Fall is upon us. Kids are back in school, and the sunlight is starting to make itself scarce. These 30 colorful fall photos will remind you of all the things you love about autumn. Though summer will end in just a few days, these colorful fall photos prove that there’s no reason to have the summertime blues.
Argentine Photographer Re-invisions The Dynamics Of Femininity Through Female Boxers When just about any female pop music video is released, it seems that a concerned chorus chimes in (and rightfully so) about…
Beginning his term as president three months after South Carolina became the first state to secede from the Union, it is impossible to know if Abraham Lincoln could foresee the pure carnage that awaited him and the nation. Over 600,000 deaths later, the war’s effects are plainly seen on Lincoln’s face.
Whimsical, captivating, hilarious—these are the words that have been used to describe Bricksy, the Banksy artwork recreations made entirely out of LEGO bricks. While small plastic toys aren’t the most obvious medium for re-creating street art, photographer Jeff Friesen uses Banksy’s urban artwork to inspire a more humorous, tongue-in-cheek project.
A neon hammer and sickle sign flickers in angry, vindictive red as soon as I exit the Brighton Beach subway stop in Brooklyn, New York. Except it’s not there to promote communism; it’s a flashy attempt to sell mid-grade booze. At first this strikes me as a bit odd, but then what is communism if not–like capitalism–one of the most enduring, elaborate and nastiest marketing campaigns this world has ever seen? Besides, I figure, it’s probably best not to try to make too much sense of everything I see today. After all, I am in Little Russia.
Brighton Beach is Coney Island’s eccentric, slightly bedraggled aunt who thinks it’s funny to spike your 14-year-old cousin’s drink at the dinner table but then looks at you spitefully when you ask why he’s passed out at the table. Wizened 70-somethings sport gilded “Odessa” sailors’ hats while eating smoked herring at the boardwalk bar; babushkas in floral muumuus dot the well-worn street corners with a grimace chillier than the Cold War; battered and bruised men crowd around chess boards and toss half-empty beer cans to the ground not necessarily to dispose of them but perhaps to say—and loudly—“I am here”.