Alexandra Browne is a New York native, born and raised, and was engaged last December 2015. She is currently transitioning careers to manage a showroom in the Flatiron district of Manhattan and is moving homes, all on top of planning her wedding–which is next month! Structure and organization is essential when balancing this many tasks. Keep reading to find out Last Look helped Alexandra plan to tie the knot.
When did you start using Last Look?
Alexandra: I began using Last Look the moment I got engaged. I believe it’s one of the most important times a bride should utilize the app. I had so many ideas I wanted to incorporate into my big day so the app was a great way to keep everything organized. Right now, I have about 12 projects which I have been using the app for over the past year.
Who in your wedding party uses Last Look?
A: Primarily my bridesmaids and I. I have six bridesmaids who live all over–Long Island, Florida, Chicago, they’re everywhere. There are also six groomsmen in our wedding party, but mainly the bridesmaids use the app to coordinate small details and accessories.
How has Last Look made an impact on your wedding planning?
A: The app was the most helpful when picking out bridesmaids dresses. I decided on the Jenny Yoo Soft Tulle Collection, but wasn’t sure of the cut or color I wanted. I was between Lilac and Mayan Blue. I had my bridesmaids try them on and upload photos to see what cut and color worked best. A unique feature of the collection is that it can be styled in several ways because the loose panel design. The panels can be tied in any way imaginable. I wanted each bridesmaid to wear the dress a little differently, so it was great to be able to share feedback in one central place.
How often do you use Last Look and at what time during the day?
A: I do my wedding planning in bursts. I would hard core plan for two weeks then take a break to balance work and travel. When I’m in the “wedding planning zone”, I use it a lot. Probably daily during those times, either after my 5:00 am work out and while commuting to work or right before bed around 10:00pm. Do you use Last Look outside of your wedding planning?
A: In the past, I managed social media profiles for various companies. If someone wanted to approve a photo, I would often share the picture through the app. Sharing photos through the app was often more convenient than sending an email or meeting in person. I also used the app from time to time with my fiancé when deciding on home decor. We are in the process of moving, so the app was very useful when envisioning a layout for a particular room.
What feature of the app do you like the most?
A: I love the check “yes” and x “no” feature. It’s an easy way to give feedback quickly rather than writing out a whole comment. I also like the export to PDF feature because I can save the photos and comments on my computer or easily send to my friends and family. Have your friends and/or peers involved in your wedding given you further feedback about the app?
A: My bridesmaids like how easy it was to use. Different people in my bridal party like to communicate in different ways–some like to talk on the phone, some like to text, and some like to use the app. Overall, I received great feedback as the app is extremely user friendly. One of my bridesmaids just got engaged last week and after using it for my wedding, I think she will use it for hers too!
In February 2011, after the violence in Libya erupted, Jehad Nga was the first journalist into the country. On assignment for The New York Times in neighboring Algeria, he and his colleagues had watched as the protests in Benghazi turned violent, staying glued to the newswires as the Libyan people rose up against the brutal regime of Colonel Muammar Gaddafi. One of very few American journalist to also hold a Libyan passport – his “golden ticket” into the country – the Times asked him to be their eyes on the ground as the revolution spread towards Tripoli, an assignment he quickly accepted. This was his chance, that moment he’d waited his whole career for. “You think you’re going to paint your masterpiece,” says Jehad. “That ‘this is your Sistine Chapel.’”
Libya, 2011. Boy on the shore. By Jehad Nga.
Between Tripoli and Bani Waleed, Libya 2011.
A rebel rests at a position outside the town of government controled town Bani Waleed. By Jehad Nga.
Dadaab, Kenya 2011. A Somali refugee child sleep as their mother is processed by UNHCR for refugee status. By Jehad Nga.
Dadaab, Kenya 2011. A view from inside a UNHCR tent at one of Dadaab Camps for Somali refugees. By Jehad Nga.
Dadaab, Kenya 2011. The body of a child lays wrapped before burial in the Dadaab Refugee Complex. By Jehad Nga.
Dadaab, Kenya 2011. A Somali refugee child stand at a bus for resettlment of arriving Somali refugees by UNHCR. By Jehad Nga.
Bamako, Mali, Feb 2013. A tea seller stands against a wall in Bamako. By Jehad Nga.
Bamako, Mali, Feb 2013. Still life in Bamako. By Jehad Nga.
Grimari, Central African Republic 05/2014. Under a tree in Grimari Anti-Balaka fighters meet only a few kilometers away from Seleka stronghold of Bambari. By Jehad Nga.
Grimari, Central African Republic 05/2014. Under a tree in Grimari, Anti-Balaka fighters meet only a few kilometers away from Seleka stronghold of Bambari. By Jehad Nga.
Bangui, Central African Republic 05/2014. The small area in Bangui where Muslims still live in fear of daily attacks known as PK5. By Jehad Nga.
80 KM South of Bangui, Central African Republic 06/2014. The decaying remains of former C.A.R. President Jean-Bedel Bokassa's once sprawling palace. Bokassa was forced out of office following a French military operation in 1979. By Jehad Nga.
Once inside the country, it quickly became almost impossible to take any photos. The government started arresting journalists about 3 days after he arrived, so brandishing a huge camera around would just paint a giant target on his back. When he could no longer film normally, Jehad began to simply drive around the city, seeing what he could see, and calling in his notes to the Times’ correspondents across the border in Egypt or Tunisia. It didn’t take long before the security forces started noticing him popping up over and over again. He started to get repeatedly detained and questioned. At first he was able to talk his way out of getting arrested, never getting detained for more than a few hours. However, by the third or fourth time he was stopped, they stopped buying that Jehad had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. This time he wasn’t getting out of it. Jehad was arrested and held at the government’s central intelligence complex.
“You think you’re going to paint your masterpiece. That ‘this is your sistine chapel.’”- Jehad Nga
Born to a Libyan father and an American mother, Jehad had spent the first years of his life in Tripoli. The family moved to England when he was 4, where he spent the rest of his childhood. He was educated in American schools, but grew up immersed in the cultures of both sides of his family. As a young adult he bounced around a lot, never forming a tight-knit group of friends, and trying to form his own identity, one that mixed the cultures of his parents with the ones he’d grown up in. This cultural “duality,” as Jehad refers to it, has informed much of his life thus far, and is one of the reasons he has spent so much of his career photographing different countries around the world.
He came to photography through an interest in erotica, but started dabbling in photojournalism very naturally. A trip to Southeast Asia in his early twenties began as an excuse to get away after a bad breakup, but quickly turned into a longer excursion to keep taking pictures. Jehad would shoot all day, every day, steadily gravitating away from the subjects most beginner photographers love – sunrises, landscapes – and towards more journalistic topics. Families living in AIDS hospices. The Phnom Penh garbage dump. A similar trip to the Middle East took him to Jordan, Beirut, Palestine, and the Gaza strip, where he spent the entire time taking photos, despite an underlying current of disorder that permeated the entire trip.
Jehad Nga (left) with photographer Malick Sidibe (right) in Mali
Jehad wanted to return to Palestine as soon as he was back in the United States. He began training as an EMT, in hopes of volunteering with the Red Crescent in Gaza. But before he had a chance to put his training to use, the United States invaded Iraq, and he traveled to the country with two close friends to work as a freelance reporter during the invasion. He received his first assignment – from the New York Times – while in Iraq, beginning an on-and-off relationship with the paper that would last for over a decade.
To first look at Jehad’s photography, one might be surprised to learn that much of it was taken on assignment for major publications like the Times, The New Yorker or Time Magazine. His work deftly walks the line between art and journalism, delivering visually striking pictures that still reveal meaningful stories about their subjects. He sticks to journalism’s ethical code, refusing to majorly edit images after they’re captured. This approach makes Jehad consider everything – from how the technology of the camera will make the photo look, to how his composition and technique will effect what he’s trying to say with each photo – before the shutter is ever released. His only goal: to present the truth in the most visually appealing and effective way possible.
This process-oriented approach can seem counter-intuitive to many photojournalists, many of whom simply try to get as many pictures as possible and find the best one later. In fact, Jehad strongly prefers working at publications like The New Yorker, which use less photography, than for publications like Time that are more photo-centric. “It allows me to shoot at the tempo that I want to,” says Jehad. This slower, more deliberate, pace Jehad allows for some interesting experimentations with his photos. He’s used older, mechanical cameras that don’t allow him to take more than 5-6 pictures per minute, and experimented with polaroid and instant photography to help alleviate his ongoing frustrations with digital photography. All of this is fine with his colleagues at the New Yorker, where he enjoys a rare degree of creative freedom and a strongly collaborative relationship with their editors and the writer he works with on many assignments, John Lee Anderson. “They don’t question a great deal,” says Jehad. “You go some-place, and they don’t expect 300 images.” This relationship has allowed Jehad to experiment with new and creative ways to capture the truth, without constantly hounding him for a deadline.
“There’s a kind of suction. It’s kind of like a Hydrogen bomb – it extinguishes all nearby oxygen when it goes off, but as that oxygen rushes back to the focal point it destroys everything in it’s wake.” – Jehad Nga
Around the same time Jehad was arrested in Tripoli, the Libyan government was beginning to let other journalists into the country – part of extremely supervised tours conducted in attempts downplay the scope of the revolution. Two of his colleagues from The Times were among the first group allowed into the country, and though they couldn’t contact him directly, it was clear that something was wrong when he stopped calling in reports and went quiet. “As soon as they landed, they knew something was wrong,” explains Jehad. The two were able to lobby government contacts on his behalf, and Jehad was released after a few days in prison. Despite his desire to stay in the country and continue reporting, his colleagues insisted he leave, and got him a flight home the day after he was released. Though he didn’t realize it at the time, the decision was for the best – it simply would have been too dangerous for him to stay.
He spent the next 5 months watching the revolution develop from the outside, desperately trying to find a way back into the country. “You feel like the one person that should be there is you,” says Jehad. “That’s where your family is from, where your father is from.” He was able to get back into Tripoli right before the Libyan government fell, and covered the exuberant chaos that surrounded Gaddafi’s fall from power. The city, though festive and excited, remained extremely dangerous and violent even after the National Transitional Council took power, with Gaddafi loyalists committing countless atrocities as they left. “There’s a kind of suction,” says Jehad, explaining the general feeling of a country after it has gone through a revolution. “It’s kind of like a Hydrogen bomb – it extinguishes all nearby oxygen when it goes off, but as that oxygen rushes back to the focal point it destroys everything in it’s wake.”
“I think I’m just haunted by my conscience.” – Jehad Nga
Though much of his career has been spent in the as a photojournalist, Jehad doesn’t really feel like he has much invested in the medium any more. He goes through what he describes as “an annual crisis,” in he wants to give up photography all together. Though he’s learned to resist that urge, he still feels like the time is coming for to evolve away from photojournalism. “I have a very, very short attention span,” says Jehad. “My interests can only sustain for a short period. This is the longest I’ve ever gone, so my intensity and my drive has tapered off.” He’s had an increasing interest in cinematography over the last 9 years, and has been working with a friend on a film treatment that explores the idea of “duality” that has informed so much of his life.
In the mean time, he’s been exploring more artistic endeavors. His recent work explores the disconnect between the image a digital camera captures and what was there to begin with. It would be understandable to assume that Jehad spends hours editing the code behind these images, but his changes to them are minimal. A line here, a letter or number there, it doesn’t take much to corrupt the output. He avoids approaching any image with an end-result in mind, and wont edit it after the code has been adjusted. To him, editing a photo feels to much like he’s distorting that same truth he seeks as a photojournalist. “I think I’m just haunted by my conscience,” says Jehad. His work is not here to manipulate his audience or make a statement. He simply tries to capture the truth, and let others take it from there.
As a creative strategist at Facebook, Ji Lee operates at the cross-section between creativity and technology, creating art that reflects both worlds. After a long career in the ad world, where he worked as creative director for agencies like Saatchi & Saatchi and Droga5, Ji moved into the tech sector in 2008, working as a creative director at Google before moving into his current role at Facebook at 2011. With a fondness for personal projects – many of which have a strong presence on the internet – Ji’s work takes on many modern cultural tableaux with a strong element of humor and a focus on collaboration and participation from his audience.
IMAGES FROM THIS ARTICLE
Bubble Project iPod Ad
Bubble Project Starbucks
Bubble Project Balet
MysteRabbit by Ji Lee
Word as Image, "Parallel"
Word as Image, "Gravity"
Word as Image, "Homosexuals"
3D Chess Board by Ji Lee
"Hipster Clowns" from the Clownify project by Ji Lee
"Rush Limb-Laugh & Sean Insanity Show" from the Clownify Projecct by Ji Lee
"Sillycon Valley" from the Clownify Project by Ji Lee
Most may think architecture was simply in Tommy Zung’s blood. It’s a fair assumption, particularly with architects like Thomas T.K. Zung for a father, and Buckminster Fuller for a godfather. Fuller (or Bucky as Zung calls him), is widely considered to be the father of the geodesic dome – having popularized the structure’s use – and is one of the most influential neo-futurist architects of all time, was a major figure in Zung’s childhood. His father, a student of Fuller’s, had made a name for himself at Edward Durell Stone, where, among other major projects, he helped design the Kennedy Center for Performing Arts, the New Orleans International Trade Mart, and United States Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland, before merging his own practice with Fuller’s to form Buckminster Fuller, Sadao, and Zung.
IMAGES FROM THIS ARTICLE
Bedroom with Painted Fireplace in Southampton Home, Designed by Studio Zung
Reclaimed Door with Refinished Handle in Southampton Home, Designed by Studio Zung
Night Shot Outside Bridgehampton Home, Designed by Studio Zung
Living Room with Floating Walnut Stairs in Bridgehampton Home, Designed by Studio Zung
Floating Walnut Stairs with Glass & Leather Handrail at Bridgehampton Home, Designed by Studio Zung
Glass Hallway Enclosure in Bridgehampton Home, Designed by Studio Zung
Outdside Bridgehampton home with Garapa Fin Steel Awning, Designed by Studio Zung
Sliding Picture Window at Montauk Beach House, Designed by Studio Zung
Horizontal picture windows, glass sliding door & Glass Railing at Montauk Beach House, Designed by Studio Zung
Horizontal picture windows at & Glass Railing at Montauk Beach House, Designed by Studio Zung
Exterior Facade of Montauk Beach House
Crows Nest Inn, Designed by Studio Zung
Balconies at Crows Nest Inn, Designed by Studio Zung