A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

The Naked And The Veiled
Saturday, November 08, 2014


Paris - 1937, 38

As we progress into this century in my field of photography I have found that there are few photographers left from that old guard (as I call it) who had or have an identifiable style.

One of my faves was German fashion photographer Erwin Blumenfeld, 1897 –1969. Perhaps he is not as famous as Helmut Newton or others who shot nudes. Perhaps it is because Blumenfeld’s photographs were more internal and any eroticism was subtle.


Self-portrait, Zandvoort, Holland c.1930
 I have a fondness for his book The Naked and the Veiled – The Photographic Nudes of Erwin Blumenfeld because the author is his son Yorick Blumenfeld who writes beautifully on how his father was motivated to take those elegant b+w (and colour) nudes that involve veils, mirrors and distortion.

Of his veiled nudes his son writes:

He claimed that his enduring obsession with transparency and veils was born when at age nine, he was taken by a governess to visit the studio of a Berlin painter. The model surprised by their entrance, quickly threw a diaphanous cloth over herself. But the outline of her body was still visible against the light. Later in his teenage years, the thin suggestive veils employed by such admired painters as Memling, Cranach and Botticelli made Blumenfeld realize that the naked woman could become ‘even more naked by their  transparent veils.’

I found this interesting too:


The sleazy romanticism of the Berlin garment industry, in which Blumenfeld was forced to work after his father had died of tertiary syphilis in 1913, held no appeal to him. In his autobiography, he describes the furtive trysts of his bosses in voyeuristic detail. From his experiences in ladies’ fashion, however, he learned to distinguish between fabrics, and discovered the ways in which a woman’s form changed under silk, tulle, muslin and gauze. This knowledge would reveal itself later in the intensity of his focus on the quality of fabric in his fashion photographs, as well as his nude studies, such as his famous Nude under Wet Silk (1938).

 
Danielle c.2001 - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward


Danielle - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward


Danielle - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward

Danielle - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward






The Right Equipment
Friday, November 07, 2014


Don't forget to have your heart checked in the Conex Clinic during the January T.L.A. Convention


 In one of my trips to Buenos Aires in the late 90s I mentioned to my rugby-playing nephews that I could not understand the huge toothpaste billboards that featured a beautiful woman in a most skimpy bikini. I told my nephew, “What does that woman have to do with brushing your teeth and why is she wearing a bikini?” My ordinarily gentle nephew, with a grin on his face, raised his voice and said, “Are you a homosexual?”

I attempted to tell him that after years of being in Vancouver I had changed my macho ways and now accepted the idea that one should not use a near naked woman to advertize any product except, perhaps, bathing suits.

If you happen to look at billboards or newspaper ads in Europe (England, France, Italy, Spain, etc) you will be amazed how politically incorrect they are and how the female figure is used to sell everything.

You will not see anything “subtle” like a recent NY Times T-Magazine page advertizing wrist watches by showing a man’s hand, in many frames, lurking close to a woman’s miniskirted legs in a car. 

It seems that Europeans and Latin Americans don’t get this thing we have in Canada and they celebrate the beauty of the female figure. Since Buenos Aires is one of the world’s capitals for same-sex tourism they just might soon switch to advertising toothpaste with a man wearing thong.

As a man from that other century, the 20th I remember one of the worst shooting days of my life. It happened in 1988. I had a beautiful studio in a not-yet-expensive Yale Town on Hamilton Street. I shared it with fashion photographer Dennis Montalbetti. I had been hired by designer Chris Dahl to shoot a calendar for 1989 for his client Continental Explosives. The company sold dynamite that was principally used in logging plus drill bits and something called grader blade edges.

There was to be a truck logger’s convention in January 1989 in which the conventioneers would go to a special room to be photographed (for a price is my guess) with a “nurse” who would check their hearts.

The nurse was a famous model (in the logging community circle) with extra large breasts. She was my subject for the calendar in which most of the poses were designed to have her bend down to show more cleavage. She was a natural and was most pleasant to work with.



"Get the Edge" with Conex (Boundary Sandvik Grader Blade Edges)

I am sure my Argentine nephews would find the calendar wonderful but as I look at it now I can remember that in those pre digital days I had to shoot a Polaroid of every month scene and send it to Dahl by taxi. His assistant and wife, Judy Rudin would then tell me what was wrong with it and suggestions were given. I have no idea as to how many Polaroids went over by taxi. All I remember was my sweat and nerves. I can smile at it today but when I look at my single copy of the calendar I cringe. I know that such a calendar would not see the light of day now. Nor, I am almost sure, that no nurse holds court in an upper room of a convention center and checks truckers’ hearts.

"Everything for Blasting" from Conex (CIL & CXA Products)

"The Right Equipment"from Conex (Boart Drilling Equipment)




Remembrance Day - One For Two
Thursday, November 06, 2014




 
Photograph - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward



The more this century stretches towards a future in which not too far off, It will not include me in it, I find myself thinking more and more as a creature of the 20th century. This is obvious as I still look up to the sky when I hear an airplane. Flying, a magic act, was so in the 20th. Now it means the problem of dealing with carry-on luggage.

Today my granddaughter was complaining that in her school the students prepared a Remembrance Day ceremony that was “truly awful” I am amending this from what she actually said. The principal reason had to do with the fact that one of the students read “that red poppy thing”.

As an Argentine-born Canadian my knowledge of Canadian history is a tad slim but I did read Pierre Berton’s Vimy Ridge in which he argued (favourably for me) that Canada became a country as a result of that battle. It unified Canadians.

My granddaughter was partially right when she told me that General Sir Arthur William Curry (born in Strathroy, Ontario, 1875, was the commander at Vimy Ridge. She was wrong in telling me that his predecessor was a terrible British general who used his soldiers as cannon fodder.  Curry’s predecessor was the English born, Wrotham Park, 1862, Field Marshal Julian Hedworth George Byng, 1st Viscount Byng of Vimy GCB GCMG MVO.

This ignorant Canadian did not know the significance of the poem that my granddaughter was so tired of listening to. I looked it up and found that it was a poem by a live Canadian soldier John McCrea written to honour a fallen comrade from his regiment. I found the story here.

During the early days of the Second Battle of Ypres a young Canadian artillery officer, Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, was killed on 2nd May, 1915 in the gun positions near Ypres. An exploding German artillery shell landed near him. He was serving in the same Canadian artillery unit as a friend of his, the Canadian military doctor and artillery commander Major John McCrae.

As the brigade doctor, John McCrae was asked to conduct the burial service for Alexis because the chaplain had been called away somewhere else on duty that evening. It is believed that later that evening, after the burial, John began the draft for his now famous poem “In Flanders Fields”.

I had a short chat with my granddaughter about the above and then gave her to peruse, my copy of Benet’s Reader’s Encyclopedia with two pages marked by a blank paper. The two pages so marked were on the page on Siegfried Sassoon and the other on Wilfred Owen.

I can only hope that curiosity might just work the way it should.

I then told both my wife and granddaughter the special significance of Remembrance Day’s date. Few, particularly those born in this century or close to it in the other know of such a thing as an Armistice on November 11, at 11am (Paris time) 1918. In fact my granddaughter thought it to be the armistice for WWII. Few know even understand that WWII did not end with D-Day or with Victory in Europe (V-E Day) on May 8, 1945, but ended with the two atom bombs in Japan which signalled V-J Day and that was celebrated on August 15 1945.

I did not end it all there as I told them that Remembrance Day celebrates Canadian soldiers, those that died, and those that are live veterans including soldiers who have fought in Afghanistan. The Americans are different in that they have a day for the fallen, Memorial Day (celebrated on the last Monday of May) and one for the living, Veteran’s day on November 11.



Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Wednesday, November 05, 2014


“if we had come up for the first time from two wells where we had hitherto been bred her astonishment would not be greater at some things I say”
Emily Dickinson 


Lavinia Norcross Dickinson


One Sister have I in our house -     
And one a hedge away.    
There’s only one recorded,      
But both belong to me.     
 
One came the way that I came -              
And wore my past year’s gown -    
The other as a bird her nest,   
Builded our hearts among.
 
She did not sing as we did -    
It was a different tune -    
Herself to her a Music
As Bumble-bee of June.     
 
Today is far from Childhood -
But up and down the hills 
I held her hand the tighter -           
Which shortened all the miles -      
  



And still her hum
The years among,      
Deceives the Butterfly;     
Still in her Eye
The Violets lie    
Mouldered this many May.        
 
I spilt the dew -
But took the morn, -  
I chose this single star     
From out the wide night’s numbers -    
Sue - forevermore!

But peers beyond her mesh

Surgeons must be very careful

Water is taught by thirst

I could not prove that years had feet

April played her fiddle

A violin in Baize replaced

I think the longest hour

The spirit lasts

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html

 http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html

























Dana Moreno López - Self Portraits - Not Selfies
Tuesday, November 04, 2014

Dana Moreno López - Self Portrait 2014
 


Hacia 1859 el hombre que para el terror y la gloria sería Billy the Kid nació en un conventillo subterráneo de Nueva York. Dicen que lo parió un fatigado vientre irlandés, pero se crió entre negros. En ese caos de catinga y de motas gozó el primado que conceden las pecas y una crencha rojiza.
El Asesino desinteresado Bill Harrigan
Jorge Luís Borges 


Some of us may know that photographer Bunny Yeager at one time was a model. She became so frustrated in being photographed by men that had no clue that she started taking glamorous self-portraits. She was so good that she became one of the few female photographers of her generation to shoot pinups. She was offered a job in Chicago by Playboy’s Hugh Hefner if she moved from Florida. Yeager turned him down and opted for making Betti Page famous.

Another female photographer who currently may be one of the most revered art photographers, Cindy Sherman, has only taken self–portraits.

Sometime around 2001 I became friends with Dana Moreno López. I discovered her in a passionate essay on how to be a model for an on line Spanish site. We have emailed each other since and I have written about her here and here. She also wrote this for me.

Since we met on line Dana has sent me countless photographs of herself. Many have been beautiful nudes. We have had constant differences of opinion as she sometimes deprecates the fact that I am a commercial photographer or a magazine photographer with an editorial bent. I once made the mistake of openly criticizing one of her posted images on facebook. I was crucified by a long string of Spanish photographers, makeup artists and her friends. I had crossed the line that is most important in facebook and that is that the world is rosy, we like everything, and to never post anything re Palestinians/Israelis. Any advice in facebook has to be flat design square posters in cyan telling you to love thy neighbour. I did not apologize as I felt that the photograph that had been posted put Dana in very bad light. Since then I have seen hundreds of pictures of her. Some, a few, feature photographs taken underwater, by Teco Pablo Salto-Weis, that are truly very nice. The rest seem to be pseudo fashion poses of yesteryear where Dana looks into the horizon while wearing swirly clothes. 

Dana Moreno López - Self Portrait 2014
Every once in a while she posts self-portraits (not selfies!) that show off her best features, those eyes of hers, those freckles and a feisty disposition that she must surely have. I see her self portraits as pictures telling us, “I am a woman, a real woman. I am not a clothes horse.” I also think that because she is European she has what I suspect is a healthier self-concept in relation to her body that is not so much influenced by the ironic North American political correctness which is there hand in hand with a terrible culture of pornography. There seems to be a lack on the kind of photography that Helmut Newton used to be so good at. I would like to see Dana now pointing her camera away from herself. I think she would surprise us.

I long to see more pictures showing hands, and using much more dramatic lighting. But I am satisfied with this latest string of self-portraits and I can only dream that if I pointed my camera at her I just might take a photograph that is almost as good.





That Damn Hedge Again Electrically
Monday, November 03, 2014




When my wife Rosemary and our two daughters and I moved from our all-paid for townhouse in Burnaby to a big corner lot house in Kerrisdale in 1986 we took up gardening seriously. Rosemary was a tad more practical but I went by the book. I decided I wanted the perfect lawn, Plato’s lawn as Essence. So I did everything possible to achieve that goal. This included mowing with a reel mower.



Our house has had and still haves a laurel hedge that fronts the house and then wraps around to the boulevard. It is long and wide. To prune it you have two do the front side, the back side and the top. The first two years I did the pruning (in the fall rains) with a pair of Swiss secateurs. It took me a week.



After that I decided to become more practical and semi abandoned my expectations for the perfect lawn and pruned the hedge with mechanical hedge clippers.

In the last three years with the advanced of my arthritis I now use electric hedge trimmers. Only I would know the difference and when people laud me for the great hedge job I keep my mouth shut.





Paul St. Pierre - 1923 -2014 - This Was Not My Idea
Sunday, November 02, 2014


Paul St. Pierre, Fort Langley 2010


Today on a cold, gray and ultimately rainy Sunday afternoon, I was immersed in a bittersweet experience that included fine Mexican food, a superb mariachi and a celebration of Paul St. Pierre’s death and life. The event held at the Fort Langley Community Hall, all decorated with Mexican artificial flowers, skulls and candles, was an old-fashioned commemoration of el Día de los Muertos. Paul St. Pierre had a warm spot in his heart for Mexico and he stipulated:

“If and when you wish to remember me…observe The Day of the Dead in the Mexican tradition. The day the souls return is not a day of mourning, but a day of celebration with music, beer, graveyard picnics, food, cakes, and candy for family and the entire community.”


And so it was. The large crowd enjoyed shredded chicken tacos served with a choice of salsa colorada, salsa verde and guacamole, lots of wine but in my case I drank agua de Jamaica (a deep red hibiscus tea usually served in children’s birthday parties) and a dessert of arroz con leche, properly sprinkled with cinnamon, and some incredibly dense and very delicious dark chocolate skulls. 




Many people spoke of anecdotes involving the 90 year old Chicago-born BC man who lived a life that included some near misses, he was a pilot, between his Cessna and an airliner.

Like most memorials, it seems to me, people tried to find a meaning in their own personal lives that might have been urged to them by personal contact, or through St. Pierre’s many books and TV programs that he inspired. The evening ended with a two-block walk in the rain led by the mariachi (the guitar player I believe will have to buy a new instrument) and we all stood by St. Pierre’s grave marker. We had a toast and some lit candles, Mexican style. 

Paul St. Pierre was the Member of Parliament for the riding of Coast Chilcotin from 1968-1972. His son Paul told us that he joined the Liberal Party misreading it as the Libertarian Party. One of St. Pierre's maxims was to consciously break the law when possible. I am not sure that in memory of the man I broke the law. Going and coming from Vancouver I had Abraham Rogatnick's Mexican skeleton, Pancho riding with me shotgun. I decided that with two of us up front I could then drive on the HOV lanes. Did I break the law?



As I drove home in the evening gloom, my partner most silent, I reflected that here was a man, larger than life of which so few are left. I feel lucky to have met and photographed him. 


Death the cure for all diseases




Paul St. Pierre, son, left










Pancho, bottom left visits with Paul St. Pierre




     

Previous Posts
Beyond the Grave - A Posthumous Gift

Pathos With Kokoro at the Roundhouse

That Female Angel

Figurative Art - An Obsession

Embryotrophic Cavatina - Requiem For My Friend

The Man From Pittsburg Almost Made Me Smile

Giclée in French Slang means...

Fairwell French Style - Not

Tickling the Ivories

My Summer of Love



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5/15/11 - 5/22/11

5/22/11 - 5/29/11

5/29/11 - 6/5/11

6/5/11 - 6/12/11

6/12/11 - 6/19/11

6/19/11 - 6/26/11

6/26/11 - 7/3/11

7/3/11 - 7/10/11

7/10/11 - 7/17/11

7/17/11 - 7/24/11

7/24/11 - 7/31/11

7/31/11 - 8/7/11

8/7/11 - 8/14/11

8/14/11 - 8/21/11

8/21/11 - 8/28/11

8/28/11 - 9/4/11

9/4/11 - 9/11/11

9/11/11 - 9/18/11

9/18/11 - 9/25/11

9/25/11 - 10/2/11

10/2/11 - 10/9/11

10/9/11 - 10/16/11

10/16/11 - 10/23/11

10/23/11 - 10/30/11

10/30/11 - 11/6/11

11/6/11 - 11/13/11

11/13/11 - 11/20/11

11/20/11 - 11/27/11

11/27/11 - 12/4/11

12/4/11 - 12/11/11

12/11/11 - 12/18/11

12/18/11 - 12/25/11

12/25/11 - 1/1/12

1/1/12 - 1/8/12

1/8/12 - 1/15/12

1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17

3/12/17 - 3/19/17

3/19/17 - 3/26/17

3/26/17 - 4/2/17

4/2/17 - 4/9/17

4/9/17 - 4/16/17

4/16/17 - 4/23/17

4/23/17 - 4/30/17

4/30/17 - 5/7/17

5/7/17 - 5/14/17

5/14/17 - 5/21/17

5/21/17 - 5/28/17

5/28/17 - 6/4/17

6/4/17 - 6/11/17

6/11/17 - 6/18/17

6/18/17 - 6/25/17

6/25/17 - 7/2/17

7/2/17 - 7/9/17

7/9/17 - 7/16/17

7/16/17 - 7/23/17

7/23/17 - 7/30/17

7/30/17 - 8/6/17

8/6/17 - 8/13/17

8/13/17 - 8/20/17

8/20/17 - 8/27/17

8/27/17 - 9/3/17

9/3/17 - 9/10/17

9/10/17 - 9/17/17

9/17/17 - 9/24/17