What I'm Buying Now (!!!) December 29, 2008.

just in time for the close of the 2008 tax season...
the lens? A Canon EF 50mm f/1.4. if I want to get close to something, I'll move. That's one way to avoid the gym...

What I am Reading Now. December 28, 2008. 9:54PM.

After the Hens are Gone. A Polaroid from December 25, 2008.

It seems to be working- the whole editing with an acid-trip laptop screen- so I'm just going to go with it.

Busted Computer: a photo editing experiment. December 28, 2008. 2:32PM.

What's a blogging photographer with photos to share to do when her computer's busted logic board (again) makes Lightroom looks like this?


Take the plunge, snap a photo of a Polaroid I shot on Christmas day, attempt to crop it and adjust the contrast and color correctly (handicap and all), and see what comes out. My screen is mostly green as I type this and the text is pulsating, but I'm feeling brave and lucky. Here's an image I took at my folks house in Pawtucket, Rhode Island on December 25, 2008.


I'll leave it to all you people out there with slightly better "calibrated" monitors to tell me if I'm on track here...God speed...

Happy Everything! December 24, 2008.

This is just a quick post to wish all the faithful readers and stumbler-across-ers of "my today" a very happy holidays and new year filled with joy and inspiring images galore! This little blog is still very much a babe in the woods and I want to thank all of your for taking the time to check it out, comment here and there, and watch it (and through it, me) grow and change. More good things to come in 2009. Best, Jordana

Snapaholic. Bridgewater, Massachusetts. December 23, 2008. 1:37PM.

Print Auction: What Pablo Has. Bidding runs through 11:59PM on December 31.

So I still maintain that I'd prefer to have my 10x15 print of What Pablo Has hanging on someone's wall rather than sitting in my printer paper box. Rather than set the price at $250 and hope for a buyer to stumble across the post, I'm happy to auction off this baby, starting at $50. Bid in the comments section and just like at Christie's and Sotheby's, the highest bidder wins! Bidding will close at 11:59 on December 31. Good luck and thank you for your continued support. -Jordana


What Pablo Has
10"x 15" Archival Inkjet Print
Jordana Zeldin, 2007
2/25

Noel. Noel. Two from the Holiday Season. December 21 and 22. Brooklyn and Pawtucket. 1:53PM and 11:27PM.

Print for Sale for You or a Loved One!

While cleaning out my apartment today I rediscovered a print from my mini-solo exhibition, PUSH, from December of last year. I'd much prefer it to be hanging on the wall of someone who appreciates it than sitting in my Epson 13x19 paper holder box so if anyone is interested in purchasing it, get in contact: jordana@jordanazeldin.com. It's part of an edition of 25 (although at the moment only one other print exists out there in the world), is in "just-printed" condition, no bends or discoloration...cared for like a new born babe. Get it for a mere $250. Happy Holidays! -Jordana

What Pablo Has
10"x 15", archival inkjet print
Jordana Zeldin, 2007

Shadow-Play in My Apartment. December 3, 10:44PM and December 13, 12:55PM.

Big Prints are Beautiful! December 12, 2008. 11:56PM-11:57PM.

i made these big "work prints" today at the ICP. god they're gorgeous.** more to come...!
**please don't mistake my appreciation for the beauty of the printed-ness of the prints for egotism. after staring at work on a screen for weeks on end, seeing it sitting on your desk can feel a revelation.

The Art in my Life. December 9-10, 2008.

This is largely a photography blog but I have to say that as a photographer (and part-time employee at the School of Visual Arts), I have an ever-growing tremendous appreciation for the work of painters, sculptors, and mixed-media/collage artists. My art collection is very modest but is nonetheless something that inspires me and gives me great pleasure daily.

I remember reading a bit of wall text with a quote on it from Rodin that resonated with me during a visit to the Musée Rodin in Paris in the Summer of 2006. I wrote it down somewhere in one of my pocket notebooks and although I don't remember it exactly, it had to do with the importance of an artist surrounding him or herself with the work of other art-makers, that in order to be a great artist one's environment must be rich with artistry. Right on. This notion of the importance of a rich artistic environment in the life of an artist is one of the reasons I have enjoyed and appreciated my work at the School of Visual Arts so much. There's art everywhere (both terrible and wonderful) and the classrooms are filled with students trying to bend and mold whatever it is they're working on into the "art" they're trying to make. And it's a struggle, of course, and that struggle is a good daily reminder for me about the artistic process. It ain't easy.

Even when I have no money at all, if I see something artful of great beauty that I feel is "within reason" (financially speaking) I sometimes feel as though I just have to snap it up. I thought I'd take a moment to share with you some of these very pieces. The reproductions aren't great (sorry for the lousy white balancing, the reflections in the glass, etc.) but I hope they give you a sense of the kind of art in my life, the stuff that "grabs" me and no, doubt, inspires me (if only by the fact that it's "there").

Yesterday I purchased a piece of art from a wonderfully talented SVA student, Marysia Gacek. Although I've worked at SVA for over a year and have walked up and down the hallways lined with student work countless times, it was the first time that a piece of work there literally stopped me in my tracks. The paintings in her show are beautiful, canvases of rich deep browns, semi-abstracted-almost-blurred cafe and brasserie scenes that recall Paris and remind me of Winter. Most of the prints were a tad too large for my 225 square foot studio so I purchased this smaller piece, 102002, an oil painting on a 10"x 12" wood panel:


This little oil painting is by British Colorist Painter, Hugo Grenville. A friend and artist for whom I modeled while living in England in 2006:


These two rare, coquettish 1920s Parisian Erotica postcards from the Winter Works on Paper booth caught my eye at last year's AIPAD. I certainly didn't expect to walk out the door of the Armory with anything more than a business card or two and a dream...Yes, there were Arbuses and Cartier-Bressons but as far as I'm concerned these were the two gems of the show.



My dad gave me this little collage made by Rhode-Island based artist, Hiroko Shikashio, many years ago. It has gone everywhere with me, from Rhode Island, to New York, to England and back to New York again:


A piece like this really reinforces for me the importance of composition in a piece of art. I have no idea why this evokes something in me- it is literally two pieces of fabric and a bit of paper- but something about the way it is put together is affecting. I believe the same remains true for me of how I respond to photography. The photographic images that resonate with me often do so before I even recognize what they are "of." I am moved first (and almost subliminally) by composition and then a split second later, subject. That also goes for songs. Melody first, words after a good ten listens...

Jimmie James, multi-talented painter, collage-man, and musician, sold me this piece titled, Ascension, from his table on Prince Street on a cold day in the Fall of 2006:


I was feeling down on my luck that day, having moved to NYC expecting to take over the town with my theatre directing, only to find myself working a suit-wearing 9 to 5 at the World Headquarters of the sixth largest defense contractor in the US of A. Ay! His suggestion for my troubles? "Do something small for your art every day." I thanked him and told him I might be back for the painting- again, something about it- color, composition, texture, did something to me. While walking around the block I had this small realization that this piece was practically an illustration of everything he had just said to me. The dark greens and blacks? The muck of life, the sticky stuff that prevents you from charging ahead, be it fear or doubt or even cold weather. But then there's this bright coral shape near the top left corner, rising above it all. My reading of it, "do something for your art every day and like this bright shape, you too will ascend and although you might still find yourself surrounded by the muck, you'll somehow be brighter, better." It hangs next to my front door as a thing of beauty and a gentle reminder about the importance of pushing forward against and through it all...

And finally, a piece by friend, mentor, and fellow photographer, Thomas Holton from his series, Twilight:


When I was first starting out with my photography, I contacted Tom after coming across his work and he answered all of my questions and more in the form of page-long emails for weeks before we met face to face for the first time. Generous with his knowledge, he has consistently encouraged me and my work, my "staying on the radar," as he calls it. So, thanks Tom.

So, I hope this little "art tour" has given you some insight into the kind of work I like and maybe even into how my photography and the art I enjoy relate to one another (do they? I don't even know). As photographer (or artist working in any medium), it feels so so important to keep your eyes open, for the sake of your own work but also to be reminded that whatever you and that artist over there are making, by making it at all you are both taking part in a piece of the same conversation.

M and V. The All Day Brunch. November 29, 2008.