New York/Prince Street

Prince Street — © Brian Rose

Without comment.

New York/Franklin, Virginia

Funeral home, Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

It was not a happy circumstance that brought me across the James River to Franklin, Virginia two summers ago. A cherished aunt had passed away after a long convalescence. The mood was somber, but also relieved, as her long struggle had finally ended peacefully.

Funeral home, Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

After the funeral, family members gathered at Fred’s, a comfortably informal bistro on Main Street. I slipped out during the afternoon to take photographs of downtown Franklin. I walked the empty street shooting storefronts, peanut silos, and a former theater. In the distance I could just make out the smokestacks of the International Paper Mill, formerly Union Camp, where Aunt Louise worked for much of her life.

Main Street, Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

When the Camp family owned the mill, most of the wealth stayed in town, and large houses were built on the bluff above the Blackwater River. The river, Franklin’s reason for being, has also been its nemesis. In 1999 hurricane Floyd left the downtown underwater, and a storm in 2006 did further damage. Despite efforts to rejuvenate downtown—most buildings appeared in good condition–many storefronts remain empty or underutilized.

Main Street, Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

Although the Camp name is still prominent in Franklin, the fate of the mill, and by default, the economic well being of the whole area was long ago put into the hands of a global corporation. Just two months ago, International Paper decided to close the plant, putting 1,100 employees out of work, along with another 2,000 workers in related services.

Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

Peanut silos, Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

I think of Louise, her pride and self-sufficiency. As hard as it was for me to picture her toiling on an assembly line year after year, I know she retired with the satisfaction that she had earned her keep, and could afford to live comfortably, if frugally, as she got older. But what if they had closed the plant on her?

Undoubtedly, Franklin will survive—but it will be hard. Perhaps, eventually, a more diversified economy will emerge as the orbits of Hampton Roads and Richmond expand outward. But I’m not sure I want to see malls and highways overrunning small cities like Franklin, displacing the surrounding cotton and peanut fields, and carpeting over the history—with all its blood, sweat, and tears—of the Southside of the James.

Paper mill, Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

Lyon’s State Theatre, Main Street, Franklin, Virginia — © Brian Rose

NPR story on Franklin here.

New York/Long Island City

P.S.1, Long Island City — © Brian Rose

Coming out of P.S.1, the Long Island City art museum, I pressed my camera up against the wall and did an almost sharp time exposure. In the foreground are metal tubes left over from an earlier installation. Having just seen Robert Bergman’s haunted and hollowed out faces at the museum I find myself in a rather somber mood as the 00’s come to an end.

Robert Bergman photograph at P.S. 1 — © Brian Rose

Bergman’s photographs are beautiful, disturbingly so. But I don’t subscribe to Toni Morrison’s description of his pictures that they assert “community, the unextinguishable sacredness of the human race.” It has become obligatory to find redemptive qualities where none exists. Not that the people in Bergman’s photos lack human tenacity–of course they do–but their faces express the damage of surviving on the margins of society, held in the amber glow of Bergman’s light and color. They are roadside totems–mute, unidentified–storied eyes that suggest hard wisdom. But most of us would recoil from these quite likely rambling, chaotic, figures in the flesh.

Robert Bergman photograph at P.S. 1 — © Brian Rose

The beauty found belies a cruelty, one of the central dichotomies of photography, that people and things must be “sacrificed” on the altar of art. The redemption, if there is any, is that Bergman succeeds at street portraiture where so many other photographers fail, and with these gravely intense images, the end justifies the means.

Washington Post article here.

Williamsburg, Virginia

A series of photographs taken while visiting family in Williamsburg, Virginia. It was actually quite crowded in the restored area, and one either embraces the throng or not. I chose–this time–to go with quiet views on a couple of cloudy days. An antidote, perhaps, for somewhat too much seasonal good cheer and togetherness. Williamsburg can be quite beautiful in the winter, especially after the new year when the tourist traffic thins out.

Williamsburg, Virginia — © Brian Rose

Williamsburg, Virginia — © Brian Rose

New York/Eastern Shore

Painter, Virginia — © Brian Rose

We headed down to Virginia for the holiday to see my father who lives in Williamsburg. Instead of subjecting myself to 8 hours of stressful interstate driving I decided to take the Eastern Shore route, which took us through the farming areas of the Delmarva peninsula. We stopped a few times for pictures along the way.

Painter, Virginia — © Brian Rose

Lots of God, country, and guns in these parts. Also, beaches, crabbing, truck farming, poultry–even a NASA research facility.

New York/Williamsburg

Williamsburg, Brooklyn — © Brian Rose

Tis the season.

New York/LES

La Mama gallery, E1st Street — © Brian Rose

The large Lower East Side print I made for my exhibition in Brooklyn last summer, is now hanging in a group show at La Mama gallery on E1st Street between the Bowery and Second Avenue. It’s a holiday exhibition featuring friends of La Mama, the pioneering theater located on E4th Street, the block where I used to live.

I had a nice chat with Howard Guttenplan the director of the Millenium Film Workshop, also on 4th Street, who had a photo collage in the exhibit. Millenium has been around for forty years promoting independent cinema, particularly art and documentary films.

The exhibition at La Mama is a grab bag of stuff of differing levels of accomplishment. It’s meant to be an inclusive show. The opening was well attended, nicely catered, and I was very pleased with how my photograph looked on the wall. Now, if only I can find a home for it when the show comes down.

New York/Berlin

The last–probably–of the 4×5 film scans of from my recent trip to Berlin. I shot about 60 sheets of film, so there’s lots to work with. Some of these are similar to digital pics posted earlier. When things get reduced to 72 dpi, the difference between the 4×5 scans and the images made with my pocket camera can seem minimal. But I think these have greater clarity, and more presence somehow. Obviously, when printed, the difference is huge.

Alexanderplatz (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

A fascinating exhibition about the political resistance that undermined the DDR regime–and other East European countries–and helped lead to the fall of the Wall in 1989. The American and western perspective, in general, is so oriented to Cold War geopolitics, that this side of the story is almost completely ignored. It is a profound misrepresentation of history, and exhibits like this, bit by bit, offer a much needed corrective.

Niederkirchnerstrasse (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

Berlin Wall marker with push button audio commentary.

Vossstrasse (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

One of the many scaffold buildings around Berlin. Some of them depict buildings to be rebuilt or reimagined, and others are simply giant canvases for advertising. A Microsoft Windows ad was on the the front side of this one, which formed part of the former, and future, streetwall of Leipziger Platz.

Topography of Terror (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

Brandenburg Gate (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

Cameras in position on December 8th, for the following evening’s event celebrating the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall.

New York/Noho

Lafayette Street — © Brian Rose

Without comment.

New York/Downtown

Beekman Tower seen from Water Street — © Brian Rose

The Lower Manhattan skyline lost a great deal of its iconic power when the Twin Towers, soaring above everything else, were destroyed in 2001. Even before that, the slender early to mid 20th century towers were robbed of their elegance by bulky monoliths closing off the gaps of sky between. No longer like a spiky seismograph, Lower Manhattan’s profile from many angles became a solid wall of glass and masonry.

There is a building under construction, however, that will significantly alter the visual dynamic of the downtown skyline. Designed by Frank Gehry, Beekman Tower, situated near the open space of City Hall Park, has already established itself as a clear punctuation mark on the horizon. It is an exceptionally tall, relatively thin, tower. For good or ill, depending on your perspective or vantage point, it interacts visually with the filigreed spire of the Woolworth Building and the stone/wire yin and yang of the nearby Brooklyn Bridge.

Beekman Tower — © Brian Rose

The skin is now about a third of the way up, undulating silvery waves, accentuating the extreme verticality of the structure. That’s something the pinstripes of the Twin Towers did–if banally. Beekman Tower will never dominate the skyline like the World Trade Center, then or in the future. But Gehry’s “No Viagra” (his words) erection downtown will be one of the few postwar skyscapers that join company with the Empire State Building and Chrysler in providing a sense of urban thrill, and unabashed New York bravado.

New York/Berlin

Unter den Linden (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

This is a 4×5 scan of an image seen previously. The grassy field is the site of the former Palast der Republik, East German government/cultural center. And before that, it was the site of the 18th century Stadtschloss, seen printed on fabric in the rear. The idea is to rebuild the facades of the older palace.

DDR Museum (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

The East German palace is gone–but not forgotten–and its glass facade has also been printed on fabric, hung on the structure of the temporary DDR Museum. There are such printed scaffold buildings all over Berlin.

DDR mural, Leipziger Strasse (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

Very real is this mural in the former air ministry building, which was dates back to the early days of the German Democratic Republic. Here’s some information from Wikipedia:

In 1950-52 an extraordinary 18 meter long mural was created at the north end along Leipziger Straße, set back behind pillars, made out of Meissen porcelain tiles. Created by the German painter and commercial artist Max Lingner together with 14 artisans, it depicts the Socialist ideal of contented East Germans facing a bright future as one big happy family. In fact the mural’s creation had been a somewhat messy affair. Commissioned by Prime Minister Otto Grotewohl, Lingner had had to revise it no fewer than five times, so that it ultimately bore little resemblance to the first draft. Originally based on family scenes, the final version had a more sinister look about it, a series of jovial set-pieces with an almost military undertone, people in marching poise and with fixed, uniform smiles on their faces. Lingner hated it (as well as Grotewohl’s interference) and refused to look at it when going past. With a degree of irony, the building became the focal point a year later of the Uprising of 1953 in East Germany.

East Side Gallery (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

I’ve only got a few more scans to work on from my recent trip to Berlin. The photograph above was the last piece of film I shot, and shows a bit of the remaining stretch of wall called the East Side Gallery near the Ost Bahnhof in former East Berlin. The Wall along here was painted on by various artists shortly after the Wall opened up in 1989. The image of Mstislav Rostropovich performing in front of the Wall at the center of the photograph is not one of the original paintings–but I like it.

New York/Berlin

Near the Brandenburg Gate, Berlin (4×5 film) — © Brian Rose

Novevember 9, the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Wall. This was as close as I got to the ceremony at the Brandenburg Gate. I stood for an hour in a cold steady rain with my view camera, managing to take two photographs. I like the balloons. Everyone was just waiting for the dominoes to fall, which they did a couple of hours later, well behind schedule. By that time I had retreated to a warm dry place to watch on TV.

Still more 4×5 scans to come.

New York/Berlin

Continuing with 4×5 film images from the week of the 50th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. Both of these were seen earlier in digital camera versions. The two pictures above key on what has become the universal symbol of the old DDR (East Germany), the Trabant. The top one is from a PayPal commercial that ran repeatedly on the big screens between Potsdamer Platz and the Brandenburg Gate, and the bottom one is from the Trabi Safari where the now vintage cars are for rent.

Here the balloon appears slightly ominous, the world untethered, floating out of control.

New York/Upper East Side

No.

Bring them home.

New York/Metropolitan Museum

Presided over by Diana, the former weather vane atop Madison Square Garden, by Saint-Gaudens, the renovated Engelhard Court of the Metropolitan Museum is a bustling atrium of fleshy marble and bronze unabashed in the presence of families with frolicking children and everyone snapping pictures or sagging in exhaustion among the ferns beneath a stone pulpit suffering an imaginary preacher’s admonishments.

New York/The Americans

After leaving (staggering out of) “Looking in: Robert Frank’s The Americans” at the Met, I stood for a moment by a Rodin statue pondering the exhibition–another photography exhibition where no photography was allowed. Robert Frank’s pictures were a searing burn of visual truth made at a time when voices were silenced by blacklists and guilt by association. It took courage to make art in the ’50s, perhaps, but if you were unknown or underground enough, maybe it didn’t really matter. In the end, Frank’s dark–though beautiful–vision of America surfaced, and changed forever how we saw ourselves, and how we viewed and made photographs.

I snapped a few desultory shots of a poster directing the hordes of museum goers to the start of the exhibition. It had on it the famous photograph of a New Orleans streetcar with those unforgettable faces. And then, materializing out of the crowd, a face I knew, someone who is as fine an heir to the tumbling poetry and prose of the Beats I know, the songwriter and poet Frank Tedesso. Here’s a bit of one of his song lyrics:

it’s raining in tibet,
all of the holy men are getting wet
it’s only snowing on my street,
but my heart is melting away from me…
There’s a madman up in the attic
stompin’ the blues in his chains
he sings my songs, he wears my clothes
he answers to my name
love me because i am crazy’
as crazy as you are beautiful
love me because i know forever
runs through me and you
and these flesh and bones
de flesh and de bone
is that the holy ghost on the saxophone
sometimes a man has the need to roam
to roam from these flesh and bones

Go here to hear some of his songs.

As I wandered out of the museum, and breezed down 82nd street snapping pictures on my way to the subway, it struck me how self-conscious photography has become since the time of Robert Frank’s intuitive exploration of the country. We seem always to know where we are going and what we will find when we get there. Even serendipitous moments have a calculated predictability. Street photography has a staged quality, and staged photography has subsumed the idea of spontaneity.

New York/Thanksgiving

A short trip out of the city to Wilton, Connecticut. Thanksgiving pies and a grid of Karl Blossfeldt photographs.

New York/Berlin

Three images not shown earlier when blogging from Berlin. This one made at Potsdamer Platz, a TV boom and control booth, an image of joyous Germans climbing on the Wall in 1989, and trompe l’oeil buildings and scaffolding ads behind on adjacent Leipziger Platz.

A crude reconstruction of the 1961 checkpoint shed with sandbags and lights–never there in the historical photos I’ve seen. Tourists pose with fake American soldiers who wave the flag around cavalierly. Haus am Checkpoint Charlie museum is across the street and to the right. An image of a Soviet soldier on the left is an art piece by Frank Thiel. The other side shows an American soldier.

Günter Litfin memorial, first victim of the newly erected Berlin Wall. A remaining guard tower surrounded by post 1989 housing.