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laresearchette · 5 years ago

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Thursday, April 16, 2020 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT THE DISNEY FAMILY SINGALONG (ABC Feed) IN THE DARK (CW Feed)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME/CRAVE/NETFLIX CANADA/CBC GEM:

AMAZON PRIME SCHITT’S CREEK (Seasons 1-5) A MILLION LITTLE PIECES ALICE FRASER: SAVAGE (Season 1) FOUR MORE SHOTS PLEASE! (Season 2) SELAH AND THE SPADES TOMMY LITTLE: SELF-DIAGNOSED GENIUS (Season 1) ZOMBIELAND: DOUBLE TAP

NETFLIX CANADA FARY: HEXAGONE (Season 1) FAUDA (Season 2) MAURICIO MEIRELLES: LEVANDO O CAOS

MADE YOU LOOK: A TRUE STORY ABOUT FAKE ART (CBC) 8:00pm: Filmmaker Barry Avrich chronicles the events that lead to the largest art fraud in American history.

TRIBAL (APTN) 9:00pm: “I’ll Show You, Chief”

SICK OF IT (BBC Canada) 9:00pm (SEASON FINALE): Karl and Ruby take a trip to New York to clear up some family business.

BIGGEST & BADDEST (Animal Planet Canada) 9:00pm: Niall meets activists and scientists working together to place America's wild horses into safe havens.

FAMILY MAN, FAMILY MURDERER: AN ID MURDER MYSTERY (ID Canada) 9:00pm: Chris Watts pleads for his family's safe return after his pregnant wife, Shanann, and their two young daughters vanish without a trace; as investigators dig deeper, dark secrets are revealed, and Chris transforms from family man to monster.

LIE EXPOSED (Crave) 9:00pm: When recovering alcoholic Melanie learns devastating news, she leaves her husband in Toronto and heads to Los Angeles for a bender. In LA, she meets a mysterious tintype photographer and agrees to pose for him at his downtown studio.

STATH LETS FLATS (BBC Canada) 9:30pm (SEASON FINALE): Vasos is turning 70 and a party is planned. Meanwhile, Stath is desperate for his dad to hand the business to him, but when Carole demands a head-to-head interview for the position, Stath is out of his depth and Vasos has a tough decision to make.

AMERICAN DAD! (Much) 10:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): While running an errand in Little Columbia, Stan is confronted by his hidden past.

TED BUNDY: MIND OF A MONSTER (ID Canada) 10:00pm/11:00pm (PREMIERE): Part 1 and 2: Exclusive access and never-before-heard testimony gives a unique insight into the mind of America's most notorious serial killer, Ted Bundy; archival materials reveal the monster inside the man.

AIR JAWS STRIKES BACK (Animal Planet) 10:00pm: Air Jaws claims new turf in South Africa; shark experts use a "drone-towed" seal decoy to study and capture the harrowing and dramatic battles between shark and seal.

FIRE MASTERS (Food Network Canada) 11:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): The chefs are fired up to create unique signature dishes in the wildfire round; the crossfire round brings the heat; the judges are treated to breakfast for dinner in the final round.

CANADIAN REFLECTIONS (CBC) 11:30pm: Who Is Hannah?; Threads

#cdntv #cancon #canadian tv #canadian tv listings #tribal #sick of it #biggest & baddest #stath lets flats #fire masters #canadian reflections

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sistercelluloid · 6 years ago

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Welcome to another edition of TINTYPE TUESDAY! This week, we’re off to see The Wizard of Oz again on the big screen, courtesy of TCM and Fathom Events. For tickets, just click here!

But before you head out, let’s take a peek at what was really going on behind the wizard’s curtain.

The tornado in Kansas was nothing compared to the blizzard of cast and crew changes—not to mention the many mishaps, including a couple of near-fatalities. Even Toto didn’t escape unscathed…

So hang on to your hamper—here we go!

Dorothy: Both MGM unit head Arthur Freed and music maven Roger Edens fought for Judy Garland, but Louis B. Mayer—who often derided the painfully insecure teenager as “my little hunchback”—pressured producer Mervyn LeRoy to do whatever it took to land Shirley Temple for the lead. Fortunately, all attempts to get 20th Century Fox to loan out the wildly popular moppet went nowhere. (However, the long-standing rumor that MGM offered to swap the services of Clark Gable and Jean Harlow for Temple is false; Harlow succumbed to renal failure in June 1937, before MGM even had the rights to the book.) Deanna Durbin, whom Mayer openly preferred to Garland, was also considered—but because the film initially had a sub-plot involving Betty Jaynes, another operatic singer, she was dropped from the running. So Mayer had to “settle” for Judy. (Oh and her ruby slippers were originally silver, as they were in the book. But in the age of Technicolor, red won out.)

The Scarecrow: Buddy Ebsen was the first loose-limbed, lanky dancer to step into the role, which would have worked out much better for him, as we’ll soon see… but Ray Bolger ultimately carried the day (and the hay). He also carried lines on his face from the rubber prosthetics for more than a year after filming ended. For that kind of grief, you’d think they’d have left his original dance number—longer, trippier, and choreographed by none other than Busby Berkeley—in the film:

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The Tin Man: Much to his disappointment, Bolger was first cast in this clunkier role. If he’d only had the heart… but he longed to be the Scarecrow, the part he’d seen his childhood hero, Fred Stone, play in the 1902 Broadway show—which is what inspired him to hit the boards in the first place. “I’m not a tin performer—I’m fluid!” he reportedly pleaded to LeRoy, who finally caved in, allowing Bolger and Ebsen to swap roles. Ebsen was an absolute peach about the whole thing, even teaching Bolger the “wobbly walk” he’d perfected in rehearsals. But no good deed goes unpunished, and this one almost killed him: after about a week of breathing in the toxic aluminum powder that covered his “tin” face, Ebsen was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. (At first, Mayer—who assumed other people’s morals were as low as his own—thought the actor was faking an illness as some sort of contract ploy. So he dispatched his minions to the hospital—where they found Ebsen strapped into an iron lung.)

When Jack Haley, on loan from Fox, arrived to replace him, the make-up artists were much more careful: they protected his face with a thick layer of white greasepaint and diluted the aluminum powder into a paste. (Oh, and they never told him why his predecessor left the film—on a stretcher.) Ebsen didn’t vanish entirely, though: his voice can still be heard in the group vocals, as there was no time to re-record them.

And given all the gruesome drama surrounding the Tin Man, perhaps it’s appropriate that they used chocolate syrup to produce his tears—a technique later used by Hitchcock for the blood circling the drain in Psycho.

The Cowardly Lion: Bert Lahr’s costume was made of actual lion pelts—and weighed almost 100 pounds. The valiant wardrobe team did their best to rinse the sweat out of the sopping-wet suit at the end of each day, but, in the words of one unlucky staffer, “it reeked.”

The Wicked Witch of the West: Initially, the witch was fashioned along the glamorous lines of the evil queen in Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. When she morphed into something decidedly more hag-like—including green skin, a long, pointy nose and a wart or ten—Gale Sondergaard, MGM’s original choice, pointed her pumps toward the exit. Margaret Hamilton was cast just three days before shooting began. Told by her agent she was up for a part in the film, she asked which one. “The wicked witch—what else?” he helpfully replied. (That 10% they get? It ain’t for morale-boosting!)

She didn’t get much more respect after she signed on: her dressing room was a makeshift canvas tent, while Billie Burke had a hideaway that MGM dreams are made of. “She had a pink and blue dressing room, with pink and blue powder puffs and pink and blue bottles filled with powder and baby oil—and pink and blue peppermints,” Hamilton later recalled, admitting that she sometimes popped in for a nap on the glamorous Glinda’s days off.

And God knows she needed the rest, as she proved to be the second casualty on the set: In the scene where she seems to disappear in a cloud of fire and smoke, she very nearly did. At the last minute, a moving platform was supposed to lower her out of harm’s way, but her cape got snagged and she was trapped amid the flames—which fed on the greasepaint and copper makeup slathered on her face, arms and hands. Before she could be pulled free, the fire had seared into her skin, leaving her with second- and third-degree burns. Wise woman that she was, she later refused to do a post-production pick-up scene that involved a flaming broomstick. So they had to make do with maiming her stand-in: the smoke mechanism exploded, burning and permanently scarring Betty Danko’s legs.

The Wizard of Oz: After Ed Wynn refused the part because it wasn’t big enough, MGM turned to W.C. Fields, who thought the paycheck wasn’t big enough. During a few protracted rounds of haggling—they offered $75,000, he wanted $100,000—the producers burned while Fields fiddled. They finally gave and offered the role to Frank Morgan.

Oh and here’s a story you might have to close your eyes and click your heels together to believe, but some swear it’s true, and if it isn’t (which is probably the case), it should be: When wardrobe staffers went scavenging through second-hand stores to find the perfect tattered coat for Morgan, they returned with an armload of samples for Victor Fleming to choose from. He settled on one he thought conveyed just the right touch of “shabby gentility”—and, idly turning out the pockets, found a label with L. Frank Baum’s name on it. An MGM publicist reportedly contacted the tailor and Baum’s widow, who confirmed it was his (he did live in L.A. for a time), and the studio presented her with the coat at filming’s end.

Toto: Shirley Temple may never have made it to Oz, but she did meet Toto five years before Garland did. Terry the terrier appeared in 16 films, including Temple’s Bright Eyes, as well as Fury, The Women and George Washington Slept Here. In Tortilla Flat, she re-teamed with Morgan and Fleming, and in Twin Beds, she reunited with Hamilton. Her $125 weekly salary for Oz was more than double than that of the Munchkins, who each earned $50 a week. And as it turned out, Terry should have gotten combat pay: one of the Wicked Witch’s heavy-heeled henchmen stepped on her tiny paw and broke it, sidelining her for several weeks. After filming, Garland, who’d fallen in love with the dog, wanted to adopt her, but the owner wouldn’t… surrender Terry.

All of which bring us to the director. Or directors. Richard Thorpe, whose previous work consisted mainly of quickie westerns, was first at the helm, but LeRoy felt he was shooting the film more like a low-budget oater than a lavish fantasy, rushing scenes along and not giving the production the care it deserved.

While he searched for a replacement, LeRoy left the project in the tender hands of George Cukor—who, in his brief stint as caretaker, made some critical changes. First, he ditched Garland’s blonde wig and heavy glamour-girl makeup, which made her look ridiculous and feel worse.

He also told Garland to relax and simply be herself—a lovely, vulnerable teenage girl—which was just what the part called for. Then he did something less crucial but pretty fabulous: he brought in Adrian to design the Wicked Witch’s costume. Which, if you peer beyond the black-on-black, is a real work of art, with its lace bodice, cut-out mutton sleeves, and pouch dangling fetchingly from the hip. To her pointy hat, Adrian added a long, silky-sheer scarf that floats menacingly behind her, like an ill wind.

Cukor was never meant to stay on when production began in earnest; he was due over at Gone with the Wind. Victor Fleming took the reins in October 1938, and oversaw everything but the sepia-tone scenes (including the Over the Rainbow number) that book-end Dorothy’s adventures in Oz. But the following February, he was called away suddenly… to direct Gone with the Wind after Cukor was fired. Fleming’s close friend King Vidor came aboard to gently shepherd the crucial Kansas scenes through to completion, but never publicly acknowledged his involvement until after Fleming’s death in 1949.

And as if Fleming didn’t have enough on his mind during the shoot, he also had to protect Garland from her scenery-chewing companions on the Yellow Brick Road, seasoned old vaudeville pros who were none too excited about surrendering the spotlight to her (as she laughingly recalls in a clip from The Jack Paar Show, below). Ironically, her only close friend on the set was Hamilton, a former kindergarten teacher who gave her some much-needed mothering.

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Whew! There’s enough material behind the scenes of The Wizard of Oz for a whole other movie… but in the meantime, enjoy seeing the original again on the big screen!

TINTYPE TUESDAY is a weekly feature on Sister Celluloid, with fabulous classic movie pix (and backstory!) to help you make it to Hump Day! For previous editions, just click here—and why not bookmark the page, to make sure you never miss a week?

TINTYPE TUESDAY: Head Off to See THE WIZARD OF OZ Again on the Big Screen! Welcome to another edition of TINTYPE TUESDAY! This week, we're off to see The Wizard of Oz…

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mastersvisualjournalmclain · 3 years ago

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Hall of Shadows Critical Review Report

Hall of Shadows: An exploration of Australian war crimes and missing information

“I am not going to pass any judgment on the policy of devastating the country. I obey orders, and perhaps it is a wise plan.”

-RL Wallace, The Australians at the Boer War

WHAT:

Hall of Shadows is a mixed media exploration of war crimes by Australians during conflicts in Afghanistan as detailed by The Brereton Report, an extensively redacted investigation into the deaths of civilians and prisoners. Utilising wet plate collodion tintypes and printed materials taken from digital media, Hall of Shadows focuses on creating a visual mirror to our society to see the far-reaching human cost of these war crimes. The work is about reflecting upon the special operations soldiers who committed the crimes, the political and civil authorities who placed them in these situations on behalf of the civilian population and the media who report on the crimes and the report itself.

The work consists of a grid of 15 wet plate collodion tintype still lifes of toy soldiers in miniature dioramas constructed of wooden blocks, along with four A1 sized newsprint banners in various states of use and disrepair. The tintypes are an echo of, and inspired by, the Hall of Memory at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra, which houses 15 stained glass windows, each with a word that is a quality of Australians at war. The form of the banners was influenced by Chinese hanging scrolls, intended for short-term news and propaganda dissemination. The materiality, plasticity, texture, and imperfections of the toy soldiers I had used as subjects in creating the still lifes for my wet plates was underscored to draw the viewer's attention to in the banners. The banners are images taken directly from the pages of the heavily redacted report overlaid with pictures of plastic toy soldiers.

Both works are meant to evoke reflection in viewers. Where the original stained glass windows are lushly coloured and use a Deco font, the tintypes are monochrome and the words scratched into the surface of the metal. The banners are printed on flimsy, disposable newsprint, and with much of the text unreadable.

WHY:

Australia has an ambivalent relationship with military engagement. The Department of Veteran Affairs (DVA) estimates that approximately 2% of the population are veterans, yet there appears to be a disproportionate emphasis, even a reverence, for military action in popular culture. The large sections of military history and accounts which glamourise the military found in books stores reveals something about the popularity and hunger for information about this segment of our society. But much like sports figures whose poor or inappropriate behaviour is overlooked or excused, soldiers and military action are often elevated to positions above critique or reflection or only examined on Anzac Day then forgotten until the next year.

This work was created in hope of raising some questions for the viewer:

Who am I in relationship to these people and events?

How does my image of this history correspond to lived realities?

What agency, if any do I have relative to these events?

Factors that emerged during the creation of the work included the fact that the greater the temporal distance became between the report’s release (November 2020) and the present, the more of a collective and communal shrug there seemed to be about these crimes and any consequences for those who committed them. This seeming public lack of interest led towards processes and materials that were disposable, recyclable, non-permanent and dismissible, just as the acts which were the genesis of the report and the public response to it appeared to be a part of an ever-churning news cycle. The work was created to be both fixed in history with elements of discard and disposability.

WHO:

This work occurs and is informed by a number of photographic, artistic, military and societal communities. Photographically, a historical process is employed in the tintypes and more modern, digital-descended processes for the scrolls. The incorporation of text to both sets of images is relative to the work of Duane Michals, while wet plate photography has been employed extensively by Sally Mann. The use of miniature diorama and tableaus akin to David Levinthal’s work using toy soldiers and dolls was an important example of how applying good technical skills to small subjects can heighten the impact of images. His series Hitler Moves East is a slightly more abstracted work emulating black and white war photographs contemporary to the historical period of 1939-1945.

Returning to the work of Hiroshi Sugimoto and his photographs of diorama’s in museums also proved inspirationally fruitful. Sugimoto’s concept of photographing a faux re-creation of a time, place and event, had significant overlap and relationship to the work in creating the miniature dioramas as backgrounds I was staging seemed particularly relevant to my investigations. Of particular interest and insight is Sugimoto’s observation that “However fake the subject, once photographed, it’s as good as real.”

Roy Lichtenstein’s pop art, particularly, his work Whaam! seemed to share a print-pixelated, quasi-comic book quality the the scrolls/banners. While it initially felt that a connection might exist to the disposable aspect of Lichtenstein’s work, these images seemed less satisfying at communicating more realistic figures of the toy soldiers. The hope for more identification with soldier’s as the subject, rather than objectification simply wasn’t achieved, and so a more realist approach was adopted. (Note: the Lichtenstein Foundation’s website seems abandoned at this point and is available only through internet archives. I include his citation in Wikipedia for reference purposes.

Liz Wells observations about the truth or non-truth and historical uses of photography in commenting upon war continued to be a touchstone. Especially her observation about the uses of photography in establishing and reinforcing communal sentiments about war. “[T]here are no unequivocally great photographs of war, only those that structure or re-enforce feelings already extant within a particular culture.”

Additionally, the work of Alexander Rodchenko was examined, particularly the shift in his work from documentary photography to its use as propaganda. Rodchenko had good reason to make this turn: survival. As the young Soviet state went from photographic and cinematic playground to a more authoritarian state, photographers found ways to either praise Stalin and the new state or perish. In my work I was seeking to neither laud soldiers nor condemn them, but rather, hold up a mirror to the viewer to examine their own conceptions, pre-conceptions and mis-conceptions about military action and those who carry out the policies of the state, especially in ambiguous environments.

How:

The work was realised through a close reading of the available documents, reflection on my own experience in the Afghanistan theatre of operations, and testing with select trusted voices about the efficacy of whether intended messages were being communicated. This last was a necessary counter-balance to a body of work that was grounded deeply in personal experience. The challenge in this path is getting lost in a personal echo chamber where what seems obvious to the creator is completely unreadable to the viewer. Listening to my supervisor, peers and close friend’s readings of the work was exceptionally helpful in maintaining this balance.

With regard to the wet plates, arranging and mounting the images as a call/response to the sacred and mythological tones of the stained glass windows in Canberra was done as a means to open a door to reflection about their own position relative to military engagement. The limitations and ‘defects’ inherent in wet plates was also a desired element of the work. Just as no plate can be clinically ‘perfect,’ so no military action is without casualties.

The later-developed hanging scroll banners afforded an opportunity to use their materiality as fragile, disposable objects that, in their physical structure, reflected the ephemerality of the impact of the news cycle on our collective attention span. This, in turn, allowed for them to develop as a seperate, unified work on their own, standing along side, but different from the wet plate works.

Best practices for health and safety, including mental well-being, were followed throughout the creation of the work.

Test/Speculative Images:

Finalised plate samples, prior to mounting & framing:

Bibliography

Batchen, Geoffrey. (2004.) Forget Me Not: Photography & Remembrance. 1st ed., New York: Princeton Architectural Press.

Laurent, Olivier. (June 15, 2015.) “A Photographer Turns Real-Life Soldiers Into Toys.” Time. Accessed March 10, 2021. time.com/3911329/a-photographer-turns-real-life-soldiers-into-toys/.

Levinthal, David. (1972-75.) “Hitler Moves East.” David Levinthal. Accessed May 28, 2021. davidlevinthal.com/artwork/hme.html.

Sugimoto, Hiroshi. (1994.) “Diorama.” Hiroshi Sugimoto. Accessed May 28, 2021. www.sugimotohiroshi.com/new-page-54.

Wells, Liz. (2015.) Photography: A Critical Introduction. 5th ed., New York: Routledge.

Wikipedia. (2004.) Hanging Scroll. Accessed May 30, 2021. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanging_scroll.

Wikipedia. (2002.) Roy Lichtenstein. Accessed May 28, 2021. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roy_Lichtenstein.

Young, Marnin. (2016.) “Photography and the Philosophy of Time: On Gustave Le Grays Great Wave, Ste.” nonesite.org. Accessed March 18, 2021. https://nonsite.org/photography-and-the-philosophy-of-time/.

Zax, Talya. (2021.) “How Freedom Turned to Propaganda in Soviet Photography.” The Forward. Accessed May 28, 2021. forward.com/culture/322220/how-the-soviet-union-used-photography-as-propoganda/.

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humanoid-dod · 7 years ago

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Credible Bigfoot photographs believed taken with an 1863 wooden box camera. The Bigfoot photos are tintype. If these were fake, who was capable of this type of photography during that time? Also, look at the period dress and firearms..truly authentic! (Did we mention to look at what the men are holding in their hands?)

#dunia mitos #alien #the rake #humanoid #myth #realorfake #mythical #strangecreature #mitos #legenda #misteri #seram #penampakan #hantu #ghost #scary

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the-stray-liger · 5 years ago

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Do you think having more Insight would make the photos look different? What does that imply? Imagine going insane bc you could console yourself with the thought that the things you could see were fake, until one day you see a tintype of Cathedral Ward, and you see there, clear as day, the Amygdala staring back at you

Thinks about photography in a Bloodborne setting. Do you think there were photographers there before Central Yharnam was overrun? Do you htink they documented the progress of the beastly scourge? Do you think there is, out there, a smashed camera, pieces of ambrotypes and tintypes and daguerrotypes of what began as happy families and that soon enough morphed into terrifying images of people of Yharnam were becoming

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anycontentposter · 5 years ago

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In Our Time: A Year of Shooting Exactly One Film Photo Per Day

At the end of every year, I get to see, for the first time, all the things I’ve already seen. New Year’s Eve is my final film pickup day for One Second, an ongoing project in which I, an otherwise sane, rational, working modern photographer, make one photograph, and only one photograph, on film, every day, with no do-overs and no second chances.

As I discussed here last year, it remains the most joyful, important, frustrating, and miserable work I’ve ever done — a meditative process as much as an artistic one, in the constant vigilance required to judge each and every moment to decide if it might be the day’s prize or, in desperation, its least-lacking.

I have been a digital shooter since my editor at the suburban newspaper where I worked in 2003 forced me — damn near at swordpoint — to switch to digital, just after I returned from the Eddie Adams Workshop, where I’d been the only person to turn up at their portfolio reviews holding plastic sheets full of slides.

The past is another country; sometimes, you need to travel thousands of miles from where you are born, to know where you are from.

Now, I spend my whole life — in subways, on planes, on foot, sitting at my desk at home — with a little film camera close at hand — a junky little instrument with no autofocus and a dysfunctional meter. Sometimes you know — you can just feel it — that something is going to break out, and you end up wasting in the waiting.

Photography is, at its core, the larceny of time, and when one must be a careful burglar, it feels doubly so. The camera is old, with a loud shutter, and each day’s lonesome exposure makes a heavy, satisfying noise to announce the theft. I am glad of it; every artist must be willing to rescue themselves from a prudent life.

It is a difficult shift from the majority of modern photography, oh-so-recently a marvel but now almost entirely mundane. Only a generation ago, photographs were memories rather than reminders; now, our moments have become momentary. Sure, the claims of endless sightings of abominable snowmen and angels and UFOs have ceased now that near every person on earth keeps a camera in their pocket at all times — an odd coincidence, that — but we’ve lost all the rest of the magic, too.

In 1950, the average American family went through one roll of film a year; today, most people make several thousand on a cellular phone and then forget each and every one of them.

The photograph, the film photograph, is as much an artifact as it is a story; there is an awkward, uncomfortable power in holding a negative in one’s hand. One makes the photograph hoping, waits to develop it unknowing, and produces it nervously. Film photographs are, in many ways, like children — in the gestation, one never knows how they’ll turn out, who they’ll be, and the product is just as fragile. Every scratch can become a scar.

And yet, it is something real, a tactile testimonial.

When I was a little boy, our home’s yard miraculously opened up one day when some soil shifted. A ten-foot hole yawned open revealing what had been the garbage pit of the colonial farming family that had lived there two centuries earlier: long white clay Dutch smoking pipes, piles of broken bottles that once contained every color of liquor, and remedies to cure every ailment known to man and beast — traces of last years’ lives, stolen from time, left by unwitting others to tell us that, even in their long absence, they are survivors.

We, too, in an age of fake news and cultural ephemera, seem to be taking to the old ways, not for pastiche but for permanence: Victrola sales are on the rise, kids with unnatural hair colors buy vinyl records by the crate, and wet plate photography seems to be making the greatest comeback since Lazarus. People are hungry to return to the things that are empirically not as good, but which are real, tangible.

Decades ago, the Voyager probe lit out of our solar system, pining for the stars, carrying in the grooves of its golden disc cargo our music, to be heard by foreigners we’ll never meet. Now, the world is getting hotter, the tides are rising, and there is some comfort in knowing that there may still be tintypes of Paris long after Paris herself is gone.

I, for my part, had a long year on the road, logging 100,000 miles in the air, doing travel assignments on four continents and teaching a workshop in Outer Mongolia. This year’s negatives bear the worn soles of all travelers — in their case, the grain and fogging left by x-ray machines at airports the world over boasting the same bald, bold lie: YOUR NEGATIVES WILL NOT BE HARMED.

I spent half my year arguing with airport security personnel that they should check it by hand, before watching them lob it, half-chuckling, into an X-ray. I lost quite a few photographs this year to this disease; others — as in last year, and probably every year until my last — to missed opportunity.

I hold fast to the tyranny of this project’s main conceit, and the price is enormous: this year, I gave at least two days’ photographs to other things only to waltz into beauty mere minutes later. Once, I found a muscular, refrigerator shaped man getting a tattoo on his chest while doing shirtless pull-ups on St Mark’s Place; on another day, I was forced to watch, helpless and near panting and camera in hand, as an impromptu wedding broke out in a Chick-fil-A.

Still, what the work brings to my life — the chance to treasure not technology, but poetry — cannot be overstated. I do not, at the end of my year, have three thousand photographs of all my lunches to wade through, but I do have this: 365 photographs, one second of my year, not just a moment but a memory, of life in our time.

More images from the past year’s One Second can be seen here.

About the author: B.A. Van Sise is an internationally-known photographer and the author of the interdisciplinary photo book “Children of Grass,” proclaimed “the year’s most startlingly original, remarkable book” by Joyce Carol Oates in the Times’ Books of the Year 2019. The opinions in this article are solely those of the author. Van Sise’s visual work has previously appeared in the New York Times, Village Voice, Washington Post, and BuzzFeed, as well as major museum exhibitions throughout the United States, including Ansel Adams’ Center for Creative Photography, the Peabody Essex Museum, and the Museum of Jewish Heritage; a number of his portraits of notable American poets are in the permanent collection of the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery. His written work has appeared in Poets & Writers, the Southampton Review, Eclectica, and the North American Review. You can find more of his work on his website.