When I first saw the Untitled (Perfect Lover) for the first time, I immediately fell in love with Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s work. Untitled (Perfect Lover) is very simple, yet it evokes so many meanings and stories. It is basically two synchronized clock, displayed side by side. However, at some point, one clock will unavoidably stop before the other. Untitled (Perfect Lover) was dedicated to Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s partner, Ross Laycock, who was ill, and it symbolizes the tension that comes from two people living side-by-side as life moves forward toward death. The story behind these two clocks exceeds the meaning that clock has and brings the viewer into the whole new dimension of thinking and viewing.
After looking at the Untitled (Perfect Lover), I made a prototype of the perfect lover as if I was Felix Gonzalez-Torres. My prototype has a working title, which is New York to Seoul (14 Hours apart).
I am currently in a long distance relationship with my girlfriend who is in Seoul, South Korea. Due to the time difference of 14 hours, we are only able to communicate through Facetime for only 1 hour to 2 hours a day. Even though our time difference is 14 hours apart, and we only get to talk small amount of time a day, we look forward to the future for the time we meet again.
New York to Seoul (14 Hours Apart), 2018, David Tu Sun Song
Hello for one last time, ICP blog readers! Today is my last day posting, so I wanted to send a quick thank you to everyone who has been keeping up with my takeover. Your words of encouragement and shared passion are the true inspiration for my posts – so I thank you!
As we head into the Year of the Dog and a weekend with a winter storm forecast, I’d like to close out my takeover by sharing with you some images of those exact things, because what’s better than a furry four legged friend or a snowy day?
To keep up with my work and other things I’m doing, follow me on Instagram: @alidiluccia
Bye for now! xoxo
Elliott Erwitt, New York City, 1946
William Wegman, Eerie Chair, 1989
Hellen van Meene, from her series The Years Shall Run Like Rabbits, Untitled #393, 2012
Gregory Crewdson, Mother and Daughter, 2014
Diane Arbus, Lillian and Dorothy Gish, 1964
Nan Goldin, Simon in the Snow at Dawn, Christmas, Umea, 1997
Today, rather than writing, I’d like to ask our blog readers a question: How much do you trust a photograph?
Whether it’s an image someone sends you on your mobile device, one found in a book, or even on the walls of a gallery or museum – do you trust what you see?
We are living in a time where technology has surpassed the capabilities of those who created it. The ways in which one can manipulate photographs are endless. With the right skill and knowledge, anything is possible.
So I ask again, do you trust what you see? If you do, why? And if you don’t, why?
Yves Klein, Leap into the Void, 1960
Recently, I had a very interesting conversation with some peers over a seemingly simple question: Why do we like certain images?
It’s an interesting thing to wonder, and I think there could be more than one answer to that question, if any answer truly exists at all.
Personally, I’ve always found myself attracted to images that provide me with some sense of familiarity. When put on the spot to show someone my favorite photographer(s), I’m always referencing to ones who’ve created images that mimic the settings of my past, especially my childhood.
This may have not perplexed me years ago the way it does now, back when I was making images of my actual childhood spaces. But, as time has moved forward and my own practice has continued to shift, I am producing work that visually appears less and less like the place I am from. And yet still, seeing images made by others that remind me of my neighborhood or the interior of my first home always do something to me that is far greater than words can describe. Why is that?
I truly believe it boils down to an emotional connection, or correlation rather, brought on by the image and the viewer’s personal memories and feelings, despite the fact if they are making work that appears vastly different, or if they are even making any work at all. Perhaps it is overlooked, or forgotten, how much one’s experiences and own life play in to how they view and connect with all forms of art.
Hello again! Today I’d like to share an article with you that addresses something I often think about: the lifespan of an image.
Do all images last forever? What happens to an image over time? Does the print start to fade? Will your hard drive start to fail? How long can an image stay in tact for? And if it can’t, when does it start to become more precious?
I often think about the way image makers operate, especially on the platform of social media. Apps such as Snapchat and now Instagram allow features for users to share images or videos that “disappear” after a certain amount of time. I wonder if knowing that alters what people post, and how others view.
This article however, poses a different question or method in terms of the photograph’s lifespan – altering it’s visual components through the use of filters and effects as if to appear older. Are we manipulating the image’s appearance to give the image more value than the value it would already have just by what the image is of?
I think these are all things to think about and take into consideration as we continue to move forward in a world where images have multiple sources in which they can circulate, and the control we have to alter its age or length of existence.
Hello! My name is Ali Di Luccia. I am a first year MFA student at ICP-Bard, and for the next 5 days I will be taking over our blog. For my first post, I’d like to tell you a little about myself and the work I’ve been making.
My photographic studies began at SVA in 2013. I was primarily shooting film at the time, working with my negatives both in the darkroom and digitally. The images I was making were of my hometown suburban landscape in New Jersey, usually between the hours of 11pm-2am, and of the friends that accompanied me on these late night excursions.
As time went on, my work went through a dramatic and technical shift. I started to get more experimental. This all started for me one day while cleaning the basement of my old childhood home. I stumbled upon boxes and boxes of old family slides, taken long before I was born. Initially I didn’t know what to do with them, but was also filled with curiosity, so I started to play. Thus the series False Clues being born.
Nowadays, as an MFA student at ICP-Bard, I’ve continued my experimental process by venturing into different mediums. As well as creating still images, I’ve also found much pleasure in exploring writing and video. This fall I created my first zine, July to November, a short story encrypted with my experiences of love, loss, and other nonsense. I also had the opportunity to share my first performative piece, Mom Paints My Nails.
A spread from July to November
So far, the journey to get my MFA has been rigorous, but incredible. I’ve had the opportunity to meet so many great people and am looking forward for all the exciting things to come. Thanks for reading my first post, hope you enjoy my takeover!
Today, we – the first-year cohort, accompanied by our professor, Justine Kurland – visited two wonderful exhibitions that have recently opened in New York City.
The first: a collection of intriguing new work by Katherine Hubbard at Higher Pictures, highlighting the ways in which “…Hubbard uses photography, performance and text to explore the relationships between language, physical site and political history.”
You can find more information about this exhibition here!
The second: a retrospective of Peter Hujar’s work, filled with luminous black-and-white images, “uncomplicated, direct photographs of complicated and difficult subjects…”
Here is an excellent review of this show, with a little background on Hujar:
The Bohemian Rhapsody of Peter Hujar
And finally, here is a favorite image of mine, brought to mind by the rich tonalities of Hujar’s silver gelatin prints.
If you’ve been following my takeover, thank you!
It’s been a wonderful experience, to share my thoughts with you in this space.