Steve McCurry’s “Afghan Girl,” photographed in Peshawar, Pakistan, in 1984 on Kodachrome film.
So Kodak decided to stop producing the Kodachrome, the landmark film that pretty much turned photography around.
In a last marketing move, they gave the last roll 
of film to Steve McCurry. Fair enough.
Is Fuji Velvia the next film to go?
I can’t stop wondering how come almost all major film makers are reducing their production lines, pro-labs are extinct, but film cameras are still priced very high on the market. Isn’t a contradiction somewhere?
Oh, well, we’ll live and see…
Until then, I’m looking forward to see Steve McCurry’s images on the last roll of Kodachrome.
Read more of the story here.
Jul 282010
I truly enjoyed this film, I think it’s wonderful for anyone with an interest in visual arts, and the inter-relations of the various mediums – painting, photography, movies, etc
It was most interesting for me to realize the “circles” art goes through and its constant re-invention. Some of the earliest films presented are truly amazing.
Go see it if you have the chance.
Jul 152010
When I was a kid, I studied piano. Later on, I went to the Conservatory, and had five years of studying various aspects of music. Although I never get to actually practice my profession , I still have a very strong sense of what that was all about – basically skills that you cultivate, develop over the years, and then put to use.
So, in the end, it’s about you.Not about the brand of the piano, the colour of the piano, the type of chair you sit on in order to play the piano. If you know how to play it, just use your skills and play the piano. If you’re not happy with the results, chances are that you have to work harder, not change the piano.
However, all that started to fade away a bit, when I could finally afford buying all sort of (amazing by the way) music toys – synths, workstations, etc. Beautiful. Sounded absolutely brilliant, only a tiny problem with them, I did not have the skills, nor the need for them. At the end, I was just a pianist. My strength was in playing, improvising, actually feeling and using an instrument, not tuning and programming. Different skills.
So every time I wanted to use one of the new shiny toys I ended up re installing Windows or hunting for drivers on the Internet. Not good.
Still today, the greatest joy I get from playing an all simple 76 keys electric Yamaha upright piano. My exquisite Roland V synth GT is still in a case, hasn’t seen any use for almost a year now.
Photography is a new area for me, but the symptoms are still the same.
So what a joy it was in Morocco that, due to force majeure (a 50mm Canon smashed and salt water in my Mamiya system), I ended up photographing with an old venerable Nikon FE2 with a 35 mm. Just that. A 30 years old camera, one lens, and imagination. Use what you have, instead of changing lenses, zoom in, zoom out etc… I don’t even care about the results, the feeling was beautiful. It reminded me of the joy of just playing the piano – not tweaking effects, setting up routes, all that teckie stuff I was never too fond off anyway, but doing what I love – playing.
Many photographers say that one great way of improving your photography is to limit your options, force yourself to be creative with what you’ve got, instead of jumping back and forth between different options.
I’ve tried it, it works.
Jul 132010
I’ve had two extremely good readings these past days, thought I’d share them with you.
One is a beautiful album issued by Reporters Sans Frontieres. Called 101 Photos Pour La Liberte de la Presse. Beautiful album, take a look at it if you have the chance.
The other nice surprise is a Canadian art magazine, called Prefix Photo – website here
It was a very good reading, although a bit more towards philosophy rather than pure photography, but was well worth it.
Jul 132010
I was browsing the net and ended up on the Leica website, more specifically the M9 page – here
Weird location for the photos – the same boxing arena I’ve photographed in Havana, in a run down neighborhood…
Jul 052010
Have just got back from a short trip to UK and Morocco and wanted to share my thoughts about one of the most beautiful places I’ve stayed in.
I’ve been in Fes, Morocco for a few days and I stayed in the Medina – the old city, organic, smelly, bustling with life, more than nine thousand small alleys turning it into a one gigantic labyrinth.
But this post is not about the Fes or the Medina, is about the house I’ve stayed in. (website here).
Alaa, an Iraqi architect, and Kate, his wife, an internal decorator from Norway, have turned the old palace of Dar Seffarine from a two decade abandoned house into a beautiful place. One can feel the soul and love that’s been put in the decoration of the house, and this, for me at least, is a precious feeling.
Not once I had the feeling of being in a hotel, but in a home, sharing dinner (delicious by the way) with friends and fellow travelers.
Dear Alaa and Kate, thanks for a very special time.
Jun 062010
After I got back from this trip, many friends asked me if I “liked” it. Me, I have a long history of being unable to answer simple questions, but this one is one of the hardest so far.
For me, Havana was both a semi-traumatic and a great experience, the mix I found on Havana streets has no comparison to anything I’ve experienced anywhere else in the world.
I guess it’s the stack of my childhood memories, growing up in socialist Romania, that was all of the sudden brought back to life. I was staying in a “casa particular”, renting a room with a cuban family in the Vedado area. From there I would go exploring the neighborhood, stroll down via Calle Neptuno down to Central Habana and spend the evenings on Malecon, looking at the sea and listening to Rhumba rhythms in the distance.
Like one of my dear friends used to say, “living the good life”. If you’re a tourist, a visitor, a white man, asian, have double citizenship, have political connections, basically life is good if you’re anything other than a Cuban.
When I was growing up, people coming visiting from the West were commonly referred to as coming from “the outside”. This expression is still used today. I remember my reactions to anything coming from the “outside” – toys, books, candy, cartoons. And people. I would look at them as if they were coming from another planet, aliens coming from a world where anything was possible, magical beings coming and going as they pleased, superheroes.
Now I was one of them. More than the food and travel restrictions that hinder the cuban life (special permit required to travel inside Cuba, that was a new one for me), more than the economic struggle, poverty, censorship, one can sense the feeling of isolation and the eternal wait for change, crossing the finish line. I know that feeling all too well.
But underneath all this, there is actually pure joy, creativity, dancing. I’m not talking about the fake carnival acts that happen in the tourist areas of Old Havana. A Rhumba celebration show at the Writer’s House in Vedado brings all participants to life, moving to the hypnotic rhythm for hours, while rain is falling.
Music has something magical here, it’s pure, true, raw. Like dancing, it brings memories from a very long past, it cries, it paints the air in wild colours, it’s savage, unchained.
Don’t know if I liked Havana. But I’ll go back.
Jun 052010
Just in case anyone is wondering, sometimes I write the name of the city Havana, some other times Habana. I don’t mean anything by it, the “official” name is Habana but both are in circulation so sometimes I use one, some other time another, that’s all.
Hope you enjoy the photos.
Have managed to recover the settings…
Jun 032010
I’ve come back from Habana with a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.
Walking the streets in the various districts, sometimes I felt too embarrassed to even take the camera out.
Dozens of photographers looking like a hunting party were inspecting every corner of the streets, every face, every shadow, no stone left unturned.
In some culture, people don’t mind this. They welcome you with open arms and you can have a field day walking around with your big and obtrusive SLR with a huge zoom on top of it, making a Kalashnikov noise every time the shutter closes, nobody would mind.
But in some other cultures, people are more sensitive. Especially in those places where privacy is on of the few things left and where taking an unwanted photo can be seen as not respecting someone’s dignity.
A kid on a street was paying baseball with his friends. When a group of foreigners approached, he started screaming “no quiero foto” and covered his face with the baseball glove.
My camera was in the bag at that time but I felt his screamed acusation directed at me and at what photography has started to represent in some areas: intrusion, lack of respect, agression.
I like candid photography and I realize that it requires observing and photographing an unaware subject. But I feel is a big difference between being invisible to an environment, getting people used to you as being there, be part of the scenery so they don’t realize/care you’re taking a photo, and just showing up and start marching in uninvited in their lives, metaphorically speaking.
I’m not saying we should aim for getting Releas Forms from all the people we photograph, but sometimes just a look, a question, a gesture is enough to create a relation, get accepted, and gain trust.
Keep your camera out. Aproach first, ask, show understanding and respect. If they want to be photographed, they’ll wait for you, you’ll be able to put them in the right light, select your composition, do your work. At least show them the picture you’ve taken of them, before showing it to th world on www. IN the end, you may even part as friends.