Category — Site Authors

“We look like a bunch of hoodlums” were the first words I had directed at my Uzbekistani friend Kevin the moment we stepped through Eataly, an Italian marketplace that was known as the “heartbeat of Italy.”

I don’t know why Kevin and I decided to step into this radiant palace filled with expensive imported items packaged neatly into boxes and bottles. It might have been that we both walk past it everyday to and from school, and our curiosity one night led us to enter at our own peril.

http://www.centsationalgirl.com

No doubt Eataly was a fancy place, and our plain attire didn’t help us to blend in with the rest of the folks eating and shopping. The moment we entered, I realized that we weren’t in New York City anymore. I felt as if I had just suddenly been transported to an Italian city, perhaps Roma or Venezia. Even the employees and shoppers looked ethnically Italian, and some even spoke in their native tongue. At this moment I told Kevin that we should buy a single Italian item so that we can be reminded of Italy when we leave Eataly. However, I decided to pick out an overpriced soft yogurt drink while Kevin chose to go with chocolate milk. After we had purchased these two items, we realized that we had just spent our money on two of the most generic items found almost anywhere. So much for being in Italy!

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Either with magnifying glass in hand or torso bent curiously forward, visitors of “The “Mexican Suitcase” examined the negatives of the Spanish Civil War taken by Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, Chim, and Fred Stein.  Their work depicts the condition of war as it is: no embellishment, just the human condition in war.  With advances in photography, photojournalists were able to take action shots to document history and reveal a human element not often seen in the media.

Walking through the exhibit was like walking through certain fronts and battlefields; one could experience the history.  From Basque Country to Catalonia, one is exposed to the realities of war; the documentation of the Spanish Civil War was one of the first “media wars” as journalists and photographers wanted to use their work to support their side.  Through magazines of the time such as Regards, Ce Soir, Vu, Life, and Look, the photographers were able share their images and influence the Western world’s perception of the war.

These magazines, displayed at the exhibit reveal the choices the photographers made in what they wanted to portray.  It was interesting to read the captions they chose as well.  The images I found most engaging were not those on the war front, but those of civilians.  With photography, we are able to see landscapes, people, and interaction as it was.  Having the negatives allows us to see what was not necessarily intended to be exhibited as such.  However, the journey of the negatives, and the importance in capturing history that the negatives hold, as well as the presentation of the negatives, make the exhibit worth visiting.

For those who aren’t afraid to spend time with themselves, I highly recommend a Sunday morning run. Minus the cell phone. Plus the iPod if you insist. But get ready to face your own self. I did just that this Sunday morning.  And, phew, I’m still alive and breathing. Here’s what happened to me:

I met no one but the leaves. And I crunched those crunchy leaves in peace. I found the occasional passing car to be just a nuisance disrupting my leaf-crunching.

In the hilly Suburban area I fondly call home, my twenty-five minute run spells out twenty-five minutes of solitude. A very well received twenty-five minutes of solitude, I might add. A time I can truly feel alone. Not lonely. Alone. Enjoying my own company.

I see myself as part of the hoards of people who parade the streets of New York every day. Yet, sometimes, when I’m the city, I just can’t knock the loneliness out of me. That loneliness is stubborn as a mule and no amount of foot traffic can fill that void. My fellow streetwalkers might be right alongside me, but really, they’re just too absorbed in their own selves to notice or care that I’m there.

After my run, I can say that I finally understand the difference between loneliness and aloneness. Loneliness is a certain sadness caused by a lack of companionship. Because sometimes we forget to be our own companions. But alone? Alone just means being in your own presence, with your own self as your companion.

So on my mid-morning run, I spent some time with the leaves and myself. And the air was crisp and my mind was clear. And I had a good time accompanying myself. As for you, though, here’s a thought to ponder: how good of a companion are you to yourself?

http://museum.icp.org/mexican_suitcase/gallery_chim.html

The brainchildren of three early war photographers have come home at last. I’m referring to the nearly 4,500 negatives that have been recovered from Mexico City, the photos that captured the scene of the Spanish Civil War, now on display at ICP. The proud parents are Robert Capa, Chim (David Seymour), and Gerda Taro, Eastern Europeans who based themselves in Paris in the 1930s.

The Mexican Suitcase exhibit features war photography in its earliest, and perhaps purest, form. A keen observer might notice the tiny block letters on the rolls of film that spell out “Eastman Kodak.” Perhaps the most striking characteristic of these early Kodak prints is their candidacy: the subjects’ sad, unknowing eyes and worried expressions are very telling of the reality of Spain at the time. Negatives, original contact sheets, and newspaper clippings dotting the walls of ICP highlight the progression of this up-and-coming field. Maybe the 30’s was the Golden Age of war photography?

I was struck by the fact that the coverage of the Spanish Civil War was done by foreigners. Photographers Taro, Capo, and pseudonymous Chim, who exposed the harsh truths of the Spanish Civil War, were all intellectuals who fled Eastern Europe to align themselves with leftist groups in the cultural hobnob of Paris. The demand for their work, sadly, was short-lived; the rise of Nazi power put an abrupt end to anti-fascist, pro-Communist publications. But during their high point, these powerful photographs surfaced all over France and the United States, and were instrumental in shaping the public’s view on the war.

As an example, Samuel Schneiderman of Warsaw, Poland used Chim’s photos to complement a Yiddish commentary he wrote on the goings-on of the war. Chim’s photos also appeared in the French newspaper Regards, which, in one image, cast the spotlight on the internment camps in France, where Spanish refugees were being held.

Thankfully, Chim, Taro, and Capa enjoy posthumous recognition for their work vis-à-vis The Mexican Suitcase. As an exhibit, though, you really need to bring along your own interest in this historical time period. That is not to say that The Mexican Suitcase is not one of the most interesting historical mysteries unraveled. Just a friendly suggestion: come equipped with a background of the political landscape in the 30’s if you want to fully appreciate the exhibit.

(http://museum.icp.org/mexican_suitcase/gallery_object.html#)

It is remarkable how much history a single suitcase can expose to the world. In the International Center of Photography’s exhibit, “The Mexican Suitcase,” one is able to witness an extremely organized and comprehensive overview of the Spanish Civil War. Upon entering the museum, I was immediately greeted with an enlarged image of the suitcase itself, carefully painted and spanning an entire wall. As I stepped further in, the first photograph I recall seeing was not one of the warfront, but rather one of Taro and Capa, two of the photographers whose works were highlighted in the exhibit. When I read the caption, I was surprised to learn that there was a romance involved between the two, an interesting fact that introduced their series of photographs. It appeared that the creators of the exhibit sought to provide a very complete view of the suitcase’s story, giving information not only on the context of the photographs, but the photographers themselves. There was even a map that displayed where the three photographers took photos from 1936-1939.

Aside from the background information on the photographers, the photographs, neatly lined across the walls, certainly captured my imagination and sparked my interest and curiosity on this historical event, which I knew nearly nothing about. As I observed some of Capa’s photographs, I realized that he was not only able to capture images of the soldiers and their activities, but also their environment. In particular, I noticed the barren and desert-like appearances of certain warfronts, especially of the Aragón Front. This dry and lifeless background seemed to mirror the theme of war and death, and made me wonder just how sad and empty the dismal atmosphere must have made the soldiers. Similarly, some of Chim’s photographs got me thinking about the war from a different angle. In a few of them, there were images of what appeared to be a religious funeral service for fallen soldiers. After looking closely at these photographs, I began pondering on the various aspects of the war culture: how the dead of both comrades and enemies were treated, how important mourning rituals were, etc.

At the same time, however, it was not always easy to study the fine details of each image, as some of them were relatively small. While there were plastic magnifying rectangles available for use, a seemingly clever and useful tool, they did very little to enhance the photograph viewing experience. Moreover, there was also a projected video documentary on one of the walls. Unfortunately, I felt as if I were viewing a movie on mute. While it seems reasonable that the audio accompanying the video was not put on a high volume, it was difficult to follow and understand what was being depicted. Although I do recognize that the additional media was a creative touch to the exhibit, it failed to supplement the information already provided by the photographs and their captions.

On the other hand, “The Mexican Suitcase” also showcased original artifacts that strengthened the historical richness of the exhibit. For instance, there were some original documents, such as government letters from Paris and magazines from the 1930s. They were in various languages, including Spanish, French, and what appeared to be either be Hebrew or Yiddish. Although I did not understand what any of these papers meant, just the idea that they came from across the world and from an entirely different time period fascinated me. However, the most notable artifacts were certainly the actual three boxes that comprised the Mexican suitcase. Suddenly, the gridded boxes filled with rolled film became real, allowing me to really absorb the story of the suitcase.

Although this exhibit was small, it was overflowing with historical information. Like the suitcase itself, “The Mexican Suitcase” had much to offer, including countless photographs, old documents, and a deeper insight on the Spanish Civil War. While I did not anticipate witnessing such an eye-opening exhibit, I was pleasantly surprised by my visit to ICP.

The first thing that I see when I walk into the International Center of Photography is a blown-up picture of an opened case: the cover of the case is divided into many boxes with different descriptions in respect to their negative’s cubbyhole. These negatives were recovered in Mexico City; in 2007, the International Center of Photography received three of these cases filled with the negatives of photographs taken of the Spanish Civil War. These photographs were taken by Robert Capa, Gerda Taro, Fred Stein, and David Seymour (also known as Chim). The Mexican Suitcase exhibit featured various photographs of soldiers, the warfront, various places such as churches and factories, as well as magazine and newspaper excerpts.

From 1936 to 1939, Robert Capa captured the events of the Spanish Civil War alongside Gerda Taro and David Seymour. Before fleeing from Europe to America in 1939, Capa left thousands of negatives in Paris, which ended up in Mexico City more than half a century later. Most of Capa’s photographs on display featured the warfront and the backs of soldiers. He was a daring photographer who was unafraid of following soldiers straight into the midst of war. Many photographs, including “Republican soldiers storming forward in jumps, Rio Segre, Aragon front, near Fraga, Spain,” “Republican machine gunner behind stones, Rio Segre, Aragon front, near Fraga, Spain” and “Republican soldiers bring in the wounded, Rio Segre, Aragon front, Fraga, Spain” feature soldiers with their back turned to his camera, focusing on the war in front of them. I was intrigued by the photograph with a soldier carrying another soldier over his shoulder because Capa strategically took the photograph with them as the main focus, right in the center of the frame. They are cast in shadow from the sun behind them and are the darkest points in the picture.

Many of Gerda Taro’s photographs are in the setting of a forest in Navaserrada Pass, Segovia front in Spain. Some photographs feature soldiers ready for battle, such as “Republican soliders crouching, Navacerrada pass, Segovia front, Spain” and others show soldiers at ease, such as “Republican soldiers standing by tank, Navaserrada Pass, Segovia front, Spain.” Other photographs showed the brutality of war, such as three particular photographs with wounded soldiers on stretchers. These pictures seemed almost posed since the soldiers carrying the wounded looked directly into the camera when she took the photographs.

Chim’s photographs were extremely diverse, varying from the “Siege of Alcazar Toledo,” a photograph taken in a textile factory in Sabadell in 1936, to photographs of church exteriors and architectural details in the Basque region. Chim’s photographs of the architectural details of the churches and the Butron Castle really stood out to me in the sense that he took many photographs in varying positions and angles relative to the buildings.

I came across a glass showcase which contained the actual case with the negative films still inside of it. Much smaller than the enlarged picture on the wall at the front entrance, it was interesting to see the minute details of the case and the fact that you can see that aging has occurred to the case.

Going downstairs to the exhibit Cuba in Revolution, there were a series of photographs that stood out to me of the same person, Che Guevara, an Argentine Marxist revolutionary. At first glance, I wondered why every single photograph was of him strategically propped up to take a picture for the camera. As I read the captions for each photograph, they spoke of the same fact: this was a photograph of the corpse of Che Guevara. In a couple of the photographs, Guevara is the main focus, while in others, there are numerous soldiers around him. One photograph showed a soldier holding a picture of Guevara next to his body.

Passing through these two exhibits, I felt as if I was witness to many of these events, as a soldier in the war, as a bystander to the culture around me in Spain, and as a sponge taking in all of the history around me in these photographs. I learned so much from these photographs and noted many of the photographers’ techniques when taking the picture, considering the direction of light, the focal point of the picture, and choosing the subjects to take pictures of.

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As you enter the International Center of Photography, your attention is immediately drawn to a large wall that has a little background information on the exhibit, to introduce you to what spectacles you are about to witness. The main focus of the exhibit at ICP was the Mexican Suitcase, which contained nearly 4,500 negatives that were considered lost. They were recovered from Mexico City, and are now on display at the ICP. The Suitcase was actually three separate boxes, and four photographers took the negatives inside: Robert Capa, Chim (David Seymour), Gerda Taro, and Fred Stein. Stein mostly captured self-portraits of Taro, “which after her death became inextricably linked to images of the war itself.”

Introductions are generally overlooked, skimmed, and forgotten very quickly. This introduction, however, already had an artistic touch. The six ceiling lights in the room were directed at the text in such a way that you had to continuously move around to avoid the glare from the shiny letters. I thought it was an interesting touch, although I did not appreciate having to move around, or squint through the glare when reading it. It seemed as though the lighting throughout the entire exhibit was either poorly planned out, or intentionally directed in such a way that you had to strain your eyes. Either way, analyzing and critiquing the lighting was not the reason why I came to the ICP, and I quickly overcame my annoyance and focused on what was really interesting and captivating – the photography from the Spanish Civil war.

The prints of the negatives found in the Mexican Suitcase captured scenes ranging from frontline war action to families working together in shops. Chim was responsible for the latter types of photographs, while Taro and Capa were the ones who risked their lives on the front, trying to capture the reality, fear, and violence of the war. On July 26, 1937, Gerda Taro became the first female photographer to die reporting on a war. She was a passenger in a car that was struck by a tank, and was fatally wounded, dying the next day. Many of her prints that were on display at the ICP were astounding, and more importantly, genuine. There was no posing; only real scenes, with real action, and real death.

As I moved further through the exhibit, I came across the Suitcase itself, which as I already mentioned, was actually three separate boxes that resembled the boxes I used in my childhood for collecting rare rocks and minerals. Their yellowed and tattered appearance definitely resembled their age – over 70 years old.

An interesting way of presenting the prints was brought to my attention by a friend – it appeared as though there was no effort put in to rotate the photographs. We constantly had to tilt our heads to see the photographs that were taken in landscape view, but presented as portraits. It is likely that this was an attempt to preserve authenticity and originality. Luckily no photographs were upside down! Another detail about the presentation of the prints was brought to my attention by Professor Bernstein. The vintage gelatin prints were all floated, to “preserve antiquity” and avoid ruining them, while the modern prints were overmatted. Overmatting is used when the edges of prints serve no integral purpose, and it seemed appropriate that the prints with sharp contrast were cut off with sharp edges.

Continuing down the stairs to the first floor, I came across the photograph that I now consider my favorite from the exhibit. It was a print by Capa titled “French internemtn camps for Republican exiles.”

http://www.icp.org/sites/default/files/imagecache/Current_Exhibition/exhibition_images/mexicase_1.jpg

This was my favorite print because it resembles one of my favorite paintings by Repin – Бурлаки на Волге

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There was no story captioned, so I appreciated it for a few moments and continued down the stairs to the rest of the exhibit. The rest of what I saw in the ICP focused mostly on Che Guevera and Fidel Castro. This is understandable, because they were the ones who revolutionized Cuba. Che Guevera seemed to be big on watches; in an interview with Laura Berquist of Look magazine, he can be seen wearing a Rolex GMT Master in a photograph of him pressing his fingers to his eyes, engaged in thought. In another print of him in Ernest Hemingway’s Marlin Fishing Competition, he is wearing two watches, one of which is another Rolex.

From the interviews, to the fishing and hunting trips, to him just smoking cigars, I was almost given the impression that Che Guevera barely did any work at all. My first impression was quickly shattered by the images in the next room, of his death. The story flowed slowly, but as I walked around the room, it all came together, and the hero’s death was summed up. I am not religious, but many would object to his “iconization” and portrayal as Jesus Christ in some of those photographs.

I left the ICP with a greater understanding of the Spanish Civil War, and new ideas and views on Che Guevera and Fidel Castro. The exhibit showed them in a positive light, unlike the one that our government tries to show them in. I enjoyed the exhibit and regret not being able to stay with the group and experience it together with them – sorry guys!

A high-pitched wailing heard off-stage initially sets Medea as a manic, morbid, bitter, ranting lunatic. A sort of woman gone wild. The Greek tragic play Medea is a peephole into the story of a woman who takes revenge against her husband who has betrayed her for another woman. In an extended fit of rage, she is driven to mental insanity and kills her children at the play’s end.

Medea is not the only one who uses exaggeration. October 5^th’s dramatic reading of Medea was jam-packed with exaggerated expression in all forms; sardonicism, sarcasm, and rhetoric saturate the entire performance. Characters are careful to communicate their emotion through their speech, but also play with their tone of voice, body language, and facial expressions.

The synchronization among the chorus, Medea’s central triumvirate, is especially noteworthy. The three chorus men are wary of their facial expressions, altering it appropriately in response to the changing plot. Several instances throughout the play, characters kneel on the wooden stage, in a sense taking the place of elaborate costumes or props. All characters maintain eye contact, and body movements are carefully choreographed across the stage. Mention must be made of their fluctuating tone because of the sarcasm inherent in the text of Medea.

Hooray to the cast for their excellent use of pathos, because the performance as a whole left me with an ambiguous taste in my mouth. Which side deserves my sympathy? With only fifteen hours of practice on their backs, I gotta give them a hand. They had my attention wrapped around their little pinkie!

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