LOVE ISSUE #7 Preview 2

• coming soon •

COUPLE CLOTHING text and photographs

by Erik Neumann

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n the summer of 2010 I spent two months studying in Beijing, and before I left I’d read a blog post about matching t-shirts and outfits for couples that were popular in Korea and becoming more popular in China. I thought it was kind of interesting and fun.

When I arrived in Beijing I started to photograph a few of the couples and the more I did this, the more interested I became in the subject until it started to occupy the majority of my photographs. I started to notice other instances of clothing coordination in uniformed workers, high school kids and even tour

groups wearing matching hats, and it seemed to me that it was all related in some way.

This work touches on notions of gender representation, relationship dynamics and the influence of North America on China’s cultural development and I hope it may provide a focus for deeper consideration.

Although visually similar to street fashion, which is concerned with what people are wearing, my attention is on why people are wearing it and the social and cultural context. •

© Erik Neumann

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Š Erik Neumann

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BACHELORS photographs by Claudiu Popescu text by Ioana Pelehatăi

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achelors need to be photographed, because they are an endangered species. Men die younger than women, so it is statistically within reason that they might die out in a few years.

Bachelors do as they please. They spend their nights in clubs, drink, and womanize without having to answer to anyone. They go out with their boys, miss no ball games, and get all the women they want.

Bachelors are sexy because they harbor a certain mystique. You never get to learn their whole story.

They’re single because that’s the way they want it.

They alone know the whole reason behind that, but there are plenty of other men (and women, too) looking for an opportunity to find out.

Bachelors are a crying shame. Their homes are unspeakably messy, they’re clueless about what to

wear, they eat whenever they remember to, and they are completely helpless overall.

That about sums up all the clichés about bachelors. With no preconceived idea as a starting point, we aim to find out which ones are real, which are fake, and maybe even reveal a couple of new ones, which we would have never considered.

A preview of an ongoing photography project accompanied by brief interviews with bachelors. *bachelor, n. = financially independent male human around the age of thirty, currently living on his own and with no plans of changing the status quo for a while.

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IN LOVE WITH

ROMANIA

Photographs by Gerrit Jan Robeer Text by Tamara Robeer 27

Bucharest, 1974 © Gerrit Jan Robeer

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s time passes my attention more frequently turns to found pictures. Looking at little moments, a life passing and dreams realised. I have to say those moments help me look forward and create precious little moments for myself.

Three years ago I inherited an archive with a couple of hundred black and white negatives; the pictures belonged to my father, Gerrit Jan Robeer. I started scanning them and slowly a new truth revealed itself. He grew up in a Dutch catholic family with two older sisters and lived in the house attached to the church. My father wasn’t religious in his beliefs, just a teenager during the flower power period: long hair, flared jeans and a small moped. In June 1970 (20 years old), he bought his first camera, made some test shots and became addicted. To escape from his (western) social environment and the family restrictions he made holiday trips to Eastern Europe, surely also to anger his parents, as they were afraid of the unknown. Romania became the country he adored.

Valuable moments as a child were those during diner, when your parents tell all the stories from back in the days. My mother, Nela Marinescu, was born in Bucharest and trained to be a gymnast. At one point her team even shared a training space with

Nadia Comăneci. She had numerous stories, which sounded like fairy tales to me. In the beginning I didn’t think they were true, as I grew older I realised what they meant. She was at her grandparents’ home in a Romanian countryside village. There were horses, chickens and a big pig. In my memory the pig ended up on the roof of the house because my mother made him angry.

My father used to be the one telling stories about how he met my mother. He also talked a lot about Romania as a country, but never mentioned his photographs. The first time they met was in Eforie Nord, he was different, did what he wanted, had a great smile and long hair. She was a boy-ish girl always on the look out for some kind of adrenaline rush. After that summer my father told her he would come back, she didn’t believe him. A few months later he got back into his car and drove straight to Bucharest.

Often he told the story about the fried chicken breast my grandmother gave him to eat on these trips. A couple of miles before the Romanian border he started throwing them out of the window, one by one. As soon as he arrived there, he was told to open the car, step out and go to an office where the customs officer just let him sit for a while. My father enjoyed taking his time, 28

Brașov, 1974 © Gerrit Jan Robeer 29

WHAT DO YOU MISS? photographs by Ioana CĂŽrlig interview by Peter Brook

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Iordana, 49, is serving an 8 year sentence for performing illegal abortion. She misses the fish soup they cook in the Danube Delta, working in her tailor shop and spending time outside, in nature, she misses her family and her home in Chilia Veche. Š Ioana CÎrlig

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Aida, 54, is serving a 10 year sentence for murder. She misses watching TV, taking her grandchildren to the park, taking care of her family and taking walks in the city. Š Ioana CÎrlig

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Luminița, 28, is serving a 3 year sentence for drug trafficking. She misses going out to restaurants with her family, going out and playing with her 2 children, she misses her home and her family and cooking for them. © Ioana Cîrlig

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SNOG

by Rankin

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The Sea of Galilee, 2004 Š Yaakov Israel 69

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by Alexandra Dincă

NEW BEGINNINGS 73

© Alexandra Dincă

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© Alexandra Dincă

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