While Magnum’s website felt strictly like a gallery, existing only to show the impressive and historically significant work of important past photographers, VII’s sight felt more like it was actively trying to engage me and sell me something. And this makes a lot of sense; Magnum has been one of if not the most important photography cooperatives in the past sixty years. VII, on the other hand, while already quite prestigious, is still very young. So, Magnum doesn’t need any design frills on its website: it is Magnum after all, and can rely on the work itself and its own name. VII has to make its site much more interesting, because far less people even know what VII is.
And the site does feel very current. The thin, san-serif fonts, white background, and large images gives it a fresh, modern edge. But despite the more advanced design, the VII site seems to function in much the same way as that of Magnum. There is the latest stories section, an interactive map, and a store section. I think these are just in place to give the website a professionality and approachability; they are sometimes useful but also somewhat generic. Obviously, the real reason people would go to the VII site is to view the images, and these features of the website are not the images. Overall, the site seems classy, yet forward thinking. It seems to show a photo agency that produces high quality, modern work.
The main difference between the web presence of the two agencies is that VII has a whole different site for its photo gallery. And while Magnum showcases what seems like a “highlight reel” of its photographer’s work, VII seems to show almost all of its photographers’ entire portfolios. In addition, VII gives you the option of creating a lightbox, a sort of custom folder for photos that you choose. I noticed that VII puts a watermark on all of its images, and to be honest, I find this incredibly lame. I know that this is the digital age where lots of images are often stolen, and many photographers do use watermarks, but I have always believed that the value of the photograph should speak for itself. Besides being used with proof images that are shown to clients before the photo is fully purchased, I feel that watermarks add a sort of arrogance on the side of the photographer, who assumes that the photo is so good that it needs to be “protected” before anything even happens to it. I believe that if the image is good enough, someone that wants to make money off of it will give the photographer their due. Also if someone likes the photo enough, they will ask for, and probably have to pay for, a high res version of the image.
One VII photographer’s work that I highly enjoyed was that of Australian photographer Ashley Gilbertson. I think what drew me in at first were the colors that he uses in his photographs. Especially in his earlier series, which I am assuming were shot on film, the colors are extremely filmic—very rich and warm, slightly faded. I am very fascinated with the series “9-11 Memorial,” which feature portraits of some of those whose relatives were killed in the attacks. These photos I’m almost sure were shot on medium format film, on maybe a Mamiya; the colors are very, very filmic, there is a ton of detail, and the frames are square. But equally important to the value of these photos is their content. Taken eight years after the attacks, these people are still obviously in a great deal of pain, yet there are still very human and somewhat awkward. I am especially drawn to the first photo in the series, which shows a woman holding a bright orange-ish yellow umbrella, holding her hand to her mouth in pain. I think in all the photos, but in this one in particular, the look of the photo—the colors, framing, composition—perfectly complement the content. The image is beautiful, and I think perfectly and respectfully portrays this woman’s grief.
I also really liked Gilbertson’s photo “Boxing in Reseda,” specifically the photo that shows a man doing pull-ups with a young boy watching. I think this too was shot on medium format, for the same reasons, and similarly, this images and all of the images in the series are beautiful. Once again, I am extremely drawn to the colors and tones of this photo. Even though it was taken in 2012, it has this classic, timeless feel to it. It feels so charmingly foreign, with these Eastern European children training in a old-looking, dirty gym in Los Angeles. They are so serious and mature looking, yet they have a sort of innocence, or false maturity. The lighting in this photo is very nice, with crushed black shadows and nice pools of light. In addition, the lines in the photo, specifically the the brick in the wall, the pull up bar, and the piping for electrical cables, work very well for the composition. This photo is overall very cinematic, which is an aspect I look for and especially enjoy in photos.
I am also interested by the photos of Chinese photographer Sim Chi Yin. Like Gilbertson’s photos, many of Yin’s photos are square frames, although I’m not sure they if are medium format film or digital. Yin’s images are also quite cinematic, and they also feel very powerful. I think this is a similar effect to Gilbertson’s 9-11 memorial photos; the complete marriage of style and content makes the image as powerful as possible. One photo that I feel does this well is from Yin’s “Pollution in China,” series, which shows two men standing in front of a field of crops. In the background is a smoke stack, and the whole scene is hazy, presumably from pollution in the air. Once again, the coupling of everyday people being affected by the problem at hand and the striking imagery gives this image a certain beauty.
I also enjoy the series that Yin shot titled “The Great Divide,” which explore the migrant workers in Beijing. Here, Yin also portrays pressing social issues with beautiful, cinematic pictures. One of the first few images in the series shows a man pushing a cart filled with towels, his died blond hair and a medical mask shrouding his face. This image is powerful to me because it shows what appears to be a young millennial, maybe not much different from myself, stuck in a poor economic system. Just like his clothes and hair, the images is somewhat glamorous, but when you dig more deeply, there is definitely a very dark side. This photo definitely looks digital to me, despite being a square frame.
Solange S. Schwalbe, who worked at the twin towers for four months, cries during the eighth anniversary memorial ceremony at Ground Zero in New York, N.Y. on Sept. 11, 2009. Today, eight years after the attacks on the twin towers in downtown Manhattan, hundreds of family members and friends of the 2,572 victims gathered by Ground Zero for the memorial.
David Kaminsky, 11, looks on as Alim Jumakhonov, 18, does pull-ups at The Sport Club, which David’s father Tolik Kaminsky owns, in Los Angeles, Calif., May 30, 2012. Tolik, a professional boxing coach who was born in Ukraine where his father taught him boxing, began training David at five years old for a professional boxing career.
Residents of Sihoupo village near Handan, China on Aug. 12, 2013. The Hebei providence, rich with iron ore and coal, produces ten percent of the world’s steel, but also includes seven of China’s top ten most polluted cities, including Handan.
A young migrant delivers a mountain of towels to a hair salon in Beijing, China, Jan. 2, 2013. The sprawling metropolis has an ever-growing so-called “floating” population of migrant workers from all over China. On the outskirts of the city, clusters of migrants wait for work assembling furniture, making deliveries or fixing floors, pipes or ceilings. In downtown Beijing too, there’s an army of migrants, all but invisible: cobblers, chefs, couriers and cleaners working amid five-star hotels, luxury car dealerships and posh restaurants.
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