photo: by Graeme Mitchell

I don’t really show this sort of candid street stuff much anymore.  I still shoot it, but only for myself – it’ll maybe get a shitty contact sheet scan and then stuffed in a box.  The other night I flipped through some of the contacts from this summer and cropped out ones I thought were cool.

 

 

 

 

This is a fun book of photographs I shot while at the beach this summer.  There are 17 5×7″ B&W silver RC prints mounted in a white 8.5×11″ children’s craft book hand stenciled front and back in acrylic and shipped in a clear protective sleeve.

Each is completely unique and will be signed and numbered.

I’ll make up to 25 + 1 A/P in this edition.

Price is $45 + s/h.  If you’d like to order one please email me.

—-

So you can see, here are all 17 prints in it:


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell

I shared some of these previously when I first began them; they’re photographs from walks this winter in Prospect Park, Brooklyn.  I liked them enough that I’m doing a small final series called “My Prospect.”


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell

Be Afraid, My Friend is a video and book I shot this past winter on NYC streets using a Kodak Zi8 pocket video camera.


Video: Be Afraid, My Friend, 2011, 3:38 min, by Graeme Mitchell with music by Julian Tulip’s Licorice.

The book is 71 pages, 7.4×9.5,” softcover, perfect bound, $24.  It doesn’t correspond exactly w/ the video, but it is close.

There were 4 portfolios in the original edition of this.  They were prints hand mounted in leather albums.  I still think they are beautiful as artifacts, but they were stupidly expensive and time consuming to make.  Moreover, only 4 people have them, and I’m pretty sure they’re not being treated as coffee table books.  I wanted a simple small copy for myself to have around, and also since doing the Occurrences newsprint edition, I had a number of people ask if I’d ever do an inexpensive version of Unreal City, so I decided to revisit it and do this.

It’s 8.5×8.5,” 71 pages, 49 pictures, soft cover, perfect bound.

The print-on-demand press quality leaves a lot to be desired, but right now utilizing any tangible medium is good I think.  Plus, I think that populace mainstream sort of lo-fi medium is cool, makes the work more eye-level and less precious.  Needless to say these aren’t to be shilled as rare or valuable – they’re intended to be enjoyed and shared.

 

 

 

 


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell

 


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell

 


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell

 


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


 


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


 

 


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell


photo: By Graeme Mitchell

 

Including a poem someone had sent me too:

It was difficult learning to breathe. But it was even more
difficult learning to forget. Though in the end I learned
both how to breathe and forget. Sometimes I juggle one orange
while I do this. Breathe and forget. So it is ok to be
here where the rose is torn. Where the streets are a jungle
of burnt glass and the world has blood in it’s eye. Breathe
and forget. It’s what I told the newpaper-boy. For a christmas
tip

By Patrick O’Connell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell


photo: by Graeme Mitchell