent there.

I may be desperate to show my work, but nowhere near this level of sorry, outright desperation....

The Proud, The Carefree and The Clueless...

 

Photo: Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images

In life, there's usually ample room for some kinda greyish, in between area where things tend be a tad murky and unsure- situations where a look, a gesture, a certain turn of phrase is open to interpretation. And it can often make things either interesting or confusing, enticing or threatening, so we ploddingly muddle about life's torrent of mixed signals, forever trying to divine the truth from the tangential- pausing to reward ourselves in whatever manner we choose for whatever small measure of success in discerning said clues and missteps.

But sometimes life rubs right up to our thigh and throws us a freebie, as if it knows the hell it puts us through each and every day, and the countless more to come... And such is the case of Melania- beautiful, clueless Melania, married to the most powerful man in the whole wide world! A care free spirit, That Girl- so completely devoid of worry, that she openly celebrates and manifests her lack of concern even on the way to visit children her husband has forcibly separated from their parents and detained in cages, stopping only to bequeath them all with her fervent blessings of: "That's Great!" and "Good luck!" 

Throwing paper towels at them just wouldn't have sufficed...

PS- And it's always heartening to hear Melania's undaunted supporters cheer her on with their own words and gestures of support; after all, we all know that, in all fairness- those very same people would have also applauded Michelle Obama had she so chosen to adorn herself in the mantra of "I Really Don't Care." And they would have kept applauding with every plunge of their pitchforks...

Rejection Mania!!!

Ever get that proverbial "up against a wall" kinda feeling?
Photo: © Stan Banos

Well... been a coupla weeks or so since I last wrote on goals aspired. I've since managed to get kicked, punched and kneed in the groin not once, not twice, not thrice- but a decisive four times over! I think that qualifies as an official whupping. Four (4) more rejections in rapid order, gnashing remaining hopes and dreams asunder upon the jagged rocks of fate. 

So why do I continue to chronicle this sinking ship of photographic doom, or better yet, why do I continue to put myself out there in the non-enviable position of repeated rejection? Well, I do get asked that, and no one has yet delivered a more viable (or affordable) option- other than to quit trying, period.

Photo festivals and reviews are for trust fund babies, galleries are for... artistes, grants are mainly for serious photographers and documentarians with an already strong track record of serious minded projects and concerns (god bless 'em). That doesn't leave a long string of viable options or venues, hell, even so called "street photography" competitions cater basically to one now dominant form of that genre- the one with oddly juxtaposed bits and pieces of subject matter suddenly coalescing for that one decisive moment, preferably under hugely contrasting lighting scenarios. Mind you, have nothing against those photos, love those kind of photos- they're simply not the be all and end all; and what's with all the Alex Webb impersonators out there, seriously! But I digress...

Once again I feel the call of that salving, seductive balm, the photographic equivalent of an onanistic, opioid derivative- time to Blurb and feel like actually accomplishing something by going through all the motions of making a book no one will ever see! Hell, at least they used to have an annual competition where people could at least get their books out there into some measure of the public eye, but even that hasn't occurred in years!

Well, I think there's one, maybe two possibilities left to hear from- told ya I went all out! Meanwhile... there is one brand spanking "new" and remaining photographic frontier I've yet to explore (and was really trying to avoid), but we all must eventually stare reality square in the face- and in this case, I guess it's spelled I-N-S-T-A-G-R-A-M... next year's "goal" to inevitable superstardom (ie- last stop on the bucket list)!!!

An Honest Republican!!!

Never thought I'd say it; at least he was- Republican, that is...

Mirror Image

 

Photo: © Stan Banos

Everyday one wonders the streets of this tale of two cities, one is confronted with moral decisions, amongst others: is it right to take photos that feature the homeless, the mentally ill, the "downtrodden?" 

Certainly not a new question to say the least, just one that most certainly needs to keep being asked, examined and challenged. I long ago came to the conclusion that to completely ignore such a blatant, daily reality (as a human being and photographer) was both unrealistic, and hypocritical in its own right. Photography of the homeless has literally been done to death; and yet, so has every other subject and genre of photography and that has certainly never stopped anyone from continuing to practice them. Nor should it. 

The question is: is it done with some manner of respect, does it have any relevancy (social, photographic, or otherwise)- will it, somehow, someway change anything, anything at all? Homelessness in San Francisco was extreme some twenty years ago when I first arrived, it has now metastasized to the point where the city and its police play Whac-A-Mole with the tent communities that appear, disappear and reappear on city streets while residents complain and luxury condos and upscale coffee shops continue to proliferate. Until: 1) affordable housing, 2) jobs with livable wages and 3) necessary programs for drug addiction, the mentally ill and working single moms are properly in place (we're no way even considering that)- it will only continue to worsen, and the newly elected mayor promises yet more of the same...

Intentionally photographing an unwitting stranger is an exploitative affair even under the best of circumstances. And photographing a potentially mentally ill/homeless person w/o permission ever the more so. One tries to do it with a certain amount of dignity and respect, but... Let's face it, the power weighs heavily on the side of the person behind the lens. And just what are that person's intentions: making "art" (really?), documentation, making the world a better place... 

Every couple of years, one does see a serious, rather well done photo essay on some aspect of homelessness- and if nothing else, it may help those who prefer to look elsewhere, finally face reality, albeit in the comfort of their own home. Whether that leads to  some kind of realization, "enlightenment" and action on their part- well...

The photo above graphically serves to remind one of that uneven and innately exploitative experience. I was initially drawn by the mystery of the "bright, shiny object," (ie- the red shroud). I passingly considered the inherent exploitative nature, the possibility that said subject might opt to up and confront me, the reality that it would most likely be a mediocre photo at best. And yet, I took the picture- if only to see if I could further make sense of any of the issues above, and below.

Whenever possible, I try to make these photos anonymous- as in this one. The person I did not take into account photographing was the one reflected. And there I am- hovering directly over my subject (unknowing or not, unwilling or not), in an unquestioned position of detachment and dominance. Perhaps we should always have some such reflection of ourselves somewhere in our images, something to remind us of what we do, how we do it- and how it feels to be on the other side of that instrument and experience, the serendipitous product of someone else's handiwork.

Happy Biblical Parenting Day

Happy Father's Day to those it applies- Hopefully, you are not a parent made to suffer these most biblical of injustices...

PS-  I must admit to considerable difficulty in deciding which batch of lying, Republican bastards are The Most Vile and Abhorrent when it comes to separating prepubescent children from their parents. Is it the group that insists they simply have no other recourse under current law, the group that swears it simply isn't happening in the first place, or those (like little Beauregard) that assure us this policy is chock full of Biblical goodness?

American Animals

I almost didn't see this flick- the promos struck me as some kinda slick, flashy, whiz bang showman showcase for a lot of nothing that-just-wasn't-there. Turns out... this one is most definitely headed to my Top Ten All Time Flick List! We get to kick back, laugh and squeam as youthful ambition and American dreams disintegrate into one cataclysmic, life altering nightmare for all involved.

I love movies where the most simple of obvious plans progressively unravels at every possible and unforeseen moment, devolving from: bad, to worse, to how on god's green earth was I ever so dang stupid to believe something so completely and utterly insane!? Even in my rather bland and uneventful existence, there has been more than one desperate situation where... if I could only turn back the hands of time! This unlikely journey of thieves and millionaire aspiring incompetents is further enhanced by the the equally simple fact that- it actually happened...

Director Bart Layton masterfully intercuts real life interviews with the actual participants throughout the course of the movie. This could have been used as ineffective filler, instead, it serves to: effectively offer insight into the logic and rational employed by the principals (think Rashomon),  increase the anxiety in you the viewer as to what's to come, and incrementally heighten the already peaking level of unreality! 

No, there is no happy alternative ending to this rather hilarious tale of cascading woe and ineptitude. Lives were ruined, real people suffered, and I couldn't help reflect how I also committed acts at that age that, while certainly not at that level of severity, were every bit as- selfish... and I-didn't-have-a-clue.

AMERICAN INTERIORS- ML Casteel

Photo: ML Casteel

I remember someone doing a photo essay of sleeping soldier portraits during the height of the US/Iran, US/Afghanistan conflicts. It got waves of critical acclaim for... honestly, I really don't know what to this date. They felt uncomfortably invasive, provided zero insight into the subjects (soldiers fall asleep- really?), and as far as a new or novel way of seeing- uh, yeah, sure, I guess... But such is the art world.

I first saw American Interiors by ML Casteel on APE and was immediately taken by it. The work is almost  minimalist in nature- small sections of car interiors taken in autos owned by vets. The trauma, pain and consequence of war is plainly visible in these evidentiary photos- manifested by the scattered artifacts and paraphernalia of resulting addictions, physical debilitation and personal abandonment. We see only fragments, what's left behind by those left behind; and yet, they serve as blatant testament. These people carry scars that extend into every relationship they interact with: personal, social, environmental.  

These evenly lit, individualized visions of personal hells are clear, concise postcards of those broken, but surviving. And they go a long way towards documenting the personal aftermaths of those we send in our stead, to withstand ordeals we cannot possibly fathom and elect to ignore- both in the heat of battle, and for the remainder of our lives.

PS- Twenty-two vets die by their own hand each and every day...

Anthony Bourdain, RIP

Been trying to figure out why I was affected as I was upon hearing of Anthony Bourdain's death. Since I don't have cable, I can count the number of Parts Unknown episodes I've seen on both hands. But I will miss him for several reasons, on the most superficial, he proved that someone past fifty could remain not only culturally relevant, but even relatively cool- and that, he most certainly was, without overdoing it in the most vacant and obvious of ways most people of a certain age are so wont to do. Hell, an American over sixty who wasn't... obese- practically deserved a TV show just for that!

On a more serious note, he had that rare, low key self assurance and panache that comes only with a certain amount of self awareness, the kind of introspection that accepts that one doesn't, and can't possibly know it all (like most insecure fools will insist). And (like most New Yorkers) while not suffering fools gladly, he still (unlike most people of any age or place) opened himself to the new, at least willing to see where it would lead. His programs, his very life, was all about that- till the very end...

The "Pizza Bomber"

I remember first seeing this on the news, desperately trying to make sense of... any of it! A supposedly unwilling bank robber with a bomb, locked around his neck, that he couldn't get off, put there by persons unknown, which was about to go off, while he repeatedly begged anyone to help, and the only thing anyone did- was point guns at him! Until it finally, in fact, detonated and killed him- while they still pointed guns at his dead body!

And as crazy, bizarre and irrational as that whole insane scenario was- what actually led up to it, was every bit as inexplicably surreal as its culmination. What are the odds of such an improbable cast of unlikely bat shit crazy characters coalescing in the midst of strip mall America and concocting such a ludicrously criminal act that purposely results in the senseless demise of some poor, hapless soul? 

A must watch, if only to ask- what have you learned???

RFK 50th

RFK was assassinated 50 years ago yesterday, a man who evolved from privilege to the manor born (the arrogance of assuming one knows right from wrong as a matter of course) to one of first hand experience and learning (the shock, initial resistance and gradual realization of how life really works when it comes to the other half). It took a while, but he got there- and it would have been interesting to experience how this country would have benefited from that acquired wisdom and leadership. Of course, we were forever denied that promise, left instead with the gaping vacuum of prolonged war and a festering corruption at the very pinnacle of government.

The following audio (particularly parts 2 & 3) painfully details just how the youthful civic enthusiasm that can make the world a better place can be relentlessly eroded and effectively extinguished from a person's very soul through the degradation of morally bereft authoritarianism.

To this day, I am surprised these tapes even exist- they... are... chilling.

Going Down In Flames!!!

 

Photo: © Stan Banos

I set some goals for myself this year: 1) get in some kinda legit exhibit, 2) make another book. This year's gonna be the one, gotta be the one- I ain't getting any younger! The book's the easy/peasy part, natch- my esteemed publisher at Blurb will no doubt acquiesce to my artistic demands as per usual. I got these guys at the end of a leash doing my personal bidding- on demand, no questions asked! That will come at the end of the year when I get my Nekid City images together for a whirl. 

#1 is considerably harder. I finally feel I have enough fire power in color or B&W to merit a coupla pictures here or there (not exactly the most outlandish of hopes and dreams), so I entered round about a half dozen legit competitions. And I feel I gotta real rational, legitimate chance of getting accepted... somewhere. Of course, experience has already proven that rational as irrational as they come!

Last Friday, fingers crossed, positive vibes- I knew I was gonna get word on one of those hopes and dreams.Thank you, for entering... Well, I didn't think I was gonna get that one, it was last on my list anyway- besides, it's only one! Then a coupla hours after the right cross- Boom! Completely Outta Nowhere, Left Hook square to the liver: We had over 84,000 entries...TWO down in a matter of hours- didn't see that coming!!!

OK, OK, so I got the bad news outta the way- nothing but blue sky and smooth sailing from here on in... 
Piece o'cake- this is My Year!!!

First Reformed

I could make this review real short, like one sentence short, think Taxi Driver with a Reverend for the protagonist- The End. Both were written by Paul Schrader, and First Reformed is also directed by him. The whole movie is very much like a prayer, a very long and devout prayer by someone who does not expect an answer, from a god that does not exist. The word that kept reverberating in my head throughout the movie was austere- both in look (the format is considerably less panoramic than most wide screen, modern day cinema) and attitude. And yet despite that, the movie takes several leaps of faith (if you will) as far as believability, both character and plot wise (my wife hated the ending)- I kinda liked the fact that it was just... different.