War wrecks lives. I hear of my parents’ struggles through wartime as children and it never ceases to break my heart. Innocent children are thrown into the line of fire, made to suffer through adults’ greed, selfishness, intolerance and unreasoning behaviour. This is the primary goal of young Canadian photographer Dominic Nahr’s work. This series, titled “Road to Nowhere”, really captures the strife in Congo - the fears and panic, the fleeing, the sadness, the hopelessness…

“I got into photography because my mother was upset that I never remembered the trips we made as a family. That said, I really didn’t get into photography until I accepted an internship with the local newspaper in Hong Kong called the, South China Morning Post. I have always been attracted to news and history, which is why I became a photographer. I believe that I am shooting for history rather than for current themes.”

Nahr characterizes his photography as falling into “the realm between documentary and photojournalism, because I am a very particular with what I shoot. I follow my instincts when it comes to who and what I want to photograph. I find that I have the ability to understand situations and see shades of gray, rather than black or white. My photographs are heavy with symbolism, because I want to illustrate the egalitarian nature of man. In my personal work, I am not interested in specifically defining the story of the present, but more so simply looking at how people deal with the pressures that have been placed upon them. I try to place myself into the situation, while including my insight of an outsider in the pictures.”

“There are so many aspects of photography that interest me, which is why it will never let go of me. It’s the search for explanations to situations and emotions through the use of the visual language and the recording of moments that define human relationships and define me, as a photographer, to the subjects I photograph.”

Interview by Gwen Norman.

The sun was just coming up over the Normandy coast at about 5 a.m. on June 6, 1944 – D-Day.

The Allied navies – Canadian, British, American – had brought a huge invasion fleet from England to France in total darkness. For men on the ships, first light showed the black shapes of other nearby vessels. For the Germans on shore, the dawn revealed a vast armada poised to invade occupied France.

The military planners had given Canada a major role on D-Day: to take one of the five designated beaches where Allied forces were to land to begin the liberation of Europe from Nazi Germany. The Americans had Utah and Omaha beaches in the west, then came the British at Gold, then the Canadians at Juno Beach and finally the British at Sword on the east.

The greatest seaborne invasion in history was aimed at 80 kilometres of mostly flat, sandy beach along the Normandy coast, west of the Seine River, east of the jutting Cotentin Peninsula. Canada’s objective was right in the middle.

There were about 155,000 soldiers, 5,000 ships and landing craft, 50,000 vehicles and 11,000 planes set for the coming battle. For Canada, 14,000 soldiers were to land on the beaches; another 450 were to drop behind enemy lines by parachute or glider. The Royal Canadian Navy supplied ships and about 10,000 sailors. Lancaster bombers and Spitfire fighters from the Royal Canadian Air Force supported the invasion.

The Canadians who landed on Juno Beach were part of Britain’s Second Army, under the command of British Lt. General Miles Dempsey, who had served in North Africa and Italy with the overall British commander, Bernard Montgomery. The Canadian assault forces were the Third Canadian Infantry Division, commanded by Major General R. F. Keller and the Second Canadian Armoured Brigade, with Brigadier R.A. Wyman in charge.

The units were from across the country; from east to west, from the North Nova Scotia Highlanders, to the Canadian Scottish from Victoria.

The bombardment of the beaches began at 6 a.m. Within an hour the lead landing craft were away from the ships. Two hours later, the German defences at Juno Beach had been shattered and Canada had established the beachhead.

Sourced from Canada At War.

Heinz Edelmann is the graphic designer who designed the album sleeve for The Beatles’ ‘Yellow Submarine’ album. He passed away today, leaving behind a legacy so closely related and iconic of one of the most influential musical acts in contemporary times.

Was there ever anything that you considered so important that you decided to use your professional skills to change the world in that regard?

A clean, straight, well-spaced line of type.

Is design art?

Design is more complex than art. There is good-good design, bad-good design, good-bad design, and bad-bad design. Art is just art.

Sourced from A Tibute to Heinz Edelmann.

Opera is such a classical art form that few youngsters these days are interested in it. They are preoccupied with the endless drone of derivative songs, complete with meaningless lyrics, predictable chord progressions and weak musical structures so pervasive in the contemporary music landscape. But perhaps all this disinterest rises from the misperception that opera is a staid and stuff affair? Perhaps the marketing of these productions are really more geared towards the older generations? If this is really the case, then Vancouver Opera is doing a very good job attempting to appeal to the younger generations. These posters by Edel Rodriguez certainly bring a very youthful flair to the oft-assumed ‘old fashioned’ sensibilities of opera. They are beautifully illustrated indeed.

Do you think that there is a pure place in art?

I don’t know why but when I read this question I just thought of my perineum — I thought it might be nice to start these questions off with a little free association. Looking for truth or purity in oneself through making art is like peeling an infinite onion. Each layer alternates between irony and sincerity. I feel more comfortable being ironic and the audience seems to dig my sincerity. So I give them what they want — I tell them about my perineum. (ArtInfo)

Today, we lost a legendary photographer - a photographer whose work the architectural photography world is greatly indebted to. His name: Julius Schulman. Here he is, photographing Pierre Koenig’s Stahl House, and the fruit of his labour further below.

Shulman began his career in 1936 when he photographed a Richard Neutra house with a vest-pocket camera. He quickly moved on to shoot the work of many prominent architects who later became friends: Rudolf Schindler, Raphael Soriano, Gregory Ain, to name just a few. Shulman remains enthusiastic about architecture (Leo Marmol and Steve Ehrlich are just two of his contemporary favorites), but he’s a little perplexed by the current mania for all things sustainable. “We’ve always had green—those of us who are concerned with the environment,” he says. “So why should we suddenly discover that green is good?” When asked why Koenig never talked about his architecture as sustainable, Shulman says, “In the fifties and sixties it was done automatically. The term green meant you related to the environment. That’s all green means: you are the environment.”

“The reason why this architecture photographs so beautifully is the environmental consideration exercised by the architects,” Shulman says. “It was the sense that here we have beautiful canyons, hillsides, views of the ocean. Everyone loves these photographs because the houses are environmentally involved, and this was before the emphasis on what everyone is calling green.” (from Metropolis)

Schulman was 89 years old. There is a documentary of his work, called Visual Acoustics that is being screened at select cities currently. Do check it out.

I often hear of negative impressions of life in China. Many people not only bad-mouth China’s current and past political landscape, but ridicule contemporary Chinese art, business practices, and indeed, mentality! A lot of these impressions are based on hearsay and so-called “documentaries” seemingly peppered with personal vendetta; these people have never actually stepped foot on China’s soil before, much less lived there. Isn’t the point of a documentary to be utterly on-the-fence? It is journalism - it is only fair that the viewer forms his/her own conclusions and opinions. But it is encouraging that there are people out there who still understand the role of a documentary - people like Nadav Kander - people who actually go to China and try to understand the people there and their lives. And most importantly, he understands that he is an outsider looking in, and offers little opinions of his own:

The Yangtze River, which forms the premise to this body of work, is the main artery that flows 4100miles (6500km) across china, travelling from its furthest westerly point in Qinghai Province to Shanghai in the east. The river is embedded in the consciousness of the Chinese, even for those who live thousands of miles from the river. It plays a significant role in both the spiritual and physical life of the people. More people live along its banks than live in the USA - one in every eighteen people on the planet.

After several trips to different parts of the river, it became clear that what I was responding to and how I felt whilst being in china was permeating into my pictures; a formalness and unease, a country that feels both at the beginning of a new era and at odds with itself. China is a nation that appears to be severing its roots by destroying its past in the wake of the sheer force of its moving “forward” at such an astounding and unnatural pace. A people scarring their country and a country scarring its people.

Although it was never my intention to make documentary pictures, the sociological context of this project is very important and ever present. The displacement of 3 million people in a 600km stretch of the River and the effect on humanity when a country moves towards the future at pace are themes that will inevitably be present within the work. A Chinese man who I became friends with whilst working on the project reiterated what many Chinese people feel: “ Why do we have to destroy to develop?” He explained how in Britain many of us could revisit the place of our childhood, knowing that it will be much the same, it will remind us of our families and upbringing. In China that is virtually impossible, the scale of development has left most places unrecognisable, “Nothing is the same. We can’t revisit where we came from because it no longer exists.”

China’s landscape both economically and physically is changing daily. These are photographs that can never be taken again.

Yuan Shikai (September 16, 1859 – June 6, 1916) was an important Chinese general and politician famous for his influence during the late Qing Dynasty, his role in the events leading up to the abdication of the last Qing Emperor of China, his autocratic rule as the second President of the Republic of China, and his short-lived attempt to revive the Chinese monarchy, with himself as the “Great Emperor of China”.

… Yuan gradually took over the government, building from the support base of his military power. He dissolved the national and provincial assemblies. The House of Representatives and Senate were replaced by the newly formed “Council of State”, with Duan Qirui, his trusted Beiyang lieutenant, as Prime Minister. Yuan quickly reorganized the provincial governments and laid down the foundations for the warlordism that would cripple China over the next two decades.

With his power secure, many of Yuan’s supporters, notably monarchist Yang Du, advocated for a revival of the monarchy, asking Yuan to take on the title of Emperor. Yang reasoned that the Chinese masses had long been used to autocratic rule, and that China’s situation longed for stability that only a monarchy would ensure. Yuan held a carefully selected political convention which unanimously endorsed monarchy on November 20, 1915. By December 12, he proclaimed his reign as Emperor of the Chinese Empire under the era name of Hongxian to begin on January 1, 1916.

These photographs of Yuan Shikai’s coronation as “Great Emperor of China” are taken by John Zumbrum:

“Looking at the history of China over the past century, we see a society which has had its culture and politics changed and remade three or four times. Many of these changes have come with conflict and trauma for all the Chinese people. Connections with a long and proud past have been shaken and severed. Today, creative and intellectually active Chinese are questioning and exploring their relationship with their own culture and history and the meaning of this history for the present and future.”

“In his works Yao Lu addresses two very important aspects of cultural inheritance in China today - the classical legacy of literature and painting stretching back thousands of years and the 20th century legacy of Communism, in particular the Culture Revolution. Each of these Chinese Landscapes refers to an individual classical painting, subtly transposing them into modern realities. Other kind of archetypes and visual iconography become the subjects for his works referencing the Cultural Revolution and the anticipation of an unknown future.” (FotoFest)

In recent years, contemporary Chinese artists have rise to the main stage and are becoming critically acclaimed for the work they produce. I did not grow up in China, but having been through the tough Math/Science-focused curriculum typical of Asian education systems, I can say with confidence that artistic inclination is not recognised as such and, indeed, very much under-appreciated. Yet, with a society so steeped in culture, tradition and history, contemporary Chinese artists bring a point of view so radically different than what the art world is used to seeing.

I encountered Beijing artist Yue Minjun’s work years ago and it really caught my eye. One of the most important artists of the Chinese avant garde, Yue Minjun’s work is characterized by an exaggerated laughing figure which, upon closer inspection, serves as a portrait of the artist. The expression on these laughing faces, however, contain fear, animosity, and a sense of discomfort that is reaction to the reality in contemporary times.

“The spiritual essence of the silly man originates from the philosophy of Lao Zhuang. Scholars of historical times often display a sense of helplessness when faced with society’s problems, most choose to give up. I feel that the act of giving up is a state of humanity; it prevents one from conflicting with society yet maintaining inner peace. To be able to give all up allows one to be nonchalant and detached. All problems can be solved with laughter-they simply disappear without causing any heartache. This is how one may attain extraordinary peacefulness within his inner self.”

“By employing traditional painting and sculpture techniques, multiple clones of my self-portrait image have been created in order to invent a new idol; similar to the approach of television and movies. When an image is duplicated continuously, the subsequent strength in numbers produces an immense force. Once the image transforms into an idol, I am able to manipulate and utilize the image repeatedly. An idol has a life-force, it often influences our lives and regulates our conduct by setting itself as an example. A contemporary society is an idolized society, hence its culture becomes an idolized culture.”

“We are in a world full of idols. We see them everywhere. Liu Hulan, Lei Feng, Michael Jackson, Marilyn Monroe, Picasso, Stalin and so on and so forth. They stand erect in your heart and your life is under their influence and control. I discovered what each of these people as an idol share in common, spreading his or her own image every where. Just occasionally I simplify and use this method in my art, repeatedly idolizing myself. I long to be an idol, because once a person becomes an idol, he or she can enter into the blood veins of others and control their ideology.”

“I paint people laughing, whether it is a big laugh, a restrained laugh, a crazy-laugh, a near-death laugh or simply laughter about our society: laughter can be about anything. Laughter is a moment when our mind refuses to reason. When we are puzzled by certain things, our mind simply doesn’t want to struggle, or perhaps we don’t know how to think, therefore we just want to forget it.” (Yue Minjun)