I have been a Sara Remington fan and friend for years, drawn both to her mouthwatering images and the hilarious, smily, surprising woman that creates them. That said, I guess I should not have been surprised to learn that when Sara shifted her vision to food photography she brought the influence of David Lynch to her imagery. You think you know a woman….Get to know the ingredients of an amazing artist’s mind in the CA article on stands now, or read it HERE.
When Aya and Trevor invited Michal Horevaj to work on the Midori Calendar for the 2nd year in a row it was a different approach this time – Michal worked closely with Trevor from day 1, executing every element of each image. From creating background plates, the whirlwind photoshoot with the gorgeous Aya, to retouching and compositing, Michal’s vision swung in tandem with Trevor through 13 images:
Bill Cash has a passion. Long known as a car photographer, his lust for all things shiny and metal are not confined to automobiles. We were thrilled when Marcelo Plioplis called with a campaign for Exmark Mowers and we learned that he too shares Bill’s passion:
Sneak peek: One of the 12 images Michal Horevaj created for Midori’s “Look Book” – more to come!
Title indulgence to Michael Tompert of Raygun Studio commissioned by photographer Andy Mahr to create a rocket ship for the 2012 Chick-Fil-A calendar, available at a restaurant near you. Here is the A-B-C of building, sans E.C.s-extraterrestrial chickens-though we haven’t given up hope they exist somewhere in the universe:
A) comp:
B) design:
C) build:
D) final:
When Pizzeria Mozza in Los Angeles called Sara Remington to ask her if she would photograph their first cookbook, she said “YES!” immediately. Then it set in. The cheese. The food. The delicious.
Always up for a challenge Sara jumped in without a shot list. The result, a cookbook hot off the press and already receiving national acclaim.
“After R.M., 1985”
When I went to college, I somehow convinced my parents to allow me to be an art major. I never liked art classes in high school….I never really liked art at all. I had a long relationship with photography and my camera, but art was kind of a mystery. The art department at Penn State had no interest in commercial concerns…it was all about teaching the students expression, teaching the the history of art, the history of photography, and giving the students an awareness of the depth of their medium. No internships, nothing commercial was ever brought up. It was all about keeping expression pure, and learning how to tap into where that all came from.
At the same time I started working at the school newspaper. That group of people laughed at the art department…they couldn’t understand the esoteric concerns of that little subculture. They were all about communicating, the craft of photojournalism, and all the students had jobs at big papers lined up for their summer vacation. These folks were into the functional form of art…as functional as it ever really could be.
I was giving a talk to a bunch of students last month and they asked me about my education. I told them about the two sides of my backround, and confessed to them that I really didn’t think my formal education in photography amounted to much….I felt I learned more on the job than any where else. One of the students pointed out that the model I explained to them, this idea of having one foot in something esoteric and dada-ist, and the other foot in a world very funtional and logical, seemed to be a model I have followed throughout my career…even to this day! Looking at the patterns of my career, that observation really has held true: personal projects such as “Sex Machines” and “Echolilia” have been nurtured and blossomed with no commercial concerns whatsoever, while my efforts for hammering out a career with commercial photography were being nurtured with a similar amount of dedication and attention…all going on at the same time.
The happy news here is that the dynamic has shifted…the commercial clients don’t laugh at the art personal projects, they actually have started to embrace them.
“Tethered, 2011”
Graduating high school, I was always somewhat of a motorhead. I had my share of muscle cars, motorcycles and a stack of car magazines.
I knew I wanted a 1963-67 Corvette, and three months prior, my brother had seen a 1967 Corvette parked in front of a store in Mill Valley, CA and he had left a note with a name and phone number saying that I was interested in buying the car. I received a call from the owner, who had decided it was time for him to sell his Corvette. Before I had a chance to open my mouth and negotiate a price, the owner said he would let it go for no less than $2,500, firm!
Of course I could not argue with him, and I agreed on his price. I headed up to Mill Valley with cash in my hand. The only information I had was that the car was blue and my brother said it looked nice.
I met the owner—and the Corvette—and, to my amazement, the car was beautiful. It had 20,000 miles on the odometer, the color was Lyndale Blue with teal interior and 300 horsepower with power brakes, power steering, soft top and a vinyl-covered hard top. The only thing that had ever been replaced on the car was the battery. I bought the car without hesitation, and now I was off to college with my new ride. It had everything I was looking for: personality, style and drivability.
Going to school in Southern California for six years is tough on any car, especially with stop-and-go traffic, congestion, hauling friends around, tying surfboards to the roof and parking in precarious locations. But, no matter where I went, I would always get a thumbs up, and it seems that the Corvette would always break the ice and help me to build friendships around the coolness of the car.
Whatever personality radiated from the ‘67 seemed to pass through to me—from meeting girls to the parking enforcement officer on campus not giving me many deserved tickets. This guy even gave me a special parking spot if I was late because he remembered growing up with a Corvette, and shared many stories about his experiences riding in his dad’s 1963 coupe.
On holidays, I would drive home from Southern California to see my parents in Carmel. I would take Highway 1, which was the longer route and that would add an extra hour to my drive time. But I always convinced myself that taking the coastal route was the most direct route. Maybe it was because the car always seemed to run smoother on Highway 1— or maybe it was the car that made the final decision for me.
A wife, two boys and a few Corvettes later the stories and adventures continued. My passion for automotive design and the engineering of the early 1960s cars—especially Corvettes—amplified. I was officially obsessed.
After college, my 1967 Corvette sat in my parents’ garage for years and years, collecting dust and making a nice home for spiders. Every time we would visit the grandparents, my 3-year-old son Graham would inevitably end up in the garage in the driver’s seat of the 1967 Corvette and pretend like he was driving the Mach 5, just like the cartoon series “Speed Racer.” He always wanted to know how fast the car could drive, if it could drive under water and which button controlled the saw blades that popped out in front of the car. Like a good dad, I told him the car could outrun any bad guy and that the heater control lever controlled the saw blades, but we should only pull it if we ran out of road and had to drive through a forest.
A few years later my son looked me in the eyes and asked why we can’t take the Mach 5 home. At that point, we somehow decided as a family that it was time to bring this old friend home and treat it to a full restoration.
Even with the car parked for over 15 years, it seems the design was a magnet to all ages, especially to our young son. After the restoration was completed in 2005, the whole family planned a summer getaway and trailered the Corvette to the NCRS Nationals in Park City, Utah, where our car received a 97.2 for a Top Flight!
I love looking at Amy Dresser’s work as much as I love talking about it. But for now let me simply introduce “San Francisco Bubbles”.
A joyful moment for me as an agent happens when our artists believe in their beautiful minds.
They so often create visuals that have been stewing in their dreams but are nervous to share.
Is it commercial? Why would I show this to my audience? Do I have an audience? What is the value of personal work?
Dr. Seuss said it best, I think: “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”
Heimo welcomes you to The Luddite Journal
After two hours of hiking on a trail 10 inches wide, dodging vineyard branches and faces with puzzled expressions, Sara Remington captured this beauty and called it a day. As luck would have it, the rain joined her teetering trip back down into the village of Cinque Terre.
I’m so in love with every image of this campaign and admit that I’m also obsessively fascinated by Lyle. This is the perfect storm; breathe in the sultry landscapes shot by Erik Almås for Ariat Jeans featuring Lyle Lovett and other beauties which can be seen in the New section on Erik’s site.
Like a candy melting in your mouth Timothy Archibald’s series has captured the feeling when you know that it is The Last Day Of Summer.
Growing up I wanted to do everything that my older brother Chris could do, only better. When he grew out of his first BMX bicycle and it was handed down to me I was so stoked. I paraded the Tough Neck like people were actually watching, skidded down trails and thought of puddles as a challenge to jump.
Riding alone one day down a dirt road somewhere in Albion I encountered a huge puddle that filled the road so I stood up on my peddles and rode faster. I thought I could get through it. But the deeper I got into the puddle the farther my wheels sank, each stride of my legs dipping my feet further into thick muddy water. Stopping was not an option or I would fall over so I kept going forward. My heart pounding I finally rode out of the puddle, my shoes and legs dripping and wet onto dry brown earth again. And then, I kept on riding.
As TidePool continues to grow we embrace change and move forward stronger for the puddles that stand before us. Today, I couldn’t be more proud standing on this dry brown earth alongside the 8 artists that are the TidePool team.
Best,
Brooke
