Photographer Travels to Darkest Place on Earth for Stunning Milky Way Shoot

Photographer Travels to Darkest Place on Earth for Stunning Milky Way Shoot

A photographer traveled thousands of miles to the darkest place on earth to shoot the night sky.

Professional landscape and astrophotographer Aaron Jenkin captured a stunning timelapse video of the milky way galaxy in Aoraki Mount Cook National Park in New Zealand — which is regarded as one of the darkest places on earth for night photography.

Jenkin’s incredible and awe-inspiring timelapse videos racked up over 3.1 million views on TikTok.

“Aoraki Mount Cook National Park is one of the darkest places for night photography. The area is recognized by the International Dark Sky Association as a dark sky reserve,” Jenkin, who is based in Cornwall, U.K. tells PetaPixel.

“It’s Bortle Class 1, the Bortle Scale measures the brightness of the night sky from 1 to 9. 1 being the darkest available on Earth.”

Jenkin, who has been a full-time photographer for almost a decade, traveled from Cornwall, U.K., to New Zealand to explore and photograph the beautiful landscape.

Jenkin, who offers night photography workshops in Cornwall, faced extremely chilly temperatures to film the timelapse clips.

“There are so many areas of New Zealand free from light pollution, it’s an astrophotographer’s dream,” he says.

“It was winter when I captured the timelapse, so the main challenge was keeping warm. It can get really cold here, I ended up bringing a hot water bottle stuffed up my coat and a mat to sit on,” he continues.

“Apart from briefly filming a Possum on the walk in (unfortunately an invasive species in NZ), I spent the night with all lights off.

“Just watching the stars above, in awe of how much I could see with the unaided eye. I could clearly see The Dark Horse Nebula, and could even make out the dust clouds of the milky way reflected in the water. I’ve never seen such a clear reflection, and after seeing that I knew my timelapse was going to be pretty special.”

More of Jenkin’s work can be found on Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, and his website.

Prints of Jenkin’s image are available on his website shop.


Image credits: All photos by Aaron Jenkin.

10 Emerging Jazz Artists To Watch: Simon Moullier, Mali Obomsawin, Julieta Eugenio, Jeremy Dutton & More

10 Emerging Jazz Artists To Watch: Simon Moullier, Mali Obomsawin, Julieta Eugenio, Jeremy Dutton & More

A festival promoter told Delbert Anderson he didn’t present as Indigenous enough. The trumpeter and his group, DDAT, showed up to the State Fair of Texas in what he calls “the Native American section” — filled with dancers in traditional garb, among other signifiers. DDAT, for their part, donned suits. 

“They immediately assumed that we had some type of traditional feather show,” Anderson, who is of Diné and Navajo descent, tells GRAMMY.com. “They probably thought we were going to show up in regalia or something.”

The promoter asked Anderson whether or not DDAT played traditional music. “No, we don’t,” he responded. “But there are a lot of melodies that are inspired from that.” The promoter didn’t comprehend this — so much so that she went up to Anderson mid-set and shoved a turquoise necklace around his neck. 

Anderson was shocked. “I kind of stopped and said, ‘Excuse me,'” he recalls. “And she just sort of said, ‘You don’t look Native enough.'”

[embedded content]

Read More: Meet Delbert Anderson, A Native American Trumpet Master Interweaving Navajo Melodies With Jazz

Ever good-humored, Anderson brushed off the harassment and tossed the necklace around his white bass player’s neck. Still, he can’t get the incident out of his head. “That’s one of the first times anything like that has happened to me,” he says. “They expect that kind of back-to-the-roots, traditional type of music from anyone who uses the words ‘Native,’ ‘Indigenous’ or ‘tribal.'”

He’s not alone: Many musicians of Indigenous ancestry in his circle — and outside of it — have felt the micro- and macroaggressions come fast and hard. And othering those who identify and market themselves as Indigenous isn’t exclusive to jazz.

Even though Indigenous peoples have been here longer than anyone, they face tension, discomfort and/or unadulterated racism in a slew of genres understood to be American — from country to blues to gospel to hip-hop.

This is despite the fact that all these genres have deep Indigenous roots. Jazz household names Charlie Parker and Thelonious Monk had Native American ancestry. Same with blues musicians like Howlin’ Wolf, Charley Patton and Martha Redbone. In classic rock, you’ve got Jimi Hendrix and Robbie Robertson. The list goes on.

Renata Yazzie. Photo: Darklisted Photography​

Despite this, Diné classical pianist Renata Yazzie says moving through her world is a “scabrous” experience. “The greatest difficulty is not only teaching ignorant people, but willfully ignorant people who refuse to recognize how the elitism of classical music has affected historically underrepresented groups,” she tells GRAMMY.com.

Why do musicians who identify as Indigenous, like Anderson, Yazzie, Mali Obomsawin, Adrian Wall, JJ Otero, James Pakootas, Julia Keefe, Warren Realrider and Raven Chacon — all of whom spoke to GRAMMY.com for this story — experience such tension, both from within their communities and in the wider world?

The answers are manifold, varying wildly between artists and their tribal affiliations. Here are some of the ways that artists of Indigenous descent have experienced unease in the American music landscape — and how they overcame it.

Howlin’ Wolf. Photo: Gilles Petard/Redferns​ via Getty Images

Considering The Course Of History

Since time immemorial, Indigenous peoples have developed an impossibly broad array of musical traditions. And with the arrival — or invasion, depending on who you ask — of European settlers came trade, fighting over boundaries and the introduction of European instruments.

At mission schools, Europeans taught Native Americans to compose on European instruments. This led to students composing Indigenous usic with those tools and methods. Works like 1845’s Indian Melodies featured traditional Native tunes composed with European notation.

In the back-half of the 19th century, the primordial stew of Black American music was percolating — the one that would give the world jazz, blues and other idioms. And the pervasive invisibility felt by Indigenous peoples meant they had a point of commiseration with Black musical communities.

“Black and Indigenous people have been in community with each other since the beginning, since Black Africans were forcibly brought here for slavery,” jazz bassist Mali Obomsawin, who is affiliated with the Odanak Abenaki First Nation tribe, tells GRAMMY.com. “I think people tend to forget that many of the founding blues and jazz artists were both Black and Native.”

This confluence of heritages and traditions has been obscured by what Obomsawin calls a larger obfuscation of Indigenous identity — coupled with anti-Blackness. “If someone like Thelonious Monk, who was Tuscarora, was to be like, ‘I’m Native American,’ everyone would be like, ‘No, you’re Black,'” Obomsawin says.

“It was not desirable for Natives to be higher in numbers, whereas it was desirable for Black folks to be higher in numbers because they were considered property,” she continues. “That means that slave owners and human traffickers had more property value. Whereas the more people that were Native, the more people the government was accountable to.”

Mildred Bailey. Photo: Bettmann/Contributor via Getty Images

Julia Keefe, a jazz vocalist and enrolled member of the Nez Perce tribe, is acutely aware of the crossroads of Blackness and Indigenousness in early American music.

“There is a historical precedent for Native Americans in jazz,” she tells GRAMMY.com, citing Indigenous people who learned European music in boarding and residential schools. “Around the same time that jazz was taking off in the ’20s and ’30s, there is evidence of Native people forming their own big bands.”

One lesser-known early Indigenous jazz musician was Mildred Bailey, a singer of Native descent from the Coeur d’Alene tribe.

“She was the first one to sing in front of a big band,” Keefe notes. “You think about all the female vocalists — Ella FitzgeraldBillie HolidaySarah Vaughan — who got their start singing in front of big band, and it was because there was such an appetite for that sound by Mildred Bailey singing in front of the Paul Whiteman Orchestra.”

Oscar Pettiford. Photo: Michael Ochs Archives via Getty Images

But Bailey is just the tip of the iceberg in this regard. Besides Parker and Monk, there’s a lengthy list of jazz artists of Indigenous descent — including saxophonist Jim Pepper, bassist Oscar Pettiford and trumpeter and multi-instrumentalist Don Cherry.

And jazz is but one piece of the puzzle: Indigenous artists can be found in all genres. But at times, proudly broadcasting their heritage in these spaces has proved difficult in the face of divisive politics.

Navigating Political Divides

While Anderson can only speak for his local scene near Farmington, New Mexico, he has a clear vantage on what it’s like to market oneself as a Native American musician.

“I think as time progressed from the ’80s until now, there were a lot of stronger Indigenous voices that came out,” he says, citing activist causes like the American Indian Movement. “The moment you try to take any stand for Native American something, people tend to take those words as ‘You’re a hardcore activist.'”

“I mean, I could go outside right now and say, ‘I stand with Standing Rock,'” he adds. “Immediately, people are going to think of me as a negative force here.”

And while that scene comprised a healthy variety of perspectives and genres, it attracted judgement from the outside. “I think a lot of the people who were involved didn’t really realize what they were creating,” Anderson says. “It really looked like they were making some type of coalition — or Indigenous organization — that’s going to fight everything that goes in their path.”

Delbert Anderson. Photo: Maurice Johnson

This atmosphere weighed heavily on Anderson’s career in 2013, when DDAT began to market themselves as “Native American jazz.” (James Pakootas, their MC, is Indigenous; bassist Michael McCluhan is white; drummer Nicholas Lucero is Hispanic.)

“We immediately got thrown into this pool of musicians that were stirring up this big group or organization,” Anderson says. “The moment we said ‘We are Native American jazz,’ they immediately assumed we’re part of this Native American music scene, and it lost us gigs because they thought we were there to lecture the audience.”

Anderson saw his more militant colleagues as refusing to compromise, acting as if rules didn’t apply to them. “There’s a lot of that showing up in musicians today,” he says. “The moment a venue says something that they can’t do, like, ‘Oh, you can’t burn cedar here before the show,’ or anything like that, they’ll throw a huge, huge fit.”

“I hate to say it,” Anderson says, “but it kind of ruined it for the rest of us who don’t participate in that ceremony.”

To avoid these associations, DDAT eventually decided to pivot away from “Native American jazz,” describing themselves as a funk/jazz group inspired by Indigenous melodies. “People started to see us as not being activists, or the rowdy ones,” Anderson says. As a result, the group immediately started getting offered more gigs.

Julia Keefe. Photo: Don Hamilton

Braving Inner Conflict

This dissonance isn’t limited to sociopolitical factions, or a conflict between musicians and promoters — although Anderson could certainly share other horror stories. Even so-called enlightened spaces, like jazz workshops, have left Indigenous musicians second-guessing themselves.

“At gigs or at workshops or what have you, people will come up and be kind of aggressive about it — almost offended,” Keefe says. “Like, [Flustered voice] ‘What does that mean? What do you mean you are a Native American jazz vocalist?’ ‘Well, I’m Native American and I sing jazz. That’s what I do.'”

“With that confrontation of my identity,” she adds, “there’s been tension within myself of, ‘If I’m going to claim my Native heritage on my business card, should my music be more influenced by my Indigenous heritage?'”

But even if an artist defines what Indigenousness means for themselves, it’s bound to create friction with others’ preconceptions or stereotypes. “That’s something that Natives come up against in any sort of art form,” Obomsawin says.

Adrian Wall. Photo: Shondinii Walters​

Adrian Wall, a flutist and guitarist with roots in the Jemez Pueblo tribe, experiences dislocation just by announcing who he is to the world.

“Once you play the Native card, you’re kind of stuck being a Native musician when you’re actually playing music that’s accepted worldwide just as American music,” he tells GRAMMY.com. “Once you call yourself a Native, all of a sudden you’re playing Native music.”

Raven Chacon, a Diné composer who works in the experimental and noise scenes, has had to push against assumptions that his work would be stereotypically Native — or adjacent to new age. 

“There was an assumption it was going to involve flutes or drums or something,” he tells GRAMMY.com with a laugh. “Even from people should know better, there have been assumptions.”

Raven Chacon. Photo: Jamie Drummond

To fellow experimental musician and sound sculpturist Warren Realrider — who is Pawnee and enrolled with the Crow Nation of Montana and makes music akin to John Zorn, Pauline Oliveros and Merzbow — the solution lies in creating a music industry framework that accurately represents Indigenous creators.

“These systems of music, distribution, performance, whatever — they are built on a world that’s not the Indigenous world,” he tells GRAMMY.com. “You’re always going to have to work against that in some way.”

Plus, as a representative of his background in the insular noise space, Realrider’s work has become bigger than him — he feels inordinate pressure to not let his tribe down.

“A lot of Indigenous artists don’t lose that aspect,” he says, considering the arc of his life and career so far. “That’s something you carry along with you, and you present yourself that way.”

Addressing Language Barriers

Sometimes, the criticism comes from within Indigenous communities themselves. JJ Otero, a Hopi and Diné singer/songwriter inspired by bands like Counting Crows and Pearl Jam, had to deal with the finer points of language — even one he knew backward and forward.

“I didn’t use the Navajo language in my music for the longest time,” he tells GRAMMY.com from his home on a Navajo reservation. “The white guys in [my first band, Saving Damsels] said, ‘You should write a song in Navajo that we can play.'”

JJ Otero. Photo: Unek Francis

Despite being a fluent Navajo speaker, Otero wanted to be careful that he said things exactly right. “I don’t want my songs to just be a lazy utterance of words in Navajo,” he says. To thread the needle, Otero enlisted his father to vet his lyrics for inexact grammar and syntax.

“I do believe that sometimes our own people can be our toughest critics,” Otero says. “We can take that criticism and be mad and upset about it, or we can dive deeper into why those criticisms exist and understand the foundation of why Navajo is sacred.”

Facing One’s Own Community

As a rapper and motivational speaker who spits bars in DDAT, James Pakootas operates by what he calls “a very deep awareness of protocol.”

“A lot of times, Native artists in contemporary music want to meld the two worlds, but it seems like sometimes they’re taking away from the culture. It’s not done with care,” Pakootas tells GRAMMY.com. “It’s like sampling a powwow song, putting it on a hip-hop beat and calling it good.”

James Pakootas. Photo: Maurice Johnson

To avoid this sort of mishandling, Pakootas works with collaborators to tell his stories as considerately as possible, preferring to bring in a drum group and analyze together how the story could be told.

“A lot of songs I know are ceremony songs,” he adds. “There’s not going to be any of those that I share because there’s a protocol in place to keep that sacred. There’s a time and a place for that song to be sung or that melody to be used.”

Reaching Harmony From Dissonance

How can music fans right these wrongs and push against the othering of Indigenous artists? Maybe the first step is realizing that Indigenous music is all music.

“Native people are very much seen as mythological creatures, as the villains in Westerns, the mascots that you love to hate, or whatever,” Keefe says. “So, I can see why [musical discrimination] would be a thing because so often we are perceived as a figment of someone’s imagination.”

Warren Realrider. Photo: Shane Brown​

For Obomsawin, this necessary shift begins with education — and by listening to the stories of her elders. In her case, that teacher is Pura Fé, a Tuscarora and Taino vocalist and activist related to Thelonious Monk.

“She is so intimately aware of those dual legacies — the Black and Native lineages of jazz,” Obomsawin says. “I just hope that more air time is given to the elders in the jazz and blues community who know those things. I think it could really help to unearth some of those stories as really important parts of American music history — as well as our history in general.”

Mali Obomsawin. Photo: Nolan Altvater​

As for Yazzie, she believes significant change won’t occur until we give sovereignty to Indigenous artists — so they can decide who their audience is, why they perform their music, what their music sounds like, where they want their music played, and how they want it to be perceived by the rest of the world.

“I always maintain that Native music is Native music because a Native person is outputting it,” Yazzie says. “But on the flipside, you don’t want to limit people to where all they do is Native music. I think you have to be really careful to not use the Native music label as a way to put people in a specific box. Because Native music is still also blues. It’s still jazz. It’s still country. It’s still hip-hop. It’s still classical music. [Indigenous] people are in those genre-specific spaces and they’re doing amazing things.”

[embedded content]

When considering this subject, Anderson always returns to Don Cherry, who remains one of his idols. “In one of his interviews, he said, ‘Hey, it’s about meeting other people. It’s about having relationships with your friends,'” he says.

“I think everyone just needs to go back to their original state, going back to just being a human and recognizing that we’re all humans here,” Anderson adds. “Approach each other as human beings with our minds or our thoughts.”

Anderson is bringing Cherry’s openhearted philosophy to his next endeavor — collaborating with the American Pops Orchestra for a Bureau of Land Management project. This has been a laborious process, with no shortage of fine lines to navigate.

“Bringing this orchestra onto the Indigenous lands is going to be a real struggle because of all the racial division going on in the world,” he says. But in the end, Anderson believes all the work is going to be worth it.

“Having these two different identities on that land, I’m hoping the land can really heal the group that’s there,” he says. “I mean, if the land really heals, we’re going to put the land to the test.” 

Because it’s happened before on this soil: Indigenous people and those of so many other backgrounds have come together to make great American music. Sure, it’s been a rocky path to get there — sometimes a troubling and treacherous one. But Anderson and his colleagues aren’t afraid to tread it.

Commonalities, Subtleties & Purpose: 7 Musicians Pushing Ancient Asian Instruments Into The Future

San Angelo receives four Texas Travel Awards

San Angelo receives four Texas Travel Awards

The city was chosen for Destination Marketing Campaign, Music Festival or Event, Public Art and Under the Radar Activity categories.

SAN ANGELO, Texas — The City of San Angelo is making itself more well-known as an active tourist destination. 

According to Discover San Angelo, the West Texas location was recently awarded four Texas Travel Awards for Destination Marketing Campaign, Music Festival or Event, Public Art and Under the Radar Activity categories. 

The first category recognized San Angelo’s “Our Bottlenecks are Better than Theirs” initiative, which focused on the relaxed way of life compared to major cities. 

The second category focused on Wild West Fest, which focuses on country music while raising more than $200,000 for low-funded organizations in the area. 

The Public Art award was given to the Pop Art Museum, which displays works from more than 30 artists at no cost to the public.

Finally, the San Angelo Revolution Film Festival was honored for sharing diverse content from directors and producers from across the country.

“After COVID, San Angelo’s travel and tourism sector has come back strong,” San Angelo Chamber of Commerce President and CEO Walt Koenig said. “Our innovation in bringing new and exciting events to our community will certainly keep San Angelo as a top travel destination for many years to come.” 

Discover San Angelo said it hopes to see more city success looking ahead. 

Underdog Film Lab is preserving the art of darkroom photography

Underdog Film Lab is preserving the art of darkroom photography

“Just spin the door, step in, and swing it around,” Gregory Veizades said, stepping into the black and white darkroom’s round revolving door. He gives it a spin to demonstrate, disappearing from view within seconds and entering the windowless room on the other side. 

Spin. Step. Swing. 

Inside the small darkroom, the mix of scents from the unique blend of chemicals used for developing film are pungent, a permanent part of the room. It’s a familiar scent to Dirk Hatch, one of the owners of a four-year-old West Oakland business that offers Bay Area residents what some would call a last-century service: it processes, develops, and sells photographic film. 

Hatch got his start in film photography back in high school during the ‘80s. “I immediately fell in love with the darkroom and making my own prints,” said Hatch, who six years ago was managing a San Francisco photo lab called Light Waves. There he met Jesse Hitchins and Matt Osborne, who in 2019 joined Hatch in opening Underdog Film Lab. 

“Oakland had been vastly underserved in the photo community,” Hatch said. “In hindsight, it was the perfect location for us.”  

By “the photo community,” Hatch means photographers who still like shooting with film cameras—the kind whose images must be coaxed into view through photographic processing inside places like Underdog. The lab he helps run is just one of five dedicated photo labs remaining in the East Bay. There are still handfuls of such labs scattered across the country; although they’re scarcer today than they were a few decades ago. Choosing one depends on what a photographer wants done with their film, and what kind they have: not all film can be developed at every photo lab, and not all labs offer physical prints. Some digitize film only without returning the negatives, others may be able to take disposable Kodaks, but not black and white film rolls. 

Above: A collection of photo prints acquired and captured by staff hang on the walls inside of Underdog Film Lab on Apr 14, 2023. Credit: Amir Aziz

Above: Developed film hangs to be identified by staff at Underdog before getting picked up by customers in Oakland, Calif. on Apr 14, 2023. Credit: Amir Aziz

Hatch and his partners knew what they were looking for when they began scouting a location for their lab in 2017 after Light Waves closed: a place where photographers, professional or hobbyist, could develop their photos without breaking the bank. Osborne had some old film processing equipment he had saved from another shuttered lab, and as they pooled their resources and began exploring, the team visited more than 100 potential spots around the Bay Area. They originally had their sights set on San Francisco, but it was just too expensive. After two years of searching, they finally found a narrow two-story building in West Oakland that once housed a saloon. 

“If more people had the understanding of how to use a [film] camera, they could take better photos, even with a cell phone,” said Veizades. 

“I really liked the process, the freedom of shooting where I can experience what’s happening around me. I take the pictures but I’m not constantly looking at a tiny screen. I live in the picture.”

Gregory Veizades

For film photography enthusiasts, photo-finishing labs like Underdog act not only as a way to find and keep like-minded community, but to slow life down, letting photographers document their lives using the cameras their parents and grandparents used. Veizades, who has worked at the lab for almost two years, remembers both his parents shooting film when he was growing up and visiting Costco with his mom to pick up supplies and dig through the alphabetized negatives for their prints. He’s a millennial who got his own start in photography using a digital camera. But in 2018 for an upcoming vacation, he switched to film. He said he enjoys the experience of being more present with a film camera, instead of worrying about what the image looked like in a digital camera’s tiny viewfinder. 

“I grabbed my film camera, a Canon AE-1, and took that to Europe for 10 days and shot roughly 10 rolls of film,” Veizades said. “It was my first real experience shooting for myself—and I really liked the process, the freedom of shooting where I can experience what’s happening around me. I take the pictures but I’m not constantly looking at a tiny screen. I live in the picture.” 

Anya Kamenskaya (they/them pronouns), a Moscow-born Oakland resident and Underdog customer, said they also grew up surrounded by film photography in their family’s home in Russia.

“My folks had a makeshift darkroom in their bathroom that they would set up,” said Kamenskaya. “They developed photos in the tub sometimes. And then, you know, there would be photos drying on these papers around the house. Sometimes I’d help them trim the photos.”

Above: The film processing room of Underdog Film Lab where customer film rolls are placed in a series of developer chemicals and wash tanks to process the film in Oakland, Calif. on Apr 14, 2023. Credit: Amir Aziz

Above: Inside of the lobby at Underdog Film Lab, where customers can pick up their film after their order is finished in Oakland, Calif. on Apr 14, 2023. Credit: Amir Aziz

Neither Veizades’ nor Kamenskaya’s parents were professional photographers. They were just people who liked to take photos. Kamenskaya’s stepdad was an experimental filmmaker who also had a fondness for film photography, and after moving to the United States, Kamenskaya grew up going to various Bay Area film houses and seeing films with friends over the years. They even found their very first film camera on the street by chance. 

“It was a Pentax K 1000,” Kamenskaya said. 

These days, Kamenskaya shoots with a camera they received from their grandma in Moscow while visiting family a while back. “I have this old Soviet camera called the Kiev 6S,” Kamenskaya said. “My paternal grandmother used to work for the Russian space program and was one of their in-house photographers that would shoot their equipment. I love that camera for portraits—it’s got a great depth of field.”

The future of film is at risk as the machines and equipment that develop photos—and film cameras themselves—become older, more expensive to purchase and maintain, and harder to obtain.

Generational connections to film photography and the delayed gratification that comes with developing film have helped ensure that its popularity will be around for years to come. Still, the future of film is at risk as the machines and equipment that develop photos—and film cameras themselves—become older, more expensive to purchase and maintain, and harder to obtain. 

Veizades’ previous experience in repair work helped land him his current job at Underdog; he maintains and repairs the lab’s photo scanners, film processing machines, and other equipment. “I was originally brought on because the machines are old,” Veizades said. “The newest processing machine we have is from ’97, I think. And that’s about as new as they come.”

He said it’s often hard to find an original user manual for the machinery. At best, there are PDF scans on Google of some of the manuals to look at for guidance. At worst, it’s careful guesswork. 

Above: Gregory Veizades, who works at Underdog Film Lab, poses for a photo at the shop in Oakland, Calif. on Apr 14, 2023. Credit: Amir Aziz

Fixing dated equipment may be a hassle, but replacing it altogether isn’t really an option. Well-functioning photo processing machinery, no matter how old, can cost a photo lab like Underdog up to $25,000 to replace. 

Another challenge for labs like Underdog: scores of companies that once produced film cameras and replacement parts have gone out of business, leaving photographers unable to restore old cameras or purchase new ones. 

Without the development and release of new film cameras and film processing machinery, the price of film, camera and film-development machinery repairs, camera lenses, and camera bodies will continue to rise in price and scarcity. 

“Every camera, with a few exceptions, is 30, 40 years old,” Veizades said, referring to film cameras. “They don’t last forever. Some of them are more durable than others, but without new, inexpensive, high-quality cameras.…” he pauses.

“I would like to go back to the way it was 20 years ago. But that is a very strong ask. What’s most important right now in order for film to grow is new cameras.”

It sounds daunting now, but Veizades has hope for the future of film. In 2022, Ricoh, a Tokyo-based camera company, announced it was considering rolling out a new Pentax film camera model. Veizades is optimistic that other camera companies like Olympus may follow suit. 

In the meantime, he’ll be at Underdog, helping keep the film community afloat for new and seasoned photographers. 

“Our customer base is growing,” Veizades said. “And for a lot of them, this is their very first roll.”

Framing the Revolution: Contemporary Chinese Photographs from the Jack and Susy Wadsworth Collection

Framing the Revolution: Contemporary Chinese Photographs from the Jack and Susy Wadsworth Collection

Framing the Revolution: Contemporary Chinese Photographs from the Jack and Susy Wadsworth Collection features more than 50 politically charged works ranging in date from 1958 to 2006. Together, they reflect upon modern Chinese history, examining events such as the Red Army’s Long March (1934–35), the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution (1966–76), and other moments of tremendous social upheaval and change. Artists included are Wang Shilong (b. 1930), Liu Heung Shing (b. 1951), Xiao Lu (b. 1966), Sheng Qi (b. 1965), Qin Ga (b. 1971), and Shao Yinong (b. 1961) & Muchen (b. 1970).

This abbreviated survey of mid-20th through early 21st-century photography begins with black-and-white propaganda images by Wang Shilong showing aspects of Chinese society before, during, and after the Cultural Revolution. It continues with journalistic images by Liu Heung Shing that document the idealistic young artists behind Beijing’s 1979 Stars Art Exhibition. The exhibition also features the notorious image of Xiao Lu firing a pistol at her own art installation during the opening of Beijing’s China/Avant-Garde exhibition in February 1989, as well as works by Sheng Qi reflecting on the legacy of the Cultural Revolution. Framing the Revolution concludes with photos in which Shao Yinong & Muchen and Qin Ga reenact and remember the tumultuous Long March, in which a dwindling number of Communists traversed over 5,600 miles under fire by Nationalist forces.

In 1991, Jack and Susy Wadsworth moved to Hong Kong, which they used as a base to explore China’s burgeoning art scene. Eventually, their remarkable photography collection grew to over 190 works, which they began donating to the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art in 2018.

Framing the Revolution is on view through August 27 in Eugene, Oregon, and is available to travel afterwards.

For more information, visit jsma.uoregon.edu.

The exhibition, programs, and forthcoming catalogue are made possible with generous funding from the WLS Spencer Foundation, which is also providing support for the museum to hire a curator of contemporary Chinese art.


Parsons Fine Arts 2023 MFA Thesis Exhibition: Matter As Fallen Light

Curated by Kaegan Sparks, works by 27 emerging artists working in a variety of disciplines are on view in NYC from April 23 through May 7.


David Choe’s Rape Stories Come Back to Haunt Him

The artist and actor in the Netflix series Beef is under scrutiny for vivid accounts of sexual assault he made in a 2014 podcast.


A Tension in Paint Befitting Our Times

Maia Ruth Lee wants viewers to make associations as well as recognize the unstable world in which she and many others live.


CalArts Anniversary Weekend Celebrates 50 Years of Experimentation in Visual and Performing Arts

Join the party in Valencia, California, for three days of open studios, concerts, exhibitions, performances, and more from April 28 to 30.


Burning Down the Language of Enforcement

It is surprisingly rare to come across an activist artwork as succinct and conceptually together as Jordan Corine Cruz’s “Face Each Other, Burn Together.”


We Need More Nuance When Talking About Repatriation

Patricia Marroquin Norby, the Met Museum’s curator of Native American Art, reflects on the lesser-discussed everyday challenges of repatriation work.


Wrightwood 659 Welcomes Three New Exhibitions

“Kongkee: Warring States Cyberpunk”, “Shahidul Alam: Singed But Not Burnt”, and “Patric McCoy: Take My Picture” are on view at the Chicago art space.


The Experience of Deafness in a Hearing World

Alison O’Daniel’s 2023 film The Tuba Thieves weaves a series of band room robberies in LA public schools into a moving exploration of sound and hearing.


Art in the Early 2000s China Boom

Cruel Youth Diary: Chinese Photography and Video greets us with the dizziness befitting a period of rapid economic growth and social change.

Figures Flow Along Swirling Streams of Color in Samantha Keely Smith’s Vibrant Abstract Landscapes

Figures Flow Along Swirling Streams of Color in Samantha Keely Smith’s Vibrant Abstract Landscapes

“Calling Out Across the Distance” (2023), oil on canvas, 60 x 68 inches. All images © Samantha Keely Smith, shared with permission

In vibrant oil paintings evocative of roiling oceans or atmospheric vistas, Samantha Keely Smith relies on confident, swift strokes to guide the composition. Hovering between abstraction and depictions of landscapes (previously), tonal contrasts and complementary colors emphasize dramatic movements suggestive of crashing waves or storms. “All of my work explores the idea that the line between our conscious and unconscious (experiences) is often blurry and that occasionally we are able the straddle both sides at once,” she tells Colossal.

Smith’s recent work has evolved into a looser, more freeform style that has taught her the value of experimentation or going with the flow. “Most importantly, I have given myself permission to completely fail occasionally and not feel bad about it,” she says. “I will sometimes pull a canvas off the stretcher and throw it away. In the past, I would fight to the bitter end to try to save something that just wasn’t working, which was ultimately a waste of my time and effort.”

 

An abstract painting with a fuzzy figure of a figure in a swirl of color.

“And Now I See You” (2023), oil on canvas, 60 x 68 inches

Along with the more relaxed and confident approach, Smith now incorporates figures in her works. As an extension of her ongoing series Imagined Landscapes, she explores themes relating to presence and the subconscious in the form of bodies floating along a current that appear partially submerged. “Like a radio station coming in and out of tune, they exist as much in our reality as they do in that ‘other’ world,” she says, sharing that the addition of figures her pieces tapped into her own and loved ones’ health challenges.

Smith examines the emotional and mental toll of caring for her parents, who both suffered from prolonged illnesses. Now 54, she explores the fuzzy state between consciousness and “going under,” reflecting on being hospitalized for four months with a life-threatening illness at age 21. The painful experience instilled an appreciation for the fragility of life and the immense capacity humans have to feel hope. “The existential and the personal are intertwined in my work,” she says. “I believe that through art, we have the opportunity to accentuate our commonalities and to bring people together by sharing these personal experiences that are, at the same time, universal experiences.”

Find more of Smith’s work on her website, and follow updates on Instagram.

 

An abstract painting in swirls of yellow, orange, brown, and blue.

“The Soaring Kind” (2022), oil on canvas, 60 x 78 inches

An abstract painting with a partially visible figure who appears to be floating.

“Here I Lay Me Down” (2023), oil on canvas, 60 x 68 inches

An abstract painting in swirls of yellow, orange, brown, and blue.

“I’ll Rise” (2022), oil on canvas, 64 x 78 inches

An abstract painting in swirls of yellow, orange, brown, pink, and blue.

“Light Into Darkness” (2022), oil on canvas, 60 x 78 inches

An abstract painting in swirls of yellow, orange, pink, brown, and blue.

“Illuminate (Ourselves)” (2022), oil on canvas, 56 x 72 inches

An abstract landscape painting in swirls of yellow, orange, brown, pink and blue.

“Something More” (2021), oil on canvas, 60 x 68 inches

An abstract painting in swirls of yellow, orange, brown, and blue.

“A Blink Away” (2021), oil on canvas, 36 x 48 inches

Do stories and artists like this matter to you? Become a Colossal Member today and support independent arts publishing for as little as $5 per month. The article Figures Flow Along Swirling Streams of Color in Samantha Keely Smith’s Vibrant Abstract Landscapes appeared first on Colossal.

From Apple to Nike: How AI is Revolutionizing Visual Art Marketing for Iconic Brands

From Apple to Nike: How AI is Revolutionizing Visual Art Marketing for Iconic Brands

In a world where artificial intelligence (AI) is revolutionizing industries left and right, it seems that even the art world isn’t immune to its allure. 

Don’t Miss: The House-Printing Robot Shaking Up a $7.28 Trillion Industry

Gone are the days of fruitless searches and endless scrolling through image galleries. Thanks to AI art generators, finding the perfect image is as simple as typing in a prompt. From branding to social media content creation and even vision boards, these tools are making it easier than ever to bring your creative visions to life. 

With the ability to generate images based on natural language descriptions, AI art generators are quickly becoming a must-have tool for businesses and creatives alike.

RAD AI and LNDMRK: Two powerhouses in the marketing industry are joining forces to usher in a new era of visual art marketing that’s backed by AI technology. Marketing platform RAD AI is teaming up with visual marketing agency LNDMRK to launch a groundbreaking product — RAD Visual Arts. The product combines LNDMRK’s top-tier visual artists with the powerful precision of RAD AI’s data-driven creative intelligence solution to develop cultural moments, content and community through AI-informed visual art.

To stay updated with top startup news & investments, sign up for Benzinga’s Startup Investing & Equity Crowdfunding Newsletter

Through the RAD AI platform, LNDMRK’s visual art marketers will be empowered with data from over 600 application programming interface (API) connections, including Reddit, Meta Platforms Inc. and TikTok, to drive decisions about campaign target audience personas, influencer selection and content strategy. This move represents a seismic shift in the industry, as quantifiable performance standards are brought to visual art marketing, and brands are forced to rethink the way they approach content marketing.

“Successful visual art marketing depends on connecting the artists with cultural moments and market niches. Until now, marketers have been forced to rely on intuition and guesswork to guide their campaign decisions. We’re bringing quantifiable performance standards to visual art marketing and changing the way brands think about content marketing,” says RAD AI Founder and CEO Jeremy Barnett.

Kevin Klein, partner at LNDMRK, is equally excited about the partnership. “The partnership between RAD AI and LNDMRK combines our network of visual artists with quantifiable marketing goals — this winning formula is the next chapter in brand collaborations.”

As iconic brands such as Apple Inc., Nike Inc. and Porsche have long recognized the value of visual art marketing, it’s clear that this partnership between RAD AI and LNDMRK is set to revolutionize the industry.

Don’t Miss: Qnetic Unveils Revolutionary Flywheel Energy Storage System to Accelerate Renewable Energy Adoption

Midjourney: Midjourney, the latest sensation in the world of AI image generators, is shaking up the industry with its unconventional approach to visual creation. Developed by the San Francisco-based research lab Midjourney Inc., this cutting-edge tool has quickly become a favorite among creative minds seeking to break free from traditional forms of expression.

By using natural language descriptions called prompts, users can generate stunning, dreamlike visuals that push the boundaries of creativity.

From surreal depictions of former President Donald Trump‘s arrest to giving Pope Francis a trendy new look, Midjourney’s capabilities are limitless. Whether you’re a writer, artist or just looking to unleash your inner creativity, Midjourney is the tool you need to bring your wildest visions to life. 

DALL.E and DALL.E 2: OpenAI’s DALL.E made waves in January 2021 with its impressive ability to generate high-resolution images from textual descriptions. Fast forward to a year later and DALL.E 2 has surpassed its predecessor with four times greater resolution and even more realistic images. Since its beta launch last April, the AI art generator has garnered attention for its ability to produce astonishingly accurate visuals from simple text prompts. Initially available only via a waiting list, the tool is now accessible to the general public.

Despite the excitement surrounding AI art generators like DALL.E 2, there are concerns about their potential misuse, impact on creative jobs and use of copyrighted images for training purposes. Nevertheless, many artists and designers are eager to explore the possibilities of this new technology and find ways to incorporate it into their creative work.

See more on startup investing from Benzinga.

Why the Side Gallery in Newcastle should be saved by Arts Council England

Why the Side Gallery in Newcastle should be saved by Arts Council England
image

It’s ironic that the Side Gallery’s closure due to Arts Council England funding cuts (Report, 6 April) has coincided with the opening, to great acclaim, of Chris Killip’s major retrospective at the nearby Baltic Centre for Contemporary Art. Killip was a founder member of the photographers’ and film-makers’ cooperative that forged the Side, and his indelible cultural mark on north-east England was first cultivated by a two-year Northern Arts funded fellowship.

Such backstories are important to tell, because great art and photography don’t magically appear, gallery-ready, whenever an Arts Council flagship needs a blockbuster exhibition. Significant new bodies of work arise when artists get no-strings funding and commissions, giving them time and space to take artistic risks and leaps.

A vital developmental feature is rigorously discussing art practices among peers within small, artist-run spaces. Arts Council England should rethink its decision to dispense with the Side. It’s an important grassroots organisation with a track record gained over decades both for “telling stories that hit you hard and leave a lasting impression” (as one contributor to the #SaveSide crowdfunder put it) and for fostering the messy, dynamic interrelationships, unorthodox career paths and multiple talents of practitioners on which healthy arts futures depend.
Susan Jones
Rowlands Gill, Tyne and Wear

Photographer Shares Warning After Attack at Popular Skyline Photo Spot

Photographer Shares Warning After Attack at Popular Skyline Photo Spot

It was this past Wednesday around 11 p.m. that photographer Ron Shipp parked in his usual spot just past the South Houston Street Viaduct to snap shots of the Dallas skyline.

“Normally, I walk out onto the levee and set my camera up to take pictures of downtown,” Shipp said. “This is a well-traveled area. You can see a lot of photographers use it. I have been out here countless dozens of times, day and night and never once really felt unsafe.”

Shipp walked along the sidewalk onto the bridge. However, this time he skipped the entrance to the levee after he said he heard muffled voices.

“I thought it was safer just to stay on the bridge and keep walking out,” Shipp said. “So at least I can see the assailants come from behind me, if that’s what was going to happen.”

Shipp said the voices would come and go. He eventually spotted a group of at least four men hiding in the shadows of the outer banks of the bridge.

“Every time I walked out, they keep coming closer and closer. They weren’t on the bridge. I knew that much,” Shipp said. “I looked over the bridge again and saw two men maybe 20 yards away, and I realized they were using the outside ledge, the handrails, to approach me from the outside.”

Shipp said he was fearful the group would jump over the railing.

“At that point, I knew this was real, and I was in danger. I kept walking away. Not quite a run yet, but brusquely, walking away, hoping to get more distance,” Shipp said.

However, the group of men, Shipp said, continued to move towards him. He began to run.

“I saw flashes from a handgun and heard six shots right in my direction motivated me to run much faster. I got to be honest with you,” Shipp said. “And I just kept running to the relative safety of downtown.”



NBCDFW.com

Shipp was never shot but reported it to police. Now, he’s going public with his story to warn those who frequent the area, especially at night.

“An empty bridge does not mean you’re safe,” Shipp said. “People would never see the attack coming.”

Although shaken, Shipp said he will come back to snap pictures at this location.

“A lot of photographers have already approached me that they come here frequently. They won’t be doing that alone or even in small groups, just in large groups. I want people… that use this space… it’s dangerous, and they could get attacked out of the darkness in no time.”

Say cheese! Film photography is back

Say cheese! Film photography is back

Do you remember the days of taking photographs on film? If you are over the age of 35, you likely have shot with film at some point in your life. While the advent of the digital camera nearly killed the film industry in the early 2000s, a growing number of people are shooting with film once again.

The resurgence of film photography began in the mid-2010s but gained major momentum during the pandemic. The reasoning behind its resurrection varies from person to person, but most are drawn to the unmatched aesthetics, nostalgia factors, and stronger image quality.

“Originally it was the only option,” said Jason Thomas, a local photographer who has been shooting with film since the early 1990s. “What kept me shooting it in the age of digital was how it looked, how it slowed me down, and for awhile, how you could still pull a lot more detail from it in a scan. These days, digital is like the house wine and film is the bottle you save for a special event.”

While digital photography allows you to shoot as many photographs as your SD card will hold, film limits you to only a handful of images at a time. The process of analog photography forces the photographer to slow down and think before pressing the shutter button, which some say is part of its appeal in the 21st century.

“It’s a medium that requires you to accept the results,” said Travis Patterson, a local photographer who’s been shooting film since the early 2000s but became more involved during the pandemic. “Maybe it’s perfect, or maybe you blew your exposure. All you can do is learn and be more mindful next roll.”

R1-04950-003A.JPG

Sydney Negus

/

“I had just finished up the first month on the road and had to fly back to Alaska to pack up my belongings, as my roommates were moving out of our apartment. It was a big moment on the road trip as the realization that I didn’t have a home to come back to finally sunk in. It was the first snow of that winter that stuck and didn’t melt away the next day, and I was sitting in that Carrs parking lot feeling very lost, but also hopeful about where I would end up next. I haven’t been back since and I don’t see myself heading back anytime soon.”

Sydney Negus

Many young film photographers, who are beginning to dominate the industry, were introduced to the craft with disposable and 35mm film cameras. Similar to the rebirth of vinyl records, shooting with film provides a sort of authenticity that photos captured on digital cameras or cell phones can’t. This authenticity is something that millennials and Gen Z crave.

179932070007-3.jpg

Andrew Tesdahl

/

“I choose to shoot film because it provides simplicity, creativeness due to limitations, a disconnection from a fast demanding modern world, connection between the photographer’s skill and the results, and it seems to be easier to have a conversation and less distracted with your subject or the people you come across,” said Colby Baldwin, a 25-year-old local photographer who has been shooting with film for six years. “The colors from film feel warmer, less manufactured, and more sensual.”

Another young film photographer, Sydney Negus, reflects on the tangible nature of the medium.

“I bought a disposable camera because I couldn’t take photos of my friends on my flip phone,” said Negus. “I fell in love with how they looked, and having physical copies of my photos to give to friends was really fun. I started a photo album full of all the photos I took on those disposables, which is fun to look at and always brings back great memories.”

“My initial draw to film was how beautiful it was and how simple it was to make a picture,” said Alena Swango, who is new to film photography. “I have a connection with film because my grandma is my best friend. I’m basically her clone and she has shot my entire large family on film our whole lives, so the duty has now been passed on to me to save all of our memories in a beautiful way.”

Although 35mm is one of the most popular styles of film to shoot with, film preference can vary from person to person. Some analog photographers also shoot with cameras that utilize 120, 135, 220, and Polaroid film.

img137.JPG

Colby Baldwin

/

“It’s honestly ten times more satisfying than shooting digitally, especially when you have to wait seven to ten days just to see the image you hoped you nailed,” said Andrew Tesdahl, a local photographer who shoots with a variety of film types. “Oftentimes, it turns out better than expected.”

With the revival of film photography, companies that once specialized in selling film are now struggling to keep up. The unprecedented demand for film and cameras, coupled with inflation, has caused prices to skyrocket. Many photographers have been forced to limit the number of rolls they shoot and develop, keeping their digital cameras close.

“People like to eat and pay their rent,” Thomas said. “That old adage, ‘stay poor, shoot film’ has never been more true.”

Once you shoot a roll of film, you must also develop and scan your photographs, which costs money. Taking matters into their own hands, some local analog photographers develop film at home, utilizing bathrooms or closets as makeshift darkrooms. While doing so can be time-consuming and frustrating to some, others enjoy the tedious process of it.

“I don’t think that everyone has to learn how to shoot, develop, and print film to be a good photographer,” said Scott Rust, a local photographer who has been shooting with film for over 30 years. “But film is what I prefer when I’m doing my thing. I like the process, the steps, taking a little more time to compose and execute the shot, and of course, the delayed gratification of seeing the results by developing and scanning.”

“While it takes time to do the developing and scanning, it’s so cheap that it allows me to buy more film instead of spending it on developing,” he added.

img216.jpg

Josh Warner

/

“Walking down Palafox Street with my camera, I stumbled across this talented man playing guitar and harmonica at the same time while also using his foot to play the tambourine. I found it fascinating and I loved the energy he was giving off. I asked this man for his portrait and I snapped this photo of Kent Stanton. I didn’t know at the time who this man was until I found out he passed away later in the year. Turns out Kent was loved by many people in the punk scene here in Pensacola. I wish I got to know him better.”

Josh Warner

In the fast-paced age of social media and 24/7 new coverage, many are searching for a sense of calm and nostalgia. Some photographers say that shooting with film restrains the unending distractions of the modern day and reminds its enjoyers to live in the moment.

“I believe film photography is making a comeback due to the warm photos it’s able to capture, in the moment atmosphere it generates, and a lower expectation on what to expect compared to digital,” Baldwin said. “You’re not able to retake film photos compared to digital which makes people more comfortable with the results. Plus it’s always a surprise when seeing the developed images come back after an extended period of time has passed.”

While young people are purchasing film and cameras in droves, the hobby has a cross-generational appeal. Film photography allows people of all ages to talk shop, share stories, and connect in a way that inspires.

“There’s a physical record of you being in a place at a specific time, a chemical reaction, a result of your decision to stamp a two-dimensional view of reality onto this delicate three-dimensional flat layer cake of solid chemistry,” Thomas said. “It’s harder to erase than clicking ‘format.’”

“It slows me down,” Patterson added. “I have to be intentional. But I also really like the community I’ve met in our area. They are wonderful, talented artists.”

My project-1 (6).jpg

Photos from Jason Thomas (left) and Travis Patterson (right).

To see more of their work, be sure to check out these photographers on Instagram:

@beyondthehypnotic

@analogtownie

@sunbleachfilm

@ngs.kng

@aperturealena

@andrew_tesdahl

@rustypants3

@joshwarner.photo

@hunty_morry_photography