New York City, 1974

London England, 1966

Today, Dorie Greenspan posted a blog entry about the photographer Elliott Erwitt. His photographs are LOVELY and his website contains an impressive collection of his work. I also found an interesting interview that Melissa Block (NPR) did with Erwitt in 2003 — Click here to listen. (Interesting story behind his Nixon & Cruzchev photo.)

Elliott Erwitt
(American, born France, 1928 – )

With a touch of humor and an eye for the humane, Elliott Erwitt’s black and white photographs reveal the most basic and candid human emotions. He developed his vision during the post-war rise of documentary photojournalism, and has captured many of life’s most poignant ironies through an amusing vernacular. Born in Paris and raised in California and New York, Erwitt has pursued a photographic career in journalism, fashion, and print advertisement. His personal work has been published in countless monographs, and he has been a member of the prestigious Magnum agency since 1953. His photographs are collected and exhibited in museums around the world including the Museum of Modern Art, New York; the Smithsonian Institution, Washington D.C.; the Art Institute of Chicago, the Museum of Modern Art, New York; and Kunsthaus, Zurich.

Also, I love this essay by Michael Chabon — “Manhood for Amateurs: The Wilderness of Childhood” — that will be running in July 16th’s The New York Review of Books. Here’s an excerpt…

What is the impact of the closing down of the Wilderness on the development of children’s imaginations? This is what I worry about the most. I grew up with a freedom, a liberty that now seems breathtaking and almost impossible. Recently, my younger daughter, after the usual struggle and exhilaration, learned to ride her bicycle. Her joy at her achievement was rapidly followed by a creeping sense of puzzlement and disappointment as it became clear to both of us that there was nowhere for her to ride it—nowhere that I was willing to let her go. Should I send my children out to play?

There is a small grocery store around the corner, not over two hundred yards from our front door. Can I let her ride there alone to experience the singular pleasure of buying herself an ice cream on a hot summer day and eating it on the sidewalk, alone with her thoughts? Soon after she learned to ride, we went out together after dinner, she on her bike, with me following along at a safe distance behind. What struck me at once on that lovely summer evening, as we wandered the streets of our lovely residential neighborhood at that after-dinner hour that had once represented the peak moment, the magic hour of my own childhood, was that we didn’t encounter a single other child.

Even if I do send them out, will there be anyone to play with?

Art is a form of exploration, of sailing off into the unknown alone, heading for those unmarked places on the map. If children are not permitted—not taught—to be adventurers and explorers as children, what will become of the world of adventure, of stories, of literature itself?

And finally, I’m loving this CD…

Time to go play! Happy Wednesday!