Tag Photography

Open Air Library, Magdeburg, Germany

This self-styled “architectural bookmark” is the latest winner of the biennial European Prize for Urban Public Space. The designers KARO converted an unused industrial median into an open-access book repository and lending facility, at once compressing a typical library and turning it inside out to make a welcoming public space for reading, eating, school plays, and the like. I love how, in that orientation, the library—and the community space it creates—extends beyond the plaza and into the city itself. It reminds me of the closing passage of the Douglas Adams novel So Long and Thanks for All the Fish.

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Originally published at culture-making.com.

Street Musicians by William H. Johnson

William H. Johnson was an African-American painter and printmaker; he was born in Florence, South Carolina in 1901 and studied art in New York, Massachusetts, and in Europe, before returning to the States for the remainder of his career. This is from a series of woodcuts and linoleum prints that bear a strong folk art influence but, says the Smithsonian commentary, were also inspired by German expressionist woodcutting techniques. I’m guessing the apparent left-handed guitar and violin technique is an artifact of the mirror-image printing process, though this other lovely print would beg to differ.

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Street Musicians,” by William H. Johnson, serigraph on paper, c.1940, from William H. Johnson’s World on Paper, Smithsonian/Flickr

Originally published at culture-making.com.

You Are What You Eat, photos by Mark Menjivar

You can tell a lot about people by the contents of their refrigerators. Photographer Mark Menjivar’s series of fridge portraits from across Texas (and a few other states) offers food for thought and contemplation, and spurs in me a cleaning impulse I’d forgotten I had.

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Clockwise from upper-left: “Midwife/Middle School Science Teacher”; “Owner of Defunct Amusement Park”; “Bar Tender”; “Graphic Designer/Print Shop Owner”, from the series “You Are What You Eat,” photos by Mark Menjivar, featured in GOOD, 13 May 2009 :: via edible geography

Originally published at culture-making.com.

An archipelago of churches, one pebble at a time

A great example of long-form culture making, from an island church in Montenegro’s Bay of Kotor.

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“In 1452,” we read at montenegro.com, “two sailors from Perast happened by a small rock jutting out of the bay after a long day at sea and discovered a picture of the Virgin Mary perched upon the stone.” Thus began a process of dumping more stones into the bay in order to expand this lonely, seemingly blessed rock—as well as loading the hulls of old fishing boats with stones in order to sink them beneath the waves, adding to the island’s growing landmass.

Eventually, in 1630, a small chapel was constructed atop this strange half-geological, half-shipbuilt assemblage.

Throwing stones into the bay and, in the process, incrementally expanding the island’s surface area, has apparently become a local religious tradition: “The custom of throwing rocks into the sea is alive even nowadays. Every year on the sunset of July 22, an event called fašinada, when local residents take their boats and throw rocks into the sea, widening the surface of the island, takes place.”

The idea that devotional rock-throwing has become an art of creating new terrain, generation after generation, rock after rock, pebble after pebble, is stunning to me. Perhaps in a thousand years, a whole archipelago of churches will exist there, standing atop a waterlogged maze of old pleasure boats and fishing ships, the mainland hills and valleys nearby denuded of loose stones altogether. Inadvertently, then, this is as much a museum of local geology—a catalog of rocks—as it is a churchyard.


from “Our Lady of the Rocks,” by Geoff Manaugh, BLDGBLOG, 30 January 2010

Originally published at culture-making.com.

Early warning system

There’s a lovely Dr. Seuss-ish quality to these physical amplifiers. Sometimes this is how I feel — one ear to the sky, one ear to the ground, listening for what’s out there.

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Originally published at culture-making.com.

Motel, Jeffrey Road, Wyoming, photo by Matt Slaby

I love the tension between welcome and desolation in this scene, the contrast between the jaunty top-hat and the odd yes/no take on the usual vacancy sign. It took me four or five looks at this to realize it wasn’t a shot of a mirror reflection but the view out the rear window of a van.

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Originally published at culture-making.com.

Sana’a sunset: a panoramic view of Yemen’s capital city

An amazing interactive view of Yemen’s capital, a city that has been continuously inhabited for more tha 2500 years. I love the infinite variablity of the vernacular style, the contrast of all those arches and windows and carved gypsum fanlights on facade after facade. Though they look quite contemporary, many of the flat-roofed multistory buildings in the old city are hundreds of years old. For much much more, see this lovely free-to-download book, The old walled city of San’a’.


Sana’a: View from a rooftop at sunset panorama in Yemen,” panoramic photo by Stefan Geens, 360 Cities, 2 May 2009 :: via GOOD Blog

Originally published at culture-making.com.

Anasazi storage jar

A beautiful artifact of the ancient Anasazi Pueblo civilization, which flourished in what is now Arizona and New Mexico. I love the vibrancy and detail with which this is painted—would that my current storage vessels revealed such individual craft and care.

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Storage jar, ceramic “White Mountain Red Ware,” Anasazi culture, c.1125–1200, collection of the Dallas Museum of Art

Originally published at culture-making.com.

California dreaming, on such a winter’s day

A beautiful shot by a young LA-based photographer that for me triggers memories of many a Southern California winter. I love the odd stillness of the scene, despite the lean-into-it wind.

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photo by Mary Amor, from her “lifestyle” portfolio :: via BOOOOOOOM!

Originally published at culture-making.com.

Grace between the cushions:
A love letter to my college couch

During my last two years of college, I lived with two roommates, and
we furnished our rooms pretty much exclusively with things we found in
the trash. We were none of us poor, but we were all quite cheap, and
for two years running the luck of the draw had placed us in our
dormitory’s “garbage entryway,” a dingy, be-dumpstered archway where
the garbage and castoffs of our entire 800-resident undergraduate house
was left pending weekly pickup.