Artist’s Deep-Fried Gadgets Blend Unhealthy Appetites

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After butter and mayonnaise, the frontier of new foods to deep fry is growing frighteningly bleak. Fortunately there are brave souls out there thinking outside the box.

Artist and photographer Henry Hargeaves, a Brooklyn-based New Zealander, recently shocked audiences with his photos of deep-fried gadgets like the iPod, MacBook, Game Boy and iPad. But all is not quite as it seems.

“I recreated the gadgets from foamcore,” says Hargreaves. “My pockets aren’t deep enough to sacrifice all that stuff for fun.”

Like greasy food, there’s growing concern over the long-term repercussions of the world’s consumption of electronics. The harmful chemicals in obsolete and discarded gadgets collect in dumps (usually in Asia) with toxic consequences for the environment, like so much artery-clogging fat sediment.

“I’m as guilty about getting excited about the latest Apple product,” says Hargreaves. “I see a connection between tech and fastfood culture, both are fetishized, quickly consumed then discarded.”

The approximately 245 million cell phones in the United States, for example, have an average lifespan of 18 months, with 900 million already put out to pasture. About 150 million are retired each year, and in an interview with the Environmental Protection Agency, Seth Heine CEO and President of Collective Good, estimates that only 30 million of those are actually recycled.

The interesting juxtaposition here is that deep frying is hardly gourmand when it comes to cooking, and yet the newest devices are designed and marketed as ever sleeker, lighter and sophisticated. The visual dissonance that marinates in Deep Fried Gadgets is typical of Hargreave’s penchant for surreal juxtaposition — just see his M&M’s as fine art, Bacon Alphabet, Lollipop Penis and icons made of toast.

“I was itching to deep fry some things that you wouldn’t usually find near a fryer and thought, ‘Why not start with my phone?’ I love creating strange cultural mashups.”

As for the deep fryer itself, the art project was the last outing for the vat of oil. “The MP3 player had silver paint on it. It and the oil didn’t get along very well,” says Hargreaves.

Pinstagram Now Available for iPad

The clever mashup of Instagram photos with a Pinterest-type interface, Pinstagram, is now available on the iPad as a native app. It’s only taken a day for the app to the #8 free iPad app in the App Store.

Pinstagram is a great way to digest and swipe through large swaths of your Instagram feed while not on your smartphone. We recommend you check it out, either on the web or now the iPad.

As Mashable points out, this hack-on-a-lark venture by Brandon Leonardo and Pek Pongpaet beats both of its source companies to the iPad. Pretty slick for a weekend side-project.

Inside a Prague Brothel, Where Sex Is Free If You Perform for the Web

The Polar Bear room. A pool-like "bed" guarded by a roaring polar bear is equipped with a telephone just like the other rooms. The camera operators in the control room on the fourth floor sometimes give a call with instructions during intercourse, asking the prostitute to position herself at a better angle for one of the cameras. Photo: Hana Jakrlova

In her book Big Sister, photographer Hana Jakrlova explores an internet sex club in Prague where the clients get to have sex for free as long as they agree to let their exploits be filmed and broadcast live across the web.

“To me it seems like an extreme example of what is happening to all of us in this internet age,” says Jakrlova, who splits her time between Prague and New York. “There is an absurdity where some people have to have it online to have it become real or exciting.”

Beyond making her struggle with the notion of over-sharing, Jakrlova says the project also challenged her as a photographer and as a woman. While the johns always seemed to behave themselves, she says the acts that played out were hard to be around. Prostitution is legal in the Czech Republic, but that doesn’t make it any less exploitative, she says.

“I was battling certain feelings of guilt, sort of like a war photographer,” she says. “Are you a witness or are you going to be the one who throws away the camera and is going to help the person who is wounded.”

The book is titled after the name of the club, Big Sister, which closed in 2010. Most of the photos were taken between 2006 and 2007. Jakrlova says not all the interactions she witnessed at the club felt staged. There were moments of real affection between the clients and prostitutes, but the fact that those moments were broadcast online always qualified and relativized them, she says.

“There were real moments of humanity,” she says. “But overall I found it quite depressing.”

Several of her other photos also make clear how much the web cameras stick out. There is no attempt to hide or disguise them and instead they become part of the scene. The cameras are not only characters in the action, they also redefine the definition of client and prostitute, says Jakrlova.

Because the internet viewers are the only ones who are financially involved, it changes their role in the relationship, she says. In many ways it makes the viewers the johns and makes the real johns part of the prostitution.

“Hopefully the viewers of my work will go beyond the fact that I just photographed prostitution because that was not the reason I did it,” Jakrlova says. “This explores a lot of issues including who is the prostitute and the prostitutee.”

For Jakrlova, this type of service is indicative of a larger, ominous trend of broadcasting more and more intimacies across the globe via the internet.

“I really do believe that instead of enhancing our lives, the process of sharing online is banalizing our experiences to a certain degree. It takes a conscious effort certainly on my part to be not be wrapped into it and to keep perspective. The virtual world in my opinion will always be secondary. Like the Buddhists say, ‘Here, now.’”

In her new project, Jakrlova says she’s continuing her exploration of how sharing affects the way we experience a moment. The project consists of pasting multiple but altered copies of a single photo side by side, creating a whole new aesthetic. For her it represents the importance people place on sharing an experience instead of engaging with it.

“Some of us forget to pay attention to the original moment,” she says. “And therefore we risk losing the authentic slice of reality.”

Hana Jakrlova, who is represented by Eric Franck Fire Art in London, will have her work displayed in two upcoming shows in Berlin and Prague.

Photos of Detroit Need to Move Beyond Ruin Porn

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<em>Photo: Brian Widdis</em>

Photo: Brian Widdis

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In the mid-’90s, photographer and scholar Camilo Jose Vergara proposed preserving the vacant skyscrapers of once-great downtown Detroit as a ruins park. He called it “An American Acropolis.” The locals called it bunk.

As a symbol of the U.S. economy in general, even before the crash of 2008, Motor City has been the subject of much “ruin porn” – photography that fetishizes urban decay.

“The portrayal Detroiters are used to seeing – crumbling buildings with no people to be seen – is frustrating because they know their city is more than that,” says Detroit photographer Brian Widdis. “Nobody here denies that those things are real, but seeing the city portrayed one-dimensionally – time and again – it’s like hearing the same awful song being played over and over on the radio. Detroiters want to hear a different song once in a while.”

While images of a Detroit-in-bits may be photogenic, and tourists are undeniably still drawn to the decay, for the most part our consumption of collapsing buildings is fleeting, disconnected – gratification on the cheap.

Widdis and Romain Blanquart, another Detroit photographer, think there are other tales to be told. They characterize images of Detroit without people as “soulless.” Four years ago, they began collaborating on Can’t Forget Motor City, a project to focus on the people of Detroit, themes of home and family, how people live and relate to their city.

Detroit Disassembled by Andrew Moore and The Ruins of Detroit by Yves Marchand and Romain Meffre are two of the most well-known photography projects to bask in glorious dilapidation. Sean Doerr made photographs for Dan Austin’s book Lost Detroit, mining the stories behind the city’s “majestic ruins.” You don’t have to search for long on Flickr to find images either.

Ruin porn worships the 33,000 empty houses and 91,000 vacant lots of Detroit and overlooks the 700,000+ residents. It doesn’t come close to describing the city.

“I still do not understand her. The complexity of Detroit makes many give up, move out or move on, if they can. But for others, we want to further that relationship with her,” says Blanquart.

In some ways, Widdis and Blanquart are an unlikely partnership; their photographic styles are quite different, most obviously in that Widdis shoots black and white and Blanquart shoots color. Blanquart, who grew up in Tahiti, France and Italy, moved to Detroit 10 years ago in search of work. He landed a staff position with the Detroit Free Press, set down roots and now concludes he’ll be in Detroit for life. Detroit-born, Widdis moved away as a young boy and only returned recently.

“Within our own histories, there are issues of native vs. non-native and resident vs. outsider,” says Widdis. “We’re also two white guys talking about a city that is over 80% black. So of course, being both insiders and outsiders creates a contradiction that informs our perspective.”

The pair do not claim to encapsulate Detroit with their project, but simply outline a part of it they think has been invisible. Can’t Forget Motor City is about relationships in real life and relationships between images.

“We’re constructing the story through the sequencing of the photos and relationships suggested between the singles and diptychs,” says Widdis.

The project not only avoids predictable and sensational images of a city in decay, but also simplistic and overly positive images. Widdis and Blanquart have found that photographs of utter normality are the best counter to negative, shallow depictions of Detroit.

“Yes, there are empty houses and factories and yes, there are urban farmers with conviction and energy. But on a day-to-day basis, most citizens are barely affected by either of those extremes,” says Widdis

While a book of the project would “make sense,” the photographers are in no rush. Commentary on Detroit and photography has crescendoed in the past couple of years, but that could actually diminish its relevance or reception.

“Detroit is close to bankruptcy, unemployment is stubbornly high, and a shrinking tax base has left the city struggling to provide basic services. There’s a plan to turn off the power to half of the city’s streetlights! So it’s not surprising that in 2012, four years after the auto bailout, housing bubble, and countless news stories about ‘The Ruins of Detroit’ (or its opposite ‘Detroit is Actually Not That Bad’), a kind of ‘Detroit Project’ fatigue has set in,” says Widdis

Ultimately, Can’t Forget Motor City is a project built upon the awareness of photography’s boundaries.

“Mostly people are too busy living their lives to care too much about photography projects – ours or anyone else’s. Photographs don’t fix infrastructure or give people jobs, so our project flies pretty well under the radar,” says Widdis.

Blanquart and Widdis are just trying to do their bit.

“Detroit is not a tragedy. We attempt to show its humanity,” adds Blanquart.

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Recommended reading and listening:

Detroitism, John Patrick Leary, January 15, 2011

Art vs. Ruin Porn, Jennifer Guerra, Michigan Radio, January 12, 2011.

Detroit in Ruins, David Walsh, May 5th. 1997.

A Tribute to Ruins Irks Detroit, James Bennett, New York Times, December 10, 1995.

Artists in Residence, Linda Yablonsky, September 22, 2010.

Scream Portrait Hack Is Photo Booth on Steroids

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Photo: Billy Hunt


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Photographer Billy Hunt thought he had found a way to hack his portrait subjects’ awkwardness: a scream-activated photo booth.

“I’ve done a lot of portrait work and you can see the war in these people’s brains when you try to take their picture,” says Hunt. “People always want to present themselves in a certain way and they make it worse. Much much worse.”

Avoiding this war is easier said than done, however. What he’s found is that screaming just raises the stakes. As a photographer myself, I like to think I could be the kind of candid subject I’m always looking for, but even with the Scream-o-Tron 3000, my instinct toward vanity still kicked in. (My portrait is the last in the gallery above.)

It’s a trend that Hunt has been noticing and is now rolling with. He says people’s vanity, even in their screams, is revealing and allows us to see the struggle of self-perception.

“I think it’s even better,” he says. “The truth is always more weird and interesting than what I would imagine.”

Hunt’s device consists of a microphone threaded through a boom box, which wirelessly fires a camera through a PocketWizard. The technology for the project is Hunt’s brainchild, but the actual engineering was done by a local camera shop in Charlottesville, Virginia, where Hunt is based. He took a large karaoke boom box into Pro Camera and they rigged it so that that when the levels from the input line (where the microphone is connected) senses a certain decibel of noise it puts out a little electric message that triggers a pocket wizard.

By forcing people to stand in front of the camera and take a minute to not only think about their presentation, but also open themselves up, Hunt says he hopes the Scream-o-Tron 3000 portraits can take us back to a time when a picture was not such a fleeting thing.

“100 years ago you got maybe got one picture taken your entire life and you had to sit still for a full minute to get it,” he says. “Now it’s just uploading cell phone pictures to Instagram instantly. I think there is a big need for a different kind of portraiture today. People want images of themselves but they don’t want some cookie cutter idealized notion of themselves.”

To capture the process we all go through in order to “perform” for the camera, Hunt has also started recording slow-motion video that starts rolling before we even open our mouths.

“It’s fascinating to see people build to peak action and then do something different,” he says. “Often times the [intensity] falls off and they are all of a sudden embarrassed or they run. They want to get out the frame as fast as possible.”

From here, Hunt says he hopes to maybe take the show on the road for an extended period of time. He’s already taken it a few places across the country, and the enthusiasm is always consistent.

“I could set it up at galleries. It would be fun to do it campgrounds, Walmart parking lots,” he says. “I just want to make it an experience and allow people to start trying to move beyond their forebrain and into their amygdala, toward their primal emotions.”