jeff wall “picture for women” 1979

at the volkswagen factory this past winter

Passengers on a bus. New York, 1963.
By Thomas Hoepker

Take your Child to Work Day

One of the spinners in Whitnel Cotton Mill. She was 51 inches high. Has been in the mill one year. Sometimes works at night. Runs 4 sides - 48 [cents] a day. When asked how old she was, she hesitated, then said, “I don’t remember,” then confidentially, “I’m not old enough to work, but do just the same.” Out of 50 employees, ten children about her size. Whitnel, N.C., 12/22/1908

Taken by investigative photographer Lewis Hine, this photograph is one of a series of black-and-white prints given to the Children’s Bureau by the National Child Labor Committee. The almost five hundred photographs represent a fraction of the approximately 5,000 photographs Hine took for the committee to document working and living conditions for children.
(A sobering reminder that bringing children to work was not always a purely educational experience or a special occasion.)  
We’ll be observing Take Your Child to Work Day at the National Archives on the week of May 5, to coincide with Public Service Recognition Week. Stay tuned!

Bats illuminated by lightning

Long exposure photography of a snowboarder with LEDs on his board. Awesome.

Julie Kwon

Joel Bedford

From Iceland
Kevin Cooley

Martin Usborne, The Silence of Dogs in Cars, 2012.

Jean Langkau

Jill Greenberg

Photo by Sally Mann

Jeff Wall, After ‘Invisible Man’ by Ralph Ellison, the Preface, 1999-2001, 174 x 250.8 cm, MoMA, New York:

After a brief but eventful career that embodies the hopes and humiliations of African Americans at mid-twentieth century, the hero of Ralph Ellison’s celebrated 1952 novel Invisible Man retreats to a secret basement room on the edge of Harlem. There he patiently composes and reflects upon the story we are about to read. “I am invisible,” he explains, “simply because people refuse to see me.”
Making pictures out of stores was once the main business of the visual arts. The rising modernist tradition consigned the practice to the margins of advanced art; for most of the past century, “illustration” has been a term of contempt. In this large, richly detailed and thoroughly absorbing photograph, Wall has all but single-handedly reinvented the challenge.

The novel’s eloquent prologue is short on specifics, except one: the 1,369 lightbulbs that cover the ceiling of the underground lair. Starting with this fantastic detail, Wall scrupulously imagined in his Vancouver studio the concrete form of Ellison’s metaphorical space. Ambitiously reviving a forgotten art, he made visible the Invisible Man.