photo beirut

New Haven's Grove Street Cemetery

During a brief visit to New Haven a few weeks ago I took a walk in the Grove Street cemetery, established in 1797. Here are some photographs of things that caught my eye that day - Egyptian revival railings, a torn, worn American flag, weathered angels, and a Birch trunk scratched up by squirrels.

NYC and Catherine Opie

We were in NYC for just an afternoon last week but we managed to squeeze in a visit to the fantastic B&H Photo store (professional photographer's heaven, if you have a little money to spend), a tasty lunch of mezze at a Turkish restaurant called Beyoglu, and a long visit to the Guggenheim to see the Catherine Opie exhibit of photos. Not much time to take photos, but here are two snapshots from the day.

Lunch.

View from inside the Guggenheim.

Here's a Catherine Opie photo from the exhibit:

Untitled #2 (1994), Platinum print, 2 1/4 x 6 3/4 inches

On view at the Guggenheim (this link takes you to the page of her work, including an online exhibition) are a number of her coherent, separate projects - such as Freeways (example above), Being and Having, Portraits, Mini-Malls, Domestic, American Cities, Icehouses, and Surfers. She began in the 1990s by taking formal studio portraits of friends in the queer communities of Los Angeles and San Francisco. They are striking for the way she photographed each uniquely dressed, tattooed and pierced individual against richly colored backdrops and baroque patterns. She refers to being influenced by the 16th century portrait paintings by Hans Holbein. She also photographed domestic scenes of lesbian families around the country, and her own family with her young son. As with most of her work they are done with medium or large format cameras, very deliberately arranged and meticulously lit. Also very tender, expressive and moving.

I particularly enjoyed Freeways, the small panoramic platinum paladium prints of overpasses and roadways in Los Angeles. The forms are sensuous and compelling as abstractions but also visual testimony to the vast - generally unnoticed - infrastructure that connects the LA area (and divides communities, as Opie mentions in the audio tour). By shooting in black and white on Sunday mornings when there are few cars around she heightens the abstract qualities of line, shape and texture, and directs our attention to the forms themselves rather than their usage in a particular era. The platinum process creates an almost antique, historic aura that lacks the contrast (bright whites, dark blacks) usually seen in silver gelatin prints (the most common black and white printing method). By printing them small she pulls us away from feeling their monumental scale as we would if we were standing there in person or if she had made massive prints as is so common these days. Instead of asking us to be awe-struck by the freeways' size in relation to ourselves, she has shrunk them down to a whole new scale. We peer at the prints from up close as if we are getting a glimpse into another world, our world made temporarily unfamiliar.

I also really loved the two series facing each other in one gallery, Icehouses (2001) and Surfers (2003). You can see a video of their installation with Opie's reflections on the images by clicking here. Instead of capturing moments of action among ice fishers in Minnesota and surfers in California she photographs the quiet time of waiting, and from a distance. The horizon lines in these are very important, as they align from photo to photo, but are often almost imperceptible as sky melts into snow or ocean. These photos are huge, 50 x 40 inches and were made with field camera on 8x10 inch film. Both series are about temporary communities, not individuals (no people are even visible in Icehouses, only the little shacks within which people do their fishing). 

 

Untitled #9 (Icehouses) 2001, Chromogenic print, 50 x 40 inches

 

Untitled #9 (Surfers), 2003, Chromogenic print, 50 x 40 inches

It's an excellent show all around. I haven't even mentioned the urban landscape shots of mini-malls in Los Angeles (also without people, which highlights both the signage that points to the presence of multiple cultural communities and the dreary architecture) and similarly large scale, detailed but low-key panoramic shots of Wall Street and Chicago that are also quite compelling.

Her aesthetic of capturing the mundane and the overlooked, and the in-between moments, without drama but with incredible technical finesse and intense detail really appeals to me. So very different from the photojournalism that I normally work with, but more in tune with my own photographic sensibility.

snapshots of Italy

California wild

Dew on Mt. Diablo

California poppies falling apart

On Mt. Diablo

On Mt. Diablo

Madrone tree in the Sierra foothills

A woodpecker's granary in a dead tree, Sierra foothills

Shooting star, Sierra foothills

Lichen and rocks, Sierra foothills

Layers of a redwood tree, Calavaras Big Trees State Park

San Francisco shadows

San Francisco, the Mission district

San Francisco, the Mission district

Starting Again

This blog is changing from one focused on my year in Beirut to one that will still be about photography, but will revolve around my life in Baltimore. It will continue to feature my photography and my writings about photography (with occasional diversions).

So, rather than starting a whole new blog, I am going to continue posting in this particular bit of cyberspace, but the blog's name will change (once I think up a new one). You'll always be able to find it at this web address, regardless of its name.

Thanks for visiting!

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I saw the movie "4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days" the other night. It's by a Romanian director, Cristian Mungiu, and depicts a few days in the life of a woman helping her friend get an illegal abortion in 1987. It is unrelentingly bleak, but mostly well-crafted and compelling. [Nicolae Ceaucescu, Romania's ruler from 1965 until his overthrow in 1989, had outlawed birth-control and abortion in 1966 in an attempt to increase the population.]

Although I enjoyed the storyline, I also found the little details of life under that authoritarian regime very interesting and familiar. In 1990 I took a trip to Turkey and Bulgaria with some friends from Cairo, where we were living. Bulgaria's communist leader had only very recently been removed by opposition forces and later in 1990 the Communist Party gave up the reins of power and free elections were held for the first time since 1931.

But when we were visiting there was still a shortage of food in shops, we could get very little at the few restaurants, pro-democracy protests were still being held and the general look and feel of most places we visited was institutional and bare. It wasn't all desolate, though. In Sophia we randomly met a man who spoke English and we went to visit his mother and sister's young daughter at their flat in an area of colorless high-rise apartment buildings. Inside the flat was a whole different world. It was warm and vibrant, they offered us what must have been precious fresh oranges, chocolates and some homemade fruit liqueur. For a glimpse at what we saw, here are a few photos from that trip.

Baalbek and the Shouf

We've taken a few trips recently. A month or so ago we went to Baalbek (Roman ruins in the Beqaa valley) and last weekend to the Shouf mountains, including Beit ed-Dine (a 19th century prince's palace) and the Shouf Cedar Reserve. Below are a few photos, just snapshots.

I'll be back to more considered photography soon. My medium format film order has arrived in the bag of a friend who has come to Beirut for research. I'm definitely ready to return to the Hasselblad. I'm not sure why I feel so disappointed with 35mm, though to be fair, I'm hard to please with the medium format too. Still, the incredibly rich texture of so much fine detail, the quasi-scientific feel of the straight-forward square shape and basic mechanical process of the camera are all so enticing. I also think that having only 12 frames on a roll, one lens, using a hand-held light meter and the camera's heavy body all slow me down and make me consider each shot in a way that in itself is satisfying.

For now, enjoy the tour of Lebanon...

[Baalbek, along the side of the Temple of Bacchus someone planted roses.]

[Baalbek. Detail of half man, half sea serpent creatures.]

[Baalbek. Massive blocks of carved details litter the whole site.]

[Baalbek. Lion head, part of a fountain at one time?]

[Baalbek. There is a lot of old graffiti from the 19th century in both Arabic and English. It's high up on the walls and columns, presumably indicating that the site was partially buried in the earth.]

[Baalbek. Outside of the Temple of Bacchus.]

[Baalbek. Dancing woman relief sculpture inside the Temple of Bacchus.]

The Shouf:

[Old stone buildings on the terraced hillsides on the way up to Beit ed-Din.]

[Beit ed-Dine. Many Roman-era mosaics, rescued by the Jumblatts in the 1980s they say, are displayed in the former stables, which lead out to a garden with a view down the valley. You can get a glimpse of mosaics in the left window and on the wall to the far right.]

[Shouf Cedar Reserve at Barkouk. An ancient Lebanese cedar tree.]

[The trunk of a cedar in the reserve.]

[Cedars in the small grove of old trees.]

[Maasser es-Shouf, a village in a valley next to the cedar reserve area.]

lunch by the Litani

[Purple flowers by the Litani]

The other day I went with a friend to Marjayoun, a town in the south, and then had lunch with a few other friends by the Litani River. We drove out of Beirut past a line of small billboards decorated with Iranian flags planted in the median between the roads, perhaps commemorating Iran's support of reconstruction projects after the war last summer. Saida (Sidon) on the coast was our first stop, for a quick coffee and croissant and then permission from the military to head on to Marjayoun. Well, we were supposed to be quick, but by the time we got back from coffee we discovered our meter had run out 13 minutes before, we had a ticket and one wheel was clamped! It must be common phenomenon since the people around knowingly waved us over to the guy who could help find the culprit. In the end we only paid about $4 and were on our way again pretty quick. I guess that the clamp insures that you are there to pay the ticket when the meter guys come back around. Similar to the way I pay household utility bills directly to the collectors that come to the door once a month. No mailing in checks here.

Next stop was the military base. Permission was given quickly, scribbled on a small piece of paper, but only because my friend knows the guy from previous research trips. I'm not sure what the potential tourist might do. Get turned back at the checkpoint between Nabatiyeh and Marjayoun I suppose. I admit I'm not sure why one needs permission. I assume because this area is very close to the Israeli and Syrian borders. I gather it's part of the Lebanese army asserting control over the south after the war with Israel last summer.

Traveling east up into the hills from the coast at Saida were stretches of road decorated with Hizballah flags and sentimental posters of their leaders and fallen fighters. Other areas flew Amal flags. This region is mixed, Christian-Muslim, so churches and roadside altars with statuettes of Mary and saints with votive candles appeared as well. Lebanese army jeeps passed, but there seemed to be more UNIFIL soldiers looking tense in their blue helmets. In Marjayoun our phones weren't working momentarily while we were buying more minutes and the cell phone store guy explained the network is jammed when UN convoys drive through. Perhaps in response to the remotely detonated car bomb this summer that killed 6 Spanish UN soldiers.

Despite the politicized and militarized feel of the area it's also quite beautiful. The hills are at times steep and rocky and are a pale straw color with just some patches of green and yellow flowering bushes. Rains should have begun by now, but instead we're having hot hazy weather. (And water problems around the country.) There is a lot of building going on, not so attractive concrete shops along the road and some ostentatious large houses on hills. Being occupied for 20 years by Israel kept development at a minimum, so there is lots of open space. But also problems with deteriorated roads and provision of utilities like phone lines. Though my friend was telling me stories of some places benefiting from Israeli medical equipment and fiber optic cables during the occupation that they lack now. The Lebanese government is criticized for not extending public services to the south very well. Thus leaving space for other groups like Hizballah to step in and assist residents.

So, eventually we met up with our friends for a very peaceful lunch at a small restaurant at the end of a dirt road next to the river in the valley below Marjayoun. We ate grilled fish, fried potatoes, moutabbal, fattoush and zaatar (fresh thyme) salad.

[End of our table next to the Litani River.]

[Chair embedded in the riverside.]

Over lunch we talked about journalism, research, filmmaking. Unlike me, the three friends are all part Lebanese and part something else, so we had an interesting time talking about identity too.

We explored a little around the edge of the river and found this gorgeous bright green frog.

Not such a different color from our Arabic coffee pot and green tangerines after lunch.

Pomegranates were delicious too...

Torino's cemetery

The last batch of photos from my trip to Italy are of the cemetery in Torino. It is a large area with many impressive monuments and statuary of diverse styles. There were workers cleaning stones, some individuals bringing flowers or tidying up a site, and quite a few people riding their bikes or walking through. The only sad aspect was that the Jewish sections were locked. They were surrounded by high walls but I could peek through the gates. I wonder if they are locked due to vandalism.

[In these arched hallways each niche defined by a dome holds a monument somewhat like an altar, or stone plaques with the deceased names. Many were full of elaborate and ornate statuary and structures. Some ceilings were also covered in frescoes.]


[It's hard to see but there's a marble woman laying in front of this tomb.]

[I find this gesture, the way the angel is holding the young woman's wrist, to be very poignant. The carved detail in their faces is also delicate.]

Facades of Genoa and interiors of Turin

I didn't take many photos on the Italy trip. Partially because I had a cold slowing me down but also because I don't find it easy to travel and photograph. Somehow the transiency of travel makes it hard for me to decide what I want to photograph, it's like I don't have enough time to absorb the feel of the place, to explore and think first. In Genoa I was really interested in the port city feel, the slightly seedy back streets where prostitutes stand outside some doorways while people a few streets down sell pirated DVDs and shoppers go about their business. I also like the way the city is set on steep hills. But I couldn't find a good way to photograph any of that, so I took some shots of the facades of buildings and a few other architectural details. The strange carved faces and huge torsos holding up columns and balconies were part of some other world that also intrigued me.

Along Via Garibaldi -- faces and torsos.

Across the street, in the Palazzo Bianco's courtyard, monstrous faces and sea creatures (including goldfish in the pond).

The Palazzo Bianco has some wonderful 16th and 17th century art -- most all various renditions of biblical stories and some mythical ones. I was mesmerized by one of St Sebastian by Filippino Lippi. The colors are incredibly vibrant and the numerous small details like the dandelions and other little flowering plants on the ground and the patterns on clothing are so meticulously rendered. I'm not a religious person, but the stories told by these paintings are gripping nonetheless.

In the courtyard of the Palazzo Rosso, which backs up on some residential buildings (complete with laundry and scaffolding).

In the Piazza San Matteo. Columns and designs painted onto the side of a medieval building.

Turin was altogether different from Genoa. Flat and with broad boulevards lined with arcaded buildings housing shops and grand cafes. As in Pisa (and Florence), there's a wide river running through it where we liked to sit in the evening watching the rowers practice and the sun set.

Greenhouse at Turin's botanical garden.

A driveway in Turin.

Turin also has a large cemetery filled with statuary and monuments. Those photos are coming up in the next post.

Pisa's ancient botanical garden

In Pisa I visited the Orto Botanico, connected to the Biology Department at the University of Pisa. It's supposedly the oldest university botanical garden, begun in 1543.

Near the entrance was this display of carnivorous plants.

This is Dipsacus fullonum L, the common name in English seems to be wild teasel. As a botanical garden used for study, plants are allowed to go to seed and are not pruned for aesthetic purposes as other types of gardens would be. I loved this aspect of it and found it very beautiful because it's not overly manicured.

This Magnolia grandiflora was planted here in 1787 and needs crutches to remain standing.

More Italy photos in the next few posts, coming up soon.