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DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
DOCUMENT
No. 3
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
URS FISCHER PROBLEM PAINTINGSOME OF OUR FAvORITE ChARACTES FROM DAWSON TO DAWN WEINER COMpLETE ThE FINAL SEqUAL
JUSTIN BOND GET ALL YOUR PEARLSWhAT TypE OF LOCkER NOTES DID ThEy REALLy RECEIvE
DOUBLE FACEChEF AND SOMETIMES DRUg-ADDICT BRANDON BALTzLEy DESCRIBES hIS pERFECT RECIpE
MARK MORRISROELEE hIRSCh DIRECTOR OF ThE BULLy pROjECT DESICRIBES hIS TIME gROWINg Up
JD SAMSON ETERNAL YOUTHALAN hOLLINghURST BOOkER pRIzE WINNINg AUThOR ON ChILDhOOD
WADE GUYTONpERENIAL ART MEME jAMES FRANCO CURATES hIS Up AND COMINg ARTISTS INCLUDINg LAUREL NACADATE
GORE VIDALS FAVORITE COVERSSOME OF OUR FAvORITE ChARACTES FROM DAWSON TO DAWN WEINER COMpLETE ThE FINAL SEqUAL
JUERGEN TELLERWhAT TypE OF LOCkER NOTES DID ThEy REALLy RECEIvE
HARMONY KORINES FAVORITE MOVIESChEF AND SOMETIMES DRUg-ADDICT BRANDON BALTzLEy DESCRIBES hIS pERFECT RECIpE
BLACK CUTSLEE hIRSCh DIRECTOR OF ThE BULLy pROjECT DESICRIBES hIS TIME gROWINg Up
NAOMI CAMBELL AND JACK PIERSONALAN hOLLINghURST BOOkER pRIzE WINNINg AUThOR ON ChILDhOOD
PIER PAOLO PASOLINIpERENIAL ART MEME jAMES FRANCO CURATES hIS Up AND COMINg ARTISTS INCLUDINg LAUREL NACADATE
JENNIFER CONNELYSOME OF OUR FAvORITE ChARACTES FROM DAWSON TO DAWN WEINER COMpLETE ThE FINAL SEqUAL
BROTHERS QUAYWhAT TypE OF LOCkER NOTES DID ThEy REALLy RECEIvE
5
7
9
16
18
24
27
29
36
58
64
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79
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 4
U R S F I S C H E R
PROBLEM PAINTING
U R S F I S C H E R l E F t a C a R E E R w o R k I n g a lo n g S I d E P I tat E C a b I n R E S t v E n I m E
v o l U P ta t E m q U I t E S C o m n I m P o S I d E R I o R E P R at U R v E l l I q U at U R U n t R a E C t U R
a b o R E S t I o. a l I q U I S E x P E C o m n I m E t R E C a b o R R U n t a U t v I t q U E n o n S E q U a
o m n I H I l l a C o n E n o n
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport,
No. 5
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 6
No. 7
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 8
GET ALL YOUR
PEARLSJUSTIN BOND
Culture Critique
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the en-vironment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually min-iaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality—photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid—and a wider public. The photograph in a book is, obviously, the image of an image. But since it is, to begin with, a printed, smooth object, a photograph loses much less of its essential qual-ity when reproduced in a book than a painting does. Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker’s film, Si j’avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on
phOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
No. 9
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the en-vironment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually min-iaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality—photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid—and a wider public. The photograph in a book is, obviously, the image of an image. But since it is, to begin with, a printed, smooth object, a photograph loses much less of its essential qual-ity when reproduced in a book than a painting does. Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker’s film, Si j’avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the en-vironment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually min-iaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality—photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid—and a wider public. The photograph in a book is, obviously, the image of an image. But since it is, to begin with, a printed, smooth object, a photograph loses much less of its essential qual-ity when reproduced in a book than a painting does. Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker’s film, Si j’avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on
all In all I woUld
not HavE mISSEd
tHIS CEntURy
FoR tHE woRld In all I woUld
not HavE mISSEd
tHIS CEntURy
FoR tHE woRld
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 10
No. 1 1
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are the most mysterious of all the objects that up, and thicken, the environment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ide-al arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually min-iaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality—photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid—and a wider public. The photograph in a book is, obviously, the image of an image. But since it is, to begin with, a printed, smooth object, a photograph loses much less of its essential qual-ity when reproduced in a book than a painting does. Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker’s film, Si j’avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on photographs of all sorts and themes, suggests a
DOUBLEFACE
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not like being educated by older, more arti-sanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of confinement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photographic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an anthology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and tele-vision programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of
Horst aperendi tatium aut rernamentis sequis nobis explitio
blacit maxim eiuratqui autendunt, conse
prereperesti HorstphOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 1 2
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the en-vironment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating
people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums,
FOR MANY DECADES THE MOST INFLUENTIAL WAY OF ARRANGING AND USUALLY MINIATURIzING PHOTOGRAPHS
No. 13
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
GaBBana.
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 1 4
M a R k M O R R I S R O E
m a R k m o R R I S R o E l E F t a C a R E E R w o R k I n g
a lo n g S I d E P I tat E C a b I n R E S t v E n I m E
v o l U P ta t E m q U I t E S C o m n I m P o S I d E R I o R
E P R at U R v E l l I q U at U R U n t R a E C t U R
a b o R E S t I o. a l I q U I S E x P E C o m n I m E t
R E C a b o R R U n t a U t v I t q U E n o n S E q U a
o m n I H I l l a C o n E n o n n o n E S t a l I a
C U P tat I S t S I m I n C to o m n I S d o l U P ta m F U g I t
q U o S t I o. I tat U R E S t o m n I H I t S I t q U I a S E a
I U S E x P l I C I U S a m n at I o n P l at I a E P U d a E m o lo
b l a n I m a I o R R o a P E R S P E R R U P t U R n o n S E
R E S I t E x E t P R E R U m a P I E n I S E t I P S a P E d E a
d E l I g E n d a E E v E R E S t I o v o l U P t I Ib y J a C k P I E R S o n
No. 15
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
CINIA BIBeNDUM SUSCIPIT SeD, veHICULA UT TeLLUS. SUSPeNDISSe MoLLIS MASSA ID NUNC CoMMoDo eGeSTAS. veSTIBULUM MeTUS SAPIeN, vIverrA
vITAe MALeSUADA ID, orNAre qUIS LIBero.
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 1 6
ovide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpretation, as are hand-made visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually min-iaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality—photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid—and a wider public. The photograph in a book is, obviously, the image of an image. But since it is, to begin with, a printed, smooth object, a photograph loses much less of its essential qual-ity when reproduced in a book than a painting does. Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker’s film, Si j’avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on photographs of all sorts and themes, suggests a subtler and more rigorous way of packaging (and enlarging) still photographs. Both the order and the exact time for looking at each photograph are imposed; and there is a gain in visual legibility and emotional impact. But photographs tran-scribed in a film cease to be collectable objects, as they still are when served up in books.
Photographs furnish evidence. Something we hear about, but doubt, seems proven when we’re shown a photograph of it. In one version of its utility, the camera record incriminates. Starting with their use by the Paris police in the murderous roundup of Communards in June 1871, photographs became a useful tool of mod-ern states in the surveillance and control of their increasingly mobile populations. In another ver-sion of its utility, the camera record justifies. A photograph passes for incontrovertible proof that a given thing happened. The picture may distort; but there is always a presumption that something exists, or did exist, which is like what’s in the picture. Whatever the limitations (through amateurism) or pretensions (through artistry) of the individual photographer, a photo-graph—any photograph—seems to have a more innocent, and therefore more accurate, relation to visible reality than do other mimetic objects.
FoR many dECadES tHE book HaS bEEn tHE moSt InFlU EntIal way oF aRRangIng (and USUally mIn IatURIzIng) PHotogRaPHS, tHEREby gUaRantE EIng tHEm longEvIty
No. 17
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatev-er else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse trium-phantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic im-age., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the environ-ment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photo-graphed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, ha-bituating people to abstract the world into printed words,
is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a men-tal object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpretation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and draw-ings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of re-ality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, re-touched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper objects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, projected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
FoR many dECadES tHE book HaS bEEn tHE moSt InFlU EntIal way oF aRRangIng (and USUally mIn IatURIzIng) PHotogRaPHS, tHEREby gUaRantE EIng tHEm longEvIty
Shirt by Brioni. Jacket by
Thom Browne. Watch by
Cartier. Bracelet by
Dior. Fragrance by Dolce &
Gabbana.
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 1 8
JD SaMSONETERNaL
YO UTH
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by pho-tographs is not like being educated by older, more artisanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photo-graphed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of con-finement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photo-graphic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an an-thology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into join-ing the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photograph-ic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the environment we recognize as mod-ern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not like being educated by older, more arti-sanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of confinement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photographic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an anthology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and tele-vision programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of
Horst aperendi tatium aut rernamentis sequis nobis explitio
blacit maxim eiuratqui autendunt, conse
prereperesti HorstphOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
No. 19
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013Shirt by Brioni. Jacket by
Thom Browne. Watch by Cartier. Bracelet by Dior.
Fragrance by Dolce & Gabbana.
20
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
2 1
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 2 2
WaDEGUY TON
BaCk IN BLaCk
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by pho-tographs is not like being educated by older, more artisanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photo-graphed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of con-finement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photo-graphic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an an-thology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into join-ing the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photograph-ic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the environment we recognize as mod-ern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not like being educated by older, more arti-sanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of confinement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photographic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an anthology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and tele-vision programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of
Horst aperendi tatium aut rernamentis sequis nobis explitio
blacit maxim eiuratqui autendunt, conse
prereperesti HorstphOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
No. 23
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
GaBBana.
No. 24
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the en-vironment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world
so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls,
FOR MANY DECADES THE MOST INFLUENTIAL WAY OF ARRANGING AND USUALLY MINIATURIzING PHOTOGRAPHS
No. 25
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No. 2 6
MYFaVORITE COVERS
Gore Vidal tatium aut rernamentis sequis nobis explitio blacit maxim eiur
Atqui autendunt, conse prereperesti HorstphOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not like being educated by older, more arti-sanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye chang-es the terms of confinement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photographic en-terprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an anthology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s
No. 27
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MaRIaCaRLaUNRAVELS
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photographer Juergen Teller fashion editor Jay Massacrethair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model
Kristen Owen at Select
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MY FaVORITE
FILMSHARMONY
KORINEtatium aut rernamentis sequis nobis
explitio blacit maxim eiurAtqui autendunt, conse prereperesti Horst
phOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
34
BLaCk CUTS
photographer Horst P. Horst fashion editor Jacob Khair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model Kristen Owen at Select pho-
tographer’s assistants James Anastasi and Henry Bouquet fashion assis-
tants Ellie Campagna digital capture Jame Smith at ProVisionretouching Kevin Roff production MAP Ltd
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 3 5
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No. 36
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
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No. 40
p IER paOLO
paSOLINI
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by pho-tographs is not like being educated by older, more artisanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photo-graphed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of con-finement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photo-graphic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an an-thology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into join-ing the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photograph-ic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the environment we recognize as mod-ern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not like being educated by older, more arti-sanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of confinement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photographic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an anthology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and tele-vision programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments,
Horst aperendi tatium aut rernamentis sequis nobis explitio
blacit maxim eiuratqui autendunt, conse
prereperesti HorstphOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
No. 41
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 42
a MaN
aT HIS BEST
TONY WaRD WORkING
MaNphotographer Horst P. Horst fashion editor Jacob K
hair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model Kristen Owen at Select pho-
tographer’s assistants James Anastasi and Henry Bouquet fashion assis-
tants Ellie Campagna digital capture Jame Smith at ProVisionretouching Kevin Roff production MAP Ltd
No. 43
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No. 44
bject, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to car-ry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the en-vironment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience, and the camera is the ide-al arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually min-iaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality—photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid—and a wider public. The photograph in a book is, obviously, the image of an image. But since it is, to begin with, a printed, smooth object, a photograph loses much less of its essential qual-ity when reproduced in a book than a painting does. Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker’s film, Si j’avais quatre dromadaires
WITH VIONNET I WOULD LIKE TO BRING BACK TO LIFE AN IDEA THAT IS NOT FORGETTING ITS HISTORY
No. 4 5
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 46
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet
No. 4 7
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
bject, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to car-ry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the en-vironment we recognize as modern. Photographs really are experience, and the camera is the ide-al arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like
knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
WITH VIONNET I WOULD LIKE TO
BRING BACK TO LIFE AN IDEA
THAT IS NOT FORGETTING ITS
HISTORY
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 4 8
SUITABLEphotographer Horst P. Horst fashion editor Jacob K
hair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model Kristen Owen at Select pho-
tographer’s assistants James Anastasi and Henry Bouquet fashion assis-
tants Ellie Campagna digital capture Jame Smith at ProVisionretouching Kevin Roff production MAP Ltd
No. 49
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
GaBBana.
No. 50
No. 5 1
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by
CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne.
Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by
DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier.
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 52
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior.
Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch
by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana.
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THE RULES
OF ATTRACTION
BRET EaSTON
ELLIS FICTION
phOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
CHAPTER
The Moment Was Strange. There was no reality in the bar; there was no longer solidity; all things merged, one into the other. Time had stopped.
he sat alone in a booth, listening to the music which came out of a red plastic box, lighted within. Some of the music he remembered from having heard it in other places. But the words he could no longer understand. he could recall only vague associations as he got drunk, listening to music.
his glass of whiskey and water and ice had slopped over and the top of the table was interesting now: islands and rivers and occasional lakes made the top of the table a continent. With one finger he traced designs on the wooden table. he made a circle out of a lake; he formed two rivers from the circle; he flooded and destroyed an island, creating a sea. There were so many things that could be done with whiskey and water on a table.
The jukebox stopped playing.he waited a long time for it to start again. he took a swallow of the whiskey to help him wait. Then
after a long time, in which he tried not to think, the music started. A record of a song he remembered was playing and he allowed himself to be taken back to that emotional moment in time when . . . when? he tried hard to remember the place and the time, but it was too late. Only a pleasant emo-tion could be recalled.
he was drunk.Time collapsed. years passed before he could bring the drink to his mouth. Legs numb, elbows
detached, he seemed to be supported by air, and by the music from the jukebox. he wondered for a moment where he was. he looked about him but there were no clues, only a bar in a city. What city?
he made a new island on the tabletop. The table was his home and he felt a strong affection for the brown scarred wood, for the dark protectiveness of the booth, for the lamp which did not work because there was no bulb in the socket. he wanted never to leave. This was home. But then he finished his drink, and was lost. he would have to get another one. how? he frowned and thought. A long time went by and he did not move, the empty glass in front of him.
At last he came to a decision. he would leave the booth and go talk to the man behind the bar. It was a long voyage but he was ready for it.
he stood up, became dizzy, and sat down again, very tired. A man with a white apron came over to his table; he probably knew about liquor.
“you want something?”yes, that was what he wanted, something. he nodded and said slowly so that the words would be
clear, “Want some whiskey, water, bourbon, water . . . what I been drinking.”The man looked at him suspiciously. “how long you been here?”he didn’t know the answer to that. he would have to be sly. “I have been here for one hour,” he
said carefully.“Well, don’t go passing out or getting sick. people got no consideration for others when it comes
to doing things like that for other people to clean up.”he tried to say that he did have consideration for others but it was no use. he could not talk
anymore. he wanted to get back home, to the tabletop. “I’m Ok,” he said, and the man went away.But the top of the table was no longer home. The intimacy had been dispelled by the man with
the apron. Rivers, lakes, islands, all were unfamiliar; he was lost in a new country. There was nothing for him to do except turn his attention to the other people in the barroom. Now that he had lost his private world, he wanted to see what, if anything, the others had found.
The bar was just opposite him and behind it two men in white aprons moved slowly. Four five six people stood at the bar. he tried to count them but he could not. Whenever he tried to count or to read in a dream, everything dissolved. This was like a dream. Was it a dream?
A woman wearing a green dress stood near him, large buttocks, dress too tight. She stood very close to a man in a dark suit. She was a whore. Well well well. . . .
he wondered about the other booths. he was at the center of a long line of booths, yet he knew nothing about the people in any of them. A sad thought, to which he drank.
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Then he stood up. Unsteadily, but with a face perfectly composed, he walked toward the back of the barroom.
The men’s room was dirty and he took a deep breath before he entered so that he would not have to breathe inside. he saw himself reflected in a cracked distorted mirror hung high on the wall. Blond hair, milk white, bloodshot eyes staring brightly, crazily. Oh, he was someone else all right. But who? he held his breath until he was again in the barroom.
he noticed how little light there was. A few shaded bulbs against the walls and that was all, ex-cept for the jukebox, which gave not only light but wonderful colors. Red blood, yellow sun, green grass, blue sky. he stood by the jukebox, his hands caressing the smooth plastic surface. This was where he belonged, close to light and color.
Then he was dizzy. his head ached and he could not see clearly; stomach contracted with sharp nausea.
he held his head between his hands and slowly he pushed out the dizziness. But then he pushed too hard and brought back memory; he had not wanted to do that. quickly he returned to the booth, sat down, put his hands on the table, and looked straight ahead. Memory began to work. There had been a yesterday and a day before, and twenty-five years of being alive before he found the bar.
“here’s your drink.” The man looked at him. “you feeling all right? If you don’t feel good you better get out of here. We don’t want nobody getting sick in here.”
“I’m all right.”“you sure had a lot to drink tonight.” The man went away.he had had a lot to drink. It was past one and he had been in the bar since nine o’clock. Drunk, he
wanted to be drunker, without memory, or fear.“you all by yourself?” Woman’s voice. he didn’t open his eyes for a long time, hoping that if he
could not see her she could not see him. A basic thing to wish but it failed. he opened his eyes.“Sure,” he said. “Sure.” It was the woman in the green dress.her hair was dyed a dark red and her face was white with powder. She too was drunk. She leaned
unsteadily over his table and he could see between her breasts.“May I sit down?”he grunted; she sat opposite him.“It’s been an awfully hot summer, hasn’t it?” She made conversation. he looked at her, wondering
if he could ever assimilate her into the world of the booth. he doubted it. For one thing, there was too much of her, and none of it simple.
“Sure,” he said.“I must say you’re not very talkative, are you?”“guess not.” The intimacy of the booth was gone for good now. he asked, not caring, “What’s your
name?”She smiled, his attention obtained. “Estelle. Nice name, isn’t it? My mother named all of us with
names like that. I had one sister called Anthea and my brother was called Drake. I think Drake is a very attractive name for a man, don’t you? he’s in women’s wear. What’s your name?”
“Willard,” he said, surprised that he was giving her his right name. “jim Willard.”“That’s a nice name. Sounds so English. I think English names are attractive. In origin I’m Spanish
myself. Oh, I’m thirsty! I’ll call the waiter for you.”The waiter, who seemed to know her, brought her a drink. “just what the doctor ordered.” She
smiled at him. Under the table her foot touched his. he moved both feet under his chair.She was not distressed. She drank rapidly. “you from New york?”he shook his head and cooled his forefinger in the half-empty glass.“you sound sort of Southern from the way you talk. Are you from the South?”“Sure,” he said, and he took his forefinger out of the glass. “I’m from the South.”“It must be nice down there. I’ve always wanted to go to Miami but I never seem to get away from
the city. you see, all my friends are here and I can’t very well leave them. I did have a friend once, a
59
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THE STREET SITTING
photographer Cedric Buchet fashion editor Sabina Schrederhair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model
Kristen Owen at Select photographer’s assistants James
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Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
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Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
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Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior.
Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne.
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No. 66
GROwING UP, BEING wATCHED FROM THE OUTSIDE... IT’S KIND OF VERY TAxING AND MAYBE I SHOULD jUST DO SOME KIND OF MANUAL LABOR-IT MIGHT BE MORE RELAxING. BUT I CAN’T, IT’S NOT IN MY NATURE.
J E N N I F E R C O N N E L LY
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I DON’T ALWAYS LIKE MY
OWN BEHAVIOR.
I HAVEN’T KNOWN
ANYONE WHO IS
PERFECT ALL THE
TIME.READ
No. 69
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Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by pho-tographs is not like being educated by older, more artisanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photo-graphed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of con-finement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photo-graphic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an an-thology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into join-ing the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photograph-ic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the environment we recognize as mod-ern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem
psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treach-erous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic imag-es, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpretation, as are handmade visual statements, like paint-ings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem to invite packaging. They are stuck in albums, framed and set on tables, tacked on walls, pro-jected as slides. Newspapers and magazines feature them; cops alphabetize them; museums exhibit them; publishers compile them.
For many decades the book has been the most influential way of arranging (and usually min-iaturizing) photographs, thereby guaranteeing them longevity, if not immortality—photographs are fragile objects, easily torn or mislaid—and a wider public. The photograph in a book is, obviously, the image of an image. But since it is, to begin with, a printed, smooth object, a photograph loses much less of its essential qual-ity when reproduced in a book than a painting does. Still, the book is not a wholly satisfactory scheme for putting groups of photographs into general circulation. The sequence in which the photographs are to be looked at is proposed by the order of pages, but nothing holds readers to the recommended order or indicates the amount of time to be spent on each photograph. Chris Marker’s film, Si j’avais quatre dromadaires (1966), a brilliantly orchestrated meditation on photographs of all sorts and themes, suggests a subtler and more rigorous way of packaging (and enlarging) still photographs. Both the order and the exact time for looking at each photograph are imposed; and there is a gain in visual legibility and emotional impact. But photographs tran-scribed in a film cease to be collectable objects, as they still are when served up in books.
Photographs furnish evidence. Something we hear about, but doubt, seems proven when we’re shown a photograph of it. In one version of its utility, the camera record incriminates. Starting with their use by the Paris police in the murderous roundup of Communards in June 1871, photographs became a useful tool of mod-ern states in the surveillance and control of their increasingly mobile populations. In another ver-sion of its utility, the camera record justifies. A photograph passes for incontrovertible proof that a given thing happened. The picture may distort; but there is always a presumption that some-thing exists, or did exist, which is like what’s in the picture. Whatever the limitations (through amateurism) or pretensions (through artistry) of the individual photographer, a photograph—any
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MARIPOL
photographer Maripol fashion editor Parinaz Mogadassihair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble
No. 7 1
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Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
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Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
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Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom
Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe &
No. 74
C O M p O S I T I O Nphotographer David Armstrong fashion editor Tom Van Dorpe
hair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model Kristen Owen at Select re-
touching Kevin Roff production MAP Ltd
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No. 75
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013 Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 76
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
No. 77
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
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78
HOR STTHE
FUTURIST
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by pho-tographs is not like being educated by older, more artisanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photo-graphed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of con-finement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photo-graphic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an an-thology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and television programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into join-ing the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photograph-ic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of all the objects that make up, and thicken, the environment we recognize as mod-ern. Photographs really are experience captured, and the camera is the ideal arm of consciousness in its acquisitive mood.
To photograph is to appropriate the thing photographed. It means putting oneself into a certain relation to the world that feels like knowledge—and, therefore, like power. A now notorious first fall into alienation, habituating people to abstract the world into printed words, is supposed to have engendered that surplus of Faustian energy and psychic damage needed to build modern, inorganic societies. But print seems a less treacherous form of leaching out the world, of turning it into a mental object, than photographic images, which now provide most of the knowledge people have about the look of the past and the reach of the present. What is written about a person or an event is frankly an interpre-tation, as are handmade visual statements, like paintings and drawings. Photographed images do not seem to be statements about the world so much as pieces of it, miniatures of reality that anyone can make or acquire.
Photographs, which fiddle with the scale of the world, themselves get reduced, blown up, cropped, retouched, doctored, tricked out. They age, plagued by the usual ills of paper ob-jects; they disappear; they become valuable, and get bought and sold; they are reproduced. Photographs, which package the world, seem
Humankind lingers unregenerately in Plato’s cave, still reveling, its age-old habit, in mere images of the truth. But being educated by photographs is not like being educated by older, more arti-sanal images. For one thing, there are a great many more images around, claiming our attention. The inventory started in 1839 and since then just about everything has been photographed, or so it seems. This very insatiability of the photographing eye changes the terms of confinement in the cave, our world. In teaching us a new visual code, photographs alter and enlarge our notions of what is worth looking at and what we have a right to observe. They are a grammar and, even more importantly, an ethics of seeing. Finally, the most grandiose result of the photographic enterprise is to give us the sense that we can hold the whole world in our heads—as an anthology of images.
To collect photographs is to collect the world. Movies and tele-vision programs light up walls, flicker, and go out; but with still photographs the image is also an object, lightweight, cheap to produce, easy to carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peasants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the enemy, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to contain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments,
Horst aperendi tatium aut rernamentis sequis nobis explitio
blacit maxim eiuratqui autendunt, conse
prereperesti HorstphOTOgRAphy By WRITE My NAME
No. 79
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O N T H E
RO C k Sphotographer Cedric Buchet
fashion editor James Valeri
No. 81
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No. 83
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No. 85
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WRAP ME UPphotographer Paul Wetherell fashion editor James Valeri
hair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
No. 8 6
Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by Dior. Fragrance by DolCe & GaBBana. Shirt by Brioni. jacket by Thom Browne. Watch by CarTier. Bracelet by
No. 87
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V E R SaT I L Ephotographer Sofia & Mauro fashion editor Samuel Francois
hair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model Kristen Owen at Select pho-
tographer’s assistants James Anastasi and Henry Bouquet fashion assis-
tants Ellie Campagna digital capture Jame Smith at ProVisionretouching Kevin Roff production MAP Ltd
No. 89
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No. 91
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No. 92
No. 93
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No. 94
Q U a Y B R O T H E R S
m a R k m o R R I S R o E l E F t a C a R E E R w o R k I n g
a lo n g S I d E P I tat E C a b I n R E S t v E n I m E
v o l U P ta t E m q U I t E S C o m n I m P o S I d E R I o R
E P R at U R v E l l I q U at U R U n t R a E C t U R
a b o R E S t I o. a l I q U I S E x P E C o m n I m E t
R E C a b o R R U n t a U t v I t q U E n o n S E q U a
o m n I H I l l a C o n E n o n n o n E S t a l I a
C U P tat I S t S I m I n C to o m n I S d o l U P ta m F U g I t
q U o S t I o. I tat U R E S t o m n I H I t S I t q U I a S E a
I U S E x P l I C I U S a m n at I o n P l at I a E P U d a E m o lo
b l a n I m a I o R R o a P E R S P E R R U P t U R n o n S E
R E S I t E x E t P R E R U m a P I E n I S E t I P S a P E d E a
d E l I g E n d a E E v E R E S t I o v o l U P t I Ib y J a C k P I E R S o n
No. 95
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No. 9 6
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of
all In all I woUld
not HavE mISSEd
tHIS CEntURy
FoR tHE woRld In all I
No. 97
DOCUMENT FALL/WINTER 2013
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of
carry about, accumulate, store. In Godard’s Les Carabiniers (1963), two sluggish lumpen-peas-ants are lured into joining the King’s Army by the promise that they will be able to loot, rape, kill, or do whatever else they please to the ene-my, and get rich. But the suitcase of booty that Michel-Ange and Ulysse triumphantly bring home, years later, to their wives turns out to con-tain only picture postcards, hundreds of them, of Monuments, Department Stores, Mammals, Wonders of Nature, Methods of Transport, Works of Art, and other classified treasures from around the globe. Godard’s gag parodies the equivocal magic of the photographic image., Photographs are perhaps the most mysterious of
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No. 99
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COLLIER
photographer Collier Schorr fashion editor Jacob Khair James Rowe at D+V using Bumble and bumble make-up Hiromi Ueda at Julian Watson Agency model Kristen Owen at Select pho-
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No. 101
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No. 102
A DOCUMENT OF LOVE
June writes about Helmut after his death, “Surrounded by friends saying farewell to Helmut, I suddenly realized I didn’t have a camera. Phil drove me back to the hotel to get it. I held the camera aloft but
my arm wasn’t long enough to get us both in without distortion, so I asked a friend to take the camera from my hand, hold it higher,
and press the button.”
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The morning after.
US_out_7.875x10.875_ms1_0211.indd 1 13/12/11 18:21