In this striking black and white image, we witness the profound and transformative moments as a mother steps into a birth pool during labor. The high-contrast composition enhances the depth and intensity of the scene, allowing emotions and sensations to take center stage.
Standing confidently and nude, the mother embraces the power and vulnerability of her body. The soft illumination from outside the sliding glass door delicately highlights her form, creating a captivating interplay of light and shadows. This ethereal lighting accentuates her curves and contours, symbolizing the radiant strength and beauty that emanates from within.
Behind the mother, a set of birth affirmation card hang, serving as a visual anchor amidst the anticipation and intensity of labor. The first card bears the words “relax, soften, open,” a gentle reminder for the mother to surrender to the natural rhythm of her body, to trust in the process, and to embrace the transformative journey ahead.
As she steps into the birth pool, the mother allows her body to acclimate to the soothing temperature of the water. This moment of pause and reflection signifies a pivotal transition, where the water becomes a sanctuary of comfort and support, easing the physical and emotional strain of labor.
The black and white aesthetic of the image adds a timeless quality, emphasizing the raw and primal nature of childbirth. By stripping away color, the image invites us to focus on the essence of the moment – the mother’s strength, determination, and connection with her body.
Through this captivating composition, we are reminded of the inherent beauty and power of childbirth. It is a testament to the mother’s resilience, courage, and ability to embrace the unknown. This image encapsulates the transformative journey of labor, the importance of self-affirmation, and the profound connection between a mother and her body.
It serves as a tribute to the incredible strength and grace exhibited by mothers during childbirth, as they navigate the depths of their own being to bring new life into the world.
Apple consistently demonstrates its dedication to innovation and exceptional performance, with the release of the iPhone15, the remarkable Photography Snaptacular feature sets a new standard in the industry, emphasizing the company’s dedication to raising the standards for the industry.
The latest outdoor campaign from Apple has captured the attention of passersby as the Photography Snaptacular feature steals the spotlight on clear white hoarding placed in high-traffic outdoor spaces, showcasing the extraordinary capabilities of the iPhone 15 camera
the unmistakable camera eye icon lies on both sides of the billboard, boldly proclaiming the device’s prowess in capturing stunning imagery, accompanying this clear visual is the text “iPhone 15 Photography Snaptacular,” as a powerful declaration of the device’s capabilities, igniting a spark of inspiration within every viewer by showcasing the potential for creativity and expression through iPhone photography
through this outdoor campaign, Apple invites users to explore the world in new exciting ways and experience the most advanced dual-camera system yet.
To find more details about the OOH industry, visit Insiteopedia and navigate its different sections.
In an advert dated 1916, studio photographer FD Hampson arranges five Panama hats in a 2-1-2 formation. A small shower of white objects against a black background, the hats appear like flying saucers hovering in a blank void. ‘It’s a total transformation that makes the hats sing,’ suggests Virginia McBride, a research associate at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and curator of the recently opened exhibition, ‘The Real Thing: Unpackaging Product Photography’, in which Hampson’s photograph features. ‘Immediately, it summoned for me the work of people like Max Ernst,’ she continues, alluding to the Dada pioneer’s The Hat Makes the Man collage from 1920.
Comprised of more than 60 works from the first century of photo advertising (beginning in the 1850s), the images in the exhibition were pulled solely from the Met’s own collection in New York – a constraint that helped set parameters says McBride, noting that it is not a complete history of commercial photography – and most of the pieces have rarely been publicly exhibited. The curator was keen to rectify this, she says, and moreover she was curious to unpack their role in shaping the visual language of modernism, as the show endeavours to do.
(Image credit: ringl + pit (Grete Stern, Argentinian, born Germany 1904–1999; Ellen Auerbach, German, 1906–2004) Komol 1931 Gelatin silver print 35.9 x 24.4 cm (14 1/8 x 9 5/8 in.) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Ford Motor Company Collection, Gift of Ford Motor Company and John C. Waddell, 1987 (1987.1100.460). © ringl + pit, Courtesy Robert Mann Gallery)
‘I was interested in going back to the source material, the trade catalogue, and was struck by its own sort of modernism. Looking at the way it presents these objects for sale, and thinking about the relationship between avant-garde aesthetics and this more applied set of circumstances and commercial priorities, and how they talk to each other,’ she says, relaying the show’s earliest genesis. ‘The photographers in this exhibition reanimate objects that are not usually of great cultural value – the tube of toothpaste or the fork on the table for example – showing that these can be subjects not only for commerce, but for artistic reverie.’
Mapped out in categories in what McBride describes as an ‘episodic romp’, wall labels bear titles such as ‘The Inventory’ and ‘The Unfamiliar Thing’, foregrounding work by celebrated photographers like August Sander and Paul Outerbridge, as well as lesser known artists including Hampson. The work is predominantly monochromatic, with gelatin silver prints, daguerreotypes and ambrotypes all featured, but viewers are also made privy to early colour work, such as in ‘Worth Reaching For’ by Anton Bruehl for Kentucky Whiskey distillery Four Roses; shot in 1949, its hot air balloon scenario was constructed with the help of miniaturists, set dressers and a celebrity florist.
(Image credit: Ralph Bartholomew, Jr. Soap Packaging 1936 Carbro print (American, 1907–1936) 32.8 x 25.7 cm (12 15/16 x 10 1/8 in.) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Ford Motor Company Collection, Gift of Ford Motor Company and John C. Waddell, 1987 (1987.1100.344) © Estate of Ralph Bartholomew, Courtesy Keith de)
Visually anchored in a previous time, the show’s sensibility is largely informed by a more contemporary moment, says McBride. ‘Product photography is, now, completely inescapable – it follows you around and stalks you on social media – and that condition is very interesting,’ she asserts, reflecting on the modern commerce landscape and this relationship between the past and present. ‘It obviously informs a viewing of the historical material, and so I wanted to look at how we got to the place we are now in; what conventions informed these current circumstances.’
Echoing one of the most famous taglines of the late 20th century, the show’s moniker was employed as a nod to the concept of truth in advertising and its significance for photography specifically. ‘I wanted to engage the language of buying and selling, and that slogan seemed particularly apt to invoke the dialogues around the history of photography,’ says the curator. ‘The promise of photography, from its earliest days, was that it shows the world in an objective way – of course, we know now to question those claims – but “The Real Thing” seemed an inappropriate wink at this narrative of photographic truth.’
(Image credit: Grancel Fitz (American, 1894–1963) Ipana Toothpaste ca. 1937 Gelatin silver print 5 1/16 x 12 13/16 in. (12.9 x 32.5 cm) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Ford Motor Company Collection, Gift of Ford Motor Company and John C. Waddell, 1987 (1987.1100.326))
Further observations of this play on reality occur throughout the exhibition. André Kertész’s ‘Fork’ (1928) for example, shot on a whim at a friend’s dinner party, would later be acquired by a German silverware company: the fork it appears to advertise was in fact from a French department store.
‘Part of the show explores “The New Vision”, and how photographers in the 1920s and 1930s, especially, were using the camera to transform the ordinary world via unexpected angles, or surprisingly oblique perspectives to make the known world unfamiliar,’ explains McBride. ‘That impulse persists today, while the innovations of this first century of product photographers plays out constantly in contemporary photography. People assume Photoshop and digital photography transformed the nature of the medium, but retouching and manipulation goes back to the earliest history of the medium.’
‘The Real Thing: Unpackaging Product Photography’, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, is on until 4 August 2024
(Image credit: Fay Sturtevant Lincoln (American, 1894– 1975) Pass & Seymour Switch Plate ca. 1949 Gelatin silver print 9 3/8 x 7 1/16 in. (23.8 x 17.9 cm) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Ford Motor Company Collection, Gift of Ford Motor Company and John C. Waddell, 1987 (1987.1100.308))
The two images don’t look exactly alike, but there are some uncanny similarities around the eyes, nose and mouth. There I am, on the right: a photograph of me taken recently in a studio in Brixton, south London. I perch in front of a green background, my shirt slightly creased. And there I am again, on the left.
Except that person isn’t really me.
It is an odd facsimile in a white T-shirt. She has preternaturally smooth skin, no imperfections, and long, glossy hair. This portrait was generated by artificial intelligence (AI), using just three data points from my face and a brief, eight-word prompt: ‘Woman in her 20s of white British descent.’
My real and bot-generated portraits are the work of the London-based photographer Amit Lennon, who has created a similar set of images for his latest project, Artificial Intelligence Portrayal. I doubt many people seeing it in isolation would be able to tell that my AI portrait isn’t real – which, Lennon explains, is exactly the point.
The motivation for the project was to ‘see behind the curtain of AI’, he explains. ‘The goal is to make people question what they are looking at and what ingredients went into “making the cake”. I want them to concentrate less on the mechanics of how the work was made and more on the result, how it makes you feel.’
Lennon photographed his subjects in front of coloured backgrounds and then asked them for a brief description of themselves including their age, ethnicity and profession, such as, ‘Man in his 20s; actor; from London; English, Israeli and Irish descent.’
Afterwards he took fragments of their real photographs as a starting point – the distance between the eyes, the distance from between the eyes to the tip of the nose, and the width of the mouth – and then input their description into a freely available AI generation tool, Adobe Firefly, to create a digital image, displayed next to the original as a pair. Like other tools on the market, Firefly has been trained to translate text prompts into images by learning from a vast set of stock imagery. And it’s remarkably easy to use – as simple as putting one sentence into a text box and clicking ‘generate’.
This is an art project, not a science experiment, Lennon points out. ‘It’s like any creative process, there’s a lot that I’ve discarded.’ Only the best – or most uncanny – portraits were selected. Many of the pictures generated proved ‘fairly random’.
The results, Lennon explains, also reveal AI’s social stereotyping and encourage viewers to consider ‘the biases, the errors and assumptions that are being fed back’. A man described as ‘an actor from Clydebank of Scottish, Irish and Singapore-Chinese descent’, for example, has been given a bright red beard. In fact, in some of the images the AI tool generated of me, I look like a man in a suit, with coiffed hair – presumably the program’s idea of what a ‘journalist’ looks like. It also gives nearly every man a beard at first attempt, says Lennon, and ‘loves hats’.
In other portraits, it simply smoothed out any signs of individuality, giving women baby-smooth skin, pruned eyebrows and perfectly glossy hair. ‘It beautifies people a lot,’ Lennon says. It seems there is something of a gendered double standard here. This is the other problem with AI imagery, says Lennon: ‘It feeds itself from the data it’s made,’ resulting in ‘retouched and Instagram-filtered’ versions of people. Although not always.
One of Lennon’s subjects, Lola Choo Antopolski, 19, a student at the University of Cambridge, says her portrait looks like her ‘ugly cousin’: ‘The AI representation is like me merged with many other people. It’s really weird to look into someone’s eyes and know that it’s not real,’ she says. ‘It’s actually terrifying that we can no longer tell what’s human and what’s not.’
Manipulated images are regularly making headlines. The reaction to the relatively low-stakes editing of the Princess of Wales’s recent family portrait is just one illustration of how uncomfortable people feel about the erosion of ‘photographic evidence’. More sinister is an image of the Pope wearing a white puffer coat that went viral last year, before it was revealed to be in fact AI generated. When an image has been faked, we feel cheated. How much can we trust what we see in photographs today?
‘As the AI gets better, the visual clues will become less easy to detect,’ Lennon says. Of his own project he admits, ‘I’m a professional photographer, and I would struggle to see which is an artificial picture.’
For years the software has been available on smartphones to allow us to doctor our own photographs, but now programs such as Midjourney, DALL-E 3 and Stable Diffusion allow anybody to generate a fantastical AI image in seconds. Thanks to the smartphone, it is estimated that more than 1.8 trillion photographs are taken every year.
Now, we might drown in them. In another leap forward, earlier this year OpenAI – the company behind the chatbot ChatGPT – announced Sora, a remarkably realistic (and accessible even to non-tech spods) AI video generator.
AI images posted by ‘virtual influencers’ now proliferate on social media too. One such virtual character, @lilmiquela on Instagram, ‘a 19-year-old robot living in LA’ by the name of Miquela, has 2.6 million followers watching her every fake move – hanging out with her fake friends, going on fake holiday or getting her fake nails done. Convincing AI images can now even win prestigious photography prizes, as in the case of German artist Boris Eldagsen, who won a Sony World Photography Award.
The copyright issues are another minefield. As Nick Dunmur, head of business and legal at the Association of Photographers, explains, some of the image generators currently available were trained on ‘uncurated scrapes of the internet, including everybody’s creative work, without permission or payment to those whose work has been caught up in that. AI technology should support the creative process and not supplant the creator… there are huge problems with the technology in its current form.’
As Lennon explains, ‘The attraction for a lot of companies is that AI is free – copyright-free, model-free – you can make an image and you don’t have to pay a penny. But for portraiture, which is much more specific, everyone’s unique, it’s harder; so this project explores how AI treats uniqueness, and how it treats individuality.’
For Lennon, these are all debates he hopes his project sparks. Does he think AI can replace a photographer behind a lens? ‘AI is not a photographer, there is no lens or camera,’ says Lennon. ‘It’s up to you to decide what you prefer.’
All images courtesy of Amit Lennon
The scale of trauma, suffering and devastation in Gaza has reached a level that is barely imaginable, according to a photographer with the World Health Organization who spent more than a month documenting the UN agency’s work in the strip.
Chris Black, who recently returned after five and a half weeks in the Palestinian territory, said the most shocking moment came during a mission to a hospital.
“It was the first time I went to the Nasser hospital in Khan Younis. We were waiting there for the green light to leave and return to Rafah. There was a woman there holding a child. She kept asking: ‘Are we safe here?’ Asking over and over again. She’s in a hospital that is a protected place under international humanitarian law. I wanted to say: ‘Yes, you should be safe.’” But Black couldn’t. “I won’t forget that,” he said.
The assignment had a profound impact on Black. “I’ve been working in the humanitarian field for 30 years – conflicts, health emergencies and disasters. But this felt like a life-changing experience. If you talk to any humanitarian worker in Gaza at the moment, they will say the same.
“You don’t want to compare emergencies but this has taken to another level. I don’t usually cry but don’t think I’ve ever cried so much on a mission. We were staying in Rafah where there are incredible numbers of people and everyone you meet has a story of trauma, loss and multiple displacement. But it was when you left to travel elsewhere that you really see the destruction. I found myself doing stuff you don’t usually do as comms person, helping transfer people from ambulances. But I wanted to help.”
The conditions that Black and his colleagues saw in the Gaza hospitals they visited were horrific, including at the besieged al-Amal hospital in Khan Younis.
“I was on two missions to al-Amal. The first was to go and meet the hospital director to see their needs and how we could best help. What I remember most was the destruction coming into the facility. Coming through Khan Younis there was utter devastation. You didn’t see many people. When we got to the hospital perimeter it was just debris and smashed-up cars.
“The health workers from the Palestinian Red Crescent Society hadn’t left the building in over a month. We were talking to them in the parking lot and they hadn’t even been in the parking lot in a month. It was a sunny day and they said they hadn’t seen sun in weeks. They couldn’t go to the top floors of the hospital because of the snipers and shelling.
“Just imagine the courage to stay there and stick it out with the patients and their families. Because we were there they took advantage of the opportunity to go to the building next door to get food they had not been able to reach for a month.”
At the Nasser hospital, also in Khan Younis, the WHO team found similar scenes of destruction. “I first visited two weeks before it was besieged. Even then it was overflowing with people but it was kind of working. It had a little bakery,” Black said.
“The next time, a fortnight later, after it had been under siege, it was just a nightmare, full of debris and sewage, with no electricity. People had been there for two weeks with little water and food, barely surviving. We went with the director to refer the last patients from the ICU. He hadn’t been able to get to that building for two weeks. He was seeing the staff there for the first time in that period, saying: ‘I’m so glad see you.’”
In Rafah, nowhere felt safe, he said. “You sense it’s one of the most densely populated places world. People are living everywhere. On the streets, in tents, living in cars, houses with 30-40 people living them, thousands in every Unrwa shelter. There’s a stench of sewage, tents on roofs. Every inch of space is occupied. Everyone exhausted.
“And nowhere is safe, really. Everyone asks the same question. Should we stay here or should we try and go somewhere else?”
Then there is the desperation driven by growing hunger. “I was there for the first airdrops [by the Jordanian air force]. Most of it fell into the sea. All aid is welcome but in the end it makes more sense to use the roads.
“I’ll never forget getting stuck near a checkpoint on our first mission to bring food to the Nasser hospital. We were waiting in an area before the checkpoint, waiting for the green light to go ahead, waiting on coastal road as another convoy was being looted. As we waited a crowd was gathering. Dr Ahmed, our team leader, was negotiating with the crowd, saying it’s food for the hospital. Just talking for 90 minutes until they just started taking the bags of food and then within minutes the food from two trucks had been taken.”
There were moments, too, of a dissonant normality that Black said served only to remind him of how abnormal the situation in Gaza was. “While I was there I would see kids more and more flying kites. The children are not in school and in the evenings when there’s a breeze and sun’s setting all you see is kites come up from camps and from the city. Like a little bit of peace up in the sky. It was just inspiring how kids just want to play.
“And that’s the thing. There’s just an overwhelming need for peace. Everyone says it. We don’t need peace for a day or a few days. We need a proper peace and to access basic commodities like food and sanitation and access to health. It’s as simple as that. As simple as peace.”
When Bob Jackson told his parents that he wanted to pursue photography as a career, they initially tried to steer him toward a business-oriented profession.
“They thought photography would be a nice hobby,” said Jackson, 90. “But I managed to turn that hobby into a career.”
Little did they know that their son would one day earn the Pulitzer Prize for capturing one of the most iconic moments in U.S. history — Jack Ruby’s fatal shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald, who had assassinated President John F. Kennedy just two days before.
There was little talk of that historic photograph on Saturday, when dozens of family members, friends and former co-workers converged at the Black Bear Distillery in Green Mountain Falls to throw a surprise birthday party for Jackson.
“It was a great party, and I was definitely surprised,” he said. “I couldn’t believe all those people showed up.”
“To people outside our circle, he’s considered a Pulitzer Prize winner who took this historic picture,” said Kelly England, Jackson’s daughter. “But to his friends, he’s just Bob. And to us kids, he’s just Daddy.”
Jackson, then a 29-year-old photographer for the Dallas Times Herald, was riding in the motorcade on Nov. 22, 1963, when President Kennedy was fatally shot. Sitting atop the back seat of a convertible several cars behind the presidential limousine, Jackson was in the process of changing film when the fatal shots rang out.
It was a moment that altered U.S. history, and Jackson had been stuck with an empty camera.
“I felt really bad about that,” he said. “I was pretty depressed. But I guess I made up for it two days later.”
On Nov. 24, Jackson was assigned to a police station to cover Oswald’s transfer to the county jail. He was standing near a police car when officers brought the suspected assassin outside.
Bob Jackson talks in The Gazette photo department in 1996 about his Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph of Jack Ruby shooting Lee Harvey Oswald.
As he was looking at Oswald through the viewfinder of his camera, Jackson saw a figure moving into his shot, threatening to obscure his view of Oswald.
“Of course, I didn’t know who was moving,” Jackson recalls now. “I just thought someone was about to get in my way.”
A moment later, Jack Ruby fired the shot that killed Oswald, and Jackson captured the wounded man’s pained expression right after the bullet struck.
“I couldn’t have planned it any better,” Jackson said. “I guess Ruby fired — and I fired — at about the same time.”
The image earned Jackson the Pulitzer Prize for Photography. Asked where he keeps the prestigious award, he mused: “Let’s see. Where is it?”
Jackson, who lives in Manitou Springs, loaned some memorabilia and a few of his favorite photos to the city’s Heritage Center and Museum for an exhibit in 2018. His Pulitzer was among the loaned items.
“They were doing a lot of remodeling at the museum, so we brought it home,” Jackson said. “It’s around here, in a box someplace.”
The negative of the prize-winning photo is tucked away in a safe deposit box, he said.
Pulitzer Prize winning photographer Bob Jackson takes a moment to observe the room after friends, family and former colleagues surprised him for his 90th birthday at Black Bear Distillery, Saturday, April 6, 2024, in Green Mountain Falls, Colo. The former Gazette photojournalist won a Pulitzer in 1964 for his image capturing the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald by Jack Ruby while working for the Dallas Times Herald. (Parker Seibold, The Gazette)
Jackson moved from Texas to Colorado in 1980 and took a job with The Gazette (then the Gazette Telegraph), where he worked until his retirement in 1990.
“I’ve loved living up here,” he said. “It’s a great place to raise kids.”
Jackson’s son, Bobby, said his dad doesn’t talk much about the historic photo — though all six of Jackson’s kids have a copy.
“He doesn’t bring it up to people, but he doesn’t have to,” said Bobby, a manager and distiller at the Black Bear.
Jackson — a race car enthusiast who counts the late automotive legend Carroll Shelby among his friends — said his life is a little slower-paced these days. But his kids say he’s as sharp as ever.
“He still drives pretty fast,” said England, Jackson’s daughter. “And even though he loves ice cream and cookies, he’s still fit as a fiddle.”
“He still loves to tell stories,” Bobby said. “He cracks everyone up — including himself.”
The Pulitzer Prize winner may yet have a few more stories to tell, he said.
“I feel pretty good for 90,” Jackson said. “I wasn’t expecting to feel as good as I do at this age.”
As spring unfolds in the ancient city of Kyoto, the spotlight once again turns to Kyotographie – Japan’s premier international platform for the exchange of culture through the artistic medium of photography. Celebrating its home city’s unique blend of tradition and innovation, this festival intertwines Kyoto’s thousand-year legacy with its role as a beacon of international culture.
In an elegant fusion of past and present, Kyotographie 2024 exhibits an array of photographic collections that span from the works of time-honoured artisans to avant-garde collaborations harnessing the latest in technology. Each exhibition, set against the backdrop of Kyoto’s historic and contemporary architectural marvels, transcends the conventional gallery format to achieve a mesmerising harmony with its surroundings.
Set to run from April 13 to May 12, this year’s edition of Kyotographie is centred around the concept of ‘Source’, delving into the essence of beginnings and the nexus of creation and discovery. It reflects on life’s pivotal moments – be it conflict, liberation, or the inception of new paths – prompting viewers to contemplate a return to primal origins or to embark on fresh endeavours.
This year’s festival boasts an exceptional lineup of photographers, each bringing a unique perspective and narrative to the festival’s exploration of ‘Source’. Among them is James Mollison, a visionary whose projects such as ‘Where Children Sleep’ offer profound commentary on societal and cultural themes by snapshotting children’s bedrooms from around the globe. Born in Kenya and based in Venice, Mollison’s work is celebrated for its originality and depth, inviting viewers to reflect on the diversity of childhood experiences and the universalities that connect us.
Joining Mollison is Jaisingh Nageswaran, hailing from the village of Vadipatti in Tamil Nadu, India. Nageswaran’s self-taught journey in photography is a testament to his commitment to depicting the lives of marginalised communities, with a focus on gender identity, caste discrimination and rural narratives. His project ‘I Feel Like a Fish’ exemplifies his dedication to capturing the resilience of the Dalit community, offering a window into the struggle and endurance of people often left at the fringes of society.
The Shanghai-based duo Birdhead, consisting of Song Tao and Ji Weiyu, returns to the essence of photography by challenging its traditional boundaries. Their exploration of light and time, set against the backdrop of Shanghai’s rapid urban transformation, presents a mesmerising blend of abstraction and representation, reflecting on the transient nature of existence and the enduring impact of change.
Meanwhile, Claudia Andujar, whose life’s work is intertwined with the Yanomami people of the Brazilian Amazon, brings a deeply personal and political dimension to the festival. Through photography, she narrates the story of her collaboration with the Yanomami, highlighting their struggle for rights and sovereignty amidst threats from the outside world. Andujar’s exhibition is not only a showcase of her photographic talent; it’s also a platform for the Yanomami’s voices and visions, emphasising the power of art as a tool for advocacy and change.
The festival spans 12 venues in total, including historical sites such as Ryosokuin Zen Temple and the former printing plant of The Kyoto Shimbun, as well as more public spaces like the Demachi Masugata Shopping Arcade. Eight of these places require tickets for access ranging from ¥600 to ¥1,200 per person, depending on the venue.
The advance general passport ticket (¥5,500), which is available for booking until April 12, will grant you one-time access to every exhibition. There is also a ¥15,000 passport, which will grant you priority access and allow you to enter the exhibitions as many times as you like. You can buy your tickets online here.
For more information on Kyotographie 2024, visit the official website.
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