Book Signing: Annie Leibovitz’s Pilgrimage
ICP Store, 1133 Avenue of the Americas
Friday, December 9, 6:00pm–7:30pm

“Pilgrimage took Annie Leibovitz to places that she could explore with no agenda. She chose the subjects simply because they meant something to her. The first place was Emily Dickinson’s house in Amherst, Massachusetts. A few months later, she went with her three young children to Niagara Falls. “That’s when I started making lists,” she says.” International Center of Photography (ICP)

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The Aperture Foundation exhibits Bruce Davidson’s work.

Bruce Davidson: Subway

Subway is “a groundbreaking series documenting a unique moment in the cultural fabric of New York City, coinciding the highly anticipated re-release of the book published in 1986.”

Opening reception: Thursday, October 13, 6:00-8:00 pm
Exhibition on view: Monday, October 3-Saturday, October 29, 2011

Bruce Davidson:  Artist Talk and Book Signing: Wednesday, October 26, 6:30 pm

Find out more at www.aperture.org.

Bruce Davidson is a member of Magnum Photos and is considered one America’s most influential documentary photographers.  Find out more about Bruce Davidson’s Subway>>

Bruce Davidson Subway: Aperture Opening Reception (Oct. 13, 2011) by DoraLeticia ©

Bruce Davidson Subway: Aperture Opening Reception (Oct. 13, 2011) by DoraLeticia ©

Bruce Davidson Subway: Aperture Opening Reception (Oct. 13, 2011) by DoraLeticia ©

Bruce Davidson Subway: Aperture Opening Reception (Oct. 13, 2011) by DoraLeticia ©

September 28, 2011–January 16, 2012

Photography Gallery, third floor

“This year, MoMA’s annual New Photography series expands to feature the work of six artists, with the aim of capturing the diversity and international scope of contemporary photographic work. New Photography 2011: Moyra Davey, George Georgiou, Deana Lawson, Doug Rickard, Viviane Sassen, Zhang Dali. The artists in New Photography 2011 approach image-making from very different perspectives, making for a truly dynamic combination.” MoMA NYC

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Email: mauriciovergara@vtr.net

Mauricio is a Chilean Freelance Photographer who documents life in Chile.  These photographs were taken in Santiago, Chile and Southern Chile before the earthquake.

Send Mauricio your comments using the comment box at the bottom of the page.

Email: haciaelinfinito@gmail.com

These photographs were taken in Santiago, Chile after the quake.

Send Heia Kato your comments using the comment box at the bottom of the page.

Email: luishidalgo91@gmail.com

Luis is a Chilean Freelance Photographer.  These images were taken in Santiago, Chile after the quake.

I last spoke to Luis before he headed out to Concepcion, Chile, where he plans to photograph the events unfolding in that region.

Send Luis your comments using the comment box at the bottom of the page.

Joel Meyerowitz is an award-winning photographer whose work has appeared in over 350 exhibitions in museums and galleries around the world. He was born in New York in 1938. He began photographing in 1962. He is a “street photographer” in the tradition of Henri Cartier-Bresson and Robert Frank, although he works exclusively in color.

As an early advocate of color photography (mid-60’s), Meyerowitz was instrumental in changing the attitude toward the use of color photography from one of resistance to nearly universal acceptance. His first book, Cape Light, is considered a classic work of color photography and has sold more than 100,000 copies during its 25-year life. He is the author of 17 other books, including the newly released book by Aperture, Legacy: The Preservation of Wilderness in New York City Parks.

In 1998 he produced and directed his first film, POP, an intimate diary of a three-week road trip he made with his son, Sasha, and his father, Hy. This odyssey has as its central character an unpredictable, street-wise and witty 87 year-old with a failing memory. It is both an open-eyed look at aging and a meditation on the significance of memory.

Within a few days of the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center in New York, Meyerowitz began to create an archive of the destruction and recovery at Ground Zero and the immediate neighborhood. The World Trade Center Archive consists of over 8,000 images, and was created with the sponsorship of the Museum of the City of New York, to whom a set of digital files was donated for their archives and for exhibition.

The Archive is an historic, photographic record of the immediate aftermath of the tragedy and the neighborhood as it evolved. The U.S. Department of State mounted 35 exhibitions of this work and they were shown around the globe from their inauguration by Colin Powell in Spring 2002 until 2005. Over 4 million people have seen these shows from Jerusalem to Islamabad, Rome, Paris, London, Kuwait, Moscow, Istanbul, and 200 other cities.

In addition to the traveling shows, Meyerowitz was invited to represent the United States at the 8th Venice Biennale for Architecture in 2002 with his photographs from the World Trade Center Archives. In September 2002, he exhibited 73 images – some as large as 22 feet – in lower Manhattan. The show that was exhibited in Venice is currently touring the United States.

Meyerowitz created a traveling exhibition of 117 vintage and modern prints entitled “Out of the Ordinary 1970-1980,” which premiered in 2006 at the Jeu de paume in Paris, France. It has traveled throughout Europe and been shown widely including at the Museum der Modern in Salzburg, Austria, Nederlands Fotomuseum in Rotterdam, the Netherlands and Musee de la Photographie in Charloi, Belgium.

A retrospective book spanning Meyerowitz’s entire 45-year career will be published by Phaidon Press in Spring 2011 with an accompanying exhibition.

Central Park, Hallett Nature Sanctuary, autum
Copyright Joel Meyerowitz, Courtesy Edwynn Houk Gallery, NY

Most recently, Meyerowitz completed the ambitious project of documenting and creating an archive of New York City’s 29,000 acres of parkland. It is the first long term visual documentation of NYC parks since the 1930’s when they were photographed as part of Franklin Roosevelt’s WPA program. Adrian Benepe, Commissioner of Parks and Recreation, invited Meyerowitz to produce a comprehensive database for future use by the Parks department and to share these images of the parks with communities in all 5 boroughs.

Aperture has published the book, Legacy: The Preservation of Wilderness in New York City and a museum exhibition is on view at the Museum of the City of New York in Manhattan until March 2010.

Meyerowitz is a two time Guggenheim fellow, a recipient of both the NEA and NEH awards, as well as a recipient of the Deutscher Fotobuchpreis. His work is in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art, the Boston Museum of Fine Art and many others.

Joel Meyerowitz:  Legacy (Book) – Buy the Book
Visit www.JoelMeyerowitz.com

© UNICEF Sierra Leone/2009/Davies

(Above) Fatmata Shaw, 13, is one of the beneficiaries of the UNICEF-supported Children’s Forum Network photography workshop in Sierra Leone. Children pose during the photography workshop in Sierra Leone.

By Issa Davies

In the run-up to 20 November 2009, the 20th anniversary of the Convention on the Rights of the Child, UNICEF is featuring a series of stories about this landmark international agreement on the basic human rights of all children – including progress made and challenges that remain. Here is one of those stories.

KABALA, Sierra Leone, 18 November 2009 – Until a few months ago, Fatmata Shaw, 13, had never used a camera or a computer. But after training with a professional photographer, she wants to use her newfound skills to help her peers in the community.

“With the level of illiteracy in our communities, pictures can tell the story much better than words,” Fatmata said. “With my camera, I hope to be able to better advocate on issues affecting children in my community, especially child labour.”

Fatmata is an active member of the Children’s Forum Network (CFN) a group that was established to advocate for children’s rights, protection and participation in Sierra Leone. Along with 70 other young members, Fatama received basic photography training from renowned Italian photographer Luca Babini.

“I joined the CFN so that I can also contribute to the efforts of my colleagues to change the negative attitudes and behaviour of our communities towards children,” she said.

A right of all children

Through the Italian National Committee for UNICEF, Mr. Babini donated 15 digital cameras to CFN last year. He later travelled to Sierra Leone and offered training in basic photography skills to children in the network. Mr. Babini also facilitated the donation of 10 laptop computers to the CFN from a philanthropist in the United Kingdom.

The training workshops fulfilled a basic right enshrined in the Convention on the Rights of the Child: the right to expression.

“Before now, I have neither touched a camera nor operated a computer,” Fatmata said. “But with this training, I have not only learned how to take good photographs but also how to upload them in the computer and do basic editing.”

And Fatmata wants to affect change by passing on her knowledge to other children – in the hope that they, in turn, will do the same.

‘This training has changed my life’

In Sierra Leone, cameras and computers are luxury for children, especially those living in rural areas. Access to the Internet is limited to the capital and provincial towns.

As a result of these trainings, UNICEF – in collaboration with the Ministry of Social Welfare, Gender and Children’s Affairs – is producing a photography booklet consisting of pictures taken by CFN members. The booklet will express the views of children on an array of social issues, such as education, child labour and early marriage.

UNICEF is also supporting a children’s radio project called ‘The Voice of Children’ and a children’s newspaper called ‘Pikin News’, or ‘Children’s News’, written exclusively by children on issues that affect their lives.

“Given the opportunity, we can also make a difference, as our skills and potentials will be further realized,” Fatmata said. “This training has changed my life.”

© UNICEF 2009

They are not memories of mistletoe and Christmas carols that pay the visit.  I am not even a Christian, at least not in a New Testament kind of way.

These are memories that make my chest tighten just a bit.

One memory in particular is of a boy’s pale and dirty silhouette as he shivered in the December chill outside of his Texas shotgun home. He was a lonely kid from the neighborhood, fairly new on the street. My bedroom window faced his home, with a clear view of his small front porch.

He never knew that his presence always accompanied me as I painted or tapped away on my old typewriter late at night, even though I was also just a kid.

I had the habit of opening all the curtains in my bedroom when I painted, to let in the natural light. And when I did,  along with the natural light came the vision of him.  His defeated posture and tear stricken face, framed by my bedroom window.

What more could I write or paint? What is the perfect shade of suffering and shame?  Perhaps it’s brown…with a little bit of red…or maybe the color of…

What color, what color…?

One night, I awoke to his mother’s drunken screams.  I ran to my window and peered outside.

The mother had thrown the boy out.  Shivering in the cold, he curled up into a ball wearing nothing but his dingy white underwear. I watched him through the window and the memory of him showered by moonlight was etched in my soul forever.

It’s not a barrio cliche I am speaking of…it’s real and it’s the 80′s. It’s now and long ago because I carry it with me always, this memory. There is some version of him, everywhere.

I quietly called the police to inform them of the incident.  I pulled up a chair to my window and in the dark I waited for someone to rescue him.  In some dark places, where not even the media shows interest, being a silent witness becomes the norm.  Unless…

No one came to his rescue and his mother eventually told him to get his ass back in the house, knocking him in the back of the head as he scrambled past her. I didn’t call the police again.  The fact that they didn’t come, in a world like this, when you cry for help, any chance of survival can come down to one night, one chance. I am not referring to the obvious needs for survival, food and clothes, but, the one hidden beneath the attempts.  The chance that trust will thrive in this boy’s heart.  Can we trust?  The chances are slim to none. Unless…

Trust, is a loaded word.  It carries a lot of weight for us as children and as adults.  How many times has a child suffered because of abuse and rejection in the hands of those they are supposed to trust?

We don’t need to look at third world countries for examples.  These examples are right outside our door if we care enough to notice.

I stared blankly at his front porch – small, dark and vacant. My stomach hurt. I felt the burning sensation of anger spread across my face.  The knot in my throat begged me to swallow the disappointment and pain, but, the only thing that provided a bit of release and loosened the knot, were the tears that fell down my cheeks and stained my face. Nobody cared enough to come…

He’s not the only one.  How many? Could I have done more?

I was a kid myself, but, that tightness I feel inside my chest when I think of him tells me no.  I helped the only way I knew how – by witnessing, just in case things got really bad.  If things got really bad, I could scream through my window and hope his bitch of a mother would stop beating him when she realized someone was watching her. I could hope for her embarrassment.

When you are a kid yourself, in situations like this,  you think – if things get bad enough…someone will notice, right?  Someone will do something, right? Wrong.

This reality soon sinks in and kids get lost in the shuffle only to reappear as a statistic. Unless…

Statistics are no good without a plan of action. Without that they are just a way to categorize the pain and pretend we are making a difference.

What could I have done?

Back in the 80′s, nobody really gave a damn about a barrio kid with a drunken mother. Help rarely went beyond the charitable goods you might collect at your local neighborhood mission center. But, what good does a can of cream corn and a box of Frosted Minnie Wheats do when the violence begins and you are left outside?  An outsider…

Barrio kids might go a bit hungry, but, starvation is not the real threat – it’s violence and lack of love and support that debilitates and strangles this strange and lonely breed.

On Christmas morning that year, I bought some junk food and raided our cupboards for anything I thought he could eat without much preparation: Hostess cupcakes, carton juice boxes, canned vienna sausages and some cheap toy. I placed the items in a box, wrapped it and placed a big red bow on top.

I didn’t want him to be embarrassed by my gesture, so I waited until he left home.  It’s enough to feel the sting of shame that comes with poverty, but, worse, to have someone rub your nose in it.  To me, he wasn’t poor, he was just another one of us, an outsider. Only he was dealt a shitty hand when it comes to the mother card.

The boy finally came outside when a neighborhood kid came over to show off his Christmas gift – a shiny toy gun, how surprising.

“What did you get?”, the boy asked him. “Nothing…” he said as he kicked the ground lightly.  They chatted for a bit and then went for a walk.

He always wore those old brown pants, high-waters actually…with no socks.  He was a dancer to me.  A dancer in an unknown ballet spinning in a slow and painful way, his cold sore feet in desperate need of a pair of socks.

Once I saw them disappear around the corner, I dragged my gift to his porch, placed a note on top and went back home to paint.

A short time passed and he returned with his friend to find my gift.  His friend excited, begged him to open it.  “Who is it from? Who gave it to you? Man it’s a big box! Open it!”

My note simply read “Merry Christmas” (with no From: or To: attached).  The boy refused to open the gift outside. He asked the boy to help him take it inside before his mother got home.

That day at dusk, I went to my window and there he was, barefoot, wearing his old brown pants and a flimsy t-shirt. It was cold out and I admired his ability to weather the cold. He slowly savored his Hostess cupcake and sipped from a juice box, tracing the edge of the porch step with his toe. A lock of his dark, unwashed hair lay on his forehead. I could taste the white creamy filling inside the cupcake as he ate.  I could feel the numbness in his cold red feet.  I could really see him and strangely I could see myself as well. It was time to paint.

Things don’t make sense some times. Not a drunk that abuses her kid. Not the men that enter her revolving door without much as a glance at her unkempt son. Not even my own family.

Not much makes sense…

I don’t know where he is, but, I know his name was David. Did he make it? Does he have children? Does he abuse them? Somehow I think he wouldn’t, even though they say the cycle repeats itself more often than not.  But, then again, who said so? The people who never came that cold December night? People much too far from the reality of these situations to really know the depths of innocent dispair?

He seemed so frail and lost…

In addition to the junk food and the cheap toy I put in that cardboard box so many years ago, I would like to send him this…it’s just a couple of photographs…and a message…

He should know, that at the exact moment I captured the image of this boy…I thought of him. And I think of him every year come December.  He is more than a memory, he was and is real. He should know, he wasn’t alone. I was the witness.