#jean mohr

[outofeverythingthisnamewasleft]

Cell occupied by a woman, St, Antonine prison, Geneva, by Jean Mohr, 1980s

[henk-heijmans]

Genève, Switzerland, ca. 1956 - by Jean Mohr (1925 - 2018), Swiss

[alen09blog]

肯認「獨特性」

大多數的不快樂就跟疾病一樣，也會加劇獨一無二的感覺。所有挫折都會放大自身的差異性，藉此滋養自我。客觀說，這是不合邏輯的，因為在我們的社會裡，挫折遠比稱心如意常見，不快樂也遠比心滿意足尋常。但這不是客觀比較的問題。這是在外部世界找不到東西可以肯定自我的問題。缺乏肯定會滋生出徒勞之感。而這種徒勞之感，正是寂寞的本質，因為，儘管歷史有諸多恐怖，但其他人的存在總是代表目標有可能實現。任何榜樣都能提供希望。但若堅信自身的存在獨一無二，則會摧毀掉所有榜樣。 約翰・柏格（John Berger）《幸��之人》（A Fortunate Man）頁98-99（吳莉君譯）

年過三十，讀伯杰（Berger）的書，開始有一種，真希望他是自己求學階段裡的老師。

摘錄這整段話的脈絡其實是探討醫病關係裡「肯認」的意涵與作用。伯杰引申，自然而然地闡明了自我建構裡，挫折與個體獨特性存在「病態」的共生關係，因之逕生徒勞，從而寂寞不已；這番啟迪撼動著讀者如我，但他沒停在這層抽象觀念的釐清。

而是突然，視線回防在你身上，端詳著你，其瞳孔清晰返照你的眼神。他接著溫煦地指出，儘管大寫時間之流總是天地不仁，可還有「其他人」——正是群體裡這些超我的存在，可以引領，也可以毀滅，你我可能的信心——倘若過分堅持自我的獨特性。

原來如此。這份困境其來有自。伯杰透過他的書寫毫無錯過地肯認了。

比起當下世道流行的「接住」，「肯認」顯然還具備把對象真正視作可／應被理解的個體的前提；後者品質在新世紀的佚失，可見一斑。

伯杰的文字，前調聰慧，尾韻溫暖。

[yama-bato]

Jean Mohr (Swiss, 1925-2018) Bullet-holes in a façade, Cyprus, 1974 1974 © Jean Mohr, Musée de l’Elysée

https://artblart.com/tag/cyprus/

[lascitasdelashoras]

Jean Mohr

[gacougnol]

Jean Mohr

Salève

France, 1955

[antronaut]

A Seventh Man

[agarcil]

Jean Mohr 1959

Jean Mohr,  The vehicle of Travellers [les gens du voyage], Killorgin, Irland, 1959.

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Wanted: Dead or Alive Season One 1958-1959

[justforbooks]

Gerald Cinamon

Chief designer for Penguin Books with a flair for pacing illustrated nonfiction, such as with Pelican’s Style and Civilization series

Gerald Cinamon, who has died aged 93, was one of the most skilled book designers of his generation. For 20 years from 1965 he was Penguin Books’ main designer of arts and architecture titles, becoming its chief designer in the mid-1970s.

A master of the paste-up method of layout, Cinamon was particularly adept at pacing illustrated books. From one spread to the next he would shift visual emphasis from vertical to horizontal, wide-angle to close-up, empty to full, synchronising these switches of treatment with key points in the text.

His debut for Penguin in 1961 coincided with two key events for the company: its acquittal in the Lady Chatterley’s Lover trial, and its employment of Germano Facetti, who recharged its cover designs for a new decade. But it was Kaye Webb, new editor at the Puffin imprint, who instigated the body of work for which Cinamon would become best known.

Webb had compiled a volume of her husband Ronald Searle’s St Trinian’s cartoons, and handed Cinamon, then a freelancer, “a box of jumbled clippings” from which to create a Penguin edition. He would paste up layouts at his kitchen table in Notting Hill, west London, surrounded by manuscripts, proofs and the aroma of Cow Gum, downing tools when his daughters returned from school.

The St Trinian’s Story (1961) led to further commissions for illustrated Penguins, and Cinamon unintentionally became a specialist in this field, at a time when letterpress was rapidly being replaced by offset litho as the means of printing books.

Where type and images had previously occupied two discrete planes – pictures on their own pages, often on coated art paper – litho enabled designers to place picture and text side-by-side, and Cinamon took advantage of this, interweaving halftones and line images with set type to make a verbal–visual narrative. His flair for sequencing nonfiction books led him to become the main designer of Pelican series of the 60s and 70s such as Style and Civilization and The Architect and Society.

The integrated method was also crucial to John Berger’s Success and Failure of Picasso (1965). There the author indicated precise points within the text where images were to be placed. When Cinamon inevitably found that this was not always possible, Penguin dispatched him to Geneva to resolve the layout with Berger.

In 1966 Penguin launched a hardback imprint, for which Cinamon designed A Fortunate Man: The Story of a Country Doctor, written by Berger and with photographs by Jean Mohr. The contrast between these two books for Berger demonstrates the span of Cinamon’s repertoire, despite the contextual similarities (same author, same publisher, single-colour print, a hand-held format).

Where Success and Failure’s layout rolled line by line with Berger’s polemic, A Fortunate Man’s images did not correlate with points in the text, and this allowed Cinamon to “write” the text–photo combinations, and the overall rhythm, in his own way. His arrangement is particularly effective in contrasting man with his rural environment: 45 pages pass before a human figure appears in the photographs.

Though sometimes categorised as a proponent of the objective, modernist Swiss style of graphic design, Cinamon’s solutions to briefs were far broader than that tag implies. His colleague Tony Kitzinger remembers his outlook as being “Swiss, tempered by New England”.

Born in Boston, Massachusetts, Jerry was the younger son of Pearl (nee Hirschberg) and Max, a liquor salesman. He initially studied at Massachusetts School of Art, and in 1953 joined the US Navy. He was then accepted by the department of graphic arts at Yale University, where his teachers included Alvin Eisenman, Armin Hofmann, Norman Ives, Josef Albers, Herbert Matter and Paul Rand.

Graduating in 1957, Cinamon received a Fulbright scholarship for the Ecole des Arts et Métiers in Paris, but found the approach there outmoded, so drove to Switzerland to study further with Hofmann in Basel. He was thus influenced first-hand by several key strands of the modern movement, from the Bauhaus to the new American advertising.

On the way home from Europe he met Diana Philcox, a recent textiles graduate from the Central School of Arts and Crafts in London. In New York Cinamon freelanced for publishers, and took up a one-year contract at Standard Oil of New Jersey (subsequently Exxon). In 1959 he and Philcox married, and in the following year moved with their twin baby daughters to Britain. Cinamon’s first clients in London included New Left Books and the Jewish-interest publisher Soncino.

After more than 20 years with Penguin, he left in 1985 to form a partnership with Kitzinger, who said of his former partner: “When I think of Jerry I do not see the kind of designer who shuffles little bits of paper around on a sheet. He would know, in advance, what he was realising.”

In 1987 Cinamon guest-edited a special issue of the trade journal Monotype Recorder in memory of Hans Schmoller, the exacting production director at Penguin (1949-76), who had been a “father figure” to him. He also wrote on the work of artist-designers including Talwin Morris, Ben Shahn and Emil Rudolf Weiß.

His biography of the type designer Rudolf Koch (2000), includes an apparently stray anecdote about a “young Berliner” who in 1933 had applied to become one of Koch’s students but had been turned away. The young Berliner was Schmoller.

Cinamon’s third daughter, Hannah, died in 2023. He is survived by Diana, their daughters Sara, Kate and Beth, eight grandchildren and a great-granddaughter.

🔔 Gerald Earl Cinamon, graphic designer and author, born 27 July 1930; died 15 February 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[pascal-bernheim]

📷 Jean Mohr Jeune réfugiée du Mozambique après son accouchement à la clinique Lundo / Young refugee from Mozambique after giving birth at the Lundo clinic Tanzanie / Tanzania 1968

[yeahyosims]

Omar Mohr

01. Hair | Top | Jeans | Shoes

02. Jeans | Shoes

03. Top | Socks | Shoes

04. Beanie | Jeans | Shoes

simstok | simstagram | simblr | youtube | patreon | twitch

[matmazelnoraliya]

"Bizlere gereken yalnızlıktır, büyük, içsel bir yalnızlık."

Bir başka insanın yaşantısını anlamak için insanın dünyayı, kendi bulunduğu yerden göründüğü gibi görmekten vazgeçip, onu, o öbür insanın bulunduğu yerden göründüğü gibi yeniden görebilmesi gerekir. Örneğin, bir başkasının yaptığı seçimi anlayabilmek için, kafasında karşı karşıya kalabileceği seçenek yoksunluğunu, kendisine bir seçim hakkı tanınmayabileceğini düşünmesi gerekir. Toklar açların hangi seçeneklerle karşı karşıya olduklarını anlama yeteneğinden yoksundurlar. Bir başkasının yaşantısını anlayabilmek için, ne kadar beceriksizce de olsa, dünyanın parçalarının sökülüp yeniden takılması gerekir.

John Berger, Jean Mohr, Yedinci Adam

[yama-bato]

© Jean Mohr, Musée de l’Elysée

https://artblart.com/tag/cyprus/

[byneddiedingo]

James Cagney and Anita Louise in A Midsummer Night's Dream (Max Reinhardt and William Dieterle, 1935) Cast: Dick Powell, Ross Alexander, Olivia de Havilland, Jean Muir, James Cagney, Joe E. Brown, Victor Jory, Anita Louise, Mickey Rooney, Frank McHugh, Hugh Herbert, Dewey Robinson, Ian Hunter, Verree Teasdale. Screenplay: Charles Kenyon, Mary C. McCall Jr., based on a play by William Shakespeare. Cinematography: Hal Mohr. Art direction: Anton Grot. Film editing: Ralph Dawson. Music: Erich Wolfgang Korngold, adapted from works by Felix Mendelssohn. Costume design: Max Rée. Choreography: Bronislava Nijinska The spirit that animates this version of A Midsummer Night's Dream is not that of William Shakespeare but Felix Mendelssohn. Shakespeare's text has been trimmed to a nubbin and hashed up by the "arrangers," Charles Kenyon and Mary C. McCall Jr., and it's gabbled by the all-star cast. Strangely, Olivia de Havilland and Mickey Rooney are the worst offenders, since they are the only members of the cast of Max Reinhardt's celebrated 1934 Hollywood Bowl production who made it into the movie. De Havilland delivers her lines with heavy emphasis on seemingly random words and with odd pauses, while Rooney punctuates every line with giggles, chortles, and shrieks that affect some viewers like fingernails on a chalkboard. Nobody in the cast seems to be aware that they're speaking verse. Fortunately, the decision was made to use the Mendelssohn overture and incidental music (along with snippets of other works by Mendelssohn), and to have it orchestrated by Erich Wolfgang Korngold. The result is an opulently balletic version of the play, taking advantage of what can be done in movies that can't be done on stage. Is it good? Maybe not, but it's much more fun than the stodgily reverent version of Romeo and Juliet (George Cukor, 1936) that MGM came up with the following year. Casting James Cagney as Bottom/Pyramus and Joe E. Brown as Flute/Thisby was a masterstroke, and if they had been directed by someone with a surer sense of American comic idiom than Reinhardt, the Viennese refugee from Hitler who spoke very little English (co-director William Dieterle, a German émigré, acted as interpreter), the results would have been classic -- as it is, they're just bumptious fun. Much of the design for the movie is reminiscent of the work of early 20th century illustrators of children's books like Walter Crane, Arthur Rackham, and John R. Neill, though with a tendency toward the twee. But there is a spectacular moment in the film when Oberon gathers the fairies, gnomes, and bat-winged sprites to depart, under a billowing smoky black train. The cinematography by Hal Mohr won the only write-in Oscar ever granted by the Academy.

[gacougnol]

Jean Mohr

Haute Savoie

France, 1978