We read everywhere that new high resolution sensors put pressure on actual lenses. These comments arise copiously each time a new sensor with higher pixel counts appears. It happened with the 22 millions of pixels of the Canon 1Ds Mark III, and it will happen again when the 25 MP sensor by Sony comes to life into a new camera. Are this kind of comments accurate? There is no short answer to the question, because the subject is complex. However, we will try to summarize several basic rules and results
Oh, Metallica, why can’t you get it right? The band seemed to have learned somewhat from the dark days of the Napster debacle by offering fans online access to pre-release material and in-studio video footage, but now it has apparently unleashed another potentially damaging fiasco upon itself by forcing bloggers to take down reviews of their upcoming album.
Techcrunch is reporting from the Apple event today (here) that AP (Associated Press) is releasing an application for the iPhone that allows people to upload photos and text directly to AP when they witness live news events.
For almost 40 years Richard Misrach has been producing photographs of the American West focusing on man’s relationship and impact on his environment. His extended series “Desert Cantos” explored many aspects of the American desert with subjects ranging from fires and floods to military-scarred terrain to luscious skyscapes.
With a 25% increase in the entries this year, the jury spent two long days working through the 7,500 photographs, both in slideshow form, and as C-type prints, laid out on the huge Olivier foyer floor at the National Theatre.
A final edit of 146 photographs has been made and 13 prizes have been awarded. What follows is the winners list and a web gallery of the complete edit that will feature in the book and exhibition. This is “The Press Photographer’s Year 2008”.
Today on my way home from dinner a tragic event came to realization. A young man committed suicide. The witnesses said he jumped from the building I live in.
Here’s an antidote for today’s inevitable Apple overdose, and a tale of a fetish older and more noble than the Cult of Mac. This is the Leica M3 Prototype No.0034, one of 65 made in 1952-53.
Like all of Life’s great photographers, Bill Eppridge brought to an assignment much more than the ability to take a properly exposed and well-composed photograph. He has curiosity and anticipates, he is sensitive and respects his subjects, and he is versatile.
For a while it seemed that he specialized in riots and revolutions: in Panama, where he shot his first cover, in Managua, and in Santo Domingo where, in “rebel territory,” his 500-mm mirror lens almost got him killed. It seems that, after days of provocation by someone they had nicknamed ‘One Shot Charlie’ – someone into whose position Bill and his lens innocently stepped – the U.S. 82nd Airborne determined “to get the bastard whenever he moved.” The shot from a .50-caliber spotting rifle missed Bill by inches.
I was in Washington a few weeks ago at the annual awards dinner of the White House News Photographers Association. It’s an annual chance to see old friends and catch up on news. It’s also a time to meet new people and see how they’re doing in the great, wide, wonderful world of photojournalism.
Tony Overman, a photographer for The Olympian in Olympia, Wash., and past president of the National Press Photographers Association, was arrested and injured Friday while working to cover a fire. He was charged with suspicion of simple assault of a police detective and will be arraigned June 19, his paper reports.
A 61-year-old woman elbows her 5-foot-2-inch frame to the front of the crowd mobbing Bill Clinton after a campaign event in South Dakota. As Mr. Clinton shakes her hand and holds it tight, she deftly draws him into a response to an article on the Vanity Fair Web site that examines his post-presidential life. “Sleazy” and “slimy” are among the words that issue from the former president’s mouth. Within hours, audio of the three-minute exchange — including the woman’s description of the article as a “hatchet job,” and Mr. Clinton’s description of Todd Purdum, the author and a former reporter for The New York Times, as “dishonest” — is available for the world to hear on the Huffington Post Web site.
The woman, Mayhill Fowler, who calls herself a citizen journalist, wore no credential around her neck and did not identify herself, her intentions or her affiliation as an unpaid contributor to Off the Bus, a section of The Huffington Post. While her digital audio recorder was visible in her left hand during that encounter last Monday, she says, she did not believe Mr. Clinton saw it. “I think we can safely say he thought I was a member of the audience,” she said in a telephone interview on Friday.
A bitter personal struggle between two powerful figures in the world of terrorism has broken out, forcing their followers to choose sides. This battle is not being fought in the rugged no man’s land on the Pakistan-Afghan border. It is a contest reverberating inside the Beltway between two of America’s leading theorists on terrorism and how to fight it, two men who hold opposing views on the very nature of the threat.
i always implore the photographers i mentor, to please please minimize the “who can i get to know” list and maximize the “here is what i will do” list….one thing i do know for sure, if you have the work, really HAVE THE WORK, your Medici will materialize….it would have done me no good whatsoever to have made a “good impression” on Garrett, had i not had the work….
On April 26, Mary Ellen Mark and her entourage of assistants set up a makeshift photo studio in a small room next to the school’s gymnasium. Mark is working on a three-year project called “Prom.” Charlottesville High was the seventh of 12 schools she is photographing.
Next weekend, Mark will speak at the Look3 Festival of the Photograph here, where her Charlottesville photos will be on display.
“Prom is a slice of Americana for me,” Mark said. “You learn about a culture and how different racial groups bring their own style to prom.”
The first time my father told me about Sean Flynn’s disappearance, I felt as if a spider had walked down my spine. “Just gone?” I said, looking down at a picture that was taken of Sean hours before he vanished into the Cambodian countryside in April 1970 — a heart-stoppingly handsome young man on a motorcycle with thick sideburns and a battered Nikon around his neck. “Yeah,” my father said in a papery voice that made him suddenly sound much older. “Just gone.”
