Photography

Subterms

    More stories

    • 125 Shares179 Views

      in Elections

      La mortal antesala de las primeras elecciones libres en Sudáfrica

      by

      [Estamos en WhatsApp. Empieza a seguirnos ahora]Hace 30 años, los sudafricanos negros votaron por primera vez mientras el país celebraba el monumental nacimiento de una democracia. Mientras escribo estas líneas, Sudáfrica está bañada por la cálida luz del sol invernal y los sudafricanos son libres.Ese día, el 27 de abril de 1994, cambió la vida de todos los habitantes del país. Yo estaba allí. Pero solo lo recuerdo vagamente.Sin embargo, recuerdo vívidamente el costo en vidas humanas que condujo a ese día victorioso, ya que lo que equivalía a una guerra por poderes alimentada por elementos del Estado del apartheid enfrentó a grupos étnicos entre sí. Quienes esperaban que el derramamiento de sangre hiciera descarrilar las negociaciones democráticas lo llamaron, convenientemente, violencia de personas negras contra personas negras.Pasaron cuatro años entre la salida de Nelson Mandela de la cárcel y las primeras elecciones reales. En ese tiempo, mientras el gobierno del apartheid resolvía lentamente los términos de su disolución con los líderes políticos que durante tanto tiempo había intentado reprimir, 14.000 personas murieron de forma violenta.Puede que muchos sudafricanos hayan optado por olvidar. Puede que los más jóvenes simplemente no lo sepan. Pero esto es lo que vi en los meses anteriores a la votación.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

    • 125 Shares169 Views

      in Elections

      Veteran Describes Grizzly Bear Attack as ‘Most Violent’ Experience Ever

      by

      Shayne Patrick Burke, a disabled veteran in the Army Reserve, said the attack was “the most violent” thing he had experienced, including being shot at.Shayne Patrick Burke was on a short hike this month to photograph owls in the backcountry of Grand Teton National Park in Wyoming when he spotted a grizzly bear cub about 50 to 70 yards in front of him.Instantly, Mr. Burke knew that the cub’s presence signaled trouble, he wrote on Instagram.Moments later, Mr. Burke, 35, was attacked by the cub’s mother.He turned his back, got on his stomach and locked his hands behind his neck, following advice he had read about grizzly bear attacks, he said.During the attack, on May 19, the bear repeatedly bit Mr. Burke and picked him up and slammed him to the ground, before, he wrote, one of his screams “unfortunately, but fortunately, turned her attention to my head.”It was a terrifying moment, but it ultimately saved his life.The bear bit at Mr. Burke’s neck, but his hands and arms were still interlocked behind it and, crucially, he had grabbed a can of bear spray when he saw the cub.“I never let go of the bear spray can,” he wrote. “As she bit my hands in the back of my neck she simultaneously bit the bear spray can and it exploded in her mouth.”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

    • 150 Shares169 Views

      in Elections

      At Frieze, Photographer of Gay Life Seeks ‘a Place in the Sunshine’

      by

      Stanley Stellar has documented gay New York, on the streets and in his studio, for decades. Now he steps onto his biggest stage.Stanley Stellar was on Canal Street one Sunday morning in 1976 when a young man with a killer body passed by. Like many New York street photographers, Stellar is curious, bordering on nosy, and he can, when necessary, be a whiz at masking flirtation as flattery to put straight guys at ease.Stellar convinced the man to lift his T-shirt for a photo, and in return Stellar got an eyeful of chest and colorful bird tattoos, a picture Stellar later named “I Got Birds Too.”The man’s shirt went back on and a lightbulb went off.“I walked away from this and went, oh, this is who I am,’” Stellar, 79, said in a recent interview at his TriBeCa apartment.That chance encounter was an awakening that helped fuel Stellar’s decades-long drive to take pictures of unapologetic, maverick gayness as much as he can fit into a day. He’s still at it, as his nearly 40,000 Instagram followers can testify.To be clear, Stellar is gay. Spare him “queer.”“I don’t like how gay has been marginalized and dismissed,” he said. “At this point in my life, I’m not going to go, Oh yeah, I’ve always been a queer artist.’ No.”“I Got Birds Too,” 1976. Stellar’s work is a testament to a time and a community.via Stanley Stellar and Kapp KappWe 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

    • 113 Shares109 Views

      in Elections

      Indigenous Artists Are the Heart of the Venice Biennale

      by

      Here are highlights of the range of work produced by Native artists in the pavilions and a central exhibition that proudly calls itself “Foreigners Everywhere.”Before visitors step into any gallery at the 2024 Venice Biennale, which opens April 20, Indigenous artists will have made their presence known.A collective of painters from the Brazilian Amazon, MAHKU (Movimento dos Artistas Huni Kuin), will cover the facade of the central exhibition hall with an intricate mural. Inuuteq Storch, the first Greenlandic and Inuk artist to represent Denmark at the international art festival, will erect a sign reading “Kalaallit Nunaat,” or “Greenland” above the pavilion’s entrance. (Greenland has been a self-governing country within the Danish Realm since 1979. )The Brazil Pavilion nearby has been renamed the Hãhãwpuá Pavilion — one of many terms that Indigenous people use to describe the territory that, after colonization, became Brazil. “There is a very political aspect to the Indigenous presence in an artistic space like the Venice Biennale,” said Denilson Baniwa, the Hãhãwpuá Pavilion’s co-curator. “Our aim is to rewrite history and add a new chapter to art history.”Beyond the United States Pavilion, which features the art of Jeffrey Gibson, the Venice Biennale offers a taste of the wide range of work produced by Indigenous, First Nations and Native artists around the globe. Here are some highlights.The Central ExhibitionMataaho Collective’s “Takapau” (2022), made of polyester tie-downs and stainless steel buckles. The first gallery at the Arsenale will host the monumental installation by a group of four Maori women known for making large fiber sculptures. Maarten Holl, via Te PapaIndigenous artists are at the heart of “Foreigners Everywhere,” the Venice Biennale’s central exhibition. As the Brazilian curator Adriano Pedrosa, artistic director of this year’s Biennale, sees it, the Indigenous artist is “frequently treated as a foreigner in his or her own land.” The first gallery at the Arsenale, Venice’s former shipyard complex, will host a monumental installation by the Mataaho Collective, a group of four Maori women known for making large-scale fiber sculptures. The 331-artist lineup also includes the Native American artists Kay WalkingStick and Emmi Whitehorse; the Brazilian Yanomani artists Joseca Mokahesi and André Taniki; Indigenous Australian artists Marlene Gilson and Naminapu Maymuru-White; and Maori artists Sandy Adsett and Selwyn Wilson, considered one of the founders of Maori Modernism, who died in 2002.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

    • 138 Shares119 Views

      in Elections

      A Heartland Godmother of Installation Art, No Longer in the Shadows

      by

      She is a trailblazer of the architectural sculpture movement, and her diaries rival Frida Kahlo’s. Are we ready for the unsettling clarity of Donna Dennis?One of Donna Dennis’s architectural installations — a false tunnel entrance installed on the Mad River — so confounded local Ohioans that one morning in August 1981, someone pipe-bombed it. New York’s bomb squad confiscated part of another structure, a cabin occupying City Hall Park, in 1986. The works by Dennis are so faithful to existing vocabularies of infrastructure that they defy classification as art objects.In 1970s New York, as painting and sculpture gave way to a gold rush of conceptualism, environments, performance and politics, the Ohio-born Dennis, fresh from art school in Minnesota and Paris, tuned into consciousness-raising women’s groups and devoted her craft to unsettlingly frank resemblances of buildings.First came hotel and subway facades, then houses in the round — each a combination of construction and artist materials, and slightly too small to pretend functionality. (For lights she uses appliance bulbs, and her doors terminate at her eye level.) Since the ’80s she has gone industrial: room-size lift bridges, stairways, rail platforms, pump houses and roller coaster girdings that have increased in complexity as they lessen in number.Dennis in 1981 with half of “Mad River Tunnel: Entrance and Exit,” in Dayton, Ohio.Donna DennisThis month, the gates crack on this scarce and challenging oeuvre. The bellwether art gallery O’Flaherty’s has darkened its space on Avenue A to a dramatic degree, and filled it with five Dennis works from the 1970s and ’90s, for a show called “Houses and Hotels.” Whatever else they do, these shrines to vernacular architecture, humane, seductive and commanding, make clear that a godmother of installation art has been unwisely overlooked.“Two Stories with Porch (for Robert Cobuzio)” (1977-79) is a 10-foot-tall rowhouse in the style of suburban New Jersey. From a darkened first-story window, a VACANCY sign glows greenly. (A tribute to the late friend of the title.) A wallpapered room lit by ceiling bulb is just visible upstairs. As your eyes adjust in the dark, unlit details fade in: a coat of aluminum paint on the cornice, a staircase through the curtain, a tracing of mortar among stones in the foundation.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

    • 150 Shares199 Views

      in Elections

      A Marketplace of Girl Influencers Managed by Moms and Stalked by Men

      by

      This box represents a real photo of a 9-year-old girl in a golden bikini lounging on a towel. The photo was posted on her Instagram account, which is run by adults. 1 🔥🔥🔥 wooowww Mama mia ❤️❤️🥰💯🤗 Great body😍🔥❤️ Love 😍😍😍😍 Perfect bikini body ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️😋😋😋😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 Mmmmmmmmm take that bikini off 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ You’re sooooo hot ❤️🤗💋🌺🌹🌹💯 […] More

    • 138 Shares199 Views

      in Elections

      Millennials Flock to Instagram to Share Pictures of Themselves at 21

      by

      The generation that rose with smartphones and social media had a chance to look back this week.Most of the photos are slightly faded. The hairlines fuller. Some feature braces. Old friends. Sorority squats and college sweethearts. Caps and gowns. Laments about skinny jeans and other long lost trends.This week, Instagram stories the world over have been awash with nostalgic snapshots of youthful idealism — there have been at least 3.6 million shares, according a representative for Meta — as people post photos of themselves based on the prompt: “Everyone tap in. Let’s see you at 21.”The first post came from Damian Ruff, a 43-year-old Whole Foods employee based out of Mesa, Ariz. On Jan. 23, Mr. Ruff shared an image from a family trip to Mexico, wearing a tiny sombrero and drinking a Dos Equis. His mother sent him the photo, Mr. Ruff said in an interview. It was the first time they shared a beer together after he turned 21.“Not much has changed other than my gray hair. I see that person and go, ‘Ugh, you are such a child and have no idea,’” he said.Mr. Ruff created the shareable story template with the picture — a feature that Instagram introduced in 2021 but expanded in December — and watched it take off.“The amount of people that have been messaging me and adding me on Instagram out of nowhere, like people from around the world, has been crazy,” Mr. Ruff said.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

    • 88 Shares159 Views

      in Elections

      Photographing the Last of the Holocaust Survivors

      by

      Rabbi Aliza Erber, 80, stood at the edge of a pier in Lower Manhattan and told those around her to draw closer — and to look out toward the Brooklyn Bridge.A few seconds later, there it was: a portrait of her face projected onto the bridge, against the backdrop of the Brooklyn skyline, along with her own words. “It was not okay then, it’s not okay now.”She took in the moment, mesmerized. “That’s me,” she said, her eyes shining. “That’s me.”Rabbi Erber is a Holocaust survivor who was hidden in a forest in the Netherlands as a baby during World War II.Standing alongside her on Saturday evening was Gillian Laub, a multimedia artist, who had orchestrated a sweeping public art project that unfurled across Manhattan and Brooklyn.Using projectors positioned at strategic spots, Ms. Laub, who is best known for her photography, arranged for her portraits of Holocaust survivors to be displayed on the facades of buildings and landmark structures.Ms. Laub and her team hoped New York City would wear these faces like an ephemeral veil for much of the night.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?  More