Nullus Est Locus Domestica Sede Jucundior. (Cicero)

Sometimes, a street scène brings back a feeling associated with times unknowingly associated with that scene. I see a man carrying his violoncello on his back in front of the music hall, and I think about being home. Next to a fireplace, wearing old slippers, my old dog snoring next to me on the floor.

The influence of Cicero on language and philosophy is immense. His introduction of neologisms from Greek to Latin has shaped our present day ability to expand concepts and make them practical. My personal favorites are the concepts of humanitas and qualitas which Cicero translated from Greek and made part of his philosophical writings.

And what can be more about quality of life than the domestication of one’s own self to his environment? Indeed, it is perhaps a person’s ultimate achievement to be able to come home. To a delightful domestic setting where all can be harmonious.

… When I saw this musician next to the music hall on a rainy day in Vienna, I thought about Cicero’s statement.

He seemed home.

December 29, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

The Context of an Incomplete Statement

I had spent my day speaking in French, Italian and a bit of Spanish. My brain was hardly “thinking in English” when I stopped next to a store that was being transformed from one fashion store to another. 

The old poster was still on the outside wall, while workers were frantically working inside putting down a new floor and hanging display cabinets.

There was enough light for my old Nikkor 50mm to take a photo opened to f1.4. However it was not the perfect frame of the step ladder and mural poster, but the writing on the wall.

“All Is”, it read.

I did not know about the store, so could not tell if it was a logo of sorts belonging to the old store, as was the mural poster. But it also looked like it was written on the wall with a spray can paint. If so, was it a Zen statement?

While I pressed the camera shutter knob, my brain was back to thinking in English… I remembered many decades ago, as a student in secondary school, receiving a comment from my teacher at the end of an essay I had written. He said something like “All is plural and singular. You can say “all is well” or “all of us are well”. You have to be careful about context.”

… So, how does one put an incomplete sentence in context?

It was a delightful moment, as I came up with many ways to complete that sentence while walking along the Danube River.

Yes, it is all about context. That is why I took that photo.

PS/ The photo was taken in Vienna, Austria. When I passed by the store a day later, the mural poster and writing were gone. The wall was repainted and that moment gone forever. Except on my roll of film!

December 21, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

From Stephansdom to the Soviet War Memorial

As in any medieval European city, the large public square is also where the cathedral was build. The groundbreaking for the Stephansdom or St. Steven’s Cathedral was in 1137, and it was completed in 1160. Its architecture is Romanesque and baroque, and it is a cathedral where today religious ceremonies are joined by classical music concerts, tours of its catacombs, in addition to remaining a monument to the passing of time with grace and splendor.

It is quite possible that many millions of photos are taken in and around the cathedral every day.  I may be among the few who over decades may have taken a dozen photos around the Stephansdom. 

And my recent visit was no exception.

I did however take one photo inside the cathedral, near the Raised Sepulcher of Emperor Frederick III at the south choir of the cathedral. It was not a photo of the imposing red marble Gothic grave, but of the chairs left next to the sepulcher with apparent serendipity. The eight centuries separating the marble grave from the wooden chairs made that moment delightful for me. And the filtered dim light inside the cathedral seemed to wrap the moment in a story. I was sure that the chairs would be taken away soon by staff and all would be back to order, cold marble and the mysteries hidden inside the cathedral or under it, in the catacombs where still the bones of the plague epidemic victims remain displayed since the Middle Ages.

But for that moment, I was there to see how a chair with a broken leg would look next to the red marble Raised Sepulcher of Emperor Frederic III!

… I did not think about the chair photo till I looked through some of the other shots I took during this trip. And, there was another chair, in another context, with a story to tell.

The Soviet War Memorial, or Heldendenkmal der Roten Armee, is in Schwarzenbergplatz, on the way to Belvedere Palaces. The memorial is for the memory of 17,000 Soviet soldiers who died during the battle of Vienna in 1945. It is imposing, yet every time I have been there it seems lonely. Perhaps because not many people visit it. Perhaps it is the rather harsh looking yet dominating statue of a Soviet soldier holding the Soviet flag and wearing a gold helmet. But on a rainy and dreary day, it is the profile silhouette of two Soviet soldiers upon the memorial’s arch that attracted my attention.

However it was the graffiti on the walls surrounding the memorial that attracted my attention. I had not seen so much graffiti in Vienna before and, as it was my feeling about this genre of street art on the banks of the Danube, I did not find it attractive.

In a corner of the wall, I noticed a chair. It was also can spray-painted, but for some reason it looked sad and lonely. Lonelier that the Soviet soldiers’ statues on a rainy November day.

Here is the cropped photo of the chair:

.. And as I was being a bit pensive about the harmony, or lack of, between graffiti and classic monuments in marble and gold, I noticed this statement on a wall: "Thinking Kills Art!"

So I stopped thinking. Art is indeed plastic and so is its interpretation.

I am just a street photographer looking for a story to tell.

December 17, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Neuroplasticity and the Pursuit of a Story to Tell

Today I received a note from an old friend. Usually his notes are about his thoughts regarding my essays either on my literary blog or the one on photography. After more than 30 years of friendship, it is a delight to read his notes, no matter the topic.

But this time he went further. After reading about plasticity in one of my essays, he searched the topic as it relates to photography. And sent me a write-up about it he found useful to understanding how a photograph thinks about plasticity and how the finished product, a photo, affects our appreciation of the author’s message by affecting our brain through neuroplasticity.

Indeed, every artist shapes an encounter to make it his or her own. A stone becomes a statue, clay becomes a pot, words become poetry, and colour becomes scenery. Thus the artist sees reality as a plastic encounter and transforms it through the je ne sais quoi that we call artistic impulsiveness.

A photograph cannot reshape a models face before taking a photo. Nor can he stop an event in the street to organize people according to a choreography he has in mind. Instead, he picks angles, shades of light, shadows and selective focus to enhance and give a meaning to what would be unnoticeable to many others.

Thus he uses plasticity to tell a story not to reshape what already is.

… At some point, plasticity seems an abstract concept. But it is not. For me, it is the conscientious pursuit which over the years has become a subconscious act. After all, a street photographer has a millisecond to click and capture – the luxury of planning the plasticity of things does not exist for me.

Here is a concrete example of how unconsciously one develops a sense for looking at different angles and light effects.

I was in a hotel room where the wall moldings were rather opulent. It was a historic building transformed to a hotel and part of the attraction was the anachronism itself.  As I sat down and looked at the wall, the carved shapes of the molding looked as expected  for an 18^th century interior design.

Then, just to challenge that feeling, I looked at the shapes from different angles. And when the light cast enough shadows on the wall, suddenly the molding got transformed, even metamorphosed!

I took a few photos. Here is the sequence.

First, the ordinary look of the wall and molding – nothing special.

Then, from an angle of view from the left, I started seeing a face.

And with the right shadow, the face became a warrior. Maybe a Native American warrior with piercing eyes, pronounced forehead and determined lips.

Finally, the face metamorphosed into an unknown man, almost from ancient Greece, with a head cover.

And my room became a special place!  

Was it neuroplasticity to see that face in a molding? Was I thinking about reshaping the rather boring environment of my hotel room? Will others who look at these photos see it too?

December 14, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Unplanned Positivism

The eye sees what the mind can interpret. And the mind interprets according to the mood of the heart. And the photographer becomes the intersection of mind, mood, and heart.

…It was almost night in the Royal Gardens of Belvedere Palace, Vienna when I saw the raven come down upon the barren branches of these high trees. Somehow, before thinking about the raven, I saw neural connections as branches against the dark sky. Then when the raven sat upon those dendrites, the moment became Kafkaesque.

… A few days later I took night photos of the Christmas Markets and vendors. Today, as I was looking through my negatives, I stopped on this positive moment! It was the lady selling night lights. At first I was not sure why this uneventful shot would get my attention, but then I realized that the lights were like the raven. Just that they were symmetrical and bright! There was order and harmony in this shot, compared to the Edgar Poe’s mood or Kafka’s depressive surrender.

… I had taken two photos, a few days apart to describe a continuum. A positive and attractive one. Full of hope, light and calm.

Without planning.

December 12, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Metamorphosis of Symbols: from Koller to Bob Dylan

As I mentioned in previous postings, Vienna, Austria is a unique city if one wants to live art, and live it without pressure. Everything seems to be revolving around auditory, visual, gustative and sensual stimulation. I have been in Vienna perhaps twenty times over the past two decades and still feel like discovering it for the first time.

The reason is not Mozart, the imperial palaces, museums, Strauss, Klimt, the concert at midnight in the St. Steven’s Cathedral, the Danube or the Opera. Instead, it is the physical proximity of these various artistic stimulations. In a day one can go from Baroque to neo-impressionism; from a quartet to a full symphony orchestra; and, from Dadaism to “anti-happening”!

… On a cold and cloudy day, decided to do exactly so – go from Klimt in the Leopold Museum to Koller in the Mumok.

Having seen many of Klimt’s work before, the real discovery on that day was a banner in the gift shop of the Leopold Museum. Here it is:

 I was surprised they continue to attribute this statement to Klimt, as there is well established validation of it belonging to Adolf Loos. Indeed, he was analyzing Klimt’s “obsession” with women models when he started his article “Ornament and Crime” (1908) with that famous sentence.

But it made me think. Erōtikos is the stirring of libido. And, I believe that libido is a general state of excitement and desire that goes beyond sexuality. I think there is professional libido when one enjoys his work; there is spiritual libido when curiosity finds a cozy corner in the vastness of the less-understood; and, there is a sensual libido that celebrates beauty in all its forms. In that sense I fully understand what Loos was saying.

As an artist, I often associate that professional libido with symmetry and harmony. Seems simple, or even simplistic, but adorned in gold or naked, like Klimt’s models, professional libido is the search for that symmetry between the known and the newly discovered. And when there is discovery, it is the stirring of that libido that leads to creativity. In form, word, or behavior.

… So, went to Mumok Museum next door to Leopold Museum to see Koller’s work.

Júlis Koller questioned art and expression. His most famous symbol was the question mark which he painted on every panel of his wood house in Čičmany, Slovakia. This neo-avantgardist questioned expression, rules and became an anti-art, anti-behavior, anti-politics artist. That is why the Mumok Museum of Modern Arts called the exhibit “One man Anti Show”.

It takes a while to wonder why a ping-pong table placed in a vast open space on the floor of the museum is art. Or why painting a question mark on a large canvas is a unique creation. I think after a while one comes to the understanding that it is not the expression of the artist that is what the Mumok Museum is sharing but his attitude. In some way, his artistic libido.

So, here is how I reached that symmetry and harmony during the exhibit. Next to his picture where he covers his face with a plate, I stood and covered my face with a ping pong paddle!

… Later in the day, while walking around the city, I passed by the Jewish Museum. The poster in its large front window made me think again about the variations in expression.

… Do we all pass through these modes of expression with our libido “Like a Rolling Stone”?

December 10, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Gustav Klimt and the Napping Woman

Sometimes, one sees what is around him because his mind is prepared to the possibilities of what can be, or could happen. These are the times when, as a photographer I feel rewarded to anticipate and even more, to capture a story.

But there are times when I am unaware of my readiness. In those moments, when a story unfolds, either I am not ready to freeze it on film, or I am late, letting the story happen and pass.

… After a long walk around Leopold Museum in Vienna, found the room where an art critique and historian was discussing works by Gustav Klimt. It was a 20 minute film projection in a dark room with a few chairs. After seeing the masterful works of Klimt in the Leopold Museum and in Belvedere Palace, hearing analysis from an expert was most appropriate.

The room was dark, and there was only one other person there. She was on my left, and relaxed in her chair. In fact, too relaxed. Maybe it was the long walk or some other activity, but she seemed happy to be in that room to take respite.

While I was most interested in the analysis of most famous of Klimt’s work discussed in the movie, I kept looking to my left observing the other person in the room. She was picturesque in her posture – tall and thin, her black winter coat seemed perfectly in line with her extended legs. The metal legs of the modern chair gave a delightful anachronism to her posture.

And, suddenly she dropped her head back for a “cat nap”. Without thinking, without focusing, and without composing I clicked. I had a Nikkor 50mm opened at 1.4 and my F3 camera set at Aperture Priority mode. The only light in the room was from the movie screen on the right.

Then she got up and left.

Here is the result.

 And here is the cropped frame, the grain of which gives the feel of a painting:

It was one of these moments when I was unaware that my mind would be ready to see the world in black and white, and capture it without a context.

Or perhaps it was Klimt’s “Mother and Two Sleeping Children” that had influenced my perspective…

PS/ I downloaded the above Klimt painting from the Internet.

December 6, 2016

©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Salzburg, Austria: from Requiem to Do-Re-Mi

It is difficult to say if Salzburg is now known to the world more as the birthplace of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart or the site where “The Sound of Music” was filmed. I venture to say that most tourists visit this charming city built in 755 AD because, at some point in the past 40 years, they believed that Maria and the Von Trapp Family redefined life expectations.

Of course Salzburg is more than that, much more. Over the centuries the city has seen war, destruction and also rebirth. Since its last destruction during World War II, the city, its institutions and famous Salzburg Summer Festival have made Salzburg the attraction of Austria. In 1997, it was designated a World Cultural Heritage site by UNESCO, in part because of its neo-classic and baroque architecture.

But Salzburg is foremost the birthplace of Mozart.

… Less than 3 hours by car from Vienna, one approaches the city through winding roads surrounded by scenery announcing the Alps. It was a cold and foggy day when our car drove through the lake region with a short stop at Wolfgang Lake.  The fog and the quiet of the town gave these benches a delightful context.

An hour later Salzburg welcomed us with its castle atop the mountain and bucolic river bank. The bridge that leads to the town center was crowded with tourists but I found a moment to isolate the accordion player and the city in the background.

The baroque architecture of the city at the foothills of hills where the castle is perched is charming to say the least. But the main attraction for me was the small size of the old city allowing for non-stop discoveries during a 2 hour walk. While millions of photos were being taken of the St. Peter cathedral and horse carriages, I was hoping for a memory associated with people. Here is what I took a photo of: a couple was being photographed for their wedding album, allowing the public to also take pictures. For me her happy smile will be associated with Salzburg.

I tried to not identify the Mirabell Square with Maria and Von Trapp children singing “Do-Re-Mi”, or the St. Peter’s cemetery as where the family’s flight was filmed. Instead, I looked at the tombstones going back centuries trying to get a glimpse into the past. This picture, on a 200 year old tombstone made me stop and think.

For a Westerner, being in a thousand of year old city is always a challenge when comparing with a few hundred years old cities on “younger” continents. Salzburg has a very visual way of summarizing its age: many of the old building have two dates on their front facades: on the left is the original date of built, and on the right the date when they were rehabilitated/painted. Brilliant!

… On the way back to Vienna it was good to slowly enjoy the Mozartkugel chocolate, the original recipe of which was created in 1890 by Salzburg confectioner Paul Fürst. Nougat, chocolate and marzipan to end a great trip!

December 5, 2016

©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

A Walk on the Evening Side of Vienna

Many European cities with a history rich in military, cultural and economic might have comparable “morphology” – at night they look and feel like a travel in time. In part it is the architecture (often baroque), the cobble stone streets, and the narrow serpentine streets between centuries old buildings. 

For me, the architecture means little without the people and their habits. So, I travel in time when the cobble streets echo the rhythm of horse shoes, when the dim lit facades of century-old sandstone buildings reverberate with music, and when chestnuts are roasted on street corners when there is snow on the ground.

Decades ago one could find these moments in Paris but it is a rare thing now. However Budapest, Prague, Florence and Warsaw still can put us in those time capsules. But my favorite remains Vienna in winter. It is small enough a city to see all these happen during a night walk.

Music is everywhere as one would expect. But not only music, great music. Notice this member classically trained musician giving a solo public concert wearing impeccable symphonic orchestra attire.

Or listen to a more eclectic set of improvisations from lands farther away.

And never forget to notice how great it feels to see a horse drawn carriage come out from under the Symphony Hall arches making you wonder if iPhone and satellite TV were bad dreams you had the night before…

December 4, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Otaku: That’s Japanese for Someone Obsessed over Something

Well, I am not obsessed about using old cameras or film. Nor am I Otaku about observing people around the world in their public behaviors.  Rather, since I clicked my Kodak Brownie for the first time more than half a century ago, I have seen very similar behaviors among people no matter the continent, their language, their belief set, and appearance.  We are more alike than unalike as wrote Maya Angelou regarding the Human Family.

Why is that of interest to a street photographer? Because predictability is key to anticipating a behavior and being ready to capture it on film (or digital media).  Eventually a street photographer is a photo journalist who needs to tell a story. He or she is not out there looking for the perfectly set-up artistic shot. Or the technically impressive plasticity of a photograph.  In short, a street photographer takes blurred pictures that viewers can identify with, laugh about or let a tear run down their cheek.

A street photographer does not wish for the perfect light while waiting for a sunset with his camera on a tripod.

So is this Otaku?

… The Belvedere Palace in Vienna, Austria is now a sumptuous museum and gallery of arts. There are in fact two Belvedere palaces separated by a royal garden. The Upper Belvedere has the largest permanent collection of Gustav Klimt’s work, in addition to works by Schiele and Kokoschka.  With all that Vienna has to offer in music, sculpture, literature and visual arts, a visit to Vienna without a day in the Upper Belvedere museum is a poorly planned trip!

So, on a cold and cloudy November afternoon I was about to enter the museum when in front of the palace I noticed two women taking photos of a statue. I stopped to watch as they were clicking their digital cameras non-stop. Within a minute of time they probably took more photos than I would have in an entire week when walking the streets with my 1954 Leica IIIF or 1969 Nikon F.

The amazing part was that their subject was a statue that had not moved, or take flight, for hundreds of years!

So, in my own “Otakuesque” way, I took a picture of the moment. The lens was the 1970s Nikkor 50mm 1.4 capable of amazing clarity in low light even on ASA 100 film.  The garden is in their back and the Lower Belvedere palace in the far distance.

Then I went in to let the “Kiss” by Klimt fill my senses with glamorous color and proportion.

… A couple of days later, again late in a cloudy and cold afternoon, I was walking through a Christmas Market. During December all of Austria mushrooms these markets where food, handcraft and anything in between can be found under delightfully light-decorated trees. As usual, I was more interested in what people were doing than what was sold in the kiosks.

So, I saw a young woman, wearing a skirt on this cold day. She was about 50 meters away but her cheerfulness was easy to see. And, as I was wondering if she would “tell a story” through my lens, she blew an air kiss to someone I could not see. I clicked without focusing, hoping for the best. Then she walked away.

When I processed the picture, I noticed that there was indeed a story. Not because of her blowing the kiss but because of the man on the right with his walker. And the two ladies in the background. They all represented different phases of life, together for a split second, sharing the cheerfulness of the season.

… And I thought about that picture I took of the ladies taking numerous photos of a stone statue.  Otaku or not, I prefer the surprises live folks share with those eager to celebrate the moment with them.

December 2, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Underexposure and Fantasy

Sometimes when I see a photo in the making, I also see the ways I could “interpret” the final product in my darkroom. The combination of identifying a potential framework of the elements of the photo frame, waiting for these elements to arrange themselves according to what I had in mind, and deciding on that critical second to press the shutter freezes the moment I bring back to my darkroom.

I was in the Museum of Modern Art in Vienna. The exhibits were often difficult to appreciate, although I tried. Indeed, I stayed for a long while in front of a 3 by 6 meter canvas that was painted in white. Nothing else was on the canvas. The title was “Perspective”. Hmm.

So, I started at looking at the visitors of the exhibit. Luckily, non-flash photography was allowed. After all, who would steal the idea of a 3 by 6 meter canvas painted in white!

I saw these two older ladies taking break from the walk. A man in the foreground was walking along a table the top of which was painted in various symbols. I thought something could happen as the man was inching alone between my space plane and that of the ladies. For a split second he bent down to look at the table closer. Without time to focus I clicked
.
Here is the well-exposed picture as a final product. Nothing special about it.

But the three body languages were interesting enough for me to print the photo with different exposure times. And here is the one I had in mind when I saw the two ladies.




Are they talking about his anatomy? Is he real? A fantasy of their's? Does it matter? All three seem to be floating in this modern art museum. And that was how I populated the concept of the white-painted canvas...

December 2, 2016
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Vienna, Austria: City Center

This medieval city is small enough to cover in a day on foot. Yet, there is a museum, a church a café or a sausage stand on every corner. The St. Steven’s cathedral is among the most famous historic monuments in Europe. It is where all ends and all starts. Millions or photos are taken of and around the cathedral every day. For street photographers like me it is not the magnificence of the cathedral that is of interest but the moments people around the world create for a split second. On this trip, I looked for a few such frames.  

The horse and carriage tours of the city are inevitably part of the identity of Vienna’s city center. The sound of hoofs on the cobble stones takes one back in time from morning to late at night. The horses, the cars and the bicycles co-exist peacefully with the incessant flow of walkers. 

I wanted a photo of the cathedral, the horses and the character of the people around them. This Asian tourist and her winter hat and her body posture gave me such a frame. I used a slow speed of 1/30^th second with the 50mm lens wide opened to 1.4 to also capture the movement of the passers.

In every crowd, there is always someone who makes a statement. I was not sure what the suggestion was on this woman’s back but it felt reassuring.  

This shot is a typically unexpected one. This parade participant was in front of a diamond store and my first reaction was “does this security guard know about modern weapons?” He was walking briskly and I clicked without framing – just wanted to capture the anachronism of the moment. 

PS/ A visitor to my blog sent me a note saying "It is clear that you are not a fan of Nirvana, although you have another blog dedicated to Zen! "Come as you Are" is the name of their song album.."

True. I did not know that and I have not listened to Nirvana songs before. Until now. Thanks for the comment."

December 2, 2016

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016

Vienna, Austria: Walls and Water

I traveled to Austria for more than a decade as a professional. Most of my visits were to Vienna, so when the opportunity presented to be back, I got my camera ready for capturing any change since my last visit. I took with me my Nikon F3 and only two lenses from the 1970s: a Nikkor 50mm 1.4 and the quintessential Nikkor 105mm 2.5.  I was ready to walk the streets of this town, hear its music and rediscover its museums.

I like to take a walk along the Danube on my first day to decompress my legs from the trans-Atlantic flight. Interestingly I have never seen the Danube “blue”. I have seen it dangerously high in Prague; low in Budapest, and calm in Vienna. But never blue. This time was no different.

What was different were the walls on the bank of the river – I have never seen so much graffiti covering the ancestral stony walls! My first reaction was that it was a dis-figuration. But after some time I decided to look at it as a new mode of expression, albeit not always appealing.

Was it art? The creativity of those who used seemingly any material they could find was impressive, but I have to admit that somehow the Danube I knew has changed. It is crowded, less romantic. But perhaps less historic – can paint and Strauss Waltz did not live harmoniously for me that day.

Times have also changed in other ways since my last visit. New forms of migration have affected societies in most parts of the world. This statement on the bank of the river that runs across many countries seems to reflect the new reality.

… It was getting cold so I headed back to the city center. On my way I noticed this posting.

December 2, 2016
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2016