OLGA & VAL REI, 19, NEW YORK, NY
This one’s for you. Not another trendy magazine full of pictures by grown ups who think they know what youth culture is all about. Nope. Not even remotely. This magazine comes from you. The words are written by you, the pictures taken by you. The stuff that germinates in your head spews forth here on the pages of a real, live magazine. We started Look-Look four years ago when we were slightly younger but no less disillusioned with the real world. We quit our jobs and formed our own company–a company devoted to getting your ideas heard by deal makers, corporate shakers and others who theoretically wear suits. But we digress. Back to the magazine. It’s yours. From us to you. From you to us. The first magazine of its kind, one made up wholly of submissions from the inside of the outsiders’ minds.
Enjoy the ride.
MICHELLE KIVMAN, 20 Los Angeles, CA
NINA GAISIE, 25 Copenhagen, Denmark “Not Black. Not White. Just Nina.”
CHRISTOPHER BETTIG, 26 Los Angeles, CA
TIFFANY LOON, 16 Hilton Head Is., SC “This is for my family and Team Look-Look!”
JON MOSIER, 27 East Lansing, MI
DANIELLE SAXE, 30 Los Angeles, CA “Art is my life.”
ANTHONY LANGFORD, 15 St. Cloud, MN “Greet and depart with a kiss, hug, and a smile.”
REBECCA WOOLF, 22 Los Angeles, CA
CHARLIE EISNER, 16 Los Angeles, CA
ADAM BRAGG 1983-2002 Richmond, VA
WILL STERNS, 22 Los Angeles, CA “The only pictures that haven’t been made are of things that haven’t happened yet.”
MIKE SONKSEN, 26
GIA COPPOLA, 16 Los Angeles, CA
ERIC JAMES, 19 Minneapolis, MN
TJ HOOKER, 26 Los Angeles, CA “Don’t shoot the breeze about it, be about it.”
OLGA & VAL REI, 19 New York, NY
AMANDA RICKEN, 26 Stone Ridge, NY
IVY ABUELENCIA, 23 Vancouver, BC “Rock ‘n’ roll is good for the soul.”
Los Angeles, CA
We have ulterior motives. And they’re all good. 100% of the net profits from the sale and sponsorship of Look-Look Magazine goes to the advancement of young people in the arts. It was our original intention to donate the net profits from this magazine to existing charities that supported advancement in the arts. However, once we realized that unless we practiced a little censorship on the content of the magazine, these charities would refuse to be associated with us, we decided to form our own organization. It was always our intention to publish your work the way you sent it to us—without regard for the explicit nature of the content. And in order to keep true to our mission, we have taken matters into our own hands. The Look-Look Arts Foundation was formed to give grants to young people to help them get to the next level in their artistic endeavors. Whether it is money for something as simple as a new camera or something as complex as scholarship funding, our intention is to give funds where they will make the most difference.
KELLY NUXOLL, 25 New York, NY
JOHN CALDWELL, 19 Pacific Palisades, CA “I like fresh pineapple.”
KATE GREENBERG, 22 New York, NY
LOUIE EISNER, 15 Los Angeles, CA “If you want to be cool, cut holes in your pants.”
ANALISA XAVIER, 19
DYLAN KRAFT, 13
Yorba Linda, CA
East Hampton, NY
AARON HOWELL, 26 San Francisco, CA “Today’s art is a living history of everything before it.”
SHERRY SPENCER, 30 Berlin, Germany
MICHAEL KUHLE, 26 Brooklyn, NY
PB, 26 Brooklyn, NY “I’m trying the bars, I’m using a saw, I’m not going anywhere.”
HEATHER MAXWELL, 26 EDDIE HENRY, 16 Vancouver, BC Los Angeles, CA “I’ve never felt a day in my life an obligation to make sense.”
ANNA AGAPIOU, 28 Los Angeles, CA “K.I.T. Have a bitchin’ summer!”
MATT STROTHER, 25 Palm Springs, CA
LINDSEY DELAHANTY, 21, Chicago, IL
BEILY PAN, 17 San Diego, CA
ANGEL SCHATZ, 25 Austin, TX
JILL KAUFMAN, 27 New York, NY
CONTRIBUTORS NOT PICTURED HERE: ELIZABETH REED, 21, Frederick, MD, DANIELLE ROBERTS, 13, Los Angeles, CA, MATT GRIFFITHS, 20, Perth, Australia, JESSE COVARRUBIO, 21, San Bernardino, CA, HARLEMM LEE, 28, Los Angeles, CA, BRIAN DEAN, 19, Richmond, VA, KODY DOUGHERTY, 16, Virginia Bch., VA, MARCUS ACOSTA, 15, San Bernardino, CA, JOE A. CASILLAS, 29, Chino, CA, DOMINIC HAMILTON, 17, Los Angeles, CA
Special Thanks 101 Coffee Shop, American Apparel, Apple Computer, Jeff Ayeroff, Serge Becker, Laura Bergthold, Moses Berkson, Audrey Berstein, Kathy Bushkin, Alex Calderwood, Dov Charney, Nikos Constant, Clare Crespo, Terry Curtin, Warner Ebbink, Eric Eisner, Kim France, Nina Garduno, Malcolm Gladwell, Charlie Gunn, Tamee Gunnell, Howard Handler, Paul Jasmin, Dr. Kenji Kitatani, Lori Lambert, Doug Lloyd, Gail Lyon, Sean MacPherson, Jessica Marshall, John McCauley, Rebecca Nevitt, John Osborne, Brigitte Sire, Bob Stohrer, Jodi Sweetbaum, Eli Teller, Apple Via, Wade Weigel, David Wohlberg, James Yaffe Created and Published by: DeeDee Gordon and Sharon Lee, Creative Directors: Lisa Eisner and Román Alonso of Greybull Press, Editor: Cat Doran, Original Magazine Design: Art Dump, Cover Logo Design: Lloyd & Co., Public Relations: Nadine Johnson and Associates, Exhibition Curator: Aaron Rose, Look-Look Magazine Staff: Anna Agapiou, Lauren Edson, Danielle Saxe, Look-Look Crew: Nancy Callahan, Ben Cooley, Anton Dembowski, Sigalle Feig, Jill Kaufman, Beth Lemkin, Michelle Madden, Brandie Mellen, Liana Morgado, Danielle Ohana, Marc Precilla, Erin Robin, Jodie Snyder, Look-Look Interns: Emma Dan, Kate Greenberg, Pierre Oger, Andrea Wurster, Cover Art: Louie Eisner, 15, Los Angeles, CA, Back Cover Photo: Tiffany Loon, 16, Hilton Head Is., SC
ÂŠ 2003 Look-Look Inc. All worldwide rights reserved.
LOOK-L INSIDE OOK Mailbox
, Etc. Rants, ra ves, and letters Out and About Style fro m Photogra the streets of V anc phs by Iv How To y Abuele ouver, New Yo rk ncia, PB , TJ Hoo , and Los Ange Build yo le ker and ur very o Danielle s wn low ri S axe der bike Posses by Marc sed us Acos ta Candy, hair colo r and bla obsessio ck ns by Iv y Abuele shoes - one gir l’s ncia Word U p (Poetr y) Punk Is… by Kody Dear Jo hn by E Dougherty ric Jame Haiku b s y Danie lle Robe 3x by D rts ylan Kra ft Your Lo ve Kicks My Ass by John Smells Caldwell Like… Drawing s by Lou ie Eisne r inspire Open P d by R. ages Crumb Photogra phs by A d Journal Pages b am Bragg y Eddie Henry A New Genera tion Artists s ho Aaron H wcase their work owell an d Nina G - photographs by aisie Anti-Ce nterfold Frederik Solberg : an anti dote to P People layboy I Like Up the D os band Via age: an intervie w Injection by Anali with straight ed ge sa Xavie Mind’s r Eye
Twisted: a photos b tour of tornado devasta y Will Ste tion rns
- text an d Word U p (Pros e) Ga$ 4 C err Freelanc itos by Mike So nksen e First L a In Prais e of Our dy by Kelly Nux oll Blessed Six Day Lady by s in Hell Kelly Nu by Eliza xoll beth Re ed Photo G eograph ic Photogra phs by G Amanda ia Copp ola, Jon Ricken, Mosier, Matt Str Sherry S O other, A pencer, ngel Sch lga & Val Rei, Heather Lindsey atz, Nin Maxwell Delahan a Ga , Charlie ty, Harle Beily Pa Eisner, K isie, m n, Rebe ate Gree cca Woo m Lee, Danielle n lf Saxe, E ric Jame berg, s,
62 64 65 66
ANNA AGAPIOU, 28, LOS ANGELES, CA
MAILBOX ETC Dear um-whoever, I would have never figured that there were people out there that did that kind of thing and have such an advantage over consumers, knowing so far in advance what is going to be in style, mainstream, etc. I apologize for the pointless email and I know that you guys probably don’t have to read things such as this but I just wanted to comment and say that ... wow. I really am amazed by what you guys do. Avery
Look-Look, Just wanted to let you know that you guys fucking suck. Stealing and manipulating youth culture to turn a profit. You do things such as popularize corny terms such as bling-bling. With our weakening economy, hopefully companies like you will go under. The sad part is that in order to start and run a company like yours you need to be both intelligent and know what’s up. Instead
I totally dig the concept of your site. Kids like me being able to voice our opinions and get paid for it. I love it. I’m yours anytime you need me. Seth Hey Look-Look! I write a lot and my friends do a lot of artwork and we need a space! LookLook might be interested in showcasing something that is so important to us, and we don’t have any other outlet... galleries or magazines won’t take our art seriously but to me, it is not based on how good the art is. My creativity is what keeps me going day to day, and I think this is a major part of who we are as a culture. Please consider making artwork a priority! Jesse Seriously, feeding babies to capitalists doesn’t sound like the most spiritually fulfilling enterprise. A more direct approach might be to simply hide in schoolyards until recess and then just take kids’ money. You should be feeling shame for what you do. Please stop killing humanity. Donald
of creating an entity for corporations to abuse youth culture, why not use your creativity for something that actually benefits youth. You are like MTV, you take good things and make them bad. Look-Look, Bling-Bling...both the same. Just small blips on the screen which will be gone in a few years. I hope your founders get hit by a Hollywood tour bus, right in front of the Michael Jackson star. Sorry about being so pissed. I don’t really mean it all except that Look-Look sucks-sucks. Bill
ILLUSTRATION BY ANTHONY LANGFORD, 15, ST.CLOUD, FL
Hello Look-Look People, My name is Virginia and I’m sending you an email today because I feel like your company could be useful to people like me, that is to say people from the unknown underground youth... the way young people actually do art is as important as the things they buy and like. I am a photographer who also does some kind of collages/artwork and I was wondering if maybe you would be into looking at my stuff for an eventual visual project. Let me know if you’re interested. Virginia I want a reply, comment, question, I don’t care what. If a person reads this, thank you a thousand times over. Most companies have less class than you. I can only assume that you’ll also read the OTHER Emails I sent (I’m not obsessive, just haven’t anything better to do.. if I were a hacker I would probably be trying 4 billion passwords on Microsoft or crafting a new virus or something- but since I’m not, I’ll send Emails to you guys). I heard about you on PBS and thought, “Hey, I could do that”. And I could. Please respond so I can go find something more constructive to do than badger you people. Dave I’m tired of all this hippy BS. How ‘bout you guys come over to my house and take a picture of me beating up protesters? Robert
JON MOSIER, 27, EAST LANSING, MI
OUT AND ABOUT THE STYLE OF THREE CITIES
Vancouver / New York / Los Angeles PHOTOS BY:
Ivy Abuelencia, 23, VANCOUVER, PB, 27, BROOKLYN, TJ Hooker, 26, LOS ANGELES, Danielle Saxe, 30, LOS ANGELES, Dominic Hamilton, 17, LOS ANGELES,
BC NY CA CA CA
HOW TO STEP BY STEP INSTRUCTIONS
My name is Marcus Acosta and I am 15 years old. I live across from the community center, Home Neighborly Serves. I started going to the home about a year ago and would play pool and basketball. I heard them talk about starting a project for youth, a low rider bike club. I said yes, I have one hanging in my garage. My brother and I go to the home to stay off the streets and be with our friends. Since the bike club I think I am more aware of my surroundings and I have a chance to ask questions about situations and how I should handle them. We get invited to lots of events. I even got to participate in parades and we made a commercial. I am proud of my bike. I know itâ€™s more than a bike club, it teaches us that we choose to be drug free and still be among our friends. We come together as a group and we try to stay focused on our future. I donâ€™t want to be another boy that comes from the West Side and never accomplishes much in life. I like art, maybe I can do something with that. By Marcus Acosta, 15, San Bernardino, CA
MANUEL COVARRUBIO, 11, SAN BERNARDINO, CA
BOBBY COVARRUBIO, 18, SAN BERNARDINO, CA
MARCUS ACOSTA, 15, SAN BERNARDINO, CA
ARMANDO FERRIA, 15, SAN BERNARDINO, CA
How To Build A Bike
ILLUSTRATIONS AND INSTRUCTIONS BY JESSE COVARRUBIO, 21, SAN BERNARDINO, CA
B STEP 1: THE PARTS
A. TWISTED FORKS B. CRANK
C. LUCKY SEVEN SPROCKET D. PEDALS E. BANANA SEAT F. BACK FENDER G. FRONT FENDER H.SISSY BAR I. HANDLE BARS
J. GRIPS K. CHAIN L. FRONT & BACK RIMS WITH WHITE WALL TIRES
STEP 2: FIND A BIKE AND BEGIN SANDING. MAKE SURE IT’S SMOOTH
BEFORE YOU SPRAY THE PRIMER ON IT. MAKE SURE ALL THE PAINT IS REMOVED.
STEP 3: LOOK THROUGH A COLOR CHART AND FIND A COLOR
COMPLETE LET IT DRY.
YOU LIKE. PREPARE YOUR BIKE FOR PAINT. WHEN THE FRAME IS
STEP 4: A. INSTALL HANDLEBARS INTO GOOSENECK B. INSTALL GOOSE NECK & HANDLE BARS INTO FRAME AS SHOWN
C. INSTALL SEAT INTO SEAT POST. THEN TIGHTEN BOLTS TO SECURE SEAT. D. TIGHTEN FENDER BRACES. E. TIGHTEN REAR FENDER TO FRAME F. TIGHTEN FENDER TO FORK. G. TIGHTEN BRACES
STEP 5: A. INSTALL GRIPS. B. INSTALL SISSY BOLT TO SEAT. C. BOLT SISSY BAR BRACKETS. D. GREASE BEARINGS. E. BOLT ON CRANK & SPROCKET.
B C C F D
POSSESSED AN INSIDE LOOK AT ONE LIFE
I’m just admitting complete vanity— how vain I am. I think all girls have it, but I’m actually admitting it. I’m obsessed with my hair.
Every morning, it’s a really big pro-
duction with too much hair spray and too much product. I’m going for the trashy mullet look so everyday I tease it as much as I can and get it as messy as I can. I’ve probably gone through the entire color wheel already except for orange and yellow. It’s pretty fried. I have an ongoing obsession with dyeing my hair and matching it to my outfits. It’s pink and black right now. Purple was probably my favorite. I didn’t do it on purpose, but I only have black shoes. Isn’t that sad? I’m trying to branch out with a little more color like red or electric pink in my wardrobe. The stuffed animals are like my childhood friends. They’re in the closet but I secretly still like them. The chocolate is an addiction. My day goes like this: I put on my makeup, pick out my clothes, pick what black shoes to wear and go into the kitchen and figure out what chocolate to eat. Chocolate, coffee and meat. The staples.
Interview with Ivy Abuelencia, 23, Vancouver, BC 21
PHOTOS BY IVY ABUELENCIA, 23, VANCOUVER, BC
By Kody Dougherty, 16, Virginia Beach, VA
Photo by Lindsey Delahanty, 21, Chicago, IL
Dear John Hey, I want you to know that I really appreciated the compliment of your being interested in me, but that I must respectfully decline any future propositions due to my own orientation. I know the last time you asked me to a movie while I was heading towards Holland Hall I was a bit abrasive and perhaps even a bit disrespectful. I sincerely apologize for that conduct and any emotional damage I may have caused, though please recognize it doesn’t change my orientation. By all means, I hope the best for you in terms of finding the right person. I’m sure it will happen sooner than later, so keep your eyes open, but your mind cautious so it doesn’t create gaps that aren’t necessarily there. The best of luck to you. I’d like it if you would give me some space for the time being, and perhaps next year, when your interest is elsewhere, we can pursue a completely platonic based friendship, until that is possible though, please respect my wishes for distance. Again, good luck in your future endeavors. Have a good one. Respectful Goodbye, —Tom
Eric James, 19, Minneapolis, MN
3x Falling showers now Cup your hands and spring up from Ground catching showers, hands Oracle life, meaning, magic, dreams Soul finder, flowers, wanting Knowing how we move Blue string, Delicious cherries, They Dylan Kraft, 13, East Hampton, NY
As she walks She counts her steps Never looking back Danielle Roberts, 13, Los Angeles, CA
Your love kicks my ass I fall down to the ground, And roll around in the grass Cause your love is just kicking my ass I know kung fu But I’ve got no defense to you Your love leaves me on the ground Rolling around in the grass Your love just kicks my ass I grasp for something to hold on to But my whole world has been turned upside down What is it about you That keeps knocking me to the ground Your love kicks my ass so definitely Your kisses are as dangerous as Bruce fucking Lee I’m gasping for a breath, For now all of life and death Has hit me upside the head It’s just like I said I know kung fu But I’ve got no defense to you Any more would just be cruel I’ll always lose When it comes to the duel Your love comes out swinging I’m so happy I’m singing And before I know it, I’m down Your love leaves me on the ground Rolling around in the grass Your love just kicks my ass John Caldwell, 19, Pacific Palisades , CA 27
SMELLS LIKE... A SKETCHBOOK UNDER THE INFLUENCE
ILLUSTRATIONS BY LOUIE EISNER, 15, LOS ANGELES, CA
SMEL LIKE. LS ..
INSIDE MY HEAD: ONE PERSON’S PHOTOGRAPHS
ADAM BRAGG, RICHMOND, VA
I pleaded with my friend to come down from the tree. Adam would have none of it. He scampered further out on the limb, hanging from his knees high above the deceitfully calm river. Raindrops danced on the water and a stiff breeze howled along the shore. Just as I turned to flee this bedlam, a lightning bolt exploded in the distance to betray Adam beaming down on me. At that moment, I forgot all of my fears and became engulfed by an overwhelming sense of warmth and complacency. I felt as though I had just received a glimpse of the world through Adam’s eyes, and I couldn’t believe what I had seen. Blissful contentment. Unequivocal love. A sense of understanding in a sea of confusion and ambiguity. His camera was there too—up in that tree. It was there a few days later when he captured his favorite picture on film: myself and another friend plunging headfirst into the depths below. His camera accompanied him everywhere. A firm believer in the credo that our characters are carved by our circumstances, I feel that I am who I am today largely because of Adam. I forever will be affected by our friendship. While we were together in this world, Adam taught me to see my surroundings through his eyes, through his lens. And though I no longer have Adam to help me focus on the good in my life, I do have his pictures. We all have his pictures. Brian Dean 08.04.03
ADAM BRAGG 1983-2002
INSIDE MY HEAD: ONE PERSON’S JOURNAL
WITH HELP FROM ERIN FEARS, 16, LOS ANGELES, CA
EDDIE HENRY, 16, LOS ANGELES, CA
CODY, 22, HOLLYWOOD, CA Art’s not like some little thing to me, it’s like that’s how I live. I don’t like have some nine to five shit. It’s my whole focus. It’s like my life. I live art, go out and paint at night, like wake up and paint, sit around. That’s about it. Like a lot of this shit, I was just like kicking it, fucking making money and like, like just fucking experimenting. I like to make a lot of new shit, type shit.
THOMAS ØSTERGAARD, 22, COPENHAGEN, DENMARK “If you think 2 + 2 is 4, you’re wrong. 2 + 2 is 3 for them and 1 for you.”
JOSH BECKMAN, 28, LOS ANGELES, CA
DWAIN, 28, SACRAMENTO, CA
For a long time I thought about those control panels, not that I’m into the idea of control so much, but they just remind me of sci-fi control panels from B movies and Logan’s Run type stuff. You know, it’s the Star Wars as opposed to the Star Trek where it’s all knobs and big old hunks of heat sinks and stuff like that as opposed to this smooth panel where you just wave your hand over it. It’s push button as opposed to touch screen.
Well, sometimes you know, you get pissed off doing pieces of art on canvas because it just doesn’t stick right and the colors bleed sometimes but most of the time what inspires me is just the colors and just basically trying to put everything together into one piece of art. I mean, I try not to look at other people’s art work so my style doesn’t change because then it’s just biting off other people’s stuff and I don’t dig that, cause then you don’t really have your own freedom of choice of what you want to do. You always go back to biting other people’s style and that’s not the way it’s supposed to be.
PHOTOS BY AARON HOWELL, 26, SAN FRANCISCO, CA
PHOTO BY NINA GAISIE, 25, COPENHAGEN, DENMARK
SORIN, 26, LOS ANGELES, CA I’m into really recognizable fun icons. Just stars and flames and buildings. Just like the whole concrete jungle thing—building after building, but I like to flatten it out. The truth of it is I think the overriding theme in the work and the reason I use the colors that I do and the fun imagery is because I am dealing with kind of dark issues so I’ve been dealing with juxtaposing the simple child-like neo primitivism in the work, but trying to keep it on a higher plane intellectually.
PEOPLE I LIKE INTERVIEW WITH VIA INJECTION
PHOTOS BY ANALISA XAVIER, 19, YORBA LINDA, CA
Up the Dosage An interview with rock band Via Injection By: Analisa Xavier, 19, Yorba Linda, CA Sitting at an In N Out in Anaheim, California, quite possibly the heart of Orange County (better known these days as “The OC”), on a Sunday afternoon can prove to be rather entertaining. Families gathered for an after church snack while bros sat outside discussing the latest improvements to their Ford trucks. I felt a bit out of place since I was the only female there without an overpriced weave and a year’s pass to Mystic Tan. Yet, there I was sitting in the afternoon sun waiting for some shitty, no name band who think they’ve made it big just because they’ve got an article in a magazine. Actually, these guys aren’t that shitty, and as their name implies they’re about to give anyone who is willing to listen a dose of humanity, and maybe even some humor (if you really pay attention). Though young (the members range in age from 16-20), these four boys have already broken musical boundaries in their first incarnation as the mask wearing, drug abusing, straightedge thrash band XCOCAINEX. They’re about to infect us all with their beautifully destructive sound…Via Injection.
Analisa Xavier: Okay, so who exactly does what in the band? Duran: I play drums, I’m Duran. Leo: Leo, guitar. Kyle: I’m Kyle. I do noises and vocals- sound. Evan: And I play bass… and be bitchy. AX: How long have you guys been playing together as Via Injection? Evan: A month or two as Via Injection, but we all came from XCOCAINEX, legendary straight-edge ensemble. AX: Do you feel that initially you had trouble shaking the ‘former members of’ tag from XCOCAINEX now that you’re playing as Via Injection? Kyle: Of course. I mean, XCOCAINEX had such an impact on music that it’s hard to say. Evan: You know people missed our style, you know with the masks and all. Duran: It just gets old. Evan: Exactly. You know, we need to move on. AX: Are there any groups in particular that you guys feel you’re influenced by? Leo: Nightwish! Duran: That doesn’t count. Evan: Alright, (pointing at Leo) he’s influenced by Nightwish– Leo: In every aspect of life. Evan: Defacto and The Mars Volta because they’re jammy influences– Kyle: And Beck! Definitely some Beck. Evan: Basically all the music we listen to somehow, in a way influences us in one way or another. Kyle: Pretty much everything except…except Aerosmith and KISS.
AX: So, how do you guys write a song? Do you just sit down and say, “hey, we’re gonna write a song now”, or is it more of an accident that happens to work? Duran: It’s pretty much just jammy jammy shit. I mean, we just play music and whatever comes to our instruments, it just comes out. I mean, it just comes out freely and naturally. It’s just like, kind of a high. It’s sweet. Evan: It’s usually improv that starts to form up into something that sounds cool. And when it does, we usually start adding different sounds to it until it sounds good, and then it usually forms into a song. But of course we’ll always change it around. Leo: Yeah, we’ll start off with a riff, then everyone just kind of feeds off each other’s energy and the next thing you know we’ve got– Duran: Bossanovas. AX: This question is directed more toward Kyle. It’s kind of hard to decipher what you’re saying when you play live, so I was just curious as to what your lyrics are about. Kyle: Different things. It kind of varies a little bit, like on how I feel at the moment…or how I don’t feel. AX: So you don’t have set lyrics? Kyle: Not particularly set. One song’s primarily about Pokemon, then another song’s about drugs and just partying…you know…or not partying, whatever. AX: A few of your song names, and obviously your band name, hints toward drug use, so I was wondering if this reflects your way of life, or is it just social sarcasm? Evan: What’s your problem, we’re straight-edge. Duran: Straight-edge is a strong word. Kyle: I don’t particularly do too many drugs. Evan: Just because you’re straight-edge doesn’t mean you can’t do drugs. Kyle: True. I mean, with XCOCAINEX we had to cancel
our West Coast tour due to Leo here going to jail…for possession. AX: So who came up with the name Via Injection, anyway? Kyle: It was all me. Evan: Yeah, Kyle comes up with the ridiculous clevernessness. AX: So this is an interesting choice of location seeing as you’re all level 6 vegans. How does that work, anyway? Leo: (takes bite of a double-double) All I do is, uh, lick paper. AX: A few of your songs have an avant-garde quality to them. Is it hard to accomplish this “free-flow” style without sounding sloppy when you’re playing live? Evan: Well, actually we do sound sloppy live. I mean, there’s parts that are structured, like the thrashy parts of the songs, but usually everything else is pretty Goddamn sloppy. Leo: …As in the “joe”. But sloppy is in these days. Evan: Yeah, like the Blood Brothers, have you ever heard their guitar player? Oh my God. AX: Are there any plans for a tour in the near future, or are you just keeping it local for right now? Kyle: Well, we toured a lot as XCOCAINEX. We have other responsibilities besides just the band, so, you know, maybe next Summer or something. AX: So you’re just keeping it on a word of mouth basis for now. Evan: Yeah… word of mouth, word of Look-Look. But we’re not necessarily gonna try to spread it, it’s just gonna kind of happen. Leo: Yeah, it’s bound to happen. Ain’t no stopping this shit. AX: So when can we expect to hear a release from Via Injection? Evan: Umm, I think we’ll probably self produce, self record, self everything something fairly soon. We haven’t really talked about it. We don’t have a lot of music. Well I guess we could put an EP out. We should actually do that.
MIND’S EYE PHOTOJOURNALISM
PHOTOS BY WILL STERNS, 22, LOS ANGELES, CA
TWISTED When I tell people there were three hundred ninety tornados in one week in one small part of this country only a few months ago, I always receive the same response: a nod of the head and a feigned “oh yeah, I remember.” No you don’t. A single tornado will scare you back to California faster than any Southern highway patrolman in some Easy Rider scenario. If you actually see it coming it will give the hair on the back of your neck life you didn’t know it had. The animals would have been hysterical for hours since the wind started and then the hail would come like racquetballs, the trees would all be breaking and before you, like a giant gyrating hand of judgment would stand a black tower of pure evil, reaching out of sight into the sky. You would definitely remember.
picked up her home and dropped it off a quarter of a mile away in a field. The woman never got off the couch. Another girl in Jackson showed me funeral invitations and pictures of a dead boy in his coffin wearing a periwinkle suit, the son of a family friend. The boy had obviously been the subject of garishly poor facial reconstruction for the sake of presentability at his wake, and the coffin was a bit too small, forcing his legs to bend slightly at the knee. I chose not to photograph this, and instead asked the question I had wanted to pose to everyone: “Why do you live here with this madness?” The answer blew me away. This was the girl’s first tornado. Like almost everyone I was to meet over the next few days in Tennessee and Missouri, she explained that she had never known violence like that before. She said, “the tornado sirens go off sometimes, but they never come.” I concluded the conversation which took place sitting down on her collapsed porch roof, and decided to drive to Pierce City, Missouri, the town I knew was hit hardest.
A telephone repairman in Jackson, TN told the same story I had read about in the papers, about how a few miles away a woman was sitting on her couch in her mobile home when a tornado
I drove at night through the dark woods of Missouri listening to the Spurs’ Tony Parker light up the Lakers. The reception began to crackle sporadically, and with increasing frequency as the
BY WILL STERNS, 22, LOS ANGELES, CA
night wore on. Cars would come the other direction every now and then, but in general folks are in bed by 11:00 pm in Missouri. Eventually the game was gone, and it had started to rain a bit. I hadn’t seen a car in over 20 minutes, and sensed something was up. I thought the tornados had come and gone, but I was wrong. I felt it all over immediately. Lightning began to crack every few seconds just up the road. I drove right at it. Smoke rose in the distance every time it struck, and I knew I was getting close. Then I saw the lights coming at me. It was a semi, and it was honking like crazy, speeding forward in the opposite direction. As it tore past me, the driver leaned out of his window and waved frantically for me to turn around. It wasn’t his wild gesticulations that did it, it was the look in his eye. He had seen hell and it was coming this way. Every desire I had to see a tornado that night in the woods evaporated in an instant. I don’t ever want to see a tornado, and neither do you. I don’t remember what I expected to see in Pierce City. I knew the residents would be jaded, but I wasn’t prepared for a place where everyone had lost everything, which as I learned, leaves no one and nothing. The only people I met in Pierce City were three
FEMA workers, three Red Cross volunteers, two TV men with two veterans ready for their interview, a group of convicts cleaning up under the watch of their corrections officers, and a handful of K-9 cops whose job was done. No one was alive at this point if they were still missing, and there were a few cases yet unsolved. I met no one that actually lived in Pierce City until the end of my first day there. The few I did encounter had driven back to wait for an insurance adjuster that would never come. For blocks and blocks, every car, every store, every tree, and every home was utterly destroyed. Workers there told me matter of factly that they would still be cleaning up in the Fall, and indeed they still are. So the next time someone says they remember those tornados, tell them “No, no you don’t.” May was pleasant here.
GA$ 4 CERRIToS I was so broke I ran out of pennies. I needed money for gas to get to Cerritos. None of my friends were around and I had to be in Cerritos by 8PM. So at 6:30 I decided to go to the Pawn Shop. I grabbed my old CD pla , a leather jacket, a silv watch, a camera, a cell yer phone and a microphone.er I drove down Crensh and took a right on Pic This was the closest aw wn Shop to me. My gaso. tank was on completePa empty, I had no other choice . I walked up to the Pawn Sh op. "Hey! You gotta go to the side window, it's after 6:30." They close their space dow n after 6:30 and do transactions from a small caged window. When I walked over to the window this middle-aged brotherman was standi ng there waiting. "Man, I've been waitin on this night manager for 15 minutes now." "It's like that, huh?" "Yeah, he's taking his sweet time." "He knows how desperate we are." Then my man shows me wh at he's gonna pawn: "This here is a navigator. city and it will instantly sho You can take it to any w you a street map of the immediate area of wherever you are. See we're here on Pico bet ween Olympic and Venice. See La Brea there and Cre nshaw there. You know they got 23 satelli tes in outer space
beaming maps down to this thing." "That's a helluva tool." I tell him. "Yeah, I was in Atlanta a few weeks ago and it got me out of a jam." "It's too bad you have to sel l it." "Yeah, I'm trying to get som e cash for gas to Cerritos." "Yeah?!" "Yeah, my partner and after the Lakers Game."I are gonna hit the roller rink "Where, Skate Depot?" "Yeah, how'd you know?" "Man I grew up in Ce os. I'm here to pawn some stuff to get to Cerritosrrit myself." "No shit, bro! We're bro ke ass fools here at the Pawn Shop trying to 2 get to Cerritos." We laughed. What the odds that 2 foo at the Pawn Shop in MidCitare y Los Angeles need molsney gas to get to Cerritos? for Finally the night manager showed up. Right off the bat this Armeni can only give you $20 for an cat said to my man, "I this." "What! This here is a $40 0 navigator. How you gonna give me $20 for a $400 navigator!?" They settled it at $40. My man got his $40 and sai d, "Alright man be cool." "Yeah have a good time at Skate Depot." I showed the dealmaker my items. He was Armenian dude not con cerned with being polan ite. "I can't take any of this."
PHOTO BY CHRISTOPHER BETTIG, 26, LOS ANGELES, CA
"What?! What's wrong?" "The CD player is old, the leather jacket is used. No! Th is is all SHIT! I don’t need any of it." "Not any of it?" "NO!" So there I was, assed out . My broke ass couldn't get to Cerritos. I was left with a CD player , speakers, a printer and a leather jac ket in my hands.
you give me $5."
"What are you trying get A, you need drugs? We got to speed and crack in the van."
Density entwines we of parallel existence, thick in thebs heart of the inner city
"Nah man, I just need gas to get to Cerritos."
From Westside 'wood s to old folks crossing Fairfax, rat the drive-thru check cash.
Homeboy turned to his par tner. "Hey, you got $5 I can giv e to homeboy for the radio and the jacket?" His boy said, "Nah, all I hav e is a $20 bill." My man with the cap said to me, "Hey we'll ride to a liqu or sto re and get change."
The lakeside spatial misma tch makin' Culver green cro ssback
s the multicultural people ma inching along urban arterie ss keeps s this is density! Density entwines we of parallel existence, thick in thebshea rt of the inner city
I had to make two trips. "Alright man, get in my ride ." Just when I got to my car I was hollerin in front of the a van full of His par Latino gangsters pulls up. liquor tners followed us in the van store while the gangsters . looked at me bug -ey ed. "You sellin‚ that radio holme While my man was in s?" my empty gas tank. my car he saw "Yo hol mes, I was in the pen with "Yeah, it's yours for $5." some dude like you doi that psy"Hey man, you weren't bul cho rap. That's psychong "Oh yeah!?" poetry. You Your tank is empty as a molshitting. a cra zy the ass rfuckwhite boy." er." The vatos pulled over their We dropped daps and I wa busted mini-van and got out s off. dudes wear- "These have been hard times lately." ing wife-beaters with.bal4dhe I got ads $5 and of fuel and jumped on the mad tattoos. We pulled into a Korean liqu 10. or store and got change. The homey wearing the bas eball cap He wanted my radio. gave me the $5. Mike Sonksen, 29, Los An "Does the radio work A?" geles, CA "I'm gonna give you my num ber holmes." "The CD skips sometimes, but the radio works." "Alright man, tag it up in my journal." "If it don't work, we'll get you Th en his par tne r jum in, "Nah next time we see you. We r ass man, he's a one time.ped kill people him Don't give for lying to us." shit." "Just to show you I'm honest man, I'll give you this leathean r jacket also if
"I ain’t no cop. I'm a poet. Check 63
Dear Sir: I am writing to inquire about employment, on a temporary but renewable basis, as partner in your enterprise. No doubt you have considered the advantage of incorporating, especially to public relations. As the attached photo indicates, I would be an asset to your image. Please consider my relevant qualifications: • look good in hats, sunglasses and scarves • sympathetic toward children • keen interest in literature about family pets I have a graduate degree; it is framed and looks very handsome. I have studied French but never Russian, or, if more appropriate to foreign policy, I have studied Russian but never French. I am a size 6, although during my term as partner in your enterprise I would agree to increase to a size 8, thereby demonstrating my comfort with the femininity of my body and the natural beauty of women’s bodies in general, sentiments I would be pleased to confirm regularly to the international press. Other issues of my appearance and grooming are not appropriate media topics. I believe it sends the wrong message. In public, I appear poised, thoughtful, gracious. Occasionally, I project a slight nervousness. (I am told this is endearing.) Astute viewers detect a sadness behind the eyes. This is perhaps because I am not yet a mother. May I suggest that during the entire term of your enterprise we discuss adoption, often and in public? Those who know me privately describe me as “shrewd,” “commanding,” and “ambitious.” If accepted for the position as partner of your enterprise, these traits will never be exhibited. Please understand, sir, that the spirit of my employment is freelance and entrepreneurial: it does not include a contract beyond the term of your enterprise, nor the traditional services of an older profession. In remuneration for my work, I request simply the regular benefits—basic needs, travel, porcelain, hallowed grave—enjoyed by the partner of an enterprise such as yours. Thank you for your consideration of my proposal. I am confident that we would forge an effective partnership, one that would benefit both your career and my hope for an eternal role as an icon of my age, era, country and generation.
Freelance First Lady
Kelly Nuxoll, 25, New York, NY 64
P R A I S E
I just returned from two weeks at a convent, confirming once and for all that I don’t have a vocation. “My goodness, no,” said Mother Grace, who is not five feet tall, speaks Latin with a Brooklyn accent, and describes her pink socks as ‘jazzy.’ She wiped her eyes with the hem of her habit. “No, no, I really don’t think so.” In truth, I hadn’t really suspected I had a vocation: it just seemed like something a woman should consider and then rule out, like permanent make-up. My friends told me flatly that the nuns would never take me. I’d be lucky if I didn’t get ex-communicated, they said. My mother thought the idea was hysterical; on the phone, I could hear her wheezing with laughter. “The credits for the St. Michael’s and All Angels Pre-School promotional video did roll over my face,” I reminded her. On the other end of the line, my mother gasped and begged for mercy. The assumption, of course, was that I would be too wild, too unconventional, too shocking for a religious order. The nuns would be dour and prim; in their cloistered abbey, nestled on a farm, they would be innocent, ethereal, delicate. The first morning I was there, I heard one rustling in the guest house, and I tiptoed out in my pajamas, peeked around the corner, and saw a woman in a black robe and white veil reach into her belt, withdraw a six-inch switchblade, and gouge a block of ice until it splintered. “Good morning,” I whispered. “Morning,” she grunted, hoisting the refrigerator off the floor. “Just defrosting the freezer.” The nuns wore steel toe boots and American flag bandanas over the tops of their habits. They hauled steaming compost in the backs of their pick-ups and off-roaded to make it to Mass on time. They birthed their own sheep and slaughtered their own cows. One nun’s job was to clear forty acres of land; she ripped briar bushes out of the ground with her bare hands and set fire to the rest, whooping and hollering around the flames. Shyly, I volunteered to assist the gardener, who had come from a sister convent in France. She met me at the gate, a gas mask strapped over her face. “Today I spray for beetles,” she said. “I lie in bed at night, I dream of keeling those leetle bugg-airs.” I tried to help harvesting fruit, but I was too afraid to climb on top of the
O U R
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greenhouse roof to retrieve the plums. “Even if you did break the glass,” Sister Lucinda said encouragingly, “you’d only fall through to your waist. At worst you’d slice up the lower half of your body.” I set to weed but accidentally pulled up the strawberry plants; I said I’d clean but found I was allergic to dust. In desperation, I asked to work in the bakery. “Thanks for taking a special day to bake with me,” I said to Mother Tabitha. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. "I woke up this morning at six a.m. and thought, 'God, why in the world did I ever agree to this?'" Under Mother Tabitha’s distressed gaze, I poured the sour dough starter too fast and toughened the dough; I pounded walnuts and sent a splinter into my eye; I spread a lump of dough on the table to knead and it flopped out of my hands like a fish. “It's very organic,” I said, scooping my loaf off the floor. “Oh, yes,” said Mother Tabitha. “I’ve always thought it was like touching a human body." She patted a solid slab of white bread. "This one's a thigh," she jiggled the sweet bread, "and this one's a fat stomach. And this one—” she cupped her hand over a round cake of rye and rolled her eyes toward heaven, “—this one's a plump, silky, beautiful black breast.” I don’t know why kick-ass nuns should be startling. Jesus was a carpenter—why can’t a nun roar up on a John Deere tractor, scale a sixteen foot ladder, rev a circular saw and whack down half an apple tree? But when Mother Tabitha rolled out her sourdough baguette into a six-inch snake, ran her arthritic fingers up and down its length, squeezed its tip and said with a wink, “I don't care much for these: They don't remind me of any body part at all,” I knew I simply wasn’t bad enough to be a nun and blushed all the way to my ears, shocked, absolutely shocked. By Kelly Nuxoll, 25, New York, NY
Day 1 It’s morning. Early morning. I was admitted into the psychiatric ward on the 3rd floor of the hospital at about 1:00 a.m. or so last night. Brus was with me before I went up. We had to wait about 5 hours for the hospital to get the lab results from my blood and urine work done. Eventually, one of the nurses came and informed us that they lost my urine sample, so I had to give them another one. It was nearing 1 am or so before the crisis nurse basically said, “OK, I’m not going to wait anymore for the rest of the lab work results to come back, so we’re going to go ahead and admit you upstairs.” She took me up there in a wheelchair. Brus was able to walk by my side until we got to these steel doors. He wasn’t allowed to go beyond there, so we had to say our goodbyes there. My real first day here has not been a great one. I feel like none of the groups or even the doctor is helping me that much after all. I don’t think this place is even that good. I feel like I haven’t learned anything valuable. Breakfast and lunch were OK, but dinner was horrible. I couldn’t eat all of my meal because this one woman (a brain damaged patient named Tracy) in a wheelchair started making a scene and it made me upset to the point that I just excused myself to my room. Thank God I don’t have a roommate…yet. I want to get out of here. Day 2 This morning has been OK so far. Unfortunately, I awakened last night with a new roommate moving in. So far, she is a little annoying. She seems like she wants to talk all the time while I, on the other hand, wish mainly to be left alone. I forgot to mention that Brus came during the visitation hours last night as well. He was a sweetheart and brought me a new t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It feels good to finally wear clothes instead of a hospital gown. I feel less pathetic. He also brought me the Finding Nemo magazine. I skimmed through it last night so that helped make the time pass by. At the moment, my roommate, Michelle, is in her bed. I have a bad feeling that she is going to start crying. I only say this because if she does, I won’t be of any comfort for her. I only want to worry about my own problems and not others’. I am in this jail of a hospital ward because I need the help, not to worry about others. Day 3 I felt that if I didn’t write something right now I won’t be able to fall asleep. It’s past lights out, you see. I was fortunate enough to be able to move into another room on the ward. Michelle was just getting too creepy. For one, she seems really out of touch with reality. She stares at me and follows me around constantly (even now that I’ve moved out). She also did a couple of strange things like complain about how a wall in the room didn’t seem to look right and how it wasn’t plastered correctly. (It looked like an ordinary wall to me.) And I thought I heard her mumble aggressively under her breath to me to pick up my dirty clothes. For one, the certain dirty clothes she was talking about were actually hers. Second, I was in no mood to have another patient order me around. Only the nurses are allowed to do that. I just couldn’t take it any longer and asked the nurses to please let me move in with another roommate. My new roommate is named Darlyn as in “Oh, my darlin’”. I really like her a lot. She is very sweet and she reminds me of my Aunt Betsy. They both say, “Bless your heart” a lot and they’re both religious. Darlyn is the only other patient here that I feel comfortable around and she is someone I can relate to. We both have been diagnosed with bipolar. Another thing that I admire about her is that she is a mother of three children. She told me that she understands my need to become a mother. When Brus came to see me today for visitation, he told me that my eyes look brighter and that I look and seem much better than long before I came here. I love him so much.
SIX DAYS IN HELL 66
By Elizabeth Reed, 21, Frederick, MD
Day 4 Brus just left after spending the full two hour visitation time with me. It would have gone better if a certain patient on the ward would have left us alone. I’m talking about Michelle. She kept coming into this one room where we sat at near the nurses’ station. She kept sitting and staring. She eventually got one of the newest patients who is practically just like her and they both just sat there. I’m sure they were too far gone from reality to understand how rude they were being, but it was really annoying. And it was creeping us out. I want to go home. The doctor wants me to stay here until Monday when they can do bloodwork on me and check my blood level. When you take Depakote (Valporic acid) for bipolar, you have to take your blood levels regularly to make sure that the medicine isn’t making your blood level too high or too low. Did I mention how insecure and irritated I am about the way this ward runs? Some of the nurses don’t seem to be following the rules. They don’t seem to know what they’re doing and sometimes they get sidetracked when patients ask them for things. Day 5 I’m waiting for Toby, one of the nurses on the ward, to give me my B12 shot. I’m not that nervous about it today because when Toby gave it to me on my 3rd day here, it didn’t hurt at all. She’s an expert at it. Art Therapy is going on right now and Matilda (another nurse) said that it’s going to be about story time or some crap like that. If only there was watercolor paint here that I could get my hands on. During another group session, Darlyn opened up and spoke about an abortion she had a month ago. I could only do so much to help her, especially since I���ve never had an abortion or even been pregnant yet. I wanted to tell her that she has at least three other children and that she’s blessed for that. Brus came and visited me from 3-4 p.m. and from 6-8 p.m. The doctor told me on Friday that I should be discharged tomorrow. Brus told me that if the doctor changes his mind that he will get me out of here himself, so I’m not too worried. All that needs to happen is that my blood needs to be taken tomorrow morning for Depakote testing and once they get the results back and get discharge papers signed, I should be ready to go. I know for sure that I can’t go on another night without my husband sleeping by my side. I also miss my babies—my cats, cockatiels, and ferrets—very much. Day 6 According to the doctor, today is the day that I get discharged. As expected, someone came and took some blood from me at 7 a.m. This patient, Jenna, is screaming and yelling about Tracy, the brain damaged patient. Jenna is tired of Tracy and the way she talks and “treats” people. The results should be back in another hour or so. I really hope that they will be able to let me go before lunch time. I can hardly keep my tolerance and patience with some of these…patients…anymore. It is mainly the ones like Michelle and Ginny (the zombies) and Tracy that either annoy or creep me out the most. The ward is nearly full. I know there is someone out there that needs this bed more than me. I hope the doctor comes soon.
PHOTO BY MICHELE KIVMAN, 20, LOS ANGELES, CA
PHOTO GEOGRAPHIC The people, places and things that live in your world
GIA COPPOLA, 16, LOS ANGELES, CA
JON MOSIER, 27 EAST LANSING, MI
OLGA & VAL REI, 19, NEW YORK, NY
KATE GREENBERG, 22, NEW YORK, NY
ANGEL SCHATZ, 25, AUSTIN, TX
MATT STROTHER, 25, PALM SPRINGS, CA
AMANDA RICKEN, 26, STONE RIDGE, NY
NINA GAISIE, 25, COPENHAGEN, DENMARK
SHERRY SPENCER, 30, BERLIN, GERMANY
DANIELLE SAXE, 30, LOS ANGELES, CA
HEATHER MAXWELL, 29, VANCOUVER, BC
CHARLIE EISNER, 16, LOS ANGELES, CA
HARLEMM LEE, 28, LOS ANGELES, CA
HARLEMM LEE, 28, LOS ANGELES,CA
LINDSEY DELAHANTY, 21, CHICAGO, IL
ERIC JAMES, 19, MINNEAPOLIS, MN
OLGA & VAL REI, 19, NEW YORK, NY
BEILY PAN, 17, SAN DIEGO, CA
GIA COPPOLA, 16, LOS ANGELES, CA
OLGA & VAL REI, 19, NEW YORK, NY
REBECCA WOOLF, 22, LOS ANGELES, CA
SHERRY SPENCER, 30 BERLIN, GERMANY “At the train station in Liepzig, weary freaks enjoying good old American fast food.”
DANIELLE SAXE, 30 LOS ANGELES, CA “One of these boys says he’s Exene’s son. Guess which one.”
JON MOSIER, 27 EAST LANSING, MI “Tangerine shadow is the eye-deal summer shade for this Los Angelina.”
HEATHER MAXWELL, 29 VANCOUVER, BC “Those are my own lips--I was just experimenting with color and focus. Trying to capture an abstract sensuality.”
ERIC JAMES, 19 MINNEAPOLIS, MN “Why presume the person behind you on the bus is some abstract stereotype you think they should be? At the time of this photo, these two were dating. Did you think that first?”
OLGA & VAL REI, 19 NEW YORK, NY
CHARLIE EISNER, 16 LOS ANGELES, CA “I like grabbing each person’s energy...and just documenting life.”
OLGA & VAL REI, 19 NEW YORK, NY
KATE GREENBERG, 22 NEW YORK, NY
BEILY PAN, 17 SAN DIEGO, CA “Frogs are good. Frogs legs are never.”
AMANDA RICKEN, 26 STONE RIDGE, NY
LINDSEY DELAHANTY, 23 CHICAGO, IL
GIA COPPOLA, 16 LOS ANGELES, CA
ANGEL SCHATZ, 25 AUSTIN, TX “What some people call trash is a way to get to work for someone else.”
HARLEMM LEE, 28 LOS ANGELES, CA
OLGA & VAL REI, 19 NEW YORK, NY
NINA GAISIE, 25 COPENHAGEN, DENMARK
HARLEMM LEE, 28 LOS ANGELES, CA
REBECCA WOOLF, 22, LOS ANGELES, CA “Theresa is hot!”
GIA COPPOLA, 16 LOS ANGELES, CA “My feeling is whatever happens, happens.”
MATT STROTHER, 25 PALM SPRINGS, CA “Pacific Beach mayhem party sponsored by Wild Turkey 101.”
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LAST LOOK-LOOK A PARTING SHOT
DANIELLE SAXE, 30, LOS ANGELES, CA
The Ad Gallery. Look-Look Magazine was made possible through the generosity of a few very cool companies. We approached lots of sponsors, but most of them thought the idea of a magazine by young creative people was, well, interesting…but not on their dime. After quite a bit of pavement pounding and big business door slamming in our faces, we found the few, the proud, the Look-Look Sponsors. Once they told us they’d give us their money, we then told them that they had to let one of our contributors design their ad. And in an almost unprecedented display of corporate largesse, they agreed to our plan. The ads in this section are testament to the courage of our sponsors. We salute you, we thank you, we couldn’t do it without you.
Mike Kuhle, 26, Brooklyn, NY “I don't like color. I LOVE it!”
Sony Pictures Revolution Studios
Joe A. Casillas, 29, Chino, CA “Life is a journey where we fear the unknown, but we must face various challenges in order to become known.”
Apple Computer Product Sponsor
Matt Griffiths, 20, Perth, Australia “I like the way they made computers more personal, away from the hard edges and boring styling.”
Tiffany Loon, 16, Hilton Head, SC “I’m not a morning dog.”
Jill Kaufman, 27, New York, NY “You’ve reached my voicemail. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
The Lomographic Society is a globally active organization dedicated to experimental and creative snapshot photography. Boasting one million members across the world, this dedicated society of â€œlomographersâ€? seeks to document the incredible planet around us in a never-ending stream of images .
made on a G3 Mac
Iâ€™m not a morning dog.