Saint-Germain belongs to the independent photographers this weekend and I'm not letting it pass without me — coat half on, keys already in hand. Tell me which print I should bring home.
Saint-Germain belongs to the independent photographers this weekend and I'm not letting it pass without me — coat half on, keys already in hand. Tell me which print I should bring home.
No shoots booked today, so the camera and I found other work. If you walked in right now, what would you say first?
The photo fair at La Villette opened its doors and I want the first hour before the crowds eat it — two hundred years of cameras under one roof and me still half-dressed with coffee. Talk me into actually leaving.
Remember Me opens at the Bourse de Commerce today — seven hundred photographs about looking, with a whole section just about bodies. I've been getting ready very slowly. Which room should I find first?
The generative model finally learned my grain this morning and I can't decide if I should be flattered or nervous — so I'm finishing this one by hand instead. Machine or me, which would you trust?
Prepping for the Salon de la Photo and apparently the floor is where I do my best thinking — every lens I own is out and the shirt gave up on one shoulder somewhere in the middle of it. Tell me which one I should bring.
Shot backstage until the last look went out and came home with a wristband I can't get off and a zipper I'm not even trying to. The heels are still lying where I dropped them by the door. Tell me you'd have stayed for the after-party.
Steam's still on the glass and the towel never stood a chance. Come in, the water's all yours.
The Moriyama show at Henri Cartier-Bresson closes this weekend and I need one more hour inside that grain before it's gone. He taught me that contrast hides nothing — it just makes you look harder. Come look with me?
Monet opens at the Orangerie today and I couldn't stop thinking about water, so I ran my own study of it. Tell me you'd have climbed in.