terry richardson
Paris Vogue: The (other) Cover Story
It’s the all important AIDS issue. So it’s important you send out a thought-provoking and powerful message. So what says AIDS more than a cover with a load of photoshopped actresses who don’t have AIDS? I mean you could ring out their collective foreheads and re-freeze the polar icecaps with all that botox but I don’t think that would help. (Not that it matters when you’re gonna airbrush any smidgen of humanity out of the picture anyway). And then you add Bono to the mix (who features on another cover), whose ego compensates for about about 20 million people which is about the same number as those infected with the virus, so I can kind of see the connection there. And as this is the AIDS issue, of course hire photographers recently outed for spunking on models i.e. Terry Richardson who was hired for a couple of shoots for this edition.So, its AIDS, but not as we know it.
Like, don’t put a HIV+ model on the cover or anything like that… that’s too much AIDS. No, no. We need frozen-faced Hollywood, a prototype for the US-style celebrity-driven hard-sell, and solidarity for perverts.
So, in honour of the good taste and sound judgement demonstrated by editor Carine Roitfeld, I’m nominating Alexsandro Palombo’s cover - featuring the lady herself and her darling Uncle Spunk.
So here, we can see what appears to be hetrosexual couple (the fastest growing risk group), perhaps about to initiate love-making, (a possible point of infection), the thumbs up and happy expressions (showing AIDS/HIV is not a death sentence), an implied promiscuous male (most likely carriers), and the trademark red (featured on underpants, fingernails, etc.)
Who could argue - when the two are juxtaposed - which sends a clearer, honest and more relevant message for a magazine that is supposed to be promoting awareness?
I think I’m actually serious about this too…
(Sasha)
Carry-On Jersey Shore by Terry Richardson.
He was only ever one expensive lense away from the kind of guy who rubs his crotch against you on crowded trains, yet only last month Terry Richardson’s work set the unholy precedent for the fa-shun. The powers that be ramming Tezza’s perv’s eye view down everyone’s throat to the point where it felt not okay to think his pics weren’t ok.But they weren’t ok.
I mean this guy managed to get us to think ‘teenage genitals’ when buying a freakin t-shirt (along with that other stand out, wouldn’t-leave-your-kids-with Dov Charney.) So model Jamie Peck’s damning account of her afternoon with ‘Uncle Terry’ really has given his work a whole new aesthetic (to me anyway). I mean now that I can’t take the guy seriously, nothing he does seems shocking so much as massively camp a la Carry-On films of the 60’s/70’s.
A sandwich?? Oh Matron!
(Btw, I fucking hated the Carry-On films. They were terminally unfunny and about as sexy as stomach ulcers.)
Anyway, go here for Interview magazine who no doubt still hawk his stuff as edgy, raw and ablah,blah,blah fat squirrel.
(Sasha)
And I agree with Lifelounge; the Goddess Bar Raf has no business in amongst that hulabaloo.
Erin Wasson for Pinko FW09/10 Ad Campaign
Terry Richardson shot the new Erin Wasson for Pinko AW09/10 campaign. You can check out the rest of the images at trendland. x (Fe)
