forgotten/lost/miscellaneous

Posts tagged “Travel

Constance Stuart Larrabee Photographs of African Tribes/Graucho and the Native Girls

“We took pictures of the native girls, but they weren’t developed. . . we’re going back next week.”

Groucho Marx

The English-born photographer Constance Stuart Larrabee is known for two distinct bodies of work: her black and white prints of South Africa’s tribal people (Zulu, Ndebele, Lovedu, Swazi, Sotho, Transkei, and Bushmen) – produced in the ’30s and ’40s – and her Life magazine-style photo-journalism in which she documented the liberation of Europe from the Nazis.

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James Nachtwey War Photography/The Existence of the Human Soul/There are plenty of good reasons for fighting

“There are plenty of good reasons for fighting, but no good reason ever to hate without reservation, to imagine that God Almighty Himself hates with you, too.”

Kurt Vonnegut

James Nachtwey (born March 14, 1948) is an American photojournalist and war photographer. He has been awarded the Overseas Press Club’s Robert Capa Gold Medal five times. In 2003, he was injured by a grenade in an attack on his convoy while serving as aTime contributing correspondent in Baghdad, from which he has made a full recovery.

hard to pick the featured images/as every shot is pure fire/like capa on crack/capturing every aspect of living with violence/squeezing the human condition down to a pin-point of light/the human struggle/sentient bags of translucent tubes, blood, gristle/torn open and spilling like garbage bags/but more importantly/showing such emotion

that

the

human soul

is

an

undeniable

reality

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I Surrender, Dear/Dead Hawks, Prohibited Sausage & Cuban Cigars/Was it really so long ago that you and I sat together having fun?

“You wake up one day and you’re an adult.

And all the people you were just dreaming about have gone and changed. So you shake the sleep-dust from your eyes and you say, was it really so long ago that you and I sat together having fun?

No, not so long ago.

But life goes by in the blink of an eye.

Sobriety after all this time isn’t all as bitter as I thought it would be.

Recently, for a second or two I almost felt like things were okay with the world. Strange to feel that way, when you know there are wars everywhere, everything’s going to hell in a hand basket.

But still I must admit, for a moment, I felt some kind of peace.”

Michael Shannon as John Rosow – The Missing Person

Taryn Simon lived in John F Kennedy International Airport from November 16 through November 20, 2009. JFK processes more international passengers than any other airport in the United States. Contraband includes photographs taken 24 hours a day of over 1000 items detained or seized from passengers and express mail entering the U.S. from abroad. Over five days, in both the U.S. Customs and Border Protection Federal Inspection Site and the U.S. Postal Service International Mail Facility, Simon documented items including counterfeit American Express travelers checks, overproof Jamaican rum, heroin, a dead hawk, an illegal Mexican passport, deer penis, purses made from endangered species, Cuban cigars, counterfeit Disney DVDs, khat, gold dust, GHB concealed as house cleaner, cow manure tooth powder, counterfeit Louis Vuitton bags, prohibited sausage, undeclared jewelry, steroids and an ostrich egg.

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Download Soundtrack: Brilliant Corners – Thelonious Monk

if you enjoy this album please obtain a legal copy


The Deserving World/Guillotines & Firing Squads/A Straight Hit Like Sì-Wŭ-Liù

“Console yourself by remembering that the world doesn’t deserve your affection”

Arthur Schopenhauer

frigid fingers held to the naked light bulb of the lamp for heat/these are frozen days/with prickly heat from space heaters/you run for 40 seconds under the duvet as coins slip through the gaps in the floorboards and the blinds/and for those who sit in large warm houses/with piles of superfluous things/complaining/poor me/like an obese man crying into his ice cream about his weight problem/I want to open his skull with a claw hammer/and their dismal holidays bourgeois versions of package holidays to Greece and Spain/complaining about the service and food/buying tat and crap/disenchanted dinners in tourist haunts/tiny bottles of soap and shampoo never touched/sipping on 3 euro coca-cola from the mini-bar/fenced off from the locals/unaware of who is the animals/and such long noses to look down/and cleaners to tidy their mess/to sweep their floors and polish their shit from porcelain/and wash their sheets/and dust their huge televisions/there is a parallel between the silt and the cream/a species imploding/to rub my arms with gasoline until I gleam/and these are the sentiments of genocide/of bitterness and disenchantment/and I dream of a primitive world

of guillotines

and

firing

squads

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Download soundtrack: 4,5,6 – Kool G Rap

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Ancient Mexican Culture/Tres Leches/Where’s Your Gat Gringo?

Picture 4

“You ain’t a killer, you still learnin how to walk/From New York to Cali all the real niggaz carry chalk/Mark you for death, won’t even talk that East and West crap/From Watts to Lefrak, it ain’t where you’re from it’s where’s your gat.”

Big Punisher

excerpt and images from the new york times

Ruben E Reyes is Mexican. He was raised in Mexico City. But some of the indigenous Tarahumara people of northern Mexico had a word for him when he first traveled among them in 2002. The word was “gringo.”

“I was never called that before,” Mr. Reyes, 31, recalled recently.

Though his father’s family had come from an area about 50 miles away, Mr. Reyes was an outsider in the Copper Canyon, among the mountains of the Sierra Madre Occidental. He found the Tarahumara, who are known for their running prowess, living lives not wholly unlike their ancestors centuries ago, who fled to these elevations from the Spanish.

“They still had their own culture,” Mr. Reyes said. “It wasn’t Mexicanized.”

However, by the time he returned for several months in 2009 to photograph, Mr. Reyes saw signs of a cultural shift among the Tarahumara (also known as the Rarámuri). Men who had previously worn loincloths now wore jeans. Children, most of them now in school, were speaking Spanish, while their grandparents spoke only Tarahumara. People were leaving the canyon to seek work in the cities. Yet, at the same time, Mr. Reyes found many traditional religious practices still being maintained, alongside Catholic observances.

His black-and-white, medium-format photographs have a timelessness of their own, as if they had been taken a century ago. But this wasn’t the result of some conscious aesthetic strategy. “This is just the way I photograph,” Mr. Reyes said.

He currently works as a freelance photographer in Cincinnati, where he lives with his wife, Jamie, and their newborn daughter. That’s a long way from Copper Canyon.

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Soundtrack: Capital Punishment – Big Pun

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Korean War Photographs/Revelations/Military Science & War by Proxy

“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones”

Albert Einstein

North and South Korea were sponsored by external powers, thus facilitating the war’s metamorphosis from a civil war to a proxy war between powers involved in the larger Cold War. From a military science perspective, the Korean War combined strategies and tactics of World War I and World War II—swift infantry attacks followed by air bombing raids. The initial mobile campaign transitioned to trench warfare, lasting from July 1951 until the 1953 border stalemate and armistice though minor outbreaks of fighting continue to the present day.

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Part of the imposing New York crew Monsta Island Czars, Megalon (a.k.a. Tommy Gunn a.k.a. the Black Jeezus of Rap) first gained recognition with his early Fondle ‘Em single “”One In A Million”” b/w “”Peace to the Homeless,”” as well as a show-stealing appearance on MF DOOM’s classic Operation: Doomsday. Flexing an intimidating, lightning-fast delivery paired with graphic lyrics focused primarily on narcotics conspiracy and bloodstained sidewalks, he’s one of the most popular members of the M.I.C. Though legal situations delayed its release, A Penny for Your Thoughts is nonetheless a great first album, loaded with illicit verses and dark, dramatic beatscapes provided by in-house producer X-Ray da Mindbenda.

Download Soundtrack: Penny for your Thoughts – Megalon

 


Pakistan Taliban/I Get My Thang In Action/The Nature of Man

“Men are at war with each other because each man is at war with himself.”

Francis Meehan

Soundtrack: Tical – Method Man

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hiroshi watanabe/motherhood and masks/a world in flux

“Motherhood is the strangest thing, it can be like being one’s own Trojan horse.”
Rebecca West

“I go to places that captivate and intrigue me. I am interested in what humans do. I seek to capture people, traditions, and locales that first and foremost are of personal interest. I immerse myself with information on the places prior to leaving, but I try to avoid firm, preconceived ideas. I strive for both calculation and discovery in my work, keeping my mind open for surprises. At times, I envision images I’d like to capture, but when I actually look through the viewfinder, my mind goes blank and I photograph whatever catches my eye. Photographs I return with are usually different from my original concepts. My photographs reflect both genuine interest in my subject as well as a respect for the element of serendipity, while other times I seek pure beauty. The pure enjoyment of this process drives and inspires me. I believe there’s a thread that connects all of my work — my personal vision of the world as a whole. I make every effort to be a faithful visual recorder of the world around me, a world in flux that, at very least in my mind, deserves preservation.”

Hiroshi Watanabe

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Pakistan Circus/The Nonexistent/Argos and Mr. Frosty

By believing passionately in something that still does not exist, we create it. The nonexistent is whatever we have not sufficiently desired.

Franz Kafka

and my parents never took me to the circus/or bought me a mr frosty/but I had buckaroo and operation/which is more than the ethiopian kids in live aid had/as they never knew it was christmas/ but I still wanted these things/and remember when everything you could every want in the world could be found in argos/board games/transformers/robots/lego/and its so cold today, even in bed/ I wish I could sleep a thousand years/and wake up as dust/and there was a kid who came to our school/with air max III/and other cool shit/and cable tv/and poisoned our minds/ to be hungry for things that existed outside the argos world/and we became devils/seduced with new things/and one night at camp we had a fight/and I beat him/but it was a pyric victory/because I still wanted to be him/ later on I heard he burnt his brain cells out on acid/much the same as me/but instead of becoming paranoid, bi-polar and manic like me,

he

just

turned

into

a

dribbling

retard

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download the soundtrack:

circus faux prez beats – odd nosdam

if you enjoy this album please obtain a legal copy

 


the death of the japanese city/gojira/jack burton

When some wild-eyed, eight-foot-tall maniac grabs your neck, taps the back of your favorite head up against the barroom wall, looks you crooked in the eye and asks you if ya paid your dues, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye, and you remember what ol’ Jack Burton always says at a time like that; “Yessir, the check is in the mail.”

Jack Burton

and yesterday couldn’t move/the gravity of the day holding me in place/ I dreamt that moths ate through all my clothes/cashmere knits resting in their draws/and awake to old rice glued onto all the crockery in the dishwasher/where the dishes wait to be washed by hand/ a thousand things to do/dirty clothes/dusty floors/hairs around the sink/piles of washing up all glazed in food/the sink blocked/emails/invoices/and I can’t face any of it/and aching sore from flagellation/shemale porn/harry s morgan movies/collette sigma/debora couer/trying to find something obscene and perverse/chasing the zero/ as if to shock myself like frankensteins monster with lightening bolts through my cock

as if

I’m trying

not to

thrash

some love

into

myself

but

rather,

beat

out

the

self

loathing

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photographs of nagasaki, hiroshima and godzilla post nuclear exposure


the birth of the american city/lady godiva and me/ezra pound

All great art is born of the metropolis.

Ezra Pound

photographs of american cities from the 1860s into the 20th century

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soundtrack: mighty joe moon – grant lee buffalo

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Tetsuo/Japanese Monsters/Dinosauroid

 

Utagawa Kuniyoshi (1797-1861) was one of the last great masters of the Japanese ukiyo-e  style of woodblock prints and painting, and is associated with the Utagawa school.

The range of Kuniyoshi’s preferred subjects included many genres: landscapes, beautiful women, Kabuki actors, cats, and mythical animals. He is known for depictions of the battles of samurai and legendary heroes. His artwork was affected by Western influences in landscape painting and caricature.

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Tetsuo: The Iron Man
1. Megatron (05:04)
2. The Sixth Tooth (06:34)
3. Rana-Porosa Porosa I (05:47)
4. Mausoleum (04:16)
Tetsuo II: Body Hammer
5. Lost (06:39)
6. Dinosauroid (03:16)
7. Rana-Porosa Porosa II (01:57)
8. A Burned Figure (04:05)

Soundtrack:  Chu Ishikawa – Tetsuo: The Iron Man

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Galen Rowell – Western China/Mountains of the Middle Kingdom

a year ago, we meandered through western china/ate dumplings and tsampa/with yaks milk and butter/and tea that tasted of old cheese/and rode horses in the mountains/and breathless up stairs from the altitude/tiny pool halls with broken cues/and snuggled under piles of blankets in ornate rooms all painted wood/and tattered prayer flags flapping in the wind on lonely temples/ and incense sticks thick as john holmes/and twice as long/sky burials we missed eating cucumber in dirt floor houses that smelt of firewood, colours grimy with soot/our hosts trying to arrange marriages with their daughters/and creaky cable cars through the misty rain/and tree tops/ feet hanging down from orange plastic seats/huddled on tiny chairs drinking steaming tea/and rain so soft/ tibetan prayer wheels and tiny villages with watch towers and fields of corn/ and fresh walnuts we smashed open with rocks/noodles in broth and bunches of dried chili hung in doorways/and shirt off cool beers and szechuan hot pots of red oil/sweating in the heat and murk of the whole place/mahjong clattering on fold out wooden tables/and through the chilled plates of strange foods and skewered organs

china

is

still

wild

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Galen Avery Rowell (August 23, 1940 – August 11, 2002) was a noted wilderness photographer and climber. Born in Oakland California, he became a full-time photographer in 1972.


Josef Koudelka – Gypsies

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Josef Koudelka was born in 1938 in Boskovice, Czechoslovakia. Josef worked as an aeronautical engineer in Prague and Bratislava, but began to take photographic commisions from theatre magazines and regularly photographed stage productions at Prague’s Theatre Behind the Gate on an old Rollieflex camera. In 1967 he gave up engineering altogether to pursue his career in photography.

Josef returned from his project shooting gypsies in Romania just two days before the Soviet invasion in August 1968. He witnessed and recorded the military forces of the Warsaw Pact as they invaded Prague and crushed the Czech reforms. Koudelka’s negatives were smuggled out of Prague into the hands of the Magnum agency, and published anonymously in The Sunday Times Magazine under the initials P. P. (Prague Photographer) for fear of reprisal to him and his family.

With Magnum to recommend him to the British authorities, he applied for a three-month working visa and fled to England in 1970, where he applied for political asylum, in 1971 joined Magnum Photos and stayed for more than a decade. A nomad at heart, he continued to wander around Europe with his camera and little else.

Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Koudelka sustained his work through numerous grants and awards, and continued to exhibit and publish major projects like Gypsies (1975, his first book) and Exiles (1988, his second). Since 1986, he has worked with a panoramic camera and issued a compilation of these photographs in his book Chaos in 1999. Koudelka has had more than a dozen books of his work published, including most recently in 2006 the retrospective volume Koudelka.


Coca-Cola/Dinosauria/Yesterdays Empires

and today was spent drawing little frogs in regency dress playing banjos and trumpets/and researching the origins of harlequins and misty dawn/but all I keep turning up is articles on john holmes/and before they throw up coca-cola signs on everything/here are some postcards of Europe/of yesterdays empires/sometimes it is strange/to view things that are so ingrained in our aesthetic psyche/and realise/that although we know what they look like/we have never really looked at them/and last week I walked past big ben/and it touched me like sunlight/and there are so many cliched observations we could make/about global companies/becoming the new world powers/and lizards secretly ruling the world/and fanta being a drink that was created for the nazis/but when I think of the end of things

I

always

think

of

jade goody

and

dinosauria

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Born like this
Into this
As the chalk faces smile
As Mrs. Death laughs
As the elevators break
As political landscapes dissolve
As the supermarket bag boy holds a college degree
As the oily fish spit out their oily prey
As the sun is masked
We are
Born like this
Into this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
Born into this
Walking and living through this
Dying because of this
Muted because of this
Castrated
Debauched
Disinherited
Because of this
Fooled by this
Used by this
Pissed on by this
Made crazy and sick by this
Made violent
Made inhuman
By this
The heart is blackened
The fingers reach for the throat
The gun
The knife
The bomb
The fingers reach toward an unresponsive god
The fingers reach for the bottle
The pill
The powder
We are born into this sorrowful deadliness
We are born into a government 60 years in debt
That soon will be unable to even pay the interest on that debt
And the banks will burn
Money will be useless
There will be open and unpunished murder in the streets
It will be guns and roving mobs
Land will be useless
Food will become a diminishing return
Nuclear power will be taken over by the many
Explosions will continually shake the earth
Radiated robot men will stalk each other
The rich and the chosen will watch from space platforms
Dante’s Inferno will be made to look like a children’s playground
The sun will not be seen and it will always be night
Trees will die
All vegetation will die
Radiated men will eat the flesh of radiated men
The sea will be poisoned
The lakes and rivers will vanish
Rain will be the new gold
The rotting bodies of men and animals will stink in the dark wind
The last few survivors will be overtaken by new and hideous diseases
And the space platforms will be destroyed by attrition
The petering out of supplies
The natural effect of general decay
And there will be the most beautiful silence never heard
Born out of that.
The sun still hidden there
Awaiting the next chapter.

Charles Bukowski

Native American Indian Photographs

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fucking jehovah witness at the door/spilt the ashtray on the bed/lost the images I’d carefully selected from the file/she didn’t want to save my soul/thrust me a magazine instead/I looked like a hairy gorilla squeezed into my long johns/bare chested/weapon holstered in the elastic waistband/I never know if its the retarded boy from downstairs/banging on his pots and pans/or someone at the door/a criminal or a preacher/so I’m always armed/but who arms a mongoloid with things to bang and make noise anyway?/I guess because sometimes he just bangs the walls/is that the only alternative/why are jehovahs witnesses never hot?/do they keep them hidden in their dreary churches?/I could do with a mid morning rub & tug and wouldnt mind if she preached whilst she did it/just as long as she used some hand cream or store bought lubrication/and tickled my chocolate box/the magazine was titled ‘what makes people do bad things?’/off the top of my head/I’d have to say that right now it would be the heavily veined erection/tenting the worn and bobbled crotch of my long johns.

these images are therefore a random selection from a library of 500 or so, as opposed to the perfect handpicked selection I lost/so blame the jehovahs witness/blame the retard in the flat bellow/blame tv/violent video games/rap music/fried food/penis envy/porn and the economy/just don’t blame me

my

sheets

are

covered

in

cigarette butts

and

ash.


Photographs of Iran

I dreamed for years of the train from Istanbul to Tehran/but I had to get the bus/how sad/i suppose you either like trains/or not

well/all the fucking trains are booked/took me two days to find immodium/all my monkey miming didnt help/well in the end I guess it did/but i shit my pants just a little bit/on a creaky old bus in the desert/had to put some toilet tissue in my trousers/to soak up the mess/to be honest i exaggerate/it was more a rectal sneeze;

french

mustard

coloured

mucous

in

a

nappy

hanky

grease free chicken shops/where pets and dinner sit in neighboring cages/and there’s executions in the gutter/but my camera settings were wrong and I couldn’t capture the flaps and gouts of blood/and aren’t chickens really quite big/when they’re wrapped in feathers/instead of clingfilm

and I met a guy who thought he looked liked david beckham/but he didn’t really/and I knew i couldn’t communicate enough in farsi to explain to him that it was a good thing not to look like beckham/ so I agreed and I told his friend that he looked like the iranian al pacino/to make him feel better about his david beckham look-a-like friend

the winter mosque burned into my retina/and I took a nap on the floor/it was hot outside/and then finished Kurt Vonnegut’s worst book/then hid in an alley and had a ramadan cigarette/and drink of bam! cola/that tastes like asda value cola

and the nomads in tents/sleep/and its freezing cold/and I sleep under a big rug/eat lots of sheep cheese and bread/smoke ḡalyān/show the boys contemporary fisting porn on my ipod

but

I

guess

I’ll

save

the

shemale

stuff

till

next

time

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