Don Frank and Don Tim at casa de Tim
Don Frank and Don Tim at casa de Tim
Stephen Collector was an old friend of Gaylord Guenin — the longtime voice of Woody Creek and the co-author of a definitive book on Aspen history.
Guenin was a longtime writer and editor who happily retreated to Woody Creek and Lenado after he lost his comfort zone in Aspen.
Guenin was an instrumental character in the Mountain Gazette magazine in the 1970s and later wrote the “Letter From Woody Creek” column for The Aspen Times, writing from the perspective of “Woody Creatures.”
He also was a bartender and manager of the Woody Creek Tavern when it was the frequent haunt of Hunter S. Thompson.
Well, I’m getting settled in… we watched the NBA eastern finals on my computer, which was an interesting time… I recognized a couple of our compadres that received your CDOT hats, still here…
My colleagues from the mine drove me up here from the airport.
el jefe, Tim Lane with two Mina Pimenton jefes @ casa de tim
The others are just pics from around town. Very nice fall weather last week, shorts and t-shirts, but the snow arrived today. Raining cats and dogs in Rio Blanco, the Pan American road is closed, here we go…
Rio de Aconcagua
In April, 2009, Peter Aaron, a veteran architectural photographer, went on vacation with his family, to Syria. It was about one year into President Obama’s first term, long before the name isis was broadly known. That same month, Seymour Hersh would write with a note of optimism, in this magazine, of the “Administration’s chance to engage in a Middle East peace.”
Aaron’s images from that trip amount to a staggering chronicle of ancient and historic monuments, many of which have since been badly damaged or completely destroyed during the war. In Palmyra, at the Temple of Bel, for example, he captures, from multiple perspectives, the two-thousand-year-old Mesopotamian structure, which, six years after Aaron’s visit, in August, 2015, appeared in isis propaganda enveloped by a plume of smoke and was later confirmed to have been levelled. At the Tower Tomb of Elahbel, in Palmyra, his pictures lay bare each crack and joint of its masonry blocks, which would later be entirely razed.
While architecture is the subject of his attention, Aaron considers his subject broadly, often capturing glimpses of the lived experiences that buildings are designed to support. At Palmyra’s Great Colonnade, during a visit just after the Friday prayers, he shows two men eating in the shade of a column base. At Aleppo’s souq, he shows the merchant stalls bustling with activity. Both sites are now gone.
Originally intended as a kind of personal travelogue, these photographs now carry the weight of historical record. At the Venice Architecture Biennale, Aaron will put the pictures on exhibition, allowing many of them to be seen for the first time (on view from May 26th to November 25th). As the gruesome civil war continues—and intensifies—they serve as a quiet reminder of Syria’s recent past.
A nod and thank you to Edward Weston. Burnham Arndt
bottom feed along bank
emulating patagonia pros
rŌbert (1948- )
Harry Frishman, Kim Schmitz, Jonathan Wright 1980. Impermanence. All three took other paths.
Edgar Boyles photo
David Hume Kennerly/Getty Images
It’s unlikely that David Kennerly’s most famous photographs could be recaptured today.
That’s because 50 years ago, the Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist and his colleagues covered the Robert F. Kennedy campaign under far more relaxed circumstances.
Photography has always been inseparable from politics, with the image of presidential candidates inextricably tied to their message. But over the years, as security around U.S. politicians has tightened, photographers are no longer allowed the intimate access they once had.
In 1968, New York Sen. Kennedy had entered the race late after the New Hampshire primary, and, less than three months later, was assassinated in June, at the age of 42.
Kennerly takes us back to what it was like on the ground, during a turbulent era of American politics.
One photo of his in particular embodies the unique relationship between front-facing politicians, the press and the public.
Leading up to the California primary, Kennedy had just touched down in Los Angeles. Coming out of the plane, the presidential candidate is seen with just one security aide, William Barry, his personal bodyguard during the campaign.
“Even seeing the pilot coming out of the window — everything about that photo is so period,” Kennerly says.
“It gives you an idea of sort of the constant melee that was a Robert Kennedy campaign back then. Everybody could get close, everybody wanted to.”
This was just four and a half years after the assassination of his brother, President John F. Kennedy, who at the time had been riding in an open-top limousine in Dallas. More recently, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., had been assassinated during the Bobby Kennedy campaign in April.
Still, David Kennerly says the lack of ample security detail around presidential candidates didn’t make him nervous.
“We still hadn’t gotten to that point despite the fact that JFK was shot — where security had just taken over everything.”
In fact, that exposure he had to politicians was what made his job fun.
“[The distance created by security] cuts back on the fun, free-for-all kind of aspect of a campaign.”
Though not as common, Kennerly says photographers can still catch glimpses of Washington’s underbelly today.
“In these campaigns, even now — like in New Hampshire before people get traction, and get close to a nomination — you can still have these kinds of moments, believe it or not.
United Press International had assigned Kennerly to cover the campaign from Los Angeles, where he’d been working at the time. After covering Kennedy’s campaign stop in New Mexico, Kennerly says he was supposed to board the senator’s Arizona-bound plane. But as a 21-year-old journalist, Kennerly was turned away at first.