Alex Prager Photography

 

 

 

 

I’ve fallen in love with the photography of Alex Prager. Self-taught through trial and error and operating as a one-woman show, styling and designing the sets, her photography is compelling and massively impressive. Influenced (clearly) by film (David Lynch and Alfred Hitchcock in particular) her images tell of mysterious tales and of beautiful and disturbed females. I was really fighting the urge to put all her images on here. She titles her photographs after names of girls, inviting us to get to know these beautiful creatures. Alex Prager has recently made a short film. You can view Despair here.

 

 

 

 

Clouds Take my breath away

Imaginary Drizzle is a series of photos taken by Carl Kleiner.  I like these photos and his other works a lot. Funny that I came across these photos  as I had just read and seen the photos of Stuart Semple‘s art installation on South Bank. Happy Cloud was an installation of over 2000 smiley face clouds that were released at the Tate Modern on 25 February. The best art installations are always the ones that alter your perspective and change your environment.

The happy clouds reminded me of some cute little jewellery pieces. Clouds, like rainbows make such nice designs. They remind you of being a child. I am quite sure the cloud is one of the first shapes you learn to draw. In reality a cloudy sky isn’t great but the magic of clouds lies in the marshmallow fluffiness and the desire to dive into them. I like sitting by the window on airplanes on daytime flights because I love looking at the clouds and going off on a bit of a daydream. For awhile I was obsessed with taking photographs of clouds and have an album on my lomohome dedicated to clouds.

Cloud necklace by Kyoko Hashimoto

Finest Imaginary Cloud Earrings

And for those with their heads in the clouds, try lying on some cuddly clouds instead. I love Donna Wilson‘s cloud cushions- available in three colours.

I am enjoying having a night in listening to Gui Boratto’s Take My Breath Away. The melodic synths are putting me in quite a dreamy mood, securing my cotton wool head a place in the clouds.

The Magician that is Tim Walker

My friend Claire came to stay the other day and we were talking about exhibitions that stood out recently.

Mine was the Tim Walker exhibition at The Design Museum. It was a concise collection but I remember the amount of pleasure walking through the rooms being surrounded by his fantastical images. 

There is something so quintessentially British about his images. They always remind me of Alice in Wonderland and just the magical, surreal and pure wonderful. 

It’s amazing that he is able to create so much magic and fantasy through his photos alone. By default I tend to look towards books and film (Celine and Julie Go Boating spring to mind) to disappear into a world where anything was possible but these photos evoke the same magic in me and beyond…as they inspire me to dress up.

Light and Darkness

I had some films processed today and amidst the snow and slush, I remember that crisp Autumn day when we walked down Kingsland Road and into Geffrye Museum. The light was so beautiful. 

Here lies the magic of having your films processed. They take you back through the seasons.

It’s cold and beautifully cinematic

I quite cherish January when excessive everything comes to a halt. When it gets properly cold and you almost certainly step out onto icey pavements, you just have to slow down and absorb. I love the silence that comes with the cold weather. The sort of quiet that creates a sense of space, even in a city like London.  It is during these times that I feel the urge to listen to quieter sounds, to stay in and to get cosy under the covers.

Tonight  I’ve put on Olafur Arnaulds loudly so that my room is filled with the sounds of his computer explorations in strings and the piano. I am in the mood for beautiful and haunting images. Yesterday, I spent most of the day listening to Paavoharju and ended the day by watching Twin Peaks again. At the moment I am overcome by stillness and slowness.

Something in the music in Laulu Laakson Kukista reminds me of a French film I watched a few years ago. I remember how it had such a residual effect on me that I thought about the film for days and weeks. I am also reminded of the Lee Jones mix on Resident Advisor and I particularly love that Golden the Pony Boy is in the mix. For the longest time I could not remember where I’d heard it from until I started seeing the scenes from the magical  Science of Sleep in my head.

These are sounds and images I’d like to wrap myself in when the days are short and it’s quietly freezing. These are the senses that need to be filled to keep me blissful.

Memory of Light

It’s funny how quickly the weather changes in a day. I woke up today to a beautiful Autumn’s day. Clear, blue skies. I remember stopping and pausing. Looking up and staring into the golden sun. I saw the slow and graceful fall of a yellow leaf. But I know not what leaf it was.

When it got dark this evening, I thought that it had gotten pretty cold. I wished I brought my mittens out. It properly felt like winter. And then it snowed. In October, it snowed. I remembered that it was only in April that it last snowed in London.

I felt like I’d gone through a year in a single day today. I found some beautiful photos by Cori Kindred, taken on her polaroid. I love how sunsplashed the photos are. This one in particular captured the loss I felt, that memory of this morning’s Autumn day.

I decided to put on the Resident Advisor podcast by Lee Jones. It felt right to sit here on the first winter day of the year, listening to beautiful cinematic music and admiring these images.

Analogue Fun in a Digital Age

Amelie remains one of my favourite films, mainly because of Nino’s obsession with collecting discarded photos of strangers from photo booths.

I have always been a big fan of the past and the future. The present somehow does not hold as much appeal. Prior to my little trip to Berlin I was excited to hear that there still exists analogue photo booths in the city. I did my research to find these spots and wrote it in my little notebook of addresses that I wanted to seek out.

Imagine my surprise and happiness when on our first day of properly venturing out in the city, we stumbled upon a booth that was not on my list. Not far from the East Side Gallery, we followed the people ahead of us and walked into Bar 25 (also on the list) by turning a corner and going through a side door. We found ourselves in this little spot of treats. An old, disused dodgem sat on a platform, a couple of swings hung from the branches of these huge tree and an old fotoautomat booth. 

I have always been a big fan of analogue photos but due to the cost of processing, I forgot the joy in taking photos on film until this trip. Sometimes the beauty in the waiting time is that you forget what photos were taken and when you collect them, it is a surprise. And just as surprising is taking photos in an old booth. The sound of the flashing going off and the gentle whirr of the booth while it processes your photos. This is what I’ll hear when I think of Berlin.

Recently, at the Tate Modern, I saw an exhibition of Seydou Keita’s photographs. A studio photographer from Mali, I thought of how having your photograph taken was such a big occasion. I love his portraits of these people who stood, posing with their props against a patterned background.

                                                                  

I’d love for them to bring back the old fotoautomat booths. While it is nice to have the option to get a really decent photo of yourself in the digital booths, they lack the spontaniety and romantic sense of the analogue booths.