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<!–> [–><!–> –><!–> [–><!–> –><!–> [–><!–>When Times reporters visited the observatory on top of an 8,800-foot-high mountain in May, the telescope was undergoing calibration to measure minute differences in the sensitivity of the camera’s pixels. The camera is expected to have a life of more than 10 years.–><!–> –><!–> [–><!–>A single Rubin image contains roughly […] More
Re-enacting battles from Vietnam demonstrates how war can be mythologized.This personal reflection is part of a series called The Big Ideas, in which writers respond to a single question: What is history? You can read more by visiting The Big Ideas series page.I was born in Saigon in 1960, and I experienced the war in Vietnam firsthand. When the war ended and Saigon fell to the Communists in 1975, the U.S. government evacuated me and my family in a C-130 cargo plane. We ended up in California. Now, 50 years later, I work as a landscape photographer, viewing my medium not only as a tool for witnessing past and present conflicts, but also as a space suited for contending with the paradoxes that define history itself.One particularly pivotal experience shaped my approach.It began in 1999, when I contacted a group of war re-enactors based in North Carolina and Virginia. I worked with and photographed them over several summers, and the images eventually became a series titled “Small Wars.” This small group of young, conservative men was dedicated to recreating key U.S. military operations and battles from the war in Vietnam on one member’s 100-acre wooded property. Among them were a product manager at Thomson Financial, a former National Guard driver, a mortician and a carpenter. Too young to have served in the conflict, none of these men had ever experienced real combat. Yet they were obsessively committed to the authenticity of their “impressions” — meticulous in their attention to equipment, clothing, food and supplies, whether portraying the Vietcong, the North Vietnamese Army or American soldiers. Participation was by invitation only.“Cots,” from the series “Small Wars” (1999-2002).Courtesy of the artist and Marian Goodman GalleryTo engage with multiple perspectives, I alternated between the role of a Vietcong fighter and that of a Kit Carson Scout — an N.V.A. soldier who defected to assist the Americans. Armed with an AK-47 loaded with Hollywood blanks, and clad in either Vietnamese-made black pajamas or an N.V.A. khaki uniform, I walked the trails and immersed myself in the dense bamboo thickets the re-enactors had planted. This vegetation — an obvious signifier for Vietnam and other Asian landscapes — was incongruously situated in an area that once witnessed the U.S. Civil War, on a site densely populated by pines, spruce, horsetails and kudzu. The result was a striking conflation of histories: theirs, shaped by vicarious experiences filtered through news footage, literature and myth; and mine, formed by personal memory, family lore and ambivalent feelings about a devastating war — one perpetrated by a government that ultimately saved my family and me from Communism and granted us a new life.The re-enactors and I spontaneously connected through a shared fluency brought on by the popularization and retelling of the Vietnam War in popular culture. We bantered back and forth, testing one another’s knowledge of classic war films, as well as fiction and nonfiction books. One-time participants from other states occasionally joined us, and the organizers would disclose my participation only at the last minute as a “reveal” for the unsuspecting visitors.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
From the small town in the Brazilian countryside where he was born, Sebastião Salgado, the renowned photojournalist who died on Friday at 81, traveled the world many times over, documenting the plight of workers and chasing the grandeur, diversity and, ultimately, fragility of nature.In photographs — most often in richly contrasting black and white — Mr. Salgado brought viewers to famine-stricken refugee camps in Ethiopia, to a hive of toiling gold miners in Brazil, to firefighters battling burning oil fields in Kuwait, and to chinstrap penguins sliding down ice slopes in the Sandwich Islands.Mr. Salgado had a gift for bringing together, often in a single frame, the immediacy of individual human suffering and the enormity of the dire realities that he documented. His photographs, frequently displayed in museums and galleries, often show a figure standing against the horizon. Cloud-filled skies are reflected on the surface of a river in the Amazon rainforest. Rays of heavenly light pour down onto mountain landscapes in the tundra, signaling to the viewer that this place is divine.This is the world Mr. Salgado left us: beautiful, fragile, sacred. Here is a selection of his work.Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryRefugees in the Korem camp in Ethiopia, 1984.Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryThe Rwandan refugee camp in Benako, Tanzania, in 1994. Right, children inside the Kimumba camp in Goma, Zaire, now the Democratic Republic of Congo.Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryWorkers in a gold mine in the northern Brazilian state of Pará in 1986. Some of Mr. Salgado’s most famous images were of workers climbing from the bottom of the mine to the dumping ground at the top while carrying 30 kilos of soil on slick ladders.Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryChurchgate Station in Mumbai, India, in 1995. Mr. Salgado published “Migrations” in 2000, a series documenting the mass migration of people forced to leave their homes by war or economic hardship.Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryChemical sprays protect this firefighter against the flames from a burning oil well in Kuwait in April 1991. Mr. Saldado’s photo essay “The Kuwaiti Inferno” was published in The New York Times Magazine in June 1991.Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryMembers of the Safety Boss Company of Canada worked to plug damaged oil wells, an effort to repair damage done by Iraqi troops.Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryMr. Salgado had been traveling for his epic ecological work “Genesis,” a series about the effects of human activities on the environment.Photographs by Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryMr. Salgado spent years traveling across the Amazon, capturing arresting images of vast rivers and rainforests while documenting the impact of development on natural landscapes and Indigenous communities.Photographs by Sebastião Salgado/Amazonas Images, via Contact Press Images/Peter Fetterman GalleryMembers of the Yanomami tribe from the community of Maturacá in 2014, looking out to the mountain vegetation on the flanks of Pico da Neblina, or Mist Peak. The Yanomami believe their most important spirits inhabit these mountains, which were long occupied by hundreds of gold diggers, until 1992, when the Brazilian Army expelled all of them. The tribe keeps watch over the region for potential intruders. A shaman, chanting and dancing, prepared the expedition up to the peak. More
Questions about the credit for a famous photograph from the Vietnam War have divided the photojournalism community for months.The photo is indelible, and its importance unmistakable: a Vietnamese girl burned by napalm, naked and screaming, her arms outstretched in despair. It drove home the consequences of the Vietnam War to readers in the United States, where it won a Pulitzer Prize.But who took the photo, widely known as Napalm Girl? That is the question dividing the photojournalism community 53 years after it was taken.The image, from a road in the village of Trang Bang, Vietnam, has been credited to Nick Ut, a photographer who worked for The Associated Press. In the decades since, Mr. Ut has repeatedly talked publicly, in interviews and elsewhere, about his role in capturing the photo and his later friendship with its subject, Kim Phuc Phan Thi.Yet a documentary that premiered early this year, “The Stringer,” set off investigations into the creator of the image. The film argues that a freelance photographer took the image, and that an Associated Press photo editor misattributed it to Mr. Ut.On Friday, the World Press Photo Foundation, a prominent international nonprofit, weighed in. It said a monthslong investigation had found that two other photojournalists “may have been better positioned to take the photograph than Nick Ut.”Mr. Ut’s lawyer, James Hornstein, has repeatedly disputed the film’s claims and called them “defamatory.” He said in a statement that the World Press Photo decision was “deplorable and unprofessional” and “reveals how low the organization has fallen.” Mr. Hornstein declined to make Mr. Ut available for an interview.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
He wrote extensively about the New York art scene in the 1960s and ’70s, then shifted to become a prominent street photographer.Max Kozloff, a leading art critic who helped readers of The Nation and Artforum navigate the array of movements that followed Abstract Expressionism in the 1960s and ’70s, and who later became a well-regarded photographer in his own right, died on April 6 at his home in Manhattan. He was 91.His wife, Joyce Kozloff, said the cause was Parkinson’s disease.As a writer, Mr. Kozloff established himself early on. He became the art critic for The Nation in 1961, when he was a 28-year-old doctoral student at New York University’s Institute of Fine Arts. He became an associate editor at Artforum three years later and eventually became the editor.He wrote extensively about painting, especially those New York artists who were pushing beyond the waning dominance of Abstract Expressionism, like Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg. And he tussled with older critics, especially Clement Greenberg, whose ideas he found too doctrinaire to be useful in a time of proliferating artistic movements.Though Mr. Kozloff was far from ideological, he was interested in the ways ideology and political context shaped artistic production.In perhaps his most famous essay, “American Painting During the Cold War,” published in Artforum in 1973, he argued that Abstract Expressionism, precisely because it claimed to exist outside of politics, served as a handmaiden of postwar American dominance, showing the world that a techno-liberal powerhouse could foster great art.As a student of photography, Mr. Kozloff was especially interested in what he considered street photography — seemingly random, spontaneous images of anonymous people engaged in mundane activities.University of New Mexico PressWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
With all the talk about tariffs driving up costs, the word “cheaper” should bring comfort to just about anyone. That’s why I’m delighted to share that the cheaper smartphone from Google has arrived, a few months after Apple released a somewhat cheaper entry-level iPhone — and that both products are very good.Google this week released the Pixel 9a, the $500 sibling of its $800 flagship smartphone, the Pixel 9. It competes directly with the $600 iPhone 16e released in February, the cheaper version of Apple’s $800 iPhone 16.Both of the new phones have the staples that people care most about — great cameras, nice screens, zippy speeds, modern software and long battery life. To cut costs, they omit some fancier extras, like advanced camera features.Is it a wise idea to save some bucks, or better to spend more on the fancier phones? To find out, I strapped on a fanny pack and carried all four phones with me for the last week to run tests.The upshot: As is often the case, you get what you pay for. The $800 phones are slightly better in terms of features and performance than the cheaper versions, and the $600 iPhone is faster and has a better camera than the $500 Pixel.But more important, the cheaper Pixel and iPhone were nearly indistinguishable from their $800 counterparts in several of my tests. In some cases, like battery life, the cheaper phones were even better.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
The actress Candy Clark documented her unlikely journey through 1970s Hollywood in a series of Polaroids, now published in a memoir.Jeff Bridges taught her how to drive in his Volkswagen bus. Steven Spielberg refused to flirt with her. She successfully talked the actor Rip Torn out of assaulting the director Nicolas Roeg on a movie set. While lying on a beach in Mexico with the painter Ed Ruscha, she was grazed by a stray bullet on the thigh. Once, she pinched David Bowie’s nipples.In Los Angeles, a city built on oversize lore and swaggering legend, where does one file away stories like these? Revealing but not gossipy. Candid but not lurid. Occasionally surreal but consistently sweet.“It’s a confessional era, right?” said Candy Clark, a former actress who wears a neat blonde bob and Warby Parker glasses, sitting in a booth at the Sunset Tower Hotel in West Hollywood, Calif. It was a recent Sunday afternoon, and Ms. Clark — the one behind the wheel of Mr. Bridges’s van, the starlet who tried to flirt with Mr. Spielberg, the peacemaker, the bullet-wound victim and the nipple-twisting culprit — was nibbling on pita and hummus.Dodging a life of mundane midcentury expectations, she started a modeling career in New York and went on to become a darling of the “New Hollywood” era in the 1970s. During her five decades onscreen, she collected over 80 film and television credits, establishing herself as a ubiquitous face who played mostly free-spirited lovers and burnouts like Debbie Dunham in “American Graffiti,” the part that earned Ms. Clark an Oscar nomination. It was her second-ever acting role.“It was my arrival,” she said, recalling the nomination. “You’re just the center of the universe, and it’s really wonderful.”A young Ms. Clark with the X-70 Polaroid camera she used to take photos of her fellow actors, before many of them became mega-famous.Candy ClarkWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More
With flavors of both a bow tie and a cravat, the ribbed scarf knotted around the neck of Evan Naurais immediately stood out when we crossed paths in Paris on a Saturday in early February. It was a dapper finishing touch to a tactile outfit that also involved a fuzzy, olive green jacket and stylishly rumpled dark jeans.Mr. Naurais, 24, who works at an art gallery in Paris, had the type of considered look that suggested a certain amount of thought went into putting it together. So I was surprised when he told me that, on his days off, he paid little mind to his clothing choices.“The weekend is for me to clean my head,” he said.
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The word “timeless” came to mind when I glimpsed Gilang Al Ghifari Lukman, left, and Medina Janneta El-Rahman at a ferry landing in Istanbul while I was in the city on vacation last November. Though it has been months since we met, I thought of them as I prepared to go to Europe for fashion shows this month.They are the type of stylish people I always hope to bump into when I’m traveling — the kind who give me a chance to break out my vintage Rolleiflex film camera, a model that was used by noted fashion photographers like Richard Avedon and Bert Stern and that I do not get to use enough on the street these days.Mr. Lukman, 27, and Ms. Rahman, 25, live in Birmingham, England, and were vacationing in Istanbul. They told me that they always liked to dress smartly. Both grew up in Indonesia, and Mr. Lukman said his style was influenced by how people there dressed and by the elegant fashions of Britain’s Edwardian era.His handsome satchel was made of goat leather, he said, and sentimental to him: “It was purchased with my first-ever salary from a dishwashing part-time job while studying in Kyoto.”
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