I was going through pictures I took in high school, when I still aspired to do high fashion photography portraits, and realized I never shared my first set. I’m not really sure what I said to my friends to convince them to model, or what this set was intended for. [I wasn't taking photography at the time.]
And I have more where that came from.
Fits right in the palm of my hand.
I mentioned that I’d spend most of January camera shopping. I did, and I finally got the fruit I was waiting for yesterday, shipped all the way from Hong Kong. This here is a Golden Half camera, which was just reissued in Japan sometime in or around 2008. It’s an analog toy camera and has plastic & rubber parts. It takes regular 35mm film, but as a half-format, doubles the number of pictures you can take with that roll, so a roll of 24 exposures can fit 48 pictures, and so on.
I first saw the camera in the Tokyo LOFT (giant stationary store with indie-leaning design interests). I didn’t feel like paying the premium of the yen’s exchange rate + Japan’s tax while there so I held off until I got back to the states and did a bit more research on my own. My golden half came in the black mountain design.
Crawled up around 7am on a Saturday (the first time) to do a photoshoot with my friend Megwa to enter into the photo contest for Tokyo Rebel. Meg happens to be the model and stylist and makeup.
The two categories where punk (above) and lolita (below). Winners of the contest, one in each category, get $250 in store merchandise–not that this is very much, considering a dress on this Japanese street fashion site goes for about $300, if not more–and a chance to model or photograph for them.
Meg actually designs and makes some of her own clothes. She concentrates on the Lolita style and has her own design site.
It’s been a bit since the last snow storm and snow day, and it’s finally feeling like spring again, though I’m not sure how long that will last. This is a peak around campus when it’s transformed into a winter wonderland.
Snow flowers on tree branches; almost like spring.
A more automotive view.
The castle.
La Casa de Bernarda Alba is a Spanish play by Federico García Lorca. It was Lorca’s last work, which he subtitled a drama of women in the villages of Spain. The play centers on the events of an Andalusian house during a period of mourning, and takes place entirely within a house–Bernarda Alba’s. It is a story of many woman and men, whom do not enter the scene at all.
This is the final image set for a project I did for Spanish class.
La Casa de Bernarda Alba, aka Las Hijas or Daughter, and in certain instances: "Hangman".
In Bernarda’s house there lives her five daughters: Angustias, Magdelena, Martirio, Amelia, and Adela. The oldest was the daughter of her first husband and the remainder the children of her second, who has just died. In the aftermath of the funeral, Angustias is engaged to the most sought-after bachelor in town, Pepe el Romano. Naturally, being almost fifteen younger than Angustias, the man is simply after her money.
Theint as Amelia/Magdelena. Deanna as Martirio.
Ariel as Angustias, the eldest.
Vicky as Adela, the youngest.
The problem, of course, is that Adela and Martirio are also in love with Pepe. And Adela, being the youngest and prettiest, naturally catches the attention of the petty man. Poor Martirio, stuck in the middle, is forever ignored.
Sometimes it's a problem of envy.
But more often it's an issue of lust.
Sex, control, and suicide. Lies and misconceptions, rashness and jealousies. It’s tiring being a girl sometimes, isn’t it?
Noose, and the folly of the young. Would you rather die young and pretty? Or old and wise, but horribly aged and ugly?
The Wake. Though sometimes the picture on the right is known as Another Version of The Village.
Though Adela actually hangs herself, to some extent, it can be blamed on Martirio and Magdelena.
Green-Eyed Monsters.
But you know, I never did like Adela very much.
This project was conceived for a project for my Spanish Literature class. 6 years of learning the language – maybe I should move to Spain for a year just so I can properly speak it and gain some cultural insight. It seems all the literature is so realisticly depressing. To the point where you wonder, how real is such dramatic tragedy? Quite, probably, if we address the time period.
