CThru.com Presents Tony Ward

Alejandra Guerrero, Los Angeles 3-10-10

……….Just before an important meeting to take place at the W Hotel in Westwood, with television executives regarding a pending project involving Tony Ward Productions, LLC, TW and his stylist/assistant Alejandra Guerrero decided to play “dress up” in his hotel room and take photos. TW was so impressed with Ms. Guerrero’s creative abilities that he invited her to the meeting and encouraged her to wear the outfit they selected for the above photo. Ms. Guerrero elected to tone it down a bit for the meeting. Word has it that the talk’s went very well………

Wall Street

Posted by Orville Robertson

……….This was Wall Street when the workers were allowed to go out and get lunch. Now I suppose they chain them to their desks to squeeze out the last drop of blood profit.

To learn more about Orville Robertson’s work log on to www.newyorkstreetphotography.com.

Posted by John Grant

Why you can’t call a spade a spade in this country

An op-ed in the New York Times deals with one of the most vitally important issues Americans could get their minds around — the difference between an Empire and a Republic and just who are we as a people as we deal with two foreign wars and a job-devouring recession caused by financial delusion and chicanery. Unfortunately the topic is not treated totally seriously, and the notion of an American Empire is ridiculed. I’ve encountered this attitude in a running dialogue on the topic I had with Philadelphia Daily News columnist Stu Bykofsky. Stu sneers at the notion we’re an “empire.” He’s a decent guy, and I reduce his argument with me to: “OK, if we’re supposed to be this empire, where’s the emperor in a toga?” I may be obsessive, but I think it’s a good topic for serious discussion. It’s way too easy in the dumbed-down climate of debate in this nation to ridicule the notion of Empire and, thus, of course, avoid dealing with all the real historical and political decisions that lead to the real dynamics of our current reality that suck so much of the oxygen out of our capacity to solve neglected problems. The list is long; for starters there’s a loss of jobs, a lessening of competitiveness due to shortcomings in our education system, crumbling infrastructure and an over-dependency on oil versus developing alternative, green energies — all things we should have been investing more in for the past 40 years. Now, as we are funding two on-going wars, a Global War On Terror and a dismally failed Drug War, these neglected investments at home are coming home to roost. and unless we change, it will only get worse in the future.

Natascha & Olga At The Royal Monceau, Paris

……….Natascha and Olga agreed to meet me in the lobby of the Royal Monceau where we would check in for the shoot of the day. I arrived at the check in desk only to find that the models got there earlier than me, and were waiting at the lobby bar/lounge to have a drink. Those two girls new how to get around. As soon as I noticed them seated in the lounge with drinks in hand, there were several Arab sheiks hovering around them, curious I’m sure as to who they were. Sting was having a drink at the bar just a few feet away.

Our room wasn’t ready so I joined the girls at the lounge to soak in the sights and sounds. Suddenly I heard a loud voice coming from the check in desk of a man screaming at the top of his lungs, “Where is my baggage, Where is my baggage” repeatedly. I noticed a man yelling at the concierge, it was Helmut Newton and his wife June close behind.

I immediately felt like a little boy watching a cartoon character of one of his idols in real time. at that moment, I didn’t know quite what to say or do. I was speechless. I always wanted to meet Helmut Newton and I had learned through some German contacts that he was becoming familiar with my work as well. I told the girls who he was, and they suggested that I introduce myself if the opportunity presented itself.

.

Well it did. Helmut got everything straightened out with the concierge about the missing baggage. I’m sure like any photographer he was afraid that perhaps his equipment was lost. No doubt he was probably there to do some shooting. He and June walked over to the elevator to check in to their room. That was my chance as they were just in front of me. I finally mustered the hutzpah to approach him. As I rose to my feet, the elevator door opened and Helmut and June proceeded to enter the lift. I got to the door just as it was about to close. Helmut pushed the open door button for me. That was it!

To see the entire sitting of Natascha and Olga and more Erotica from the Tony Ward archives, log on to tonyward.com

Natascha & Olga

……….I was in a meeting with my former magazine editor Dian Hanson at her Leg Show office in New York, when she casually mentioned that she was going to be photographed by Helmut Newton for this Sumo sized book that he was publishing with Benedict Taschen. It sounded like an interesting project and I was delighted to hear that Ms. Hanson was invited to Paris to have her portrait taken by the grand master.

She mentioned that Helmut was staying at The Royal Monceau on a regular basis and doing some shooting there. I also enjoy shooting in great hotels myself so Dian suggested I check it out the next time I visited Paris. It just so happened that I had already made arrangements to photograph two Russian models from St. Petersburg, on location in Paris for Penthouse a week earlier, so I decided to book a suite at the Monceau instead of my usual place, The Hotel Regina just a short cab drive away.

To be continued…………….

The Joy Of Consent

……….Please join us tomorrow as we celebrate the exhibition, “THIS IS NOT AN INVITATION TO RAPE ME” at the University of Pennsylvania, opening reception from 4:00 to 7:00 at the Fox Art Gallery-Cohen Hall. Join TW and Studio associates, as we welcome Charles Hall at the most recent installation of this ongoing International public service campaign.

Consent Lubricates Relationships

Sex Without Consent Isn't

Consent Is An Aphrodisiac

Consent Can Be Revoked

Exhibition Announcement

……….I just got back from Silicon Gallery to see the prints that are going to be hanging at PENN starting on Thursday, February 18, 2010, opening reception from 4 to 7. Charles Hall put one hell of show together. I recommend that everyone should stop by the opening if your in town. Various associates of the Studio will be there……

The Kandy Project

Camden, New Jersey 2010

Posted by John Gialuco

……….Part 1 – My mother, Evelyn Gialuco, hired Whitey, a painter and his dog Mugsy, to paint our home because she wanted to sell it and move back to Camden with her sister Sistina. Whitey owned a large Winnebago and would often park and sleep in our driveway at night. Well Whitey had been painting for a month or so and mom would often cook and feed Whitey and Mugsy when he stayed over. So as time passed I noticed that she and Whitey were becoming an item. My father, her husband, had died the previous year and mom was feeling a bit lonely. How I knew they were getting more than chummy was because I would come home late on a Friday or Saturday night and Whitey’s Winnebago would be rocking and bouncing back and forth just like in Cheech and Chong ’s movie, ‘Up in Smoke’ with their trailer scene. Well anyway, Whitey had this wonderful dog Mugsy. Mugsy was never trained, he was the smartest dog I ever knew, and he never had a bath except when he went swimming at the lake or the ocean. The only time I saw Mugsy get washed was right after he was sprayed by a skunk at 3 am in the morning. Mom and Whitey had to wash him with tomato juice for about an hour and everyone went back to bed. A year later Whitey died in my mother’s arms from cancer. I should add that my father also died in my mother’s arms as well. Subsequently whenever my mother wanted to give me a hug because I was going away for a few days I usually declined mom’s hug’s. Well you understand. So a year later Mugsy became very ill and mom couldn’t watch him suffer any longer so she asked me to take him to the vet and put him to sleep.

Part 2 – When the vet called us a week later and asked us to pick up the ashes, Mom admonished me to not bring Mugsy back into the house. She needed time to adjust to her loss, but to bring him back into our shed which was in the rear of the property. As I left the house mom screamed “Do not leave his ashes in your car, put him in back…did you HEAR me?”…yes mom. So I picked Mugsy up at the vet and since I had never seen ashes from a cremation before, I opened the lid of this beautiful oriental embossed tin container which very much reminded me of a red picnic basket. Well the ashes were a pure white powder with small clumps of ash which looked like bits of hard salt. So I put Mugsy and his new home in back of the trunk of my 1987 Volvo and that was it. When I walked into the house mom asked me if I had put Mugsy in the shed and of course I said I did. Not.

Part 3 – Some months later I was hosting a talk and video on how to learn about the unlawful aspects of the IRS with about 20 interested people. Since a friend was letting us use her apartment in West Philly I threw some material in the Volvo’s trunk for demonstration reasons. After carrying the last load up to Catherine’s apartment I apparently left the key in the trunk of the Volvo. So after a rocking good IRS party, 5 hours later, I left to go home and guess what? The Volvo had been stolen! It is one of the worst feelings you will ever have, when you finally admit that your car has been stolen after tortuous hours of crawling through every surrounding street looking for your car. It’s like your parents just revealed to you that you were adopted at the very moment you are about to blow out the birthday candles to celebratie your 21st birthday. When I finally got home and told my mother that the car was stolen in Philly, the first words out of her mouth was, “WHERE”S MUGSY? I distinctly remember the last thoughts I had as I was rapidly fleeing the back door of the house and being pursued by a well aimed broom, which my mother hurled at me with the accuracy of a South American forest head hunter’s blow gun. My mother had honed her throwing abilities through the fine art of cleaning and vacuuming for nearly 70 years. In her day she could have faced any Samurai with her well made corn broom, scorn and not show a bit of fear. I returned days later to a calmer mom.

Mugsy

Part 4 – 43 days later I got a call from the Philadelphia police telling me that my car was found up in the Bronx, NYC. As I was leaving the house to take a train to NY my mother told me to make sure that Mugsy was to be the first thing coming through the garage door when I returned…Yes Mom. Upon arriving at Grand Central station I boarded a subway going uptown to the Bronx. Riding from Midtown NY to the Bronx was a super lesson in paranoia. As the subway left upper Manhattan into Harlem, I notice that the folks who have laptops, jewelery and better clothes began to leave the car at each stop. As we entered Harlem the hip hop, goths, mental escapees and such, started boarding the subway to continue the ride uptown. Once we got into the lower Bronx near the Bronx Zoo those folks began to get off the train and replaced with the hard core human beings, The Warlocks, Saurons, Melkors, Borg types and an occasional Gollum and Hannibal Lecter.

Part 5 – After 40 minutes of this amusement ride I found out that I took the wrong train! Instead of getting on the East Bronx train I took the West Bronx train. So now I had to go back down to Grand Central and start all over again with that now familiar paranoia I obtained on the West side ride. On one stop in Harlem about 75 cops and security people boarded the cars and this made me feel much better and I relaxed my hand off the back of my ass which I was using to protect my wallet. As we rolled into the Bronx, small packs of cops disembarked at various stops along the way to go to work. Upon arriving at my stop, around 180th street, I had to walk some 10 blocks or so to a street that was lined with junk yard after junk yard after junk yard. When I finally found my junk yard and entered the office, I noticed that behind the long counter was a couple of shelves with hundreds of car radios which were for sale. I intuitively knew that my thoughtfully chosen and expensive Volvo radio was once up on those shelves never to be heard from again.

Final Part – So I found my car parked amongst hundreds of other stolen and junked vehicles, and after clearing the front seat of at least 40 parking tickets, which the Manhattan police kindly kept throwing into the unlocked car for the month or so, I started the engine with no problem. I immediately checked the glove compartment for my stuff and saw that everything but a Norelco razor was still there. I quickly went back to the Volvo trunk and saw that everything was in place … EXCEPT…. Mugsy and his newly occupied red tin dog house. While driving back home for 90 miles I was thinking about my fears, my fears and pain of facing Mom as I prepared to tell her t Mugsy was gone forever. I also realized that whoever stole my Volvo, I figured it was probably a bunch of kids having a joy ride, and that they eventually found Mugsy in the trunk, his ashes and believed they had found a large stash of Cocaine. So as any upright carjackers would do they started snorting Mugsy. I am sure at the days end somewhere in NYC a group of young men could be seen pissing on trees with one leg raised in the air so as to leave their marks while Howling at the full Moon.

Mr John

Triangulated Torso

……….”Unlike the artist who composes with camera in hand, Asman creates his compositions in the darkroom, excavating the desired images from chemicals and paper negatives.  As a result, his lapidary figures are awash in a sensuous and shadowy sea, their distressed, crusty textures more like weathered stone or glazed donuts than skin.  Playing with scale and himself in negative space, he deconstructs the body, freeing it from conventional readings.”

Judith Stein, Curator and Critic, PEW Fellowship

Traingulated Torso 2

“I also find the orgone energy associated with naked women and sex intriguing. I guess that is why I make pictures of nudes.” Robert Asman

………”I like the chemistry, magic, mystery, physics, materials of photography.” Robert Asman

Triangulated Hands

……….”Its really the excavation of self or the alchemical process of changing one’s self or nature with the work….its psychological and based off the neurological feeling I would get of forcing/dragging/sculpting/coercing images out of photo paper in a ritualized manner in a cavelike darkroom.” Robert Asman

The Body

……….To learn more about Robert Asman’s work log on to www.alchemy-ink.com.

07-23-1986

……….Orville Robertson follows a long tradition of street photographers whose visual passions are stirred by street life at night in New York City. It requires a certain visual acuity that takes practice, patience and technical verve, all part of the unique qualities ever present in Mr. Robertson’s photographs over the past 25 years.

03-05-01

……….He was awarded a 2002 Fellowship in Photography by the New York Foundation for the Arts and his work is included in many public institutions including; The Brooklyn Museum, Center for Creative Photography in Arizona, Bibliotheque Nationale in France, and the Museum of the City of New York.

12-11-1985

06-26-02

04-17-2007

12-11-1985

……….To learn more about Orville’s photographs, log on to www.newyorkstreetphotography.com.