Most of us are relatively familiar with the history of photography in the last decade or so, but I'd argue its early years were far more interesting, with patent wars abounding and chemicals making people crazy (ok, maybe I'm glad that part is no longer an issue). This fascinating documentary details the history of early photographic processes, their development, and the stories of the people behind them.
What's the most difficult environment you've ever taken a photo in? The time when you had one chance to get the shot with no opportunity to try again? Does it compare to tumbling around the moon at several miles per second while capturing one of the most iconic images of all-time? Check out this great video that explores the creation of "Earthrise."
What happens when a visual artist overhears his uncles discussing how women "are better off cooking, taking care of the kitchen, and fulfilling their 'womanly duties?'" Eli Rezkallah, who's a photographer and a visual artist currently residing in Beirut, came up with the idea of creating a controversial set of photographs that reverse the traditional gender roles, that had been so strongly embedded within our society through advertisement during the twentieth century.
The 90s were a time of lightning-fast technological development, when the beginnings of the digital camera experience we take for granted nowadays were just coming together for the first time. This fun video takes a look at the capabilities of a typical camera from the time and the experience of shooting with it.
When the idea for “Trans Atlantic” came up between me, Isma, and the crew from Pekat Photography, we quickly fell in love with the concept and decided to make it a joint effort. Since slavery is a sensitive topic, we decided to do our best to approach the topic from a more academic and historical reference point. We hoped our joint effort would offer a new, fresh narrative told in a three-part series that would be presented without bias, social commentary, or cultural or historical analysis.
Using a thin, round, six frame, glass plate, "spy camera", a nineteen year old Carl Størmer (1874 – 1957) captured candid images on the main streets of Oslo, Norway. These atypical images are a rare glimpse into everyday life at a time when most photos taken were of well prepared, composed and stoic subjects. If you're interested in the three part documentary video, be sure to turn on "subtitles / closed captions" and switch to "auto translate" English.
Pripyat, once a town of 40,000 people and now a short distance from the world's single most deadly object, stands inside the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. As I waited to get a coffee at the tiny shop alongside the Zone's checkpoint, I cringed slightly at the array of glow-in-the-dark knickknacks on sale. Chernobyl, the site of the biggest nuclear disaster in history and now a slightly Disney-fied tourist destination, is a reminder that photography's "truth" is always a little suspect.
For a long time cameras have been used to document history both in still images and in motion pictures. Some of these pictures have been around and publicly available for a long time, others are only available to the individuals who actually own the footage, still there are others that have been kept classified and completely unavailable to anyone without the right security clearance. This has been the case for many videos of the nuclear tests conducted by the United States, until now. The researchers at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory (LLNL) have just released 62 of these nuclear test videos that are newly declassified.
The Victorians ushered in an era of dramatic change, principally in the application of science, but being able to do this (literally) on an industrial scale. The impact upon society was tumultuous - throw science, invention, industrial processes, and money into the mix and the way countries developed forever changed, forming the basis for the world we live in today.
If you were raised in the United States, you were taught about the attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. You’ve heard the famous description of it by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who called it “a date which will live in infamy.” With a lack of declaration of war and without warning — and killing 2,403 Americans — the surprise attack by Japan’s military on the U.S. naval base at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii was judged to be a war crime, and was the impetus for the U.S. officially entering World War II. You know this, but there’s a good chance you haven’t seen many (or any) photos from that day.
In a world where flipping our images between color and black and white is as simple as the click of the mouse, photographers and cinematographers today aren’t often tasked with knowing the complexity of how those vibrant colors actually come into existence. But in the early days of cinema, when competing processes for color reproduction took turns as the next best innovation, one name reigned supreme: Technicolor.
If you grew up in a house with a football-loving father like I did, you probably had your young little mind blown every NFL Sunday by the yellow line darting under the players' feet. My dad's answer? "Hollywood Magic." Up until the moment I stumbled across this video that was the only answer I had ever gotten.
Over twenty years ago Chuck O'Rear took a photo that soon became part billions of peoples everyday lives. He captured Bliss on his way to see his girlfriend, he pulled over when he spotted the perfect scene in Sonoma County California. On the side of the road with his medium format camera, he took what would soon become the most viewed image of all time as a staple of Microsoft. After twenty-one years of unimaginable fame, O'Rear is back with a tribute to the epic American nature and a reminder for us all to cherish our earth's beauties.