The young Syrian girl in the photograph is named Hudea and understandably thought the photographer’s camera was a weapon. Upon seeing it she threw her hands in the air and surrendered. At just four years old the world is still a mystery and confusion between objects is appropriately normal and part of learning. So it’s truly heartbreaking that this little Syrian girl is more used to seeing guns than cameras, especially in this now image conscious, self-obsessed celebrity world.
Moscow based artist Dmitry Morozov has designed a digital camera by reengineering a Gameboy classic, accompanying thermal printer accessory and a GUN!
He calls it the 8-bit Instant Photo Gun, and that’s exactly what it is. Despite looking like a movie prop from a futuristic steampunk-esque film like Mad Max, the camera is actually quite functional. Albeit a certain taste may be required to appreciate this certain output aesthetic.
The thermal printers & camera were sold as an accessory to the Gameboy over a decade ago. With under 1 Mega-Pixel of power they are slowly starting to creep bag into the digital-hispter’s bag. Morozov has simply repurposed the entire system to work with a gun’s trigger. Continue reading →
With increasing frustration I’ve watched some of my gullible friends post this image in relation to today’s spectacular Solar eclipse. It’s cited as ‘The ISS took this photo of the eclipse today. #eclipse2015‘
Don’t be fooled, it’s fake. Besides they don’t have Photoshop on the ISS (or at least I don’t think they have.)
The real photographs taken by the astronauts currently stationed on the ISS are much more underwhelming. In fact, somewhat pleasingly they make all the ones I’ve taken look pretty good.
You can certainly sense a bit of embarrassment from that tweet, and quite rightly so. Poor Sam Cristoforetti who seems like an absolutely lovely person, is no match as a photographer to the now widely known Chris Hadfield.
Here’s a selection of the REAL photographs taken today during the Solar eclipse from NASA’s Flickr feed: Continue reading →
The police in London had nothing better to do yesterday morning than respond to the cries of a “large, sweaty speck” who happened to be passing by Guardian journalist Alan Rusbridger as he was having his photograph taken by David Levene on Hampstead Heath, a public space.
On the brow of the hill there was a jogger stretched in silhouette, no more than a tiny speck against the trees and blue sky. I took a picture.
The tiny speck turned out to be an unhappy speck. He ran down the hill shouting that I had no right to take pictures and I’d better effing delete them. As he got nearer he became a rather large and shouty speck, sweat beading on his bald head as he bellowed in my face.
We were effing out of order. It was illegal to take effing pictures here and if I didn’t delete the effing picture he’d effing call the police. He was really quite menacing – in the manner, say, of a 90s gangster movie.
I explained I was disinclined to delete the picture I had taken in a public space just because he looked to be on the point of murdering me. This made the speck even crosser.
Last week during a cold February evening in the Borders of Scotland, the lights of a small photographic art gallery were turned on for the first time and a new exhibition was unveiled. The walls were devoid of landscapes, portraits and the traditional visual art you’d come to expect with photographers. Instead a large, garish print hung on the far wall, unmistakably red. A small sign to the left gave it the name ‘Tacky Red Cameras.’
We’ve got used to seeing camera collections in many different shapes and forms, especially ones with high price tags on eBay. What makes this collection different from all those is the overwhelming abundance of the colour red. Upon further inspection, The Becher-esque style grid is filled with 81 (9×9) individually coloured red cameras.
Tacky Red Cameras is a five year long study into mass production practises of the 20th century and how we have continued to consume in the present and beyond. A seemingly unobvious collection of red cameras all of which are still in their purchased, second hand state take place in three forms; a sculpture, a photographic print and a 3D printed object. The past, present and future.
The large print fills the white wall it is homed on and is big enough for the viewer to get up close and personal to inspect the different models on display. The actual cameras in sculpture form are presented beautifully encased in clear tubes close to the print.