Blake currently serves as chair of the ICP-Bard Program in Advanced Photographic Studies.
Noah Morrison, founding member of ICP Center Blackness Now, says the International Center of Photography’s response to their efforts has been superficial.
Tonight, Jillian Steinhauer will be in conversation with Jason Eppink and Andrew Kuo to discuss memes, GIFs, and digital culture at the ICP.
The photographs of both Paul Fusco and Rein Jelle Terpstra explore what happens when a public figure, upon whom has been thrust the hope of millions, disappears.
Founded in 1884, the Camera Club of New York (CCNY) is one of the oldest arts institutions in the city, and in the past couple of years it is enjoying a kind of revival under a new name, Baxter Street at the CCNY.
American Magnum photographer Steve McCurry, best known for his 1984 photograph of an Afghan refugee with piercing green eyes (Sharbat Gula), is one of the most celebrated photojournalists of our time.
There may never have been a better month to see Brazilian art in New York. Last weekend, Frieze brought a taste of São Paulo art galleries Casa Triângulo, Fortes Vilaça, Mendes Wood, Vermelho, and Jaqueline Martins, as well as Rio de Janeiro’s A Gentil Carioca, to Manhattan.
“Wow your accent sounds so amazing,” is a phrase I often hear when people detect my South African accent. Whereas this is usually a compliment — and I accept it graciously — it can also have the effect of creating a distance between me and the other person if they aren’t South African. In short, it can often clarify that they belong to this place and I am an alien in their territory. But as pop star Sting’s pithy “legal alien” phrase comes to mind I quickly snap out of my self-imposed victimization. Of late, however, it has been quite obvious that the art world still propagates a fascination with the “other.”
“Everybody ought to go careful in a city like this,” Joseph Cotten’s character Holly Martins is warned in The Third Man, the classic 1949 film noir that takes place in a war fractured Vienna. The line came into my head while viewing the photographs in Weegee: Murder is My Business at the International Center of Photography (ICP), where corpse after splayed corpse was flashbulb lit on the New York streets, crowds watching in curiousity or strange amusement while lantern-jawed police officers and a fedora-wearing photographer analyzed the scene.