Under the Influence: A Girl With Particular Shoes

So, Little Red Riding Hood said to the Blackbird Girls: "What big nerds you are!" And the Blackbird Girls shrugged in agreement....

We at Blackbird World Headquarters are unapologetic bookworms. One of us also happens to collect fairy tales, so when it was time to brainstorm our first photo shoot for the new website, turning to the magical world of literature was an easy step. While we could have run straight for Cinderella or Belle, we instead looked to the nameless, but fearless, heroine of a slightly more obscure story called The Enchanted Pig--or as we like to call it, The Girl in the Iron Shoes.

It isn't exactly a tale of boy meets girl. In this particular story, girl marries based on a prophetic book that she wasn't supposed to read. By night, the princess and her husband are able to...umm...live the married life. By day, he is a bona fide, mud-rolling pig. She happens to prefer the night-time version of her mate, and in an ill-timed attempt to break his porcine curse, the princess is punished with an impossible quest: to search the world for him, on foot, until she has worn through three pairs of iron shoes.

As the story goes: "On and on she wandered over nine seas and across nine continents; through forests with trees whose stems were as thick as beer- barrels; stumbling and knocking herself against the fallen branches, then picking herself up and going on; the boughs of the trees hit her face, and the shrubs tore her hands, but on she went, and never looked back." In addition to the traditional obstacles of a long journey on foot, the girl must visit four dangerous places to seek guidance. The first is the house of the Moon....

And what better outfit for this occasion than a cream 1960s mod mini and cape, paired with groovy 1960s cream Renauld sunglasses and a chunky silver pendant? The combat boots, of course, are her "iron shoes."

Next, she must hike to the house of the Sun. For this look, we put a 1960s gold sweater vest over a printed Carol Craig dress and added a copper turban, 1970s Dior sunglasses, and a groovy handmade copper statement necklace.

The third milestone of her quest is visiting the house of the Wind in a fluttery silk dress, 1970s green-framed Foster Grant sunglasses, faux pearl bracelet, and rhinestone earrings.

From there, she must walk across the vast Milky Way. We chose a sparkly sequined top with just the right amount of slouch, paired with cropped seersucker trousers, 1980s aviator sunglasses, a 1960s MGI studded purse suspended from her belt, a 1950s multi-strand necklace, and a shimmery rhinestone bangle.

At last, our intrepid heroine reaches the end of her quest at a weathered little house in a lush forest.  Here, she will prove to her husband that she is no longer the girl that he married, but a better (stronger) version of herself. For the "Honey, I'm home--and we need to talk" reunion, we dressed our model in a 1970s floral chiffon maxi dress under a metallic silver vest, and added black and coral sunglasses and screwback earrings.

The story has a happy ending, in which the pig's enchantment is broken, revealing him to be a prince from another kingdom. He weeps when his bride relates the tale of her harrowing journey, and they kiss. Soon afterward, they travel together to her father's castle, and he asks them to rule in his place. As the story concludes: "And they ruled as only kings rule who have suffered many things."

And although our well-traveled heroine can now prop up her feet and indulge in a well-deserved rest, we're sure that she will continue to be the Queen of Cool, and look incredibly fierce while doing so--in more comfortable footwear, of course.

Our photos look great on our shiny new website with some vintage celestial illustrations, including a couple of our favorite artists: Don Blanding and Dorothy Lathrop. We're keeping the Etsy shop open, but our favorite finds will end up at www.blackbirdgirlsvintage.com. Check us out!

The Skinny -- The Bohemian 70s

We Blackbirds are always trying to educate ourselves about the way things were in the world back in the day -- partially because we are naturally inquisitive people, but mainly because we want to know what the world was like when people wore Bakelite brooches and went to the movies to see Doris Day on the big screen.  Both of us are drawn to the 1930s through the early 1960s -- the eras of the movies we grew up watching.  We've appreciated the 1970s, but it's never been our thing.  (I'm speaking strictly junk-wise and clothing-wise -- we've always loved the music!)

I can honestly say our first real moment of oohs and aahs for 1970s design was when we saw the 1974 movie For Pete's Sake with Barbra Streisand.  We had seen seventies (and loved it) before, even with 1972's What's Up, Doc? (see Barbra above, cute as a button), but we had never really had that real AHA! moment.  With the awesome apartment in Pete's, it was a big AHA!  Wish I could show you pics of the apartment, but alas, I cannot find any online.  Try to catch the movie when it comes on TCM.  You'll love it; it's hilarious.

So, when we did the last window at the antique mall, we happened upon some Seventeen magazines from the late 60s through the early 70s.  They were cheap; we decided we needed them.  We flipped through them last night, and I can honestly say, I have a new love for 1970s fashion.

I don't like all of it -- there's a lot of bad -- but what I do like, I love.  I thought, "Hey, I'll do this week's Skinny post on some of the 70s fashion we like!"  However, when I started researching this blog, I couldn't find any photos.  I found new photos made to look vintage.  I found pictures of sewing patterns from the 70s.  But no real fashion shots.

So, dear readers, I decided to share with you some of the photos from the fashion spread that spoke to me the most.  From Seventeen magazine, May 1971. Quoted excerpts are from the spread.  Enjoy!

Gay Gibson dress, photo by Ray Kellman

"A new karma's coming -- soft, blowy folkthings in fabrics with peasant or palace vibrations.  Get into madras, tie-dyes, complex weaves or knits -- many are still made with ancient skills."

By Alexa from Sunny California, photo by Ray Kellman

By Alexa from Sunny California, photo by Ray Kellman

"Block prints from India are prized for their neat patterns and soft colors.  These American versions pick up the look and let you make it yours."

Dress by No Comment, photo by Joseph Santoro

"Here's how to go east with the ease of a swami.  Make a few passes over a marvelous caftan pattern.  Cut it out in kaleidoscopic print with a proud Afro-Indian heritage.  Sew it up, put it on -- and watch your universe expand."

McCall's sewing pattern 2896, Singer dress panels, photo by Joseph Santoro

McCall's sewing pattern 2896, Singer sewing panels, photo by Joseph Santoro

The Skinny -- Paul Himmel

Grand Central Terminal, NYC, 1947

Paul Himmel, an American fashion and documentary photographer, was born in 1914 in New Haven, Connecticut.  His parents were Ukranian immigrants.  They moved to Coney Island in 1922, and opened the country's first vegetarian restaurant.   

As a teenager, Himmel taught himself about photography.  But he went to school for science, and began teaching in 1932.  It wasn't his calling, though, and he then studied graphic journalism at the New School with Harper's Bazaar art director Alexey Brodovitch in the late 1940s (Brodovitch worked there from 1938-58).  

Himmel's portrait of Bassman

It was his relationship with Lillian Bassman, the love of his life, that most affected Himmel, though.  He met her in 1923, married her in 1935, and exhibited his first work in 1939 -- photos taken while on a trip to Mexico with her.  Bassman was also a fashion photographer, and is very well known in her own right.  They were married over 73 years.

He started to work as a professional photographer in 1945, and by 1947 he was working steadily as a fashion photographer for Bazaar and Vogue.  He was one of the very few who worked for both magazines.  Unfortunately, all his negatives from this time have been destroyed.

Bassman and Himmel, 2003

By the 1950s, bored with the commercialism of his fashion work, Himmel started his own art projects.  He looked to the human form for inspiration, focusing on people who used their bodies in their own work, like ballet dancers, circus performers, and boxers.  He experimented with grain structure in his negatives and prints, using a series of silhouetted and elongated forms abbreviated almost to the point of abstraction.  His photos are high-contrast, emphasizing the design and patterns contained in the image.

ballet in action, 1954

He published a book, ballet in action, in 1954.  It had an extensive foreword, written by George Balanchine, the lead choreographer of the New York City Ballet.  In 1955, some of his images were included in a show curated by Edward Steichen, called "The Family of Man" for MOMA.

ballet in action, 1954

Himmel took his last photograph in 1967, and by 1969, he became disenchanted with photography and retrained as a psychotherapist. He worked in psychotherapy for more than 25 years.  An exhibition at the New York Galleries, by Howard Greenberg and James Danzinger, in 1996 reintroduced his work; it was an instant success, and a new book of his work was published.

Abstract Nudes, 1954

Paul Himmel died February 8, 2009.

*Info from artnet.com, theworldofphotographers.com and Wikipedia

The Skinny -- Genia Rubin

To use a stupid little phrase we Blackbird girls use quite frequently -- if wishes were dreams...then I would have more wall space in our house.  Well, I'd just have more house to our house.  Extra rooms, extra display space, extra wall space for more art.  And if wishes were dreams, I could have vintage (OK, I could only afford prints...) fashion photography and portraiture.  You know, the really good stuff, like Richard Avedon and Cecil Beaton.  And this guy, Genia Rubin.

I recently stumbled upon the work of Genia Rubin, and although I haven't been able to find much out about his life, I thought I could at least share some of his stunning work with you, our readers.  His work has a surrealist vein running through it, showing "provocative forms of unrestrained, convulsive beauty."* 

Genia Rubin (real name: Yevgeny Hermanovitch Rubin) was born in Kiev in 1906, and died in Paris in 2001.  He left Russia in 1927, traveling to Berlin, where he assisted Karl Freund, cinematographer for Metropolis (1927) and an Academy Award winner for Best Cinematography in 1937 for The Good Earth.  

Rubin went to Paris in 1929, where he worked as a still and portrait photographer in the Pathé Film Studios, a company which produced over 70 feature films between 1929-1935, including some of France's first talkie pictures. In 1931, Rubin returned to Berlin, where he met the well-known portrait photographer, Rolf Mahrenholz.   He opened his own photo studio in the Kurfürstendamm, one of the most famous avenues in Berlin.   

Rubin soon began working with fashion magazine editor, Franz Wolfgang Koebner, the editor of a popular magazine, The Elegant World.  It launched his fashion career.  In 1935, he moved back to Paris, where he met photographer Harry Ossip Meerson. They collaborated, and after Meerson's departure for America, Rubin took over his studio.

During his fashion career, Rubin photographed for Indian magazine Femina, Harper's Bazaar and Australian magazine, The Home. After WWII, he met the English court photographer, Baron Stirling Henry Nahum, and until 1956, Rubin worked alternately as a guest fashion photographer in Baron's London studio and as a photo correspondent for the Daily Express in Paris.

 
Through his acquaintance with André Breton, the founder of Surrealism, Rubin learned about contemporary painting in Paris in 1947, and his work was represented that year, along with other artists', in the international Surrealist exhibition at the Galerie Maeght, a gallery for modern art, founded in Cannes in 1936.

 
In 1957, Rubin worked for Maison et Jardin (House and Garden, Condé Nast ), photographing parks, gardens, palaces and works of art in France, England and Italy. From 1959 on, he devoted himself again to his modern painting and photography.

  

 And that's it folks.  That's all I've got!  The Biksady Gallery in Budapest had an exhibit of his work in February through March of this year, and that's where I got most of the images.  I'm definitely intrigued now, and I'm going to dig some more.  Hopefully you enjoyed the images -- and I'll leave you with one of his lovely portraits!

* From the Metropolitan Museum of Art, here.

The Skinny: Martin Munkasci

I had planned to write about Richard Avedon. I will, someday. But today is all about the man who inspired Avedon, Martin Munkasci.

"Woman on boulder with bicycle", 1936

Multiple sources cite him as "the father of fashion photography." I had never heard of him before today. It turns out that a lot of people have never heard of him. In fact, after his death in 1963, his archives were offered to multiple museums. Nobody wanted them.

1940s Harper's Bazaar

He was a Hungarian Jew (actually born in Transylvania) who got his start as a sports photographer in his native country for a newspaper called Az Est. He was an adventurer, often called "Crazy Angle" by his colleagues. Instead of standing behind the fence to photograph the races, he would be on his knees in a puddle on the side of the track. One source claims that he strapped himself to the side of a race car in order to photograph it in motion around the track.

Munkasci, on a car

European motorcyclist, 1920s

Martin moved to Berlin, where photography was booming, and ended up working for several German publications in the late 1920s and early 1930s. He even photographed Hitler (no small feat for an Eastern European Jew in Nazi days). When the atmosphere in Germany started to get a little rough for people of Munkasci's roots, he took an overseas assignment in America for Biz, one of his German magazines. While in New York, he agreed to do a photo shoot for Carmel Snow, budding editor for Harper's Bazaar, and that was the day he made history. Not only was it the first outdoor fashion shoot, it was the first motion fashion shoot. Until then, models were posed and primped on carefully regulated sets in carefully regulated studios. With Carmel Snow, Martin Munkasci shot his model on the beach. He didn't speak English, and his interpreter was having a difficult time of it, but the model, Lucile Brokaw, understood perfectly. He wanted her to run. To move around. To splash. Looking at the photographs, you would never know that the day was actually miserably cold and damp, the model shivering.

Lucile Brokaw, Harper's Bazaar 1933

The shoot was such a success that Carmel Snow offered him a job. The next year, he moved to America to become one of the most groundbreaking photographers of the time. He was one of the first photographers to put nudes in a mainstream magazine (tastefully, of course).

Harper's Bazaar, 1935

 He continued to pioneer the art of motion photography for Harper's Bazaar, Life, and Ladies Home Journal before turning his eye to Hollywood. His work gave us one of the most well-known pictures of Fred Astaire in motion. At his peak in the mid-1930s, his annual salary was $100,000. He lived in a Long Island estate with art from the Masters on his walls.

Fred Astaire; Life, 1936

Katharine Hepburn

In 1939, his luck took a hike. His wife (the second of three) divorced him. He lost a lot of money. Then, his daughter died of cancer. While he was still in mourning, Ladies Home Journal gave him a cross-country series assignment called "How America Lives." The stress of driving from city to city, day after day, caught up with him, and his pictures weren't good anymore. They fired him. He had  a heart attack. Another wife, and another divorce, led him to poverty. He was finally reduced to loitering in the hall outside Harper's Bazaar, hoping for some work. He finally had to pawn all of his camera equipment. His last published photograph was for that magazine, in July of 1962. A year later, he died of a heart attack. The only food in his refrigerator was an open can of spaghetti with a fork sticking out of it.

1936, "Peignoir in Soft Breeze"

New York World's Fair, Harper's Bazaar 1938

People finally came around, and several decades later, interest in his work renewed. Someone discovered a series of undeveloped negatives, and an exhibit of "lost" photos was born. A few books were written, with quotes from photographers that Munkasci inspired, including Henri Cartier-Bresson and Richard Avedon. I think my favorite is Avedon's remembrance of his 11-year old self discovering  Munkasci magazine cover and gluing it to his bedroom ceiling: "His women [strode] parallel to the sea, unconcerned with his camera, freed by his dream of them, leaping straight-kneed across my bed."

The Puddle Jumper

Bathing Beauties



Information obtained from: http://fashion.telegraph.co.uk/news-features/TMG8597512/Martin-Munkacsi-father-of-fashion-photography.html; http://www.vanityfair.com/online/daily/2010/04/decisive-munkacsi-moments