Subjected to the light of day, Sarah Palin doesn't look like a maverick at all.
Exposing a construction-site scam only a San Francisco cop could love.
Ronald Taylor is one of perhaps hundreds of innocent people Harris County has put in prison.
Sloppy U.S. government paperwork is putting the lives of asylum seekers at risk.
A single, quick glance at Billie #14 is all it takes to burn the name Lyle Ashton Harris into ones brain forever. Ashtons transfer print from an old Polaroid is so evocative of a long-gone glamour era, so transformative of Billie Holidays unmistakable visage, that no one who sees this dye-diffused photo of the jazz immortal, her mouth yanked wide by a long, lonesome bit of song, can ever forget it.
The image is included in the Lyle Ashton Harris: Blow Up exhibit, a retrospective of the photographers work. Its the first real survey of Harris work, spanning two decades and including the oddly formal self-portraits that gained him his earliest acclaim. The shows title is a nod to Harris contention that photography is a social performance, not a source of flat, iconic images. He blows up our ideas of portraiture and re-imagines mass-media imagery (thus the occasional comparisons to Warhol), focusing on our role as the reader of the image rather than the image itself.