Office Of The City Clerk Queens Blvd

never sleeps

Les apparences ne trompent not. The end of the last film by Oliver Stone, Wall Street - Money Never Sleeps (2010) is not a happy ending. Quite the contrary. Everything seems perfect. The family is reunited. Colleagues smiling. Everyone is seemingly unconcerned with a glass of champagne in hand. And into the arms of Michael Douglas, Gordon Gekko the abominable, his grand-son. A baby. Why does this child have the worst creature horror imposed on the screen long ( The Thing, John Carpenter, 1982)? Because it is the result of an exchange filthy. A bargain between the step-son of Michael Douglas, Shia LaBeouf, and this great character, series, fiction, Gordon Gekko: You can become a grandfather, see your grand-son, provided you make what you have taken your daughter (100 million). The result of this bargaining is a monster in the arms of one who, for Oliver Stone must embody evil. Suddenly, Gordon Gekko was a horrible descendant, worse than him because endeavored since its conception by an original sin which is to mix the sentimental, intimate with the laws of haggling. This second episode is much more damning than the first. It is, if you will, much as it critical n'épingle not a system but our hearts.

But the film is not as clear as Oliver Stone has always was a little blue flower, a little heavy, a bit awkward, a bit lazy and when he criticizes the United States, film after film, we do not really believe. We know he loves his country more than anything, celebs, money. This is understandable. We too would love that ... It is soft and it is also a bit vulgar. See the scene of his latest film when the two golden boys of New York spanning their Ducati Oliver Stone filmed his machine and those who straddle with evident pleasure. How not to sell? How not to love these engines purring in the middle of beautiful forests? How not to love the vulgarity? How not to sell to a happy ending even if it is monstrous?

Rémy Russotto

Robert Alonzi Attorney

Recently I met by chance, close to home, a photographer passionate experience of black and white and spirituality. We began a discussion of several hours on photography; to be honest, I listened a lot.

Man is easily accessible and yet boasts of having crossed a few great masters, beginning with Henri Cartier-Bresson. His comments on my small business photography are severe but fair. By dint of frequenting the areas of exchange between lovers on the internet where praise is usually quick and thoughtless, I like to listen to the dissonant voice. This is not masochism, but I already said several months ago (just a year, actually) hereby if I no longer rising, I stop. And I need to learn not to repeat myself, need to remain critical for me not just what I did.

To learn to compose, to better calibrate my black and white, to do more attention to the background, I took my rangefinder 24x36 and I started to walk in my town, quite simply. With lots of doubts but also determination. And then finally, FINALLY! I walked through the black curtain: you introduced me to the draw.

I show you these few images from my most recent steps in Saint-Nazaire. The pickings are slim and even if I publish them here, believe it or not, I am fully aware of what they are worth and I do not consider them in any way as an outcome, rather as evidence of learning.