View allAll Photos Tagged First-Time
First time to experience Derby Week in Louisville. Thanks to Darren, et al, for providing a shady tent!
Ce_043010_006
First time using my Canon 1DX MK1, for the test shoot I decided to go to the local park and shoot some wildlife.
The last five months (May-September 2023) required me to move a lot for a variety of professional and personal reasons. It was the first time in several years that I entered airplanes without carrying my DSLR camera. This resulted in me tinkering and thinking with my mobile phone camera, surpassing my snobbish attitude towards it as means of photographic expression. Visiting an old favourite antique store of mine, I was exposed to wallet-sized black and white pictures, very fashionable in the 1920s-1960s. Phenomenologically, I thought, these little pictures carried significance similar to the one carried by the myriads of photos nowadays stored on mobile phones. I tried to combine the sensory experience of black and white with the ease of mobile phone shooting, itself resembling certain types of pinhole cameras. Themes are the same as in my earlier photography: decayed and rusty patterns of disintegration, emptiness of spaces, outlier figures of the everyday, street signs and letters, nonhuman friends, naturecultures, and psychopolitically haunted scenes. Places include: Canada (Toronto), Greece (Athens, Thessaloniki, Alonnisos, Aghia, Larissa, Eleftheroupoli, Kavala), Scotland (Edinburgh), England (Manchester), France (Paris), Belgium (Brussels).
[Update] I have continued collecting such images throughout 2024. New places visited: Dublin, Rotterdam, Glasgow, Copenhagen, London, Stirling, Peebles, Amsterdam, Dundee, Madrid.
My first try at weaving with a little cardboard loom.
Warp is Colinette Giotto
Weft is Araucania Azapa
Some of our guys are out hunting, so we had a girls afternoon. Great lunch and some pampering. :-D
This was Shanny's first time. :-)
This was a bit of a bemusing thing about visiting Munich, for the first time, during May. There turns out to be this tradition of chocolate beetles.
Map location is an approximation. Munich isn't short of confectioners...
Our first time family bikepacking. Max found the ride to Star Lake much harder with the extra weight on his back but already is convinced this was the best time ever and he can't wait to go back again. Caught over a dozen trout, rode 22 miles and fit the three of us into a two person tent, next time we'll remember to pack the bigger tent.
This was the first time I let her out on the grass by herself. She took to it pretty well. Up until then, I had her in a kennel in the barn so she wouldn't run off. She was a little skittish when we first got her.
Nowton Park Autumn Colour Nikon F80 Nikkor 28-80mm F3.5-5.6 Fujifilm 200 ISO Home Developed In Rollei Colorchem C41 Kit 22-10-2022
First time playing a drum in this stadium in 2 years. #sundevilstadium #sundevil #sundevils #sdmb #asu #arizonastateuniversity #asudrumline
89 Likes on Instagram
7 Comments on Instagram:
timothyobrien: Way cool pic
blackxbeard: What the hell?! What are you playing for?!
tylermarcy: @blackxbeard I'm marching fall next year.
tylermarcy: @blackxbeard Not really. Haha. We has to play for a spring game today.
tylermarcy: Had*
blackxbeard: Oh nice. I'm jealous!
meganumumum: Do you know a guy named brett frederickson?
ndee | photography
--------------------------------------
Mọi chi tiết về chụp ảnh vui lòng liên hệ:
phone: 0199 864 88 44
email: ngocduc302@gmail.com
--------------------------------------
Copyright © NDee2012
First time she's ever picked berries in her life, much less on Sauvie's Island. Totally popped her berry.
Norfolk Southern P29 (the New Bern to Morehead City turn) crossing the new bridge over the White Oak River in Stella, north of Cape Carteret and Swansboro in coastal North Carolina. On this calm summer morning, P29 is running from Havelock to Camp Lejeune for the first time in three years after the White Oak River trestle replacement.
The new bridge was completed a few months prior, after a three year construction project that temporarily closed the line, requiring the USMC to load equipment at the Port of Morehead City. This was the first train on the CL-line since April of 2021, delivering two DODX flats for load training - a historic run for this seldomly used branch line.
8/20/2024
She had never been to the state fair before and look at that bucket of cookies and all that swag in that blue bag
Tseng Kwong Chi, Born Hong Kong, China 1950-
died New York City 1990
Paris, France, from the series East Meets West, 1983, printed 2008, gelatin silver print, frame: 37 1⁄4 × 37 1⁄4 in.
n his signature series East Meets West, Tseng Kwong Chi created a role for himself he called the "Ambiguous Ambassador." Wearing a Mao suit (the gray uniform associated with the Chinese Communist Party) and mirrored sunglasses, he posed next to landmarks and monuments, many of them emblems of American national identity.
Tseng highlighted the signifying power of dress and posture. As an immigrant and person of Chinese descent, he was also conscious of how Asians are stereotyped in the West. His donning of the Mao suit in public was a tongue-in-cheek performance of "Chineseness" that both played to and subverted assumptions about race, culture, and nationality.
“I am an inquisitive traveler, a witness of my time, and an ambiguous ambassador.”
Tseng Kwong Chi was a conceptual performance artist and photographer. In addition to documenting New York City’s downtown art scene of the 1980s, he is known for creating irreverent quasi-self-portraits that depict him in a persona he called the "Ambiguous Ambassador."
Tseng was born in Hong Kong, where his Chinese Nationalist parents escaped following the Chinese Communist Revolution in 1949. In 1966, Tseng and his family emigrated to Vancouver, Canada, where he completed high school. He later studied photography at the École Supérieure d'Arts Graphiques in Paris, France.
Upon moving to New York City in 1978, Tseng quickly found himself at the heart of its burgeoning avant-garde art and countercultural movement. At queer-friendly East Village venues such as Club 57 and the Mudd Club, Tseng befriended and photographed artists including Keith Haring, Ann Magnuson, and Kenny Scharf. During his long friendship with Haring, he documented the painter’s work, including his early guerilla-style subway drawings. In Tseng’s own practice, an interest in performance, identity, and portraiture emerged. For photo essays published in the alternative paper The Soho Weekly, Tseng satirically fashioned his artist friends as heteronormative suburban preppies (It's a Reagan World!, 1981) and traveled to DC to take the portraits of conservative politicians such as Jerry Falwell in front of a crumpled American flag (Moral Majority, 1981).
The mutable and socially constructed nature of identity is explored in Tseng’s most well-known body of work, a group of photographs originally titled East Meets West. These approximately 150 images constitute a continuous project yet move through several discernible phases. Between 1979 and 1982, Tseng traveled around the United States, posing in his “Mao suit” next to well-known monuments and landmarks. Starting in 1983, he went international, eventually creating images in Europe, Brazil, and Japan. In 1986, Tseng began photographing himself mostly in dramatic natural landscapes. Around this time, he started referring to his series by a new title, The Expeditionary Works.
____________________________________
"Women, queer artists, and artists of color have finally become the protagonists of recent American art history rather than its supporting characters. This is the lesson to be learned from the programming at New York’s Whitney Museum of American Art since it reopened in 2015, and it is now the big takeaway in the nation’s capital, at the Smithsonian American Art Museum, whose contemporary art galleries have reopened after a two-year closure.
During that time, architect Annabelle Selldorf refurbished these galleries, which have the challenge of pushing art history’s limits without going too far. Her interventions in these spaces are fairly inoffensive. Mainly, she’s pared down some of the structural clutter, removing some walls that once broke up a long, marble-floored hallway. To the naked eye, the galleries are only slightly different.
What is contained within, however, has shifted more noticeably—and is likely to influence other museums endeavoring to diversify their galleries. For one thing, I have never encountered a permanent collection hang with more Latinx and Native American artists, who, until very recently, were severely under-represented in US museums. That unto itself is notable.
It is a joy to see, presiding over one tall gallery, three gigantic beaded tunics courtesy of Jeffrey Gibson, a Choctaw artist who will represent the US at the next Venice Biennale. Printed with bombastic patterning and hung on tipi poles, they hang over viewers’ heads and allude to the Ghost Shirts used by members of the Sioux to reach ancestral spirits. One says on it “WITHOUT YOU I’M NOTHING.” That statement can also be seen as a confession on behalf of SAAM’s curators to the artists now included in this rehang: a multiplicity of perspectives is more nourishing than having just one.
Something similar can be seen in Judith F. Baca’s Las Tres Marías (1976). The installation features a drawing of a shy-looking chola on one side and an image of Baca as a tough-as-nails Pachuca on the other. These are both Chicana personae—the former from the ’70s, the latter from the ’40s—and the third component, a long looking glass, sutures the viewer into the piece. It’s no surprise this piece is shaped like a folding mirror, an item used to examine how one may present to the outside world. Baca suggests that a single reflection isn’t enough. To truly understand one’s self, many are needed.
It is hardly as though the Smithsonian American Art Museum’s collection ever lacked diversity. Nam June Paik’s Electronic Superhighway: Continental U.S., Alaska, Hawaii (2002), a video installation featuring a map of the country with each state’s borders containing TV monitors, is a crown jewel of the collection. It has returned once more, where it now faces a 2020 Tiffany Chung piece showing a United States strung with thread. So, too, has Alma Thomas’s magnum opus, Red Azaleas Singing and Dancing Rock and Roll Music (1976), a three-part stunner showing an array of petal-like red swatches drifting across white space.
But the usual heroes of 20th century art history are notably absent. Partly, that is because the Smithsonian American Art Museum doesn’t own notable works by canonical figures like Andy Warhol, Jasper Johns, and Robert Rauschenberg. (For those artists, you’d have to head to the National Gallery of Art.) Yet it is also partly because the curators want to destabilize the accepted lineage of postwar American art, shaking things up a bit and seeing where they land.
There is, of course, the expected Abstract Expressionism gallery, and while works by Willem de Kooning and Clyfford Still are present, those two are made to share space with artists whose contributions are still being properly accounted for. The standouts here are a prismatic painting by Ojibwe artist George Morrison and a piquant hanging orb, formed from knotted steel wire, by Claire Falkenstein.
This being the nation’s capital, there is also an entire space devoted to the Washington Color School. Come for Morris Louis’s 20-foot-long Beta Upsilon (1960), on view for the first time in 30 years, now minus the pencil marks left on its vast white center by a troublemaking visitor a long time ago. Stay for Mary Pinchot Meyer’s Half Light (1964), a painting that features a circle divided into colored quadrants, one of which has two mysterious dots near one edge.
From there, the sense of chronology begins to blur. The Baca piece appears in a gallery that loosely takes stock of feminist art of the 1970s; a clear picture of the movement’s aims fails to emerge because the various artists’ goals appear so disparate. It’s followed by an even vaguer gallery whose stated focus is “Multiculturalism and Art” during the ’70s and ’80s. Beyond the fact that all five artists included are not white, the gallery doesn’t have much of a binding thesis.
This partial view of recent art history leads to gaps, which is both a good thing and a bad thing. It’s a good thing because it offers due recognition for art-historical nonpareils. Audrey Flack is represented by Queen (1976), a Photorealist painting showing a view of a sliced orange, a rose, photographs, a playing card, and trinkets blown up to a towering size. It’s both gaudy and glorious. Hats off to the curators for letting it shine.
Then there are two totem-like sculptures by the late Truman Lowe, a member of the Ho-Chunk Nation, that are allowed to command a tall space of their own. They feature sticks of peeled willow that zigzag through boxy lumber structures, and they refuse to enjoin themselves to any artistic trend. Later on, there are three deliciously odd paintings by Howard Finster, of Talking Heads album cover fame. One shows Jesus descended to a mountain range strewn with people and cars who scale the peaks. Try cramming that into the confines of an accepted art movement.
That’s just three lesser-knowns who make an impact—there are many others on hand, from Ching Ho Cheng to Ken Ohara. And yet, herein lies this hang’s big problem: its gaping omissions in between them all, which are likely to be visible not just to the literati of the art world but to the general public, too.
Despite the focus of these new galleries being the 1940s to now, Pop, Minimalism, Conceptualism, and their resultant offshoots are skipped over entirely as the curators rush through the postwar era in order to get closer to the present. The Paik installation aside, there is almost no video art in this hang (although there is a newly formed space for moving-image work where a Carrie Mae Weems installation can be found), and no digital art or performance documentation at all, which is a shame, given that the museum owns important works by the likes of Cory Arcangel and Ana Mendieta, respectively. The AIDS crisis of the 1980s and ’90s and its devastating impact on the art world isn’t mentioned a single time in the wall text for these new galleries, and queer art more broadly is a blind spot.
Protest art periodically makes the cut, but any invocation of racism, misogyny, colonialism, and the like is typically abstracted or aestheticized. That all makes a work like Frank Romero’s Death of Rubén Salazar (1986) stand out. The painting depicts the 1970 killing of a Los Angeles Times reporter in a café during an unrelated incident amid a Chicano-led protest against the high number of Latino deaths in the Vietnam War. With its vibrant explosions of tear gas (Salazar was killed when a tear gas canister shot by the LA Sheriff Department struck his head) and its intense brushwork, it is as direct as can be—a history painting for our times. So, too, in a much different way, is Consuelo Jimenez Underwood’s Run, Jane, Run! (2004), a piece that ports over the “Immigrant Crossing” sign, first installed near the US-Mexico border in Southern California in the 1990s, and remakes it as a yellow tapestry that is threaded with barbed wire.
In general, this presentation could use more art like Romero and Jimenez Underwood’s. Yet the curators at least cop to the fact they’re seeking to hold handsome craftmanship and ugly historical events in tension, and the methods on display are productive in that regard.
By way of example, there’s Firelei Báez 2022 painting Untitled (Première Carte Pour L’Introduction A L’Histoire De Monde), which features a spray of red-orange paint blooming across a page from an 18th-century atlas documenting Europe’s colonies. One could say Báez’s blast of color recalls the bloodshed of manifest destiny, but that seems like an unfair interpretation for a work that provides so much visual pleasure. Rather than re-presenting the violence of a bygone era, Báez beautifies it. The result allows history to begin anew—on Báez’s own terms."
www.artnews.com/art-news/reviews/smithsonian-american-art...
..