Photographs convey what words cannot, which makes the two the perfect pairing in storytelling. While words can revive the past, detail the present, and sometimes even predict the future, the only way to make a photograph is in the moment, and every story is an assemblage of moments. Here is a selection of frames where time, space, and light came together just so, as seen through the lens of the Beacon in 2023.
When Brian Graham first learned about a world famous photographer who’d recently made Cape Breton Island his second home, he was intrigued, but he wasn’t ready to meet Robert Frank just yet.
“I didn’t think I had anything to say, tell you the truth,” he recalled, on a recent morning from his wife’s home in France. “I hadn’t done anything.”
His new book Goin’ Down the Road with Robert Frank, documents their 40-year-long friendship and unlikely working relationship, which began in Mabou, N.S., and continued in New York City after Frank sent him a postcard inviting him to move to the city and offering him a place to stay.
For Graham, who was raised in the mining community of Glace Bay, getting swept up in Frank’s world was something he could have never imagined.
“I was never going to be an artist,” he said. “I mean, the best photographer I knew was my aunt.”
Frank, who died in 2019 at the age of 94, was best known for his seminal book of photography, The Americans, which featured 83 photos, culled from tens of thousands, that Frank took on a 1955 road trip across the United States.
The images show a range of people just as Frank found them — whether he was documenting segregation on a city bus in the southern United States years before the dawn of the civil rights movement, or depicting other unsanitized slices of everyday life.
Frank first arrived in Cape Breton in the early 1970s after purchasing a ramshackle home overlooking the ocean in Mabou with his wife, the artist June Leaf. He spent winters away in New York City and summers in Nova Scotia, a place he came to adore.
“In the city, you’re an operator, you’re fighting to be at the top, you’re afraid that the guy behind you is going to push you away and you know he will. Which is not the case here, you can be more yourself,” he said in an interview with CBC News in 1977.
Graham became enamoured with photography after graduating from university in 1973 and moving to Halifax, where he began attending lectures on the subject at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design.
But it wasn’t until he spent two years working in the oilsands in Alberta and offshore near Sable Island and the Labrador Sea — gaining what he considered real life experience — that he finally worked up the nerve to knock on Frank’s front door in 1979.
Wary of spooking Frank, he remembers parking far away from his house and making a slow approach on foot. The front door opened, Graham was invited inside and the two men hit it off, with Frank seeing something in Graham that would change his life.
On his next visit, Frank gave Graham a camera he had brought back from New York and told him to practise his craft by taking Polaroids.
Frank could be mercurial, and sometimes would snap at photographers taking his picture. But when they went outside and Graham pulled out his new camera to take a picture of Frank, something curious happened: he didn’t swat the camera away.
After moving to New York City, Graham was introduced to many of the artists in Frank’s orbit. He soon found himself working for the famous beat poet Allen Ginsberg, whose photographs he printed in his new dark room (and who asked memorably after they first met, “How’s the sex in Nova Scotia?”) and tagging along on Frank’s visits with musician Tom Waits (whose album, Rain Dogs, Frank had shot the back cover for) and filmmaker Jim Jarmusch.
“I’d go to [Ginsberg’s] apartment and he’d hand me a plastic shopping bag with like 40 rolls of film in it to process and make contact sheets,” he said. “I would meet all of these people, poets and different friends of Allen’s, old friends and young friends … it was magic.”
For over 10 years, Graham worked closely with Frank, learning the craft from a master. That included everything from developing and printing images in the darkroom to cropping pictures for maximum impact. He even helped renovate the iconic building Frank called home on Bleecker Street on the Lower East Side.
During this time he regularly captured images of Frank at work or at play, never expecting that they would amount to anything.
It wasn’t until he began to sort through his archive, with the encouragement of his wife and friends, that he realized the photos he’d taken were worth sharing.
Graham’s book was released earlier this year by Steidl, and features an introduction by the famous Chinese dissident artist, Ai Weiwei. They had become friends in the early ’90s, when both were regular fixtures in the East Village neighbourhood of New York, where they were members of the same loosely connected scene.
“I am very happy to see Brian’s photography,” Ai writes in the intro. “It’s like a stone sunk to the bottom of the water surfaces and brings me back to thirty years ago and all that I experienced at that time.”
More than anything else, the book is about Graham’s own journey, a memoir in images that showcases his unlikely life alongside a legendary photographer.
Looking at the photos, viewers are treated to the same peek behind the curtain that Graham enjoyed.
And if it’s true that the camera doesn’t lie, then Frank was clearly comfortable in his presence. Frank rarely looks contemptuous — except perhaps in one photo, a proto-selfie taken with Graham that he wasn’t happy with.
Even here, however, Frank gave him something to work with.
“He didn’t like it, and I guess you can see, the scratching on the negative wasn’t really that friendly,” Graham said.
His book is aptly named after the 1970 Canadian cinema classic Goin’ Down the Road, directed by the recently departed Donald Shebib.
That film followed two Cape Bretoners making tracks for Toronto in hopes of finding work, a journey familiar to thousands of islanders over the years, including Graham.
By the end of the movie, both characters are at their wit’s end, driving away from the big city in defeat, having made a mess of their lives.
It illustrates the risk in leaving home. You might find success beyond your wildest dreams, or perhaps just as easily find yourself in ruin.
But Graham persevered. He went down the road and now he’s lived long enough to tell the tale.
Over the years, he’s printed work from the archives of Ginsberg, as well as from renowned photographers like Walker Evans and Rosalind Fox Solomon. He’s also exhibited his own photos internationally, in New York, Berlin and Lisbon.
But after all this time, the question remains: Why did Frank send that postcard?
“I’ve thought of that too, because, I mean, every photographer from Brooklyn or anywhere would want to be his assistant or his printer,” said Graham. “But he didn’t look at it that way, you know. I think it was because I was from Glace Bay, and not many people from Glace Bay end up in New York.”
Copyright 2024 BBC. All rights reserved. The BBC is not responsible for the content of external sites. Read about our approach to external linking.
Beta Terms By using the Beta Site, you agree that such use is at your own risk and you know that the Beta Site may include known or unknown bugs or errors, that we have no obligation to make this Beta Site available with or without charge for any period of time, nor to make it available at all, and that nothing in these Beta Terms or your use of the Beta Site creates any employment relationship between you and us. The Beta Site is provided on an “as is” and “as available” basis and we make no warranty to you of any kind, express or implied.
In case of conflict between these Beta Terms and the BBC Terms of Use these Beta Terms shall prevail.
Polaroid’s Revival: Analog Cameras and Innovative Printers for the Digital Age
In a sweeping return to the snapshot photography scene, iconic brand Polaroid has unveiled a fresh line of analog cameras and ground-breaking printers that marry the comfort of digital photography with the nostalgia of instant film. The revival is led by the Polaroid Lab and Polaroid Hi-Print, devices that let users transpose their smartphone-captured memories into tangible Polaroid photos and sticker prints respectively.
The Polaroid Lab, a marvel of modern technology cloaked in vintage charm, breathes new life into digital photos by transforming them into classic Polaroid prints. This is no mere printer; the Lab employs actual photographic chemical reactions to create an image, a process that requires either i-Type instant photo film or Polaroid’s 600 series film. Users can procure these from Polaroid’s online store or other authorized retailers. To use the Lab, users must download the compatible app, available for both Android and iOS. However, updating the operating system to the latest version is mandatory before the app can be installed.
Offering a playful twist to the traditional instant photo, the Polaroid Hi-Print is a compact printer that turns smartphone photos into 2×3 sticker prints. The Hi-Print uses a specially designed sticky-backed paper, crafted and sold exclusively by Polaroid. Like its sibling, the Lab, the Hi-Print also necessitates the installation of a compatible app on a smartphone running the latest version of Android or iOS.
These innovations have thrust Polaroid back into the limelight, demonstrating the brand’s ability to adapt to the evolving world of digital photography. By bridging the divide between the digital ease and the charm of instant film, Polaroid has successfully managed to maintain relevance in today’s rapidly changing photography landscape.
JJ KeithRainbow suits, yoga mats and a human boombox have all brought flashes of inspiration and colour to a photography project celebrating first-generation settlers in the UK.
London photographer JJ Keith has been working on the series of portraits for a year.
The collection is dedicated to his father, who was born in Vienna and sought refuge in the UK after the rise of the Nazis.
Keith’s Portrait of a Diverse Nation, described as “intimate pictures of successes, hardships and adventures”, examines the cultural contributions of people from across the world who have found their home in London.
Here, the man behind the camera describes some of the people in front of it.
JJ KeithJama Elmi is from Somalia; he moved to the UK when he was eight. His father, having been ambassador to the UK, was able to migrate here with his six children fleeing the civil war.
When Jama started school in Chalk Farm, he found it difficult to make friends and integrate. Aged nine, he went and bought himself pink trousers and a Hawaiian shirt. All the kids came flocking.
In 2018, Jama was traveling on the Central line from Stratford to Queensway. He looked around and at himself, everything was black, white or grey. Exasperated by the drabness, he went straight out shopping and the passion for the power of flamboyant dressing was reignited. Jama now has between 80 and 90 colourful suit combinations.
His suits still play an important therapeutic role in his day-to-day work. Each resident gets to pick their favourite colour for him to wear on a chosen day and when one resident wouldn’t talk any more, Jama decided to turn up in a completely ‘wrong’ clashing outfit. She couldn’t resist commenting and soon the communication lines were reinstated.
JJ KeithCat Alip-Douglas moved to New York from the Philippines with her family at the age of seven. Cat speaks with a subtle soft East Coast accent.
Her life in metropolitan Manila was a privileged one. At the time, it was still under a dictatorship and divided into the haves and have-nots. Her parents employed domestic help, not out of desire or necessity but to aid those in need. She remembers the first morning of school in the US being laughed at by her sisters for sitting on the end of her bed with arms raised waiting to be dressed.
On September 11, 2001, Cat was in the office when Flight 11 crashed into the North Tower. The focus on an upcoming work event meant she remained rooted to her desk, highlighting her “obliviousness and self-absorption”.
Like for so many, this turned out to be a wake-up call and a defining moment in her life. The yoga practice and its spiritual learnings became a lifeline.
JJ KeithElizabeth Akalawu was born in Imostate, south-east Nigeria, where her parents were yam farmers.
She planned to come to the UK for two years – but 60 years later she’s still here. It wasn’t an easy start though; she used to cry from homesickness.
In the 80s as a school nurse in Brent, she discovered black parents were fearful of going to parents’ evenings and disadvantaged children were suffering. So, ‘Nurse Liz’ went on home visits to persuade the parents to attend. It worked. School nurses across Brent then followed suit.
A new era began.
JJ KeithFlorent Charly Romain Bidois was born in 1986, “just like Lady Gaga”. His parents were both cleaners for a city council near Rennes and still live where they grew up.
He says: “I am different. I am a Breton through and through, I’m a sailor, I’m a traveller, I’m an adventurer. I am Indiana Jones. Rennes was too small and France too judgemental.”
Florent initially came to London in 2011 for a pattern-cutting internship and immediately felt a sense of belonging. He also came because of his love of the English language, but quickly realised London gave him the space to develop and express himself.
JJ KeithDr Jai Kumari Gir was born in 1934 in Hyderabad, a childhood she describes as ‘completely idyllic’. In a sign of things to come, she delivered two of her own brothers when her mother went into labour.
They called her the ‘gypsy girl’ because of her incessant lust for travel and adventure and it soon became clear she wanted to make a career for herself in England, not least because she had a thing about a classy English gentleman, with a particular penchant for Roger Moore.
She buckled down and studied hard. It took four months to get exams results in those days as the papers were shipped back to the UK. She gained a place at Girton College, Cambridge but because of currency restrictions couldn’t take it up. She continued to study in India till the restrictions eased and then took a place at West London School of Medicine (now Charing Cross Hospital) in 1956.
She was quick to integrate into the UK, something she believes was helped by the lightness of her skin.
She “loved necking ciders” in and around Holland Park and Notting Hill.
As a gynaecologist for many years and then a doctor in general practice, she stresses the health service in the 1960s was under the same pressure due the squeezing of resources.
JJ KeithViveth Hardy is “Jamaican born and bred”.
Since moving to the UK, she’s been making commuters smile with her special gift of song. Why does she do it?
She says: “It warms my heart. It’s something to do with the within. I don’t do it because I want to sing. It’s a spiritual thing. I can’t control it.
“If it comes, I have to get with it. I don’t have any shame in my game. I be on the platform. I be on the street. I be at home. I just sing.
“I be sleeping. I wake up in the morning with a song in my head. I just sing. I’m like a boombox.”
She’s a boombox that’s a bit of a legend in Kensal Rise.
JJ Keith’s London section of Open Britain: Portrait of a Diverse Nation can be seen with the rest of his portfolio on his website.
Listen to the best of BBC Radio London on Sounds and follow BBC London on Facebook, X and Instagram. Send your story ideas to hello.bbclondon@bbc.co.uk
The day before Thanksgiving, Marlene Wusinich, 48, was diagnosed with cancer.
“Nothing like finding out you have colon cancer in your neck,” Wusinich said with the kind of levity she is known for.
A poignant video of a bison shedding a tear has captivated the internet’s interest.
The video, captured by US-based photographer Chris Henry, has garnered over 2 million within two days of being posted on Instagram. While sharing the clip, Henry revealed that he filmed this moment in Northern Utah during winter in 2022.
The video featured a bison standing alone in an open area on a visibly chilly and windy day. As the animal closed its eyes, a tear rolled down.
advertisement
Watch the video here:
The video, which is being circulated across social media platforms, triggered a widespread reaction from internet users.
Several people said that the bison was weeping over the destruction humans have caused to nature. “God created beautiful things, on the other hand, we are destroying it,” an Instagram user commented.
“Humans have made hell on this planet for animals,” read another comment on the post.
“This is enough to make me cry,” wrote another Instagram user.
Bisons, like most animals, have physiological mechanisms to keep their eyes moist. They produce tears that fulfill the typical role of tear production in animals: lubricating the eye, removing irritants, and preventing infections.
This automatic physiological response, however, must not be confused with crying associated with emotional distress or sadness. More research is needed to understand the complexity of bison emotions in depth.
Must Watch
#inform-video-player-1 .inform-embed { margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 20px; }
#inform-video-player-2 .inform-embed { margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 20px; }
Dec. 31, 2023 South Haven Tribune budget
Contact: Becky Kark, 269-637-1104 ext. 102
#inform-video-player-3 .inform-embed { margin-top: 10px; margin-bottom: 20px; }
Rather than using a camera to convey verisimilitude, Jada Fabrizio combines photography with mixed media to bring her off-kilter inner visions to life. Fabrizio sculpts characters, then builds, lights, and photographs sets to create “freshly minted fairy tales for adults.” Her recent “Land” series is directly influenced by the silence she experienced during the pandemic. “The world seemed an alien place,” Fabrizio says, “as if I had suddenly landed on the moon. Everything was familiar, yet drastically changed.”
Over the Moon depictys two astronauts about to embrace under a giant celestial orb while a flock of birds flies away into the horizon. The landscape, building, and vehicle indicate the American Southwest, while the spacesuits suggest another planet. Perhaps that’s Over the Moon in a nutshell—at once familiar and otherworldly.
What’s for Dinner, Jada Fabrizio, Photograph, 13″×19″, 2019
About her process, Fabrizio says, “My materials are mostly scavenged or bought and modified with Sculptamold, plaster, carpenter’s foam, wood, and anything else I can find or make. The sets are usually three to four feet. The backgrounds are hand painted with acrylic.”
For the construction of this particular image, she made the landscape with aquarium sand mixed with glue and foam insulation, while the house is a cardboard box. “The figures are from the movie Interstellar (which I found on eBay). I am always looking for old trucks and cars at estate sales. The background is painted, the birds and Earth added digitally,” Fabrizio says.
Generally shooting with a Nikon D850 and a 105mm Macro lens, she used miniature lights and tiny reflectors with black tinfoil to mask areas for Over the Moon.
Fabrizio prefers world building with models over straight photography. “It takes a very special skill to shoot reality in a meaningful way,” she says. “I once took a class with Mary Ellen Mark on street photography and was amazed by her skill, but felt that it was not the path for me. I like creating moments from observed reality and putting my own personal twist on it. I also enjoy the handwork involved with building things from nothing.”
As to how she comes up with her ideas, she says, “I try hard to always see things. I study people and imagine what their life is like. My stories are personal but also universal. It’s very challenging for me to figure out what the emotion will be and then, like a puzzle, figure out ways to fill the frame and build the components.”
The Visitor, Jada Fabrizio, Photograph, 13″×19″, 2019
Fabrizio is inspired by new topographic photographers such as Robert Adams and Lewis Baltz “for their poetic and breathtaking work on silence in landscape” and fantastic set builders Lori Nix (featured on the November 2003 cover of Chronogram) and Kathleen Gerber, as well as Diane Arbus and Francesca Woodman “for their raw emotion and vulnerability.”
The Hudson Valley is also inspirational. Fabrizio studied creative writing at SUNY New Paltz, fell in love with poetry and art, and was married in a field in Mount Tremper. “It’s a place where I feel free and calm,” she says.
While recognizing that each person brings their own interpretation when viewing art, she says, “I hope my images somehow express collective human experiences. I am not trying to influence thought, just reflect it.”
When the muggles – be they friends, family or loved ones – ask us about our New Year’s resolutions, we don’t usually say what they really are. That’s because saying, “Yeah, I’ll go to the gym more,” is much easier than trying to explain why your 2024 resolution is actually to clean your camera sensor or upgrade your memory cards.
Non-camera folk just don’t understand these things, so we fob them off with platitudes… but if we don’t share our resolutions somewhere, we’ll never stick to them! So, everybody reading this is now officially a DCW Accountability Buddy™, and the team needs you to hold us accountable for sticking to these promises in 2024!
Gareth Bevan
Reviews Editor
As a camera journalist who makes their living waxing lyrical on the latest and greatest camera gear, it’s a little ironic that my resolution is to buy less of it! Now to be clear, this isn’t to escape any escalating debts, this is just to save my poor shelves from having to make space for another lens I am seldom going to use.
This year I invested heavily in Fujifilm cameras and lenses, an easy feat, as Fuji X gear can be a lot cheaper than other brands, especially second-hand. I now have several shiny new (or at least new to me) lenses waiting to be used. The main issue, I only ever leave the house with the same 35m lens on my camera. Next year I resolve to not buy any more gear I do not need (and as a bonus resolution – use what I actually own!).
My New Year’s resolution regarding photography is to take my black-and-white film shooting, developing, and scanning a little more seriously. Currently, I just use a mono bath (all-in-one solution) to develop my negatives at home and scan them on my Canon Canoscan 9900F Mark II. However, I want to experiment with other developers and nail down my scanning techniques to produce richer, better negatives, and overall crisper scans and images.
First of all, I will invest in a darkroom changing bag – rather than loading my film into my Paterson tank in my awkward, Harry Potter-style cupboard – so I can change and load film anywhere. Once that is acquired, choosing another “proper” black-and-white developer will be my next move to see what results I like with the film stock I often shoot, then a deep dive into my current scanner – yes it is a flatbed, and won’t give leading performance results over a dedicated film scanner, but I’m hoping this will heal the wounds of intrigue.
Let’s hope it all works out because if it doesn’t, I’ll probably buy a Leica Monochrom out of sheer madness and despair!
Hannah Rooke
Staff Writer
Last year my photography-related New Year resolution was to shoot more medium format, and lo and behold I managed to keep it! I still haven’t invested in a light meter, as they’re not cheap, but I have used my Sony A7 III or a light meter app on my phone as a workaround.
This year, I’m dead set on becoming a much better videographer and video editor. I’ve always enjoyed shooting video but I want to start creating more exciting content with thoughtful transitions, well-executed storyboards and applying more effects during the editing process to bring my videos to life.
To create more professional-looking videos, I have also vowed to start using my gimbal more. While the camera I own does have in-body stabilization, it doesn’t quite cut it for scenes where I am walking. So to get smooth shots while on the move, I need to get over balancing it correctly and not be so lazy when it comes to taking it on shoots.
Ben Andrews
Lab Manager
Just one dedicated camera to call my own. I recently sold my trusty Nikon D5500 to help fund another project, leaving my Samsung Galaxy A53 phone to cover all my photographic needs. Though good enough for most situations, the phone’s primary (wide-angle) camera isn’t a great focal length for portraiture, and with no telephoto module, anything requiring some zoom can only be achieved by cropping in on a section of a wide-angle shot.
Investing in a new interchangeable lens camera system can be daunting as, whichever system you choose, you’ll likely be wedded to it for a long time – for better or worse! Thankfully these days there are very few truly bad cameras, and let’s face it – we’re not short of buying guides on this website to help guide a new purchase!
Working as a commercial photographer for the past eight years has been a blast, but it often means I am shooting concepts and ideas to meet the briefs of others. While studying for my MA in photography this past year I have, for the first time, been working on a large personal project, which has been a freeing experience. Without the constraints of briefs and the approval of others, I have been able to shoot with freedom much akin to when I first picked up a camera.
In the new year I will start disseminating this work, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel anxiety over sharing my first personal project. New Year’s resolutions can be a good way of ensuring accountability, therefore I will aim to not only share the finished work but the work in progress and development stages, too, in the hopes that it may be useful to others. So, my New Year’s resolution for 2024 is a two-parter; to continue to make personal work for myself and to share it!
Adam Juniper
Managing Editor
This year my photography resolution is to spend more time with my computer. I know, boring right? But the thing is I love the gadget fun of all my drones, cameras, assorted security devices and other weird toys and spend far too little time looking at the results on a decent-sized screen.
If anything, the arrival of apps has compounded the problem. I’ve barely used a device this year that doesn’t have some kind of app connection, live view, or remote control, and I start to think of the images and video I capture too much in terms of the quick likes from family members or social feeds than as something with a worth of their own. To bring that out I need to take a breath, look at the RAW file or video equivalent, make some measured adjustments, and enjoy the rush I felt in the field again, differently.
As a stretch goal I’m going to try to print more pictures, buy more picture frames and keep the walls of the house busy. Until I put a nail through a water pipe, anyway!
Chris George
Content Director
Owning a camera system is a bit like owning a house. When you get a new home, you spend time gradually improving it… and over time you improve it. Put in a new kitchen, add a sun deck, landscape the garden, and maybe add an extension. With a camera system, you start with the body – and over time add lenses, remotes, grips, flashguns and more to pimp it out to the max to meet your peculiar photographic needs.
I’ve had more camera systems now than I’ve had homes. Being a camera journalist has made me switch more often than most – enticed by the opportunity to try new tech. Somehow I currently have three camera systems – and the truth is that none of them suit my purpose. I have a very professional Nikon D800 system with top-class glass, which is too bulky for my current needs (and needs an expensive service). I have a Fujifilm X-T1 that looks great, but I don’t enjoy – despite having a big bag of lenses. And a Sony A7 II that I love, but only have a kit lens for.
So in 2024 I am going to sell all of it (or anything that has value), and start again. It will be as traumatic and emotional as moving home. But I know it is time to move on.
