January, 20 is celebrated as the World Museum Selfie Day. I’ve just made an Instagram post on the subject, but here I’d like to point you to two posts from 2008 that I wrote about taking photos in museums. Believe it or not, back then it was a bit of an issue for some museums whether to allow personal unintrusive photography or not. Some offered special forms to fill in, for example. I even crossed keyboards with Manchester Art Gallery explaining to them that there was more good to be done to their collection if visitors were allowed to take photos and post them online. Those were the early days of businesses and museums embracing the social media, and everyone was careful not to jump in with both feet. But already in 2009-2010 things had changed, and thereafter museums and art galleries have taken it fine if someone wanted to take photos of the collection. They only asked that we used non-professional equipment, and no flash was allowed. Most importantly, they increasingly stopped charging money for it, whereas before photography in museums was an important source of revenue for any art depository. Frankly speaking, I’ve always been interested in photographing the exhibits because I wanted to use them on my blog or because they struck a cord. Otherwise I have been OK even if I couldn’t take any photos, as this is the case with special exhibitions.
So, below are the posts, and I guess some points on taking photos in museums are still valid and topical. Feel free to leave comments here on in any of the posts.
The new year is just around the corner, and I’m pleased to announce the availability of 2021 photographic calendars I’ve prepared for you.
We’re starting with my photographic calendars available on Zazzle.com. One of them is dedicated to Wales and features my photos made there between 2009 and 2013. The photos were taken in North, Middle and South Wales, particularly in Caernarfon, Llandudno, Denbighshire. Exact places include Valle Crucis Abbey, Horseshoe Path, and a few others.
Another calendar consists of my London photos. The landmarks include a church in Aldgate, St. Pancras Railway Station, the church of St. Clements Danes, a few Bloomsbury and Soho streets. This is London you rarely see on postcards. While the Welsh 2021 photographic calendar is ideal for those who love the countryside, London 2021 photographic calendar will best suit those who like the subdued city vibe.
My library is finally back home. After I had moved and posted everything that needed to go before anything else, there only remained hardbacks and photocopies to be transported from Manchester to Moscow. That was the end of December, 2013.
In 2014, my grandma died, then the anti-Crimean sanctions struck, a little later, in the aftermath of the flood, we were faced with a complete makeover of the flat… The prospect of bringing the books and papers to Moscow was delaying with every passing month and year.
Then I made a resolution to have them all back to Moscow by the end of 2019. And when that didn’t work, I didn’t back down but instead adjusted the deadline. I suppose I was as determined as Cato the Elder when he professed the imminent destruction of Carthage. None of us knew exactly when this would happen but both of us were determined to live to the day. Well, I certainly was.
So, the books are finally here, and I have also been able to appreciate the long-term friendly ties that remain despite the boundaries and time. One friend helped to pack the boxes, another arranged the posting. Here in Moscow I had some books delivered by the courier; a few I picked up from my local post office; and one I had to collect from a remote post office in a taxi.
This weekend was spent putting the books on the shelves. The papers are still to be accommodated in their new abode. One thing I have already done was to look through my treasured Unseen Vogue and People in Vogue editions. In one of the pictures you can see Wallis Simpson and the former king Edward VIII, photographed by Cecil Beaton.
There is no right or wrong way to photograph anything anymore. Even the technically worst photo may become a hit just because it’s struck a chord with the audience. Yet still it pays to try and look at a familiar subject from a different angle…
Paul Arden mentions two photos of flowers, one by André Kertész, another by Irving Penn, in both of which a photographer worked with a wilted (Kertész) or dead (Penn) flower. I attempted to undertake a similar task with a photo of two dried roses in a vase overlooking a rebuilt church in Tarusa, Kaluga Region.
I understand this is done automatically – a visual effect has been applied to my photo by Google+. I think you may enjoy it too.
The scene I saw today at the Moscow State University brings to mind Vittorio de Sica’s Bicycle Thieves, if only in a very generic sense, though. When I was a student graduating 10 years ago we didn’t have bicycle stands or shelters; the actual culture of cycling to the classes was practically non-existent. Today’s different, as the scene I captured today well illustrates. I first shot it in colour and then changed to monochrome, as it felt more natural that way.
Julie Delvaux – A Bicycle Stand At the Moscow State University
It is a bad sign when people stop understanding humour, irony, or joke. – Fyodor Dostoevsky.
This is a rare photographic portrait of Fyodor Dostoevsky, made by his close friend Konstatin Shapiro. The photograph was presented to Jacov Faddeevich Sakhar on 16 December, 1880 with the inscription in Dostoevsky’s own hand.
I recently went to the Multimedia Art Museum in Moscow, and one of the exhibitions currently on display is a show of photographs made with an iPhone by a renowned Russian TV broadcaster, Svetlana Konegen, Nome, Cose, Citta. Born and bred in Saint Petersburg, Svetlana eventually moved to Moscow where she landed a spot on TV with her own programme. I gather that she must now be dividing her time between Moscow and Italy, the latter being the native country of her husband.
Franco Moroni, Antonio Geusa, Svetlana Konegen (image: RDH)
The exhibition by Svetlana Konegen Nome. Cose. Citta (Names. Things. Cities) follows several Italian towns where Svetlana travelled. She wonders as to exactly what attracts Russians to Italy, concluding that this is a kind of Paradise Regained, especially as far as the artists are concerned. Nikolai Gogol spent years in Rome, Alexander Ivanov travelled throughout Italy, Joseph Brodsky is buried in Venice. It is possible, Svetlana says, that in the process of exploring this country the object and subject constantly swap places: a Russian is constructed by Italy in the same way – and probably at the same time – as Italy is constructed by a Russian. Yet, as far as art is concerned, thanks to modern day technology it has become a truly intergral part of life, so just as David Hockney paints with his iPhone, Svetlana, a classical linguist, has used the same gadget to compose an illustrated diary of fleeting memories, images, and experiences that imbue the Epicurean, Senecan, Renaissance, and 1960s themes. The exhibition is curated by Antonio Geusa and is on display until February 26, 2012.
The photo that captivated me the most was the one to which I couldn’t possibly fail to respond. Having been trained in Medieval and Early Modern History, I first noticed the Latin words. It never registered with me before that Svetlana studied Classical Philology, so at the museum I was simply “impressed”. Later when I realised it was not particularly strange I still marvelled at the fact that there was a place for a Latin dictionary in Svetlana’s life (we obviously have to assume that it was Svetlana, not her husband or somebody else, who was reading this dictionary). What is more peculiar, however, is that this must be a 19th c. Russian edition, or its 20th c. reprint, to judge by the typeface and the Russian language style that was in use before the Revolution.
Frankly, out of all photographs this is probably the most telling and prompting to be contemplated. With a state-of-the-art iPhone in her hand, a 21st century woman is touring through Italy with a 19th c. Russian edition of Latin dictionary. It is as if she is trying to revive the journey of the 19th c. Russians to pay an hommage to the birthplace of the Western imperial culture, the Western law, and much of the art and philosophy. The photo is somehow in sync with the recent years’ fascination with the Russian 19th c., Dostoyevsky, nobility, monarchy, and so on. Whereas the English Grand Tour was mostly about visiting Italy, Russians seem to have always been slightly more attracted to Germany, primarily due to the Universities, so the Russian Grand Tour had its modifications. Yet Italy fascinated the Russians, even though not all were particularly impressed, say, Alexander Blok.
And the page with the words on it is also strangely telling, once you start thinking about it. The words are “consectatio” (pursuit), “consectatrix” (a pursuing female), “consectio” (dismembering), “consector” (to continuously pursue), “consecutio” (consequence), “consenesco” (to grow old). While both Russia and Italy age, Russians are still pursuing Italy as the epitome of Paradise on Earth. Some brave the Venetian vapours, others the Milanese rains, still others bask in the Napolitan sun or chill out in the chic environment of Sardinia, all for the chance to have the glory and luxury of the former Empire to rub off on them.
The sad news about Kodak just shows how easy it is to get swept by “everything going fine” and not to notice that the world has changed and gone in a completely different direction. Anyway, the photos are there, and The Guardian called for our Kodak moments to share. Before 2007 all my photos were taken by Kodak and Konica cameras, and even today I still don’t own an SLC. I blogged some of the photos previously, but it’s such a good opportunity to remind myself – and you – about the times when I had to wait before the photos were printed and then I had to scan them. It was a pain, but knowing it’s no more is sad.
Rastorguevo is, strictly speaking, a small village that people pass as they travel by Aeroexpress on their way to the Domodedovo Airport. It’s only 10 minutes of train travel away from where I live, and 2000s saw the reconstruction of the monastery and the church. My mother and I used to go there on weekends when I was a little girl, we’d usually visit two shops, one that sold everything, from stationery through clothes to furniture; and another that was a village-format version of B&Q.
Dubrovsky is another small village easily accessible from my district by bus. The Gardening Institute is located there, and the river is quite popular. Naturally, people used to go there for swimming and sunbathing. Sadly, as our visit there in October 2010 showed, things have changed dramatically. The Institute has practically closed, and on the opposite bank of the river sprung a quasi-elite settlement, and cars are driving up and down the sloppy roads all the time.
4. My first visit to London occurred in April 2004, and I will never forget those two weeks. This isn’t the moment to recap how I felt and what I did. Maybe, had I visited London during my first ever visit to England, my attitude would be different. I look at these pictures, and I see they’re not the usual touristy type of photos. Apparently, the moments of living and walking in London in those April days, especially during Easter, are still very vivid. These are also the photos I’m glad to call mine because they are good – and given the technology that produced them, they certainly say something about me and my aptitude as a photographer.
5.Last time I went to London with a Kodak camera was in March 2005. It looks like I didn’t scan all the photos, as there were definitely some from The Globe theatre. Anyway, during all my visits I rarely photographed the Thames, so this is a “rare” photo taken from the Millenium Bridge.
6. And finally, the Lake District. I do actually miss England, and I’d happily go to visit Lakeland. There was a flying visit to Carlisle in 2010, and I visited Shap Wells in 2004, but in all my visits there (by car) I never went further than Windermere and Grasmere. I’d gladly go to Keswick.