So much work to do. It never ends. Only a few more weeks, but so many projects to write up.
Currently: in the lab by myself working. Forever.
It is almost over, but I’m so stressed and overworked right now.
Until recently, an old, deteriorated collection of no less than one million crime scene photographs rested silently in the nearly forgotten archives of the Los Angeles Police department; spanning 150 years of violence and corruption, these images were only recently discovered by the photographer Merrick Morton, who has restored and salvaged many of the images, which will be exhibited at Paramount Pictures Studios from April 25-27 by Fototeka.
In the 1930’s and 40’s, photographer Arthur Fellig had a reputation for getting to crime scenes before the cops, and so he gained his nickname “Weegee.” He made his living photographing crime scenes for NYC newspapers.
After completing a fellowship at the National Institutes of Health, artist Rebecca Kamen has transformed her discussions with neuroscientists into abstract sculptures.
See more of her work: Rebecca Kamen
Shell wound of the wrist.
Medical Illustration by William Shultze, 1863.
Murder as Damn(ed) Good Art: Robert Hariman on Organized Crime
One hundred years ago Italian Futurism was one of the leading edges of modern art. (A retrospective exhibition is currently up at the Guggenheim and reviewed by the Times here.) Futurism was distinctively bold, uncannily tuned into the machine age, and violently prophetic during a period of extraordinary turbulence in art and politics. It also celebrated violence. Fortunately, few artists today would do that or be admired for doing so. But they don’t have to, as the art of violence has moved on.
This photograph by Christopher Vanegas was one of the winners in the 2014 World Press Photo Contest. It was not graced with the wealth of commentary regarding the winner, as one would expect of any contest. It deserves more attention that it has received, however, and not because we need to fiddle with the rankings in a series of outstanding images. The winner was a portrait of communication–indeed, an almost pure form of communication–and we ought to be talking about that, but the photo above is a study in both communication and violence, and we really need to be talking about that.
Half female, half male.
Bilateral gynandromorphism is a rare genetic disorder occurring in insects, arachnids, crustaceans, and birds, where a strange combination of genetic material splits a creature perfectly in half, with one side male and one side female.
Syphilitic skull on display at the Hunterian Museum in London.
Public support for legalizing marijuana use is at an all-time high of 54%, though it is virtually unchanged from last year (52%). There is even more agreement that people convicted of possessing small amounts of marijuana should not serve time in jail.
How Americans die, Bloomberg Visual Data
Instead of participating in the execution of their son’s murderer, the slain man’s parents publicly spare the killer in northern Iran.
Touching. See Crime, Shame, and Reintegration by Braithwaite.
I abhor the death penalty, but love the role of the victim’s family in the punishment process.
There is the Philadelphia you know and the Philadelphia you will never see. The first summons a cornucopia of familiar images: Benjamin Franklin, Rocky Balboa, cheesesteaks whiz wit.
The second is safely out of view from the cobblestone streets of Society Hill or the brewpubs of Northern Liberties. But if you wander north on Broad Street, well past the alabaster phallus of City Hall, you may glimpse the first hints of that obscure Philadelphia in the emptied husk of the Divine Lorraine Hotel, a sullied spinster with more than a century of stories but nobody to hear them anymore.
Shortly thereafter start the Badlands, North Philadelphia neighborhoods like Kensington, whose row-house lanes were once home to working-class whites whose modestly prosperous lives were circumscribed by the factory, the church, the union hall, the front stoop and the bar.
On a summer Sunday, a trip to Connie Mack Stadium or an outing to the Jersey Shore. Then cue the familiar midcentury forces: minority influx, white flight, factories moving to China, crack, crack babies, the end of welfare as we know it, here at the end of the land, the Philadelphia you will never know.
I drove through the Badlands with Barbara Laker and Wendy Ruderman, two journalists for the Philadelphia Daily News who shared a 2010 Pulitzer Prize for investigative reporting and are the authors of Busted: A Tale of Corruption and Betrayal in the City of Brotherly Love.
The book is based on a newspaper series, “Tainted Justice,” that revealed such an astounding degree of corruption among Philadelphia’s drug cops that you would not quite believe it in a Martin Scorsese movie. But your belief, or lack thereof, is irrelevant, because this story is true.