Saturday, May 16, 2009
It's Pronouced "Knife"
Went to the New York Photo Festival (NYPF) today with my publisher and friend for the second year in a row. In DUMBO.
I started with two tacos and two margaritas.
Mostly everything fell into two categories. A) Derivative. Of Eggleston, McGinely, Crewdson, and that ubiquitous photographer called Crap, and B) War Photo Journalism, which is great, but when you literally see three exhibits totaling 1,000 photos of war victims and shit, it becomes a bit much.
Also, as my publisher pointed out, the NYPF is not New York Photographer centric - most of the work was International, which is cool. But, so, where do we have to go, Istanbul? Sometimes I felt like an ugly American. Sometimes I felt a little infringed upon.
So we made an effort to see everything, talked amongst ourselves about what we had seen, and soldiered on (pun intended).
We ended with two tacos and two margaritas. And tried to strategize. This business is a big black hole full of who knows who and money money money and taste. However relative that taste is. Actually, that's the most honest thing about it. And the most frustrating.
If I was curating an exhibit for the NYPF, I'd pick exactly what I wanted to. Every single fucking time until I was relieved of my duty.
We live in strange times. "Everyone" has a "camera."
Talent didn't seem to matter. Snapshots mattered, as well as graduate school banalness.
I think I just made up a word.
Kudos to Rosa at Pedro's. She'll take care of you on a Saturday.
And she has nothing to do with banality.
It's raining in Brooklyn.
Cover Star: Casillero del Diablo
Headlining Band: Alex at his peak