photos, Visual Journal

Psychadelic Furs @ Santa Monica Pier

 

To further my experience in the field of public media, I joined KCRW’s summer marketing internship at the beginning of May. If you aren’t from Southern California, KCRW is Santa Monica NPR, broadcast around the Greater Los Angeles area as 89.9fm. Along with clerical work and selling merch and memberships at events all over the city, I write blog posts as well as take photos for the nonprofit organization.

Here is a gallery of photos I took for KCRW while covering the Psychadelic Furs/Day Wave Twilight Series concert on July 21. With the stunning scenery of the stage set up and the vibrancy of their performances, it wasn’t hard to capture the marvel of both acts.

KCRW Presents Psychadelic Furs, Day Wave 7/21/2016

—Tyler

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Visual Journal

Gray-Scales

I’m always astonished whenever I unearth a roll of mystery film, aging away on my desk underneath a pyramid of cameras. When I developed this particular roll of expired black & white film, I became elated that the exposures were decorated with grainy undertones and natural vignettes. The organic manipulation (which many aspire to achieve through filters) and element of surprise always inspires me to go back to shooting film. Enjoy!

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—Tyler

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In My Headphones, words

Bless the Telephone

I forgot about this gem until I found Labi Siffre hanging in a friend’s top listened to artists. Even though I first discovered this ditty in my high school Pandora days, it draws me back to the first semester after I graduated from college during my long-distance relationship. Anyone who’s ever waited and wished by the phone to glow their lover’s names can find shelter in the familiar lyrics. The tender fingerpicking, the sincerity of the lyrics–which compose a dance between love being “nice” and “strange”–and the soothing range of his vocals all come together to paint an Impressionist portrait of love.

—Tyler

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Vibe Journal, words

Coastal Behaviours

Aww sookie sookie now, here comes a heat wave. Summer solstice turned the world over on its hot back. California is melting, sinking, and burning all at once, and I’ve never felt better. Ditch the beach body stigma and throw on a pair of rose-tinted sunnies. The only rule to summer is to play fairly and let it out (let it alllll hang out). Don’t have air-conditioning and looking for a way to survive?

Play this mixtape:


Cast these music videos:

You know you dat bitch when you cause all dis conversation. Thank you Beyonce for showing us how black excellence can be portrayed without inherent sexism and how major label pop artists can use their fame as a vehicle for social protest.

I’m so stoked to see these Chicago natives rock out The Echoplex this Friday 6/24!!! Twin Peaks’ new album, Down In Heaven, is a summer surf anthem with a slew of up and down bangers. Ne-Hi is opening for them so get ready for a geeked up review.

Chance the Rapper’s new mixtape Coloring Book, is by far the most admirable album of 2016. His ability to balance mainstream and underground loyalty, while pushing forward with a modern-aged distrust of major-label edge, is both stunning and incomparable. This single in particular reveals Chance’s poetic ascension to one of rap’s greats.

Bear Salon—née Ghetto Bears—is a Boston-based band of five Berklee’s College of Music students, who are also five of my dearest college friends and sweethearts. This is one of their most sincere ballads, and it’ll probably never stop swimming into my ears. (If you’re vibing def go follow them on Bandcamp and petition them to release their album).

I knew I was going to be blown away by this performance when I read the rumors of Rihanna getting vocal lessons just to hit these notes. Drawing on the emotional triumph and yearning detailed in this tenderly expressed song, it manages to defy the narrow stream of poppy or clubby material, overall heightening her artistry.

Surf internet art and feel the feels:

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“Love” by Frank Viva for the (6/20) New Yorker magazine cover

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Arthur Ferrier, 1928

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Edward Hopper, Summer Evening, 1947

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Traci Lords in Cry-Baby hissing at a basic bitch

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Groovy 60s prints for technicolor inspo

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To the popsicles and corn dogs and sweaty bras and flip flops and bucket hats and rose-tinted sunglasses and 9pm sunsets of summer eves.

—Tyler

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Visual Journal

Bedroom Portraits

PUSH PLAY

I starting putting shit up on my walls when I was 11 and realized my mom would never let me chop my hair off. My four bedroom walls became the only appearance I could express in my externalized portrayal of angst and internalized confusion. My four bedroom walls were where the creation first exploded. When the walls soaked up all the tears and screams and howls of my pubescent rollercoaster, my four bedroom walls told the story of my own personal history and culture.

This mini-documentary series expresses the chronology of my bedroom–and the girl living in it.

The old Mickey Mouse stencil still dances inside of my eyelids every night. He dances the same dance I used to rattle when I was a bambina. Rattling for hours and hours until finally, I surrender to sleep.

– TB

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Visual Journal

A Couple of California Christmases Ago

LOS ANGELES (2008) — I’m 13 years old and still have yet to discover skinny jeans or even Bob Dylan.

It was an early walk on a lovely day around the hood with my new digital Kodak point-and-shoot. Another Christmas and another digital camera that I could take pictures of my friends with and then break while trying to take more pictures of my friends. My test run with my new gadget turned a visual focus on my first community in order to capture the play of raw sunlight with gentle shadows.124_0230 124_0172 124_0161  124_0163 124_0171 124_0173 124_0180 124_0181 124_0183 124_0199 124_0201 124_0202  124_0206 124_0207 124_0208 124_0165 124_0209 124_0211 124_0212 124_0219  124_0220 124_0221 124_0222 124_0223 124_0224 124_0226 124_0228

– TB

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In My Headphones

Will There Be Enough Water?

SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA IS BURNING.

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This is the fourth day morning in a row I’ve woken up in California, and the entire Southland is singed with wildfires. Even though all the windows in the house are open, the sun is melting the worse of her rays onto our brown backs. The flames are licking from the dry brushes of Los Angeles’s native hills. The air becomes heavy and the red glow tints the blue skies.

California is smoldering underneath my feet and kicked into full-fledged fire season. The brush fires are-a blazin’ down by San Diego way, and as Mashable stated in this well-crafted package on the California wildfires, this outlandish early summer fire behavior is due to the intense drought California has faced while I’ve been away at school.

Everything moves phantasmically in this desertlike weather. It’s hard to breathe, eat, think, drive or smoke. At any moment my nose could rupture into a profuse nosebleed.

All I can do is wait. Wait to drink another bottle of water, wait until the cool breezes of summer nights blow the scorch of the day, and wait for the rain to wash us out.

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