When photographer Jon Naar set out to document the graffiti movement in New York circa 1972, the city was a far cry from the artisanal frozen yogurt and ultra-thick gourmet burger hub that it is today. The once mighty metropolis was a collapsing circus tent ripe with financial misery, urban decay, and of course those gawdawful Mets. Union Square–now the centre of kitschy Obama knick knacks and Bobby Flay throwdowns–was an outdoor drug-den, where pushers and poppers replaced the farmers and picklers that make up the square’s current commercial set.

Amidst all the chaos, Naar–a photojournalist who had shot for The New York Times Magazine, Fortune, and IBM–was enlisted by British design firm Pentagram, to capture the rash of graffiti that had exploded across the five boroughs, most noticeably in the subterranean underbelly of New York City’s subway system. That same year, Village Voice reporter Vivian Gornick described the decrepit scene down below:

“The platform was indescribably filthy; the tile walls surrounding the staircases were streaked with years-old dirt and the graffiti of a thousand greasy marker pens: Johnny and Velda, ’69; The Jets Was Here; Lindsay Sucks; Tony and Maureen, ’71; Benny and Concita Forever; Loreen Is a Cunt; The Black Hawks Can Beat the Shit Outta the Silver Eagles Anytime. The floor was littered with the overflow of the trash cans that stood vaguely about: candy wrappers, orange peels, leaky milk cartons, prophylactic wrappers, torn nylon stockings, pellets of chewing gum, discarded junk mail, globbets of spit. The lights in the ceiling were crusted over with webs of dirt that threatened, momentarily, to fall onto the heads of the passengers.”

It was a veritable war zone; on one side the unionized gatekeepers of the MTA, hired by the city to protect whatever integrity their crumbling subway system had left, and on the other, the young generals born of economic strife, leading the charge of what New York Magazine’s Richard Goldstein called “the first genuine teenage street culture since the fifties.” Naar spent ten days on the front lines at the end of 1972, shooting 100 rolls of Kodachrome for a book that would become the seminal document of the graffiti movement: The Faith of Graffiti. With an essay by Norman Mailer providing an intellectual anchor, the reissued tome is now thirty years old and just as relevant.

Mailer’s words helped legitimize the still nascent art form, which was generally frowned upon by the city’s hoi polloi. “Graffiti, the language of the anonymous, provokes and demands that an indifferent world recognize the individuality, talent, and existence of its creators,” wrote Mailer. These creators were generally youth of colour, a distinction that lent itself to the vitriol of New York’s upper crust and authorities. Naar and Mailer’s book helped plant the seeds of change.

While capturing the guerilla artists in action, Naar empathized with his subjects, and even managed to find beauty in their work. “I was essentially non-judgmental. As a photographer my pictures should really speak for themselves. I did have a sympathy for these kids. The majority were black, Puerto Rican, and they were mostly from the ghettos. They worked in gangs, and in groups, and I was excited and still am by this form of outsider art,” he says, over the phone from his home in New Jersey. “I’m a photojournalist. I have to go into a subject with an open mind.”

According to New York’s policy makers, the city was under assault; not by grizzly gangsters with pistols, but by agile kids with spray cans. The back cover of Faith’s reissue (which includes 32 new photos from Naar) features a telling portrait of several taggers, each holding up their respective identities or “tags” wildly scribbled on place cards accompanied by a mischievous smile. “I lived on East 50th street in Manhattan and I took a train to Harlem because I figured that’s where the Graffiti was going to be,” says Naar of the portrait. “The book’s designer and I got out at 155th street station and there on the platform were a bunch of kids. They came up to me because I had two cameras, and as a New Yorker I was hardly threatened at 2 PM by a bunch of kids. They said ‘Hey there nice cameras, what are you doing?’ and I told them, and they started laughing. ‘We are graffiti writers’.”

The next ten days, Naar describes as thrilling. “I was in no great danger because I didn’t really hang around a lot at night, but we were frequently chased and harassed by the MTA police and regular NYC cops,” he says. “These kids took tremendous risks.”

The pivotal taggers from that bygone era are now middle aged men, and Mr. Naar is well into his seventies. Some are eager to distance themselves from their work, while others use it to make a buck, sometimes with Naar’s assistance. Clearly the man has a fondness for the good old days. “Most of the graffiti in New York has been cleaned up but you can still find it. But coming in on the train, the railroad lines are full of the most incredible graffiti. It has evolved dramatically. It’s much more convoluted and baroque. But I personally love the simplicity of the tag. I like retro,” he says. “It captured the zeitgeist of the time. The spirit of the time and place.”

-Daniel Barna

(Photos courtesy of Jon Naar)

Photographer Mikael Kennedy spent ten years documenting his life through Polaroid film, taking the instant camera with him on his travels across the country. The resulting images are the basis of a new show at the Peter Hay Halpert Fine Art gallery in New York City, titled “Shoot the Moon.” We spoke to Kennedy this week to find out more about the show, his fascination with Polaroids and what he’ll do when his stash of Polaroid film runs out.

How did this project come into existence?
In 1999 I got my first Polaroid SX70 Camera. I’m not really sure where I found it, but I became fascinated with Polaroids and started carrying that camera with me everywhere. That was about the time that I took to wandering the country on a regular basis.

In 2003 I was talking to a friend of mine, David Lamb (from the band Brown Bird), while we were living kind of down and out in Seattle and the idea of “Shoot the Moon” came out as a way to explain what we were doing with our time, making a lot of bad decisions but ones that fed the art we were making. We felt that if collected in the right way, [it] would turn out okay.

In 2005 I was climbing over a “No Trespassing” sign onto a crumbling pier with one of my brothers down in North Carolina when we started talking about how a camera was a passport to trespass cause when the cops came we just said, “Sorry, we just wanted to take some pictures.”

In 2006 I started collecting all the Polaroids I shot while I wandered and built a blog called “Passport to Trespass.” I started publishing artist books off that blog as well (Volume 5 just came out a few days ago).

In 2009 I met Peter Hay Halpert through a mutual friend. I brought Peter a stack of my Polaroid books and we just started talking about the idea of doing a show. After I showed up at his house one day with about a thousand Polaroids for him to dig through and rattled off the stories, we chose 500 and decided to do the show of “Shoot the Moon.”

What is the allure of Polaroid cameras and film for you?
It began for the really simple reason that they are beautiful. There is something so simple and magical about this little self-contained photograph; I think that was what caused me to first pick up a camera and start shooting. Over the years, it has turned into an impulse, almost an addiction. When I travel, I just have the Polaroid with me all the time.

How did you decide what subjects to photograph? What sorts of things capture your attention?
I’d say it probably has a lot to do with light. The way light hits something will catch my eye, or sometimes I will try to transfer an idea of a moment I am having into an image. There is also this idea of collecting and cataloguing with a Polaroid; there is something oddly scientific to me about it. Recently, with the end of Polaroid’s film production, I started this project where I travelled all around the US finding kids I photographed before and shooting one portrait of them with this specific type of film (Time Zero) that I knew I would never be able to find again. It was the last time that any of these people — some whom I had been photographing for almost 10 years now — would be photographed in that manner. I also have a list of things that I would like to get a polaroid of, like a tornado, a whale, things like that… like I am collecting specimens of life.

How do you feel about the rise of digital photography, in light of your use of film?
I think in a world of digital photography, Polaroid has become so much more important and powerful. A “one of a kind” photograph doesn’t happen all that often… Even before digital you could make many prints off the negatives, [but] with a Polaroid there is just that image. I often refer to them like little paintings. Also it’s interesting to think that police and insurance companies used to use Polaroids for evidence because they were unmanipulatable; what you shot was considered to be a representation of the truth, which I don’t think can be said for much photography the way it is used today. We constantly are questioning whether the images we see are real or if they have been altered somehow digitally. With a Polaroid that isn’t really a question, it just is.

How did you feel about the news that Polaroid wanted to stop producing its instant cameras and film?
When Polaroid announced the end of their film, I of course went out and bought up as much as I could afford. I think I maxed out my credit card twice doing so, but at the same time I am okay with it going away eventually…at times it feels like an addiction. When I run out of film I am sure it will be an odd moment; I actually can’t imagine what it will feel like to see that last picture come out of the camera, but I am kind of excited for that moment. I am wondering now, if I had one picture left in my camera and I knew it was the last one I would ever take, what I would take it of? But anyway, when I run out I will just find something else to do.

Mikael Kennedy’s “Shoot the Moon” exhibition opens soon at the Peter Hay Halpert gallery in New York. Details and previews at www.phhfineart.com/mikael_kennedy.html.

- TC

I don’t consider myself to be a collector of any sorts. I don’t go to the antique market every week to sift through piles of old pocket watches and family photographs, but I think that may change very soon. Recently, a friend introduced me to The Selby, a website created by Todd Selby, that features interior spaces belonging to some of the most creative people around. The Selby compiles photographs from the homes and studios of working art directors, designers, chefs and painters into quasi-photo essays. The photographs are beautiful and capture intimate details of the interviewees’ lives, featuring everything from tiny salt and pepper shakers to extensive assortments of animal bones, and of course, some art on display as well. Each space is authentic, and makes me feel like I should start an eccentric collection. Surely, if a space is inspirational, your work can only flourish.

The website features photographs from the homes of everyone from Inès de la Fressange in Paris, to Mark (the Cobrasnake) Hunter in L.A. Although it is hard to pick a favorite, I think my vote goes to the home of artist, Fanny Bostrom and photographer, Bill Gentle (photos above). The bocce balls and adorable kittens might have something to do with it. Check out www.theselby.com to check out the awe-inspiring photographs, which are topped off with cute watercolour portraits and obscure question and answer interviews. You can also buy books with some of the photographs taken in Sydney and Paris, an excellent way to start your awe-inspiring book collection and perhaps find some new ideas to make your home and creative space come to life as well.

- Kara Hornland

Acclaimed Norwegian photographer Solve Sundsbo shared his “Perroquet” series of photographs with us in Issue 5 of Corduroy. Now, he’s collaborating with French label Surface to Air on a limited edition collection of dresses, tees and bags, inspired by “Perroquet” and some of his other prints. The McCaw parrot photo makes an appearance on a comfy T-shirt dress as well as a slouchy cotton/canvas bag. Other pieces feature an ethereal photo of a blond model — whose frizzy coif blankets the bag and shirt — and a more abstract photo that Sundsbo took in a remote forest locale. The collection is being sold at only 20 stores worldwide and, by all accounts, selling out quickly. Details on the Surface to Air website.

- PL

Last night I decided to check out the Vanity Fair Portraits exhibition at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. The rain hadn’t stopped the entire day, so I figured I would go to the ROM and trade my feelings of sogginess for something more glamourous. Vanity Fair, of course, is known for its classic celebrity portraits and smart social commentary, and the magazine, since its beginnings in 1913, has been a vehicle for everything beautiful and sophisticated. The exhibition, curated by Terence Pepper, of London’s National Portrait Gallery, and David Friend, from Vanity Fair, is extensive and features work from the magazine’s vintage beginnings, to 2008 (the 25th anniversary of the modern Vanity Fair and the 95th anniversary of its founding in 1913). Famous faces include everyone from Liza Minnelli and Jean Harlow, to George Clooney and Madonna. And the iconic photographers whose work is on display include such legendary names like Beaton, Herb Ritts and Mario Testino.

I couldn’t help but get lost in the starry eyes of dancer Fred Astaire and actress Greta Garbo. But my favorite photograph was of Douglas Fairbanks Jr. and Joan Crawford; a black and white image of the romantic couple lounging on the beach. It was a little like walking through a time capsule of Hollywood in the 1920s. The exhibit also features some wonderful photographs of Vanity Fair’s modern portrayal of beauty, especially work from the exceptional Annie Leibovitz (who shot the memorable, star-studded fold-out cover above). All said, it’s a great chance to gaze longingly into Vanity Fair’s faces of glamour, both past and present.

The ROM’s website, www.rom.on.ca, has more information about the exhibition, as well as hours of operation. The last hour of each day is free and Friday evenings are half price. The exhibit is running until January 2010, so there is plenty of time to go!

- Kara Hornland

(all images above © Condé Nast Publications Inc./Courtesy Condé Nast Archive)