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Another treasure trove of black and white photos from Vivian Maier, “a great street photographer who took about 100,000 photographs, primarily of people and cityscapes during 50 years. Unfortunately, her photographs remained unknown and mostly undeveloped until they were discovered by a local historian, John Maloof, in 2007. Following Maier’s death her work began to receive critical acclaim.” (source: Top Design Mag)
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Looking at this stunning collection by photographer Steve Siegel conjures up images of a gritty New York of old. Aren’t you just about certain Travis Bickle is on the next street over? (Source: the very cool We Heart.)
Photographs © Steve Siegel
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Always inspiring. A few shots I took last week in New York City…
“Girl Climbing”
“When the Dreamer Dies, What Happens to the Dream”
Looking up at the Standard
DVF/Bentley note.
Spring Street Subway Station
All photos ©Kate Donnelly
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If you saw the movie, I Am Legend, Lucie & Simon’s “Silent World” collection might be of interest. In the photos, New York lacks the people and raw energy and instead displays a sole person or two in the frame. Other haunting images, pretty spooky walking around a city yourself eh (never know what lurks) includes the urban metropolis (sans any hustle) of Paris and Beijing.
(Via Flaming Palbum)
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Day into night into day again.
The bohemian Village courtyard from Hitchcock’s Rear Window set to Brahms Hungarian Dance No. 5.
Everyone looks like miniatures.
More information on how it was made. (via ★interesting)
It is the eve of my birthday. Tomorrow I will be officially, unequivocally, physically and mentally unable to bear children. Oh I am sure doctors would say there are possibly a few stray eggs left down there, swimming around still hoping for their big break, but it’s like I said to my Aspiring Actor boyfriend, you are too old, give it up. Luckily, I have prepared myself for this day, for the past three years I have been telling myself that it is not the end of the world if I do not have a child. It sucks, but the world will still go on, I will not die. It’s funny because I still feel around 34. I think I look about 36, but I feel exactly 34 years old. Old enough not to drink so much tequila that I puke out of car doors, but young enough to do a shot of tequila and make out with a stranger every once in a while. My life this past year has been filled with a strange and unbelievable calm the likes of which I have never experienced, having lived a life of tumult and pain since before I can remember. I always thought if I had such a year, a year with very little pain, a year with only an almost imperceptible undercurrent of ambient noise and nothing else, I would achieve great things. Finally, I would publish my novel, sell the television rights, spend my days fielding emails from ex-friends wanting to reconcile and I would fall in love with the type of man who does not tolerate drama in his life of any kind. A quiet and strong man who wants to sit on various docks discussing books and our favorite plays and who would scoff at the chaos that plagued me in years past would decide he loves me for my solitary nature.
None of this happened really, I barely remember the past year. I was recovering from the kind of grief that stops you in your tracks and takes your breath away for a whole year. Grief such as this is incurable: it is a lifelong affliction much like the MS that litters my spinal cord and brain. I did, however, finally find a way to live with the grief, not survive as I was doing for the first six months, barely breathing, plodding to work and home as if my feet were stuck in buckets of ice, I found a way to breathe out after long last and here I am, on the eve of my birthday, living with my grief a few blocks from the Pacific Ocean, thinking that now that I have that pesky pressure to birth babies out of the way, maybe now I will do something with my life.
Doing something with my life, of course, means to finish the novel for which I have a book deal that has now most likely expired, but the book, or books in me have not expired, book deal or not, they are in there clamoring to get out, begging me like the periodical well-meaning emails I get from friends every once in a while asking when my next column will magically appear online. I don’t just want to finish my novel, which has been written in many forms for years, I want it to be great, to honor all of the books I have ever read, so many thousands of books that have helped me through a hellish childhood and a confusing and sad adulthood. I know it won’t be great on every page, my substandard education and proclivity for crippling procrastination will prevent that kind of brilliance: I would be happy if it were great just for a second, a line here or there and a small whisper of the story that has been writing itself inside my head for years, I need to write it all down and so I shall.
‘I live on a street in New York that has, surprisingly, not changed all that much since the 1840s. The bend in the street makes it very easy to block and use as a location shoot for movies and TV, so I’ve been able to capture the street in many incarnations going back to the 1880, mostly via Hollywood.’
- Simon Coconino
(1904)
(1961)
(2011)
All photos source: retronaut
Commerce was one of a handful of streets in the vicinity that were named for French revolutionary virtues; others included Art Street (now part of 8th Street), Science Street (which became Waverly Place) and Reason Street (renamed Barrow). Source: nysonglines
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Don’t feel dizzy or wish you could speed down the frames coming fast and furious. This was the avant-garde.
This is New York…in 1968.
The NYT City Room blog shares a 160 second clip from experimental filmmaker Hollis Frampton’s 1968 piece SURFACE TENSION. More info on Hollis here.
NYT’s Andy Newman writes:
It is that, to be sure, probably, but it is also a time capsule: a high-speed summer stroll on what looks to be a weekend up Broadway, past the Strand Bookstore through Union Square and on until the filmmaker can literally walk no farther: the water’s edge.
While such time-lapse movies (videos) have become commonplace these days, they were pretty radical back then, and thanks to the miracle of the pause button (who knows what Frampton would have had to say about that) you can dive deep into every frame.
Some of us here have found it remarkable to see how much the city has changed in 44 years. Others noted that the city’s streets feel pretty much the same.
You be the judge.
(**Check out the slowed-down version of the clip as sent in by a NYT reader)
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Visual and audio gems abound at 98 Bowery...just had a listen to Anne’s message looking for Chuck Close’s phone number. Of course, the entire site deserves some studying.
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AMEN!
Positioned outside the SCOPE Pavilion walls and visible from the West Side Highway, Robert Montgomery’s new work delves into our collective unconscious with his melancholic The City is Wilder Than You Think, 2012. This large, site-specific text work engages dialogue through the Situationist concept of detournement, which hijacks advertising space in the city, often illegally, and replaces the advertising with poetry.
(Source: Scope Art)
