Boy in theater, 1943, by Weegee
Yesterday’s post on Kohei Yoshiyuki’s infrared photographs got me thinking about Weegee. Weegee’s most famous infrared pictures are of kids in movie theaters. A lot of these pictures show pairs of kids:
Two boys in theater, 1942, by Weegee
Palace Theater, 1943, by Weegee
But Weegee also photographed adults in the theaters:
Girls laughing, 1943, by Weegee
Lovers in theater, 1943-45, by Weegee
Less well known are Weegee’s infrared photographs of lovers at Coney Island:
Lovers at Coney Island, 1943, by Weegee
from Los Alamos by William Eggleston
from The Democratic Forest by William Eggleston
Last week there was some discussion on this blog about the randomness of great pictures. What makes a picture great? Who knows? But you know it when you see it. And this week I saw a real doozy:
image by Nicholas Nixon from the series Patients
In my recent post on toy fatigue, I spoke of my failure to be fully immersed in digital media. I suspect the perfect vehicle for this kind of immersion is video games. I was an Atari kid, but haven’t kept up with it. The closest I get is by looking at pictures:
Click to enlarge
For more pictures, check out Richard Hines, Alex Harris, Magnum Photos and my buddy Todd Deutsch (be sure to also read Joerg Colberg’s recent interview with Todd here).
Just returned from a computer-free Thanksgiving in the Rocky Mountains (hence the Friday Poem on Sunday). I didn’t stay in La Platte Cañon, but both W.H. Jackson and Walt Whitman have nice impressions of the place. Whitman was there in 1892. No sure about Jackson – probably in the 1880’s. But it is nice to imagine them bumping into each other.
La Platte Cañon by W. H. Jackson
(note Jackson’s wagon and dark tent in view)
you can buy the stereocard for $650 here
Spirit that Form’d this Scene
by Walt Whitman (written in Platte Cañon, Colorado)
Spirit that form’d this scene,
These tumbled rock-piles grim and red,
These reckless heaven-ambitious peaks,
These gorges, turbulent-clear streams, this naked freshness,
These formless wild arrays, for reasons of their own,
I know thee, savage spirit–we have communed together,
Mine too such wild arrays, for reasons of their own;
Was’t charged against my chants they had forgotten art?
To fuse within themselves its rules precise and delicatesse?
The lyrist’s measur’d beat, the wrought-out temple’s
grace–column and polish’d arch forgot?
But thou that revelest here–spirit that form’d this scene,
They have remember’d thee.