May 2010 Italian Vogue Editorial.
Model: Kylie Bax
Photographer: Steven Klein
Stylist: Patti Wilson
Hair: Garren
Makeup: Kabuki
Art Director: Giovanni Bianco
Showing posts with label Kylie Bax. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kylie Bax. Show all posts
Monday, May 3, 2010
May 2010 Italian Vogue editorial: Kylie Bax, Photo: Steven Klein, Stylist: Patti Wilson
Steven Klein photographed Kylie Bax for a May 2010 Italian Vogue editorial on March 18, 2010 in Brooklyn, New York with stylist Patti Wilson.
May 2010 Italian Vogue Editorial.
Model: Kylie Bax
Photographer: Steven Klein
Stylist: Patti Wilson
Hair: Garren
Makeup: Kabuki
Art Director: Giovanni Bianco
May 2010 Italian Vogue Editorial.
Model: Kylie Bax
Photographer: Steven Klein
Stylist: Patti Wilson
Hair: Garren
Makeup: Kabuki
Art Director: Giovanni Bianco
Friday, April 23, 2010
Come To Me: Kylie Bax by Mariano Vivanco
Supermodel Kylie Bax performs to Spagna's 80's hit "Call Me".
The film was created by photographer Mariano Vivanco for Dazed and Confused magazine.
Technical Director, Regan Hall.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Kylie Bax, Photo: Steven Klein, Stylist: Edward Enninful
i-D Magazine March 1998
Model: Kylie Bax
Photographer: Steven Klein
Stylist: Edward Enninful
Hair: Michael Boadi
Kylie Bax
Wears: Vintage coat, dress and bag
Age: 23
CV: Born in New Zealand. Scouted in a regional beauty contest at 17. Campaigns include Versace, Clinique, Louis Vuitton, DKNY, Anna Sui, Sonia Rykiel
Famous for: Slightly odd androgyny, part David Bowie circa Man Who Fell To Earth and part Madame Gres. Always immaculately turned out
"Personally, I think that all you need to be well dressed is a really good winter coat"
Model: Kylie Bax
Photographer: Steven Klein
Stylist: Edward Enninful
Hair: Michael Boadi
Kylie Bax
Wears: Vintage coat, dress and bag
Age: 23
CV: Born in New Zealand. Scouted in a regional beauty contest at 17. Campaigns include Versace, Clinique, Louis Vuitton, DKNY, Anna Sui, Sonia Rykiel
Famous for: Slightly odd androgyny, part David Bowie circa Man Who Fell To Earth and part Madame Gres. Always immaculately turned out
"Personally, I think that all you need to be well dressed is a really good winter coat"
Friday, March 19, 2010
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Richard Avedon opening tonight at the International Center of Photography
Tonight I will be attending the opening of the Richard Avedon exhibition at the International Center of Photography.
Veruschka with Richard Avedon, dress by Kimberly, New York, January 1967
From the ICP:
Richard Avedon (1923–2004) revolutionized fashion photography starting in the post-World War II era and redefined the role of the fashion photographer. Anticipating many of the cultural cross-fertilizations that have occurred between high art, commercial art, fashion, advertising, and pop culture in the last twenty years, he created spirited, imaginative photographs that showed fashion and the modern woman in a new light. He shook up the chilly, static formulas of the fashion photograph and by 1950 was the most imitated American editorial photographer. Injecting a forthright, American energy into a business that had been dominated by Europeans, Avedon's stylistic innovations continue to influence photographers around the world.
This exhibition will be the most comprehensive exploration to date of Avedon's fashion photography during his long career at Harper's Bazaar, Vogue, The New Yorker, and beyond. Working closely with The Richard Avedon Foundation, ICP curator Carol Squiers and guest curator Vince Aletti will present new scholarship on the evolution and extraordinary, ongoing impact of his work. The exhibition will feature more than 200 works by Richard Avedon, spanning his entire career, and will include vintage prints, contact sheets, magazine layouts, and archival material.
Several Women models were fortunate enough to work with Richard Avedon, including Veruschka, Kylie Bax, Christina Kruse and Karen Elson.
Veruschka, dress by Kimberly,New York, January 1967
Veruschka, Photo: Richard Avedon
Kylie Bax
Kylie Bax
Kylie Bax
Kylie Bax
Christina Kruse
Christina Kruse
Karen Elson
Karen Elson
Despite the hullabaloo she caused, which the writer Thomas Whiteside described in a profile that year in The New Yorker, Twiggy’s career was actually brief. It is Avedon’s pictures that make us think of her as the definitive ’60s child.
His gift was not merely for the alive moment — the model, her chin up, leaping cleanly over a puddle. Rather, it was for knowing which of the myriad of gestures produced the truest sense of the moment. Whiteside found Avedon’s process utterly unique, explaining he “exercised meticulous control over his model, almost as though he were working from a blueprint.”
That blueprint is, broadly, the subject of a retrospective at the International Center of Photography, from May 15 to Sept. 6.
From his earliest, sun-splashed pictures in 1944 to portraits in 2000 that convey his fashion fatigue, the I.C.P. exhibition is the largest survey of Avedon’s fashion work since the Metropolitan Museum show in 1978.
In both appearance and personality, Avedon cut the ideal figure of a fashion photographer, and five years after his death, at age 81, he remains that. His photographic style has been widely imitated, not least by Steven Meisel. Generations of models have sprung across mid-tone seamless backdrops, or sat pensively in cafes, or pretended to be in love or quite alone — all because of Avedon. And yet if his images retain their special power, if the experiences and emotions they present seem lived and not merely imitated, it may be because he is the more complete photographer.
A twice-married man, whose energy and trim, compact looks seemed to embody the word “flair,” Avedon often harbored doubts about his next project, yet recovered quickly. His great passion, outside of picture-making and his family, was the theater. A friend, the writer Adam Gopnik, reckoned that Avedon saw Mandy Patinkin’s one-man show 35 times in the space of a summer. “He lived for performance,” Mr. Gopnik said.
It’s probable that as a teenager in New York in the early ’40s — Avedon dropped out of DeWitt Clinton High School and enlisted in the merchant marine, where he learned basic photography — he saw not so much the fashion in the streets as the cosmopolitan gestures that animated it. Movement entered his pictures for Harper’s Bazaar soon after he arrived there. Storytelling followed, especially once he began shooting the Paris collections and invented street scenes for models like Dovima and Dorian Leigh, or his first wife, Doe Avedon.
Already on the masthead at Bazaar was Martin Munkacsi, the Hungarian-born photographer whose action shots impressed Henri Cartier-Bresson, among others. In later years, when he discussed his beginnings, Avedon often made Munkacsi out to be a more distant figure than he was, according to the exhibition’s curators, Carol Squiers and Vince Aletti.
Then again, Avedon always maintained that in every picture he was photographing himself. When Ms. Squiers asked the photographer Lillian Bassman, who spent summers with Avedon and their families on Fire Island, why he had his models running — or laughing — she replied: “Did you ever meet Dick? He was always jumping around.”
Outdoor shots and innovative photography were part of the terrain at Bazaar in the ’40s and ’50s. The cultural life in New York similarly enriched the work of other photographers, notably Irving Penn, who was at Vogue and who would be Avedon’s friend and rival for the next 40 years. So what made Avedon different?
HE was keenly aware that beauty had an element of tragedy — it faded, for one thing, or it came at a terrible loss of self. Growing up, Avedon heard his mother say to his sister Louise, who would eventually die, at 42, in a mental institution, “You’re so beautiful you don’t have to open your mouth.” This notion that beauty can be intoxicating but, equally, impoverishing to the soul, Ms. Squiers said, tinged Avedon’s early pictures with a feeling of compassion.
And it may never have completely left him. A photograph he made in 1998 of a robotic-looking model wearing a mouth plug seemed to circle back to his sister. Such pictures, made when he was a staff photographer at The New Yorker, suggested Avedon’s long view of fashion, but also a distinct side of his personality. “There was a real sadness about him,” said Norma Stevens, who joined his studio in 1976 and today runs the Richard Avedon Foundation. “He loved working, and he would be up for that. But it was like a performance. After that there would be a drop.”
Drawn to theatrical performers, Avedon took numerous portraits when he was at Bazaar, and, like Penn, derived a lot of artistic satisfaction from them. Yet into the ’60s, influenced by the Civil Rights movement and the poets of the counterculture, the portraits acquired a hardness that made critics question Avedon’s right to be more than a fashion photographer. An eviscerating review in 1964 by Robert Brustein of “Nothing Personal,” the book Avedon did with James Baldwin, left him unable to do serious projects for the next five years.
The crisis also affected his fashion work. “You can see he’s been knocked off his game in a lot of those pictures,” Ms. Squiers said. In 1965, Avedon left Bazaar and followed his close ally, Diana Vreeland, to Vogue. As at Bazaar, Vreeland gave him free rein and, more important, said Mr. Aletti, the curator, protected him from the interference of Vogue’s art director, Alexander Liberman.
Surprisingly, Avedon’s pictures in the ’60s of models like Twiggy and Penelope Tree were seen by some critics as anti-fashion. Avedon — the ’50s golden boy, the inspiration for Fred Astaire’s suave character in the movie “Funny Face” — was now savaging beauty and elegance. Not only was he fleeing from the confines of fashion magazines, he was also seeking revenge.
COMMENTS of this sort make you wonder how much the critics knew about fashion. If anything, Avedon’s stripped-down aesthetic and motion are representative of the era’s frenetic energy.
Mr. Gopnik, who first met Avedon in 1985 when the photographer was completing his series of portraits called “In the American West,” believes the attacks were motivated by jealousy and envy. People resented the famous, good-looking man who took such delight in his work and, at the same time, kept exploring new areas. “I don’t think it’s any more complicated than that,” Mr. Gopnik said.
Avedon’s photography has always amounted to a plea for beauty — to see it mysterious, to see it raw but ultimately to see it whole. To view his portraits in the ’50s and ’60s is to see the flip side of the decades’ stylish obsessions. And whether the faces were beautiful or ravaged, famous or not, the portraits relentlessly informed the fashion images, and vice versa.
Certainly by the ’90s, with notions like Prada’s ugly beauty, the categories of beauty had dissolved. For Avedon, though, the lines had faded long before, if they were ever that clear. Perhaps the famous “Avedon blur” expressed the futility, even the tragedy, of permanent beliefs.
“I certainly think — I know — that the apparent line between his fashion photography and his portraits was false, that he saw it as continuous work,” Mr. Gopnik said, adding that Avedon was amused at how people could look at the empty face of a model and find it more beautiful than the worn face of a coal miner. “It was not an affectation on his part,” he said. The I.C.P. exhibition, picking up where the 1978 Metropolitan show left off and allowing the first complete view of Avedon’s fashion photography, strips away the last shadows on his art.
Veruschka with Richard Avedon, dress by Kimberly, New York, January 1967
From the ICP:
Richard Avedon (1923–2004) revolutionized fashion photography starting in the post-World War II era and redefined the role of the fashion photographer. Anticipating many of the cultural cross-fertilizations that have occurred between high art, commercial art, fashion, advertising, and pop culture in the last twenty years, he created spirited, imaginative photographs that showed fashion and the modern woman in a new light. He shook up the chilly, static formulas of the fashion photograph and by 1950 was the most imitated American editorial photographer. Injecting a forthright, American energy into a business that had been dominated by Europeans, Avedon's stylistic innovations continue to influence photographers around the world.
This exhibition will be the most comprehensive exploration to date of Avedon's fashion photography during his long career at Harper's Bazaar, Vogue, The New Yorker, and beyond. Working closely with The Richard Avedon Foundation, ICP curator Carol Squiers and guest curator Vince Aletti will present new scholarship on the evolution and extraordinary, ongoing impact of his work. The exhibition will feature more than 200 works by Richard Avedon, spanning his entire career, and will include vintage prints, contact sheets, magazine layouts, and archival material.
Several Women models were fortunate enough to work with Richard Avedon, including Veruschka, Kylie Bax, Christina Kruse and Karen Elson.
Veruschka, dress by Kimberly,New York, January 1967
Veruschka, Photo: Richard Avedon
Kylie Bax
Kylie Bax
Kylie Bax
Kylie Bax
Christina Kruse
Christina Kruse
Karen Elson
Karen Elson
Karen Elson
How Avedon Blurred His Own Image
By CATHY HORYN
Published: May 13, 2009
ON a morning in April 1967, Twiggy, the doe-eyed British modeling sensation, sat on a stool before Richard Avedon in his studio on East 58th Street. She had on a plain black dress and black fishnets, and it was her first session with the fashion photographer. She was 17.
By CATHY HORYN
Published: May 13, 2009
ON a morning in April 1967, Twiggy, the doe-eyed British modeling sensation, sat on a stool before Richard Avedon in his studio on East 58th Street. She had on a plain black dress and black fishnets, and it was her first session with the fashion photographer. She was 17.
As Avedon stood behind a Rolleiflex camera mounted on a tripod, the Kinks blared from a phonograph nearby. Since he began photographing beautiful women in the mid-1940s — first for Harper’s Bazaar, then Vogue — Avedon made it a practice to ask his models what music and food they preferred. This more than contributed to the relaxed atmosphere of the studio. “They all wanted to please him,” said Polly Mellen, the Vogue editor on that shoot.
Bending over the Rolleiflex, Avedon said, “All right, now, very straight,” and Twiggy sat up straight and turned her gaze to the camera.
Despite the hullabaloo she caused, which the writer Thomas Whiteside described in a profile that year in The New Yorker, Twiggy’s career was actually brief. It is Avedon’s pictures that make us think of her as the definitive ’60s child.
His gift was not merely for the alive moment — the model, her chin up, leaping cleanly over a puddle. Rather, it was for knowing which of the myriad of gestures produced the truest sense of the moment. Whiteside found Avedon’s process utterly unique, explaining he “exercised meticulous control over his model, almost as though he were working from a blueprint.”
That blueprint is, broadly, the subject of a retrospective at the International Center of Photography, from May 15 to Sept. 6.
From his earliest, sun-splashed pictures in 1944 to portraits in 2000 that convey his fashion fatigue, the I.C.P. exhibition is the largest survey of Avedon’s fashion work since the Metropolitan Museum show in 1978.
In both appearance and personality, Avedon cut the ideal figure of a fashion photographer, and five years after his death, at age 81, he remains that. His photographic style has been widely imitated, not least by Steven Meisel. Generations of models have sprung across mid-tone seamless backdrops, or sat pensively in cafes, or pretended to be in love or quite alone — all because of Avedon. And yet if his images retain their special power, if the experiences and emotions they present seem lived and not merely imitated, it may be because he is the more complete photographer.
A twice-married man, whose energy and trim, compact looks seemed to embody the word “flair,” Avedon often harbored doubts about his next project, yet recovered quickly. His great passion, outside of picture-making and his family, was the theater. A friend, the writer Adam Gopnik, reckoned that Avedon saw Mandy Patinkin’s one-man show 35 times in the space of a summer. “He lived for performance,” Mr. Gopnik said.
It’s probable that as a teenager in New York in the early ’40s — Avedon dropped out of DeWitt Clinton High School and enlisted in the merchant marine, where he learned basic photography — he saw not so much the fashion in the streets as the cosmopolitan gestures that animated it. Movement entered his pictures for Harper’s Bazaar soon after he arrived there. Storytelling followed, especially once he began shooting the Paris collections and invented street scenes for models like Dovima and Dorian Leigh, or his first wife, Doe Avedon.
Already on the masthead at Bazaar was Martin Munkacsi, the Hungarian-born photographer whose action shots impressed Henri Cartier-Bresson, among others. In later years, when he discussed his beginnings, Avedon often made Munkacsi out to be a more distant figure than he was, according to the exhibition’s curators, Carol Squiers and Vince Aletti.
Then again, Avedon always maintained that in every picture he was photographing himself. When Ms. Squiers asked the photographer Lillian Bassman, who spent summers with Avedon and their families on Fire Island, why he had his models running — or laughing — she replied: “Did you ever meet Dick? He was always jumping around.”
Outdoor shots and innovative photography were part of the terrain at Bazaar in the ’40s and ’50s. The cultural life in New York similarly enriched the work of other photographers, notably Irving Penn, who was at Vogue and who would be Avedon’s friend and rival for the next 40 years. So what made Avedon different?
HE was keenly aware that beauty had an element of tragedy — it faded, for one thing, or it came at a terrible loss of self. Growing up, Avedon heard his mother say to his sister Louise, who would eventually die, at 42, in a mental institution, “You’re so beautiful you don’t have to open your mouth.” This notion that beauty can be intoxicating but, equally, impoverishing to the soul, Ms. Squiers said, tinged Avedon’s early pictures with a feeling of compassion.
And it may never have completely left him. A photograph he made in 1998 of a robotic-looking model wearing a mouth plug seemed to circle back to his sister. Such pictures, made when he was a staff photographer at The New Yorker, suggested Avedon’s long view of fashion, but also a distinct side of his personality. “There was a real sadness about him,” said Norma Stevens, who joined his studio in 1976 and today runs the Richard Avedon Foundation. “He loved working, and he would be up for that. But it was like a performance. After that there would be a drop.”
Drawn to theatrical performers, Avedon took numerous portraits when he was at Bazaar, and, like Penn, derived a lot of artistic satisfaction from them. Yet into the ’60s, influenced by the Civil Rights movement and the poets of the counterculture, the portraits acquired a hardness that made critics question Avedon’s right to be more than a fashion photographer. An eviscerating review in 1964 by Robert Brustein of “Nothing Personal,” the book Avedon did with James Baldwin, left him unable to do serious projects for the next five years.
The crisis also affected his fashion work. “You can see he’s been knocked off his game in a lot of those pictures,” Ms. Squiers said. In 1965, Avedon left Bazaar and followed his close ally, Diana Vreeland, to Vogue. As at Bazaar, Vreeland gave him free rein and, more important, said Mr. Aletti, the curator, protected him from the interference of Vogue’s art director, Alexander Liberman.
Surprisingly, Avedon’s pictures in the ’60s of models like Twiggy and Penelope Tree were seen by some critics as anti-fashion. Avedon — the ’50s golden boy, the inspiration for Fred Astaire’s suave character in the movie “Funny Face” — was now savaging beauty and elegance. Not only was he fleeing from the confines of fashion magazines, he was also seeking revenge.
COMMENTS of this sort make you wonder how much the critics knew about fashion. If anything, Avedon’s stripped-down aesthetic and motion are representative of the era’s frenetic energy.
Mr. Gopnik, who first met Avedon in 1985 when the photographer was completing his series of portraits called “In the American West,” believes the attacks were motivated by jealousy and envy. People resented the famous, good-looking man who took such delight in his work and, at the same time, kept exploring new areas. “I don’t think it’s any more complicated than that,” Mr. Gopnik said.
Avedon’s photography has always amounted to a plea for beauty — to see it mysterious, to see it raw but ultimately to see it whole. To view his portraits in the ’50s and ’60s is to see the flip side of the decades’ stylish obsessions. And whether the faces were beautiful or ravaged, famous or not, the portraits relentlessly informed the fashion images, and vice versa.
Certainly by the ’90s, with notions like Prada’s ugly beauty, the categories of beauty had dissolved. For Avedon, though, the lines had faded long before, if they were ever that clear. Perhaps the famous “Avedon blur” expressed the futility, even the tragedy, of permanent beliefs.
“I certainly think — I know — that the apparent line between his fashion photography and his portraits was false, that he saw it as continuous work,” Mr. Gopnik said, adding that Avedon was amused at how people could look at the empty face of a model and find it more beautiful than the worn face of a coal miner. “It was not an affectation on his part,” he said. The I.C.P. exhibition, picking up where the 1978 Metropolitan show left off and allowing the first complete view of Avedon’s fashion photography, strips away the last shadows on his art.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
From Style.Com:
Q&A
Paul Rowland: Model Maker
February 12, 2009 11:50 am
For Paul Rowland, “pretty” is not enough. Not that he has anything against a good-looking girl—Rowland is, after all, the founder of the modeling agencies Women and Supreme. Over the past 20 years he’s helped launch the careers of models Naomi Campbell, Kate Moss, Elle Macpherson, and Carmen Kass, to name a few familiar faces. So he sees “pretty” all the time, but it’s the stuff going on behind those cheekbones that gets Rowland’s heart racing—especially when he’s taking pictures. Building on his work as Supreme’s house photographer, Rowland has carved out a second career for himself behind the camera: As well as shooting Supreme’s keepsake show packages each season, his work has been featured in V and EXIT, and in December Rowland mounted his first-ever solo show at Miami Art Basel. Titled Transformations, the show spotlighted his obsession with getting his subjects to tell a story before the lens. “Models can be very hard to photograph,” Rowland notes. “Their job is to make clothes look good, and more often than not, all they can give the camera is a pose. My challenge is to coax a girl into giving something of herself.” Tonight, Transformations takes up temporary residence in New York City, opening at the Women/Supreme space in west Chelsea. In advance of his debut before the hometown crowd, Rowland talked to Style.com about the art that goes into making faces.
I understand you moved to New York city to be a painter. How did you wind up one of the grand pooh-bahs of the modeling business, instead?
Oh, you know how these things happen—you move to the city to do one thing, and then you wind up waiting tables. I wasn’t crazy about being a waiter, so when I got to know some fashion people and the fashion people told me I should model, I jumped. The modeling led to booking, and the booking led to my opening Women, and so on. There was never a grand plan. For a long time I just figured I was stashing money away so I could paint.
Both Women and Supreme have earned reputations as go-to agencies for girls with an unusual look. Was that happenstance, as well?
No, that much was purposeful. I’m not really interested in apple pie, all-American beauty. I appreciate it, but it doesn’t compel me. Whereas I have this art background seared in my head, so when I look at a girl and there’s that instant reference—like, she’s got a Modigliani face—that’s the beauty that takes me in. At the time I launched Women, unconventional beauty needed a champion. Now, I look around at who’s working, and it’s clear that I’ve managed to change our ideas about what’s beautiful, at least a little bit. But you can always push the envelope. That’s why I opened Supreme. We take some very edgy girls there.
When pictures of potential new models cross your desk, do the ones that could be stars jump out at you immediately?
Yes and no. You learn to spot potential. For one example, I remember seeing Polaroids of Kylie Bax—she was just this kid from Australia, 20 pounds overweight, with a bad perm. But you shape that, because you see something there. It’s a gut instinct.
What led you to take up photography? Were you looking for a creative outlet?
I got into photography for entirely practical reasons. You sign a new girl, it’s not like she’s out working with Steven Meisel the next day. You have to help her build the book. I’d always have these ideas in mind, the image of a girl that I wanted to convey, but no matter how hard I tried to explain what I wanted, the test shots other photographers took always came back not so great. Some of them were pretty hideous, in fact. As far as I was concerned, I could do better myself—I mean, if you’re a creative person, at some level you figure you have the ability to apply that creativity however you want. So I hired an assistant and started shooting. There was lots of stuff I did like that. I’d cut hair, too.
Many of the images in Transformations are taken from the Supreme show packages you shoot each season. Those show packages are always so ornate—they go way above and beyond the demands of, you know, here are a bunch of headshots.
I had this idea a little while ago—why not create this directional book twice a year that people would actually want to keep? I’d like them to be collectibles. I’m not sure we’re quite there yet, but that’s where my head is.
It’s great marketing. Those show packages definitely make an impression.
People really get into them. And they’re satisfying to work on, on a lot of levels. I mean, I get to work with my girls, which I always like to do, and they trust me, so I get a lot out of them. It was when I began sending out the show packages I’d shot that I began to feel
like I was on to something with photography—the feedback was generally great, and people started asking me to shoot other things, too. And the whole Transformations show at Basel came out of someone seeing a show package and being intrigued.
Do you have any particular favorite images in the show?
There are a set of four nudes, one of which we used as the photo on the invitation. EXIT magazine asked me shoot a nude series, which I’d never done before, and I was really pleased with how they came out. It’s sort of an Arbus take on a nude. The lighting and everything is pretty classic, but there’s just that something that’s a little off. A little sinister. I like that. That’s what tells a story.
Those shots are very revealing. I mean, not just in the physical sense, but also in that you got something quite weird and personal from the model.
That’s what I’m always trying to capture—that weird, personal thing. And it’s the hardest part of the job. You have to convince your subject to go on this trip with you. You have to make them understand that they’re telling the story, too. The good models, they get that eventually. And the great ones, like Kate Moss for example, they get it instantly. They go somewhere off in their own heads. That’s why some people make millions and millions of dollars, and some other people fade away. Trust me, it’s got nothing to do with being cute.
Maya Singer
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
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