Archive for the ‘Fotografía’ Category

Buck Angel, man with a pussy

25 enero, 2014

Buck Angel 2

(…) It started 18 years ago. I saw a documentary about a transsexual and it was like an epiphany. I knew it was going to save my life. I had to do everything on my own. There wasn’t even the internet when I was going through it. I had to go to bookshops and look for books on transsexuals. Finding a doctor, that was difficult, but I found a doctor in LA. He was such a sweetheart. He started shooting me with testosterone. I was very nervous about it, so worried about what I was going to look like, but I knew that without it I was going to commit suicide. I saw immediate changes. In one month I lost my period. The hair took a while but I started building muscle quickly. I went to ten different doctors about my breasts. That cost me a lot of money, but I got two jobs to pay for it. I eventually found a doctor who did, not a mastectomy, but a gynecomastia. I can’t tell you how pleased I am about my chest. Now I take testosterone every week. In Mexico it’s a lot cheaper and I can get it over the counter. I’ll inject it once a week for the rest of my life.

Buck Angel 1

(…) I just wanted to make adult work because there was no one like me in that world. I never thought I was going to be an activist. I was never confident with my genitals but now I can embrace that part of my body that I hated for so long. And I want to share that with people. Not just people with issues with their genitals. My goal is to help make the world a better place for all of us. This hatred that is out there is very scary and I think that it is because people do not know how to deal when they see something different. Because we grow up being told this is how society is, when something does not fit that idea people freak out.

Francis Picabia

22 diciembre, 2013

Francis Picabia as a ballerina in Entr’acte, 1924, a film by René ClairEntr’acte (René Clair, 1924)

Francis Picabia as a ballerina in 'Entr’acte', 1924, René Clair

Tricia Lawless Murray

12 octubre, 2012

(Imágenes retiradas por petición de la autora)

La fotógrafa californiana Tricia Lawless Murray presenta una obra que -con el cuerpo femenino como objeto- muestra con descarnada sinceridad los estragos físicos provocados por el placer, el deseo y el dolor.

Lawless confronta al espectador con los resultados de prácticas cercanas al masoquismo, como el spanking, ofreciendo un muestrario físico, trasero, colateral y fragmentario del dolor como corolario del placer. Sus fotografías documentan los estragos corporales con la neutralidad de un investigador o la asepsia de un informe forense, conformando una colección de anónimos culos tumefactos, de caprichosas formas violetas que se dibujan caprichosas sobre la piel doliente.

En tiempos de corrección política, el flirteo o la autoexploración con las formas del deseo y en concreto con las marcas de la violencia sexual resultan controvertidamente refrescante.

(All images removed at author’ s request)

The majority of the work is based on real life experiences that occurred in times of play, where the purpose was to explore desires and fantasies, but when you have baggage these releases become as much about pain as they do with pleasure. I don’t feel that expressing and experiencing pain is a bad thing, in fact, I think it is really healthy. When I delve into these past memories in these moments of play, the feelings that are released can be processed in a different way where reparations can be made. I’m not intentionally going out to reconstruct past memories. These experiences are drawn from me pursuing personal fantasy and my sense of what I desire, and sometimes that is rooted in memories from the past. I don’t know that any of us can escape our past and how it conditions and control us. Entrevista con Tricia Lawless en One Giant Arm.

The works put together begins to tell the story of dejected relations wrought upon the bodies of those pictured in the images. The nature of sexuality is that its boundaries are often very messy and undefined and that titillation is derived from transgressing these murky private spaces, both physical and mental. Pictured here are some representations of lonely or aggressive moments that form a broken narrative that speaks to elements of how I desire and how I want to be desired.

Larry Sultan (The Valley, 1999-2002)

8 abril, 2012

El fotógrafo Larry Sultan (1946-2009) agrupa en la serie The Valley un conjunto de fotografías realizadas en torno al Valle de San Fernando, en Los Ángeles. Además de ser un típico suburbio angelino, el Valle es conocido por dar cobijo a la industria californiana del porno. Pero las productoras pornográficas no se limitan a instalar sus sedes y oficinas en San Fernando, sino que también usa y alquila las casas del suburbio como plató para sus películas y rodajes.

West Valley Studio #3, 1998

Compuesto de cincuenta y tres fotografías a color de gran formato tomadas desde 1999, The Valley compendia muchos de los temas presentes en los anteriores proyectos de Larry Sultan, como Pictures from home, que ya era una investigación fotográfica sobre el significado de la casa, el hogar y la familia. Junto a ello The Valley analiza porqué el ideal de domesticidad de las clases medias se presta a ser tomado como set de rodaje para películas pornográficas. La serie también incide sobre uno de los motivos de investigación más populares para los artistas contemporáneos: la noción de ‘verdad fotográfica’. Resource Library Magazine.

Tasha’s third film, 1998

Although they are nominally about adult films, Sultan’s pictures are also interrogations of the photographic medium itself. He shows how photography can create the illusion of fantasy, and then he uses his pictures to dismantle those same fictions. Lush backyards are exposed as mere painted backdrops; even the beautiful, sexually uninhibited porn stars seem less exotic and more familiar when seen between takes, waiting for makeup or instructions from the director-especially when Sultan catches the actors in moments of contemplation, boredom, and fatigue.

By showing us the places where illusion falls apart, Sultan also calls our attention to the act of looking. A reflection on a sliding glass door, a sofa standing between us and the actors, or a strategically placed vase are all reminders of our status as onlookers, or interlopers. In some cases these obstacles almost completely obscure the scene. Unlike pornography, which is designed to be immediate and uncomplicated, Sultan’s images are complex. Sometimes humorous, sometimes erotic, they reward close examination.Corey Keller, Assistant Curator of Photography, San Francisco MoMA.

Boxers, Mission Hills, 1999

Sultan’s pictures present a documentary portrait of the industry, in which he steps back from the “action” to include the lights, cables and crews that frame it. Many pictures chronicle the bored hours spent by cast and crew members, just off set, waiting for their cue.  Some capture porn stars in their curlers, or simply in sweats without make-up. Clark Buckner en Stretcher.

Topanga Skyline Drive #1, 1999

Woman in garden, Mission Hills, 1999

Cabana, 2000

Backyard, Reseda, 2001

Den, Santa Clarita, 2002

Pool, Calabasas, 2002

Backyard, Woodland Hills, 2002

The Valley series

The Valley series

The Valley series

Rudolf Schwarzkogler (1940-1969) – 2. Aktion Sommer 1965

4 enero, 2012

Francesca Woodman (1958-1981)

27 diciembre, 2010

Rhode Island, Providence

1972-75,  Boulder, Colorado

“Untitled”,1975-76,  Providence, Rhode Island

“Horinzontale”  1976-77,  Providence, Rhode Island

New York,  1979

Bodybuilders (2008) – Joachim Ladefoged

14 agosto, 2010

Ladefoged took a mixture of black and white and colour photography at the Danish Bodybuilding Championship in 2001 and similar events in the ensuing years, underexposing the subjects to make them appear darker still. The resulting snaps are assembled in a book, Mirror (the title a nod to his models’ narcissism) published in 2008. The Independent.

“For me, personally, these people are all strangely photogenic,” he says. “Bodybuilding is like theatre in many ways. The tan -which they use to cast shadows across their muscles, so they can be picked out easily on stage- makes them look haunting, or like they are from another planet. This is the case with the women especially, whose fake breasts are, funnily enough, the only way you can tell them apart from the men”.

“I thought their eyes told a story”

WuKongMangMangRan – Manabu Yamanaka

16 junio, 2010

For reasons unknowable, not every life is welcomed into this world. And yet for a fleeting moment this tiny embryo, barred from admission before ever having the chance to utter its first cry, bequeathed to me an everlasting image of its perfect beauty. Manabu Yamanaka sobre su serie WuKongMangMangRan.

Por alguna razón inexplicable, no toda vida es bienvenida a este mundo. Y aún durante un breve momento, este diminuto embrión excluido del mundo aún antes de tener la posibilidad de articular su primer grito, ha dejado en mí una imagen imperecedera de su perfecta belleza.

Manabu Yamanaka is a photographer whose work is distinctly disturbing. Disturbing because the five series he’s accomplished thus far –Arakan, Fujohkan, Gyahtei, Dohshi and Jyoudo– all focus on societal outcasts, like street people, the elderly and the physically deformed. Distinct because he chooses his subjects according to how well they personify certain tenets of Buddhism; primarily the disregard of the flesh for transcendent spiritual aims. Aileen Torres.

Aileen Torres: Each series of photos has subjects that are atypical -each group is outside of mainstream society, either by choice or chance-. What compels you to photograph these people?

Yamakata: A Buddhist concept: “Everything in this world has bodhisattva” [a divinity that] transforms into a human being or thing and comes to us to save [us from] our suffering. I think that things people don’t want to look at give a message to us. The subjects I chose in the past are beggars [Arakan], corpses [Fujohkan], old women [Gyahtei], handicapped people [Jyoudo], and refugees. All the subjects are outside of mainstream society, but they give messages to us when we look at them in the life-size pictures. My quest is to seek out splendid beauty among ugliness.

Distortions (1933) – Andrè Kertesz

25 abril, 2010

La obra del fotógrafo húngaro Andrè Kertesz (1894-1985) suele dividirse en cuatro períodos: el húngaro, el francés, el americano y el internacional.

Esta serie de fotografías pertenece a su período francés, el más  productivo e interesante. En 1925 Kertesz se traslada a París, donde entra en contacto con la vanguardia que bulle en los cafés de Montparnasse. Allí  se interesa por los experimentos del dadaísmo y el cubismo y coincide con Cartier Bresson,  Brassaï, Man Ray, Germaine Krull…

En estos años se decanta por la reproducción de imágenes reflejadas, desnudos distorsionados y escenas urbanas cargadas de lirismo. La serie Distortions se publica en las revistas “Sourire” y “Arts et métiers graphiques” en 1933 y se convierte en una referencia obligada de la fotografía surrealista.

Se trata de un conjunto de 200 desnudos femeninos y masculinos distorsionados por espejos cóncavos y convexos. La serie completa fue publicada en Nueva York por Alfred A. Knopf en 1976  en un libro titulado Distortions.

Sex pictures (1992) – Cindy Sherman

9 abril, 2010

I would hope that these images would make people confront their own feelings about sex, pornography, or erotic images and their own bodies. Cindy  Sherman.

In the 1993 ‘Sex Pictures’, Sherman considers similar themes to the ‘Disgust Pictures’. By now, Sherman is completely absent from her work, replacing herself with mannequins and prosthetic body parts. While Eagleton discusses postmodernism’s preoccupation with body parts, such as “[m]angled members, [and] tormented torsos” (Subjects, 69), Brehm discloses that effigies are a recurrent motif in postmodern visual work, explaining that “this new ‘physical art’ sets out to question traditional images of the body and the human being” (108). Sherman’s mannequins are imitations of human beings, standing in to represent human life. Thus, the “idea of the individual is countered by a standardized replica of the body” (Ibid. 110), the mannequin, who is synonymous to all others and, as a depiction of humankind, denies the possibility of individuality and spiritual depth. Furthermore, mannequins are “already stamped with the sign of DEATH” (Kantor 253), acting as a stony reminder of human corporeality, and enabling artists to explore their metaphoric doubt in “autonomous subjects… Rather, this construct is merely a philosophical and cultural mystification” (Jameson 168).

A good example is Untitled #258 (Sherman 206), in which a mannequin, seen from behind, lies on its front. This doll is fully assembled except for the genital area, which has been left empty, creating a gaping hole that reveals a hollow interior. This view, like the disgust images, perturbs the demarcation of inside and outside, while indicating “man’s degeneration into an empty shell, a thing” (Brehm 112). Sherman demythologises enlightenment conceptions of subjectivity, decentring them by using the artificial figure to expose the reality of human identity in its many contexts. This in turn “exposes us to the artificiality of what we call reality” (Ibid. 120), constantly threatening to cast attempts to define the self into ambiguity. Untitled #258 (Sherman 256) has additional implication for sexual identity. Even though the mannequin’s genital component is missing, the viewer cannot help but assume that the figure is female. The viewer’s inescapable association of the black hole with female genitalia divulges the extent to which binary sexual identities are embedded in the western cultural mindset. Certainly, conventional thought “links our genitals to our social position (as women or men)” (Jackson and Scott 14). Sherman progresses to challenge this in Untitled #263 (Sherman 212) with a mutilated, dislocated, hermaphrodite pelvis, on one side a penis, the other a vagina. In this image, Sherman dismantles the absolute categorisation of an either/or sexual identity. By depicting a body that is both male and female, Sherman contests social/sexual identity divides, “creating the kind of slippage that is meant, precisely, to blur their meaning, rather than to reify it, or better, to create meaning itself as blurred” (Krauss, Cindy Sherman, 208). In her postmodern art, Sherman creates images of identity that resist categorisation, thus keeping with postmodern dogma by representing the unrepresentable.

Non fiction, Alison Gibbons, Route

Therese Lichtenstein: Your work has always been engaged in the relationship between fantasy, play, and the world of gender and sexual stereotypes. The sense of process and play comes through in your last show in that the poses and arrangements of the mannequins, accoutrements and settings did not seem preconceived. It reminds me of how children play with dolls. Could you talk about how fantasy operates in your work and why you stopped using your own body?

Cindy Sherman: My ideas are not developed before I actually do the pieces. It’s good that you see it in that way. I never thought of the whole childhood thing and playing with dolls and dressing them up in regard to the newest work. For me it was out of boredom from using myself in the work, and feeling tied to that way of working. I became more interested and fascinated by the basics of what these prosthetic body parts were and I was just trying to use them without having to wear them myself. The whole series evolved from two mannequins — one female (the one positioned animal-like on all fours with the doll) and the other one male (the guy with the axe in the S-M scenario). These are the two most basic mannequins. It could almost be my other work except for the fact that they are mannequins and they are showing their sexual parts. I’ve done nothing abstract with the figure, and it’s just a basic pose. I started out with these basic poses and it started to develop into different directions. I started taking apart the mannequins — just throwing body parts here and there. You know, if I wanted breasts I would just drape some breasts on the mannequin.

Entrevista con Therese Lichtenstein en Journal of contemporary art.