The Online Photographer

Sunday Mystery Men (OT)

For five life points, who are these guys?

Mike

UPDATE: Your official clue is now the new "Book of the Week" below. Congratulations to Wolfgang Lonien and J. Lauretig, who guessed it first (see Featured Comments).

The Essential Calvin and Hobbes: a Calvin and Hobbes Treasury by Bill Watterson. I just read a dire, apocalyptic article about mental health during the pandemic, so I decided on trying an "off topic" book rec that is slightly lighter than our usual fare. If you don't appreciate it, don't worry, it's a blog. Something else will be along soon.

Heeeere's...Blimie and Herman!

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Wolfgang Lonien: "John Knox and Thomas Hobbes?"

Wolfgang Lonien: "Calvin and Hobbes?"

J. Lauretig: "John Knox and Thomas Hobbes."

J. Lauretig: "John Calvin and Thomas Hobbes. Calvin and Hobbes, pretty funny. At first I thought it was John Knox, but the joke became too obvious."

Benjamin Marks: "I know this will seem like another opportunity to pontificate on any and all subjects, but The Complete Calvin and Hobbes has the most interesting Preface by Bill Watterson as it applies to creative pursuits in general. In it, Watterson writes of all the failures he had designing characters and strips in the years leading up to the creation of the basic set-up in Calvin and Hobbes. If you all assumed, as I did for many years, that C&H was a work of instant, inspired, Mozart-like genius, proceeding weekly and directly from the mind of the Almighty straight through the pens and brushes of Bill Watterson, this introduction is the cure to your amazement. It was also, for me, an excellent reminder/instruction that creative pursuits most often require failure in order to find success. And a balance of bravery with doggedness.

"The Complete Calvin and Hobbes can still be ordered from Amazon.

"It is timeless, evergreen, priceless. Actually, not 'priceless' in the literal sense, but to demonstrate what a fan-boy I am: My children actually loved the first boxed set I bought right to death—re-read it until the covers fell off and the glued spines gave up the ghost, folded the pages and spilled various drinks on them, etc. I then purchased a second set for myself, which sits high on a shelf in my office. So from my perspective, buying only one set would be getting all this goodness at half-price. At least half of what I wound up paying.  ;-) "

Meatyard

Ralph Eugene Meatyard (American, 1925–1972) is one of the photographers I've engaged with over the years (you can't do it with everyone, so you have to pick a few), and I picked him the same way I picked teachers: because I wanted someone who challenged me. I didn't like or "get" his work on first encounter, so he filled that bill.

With some photographers there doesn't seem to be a wholly adequate representative book, and that's true of Meatyard. Or maybe it's that his pictures are somehow only half successful in what they're trying to express; at least, you have to surrender to his interior mindset to feel what he's trying to get at, and I can only do that half the time. I do feel it fully, from time to time.

A symbolist, I'd call him. You might like him if you like gothic horror, spiritualism, seances, creepy and slightly campy mystery. He's oblique, dark, indistinct. In this book the photos are accompanied by little essays—I might characterize them as "related meditations"—on each picture. They don't exactly illuminate the pictures, but they offer interesting company as we then consider each photograph for longer than we might have otherwise. Immersion, through his little windows, is good in Meatyard's case.

The author is Alexander Nemerov, an accomplished academic (Stanford, Yale) and Diane Arbus's nephew.

I think of Meatyard as the still-photography counterpart of Andrei Tarkovsky [this picture of AT, by Jane Bown, is about to be deleted]. He's one of the few photographers who make me wonder if they might have been better off as painters...if he could paint. You just do have to suspend your attachment to the literal with him, and surrender to the mystery, the poetry, and the gloom. His means are limited so it's not always the easiest thing to do.

Behind it all I always get the sense that he was having fun doing what he did.

Photographically considered, his uniqueness is a good argument for becoming familiar with him. There are only a few photographers who are inimitable.

Mike

Book of Interest this week:

Ralph Eugene Meatyard: American Mystic (Fraenkel Gallery, 2017). An excellent introduction to Meatyard's quirky, spooky worlds. "Photography is a dream of awaking to a world still dewed in sleep." And Fraenkel Gallery's productions are always a cut above. The link is a doorway to Amazon.

Also sponsored by...

Original contents copyright 2021 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Kenneth Tanaka: "I am delighted to see you call out Ralph Meatyard’s work, Mike. 'Behind it all I always get the sense that he was having fun doing what he did.' Your sense is accurate. Ten years ago the Art Institute of Chicago held a monographic retrospective show of Ralph Meatyard’s work (titled 'Dolls and Masks') to commemorate his family’s donation of a nice sampling of his works to the museum collection. During that show I had the privilege of spending an evening with members of his family. I knew nothing of his work until that evening. But it became clear from his family’s anecdotes that 'having fun' was at the core of his most notable, and spookiest, works. A rural optician just entertaining himself and his kids."

Aaron: "Meatyard did a lot of his work in connection with the Lexington Camera club, I believe. That would have been one interesting camera club! Here's a book I read some time ago about it."

robert quiet photographer: "I first met Meatyard's work in a store of secondhand books in Germany during a business trip many years ago and I immediately fell in love with his photos. Each photo could be the starting point for a story that each of us can create leaving room for imagination. I had never thought about the Tarkovsky analogy; it seems like an interesting thought. I'll think about it. Thanks for the suggestion.  :-)  "

hugh crawford: "Somehow I didn't know that the Family Album of Lucybelle Crater is based on Flannery O'Connor's 'The Life You Save May Be Your Own' with the mother and daughter Lucybell Craters until I Googled Lucybelle Crater and the Flannery O'Connor reference came up. It accrues so much more meaning knowing that."

Crabby Umbo: "Meatyard died about the time I entered college for photography, and he was little known but well revered by a small selection of teachers I had. I always thought he was a good example of a person that didn't have to sacrifice his life to photography, but had a 'real' job, and a family, etc., and carried on as a photographer as an informed avocation or even a hobby; and yet made some sort of footprint in the community. Based on his work, I always thought it was funny that he was born in 'Normal,' Illinois!"

Picture This: How Pictures Work

Contributed by Ken Tanaka

As a lifelong devotee of color I bought The Secret Lives of Color in early 2018. It’s a wonderful little work that strongly reminds me of a class I took as a very young weekend student at the Art Institute of Chicago many decades ago. Becoming more aware of color’s influence in your daily visual life, beyond cameras, is such a fundamental step in visual literacy. I recommend this book for any TOP readers. But I strongly recommend giving a copy of this book to a young person—perhaps your children or grandchildren—as a special gift. I took the class I referenced, above, when I was 10 or 11 and I dare say it certainly altered my life’s visual trajectory. Kassia St. Clair’s book holds that same potential for a young person.

There are several other wonderful little books I could recommend for sharpening color and visual skills but one gem shines brightest in my library. Molly Bang’s Picture This: How Pictures Work is a tiny powerhouse that may help relax a tedious grip on all those silly "composition" rules chanted by photography buffs. Bang, an author and illustrator of children’s books, teaches 2D communication essentially through a series of figure-ground relationship lessons. Her book is aimed at a generally young audience of budding future artists and illustrators but it’s a perfect lesson plan for amateur photographers who may not have benefited from any formal aesthetic education. Don’t be put off by its elementary tone; give it your attention and work through it with your camera. It will probably reward you.

Kassia St. Clair’s The Secret Lives of Color and Molly Bang’s Picture This: How Pictures Work are perfect reads for photo fans to start a still-locked-down 2021 productively!

Ken Tanaka

ADDENDUM from Ken: I obliquely recommended using Picture This as a kind of lesson plan with your camera. And I still do. But if you’re not currently disposed to using your camera you can still use the book’s lessons. Use a top-quality news site such as the New York Times that features the best daily collections of edited and curated images. (I don’t recommend wasting time with social media photo sites such as Flickr or IG; too much chaff and zero curation.) Line up two or three images that you find compelling and analyze them against Picture This lessons. After a few sessions of this I think you’ll recognize how the bones of a "good" image are constructed.

More important, I think you’ll also quickly recognize that figure-ground relationships are only the foundations of a good photograph. Gesture, color/tonality, inflection, emotional precedence, etc., etc., are the successive layers that really distinguish good camera work. And not just humanistic work. Top-quality inanimate work such as landscapes and architecture nearly always incorporates these properties, too.

Good, constructive, SAFE learning activities for a cold pandemic winter!

Original contents copyright 2020 by Kenneth Tanaka. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Book of interest this week:

Picture This: How Pictures Work, By Molly Bang
(clicking on the link above takes you to Amazon from TOP)

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Rick Popham: "Thom Hogan recommended Picture This a few years ago. Time for me to revisit it. I wonder if there will be a run on the remaining stock of Secret Lives as there was with Molly Bang’s book. As I recall, they decided to print another run of Picture This."

Andrew Molitor: "Excellent book. I used it as the inspiration for the theme of the photos I take to illustrate my wife's blog posts. She's a financial planner (to a specific niche which you probably are not part of, so I feel comfortable that this isn't a plug) which you can see here. She gets a surprising amount of positive feedback on these fairly weird pictures."

Photographers on Process and Practice

Contributed by Rob de Loe

I hope you had a nice Christmas with some snow. Unlike a lot of Ontario, which had a wet, green Christmas, we had a nice dumping of snow here in Guelph.

I have a book recommendation for you. Without a doubt this is one of the best books about photography I’ve read in a very long time. Paradoxically, it contains not a single photograph. Instead, it’s simply 12 questions answered by 40 photographers—like a Proust Questionnaire for photographers. Here are the first three questions:

1. What comes first for you: the idea for a project, or individual photographs that suggest a concept?
2. What are the key elements that must be present for you when you are creating a body of work? (Social commentary, strong form, personal connection, photographic reference…)
3. Is the idea of a body of work important to you? How does it function in relation to making a great individual photograph?

The editor, Sasha Wolfe, selected people who fit very loosely within the "straight" photography family, but it really is very loosely. Some I knew about beforehand, e.g., Robert Adams, Alec Soth. Others were entirely new to me, e.g., Kelli Connell, Lois Conner.

I answered the 12 questions myself before beginning (which was fun and instructive). Before I read the responses from each photographer, I’ve been checking out their work online.

I'm only up to Matthew Connors, but I’ve already learned more about my own approach, why I do what I do, and the constraints (good and bad) that I'm operating under than I have from the previous dozen books I've read. Some of the things I wrote in my own responses are already starting to look a bit shaky (which is good—mustn't be complacent!)

Of course I’ve also learned a lot about the photographers themselves—vastly more than I would have had I just browsed one of their books or poked around a website. I can only read a couple at a time because it's so much to take in.

There doesn't seem to be a Kindle version, which is unfortunate because it would be easier to read in electronic format due to the thin paper on which it is printed; the text on the reverse side of each page shows through a bit much in the physical copy, which sometimes is distracting.

In Light on the Landscape, one of the books recommended on TOP recently, William Neill suggests that once a year we should take stock of our past year's work and evaluate whether or not we've made progress. That's solid advice, but I'd go a step further: to really understand what's happening in your work, read PhotoWork: Forty Photographers on Process and Practice.

Best wishes for the New Year,
Rob

Reader Rob de Loë lives in southern Ontario, Canada, where he works at the University of Waterloo. A year ago he flipped the switch and closed down a thirty-year program of teaching and research on water governance so he could spend the remainder of his professional life teaching, studying and practicing environmental photography. His work can be found at Rob de Loë Photography.

Book of interest this week:

PhotoWork: Forty Photographers on Process and Practice, Edited by Sasha Wolf
(clicking on the link above takes you to Amazon)

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

robert e: "Thanks for the review, Rob. Sounds terrific! Did you know that Sasha Wolf continues on with PhotoWork in podcast form? (I presume without the thin-paper problem.)"

Thomas Rink: "I agree with Rob de Loe—this book is a very interesting read. Highly recommended to all those working in terms of projects."

A Picture With Promise

This is a spread from the book Elements that I'm attracted to. I've never seen the book. The picture looks like it might have a certain magic. It has the promise of it anyway—I can't really see because the JPEG is too small (I can't find a larger one). The village up high on the cliff (I think it's a village—can't really quite see), the seabirds wheeling in the air below—. The feeling of depth created by the outcropping on the lower right and the massif in the background. The strong central slash of the white waterfall. Of course who knows how the reproduction quality is, or whether the picture holds up when you can really see it.

This might sounds weird, but although I am not a photography collector, I do tend to collect images...and I have since I was a very small boy. I have lots of favorite images in books and there are even a few cases where I bought a specific book to get a really nice reproduction of a certain photograph. I used to sometimes "visit" favorite images by pulling out a succession of books from the bookcase and turning to the pictures I wanted to see. There are always treats in a good book.

I guess you could say TOP is a sort of photograph collecting mechanism. I love to trawl through old TOP images. I seem to sort of naturally collect images, without giving it much thought on a "meta" level; I just like to go back and look at things again. That might be why I take pictures at all, actually—to be able to study, at leisure and at length, a scene I enjoy seeing. To see what a longer look might reveal. To contemplate. Video doesn't scratch the itch for me very well, although I've watched many movies more than once. I'm very devoted to still pictures.

Mike

UPDATE: Well, I certainly know more about the picture now, thanks to Dori and several other readers. The picture features Múlafossur Waterfall, said to be the top tourist attraction in the Faroe Islands. The Faroes, a part of the Kingdom of Denmark, are situated in the Atlantic Ocean between Norway and Iceland. The tiny village is Gásadalur on the Western island of Vágar.

The picture was taken by Fran Mart, a wedding photographer from Spain who lives and works in Scotland. I reached out to Fran to see if he'd like to say anything about his picture for us but haven't heard back yet. The picture is on Instagram and it's available as a stock image from Adobe Stock.

A travel website I alighted upon referred to the waterfall as a "photographic destination." Jan-Peter commented that the locals are getting a little exasperated with all the photographers.

As for the locale, there are certainly a lot of pictures of it on the Internet, although many are from a somewhat different viewpoint than Fran's. Tony McLean sent me his picture of it taken with a Leica M240 and 21mm Super Elmar:

And there's a video showing several moods of the wind and the waves here.

Thanks to all!

UPDATE #2: After it occurred to me that I would not like to live in Gasadalur for one peculiar reason in particular, on Christmas morning I Googled "do people ever fall off cliffs in the Faroe islands?" and was led serendipitously to this nice post by Justine Kibler, a photographer and traveler from the UK, of the Lost in the Midlands blog. Reading it was like taking a virtual hike in the Faroes! With a little peril along the way.

Original contents copyright 2020 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Book of interest this week:

Elements: In Pursuit of the Wild, Rucksack magazine
(clicking on the links above takes you to Amazon)

Elements from The Book Depository (free shipping worldwide)

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

David Mackenzie: "To the comment on the local citizens getting tired of all the photographers...they have learned well from the ongoing visitor-caused disaster in Iceland. Now in the Faroes they are requiring photographers to buy permits and hire guides. That will certainly help keep the hordes down a bit."

kwesi Budu-Arthur: "A beautiful image that perhaps achieves too much. For me, the inclusion of the three perfectly placed birds is what turns this fine work of art into a stock photo. Sometimes leaving a little something to the imagination can be a very good thing."

Book of the Week: 'The Practice of Contemplative Photography'

"Technique is important only insofar as you must master it in order to communicate what you see... In any case, people think far too much about techniques and not enough about seeing."

—Henri Cartier-Bresson

The Practice of Contemplative Photography
by Andy Karr and Michael Wood
Shambhala Publications, 2011

Reviewed by Ken Tanaka

The model of most photography self-improvement books hasn’t substantially changed for nearly 40 years. They typically feature early chapters on basic photography principles (aperture, shutter speed, ISO, holding the camera still, etc.) followed by a series of chapters dispensing prescriptive, technique-oriented—and sometimes howlingly hackneyed—advice on how to take "good" pictures. The material tends to be oriented toward guiding the reader to make pictures that resemble the generally accepted aesthetic medians for the subject genres (i.e. landscape, babies, parties, etc.).

That’s fine. But such books offer little or no guidance to readers who want to explore the broader and far more rewarding challenge of seeing with a keener, more creative, and more personally incisive eye.

The Practice of Contemplative Photography pursues a very different path. Its authors, Andy Karr and Michael Wood, draw upon their mutual interest in Buddhist teachings to present an approach to photography that's exclusively oriented to "clear seeing," an important tenet in Buddhism. The concept of clear seeing can be described, at least in this context, as eliminating distractions and confusion to align your eye with your mind and emotions.

But wait! Lest you become turned-off at the impression that this is "What Would Buddha Shoot?", hang in there! Aside from brief background remarks in the preamble and epilogue, the subject of Buddhism is nowhere to be found. Karr and Wood devote nearly all of the material toward imparting a practical understanding of the three stages of their contemplative photographic practice philosophy: Flash of Perception, Visual Discernment, and Forming the Equivalent. The general idea is to learn to turn off the many obstructions to visual clarity that we all have. Obstructions such as cultural biases, adherence to clichés, and the desire to create slick images that will impress people. Such obstructions become filters that distort you perception and blind you to possibilities that don’t fit your preconceptions.

To that end many of the book's chapters are designed to guide the reader toward self-discovery of the technique's methods. The authors provide a brief description of a topic and then offer an exercise to channel the reader's exploration. A collection of images follow each chapter's exercise to illustrate the objective. This is a simple, but powerful, structure for leading readers through conceptual material that can really only be discovered rather than taught.

It's worth noting that the book would be worth its very modest price just as a photo book. Over half of its pages feature images, many of which represent some of the best of the genre that I've seen. (And most were created by the authors.) In fact I believe that the images and chapter titles alone provide quite a substantial portion of the book's instruction.

It's also noteworthy that discussion of basic camera technique is mercifully minimized to just a few pages in two chapters which deal with "Forming the Equivalents," the point in the process at which a camera is employed to record what you are experiencing. This is genuinely a book about seeing, in which the camera is a necessary but generic instrument much as a pencil would be in a book on writing.

Realistically, the techniques of contemplative photography outlined here by Karr and Woods will not stick to every reader. But I am confident speculating that the vast majority of readers who spend dedicated time with the book and some of its exercises will be rewarded, at a minimum, by being able to see many more possibilities with their photography. That's a goal that's certainly worth many times the book's price, wouldn’t you say?

Ken

Amazon U.S. link

Amazon U.K. link

Book Depository link

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Original contents copyright 2011 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.

Featured Comment by JohnW: "I'm delighted to see this approach to photography is finally trickling into the mainstream. I had the pleasure of experiencing the first three courses in the series several years ago and my photography has never looked back. To say it changed my photography would be equivalent to saying water is wet.

"I ordered a copy of the book but have not received it yet so the following comment may be covered in the text.

"One of the major stumbling blocks I've seen in many photographers is the fear of being 'themself' photographically. The underlying belief seems to be that their images must conform to some established ideal—generally that of the 'great masters' or the perceived masters of whatever group, club etc. they may belong to. The approach in this book bypasses all that and gets to the basic essence of art—recognizing, owning and expressing your vision.

"What more could an artist ask for?"

'For Now' Back in Stock (Plus, Casebinding, and Caponigro)

William Eggleston's beautiful For Now, which was our Book of the Week three weeks ago, is back in limited stock at Amazon (at $40.81). We cleaned 'em out the first time around—98 copies delivered from Amazon U.S. and U.K. before supplies temporarily ran dry.

Plus, I heard from Matt Suhre at Twin Palms Press, the book's publisher, and he tells us that the book continues to be available directly from them—both the Second Edition (at full price, $65) and the original First Edition ($200).

By the bye, there's been a little confusion about the publisher's description of this book as "casebound." That's just the proper term for a regular hardcover book. In case binding, the "case" consists of the spine and boards (the boards being the front and back covers), which is manufactured separately from the text block (the book's pages, folded, sewn together, and trimmed) and then affixed to the block with with the endpages. Case binding is by far the most common form of hardcover binding used now. The term is distinct from slipcasing, which refers to a separate five-sided board outer box that the casebound book slips into. For Now is casebound but not slipcased.

And, as promised, here's the link to For Now at The Book Depository. A little more expensive than Amazon at $49.58, but international shipping is free.

And while I'm on the subject of books, I think I'm going on a campaign to try to get Paul Caponigro's The Wise Silence reprinted. Published in 1983 by NYGS (a division of Little, Brown), designed by Paul's former wife the distinguished designer Eleanor Morris Caponigro, it really is one of the great masterpieces of my lifetime among books of large-format photography, the soul of the subtle and profound. If memory serves, Meriden-Stinehour did the original plates, and they have (as reported by us at the time) very sadly gone out of business in the face of fierce competition from the Far East; but surely a printer could be found to do the pictures justice.

Lesser books are being reprinted; why not that one? Onward, Rocinante!

Mike
(Thanks to Sheygetz)

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Original contents copyright 2011 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.

Featured Comment by Jeff: "Good reminder. Hadn't looked at my Caponigro book in quite a while. I had forgotten it was signed by him; not bad for my $75.

"The first edition lists The Stinehour Press for the following: 'Set in Monotype Centaur; Letterpress Printing; and, Bound by...' Separations and duotone printing were done by 'The Meriden Gravure Company.' Paper, by the way, was 'Mohawk Superfine.'

"Forgotten, too, was a letter from Paul that I placed in the book regarding his Portfolio II. The portfolio included all original photographs, priced at $850 total, but the first 50 copies available first come, first serve for $385. I didn't jump on it. Ah, those were the days."

Book o' the Week: 'Photographers A-Z'

Photographers A-Z
By Hans-Michael Koetzle

Published by Taschen, April 2011
12.8 x 10.2 x 1.7 inches, 444 pages

-

Reviewed by Geoff Wittig

Two idiosyncratic German publishers stand out in the photo book world. Steidl reflects its founder's passion for photography, exemplified by a range of beautifully produced books for connoisseurs, such as Mike's favorite Bruce Davidson opus, Outside Inside. A recent article on Gerhard Steidl in the New York Times reflected on his almost monastic lifestyle, devoted to his art. The other publisher is Taschen, at first glance the "anti-Steidl." Active members of the L.A. "glitterati," founder Benedikt Taschen and partner/wife Angelika seem to go out of their way to be provocative, with a goodly number of fetish- and sexually-themed titles. If the reflective Outside Inside exemplifies Steidl, Helmut Newton's brash and campy Sumo (the big one) may characterize Taschen. But giant expensive tomes like Sumo are matched by many more affordable titles. Taschen has published a range of very reasonably priced large monographs on photography icons from August Sander to Edward Weston to Paul Outerbridge. They also have released a range of modestly-sized and very inexpensive small softcover monographs. And $10.19 for a hardcover Atget, Paris? Hard to beat for pounds (or kilos) of book per dollar. Reproduction quality has varied from just okay to pretty good. More recent titles include Sebastião Salgado's beautiful book Africa [now out of print —Ed.], with reproductions that are very good indeed.

This is a long-winded preface to Taschen's recent encyclopedic survey of photographers past and present. Photographers A–Z (here's the U.K. link) is a large, heavy volume that provides brief but pithy coverage of literally hundreds of individuals. The author's explicitly stated criterion for inclusion is "those whose contribution to the culture of the photographic image is beyond question, whose work is internationally recognized, presented and discussed–even if controversial." Koetzle acknowledges a preponderance of Americans and Europeans, but there is also extensive representation of Asian and Latin American photographers.

The book's design is clean, slick, pure modernism (rather than post-modern). Most entries get a single page, with a select few extending across the gutter to a second. Each begins with a terse but spot-on summary of the photographer's work. For example, Annie Leibovitz is introduced with "Staged portraits of American celebrities from the worlds of (pop) culture, politics, and high society. Star photographer of the 1980s and 90s in two respects." This is followed by a dense chronological survey of the subject's career and important projects. Next is a telling quote from a photography critic, ranging from the well-known (Vicki Goldberg, A.D. Coleman) to the obscure. Finally there is a list of important exhibitions, followed by (Hallelujah!) a selected bibliography for each photographer, including monographs and projects as well as relevant anthologies containing the artist's work.

A sample spread (pages 46–47) from Taschen's Photographers A–Z.

The photo reproductions included with each entry are not full-bleed large images. Instead, as with Errata Editions, you get reproductions of the covers and 2-page spreads of photo books. These provide you a sample of the photographer's work in book form. And this photo reproduction format spells out this volume's mission. It deliberately treats photo books as the primary location for significant and accessible photography. If you want large, high-quality, beautifully reproduced examples of each artist's work, you will not find them here—but this volume will tell you exactly where they can be found in book form.

Irresistable
This book is an irresistible browse. You can page through the entries and in just a few minutes reacquaint yourself with a dozen great photographers you're already familiar with, and find a bunch of great leads for books to seek out at the library or Amazon. Better yet, you'll get a tantalizing look at great talents you've never heard of, but may find well worth looking into. For me the biggest delight was being reminded of many wonderful photographers who had fallen off my radar screen, but whose work I love. Now I know where to find more of their best images in print.

There are some older books out there with a similar mission. Abrams' PHOTO:BOX featured one or two images from each of 200 famous photographers. Phaidon's Centurywas more explicitly a survey of the 20th century in photography, but covers some of the same ground, with a very well-chosen selection of images. Finally, Phaidon's The Photo Book is the closest equivalent, with "500 pages on 500 photographers," each represented by a single iconic good-quality reproduction. Taschen's new book has a rather more eclectic mix, with a wider selection of Asian and Latin American photographers. In customary Taschen style, there's also a larger representation of nude and erotic subjects—Araki gets two pages, Walker Evans only one. Overall it's a fascinating selection of styles and eras. And for the lover of photo books, the bibliography entries are priceless. Just be forewarned that this feature may end up costing you far more than the purchase price!

Here's the link again.

Geoff-

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Original contents copyright 2011 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved.

Book o' the Week: A Real Honey

This week's book is a real honey.

I'll be the first to concede that William Eggleston isn't to everyone's taste. If you don't care for him, no argument. If he is to your taste, however, don't hesitate—For Now is the second-best-ever Eggleston book*, and a quiet masterwork of bookmaking, and it's a limited edition—the casebound version of the second edition, which is what's available for now (forgive my attempt at humor), is limited to just 3,000 copies. 

[UPDATE Wednesday May 4: The book is now showing as sold out, which is frustrating. This may be a temporary condition; Amazon sometimes stops taking orders when it gets too many for a book it doesn't have in stock. If you want one, keep checking back—there might be another shipment coming. —Ed.]

All the pictures are new to us. They were chosen by Michael Almereyda with the help of Caldecot Chubb and Winston Eggleston from Eggleston's archives, with Eggleston's consent. I haven't made a close study to back up this contention, but I'll bet the best Eggleston books are collaborations with picture editors who have a firm hand. The seminal and best one—the indispensable William Eggleston's Guide**, which belongs in every collection of American photography books—was edited by John Szarkowski, who discovered Eggleston and brought him to the world's attention. Michael Almereyda has also done a superb job of picture selection—he seems to have picked particularly Egglestonish Egglestons with an unerring eye. Some of the NOS (new old shots—my weak humor again) are banal even by Eggleston's standards, which is saying something, but, if you think about it, this is the opposite of challenging work. Like many did, I originally came at Eggleston with my back up, but that's ancient history now—I long ago learned how to look at him and to love his best. These pictures will reward anyone who's done the same—they're fully in the vein of his most characteristic work. Comfortable as an old shoe, but fresh as new fruit.

It's the book itself that really pleases. Just last week I got my contributor's copy of Gerd Ludwig's 2001 book Broken Empire: After the Fall of the USSR, and the photography is outstanding...while the book is sort of provisionally okay. A lot of the pictures are presented one to a page. But a fair number of them are full bleeds with a third of their picture area spilling over the gutter, which is a particularly unhappy way to look at photographs in a book. I don't hate it, but the book certainly could have been better. As bookmaking, it falls solidly in the "not too bad" category.

For Now was the next book I picked up, and...what a contrast. It's generously but not pretentiously large at 13 3/4 x 12 1/4, and each picture floats on an aptly proportioned field of white, with no preferential treatment for horizontals vs. verticals or vice-versa. The reproductions are just gorgeous, almost works of art in themselves—spot-varnished for a subtle gloss differential from the page, sized just right, soft and delicate, perfectly apropos for the original medium of color negative film shot with a variety of old Leicas. The pacing and modulation of the pictures is effortlessly excellent, and the book offers several blocks of text—none too long, all good to read—to further modulate the flow. A veritable model of what a photography book ought to be, in my opinion.

Jack Woody, head honcho of Twin Palms, has produced some superb books over the years. This Eggleston book is what happens when you've poured blood, sweat, and tears into making fine photography books for so long it's become second nature. Just a pleasure to look at, a pure pleasure. Splendid, splendid book. If you love this photographer, I can hardly recommend it highly enough.

Mike

*Okay, maybe tied for second. I won't argue if you have another favorite.

**If you don't have this, for heaven's sake get it now—the reprint has just gone out of print. After what's left is gone, who knows how long before you'll be able to get it again without spending hundreds and hundreds of dollars.

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Open Mike: Mike's Theory of Cars

Lake Drive in Whitefish Bay (click on image to enlarge)

My friend Gabi put it best: "You like go-carty cars," she once told me. (That's this post in a nutshell, so now you don't have to read any further unless you want to.)

My "philosophy" (I use the word in its vulgar sense) of cars was formed when I was very young, still a new driver. I got to drive a Maserati Bora and a Lotus Seven within a relatively short span of time.

Well, I didn't drive the Maserati; I drove in it—it was being driven by its owner, a friend's parent's friend. I was a passenger. The 1971–78 Bora, a supercar of the day, was a mid-engined coupe with a V8.

I grew up in Milwaukee. On the north side there's a road that runs by Lake Michigan called Lake Drive (not to be confused with Lake Shore Drive in Chicago). In the Village of Whitefish Bay, Lake Drive takes a nice series of tight curves one after the other. I can't speak for what it's like now, but when I was in high school, you could drive these curves as fast as you wanted to as long as it was three or four in the morning—nobody was out except for the occasional motorized law enforcement official. So I was very familiar with these curves.

Maserati Bora

In the Maserati, we navigated this series of curves at nearly twice the speed limit, which at that time was 35 mph. The number was impressive, but the Maserati was loafing at that speed—it went around the curves like it was on rails, with a minimum of drama. Apart from the feeling of centrifugal force, it didn't impart much excitement.

The 1957–70 Lotus Seven, by contrast, was essentially a big go-cart. Sitting with my butt planted on the seat I could lean out and put my palm flat on the ground (being careful of the hot exhaust pipe, which was right there). The Seven was the most exciting car at 35mph I ever drove—the rear-view mirror vibrated so badly you almost couldn't see anything in it, and the ground was so close it rushed past in a blur like you were doing 100. Ordinary corners were a thrill without even breaking the speed limit.

That was my epiphany. The Lotus Seven was a lot more exciting to drive than the mid-engined Maserati—at half the speed. It wasn't as fast, of course, but it felt faster. Speed, of course, is important if you're racing, or if you're being timed. But if you're not racing or being timed, speed is no longer an absolute—it's a sensation.

And of course the sensation is better in a car like the Bora if (another if) you can push it hard. I don't doubt that Jeremy Clarkson has fun with his Lambos—but then, he has a private airfield with a track set up by Lotus engineers and a dragstrip where it's both safe and legal to drive 200 mph.

I don't. Too bad.

All I get to drive on are public roads, and I'm constrained to something within shouting distance of the posted speed limits, or at least the "customary" speeds (there are roads in my town where I doubt the posted speed limits have budged since 1935, and 99% of drivers use "customary" speeds rather than the posted limits, the occasional dotard or thoroughly baked teen being the only exceptions. Even the cops use the customary speeds). To this day, I don't get all the fuss in the car rags about the endless parade of supercars. Who wants them? Not me. Maybe if you have autobahnen in your country.

My idea of the ideal car: a four-cylinder engine (but a good one), one-ton curb weight or as close as you can get to it, a five speed stick shift, and rear-wheel drive. Of course, within those limits, the sportier the better. Small cars are fun on real roads—and manage to provide their entertainment without requiring that you risk your license on a regular basis or endanger small living things, human or furred.

A glove box that accommodates the camera (and locks) is a nice feature too.

The chief downside of my kind of car? They have a tendency to be known as chick cars. ("Tart cars" in English.)

I'm happy for people who like Ferraris. I'm not even really interested—at least until such time as I move to Germany or am able to afford my own private airfield. My idea of a supercar extends to a Golf R or a Boxster S, and not much further. If someone gave me a Veyron or a Gallardo, I wouldn't know what to do with it—apart from sell it, and spend the money on nine to twenty-two of the kind of cars that I actually like.

Your mileage, as they say, may vary. Hope you have a fine Sunday—

Mike

Open Mike is a series of off-topic posts that appears usually, but not always, on Sundays.

UPDATE: Full circle: I did know, as several commenters have mentioned, that the old Lotus Seven is still being manufactured, in kit and turnkey form, in England, by an independent maker called Caterham. What I did not know is that that Caterham was recently purchased by none other than Team Lotus Enterprises...the announcement is dated just days ago, April 27th.

Closing the circle further, I also did not know that Team Lotus's colors seem to be remarkably suited to Wisconsin....

Hmm. I'm going to have to work harder!

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Featured Comment by Julian: "As anyone who has tried go-karting will tell you, your post is absolutely on the money.

"One other thing. Having driven extensively on German 'Autobahnen' I can tell you that, with a few limited exceptions (like the four-lane stretch between Darmstadt and Frankfurt-am-Main) they aren't what they're cracked up to be. Most have just two lanes in each direction and are very crowded—mostly with trucks.

"Even if you do find a relatively clear stretch and manage to wind the car up to crazy speeds, one (or both) of two things will inevitably occur. 1) A slower driver will pull out of the inside lane and you have to brake sharply to avoid a collision or 2) a Porsche, BMW or Mercedes (usually—possibly an Audi, too) will zoom up and attach itself, limpet-like, to your tailpipe—no matter how fast you are traveling. Being tailgated at legal speeds is bad enough but having another car barely a couple of feet behind you at 200kph+ is deeply unnerving.

"Trust me, Autobahnen are not as much fun as you might think."

Featured Comment by CK Dexter Haven: "My personal interest in cars of the supercar ilk is not in the speed they can possibly attain. It's more about the beauty of the design and engineering. A Ferrari is just a gorgeous thing. Aston Martin, same. I don't really care if they could only go as fast as a Lumina. It's sorta like when I had a Nikon F6. The only lens I had for it was a 50mm 1.8 Series E. Manual focus. I have no idea how fast the motor advance is, as I only shoot in 'single' mode. But, the camera was a joy to have, look at, hold, and use.

"The fastest i ever drove was during a vacation in Italy, when I rented a Fiat Punto. I think I averaged about 130 from Rome to Vicenza and the only car that passed me was a Ferrari F40. That was 15+ years ago. I don't need to do that again. Once was enough. Even though I could do that speed in the Punto, I'd rather have been doing 65 in the Ferrari. For that matter, I'd rather be parked in the Ferrari."

Featured Comment by John Brewton: "Well, Mike, I raced enduro karts for twelve years in the '60s and '70s. I have also owned numerous Ferraris and Maseratis. I published the Lamborghini-Maserati Newsletter from 1984–1990. I even raced a Ferrari Testa Rossa in vintage racing once (it was worth way too much to continue doing so with panache). Anyway I was once a gearhead, but I did all my own maintenance (!) and was an Alfa mechanic for a while.

"But today I drive a Prius. 'Nuf said."

Featured Comment by Geoff Wittig: "Spot-on post. There was a great article in one of the mainstream auto mags a few years back articulating the same point. The author agreed that high-end supercars produced great numbers, while generating surprisingly little excitement. He waxed lyrical about the joys of driving something like the original tiny Honda Civic, ideally with bald tires. Sure, its 0 to 60 time and its braking distance were nothing special. But the manual transmission required expert clutchwork and impeccably timed shifts to get the most out of the tiny 4-banger. The mediocre brakes and limited grip made tight curves thrilling even at modest speeds. The overall harmony of its limitations was the key: it took real skill to drive it at 9/10ths—and you were still close to the speed limit, if not below it!

"The most fun I've ever had controlling a wheeled vehicle was riding a mid-range motorcycle 'real fast' on a twisting country road. Mind-blowing thrills, until you come to viscerally comprehend what can happen to you. I sold my motorcycle while attending medical school, after the first few experiences treating badly injured "donorcycle" victims in the ER. (Represses shudder)."

Featured [partial] Comment by Mike Plews: "I wish I had said the but have to be content to quote it: 'It's more fun to drive a slow car fast than a fast car slow.'" [See the rest of Mike's comment in the Comment section. —Ed.]

Featured Comment by Chuck Albertson: "The bus stop nearest to my darkroom is located outside the local Ferrari dealer. If people ask me what I was doing Saturday afternoon, I tell them I was looking at Ferraris."

Featured Comment by Jim McDermott: "On a topical note, wasn't Osama bin Laden reported to be living in a Maserati Bora for a few months early in 2002? Or did I misread?"

Featured Comment by Jim Hayes: "Nobody into Alfas? I owned about 30 of them from the early '60s to 2002, most pre-1967, never more than three at a time, raced four of them. Nothing beats a Giulietta Spider!

"Also had two Miatas and two new Minis—both more fun than the C4 Corvette or M3. Little, good-handling cars are more satisfying than Ferraris (My brother was a dealer for them in the '60s. How about 310 km/hr in a 275LM on the street?)—'More fun to drive a slow car fast than a fast car slow!'"

Mike replies: I had the merest taste of an Alfa once—what was the one with the gearshift seemingly sticking out of the dash? I liked it very much, but I recall the owner (who was not mechanically inclined) had continual headaches with maintenance.

P.S. The Giulietta Spider is to the manner born....

Book o' the Week

Finally, a "how to" book I haven't seen before (that isn't about software). The book I'm reading this week is Publish Your Photography Book, which just came out a month ago from Princeton Architectural Press.

The best reason to be interested in any book is the reputation of the authors—so, first, briefly, a bit about Mary Virginia Swanson and Darius Himes, pictured at right in an author portrait by Jamey Stillings. I feel I know Mary Virginia Swanson's work best, from her well-known "Marketing Photos" blog, which has just lately been moved to her new website, mvswanson.com. It's now called the MVS Marketing Blog. Elizabeth Avedon puts her career in a nutshell: "Mary Virginia Swanson is committed to helping photographers advance their careers by providing insights into the most effective ways to introduce their work to gallery and museum professionals." She's perhaps best known (although not, in this context, by me) as an experienced and expert portfolio reviewer at art photography events all over the country.

I first heard the name Darius Himes as the founding Editor of Photo-Eye's Booklist. He's also the co-founder of the non-profit photography book publisher Radius Books, and is now Assistant Director of San Francisco's Fraenkel Gallery, one of the leading photography galleries in the U.S. and one known for its own fine publications.

More on the book itself as the week progresses (and as I finish it!), but for now I'll just note that this pair have earned their stripes and know their stuff; their names alone are reason enough to investigate Publish Your Photography Book.

Mike

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Book o' the Week

This is not a general purchase recommendation, and I urge you not to take it as such. Some books make solid recommendations for any sort of photography library, and this isn't one of them. I believe you'd have to have a specific interest in the subject or a general interest in architecture or architectural photography for this book to make sense for you.

That said, this is really one of the most remarkable photography books I've encountered in quite a while. And it's definitely a book you should know about.

I don't quite know how to discuss this next idea, and there must be some simple way to get the idea across—maybe it's the difference between "sincere" and "cynical" products. Economists probably have a name for what I mean; I don't know.

The idea is this. Some projects are made just to fit a market. Let's say, for instance, that how-to books of—I don't know, let's just say "wine-glass photography" just as a random example—suddenly become popular. (I don't think there are any real wine-glass photography how-to books out there, so this won't offend any real authors or publishers. If I'm wrong, I apologize!) There's one wine-glass photography how-to that's hot, so another publisher decides it needs to compete by offering a wine-glass photography how-to in its own list. They enlist an author—not necessarily an expert wine-glass photographer—who surveys the existing wine-glass how-to titles and tackles it like an assignment. He does his best. To cover himself, he hires an actual wine-glass photographer to go through the manuscript and make corrections. The publisher and author gather illustrations as cheaply as possible from various sources, and "do their thing" using house editors and graphic artists and existing style templates. What results is a standard book for the publisher—capable, competent, and, indeed, useful, but maybe not exactly inspired.

You can see lots of books like this if you go to any chain bookstore and look over their "bargain" shelves—books on battles, classic cars, Ireland, various cuisines, and so on. I used to call such books "pasturized process [sic] book product," after "pasteurized process cheese product," which is the technical name for foods such as Velveeta or Cheez-Whiz. That might be a little unkind. (Although I'm not sure to whom, the book producers or the makers of Velveeta and Cheez-Whiz.)

That's the "cynical" end of the spectrum. At the opposite end are labors of love, or deeply original books whose authors work for years on them and produce them at great personal and financial cost. George Drennan, a photographer in El Paso, self-published a book of his own photographs in the 1990s. He'd been a large-format photographer for many years, and he'd been a printer as well, so he lavished a lot of time and care on his book. He then tried to distribute and sell it himself, an undertaking which was not, as I recall, without its pitfalls for him. (I still have the book.) Or Jim (James L.) Lager, who worked for many years making photographs of every existing Leica camera, lens, and accessory, and self-published the results in three oversized, deluxe volumes. He had to mortgage his house to finance that project. The resulting tomes of the Leica: An Illustrated History series are known in camera-collecting circles merely as "Lager." I used my set for many years; it was one of the only books I've ever sold not because I wanted the money, not because I didn't want the books, but because I'd noticed I was using them less and less, and I'd gotten so much enjoyment from them myself that I knew there must be someone else out there who would probably enjoy owning them as much as I had!

Anyway, you get the point.

This week's Book of the Week, The Complete Architecture of Adler & Sullivan, by Richard Nickel and Aaron Siskind with John Vinci and Ward Miller, is so far over on the sincere side of the spectrum described above that it's almost impossible to convey it adequately. It might be a start to note that one of the authors essentially died for the project.

The very short version of the story: Louis Sullivan, with his partner Dankmar Adler, was one of the most important of the architects who rebuilt Chicago in the decades following the Great Chicago fire of 1871. He was one of the pioneers of the skyscaper and one of the founders of modernism in architecture, without question one of the leading American architects of the 19th century. The duo were also incredibly prolific. In 1952—aware that many Sullivan and Adler buildings were being remodeled out of existence or torn down to make way for new construction, the Chicago art photographer Aaron Siskind, with one of his graduate classes at the Institute of Design, began to document the buildings. He enlisted the aid of a graduate student, Richard Nickel, who made the project his graduate thesis. Siskind suggested Nickel write a book on the subject.

The original book deadline was 1957—and here it is; this is that book. The present volume appeared more than 50 years past its planned publication date.

Nickel quickly became obsessed with the project. He became over the next few decades a one-man preservation committee, not only photographing the still-existing buildings and documenting the destruction of the ones being torn down, but involved in every facet of preservation, from organizing protests of new development to entering buildings being demolished to carry off ornamental bits and pieces. He was killed in 1972 when a building he was in collapsed on top of him. His body wasn't discovered for a month.

After Nickel's death, the Richard Nickel Committee at the Art Institute of Chicago was founded to preserve his papers and carry on his work. Many people and many institutions contributed to the effort. Among them, Chicago architect John Vinci is deserving of special mention—the project became a labor of love for him, too, and he invested a significant amount of his personal wealth in bringing the book to fruition.

The book is one that is likely to go down in the annals of photo book publishing. It contains more than 800 beautifully reproduced photographs—the printing alone cost $185,000. And it weighs more than eight pounds!

I'm not an architectural photographer, and have very few books of architectural photography. But for some reason the pictures in this book really speak to me—partly because some of them are masterful photographs by any standard, possibly because I used to live in Chicago and the scenes have a look of familiarity, and possibly—no, probably—because the parade of these magnificant pictures as a whole provoke profound meditations on art vs. utility, entropy, the constant evolution of public space and the changing fortunes of cities, the difficulties of preservation, and the transitory nature of the ever-changing river of life. Many of these pictures really show architecture "in situ," not as ideas but as we experience them. Once you finish looking through this, you'll realize that buildings are simply not a very durable form of art—in some ways, despite their solidity and imposing size, they might actually be even less durable than paintings or photographs.

For further reading, go to the book announcement page at the Richard Nickel Committee. That page has links to nine more articles and book reviews about this work of art, a labor of love from first to last.

Mike
(Thanks to Ken Tanaka, who recommended it to me)

The last book of the week:
Why Photographs Work by George Barr
How many readers ordered it through our links: 109
Popularity: Moderately High

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The Progress of a Photograph

You might remember that this week's Book of the Week (have you noticed that's a new feature? It's because I'm about hip deep in books I keep meaning to mention, but never seem to get around to) is Why Photographs Work by George Barr. Just thought I'd mention that photograph #26 in the book is from our very own little corner of the web, i.e., TOP, the site you are reading at this very moment.

As George recounts in his analysis, Gordon Lewis took the picture as one of several  "example" pictures while reviewing the Pentax K-7 for TOP. So many readers responded positively to that picture in particular that we had a more or less spontaneous print sale of it, which did quite well—and that's how a print of it came to be framed on my office wall.

So now it's made its way into a published book as well. What's next—a national advertising campaign? Will Gordon make an edition the size of a poster, limit it to 7 copies, and price each one at $250,000? Am I going to encounter this picture in the latest "History of Photography" tome that I'll be wrestling with in the nursing home when I'm 90?

Maybe we should send a copy to Oprah, or Ellen.

More seriously, congratulations to Gordon on being included. I'm tickled about it, too.

Mike

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Book of the Week

The Book of the Week this week is Why Photographs Work: 52 Great Images, Who Made Them, What Makes Them Special, and Why, by George Barr, published by Rocky Nook, an imprint of O'Reilly Media.

(Here's the U.K. link.)

The book consists of 52 single images by different photographers, with discussions of each. The format George chose for the text is both companionable and informative: first there's an analysis by George, then a commentary from the photographer. A short biography of the photographer accompanied by a small portrait follows, and lastly there's a brief technical note, sometimes giving just the camera and lens used but in some cases considerably more—François Gillet, for instance, writes five paragraphs of technical information.

The cover design is perhaps a tad esoteric—it shows the main title as it might show up in the viewfinder of a medium-format SLR, laterally reversed but upright. The majority of the pictures in the book are large format.

The selections have authorial consistency but also a good variety. Women photographers are decently represented (eight of the 52), and, although most of the photographers are American and British, there are other nationalities present. Best is the mix between "famous names" like John Sexton and Pete Turner and lesser-known artists, and between photographers who made a name for themselves prior to the digital era, such as Bruce Barnbaum or Michael Kenna, and those who've come to prominence mainly via the web, such as Bengt Ekelberg, whom George first encountered on Photo.net. Teachers, instructional book authors, and workshop leaders such as Harald Mante and Freeman Patterson are well represented, as are contemporary British landscapists like David Ward and Charlie Waite (neither of whom are represented by landscape pictures, however). I found it both pleasant to encounter the photographers I already know, and just as good to encounter those I'd never heard of before.

Each photograph is dated. There's one picture each from the 1950s and 1960s, and there are several each from the 1980s and '90s, but the vast majority are contemporary work from the decade 2000–2010. The genres of photographs vary as well, but you won't have any trouble discerning consistency in the author's taste. Barr, by the way, is a family medical doctor from Calgary, Alberta, Canada who has had a lifelong passion for photography.

The quality of the 10x10", 228-page book is typical for an oversized illustrated paperback (there's no hardcover version), and the reproduction quality is above average.

All in all an enjoyable book that nicely straddles the sizeable gap between what and how to, something few photo book authors bother to try, or pull off so well when they do attempt it.

Mike

Last week's book of the week:
Recent Western Landscapes by Lee Friedlander
How many readers ordered* it through our links: 91
Popularity: High**

*None have been delivered yet, and, given that the book is limited to 500 copies, it's possible that Amazon will be unable to fill some or all of the orders.

**Price is taken into account when characterizing popularity.

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Featured Comment by Nikhil Ramkarran: "I bought this as soon as it was released and I am very pleased with it. I strongly believe that one of the key ways to become a better photographer is simply to see the photos good photographers produce.

"It is shocking sometimes to see the discussions (more like cluelessness) which result on flickr when someone posts a well-known photograph, but without attributing it, in an attempt to stimulate discussion.

"One thing I didn't like about the book (physically) is how floppy it seems to be. It is a fairly large book and the paper and cover are fairly thin, so it is difficult to keep it flat if you are holding it up. Minor quibble though."

Featured Comment by Jack Spratt: "sknaht, ev'I deredro ti."

Book of the Week

Our book o' the week this week is Lee Friedlander's Recent Western Landscape 2008–09 (here's the U.K. link) for three very superficial reasons and one deeper one:

• The book is the catalogue of a recent show at Mary Boone Gallery, which I sorta slagged in these precincts recently;

• We've been discussing limited editions over the past several posts, and Lee Friedlander is one big-name photographer who doesn't edition his prints, feeling that to do so is "undemocratic";

• It's reputedly a pretty, well-made example of bookmaking (I haven't seen it); and finally,

• In the words of the good short review on dlkcollection, "...The most reasonable conclusion would be that Friedlander, even at his advanced age, is a bomb-throwing, rule-breaking subversive. His pictures disregard nearly every landscape convention and cliché on the books...."

If you're new to Friedlander, this might be like beginning your acquaintance with Beethoven with the late quartets or the Hammerklavier, but then again, the best introductions are out of print.

By the way, the prints at Mary Boone (again according to dlkcollection) are priced at $8,500 each. In case you want one. Doesn't seem all that democratic (man, I gotta get a grip and stop being so catty), but then, for that, the book will serve.

Mike
(Thanks to QT Luong and Pete)

Last week's book of the week: Camera Lucida by Roland Barthes
How many readers bought it through our links: 50
Popularity: Moderate

ADDENDUM: Well, this is kinda funny, and I hope you can see the humor in it...Lee doesn't edition his prints, but the Mary Boone Gallery tells me that the book is a limited edition. There will only be 500 copies. It's scheduled for publication later this week, and it will essentially sell out on publication—that's my best guess, anyway. It could last a few weeks, or, you might pre-order it right now and eventually have your order go unfilled. I don't know. But I don't think it will last very long. Anyway, if you want one, I'd suggest you put your order in today.

ADDENDUM No. 2: As of 11:00 p.m. Tuesday, 52 TOP readers have ordered this book from Amazon—53 if you count me. That's more than 10% of the entire production run according to the Gallery. We'll have to see what happens. I'll keep you posted—and if you ordered one, let me know if you get it, will you?

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