Em 2001, foi inaugurada, no Ceará, a cidade de “Nova” Jaguaribara, para abrigar os moradores da antiga Jaguaribara, inundada pelo Açude Castanhão, inaugurado na mesma época. A nova Jaguaribara foi totalmente planejada para ser ocupada por até 75 mil habitantes. As 8 mil pessoas que vivem lá hoje sabem mais sobre a própria história do que o Google, que ainda não decidiu se prefere a nova ou a velha cidade.
A história é da Piauí, o lapso, do Google.
Sight-Seeing, projeto organizado pelo pesquisador Wolfgang Scheppe. O Tirol (Áustria) e a fotografia de turismo revistos sob um olhar crítico.
A memória revisitada. Os ensaios “My Sentimental Archives” e “Tourists” mostram fotografias antigas e cartões postais colorizados e digitalmente manipulados. Visualmente, lembra muito o trabalho de Gregory Crewdson.
Via Hippolyte Bayard.
Several days later Murray asked me about a tourist attraction known as the most photographed barn in America. We drove 22 miles into the country around Farmington. There were meadows and apple orchards. White fences trailed through the rolling fields. Soon the sign started appearing. THE MOST PHOTOGRAPHED BARN IN AMERICA. We counted five signs before we reached the site. There were 40 cars and a tour bus in the makeshift lot. We walked along a cowpath to the slightly elevated spot set aside for viewing and photographing. All the people had cameras; some had tripods, telephoto lenses, filter kits. A man in a booth sold postcards and slides — pictures of the barn taken from the elevated spot. We stood near a grove of trees and watched the photographers. Murray maintained a prolonged silence, occasionally scrawling some notes in a little book.
“No one sees the barn,” he said finally.
A long silence followed.
“Once you’ve seen the signs about the barn, it becomes impossible to see the barn.”
He fell silent once more. People with cameras left the elevated site, replaced by others.
“We’re not here to capture an image, we’re here to maintain one. Every photograph reinforces the aura. Can you feel it, Jack? An accumulation of nameless energies.”
There was an extended silence. The man in the booth sold postcards and slides.
“Being here is a kind of spiritual surrender. We see only what the others see. The thousands who were here in the past, those who will come in the future. We’ve agreed to be part of a collective perception. It literally colors our vision. A religious experience in a way, like all tourism.”
Another silence ensued.
“They are taking pictures of taking pictures,” he said.
He did not speak for a while. We listened to the incessant clicking of shutter release buttons, the rustling crank of levers that advanced the film.
“What was the barn like before it was photographed?” he said. “What did it look like, how was it different from the other barns, how was it similar to other barns? We can’t answer these questions because we’ve read the signs, seen the people snapping the pictures. We can’t get outside the aura. We’re part of the aura. We’re here, we’re now.”
He seemed immensely pleased by this.
Don DeLillo, White Noise, citado por Fred Ritchin em After Photography.
Foto: Dave Hensley.
Todas as imagens publicadas no Flickr em 24 horas, impressas e reunidas por Erik Kessels em uma sala na Foam Gallery.
Detalhe: o número de imagens publicadas em toda a história do Flickr (7 anos) é igual ao volume de uploads no Facebook a cada 2 meses.
(via Facebook Paraty Em Foco).
Descoberto em uma discussão proposta por Alec Soth sobre o que ele chamou de “still movies”: http://littlebrownmushroom.wordpress.com/2011/10/17/still-movies/
A New American Picture - Doug Rickard
Revisitando a sociedade americana pelo Google Street View: cyberflânerie socialmente consciente.
E uma exposição um pouco mais tradicional, mas com o mesmo objetivo: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/photobooth/2011/10/more-american-photographs.html
Acidente, de Cao Guimarães. Poesia visual documental.