Exhibition: Tim Walker

 

Given that this exhibiton has been open for a month, this is nothing that hasn’t been said before probably a million times and more eloquently and definitely more ebulliently.  However. Tim Walker’s exhibition in Somerset House is a must see in my book because….

He is dead good at colour – pink and blue are his thing. He like totally owns them. Like the way Jeurgen is a bit yellow. Cool colours, cold, dream like and a bit weird.

His use of light is also great. It is his own, and though much copied, rarely equalled. It’s fresh, but stifled. Diffused isn’t the right way of describing it, it’s like a dead sort of floating thing. I guess dreamlike, which is good, because that what he goes for most of the time, like a weird film full of broken dolly models or something. That’s it, his work is cinematic, not just two dimensional, but really visceral and imaginative and evocative. Yeah.

Walker really goes for exaggeration. He likes hammering his point home, making everything larger than life. Scale is for emphasis with him, like block caps “this is really important”. Again with the dreams thing I guess. Sometimes it might be fun if that was possible in real life. Like you know when you are really hungry and you want a MASSIVE sandwich??  But then I guess it would suck if you were really afraid of something and it was gigantic because it was a big deal…hmmmm. Digression aside, his scale plays with his love of fantasy and creating dreamy scenes. And he totally rocks it.
Anyway. He’s great. And the images are great. In fact, the only thing that wasn’t great were the little stickers accompanying the work – they looked so last minute and out of place (the typeface didn’t even match the blurb on the walls – morto). But that’s me being pedantic. Here are some of my favourite bits, snapped on my iPhone.

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Story: Bali

Back in February I spent all the money I had on a flight to Bali. It was equal parts inspired and insane behaviour. Sadly, the too-poor-to-eat thing didn’t give me the awesome beach bod I was hoping for, because food that is bad for you is cheaper for you than food that is good for you. But that is a debate for another place (Channel 4 have a good series of documentaries if you are interested). Anyway, me and my not-even-nearly beach ready bod went to Bali and surfed, snorkled and generally acted the maggot. I went fishing at sunset and dived off boats. I absorbed the overwhelming culture, which was Aussie bogan style, and came home thinking it was perfectly acceptable to wear an oversize tie dye tee, leopard maxi, trucker hat and flip flops as a legitimate outfit. :/ Well when the place looks like this, who gives a shit about clothes…

Ps. I accidentally threw out a roll of film with all my favourite places on it. EPIC fail. Thank feic for my iphone….

 

 

 

 

 

Jeurgen Teller. Hero #1.

 

I am guilty of a serious omission. I have completely forgotten to tell the internet how much I love Juergen Teller. And I love him. Loads. Now is probably a good time to bring him up, as he has a new book, Pictures and Words, out May 30th.

From his Go Sees series to his iconic Marc Jacobs campaigns, everything Juergen touches turns to bleached out gold. He is a man who has spawned a thousand imitators, myself included. His vision is honest and raw, yet grandiose and decadent. The way he lights his shots is instantly recognisable – the slight overexposure, bleach out effect. Actually, I always think he and Terry Richardson have a similar way with lighting, but Juergen is the understated French sexy to Terry’s full on LA dripping sex. With Juergen it’s more vulnerable, naive, honest. There’s an awkwardness, an oddity. It’s the Marc Jacobs to Terry, Manolo et al’s Gucci. No wonder the two make such an awesome pairing.

 

 

Also, let’s talk bout how successful Teller is as a commercial photographer. He has managed to merge his distinctive style with that of mega brands to create campaigns that become more than just ads, they convey a complete aesthetic, a story, a fantasy. And let’s be honest, who else could put Victoria Beckham in a bag. I like how he takes famous people and creates documentary style fashion photos. Like Helmut Newton’s philosophy of making fashion imagery look like anything but a fashion image, Juergen’s work often obscures the clothes with the personality, or the colour, or the composition of the shot. Almost. That’s his skill. His shots often look like snapshots taken at various stages of decadent parties, evoking something more than just a beautiful dress on a beautiful girl. Which is what all the best pictures look like.

 

 

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Photo Diary: Paris 2

Paris really needs to do everyone a favour and stop being such a beautiful, inspiring place; otherwise people are just going to keep on taking dodgy, arty farty pictures all over the shop.

Case in point:

Photo Story: Une petite histoire Parisienne

I am getting serious mileage out of last weekend’s trip to Paris – me + camera + very blogworthy place = millions of images. Did you know that it takes just 20 minutes to cross the channel on the Eurostar, and that it goes below the sea, as in, under the seabed? They are just some of the things that I discovered. Here are some more…

…and that’s just the start of it. I’ll give you a pound if you can tell me what that amazing building in the seventh picture is. Not everyone, just the first person.

Meet your New God: Helmut Newton

*If you like unbiased reporting, turn away now. I am about to go mega-enthusiastic on all y’all*

Helmut Newton

Last weekend, I went to Paris, and saw the Helmut Newton retrospective in the Grand Palais. It is a stunning building, fitting for such an incredible show. A good exhibition not only makes you oooh and aaaaah at the pretty pictures, it challenges how you think and this one left my head spinning. I got that feeling of awe you get when you read an amazing book and it messes with how you see things. Hyperbole? Only probably. Helmut’s work is at once elegant, refined, honest, brash, sexy and delicate. He elicits all kinds of emotions in his imagery – sometimes they are playful, sometimes they are full of humour, other times they are just the epitomy of chic and dripping with beauty. He didn’t retouch, instead he said “he photographed what he saw”.  He never took two photos when he could take one, which is a lesson all of us in the digital age could learn.

Helmut Newton

Oh, did I mention Helmut Newton was a prolific photographer of nudes? Yea, he’s really famous for taking pictures of naked ladies. However, one of the things that struck me throughout the exhibition was how normal the nudes seemed, like flesh was just another outfit. They were purposeful, not purely titillating. Provocative, erotic, certainly, but not skeezy. Each image was an investigation, a comment. The male gaze is omnipresent in most art, and it is really hard to discuss the female form without assuming overt sexualisation, and certainly in his work it is sexualised. But I don’t know, it’s almost as if the sexualisation is a consequence rather than the motive. There is something empowering about the images. They are images of female nudity that don’t make other females isolated. He photographed all kinds of women, from supermodels to Californian policewomen and lots of shapes and sizes in between. They are all strong poses, confrontational almost. Sometimes fashion poses just with no clothes on. It seems that for Newton, nude and fashion photography are interchangeable and the two inform each other.

Helmut Newton

He clearly loved women, and not in a lairy, gross way, but genuinely loved female beauty and the female form. Is it weird that I’m talking about naked lady photos? Possibly, but this exhibition provoked me to think about a subject I would normally totally shy away from. While I accept that fashion boob is everywhere – just have a look at Tumblr – I never really consider it, or the impact it can have on self image, which is a not particularly feminist thing to do. I think what Newton’s work did was encourage me to be more comfortable with myself, because the images were not vulnerable, nor did they seem like they were to purely to entertain men – they were sexy, but in an empowered way. It was all very French. They seem a lot more comfortable with themselves than us. And really really chic. I reckon the two must go together somehow.

Helmut Newton’s impressive Polaroids

Enough about birds in the buff though, let’s talk about his fashion imagery. It continues to influence what we do today. Helmut Newton was a master of his craft. The exhibition incorporated a documentary by his wife June - Helmut by June (2007) . It was so inspiring to see him work. As with all masters, he was a complete perfectionist. But he also had a very natural and beautiful way of shooting. He had a wonderful awareness of what he was doing at all times. One of the quotes on the walls of the Grand Palais, taken from Helmut by June was “a good fashion photograph must resemble anything but a fashion photograph. A portrait, a souvenir, a paparazzi photograph”. This is an inspiring approach to FASHUN. Instead of making facsimile’s of fashion imagery, create a new story.

Helmut Newton

Helmut Newton

So, go to Paris and see this exhibition. It is so beautiful it will make you want to cry and will fill you full of joy so much so you will feel it bursting in your throat and then you will come out of it and be standing on the steps of the Grand Palais and you might actually burst because it is one of the most beautiful places ever.

*End of gushing*

Helmut Newton

This image basically describes what happened to us the entire time we were in Paris – never wear colour there. Ever. Even a bit.

Brighton Rocks

I told you before I went to Brighton and I was hoping for some nice shots from my Olympus XA. These are they. No filters or Photoshop, just good old fashioned 35mm film photography.

Therese from Smoke Out TV. I just call her Therese tho.

All images (c) Jane Alexandra

And here’s me, beside a merry-go-round on the beach. Thanks for the pic, Tee.

 So, Brighton Rocks. I must actually watch that film…

Irving Penn Changed my life

Irving Penn changed my life. His work captures the spirit of the thing he is photographing. And, clearly, turns me into a hyperbolic, blubbering stock-phrase-toting mess. Although, I’m not even sure that I’m being hyperbolic. I think he might actually be that good. His work is  beyond iconic. He almost never worked on location, using instead his consistent studio backdrop to create intimate and vast imagery. I say vast as the range of emotion and feeling within his photos is immense, they are laden with knowing and with life. And not just the portraiture, the fashion photography too contains a lithe elegance, a knowingness that captures the spirit of the garments of the model and of the times. A triple threat, if you will.

I love the light in his images. There is something askew in them. Any photograph is made up more the photographer than the subject, and I feel that if I knew Irving, he’d be a bit off the wall. I’d defo want to go for a drink with him, but I imagine him to have a very beautiful, dark mind. It would be one hell of a night out!

Also, he was so bang on-trend with his fascination with all things tribal. Like, soooo on-trend. We love you Irving!

 

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John Stezaker, you two faced so-and-so…..

John Stezaker has a really boring first name and a reaaaalllly awesome surname. It’s like steak with a Z. Wow! So I guess it goes some way to explaining his innate understanding of juxtaposition.

I am fascinated by his images, the deconstruction and blatant disregard for faces is sublime subversion. It’s like he wants to use the face but not as a face. Or maybe as a face but just one that you will never fully know or understand, all duplicitous and full of different sides. I think I like that though, it’s a pretty good reflection of people in general – for all the friendly faces out there, there is a forest you will never truly get lurking underneath. Or something along those lines.

John Stezaker

John Stezaker

John Stezaker

John Stezaker

John Stezaker

John Stezaker

image sources here, here, here, here, here, here and here. phew!

i guess i’m already there….

I started thinking about stuff a while back. As a recent immigrant, and I had none. I felt really in-between and all over the place, because my new life was here in London, but all my stuff was “at home”. Which made me a strange form of homesick, where not only did I miss my friends & family, I missed my things. I missed my material life.

and what of it?

It seems very superficial to miss things, but it’s more what the things represent – the memories and stories behind them that make them special. So yea, I missed my stuff. It was amazing being home and stocking up on stuff at Christmas – a bit of family mementos here, some friend photographs there. While it is important to make new friends and new memories, there is something really comforting about having a bit of home in my new space – it makes it an actual home, I feel like I live here properly now. I guess I’m not minimal enough to deal with a bare space. Or rather, I think my room just isn’t nice enough to pull off the whole minimal thing…

probably one of my favourite songs of all time. ever.