Trust the media?

 "I hate him passionately." Tucker Carlson of Fox News said about the Florida golfer from Queens who, when launching his bid for the 2024 Presidential elections, started to sell digital trading cards that portray him as a comic book superhero, an Old West sheriff, an astronaut and other figures. Unsurprisingly, he also claimed his four-year long White House stint was better than the presidency of both Abraham Lincoln and George Washington.

"While releasing the trading cards, the former US president said America needs a superhero. He is known to have been fascinated by the idea of being projected as a Superman. On his 50th birthday, a cake decorated with a skyline had a cutout of a Superman-like figure with his head attached to the body," the Hindustan Times reported.

No, this isn't another piece on a man to whom the media have offered already far too many platforms. Instead, I'd like to share some considerations about whether we can trust the media.

For more, see here

Die Welt will betrogen sein

 

Wir leben in einer Diktatur des Wettbewerbs. Angst, nicht zu genügen, ist die Folge – und durchaus gewünscht, denn eingeschüchterte Menschen, die um ihr Einkommen und ihre Sicherheit fürchten, garantieren den Fortbestand "unseres" Systems. Und so hetzen wir atemlos durchs Leben, ohne Zeit zum Innehalten, und ohne Chance, zur Besinnung zu kommen.

Der Wettbewerb verlangt, dass wir uns verkaufen. Es sind die cleveren Verkäufer, die es an die Spitze schaffen. Für Führungsaufgaben, die auch Rücksichtnahme und Empathie voraussetzen, sind sie zumeist ungeeignet. Und ein gutes Beispiel geben sie selten.

"Die Welt will betrogen sein" handelt einerseits von den Zwängen und Absurditäten des modernen Lebens – von Hauptsache authentisch über die Frage, was systemrelevant ist, zur Glorifizierung des Bauchgefühls – und regt andererseits dazu an, sich an grundsätzlichen Fragen (Will ich wirklich so leben, wie ich lebe?) zu orientieren.

Es braucht die Einsicht, dass wir uns nicht ändern wollen (auch wenn wir gelegentlich das Gegenteil behaupten). Das liegt daran, dass unser Hirn falsch eingestellt ist: Wir wissen, dass sich alles ständig ändert, dass überhaupt nichts fest und stabil ist – und trotzdem streben wir nach Festem und Stabilem. Das ist die Definition von Wahnsinn.

Unser Lebenswille, unsere Biologie regiert uns – dagegen hat unser Verstand keine Chance. Und so setzen wir ihn fürs Rationalisieren ein. Dabei ist unser Hirn so erfolgreich, dass es uns von jedem Schwachsinn zu überzeugen versteht. Darunter auch, dass es zur menschlichen Natur gehöre, sich Psychopathen als sogenannte Führer auszuwählen, und sich selber mit der Rolle des Schafes zu begnügen.

Das Hirn kann jedoch auch ganz anders eingesetzt werden, denn wir können ihm die Richtung vorgeben. Davon erzählt dieses Buch, das dafür plädiert, uns nicht zu Sklaven unserer Gefühle zu machen.

neobooks, Berlin 2023

A moment in time

That photographs record a moment in time is a cliché. And, like probably all clichés, very true. 

I do not know what made me look up from my laptop yet what I saw at around 7:30 on 1 October 2022 –  the top of the Pizol illuminated by the early morning sun – left me stunned, made me grab my cell phone, open the door to my balcony, zoom in on what I wanted to record as close as possible – and click.

What stunned me even more was that moments later the sun rays had completely disappeared and all looked grey in grey, still quite okay but totally different.

Discoveries

Looking at photographs means looking at the past, at what once has been and what is no more. I listen to Steely Dan while my mind wanders to the Rieterpark in Zurich, Switzerland, where the above pics have been taken in July 2013. Simultaneously, or so it seems, the music in the background brings up pictures of the weeks I once spent in New York City. The photographs remind me of a time of suffering from love-troubles. You probably wouldn't have guessed had I not just told you so, for pictures, at least in my view, rarely show what you feel but what you are prepared to show.

Español Portugués

Tá

Cuando una persona habla por teléfono, muchas veces oímos que dice: "Ah ... Ajá ... Sí ... ya ...". El equivalente brasileño de todas estas palabras es tá. Si alguien te está dando indicaciones sobre cómo llegar a algún lugar, puedes decir: Tá ... tá ... tá. Así, la otra persona sabrá que la estás escuchando y grabando en la memoria todo lo que te está diciendo.

Então

Então (entonces) es otra de las palabras que aparecen en todas la conversaciones en el Brasil. La gente dice entáo para cambiar de tema en una conversación que se está apagando. Obviamente, también se usa para decir "entonces".

Gostar

El verbo gostar (gustar) siempre va seguido por la preposición de. Sé que a los hispanohablantes les suena extraña la frase gosto desses (Literalmente: gusto de ésos), pero así es el portugués.

Portugués para Dummies

Vom Sehen

 Fotografien sind Inszenierungen.

Selten war mir dies bewusster als bei den Aufnahmen von Alicia Olmos Ochoa,die ich letzthin im Internet entdeckte. Und während ich in den mehr als zwanzig Jahren, in denen ich über Fotografie geschrieben habe, vor allem an den Geschichten hinter den Bildern interessiert war, ist für mich heutzutage nur wichtig, ob mich die Fotos ansprechen oder nicht. Weshalb sie mich ansprechen, beschäftigt mich nicht; mir genügt zu konstatieren, dass ich mit einigen Fotos wesentlich mehr Zeit verbringe als mit anderen. Mit den Aufnahmen von Alicia Olmos Ochoa ist es mir so ergangen.

Ein  ausgeprägter Blick für Stimmungen ist ihr eigen, ihr Sinn für Komposition ist offensichtlich. Für mich strahlen ihre Bilder so recht eigentlich etwas Magisches aus – sie laden zum Träumen ein, führen dazu, dass sich mir eine von meinem Bewusstsein unabhängige Realität einstellt.

Ich weiss nicht, ob andere diese Bilder auch so sehen; ich weiss auch nicht, ob die Fotografin sie so sieht wie ich sie sehe. Ich halte es für eher unwahrscheinlich, doch ausschliessen will ich es natürlich nicht.

Bei Büchern habe ich die Erfahrung gemacht, dass wir alle anders lesen. Die Gründe, weshalb mir ein Buch gefällt, sind selten dieselben, die andere, die dasselbe Buch schätzen, angeben. Weshalb ich denn auch höchst erstaunt war, dass Chris, ein Chinese aus Kanada, Richard, ein Brasilianer, und ich, ein Schweizer – alle drei verschieden im Alter – , in "Krieg und Frieden" genau die gleiche Stelle, in der Fürst Andrej verletzt auf dem Schlachtfeld liegt, am beeindruckendsten fanden: “Über ihm war nichts als der Himmel, der hohe Himmel, der zwar nicht klar, aber trotzdem unermesslich hoch schien. Graue Wolken glitten ruhig dahin. Wie still, wie ruhig, wie feierlich, dachte Fürst Andrej, gar nicht so, wie ich eben dahergestürmt bin, gar nicht so, wie wir rennen und schreien und kämpfen, und wie sich der Franzose und der Artillerist mit wütenden, entsetzten Gesichtern den Wischer zu entwinden suchten – ganz anders ziehen die Wolken über diesen hohen, unendlichen Himmel dahin. Wie kommt es, dass ich früher niemals diesen Himmel gesehen habe? Wie glücklich bin ich, dass ich ihn endlich sehe. Ja! Alles ist eitel, alles ist Lug und Trug, ausser diesem unendlichen Himmel. Es gibt nichts, nichts ausser ihm … Und auch er ist wohl nicht … nichts ist … ausser der Stille … der Ruhe … Gott sei Dank!”

I see, sagt der Engländer, wenn er vorgibt, etwas verstanden zu haben. Damit dieses Sehen möglich ist, muss man sich die Zeit nehmen, hinzuschauen. Bei den Fotografien von Alicia Olmos Ochoa lohnt es sich.

In Dijon

Beginning of July 2022, I spent three nights in Dijon. I do not really know what made me visit the place for I only remember having been there once, on a windy and rainy day, changing trains. Differently put: I did not arrive with conscious expectations.

I wandered through the streets, took photographs, and, occasionally, went for coffee, bought groceries at bakeries and supermarkets. Since there was a city-map in my accommodation, I had a look at it and discovered two parcs nearby, the Botanical Garden and Parc Darcy – visiting the latter was one of the highlights of my stay, see pictures number 1 and 4.

There's nothing extraordinary to report, in the traditional sense, that is. I do however consider the fact of being alive and to see and feel extraordinary enough.

The Pleasure of Seeing

Reading these conversations between Lorenzo Braca and Joel Meyerowitz, that were taking place between April 2019 and October 2020), means going back in time when engaging in street photography (photographing what was going on in the streets) in New York was an exciting adventure – and is described wonderfully in this book.

I especially warmed to what Meyerowitz had to say about John Szarkowski, the curator at MoMA, surely one of the best writers on photography: „Over time I learned that John’s method would be to draw the photographer out and try to help you clearly say what it was, besides “It’s an interesting picture”, “It’s a strong picture”, “I like the composition”. John wanted more, and by being patient with all us ‘Young Turks’ that were coming in, he helped us to see that there was a vocabulary. When I heard him speak, or when I read what he wrote, my mind was on fire.“

"'Don't think!' The immediacy of the photographic act", the title of one of the chapters reads. Instinct is the dominating force in street photography. As in everything else, one feels tempted to add – rationalisations come later. „Instinct is the divining rod that points to where the source is“, says Meyerowitz

Braca quotes Cézanne, who famously said, “If I think while I’m painting, everything is lost”. And then adds: „The immediacy of the creative act is invalidated by thought.“ Given the fact, that we do not really know what a thought is, I thought (!) this a rather pompous statement. Besides, giving in to your instinct I would hesitate to call a creative act.

Madrid 1966 

Meyerowitz is a gifted storyteller and these conversations are a treasure trove for photo enthusiasts, not least because of what one learns about Winogrand, Cartier-Bresson, Szarkowski, Robert Frank, and and and. Although I'm not always sure whether what he reads into a picture he was really aware of or he made up in hindsight. Take the pic of an old lady reading a newspaper in a public park in Madrid (in 1966). „The surprising element is the similarity between her shape and the combination between the tree and the head of the sculpture above her“, comments Braca. There is a surreal and rather comical aspect to it, that Meyerowitz readily acknowledges while at the same time stressing that the lady deserves our respect. Respect? For sitting there? C'mon, it is simply a good shot. 

Again and again he makes it very clear thar in order to capture a moment, you have to be in the moment. „You know when you say ‘moment’, that’s what a photograph is. It’s in the moment. If the artist is in the moment, and the picture takes a 1/125 of a second, that’s pure moment. It’s an impulse/pulse that you get, and you click the camera. So that’s how brief it is. There isn’t that much time for real contemplation.“ 

Meyerowitz' enthusiasm can be felt on every page, be it for street photography, be it for shooting pictures through the window of a moving car. He has been on the road a lot and it was certainly also his adventurous spirit that contributed to his excitement.

As regards the pictures: I thought most of them not terribly remarkable, as photos, that is. As documents of a bygone-area they are however intriguing. Lorenzo Braca has a very different take on these photos, he seems clearly in awe of them (and of Meyerowitz). On the picture of a group of schoolgirls framed by the back of two adults, he comments: "You could have chosen to photograph just the girls, but by including more details, you aimed at creating a relationship between these elements." Meyerowitz' answer is dismissive of such high-brow nonsense: "I don't think this picture has a big meaning to it. It was just an incident that was going on after school."

Atlanta, Georgia 1988

There are however also quite some shots that I think thoughtfully composed such as the juxtaposition taken in Georgia 1988. To take such a photograph one needs to see it in the first place (and most would not). In addition, one has to intuitively know that it deserves to be preserved.

Meyerowitz talks about Tuscany and New York, the fact that the camera is always with him (an obsession, without any doubt), keeping a record of every single shot he made, the importance of instinct, and and and. The story I thought most captivating was how he managed to photograph the aftermath of 9/11 despite the order of New York's mayor who did not want images to be taken. This, to me, is Joel Meyerowitz at his very best: Letting you eloquently know how the pictures came about. And, by doing so, making you see the pictures with new eyes.

My personal highlights were insights like these: „What I learned, early in the sixties, was that the click of the camera tears a piece of fluid reality out of the flow, and saves it on film. That makes it an extremely modern art form—at least in the perspective of the time—because it accepts the idea of fragmentation.“ And, "To photograph means to touch things?", Braca asks. "Exactly", says Meyerowitz. "I'm touching with my eye and my mind, a quick sensibility of recognition." And, "I'd never say Cartier-Bresson has a 'style', nor Atget, Sander, Arbus, Friedlander. They're all rich with unexpected observations."

Joel Meyerowitz and Lorenzo Braca: The Pleasure of Seeing, Damiani 2023

The visual side of jazz

First things first: I'm not into jazz, know virtually nothing of American jazz, yet I do know that jazz pianist and band leader Darius Brubeck, who contributed the foreword to this tome, is the son of legendary jazz icon Dave Brubeck. My interest is in photography, my musical preference has long been rock and pop, and I imagine that to photograph a rock band or a jazz combo isn't that different. Moreover, I'm fully aware that I cannot do justice to this work which is why I will concentrate on a few rather randomly chosen aspects that caught my attention. That being said, it is good to realise that a good jazz photo is not a happenstance.

"Taking pictures isn't as easy as it looks. In my experience it is rare indeed that all four members of my quartet are identifiable in a concert shot. From stage left, my back is to the camera; from our front, the cymbal is in front of the drummer's face; from stage right, the bass player is blocking me or I'm just too far away — and so on," Darius Brubeck describes good-humouredly his photo-frustrations.

Of course, Brubeck is joking. There is clearly more to the apparent chaos of the typical jazz photograph that is trying to catch, even to create, the atmosphere of a jazz performance or the aura of a jazz musician. Moreover, it goes without saying that different photographers will go differently about their challenges. Pointing his readers to two very different photos from the same period, the book's author Alan John Ainsworth comments: "What are we to make of the contrasts between these two almost contemporaneous photographs? In terms of generation, race, location, presentation, style, and repertoire, the players seem as far removed from each other as it is possible to be. It is hardly surprising that there is little agreement among jazz scholars about the definition of the jazz tradition; some even question whether there is such a tradition." Hardly surprising indeed. As in every other field of study, one feels like adding.

Photographers are as different as jazz musicians or politicians. So, what do photographers who take pictures of jazz musicians have in common? A common affinity with jazz, writes Ainsworth, an independent scholar based in Edinburgh, whose own affinity can be felt on every page. And, he adds, the same goes for the jazz audience for whom this book seems to be written: "Jazz photographs have always been important to fans, enthusiasts, and collectors." Sight Readings, in short, is a book for aficionados.

For the full review, go here

How Ricardo framed me

2008, in Santa Cruz do Sul

2009, in Santa Cruz do Sul

2017, in Santa Cruz do Sul

There are pictures of me that for quite some years I did not know they existed. 

The first of these three shots must have been taken in 2008. Elsa, the daughter of the late Ricardo Schütz, who had taken these photographs of me, sent it to me in January 2023. The other two I had also only seen years after Ricardo took them.

Automatically, my thoughts wander to Ricardo, a highly knowledgeable linguist and avid photographer with a particularly dry sense of humour. "When you go to Torres, you will see lots of beautiful young women in bikinis who however won't look at men our age. The only ones that will eventually look at you are women who look like your grandmother but are probably younger than you are."

"My" Peru in January 2012

Pictures taken along the Panamericana in January 2012.

Learning to choose

In the early1980s, at Matala Beach on the island of Crete, Ilse from Unterföhring told me that when she's taking pictures she always concentrates on something specific like chairs, doors or windows. I thought this an excellent approach and so I copied it for a while. And, I felt enchanted by the results. I'm still at a loss to explain why I eventually stopped pursuing it.

Twenty years later, I began to develop a rather intellectual interest in photography. My focus was on what pictures can tell. Not as much as we would like to think, I eventually concluded, for we mostly see in a picture what we bring to it: If I judge a person as a moron, I will very likely see a moron in a photograph of him (or her, of course).

When, about three years ago, I started to use my cell phone to take photographs, I had no plan what to photograph. I simply took pictures of objects and scenes that my eyes felt pleased by. My taking photographs, it seemed to me, was mainly defined by the possibilities that my cell phone camera did offer – mostly, I felt attracted by its ability to zoom in on flowers by the side of the road that so far I had not even noticed were there.

Another aspect of my taking photographs is my fascination for framing that I consider the essence of photography. Contrary to painting, where you create everything from scratch, what you photograph is already there: You only decide what to put inside the frame and what to leave out of it. 

For the full text, go here.