Microstock Calendar

The explosion of the Deepwater Horizon oil rig and the subsequent oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico killed 11 workers, destroyed wildlife, did untold harm to the Gulf coast ecosystem and brought economic hardship to communities dependant on the fishing and tourism industries. 

And as Steven Meisel points out in a new fashion story in Vogue Italia, the oil spill is also super-duper yucky. 

The new issue contains a 24-page story, “Water & Oil,” showing model Kristen McMenamy covered in thick, crude oil and collapsed on a rocky coast like an oil-drenched shorebird, if a shorebird wore designer clothes. 

The fashion blog Refinery29.com has blasted the layout in terms widely quoted on other Web sites:

“Creating beauty and glamour out of tragedy seems quite fucked up to us, not to mention wasteful and hypocritical, seeing as thousands of dollars of luxury clothing was flown in, and then subsequently ruined for the shoot. Glamorizing this recent ecological and social disaster for the sake of "fashion" reduces the tragic event to nothing more than attention-grabbing newsstand fodder.”

To me this story misses the mark as either social commentary or fashion photography, but not everyone agrees. As of last night, the post on Refinery29.com had 107 comments. The reactions generally fall into one of five categories (with some overlap between them):

1.    It’s a brilliant artistic or political statement,  that raises awareness of the costs of the disaster by using the model as a metaphor for all the fauna and flora that have been destroyed.  The commentators in this category either thought a fashion magazine was a great venue for such a topic, because it brings an important message to a new audience, or saw no connection between the consumerism a fashion magazine encourages and the demand for more fossil fuels at any cost. 

2.    It’s a great effort to bring a serious topic to Vogue Italia readers, but it would have been more effective if the text included suggestions where readers could donate to support those on the Gulf Coast affected by the spill.

3.    It’s an insensitive exploitation of a tragedy. 

4.    The photos are bold, brilliant and beautiful. 

5.    Steven Meisel is a misogynist. 

OK, only two commenters so far fall into category 5.  One notes, however,  that the last time Meisel gave a gloss of topicality to photos he shot for Vogue Italia, it was for his story concerning surveillance, national security, and the curtailing of civil liberties. That time, he showed beautiful women being manhandled by uniformed police. It’s disturbing that when Meisel references an environmental or social problem, he does so by portraying women as victims. 

(Image:  © Conde Nast/photo by Steven Meisel)

We've all, no doubt, had an unpaid internship (or two) in our lives and while they can be a rewarding experience, there are some people out there who seek to take advantage of the lowly struggling intern.

Consider the case of Sophia, a photo intern who says she was humiliated by "a fashion and beauty photographer" in downtown Manhattan who she identifies only as "A."

Among the abuses Sophia cites in the short video below are getting repeatedly called "Alex" by the photographer, and being forced to tickle a model's feet to generate a "happy" expression.

Ok, we've heard worse horror stories than this but it did get us wondering who this photographer is. Anyone want to hazard a guess in the comments on the identity of "A"?

(Via A Photography Blog.)

In the Sixties and Seventies, fashion and portrait photographer Brian Duffy chronicled the heyday of Swinging London.  In 1962, The Sunday Times referred to Duffy and his fellow London photographers David Bailey and Terence Donovan as "the terrible trio."  For clients including Vogue, Elle and The Times of London, Duffy  photographed some of the most famous faces of the era, from The Beatles to Jean Shrimpton to David Bowie to Prime Minister Harold Wilson. 

Ok, this is from that super-cheesy Cheezburger network but worth a look on a Friday. The blog is called "Ridiculous Poses" and it features photos of models in...wait for it...ridiculous poses.

Check out "Manicorn" below.

Facebook has reinstated the ad created by LA-based photographer Scott Nathan, telling the photographer his ad was “mistakenly disapproved.”

Facebook declined to comment on why the ad had been pulled in the first place, and why they had decided to reinstate the ad. Nathan shot the photograph in question, which features singer Katy Perry posed on a bed in lingerie and heels, for his client Too Faced Cosmetics.

© Scott Nathan

In an email to Nathan, a Facebook ad sales representative wrote: “It appears your ad was mistakenly disapproved. However, it has now been re-reviewed and approved. Sorry for any inconvenience.”

After his ad was taken down, Nathan wrote to Facebook asking for an explanation and posted a message on his Facebook page equating the move with censorship.

The social media site took the ad down two weeks ago, sending Nathan a notice that said the ad violated their guidelines against irrelevant or inappropriate imagery.

Using keywords, Nathan targeted the ad for art buyers, creative directors, photo editors and fashion editors. The text for the ad read: “Scott Nathan Photography: New work up for clients like Katy Perry, Sephora, Lindsay Lohan, Too Faced & Urban Decay Cosmetics.”

Photo: Richard Avedon. Suzy Parker and Robin Tattersall, dress by Dior, Place de la Concorde, Paris, August 1956, © 2009 The Richard Avedon Foundation

Viewing the retrospective of Richard  Avedon’s fashion work at the International Center of Photography this summer, I and other women-of-a-certain-age were struck by one thing: In the Forties and Fifties, fashion models were mature and cosmopolitan. In sharp contrast to the skinny teens and skin-bearing specimens in today’s fashion spreads, models like Suzy Parker, Dorian Leigh and Dovima strode through the streets of Paris or commanded attention at chic cafes. Dressed in New Look suits or evening gowns, they looked serenely confident in their worldly sophistication.

Actually, they weren’t so worldly. Dovima was only 20 when, wearing an evening dress, she took command of a herd of elephants in her most famous photo. Suzy Parker (born in San Antonio in 1932), wasn’t much older than today’s waifish models when she started playing the part of a Parisian sophisticate. Avedon’s fantasies weren’t achieved through Photoshop, just great styling, lighting and clothes that were elegant rather than overtly sexy.

These images in part reflected the urbanity of European-born art directors like Alexei Brodovitch and Alexander Lieberman. But then as now, fashion magazines were aspirational. To succeed, they had to channel their readers’ fantasies. And fantasies they were. Some white American women might have tasted independence during the war, but by the late Forties and Fifties, they were expected to be in the kitchen, not roller skating across the Place de la Concorde.

The swinging Sixties ushered in youth culture, and Avedon turned to models like skinny Penelope Tree. The change may have liberated Vogue readers from wearing girdles, but I blame Tree for every girl who burned herself trying to iron her hair into stick-straight perfection.  

Fashion photography has always sold unrealistic expectations. But the fantasies designers and magazines peddle are our fantasies. We can debate proposed legislation mandating minimum weights for runway models or labeling ads that have been Photoshopped. We can also ask ourselves if, at a time when women have achieved unprecedented power and financial independence, we are as much to blame as advertisers for fashion models who look like mall rats.

Photo: Richard Avedon. Suzy Parker and Robin Tattersall, dress by Dior, Place de la Concorde, Paris, August 1956, © 2009 The Richard Avedon Foundation

Viewing the retrospective of Richard  Avedon’s fashion work at the International Center of Photography this summer, I and other women-of-a-certain-age were struck by one thing: In the Forties and Fifties, fashion models were mature and cosmopolitan. In sharp contrast to the skinny teens and skin-bearing specimens in today’s fashion spreads, models like Suzy Parker, Dorian Leigh and Dovima strode through the streets of Paris or commanded attention at chic cafes. Dressed in New Look suits or evening gowns, they looked serenely confident in their worldly sophistication.

Actually, they weren’t so worldly. Dovima was only 20 when, wearing an evening dress, she took command of a herd of elephants in her most famous photo. Suzy Parker (born in San Antonio in 1932), wasn’t much older than today’s waifish models when she started playing the part of a Parisian sophisticate. Avedon’s fantasies weren’t achieved through Photoshop, just great styling, lighting and clothes that were elegant rather than overtly sexy.

These images in part reflected the urbanity of European-born art directors like Alexei Brodovitch and Alexander Lieberman. But then as now, fashion magazines were aspirational. To succeed, they had to channel their readers’ fantasies. And fantasies they were. Some white American women might have tasted independence during the war, but by the late Forties and Fifties, they were expected to be in the kitchen, not roller skating across the Place de la Concorde.

The swinging Sixties ushered in youth culture, and Avedon turned to models like skinny Penelope Tree. The change may have liberated Vogue readers from wearing girdles, but I blame Tree for every girl who burned herself trying to iron her hair into stick-straight perfection.  

Fashion photography has always sold unrealistic expectations. But the fantasies designers and magazines peddle are our fantasies. We can debate proposed legislation mandating minimum weights for runway models or labeling ads that have been Photoshopped. We can also ask ourselves if, at a time when women have achieved unprecedented power and financial independence, we are as much to blame as advertisers for fashion models who look like mall rats.

Outraged by the social effects—perceived or real—of skinny female models in advertising, politicians in France, Britain and Israel are calling for varying degrees of regulation. In Israel, the Knesset is considering a proposed law that would ban the use of underweight models, as well as the practice of using Photoshop or other software to narrow the waists of models, according to a report in Israel’s Haaretz newspaper. French lawmakers are considering a law to require advertisers to label images that have been retouched, and in Britain, Liberal Democrats have called for a ban on airbrushing in advertising that creates “overly perfect and unrealistic images of women” in ads targeted to children, according to a Guardian report. Meanwhile, Britain’s Committee of Advertising Practice, which regulates advertising in the UK, is considering an academic report that recommends a ban on Photoshopped ads meant for girls under 16.

Coinciding with those proposals is an uproar over two grotesquely Photoshopped ads from a certain well-known fashion designer. And why don’t I name him? Because I wonder whether the ads were intentional—and released quietly in out-of-the-way places so the designer could convincingly say, “Oh, this was just a mistake” the second the ads went viral on a wave of feminist outrage. If so, I refuse to give the designer the free publicity he may be angling for.

That said, I can’t muster enthusiasm for any proposed advertising bans. They strike me as naïve, and as invitations to trouble. Ads that make women feel bad about themselves are like so many other ads that stir up our insecurities to make us crave whatever palliative the advertiser is selling. As a kid, I started exercising my biceps after seeing the 98-lb weakling ads (scrawny guy loses girlfriend to muscular guy who kicks sand in his face on the beach). Are modern versions of that message contributing to steroid abuse among teenage males? And what about all those ads that suggest I’d be a lot cooler (and by implication, more respected by other men and more likely to get laid by beautiful women) if I drank this liquor, had that smart phone, and drove a certain car? Advertising, I’m saying, is an equal-opportunity slef-esteem corroder. Once the banning starts, where should it stop?

My wife, who married me despite my scrawny biceps and awful car, and who doesn’t have a plastic surgeon and Photoshop artist on call, disagrees with me on this. She believes the hell that advertisers create for girls is an order or two of magnitude worse than that for boys. Maybe so, and as a father, I’d like to think we could ban our way to Utopia. There’s no denying that smoking is down because cigarette ads were banned. So who knows? Maybe we could reduce obesity by banning junk food ads. Maybe we could reduce highway deaths by banning car ads. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves. We’ll just have to see how things go if Israel and Britain go ahead and step out onto the slippery slope. Meanwhile, caveat emptor.

Outraged by the social effects—perceived or real—of skinny female models in advertising, politicians in France, Britain and Israel are calling for varying degrees of regulation. In Israel, the Knesset is considering a proposed law that would ban the use of underweight models, as well as the practice of using Photoshop or other software to narrow the waists of models, according to a report in Israel’s Haaretz newspaper. French lawmakers are considering a law to require advertisers to label images that have been retouched, and in Britain, Liberal Democrats have called for a ban on airbrushing in advertising that creates “overly perfect and unrealistic images of women” in ads targeted to children, according to a Guardian report. Meanwhile, Britain’s Committee of Advertising Practice, which regulates advertising in the UK, is considering an academic report that recommends a ban on Photoshopped ads meant for girls under 16.

Coinciding with those proposals is an uproar over two grotesquely Photoshopped ads from a certain well-known fashion designer. And why don’t I name him? Because I wonder whether the ads were intentional—and released quietly in out-of-the-way places so the designer could convincingly say, “Oh, this was just a mistake” the second the ads went viral on a wave of feminist outrage. If so, I refuse to give the designer the free publicity he may be angling for.

That said, I can’t muster enthusiasm for any proposed advertising bans. They strike me as naïve, and as invitations to trouble. Ads that make women feel bad about themselves are like so many other ads that stir up our insecurities to make us crave whatever palliative the advertiser is selling. As a kid, I started exercising my biceps after seeing the 98-lb weakling ads (scrawny guy loses girlfriend to muscular guy who kicks sand in his face on the beach). Are modern versions of that message contributing to steroid abuse among teenage males? And what about all those ads that suggest I’d be a lot cooler (and by implication, more respected by other men and more likely to get laid by beautiful women) if I drank this liquor, had that smart phone, and drove a certain car? Advertising, I’m saying, is an equal-opportunity slef-esteem corroder. Once the banning starts, where should it stop?

My wife, who married me despite my scrawny biceps and awful car, and who doesn’t have a plastic surgeon and Photoshop artist on call, disagrees with me on this. She believes the hell that advertisers create for girls is an order or two of magnitude worse than that for boys. Maybe so, and as a father, I’d like to think we could ban our way to Utopia. There’s no denying that smoking is down because cigarette ads were banned. So who knows? Maybe we could reduce obesity by banning junk food ads. Maybe we could reduce highway deaths by banning car ads. But that’s getting ahead of ourselves. We’ll just have to see how things go if Israel and Britain go ahead and step out onto the slippery slope. Meanwhile, caveat emptor.

pLos Angeles-based photographer Scott Nathan recently had a paid ad he created for Facebook taken down because it was deemed “either irrelevant or inappropriate.” The photograph of Katy Perry in question was shot for Too Faced Cosmetics and has appeared in in-store displays internationally./ppa href="http://pdnedu.blogs.com/.a/6a00d8341ce76f53ef012876678f00970c-pi" style="display: block;"img alt="Scottnathan_katyperryad" border="0" class="asset asset-image at-xid-6a00d8341ce76f53ef012876678f00970c " src="http://pdnedu.blogs.com/.a/6a00d8341ce76f53ef012876678f00970c-320pi" title="Scottnathan_katyperryad" //a © Scott Nathan/ppNathan keyworded the ad so it would be displayed to art buyers, creative directors, photo editors and fashion editors. Facebook charges on a per-click basis, and Nathan says he was paying between $.60 and $.82 cents per click for the couple of days the ad was up. Nathan received a spike in traffic to his Web site and a handful of complimentary emails, he says./ppThen, Facebook pulled the ad, citing the following clause in their guidelines:/pp“Ad Disapproval Reason(s):/ppThe image of this ad is either irrelevant or inappropriate. Per sections 4 and 5 of Facebook#39;s Advertising Guidelines, the image on your ad should be relevant and appropriate to the item being advertised. Images that are overly explicit, provocative, or that reveal too much skin are not allowed. Images that may either degrade or idealize any health condition or body type are also not allowed. Additionally, images may not emulate site features or suggest functionality which is not present (e.g. a video play button). If you choose to submit this ad again, please use an appropriate image that adheres to all of Facebook#39;s Advertising Guidelines.”/ppNathan equates Facebook’s actions with censorship, which isn’t exactly true. Facebook is free to regulate their advertising as they wish—plenty of TV stations and outdoor advertising companies refuse ads./ppBut is Facebook’s policy—and their application of it in the case of Nathan’s ad—reasonable? Let us know what you think./p