Istanbul | Lâle Müldür

Posted: June 4th, 2014 | Author: | Filed under: dougKIM photography, Film, Istanbul, Leica, Poetry

Wandering the streets in Beyoğlu one afternoon, my friend Çiğdem elbowed me and pointed out a woman standing nearby with a small entourage.

It was Lâle Müldür, one of Istanbul’s most important living poets. Of course, I didn’t know who she was or really, still don’t know who she is, but hey, I took an unimaginative photo of her.

Here is a link to her poem "La Luna" translated into English.

Lâle Müldür, Beyoğlu, Istanbul, Turkey; Leica MP 0.58, 35mm Summicron, Kodak Tri-X © Doug Kim

Lâle Müldür, Beyoğlu, Istanbul, Turkey; Leica MP 0.58, 35mm Summicron, Kodak Tri-X © Doug Kim


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John Loengard | Portraits

Posted: April 14th, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Film, Photography, Poetry, Quotes

In a painting no one complains that the subject is posed, but everybody complains about what looks posed in a photograph. Except, I’ve found that if I go very close in to the face, then the posed expression no longer exists. The face becomes a landscape of the lakes of the eyes and the hills of the nose and the valley of the cleft of the chin.

- John Loengard

Brassai, 1981 © John Loengard

Brassai, 1981 © John Loengard

I was photographing the photographer Brassaï. He had very prominent eyes, like a frog’s. As I focused my lens, he brought his hand up and pretended to focus his eye. It was a joke, but it added mystery to the picture. There’s a sense of action in a very small world. Or with Allen Ginsberg there were people smoking cigarettes and in the smoke there’s a sense of motion. It makes much out of very little.

- John Loengard

Allen Ginsberg, 1966 © John Loengard

Allen Ginsberg, 1966 © John Loengard

When I go to photograph somebody, they say, “What do you want me to do?” Those are the most frightening words in the English language. I want to say, “Please, go over into good light and do something unusual.”

- John Loengard


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Aleksander Bochenek | I Love My Sudder Street

Posted: March 11th, 2013 | Author: | Filed under: Photography, Poetry

From Le Journal de la Photographie:

This is the story of Roshni Mallick and her family living on Sudder Street in the center of Kolkata, India. Like life itself this is an ongoing project.

It all began 3 years ago in early 2009 when I made friends with Roshni quite by accident, in her home city. What fascinated me during the first few days I spent with her family was their tenacity for life, their optimism, energy and ability to find joy from the simple, seemingly unimportant little things.

The conditions they live in might be perceived as poverty in the eyes of people from so called developed countries: they stay in a confined, rented room where quite often – mainly during visits from the relatives – 15 people would sleep, squeezed into every inch of the floor at night; they have no access to safe drinking water nor any of the hygienic conditions we are familiar with. It’s not an easy life.

Yet, they are quite privileged by Kolkata standards where one third of the population live in slums. The Mallicks at least have a roof over their heads and Raja, the father, runs a small business which brings in a few rupees to keep them going. When the money is there, the kids attend school. Really, it could be much worse.

By staying with them and photographing the family I am trying to understand, or grasp their mentality, their state of mind, and the intuitive knowledge they seem to possess that doesn’t come from books or education. What this project is truly about is how to fully embrace life despite all the obstacles in their way. Roshni once told me: “I love my Sudder Street. I’m really happy and I wouldn’t like to live elsewhere.”

Is this really such a riddle?

- Aleksander Bochenek

 I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek

I Love My Sudder Street series © Aleksander Bochenek


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Frank O’Hara | A Blade of Grass

Posted: December 12th, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: New York City, Poetry

Back Table at the Five Spot [David Smith(standing on left), Frank O'Hara (seated), Larry Rivers, and Grace Hartigan] © Burt Glinn, 1957

Back Table at the Five Spot [David Smith(standing on left), Frank O'Hara (seated), Larry Rivers, and Grace Hartigan] © Burt Glinn, 1957

One need never leave the confines of New York to get all the greenery one wishes—I can’t even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there’s a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life. It is more important to affirm the least sincere; the clouds get enough attention as it is and even they continue to pass.

- Frank O’Hara


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Larry Towell | Day of the Dead

Posted: November 3rd, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Film, Photography, Poetry, Quotes

El Salvador. San Salvador © 1992 Larry Towell/Magnum Photos

El Salvador, San Salvador © 1992 Larry Towell/Magnum Photos

Child with star mask during “Day Of The Dead”. Other child in background rolls tire for repair in garage where he works at an adult’s job.

 

Photography has many similarities with poetry. There’s not a strong relationship between the disciplines, but there is a tight one between the sensibilities. Black and white is minimalist. Poetry is just literature with the water squeezed out of it and good literature is just journalism that doesn’t grow old. This says a lotto me about what makes good photojournalism.

- Larry Towell


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James E. Hinton | Carmichael, Jones, and Brown

Posted: September 3rd, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Film, History, New York City, Photography, Poetry, Quotes

I say you better get a gun. Violence is necessary—it is as American as cherry pie.

—H. Rap Brown

 

Stokely Carmichael, LeRoi Jones, and H. Rap Brown in Michaux's Bookstore, Harlem, New York © James E. Hinton, 1967

Stokely Carmichael, LeRoi Jones, and H. Rap Brown in Michaux's Bookstore, Harlem, New York © James E. Hinton, 1967

 

The only thing that’s going to free Huey is gun powder.

—H. Rap Brown

 

You see that honky [Robert] McNamara on television? He ain’t nothing but a racist. He says, “Yes, we are going to draft thirty percent of the Negroes in the Army. This is where they can have equal opportunity. Yeah. Yes? yes it’s true that they are only ten percent of the population, but this is a better chance for them.” When that honky talk about drafting thirty percent black people, he’s talking about black urban removal?nothing else.

—Stokely Carmichael

 

I am inside someone who hates me. I look out from his eyes.

—LeRoi Jones


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Robert Frank | Paris New Year, 1949

Posted: April 26th, 2011 | Author: | Filed under: Film, Photography, Poetry

…if one is sensitive, it has an effect on you. So maybe it’s better not to be sensitive as a photographer and just go on. Many photographers today have that but I never had that. I think it’s nice to be sensitive as a photographer and maybe it’s harder.

-Robert Frank

Paris New Year (Young Man with Tulip), 1949 © Robert Frank

Paris New Year (Young Man with Tulip), 1949 © Robert Frank


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E. O. Hoppé | Ezra Pound

Posted: December 25th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Film, Photography, Poetry, Quotes

The only thing that makes me pause is to wonder whether the ingenuity of modern apparatus is not in itself a subtle temptation to photographers to rely on their instruments rather than on themselves. It will be a bad day for art if this is so.

-E.O. Hoppé

Ezra Pound, E.O. Hoppé 1918

Ezra Pound, E.O. Hoppé 1918

The only thing one can give an artist is leisure in which to work. To give an artist leisure is actually to take part in his creation.

– Ezra Pound


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Eve Arnold | William Carlos Williams

Posted: October 17th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Film, Photography, Poetry, Quotes

The better work men do is always done under stress and at great personal cost.

— William Carlos Williams

NEW JERSEY—Poet William Carlos Williams, 1957. © Eve Arnold / Magnum Photos

NEW JERSEY—Poet William Carlos Williams, 1957. © Eve Arnold / Magnum Photos

A studio session … provides the greatest chance for control. [But] even though there is total freedom, I still dislike studio photography and the contrived images that usually stem from this genre.

- Eve Arnold, Great Images of the 20th Century

You remember I had a strong inclination all my life to be a painter. Under different circumstances I would rather have been a painter than to bother with these god-damn words. I never actually thought of myself as a poet but I knew I had to be an artist in some way.

— William Carlos Williams


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José Saramago, 1922 – 2010

Posted: June 19th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Books, Poetry, Quotes

Some people spend their entire lives reading but never get beyond reading the words on the page, they don’t understand that the words are merely stepping stones placed across a fast-flowing river, and the reason they’re there is so that we can reach the farther shore, it’s the other side that matters

- José Saramago

José Saramago

José Saramago

Every man has his own patch of earth to cultivate. What’s important is that he dig deep.

- José Saramago


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