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Josef Koudelka has reached acclaimed fame in the United States after his previous books Invasion and Retrospective by Aperture.
A collection of dramatic panoramic landscapes by a leading Magnum photographer.
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An unique occasion for William Klein's collectors.
Provides step-by-step instructions for catching a crocodile in Egypt, sending it back home, and making it a pet.
A richly illustrated look at some of the most important photobooks of the 20th century France experienced a golden age of photobook production from the late 1920s through the 1950s. Avant-garde experiments in photography, text, design, and printing, within the context of a growing modernist publishing scene, contributed to an outpouring of brilliantly designed books. Making Strange offers a detailed examination of photobook innovation in France, exploring seminal publications by Brassaï, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Frank, Pierre Jahan, William Klein, and Germaine Krull. Kim Sichel argues that these books both held a mirror to their time and created an unprecedented modernist visual language. Sichel provides an engaging analysis through the lens of materiality, emphasizing the photobook as an object with which the viewer interacts haptically as well as visually. Rich in historical context and beautifully illustrated, Making Strange reasserts the role of French photobooks in the history of modern art.
A collection of William Klein's hand-painted contacts shows where his genius comes from.
In 1942, a dashing young man who liked nothing so much as a heated game of poker, a good bottle of scotch, and the company of a pretty girl hopped a merchant ship to England. He was Robert Capa, the brilliant and daring photojournalist, and Collier’s magazine had put him on assignment to photograph the war raging in Europe. In these pages, Capa recounts his terrifying journey through the darkest battles of World War II and shares his memories of the men and women of the Allied forces who befriended, amused, and captivated him along the way. His photographs are masterpieces — John G. Morris, Magnum Photos’ first executive editor, called Capa “the century’s greatest battlefield photographer” — and his writing is by turns riotously funny and deeply moving. From Sicily to London, Normandy to Algiers, Capa experienced some of the most trying conditions imaginable, yet his compassion and wit shine on every page of this book. Charming and profound, Slightly Out of Focus is a marvelous memoir told in words and pictures by an extraordinary man.—Print Ed.
Since early in its history, photography has been used by a diversity of travellers, whose collected photographs have been compiled into albums. But Photographic Travel as a genre of art did not appear before the second half of the twentieth century, and had a singular fate and fortune in the US as well as in Europe. The initial objective of some itinerant photographers is to make a book; their shooting practice is conditioned by this objective, as well as their travel experience. Their books – designed as one coherent hole – refer to their wandering experience, even though their stories are never completely free from fiction. In these books, their travels are converged, and their subjectivity is revealed. It is therefore relevant to call such books made of photographies, and possibly words about the travel experience, Photographic Travel books (comparably to Travel books). Danièle Méaux has tackled the task of characterizing this genre.
Lyotard met Jacques Monory in 1972, and the text on him published at that time was the first that Lyotard dedicated to contemporary art since Discourse, Figure. Lyotard's interest in the plastic arts thus fits fully within the setting of his political preoccupations. The artist-protagonist stages the recurring motifs that fascinate Lyotard: the scene of the crime, the revolver, the woman, the victim, glaciers, deserts, stars. The atmosphere of the essays on Monory is "Californian." Monory's imaginary repertoire goes well beyond the masters of modernity and is in line rather with a "modern contemporary surrealism." Both Lyotard and Monory live the "dilemma of Americanization," the America represented by cinema, fashion, novels, music. It is in this atmosphere that Lyotard and Monory will finally evoke their supreme experience of difference: desire and fear, exultation and a profound malaise. The plastic universe of Monory and the aesthetic meditations of Lyotard are in perfect symbiosis. Sarah Wilson's epilogue thoroughly outlines both the history of a friendship and, at the same time, the intellectual and artistic climate of the 1970s.