forgotten/lost/miscellaneous

Posts tagged “Streets

Think while you shoot/Rant in E-Minor/Creationism

“You ever noticed how people who believe in Creationism look really unevolved? You ever noticed that? Eyes real close together, eyebrow ridges, big furry hands and feet. “I believe God created me in one day” Yeah, looks like He rushed it.”

Bill Hicks

“Think while you shoot”

Martin Munkácsi

Munkácsi was a newspaper writer and photographer in Hungary, specializing in sports. At the time, sports action photography could only be done in bright light outdoors. Munkácsi’s innovation was to make sports photographs as meticulously composed action photographs, which required both artistic and technical skill.

Munkácsi’s legendary big break was to happen upon a fatal brawl, which he photographed. Those photos affected the outcome of the trial of the accused killer, and gave Munkácsi considerable notoriety. That notoriety helped him get a job in Berlin in 1928, for the Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung, where his first published photo was a race car splashing its way through a puddle. He also worked for the fashion magazine Die Dame.

More than just sports and fashion, he photographed Berliners, rich and poor, in all their activities. He traveled to Turkey, Sicily, Egypt, London, New York, and famously Liberia, for photo spreads in the Berliner Illustrierte Zeitung.

The speed of the modern age and the excitement of new photographic viewpoints enthralled him, especially flying. There are aerial photographs; there are air-to-air photographs of a flying school for women; there are photographs from a Zeppelin, including the ones on his trip to Brazil, where he crosses over a boat whose passengers wave to the airship above.

On March 21, 1933, he photographed the fateful “Day of Potsdam”, where the aged President Paul von Hindenburg handed Germany over to Adolf Hitler. On assignment for the Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung, he photographed Hitler’s inner circle, ironically because he was a Jew and a foreigner.

In 1934, the Nazis nationalized the Berliner Illustrirte Zeitung, fired its Jewish editor-in-chief, Kurt Korff, and replaced its innovative photography with pictures of German troops.

Munkácsi left for New York, where he signed on, for a substantial $100,000, with Harper’s Bazaar, a top fashion magazine. Innovatively, he often left the studio to shoot outdoors, on the beach, on farms and fields, at an airport. He produced one of the first articles illustrated with nude photographs in a popular magazine.

His portraits include Katharine Hepburn, Leslie Howard, Jean Harlow, Joan Crawford, Jane Russell, Louis Armstrong, and the definitive dance photograph of Fred Astaire.

Munkácsi died in poverty and controversy. Several universities and museums declined to accept his archives, and they were scattered around the world.

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download soundtrack link: Bill Hicks – Rant in E-Minor

if you enjoy this album please obtain a legal copy

 

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Robert Yager Latin Gangs of LA/Solitude/Human Kerplunk

“Solitude is the profoundest fact of the human condition. Man is the only being who knows he is alone.”

Octavio Paz

too cold to go to the dogs/too far to go to wimbledon/to tired to drink/the evening feels like Cheryl Cole/a dismal dear I’m sick of looking at and I cant be bothered to hoist my dirty dick into/overexposed and jaded/I’ve seen it all before/tired of looking at her like all I can see is the cracks in the veneer/lets just watch movies and eat caribbean food from Kay Kay’s/ignore eachother/but still not feel alone/and whilst the world shifts/forever temporary/I want something that is forever/a point of reference other than myself/I can’t be trusted to tell the difference between what’s real or a dream/ I’d rather jerk off/to some random lady/a human kerplunk with veined black cocks knocking round her marbles/a visceral war of attrition/on wide 6/that never updates regularly enough/I need something new/a voyage of vaginal variety/but beaten by the world/beating some life into this disenchanted organ/and after/with pearly finger webs/and you lay there like a baby/mess on the sheets/for what could be forever/the complete desire to be alone subsides into loneliness

and

the

complete desire

to

be

with

anyone

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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 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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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