Tag Archive: christopher anderson
I’m especially intrigued to see the reception of this digital book. Visually focused ebooks have long been beyond the reach of existing technology. Photos on a kindle leave much to be desired. The iPhone and iPad offer such a visually-rich experience that I’m surprised it took this long for the appearance of a digital photography monograph. The price for Capitolio is great at $4.99 and the nature of the medium allows for special additions to the work, including photos not in the print book and other media. In this case, there’s a 10-minute interview with Anderson by Tim Hetherington. Photobook apps likely aren’t the solution for everyone. Developing an app for Apple’s devices is cost- and labor-intensive. It’s an interesting development in the world of self-publishing, certainly.
Through the Looking Glass, a blog by Adoroma Rentals, has an interview with Anderson about how the digital book came about.
Both 5B4 and Conscientious have posted reviews of Christopher Anderson’s new book called Capitolio, which is set in Hugo Chavez’s Venezuela over the last half-decade. And both posts drew fire from any number of sides. I first saw dummies of this book project (the images have been floating around for ages) in March 2008 at the Magnum workshop in Oslo and was struck by the design and presentation, which seemed at the time a radical departure from other presentations of ‘photojournalism’ (in books or otherwise) that I had seen before. Both reviews seem to take note of this, and run with it to some interesting and controversial corners. I’ll stay out for now, not having seen a final copy of the book, but will say that the images have always worked for me and the most interesting question is how the presentation (editing and layout, for starters) is instigating a robust conversation. I leave you with links and the advice to start reading in to the comments left on 5B4, including this one from Anderson himself:
The book is intentionally ambiguous. I am uninterested in didactic commentary or “story”. It is a portrait of a time and place seen by a stranger as if from a passing car in the night. It is an experience of encounters, observations, and fears sometimes completely out of context. In many ways, this book could be about anywhere…it just so happens that it is Caracas. It is not right or left wing propaganda, it is NO wing propaganda. It is not anti Chavez. It is not anti-anything. It is just an experience that I had.
It is great to see this level of (mostly civil) debate and criticism about modern “photojournalistic” photography, particularly in the context of fast-moving and popular blogs. I love that debate does and can exist. Lets get some going here on Dva sometime. Do you agree that a book or photo report can be simply an empty political vessel as Anderson is saying here? Or that the artist’s intent has any bearing on how one should interpret a body of work? Anderson and Jeffrey Ladd, 5B4 himself, disagree strongly on this point. I know I want to be on Anderson’s side on this point but I’ve always reacted to Ladd’s strong argument when it is brought up in these discussions.
There’s a new tearsheet on my portfolio site, this one from Fader #61 (the whole issue is available as a downloadable pdf, as well). I’m honored to be in the company of the other great photographers involved in the shoot: Gabriele Stabile, Dominic Nahr, G.M.B. Akash, and Christopher Anderson. There’s a short story on the Fader website about how the shoot was put together behind the scenes, as well. The shoot, now a couple months ago, was a blast for my first foray into fashion.
You’ve probably already seen Sad Guys on Trading Floors, but there’s a lot more visual culture to be had with the 2008 financial crisis. I thought I’d waited too long to post this, but with new news about diving markets, now’s the time. Foreign Policy magazine’s excellent Passport blog asks photographers to please leave this woman alone (another sighting) and PDNPulse notices a trader who seems to be posing for the cameras. Der Spiegel has interviewed a few photographers about the difficulty of finding new photos of the financial crisis day after day. The magazine also has a gallery of what they think is the best and worst of bad economy visuals. Magnum’s Christopher Anderson and VII’s Antonin Kratochvil and Marcus Bleasdale have also recently produced work on the subject. Michael David Murphy’s 2point8 clued me into some work on the subject by Hin Chua, too. It’s surprisingly difficult to find solid documentary work on banking and wealth. I do think, however, that Martin Parr is right in thinking that “Wealth to me is as much to me the front line as poverty traditionally was,” as he said in an interview with PDN in July 2008. And over the past year, Redux has published a few tearsheets of portraits of investors on their blog.
What other work is out there of wealth, banking, and the stock markets?
(p.s. There’s been some great radio about the recent financial crisis. From This American Life: The Giant Pool of Money, the second half of Enforcers, and Another Frightening Show About the Economy. From Freshair: Our Confusing Economy, Explained, Was Adult Supervision Needed on Wall Street?, and a recent episode featuring an interview with new Nobel laureate and NYT columnist Paul Krugman. There’s also the daily Planet Money podcast, which is made by the producers of a couple of those This American Life pieces linked above.)
I just noticed some of the news coming out of Bolivia recently. A couple of days ago, Morales ordered the American ambassador to leave the country suspicious that the ambassador has been supporting rebel groups in outlying provinces of the country. The news brought to mind one of the first audio slideshows I remember watching online, “Capitolio” by Christopher Anderson at Magnum in Motion. I’m not sure that the work holds up as a slideshow (the jerky stop motion seems tacked on), and I remain skeptical about audio slideshows, in general, but the essay (without audio here) is strong. The pictures encompass the facts of the story (crowds, campaigns, violence, voting, etc.) without forgoing the lyricism and authorship that separates strong photojournalism from the ordinary bread-and-butter wire service reporting. We keenly feel the hope and fear and uncertainty and excitement that surrounds the election. The little hats make an appearance, of course, but without the sentimentality (I adore Depardon’s work, but it’s different…) that invades so many photographers’ visions of Bolivia.