No, it’s not in Lens Work

All those free magazine subscriptions I am enjoying, courtesy of too many frequent flier miles on Delta, are beginning to be a mixed blessing.

First, two of the original twelve never arrived, yet Delta’s computer wrote me a polite note explaining they were no longer offering those, but please choose three more to make things hunky dory.

Then Condé Nast, whose splendid ‘Portfolio’ I am enjoying immensely, wrote with a free subscription to ‘Preservation’, a National Trust piece, and it is proving to be every bit as enjoyable. The current issue has a fine illustrated piece on Route 66.

So I’m seeing some fine photography in all of these, with none better than that found in Elle and Harper’s Bazaar. The latter is especially noteworthy for the cutting edge of their photographers’ work. Take a look at Peter Lindbergh’s superb portfolio of Julianne Moore in the current issue, interspersed with the great classical paintings (Modigiliani, Klimt, Schiele, etc.) which inspired the piece. It really seems that a high percentage of the newest, most exciting work is to be consistently found in fashion magazines – something I have been seeing since 1960 as a subscriber and well before that when perusing back issues at the local library.

Once place where you will rarely find good pictures is in photography magazines. Pseudo art for pseudo photographers invariably, of course, in tired old, over-processed black and white, masquerading as ‘art’. Large format, a beer belly and the obligatory artist’s beard are de rigeur for these pretenders, known largely only to those obsessed with gear and processing. It has to be black and white, you know because the people on display are clueless when it comes to seeing. They need the benefits of abstraction which monochrome confers, so limited is their skill and imagination. Why do these technicians – for they are rarely much more than that – always look to me as if they could use a good bath?

For more, just check in to Pseuds Corner.

Finally, once done, I have to schlepp all the magazines I’m done with to the curb every Tuesday, for recycling. Boy, do I miss the time when we just chucked stuff out and the hell with recycling and the sanctimonious green lobby driving around in SUVs (invariably emblazoned with a ‘Keep Tahoe blue’ bumper sticker). At least I tear out the really good work first as my nod to the environment.