Liz shared this with me on Google Reader. Thank God.

This is a post from Greg Wasserstrom's Blog About Photography.

Tiny Cannon Making Trouble

My Grandfather, William J. Poplack, died yesterday at around 4:45 in the afternoon. He was incredibly caring and generous human being, and, at 88, he’d lost absolutely none of the wit that made him so much fun to spend time with. Grandpa stayed with us through more than 10 years of his declining health  he was also a fighter with an iron will. He survived a Nazi P.O.W. camp after his plane was shot down over occupied Holland during World War II, and then, forty years later, bested a gunshot to the heart during a mugging right here in New York City. When his time finally came, he was surrounded by family in Birmingham, MI, the place he lived all his life. Every one who knew him and was close to him will certainly miss him very much.

This is a post from Greg Wasserstrom's Blog About Photography.

Bill Poplack, 1921-2009

This is a post from Greg Wasserstrom's Blog About Photography.

Happy Birthday, America

Sometime not so long ago (2001?), Richard Avedon became the first staff photographer for the New Yorker, a job he held until his death in 2004. The newest issue of the New Yorker arrived today, it being Tuesday. I happened to flip it open up to page 51 and see a familiar image: a particularly ethereal portrait of Jacob Israel Avedon made during his finals days by his son in 1972. It accompanies an article by Atul Gwande about aging. I would like to hear other opinions on this, but I feel like the photograph far outshines the piece, which seems far too iconic for an editorial context. Thoughts?

This is a post from Greg Wasserstrom's Blog About Photography.

Richard Avedon in the New Yorker