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![Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
[[MORE]]
Do you think that it’s a failing of the media that news coverage has to focus on these basic narratives we have of Africa?
I don’t know that I’d call it a failing of media because by its very nature media is there to look at the big events, so you’re often seeing the extremes: either the crisis or these stories of rich Africa.
In the US, or the UK, we do often see stories of poverty in western countries. But when I look at a story of poverty in the US, I see this family going through these depressing moments; but because the setting is more familiar, I know it’s not like their entire lives are lived in extreme moments. When the setting, to our eyes, looks as exotic as an African setting looks, you very easily have the assumption—– if you see 10 pictures of Africa, and all of them are of starving people looking sad in a refugee camp — you just have this natural assumption that’s what life is like for people all the time.
I’m not really sure there’s something the traditional media could do to correct this; it’s not their role. But I do think there’s an amazing role for social media to correct it. Aside from Everyday Africa, you have a simple fact that American and European youth can be following African youth on Tumblr, and understanding that their lives are more similar than they realize.
Is that what you’ve seen from your travels?
There are obvious differences. It’s not like we live in a hut. But I mean much more basic than that, in terms of how our time is spent, doing basic everyday things. Every culture in the world has a strong emphasis on family, has a love of a good meal, has a love of certain types of music. We can lose sight of similarities that are that basic if we just look at the news.
And you’re shooting this on your phone; it’s very much rough and ready.
I think there’s something interesting about keeping it on a phone only. For me as a photographer, it’s interesting in the way it has me shoot, which is much more casual. I find that my images are a little less composed, which I like in terms of the audience we’re trying to reach.
The other thing is all the implications of mobile technology in Africa. We’re going to start including a lot of the work of local Africans, as well as trying to look at what regular people are capturing on their phones anyways. It becomes a cliche to talk about this, but it’s amazing to see the influx of cell phones on the continent. Every time I go back, it seems more and more people have phones, and it’s got to the point that when I visit a village in the Ivory Coast, everyone is photographing me on their phones.
What is it that makes the everyday image so powerful?
I have to say, I’m constantly shocked at how much attention we’ve gotten with a project based on normalcy. It’s mindblowing that it’s apparently enough of an interest to get people’s attention. What I think that means is we are not alone in realizing that this is a gap, that this is something we don’t normally see. It’s a fine line … we want to photograph the mundane, but we want the pictures to be interesting. I think the key element is these are moments we’ve seen in our own lives, in the places we live, and just simply don’t see in a place that seems as foreign as Africa does.
There are people, photographers, who have said, “You know, if you want to photograph on your phone, that’s the sort of thing you should use to photograph your girlfriend or your family.” To me, that’s exactly the reason we should be photographing Africa with phones. It’s just a family snap of a foreign place that you don’t usually see.
* * *
In the past few months, Lindsay Mackenzie, a Canadian freelance photojournalist based out of Spain and Tunisia, has joined Everyday Africa’s ranks. She tells us about how societies’ similarities can bring together western and African youth.
How did you get involved?
I got an iPhone last year — my sister gave me her old one — so I started using Instagram and at some point I read about Everyday Africa. I really like their philosophy because having spent a lot of time in Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, I get where they’re coming from when they say what they see and experience in Africa and what they see from the other side of the world in coverage is different. We only really see the extremes and the worst cases. People say, “Oh, it must’ve been really terrible being in Tunisia.” Not at all. I lived by the sea. They have fashion shows, and art events, and people go to the beach and the mall. I wanted to show this is a very normal place most of the time.
So this is filling in the gaps TV news and print media miss?
Yeah. There’s only every one story about Equatorial Guinea. Google it. You’ll only read about Teodoro Obiang and the depth of his dictatorship. While that’s valid, it’s nice to show that people go get pedicures at the market, or that there’s really beautiful in the south. You usually see pictures of Africa that have been filtered through editors and through the constraints of print. It’s what people think we should see. With iPhones and Instragram, there’s nobody between you taking the photo and the person on the other side seeing it.
How important is using a phone for the photos?
I think the type of people using Instagram are a much younger generation. When you think of a 15-year old on Instagram, when they see an Instagram-style photo from Equatorial Guinea or Namibia, they’re used to that. It brings it closer to them, being in the photographic language they know how to speak. The whole photo and platform makes people more normal, more human.
— Chris Stokel-Walker](http://24.media.tumblr.com/bac35f8230593155fe05caf85c349e4a/tumblr_mkygysufvy1rrpm57o6_1280.jpg)
![Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
[[MORE]]
Do you think that it’s a failing of the media that news coverage has to focus on these basic narratives we have of Africa?
I don’t know that I’d call it a failing of media because by its very nature media is there to look at the big events, so you’re often seeing the extremes: either the crisis or these stories of rich Africa.
In the US, or the UK, we do often see stories of poverty in western countries. But when I look at a story of poverty in the US, I see this family going through these depressing moments; but because the setting is more familiar, I know it’s not like their entire lives are lived in extreme moments. When the setting, to our eyes, looks as exotic as an African setting looks, you very easily have the assumption—– if you see 10 pictures of Africa, and all of them are of starving people looking sad in a refugee camp — you just have this natural assumption that’s what life is like for people all the time.
I’m not really sure there’s something the traditional media could do to correct this; it’s not their role. But I do think there’s an amazing role for social media to correct it. Aside from Everyday Africa, you have a simple fact that American and European youth can be following African youth on Tumblr, and understanding that their lives are more similar than they realize.
Is that what you’ve seen from your travels?
There are obvious differences. It’s not like we live in a hut. But I mean much more basic than that, in terms of how our time is spent, doing basic everyday things. Every culture in the world has a strong emphasis on family, has a love of a good meal, has a love of certain types of music. We can lose sight of similarities that are that basic if we just look at the news.
And you’re shooting this on your phone; it’s very much rough and ready.
I think there’s something interesting about keeping it on a phone only. For me as a photographer, it’s interesting in the way it has me shoot, which is much more casual. I find that my images are a little less composed, which I like in terms of the audience we’re trying to reach.
The other thing is all the implications of mobile technology in Africa. We’re going to start including a lot of the work of local Africans, as well as trying to look at what regular people are capturing on their phones anyways. It becomes a cliche to talk about this, but it’s amazing to see the influx of cell phones on the continent. Every time I go back, it seems more and more people have phones, and it’s got to the point that when I visit a village in the Ivory Coast, everyone is photographing me on their phones.
What is it that makes the everyday image so powerful?
I have to say, I’m constantly shocked at how much attention we’ve gotten with a project based on normalcy. It’s mindblowing that it’s apparently enough of an interest to get people’s attention. What I think that means is we are not alone in realizing that this is a gap, that this is something we don’t normally see. It’s a fine line … we want to photograph the mundane, but we want the pictures to be interesting. I think the key element is these are moments we’ve seen in our own lives, in the places we live, and just simply don’t see in a place that seems as foreign as Africa does.
There are people, photographers, who have said, “You know, if you want to photograph on your phone, that’s the sort of thing you should use to photograph your girlfriend or your family.” To me, that’s exactly the reason we should be photographing Africa with phones. It’s just a family snap of a foreign place that you don’t usually see.
* * *
In the past few months, Lindsay Mackenzie, a Canadian freelance photojournalist based out of Spain and Tunisia, has joined Everyday Africa’s ranks. She tells us about how societies’ similarities can bring together western and African youth.
How did you get involved?
I got an iPhone last year — my sister gave me her old one — so I started using Instagram and at some point I read about Everyday Africa. I really like their philosophy because having spent a lot of time in Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, I get where they’re coming from when they say what they see and experience in Africa and what they see from the other side of the world in coverage is different. We only really see the extremes and the worst cases. People say, “Oh, it must’ve been really terrible being in Tunisia.” Not at all. I lived by the sea. They have fashion shows, and art events, and people go to the beach and the mall. I wanted to show this is a very normal place most of the time.
So this is filling in the gaps TV news and print media miss?
Yeah. There’s only every one story about Equatorial Guinea. Google it. You’ll only read about Teodoro Obiang and the depth of his dictatorship. While that’s valid, it’s nice to show that people go get pedicures at the market, or that there’s really beautiful in the south. You usually see pictures of Africa that have been filtered through editors and through the constraints of print. It’s what people think we should see. With iPhones and Instragram, there’s nobody between you taking the photo and the person on the other side seeing it.
How important is using a phone for the photos?
I think the type of people using Instagram are a much younger generation. When you think of a 15-year old on Instagram, when they see an Instagram-style photo from Equatorial Guinea or Namibia, they’re used to that. It brings it closer to them, being in the photographic language they know how to speak. The whole photo and platform makes people more normal, more human.
— Chris Stokel-Walker](http://24.media.tumblr.com/c3ad5e6c2d57dd4f16fde082cc31f0d5/tumblr_mkygysufvy1rrpm57o1_1280.jpg)
![Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
[[MORE]]
Do you think that it’s a failing of the media that news coverage has to focus on these basic narratives we have of Africa?
I don’t know that I’d call it a failing of media because by its very nature media is there to look at the big events, so you’re often seeing the extremes: either the crisis or these stories of rich Africa.
In the US, or the UK, we do often see stories of poverty in western countries. But when I look at a story of poverty in the US, I see this family going through these depressing moments; but because the setting is more familiar, I know it’s not like their entire lives are lived in extreme moments. When the setting, to our eyes, looks as exotic as an African setting looks, you very easily have the assumption—– if you see 10 pictures of Africa, and all of them are of starving people looking sad in a refugee camp — you just have this natural assumption that’s what life is like for people all the time.
I’m not really sure there’s something the traditional media could do to correct this; it’s not their role. But I do think there’s an amazing role for social media to correct it. Aside from Everyday Africa, you have a simple fact that American and European youth can be following African youth on Tumblr, and understanding that their lives are more similar than they realize.
Is that what you’ve seen from your travels?
There are obvious differences. It’s not like we live in a hut. But I mean much more basic than that, in terms of how our time is spent, doing basic everyday things. Every culture in the world has a strong emphasis on family, has a love of a good meal, has a love of certain types of music. We can lose sight of similarities that are that basic if we just look at the news.
And you’re shooting this on your phone; it’s very much rough and ready.
I think there’s something interesting about keeping it on a phone only. For me as a photographer, it’s interesting in the way it has me shoot, which is much more casual. I find that my images are a little less composed, which I like in terms of the audience we’re trying to reach.
The other thing is all the implications of mobile technology in Africa. We’re going to start including a lot of the work of local Africans, as well as trying to look at what regular people are capturing on their phones anyways. It becomes a cliche to talk about this, but it’s amazing to see the influx of cell phones on the continent. Every time I go back, it seems more and more people have phones, and it’s got to the point that when I visit a village in the Ivory Coast, everyone is photographing me on their phones.
What is it that makes the everyday image so powerful?
I have to say, I’m constantly shocked at how much attention we’ve gotten with a project based on normalcy. It’s mindblowing that it’s apparently enough of an interest to get people’s attention. What I think that means is we are not alone in realizing that this is a gap, that this is something we don’t normally see. It’s a fine line … we want to photograph the mundane, but we want the pictures to be interesting. I think the key element is these are moments we’ve seen in our own lives, in the places we live, and just simply don’t see in a place that seems as foreign as Africa does.
There are people, photographers, who have said, “You know, if you want to photograph on your phone, that’s the sort of thing you should use to photograph your girlfriend or your family.” To me, that’s exactly the reason we should be photographing Africa with phones. It’s just a family snap of a foreign place that you don’t usually see.
* * *
In the past few months, Lindsay Mackenzie, a Canadian freelance photojournalist based out of Spain and Tunisia, has joined Everyday Africa’s ranks. She tells us about how societies’ similarities can bring together western and African youth.
How did you get involved?
I got an iPhone last year — my sister gave me her old one — so I started using Instagram and at some point I read about Everyday Africa. I really like their philosophy because having spent a lot of time in Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, I get where they’re coming from when they say what they see and experience in Africa and what they see from the other side of the world in coverage is different. We only really see the extremes and the worst cases. People say, “Oh, it must’ve been really terrible being in Tunisia.” Not at all. I lived by the sea. They have fashion shows, and art events, and people go to the beach and the mall. I wanted to show this is a very normal place most of the time.
So this is filling in the gaps TV news and print media miss?
Yeah. There’s only every one story about Equatorial Guinea. Google it. You’ll only read about Teodoro Obiang and the depth of his dictatorship. While that’s valid, it’s nice to show that people go get pedicures at the market, or that there’s really beautiful in the south. You usually see pictures of Africa that have been filtered through editors and through the constraints of print. It’s what people think we should see. With iPhones and Instragram, there’s nobody between you taking the photo and the person on the other side seeing it.
How important is using a phone for the photos?
I think the type of people using Instagram are a much younger generation. When you think of a 15-year old on Instagram, when they see an Instagram-style photo from Equatorial Guinea or Namibia, they’re used to that. It brings it closer to them, being in the photographic language they know how to speak. The whole photo and platform makes people more normal, more human.
— Chris Stokel-Walker](http://24.media.tumblr.com/a60734b6f194b871e38df60e41d55b6a/tumblr_mkygysufvy1rrpm57o7_1280.jpg)
![Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
[[MORE]]
Do you think that it’s a failing of the media that news coverage has to focus on these basic narratives we have of Africa?
I don’t know that I’d call it a failing of media because by its very nature media is there to look at the big events, so you’re often seeing the extremes: either the crisis or these stories of rich Africa.
In the US, or the UK, we do often see stories of poverty in western countries. But when I look at a story of poverty in the US, I see this family going through these depressing moments; but because the setting is more familiar, I know it’s not like their entire lives are lived in extreme moments. When the setting, to our eyes, looks as exotic as an African setting looks, you very easily have the assumption—– if you see 10 pictures of Africa, and all of them are of starving people looking sad in a refugee camp — you just have this natural assumption that’s what life is like for people all the time.
I’m not really sure there’s something the traditional media could do to correct this; it’s not their role. But I do think there’s an amazing role for social media to correct it. Aside from Everyday Africa, you have a simple fact that American and European youth can be following African youth on Tumblr, and understanding that their lives are more similar than they realize.
Is that what you’ve seen from your travels?
There are obvious differences. It’s not like we live in a hut. But I mean much more basic than that, in terms of how our time is spent, doing basic everyday things. Every culture in the world has a strong emphasis on family, has a love of a good meal, has a love of certain types of music. We can lose sight of similarities that are that basic if we just look at the news.
And you’re shooting this on your phone; it’s very much rough and ready.
I think there’s something interesting about keeping it on a phone only. For me as a photographer, it’s interesting in the way it has me shoot, which is much more casual. I find that my images are a little less composed, which I like in terms of the audience we’re trying to reach.
The other thing is all the implications of mobile technology in Africa. We’re going to start including a lot of the work of local Africans, as well as trying to look at what regular people are capturing on their phones anyways. It becomes a cliche to talk about this, but it’s amazing to see the influx of cell phones on the continent. Every time I go back, it seems more and more people have phones, and it’s got to the point that when I visit a village in the Ivory Coast, everyone is photographing me on their phones.
What is it that makes the everyday image so powerful?
I have to say, I’m constantly shocked at how much attention we’ve gotten with a project based on normalcy. It’s mindblowing that it’s apparently enough of an interest to get people’s attention. What I think that means is we are not alone in realizing that this is a gap, that this is something we don’t normally see. It’s a fine line … we want to photograph the mundane, but we want the pictures to be interesting. I think the key element is these are moments we’ve seen in our own lives, in the places we live, and just simply don’t see in a place that seems as foreign as Africa does.
There are people, photographers, who have said, “You know, if you want to photograph on your phone, that’s the sort of thing you should use to photograph your girlfriend or your family.” To me, that’s exactly the reason we should be photographing Africa with phones. It’s just a family snap of a foreign place that you don’t usually see.
* * *
In the past few months, Lindsay Mackenzie, a Canadian freelance photojournalist based out of Spain and Tunisia, has joined Everyday Africa’s ranks. She tells us about how societies’ similarities can bring together western and African youth.
How did you get involved?
I got an iPhone last year — my sister gave me her old one — so I started using Instagram and at some point I read about Everyday Africa. I really like their philosophy because having spent a lot of time in Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, I get where they’re coming from when they say what they see and experience in Africa and what they see from the other side of the world in coverage is different. We only really see the extremes and the worst cases. People say, “Oh, it must’ve been really terrible being in Tunisia.” Not at all. I lived by the sea. They have fashion shows, and art events, and people go to the beach and the mall. I wanted to show this is a very normal place most of the time.
So this is filling in the gaps TV news and print media miss?
Yeah. There’s only every one story about Equatorial Guinea. Google it. You’ll only read about Teodoro Obiang and the depth of his dictatorship. While that’s valid, it’s nice to show that people go get pedicures at the market, or that there’s really beautiful in the south. You usually see pictures of Africa that have been filtered through editors and through the constraints of print. It’s what people think we should see. With iPhones and Instragram, there’s nobody between you taking the photo and the person on the other side seeing it.
How important is using a phone for the photos?
I think the type of people using Instagram are a much younger generation. When you think of a 15-year old on Instagram, when they see an Instagram-style photo from Equatorial Guinea or Namibia, they’re used to that. It brings it closer to them, being in the photographic language they know how to speak. The whole photo and platform makes people more normal, more human.
— Chris Stokel-Walker](http://24.media.tumblr.com/6115b5dbed7e81614ed2bc3e577c4816/tumblr_mkygysufvy1rrpm57o2_1280.jpg)
![Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
[[MORE]]
Do you think that it’s a failing of the media that news coverage has to focus on these basic narratives we have of Africa?
I don’t know that I’d call it a failing of media because by its very nature media is there to look at the big events, so you’re often seeing the extremes: either the crisis or these stories of rich Africa.
In the US, or the UK, we do often see stories of poverty in western countries. But when I look at a story of poverty in the US, I see this family going through these depressing moments; but because the setting is more familiar, I know it’s not like their entire lives are lived in extreme moments. When the setting, to our eyes, looks as exotic as an African setting looks, you very easily have the assumption—– if you see 10 pictures of Africa, and all of them are of starving people looking sad in a refugee camp — you just have this natural assumption that’s what life is like for people all the time.
I’m not really sure there’s something the traditional media could do to correct this; it’s not their role. But I do think there’s an amazing role for social media to correct it. Aside from Everyday Africa, you have a simple fact that American and European youth can be following African youth on Tumblr, and understanding that their lives are more similar than they realize.
Is that what you’ve seen from your travels?
There are obvious differences. It’s not like we live in a hut. But I mean much more basic than that, in terms of how our time is spent, doing basic everyday things. Every culture in the world has a strong emphasis on family, has a love of a good meal, has a love of certain types of music. We can lose sight of similarities that are that basic if we just look at the news.
And you’re shooting this on your phone; it’s very much rough and ready.
I think there’s something interesting about keeping it on a phone only. For me as a photographer, it’s interesting in the way it has me shoot, which is much more casual. I find that my images are a little less composed, which I like in terms of the audience we’re trying to reach.
The other thing is all the implications of mobile technology in Africa. We’re going to start including a lot of the work of local Africans, as well as trying to look at what regular people are capturing on their phones anyways. It becomes a cliche to talk about this, but it’s amazing to see the influx of cell phones on the continent. Every time I go back, it seems more and more people have phones, and it’s got to the point that when I visit a village in the Ivory Coast, everyone is photographing me on their phones.
What is it that makes the everyday image so powerful?
I have to say, I’m constantly shocked at how much attention we’ve gotten with a project based on normalcy. It’s mindblowing that it’s apparently enough of an interest to get people’s attention. What I think that means is we are not alone in realizing that this is a gap, that this is something we don’t normally see. It’s a fine line … we want to photograph the mundane, but we want the pictures to be interesting. I think the key element is these are moments we’ve seen in our own lives, in the places we live, and just simply don’t see in a place that seems as foreign as Africa does.
There are people, photographers, who have said, “You know, if you want to photograph on your phone, that’s the sort of thing you should use to photograph your girlfriend or your family.” To me, that’s exactly the reason we should be photographing Africa with phones. It’s just a family snap of a foreign place that you don’t usually see.
* * *
In the past few months, Lindsay Mackenzie, a Canadian freelance photojournalist based out of Spain and Tunisia, has joined Everyday Africa’s ranks. She tells us about how societies’ similarities can bring together western and African youth.
How did you get involved?
I got an iPhone last year — my sister gave me her old one — so I started using Instagram and at some point I read about Everyday Africa. I really like their philosophy because having spent a lot of time in Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, I get where they’re coming from when they say what they see and experience in Africa and what they see from the other side of the world in coverage is different. We only really see the extremes and the worst cases. People say, “Oh, it must’ve been really terrible being in Tunisia.” Not at all. I lived by the sea. They have fashion shows, and art events, and people go to the beach and the mall. I wanted to show this is a very normal place most of the time.
So this is filling in the gaps TV news and print media miss?
Yeah. There’s only every one story about Equatorial Guinea. Google it. You’ll only read about Teodoro Obiang and the depth of his dictatorship. While that’s valid, it’s nice to show that people go get pedicures at the market, or that there’s really beautiful in the south. You usually see pictures of Africa that have been filtered through editors and through the constraints of print. It’s what people think we should see. With iPhones and Instragram, there’s nobody between you taking the photo and the person on the other side seeing it.
How important is using a phone for the photos?
I think the type of people using Instagram are a much younger generation. When you think of a 15-year old on Instagram, when they see an Instagram-style photo from Equatorial Guinea or Namibia, they’re used to that. It brings it closer to them, being in the photographic language they know how to speak. The whole photo and platform makes people more normal, more human.
— Chris Stokel-Walker](http://24.media.tumblr.com/2408c29c4df75614f757ddcf5227ee51/tumblr_mkygysufvy1rrpm57o3_1280.jpg)
![Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
[[MORE]]
Do you think that it’s a failing of the media that news coverage has to focus on these basic narratives we have of Africa?
I don’t know that I’d call it a failing of media because by its very nature media is there to look at the big events, so you’re often seeing the extremes: either the crisis or these stories of rich Africa.
In the US, or the UK, we do often see stories of poverty in western countries. But when I look at a story of poverty in the US, I see this family going through these depressing moments; but because the setting is more familiar, I know it’s not like their entire lives are lived in extreme moments. When the setting, to our eyes, looks as exotic as an African setting looks, you very easily have the assumption—– if you see 10 pictures of Africa, and all of them are of starving people looking sad in a refugee camp — you just have this natural assumption that’s what life is like for people all the time.
I’m not really sure there’s something the traditional media could do to correct this; it’s not their role. But I do think there’s an amazing role for social media to correct it. Aside from Everyday Africa, you have a simple fact that American and European youth can be following African youth on Tumblr, and understanding that their lives are more similar than they realize.
Is that what you’ve seen from your travels?
There are obvious differences. It’s not like we live in a hut. But I mean much more basic than that, in terms of how our time is spent, doing basic everyday things. Every culture in the world has a strong emphasis on family, has a love of a good meal, has a love of certain types of music. We can lose sight of similarities that are that basic if we just look at the news.
And you’re shooting this on your phone; it’s very much rough and ready.
I think there’s something interesting about keeping it on a phone only. For me as a photographer, it’s interesting in the way it has me shoot, which is much more casual. I find that my images are a little less composed, which I like in terms of the audience we’re trying to reach.
The other thing is all the implications of mobile technology in Africa. We’re going to start including a lot of the work of local Africans, as well as trying to look at what regular people are capturing on their phones anyways. It becomes a cliche to talk about this, but it’s amazing to see the influx of cell phones on the continent. Every time I go back, it seems more and more people have phones, and it’s got to the point that when I visit a village in the Ivory Coast, everyone is photographing me on their phones.
What is it that makes the everyday image so powerful?
I have to say, I’m constantly shocked at how much attention we’ve gotten with a project based on normalcy. It’s mindblowing that it’s apparently enough of an interest to get people’s attention. What I think that means is we are not alone in realizing that this is a gap, that this is something we don’t normally see. It’s a fine line … we want to photograph the mundane, but we want the pictures to be interesting. I think the key element is these are moments we’ve seen in our own lives, in the places we live, and just simply don’t see in a place that seems as foreign as Africa does.
There are people, photographers, who have said, “You know, if you want to photograph on your phone, that’s the sort of thing you should use to photograph your girlfriend or your family.” To me, that’s exactly the reason we should be photographing Africa with phones. It’s just a family snap of a foreign place that you don’t usually see.
* * *
In the past few months, Lindsay Mackenzie, a Canadian freelance photojournalist based out of Spain and Tunisia, has joined Everyday Africa’s ranks. She tells us about how societies’ similarities can bring together western and African youth.
How did you get involved?
I got an iPhone last year — my sister gave me her old one — so I started using Instagram and at some point I read about Everyday Africa. I really like their philosophy because having spent a lot of time in Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, I get where they’re coming from when they say what they see and experience in Africa and what they see from the other side of the world in coverage is different. We only really see the extremes and the worst cases. People say, “Oh, it must’ve been really terrible being in Tunisia.” Not at all. I lived by the sea. They have fashion shows, and art events, and people go to the beach and the mall. I wanted to show this is a very normal place most of the time.
So this is filling in the gaps TV news and print media miss?
Yeah. There’s only every one story about Equatorial Guinea. Google it. You’ll only read about Teodoro Obiang and the depth of his dictatorship. While that’s valid, it’s nice to show that people go get pedicures at the market, or that there’s really beautiful in the south. You usually see pictures of Africa that have been filtered through editors and through the constraints of print. It’s what people think we should see. With iPhones and Instragram, there’s nobody between you taking the photo and the person on the other side seeing it.
How important is using a phone for the photos?
I think the type of people using Instagram are a much younger generation. When you think of a 15-year old on Instagram, when they see an Instagram-style photo from Equatorial Guinea or Namibia, they’re used to that. It brings it closer to them, being in the photographic language they know how to speak. The whole photo and platform makes people more normal, more human.
— Chris Stokel-Walker](http://25.media.tumblr.com/e95b026f5e1516e94ec96d3a4cc9e113/tumblr_mkygysufvy1rrpm57o4_1280.jpg)
![Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
[[MORE]]
Do you think that it’s a failing of the media that news coverage has to focus on these basic narratives we have of Africa?
I don’t know that I’d call it a failing of media because by its very nature media is there to look at the big events, so you’re often seeing the extremes: either the crisis or these stories of rich Africa.
In the US, or the UK, we do often see stories of poverty in western countries. But when I look at a story of poverty in the US, I see this family going through these depressing moments; but because the setting is more familiar, I know it’s not like their entire lives are lived in extreme moments. When the setting, to our eyes, looks as exotic as an African setting looks, you very easily have the assumption—– if you see 10 pictures of Africa, and all of them are of starving people looking sad in a refugee camp — you just have this natural assumption that’s what life is like for people all the time.
I’m not really sure there’s something the traditional media could do to correct this; it’s not their role. But I do think there’s an amazing role for social media to correct it. Aside from Everyday Africa, you have a simple fact that American and European youth can be following African youth on Tumblr, and understanding that their lives are more similar than they realize.
Is that what you’ve seen from your travels?
There are obvious differences. It’s not like we live in a hut. But I mean much more basic than that, in terms of how our time is spent, doing basic everyday things. Every culture in the world has a strong emphasis on family, has a love of a good meal, has a love of certain types of music. We can lose sight of similarities that are that basic if we just look at the news.
And you’re shooting this on your phone; it’s very much rough and ready.
I think there’s something interesting about keeping it on a phone only. For me as a photographer, it’s interesting in the way it has me shoot, which is much more casual. I find that my images are a little less composed, which I like in terms of the audience we’re trying to reach.
The other thing is all the implications of mobile technology in Africa. We’re going to start including a lot of the work of local Africans, as well as trying to look at what regular people are capturing on their phones anyways. It becomes a cliche to talk about this, but it’s amazing to see the influx of cell phones on the continent. Every time I go back, it seems more and more people have phones, and it’s got to the point that when I visit a village in the Ivory Coast, everyone is photographing me on their phones.
What is it that makes the everyday image so powerful?
I have to say, I’m constantly shocked at how much attention we’ve gotten with a project based on normalcy. It’s mindblowing that it’s apparently enough of an interest to get people’s attention. What I think that means is we are not alone in realizing that this is a gap, that this is something we don’t normally see. It’s a fine line … we want to photograph the mundane, but we want the pictures to be interesting. I think the key element is these are moments we’ve seen in our own lives, in the places we live, and just simply don’t see in a place that seems as foreign as Africa does.
There are people, photographers, who have said, “You know, if you want to photograph on your phone, that’s the sort of thing you should use to photograph your girlfriend or your family.” To me, that’s exactly the reason we should be photographing Africa with phones. It’s just a family snap of a foreign place that you don’t usually see.
* * *
In the past few months, Lindsay Mackenzie, a Canadian freelance photojournalist based out of Spain and Tunisia, has joined Everyday Africa’s ranks. She tells us about how societies’ similarities can bring together western and African youth.
How did you get involved?
I got an iPhone last year — my sister gave me her old one — so I started using Instagram and at some point I read about Everyday Africa. I really like their philosophy because having spent a lot of time in Tunisia, Egypt, and Yemen, I get where they’re coming from when they say what they see and experience in Africa and what they see from the other side of the world in coverage is different. We only really see the extremes and the worst cases. People say, “Oh, it must’ve been really terrible being in Tunisia.” Not at all. I lived by the sea. They have fashion shows, and art events, and people go to the beach and the mall. I wanted to show this is a very normal place most of the time.
So this is filling in the gaps TV news and print media miss?
Yeah. There’s only every one story about Equatorial Guinea. Google it. You’ll only read about Teodoro Obiang and the depth of his dictatorship. While that’s valid, it’s nice to show that people go get pedicures at the market, or that there’s really beautiful in the south. You usually see pictures of Africa that have been filtered through editors and through the constraints of print. It’s what people think we should see. With iPhones and Instragram, there’s nobody between you taking the photo and the person on the other side seeing it.
How important is using a phone for the photos?
I think the type of people using Instagram are a much younger generation. When you think of a 15-year old on Instagram, when they see an Instagram-style photo from Equatorial Guinea or Namibia, they’re used to that. It brings it closer to them, being in the photographic language they know how to speak. The whole photo and platform makes people more normal, more human.
— Chris Stokel-Walker](http://24.media.tumblr.com/414b06951444ff960d2c35e0a1026418/tumblr_mkygysufvy1rrpm57o5_1280.jpg)
Everyday Africa: Stories Between the Headlines
In March 2012, two photojournalists — Peter DiCampo and Austin Merrill — decided in the middle of a project in Abidjan, Ivory Coast, to begin a new, raw media outlet, which portrayed the mundane and casual life of everyday Africans on iPhones and Instagram. A year on, Everyday Africa curates photography from journalists across the continent, and they’re looking to involve locals, too. We spoke to Peter DiCampo to see why he think these images have captured our attention.
What made you decide to start Everyday Africa?
Austin Merrill and I were in Ivory Coast, and we were working on a very specific story on the aftermath of crisis and conflict there. He and I were both Peace Corps volunteers in west Africa, so we spent two years of our lives living in villages. We noticed all of these in-between, daily life, mundane moments, and we realized that, working as journalists, you don’t even shoot these moments. You edit them out ahead of time because they don’t fit into the story you’re trying to tell, which is kind of one of the funny parts about journalism: In some cases, it’s kind of preconceived. In order for a story to make sense, you have to look for certain things.
So we wanted to capture all these other things we were seeing as we went along, which is basically the stream of daily life. Of course “stream” is the key word, because the perfect way to shoot it and the perfect medium to share it is on places like Tumblr, and shooting it on a phone, casually. I think casual and mundane are the key words for this project.
View post 1,081 notes -
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/89e554707ab850a5d45ce103da3d5680/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o7_r1_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://24.media.tumblr.com/350e9c2803b37378e65efb22f086b236/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o8_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/7829ce5cc7a3f66d179f113e579c62b3/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o2_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/75e3e4e651ddc6ea1c4deb9b8cdfae6c/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o4_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/744574ce3fc80b9a28eeefd17dc14ffc/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o10_r1_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/76c3634e358d926298453e5caa63a0d9/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o5_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://25.media.tumblr.com/b4246c7ddfbcc5bdaeeda75952b8b255/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o6_1280.jpg)
![Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
[[MORE]]
Your art is decidedly epicurean. Why?
The conflation of dining and art is something that most people can relate to. I chose gastronomy because of its immediacy and because of my experience running restaurants.
I had no idea they freely give out their stationery.
I just ask. But I’ll use whatever they give me, so if a restaurant doesn’t have its own stationery, I take a menu. Sometimes, friends give me stationery they’ve collected, and then I have to imagine what the atmosphere was like. It’s the contradictions in my life that mean something, and so I contradict any sort of structure I create — even the decision to use only restaurant stationery.
How do you choose the place?
The series is a trail of breadcrumbs of all the places I’ve eaten — a way to collect all these fabulous meals and the people I share them with. In a way, it’s a very classic approach to making art. I live in one of the gastronomic centers of the world, and there are so many restaurants to inspire me here. The choices are random and deliberate at the same time, like getting dressed in the morning. I wear a tie every day, but I change the color and pattern.
You’ve repeated a few venues’ stationery many times — Balthazar, for example.
I think Balthazar has such an international appeal. Honestly, though, I recently went back after a few years of hiatus and became obsessed with drawing on their stationery. It’s really quintessential New York for me. It reminds me of the late 90s when I first came to the city to make it as an artist.
What materials do you use?
I mostly use custom-made watercolors, oil sticks, and ink. I’ve also used wine, coffee, food coloring, and squid ink. Like the stationery, my medium is just one aspect of the process. It all comes together to form a visceral experience.
The series is replete with places like Mr. Chow and Momofuku. What about, say, a family-run restaurant in Harlem?
It’s definitely a focus of the work to question the value of social aspirations. I’m using iconic places that have a cultural value and past, similar to art, and contrasting those trajectories. Rao’s would be a place from Harlem that I would choose, because it’s iconic and has a certain type of majesty. But now it sells its own brand of pasta sauce.
Are the proprietors aware of your art?
Many are, and they’ve been very supportive. Some have commissioned works.
I heard that one especially pleased patron expressed his thanks in fine wine, and you poured it down the drain. Really?
Yes. I took $5,000 worth of red and white wine — given to me as a gift from a collector of my work and very good friend — and, indeed, poured it down the drain. It’s an homage to Chelsea and the recent flooding from Hurricane Sandy that destroyed a lot of art. I called it “Apres Le Vernissage,” and set it to Brahms’s intermezzo opus 117 no. 1. It’s a simple gesture, but I think it makes its point.
— Sky Dylan-Robbins](http://24.media.tumblr.com/0de7e8833592b242d67604212d940ad1/tumblr_mj04goCxNw1rrpm57o9_1280.jpg)
Table Manners: Turning Restaurant Stationery into Art
When New York-based artist Jay Batlle dines out, he’s still on the clock. Of course, he’s at the restaurant to feast and imbibe and commune with friends. Upon the meal’s consummation, however, he poses a question he’s been regularly asking restaurant staffers for the past decade. They oblige, and a blank sheet of the venue’s stationary is carefully placed in his hands. He’ll return home, and on it, in watercolor and pen and wine and coffee grounds, he’ll express his thoughts — on the evening, the atmosphere, the idea of decadence and societal consumption and what fine dining has become.
Batlle (pronounced “Battle”) chronicles this gastronomic collection, The Stationery Series, on his tumblr, Restaurant Restaurant. He eventually plans to turn it into a three-volume book, but he’s not stopping anytime soon. Here, we talk to the artist about New York cuisine, Balthazar, and pouring wine down the drain.
View post 1,579 notes -
![The Last Book I Loved: Joan Didion’s ‘Slouching Towards Bethlehem’
The Last Book I Loved is an ongoing series from The Rumpus to highlight emerging Tumblr writers (and the books they love). This is the final installment of Tumblr Storyboard’s version, but you can still submit to The Rumpus for publication! Thanks for reading.
I came across a Facebook post recently in which someone offered W.B. Yeats’ poem “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” as encouragement for a peer going through a quarter-life crisis. Things fall apart; the center cannot hold,” Yeats writes. It’s a feeling everyone has at some point, but for a twentysomething in the midst of an identity crisis, it sounded especially appropriate.
Joan Didion must have felt the same way when she chose the poem as an epigraph for her essay collection of the same name.
[[MORE]]
It was Didion’s Slouching Towards Bethlehem, not Yeats’ poem, that has been my totem throughout my 20s, because she has that gift that all great writers do of hitting on universal truths by admitting very personal ones. “One of the mixed blessings of being 20 and 21 and even 23 is the conviction that nothing like this, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding, has ever happened to anyone before,” she writes in “Goodbye to All That,” an essay about her time in New York in her 20s.
Reading that sentence for the first time at 21 and knowing, at some level, that she was right, was not nearly as comforting as realizing that there was an antidote to feeling young and confused — and that antidote was narrative. As Didion writes in another equally brilliant collection, The White Album, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” The trick to getting through your twenties intact, it seemed to me, was looking ahead to the narrative I could impose on that decade later in life.
I don’t recall why I first picked it up, but I can still conjure up the musty smell of the paperback I borrowed from the University College London library and the jarring contrast of being engrossed in Didion’s 1950s New York during a train ride between London and Manchester.
Mostly, I remember how homesick I felt reading Didion’s take on the American dream at a time in my life when, living far away from home for the first time, I was finally figuring out my own national identity. The irony of this feeling is that Slouching Towards Bethlehem isn’t what you would call a “feel-good” read. Most of the essays are set in California in the 60s, some of them are reportage on Haight-Ashbury hippies and Howard Hughes, and others are personal reflections on Didion’s life in exile from a California that “resembles Eden,” where “it is assumed that those who absent themselves from its blessings have been banished.”
Throughout the book, Didion is constantly shuttling between the coasts, back and forth from this promised land. In “Some Dreamers of the Golden Dream,” in which Didion reports on a woman who murders her husband, she writes, “The future always looks good in the golden land, because no one remembers the past.” California stands in for the American dream: Its streets are always paved with gold, but its promise is never attainable. Didion’s writing — and her whole concept of California — nonetheless operates on the premise that all things are possible, because they have to be:
California is a place in which a boom mentality and a sense of Chekhovian loss meet in uneasy suspension; in which the mind is troubled by some buried but ineradicable suspicion that things had better work here, because here, beneath that immense bleached sky, is where we run out of continent.
But Didion’s California (and New York, for that matter) is a promise that never delivers, which she nonetheless can’t seem to give it up. She admits, “Someone who lives always with a plane schedule in the drawer lives on a slightly different calendar.” I understood that differently upon first reading it in England — during a semester abroad in which all time was suspended for me and all post-graduate futures infinitely possible — than I do during my fourth year of racking up frequent flier miles on the US Airways shuttle between DC and Boston.
It’s a romantic point of view to hold when you come from a place that makes you feel exiled for living outside it, and in that sense my hometown of Boston and Didion’s Sacramento have much in common.
Mostly, I keep reading and rereading these essays because Joan Didion is a writer’s writer. In the spirit of her declaration in “Goodbye to All That,” I have to imagine that there are many other twentysomething writers out there with dog-eared copies of this book, but since I haven’t met them yet, I continued to think I was the only one for years after I discovered her. More recently, I have taken to recommending her to anyone whose literary taste I’m trying to judge. I lent a friend my copy of Slouching Towards Bethlehem once with the earnest warning, “If you don’t read this, we can’t be friends,” and during the months while I waited for him to return it, I sometimes worried that I would have to cut him off.
Slouching Towards Bethlehem isn’t just a collection for hopeful writers or even for people who are young and unmoored. It’s for all people who have lost their sense of place or sense of time or sense of self. It’s for “the quiet ones” that people always tell you to beware. Didion is all of these things, but especially the last:
My only advantage as a reporter is that I am so physically small, so temperamentally unobtrusive, and so neurotically inarticulate that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out.
It’s easy to forget that line in the preface once the essays about Charles Manson and John Wayne give way to more personal ones about Didion’s relationship with her hometown and her grapples with self-esteem. It’s easy to think instead that the stories she tells of her struggles with depression are unvarnished, but at some point you have to ask: Why is this self-proclaimed shy, aloof reporter spilling so many of her secrets?
Her power to mythologize is so great that it must extend even to the stories she tells of her own life. Early in “Goodbye to All That,” Didion writes, “It is easy to see the beginnings of things, and harder to see the ends.” But by writing years later, she already knows the ending; she alone controls the narrative. In life, sure, it’s easy to concede that “things fall apart; the center cannot hold,” but writing is different from life, and the contrast between the two in Slouching Towards Bethlehem makes the former a much more appealing occupation.
— Kara Hadge](http://25.media.tumblr.com/d116063cbe56c089cf4fc7d577efe4fd/tumblr_mklejntVhV1rrpm57o1_1280.jpg)
The Last Book I Loved: Joan Didion’s ‘Slouching Towards Bethlehem’
The Last Book I Loved is an ongoing series from The Rumpus to highlight emerging Tumblr writers (and the books they love). This is the final installment of Tumblr Storyboard’s version, but you can still submit to The Rumpus for publication! Thanks for reading.
I came across a Facebook post recently in which someone offered W.B. Yeats’ poem “Slouching Towards Bethlehem” as encouragement for a peer going through a quarter-life crisis. Things fall apart; the center cannot hold,” Yeats writes. It’s a feeling everyone has at some point, but for a twentysomething in the midst of an identity crisis, it sounded especially appropriate.
Joan Didion must have felt the same way when she chose the poem as an epigraph for her essay collection of the same name.
View post 292 notes -
The Fine Art of Coffee Portraiture
Here’s more evidence to back up all those studies on boredom inspiring creativity: Meet Mike Breach, barista extraordinaire, who “paints” everything — and everyone — into his lattes. “I’m an esspressionist,” he proudly proclaims. Just last year, Breach was idling away his customer-less hours in the back of a hotel kitchen with only a dormant espresso machine for company. He was “so, so bored.” So he taught himself how to inscribe ornate hearts in coffee foam, with a bamboo skewer as his paintbrush. “People got so excited about it!” says Breach. He took it further; out came the teddy bears (“the girls just love those”), a portrait of that hotel boss (“I didn’t show it to him, but my coworkers and I laughed about it”), and Salvador Dalì, and Edward Scissorhands, and Beyoncé.
We’re at the Smile To-Go, and he’s frothing some milk behind the counter; the shushing of the machine almost drowns out his words. He reflects. “It’s like, if something is lacking, you’ve got to find a way to make it exciting and fun. Right? I mean, I’m so happy that my old job was so boring! Otherwise I wouldn’t be making these! And this is just the beginning. I want to start a movement.” The milk is now pillowy, foamy-soft — perfect for the latte Breach is about to pour. He stares into his empty chestnut-colored canvas, and suddenly looks up. “I’ve been wanting to try Snoop. Let’s do that, yea?”
View post 6,108 notes -
![Speaking Up for STFU Parents
When Blair Koenig started STFU Parents, a Tumblr that lightheartedly pokes fun at the myriad parental oversharers of the world, she had no clue that four years later her inbox would be overflowing with enough tantrums, dining table diaper changes, and placenta casserole recipes to fill an entire book. And yet, STFU Parents (the book) hits stands this week, complete with vomit, snot, and of course, those perennial potty-training updates. Breaking down the submissions into categories like “Mama Drama,” “Mommyjacking,” or the ominously titled “Gross-Out Factor,” it’s a cautionary tale for anyone who’s ever considered giving birth — or even been friends with a parent.
Do you just hate babies? Why start the blog?
I noticed a big influx of information — kidformation — in my Facebook status feed. I kind of loosely complained about it to a parent friend, so then she started sending me screen shots of her annoying friends, who were mostly bragging about their kids. Up until then I’d only witnessed more boring, minutiae-type updates — how many naps their kid had, how much their kids had eaten. But the updates she was getting were a whole new level.
I’m probably going to regret asking, but what’s the most revolting thing you’ve ever seen?
It’s all a matter of taste. Some people are not grossed out by snot, but personally, I think pictures of kids with snot hanging off their faces are the worst. Anyone who takes an aerial picture of an open diaper or a toilet with shit in it … I don’t even understand how a person thinks that way.
[[MORE]]
What about all the placenta eating? I mean, I grew up with animals, I know dogs and cats do it, but until I became a regular reader I thought it was limited to the animal kingdom. And then one of my own friends posted a placenta smoothie.
The placenta shake is a powerful image. People are taken aback by that shot, because there are no red vegetables that create that color, and it looks, at first glance, like a cocktail. The fact that it’s an HD picture that looks like it belongs on a menu … that’s what’s so funny about it.
What’s been your most popular post?
Definitely the Brenda post. Brenda clicked “like” on a lingerie company’s Facebook page and so pictures of underwear kept popping up in her feed. She kept posting furious responses, demanding this company stop posting “pornography” on her page. Her relatives kept trying to explain, “Auntie, you can ‘unlike’ the page,” but Brenda’s fury kept growing.
I’ve read a lot of bitching about how you have no right to do this blog because you don’t have children.
Movie critics aren’t generally also filmmakers and food bloggers tend not to be chefs. I don’t understand a lot of the criticisms. I mean, are you really defending the right to change a diaper on a restaurant table?
Which is your favorite category?
“Sanctimommies” are hard to beat, though a good mommyjacking is up there too. My favorite is when someone posts something really sad like, “My brother RIP,” and then some idiot replies “happy birthday to little Samuel … in four days.” It’s not even their kid’s birthday THAT day — they just have to take the attention off the guy with the dead brother to talk about their child.
STFU Parents will celebrate its book debut with a baby-shower comedy session tonight at Housing Works Bookstore Cafe. RSVP here.
— Judy McGuire
Photo via Shutterstock](http://25.media.tumblr.com/9f20363a30537879ea81db59bce20950/tumblr_mkfndqJj2T1rrpm57o1_r1_1280.jpg)
Speaking Up for STFU Parents
When Blair Koenig started STFU Parents, a Tumblr that lightheartedly pokes fun at the myriad parental oversharers of the world, she had no clue that four years later her inbox would be overflowing with enough tantrums, dining table diaper changes, and placenta casserole recipes to fill an entire book. And yet, STFU Parents (the book) hits stands this week, complete with vomit, snot, and of course, those perennial potty-training updates. Breaking down the submissions into categories like “Mama Drama,” “Mommyjacking,” or the ominously titled “Gross-Out Factor,” it’s a cautionary tale for anyone who’s ever considered giving birth — or even been friends with a parent.
Do you just hate babies? Why start the blog?
I noticed a big influx of information — kidformation — in my Facebook status feed. I kind of loosely complained about it to a parent friend, so then she started sending me screen shots of her annoying friends, who were mostly bragging about their kids. Up until then I’d only witnessed more boring, minutiae-type updates — how many naps their kid had, how much their kids had eaten. But the updates she was getting were a whole new level.
I’m probably going to regret asking, but what’s the most revolting thing you’ve ever seen?
It’s all a matter of taste. Some people are not grossed out by snot, but personally, I think pictures of kids with snot hanging off their faces are the worst. Anyone who takes an aerial picture of an open diaper or a toilet with shit in it … I don’t even understand how a person thinks that way.
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![Noelle Stevenson’s Guide to Blowing Up on Tumblr
Noelle Stevenson, aka gingerhaze, joined Tumblr to share her fan art — comics based on movies like X-Men: First Class and Lord of the Rings. In the summer of 2011, she started posting “The Broship of the Ring,” a modern interpretation of the LoTR characters as hipsters and fratboys, and everything kind of … exploded. Stevenson’s online following shot way up, and since then, she’s landed an internship at a comics publisher and has signed with a literary agent. She’s also been offered a contract to publish in hard copy her original webcomic project, Nimona — the story of aspiring supervillain Lord Ballister Blackheart, who never seems to get anywhere with his evil plots. That is, until he takes on a new sidekick, Nimona, a shapeshifter with poor impulse control who likes to solve problems by blowing things up. Nimona recently won the Cartoonist Studio Prize for Best Webcomic of the Year by Slate Magazine and the Center for Cartoon Studies. It was also named one of io9’s top ten Best New and Short Webcomics of 2012. We had a chance to talk to Stevenson about breaking out and Hulking out.
How long have you been drawing?
I’ve been drawing pretty much as long as I can remember. It was a hobby of mine as a child, and I grew up and that was still what I wanted to do.
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Where do you get your ideas?
I take a lot of inspiration from movies. I like going to the movies a lot, and comics are a similar kind of art form. You have to think cinematically when you draw a comic.
Describe your drawing process.
I draw everything digitally. I used to use a Wacom Bamboo tablet, but I recently switched to a Monoprice tablet. I go right into Photoshop. I don’t generally sketch things out beforehand unless it’s a Nimona page or a finished illustration. I find drawing right in Photoshop comes really naturally to me, because I like to draw in as few lines as possible. Drawing on pen and paper, you have to be more committed to your lines because you can’t undo them easily. I like to draw hands all in one line and that’s really easy to mess up when you’re drawing on paper. But in Photoshop, you have Ctrl+Z. I also color my art in Photoshop, and I use a lot of paper and watercolor filters to give it more of a handmade feel.
What are your favorite things to draw?
Well, I really like drawing the Hulk, and I really like drawing Hawkeye, and I really like drawing Hawkeye’s butt. I really like drawing a lot of stuff. I like drawing Nimona. She’s got a lot of really fun shapes. And I like drawing sailors as well.
How did the Tumblr thing happen?
I joined around 2010, I think? It was just me for a while, posting whatever I wanted. 2011 is when I started posting “The Broship of the Ring.” People really liked them, and I got more followers. And then every time I got into a new movie like X-Men: First Class or The Avengers, I posted fan art, and connected with people about the fan art, and kept going and getting more attention for the various things that I drew.
How did you get started doing Nimona?
Nimona started as an assignment for school. I got tired of just being known as a fan artist online. I wanted to get known for my own characters. My friend Amy at school challenged me to do a two-page comic of my own characters for that assignment. So I drew Nimona and Ballister Blackheart and Ambrosius Goldenloin. I took another comics class the next semester, and drew more Nimona, and in summer 2012 decided to make it a webcomic, and kept going from there.
You’ve mentioned that you got an internship in the comics industry through Tumblr. How did that happen?
At my school, we can get class credit for an internship, so I was looking for one for the summer of 2012. I knew I had some industry professionals following me on Tumblr, and I thought they could help, maybe give me some tips and advice on how to get an internship. So I put up a post asking for help. Shannon Waters at BOOM! Studios followed my Tumblr at the time, and she shot me an email saying BOOM! had an internship program. We emailed back and forth for a while, did an interview on Skype, and so I ended up going to BOOM! Studios during the summer for an internship. It was a really cool experience.
You’ve also mentioned you got signed with your agent and got a book contract through Tumblr.
It kind of started with my Avengers fan art comics going viral at the time, and posting Nimona pages, bringing more readers to my Tumblr. Charles Olsen, an agent at InkWell Management, found my blog through my Avengers fan art comics, and then found Nimona through my blog. Charlie then reached out to me, and we emailed back and forth, and talked on the phone, and I visited New York to meet him, and then signed with him as an agent. He shopped Nimona around to various publishers, and HarperCollins signed me for a contract to do the hardcover young adult version of Nimona in Summer 2015.
What projects do you have lined up for the future?
For the next year or so, I’ll be working on finishing up Nimona, and I have a two-book deal with HarperCollins, so I’ll be working on my next book for them. It might be a sequel to Nimona, or something related to Nimona, stylistically. I’m not sure yet. I’ve also done some comics with BOOM! Studios, some backups for Adventure Time, and I’d love to do more of that. I’m also exploring animation opportunities, but everything is unfolding right now and there’s nothing definitive yet.
— Caitlin Moriarity](http://25.media.tumblr.com/b76d50ac3ca6a22313555208423bdb33/tumblr_mkl4kj1A6t1rrpm57o1_1280.jpg)
Noelle Stevenson’s Guide to Blowing Up on Tumblr
Noelle Stevenson, aka gingerhaze, joined Tumblr to share her fan art — comics based on movies like X-Men: First Class and Lord of the Rings. In the summer of 2011, she started posting “The Broship of the Ring,” a modern interpretation of the LoTR characters as hipsters and fratboys, and everything kind of … exploded. Stevenson’s online following shot way up, and since then, she’s landed an internship at a comics publisher and has signed with a literary agent.
She’s also been offered a contract to publish in hard copy her original webcomic project, Nimona — the story of aspiring supervillain Lord Ballister Blackheart, who never seems to get anywhere with his evil plots. That is, until he takes on a new sidekick, Nimona, a shapeshifter with poor impulse control who likes to solve problems by blowing things up. Nimona recently won the Cartoonist Studio Prize for Best Webcomic of the Year by Slate Magazine and the Center for Cartoon Studies. It was also named one of io9’s top ten Best New and Short Webcomics of 2012. We had a chance to talk to Stevenson about breaking out and Hulking out.How long have you been drawing?
I’ve been drawing pretty much as long as I can remember. It was a hobby of mine as a child, and I grew up and that was still what I wanted to do.
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