tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73084628127799999862024-03-18T07:51:53.527-06:00photo-eye | BLOGphoto-eye Blog features write-ups, reviews and interviews on art photography books and photographers, as well as the latest photo-eye news.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2665125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-27265224917487675462024-03-18T07:50:00.004-06:002024-03-18T07:51:04.456-06:00Collaboration: Reviewed by Brian Arnold<div>
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Collaboration</span> <span id="xAuthors">A Potential History of Photography</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Brian Arnold</span> <span id="xSummary">"In 1992, I traveled to Bali, Indonesia for the first time as part of a study abroad program. I spent 6-months studying Balinese Hinduism and the remarkable music unique to the island. Since that time, Indonesia has been central in shaping my ideas about music, photography, art, and art history..."
</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="610" height="320" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image1.jpg" width="244" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH153" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Collaboration: A Potential History of Photography</a>.</span><span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH153"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH153" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Collaboration</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">A Potential History of Photography</span></div>
<div class="separator">Thames & Hudson, 2024. 288 pp., 724 color illustrations, 8¾x11½".</div><div><br /></div>
<i>In 1968 Sontag recorded her impressions of a first visit to Vietnam in a book titled Trip to Hanoi, where she confessed early doubts about photography. She landed in Hanoi, only to realize that photographs had clouded her perspective with preconceptions of Vietnam. To understand how the war truly affected the people in the North, she needed to see beyond photographs.
<br /></i><br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"> — Thy Phu, <i>Warring Visions </i>
<br /></div><div><br />
Collaboration <i>is informed by decolonial, anti-colonial, anti-racist, anti-patriarchal, feminist and abolitionist struggles. We tried to reconstruct, challenge, imagine, and reenact collaboration as the different protagonists experienced it…We have not stopped with the photographer’s ‘intentions’ or ‘statements’, but rather we look at the photographic event as it unfolds over time. Attending the mode of participation of the photographed persons, in particular, enabled us to reconfigure also the participation of the photographers, not as solo masters but rather as parties to the event of photography.</i>
<br /> <br /></div><div style="text-align: right;"> — <i>Collaboration: A Potential History of Photograph</i>y
<br /></div><div><br />
In 1992, I traveled to Bali, Indonesia for the first time as part of a study abroad program. I spent 6-months studying Balinese Hinduism and the remarkable music unique to the island. Since that time, Indonesia has been central in shaping my ideas about music, photography, art, and art history. For decades now, I’ve struggled with the ethics of my work, a white man working in a colonized nation. I’ve always questioned my privilege in relation to my work in Indonesia — at times, I’ve been disgusted by it — and, as a result, I’ve found myself wrestling with complex ideas about power, imperialism, and personal identity. At times, my work with Indonesia has been profoundly humbling, empowering, and confusing, but, ultimately, I cling to the belief that I can contribute to new, anti-colonial histories. In developing my projects in Bali and Java, I have come to the conclusion that a truly revisionist approach to history has to be <i>collaborative</i>. We can’t erase colonialism, slavery, and imperialism, so we must think of new ways to share resources and try to tell larger stories about the consequences of subjugation.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGYQZLLaXyh8SBVzPo2v9jKsTeLD8HWJxBULmdgUHV22yNasnVRc_fF7k2rPClcvK4Gzg1MGeoOgj9ppyvUoW4vhathruzQXIxrwC12X3i0HbmmMXSvWX2DFjmKR-MmRXOq_xvRkRbU4mgcEksfxqAufQmMydfYbBi-4av2TVw1pN-6K38HzLU_oQ9E0/s1920/collaboration1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1581" data-original-width="1920" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZGYQZLLaXyh8SBVzPo2v9jKsTeLD8HWJxBULmdgUHV22yNasnVRc_fF7k2rPClcvK4Gzg1MGeoOgj9ppyvUoW4vhathruzQXIxrwC12X3i0HbmmMXSvWX2DFjmKR-MmRXOq_xvRkRbU4mgcEksfxqAufQmMydfYbBi-4av2TVw1pN-6K38HzLU_oQ9E0/w640-h528/collaboration1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Uyghur Community</i> by Carolyn Drake<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />As one fully devoted to photography, I’ve been fascinated by the history of the medium since I first picked up a camera. I’ve hungrily read many different approaches to the subject, but none of them reflect the kinds of issues I found researching photography in Indonesia (the Szarkowski history, included Gordon Parks and Roy Decarava, but certainly never ventured into the dark history of photography as an essential tool of colonialism). <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH153" target="_blank">Collaboration: A Potential History of Photography</a></i>, a new book developed by Ariella Aisha Azoulay, Wendy Ewald, Susan Meiselas, Leigh Raiford, and Laura Wexler, comes as a breath of fresh air. It is the first history of photography I’ve read that starts with the understanding that the medium has been essential in establishing the racist, classist, and sexist foundations of our “democratic” institutions.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8LIZZGknv8TV7W31xVJapwdu2MMSdrwpXfvd_ZBgluZTE8aZIFyCC8DwIiGTx9-u66cyjZY6b7Cl8WTOHcWi5btBM_h1lKG5pY5mdW6eT1HMZf1wQw-vc0aGDsiKQIIYUzdV_aCM61KMvBJ95rorl9k9WtGM1j0KZeZRksu0Z1mdM6khDi_FWLWWTzM/s1920/collaboration8.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1286" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji8LIZZGknv8TV7W31xVJapwdu2MMSdrwpXfvd_ZBgluZTE8aZIFyCC8DwIiGTx9-u66cyjZY6b7Cl8WTOHcWi5btBM_h1lKG5pY5mdW6eT1HMZf1wQw-vc0aGDsiKQIIYUzdV_aCM61KMvBJ95rorl9k9WtGM1j0KZeZRksu0Z1mdM6khDi_FWLWWTzM/w428-h640/collaboration8.jpeg" width="428" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <i>Scherzo di Follia</i> by Pierre-Louis Pierson</td></tr></tbody></table><br />The book is divided into 8 sections (the authors call them clusters), each of these based on the premise that any photograph is an event, built on collaborative give-and-takes between the photographer(s) and subject(s). In presenting the various projects, the editors attempted to include the voices of both the makers and the subjects (to be clear, there is nothing about landscape or experimental approaches to photographic materials, this is strictly a sociological study of the medium). Indeed, <i>Collaboration</i> takes this a step further by encouraging all readers to treat the book as a living document; we as viewers are part of the collaboration by bringing meaning and conversation to photographs. The editors encourage us to use the book as a conversation starter, not necessarily as a completed work, and to bring it to our studios, galleries, and classrooms. This all-inclusive paradigm, for defining the photographic act and our understanding of the resulting images, is intended to help create a revisionist history, undermining Szarkowski’s (and so many others) need to point to individual genius.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSqNOGcEsALh7MQGzHxjFBg5alEkOCWVcMWrVHEhSQXBqJJ-p38Zr22PufswbHdgTq1vkpeFfIzM29NsSTvzCYBdJVujiem_ryKBO8oPAyWXaFYyL1prtL3ieNCfwtYaY_O0Z532TEq3qqAV2OmP0Uz5A68T7oU2bDG7mWwQP1Fph_BQnHW94nhMHsp0/s1920/collaboration7.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1258" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSqNOGcEsALh7MQGzHxjFBg5alEkOCWVcMWrVHEhSQXBqJJ-p38Zr22PufswbHdgTq1vkpeFfIzM29NsSTvzCYBdJVujiem_ryKBO8oPAyWXaFYyL1prtL3ieNCfwtYaY_O0Z532TEq3qqAV2OmP0Uz5A68T7oU2bDG7mWwQP1Fph_BQnHW94nhMHsp0/w420-h640/collaboration7.jpeg" width="420" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Sabrina and Katrina</i> by Endia Beal<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Everything about the book is a collaboration, fully embracing its own core ideals. Compiled by the 5 editors, each representing different disciplines or approaches to photography, the clusters are built around different themes, each detailing a variety of photographic projects. The projects are each presented with a selection of pictures accompanied by quotes from their makers, including both the photographers and, when possible, the subjects. The editors selected the work, but rather than giving their own reasons for inclusion, they asked different writers to respond to each of the individual projects, ensuring that every component of the book is a collaboration, enriched with layers of conversation. Some of these writers are familiar names, but many I had to look up. And, like the editors themselves, the contributing authors represent an array of disciplines and perspectives, creating a truly interdisciplinary approach to the medium.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="800" height="432" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Collaboration: A Potential History of Photography</i></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I want to conclude by returning to Indonesia; this book facilitated a great deal of introspection on that work in ways that are helpful in relating my understanding of the editors’ intentions. About 2-months after returning from my study abroad program, I met with a Peace Corps volunteer on my college campus. We talked about a lot of things, but what sticks with me is our conversation about privilege. I’d spent the previous months living in Peliatan, a village of about 6,000 in south Bali. There was one phone and one fax machine for the entire village (this was pre-internet). Most people had refrigerators and TVs, but electricity could be intermittent and there were no such things as laundry machines or VCRs. When I got home, I felt so disgusted by the American abundance that I saw clearly for the first time. I told the volunteer I wanted to give away everything I own and move back to Bali so that I could spend the rest of my life studying gamelan and Hinduism. The volunteer was an African American woman who just returned from service in Ghana. She too was wrestling with some big questions about personal and cultural identity. I remember one thing she told me quite clearly — never give up your privilege, but always strive to make sure you are using it for good instead of propagating more abuse. Indeed, this stuck with me to the point that I’ve worked to make it the defining element of my work in Indonesia since.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVDN2-8bZMtdupQVS2iino-bYHQ80VQjsnr4-7-NTO7oMfh7J_LYdyQYcIMQQYgOL7ZQ7oHQbLtYRjTFNcw0N-IwS-ALw6BfPK9I9vKvqvxniC-bUX6w68Q3A4iAgpRUQVi5UQWdP4wGEN4adYDETuom7-zVTq9StdNp33e2HkOnxhapcdUPWeFH5whc/s1920/collaboration6.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTVDN2-8bZMtdupQVS2iino-bYHQ80VQjsnr4-7-NTO7oMfh7J_LYdyQYcIMQQYgOL7ZQ7oHQbLtYRjTFNcw0N-IwS-ALw6BfPK9I9vKvqvxniC-bUX6w68Q3A4iAgpRUQVi5UQWdP4wGEN4adYDETuom7-zVTq9StdNp33e2HkOnxhapcdUPWeFH5whc/w640-h400/collaboration6.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Aaliya, digital collage</i> by Hamida Zourgui. Original photograph by Jean Besancenot.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Notions of privilege aren’t overtly discussed in <i>Collaboration: A Potential History of Photography</i>, but I do think this is important in understanding the ideas presented by the authors. If collaboration is defined by sharing and exchanging resources, then sharing privilege is necessary for tipping the balance of powers, making a society that is truly democratic, not just in name, and escaping the boundaries of imperialism, patriarchy, and dominance. To be honest, there are things I don’t like about <i>Collaboration</i> (there is just a little information about a lot of photographic projects and ideas, making it read a bit like a historical tapas), but I also feel it offers essential ideas for recreating cultural and photographic paradigms. And, regardless, I think the book a must for anyone interested in photographic history or education.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH153" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="800" height="429" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image4.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="537" data-original-width="800" height="430" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image7.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="800" height="424" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th153/booktease/image7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/ARNOLD.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="500" height="161" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h161/ARNOLD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Brian Arnold</b> is a photographer, writer, and translator based in Ithaca, NY. He has taught and exhibited his work around the world and published books, including <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK227" target="_blank">A History of Photography in Indonesia</a></i>, with Oxford University Press, Cornell University, Amsterdam University, and Afterhours Books. Brian is a two-time MacDowell Fellow and in 2014 received a grant from the Henry Luce Foundation/American Institute for Indonesian Studies.
</div>Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-47155857316303640942024-03-11T09:42:00.007-06:002024-03-11T12:13:39.885-06:00Winogrand Color: Reviewed by Blake Andrews
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Winogrand Color</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Garry Winogrand</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Blake Andrews</span> <span id="xSummary">“Alas, poor Winogrand. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He was only 56 when cancer cut him down in 1984. Curators have spent the succeeding years attempting to reanimate the corpus. Task number one was to develop and sort the reams of film he’d left behind..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="932" data-original-width="931" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglO8f0B3zaHQR0gG3u58_J_pINhi3kKehlNRmMPU4wmxK719sklXYDm7RjmPrK-zY4Fn6F7PH8G-9qXv4xsa36fIj9h7yMJl2qh9h-oL1bOhmhgBDFEa8PrTAcICClo3bv7wcUQR3b4iiq3YlNsKKMQTK8U8eYoUbF3t_b6RfZndO8G6L1h2oJnjOhTXY/w320-h320/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.17.34%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TT186" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Winogrand Color</a>. By Garry Winogrand.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TT186"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TT186" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Winogrand Color</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Garry Winogrand</span><br />
Twin Palms, Santa Fe, NM, 2023. 212 pp., 156 color plates, 12½x12½".
</div><br />
Alas, poor Winogrand. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He was only 56 when cancer cut him down in 1984. Curators have spent the succeeding years attempting to reanimate the corpus. Task number one was to develop and sort the reams of film he’d left behind. John Szarkowski and crew tackled that one. They processed, proofed, and sifted thousands of unseen rolls, paving the way for the blockbuster MoMA exhibition/book <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=MM030&i=0810960850&i2=0810960885" target="_blank">Figments of The Real World</a></i> in 1988. By Szarkowski’s reckoning Winogrand was “the central photographer of his time.” A definitive judgement it would seem. But his opinion was merely the first of many to come.
<br /><br />
After Szarkowski, various others took a stab, each mixing unpublished work with reconsidered favorites in varying ratios. The Fraenkel Gallery produced <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=FR009&i=1881337057&i2=" target="_blank">The Man in The Crowd</a></i> in 1998. In 2002, Trudy Wilner Stack’s <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AE051&i=&i2=" target="_blank">Winogrand 1964</a></i> focused on the titular year. She was the first of his posthumous champions to dip a tentative toe into his color work. Alex Harris focused on airports the next year with <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=PK785&i=1891024477&i2=" target="_blank">Arrivals & Departures</a></i>.
<br /><br />
These efforts helped set the stage for Leo Rubinfien’s monster SFMoMA retrospective in 2013, the eponymous exhibition/book <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=YU150&i=9780300191776&i2=" target="_blank">Garry Winogrand</a></i>. You might think this exhaustive tome would put his legacy to rest for a while. But it wasn’t too long before Geoff Dyer had a go. His 2018 book of essays <i><a href="https://photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=UT216&i=9781477310335&i2=" target="_blank">The Street Philosophy of Garry Winogrand</a></i>, borrowed from Szarkowski in format if not assessment. It dived further into his unseen color slides, with photos spiced with roaming asides. “I’m sure Dyer's book won't be the last on Winogrand,” I speculated at the time. “Another one will come along in, say, five years or so.”
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCqM50KlzWtzovQX7txQ6P4jsMVMvFtOziwWcgqqVQQL_QDbNk2Y7rfqoKMBB4fdHp91Yc2hpfYYJMa59YbCxx-UHfwGMvm4Ol816egkFEXjrX_yJ02RqmqDcy122KE_CyEXCfYREm2m9al58IYH2PXZyui00gdDzEK7_b6iJb23gAHurvh8X-Bz5Yyk/s1808/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.02%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1808" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyCqM50KlzWtzovQX7txQ6P4jsMVMvFtOziwWcgqqVQQL_QDbNk2Y7rfqoKMBB4fdHp91Yc2hpfYYJMa59YbCxx-UHfwGMvm4Ol816egkFEXjrX_yJ02RqmqDcy122KE_CyEXCfYREm2m9al58IYH2PXZyui00gdDzEK7_b6iJb23gAHurvh8X-Bz5Yyk/w640-h422/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.02%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Right on cue, the latest Winogrand book has hit the shelves. Co-curated by Michael Almereyda (director of <i>William Eggleston In The Real World</i>) and Susan Kismaric (photo curator at MoMA), <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TT186" target="_blank">Winogrand Color</a></i> is the first book to cast the late maestro under a fully chromatic lens. With most of the photo world embracing a color palette now, such a reconsideration was probably inevitable. Indeed, it joins a glut of rose-colored crate digs, alongside recent monographs on Joel Meyerowitz, Manuel Álvarez Bravo, Vivian Maier, Saul Leiter, and Werner Bischoff. As it turns out, Winogrand left more than enough breadcrumbs to blaze a color trail. Black-and-white may have been his first love, but he also shot Kodachrome and Ektachrome on occasion, at least in his early career. By the late 1960s those color efforts had mostly fizzled, discouraged by expense, printing difficulties, and a carousel mishap at the 1967 <i>New Documents</i> exhibition. Nevertheless, he managed to expose 45,000 color slides alongside the millions of monochromes. They’re stored with his archives at CCP in Tucson.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBacXmcysJ1fDexik2TpxMTgtPQ25c0L4r4jlThpqaspEWZHLruTzfAs1Kx-yNVXGPTdjNVtWL0zU3OWfpmp0QGUl01pV_vq322gEAVE9MyjyIPdivBWABtwMe5mDyxX4p4-iExpZQqbq6uKhOKi4UVte3BnoDSKum3rFGrCjtGUgmczr1wlg8D_RdoK8/s1772/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.47.46%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1192" data-original-width="1772" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBacXmcysJ1fDexik2TpxMTgtPQ25c0L4r4jlThpqaspEWZHLruTzfAs1Kx-yNVXGPTdjNVtWL0zU3OWfpmp0QGUl01pV_vq322gEAVE9MyjyIPdivBWABtwMe5mDyxX4p4-iExpZQqbq6uKhOKi4UVte3BnoDSKum3rFGrCjtGUgmczr1wlg8D_RdoK8/w640-h430/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.47.46%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Almereyda and Kismaric were given full access to the mounted slides. They were stored in boxes, some seen, some unseen. The pair went about their task with patient diligence, beginning in 2017. “Susan and I were looking for needles in the massive archival haystack,” Almereyda writes. By the time they’d finished six years had passed, with a midpoint detour for a yet another blowout Winogrand exhibition. This one, at the Brooklyn Museum in 2019, was presented as a rotating installation of 425 color slides. It served as a rough precursor to the book’s final selection of 150 plates.
<br /><br />
Technically speaking, <i>Winogrand Color</i> spans the early 50s through late 60s. But the vast majority are from a narrow sweet spot, roughly 1962-1966. This was a period of active transition and experimentation for Winogrand. He was still doing commercial assignments, and he viewed color photos as a potential window to job opportunities. At the same time, he felt increasingly drawn to photography as an art form, as a way of life in fact. As he would say later, “my only interest in photographing is photography.” In the early 60s he hadn’t yet fully adjusted to the sentiment, but the ingredients were in place. His 1963 Guggenheim application signaled an aspirational leap from commerce into fine art. Fortunately his application was approved. Better yet, from the POV of Almereyda and Kismaric, he brought color film along on the subsequent road trip. His magical year of 1964 produced a hit parade of all-time winners, and some strong color images. As Almereyda explains in the introduction, Stack’s <i>Winogrand 1964</i> was the initial inspiration for <i>Winogrand Color.
</i><br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1v42JtX58nq891BYxl8hOREr4oq4qqTvNOp9KsJVgvKJj8vU5KEX2M3b6leVfIvSV6_7WHNkZj1pnEaQfwlwFb2P-_F7y6Zf81C8mF3IpJvudxNPLcOod0gVdseAQ5SSfiMoLgYawnu0GdFpAIre3z8DKEo1ezZHH4PjAOBrJxPOMpGBWWVwsREo10Eo/s1607/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.20%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1607" height="474" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1v42JtX58nq891BYxl8hOREr4oq4qqTvNOp9KsJVgvKJj8vU5KEX2M3b6leVfIvSV6_7WHNkZj1pnEaQfwlwFb2P-_F7y6Zf81C8mF3IpJvudxNPLcOod0gVdseAQ5SSfiMoLgYawnu0GdFpAIre3z8DKEo1ezZHH4PjAOBrJxPOMpGBWWVwsREo10Eo/w640-h474/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.20%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtae676HepFrvVZcozs8vZqwXiGcZ963GRh8Wg7Bi0egbIa86GGYTmGTZV3mHR4zrxusKVKpNq5HypBouK9gJO0nsGqII77NIRWo78vDuyQ8KZivbZ4c_LuZe-eCUYqYlsUNzrdXySaKzipJrI-9vD12jPpBpHu2HSu45Vr9LiG-3ivoE5IFxcodv2Ns0/s1808/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.06%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1808" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtae676HepFrvVZcozs8vZqwXiGcZ963GRh8Wg7Bi0egbIa86GGYTmGTZV3mHR4zrxusKVKpNq5HypBouK9gJO0nsGqII77NIRWo78vDuyQ8KZivbZ4c_LuZe-eCUYqYlsUNzrdXySaKzipJrI-9vD12jPpBpHu2HSu45Vr9LiG-3ivoE5IFxcodv2Ns0/w640-h422/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.06%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Winogrand’s 1964 road trip sketched a loose map of his life journey. He traced a path westward over his career, from New York to Texas to California, with various stopovers in between. <i>Winogrand Color</i> is structured accordingly. The sequence is roughly chronological, and follows a general trajectory to LA. The earliest photo is from Coney Island in 1951, when Winogrand was just 23. By the final few pages, he’s reached the Pacific. He’s soaking up the California surf culture, the leading edge of the sixties sunbelt migration.
<br /><br />
What transpired in the intervening years? Well, that is the story of <i>Winogrand Color</i>. The book presents a remarkable study of Winogrand’s young life and his rapidly maturing style. We’ve seen glimpses of this period before, but almost exclusively in b/w. If those facts were mysterious, the color work is more clearly described. With rainbowed hindsight, it carries a <i>Wizard of Oz</i> punch. The book’s initial sequence is shot with a long lens, isolating beach goers in moments of reverie. These photos probe the inner thoughts of strangers in a way that would become a Winogrand hallmark. But they are narrow snatches, a far cry from the stilted wide-angle inhalations to come. That style comes into sharper focus as the book moves gradually onto New York City sidewalks. These mid-60s street candids are restless. He was hungry for action, but color was a bucking bronco. His lassoings were scattershot, with mixed lens lengths, depth of field, and clarity. Still, they have a kernel of Winogrand’s wit. His naked curiosity comes through, his penetrating gaze in search of serendipitous moments. And some of the resulting frames are well seen, e.g. a woman in white gloves departing a taxi and a gawking family surrounded by urban greyscale. Both lean on color for visual power. As b/w pictures they would probably miss, at least by my rough guess.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfulpR0pVb2Mnp_1BDHwGmarvn4m5bhZWktoP44QFQbp0pvELG1CFKI_RX2XximPQht1HUG2K3Ai0ge-6UPaxq1FvZ_dmvy4Xezi-cchDiZi6IlA7oAZzfIjjdHMm1Ixtd0ewl2hMJjJZiO5sjegl05Th87itjwZIbYMZJoiJt9clACNf0IkG_YUC0FWg/s1766/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.42%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1766" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfulpR0pVb2Mnp_1BDHwGmarvn4m5bhZWktoP44QFQbp0pvELG1CFKI_RX2XximPQht1HUG2K3Ai0ge-6UPaxq1FvZ_dmvy4Xezi-cchDiZi6IlA7oAZzfIjjdHMm1Ixtd0ewl2hMJjJZiO5sjegl05Th87itjwZIbYMZJoiJt9clACNf0IkG_YUC0FWg/w640-h432/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.42%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Soon enough we get a chance to test this theory in practice, in the form of a color frame from the Central Park Zoo in 1967. It’s the chimp-holding mixed raced couple made infamous by Winogrand in black-and-white. But in this version the racial subtext is defanged, its content subjugated by colorful outfits and vibrant mood. Alas, form wins again. Just another relaxing Sunday stroll in the park. “The photograph should be more interesting or beautiful than what was photographed,” preached Winogrand. But in this case he’s fallen short. One reason he may have preferred monochrome is that its translation divorced itself naturally from reality. He could slot illusions into the breach. Color film could do the same of course, but the dance was trickier.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSAY7urVShcmaauxd-Wj3O2_9e_Cz5Gsuqmf6pT47dN3hhFmlvMbIc4xIRfM6EMvefBgj4zuKOf1xPTC6X673iTpBmtSDGObCqDOSDEbOW_eG2ec44t8fyXKMfnJENAAUkJhrRDi6xRG2aVaZ-YY-WlUZMDAiRsl1i93XV6k9QAGg3YX_V4lgn5_I90o/s1765/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.49.28%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1765" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSAY7urVShcmaauxd-Wj3O2_9e_Cz5Gsuqmf6pT47dN3hhFmlvMbIc4xIRfM6EMvefBgj4zuKOf1xPTC6X673iTpBmtSDGObCqDOSDEbOW_eG2ec44t8fyXKMfnJENAAUkJhrRDi6xRG2aVaZ-YY-WlUZMDAiRsl1i93XV6k9QAGg3YX_V4lgn5_I90o/w640-h432/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.49.28%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />He seemed to have similar difficulties elsewhere. <i>Winogrand Color</i> includes several dozen “almost” photos. These are decent frames that work pretty well. But they lack the <i>je ne sais quoi</i> which lifted so many of Winogrand’s pictures into stellar territory. The New York sidewalk photos are entertaining enough, but none are exceptional. The same can be said for his western roamings. Feeling unmoored, he clung to events, fairs, and resorts. “When you put four edges around some facts,” he said, “you change those facts.” The same might apply to car-bound photographers. Nevertheless, he captured static scenes dutifully. When he broke free, he hit occasional pay dirt, as with random green phone booths in El Paso, or a windshield cowboy snapshot from Texas. These are among perhaps a dozen exceptional frames in a book which is largely pedestrian. By the time it winds down on the beach in California, Winogrand has reverted to the same stale long-lens closeups of his youth.
<br /><br />
He’s come full circle it seems, and so have his readers. The book’s two best single images — a prismatic poolside from Tahoe and ghostly angel from Dallas — appeared already in <i>Winogrand 1964</i>. If the bones of his archive hadn’t yet been picked clean for Stack’s book, they certainly have by now.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8eMgUiNJp77f8BqA9igkH1FhBlb23KKOopPR0DRwScXSvpWOwB_FRihTaxz_3SoajLA62FR4F3Z-5Ec6aJyQmiYSuPTrGNeKDoHokEIeHq3GO5Ah_bcXNNmi9eG-7yklzStC1cqEJEpyhNcvbLmw2zd5A8PAQm1MQ2APDLj_yHrDMQMEA3inygw3k7k/s1766/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.36%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1766" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic8eMgUiNJp77f8BqA9igkH1FhBlb23KKOopPR0DRwScXSvpWOwB_FRihTaxz_3SoajLA62FR4F3Z-5Ec6aJyQmiYSuPTrGNeKDoHokEIeHq3GO5Ah_bcXNNmi9eG-7yklzStC1cqEJEpyhNcvbLmw2zd5A8PAQm1MQ2APDLj_yHrDMQMEA3inygw3k7k/w640-h432/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.36%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Or have they? The most tantalizing questions raised by <i>Winogrand Color</i> concern the process of curation. For this book is not an unfiltered sample. Any view into his unseen oeuvre is tantalizing, but it comes with a guide. As with other posthumous curations, Winogrand’s archive presents a Rorschach test for scholars. Do they look for pictures to match preconceptions or defy them? Did Winogrand shoot any strange mistakes, half frames, mis-advanced rolls, light leaks, double exposures? Did he shoot photos of his family? Of his home? Of subways? Of nature? Did he shoot outside the U.S.? Who knows. One thing is certain though. <i>Winogrand Color </i>won't be the last book on Garry Winogrand. Another one will come along in, say, five years or so.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TT186" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNGTJbiL7hX1z8Jb4ymEzXKVzs0oZkJ_vDVSmjqFM_Dcp4YMM3MPI9kFOtSc9o-aaYOfz3Q35sGSvmMPfitp-YhUfZbpTdXBaxewUqlMVeDNJunRuUi1PfRbRCVZK5I4QpxfGHTCbmDiKEWzM5kaMXV9VT0Dsz7sQy9DG2r9ITjxfXMtXhtKylDdSSEp0/s1765/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.49.17%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1765" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNGTJbiL7hX1z8Jb4ymEzXKVzs0oZkJ_vDVSmjqFM_Dcp4YMM3MPI9kFOtSc9o-aaYOfz3Q35sGSvmMPfitp-YhUfZbpTdXBaxewUqlMVeDNJunRuUi1PfRbRCVZK5I4QpxfGHTCbmDiKEWzM5kaMXV9VT0Dsz7sQy9DG2r9ITjxfXMtXhtKylDdSSEp0/w640-h432/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.49.17%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MqO9yRzWIfNCb0XWmTBknN0TRARe0d3ects4Y2gQsQnOkPqMJXI-0jf-nc6yH3wclORUHggSK17rX2GvBzVBykU_A3owq0cCiONh5bFXWG7H2iDCaBGkygsphscGagbG1On8ygJBdl-s5l1wXKe0cBmfAFUUXkQVl2NWWwuk_3RDXDHmPj9Kdi82Flg/s1765/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.49.21%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1765" height="432" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MqO9yRzWIfNCb0XWmTBknN0TRARe0d3ects4Y2gQsQnOkPqMJXI-0jf-nc6yH3wclORUHggSK17rX2GvBzVBykU_A3owq0cCiONh5bFXWG7H2iDCaBGkygsphscGagbG1On8ygJBdl-s5l1wXKe0cBmfAFUUXkQVl2NWWwuk_3RDXDHmPj9Kdi82Flg/w640-h432/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.49.21%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVI0Fswke9rtYEPVIHZXTeRkUWFhyqWS25z5-gHpfe-O4ztDXHUS6CarvS0fg9oi2PWm-koVjuafZBE4dTobxmPeMm0lVCFlCQWEbpLFh5YChNxXDhu3DgV1IZeZOVBeRix-nX6HOGaHEFZIKoJu_-_aT9LEFVScvMWYuJaetW2g7LsObEvDyJ8IrOF0c/s1787/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.30%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1191" data-original-width="1787" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVI0Fswke9rtYEPVIHZXTeRkUWFhyqWS25z5-gHpfe-O4ztDXHUS6CarvS0fg9oi2PWm-koVjuafZBE4dTobxmPeMm0lVCFlCQWEbpLFh5YChNxXDhu3DgV1IZeZOVBeRix-nX6HOGaHEFZIKoJu_-_aT9LEFVScvMWYuJaetW2g7LsObEvDyJ8IrOF0c/w640-h426/Screenshot%202024-03-11%20at%2011.48.30%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="134" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b>Blake Andrews</b><span> is a photographer based in Eugene, OR. He writes about photography at <a href="http://blakeandrews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blakeandrews.blogspot.com</a>.</span>
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-77273782419280960802024-03-04T07:23:00.007-07:002024-03-04T07:43:19.517-07:00Photocollage: Reviewed by Cheryl Van Hooven
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Deborah Turbeville: Photocollage</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Deborah Turbeville</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Cheryl Van Hooven</span> <span id="xSummary">“Many years ago, I fell in thrall to Deborah Turbeville’s photography. Turbeville’s world was female centric and female authored. Her dreamlike images were infused with a feminine interiority like nothing I’d seen: a solid counterpoint to the widespread circulation of the male gaze and objectification of women..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="500" height="272" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th144/th144.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH144" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Deborah Turbeville: Photocollage</a>. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH144"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH144" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Deborah Turbeville: Photocollage</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Deborah Turbeville</span><br />
Thames & Hudson, London, United Kingdom, 2023. 240 pp..
</div><br />
Many years ago, I fell in thrall to Deborah Turbeville’s photography. Turbeville’s world was female centric and female authored. Her dreamlike images were infused with a feminine interiority like nothing I’d seen: a solid counterpoint to the widespread circulation of the male gaze and objectification of women.
<br /><br />
Published in conjunction with a major traveling exhibition beginning at Photo Elysée in Lausanne, Switzerland, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH144" target="_blank">Deborah Turbeville: Photocollage</a></i> is a comprehensive journey into the work of Deborah Turbeville. Although she is renowned primarily for the genre of fashion photography, her entire body of work is that of an innovative and experimental artist.
<br /><br />
By focusing on Turbeville’s use of collage throughout her practice, Photo Elysée Director Nathalie Herschdorfer not only brings unknown images to light, but also proposes that the genius of Turbeville’s work can be found in her collages. Drawing from the MUUS Collection’s archive of Turbeville’s estate and working with Richard Grosgard, advisor to MUUS Collection, Herschdorfer has produced a retrospective in book form, "situating Turbeville in the pantheon of 20th century photographic artists" and revealing the process of her singular practice.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8tWFoda1xmoa-_4Nqpn2_vKRZaZEs-AKaQnR7xZFZtjys_8SCNfqSUvsaGa2N2a0kjLofZnuT1aXj92ByfFafP_MmD5cPMRRq6R0_SmLDsQt9hKU0uvq5_P14xqnSf-PMYUlBqlyjIjrNFIZ1I6a3dJyrgHnYxXFVwBUffZPEGqmNOXl2QtU2NKdMdk/s1920/439430%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1278" data-original-width="1920" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8tWFoda1xmoa-_4Nqpn2_vKRZaZEs-AKaQnR7xZFZtjys_8SCNfqSUvsaGa2N2a0kjLofZnuT1aXj92ByfFafP_MmD5cPMRRq6R0_SmLDsQt9hKU0uvq5_P14xqnSf-PMYUlBqlyjIjrNFIZ1I6a3dJyrgHnYxXFVwBUffZPEGqmNOXl2QtU2NKdMdk/w640-h426/439430%20(1).jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />From her breakout 1975 Vogue magazine succès de scandale, ‘<i>Bathhouse</i>,’ to individual women waiting in the woods (for what, for whom?), to the uninhabited palace of Versailles, Turbeville’s work implies a fictive narrative. Along with the human characters she introduces, her collages and photographs evoke the personification of location. A Turbeville mise en scène is unmistakably hers — atmosphere is everything, mood is all.
<br /><br />
Mining her own archive, reusing images, and defacing photographs to create a sense of the timeworn and timeless, Turbeville removed her photographs from the here and now, placing her subjects in suspension in a liminal world. Her models are as singular as her photos: often women with unconventional faces, a sense of life lived — self-contained and inwardly focused. When one regards the reigning fashion photography trends of the ‘70s and ‘80s and ‘90s, Turbeville’s unique imagery is iconoclastic in the extreme.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWFMFtri293j-yemCJLtOdw8iXFiiDXNxJV7fDJb0Hn2qsRkOPms-EwIMUkCwzcIKOwILhOoDqEQ11mLXdjQhwOFjHhuU-T40YayeXNjM06gMT1fDC-4KcIkD88OZhZOXEsy04jj0eBVK7OV2xZ8ZrIp1pTTs815DJYi_SyGWRprA9t6gm2eCm9CeD3rM/s1920/439423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="996" data-original-width="1920" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWFMFtri293j-yemCJLtOdw8iXFiiDXNxJV7fDJb0Hn2qsRkOPms-EwIMUkCwzcIKOwILhOoDqEQ11mLXdjQhwOFjHhuU-T40YayeXNjM06gMT1fDC-4KcIkD88OZhZOXEsy04jj0eBVK7OV2xZ8ZrIp1pTTs815DJYi_SyGWRprA9t6gm2eCm9CeD3rM/w640-h332/439423.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgziKUbL00wX1yRYbGPlQnPtv661kipYuyCZjPg6dh5GrsisC-ftRZqQxprB-hWO3BELfFhWh_l9IqKHCGv1B2EXno-GCk4SoNMY3GWXKidg0vCP5v6UnYznH2kvNMWSodgtyKh7yiQ63nPEI0KVcny2UM_EseIMwqQADETKE828xHDX8bPRW2dfzt1HGc/s1920/439424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1581" data-original-width="1920" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgziKUbL00wX1yRYbGPlQnPtv661kipYuyCZjPg6dh5GrsisC-ftRZqQxprB-hWO3BELfFhWh_l9IqKHCGv1B2EXno-GCk4SoNMY3GWXKidg0vCP5v6UnYznH2kvNMWSodgtyKh7yiQ63nPEI0KVcny2UM_EseIMwqQADETKE828xHDX8bPRW2dfzt1HGc/w640-h528/439424.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Lavishly produced and sumptuously printed, at 240 pages, this is a big, beautiful book. The images blur the line between photographic reproductions and actual 3-D replications of Turbeville’s collages, complete with dressmaker’s pins, attendant shadows, yellowed tape, and brown paper backing. To turn the pages is to travel through her work with no distractions. Much care has been taken to reflect Turbeville’s aesthetic. The book’s design is elegant in every respect and fully illustrates both her photographic interests and the connections between personal work and paid assignments.
<br /><br />
Bringing Turbeville’s body of work to a wider audience, Nathalie Herschdorfer has produced an expansive reappraisal of a brilliantly unique and generative artist. <i>Photocollage</i> is both a generous, deeply researched visual profile (and itself a work of artistry), but also, and principally, a tribute to an artist who followed her own true muse.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH144" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b><div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHYm3Ol0Hu2wGqTJpl3WPC3FKJcKlESQ1ZmM7-Hz8gXOvzhXDkAv9HY1QssCJjmkMEtMoY-6ZP407msznnM7vkcRTB_qYf_EBunNXkC6pCy8ghbAAPKZi9o5X-bvQFui7FzOBnfRAIbB9W4cPvPyFlaA6ugl4C1wpElZrAH34qO5VD0wKQbfJn3KR1bI/s1425/tubeville2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="1425" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHYm3Ol0Hu2wGqTJpl3WPC3FKJcKlESQ1ZmM7-Hz8gXOvzhXDkAv9HY1QssCJjmkMEtMoY-6ZP407msznnM7vkcRTB_qYf_EBunNXkC6pCy8ghbAAPKZi9o5X-bvQFui7FzOBnfRAIbB9W4cPvPyFlaA6ugl4C1wpElZrAH34qO5VD0wKQbfJn3KR1bI/w640-h284/tubeville2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ10oKQnnOv4TgLB6D19r76_mKT_HwWl1EpbDbQFC8RwRXoi1Hn99qQ22jT4t3DxIbeAli1KfTAaL5tCNNZBT2l6LxjafCXR0h-p27xWX8pcTwXCU7dHgN8EPUaSaekHxXw91_SkSJwhN2wClpCu3Na9hn-OQYc4U3LYC_h2MTcrBcerq80S_nvMBOWew/s1436/tubeville3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="637" data-original-width="1436" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ10oKQnnOv4TgLB6D19r76_mKT_HwWl1EpbDbQFC8RwRXoi1Hn99qQ22jT4t3DxIbeAli1KfTAaL5tCNNZBT2l6LxjafCXR0h-p27xWX8pcTwXCU7dHgN8EPUaSaekHxXw91_SkSJwhN2wClpCu3Na9hn-OQYc4U3LYC_h2MTcrBcerq80S_nvMBOWew/w640-h284/tubeville3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZAYGia55OqZfdkFbwWUsJ4t1_-Ce3YG_JRCE6zzhPxZ52hDOxsGxT2EOr7Z8fqNS3WQqiv8u1_EG-plxplqf67vPhe-l6y5WMTAxzGUIts2ihlxw1-GifwfSu09zD96hGK7V9NMwYa9PATMUBACPcjFy8NSjI7cd1mfZlFjtlK1DgwUk2PNowsuSkjo/s1421/tubeville1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="1421" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSZAYGia55OqZfdkFbwWUsJ4t1_-Ce3YG_JRCE6zzhPxZ52hDOxsGxT2EOr7Z8fqNS3WQqiv8u1_EG-plxplqf67vPhe-l6y5WMTAxzGUIts2ihlxw1-GifwfSu09zD96hGK7V9NMwYa9PATMUBACPcjFy8NSjI7cd1mfZlFjtlK1DgwUk2PNowsuSkjo/w640-h284/tubeville1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="281" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5c2FkCRWHSDFlzDSr1fVhIzuvjunP7P7Avo-A3pKaiB850YU2m-nUuspc7lvqz2UlX51FsIWdCteES4B_9XIEck3xAN-uDw_MNaj8pFifLMGgeL-iJNKkyHMlij49NFHssyCOKrqO3XvmEtl5NBBAaEtQ31MnxyBpNOPCqO-Ee-crRTX2Z0So-yDwz38/w130-h200/thumbnail_Cheryl%20Van%20Hooven%20headshot%203_4139.jpeg" width="130" /></div> <span> <b>Cheryl Van Hooven</b> is a photographer and writer based in New York and often working in the California Mojave Desert. Her work has been exhibited internationally and is in the collections of the Brooklyn Museum, the New York Public Library, Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints & Photographs, Imagery Estate Winery Permanent Collection at Sonoma State University, among others. She is currently working on a photo/text book.</span>
</div>Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-64993959175380846302024-02-26T08:26:00.006-07:002024-02-26T08:32:07.781-07:00Rivers Run Through It: Reviewed by Brian Arnold
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Rivers Run Through It</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Mark Ruwedel</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Brian Arnold</span> <span id="xSummary">"I first encountered Mark Ruwedel’s work 10-15 years ago at Yossi Milo Gallery in New York. It was an exhibition of Westward the Course of Empire. The show was remarkable..."
</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="880" data-original-width="930" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWaSAATyUkbGYayyr8hyphenhyphenRwWjfrQpcFnA-pRbIO-3zKrENUU-kz2IZ4gHzooatk6-80tYLc2GepDHJ1TD06XKlV5NiYv6pqLxpngiKSPhAMQAvFlqEQ3YiW4uAnazqqTUc8_y9a5EZ6zVFF6V5hsHmt6k7E3lNEGMdn8MFLfEr77S8WD2WV7r3ai3bNco/w320-h303/Screenshot%202024-02-26%20at%2010.12.42%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK427" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Rivers Run Through It</a>. By Mark Ruwedel.</span><span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK427"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK427" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Rivers Run Through It</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Mark Ruwedel</span></div>
<div class="separator">MACK, London, England, 2023. 136 pp., 12x9½".</div><div><br /></div>
I first encountered Mark Ruwedel’s work 10-15 years ago at Yossi Milo Gallery in New York. It was an exhibition of <i>Westward the Course of Empire</i>. The show was remarkable. It was a marathon day spent visiting galleries in Chelsea with a group of students. Ruwedel’s small, exquisitely crafted black-and-white Western landscapes seemed so much more heartfelt and innovative than the flashy color work we’d seen previously. Ruwedel’s technique was mesmerizing (I can think of few black-and-white photographers of that caliber, but Andrea Modica and Mark Steinmetz come to mind). The images were deceptively simple, and somehow managed to be reminiscent of both Carlton Watkins and Bernd and Hilla Becher, exemplifying a deep understanding of the Western landscape.
<br /><br />
Perhaps surprisingly, after this first experience with Ruwedel’s work I’ve had little engagement with it since. Certainly, I’ve known about his prolific output of photobooks, but I never really sat down with one until getting a copy of his newest book with MACK, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK427" target="_blank">Rivers Run Through It</a></i>, a collection of photographs made along the Los Angeles River, the first in a series of four called <i>Los Angeles: The Architecture of Four Ecologies</i>.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPPNPrGrSVachRqYJyR6F184250O7VB-OT07tjNjr4JkHYNSI54V9g9OxhhAGWXrntyFDhyWt5BHXBaEJ6l9W392peEf9EloJCtG00FDs1DH4CvSZaNkjUAmMlq0Uz17IWwEpyuCm_LinePz9RpvGNEXzM5cOcYPVgGpdqNYMt9D4kb5rJgXuSdxgwBk/s1008/Ruwedel1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1008" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihPPNPrGrSVachRqYJyR6F184250O7VB-OT07tjNjr4JkHYNSI54V9g9OxhhAGWXrntyFDhyWt5BHXBaEJ6l9W392peEf9EloJCtG00FDs1DH4CvSZaNkjUAmMlq0Uz17IWwEpyuCm_LinePz9RpvGNEXzM5cOcYPVgGpdqNYMt9D4kb5rJgXuSdxgwBk/w640-h508/Ruwedel1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I think of particular locales as photographic genres in and of themselves, like New York City street photography and Los Angeles landscapes. There are so many photobooks about Los Angeles and its environs — <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT809&i=9783958296824&i2=" target="_blank">Los Angeles Spring</a></i> by Robert Adams, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZG960&i=9781910164655&i2=" target="_blank">ZZYZX</a></i> by Gregory Halpern, and <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK119&i=&i2=" target="_blank">Ecology of Dreams</a></i> by Ewan Telford all come to mind, as well as works by Catherine Opie, Lewis Baltz, and Anthony Hernandez. Los Angeles, the city of dreams, represents some of the most complex issues and histories that define America. It epitomizes Manifest Destiny and colonial expansion; as the second largest American city, despite such few resources for water, it represents American ingenuity; and as home to Hollywood, it embodies lush dreams of fame and fortune.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBp1LF31PUNaeV5gaamb_mHxQz6PBonX_EEITZnGkrRD-AbnlTWxjj3VpdyjrkZPeFvYTyO1HGHrRlDgPBCdOVhUPmRhliuGjQA1WNWJ3OsILJNP5eJlGCQYNiw-skqvIjXXhq3Aa_hJ2IjyRXngH5doG6mMNXXgrXFPo9jG8y-I9gM8JZrPkHISpitI/s1008/Ruwedel9.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="797" data-original-width="1008" height="506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVBp1LF31PUNaeV5gaamb_mHxQz6PBonX_EEITZnGkrRD-AbnlTWxjj3VpdyjrkZPeFvYTyO1HGHrRlDgPBCdOVhUPmRhliuGjQA1WNWJ3OsILJNP5eJlGCQYNiw-skqvIjXXhq3Aa_hJ2IjyRXngH5doG6mMNXXgrXFPo9jG8y-I9gM8JZrPkHISpitI/w640-h506/Ruwedel9.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gAVdwKMQ6e4KRFttxUi5P_zk5FJFAXzOhThrcZGW5rCdZqfFZ9NSvh8J_MQEnjEvPUPjcvRb2aKxEjpgyItKjyqufBStYA2j_mFiB9rLbjxvW_DOkV73BqGrnK62EEaYyovqCo4xRGD_LkBKRWNOz-0Jml5iHlZK36rdWEnrNV6ByEzDhLIqHpeL1ws/s1008/Ruwedel3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1008" height="514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6gAVdwKMQ6e4KRFttxUi5P_zk5FJFAXzOhThrcZGW5rCdZqfFZ9NSvh8J_MQEnjEvPUPjcvRb2aKxEjpgyItKjyqufBStYA2j_mFiB9rLbjxvW_DOkV73BqGrnK62EEaYyovqCo4xRGD_LkBKRWNOz-0Jml5iHlZK36rdWEnrNV6ByEzDhLIqHpeL1ws/w640-h514/Ruwedel3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Rivers Run Through It</i> is photographed in a style reminiscent of the <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=OP213&i=&i2=" target="_blank">New Topographics</a></i>, scrutinizing the margins of Los Angeles and highlighting the environmental issues (water and waste) that define the city. Ruwedel has spent decades documenting the landscapes in and around the city. The pictures in this book focus on the Los Angeles River Basin, looking at mud-caked wastelands, trickles, streams, and the river flowing in and out of the city. The complex issues of water in Los Angeles and, more generally, the American West, are common knowledge, but Ruwedel finds interesting ways to document the landscapes defined by this precious resource. His photographs are beautifully visualized — really photographer’s photography, using a simple but incredibly refined approach to the medium — and traverse a vast array of landscapes around the Los Angeles River and its tributaries. Ruwedel both embraces tropes of the American West — seen with the horseback riders in cowboy hats along the riverbeds also romantic pictures of a heron nesting along the banks — and the incredible corruption and pollution that are consuming these landscapes.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiePmCq05GFhyxLzyEALcpfJ4P0O89UHu4hzgKSGSnB3J_8hs9m8GVnGryFAAM1uYKSBi1HiJH9DZmZqVZmVFSw9atviAtH36h_GpxMjq_rSVfWECkJXtBIQBsGbZPku6dcyxQ77YQr3ehLDLhNFBKURcRUEY15IubNG4hFEt7opbvrUAzADnh0cOiT-8/s1008/Ruwedel4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="791" data-original-width="1008" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiePmCq05GFhyxLzyEALcpfJ4P0O89UHu4hzgKSGSnB3J_8hs9m8GVnGryFAAM1uYKSBi1HiJH9DZmZqVZmVFSw9atviAtH36h_GpxMjq_rSVfWECkJXtBIQBsGbZPku6dcyxQ77YQr3ehLDLhNFBKURcRUEY15IubNG4hFEt7opbvrUAzADnh0cOiT-8/w640-h502/Ruwedel4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Anyone interested in the American West, <i>New Topographics</i>, or classic, well-executed black-and-white photography will find a lot to love in <i>Rivers Run Through It</i>, but I will confess that I wasn’t quite as mesmerized as I’d been by my earlier experiences with Ruwedel’s work (this feels like a genre work, nothing groundbreaking in how he pictures the landscape). Early in the book, there is a lovely picture that for me clearly defines <i>Rivers Run Through It</i>. In the background we see the mountains that surround Los Angeles, hazy and majestic in the distance, but most of the picture shows an arid and harsh landscape. In the foreground are two sun-drench boulders — glowing with beautiful tones of white and grey — which I see as a reference to a famous picture of paint-stained rocks in Robert Adams’ book <i>Los Angeles Spring</i>. Rather than paint, however, Ruwedel’s picture shows a plastic water bottle subtly positioned between the rocks. It’s one of those cheap, disposable bottles purchased from convenience store, with just a little water remaining in the bottom. The picture captures so much of what is at stake in Los Angeles, a beautiful landscape crippled by its need for water.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK427" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_n4wCrZQzspIvZPR76lRwDkVpfozUdKgbU8v4_QCmJ5obuUDYtnf-sOfPehqB0pBxZvmNxqOYL4YYtvEXqdZbS8vC6XVkWshd0MX4JX5z6o7bKPCmX-pSq3U0GQ6o2nqkrxQFLHrzp1uC2_E98JCAhTA-HcZ7FC4u5HOvDG7BG6YY_3Zl_o7P0vX0Ps/s2768/Screenshot%202024-02-26%20at%2010.21.59%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="2768" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz_n4wCrZQzspIvZPR76lRwDkVpfozUdKgbU8v4_QCmJ5obuUDYtnf-sOfPehqB0pBxZvmNxqOYL4YYtvEXqdZbS8vC6XVkWshd0MX4JX5z6o7bKPCmX-pSq3U0GQ6o2nqkrxQFLHrzp1uC2_E98JCAhTA-HcZ7FC4u5HOvDG7BG6YY_3Zl_o7P0vX0Ps/w640-h266/Screenshot%202024-02-26%20at%2010.21.59%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTf8fW4RPAvIYtwSp5i2OTc8nGvFcXdHw-sYzUUBKMWc_920HNi5r5OaimtfMoVrXMif_nWOLMRfPP9OGoq51tQHbWytR4hS2LTLjQv4YIdIuwdhrMWAvieorEqplcVwmW1la9RqJDuCtD-1LwCTHnx37qM9fgXzdTAcM9AMilHn_p0WbJkizJ-9xgUWM/s2768/Screenshot%202024-02-26%20at%2010.22.06%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="2768" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTf8fW4RPAvIYtwSp5i2OTc8nGvFcXdHw-sYzUUBKMWc_920HNi5r5OaimtfMoVrXMif_nWOLMRfPP9OGoq51tQHbWytR4hS2LTLjQv4YIdIuwdhrMWAvieorEqplcVwmW1la9RqJDuCtD-1LwCTHnx37qM9fgXzdTAcM9AMilHn_p0WbJkizJ-9xgUWM/w640-h266/Screenshot%202024-02-26%20at%2010.22.06%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuoZSMDsWwBnM0qHBpFRFXL6699Fus0KngkWZqyy5t5SZLFFmYuGv7zKHd4Rdie67iEJOsyuTQ91mlvxCPHnTvbb9V4ASc-5Ce2hwOlReT2Rx1m3lAdjwWZ-ovkAMyEqWbK38Wp5m3YsTuz10yN6NKvV6EIlpi2lb21h_HZo3g_-Xtxrblg-f1rYFo2I/s2768/Screenshot%202024-02-26%20at%2010.22.11%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1150" data-original-width="2768" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuoZSMDsWwBnM0qHBpFRFXL6699Fus0KngkWZqyy5t5SZLFFmYuGv7zKHd4Rdie67iEJOsyuTQ91mlvxCPHnTvbb9V4ASc-5Ce2hwOlReT2Rx1m3lAdjwWZ-ovkAMyEqWbK38Wp5m3YsTuz10yN6NKvV6EIlpi2lb21h_HZo3g_-Xtxrblg-f1rYFo2I/w640-h266/Screenshot%202024-02-26%20at%2010.22.11%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/ARNOLD.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="500" height="161" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h161/ARNOLD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Brian Arnold</b> is a photographer, writer, and translator based in Ithaca, NY. He has taught and exhibited his work around the world and published books, including <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK227" target="_blank">A History of Photography in Indonesia</a></i>, with Oxford University Press, Cornell University, Amsterdam University, and Afterhours Books. Brian is a two-time MacDowell Fellow and in 2014 received a grant from the Henry Luce Foundation/American Institute for Indonesian Studies.
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-86314119452650318232024-02-22T15:25:00.009-07:002024-02-22T15:25:54.490-07:00Chris McCaw | photo-eye Conversations LIVE + New Book<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xTitle">Chris McCaw | photo-eye Conversations LIVE + NEW book</span>
<span id="xAuthors">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xReviewer"></span>
<span id="xSummary">Last month we hosted a conversation between artist Chris McCaw and photo-eye Gallery director Anne Kelly, via Zoom in honor of McCaw's new book Marking Time. In case you missed it or would like to revisit or share it, the good news, we recorded it and are pleased to share it today.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/chris-mccaw/index?image=1&id=185999&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio2&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage003" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="753" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8HBR0a4nSTlQvNVP_mM7QxGD-chAdD2uAN94ERVcqqrrlku7qK-SBwD_hGCyge6ur-1n8N_UyLwIfO1ic0HRY-StwEz6E53ocOOSKMm-mO0lba3H1d4m2oqHwkHnDxmKB1eIZ90hW8DRyLNGOCTAV-VaXhAmbSwTFMIiRXYftQnM9tb7G9PDeUg8K0Ps/w640-h510/McCaw_Sunburned%20GSP%23932%20(Idaho),%202016.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/chris-mccaw/index?image=1&id=185999&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio2&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage003" target="_blank">Chris McCaw, Sunburned GSP #932 (Idaho), Unique Silver Gelatin Print, 8x10 in.</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div>Last month we hosted a conversation between artist <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/chris-mccaw/homepage?image=7&id=185999&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio2&Gallery=1" target="_blank">Chris McCaw</a> and photo-eye Gallery director Anne Kelly, via Zoom in honor of McCaw's new book <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK490&i=9788997605613&i2=" target="_blank">Marking Time</a></i>. In case you missed it or would like to revisit and share it, the good news is that we recorded it and are <a href="https://youtu.be/V3eIQjwFdRI?si=Np4fDkbpR0cx-gMI" target="_blank">pleased to post it today</a>!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="362" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/V3eIQjwFdRI" width="481" youtube-src-id="V3eIQjwFdRI"></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/@photoeye" target="_blank">photo-eye Conversations</a> is a series of causal conversations with photographers </div><div style="text-align: center;"> we have the honor of working with. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">View | Order Chris McCaw's new book <i>Marking Time</i> <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK490&i=9788997605613&i2=" target="_blank">HERE</a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1MPIjPStdzObCsSMB-lsozYo6IkASY9huxDZoX0p-AKxTQmLHxXMtIuh3ccWdZzYMKJsdOt8WDNLH0IyJ6aZe3V2xppLOD_tJvYYTD2KVBrpVxYN20TjietMvNqfMRRXttcHJ8MuU5vjirvp3zQcKVyQnKVfBELIJtNGj1bK1_8IPscf6zmRQMTxagVc" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="251" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj1MPIjPStdzObCsSMB-lsozYo6IkASY9huxDZoX0p-AKxTQmLHxXMtIuh3ccWdZzYMKJsdOt8WDNLH0IyJ6aZe3V2xppLOD_tJvYYTD2KVBrpVxYN20TjietMvNqfMRRXttcHJ8MuU5vjirvp3zQcKVyQnKVfBELIJtNGj1bK1_8IPscf6zmRQMTxagVc=w251-h320" width="251" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Marking Time</i>, Photographs by Chris McCaw, Datz Press, 2023. </td><td class="tr-caption"></td><td class="tr-caption"></td><td class="tr-caption"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Sunburn<i> was a conceptual experiment and adventure in connecting time and analog photographic tools. … I continuously study what directions and shapes of sun trajectories I can obtain in various times and spaces on the Earth. I expect a magical scene to appear, but it is not just vague waiting. I study meticulously. To obtain the traces of the rising and setting sun, you must personally travel to that time and space. It cannot be manipulated. And I just love that process.</i> </div><div style="text-align: right;">— Chris McCaw </div><div><br /></div><div> </div><div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6lxfRz4ylqmdlaLu4KzH_ZPB2LMZ4VjpHaolOr-uCsqS2TGe2xrQDUAF1QOIW3cJu-1mvT3EeRk41-_6nI0SI9sscXUyC4okZn-3HH6k5yUzR81eQVwQfRVKZfu5DluBnjuhFC5_gKscq1oH7hEf8Bu2Pz4o1weCwxgiqYeyV18LUWoKrYFOycMly6xo" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="320" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi6lxfRz4ylqmdlaLu4KzH_ZPB2LMZ4VjpHaolOr-uCsqS2TGe2xrQDUAF1QOIW3cJu-1mvT3EeRk41-_6nI0SI9sscXUyC4okZn-3HH6k5yUzR81eQVwQfRVKZfu5DluBnjuhFC5_gKscq1oH7hEf8Bu2Pz4o1weCwxgiqYeyV18LUWoKrYFOycMly6xo=w400-h268" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Marking Time</i>, Photographs by Chris McCaw, Datz Press, 2023. </td><td class="tr-caption"></td><td class="tr-caption"></td><td class="tr-caption"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Chris McCaw works with a manually modified large format camera, loading vintage photo paper in place of film, and letting the sun come through the lens to physically burn the paper. This analog photographic method holds the unique documentary aspects of photography, as it captures the day and night of a distinct time and place. The passage of time is also recorded on the vintage paper, marked through varying levels of sunlight throughout the day. This book is a compilation of McCaw’s diverse work from the past 20 years, featuring the significant Sunburn series along with his Heliograph, Poly-Optic, Cirkut, and Tidal series, allowing us to experience the full scope of his variations flowing as one body centered around the sun. </div><div><br /></div><div> *from the publisher's description
<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>View unique works by <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/chris-mccaw/homepage?image=7&id=185999&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio2&Gallery=1" target="_blank">Chris McCaw</a></b></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
*
<br /><br />
PRINT COSTS ARE CURRENT UP TO THE TIME OF POSTING AND ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE.
<br /><br />
*
<br /><br />
If you are in Santa Fe, please stop by we are open Tuesday– Saturday, from 10am- 5:30pm.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/" target="_blank">PHOTO-EYE GALLERY</a><br />
300 Rufina Circle, Unit A3, Santa Fe, NM 87507
<br /><br />
For more information, and to reserve one of these unique works, please contact <br />
Gallery Director <a href="mailto:anne@photoeye.com" target="_blank">Anne Kelly</a><br />
You may also call us at (505) 988-5152 x202</div>
<br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div></div>Galleryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898430015572158694noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-83865582699767978992024-02-19T08:03:00.003-07:002024-02-19T08:03:28.525-07:00Pictures from the Outside: Reviewed by Meggan Gould
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Pictures from the Outside</span> <span id="xAuthors">By Chantal Zakari and 13 incarcerated men</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Meggan Gould</span> <span id="xSummary">"I have a folder, somewhere on my hard drive, of screenshots that I collected in a short-lived mad frenzy to wander Google Earth and find every house or apartment in which I had lived..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="567" data-original-width="800" height="227" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/z/zk447/zk447.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK447" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Pictures from the Outside</a>. </span></div><div style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">By Chantal Zakari and 13 incarcerated men.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK447"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK447" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span><span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Pictures from the Outside</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">By Chantal Zakari and 13 incarcerated men</span><br />
<br />Eighteen Publications, 2023. 136 pp., 5¾x8¼".</span></div>
<br />
I have a folder, somewhere on my hard drive, of screenshots that I collected in a short-lived mad frenzy to wander Google Earth and find every house or apartment in which I had lived. I moved a lot in my twenties — multiple cities on two continents — in short, a horrifying number of lease agreements. In Providence alone I count five apartments within a 2-mile radius. A few years back, yearning for more peripatetic days and armed with the easy familiarity of the <i>shift-command-4 gesture</i>, I traveled the world and captured each address, as frontally as possible (the joy of the selective screenshot capture: in-camera framing and cropping of screen landscape). Somewhere in my studio there is a small box with the tiny test cyanotypes I made of these screenshots. They are equal parts poignant (to me) and unremarkable.
<br /><br />
It is worth noting that I had the privilege of access to this imagery when this flight of fancy overcame me. The privilege to sit at a computer and revisit sites of memory, to attempt to clutch them through an act of collection (followed, in my case, by a peculiar penchant for a chemical translation). Many (too many) do not share this privilege, this freedom of virtual or physical movement to explore the reliability — or friability — of memory. In<i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK447" target="_blank"> Pictures from the Outside</a></i>, Chantal Zakari engages in a collaborative photo-making process with a group of incarcerated men, acting as a visual conduit to memories of specific architecture that molded their pasts. The architecture in which they are currently housed is hinted at in the structure of the book itself: exposed board covers shelter the book in a heavy casing, and the open-spine binding is reminiscent, dare I say, of barred windows.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3hU6v60XmhrDQYzqFi6e4j2rnbryIqpuOuxk3E5ffpbmbPik9xYAgsx6G8J5ekGEtaw-KlbXYi4_V10LOy6BI7YnU-vfVwjdOa1McyGd6tPHPO1ETc6N9K8FJDyN9pReuweQkyQISz2kHj-FJZgBDkf9bcrk6E31lHYHcPLk9HxS21Y1FHFGlRC70TXk/s4000/CZ13.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2668" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3hU6v60XmhrDQYzqFi6e4j2rnbryIqpuOuxk3E5ffpbmbPik9xYAgsx6G8J5ekGEtaw-KlbXYi4_V10LOy6BI7YnU-vfVwjdOa1McyGd6tPHPO1ETc6N9K8FJDyN9pReuweQkyQISz2kHj-FJZgBDkf9bcrk6E31lHYHcPLk9HxS21Y1FHFGlRC70TXk/w640-h426/CZ13.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Zakari allowed the men a visual reprieve from the prison walls, in the form of external image-making on their behalf. She established parameters: no photographs of people, and within a driving radius of two to three hours. Reminiscent of a scavenger hunt, Zakari was asked to visit specific childhood houses, a bodega, multiple schools, a flight of stairs, a portentous courthouse door. She asked the men to tell her how to take the envisioned picture. What corner should she stand on, what direction should she aim her camera? Often they sketched the framing; one reproduced sketch asks the artist to stand at the starred intersection of Mead and Russle Streets, with a note to “please take photo approximately where star is. I trust your judgment.”
<br /><br />
Judgment is a recurring theme throughout. That of the law, of course, but also one’s own judgments and their consequences. Multiple levels of text intersect with Zakari’s photographs: the initial prompts, the men’s jotted observations upon receiving the photographs, and longer reflection pieces that use the architectural structures visualized as launching points for broader narratives about childhood, education, love, parks, abuse, prayer, violence, and play. Zakari includes her own notes and observations as she looked to faithfully execute each requested image; the layered voices intermingle and form a rich tapestry of personal experiences of place, often spanning decades.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja3K6KLXmmdVlcKdia5WrFovJgPJyO04YltmLLb-z3R6iobJB9J7S7NH_-GE2xeSXbQgDYCimxPP4JRNdmWfMSCWikNvsEI0V3FM_ax0nYERA5U1Y3jtCSUcVReI_z6I1R8occ0aRmC1uDlqdduTC03f4SM5V38qHaZ5UcnDHdBTz-rMr0hafI9A4h6xI/s1748/CZ5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1240" data-original-width="1748" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja3K6KLXmmdVlcKdia5WrFovJgPJyO04YltmLLb-z3R6iobJB9J7S7NH_-GE2xeSXbQgDYCimxPP4JRNdmWfMSCWikNvsEI0V3FM_ax0nYERA5U1Y3jtCSUcVReI_z6I1R8occ0aRmC1uDlqdduTC03f4SM5V38qHaZ5UcnDHdBTz-rMr0hafI9A4h6xI/w640-h454/CZ5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRPx8alEKc7OEs3xRCUXsJlX4NNdcxAKSqpHW8Xc7l2gXWDJajUnmL80x-ZJmeQld2iNN60EcKZa5h5wWerbh92Z3_9DbhduyuILsUW26zrE_Z-DhRlSDnNfvbTitBwXknI_aQy0MYNjJOlr9utbN4tctp5BtfhFNDUayxZQZ8uSE47KnOYzJO3tRr3g/s1748/CZ22.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1240" data-original-width="1748" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRPx8alEKc7OEs3xRCUXsJlX4NNdcxAKSqpHW8Xc7l2gXWDJajUnmL80x-ZJmeQld2iNN60EcKZa5h5wWerbh92Z3_9DbhduyuILsUW26zrE_Z-DhRlSDnNfvbTitBwXknI_aQy0MYNjJOlr9utbN4tctp5BtfhFNDUayxZQZ8uSE47KnOYzJO3tRr3g/w640-h454/CZ22.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I am struck that the collaborative aspect of this project is as interesting, if not more so, than the resultant photographs. To be a stand-in for someone else’s vision, possibly warped with the weight of time and emotional baggage, and to channel vision through multiple lenses — optical and conceptual — is an extraordinary exercise in communication and trust. A banal street corner, ostensibly unremarkable, is rendered poignant through the way in which photography accesses it, holds it, and delivers it back to the eyes yearning to see it. Or, it is an extraordinary privilege to visit our past, and photography can be an exquisite gift.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK447" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYGmihi5i6w1saCUe0gAs9mNnIOGtVUDXYH23sm9A3SrNnejrLO3VO5eQI9mnNxZd-0YL4bx4DKNt7olsUjGL0qHmoEDCKKB6f5UDMotXG-COuSfinqc4tY2LdVHxvYQsTyxEMdzWpGJ3rTb1H5p67eqSj6qw3Ya0K99-WS37Ih8j0iccfMsX43Z-6y_0/s4000/CZ11.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2668" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYGmihi5i6w1saCUe0gAs9mNnIOGtVUDXYH23sm9A3SrNnejrLO3VO5eQI9mnNxZd-0YL4bx4DKNt7olsUjGL0qHmoEDCKKB6f5UDMotXG-COuSfinqc4tY2LdVHxvYQsTyxEMdzWpGJ3rTb1H5p67eqSj6qw3Ya0K99-WS37Ih8j0iccfMsX43Z-6y_0/w640-h426/CZ11.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhecs9S81pNBy0XFOzf_Ng1IR7FwFRcmsJwQo0R9MwFjCCbmI_XX4EOilBIW227UX5lT_EDMnrTcWO2myQo_mpgzbCghy6HrslHNfZqXtAirjKIRrMnlsFDFo-AUAUEWrjCS7CMryDk8B_QOE6y0r9HgKaIUvJmK8Rz6CIFLe5PDFkbyeoTHOm0icK1i0A/s4000/CZ12.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2668" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhecs9S81pNBy0XFOzf_Ng1IR7FwFRcmsJwQo0R9MwFjCCbmI_XX4EOilBIW227UX5lT_EDMnrTcWO2myQo_mpgzbCghy6HrslHNfZqXtAirjKIRrMnlsFDFo-AUAUEWrjCS7CMryDk8B_QOE6y0r9HgKaIUvJmK8Rz6CIFLe5PDFkbyeoTHOm0icK1i0A/w640-h426/CZ12.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILOZHIWOgNdk1t2y1FNTC9NBEYJU9PtNOaCkErsQAJVwb0hXzhpBB0Ez6D7ADgFiP1tA0cxX9q7Md9mWzptzU4gQ1dkW8PraQO3Sz4Q3wdgwBNCq5_rG-mI5JUTek3IxpvsnL27M5zKZ-tVyLcmv1hK2gs6zKP9HLc4l2gPh6LrlOO7wIJVpcUQ_7jxE/s4000/CZ14.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2668" data-original-width="4000" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILOZHIWOgNdk1t2y1FNTC9NBEYJU9PtNOaCkErsQAJVwb0hXzhpBB0Ez6D7ADgFiP1tA0cxX9q7Md9mWzptzU4gQ1dkW8PraQO3Sz4Q3wdgwBNCq5_rG-mI5JUTek3IxpvsnL27M5zKZ-tVyLcmv1hK2gs6zKP9HLc4l2gPh6LrlOO7wIJVpcUQ_7jxE/w640-h426/CZ14.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="424" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhH4Es5feMUDw7Rk5zvaU6ly2Cvrgg0eriM1nJsquzDQOLQME8B5OP2agbkYpsRnH6wL3uD2QAmGVBGSO1JDM0cUNz_A-It_qeScdRAB2jk9j5Yvp7-spGIYx3as-GGavAm8DB6b8Xx0Gs3WTRrSEJF4DCKU6AT_gSwgEucHFrWHQ6_sAgqwavw5cJ=w133-h200" width="133" /></div>
<b>Meggan Gould</b> is an artist living and working outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she is an Associate Professor of Art at the University of New Mexico. She is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,, the SALT Institute for Documentary Studies, and Speos (Paris Photographic Institute), where she finally began her studies in photography. She received an MFA in photography from the University of Massachusetts — Dartmouth. She recently wrote a book, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZJ948" target="_blank">Sorry, No Pictures</a></i>, about her own relationship to photography.
<br />
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-10415232706918687022024-02-15T11:02:00.012-07:002024-02-15T12:58:52.728-07:00DM Witman Interview <!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xTitle">DM Witman Index Interview </span>
<span id="xAuthors">Anne Kelly and DM Witman</span>
<span id="xReviewer"></span>
<span id="xSummary">We are thrilled to introduce DM Witman and her project "Index", a series of gum bichromate photograms, to the Photographers Showcase. To provide some insight into Witman and her work, we are pleased to introduce this new work along with an interview with the artist.</span></div>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkLCueK95mWaTm82-DDfYQ5x-4TSV4D0U3d5qF-uY1An95hcvqYzxb5x8JLkd2IYbSHQFVKXnWuS075Q2CtrmxQji0tW-ziaDVqSLp6_KG9Ie0z7Ns3w76YSCx-ALEI6RmfzVCiogj2WDnhw0_2wdqySl0IKHcOOK13X1nmbNH0s0n9cludZm_dmX2-4/s1200/cd07d97b5e713197548691a21069938024761ed89729be92e5c9f46e2210b61b.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="951" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTkLCueK95mWaTm82-DDfYQ5x-4TSV4D0U3d5qF-uY1An95hcvqYzxb5x8JLkd2IYbSHQFVKXnWuS075Q2CtrmxQji0tW-ziaDVqSLp6_KG9Ie0z7Ns3w76YSCx-ALEI6RmfzVCiogj2WDnhw0_2wdqySl0IKHcOOK13X1nmbNH0s0n9cludZm_dmX2-4/w508-h640/cd07d97b5e713197548691a21069938024761ed89729be92e5c9f46e2210b61b.jpg" width="508" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=3&id=2037&imagePosition=3&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase#LBimage019" target="_blank"><i>#00141 Verbena hastata, 2018</i>, Unique photogram, Rives BFK, gouache, gum arabic, kitakata, ink, 23k gold leaf, 29x23 in. framed, $1250</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div>
We are thrilled to introduce <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=3&id=2037&imagePosition=3&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase" target="_blank">DM Witman</a> and her project <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=3&id=2037&imagePosition=3&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase" target="_blank">Index</a></i>, a series of gum bichromate photograms, to the Photographers Showcase. To provide some insight into Witman and her work, we are pleased to introduce this new work along with an interview with the artist. In this interview, artist DM Witman and Gallery Director Anne Kelly delve into the connection between art and science, Witman's creative process, grants — and more.<br /><br />
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<br /><i>
Anne Kelly: Does wonder play a role in the making of your work</i><br /><br />
DM Witman: Wonder does play a part in my creative practice, in both the active and passive sense. I am someone who has a deep sense of curiosity and am constantly asking questions to help me understand the world around me. For me, the natural world abounds in wonder.<br /><br />
Generally, when I work, due to the nature of the materials and processes, the outcomes are not guaranteed. There is always a sense of “waiting to see what happens”. Now, that does not mean that the work is all due to magic, but there is a great deal of experimentation and being open to the results.<br /><br /><i>
AK: You have degrees in both art and science. Do you feel that art and science have connective tissue?</i><br /><br />
DW: Art and science are deeply connected. Prior to the 20th century there was not as big as a distinction among interests — individuals attended the same salons to learn about new concepts, and new inventions, such as in painting, psychology, or about the human body. That has since changed and disciplinary boundaries abound. What was common then, is still common today — a sense of curiosity. Both art and science can be characterized by exploration, experimentation and discovery.
<div> </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2fGjNILcDqQhS92fESjg_SOK97hKLRdZ28nFEXHvihhjHJ9Bf2lgONEN8UJiNwuSoI5qyxyowFlu_drsdVYitjZUoqNOoUu5EgINj4qqX7ApARIzxev_NzfG9lc7yZnixkNF0QAWl1xJptTCdIOWKj4q9tjvpl1STH8RcjE9z9LFwpDRbWu0xT2PlVI/s1200/2f2aa6c934d25536d90fe754c064b8f9ddf7cbe3ed3b7a537fa3c133a882d087.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="934" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb2fGjNILcDqQhS92fESjg_SOK97hKLRdZ28nFEXHvihhjHJ9Bf2lgONEN8UJiNwuSoI5qyxyowFlu_drsdVYitjZUoqNOoUu5EgINj4qqX7ApARIzxev_NzfG9lc7yZnixkNF0QAWl1xJptTCdIOWKj4q9tjvpl1STH8RcjE9z9LFwpDRbWu0xT2PlVI/w498-h640/2f2aa6c934d25536d90fe754c064b8f9ddf7cbe3ed3b7a537fa3c133a882d087.jpg" width="498" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=3&id=2037&imagePosition=3&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase#LBimage004" target="_blank"><i>#00106-2 Dryopteris spp. 2018, </i>Unique photogram, Rives BFK, gouache, gum arabic, kitakata, ink, 23k gold leaf, 29x23 in. framed, $1250</a></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /><br /></div><div><i>
AK: </i>Index<i> is a series of photograms. Can you please explain to our readers what a photogram is - and dive a bit into the chemical process and materials you have chosen to work with to create this series?</i><br /><br />
DM: A photogram is made when an object, or objects, are placed on the surface of light-sensitive materials, such as a piece of paper, or a piece of glass. Photograms can be made with many photographic processes, such as silver gelatin paper, cyanotypes, and as I have done with this series, with gum-bichromate.<br /><br />
With <i>Index</i>, I have coated large sheets of fine printmaking paper with a slurry of watercolor pigment and gum arabic mixed together with a light sensitizer. I repeated this step until the desired color and density is achieved for each sheet. Once, dried, the individual plants I collected were placed on top of the sensitized paper within a very large contact printing which would be set in the sun to expose the sensitized paper with the shape and details of the plants. Most days, I could make one to two pieces.<br /><br /><i>
AK: Art often starts with a question. What question are you asking in this series?</i><br /><br />
DW: This work was born from my deeply personal experience with loss and grief. It was my attempt to grapple with a discovery about myself, that I had been experiencing grief due to ecological changes and loss, for many many months, unable to “make work. I was stuck. Collecting plants from the inter-tidal marsh along the river which I called home and have a deep connection and reverence with, was a bit of a reckoning that this place would change. And that many of the species would not tolerate the changes ahead — consistently higher water lines and higher tides, a greater salt content from Penobscot Bay, which is a few miles away. The reckoning was as much about a concern for the various plant species as it was an acknowledgment of how my actions, and those of humanity have induced these changes, for which for me, was a terrible amount of guilt. Perhaps the ultimate question for me involved an attempt to understand and process these feelings. I came to understand that I could move forward in the world, and in my life and my work, if I could make meaningful action(s). What could I do? Part of those actions meant holding space for these plants, which are often overlooked regarding conversations about the climate predicament.
<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PN3tqg9pzEhkgX05FOSCYWtC5u0zRxm1CZVRjhyphenhyphenLdA_YMrhoRkWibYNRqXNNdzqxXOxzAnySjGaqoIj6zigs5as9NIdnUEQhirLby68tfCZTJAW9_e1JcPQ6DJyJ0hpCOwxkQQFeVaij8iFwA34NWR1cm-MARkhuQApvHHixdTGj4UVYRMvYWfKDCAo/s1200/%2300105%20Pontederia%20cordata%C2%A9DM_Witman.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="946" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PN3tqg9pzEhkgX05FOSCYWtC5u0zRxm1CZVRjhyphenhyphenLdA_YMrhoRkWibYNRqXNNdzqxXOxzAnySjGaqoIj6zigs5as9NIdnUEQhirLby68tfCZTJAW9_e1JcPQ6DJyJ0hpCOwxkQQFeVaij8iFwA34NWR1cm-MARkhuQApvHHixdTGj4UVYRMvYWfKDCAo/w504-h640/%2300105%20Pontederia%20cordata%C2%A9DM_Witman.jpg" width="504" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=3&id=2037&imagePosition=3&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase#LBimage002" target="_blank"><i>#00105 Pontederia cordata. 2018, </i>Unique photogram, Rives BFK, gouache, gum arabic, kitakata, ink, 23k gold leaf, 29x23 in. framed, $1250</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><i>
AK: In your series </i>Index<i>, you are collecting and identifying plants that are not formally on the "endangered" list, but may be in the future. Do you see this work as a "call to action?"</i><br /><br />
DM: I certainly can see that. But for me at the time of making these objects, it was a way to both collect data and an act of memorializing the plants which are part of the way that I understand and connect to the natural world. The process allowed me to move forward to process what I was experiencing. And ultimately, a way for me to understand that I can continue in life by making meaningful actions to help the human and non-human species, no matter how small that action might seem in the scheme of it all.<br /><br /><i>
AK: Do you feel that this series is in conversation with Anna Atkins' </i>British Algee<i> series?</i><br /><br />
DW: Anna Atkins has certainly been an influence on me as an artist. Her sensibilities and interest in botanical science, the naming of things, and sharing that with others. I’m sure she was interested in contributing to science and sharing this with others, which is I believe an intersection of the two bodies of work. However, I can only wonder if she considered that species might disappear due to human influence and impact back in the late 19th century. The works from Index are heavy, and there is a dimension to them, which is purposeful. They are objects, memorials, and of data — a baseline of a particular moment in the history of that place, along that river, at that time. And I find them beautiful.<br /><br />
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4E5RBHMm61uzSPddSpvQrwgqjIsXnsYM1l41xo7lL4t3s2g82s3LOIDYuRIC5Suy2MhachjwLbNmkK-j0HPCY1LSFK9du89UYu_Rsiopjq9NySAA7LICUe7VT6EWpFMquWGdJcAVids7DRFK0nJ4I8b2UX1O5wAAY6t1wL2jtECBpB4AKMuBo8P6HuX4/s1200/%2300137%20Solidago%20spp.%C2%A9DM_Witman.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="948" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4E5RBHMm61uzSPddSpvQrwgqjIsXnsYM1l41xo7lL4t3s2g82s3LOIDYuRIC5Suy2MhachjwLbNmkK-j0HPCY1LSFK9du89UYu_Rsiopjq9NySAA7LICUe7VT6EWpFMquWGdJcAVids7DRFK0nJ4I8b2UX1O5wAAY6t1wL2jtECBpB4AKMuBo8P6HuX4/w506-h640/%2300137%20Solidago%20spp.%C2%A9DM_Witman.jpg" width="506" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=3&id=2037&imagePosition=3&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase#LBimage017" target="_blank"><i>#00105 Pontederia cordata. 2018, </i>Unique photogram, Rives BFK, gouache, gum arabic, kitakata, ink, 23k gold leaf, 29x23 in. framed, $1250</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><i>
AK: You describe yourself as a transdisciplinary artist working with photographic media, video, and installation. Do you feel your practice in each medium/media bleeds into each other — in the sense that perhaps you are working on a still photograph and it gives you an idea for a video?</i><br /><br />
DW: Absolutely. My work is driven first by concept. However, the process of making is also very important to me. I try to be open to how these explorations and expressions might manifest. These three realms of working can intertwine to create experiences for others, that are at times unexpected, and that I welcome.<br /><br /><i>
AK: You have received a few grants. Do you have advice for other creatives as to how to go about getting a grant?</i><br /><br />
DW: Grants — yes! Write, apply, apply, refine by writing more, and apply again. While grants are competitive, I believe there is some element of timing. Attempt to understand what granting agencies are looking for — for example, does your particular idea or project align with the granting organization’s mission? Are they interested in funding work that has yet to begin, or projects which are deeply underway, or projects that are completed? The more you write, the better solidified and succinct your ideas become on the page. And know that for every successful grant I have received, there might be ten, twenty, or more rejections. The key is to not give up.<br /><br /><br />
<b>DM Witman is a transdisciplinary artist working at the intersection of environmental disruption and the human relationship to place in the Age of the Anthropocene.Her creative practice is deeply rooted within the effects of the climate predicament to humans and more-than-human species on this planet, employing photographic materials, video, and installation. Interviews and publications include The Guardian, BBC Culture, WIRED, Boston Globe, and Art New England. She actively exhibits her work and has been recognized with grants from the Maine Arts Commission, The Kindling Fund (a regrantor for the Warhol Foundation), The John Anson Kittredge Fund, and the Puffin Foundation. Her work has been collected by institutions such as the Museum of Fine Arts Houston and is placed within many private collections. She splits her time between the Borderlands of South Texas and Midcoast Maine.</b></div><div>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtiIuubuIJlugAfECqMnxjXAQBOLRMS2w_9IVpBvAZWc526NhnT6eJpM_e4EZuEOPwvP5C0SCUFCjz2PojCdJlwxj752AAGnqjq04aQQDevEIQmXhQt8axBffmluGJlyZ_hpM50_4IDe9ydbubjzRf059tcYGvF_hL0Ul1ZTaMtTd-u7UKpSvZ1Z7RTko/s431/2681e2b84f21b6425f3259aefbe1a8db94c9b1759e8346217a9a56d46956038a.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="431" data-original-width="319" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtiIuubuIJlugAfECqMnxjXAQBOLRMS2w_9IVpBvAZWc526NhnT6eJpM_e4EZuEOPwvP5C0SCUFCjz2PojCdJlwxj752AAGnqjq04aQQDevEIQmXhQt8axBffmluGJlyZ_hpM50_4IDe9ydbubjzRf059tcYGvF_hL0Ul1ZTaMtTd-u7UKpSvZ1Z7RTko/s320/2681e2b84f21b6425f3259aefbe1a8db94c9b1759e8346217a9a56d46956038a.jpg" width="237" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">DM Witman @Brenton Hamilton</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=3&id=2037&imagePosition=3&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase" target="_blank">VIEW MORE IMAGES FROM DM WITMAN'S SERIES <i>INDEX </i></a></b></div><div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
* * *
<br /><br />
PRINT COSTS ARE CURRENT UP TO THE TIME OF POSTING AND ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE.
<br /><br />
* * *
<br /><br />
If you are in Santa Fe, please stop by we are open Tuesday– Saturday, from 10am- 5:30pm.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/" target="_blank">PHOTO-EYE GALLERY</a><br />
300 Rufina Circle, Unit A3, Santa Fe, NM 87507
<br /><br />
For more information, and to reserve one of these unique works, please contact <br />
Gallery Director <a href="mailto:anne@photoeye.com" target="_blank">Anne Kelly</a><br />
You may also call us at (505) 988-5152 x202</div>
<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />Galleryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898430015572158694noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-13380003570671133722024-02-12T08:04:00.005-07:002024-02-12T08:26:54.843-07:00Los Angeles Spring: Reviewed by Blake Andrews
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Los Angeles Spring</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Robert Adams</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Blake Andrews</span> <span id="xSummary">“The first thing to know about Los Angeles Spring is that it contains no actual photographs of Los Angeles. Instead, its pictures explore the city’s far eastern outskirts along Interstate 10, the freeway to Palm Springs..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="934" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOshdYENlt1uUsTHjnIyutETFJ3FTAr7mpClaqQ26XXgR3oj7dbV87dEK1ReOXcI529K-15bPbB9HPw3nKA5s4kxMU4q1FizQbfiF2mCpjqrk07ssTMJIfLoxooLQrlrySo847nL2MyDF8HmGHCPwSbI_anDu0NMYiz7sv-antzOaUgRr7LMGYVNAIVHU/w320-h277/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.59.09%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT809" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Los Angeles Spring</a>. By Robert Adams.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT809"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT809" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Los Angeles Spring</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Robert Adams</span><br />
Steidl, Gottingen, Germany, 2023. 120 pp., 56 illustrations, 13½x15½".
</div><br />
The first thing to know about <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT809" target="_blank">Los Angeles Spring</a></i> is that it contains no actual photographs of Los Angeles. Instead, its pictures explore the city’s far eastern outskirts along Interstate 10, the freeway to Palm Springs. It’s a relatively season-less place, and a more accurate name for the book might be "I-10 Springs." A few highway onramps appear in the book, but there is no city of angels, nor much of anything else heavenly.
<br /><br />
It was here, in the vast territory between the San Bernardino Mountains and Orange County, that Robert Adams found his muse. Readers might want to keep a map handy while browsing the various photo sites, to help track his wanderings. Captions identify locations like Pomona, Redlands, Fontana, Colton, Rancho Cucamonga, and Loma Linda. They may have unique names, but the town borders are indistinct. One community bleeds into the next, sprawling collectively into a morass of farmland, roads, orchards, and exurbs. When Adams shot there in the early 1980s, the area was already showing the stress of suburban expansion, with farmlands giving way to subdivisions. Housing developments have only encroached further in the interim.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIBHoMcfkqMtE9mIn0OTWTzOGwrAFYzNmyyYqH1Cxj5YlmkSjKxIfAW1_DPF_cby8pPuSopD31U8bkCZjY8fTf6zrE1Yd2_-qOmZougvZCV5MYTr_NCz2KqUcCFkMcKEcnhCrxc94yJ3Z5XwA10baY4t3j8y3lfSrUegOBrNVASv_ySzzBxanZBKASjg/s1941/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.58.19%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1188" data-original-width="1941" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIBHoMcfkqMtE9mIn0OTWTzOGwrAFYzNmyyYqH1Cxj5YlmkSjKxIfAW1_DPF_cby8pPuSopD31U8bkCZjY8fTf6zrE1Yd2_-qOmZougvZCV5MYTr_NCz2KqUcCFkMcKEcnhCrxc94yJ3Z5XwA10baY4t3j8y3lfSrUegOBrNVASv_ySzzBxanZBKASjg/w640-h392/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.58.19%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Adams takes a dismal view of such trends, and of Manifest Destiny in general. We’ve mucked up nature’s bequest, as far as he’s concerned. “All that is clear is the perfection of what we have been given,” he writes in the preface, “the unworthiness of our response, and the certainty, in view of our current deprivation, that we are judged.” In this case, the judge is Adams himself. Photography’s favorite misanthrope has built a long career highlighting the perils of wanton development, from the New Topographics through monographs like <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DS404&i=9783869309002&i2=" target="_blank">The New West</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT810&i=&i2=" target="_blank">On Lookout Mountain</a></i>, and <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DP142&i=&i2=" target="_blank">Turning Back</a></i>. Lest the message of those books be somehow misinterpreted, there’s even a title called <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT804&i=9783958296817&i2=" target="_blank">Eden</a></i>.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiZgw99qfv6r7kN0ssxX16UFcyxV-bJ7CD64-zWpefTkWJwMZfehQZxYN4dqZwQlVWoA5JeVBJi2_0bVw-NJXpGFspfT7kbhmARzk97oLbeljRzdQD0fQ-ijTYgDd0mwUAOCOWN9JTA6v0pjtO0BsJ43MzDNueEVtk2vDdlHCL2zSWVVOqFCFzDwfCaxw/s1890/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.59.35%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="1890" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiZgw99qfv6r7kN0ssxX16UFcyxV-bJ7CD64-zWpefTkWJwMZfehQZxYN4dqZwQlVWoA5JeVBJi2_0bVw-NJXpGFspfT7kbhmARzk97oLbeljRzdQD0fQ-ijTYgDd0mwUAOCOWN9JTA6v0pjtO0BsJ43MzDNueEVtk2vDdlHCL2zSWVVOqFCFzDwfCaxw/w640-h292/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.59.35%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Los Angeles Spring</i> opens innocently enough, with photographs of rural roads infringing gently upon hillsides. We pick up the pace through agricultural fields, byways, and eucalyptus groves, before a defoliated orchard signals choppy waters ahead. The pictures become more blunt from this point, as their critique of civilization is flushed into the open. There’s a telephone pole overlooking crushed cactus, an old tire near an abandoned windbreak, power lines adorning a rock cliff, a scrappy freeway berm, a tracked up mud puddle, and so on. Litter and human detritus are a continual nuisance. The air hangs thick, possibly with smog or humidity? If Spring is a metaphor for optimism, these photos don’t feel very seasonal. Eventually, after many such documents, Adams finishes up with a small photo flurry in, of all places, Long Beach. This is a port city far removed from the I-10 corridor, and it shows. No sign of farmers here. The neighborhoods are dense with streets and housing. It may not be Los Angeles, but it’s a step in that direction.<br /><br />The thing about Robert Adams is, even as he looks down his nose at us silly humans ravaging nature, his photos marvel at the consequences. His landscapes are infused with prosaic wonder, and an affinity for locale. He just can’t help it. Thus his picture of a lonely windbreak of trees in Redlands seems more defiant than gloomy. An arid landscape bulldozed for a cemetery in Colton becomes a garden of possibilities before Adams’ camera. A dry wash near Norton Air Base shows nature working diligently under a distant flight path. Wherever he directs his gaze, some attention falls upon the horizon. It’s as if a brighter future awaits. Hope springs eternal. Or at least Los Angeles springs. How should we understand such visions? Is the sky in fact falling on Babylon? Or is nature’s triumph finally at hand?
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskCtM7SREoQs0he-wOP83PCXNj3Gz-eEdDxjBM6NoWU-B0_3aaTSmHV9-oSz_U7XiEhyphenhyphenDRq_8y5YPhLrsKwsjUfKN_rIHeDDgZap25NCaMNqNdrasZhvQza-bKocNTfcN63he9IDA2gzeB1rHkm-pIhTJ4KCv4OBw-h6cD6Ea90naLnQ5RGg3b-eokTA/s1890/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.59.40%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="1890" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhskCtM7SREoQs0he-wOP83PCXNj3Gz-eEdDxjBM6NoWU-B0_3aaTSmHV9-oSz_U7XiEhyphenhyphenDRq_8y5YPhLrsKwsjUfKN_rIHeDDgZap25NCaMNqNdrasZhvQza-bKocNTfcN63he9IDA2gzeB1rHkm-pIhTJ4KCv4OBw-h6cD6Ea90naLnQ5RGg3b-eokTA/w640-h292/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.59.40%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />While we await judgement day, Steidl’s production weighs in on the side of beauty. It expands and improves on the 1986 Aperture original in every facet. The tome is huge, slipcased, and linen-bound, with additional photographs added. The cover image is held over, couched in a new design. Throughout the main body, quadratone reproductions are exquisite. They’re printed at large scale on heavy stock paper. There’s a good reason <i>Los Angeles Spring</i> is priced at a premium, because it’s about as close as a book might come to approximating a physical exhibition. Its photographs may reflect a dour take on SoCal hubris. Nevertheless the book is a triumph. It just can’t help itself.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT809" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPMyUdejaiAeaihKUg4gQFIYdauEqGGd62qpUK-Fvp9LNeK9_IKNg6VCuVr7iciHcBdsVyY2qOO3ehcLmFZnhyphenhyphenlPUbX7wPpnojMNyPS107yoYPa43qG5AO3qy1_G2Bm2MfZ5oNS20pPoUqaOXUTVZMiF_cWtjI1zR_ltv-97WQPPFo3gMsr_Xwr1gnQE/s1890/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.59.26%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="865" data-original-width="1890" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFPMyUdejaiAeaihKUg4gQFIYdauEqGGd62qpUK-Fvp9LNeK9_IKNg6VCuVr7iciHcBdsVyY2qOO3ehcLmFZnhyphenhyphenlPUbX7wPpnojMNyPS107yoYPa43qG5AO3qy1_G2Bm2MfZ5oNS20pPoUqaOXUTVZMiF_cWtjI1zR_ltv-97WQPPFo3gMsr_Xwr1gnQE/w640-h292/Screenshot%202024-02-12%20at%209.59.26%E2%80%AFAM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="134" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b>Blake Andrews</b><span> is a photographer based in Eugene, OR. He writes about photography at <a href="http://blakeandrews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blakeandrews.blogspot.com</a>.</span>
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-39146508085912088652024-02-05T08:34:00.005-07:002024-02-05T09:33:53.402-07:00Strange Hours: An Interview with Rebecca Bengal
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Store Interview</span> <span id="xTitle">Strange Hours</span> <span id="xAuthors">Writings by Rebecca Bengal</span> <span id="xReviewer">Interview by Brian Arnold</span> <span id="xSummary">“I wasn’t far into <i>Strange Hours</i> before I had the idea that the right way to respond to the book would be with an interview with her. Bengal originally reached out to me after my review of <i>Dark Waters</i> and I used that as entry point for a new connection. What started as a simple and unrelated email exchange resulted in this interview..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="510" height="431" src="https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/81lWylzxgSL._AC_UF1000,1000_QL80_.jpg" width="275" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP730" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Strange Hours</a> by Rebecca Bengal. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP730"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP730" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Strange Hours</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photography, Memory, and the Lives of Artists<br />
Writings by Rebecca Bengal<br />
Interview by Brian Arnold</span><br />
Aperture, New York, 2023. 216 pp..
</div><br />
In his second collection of essays, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP310" target="_blank">Why People Photograph?</a></i>, Robert Adams addresses the difficulty in finding good writing about photography. Too many writers, he says, get bogged down in critical jargon and unnecessarily complex rhetoric, a sort of writing he defines as “social-scientific balloon bread.” I’m inclined to agree that there isn’t much great writing about photography, but when a good writer comes around it’s easy for me to get excited about reading their work.
<br /><br />
I’ve been familiar with Rebecca Bengal’s writing from her contributions to many great photobooks published in recent years — <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP732" target="_blank">Dark Waters</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP669&i=9781597114745&i2=" target="_blank">Girl Pictures</a></i>, and<i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK326&i=&i2=" target="_blank"> Juggling is Easy</a></i>, to name a few — and thus found myself eager to dig into her new collection of essays published by Aperture, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP730" target="_blank">Strange Hours</a></i>. There is a lot I could say about this book, but to keep it simple, it is clear, concise, and insightful writing about an incredibly interesting and diverse collection of photographers, lacking any of the jargon or unnecessary rhetoric Adams dismisses. Some of my favorites are the essays about Judith Joy Ross and Ming Smith, the short story written for Justine Kurland’s <i>Girl Pictures</i>, and an interview with Henry Horenstein about his Nashville work. It quickly became clear to me that interviews are a major part of Bengal’s practice as a writer. There are two reproduced in the book — the one with Horenstein and another with Nan Goldin — but in many of the essays Bengal references interviews she conducted with the artists either in person or by phone. With that in mind, I wasn’t far into <i>Strange Hours</i> before I had the idea that the right way to respond to the book would be with an interview with her. Bengal originally reached out to me after my review of <i>Dark Waters</i> and I used that as entry point for a new connection. What started as a simple and unrelated email exchange resulted in this interview, developed between November and December 2023.
<br /><br />
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<br /><i>
When/how did you first get interested in photography? Do you make pictures or just write
about them?
</i><br /><br />
Hard to say, but well before I was aware of it, I think. Turns out quite a few of the photographers I’d eventually come to admire actually were making pictures in and around where I grew up, pre-internet rural western North Carolina, a place that as a kid I assumed was invisible to the rest of the world. Now, looking back, Mary Ellen Mark’s pictures of girls smoking in a kiddie pool, Duane Michals’ portrait of my hometown witch, Joel Sternfeld’s Nags Head photographs, are all cryptically fused with my own memories. I wrote about this unconscious, belated influence in <a href="https://lithub.com/self-portrait-in-other-peoples-pictures/" target="_blank">“Self Portrait in Other People’s Pictures”</a> (a piece which is not in <i>Strange Hours</i>).
<br /><br />
I do make pictures too, but my conscious interest in photography came sideways, and later. In undergrad in Greensboro, North Carolina, I was primarily involved with the creative writing program, writing and reading fiction, and film, and art — and also music, because music was what my friends’ social lives centered around. I would find my way to different photographers through magazines — art and music and fashion magazines, skate magazines — and old books and through photographer friends. The first major photographer I remember meeting was Sally Mann, when she came to give a lecture at our school. I think she was working on what would become her book <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=BF189" target="_blank">What Remains</a></i>, and she was hauling around this giant bucket of decomposing liquid and photographing it in different stages of decay.
<br /><br />
I took my first darkroom class around that time; we worked out of the same darkroom the police department still used then (this was the late 90s). I was experimenting, learning, having fun. Photography sometimes showed up in my short fiction, but I didn’t really write about it for years.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4QEsxfxLyBJKLsWk-9kA1HTZjHLi73SIk6z1jGsjvLp7GOrFT7gU3d98NgVdrbEhMx_7RyqdVxqlp_xUt0DHMLAx-wNu-VUJ0CQTvVBd9crqnudV86_1A-yS90EzSq2LOOHWRMzd7iLwfarlcdnqExBMb7G2acL7u61TQgM3ZORlCpgdz_cssKVVJVs/s696/Bengal_1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="588" data-original-width="696" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4QEsxfxLyBJKLsWk-9kA1HTZjHLi73SIk6z1jGsjvLp7GOrFT7gU3d98NgVdrbEhMx_7RyqdVxqlp_xUt0DHMLAx-wNu-VUJ0CQTvVBd9crqnudV86_1A-yS90EzSq2LOOHWRMzd7iLwfarlcdnqExBMb7G2acL7u61TQgM3ZORlCpgdz_cssKVVJVs/s16000/Bengal_1.jpeg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Strange Hours</i> by Rebecca Bengal</td></tr></tbody></table><br />You grew up with a deaf parent? Does that have anything to do with your interest in photography? </i><div><br /></div><div>My father has been profoundly Deaf from birth, as is his brother, as was their father, as was many of his siblings and his father — Deafness and different forms of sign language have been part of my father’s family for six or so generations. My mother is hearing, we all sign. My sister <a href="https://joannawelborn.com/" target="_blank">Joanna Welborn</a>, who is also hearing, is a photographer — her work is incredible. Maybe for my sister and I, in our separate ways, gravitating to photography has to do with being aware of the visual in a different, heightened way. My father is definitely inclined that way — I love the films he used to make and the pictures he makes now.
<br /><br />
But photography, for me, is about language too. Beyond growing up bilingual in English and sign, I also absorbed different accents, writing, music, and in that way photography is another language too. In “Slowly and with Much Expression,” an essay in <i>Strange Hours</i> about the relationship between words and images, I write about growing up with closed captioning in a time when it wasn’t common for anyone to use it unless you were Deaf.
<br /><br />
DoubleTake<i> magazine is mentioned several times in </i>Strange Hours<i>. Can you tell us a bit about your time with </i>DoubleTake<i>? How did you come to work at the magazine? What was the nature of your work? How has the vision of </i>Double Take<i> influenced your work and career?
</i><br /><br />
The mainstay of my many revolving odd jobs in undergrad was at a small independent bookstore and newsstand in a shopping center in Greensboro, North Carolina. We had a giant wall of magazines and while the gambling tip sheets and car manuals were most popular with our clientele, tucked in among those I found this beautiful literary and photography quarterly magazine <i>DoubleTake</i>. When I found out it was published at the Center for Documentary Studies at Duke, less than an hour away, I wrote them a letter and asked if they were looking for interns. The internship paid a little more than minimum wage, but it did pay, and I primarily worked for the fiction editor, reading manuscripts and suggesting edits. I just really soaked up whatever I could, helping the nonfiction editor too, <a href="https://aperture.org/editorial/how-alice-rose-george-shaped-a-pivotal-era-in-photography/" target="_blank">sitting in with the photo editors</a>, proofing books, helping out with other programs at the Center.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutQsYRY80UrWJO7NduoaYVGM8EJHN0w_d99PswrxM6l94F58AePLunNft4PuVE-U05fcWYUl__jQFMPXc8q5_WseXiCyZiq3qkEIaEeWFk95J2tW25To33ktn5wMVdKvshVrpyxyly_6kCG-3K7B9o7MYAQD_wTjVwjdf6dSgu_9970tj83bckKC58-4/s1440/Screen%20Shot%202024-02-05%20at%2010.14.32%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="957" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutQsYRY80UrWJO7NduoaYVGM8EJHN0w_d99PswrxM6l94F58AePLunNft4PuVE-U05fcWYUl__jQFMPXc8q5_WseXiCyZiq3qkEIaEeWFk95J2tW25To33ktn5wMVdKvshVrpyxyly_6kCG-3K7B9o7MYAQD_wTjVwjdf6dSgu_9970tj83bckKC58-4/w426-h640/Screen%20Shot%202024-02-05%20at%2010.14.32%20AM.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nan Goldin, <i>C.Z. and Max on the Beach, Truro, Massachusetts</i>, 1976</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Things were changing rapidly at <i>DoubleTake</i> then and I became an editorial assistant. And just a few more months and the magazine was effectively shuttered. A skeleton staff moved up to Cambridge, where one of the founders, Robert Coles, was based, but none of our jobs were guaranteed, and I had no desire then to move to Boston, where I knew no one. I think they continued for a year or two like that before it was shuttered again. Others have tried to revive it and duplicate it since then and it never works out. <i>DoubleTake</i> was strange and radical and earnest and exciting and also very expensive to make, and it was the work of an immensely talented group of people, several of whom I’ve worked with and/or remained connected to since and its influence has long outlasted its several years of existence. </div><div><br /></div><div>For me, so young then, working at <i>DoubleTake</i> and CDS was an introduction to a lot of artists and writers — William Gedney, for instance — both within and outside of documentary work. It was an introduction to the community work and films and books that CDS was involved in. It was an introduction to the ethical questions around documentary. And for me, it was liberating in the sense that the magazine treated photography and writing as equals, not something that was required to literally illustrate the other.
<br /><br /><i>
In recent years, you’ve contributed writing to some really interesting photobooks by Danny Lyon, Kristine Potter, Justine Kurland, and Peggy Nolan, among others. How are these writings composed? Are they developed collaboratively with the photographers? Or based solely on looking at the pictures? Do you have relationships with these artists that help develop your writing?
</i><br /><br />
They are all so different, everyone. Kristine Potter knew some of my connections to music and to the places of <a href="https://blog.photoeye.com/2023/08/book-of-week-selected-by-brian-arnold.html" target="_blank">her pictures in <i>Dark Waters</i></a>, which has an undercurrent of murder ballads in the American South, especially Tennessee, where she lives, and North Carolina. We talked — but we didn’t even discover exactly how much we have in common until well after the book was published. I tried to sort of absorb the pictures the way I knew the songs, and then I went away and wrote a story, I didn’t want to pin it too specifically to any of the pictures: They are absolutely stunning on their own. The story I wrote (at the invitation of Kristine and editor Lesley A. Martin, who both were open to let me do whatever I wanted) came from two characters I already had in mind, and from my memory of the pictures or, even more accurately, the feeling I had looking at them. I’m really proud to have been a part of this book.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMH3vNe_Ekg4_cBG1265R49_IfpoW3_OpSg9244QhltzQYe-BeXyQ8j-jBg7UX09BSDcoYJTkNZQM_zmtffFnH1VFn_3pBERfMPCHJAYNQsfDm_R7_LE-TBuV8o1JZnh6sGaApvQOJxO0Y9e2SJtp8a_Z_5IcYPtAKYFVQB_Eew96FGO6PGbpquQ6ebU/s723/Bengal4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="589" data-original-width="723" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRMH3vNe_Ekg4_cBG1265R49_IfpoW3_OpSg9244QhltzQYe-BeXyQ8j-jBg7UX09BSDcoYJTkNZQM_zmtffFnH1VFn_3pBERfMPCHJAYNQsfDm_R7_LE-TBuV8o1JZnh6sGaApvQOJxO0Y9e2SJtp8a_Z_5IcYPtAKYFVQB_Eew96FGO6PGbpquQ6ebU/w640-h522/Bengal4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Strange Hours</i> by Rebecca Bengal</td></tr></tbody></table><br />That’s similar to the way I went about writing another short story, “The Jeremys,” for Justine Kurland’s <i>Girl Pictures</i>. I first met Justine years ago when she came to Austin, Texas, and parked her van in my best friends’ backyard while she was still making some of her narrative photographs of feral, runaway girls, pictures in which I saw my past, present, future, and fictional selves in. Justine has made so many brilliant bodies of work since, and I’ve written about many of them, but she and editor Denise Wolff gave me the freedom to write a story that is from the point of view of imagined girls in the pictures.
<br /><br />
I love that <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/photo-booth/the-mysteries-of-a-knit-club-in-small-town-mississippi" target="_blank">lots of people read Carolyn Drake’s <i>Knit Club</i></a> and thought I was right there in Water Valley, Mississippi, when Carolyn Drake was making the pictures. I wasn’t — I was brought in much later, but that book was particularly collaborative in terms of many conversations with Carolyn and Paul Schiek at TBW. Because of the way the photographs work, none of us thought it should be too directly representational, but something a bit more nebulous, and so I ended up interviewing several of the women in the pictures and piecing together a semi-fictional story in their words. Carolyn sought my feedback on the sequencing and design she was working on with Paul, and it was fascinating to see it evolve. A beautiful and perfect design.
<br /><br />
Speaking of Paul and TBW, who are one of my favorite photobook publishers around, I didn’t know Peggy Nolan at all prior to working on <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK326" target="_blank">Juggling Is Easy</a></i>, but Paul had a feeling I’d love her photographs of her teenage kids and their friends in 1980s Florida, and he was sure right. Peggy is a live wire, tremendously talented and such a force, and in her case I wanted to tell her story as much as the stories of the photographs.
<br /><br /><a href="https://www.guernicamag.com/outlaws-territory/" target="_blank">
I first wrote about Danny Lyon’s <i>The Bikeriders</i> several years ago</a> but we didn’t meet until 2020, when I happened to be in the Southwest, and <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/27/arts/design/danny-lyon-sncc-photography.html" target="_blank">we did this interview</a>. Last year he invited me to write an essay for a catalogue for <a href="https://albuquerquemuseumfoundation.org/product/journey-west-danny-lyon-softback/" target="_blank">his solo exhibition at the Albuquerque Museum of Art</a>. I wrote about his films, which I love. Danny surprised me by including a photograph he made of me on the day of our interview in the exhibition: it was the day after Election Day 2020, and I’m all masked up.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46R4PwqyDuytCyBDevnkTYKIX5v1Fb6fhVJN1s8uXOa7aPWH9Nl4gkjkXAjOarBcRxyjIRxugpkqxVBItE6wk3EX914ZPudGk3q8iaTABYsUSNcPmIzY2WK295cp5_IzjTTBd8ng_U9-94m8ygMncBwJ0hiTNVvIWB3fqu7shhyFFb72yXQBJWVClnSw/s723/Bengal3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="723" height="513" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh46R4PwqyDuytCyBDevnkTYKIX5v1Fb6fhVJN1s8uXOa7aPWH9Nl4gkjkXAjOarBcRxyjIRxugpkqxVBItE6wk3EX914ZPudGk3q8iaTABYsUSNcPmIzY2WK295cp5_IzjTTBd8ng_U9-94m8ygMncBwJ0hiTNVvIWB3fqu7shhyFFb72yXQBJWVClnSw/w640-h513/Bengal3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Strange Hours</i> by Rebecca Bengal</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Can you say something about how </i>Strange Hours<i> was put together? Is it a “greatest hits”
selection of your writings? Or was there a more directed selection process?
</i><br /><br />
The initial invitation to publish <i>Strange Hours</i> came courtesy of one of my wonderful editors at Aperture. Brendan Embser saw the possibility of a book in the stories and essays I’d been doing for their books, the magazine, the blog, and <i>PhotoBook Review</i> over the past several years.
<br /><br />
Brendan and assistant editor Varun Nayar and I looked at a ton of my writing to decide what to include. Much of the book would come from my work with Aperture, and many of those pieces have a strong narrative element (Diana Markosian, Judith Joy Ross, Chauncey Hare, for instance), and of course the short story I wrote for Justine Kurland’s <i>Girl Pictures</i>. So that established a core. From there we each made a list of pieces we hoped to include. The book is part of the Aperture Ideas book series, which all adhere to a set length, so that left us with a certain amount of space to work with. Also, since the Ideas series is text-focused, it’s designed for just one image per piece, plus a well of color photographs. For me, that eliminated a few pieces that I felt would be better served by multiple pictures — for instance, the semifictional story I wrote for <i>Knit Club</i>. But I had to eliminate many other favorites, and favorite artists.
<br /><br />
We also didn’t want to worry too much about an overall theme. While story is the heart of the book, even if it’s just the story of an encounter with an artist and their pictures, I also wanted to include some different kinds of writing, essays, short fiction, interviews, and to create plenty of ways for anyone to enter in — whether or not they know anything about photography. “In the Place Where Prince Lived” might not seem to be about photography, for example, but it is about my and Alec Soth’s attempt to find something of Prince through the act of photographing the people who live in the places where he once did. It’s layered in with Alec also being a photographer who shares a hometown with Prince — and, for a few years, practically shared a backyard. And it’s layered in with our discovery along the way that Prince himself was retracing his own steps photographically in the months before his death.
<br /><br />
Almost all of the pieces had been published before, but I knew I wanted to heavily revise many of them. I was able to add back in a significant and previously unpublished portion of an Eggleston interview I did years ago, in which he talks about photographing inside Graceland. This is where the book’s title (which my editor suggested) comes from: At one point, Eggleston reckons that, like Elvis, he keeps “strange hours.” And when we were choosing the cover, it wound up being a lesser-known photograph by Eggleston, too, and that gave us the purple of the cover (thanks also to the excellent designers at Pacifica). But I revised almost every piece to some extent, working with Brendan and editor Susan Ciccotti. I’ve also published pieces since our print deadline that I wish could be in <i>Strange Hours</i>, but we were able to include just one entirely new piece that I wrote specifically for the book: I wanted to add something that spoke more to ambiguity and perceived truth, and to a literary sense of photography, and that ended up being Yevgenia Belorusets’ stories and photographs from Ukraine. And then, I want to mention, I am deeply grateful to the flat-out brilliant Joy Williams, my teacher and friend, one of our greatest writers, who wrote the foreword essay.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PCBjZnuCPYYFxpH0UuJvUODaY_l3AkiCAsZOsnSB3S48Bv9kgJPbrhJQwltZJVuY6HFLW1fGRrZzuTuFnElRkhkZB4jug6DGWfHLfxhI1zwShvVfgvi1OUpZ-QNwa1r-2CZpZOYC0byz4I9-kBaW5vuCHvpMSSYZ6q8Hlcc_poYdMUu4j05fau6GFrw/s1599/Screen%20Shot%202024-02-05%20at%2010.14.00%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="1599" height="420" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-PCBjZnuCPYYFxpH0UuJvUODaY_l3AkiCAsZOsnSB3S48Bv9kgJPbrhJQwltZJVuY6HFLW1fGRrZzuTuFnElRkhkZB4jug6DGWfHLfxhI1zwShvVfgvi1OUpZ-QNwa1r-2CZpZOYC0byz4I9-kBaW5vuCHvpMSSYZ6q8Hlcc_poYdMUu4j05fau6GFrw/w640-h420/Screen%20Shot%202024-02-05%20at%2010.14.00%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Eggleston, <i>Untitled</i>, ca. 1983-86</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Is there a photographer you’ve never connected with or written about but would like to?
</i><br /><br />
Oh, there are so many photographers whose work I love but haven’t had the chance to write with/about at the right time — far too many to mention. Lately, mostly I’m interested in writing with or in response to, rather than about. To either collaborate in the way I’ve done on some photobooks, whether it’s for a book or some other form, in all the ways I just described to you. And/or to collaborate in the sense of working on a story together. Where you’re doing some true fieldwork collectively, as I’ve gotten to do <a href="https://www.joelsternfeld.net/press/archive/2020/1/23/g3t2wanleztl4dq9rofp669f6nanup" target="_blank">with Joel Sternfeld on the youth climate movement</a>, and <a href="https://www.vogue.com/projects/13505511/standing-rock-movement-dakota-access-pipeline and later with Mitch Epstein https://www.vogue.com/projects/13542941/return-to-standing-rock" target="_blank">at Standing Rock first with Alessandra Sanguinetti</a>, with Justine Kurland after the fires near Paradise, for example. Or and especially something a little bit looser, like the stories I’ve done with Alec Soth.
<br /><br />
Mostly, I think about all the writers and artists and filmmakers and musicians I wish I could have met or studied with. I’ll limit myself to just two photographers here who are no longer with us. First, Corita Kent, who had a wholly uncanny, playful, and experimental way of teaching and seeing the world; <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IG291&i=&i2=" target="_blank">Ordinary Things Will Be Signs For Us</a></i>, a collection of her work, was recently published by J&L Books. The other is Larry Sultan. <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2023/01/21/opinion/nathan-lane-new-play-pictures-from-home-larry-sultan-book.html" target="_blank">While working on this piece about him with Alec</a>, and especially after I wrote it, talking with Larry Sultan’s colleagues and close friends, particularly Jim Goldberg, and Larry’s wife, Kelly, I was magnetized, all over again, by Larry’s ideas and intellect and, very important, his sensibility and sense of humor. Mack is doing lovely reissues of his books; the most recent is <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK277" target="_blank">Swimmers</a></i>. As Kelly Sultan, a wonderful writer herself, once wrote: “Asking big questions by examining the mysteries of daily life was how Larry tended to approach picture making; he was always hoping to capture something just off stage, a ‘strange creature’ that would be revealed only after the picture was printed.”
<br /><br /><i>
One of my favorite essays in </i>Strange Hours<i> is the one about Prince, the project you did with Alec Soth. With that in mind, what’s your favorite Prince song or record?
</i><br /><br />
Prince left the world too soon, but he left us here with so much. No way to nail down a favorite, though I love having my socks knocked off by hearing a song I haven’t heard in a while (like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GI4OhqT5Frct" target="_blank">“Black Sweat,” one of his later ones,</a> at a dance party recently). And when Alec and I were visiting Prince’s houses in and around Minneapolis, and leaving the story itself up to discovery, Paisley Park was just beginning to dig into the famous vaults he left behind. Some of the reissues and compilations of rare and previously unreleased work that have come out since are truly excellent — check out the albums <i>Originals</i>, <i>Welcome 2 America</i>, and <i>Piano and a Microphone 1983</i>.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP730" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj349L80e60VZKZRJhTqpeR_QXVXt0IYrBazwGyDODHSJbR4mIXYgdyaA9X9fR9ol0GN29IPu3RdUUcSQkl4JFQBjcz-x5H58uU-HyJXRa657NZ5QfeXMVYWwzeoqBALLn_Jq8Til3Bu8byS_9tFHTHKfP9hB53Va0n5aVlomxMlON_88fWDaZU1Uy4onE/s710/Bengal2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="710" height="519" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj349L80e60VZKZRJhTqpeR_QXVXt0IYrBazwGyDODHSJbR4mIXYgdyaA9X9fR9ol0GN29IPu3RdUUcSQkl4JFQBjcz-x5H58uU-HyJXRa657NZ5QfeXMVYWwzeoqBALLn_Jq8Til3Bu8byS_9tFHTHKfP9hB53Va0n5aVlomxMlON_88fWDaZU1Uy4onE/w640-h519/Bengal2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Strange Hours</i> by Rebecca Bengal</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgziatm1JQ-j5rGbQ7r0zY6KR_andQC8j38obTD0ev9giDylt05PBoCl7AguMqgVvTZirz4tBYlMSKin9FOZRAjVhfg4sxPmC51jeSjwsWrtmevhs3AvZ4uimA7RiGtSEVF1uniwkWOS9CgCO07G1ReF9orynRVc_5qm1jwp3lRWMNPhmQ6dTR9f1MIMt4/s726/Bengal5.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="726" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgziatm1JQ-j5rGbQ7r0zY6KR_andQC8j38obTD0ev9giDylt05PBoCl7AguMqgVvTZirz4tBYlMSKin9FOZRAjVhfg4sxPmC51jeSjwsWrtmevhs3AvZ4uimA7RiGtSEVF1uniwkWOS9CgCO07G1ReF9orynRVc_5qm1jwp3lRWMNPhmQ6dTR9f1MIMt4/w640-h510/Bengal5.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Strange Hours</i> by Rebecca Bengal</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>
<b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/ARNOLD.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="500" height="161" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h161/ARNOLD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Brian Arnold</b> is a photographer, writer, and translator based in Ithaca, NY. He has taught and exhibited his work around the world and published books, including <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK227" target="_blank">A History of Photography in Indonesia</a></i>, with Oxford University Press, Cornell University, Amsterdam University, and Afterhours Books. Brian is a two-time MacDowell Fellow and in 2014 received a grant from the Henry Luce Foundation/American Institute for Indonesian Studies.</div><div><br /></div><div>
<br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5B7WZZGHCB72hzsQ-DJCCnNx8C4CAn7_RD1ASSyuTWvAt_IXomJr0YSqdb-5wC7MMMBfU2b9J75iumzMu6QOKLsunWkLVc82gSEisXolWmZSh-lQ6uWk5tZ9amGmqYRtKA6ryr1iWAVM8lKZFF5WPjTP4ep7TYVa81vXx5l8jcODMTUaUNrgVGFTKRI/s2000/Rebecca%20Bengal%20Strange%20Hours%20portrait%20by%20Matthew%20Leifheit.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1992" data-original-width="2000" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV5B7WZZGHCB72hzsQ-DJCCnNx8C4CAn7_RD1ASSyuTWvAt_IXomJr0YSqdb-5wC7MMMBfU2b9J75iumzMu6QOKLsunWkLVc82gSEisXolWmZSh-lQ6uWk5tZ9amGmqYRtKA6ryr1iWAVM8lKZFF5WPjTP4ep7TYVa81vXx5l8jcODMTUaUNrgVGFTKRI/w200-h199/Rebecca%20Bengal%20Strange%20Hours%20portrait%20by%20Matthew%20Leifheit.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b style="font-weight: bold;">Rebecca Bengal </b>is the author of <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=AP730" target="_blank">Strange Hours: Photography, Memory, and the Lives of Artists </a></i>(Aperture, 2023). Her writing about art, literature, film, music, and the environment has been published by the Paris Review, Vogue, Vanity Fair, the New York Times, Oxford American, Southwest Review, the Believer, the Guardian, and the Criterion Collection, among many others. She has contributed short fiction and essays to books by Kristine Potter, Carolyn Drake, Justine Kurland, Paul Graham, Danny Lyon, Peggy Levison Nolan, and Charles Portis. A MacDowell fellow in literature and a former editor at <i>American Short Fiction</i>, <i>DoubleTake</i>, and <i>Vogue</i>, she holds an MFA from the Michener Center for Writers in Austin. Originally from western North Carolina, Bengal lives in Brooklyn.</div>Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-34824023525241068542024-02-02T12:13:00.005-07:002024-02-02T12:18:12.930-07:00photo-eye Conversations with David Emitt Adams and Jamey Stillings<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xTitle">photo-eye Conversations with David Emitt Adams and Jamey Stillings</span>
<span id="xAuthors">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xReviewer"></span>
<span id="xSummary">In honor of the closing of Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment, an exhibition featuring photographs by Jamey Stillings and David Emitt Adams, we are pleased to share a recent segment of photo-eye Conversations LIVE with David and Jamey.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div><br style="text-align: left;" /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsyQGwrxuY9dJVmV6Ed_IbD3u0iYSBmtoPMOJchCk08Zm-P7Qdw8zI4OCdIJPdS-ltpuq0-VFxBJ1bDNdsJn48Gg-RwKwCHUUY5inb0tPa5n5iZ3o2c29zy-iBc_d6Wy_R5OQjBeIC7th-8iudpH_2e01Ow5e_hpzQvRutXz9uoegpCCJ0eB4bmKFLNE/s1784/Adams_Stillingsx2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="1784" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsyQGwrxuY9dJVmV6Ed_IbD3u0iYSBmtoPMOJchCk08Zm-P7Qdw8zI4OCdIJPdS-ltpuq0-VFxBJ1bDNdsJn48Gg-RwKwCHUUY5inb0tPa5n5iZ3o2c29zy-iBc_d6Wy_R5OQjBeIC7th-8iudpH_2e01Ow5e_hpzQvRutXz9uoegpCCJ0eB4bmKFLNE/w584-h246/Adams_Stillingsx2.jpg" width="584" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>In honor of the closing of <i><a href="https://blog.photoeye.com/2023/11/reshaping-earth-energy-and-environment.html" target="_blank">Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment</a></i>, an exhibition featuring photographs by <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">Jamey Stillings</a> and <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">David Emitt Adams</a>, we are pleased to share a recent segment of <a href="https://youtu.be/PnC2nnCsSyw?si=UqSllTvLUP4IU2PH" target="_blank">photo-eye Conversations LIVE with David and Jamey</a>. Below the video, are a few installation shots if you haven't visited the gallery yet.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="404" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PnC2nnCsSyw" width="487" youtube-src-id="PnC2nnCsSyw"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div><br /></div><div>In this segment of photo-eye Conversations, <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">Adams</a> and <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">Stillings</a> engage in a conversation about their work, including in <i><a href="https://blog.photoeye.com/2023/11/reshaping-earth-energy-and-environment.html" target="_blank">Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment</a></i>. If you're short on time, or would just like a taste, we also made two 5-minute videos you can watch: David Emitt Adams discussing his work (<a href="https://youtu.be/hiNVNTuDhhM?si=pb57un1NVHs4sItl" target="_blank">here</a>) and Jamey Stillings talking about his work and his new book (<a href="https://youtu.be/O1DE66BJ5Xo?si=rrT32gXmnMSPo3Fv" target="_blank">here</a>). </div><div>Enjoy!</div><div><br style="text-align: left;" /></div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxWZXYCB1JmhRvlqwiaDx_b_F7qaWjeGJfxzROHm30guY6Y33r6Ep5NCot_frwWqwAVBfRconC4wBy3G57_B98tXBXChuJ4D4vq8Vbmg2lMF54dN-re3yTsDCTnDrp5_vvoLabmJoDl_pM8ZZODjUrJEzQK0ONX0jda7Cxv2R3D5LdBYe3aTnXeCVG9c/s4000/IMG_8978.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="436" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxWZXYCB1JmhRvlqwiaDx_b_F7qaWjeGJfxzROHm30guY6Y33r6Ep5NCot_frwWqwAVBfRconC4wBy3G57_B98tXBXChuJ4D4vq8Vbmg2lMF54dN-re3yTsDCTnDrp5_vvoLabmJoDl_pM8ZZODjUrJEzQK0ONX0jda7Cxv2R3D5LdBYe3aTnXeCVG9c/w582-h436/IMG_8978.jpg" width="582" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">Jamey Stillings'</a> aerial photos document renewable energy projects and mining in Chile's Atacama desert, a region rich in natural resources like lithium, copper, gold, and iron ore.</div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPg7N1jhAn675XcHYZhYZiR_E7Kib6BI56p3v87jKb3uI7anc581YFV-mC-eMA6RI9KHtPWvLCIZE4Cs2V4A9VdOdNx4Qz0ZF_7PmVFIGlzMNWd0dFz-XKTtfC7TyO1qYqNUTz84-nMtHaS3YoK4sNUUDEBTXZCaU8iqqmwOEertau92A37WIjNK3CSE/s4000/IMG_8999.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnPg7N1jhAn675XcHYZhYZiR_E7Kib6BI56p3v87jKb3uI7anc581YFV-mC-eMA6RI9KHtPWvLCIZE4Cs2V4A9VdOdNx4Qz0ZF_7PmVFIGlzMNWd0dFz-XKTtfC7TyO1qYqNUTz84-nMtHaS3YoK4sNUUDEBTXZCaU8iqqmwOEertau92A37WIjNK3CSE/w565-h424/IMG_8999.jpg" width="565" /></a></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">David Emitt Adams</a> uses historical photographic techniques to explore industrial landscapes from the American oil industry in his <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">Power</a></i> series. He captures the images using a custom-built camera and prints directly on 55-gallon steel oil drum lids using wet plate collodion chemistry.</div><b><br />
</b><div><b> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hUwIGnPk5m5OusvKz8Iq_0Z3NXGXcjXUHjpme46Qt6_cC5OIKkCvCfDMHr5zMoVe_pycw22MhjKpma4Z6Bh_GTtb3f6Qvgbf4ucrN8uRnyz4XSITGzNqgebFXse9BcwH_jVhVLw2ZxFdFVnefPJZz4_ARIS7KJSk4ZBmmhQ7SIAOSKMqXEzfny0JV2I/s4000/IMG_8976.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="455" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hUwIGnPk5m5OusvKz8Iq_0Z3NXGXcjXUHjpme46Qt6_cC5OIKkCvCfDMHr5zMoVe_pycw22MhjKpma4Z6Bh_GTtb3f6Qvgbf4ucrN8uRnyz4XSITGzNqgebFXse9BcwH_jVhVLw2ZxFdFVnefPJZz4_ARIS7KJSk4ZBmmhQ7SIAOSKMqXEzfny0JV2I/w607-h455/IMG_8976.jpg" width="607" /></a></div><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>View more work by David Emitt Adams <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/homepage?id=11245&door=1&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">here </a></b></div><div><b> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7f7j3HW-_yaRZsoI91oBqOjgO5hUBqnJ_xaEiuqlgqIoBN1tjh39l1zrTKzby9vaj1MWdvbNXZk7dn-En78n3pN2bXgAcn6PtmY_CfXMMObDtrdJGSS-hbbrIcE9Bql3o6pmHF3FS_D1-3nKLvUaltGmnmeX_hBsMbtQMvy6ht4hZ-HqFAup2x_wrWEs/s4000/IMG_8994.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="457" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7f7j3HW-_yaRZsoI91oBqOjgO5hUBqnJ_xaEiuqlgqIoBN1tjh39l1zrTKzby9vaj1MWdvbNXZk7dn-En78n3pN2bXgAcn6PtmY_CfXMMObDtrdJGSS-hbbrIcE9Bql3o6pmHF3FS_D1-3nKLvUaltGmnmeX_hBsMbtQMvy6ht4hZ-HqFAup2x_wrWEs/w609-h457/IMG_8994.jpg" width="609" /></a></div><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>View more work by Jamey Stillings </b><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/homepage?id=28500&door=1&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank"><b>here </b></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Order Jamey Stillings' new book <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT731&i=9783958297081&i2=" target="_blank">here </a></b></div><div><br /></div><div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
* * *
<br /><br />
PRINT COSTS ARE CURRENT UP TO THE TIME OF POSTING AND ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE.
<br /><br />
* * *
<br /><br />
If you are in Santa Fe, please stop by we are open Tuesday– Saturday, from 10am- 5:30pm.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/" target="_blank">PHOTO-EYE GALLERY</a><br />
300 Rufina Circle, Unit A3, Santa Fe, NM 87507
<br /><br />
For more information, and to reserve one of these unique works, please contact <br />
Gallery Director <a href="mailto:anne@photoeye.com" target="_blank">Anne Kelly</a><br />
You may also call us at (505) 988-5152 x202</div>
<br /><br />
</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>Galleryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898430015572158694noreply@blogger.comSanta Fe, NM, USA35.6869752 -105.9377997.3767413638211536 -141.09404899999998 63.997209036178845 -70.781549tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-35229603045314978422024-01-29T08:41:00.005-07:002024-01-29T08:41:33.930-07:00Book of the Week: Selected by Blake Andrews
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Mirror City</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Harry Culy</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Blake Andrews</span> <span id="xSummary">“For photographers shooting hometowns, acquaintance is a constant hazard. It can be hard to get a clear-eyed view of a place from within. Sometimes you’re better off putting some distance between yourself and the target..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="513" height="320" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/z/zk451/zk451.jpg" width="257" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK451" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Mirror City</a>. By Harry Culy.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK451"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK451" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Mirror City</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Harry Culy</span><br />
Bad News Books, 2023. 100 pp., 58 duotone plates, 8x10".
</div><br />
For photographers shooting hometowns, acquaintance is a constant hazard. It can be hard to get a clear-eyed view of a place from within. Sometimes you’re better off putting some distance between yourself and the target. Even if the material is the same, the exterior view is different. Familiar subjects assume a fresh veneer: clean, objective, and unfiltered. At least in theory.
<br /><br />
Harry Culy’s debut photobook puts this hypothesis to the test. <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK451" target="_blank">Mirror City</a></i> collects Culy’s b/w photographs shot upon his return to Te Whanganui-a-Tara (Wellington), after ten years away. Growing up in the New Zealand capital decades earlier, he had come to know the place quite well. He’d explored the underbelly and skateboarded its sidewalks. He’d formed a sense of what it was to be a resident. He’d even made photographs of the city.
<br /><br />
But those were inside views from a previous time. The key that unlocked <i>Mirror City</i> was foreign travel. Upon returning to his old hometown, he saw everything with fresh eyes. “On my return, I encountered an eerie feeling — 'home' felt strangely unfamiliar,” he described the lightbulb moment in a recent interview. “When I came back I realized that New Zealand is actually a pretty strange and amazing place.”
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIIAlUOO6ZwW3jDXKG6JOEjXotd9mURHyN1fT1chjFZpYKcvSxRo9R5M_7fnXpb7aQDZtlrMiPE_jsIz8gbaX9iPwMhnGHVqFrDdGuvC5MVOmkzr_mKcy-Rkl5Kwg2jBPJHFF4RUatrm7JWKyiObhHmNJ5n4omz13_unQ-N53zL3E4t36A5JdGvwjKgCo/s1576/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.37.32%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1576" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIIAlUOO6ZwW3jDXKG6JOEjXotd9mURHyN1fT1chjFZpYKcvSxRo9R5M_7fnXpb7aQDZtlrMiPE_jsIz8gbaX9iPwMhnGHVqFrDdGuvC5MVOmkzr_mKcy-Rkl5Kwg2jBPJHFF4RUatrm7JWKyiObhHmNJ5n4omz13_unQ-N53zL3E4t36A5JdGvwjKgCo/w640-h402/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.37.32%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />From 2019 through 2022, he photographed in and around the city, working intuitively. “Pretty much all my work comes from places and people I have personal connection to,” he says. “Moving through the city I made pictures of anything that caught my attention.” He photographed local friends, structures, and lyric documentary scenes using a 4 x 5 view camera, later making silver gelatin prints in a darkroom. As if that didn’t keep him busy enough, he also co-founded a publishing company. These disparate life strands come together in <i>Mirror City</i>, a “kind of gothic love letter to my hometown” which is published by Culy’s own Bad News Books.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmOy8iRn_Q-r7f5mPx5aIuo9r8o4H1JtX2XecsTOpP2tURdcItNrRL5gZVZmShUR-nJmBlJq4cHYXvey8EeAzWxtxoWv-fr_A9E4eK67iUQfxtyFxwqru_R1PNZnr5SSggsVV2zr8bMLksUdW49I-ICvtoEUxXx5GZ_Iq1zVjaoi7tSNMHzxt6vi8DYI/s1500/amirror13.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1500" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmOy8iRn_Q-r7f5mPx5aIuo9r8o4H1JtX2XecsTOpP2tURdcItNrRL5gZVZmShUR-nJmBlJq4cHYXvey8EeAzWxtxoWv-fr_A9E4eK67iUQfxtyFxwqru_R1PNZnr5SSggsVV2zr8bMLksUdW49I-ICvtoEUxXx5GZ_Iq1zVjaoi7tSNMHzxt6vi8DYI/w640-h512/amirror13.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZyqbORLo9FB4KDtRbOcWOLal-6SikKU42cNicS6NEcDfbsoXzu9B47E-XWKYmaIef0MuM1gOM6StgFFnsh5KLGxbtCwePw5rDjD4vHQopgznbzxfnzr6papomG_xwGYjtHzgDmAVBShxLtjrLv-o93rWDTA1gkfTiAux4eaoZtBsWm94LBiCKc7DiK0/s2500/amirror3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2500" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOZyqbORLo9FB4KDtRbOcWOLal-6SikKU42cNicS6NEcDfbsoXzu9B47E-XWKYmaIef0MuM1gOM6StgFFnsh5KLGxbtCwePw5rDjD4vHQopgznbzxfnzr6papomG_xwGYjtHzgDmAVBShxLtjrLv-o93rWDTA1gkfTiAux4eaoZtBsWm94LBiCKc7DiK0/w640-h512/amirror3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />This isn’t just any type of gothic letter. It’s Antipodean gothic, a version particular to New Zealand and Australia. The south island nations foster a sense of isolation and removal all their own, reflected in films, photo, and visual culture. Day is night. The southern heavens are literally star crossed. Heck, even their seasons are backward. “It’s a feeling of being unsettled,” says Culy, “of uneasiness, anxiety, which is kind of simultaneously pleasurable and not at the same time.” Throw in a global pandemic, and <i>Mirror City</i> takes on a broody edginess. Photographs of spider webs and wrought iron fencing hint at unconscious restrictions while Satanic symbols, spray painted phrases, and graffitied carvings might be Antipodean iconography. Abandoned ephemera and underground symbols seem commonplace in Te Whanganui-a-Tara, a city which feels closer to smallish exurb than metropolis, at least as photographed by Culy.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCOxE1CChHFPw0aKovbW0gbBgXg4XwIiQfvnUovmuLfyG1Og-rAB4Or28x4arb8kC9H6zSCgom_BPFLUfyOt8wJVWPSqwn10Ti0QLnRvsr5u9gkx23odG64e_ZX1WYSirCEh6gPCELGxjOHTgYfNPSbvnnKy1tix4-fue47bKDd3oSIkcURt2zaZVjIy8/s1566/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.36.46%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1566" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCOxE1CChHFPw0aKovbW0gbBgXg4XwIiQfvnUovmuLfyG1Og-rAB4Or28x4arb8kC9H6zSCgom_BPFLUfyOt8wJVWPSqwn10Ti0QLnRvsr5u9gkx23odG64e_ZX1WYSirCEh6gPCELGxjOHTgYfNPSbvnnKy1tix4-fue47bKDd3oSIkcURt2zaZVjIy8/w640-h406/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.36.46%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />These visual dust ups are just the leading edge of wider disruptions. Culy is continually drawn to broken forms. He photographs discarded lumber in a heap, smashed windows, barbed wire, twisted antennae, and melting candles, all possessing a certain photographic charms. As the title hints, there are even a few mirrors in the mix. As formal compositions all are well seen. They’re aesthetically pleasing enough. But taken collectively they convey a downcast mood. Perhaps this is the aforementioned Antipodean gothic, or the years-long residue of Culy’s jet lag? Hard to say. In any case, <i>Mirror City’s</i> ugly backdrops form a sharp contrast with its human subjects. All are young and sensual, captured in situ on city streets. Some radiate a pure beauty which is near otherworldly. They might easily be cast in a film or lifestyle magazine. One wonders if Culy sees himself reflected in them, or perhaps his artistic soul is in junkyard glass.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0OTAZmmuUxEKw8lxOplGkBUTLB2Ftm7vlW4w4rXF9u1TCkTBK3OCQ4dtTbcUqX00n9Q5TcbDQgDfQWdlHCRBuwaDRKyho966AuyMM0cRrbYNdggP8vNaJtZBx9vpjjdvaKynsHJfiAlKevYb-TQ_h4QmkKUnGpENrNftngJ4uGNfEtkAZqLM7MTIMRrg/s1250/amirror10.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0OTAZmmuUxEKw8lxOplGkBUTLB2Ftm7vlW4w4rXF9u1TCkTBK3OCQ4dtTbcUqX00n9Q5TcbDQgDfQWdlHCRBuwaDRKyho966AuyMM0cRrbYNdggP8vNaJtZBx9vpjjdvaKynsHJfiAlKevYb-TQ_h4QmkKUnGpENrNftngJ4uGNfEtkAZqLM7MTIMRrg/w512-h640/amirror10.jpeg" width="512" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Culy offers clues in the form of text excerpts. These are written in silver on black pages, then interspersed here and there with his monochromes. He shares shopping lists, notes to self, iPhone ramblings, movie titles, board games, and other scattered snippets. If they don’t make much literal sense, that’s not really the point. They operate on the subconscious as dream-like suggestions. These phrases get into the reader’s mind and float in the cranial soup alongside Culy’s pictures. It’s a pleasing enough effect, similar in some ways to the disrupted logic of foreign travel or urbex photography. Ideally these materials might combine into a mirror held up to the self, or to one’s home city.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK451" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjbNK3Z93pNGJRCHOQTOCSfLIlJ0PsKVKs2dmdrpa8DTOxZWjZBU_7lHJY1e55Ffn0mD8MQQtL6MqoT9_QLbiXme5d1dx1lYDJsKcgdsGDo4oENnR6YKYyh3EdTNl0cWDMT_IkPQF6Yfw5iKNiJhNXuHxvQGwn4SKyAZf4hbrnT4yUW3xapgTACQJA18/s1566/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.36.36%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1566" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtjbNK3Z93pNGJRCHOQTOCSfLIlJ0PsKVKs2dmdrpa8DTOxZWjZBU_7lHJY1e55Ffn0mD8MQQtL6MqoT9_QLbiXme5d1dx1lYDJsKcgdsGDo4oENnR6YKYyh3EdTNl0cWDMT_IkPQF6Yfw5iKNiJhNXuHxvQGwn4SKyAZf4hbrnT4yUW3xapgTACQJA18/w640-h406/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.36.36%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yuSa6WYQKMcQ2mVUvgEzXXA3LRUPVQzOlxdD7uW-Ius3GbLhkaTwO1Bd6BLQPiFA82d58JJqalwLU1tHx9n9jjl90iN-CObHyx4U_SRVYk1f8HLjTfRdtC9GOpK75UtBQl4Wfd0ScJn1_SDbA1A8gAk7_Ro_zaxkfzE4MOJ3fI_s33sIJGeqjkDeVuc/s1566/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.36.30%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1566" height="406" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2yuSa6WYQKMcQ2mVUvgEzXXA3LRUPVQzOlxdD7uW-Ius3GbLhkaTwO1Bd6BLQPiFA82d58JJqalwLU1tHx9n9jjl90iN-CObHyx4U_SRVYk1f8HLjTfRdtC9GOpK75UtBQl4Wfd0ScJn1_SDbA1A8gAk7_Ro_zaxkfzE4MOJ3fI_s33sIJGeqjkDeVuc/w640-h406/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.36.30%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVjuCzXesE5HOmsm52foryb5L7RBkn_xnGB_gnQT_OAimCUevNAUYPbQqb8FHEq2QxqZvCXCCYiZI_D6xAB-A_a3OSkBX1wY10vo871yG76hd-1Eumn7vZ6ZKMddtsISPzMQrU_9j_46x6l4hUMS9pdlj0_02N4kpUrqvn9gdgpuAoVUGArLmz4HzYxE/s1576/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.37.39%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="1576" height="402" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuVjuCzXesE5HOmsm52foryb5L7RBkn_xnGB_gnQT_OAimCUevNAUYPbQqb8FHEq2QxqZvCXCCYiZI_D6xAB-A_a3OSkBX1wY10vo871yG76hd-1Eumn7vZ6ZKMddtsISPzMQrU_9j_46x6l4hUMS9pdlj0_02N4kpUrqvn9gdgpuAoVUGArLmz4HzYxE/w640-h402/Screen%20Shot%202024-01-29%20at%2010.37.39%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="134" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b>Blake Andrews</b><span> is a photographer based in Eugene, OR. He writes about photography at <a href="http://blakeandrews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blakeandrews.blogspot.com</a>.</span>
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-44971759890929631072024-01-22T08:47:00.002-07:002024-01-22T08:47:32.417-07:00Book of the Week: Selected by Brian Arnold
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Saul Leiter: The Centennial Retrospective</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Saul Leiter</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Brian Arnold</span> <span id="xSummary">"There are some striking similarities between Dedalus/Joyce and New York photographer Saul Leiter. Born in Pittsburgh in 1923, Leiter descended from a long line of rabbis, including his father, and it was understood that Saul would follow in their footsteps..."
</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="608" height="320" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th145/booktease/image1.jpg" width="270" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH145" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Saul Leiter: The Centennial Retrospective</a>.</span><span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH145"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH145" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Saul Leiter: The Centennial Retrospective</span> <br />
</div>
<div class="separator">Thames & Hudson, London, United Kingdom, 2023. 352 pp., 332 color illustrations.</div><div><br /></div><i>
Saul<br />
<span> </span><span> </span>Lighter<br />
<span> </span><span> </span>Leeter<br />
<span> </span><span> </span>Leader<br />
<span> </span><span> </span>Lieter<br />
<span> </span><span> </span>Leiter</i><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Saul Leiter’s Letterhead</div><br /><i>
Saul once said that he was a ‘rabbinical ghost,’ meaning, I think, that he had retained vestiges of Talmudic schooling, where inquiry and the interpretation of texts were taught and fostered. He had absorbed that way of interrogating the world but had transposed it to the visual realm: he saw the streets of New York, and its inhabitants, with the narrative insight of a Talmudic scholar. The streets were his texts. His art was to recognize visual moments that evoke our deeper longings and needs, shape them through the lens of his aesthetics, and reflect them back to us.
</i><br /><div style="text-align: right;">Adam Harrison Levy</div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDvhb22KiZ7kFg1Xcg_TTNSoleEKegFcqSEwd2-Ez48J2h6Cy1W0CiFUADZRldy4dgpC1WoyEEBbD4_C3wKXfrWdJ04RvxN4tDp2e05ivaEd0AdM7mgWJcoO8VPAmqgH90YDAvAyEBIsuFBps1459skRTMVQ7FYTzA7mLLsuAWTVxxStLN7Lb8KTkwzI/s900/1saul22.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="900" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDvhb22KiZ7kFg1Xcg_TTNSoleEKegFcqSEwd2-Ez48J2h6Cy1W0CiFUADZRldy4dgpC1WoyEEBbD4_C3wKXfrWdJ04RvxN4tDp2e05ivaEd0AdM7mgWJcoO8VPAmqgH90YDAvAyEBIsuFBps1459skRTMVQ7FYTzA7mLLsuAWTVxxStLN7Lb8KTkwzI/w640-h388/1saul22.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />James Joyce’s classic novel <i>A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man</i> tells the story of Stephen Dedalus, a character commonly understood as Joyce’s alter ego. The novel starts with Stephen as an infant born to a Catholic family in Dublin and ends with him as a young man, rejecting the church and looking for new views of the world to explain his decision to strike out on his own and pursue a life an artist. Much of the novel focuses on his teenage years, a time when he was a student at a Jesuit school and wrestling with his hormones and desires. Stephen’s teachers saw his great potential and thought of him as a possible protégé, another Jesuit scholar, but Stephen couldn’t accept the basic theological premise that his desires and sensual experiences were corrupt. After visits to a brothel in Dublin, Stephen ultimately rejected the church and set out to reconcile his desire with a deeply felt need to find meaning and aesthetic fulfillment from his own life.
<br /><br />
There are some striking similarities between Dedalus/Joyce and New York photographer Saul Leiter. Born in Pittsburgh in 1923, Leiter descended from a long line of rabbis, including his father, and it was understood that Saul would follow in their footsteps. At 23, after years of training in Talmudic scholarship, he decided to abandon his education and his family’s expectations and moved to New York to pursue a life as an artist. He spent the next 60 years painting and photographing his immediate neighborhood on East 10th Street, and like Joyce, showed us the deep, beautiful, and complex poetry that defines our daily lives. There are a lot of great books published of Leiter’s photographs, but the new Thames & Hudson monograph, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH145" target="_blank">Saul Leiter: The Centennial Retrospective</a></i>, provides a definitive look at his life and art.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mGKEvaxGuK7RmGa32GV3XcPEquah0iPE68fb_TKRxPigtMiORLrgTHBwtWq81lCCxeU9iQzAASCf4ecYR_o27nDX1YfSbbSe2C1RuYP3CwwRRMSd1b1RM10WrCSb3EDI4xJpWsJZ7A7fN8FNd9Tse5YINvj9mLl3skcqFmBJuM1GVvv-OUAemih4PX4/s1920/asaul1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1267" data-original-width="1920" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mGKEvaxGuK7RmGa32GV3XcPEquah0iPE68fb_TKRxPigtMiORLrgTHBwtWq81lCCxeU9iQzAASCf4ecYR_o27nDX1YfSbbSe2C1RuYP3CwwRRMSd1b1RM10WrCSb3EDI4xJpWsJZ7A7fN8FNd9Tse5YINvj9mLl3skcqFmBJuM1GVvv-OUAemih4PX4/w640-h422/asaul1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I’ve long loved Leiter’s photographs — the Steidl books <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DP790&i=9783865214133&i2=" target="_blank">Early Black and White</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DP288&i=9783865211392&i2=" target="_blank">Early Color</a></i>, and <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DS578&i=9783958291034&i2=" target="_blank">In My Room</a></i> are all favorites — but I learned a great deal about him from this new publication. Edited by the directors of the Saul Leiter Foundation, Margit Erb and Michael Parillo, <i>Saul Leiter: The Centennial Retrospective</i> provides an extensive look at Leiter’s unique work and accomplishments. The book is divided into 5 chapters. The first chapter, “Beginnings,” is a simple biography, providing essential information about his early years and family life. The subsequent chapters breakdown the major bodies of work that compose Leiter’s oeuvre — the photographs he made on the streets of New York, his work in the fashion industry, his gouache and watercolor paintings, and his nudes — each of them accompanied by a short essay grounded in detailed biographical criticism.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FUc6ZaAwz5uqYMOKNgiKMSSZokHgf1_TiG2aSuSZduwBBZKjKx8EM8R7omDLtu6UXBnIxz_45F51GXmfB_x6elD_UgpkkHOUnHUa8mctjAsfIAt0u_DGwJXvIYNVrk0wzOT8G8zWyFh_VYYaxZL6HNk1Q-pnTNcR98oKTXiVycDJo0vg0XFQZtPDlZQ/s900/1saul25.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="900" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FUc6ZaAwz5uqYMOKNgiKMSSZokHgf1_TiG2aSuSZduwBBZKjKx8EM8R7omDLtu6UXBnIxz_45F51GXmfB_x6elD_UgpkkHOUnHUa8mctjAsfIAt0u_DGwJXvIYNVrk0wzOT8G8zWyFh_VYYaxZL6HNk1Q-pnTNcR98oKTXiVycDJo0vg0XFQZtPDlZQ/w640-h388/1saul25.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymg7UGsEYqJYPFPvyvNeZBCHEP27Y80qSzmXnOE7STrVt-JjkxxSofPpz3FBtkMqJQ7gD3n8Q-DLHNgQJGMBAE0oFQ5yaCHTyw-B5th43z08aL-R3Ej_d2mhKYF8QBKwjzTJcL6x5u4toC38GupqcRuX3CJhCBjdvN3fw2XhU5aer5kY1AHSegBbOAbA/s780/1saul27.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="780" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgymg7UGsEYqJYPFPvyvNeZBCHEP27Y80qSzmXnOE7STrVt-JjkxxSofPpz3FBtkMqJQ7gD3n8Q-DLHNgQJGMBAE0oFQ5yaCHTyw-B5th43z08aL-R3Ej_d2mhKYF8QBKwjzTJcL6x5u4toC38GupqcRuX3CJhCBjdvN3fw2XhU5aer5kY1AHSegBbOAbA/w640-h388/1saul27.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Since there are so many publications of Leiter’s photographs, I want to focus here on the work that surprised me the most, his paintings. The 2015 publication by Slyph Editions, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=UC167&i=&i2=" target="_blank">Painted Nudes</a></i>, offers an excellent look Leiter’s hand-painted photographs, but before reading <i>The Centennial Retrospective</i> I was entirely unaware that he also developed an amazing body of abstract color paintings. Apparently, everyday he sat on the floor of his apartment, and created these small, simple and exquisite watercolor and gouache paintings (he frequently claimed Pierre Bonnard and Edouard Vuillard as important influences in his approach to color). Through the course of his life, Leiter filled sketchbooks with these color abstractions, and at times even went so far as to call these books his best work. His paintings are full of rich colors and light, and convey a lovely and delicate humility, as though created with a warming and affirmative melancholy. The simplicity of the paintings is deceptive, each of them representing a Zen-like complexity (apparently, Leiter kept hundreds of books about Japanese art and calligraphy around his apartment). In 1945, shortly before he left Pittsburgh for New York, the art world power couple Merce Cunningham and John Cage bought one of Leiter’s paintings, providing him with essential acknowledgement as he was abandoning his rabbinical studies for art. Founder and Executive Director of the Saul Leiter Foundation, Margarit Erb repeatedly emphasizes that Leiter spent more of his lifetime as a painter than photographer, and tells us that before he ever picked up a camera, he spent his days copying Vermeer paintings. <i>The Centennial Retrospective</i> portrays Leiter as an innovative, multidisciplinary artist who pioneered a modernist vision across disciplines, identifying him as a pivotal figure of midcentury Modernism like William Klein or Robert Frank.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2-okminzIUAQkx-M1FrWTHtmXd7qaiEdbjct4e0JjMIWnbK_4vZyHQhTN1BFgZfWe-sd_8eG2bEgpPL9SPk24InvT-q-NtcNl1bVmifU5jO-cJaquJ6AqIAggNlWwTYC_NNMUpALSHEiF5YPFuD79hY6D9ha4q5kOvcHMX5E62Yhf7VRM_dv_fcUsyM/s1920/1saul8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1263" data-original-width="1920" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij2-okminzIUAQkx-M1FrWTHtmXd7qaiEdbjct4e0JjMIWnbK_4vZyHQhTN1BFgZfWe-sd_8eG2bEgpPL9SPk24InvT-q-NtcNl1bVmifU5jO-cJaquJ6AqIAggNlWwTYC_NNMUpALSHEiF5YPFuD79hY6D9ha4q5kOvcHMX5E62Yhf7VRM_dv_fcUsyM/w640-h422/1saul8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The biographical narrative in <i>The Centennial Retrospective </i>increased my admiration of Leiter and is what separates this book from all the others. Leiter was an innovative artist that lacked the sort of ego or bravado found in so many of his contemporaries. In his essay in the book, contributor Adam Levy Harrison cites an interview with Leiter in which he said, perhaps somewhat jokingly, “I wasn’t ambitious or driven. I don’t admire success the way some people do. I was fortunate to have fulfilled my ambition to be unsuccessful.” Leiter found acclaim late in life, and despite decades of humble living (apparently, he survived many eviction notices), the quiet and obscure life he led prior wasn’t a distraction. Indeed, I am sure it was the quiet life that allowed for such a rich and unique vision to mature. In her contribution to the book Erb recounts a story of the time renowned abstract expressionist painter Franz Kline saw Leiter’s small paintings. Kline told him that if he painted them big, he could be “one of the boys.” Leiter continued painting small; clearly, he had no interest in what Kline offered, recognizing the humble integrity of his work was exactly what made it important, foregoing the gallery attention Kline felt validated his work.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgudYuKnk-665XPUjuk2odkGwFWrdrOP3HhJZR5wEgTU2j5asfwLnOIrymY_X0gObxHnEP1lReIinTKuePa2-JaB5INZQLRT00m38vAqc9JfhbeWC3spvhK_hCqCVeGI5z87XYNE8VqhzMopWig48DfpuAW8XEtQHekNP_2oZsWQSCJmD0hiNjG0DvyvhY/s900/1saul26.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="900" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgudYuKnk-665XPUjuk2odkGwFWrdrOP3HhJZR5wEgTU2j5asfwLnOIrymY_X0gObxHnEP1lReIinTKuePa2-JaB5INZQLRT00m38vAqc9JfhbeWC3spvhK_hCqCVeGI5z87XYNE8VqhzMopWig48DfpuAW8XEtQHekNP_2oZsWQSCJmD0hiNjG0DvyvhY/w640-h388/1saul26.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1I8drGdfKRE_xsrUDf4-2WWxKU4egW7RSFnBvL6_LTBv7qLpAKdp79jz6x1cg5eSuwIJ8dWITYXNEVOfu6YJ-3BN9g1lJUq59-oI3wyaT6BVYCy9btwBoJT8VQ64eqQr8JXKAnD5ru_Xhmw1VMb3MmvjX0ii3-tUGcOdDY8Ex641MvdgwlEP7bDH7Js/s900/1saul29.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="900" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji1I8drGdfKRE_xsrUDf4-2WWxKU4egW7RSFnBvL6_LTBv7qLpAKdp79jz6x1cg5eSuwIJ8dWITYXNEVOfu6YJ-3BN9g1lJUq59-oI3wyaT6BVYCy9btwBoJT8VQ64eqQr8JXKAnD5ru_Xhmw1VMb3MmvjX0ii3-tUGcOdDY8Ex641MvdgwlEP7bDH7Js/w640-h388/1saul29.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I do believe that <i>Saul Leiter: The Centennial Retrospective</i> provides an important and definitive look at Leiter, primarily for the biographical information and reproductions of lesser-known work. If you are familiar with his photographs, you won’t find too many surprises here. Indeed, there are books that provide much higher quality reproductions of pictures (it’s hard to compete with Steidl). The design of the book is a little clumsy, using too many font sizes and strategies for page layouts. It feels as though the publisher never fully committed to a single strategy for best representing the work. Nevertheless, for those interested in learning more about the life behind the pictures, this book provides the clearest view yet.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH145" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th145/booktease/image3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="502" data-original-width="800" height="402" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th145/booktease/image3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th145/booktease/image5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="490" data-original-width="800" height="392" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th145/booktease/image5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th145/booktease/image6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="800" height="402" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th145/booktease/image6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/ARNOLD.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="500" height="161" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h161/ARNOLD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Brian Arnold</b> is a photographer, writer, and translator based in Ithaca, NY. He has taught and exhibited his work around the world and published books, including <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK227" target="_blank">A History of Photography in Indonesia</a></i>, with Oxford University Press, Cornell University, Amsterdam University, and Afterhours Books. Brian is a two-time MacDowell Fellow and in 2014 received a grant from the Henry Luce Foundation/American Institute for Indonesian Studies.
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-55392754105075661382024-01-15T08:00:00.003-07:002024-01-15T08:00:26.131-07:00Book of the Week: Selected by Arturo Soto
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">There will be two of you</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Michael Ashkin</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Arturo Soto</span> <span id="xSummary">"The New Jersey Meadowlands — a swampy territory accommodating the landfills, junkyards, processing plants, and factories necessary to upkeep Manhattan’s world of appearances — are frustrating to traverse if you’re late to Newark Airport, but fascinating as evidence of capitalism’s environmental impact..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-size: 30px; line-height: 32px; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT839" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="496" height="320" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz182/iz182.jpg" width="274" /></a></td></tr><tr>
<td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 16px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ182" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">There will be two of you</a> by Michael Ashkin.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ182"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ182" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">There will be two of you</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Michael Ashkin</span><br />
<br />Fw: Books, 2023. 208 pp., 9½x11".<br /><br />
The New Jersey Meadowlands — a swampy territory accommodating the landfills, junkyards, processing plants, and factories necessary to upkeep Manhattan’s world of appearances — are frustrating to traverse if you’re late to Newark Airport, but fascinating as evidence of capitalism’s environmental impact. Their increasing geographical precarity can be summarized by the fact that some of its neighborhoods are still recovering from Hurricane Sandy more than a decade later. Far from picturesque, most avoid the meadowlands if possible. The artist Michael Ashkin experienced this landscape from a young age, developing an unexpected empathy toward it. That he witnessed it mainly through the car window might explain how he would later come to render it visually. Ashkin’s photobook <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ182" target="_blank">There Will Be Two of You</a></i> confronts us with spaces in the meadowlands that might seem purposeless or devalued but have a long history of exploitation by the array of colonizers, governments, corporations, and mafias that have ruled the Garden State.
<br />
<br />
The area depicted looks like a real-life maze with no landmarks or prominent points of reference. According to Ashkin, his first pictures of the meadowlands didn’t reveal anything, pushing him to experiment with several formats and styles before finding a methodology that reflected its intricacies. He adopted the panoramic format because he felt it resonated with his experience of the landscape. One of my undergrad lecturers, Craig Stevens, loved to say that all great photographers eventually use the panoramic format. Beyond debatable definitions of greatness in photography, I take Stevens’ dictum to mean that the artist’s choice of tools to render their subject matter can make or break the images they produce.
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJUi7udL_LI4sse2TphLmAqJyyEysUrUR-0EMuBbQG0ld4J0kFDdTQ4S2Rv-PemqjqB9gE6Ac6Z8NDpT96olVQ1pGayUgzc7rirnaXnlF-V0b10hA5VApN0m8TyYONIph_YHkCXy06-5eBdojhkJilx356cXVIVJz5ajeHqTpP640RTY9SnVXAPjNIKk/s5000/twoofyou1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1838" data-original-width="5000" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLJUi7udL_LI4sse2TphLmAqJyyEysUrUR-0EMuBbQG0ld4J0kFDdTQ4S2Rv-PemqjqB9gE6Ac6Z8NDpT96olVQ1pGayUgzc7rirnaXnlF-V0b10hA5VApN0m8TyYONIph_YHkCXy06-5eBdojhkJilx356cXVIVJz5ajeHqTpP640RTY9SnVXAPjNIKk/w640-h235/twoofyou1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNIPz7hxrdz4KHl5ED_2AwtMTjxTUeJzvbmI7SpjjxFy7ZU6WW-o8WTcYHbk64V-7MaUWMu93c9QEysuSP1YKPxsGTdGs6680O4jdyitSgzEsiLP_8IDcN4ZyH3f8JgHSSR7Kv8osKie5Ia91_kMNsHFNhg-RR-pZZjKhCKBKbvOp2qa3iTFgLTyvkz4/s5000/twoofyou10.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1838" data-original-width="5000" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZNIPz7hxrdz4KHl5ED_2AwtMTjxTUeJzvbmI7SpjjxFy7ZU6WW-o8WTcYHbk64V-7MaUWMu93c9QEysuSP1YKPxsGTdGs6680O4jdyitSgzEsiLP_8IDcN4ZyH3f8JgHSSR7Kv8osKie5Ia91_kMNsHFNhg-RR-pZZjKhCKBKbvOp2qa3iTFgLTyvkz4/w640-h236/twoofyou10.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Applying the panoramic format to still images is challenging because it creates a nearly unavoidable sense of unity, making things appear as if they naturally fell into place within the frame. The more elongated the rectangle, the harder it becomes to find variations that break up the pictorial space — a problem that cinema resolves by moving the camera, the subjects, or both. As such, the marked impression of chaos that the pictures in <i>There Will Be Two of You</i> give is unusual. Ashkin’s varied compositional strategies underline his effort to resist the aesthetic constraints of the format and the grittiness of the terrain in a constant flow between the raw and the cooked that is integral to his work (and the primary source of this book’s vitality).
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKt1iJVkZKTHbUbjjCwWk48aZx7NvEpDSQH4XvRcc_mAdVHlQ3ZQbLhCMYUOWfgKu7QUtUpEPGSW9GeLVWw5idqoLb1DHU_5eutXakK0BfuFXiYw5nRlCTSe2jDRYGho91BULuik6aqAlqu1a552-vdN4CUjenuBIZ40BpsXtdATIkd2ug9DI-oYSchA/s5000/twoofyou4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1838" data-original-width="5000" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAKt1iJVkZKTHbUbjjCwWk48aZx7NvEpDSQH4XvRcc_mAdVHlQ3ZQbLhCMYUOWfgKu7QUtUpEPGSW9GeLVWw5idqoLb1DHU_5eutXakK0BfuFXiYw5nRlCTSe2jDRYGho91BULuik6aqAlqu1a552-vdN4CUjenuBIZ40BpsXtdATIkd2ug9DI-oYSchA/w640-h236/twoofyou4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />In an <a href="http://theheavycollective.com/2020/04/05/qa-michael-ashkin-were-it-not-for-fw-books/" target="_blank">interview</a>, Ashkin described trespassing as a cheap thrill he enjoyed, which tells of his complex relationship with some of these spaces and hints at the difficulties behind making the pictures. It’s possible to imagine Ashkin being chased by a dog or a gatekeeper, confused about why someone would want to photograph a pile of tires (this has to be the book with the most tires and containers in it). While we will never know which ones were dangerous to make, the pictures collectively describe the desolation of a postindustrial landscape affected by the whims of a rapidly changing world. Unlike other series about suburban wastelands that overplay the pictorial transformation of ruin into beauty, <i>There Will Be Two of You</i> forges an organic link between these unspectacular spaces and the style utilized to subvert our assumptions of them. The density of information in these pictures is peculiar, given that most people think of this area as empty. The contradictions between what we think we see and what is actually there have long been of interest to Ashkin, particularly how our point of view determines the ways we apprehend ordinary spaces. He has often explored this aspect in his sculptural works, big architectural maquettes that replicate non-places such as parking lots or highways.
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UXRry62Ylv2atxqb-aKeoShBqcGHyii_35vB7DSSzMZFVWKTQ7TvLD_rO9-dCdwEFV_UmI7VrYsrXRcv-DJAhQJ10_nwdTWB4s8xmswfl5JbWb6DAzgbTH4OuQExxKUDUO9UfkouxEYeYT4l8bOuXunlIc5cA_hB8BkpIG6KBvqUZdTCPT2aqCuiGQA/s5000/twoofyou11.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1838" data-original-width="5000" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UXRry62Ylv2atxqb-aKeoShBqcGHyii_35vB7DSSzMZFVWKTQ7TvLD_rO9-dCdwEFV_UmI7VrYsrXRcv-DJAhQJ10_nwdTWB4s8xmswfl5JbWb6DAzgbTH4OuQExxKUDUO9UfkouxEYeYT4l8bOuXunlIc5cA_hB8BkpIG6KBvqUZdTCPT2aqCuiGQA/w640-h236/twoofyou11.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCvq_OrFOpd9mV-BfL-U1XE_QxshFDiknZbmOdnwPbZ2PWCtJcym9MPQhBV4_lfnNKjfh_3bcEt4tl_ogC8numYJkAqLIbo0q4dR5UW7qlh-e5PfLWhtsPsWkJt3vjLhGNn6-vip18HJ0aymN6CoqybsHhEZYrscHnLnhfjCxSQShhiZZpttH-HZqNyo/s5000/twoofyou8.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1838" data-original-width="5000" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqCvq_OrFOpd9mV-BfL-U1XE_QxshFDiknZbmOdnwPbZ2PWCtJcym9MPQhBV4_lfnNKjfh_3bcEt4tl_ogC8numYJkAqLIbo0q4dR5UW7qlh-e5PfLWhtsPsWkJt3vjLhGNn6-vip18HJ0aymN6CoqybsHhEZYrscHnLnhfjCxSQShhiZZpttH-HZqNyo/w640-h236/twoofyou8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />In a story at the end of the book, an unnamed narrator tells — in the second person singular — how two people break into an abandoned complex and have a transcendental experience when they see a beam of light creeping into a building. This grammatical tense can cause a feeling of dislocation when used narratively. Here, it insinuates our failure to communicate the significance of sensory experiences with words: “You will sense the insufficiency of your description. You will expand on it without satisfaction. Your language will reveal a crisis of scale. Your language will separate itself from you. You will have lost the event.” Something similar happens with the pictures. They are the outcome of an immense physical effort, but they cannot encompass the complexity of a territory that is haunting because of its apparent dullness. The text made me think of the pictures differently, more psychologically, as the work of someone who wanted to be alone but was also sickened by the solitude of the landscape in front of him.
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFAoUEiwAvjtMn6nG1nc-2cUhwnPqpgi8bGfvDi76XhefilxYzoGqWn4q7meKdelmQT5dOPZY_nuFzdizdv6zoTznvFPcWkMzeML6JHi8r_Bd_m5DiVQb4m97QUS2T62opbf5PVkeFj-VtKTJ9DM4BMhel38Zzg0aYX1EbAs2WAIm4iHtTTzjNZ5-i8w/s5000/twoofyou9.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1838" data-original-width="5000" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFAoUEiwAvjtMn6nG1nc-2cUhwnPqpgi8bGfvDi76XhefilxYzoGqWn4q7meKdelmQT5dOPZY_nuFzdizdv6zoTznvFPcWkMzeML6JHi8r_Bd_m5DiVQb4m97QUS2T62opbf5PVkeFj-VtKTJ9DM4BMhel38Zzg0aYX1EbAs2WAIm4iHtTTzjNZ5-i8w/w640-h236/twoofyou9.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The overall purpose of the text is vague, ringing like an indeterminate allegory that nevertheless resonates with the book’s title to suggest a few possible doublings. Firstly, as an homage to the other explorer, the friend who often accompanied Ashkin on many outings. Then there is the potential mirroring of the author in time, as if the making of the book confronted Ashkin with his former self that made the pictures (perhaps inevitable when revisiting one’s archive). Yet another way of reading the title is through the eternal rivalry between the twin states of New Jersey and New York, and how the fate of one directly influences the other.
<br />
<br />
It’s not easy to make a book exclusively with panoramic pictures. When such collections get published, the books tend to be large, horizontal, and with too many foldouts. Hans Gremmen, the designer of FW Books, found ingenious solutions to avert those characteristics. The pictures in most spreads are small, up to three to a page, but in varying configurations. Every so often, a picture is split into three full-page sections, meaning you can only see the whole of it by turning the page. This arrangement begins at the cover, printed on a blue stock that looks like a folder you might encounter in a real estate agency or government office conducting a land use survey.
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gHzhrlz6CBPmLllWZESFBen8JNXiY16TJI0P_H4H0OxpANO1HMdnrDOWHQwTTnUkaIUx4sikvqsQ5eMPIgZlLnJZohP-_4xacns2Hw4em2Sb-MThm3TzRqnG59X639na90VD6J8JLHqTuBs0iquDyTieJphkaIGcO41HyeI4u7gIUUDoxGhiKqofUmA/s5000/twoofyou7.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1838" data-original-width="5000" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1gHzhrlz6CBPmLllWZESFBen8JNXiY16TJI0P_H4H0OxpANO1HMdnrDOWHQwTTnUkaIUx4sikvqsQ5eMPIgZlLnJZohP-_4xacns2Hw4em2Sb-MThm3TzRqnG59X639na90VD6J8JLHqTuBs0iquDyTieJphkaIGcO41HyeI4u7gIUUDoxGhiKqofUmA/w640-h236/twoofyou7.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Despite the archival insinuations of the cover, these pictures come with a consummate pedigree: the esteemed curator Okwui Enwezor commissioned the series for <i>Documenta 11</i> in 2002. It is strange how current the book feels, given the pictures were made more than twenty years ago. While certain kinds of urban devastation might appear timeless, the book’s traction has to do with the attributes of the photographs and the way its design exploits their graphic magnetism. As in Ashkin’s previous books, there is much visual pleasure to be found here, even if it doesn’t materialize conventionally. I always get a strong feeling of singularity whenever I engage with his books, like listening to someone explaining things distinctively, structuring their argument in a way that makes you appreciate the mental choreography required to reach a conclusion that, through their punctual use of rhetoric, feels not only convincing but also immensely gratifying.
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ182" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz182/booktease/image5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="800" height="408" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz182/booktease/image5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz182/booktease/image7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="800" height="408" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz182/booktease/image7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz182/booktease/image11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="800" height="408" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz182/booktease/image11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-Qx1_xcBQ1eDKYwRCXAtZ5kZ8HJAkX1SAw76i4Iit2DeJ-6jTSifZaq6-NaNbpSOR5IRFNycDf1d4AxCPlb9E9gMIvtPiUbrTAUve60QGrVe__EnA0M_xH7ssYC6N6ZksohIfsgojr6UsQH3AwMjhERZrxhfEg7OV_PPkRwB4zeB02ZkEKrh8fD4/s1044/Soto_Self_Portrait_BW.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1044" data-original-width="864" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje-Qx1_xcBQ1eDKYwRCXAtZ5kZ8HJAkX1SAw76i4Iit2DeJ-6jTSifZaq6-NaNbpSOR5IRFNycDf1d4AxCPlb9E9gMIvtPiUbrTAUve60QGrVe__EnA0M_xH7ssYC6N6ZksohIfsgojr6UsQH3AwMjhERZrxhfEg7OV_PPkRwB4zeB02ZkEKrh8fD4/w166-h200/Soto_Self_Portrait_BW.jpg" width="166" /></a></div><b>Arturo Soto</b> is a Mexican photographer and writer. He has published the photobooks <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT105" target="_blank">In the Heat</a></i> (2018) and <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ040" target="_blank">A Certain Logic of Expectations</a></i> (2021). Soto holds a PhD in Fine Art from the University of Oxford, and postgraduate degrees in photography and art history from the School of Visual Arts in New York and University College London.</span>
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-90266725052222484492024-01-08T08:35:00.002-07:002024-01-08T08:35:19.032-07:00Book of the Week: Selected by Blake Andrews
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Terra Vermelha</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Tommaso Protti</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Blake Andrews</span> <span id="xSummary">“If you are like most photo-eye readers, you have a nagging sense that the Amazon rainforest is endangered. News outlets regularly report on a barrage of development threats, including logging, ranching, fires, roads, extinction, lost languages, and creeping monoculture. Whew, did I miss anything? The rainforest is under fire, literally..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="607" height="320" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/iz248.jpg" width="243" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ248" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Terra Vermelha</a>. By Tommaso Protti.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ248"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ248" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Terra Vermelha</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Tommaso Protti</span><br />
Void, Athens, 2023. 224 pp., 8¼x11".
</div><br />
If you are like most photo-eye readers, you have a nagging sense that the Amazon rainforest is endangered. News outlets regularly report on a barrage of development threats, including logging, ranching, fires, roads, extinction, lost languages, and creeping monoculture. Whew, did I miss anything? The rainforest is under fire, literally. But what exactly does that look like? Is it heavy equipment? Stacks of timber? Indigenous kids in NFL jerseys? Smartphone screenshots viewed in a distant coffee shop?
<br /><br />
Italian photographer Tommaso Protti devoted ten years to exploring these questions. He travelled thousands of miles across the Brazilian Amazon, photographing prolifically, often in the company of journalist Sam Cowie and local fixers. As he explains in the introduction, his efforts kicked into high gear with the 2018 election of Jair Bolsonaro. “I felt that the slow-motion social and environmental breakdown I had seen in the previous years was about to get worse.” An accurate prediction, as it turned out.
<br /><br />
Protti’s alarming findings are compiled in the recent book <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ248" target="_blank">Terra Vermelha</a></i>. The title — Red Land — takes its name from the iron-rich soil exposed by cleared rainforest, but Protti’s subjects extend far beyond devegetated landscapes. His book is a deep dive into the modern human condition, viewed through the lens of communities and villages in the Amazon. In recent decades, these places have endured rapid change and stress. <i>Terra Vermelha</i> doesn’t spend much time in the natural forest, nor does it need to. Wounded communities tell the whole story, mirroring and symbolizing the ongoing environmental carnage. Cultural scars manifest in Protti’s pictures as visual PTSD.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="547" data-original-width="800" height="438" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Photographically speaking, this is a journalistic exposé in classic tradition. Shooting in good ol’ monochrome, Protti made his way through Brazil’s disparate communities, sourcing inroads, befriending potential leads, and trusting his instincts to both generate pictures and keep him in one piece. His photos reveal intimate access into a variety of situations. The photos begin with overviews of the broken forest, then progress to shacks, stumpage, meals, kids, truckers, lovers, and more. We see native gatherings, vice squads, industrial sites, and domestic scenes. Like weeds moving into cleared acreage, missionaries and multinationals are a constant invasive presence. Protti treats everything with even-handed aplomb. Most subject are shot with flash and most situations are nocturnal. These factors combine to lend the book a dramatic film noir flavor.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" height="427" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Terra Vermelha</i> is dense with images, all with solid reproductions and center-weighted tonality (reminiscent of Soth’s <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZG148&i=&i2=" target="_blank">Songbook</a></i>). Those features would be enough to carry it, but there are a few nice perks that make it even better. Void’s design has an exposed-spine binding with paper dust jacket. When opened to just about any spread, it lays flat on a table, allowing full visual access to photos across the gutter. Brief sections of white pages and portraits keep the book’s dark edge from dominating too much. Void also had some fun with Protti’s first-person text. It spills like a rubber tree across the end pages in a series of oddly spaced columns.
<br /><br />
These are nice design treats, but the book’s most innovative and interesting aspect is the caption index. It’s located in the back of the book as usual, but cleverly disguised as nota roja tabloid headlines. Words blare in breathless all-cap warnings: JAMAXIM FOREST FACES BURNING AND DESTRUCTION…IN THE SEARCH FOR ILLEGAL LOGGERS…VULTURES IN THE PORT OF MANAUS.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="533" height="640" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image9.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The blurbs are mixed with thumbnail versions of interior photos, and multicolored ink. If the combination is not very useful as a practical index, that’s no matter. This section is explosive and fun, and it gets the point across in a way that Protti’s photographs cannot. The index puts an exclamation point on the book’s dystopian mood. That nagging sense I mentioned earlier, that the Amazon rainforest is endangered? By the time you finish this book, it will be flashing red alert. Terra vermhelha indeed. The lungs of the planet are in rough shape. Time for a deep breath of fresh photography.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ248" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="426" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz248/booktease/image7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="134" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b>Blake Andrews</b><span> is a photographer based in Eugene, OR. He writes about photography at <a href="http://blakeandrews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blakeandrews.blogspot.com</a>.</span>
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-90794055591465800462023-12-18T09:04:00.006-07:002023-12-18T09:42:20.555-07:00Men Untitled: An Interview with Carolyn Drake
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Store Interview</span> <span id="xTitle">Men Untitled</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Carolyn Drake</span> <span id="xReviewer">Interview by Britland Tracy</span> <span id="xSummary">“If you listen closely to almost any human being who has recently acquired a dreamhouse, certain noises will emerge once the welcoming dog-and-pony show comes to a close and the cheese plates disappear..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="567" height="343" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/z/zk449/zk449.jpg" width="265" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK449" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Men Untitled</a> by Carolyn Drake. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK449"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK449" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Men Untitled</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Carolyn Drake<br />
Interview by Britland Tracy</span><br />
TBW Books, Oakland, 2023. Unpaged, 9x11¾".
</div><br />
Recipient of the 2021 HCB Award, Carolyn Drake levels her gaze on myths of American male power in her newest photo-book and accompanying exhibition, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK449" target="_blank">Men Untitled</a></i>, which opened at the Fondation Henri Cartier-Bresson in September. Portraits of men encountered and often befriended read like past-their-prime Renaissance statues, if Michelangelo had put David out to pasture for forty years before gently bending him over on all fours. Evocative objects whose symbolic relevance extend generations serve as punctuating double-entendres. The cultural reckoning at play is both visceral and encrypted. I had the pleasure of meeting Carolyn at her book talk in Paris and engaging in the following conversation.
<br /><br /><i>
Britland Tracy: These images are complicated — both in the book and on the wall. It would be easy to say that you are reversing the male gaze by photographing these men on your terms and in various states of undress. But rather than sexualizing them for visual consumption, as male artists have historically represented women, you’re placing them in positions that oscillate between tenderness and exploitation; vulnerability and playful absurdity. Some of them appear Herculean; some are Sisyphean. How did you find that balance?</i> <b>
</b><br /><br />
Carolyn Drake: I am a 52-year-old woman who has internalized a lot of personal and political rage over the years, most recently in response to the #MeToo movement and the U.S. Supreme Court decision on abortion rights. My hormonal impulses are also shifting. I wanted to channel all that onto the men: how can I subjugate the male body, and how will that look and feel to me?
<br /><br />
But on the other hand, photography for me is a way of connecting and empathizing with other people. So as I played with how it felt to look down on men and to mangle and twist and direct their bodies, I also found tenderness and began to see the ways they were fragile, and not at all fulfilling masculine stereotypes.
<br /><br />
I also wanted to look at the myths connected to masculine ideals, but without perpetuating them. The images are constructed, posed. I did not want to insinuate any of this as natural, so the feeling of staging and performance was important to me.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CCf7KjKr10hj239sbIpRCO3qjMLgA3hdUaZCVY82SY-cf3nu_me9Es8J_ISstQ63erKEfty5xucLZ8gSNVJIH-C8wdSfhpJvOC08sUvJRNFL7cihuOrNkAlF51aydoMFyguAybw_WDaOyR86V0UE6em4unph4z7pZfc2eS4n3eqrI-jCMCfLXCKbxtw/s758/drake4.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="758" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-CCf7KjKr10hj239sbIpRCO3qjMLgA3hdUaZCVY82SY-cf3nu_me9Es8J_ISstQ63erKEfty5xucLZ8gSNVJIH-C8wdSfhpJvOC08sUvJRNFL7cihuOrNkAlF51aydoMFyguAybw_WDaOyR86V0UE6em4unph4z7pZfc2eS4n3eqrI-jCMCfLXCKbxtw/w640-h480/drake4.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: I imagine that the power dynamics you navigated for this work were quite different from the approach you took with your last book, </i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZJ224" target="_blank">Knit Club</a><i>, which centered around a community of women in rural Mississippi. There seems to be a tension between collaboration and compromise with your subjects in </i>Men Untitled<i>. For example, you promised Wallace, one of the main ‘characters’, the centerfold, but only if you posed for him first. Can you speak to these dynamics a bit?
<b> </b></i><br /><br />
CD: One of the main differences in the way I approached the men as photographic subjects is that I wanted to expose the vulnerability of their bodies and lay them bare. Whereas in <i>Knit Club</i> I searched for other ways to explore bonds and identities.
<br /><br />
Wallace is a character I got to know pretty well over many photo shoots. Before he passed away in 2022, he ran a motorcycle club next to his house, and the inside, notably, was wallpapered floor to ceiling and all over the ceiling with centerfolds from <i>Penthouse</i> and <i>Playboy</i> magazines that he had collected over the years. This was always something on my mind when I visited his house to photograph him, so when one day he showed me an old picture he had taken of an ex-girlfriend, I knew I wanted to ask him if he would be willing to pose for me in the same position. He agreed to let me photograph him hanging upside down from a hook like a piece of meat only if I would also, and it felt natural for me to agree to it. What I chose <u>not</u> to do is publish the image he took of me. That final decision of what to show is where my power resides. This is about me authoring male bodies, not the reverse.
<br /><br />
The women in <i>Knit Club</i> didn’t demand anything in return. They respected my authority as the photographer. The men sometimes asked for money to be photographed. Maybe there’s some irony in that.
<br /><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_B_rPT08J3o7VjyYWN-EenaFwWuj8vBvxedYPZ3xkgFIa035Q4tzeGWEMiaKZbZzsMNhkDbF9ZHqFKJ_sWvFifwwVgNYH5hFpZ4-uXkhKk1ulqRg2TMLR1SVPFV7IIq5FJwkneWew1xcNu5UkZJnxkZMI_L1qWIM12puXoC_Zgj4tPZ8adkRNBMdpUaI/s2000/drake8.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_B_rPT08J3o7VjyYWN-EenaFwWuj8vBvxedYPZ3xkgFIa035Q4tzeGWEMiaKZbZzsMNhkDbF9ZHqFKJ_sWvFifwwVgNYH5hFpZ4-uXkhKk1ulqRg2TMLR1SVPFV7IIq5FJwkneWew1xcNu5UkZJnxkZMI_L1qWIM12puXoC_Zgj4tPZ8adkRNBMdpUaI/w480-h640/drake8.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: You include a lot of still life images that serve as signifiers of heteronormative masculinity: guns, shop tools, fire, horses, centaurs, swords, etc.; but you also include a corset mannequin, a dramatically lit tapestry, a nod to the “hidden mothers” of Victorian-era portraiture, as well as an actual self-portrait. What inspired this combination of gendered iconography?</i>
<br /><br />
CD: My images contain these signifiers but I am tweaking the way they are displayed. My piano, a symbol seen a lot in depictions of 19th century gender relations, is burning to ash. I multiply guns using mirrors. I stick swords in the ground and compare their sizes. In all of this imagery, I’m overtly pushing and pulling at gender constructs. I draw on dated gender symbols because I think they still inform where we are now.
<br /><i><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouIZyCl-7N4oQk0UX9I4DUZXSdxRyo5ysN6Y5Fu0keQkB4VRUH88YXKO1x_APqD_uBHxgefBwSM_rNNaCtOaXHTkFApf6AA8x1RC5Tr3EFWRj0tDBqld645-nQDrO8DXWn1rbvP21RNPvSc04R8SzL7N5ozwu5LbAI9Wz2M9EKpCk8GnKw1PMVQy3rqQ/s650/drake2.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="487" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouIZyCl-7N4oQk0UX9I4DUZXSdxRyo5ysN6Y5Fu0keQkB4VRUH88YXKO1x_APqD_uBHxgefBwSM_rNNaCtOaXHTkFApf6AA8x1RC5Tr3EFWRj0tDBqld645-nQDrO8DXWn1rbvP21RNPvSc04R8SzL7N5ozwu5LbAI9Wz2M9EKpCk8GnKw1PMVQy3rqQ/w480-h640/drake2.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: You sought out what appear to be cis-men ‘of a certain age’ as models for this project, bypassing youth and queer identities altogether. Why?<b> </b>
</i> <br /><br />
CD: The men weren’t all cis, actually, but I didn’t distinguish one way or another in the image titles. It’s not a project about youth culture and the diversification of gender identities. It’s about my feelings toward old guard gender structures whose power remains entrenched, and about how I too relate to individual people on that spectrum. Part of why I worked mostly with older men was that I wanted to see masculine strength in decline.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDPVyxI7brangD5UHFnKMjMmCXlXINkasCD9AbGEPS3NFcMZRnjCVHhksvc59J_wNtzKrbUnjAZFZuu0eJtWOYxxIzLtVBiACdcid_wZPwqqFq0s-WHtBRiMwX6NjcmV4KyxgIV87nb3BkPx49OVrroXn07ZizwUcdizgHv70wS6uRFd3r6GTBTdatiao/s758/drake1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="568" data-original-width="758" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDPVyxI7brangD5UHFnKMjMmCXlXINkasCD9AbGEPS3NFcMZRnjCVHhksvc59J_wNtzKrbUnjAZFZuu0eJtWOYxxIzLtVBiACdcid_wZPwqqFq0s-WHtBRiMwX6NjcmV4KyxgIV87nb3BkPx49OVrroXn07ZizwUcdizgHv70wS6uRFd3r6GTBTdatiao/w640-h480/drake1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: The role of text in this book is subtle yet powerful. I enjoy the way you circumnavigate the rote artist statement and instead leave us with an image list and a series of unsettling vignettes from your own past experiences with men, tucked away inside the epilogue. The titles listed on the back cover and the endpapers serve as both index and map legend for the ineffable portraits that precede them. Descriptions such as “Still Life, Male Anatomy on Velvet Chair”, “Bottom Half of Mythical Figure”, “Dartboard Halo (Bill)”, and “Man on All Fours (John D)” almost read like a list of trophies, subverting victim and victor. Did the written components guide your creative process, or vice-versa?
</i><br /><br />
CD: The ideas for the images came first. For example: while trying to see men as animals, I brought John D. into the woods and asked him to pose as a deer so I could ‘shoot’ him. We had to do the shoot twice because the first time around he didn’t look enough like an animal. For “Dartboard Halo”, I had been studying a women’s beauty and charm guide from the 1940s. In one image, a cutout of a woman’s head in front of a circle is tilted back with an open mouth. I invited Bill to stand in front of a dartboard in his studio and mimic her posture.
<br /><br />
The image list provides ideas for how to read the images. I put it at the end, so they can be read all together, at once, and so I could stack them on top of each other to form a suggestive shape.
<br /><br />
I also like what you say about subverting victim and victor. I am not trying to win anything here. I want to deflate a set of power dynamics that we’re invested in, often without realizing it. It sounds heavy, but hopefully the work also rings with a bit of humor.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWth8FYehjSQYVTkKEkO2yIzbB5hTgu4b91X5MxmNm1EGPW7F_yNkMAJpjAfim_0oGLzgsajZS82til3hM7JHfyE_ndzVuqWk2RuLAYH2uJZPHEFSKnvQilflgf1cU5oXV1Ei0cALh6bac5J62Rp4UwiZT4j6zTSswcOOcb4X91irLmiAPz2pqySLb5k/s2000/drake11.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCWth8FYehjSQYVTkKEkO2yIzbB5hTgu4b91X5MxmNm1EGPW7F_yNkMAJpjAfim_0oGLzgsajZS82til3hM7JHfyE_ndzVuqWk2RuLAYH2uJZPHEFSKnvQilflgf1cU5oXV1Ei0cALh6bac5J62Rp4UwiZT4j6zTSswcOOcb4X91irLmiAPz2pqySLb5k/w480-h640/drake11.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: Speaking of the personal self-disclosures in the back of the book, I’d like to talk about anger. It is a word that you’ve used to describe the impetus for photographing men in the American South, and there is a palpable indignation that builds from one image to the next. Anger is an emotion that women are often pressured to soften, but you seem to embrace it as an activating force for this project. The violations you recount in the epilogue certainly warrant this response. What is your relationship to anger toward men, and has it changed through the process of creating this body of work? </i>
<br /><br />
CD: In the text at the back of the book, I wrote about Christine Blasey Ford, who spoke publicly about being sexually assaulted by Brett Kavanaugh as he was on the verge of becoming a U.S. Supreme Court Justice (and subsequently repealing abortion rights for women). In the public hearing, Kavanaugh’s anger was palpable, while Ford’s was concealed. It should have been the reverse. On top of that, the succession of public disclosures by women during the #MeToo movement triggered memories of past personal experiences that fueled more anger. Women’s bodies do carry anger, so it is absolutely something I wanted to channel into the work.
<br /><br />
I had to let myself feel two things at once while making this project — anger I had boxed in and the empathy needed to make human portraits. One of the things they remind you in psychotherapy is that contradictory feelings can coexist.
<br /><br />
Regarding geography, the American South is where I began, but I eventually decided that the project is not about a particular region. It’s about an American brand of patriarchy and its strange attachment to white penises.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuV323z_DYTBggFFayt45_m_s_-SJp9m_mQkro-5IzUD9dIFPRXUCLOVHvjaDAPNDyTuTIMduqnogJ283SQZAmuL9xkDBKwARWOEq8UywST9QRAetv-SJ_KVDEeHPeC-gX0OfSbgejVKW0H-LyJ_1FW1m9Dm31_LQoFO3zd8RSQ379awVFrOmgIcOhDYY/s650/drake5.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="487" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuV323z_DYTBggFFayt45_m_s_-SJp9m_mQkro-5IzUD9dIFPRXUCLOVHvjaDAPNDyTuTIMduqnogJ283SQZAmuL9xkDBKwARWOEq8UywST9QRAetv-SJ_KVDEeHPeC-gX0OfSbgejVKW0H-LyJ_1FW1m9Dm31_LQoFO3zd8RSQ379awVFrOmgIcOhDYY/w480-h640/drake5.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: There are a number of references to iconic male artists from the past, from Eadweard Muybridge to Peter Hujar to E.J. Bellocq to Caravaggio. Do you see yourself in conversation with or resistance to these men, or somewhere in between?
</i><br /><br />
CD: Most of the time I’m somewhere in between. I wanted to resist Muybridge’s “scientific” view of gender difference. In his motion studies, nude women pour vases of water over each other while nude men have sword fights. I wanted to subvert that science.
<br /><br />
While I am in awe of the sensuality of Peter Hujar’s nudes, I have to confess that my point of view is different. My male bodies don’t hold that amount of erotic energy.
<br /><br />
I’m also interested in the work of female artists like Ishiuchi Miyako, Collier Schorr, Kara Walker, Cindy Sherman, Claude Cahun, Ana Mendieta. And the ways that Laura Larson and Ahndraya Parlato have recently used writing in their photo books.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDp7Xo7cIvp_9zOFZ1bVMg8TcMpMrpf-FIcj4EffGWF1BmbpivCEEtb9pU52FbnvXTvCfbW6nIv1GcAiglb4auA6qSUoqCsykW1TynajWtuyXyeJAcaCpQSsrLD16Lcex9bp3qAmA3EreGU9sMhBf-cqMVPfxErNySu903ksM53UOQa9FSgT4cBcEGIGk/s2000/drake12.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="1500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDp7Xo7cIvp_9zOFZ1bVMg8TcMpMrpf-FIcj4EffGWF1BmbpivCEEtb9pU52FbnvXTvCfbW6nIv1GcAiglb4auA6qSUoqCsykW1TynajWtuyXyeJAcaCpQSsrLD16Lcex9bp3qAmA3EreGU9sMhBf-cqMVPfxErNySu903ksM53UOQa9FSgT4cBcEGIGk/w480-h640/drake12.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: </i>Men Untitled<i> opened at the Fondation Henri Cartier-Bresson in Paris in conjunction with the book publication, within a country where most civilians do not have the right to bear arms and a language in which words like ‘debonair’ and ‘suave’ were invented to describe men with sexual prowess rather than say, ‘rugged individualism’ or ‘lone wolf’. Has the process of exhibiting and speaking about this project abroad affected the way you think about this particular brand of American masculinity? <b> </b></i>
<br /><br />
CD: The work stems from the inclinations of an American, but a lot of people in France are exposed to American ideals of masculinity through Hollywood films, so I think ‘rugged individualism’ is not totally unfamiliar in the French context. And Americans can also feel the appeal of a suave French man. I think maybe showing the work in France helped me take a step back and see it more from the outside. And also step back from the emotions, which I’m still pretty wound up in.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhars6qlpnE0PiMKSdD81_1yOXa8-pfU8-KSKgxwxk6VaTlfaW3I0uo40aDag0JxrAxgm5fXHClflW7rDuGMvHpCkQZhSDLwRrkxJyWvURLrYAur86EkZOtSdzmgrzmKS4lq3uzjCMmR4eIWb3ukPHibsi9O1FVm5_yw5BjeHZynLfpe25tKyycSy9-jw8/s650/drake3.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="487" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhars6qlpnE0PiMKSdD81_1yOXa8-pfU8-KSKgxwxk6VaTlfaW3I0uo40aDag0JxrAxgm5fXHClflW7rDuGMvHpCkQZhSDLwRrkxJyWvURLrYAur86EkZOtSdzmgrzmKS4lq3uzjCMmR4eIWb3ukPHibsi9O1FVm5_yw5BjeHZynLfpe25tKyycSy9-jw8/w480-h640/drake3.jpeg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />BT: The final image depicts a man curled toward the ground in a duck-and-cover stance, wearing nothing but a pair of sneakers. Is this an act of contrition? Repentance? Protection? Cowardice? It feels like a definitive last word.
</i><br /><br />
CD: I see the curled man both as an infant and as someone bracing for punishment. It reminded my publisher of Wolfgang Tillmans’ picture <i>Like Praying</i>. When the meaning is not directly spelled out, the viewer can draw their own conclusion.
<br /><br />
On the very last page of the book, we almost included a mold of a human figure that is either waving farewell or calling for help. We cut it out at the last minute. Either image could have become the definitive last word.
<br /><br /><i>
Carolyn Drake’s exhibition Men Untitled is on view at the Fondation HCB in Paris through January 14th, 2024.
</i><br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK449" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7z5GBSyqGgm-3lrAXecSq1w1D27-XtEM_URHyLg-iVuK9uvkhwWP2mS69gAXa6SP4e9kb0KIzDKcgSSttRt7Z2M1nSDgZhS_c1BjzyoD3hpxEKEHfaIOV6AVlW9IeScaFNDHhHEhDPS5QlYefTnA7EdmJygN5abmc93Q1k-8jt-tjgcaXHnFIifK8e4g/s2500/drake7.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1667" data-original-width="2500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7z5GBSyqGgm-3lrAXecSq1w1D27-XtEM_URHyLg-iVuK9uvkhwWP2mS69gAXa6SP4e9kb0KIzDKcgSSttRt7Z2M1nSDgZhS_c1BjzyoD3hpxEKEHfaIOV6AVlW9IeScaFNDHhHEhDPS5QlYefTnA7EdmJygN5abmc93Q1k-8jt-tjgcaXHnFIifK8e4g/w640-h426/drake7.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-8Gs6lWHwnKv46oCAlDBPuPXPWbxtPTcT4zvLcHjGHpbyKSFXdFLkqDDy16Zn5l-JiZefZ291BN-f28v6q8MyCKXN0IzkXYuvbuwE5B9Sef8xeqvV2_Mr-ChnulJ76MtciB2sSea8YOBzlX9sZ75EPAqSA_HctwbAKoXlBinmtlds-yjtQNrryFSuy4/s2500/drake6.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1667" data-original-width="2500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx-8Gs6lWHwnKv46oCAlDBPuPXPWbxtPTcT4zvLcHjGHpbyKSFXdFLkqDDy16Zn5l-JiZefZ291BN-f28v6q8MyCKXN0IzkXYuvbuwE5B9Sef8xeqvV2_Mr-ChnulJ76MtciB2sSea8YOBzlX9sZ75EPAqSA_HctwbAKoXlBinmtlds-yjtQNrryFSuy4/w640-h426/drake6.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBq2lOQKGSk30jyCfwxjo-ELLaSyqpLib1jn-jJAWDFMyzg_pRq6o7C1O_Ro-YwnO9QTpHfvqp0DeE09RXKNPrfcrFdOTrLYAtXD4xIfAxVvuZw0xqHHXZ7-vr4k37jQ7vU4FjL0Ug3rk0k36tLp410Bl72a7ja4kRymhyuMKTJ1QuElxJ-Zz3LoaYUVU/s2500/drake74.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1667" data-original-width="2500" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBq2lOQKGSk30jyCfwxjo-ELLaSyqpLib1jn-jJAWDFMyzg_pRq6o7C1O_Ro-YwnO9QTpHfvqp0DeE09RXKNPrfcrFdOTrLYAtXD4xIfAxVvuZw0xqHHXZ7-vr4k37jQ7vU4FjL0Ug3rk0k36tLp410Bl72a7ja4kRymhyuMKTJ1QuElxJ-Zz3LoaYUVU/w640-h426/drake74.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37t3diw3mfFvqs1JrynersnfgXIXEp75M5AHml8Om2XKcIbwHeyxUoJxT_yoGa7uxkMh4yclZ1EdTx4AxH2osNHE9Z0D2yT5BrB_x2KQB2Grv_3EkUUecXfpbW8gMQCYKgowz32FjIYHhQ6qbBzRm3EiIIEjRVL7lXQ6vlRr-BODe82HpZ1KZPQkm/s1771/tracy-portrait.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1771" data-original-width="1329" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi37t3diw3mfFvqs1JrynersnfgXIXEp75M5AHml8Om2XKcIbwHeyxUoJxT_yoGa7uxkMh4yclZ1EdTx4AxH2osNHE9Z0D2yT5BrB_x2KQB2Grv_3EkUUecXfpbW8gMQCYKgowz32FjIYHhQ6qbBzRm3EiIIEjRVL7lXQ6vlRr-BODe82HpZ1KZPQkm/w150-h200/tracy-portrait.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><b>Britland Tracy</b> is an artist and educator from the Pacific Northwest whose work engages photography, text, and ephemera to observe the intricacies of human connection and discord. She has published two books, <i>Show Me Yours</i> and <i>Pardon My Creep</i>, and exhibited her work internationally. She holds a BA in French from the University of Washington and an MFA from the University of Colorado, where she continues to teach remotely for the Department of Critical Media Practices while living in Marfa, Texas.
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-79987701859821086692023-12-01T15:56:00.005-07:002023-12-01T15:56:30.036-07:002023 Favorite Photobooks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="display: none;">
<img src="https://www.photoeye.com/best-books-2023/images/2023-Favorite-Photobooks-Banner.png" style="display: none;" />
<span id="xTag">Books</span> <span id="xTitle">2023 Favorite Photobooks</span> <span id="xAuthors"></span> <span id="xReviewer"></span> <span id="xSummary">It is with great pleasure we bring you our annual list of photobooks chosen by professionals who are deeply involved in the photobook world. This year we asked over 30 luminaries to choose, not one, but three of their favorite photobooks from the past year.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="800" height="385" src="https://www.photoeye.com/best-books-2023/images/2023-Favorite-Photobooks-Banner.png" width="640" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />It is with great pleasure we bring you our annual list of photobooks chosen by professionals who are deeply involved in the photobook world. This year we asked over 30 luminaries to choose, not one, but three of their favorite photobooks from the past year.
<br /><br />
Each day, over the next week, we'll unveil 15 new selections. This year's list is even more diverse than in years past. So please check back daily! We hope you will enjoy these insightful selections!
<br /><br />
For over 44 years photo-eye has been on the leading edge of photo bookselling, offering an eclectic selection of photobooks from around the world. We curate our selections based on what we feel are noteworthy books that you, our audience, will find interesting and exciting. Thank you for your continued support!
<br /><br />
<div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/best-books-2023/index.cfm" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">>> View the Favorite Photobooks of 2023!</span></a></b></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div>Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-85730613047312561362023-11-20T09:05:00.005-07:002023-11-20T09:05:47.779-07:00Arresting Beauty: Reviewed by Shannon Taggart
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Arresting Beauty</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Julia Margaret Cameron</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Shannon Taggart</span> <span id="xSummary">"Cultural gatekeepers of the Victorian era initially deemed Julia Margaret Cameron’s photographs 'inexcusable.' Critics argued her “slovenly manipulations” were so 'altogether repulsive' that even having been made by a woman couldn’t excuse them..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="394" height="337" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/th134.jpg" width="265" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH134" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Arresting Beauty</a> by Julia Margaret Cameron.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH134"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH134" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Arresting Beauty</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Julia Margaret Cameron</span><br />
<br />Thames & Hudson, London, United Kingdom, 2023. 208 pp., 125 illustrations.</div><div class="separator"><br /></div>
Cultural gatekeepers of the Victorian era initially deemed Julia Margaret Cameron’s photographs “inexcusable.” Critics argued her “slovenly manipulations” were so “altogether repulsive” that even having been made by a woman couldn’t excuse them. Such contempt did little to shake Cameron’s confidence in her work or make her doubt her insights into the medium that were far ahead of their time. <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH134" target="_blank">Arresting Beauty</a></i> is a petite yet comprehensive book celebrating what made Cameron one of history’s most provocative photographers.
<br /><br />
Julia Margaret Cameron (1815–1879) started photographing in 1863 at age 48, having been given a camera as a gift by her daughter. Most in this new role of 'photographer' valued the camera as an objective tool and used it to collect facts about the world, but Cameron immediately intuited photography’s dual nature as an art form. Among the first to probe its power to transform and provoke feeling, she began by questioning the camera’s most basic function. Despite having the technical prowess to create sharp images, Cameron halted her focus based on what looked most beautiful, asking: “What is focus, and who has the right to say what focus is the legitimate focus?” Her use of softness and close-ups is now considered groundbreaking. Cameron’s approach to the print was controversial as well. She was early to realize that darkroom interpretation was part of what made photographers artists. She remained indifferent to cracks or marks, possibly even welcoming them, and refused to discard damaged works. Her radical acceptance of the process anticipated future deconstructions of the photographic theater.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="800" height="409" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Cameron’s concepts were also unconventional. Assuming from the start what would take over a century to be generally accepted, she ignored the argument that photography is inferior to drawing or painting because it is a mechanical and chemical process. Cameron understood that all art is intention, the image is a thing in itself, and the human spirit can be expressed by hand or by eye. Beyond her pioneering portraits, Cameron’s other pictures were unapologetic attempts to turn life into myth. She staged scenes from the Bible, classical mythology, Renaissance painting, English literature, and famously helped her friend Alfred, Lord Tennyson breathe new life into Arthurian legend by illustrating his poetry. Cameron believed that photography could transcend reality, and she repeatedly used the same models, props, and drapery to make her point. The art establishment considered these tableaux to be in poor taste, and it took until the 1980s for them to be positively reassessed.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="800" height="410" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="800" height="409" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image4.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />One of Julia Margaret Cameron's primary aims was to immortalize. She saw that, by holding images of people in time, photography offered an afterlife — a divine art that aligned with her religious faith. Cameron’s methods cut to the heart of photography’s strange magic, prefiguring Pictorialist aesthetics, Surrealist photography as imaginal tool, and snapshot artists such as Nan Goldin, who sacrifice technical perfection for intimacy. <i>Arresting Beauty</i> is an accessible volume drawn from the Victoria and Albert Museum’s holdings, the most extensive collection of her photographs in the world. It introduces new viewers, or invites those already familiar, to appreciate Cameron’s intent to “electrify you with delight and startle the world.”
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=TH134" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="800" height="409" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image3.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="800" height="409" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="511" data-original-width="800" height="409" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/t/th134/booktease/image10.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="1332" data-original-width="910" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tK5U3Qag8zE/XpDahXsu5-I/AAAAAAABBl8/rEcs11xwDCAdKIftTrRDzSSzFgnIcHNTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/Shannon_Taggart.jpg" width="136" /></div>
<b>Shannon Taggart</b> is a photographer based in Brooklyn, New York. Her work has been exhibited and featured internationally and has been recognized by Nikon, Magnum Photos and the Inge Morath Foundation, American Photography, and the Alexia Foundation for World Peace. Her first monograph, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT650" target="_blank">SÉANCE</a></i>, was published by Fulgur Press in November 2019 and was named one of TIME’s best photobooks of the year.<br /><br />
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-69270892496723414962023-11-13T08:14:00.001-07:002023-11-13T08:14:38.072-07:00Book of the Week: Selected by Brian Arnold
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Ghar</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Anu Kumar</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Brian Arnold</span> <span id="xSummary">"The Hindi word ghar (or in its traditional Devanagari script घर), is derived from Sanskrit and means home, and can refer to both a physical dwelling and a region. This is a lovely idea, connecting the micro and macro understanding of home in one word..."
</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="500" height="338" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz175/iz175.jpg" width="270" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ175" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Ghar.</a> By Anu Kumar.</span><span style="font-size: 12px;"> </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ175"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ175" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Ghar</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Anu Kumar</span></div>
<div class="separator">Perimeter Editions, Melbourne, 2023. 136 pp., 5½x7".</div><div><br /></div>
The Hindi word <i>ghar</i> (or in its traditional Devanagari script घर), is derived from Sanskrit and means home, and can refer to both a physical dwelling and a region. This is a lovely idea, connecting the micro and macro understanding of home in one word. The notion of home feels so much more complicated to me today – with wars in raging in Gaza and Ukraine over the rights to a homeland – but always a notion deeply connected to our personal and cultural identities. The ancient Sanskrit word घर exists unchanged today in Hindi, perhaps because it is such an essential part of the human experience, constantly ebbing and flowing between nurture and trauma, providing us with our deepest sense of self but are also often sites of our greatest tragedies.
<br /><br />
Without the gravity of the world’s wars, the notions of nurture and trauma provide an interesting entry point for the new book by Melbourne-based photographer Anu Kumar, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ175" target="_blank">Ghar</a></i>. Published in September 2022 by Perimeter Editions, <i>Ghar</i> is a collection of photographs made in Kavi Negar, India, Kumar’s birthplace. The book is composed of archival portraits snatched from family albums juxtaposed with Kumar’s medium-format film pictures dating back to 2011 when she made her first journey as an adult.
<br /><br />
There isn’t much text or explanation provided in <i>Ghar</i>, just a short letter dated June 18, 1997. It seems to be written by Kumar’s mother, Guddu, to her grandparents. The letter references a recent move from India to Melbourne, the daughter telling her parents about the remarkable challenges and burdens of being first-generation immigrants, leaving India to try and set up a new home and identity in Melbourne in hopes of providing greater educational and cultural opportunities for their children. I know Kumar lives in Melbourne today but have no idea at what age her family decided to relocate to Australia. Nevertheless, 14 years after the letter was written, she went back to Kavi Negar to try and see how much of herself she could see in the people and landscapes, a place for which she could only have minimal memories.
<br /><br /><i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuF8EyOuMUvzeL1-wjJ9BRJEOx61U72MYnEojOD4R1mJ417wwVnk_tFbmBoyioBKdiLrG4TTVCYi2Bh42e_tAbicbfVEl6HvtmdiXsxZfwSqWxvuQ-lKT2yC0Smr5FwOC1vJ6G8cm2fTcK9wnUaBLRFYhaRZFq7UHLd2F7rrgDKq-qgCO3KYKU2SdB5lY/s1250/ghar2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuF8EyOuMUvzeL1-wjJ9BRJEOx61U72MYnEojOD4R1mJ417wwVnk_tFbmBoyioBKdiLrG4TTVCYi2Bh42e_tAbicbfVEl6HvtmdiXsxZfwSqWxvuQ-lKT2yC0Smr5FwOC1vJ6G8cm2fTcK9wnUaBLRFYhaRZFq7UHLd2F7rrgDKq-qgCO3KYKU2SdB5lY/w640-h640/ghar2.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Ghar</i>, the result of this inquiry, is really quite lovely, full of affection, beauty, longing, and humility. The pictures are quite simple, proving that once again photography is best when grounded in its most fundamental attribute of clarity. Composed concisely – the subject almost always in the middle of her square frame — but with a lyrical understanding of light and color. Each picture is grounded in just 1-2 clearly articulated colors and uses open and softly diffused light (not much shadow play to see here). The effect is moving, making the pictures feel both warm and inviting and also patient and considered. Her subjects are simple and mundane things — a recently washed bowl drying on a countertop, a woman washing her hair, streetside vendors, and people relaxing on a hot afternoon — but with a clear understanding that these are the things that define our lives; the people we share the most intimacy with are the ones we also share the most mundane parts of our days. The book is small, only 14 x 18 centimeters, printed on matte paper with a warm cloth binding, echoing the simplicity and humility found in the photographs.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbo6gejw_tQZADGb8k7yCSTrJ6PI-DBr8k2LkS6Jtz8ScFx71qhDRB-Ls8tdLQYGrQ3l9sjBOSa9toim5gWxeFj62cPXFW0zZNloztkHxLXX7fjYchzJX-PSm3m-j-Ha9KLpc8MjNPvycJZqNEidSoEXmYP8aYwgSpGfqOJFQAm3G-K_ceIn5eBgiSyA/s1250/ghar3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbo6gejw_tQZADGb8k7yCSTrJ6PI-DBr8k2LkS6Jtz8ScFx71qhDRB-Ls8tdLQYGrQ3l9sjBOSa9toim5gWxeFj62cPXFW0zZNloztkHxLXX7fjYchzJX-PSm3m-j-Ha9KLpc8MjNPvycJZqNEidSoEXmYP8aYwgSpGfqOJFQAm3G-K_ceIn5eBgiSyA/w640-h640/ghar3.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54EYhLeur4f0WFvLgbMuSbXp8ENPwgzyHayNF7aJum-Xbrm3DOwqcALDh-aefivqLqLIJuCMB0eDbbMv46Zxl4byJ3kVyPA_7d_o7QNnMbYYZ7zdGfm61xS4g9jm8nGY7lu4v-oRzeU29Zo-9Bh25RzfuoMJFqvOf6jUVNwj5__Lmlkhk841Rt6ghBRM/s1250/ghar8.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1250" data-original-width="1250" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54EYhLeur4f0WFvLgbMuSbXp8ENPwgzyHayNF7aJum-Xbrm3DOwqcALDh-aefivqLqLIJuCMB0eDbbMv46Zxl4byJ3kVyPA_7d_o7QNnMbYYZ7zdGfm61xS4g9jm8nGY7lu4v-oRzeU29Zo-9Bh25RzfuoMJFqvOf6jUVNwj5__Lmlkhk841Rt6ghBRM/w640-h640/ghar8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />After making the pictures in 2011, it took another 10 years for Kumar to make sense of them. The world grinding to a halt with the COVID pandemic forced all of us to reflect on the nature of our connections, communities, and families. Nurture and trauma were at the heart of all this, as each of us was required to retreat into our homes and find the sustenance to endure unprecedented chaos and catastrophe. This also provided Kumar the necessary backdrop to edit the pictures in <i>Ghar</i>, a lovely, poetic, and profound meditation on the meaning of family and place, or in a word, घर.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ175" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw6hUYFSrfzdOH0jA9bVW0kXWG1-NBegoKtU6HhenTjTnS4n6o_t2lH-yI8w5jKxODHRqIHE6wyl_1WQlgmmsheATdhsql0Dn6OzbBZh2Sg7x83LZGeKVFSco32OMh9rDzIgMugm27v23J7NT4I7qotcoxWM4UBCVuyCeSNIX9Am762AU4Bgn_6jwc28/s857/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2010.09.52%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="857" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiw6hUYFSrfzdOH0jA9bVW0kXWG1-NBegoKtU6HhenTjTnS4n6o_t2lH-yI8w5jKxODHRqIHE6wyl_1WQlgmmsheATdhsql0Dn6OzbBZh2Sg7x83LZGeKVFSco32OMh9rDzIgMugm27v23J7NT4I7qotcoxWM4UBCVuyCeSNIX9Am762AU4Bgn_6jwc28/w640-h448/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2010.09.52%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8HmCSjxnieIdetBsAn07TI0zbno6rFeiPPJpTtbBKUDxaa6-eGYvLjIk-eCBSZNDK7Gs8eDFcFXq30E9Yi7NlxyVMOy6mDdlNG-ml7WgWEW4U5rU3Fjkeopq9ztlsDuFNIflOPzwP5BprK2w_Z8c9-rtjrwfqThLvGIqULkNnf1-iLJMQ9DVPjQUcWg/s857/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2010.09.59%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="857" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ8HmCSjxnieIdetBsAn07TI0zbno6rFeiPPJpTtbBKUDxaa6-eGYvLjIk-eCBSZNDK7Gs8eDFcFXq30E9Yi7NlxyVMOy6mDdlNG-ml7WgWEW4U5rU3Fjkeopq9ztlsDuFNIflOPzwP5BprK2w_Z8c9-rtjrwfqThLvGIqULkNnf1-iLJMQ9DVPjQUcWg/w640-h448/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2010.09.59%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuo6XvjeXwLlPgA99RsXOujyNfHdYxE6X-V_omDrRQHwtYAOBOIf3JIII5QF2GbuceC9o32ciGIeUPkgGmcmURK7ucGc5ghsgiPxND2Nm1B4RItJCHZpzkgblVwlnzO8S9-YEgAMIgMbsbG93n8QpQdtuypCtJNhsyJu7ZfzL0ytuLhdTJrtTXQBwtQZE/s857/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2010.10.04%20AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="857" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuo6XvjeXwLlPgA99RsXOujyNfHdYxE6X-V_omDrRQHwtYAOBOIf3JIII5QF2GbuceC9o32ciGIeUPkgGmcmURK7ucGc5ghsgiPxND2Nm1B4RItJCHZpzkgblVwlnzO8S9-YEgAMIgMbsbG93n8QpQdtuypCtJNhsyJu7ZfzL0ytuLhdTJrtTXQBwtQZE/w640-h448/Screen%20Shot%202023-11-13%20at%2010.10.04%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/s500/ARNOLD.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="500" height="161" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2LMqDJStrpw/X5nInbgr17I/AAAAAAABDds/fW0O-T06kRQUFJTGVMJVwn1awcbvgo91ACLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h161/ARNOLD.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Brian Arnold</b> is a photographer, writer, and translator based in Ithaca, NY. He has taught and exhibited his work around the world and published books, including <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK227" target="_blank">A History of Photography in Indonesia</a></i>, with Oxford University Press, Cornell University, Amsterdam University, and Afterhours Books. Brian is a two-time MacDowell Fellow and in 2014 received a grant from the Henry Luce Foundation/American Institute for Indonesian Studies.
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-46273806980582332812023-11-06T08:24:00.006-07:002023-11-06T08:24:47.079-07:00Book of the Week: Selected by Meggan Gould
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Abzgram</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Karolina Wojtas</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Meggan Gould</span> <span id="xSummary">"This book is insane! To begin with: it’s a parallelogram, with just enough of a skew from the traditional rectangular book frame to make you question your bearings..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="355" height="367" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du661/du661.jpg" width="260" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU661" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Abzgram</a>. By Karolina Wojtas.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU661"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU661" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span><span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Abzgram</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Karolina Wojtas</span><br />
<br />Spector Books, 2023. 204 pp., 153 illustrations, 7¼x10x¾".</span></div>
<br />
This book is insane! To begin with: it’s a parallelogram, with just enough of a skew from the traditional rectangular book frame to make you question your bearings. Second, and perhaps more importantly, it is unrelenting. Every square inch of page is covered. Small photographs pile up on backgrounds of lined orthographic paper, color fields intersect large photographs, diagrams, scribbles, notes and graph paper add up to nothing short of visual cacophony. I had a photography teacher who loved to talk about the inclusion of “pages de respiration” in a photobook — spaces for deliberate breath between photographs. Wojtas gives us no breathers — in we go, and in we stay.
<br /><br />
If I breathe at all here, it might lean toward borderline hyperventilation. It takes a minute to place this unrelenting overstimulation, this frenetic tension, but once I get there it is obvious: school! Fluorescent. Caged. Bombarded on all sides. Repetitive. Underlying rigidity of structures. What is primary school, if not a seesaw from prescriptive tedium to tedium, with intermittent jolts of pleasure and provocation?
<br /><br />
On first few flip-throughs, I am flummoxed by the sustained mayhem within this book. Maybe I rub my eyes for good measure. Is this for real? What is this inscrutable chaos? A camera flash fires, again and again and again and again and again and again. I decide that this artist loves school. I decide that this artist hates school. I decide that this might be a brilliant excoriation of a Kafkaesque educational institution. I decide that I never want to set foot in a school again.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjJUexJN2NaHlZndZ5QLrEOJ_EzkQT-a2BAx3lhBdiq_HjWgITkcvkzXjV2smyGkqj6olgtYrDppA72IzaAENM_qC8cKhvoSSfrmWdDK2qda2W6YeVrKjcwIi-IpgA43Ft9bvHuZTj5no40PQnNGiz9HH2kxzacEkLe-69vs8I6ozTxeIwXigPQPwlgo/s1694/Abzgram44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1694" height="452" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOjJUexJN2NaHlZndZ5QLrEOJ_EzkQT-a2BAx3lhBdiq_HjWgITkcvkzXjV2smyGkqj6olgtYrDppA72IzaAENM_qC8cKhvoSSfrmWdDK2qda2W6YeVrKjcwIi-IpgA43Ft9bvHuZTj5no40PQnNGiz9HH2kxzacEkLe-69vs8I6ozTxeIwXigPQPwlgo/w640-h452/Abzgram44.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I will describe a few moments of relative pause for me. Uniformed children singing in page after page of dizzying snapshot grids of singing school groups, lined up in orderly assembly formations; if you know the Polish national anthem, this might be its soundtrack moment. Indecipherable grading schemes on surprisingly varied iterations of graph paper. The inexhaustible numerals of pi typed out as the background of 11 pages (along with other stamps, marks, drawings), layered over frame after frame of a tousle-headed kid in a red hoodie. Young adults standing on classroom tables, deadpan stares at the camera, dressed in black with circular orange exclamation mark stickers on their chests. A kid in jeans and sneakers attempting to climb onto a bank of lockers. A thumbnail survey of exuberantly painted classroom doors, each illuminated by the ubiquitous flash. Unable to decode the scrawls on the walls and in the margins, I regret that I cannot parse even a smidge of the Polish language.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiESb9gcDry_q7c5jPEPSC8cAtd9kiw4hi1kMjQIeI1YJphKGIMSredUE2-o6b7VtzZ4nbNktlJjCWZTw-ylmHLYRKTQydJlQgKbVkQe_i4KwR1KNdDKO3viUDgJIhwCGTIbOxbPjoJNfLmW4jn8gpjMRI6lhsgV9KSkQvBNAX2cuu2s3WPhew4i1ps1Cs/s1598/Abzgram56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1598" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiESb9gcDry_q7c5jPEPSC8cAtd9kiw4hi1kMjQIeI1YJphKGIMSredUE2-o6b7VtzZ4nbNktlJjCWZTw-ylmHLYRKTQydJlQgKbVkQe_i4KwR1KNdDKO3viUDgJIhwCGTIbOxbPjoJNfLmW4jn8gpjMRI6lhsgV9KSkQvBNAX2cuu2s3WPhew4i1ps1Cs/w640-h480/Abzgram56.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcbrTdSOnRTadpR6DRyRmK2KK5BW2Z0P8bSvO2GbTDjic7GS2KRdqJksQuWklhhugHBBn_2kUKAENFMIdZJAcjnqTvWkdjvDlK5WrlhxU8H8aUxBKaSgkd5lPUTs4ju44Mefzsr5OCiU_0ZH9dt_3eY946n4u8vo8nzRGskdLu0e4JycYu8zIcEXD3Z8/s1598/Abzgram11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="1598" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcbrTdSOnRTadpR6DRyRmK2KK5BW2Z0P8bSvO2GbTDjic7GS2KRdqJksQuWklhhugHBBn_2kUKAENFMIdZJAcjnqTvWkdjvDlK5WrlhxU8H8aUxBKaSgkd5lPUTs4ju44Mefzsr5OCiU_0ZH9dt_3eY946n4u8vo8nzRGskdLu0e4JycYu8zIcEXD3Z8/w640-h480/Abzgram11.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Trying to pause feels futile. I recommend submission, and simply being awash in this sum total of a chaos of shenanigans. I would have loved to see the exhibition version; <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU661" target="_blank">Abzgram</a></i> is a photo book translation of a sprawling multimedia exhibition in Berlin, which included extensive video and room-sized installation work. The exhibition and monograph were the fruits of the C/O Berlin Talent Award 2022, which Wojtas won in the Artist category. For the book iteration of the experience, Wojtas was paired with Mathias Gründig, who won the same award in the Theorist category. Gründig’s essay, entitled “Play and Punish”, soothes my (pleasantly frazzled) nerves; I feel camaraderie in this experience, where “all the dials are set to eleven, more is more.” Ruminating on the relationship between play and work in the context of Wojtas’ anarchic work, Gründig invokes the history of Polish pedagogy amid sprawling philosophical entry points, including Michel Foucault, Walter Benjamin, and Johan Huizinga. The book also includes an interview between Gründig and Wojtas, in which the question as to whether she liked school is answered and we read of the artist’s relationship to language, the camera, and maturity.
<br /><br /><i>
Abzgram</i>. It is a pitch-perfect pleasure-pain title in that I can neither exactly pronounce nor explain it, but it feels right. It is somehow both knowable and unknowable, an exuberant almost-anarchy of letters to match the exuberant almost-anarchy of photography on display within these pages.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU661" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du661/booktease/image5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="800" height="446" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du661/booktease/image5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du661/booktease/image6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="800" height="446" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du661/booktease/image6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du661/booktease/image9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="800" height="446" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du661/booktease/image9.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="424" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhH4Es5feMUDw7Rk5zvaU6ly2Cvrgg0eriM1nJsquzDQOLQME8B5OP2agbkYpsRnH6wL3uD2QAmGVBGSO1JDM0cUNz_A-It_qeScdRAB2jk9j5Yvp7-spGIYx3as-GGavAm8DB6b8Xx0Gs3WTRrSEJF4DCKU6AT_gSwgEucHFrWHQ6_sAgqwavw5cJ=w133-h200" width="133" /></div>
<b>Meggan Gould</b> is an artist living and working outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she is an Associate Professor of Art at the University of New Mexico. She is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,, the SALT Institute for Documentary Studies, and Speos (Paris Photographic Institute), where she finally began her studies in photography. She received an MFA in photography from the University of Massachusetts — Dartmouth. She recently wrote a book, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZJ948" target="_blank">Sorry, No Pictures</a></i>, about her own relationship to photography.
<br />
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-67524699588512769232023-11-03T11:21:00.007-06:002023-11-14T11:36:58.896-07:00Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment <!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xTitle">Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment</span>
<span id="xAuthors">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xReviewer"></span>
<span id="xSummary">photo-eye Gallery is pleased to present Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment, an exhibition of photographs by Jamey Stillings and David Emitt Adams</span></div>
<div><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7ARrj73idmwGn7BlZLdPDB1V_5krWupLH_Ew2dJi3sH3lxDT3pxiWnERw_fl9hGBU9XaoSxOr6CJcvSlVRCndVql_e1THmB34X2N3EP4c_PhiN2Vrp3wtBcNvB9HPvjCHSxPSDEBks6Xe3VQoPxxWVZdyV7yA1loqwjYfqJce_MwBigqkNIbSVDKzcg/s1500/image6.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1498" data-original-width="1500" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO7ARrj73idmwGn7BlZLdPDB1V_5krWupLH_Ew2dJi3sH3lxDT3pxiWnERw_fl9hGBU9XaoSxOr6CJcvSlVRCndVql_e1THmB34X2N3EP4c_PhiN2Vrp3wtBcNvB9HPvjCHSxPSDEBks6Xe3VQoPxxWVZdyV7yA1loqwjYfqJce_MwBigqkNIbSVDKzcg/w400-h400/image6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage006">David Emitt Adams, <i>Port of Los Angeles, San Pedro, CA, 2015</i>, Wet Plate collodion on 55-gallon steel drum lid, 23.5 inches in diameter, Unique, $7,500 ready to hang</a></td></tr></tbody></table>
<br />
<div>photo-eye Gallery is pleased to present <i>Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment</i>, an exhibition of photographs by <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index/?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">Jamey Stillings</a> and <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">David Emitt Adams</a>. This exhibition observes the transformation of land due to the extraction of natural resources from the earth. This exhibition also highlights a selection of images by <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=17&id=2036&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase" target="_blank">Bremner Benedict</a> that explore natural springs in the Southwest, many of which are currently being threatened.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage010" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2002" data-original-width="3000" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRqgcTh8ktmFGATfstBH9AYM7E_G6htS0DYnM1fW19tEa9xzKLbXyDykjfkgVchEQ4GkSXEFEplvgg-09YdSpC1sBIXrD_9eJC3s_08u5BpMCsU9VD5DBKad9ZN3ctiJ9HLFQvxdHVj2HIQbT-4MoKS5dNmrl_XmkQc8IVTwr4K9MSOlqzNFMaXSdykfQ/w640-h428/Stillings.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage010" target="_blank">Jamey Stillings, <i>#24916, 20 July 2017, </i>Archival Pigment Ink Print, 31x44 in, Editon of 10 plus two artist's proofs, $3,400 unframed </a><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosuz408ufc3nxU-919151WECY8CD_SWmLydQJMuMGpoSZ0bcoHwE6ZZfB4jPIP2tIsv59jvIvr52oSYZjglw4bz0tBM11ZU6lBlaQcVKKUOYWGOM_ojBf-tJPHSVB-JfbP-gbNRjTgnrjtKSNyyHt05VrBsWnLFpIYhVALg8p5WZiVWj-A6qHKJCoWTE/s3000/image19.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="3000" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosuz408ufc3nxU-919151WECY8CD_SWmLydQJMuMGpoSZ0bcoHwE6ZZfB4jPIP2tIsv59jvIvr52oSYZjglw4bz0tBM11ZU6lBlaQcVKKUOYWGOM_ojBf-tJPHSVB-JfbP-gbNRjTgnrjtKSNyyHt05VrBsWnLFpIYhVALg8p5WZiVWj-A6qHKJCoWTE/w640-h480/image19.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage019" target="_blank">Jamey Stillings, <i>#39386, 29 August 2022</i>, 22x28 in, Editon of 15 plus two artist's proofs, $2,000 unframed</a></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Jamey Stillings' stunning color, aerial photographs record rapidly growing large-scale renewable energy projects that incorporate wind, solar, hydro and mining projects in the Atacama desert of Chile. The landscape of the Atacama desert has a long history of being altered by humans due to the region's abundant natural resources such as lithium, copper, gold and iron ore.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUfRDXnzlbMDRWLps9Uz_5pOzqYhhqliANkmMOQdJGuxfKOQmjGGB21oZj8JjhluOtAUKQyuRZ7pJGIMiXXLg-32iLmyDnx98w3NXmyavBwSnXQ_fTbQ5iaGWo8dqzIdKuZ0NbrP09pJMHgHZJo__MzpLeEC3l-5HPrsSAx69O5NPT8T1oq1Px7Fsl88/s1500/image5.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1481" data-original-width="1500" height="632" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUfRDXnzlbMDRWLps9Uz_5pOzqYhhqliANkmMOQdJGuxfKOQmjGGB21oZj8JjhluOtAUKQyuRZ7pJGIMiXXLg-32iLmyDnx98w3NXmyavBwSnXQ_fTbQ5iaGWo8dqzIdKuZ0NbrP09pJMHgHZJo__MzpLeEC3l-5HPrsSAx69O5NPT8T1oq1Px7Fsl88/w640-h632/image5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage005" target="_blank">David Emitt Adams, <i>LA Harbor Oil Tanker, Wilmington, CA, 2017, </i>Wet plate collodion tintype on 55-gallon steel drum lid, 23.5 inches in diameter, Unique, $7,500 ready to hang </a></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div> David Emitt Adams uses historical photographic techniques to explore his subjects, sparking conversations about the past and present. His "Power" series features images of industrial landscapes from the American oil industry, captured using a custom-built camera and printed directly onto 55-gallon steel oil drum lids using wet plate collodion chemistry.<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWgYiIacOxe2M4ZPMZaC9ZiJeNu8ByPr-3SUIB1LXykzwFO3MHnP4mc704daOleWljA9r2o3Se54YhkRgYsH-_LyWJyO2l-w54ACs1rKwtg2PUoyDQZY5dE64Y3RWIb3s_alAXSlLekRa9Pg-_VWZ4Ab-P3KYxYYGJ-MOBIBowhPApngMmDHKCVWKnSw/s1200/BremnerB.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjWgYiIacOxe2M4ZPMZaC9ZiJeNu8ByPr-3SUIB1LXykzwFO3MHnP4mc704daOleWljA9r2o3Se54YhkRgYsH-_LyWJyO2l-w54ACs1rKwtg2PUoyDQZY5dE64Y3RWIb3s_alAXSlLekRa9Pg-_VWZ4Ab-P3KYxYYGJ-MOBIBowhPApngMmDHKCVWKnSw/w640-h426/BremnerB.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=17&id=2036&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase#LBimage017" target="_blank">Bremner Benedict, <i>Pinto Hot Springs, NV, </i>Archival Pigment Ink Print, 16x24 in, Edition of 4, $1,200 unframed. </a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Benedict's "Hidden Water" project documents springs in the Southwest, including the Chihuahuan, Sonoran, and Mojave deserts, the Great Basin, and the Colorado Plateau. The project raises awareness about the loss of these vital ecosystems that have long been essential to human survival but are overlooked in our modern world.</div><div><br /></div><div>
<b>
About the artists:
</b><br />
<br /><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/jamey-stillings/index?image=1&id=28500&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio6&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">Jamey Stillings</a> is a photographer based in Santa Fe, NM. Jamey’s photographs have been exhibited nationally and internationally. His work is in the permanent collection of the United States Library of Congress Museum of Fine Arts, Houston Los Angeles County Museum of Art Nevada Museum of Art, and Center for Art + Environment Archive Collection among others. His monographs include ATACAMA: Renewable Energy and Mining in the High Desert of Chile, Steidl, 2023, The Evolution of Ivanpah Solar, Steidl, 2015 and The Bridge at Hoover Dam, Nazraeli Press, 2011.<br />
<br /><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david-emitt%20adams/index?image=1&id=11245&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio3&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">David Emitt Adams</a> is a photographer based in Phoenix, Arizona. David’s photographs have been exhibited nationally and internationally including museum exhibitions. His work is in the permanent collection of The Center for Creative Photography, The Santa Barbara Museum of Art, the Museum of Photographic Arts San Diego, The Ogden Museum of Southern Art, The George Eastman Museum, and The Worcester Art Museum as well as numerous private collections. <br />
<br /><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/forms2/index.cfm?image=17&id=2036&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio1&Gallery=PhotoShowcase" target="_blank">Bremner Benedict</a> is a photographer based in Concord, Massachusetts.
Bremner's photographs have been exhibited in numerous group and solo exhibitions. Her work is in the permanent collection of Fidelity Art Boston Collection, The Center for Creative Photography, Tucson, New Mexico Museum of Art, George Eastman International Museum of Photography, and Philadelphia Museum of Art, among others. In 2023 Benedict was the recipient of <a href="https://www.centerwinners.org/launch-grant-2023" target="_blank">Center's Project Launch Grant</a>. </div><div>
<br />Also on display is a selection of work by gallery artists, including <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/mitch-dobrowner/homepage?image=7&id=195494&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio10&Gallery=1" target="_blank">Mitch Dobrowner</a>, <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/michael-kenna/homepage?image=1&id=899999&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio7&Gallery=1" target="_blank">Michael Kenna</a>, <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/steve-fitch/homepage?image=1&id=12652&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio5&Gallery=1" target="_blank">Steve Fitch</a>, and <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/beth-moon/homepage?image=1&id=94720&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio9&Gallery=1" target="_blank">Beth Moon</a>.<br />
<br /><br />
<b>
<br />Reshaping the Earth: Energy and the Environment is on display through January 6th, 2024. An Artist Reception and <a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DT731&i=9783958297081&i2=" target="_blank">Booksigning for Jamey Stillings</a> will be held on Saturday, December 2nd, from 3-5 p.m.<b>
<br />
<br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
* * *
<br /><br />
PRINT COSTS ARE CURRENT UP TO THE TIME OF POSTING AND ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE.
<br /><br />
* * *
<br /><br />
If you are in Santa Fe, please stop by we are open Tuesday– Saturday, from 10am- 5:30pm.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/" target="_blank">PHOTO-EYE GALLERY</a><br />
300 Rufina Circle, Unit A3, Santa Fe, NM 87507
<br /><br />
For more information, and to reserve one of these unique works, please contact <br />
Gallery Director <a href="mailto:anne@photoeye.com" target="_blank">Anne Kelly</a><br />
You may also call us at (505) 988-5152 x202</div>
<br /><br />
</b></b></div>Galleryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898430015572158694noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-63014448210697706102023-10-30T08:32:00.003-06:002023-10-30T08:48:49.813-06:00Book of the Week: Selected by Blake Andrews
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Coming and Going</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Jim Goldberg</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Blake Andrews</span> <span id="xSummary">“At 66, Jim Goldberg is edging into his golden years but still young at heart. Give him a pair of scissors and some rubber cement and he’s like a kid in a sandbox..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="649" height="351" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/z/zk406/zk406.jpg" width="285" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK406" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Coming and Going</a>. By Jim Goldberg.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK406"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK406" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Coming and Going </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Jim Goldberg</span><br />
MACK, London, UK, 2023. 360 pp., 10½x13½".
</div><br />
At 66, Jim Goldberg is edging into his golden years but still young at heart. Give him a pair of scissors and some rubber cement and he’s like a kid in a sandbox. He’s used these rudimentary tools to collage together a richly sophisticated art practice, with one blockbuster photo project after another. His photobooks include <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=PK273" target="_blank">Raised By Wolves</a></i>, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DQ263" target="_blank">Open See</a></i>, and <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZH164" target="_blank">The Last Son</a></i>, all of which demonstrate his signature cut-and-paste scrapbooking style. These and other monographs have helped him ascend the photo heights: Magnum membership, multiple NEA grants, a Guggenheim, and professor emeritus status at CCA.
<br /><br />
Goldberg has a big heart, and he has used photo projects to illuminate the neglected American underclass. As described on his website, he conducts “long-term, in-depth collaborations which investigate the nature of American myths about class, power, and happiness.” He’s something of a social justice warrior, and such work is much needed and appreciated. But what about Goldberg himself? As might be expected from someone working in journalistic tradition, he’s captured his own life in the course of daily output. These photos have appeared here and there in bits and pieces. But until now he’s mostly kept out of his own spotlight.
<br /><br /><i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK406" target="_blank"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0sY3yMcQhjkMvTDEiYj5D6t6aMS1fd1muwvEj-N5xZ2BEEVRK7hxh9hKzUloHXDmBMyIlhBxBPCQSLXpIhk7Aeh0hu_Dd7dlhhOwrHLDxE1Jw7b9nN_v7eVqFaTMr36ZsAoUTqK-DbrYePC0hPksMm-4tuOGGcG3skU7MrfjCwnVT3LZSpL6ZPvhyphenhyphends/s1556/coming1.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1556" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0sY3yMcQhjkMvTDEiYj5D6t6aMS1fd1muwvEj-N5xZ2BEEVRK7hxh9hKzUloHXDmBMyIlhBxBPCQSLXpIhk7Aeh0hu_Dd7dlhhOwrHLDxE1Jw7b9nN_v7eVqFaTMr36ZsAoUTqK-DbrYePC0hPksMm-4tuOGGcG3skU7MrfjCwnVT3LZSpL6ZPvhyphenhyphends/w640-h412/coming1.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Coming and Going</a></i> puts the focus on Goldberg. Spanning a timeline roughly from his mid-twenties to the present, it is a monumental memoir, 13 inches tall, with 360 full-bleed pages. Even softbound, it weighs over 6 pounds. The reader’s task feels Herculean initially. But it turns out to be quite manageable, even fun. <i>Coming and Going</i> is sequenced as a chronological memoir. It’s structured like a graphic novel, with images and words taking lead turns, and interacting in interesting ways. Goldberg is a natural storyteller and he’s had an interesting life. This might even be considered a page-turner, at least in the contemporary photobook world of occasionally clunky narrative.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VyQQHLSkOnvn2g76WlZks53ZdusJDkHAID1pxl2aI9lfyDb9wo-AXbTP_ZH7PJI_pNzZ0aA43MrduxUgdyafK0RDwbv9DvgXOtD0Jsc_ZhfJ_araBy71s8gewlU9oQEDFl6p6QhklpJS0qfXoTEiipeZEcF-_7OVEgCABYuZxS9qrtYqhMdD1RgXWP0/s2048/cominggoing14.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="2048" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VyQQHLSkOnvn2g76WlZks53ZdusJDkHAID1pxl2aI9lfyDb9wo-AXbTP_ZH7PJI_pNzZ0aA43MrduxUgdyafK0RDwbv9DvgXOtD0Jsc_ZhfJ_araBy71s8gewlU9oQEDFl6p6QhklpJS0qfXoTEiipeZEcF-_7OVEgCABYuZxS9qrtYqhMdD1RgXWP0/w640-h408/cominggoing14.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMfxs-M9R-XMog_M8PZaIb_QpmZPrbgtToulZqYQh1Qb81x2RDcDBDrEjvIT6vbbtYBMmWkgFRedQcCqdRJEqZU_UhEuFD7baXd9lCJHwLLvGaLM_bDs_nn_cldD1k1Os5Y7uuwWsWQySk8Ap7oteDHt0lhnrn1tRI7mdciRIH2AX-PAsxlQ-8SgAM5E/s2048/cominggoing13.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="2048" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKMfxs-M9R-XMog_M8PZaIb_QpmZPrbgtToulZqYQh1Qb81x2RDcDBDrEjvIT6vbbtYBMmWkgFRedQcCqdRJEqZU_UhEuFD7baXd9lCJHwLLvGaLM_bDs_nn_cldD1k1Os5Y7uuwWsWQySk8Ap7oteDHt0lhnrn1tRI7mdciRIH2AX-PAsxlQ-8SgAM5E/w640-h408/cominggoing13.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />When we first find the protagonist, he is in Lima, Peru circa 1979. He’s a globetrotting twenty-something with a pocket full of Tri-X. He’s busy <i>Coming and Going</i>, as they say. But Goldberg is soon pulled back to the daily tumult by the first of several major life events (all helpfully noted in the book with handwritten dates, lest they spin out of control). His father is sick. He returns to help his folks Herb and Lil, still living in his childhood home in Florida. But he’s not ready to settle down, and before long he’s off on more adventures. His peripatetic twenties and thirties leave a blizzard of Polaroids, 35 mm negs, and written notes. He falls in love, marries Susan Miller, has a daughter, Ruby, turns 40, enjoys professional breakthroughs. He checks in for an update on Echo and Tweaky Dave from Raised By Wolves. Soon his father passes and his marriage crumbles in a heavily redacted “Dear John” letter. Whew! That’s all Part I, the first half of the book.
<br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jpywJde4Q3-hzYen4T3nbAvrLRg8wu_8BKaumL6_j9qZJkDullui_0D3_flckh306vGFOOHIVszFBZj5E1stncQ6g6q74efokd9SzthtZu_ird8f-oaLZ2aN35ZeaY07G6y0iHdhka6kxO_jTq0cwV06x6N_nV2oKgIIqezCYSeDy5VR3M78oPqsKdc/s1556/cominggoing8.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1556" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jpywJde4Q3-hzYen4T3nbAvrLRg8wu_8BKaumL6_j9qZJkDullui_0D3_flckh306vGFOOHIVszFBZj5E1stncQ6g6q74efokd9SzthtZu_ird8f-oaLZ2aN35ZeaY07G6y0iHdhka6kxO_jTq0cwV06x6N_nV2oKgIIqezCYSeDy5VR3M78oPqsKdc/w640-h412/cominggoing8.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br />Part II begins with his traumatic divorce from Miller. A heartbreaking list of possessions to be divided is blunt and to the point. They say a photo is worth a thousand words, but this one only needs a few hundred to describe decades of turmoil. As Ruby grows through childhood and adolescence, she assumes a growing role in Goldberg’s life, and in the book. He falls into parent routines, helping with homework and sorting Halloween candy. Meanwhile, his aging mother and teaching duties demand increased attention. The dishes pile up. Life goes on. He remarries (to the photographer Alessandra Sanguinetti) and they have a daughter. His mother passes, leaving a fridge of food and a box of heirloom jewelry. She joins a star chart of lost friends. As the book finishes in a retreating collage of faces and memories, Ruby is roughly the age Goldberg was when this tale began. The next generation is ready to step up.
<br /><br />
As one life event gives way to the next one, Goldberg deftly divulges his personal history through notes, photos, handwriting, craft projects, and clipped collages. Few other photographers can so seamlessly weave large format negatives, Polaroids, 35 mm trimmings, and contact sheets. All are fair game for him. It would be a mess in other hands. But Goldberg has had years of practice through past monographs, and he makes it look easy. His photos come and go. Before we know it he’s 66.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJUGBivRcttcQkH0n0aSyrebOFsdwpTM7cMHZMIxg6uOv8AScWgZJFrr5vaUCgyiCA4JC0WbTxmDbLix_RyBHy0WQ7vpKIhN_NN-D4-ew8ajhT458lUvrXfi2LmcjnLv0wF4HDMb2MJzSXrtumioqXVOKsoM_0011_yJTaMZ4W5VAxu-A7k0qXVALMGg/s2048/cominggoing11.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="2048" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtJUGBivRcttcQkH0n0aSyrebOFsdwpTM7cMHZMIxg6uOv8AScWgZJFrr5vaUCgyiCA4JC0WbTxmDbLix_RyBHy0WQ7vpKIhN_NN-D4-ew8ajhT458lUvrXfi2LmcjnLv0wF4HDMb2MJzSXrtumioqXVOKsoM_0011_yJTaMZ4W5VAxu-A7k0qXVALMGg/w640-h408/cominggoing11.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGCu4Vw3v1twInHQi8rp1-h-FjFKG0T2GL6oYOcPEAqiFI3xtTcLfgOoQFWSF2cYN3Nd_EKl9oMg5qhtSv8AFInSwZqRGerJfKViI7-6BoZDCcgCmH0DcpEBkz0HIER8M6Ygh-9mmk19emMMNtBGkfoJ-yZNYVEGRjv9EuHFRM55jn_r-t3pgkVHB1mg/s2048/cominggoing10.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="2048" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXGCu4Vw3v1twInHQi8rp1-h-FjFKG0T2GL6oYOcPEAqiFI3xtTcLfgOoQFWSF2cYN3Nd_EKl9oMg5qhtSv8AFInSwZqRGerJfKViI7-6BoZDCcgCmH0DcpEBkz0HIER8M6Ygh-9mmk19emMMNtBGkfoJ-yZNYVEGRjv9EuHFRM55jn_r-t3pgkVHB1mg/w640-h408/cominggoing10.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />The rough content and structure of <i>Coming and Going</i> are not atypical. You’d find similar stories in any personal history, and perhaps they’d even be fleshed out in a scrapbook like this one, tucked in the family den. Goldberg isn’t special in this regard. He’s lived an “everyman” life, widely relatable in most aspects. But, Goldberg being Goldberg, he is a photo connoisseur as well, and this visual memoir is several notches above the common family album. He knows just when to pack a page with pictures, when to leave space in the flow, when to share a letter or memento. Double-spread photos of white noise TV screens serve as quiet placeholders, moments of narrative reverie for the reader to catch their breath. The white silhouetted head from <i>Raised By Wolves’</i> cover is another recurring motif. Perhaps it’s meant to reference his art career? Or it may be a literally empty vessel, interspersed here and there to collect the reader’s thoughts. In any case, he’s once again proved his mastery of simple cut-and-paste technique. He’s a kid in a sandbox, just as he’s always been. After years of building castles, this one is dedicated to himself.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK406" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b><div>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4J_F2YkvOskpf-Gs0PMro22xsd-Gi4-JnB7A16CCZe6Zfe28-gx3ACsDfXTF9AZPJyXptLB0tsV9vNyAMqJb-kh4NndoQZ51qGf6dj0J5c3PVr30SS4VUQ12HRInrFT_9S554TvLitQ_mKRvASq5OO8r_HQWB6wUMn0LQ_Zj_kT1TFdyuRSl-SDrFOU/s1428/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-30%20at%2010.30.32%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="993" data-original-width="1428" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL4J_F2YkvOskpf-Gs0PMro22xsd-Gi4-JnB7A16CCZe6Zfe28-gx3ACsDfXTF9AZPJyXptLB0tsV9vNyAMqJb-kh4NndoQZ51qGf6dj0J5c3PVr30SS4VUQ12HRInrFT_9S554TvLitQ_mKRvASq5OO8r_HQWB6wUMn0LQ_Zj_kT1TFdyuRSl-SDrFOU/w640-h446/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-30%20at%2010.30.32%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzpV-kzUhzfIYaC1JaX19RMVrmEW02j2b5XmYMTVhBwG2BmwYzYg7O8AxBRL7Pnnya-HhSz6VkKxSh9csf1e0QwTgbMmFciGpbflQ7kOt1m3wFZqPVHOi0zBWm3mebol3AHCuDbEGrR49VFuauZRc9tt0tDEYXKt4QfQEEwLwzt-0pJaXCEbpnNbTXgs/s1428/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-30%20at%2010.30.23%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="993" data-original-width="1428" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJzpV-kzUhzfIYaC1JaX19RMVrmEW02j2b5XmYMTVhBwG2BmwYzYg7O8AxBRL7Pnnya-HhSz6VkKxSh9csf1e0QwTgbMmFciGpbflQ7kOt1m3wFZqPVHOi0zBWm3mebol3AHCuDbEGrR49VFuauZRc9tt0tDEYXKt4QfQEEwLwzt-0pJaXCEbpnNbTXgs/w640-h446/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-30%20at%2010.30.23%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4s1_arWE3RKIpjCOCYc_GDfDvOQnjQVSqX5y8x5Ey71C-6Xqgj94qBW3zBYYfyEnGgEPb4yQgRoAVWw3v-xYCstQF6UEPDu2PqPYbIcspiZ4MIpniYpK5-DJBXl4z8lf7vnX7FW__FUqK-1_s6jJ_kQMXsXcp8ZtkGTv-Dpc6qlxhWnc5alirtdczAA/s1428/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-30%20at%2010.30.13%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="993" data-original-width="1428" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4s1_arWE3RKIpjCOCYc_GDfDvOQnjQVSqX5y8x5Ey71C-6Xqgj94qBW3zBYYfyEnGgEPb4yQgRoAVWw3v-xYCstQF6UEPDu2PqPYbIcspiZ4MIpniYpK5-DJBXl4z8lf7vnX7FW__FUqK-1_s6jJ_kQMXsXcp8ZtkGTv-Dpc6qlxhWnc5alirtdczAA/w640-h446/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-30%20at%2010.30.13%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="134" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b>Blake Andrews</b><span> is a photographer based in Eugene, OR. He writes about photography at <a href="http://blakeandrews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blakeandrews.blogspot.com</a>.</span>
</div>Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-87320385174352565692023-10-23T09:53:00.011-06:002023-10-24T08:20:57.055-06:00Book of the Week: Selected by Cheryl Van Hooven
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">The Inhabitants</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Raymond Meeks. Text by George Weld.</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Cheryl Van Hooven</span> <span id="xSummary">“Chosen as the sixth Immersion laureate, the French–American Photographic Commission established by the Fondation d’Entreprise Hermès, American photographer Raymond Meeks’ brief was to create a book and exhibition based on his residency in France during the summer of 2022..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="445" height="375" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/z/zk419/zk419.jpg" width="265" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK419" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">The Inhabitants</a>. </span></div><div style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">By </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">Raymond Meeks & George Weld.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK419"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK419" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">The Inhabitants</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Raymond Meeks.<br />
Text by George Weld.</span><br />
MACK, London, England, 2023. 172 pp., 8½x11¾".
</div><br /><br />
Chosen as the sixth <i>Immersion</i> laureate, the French–American Photographic Commission established by the Fondation d’Entreprise Hermès, American photographer Raymond Meeks’ brief was to create a book and exhibition based on his residency in France during the summer of 2022.
<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>“How should we let them know we were here?”</i></div><br />
At first, just looking and making no photographs, Meeks immersed himself in Calais and the Pays Basque near the French-Spanish border. Although a stopping point for endless caravans of migrants braving perilous obstacles to get to Europe and the U.K, there are no caravansaries here offering respite and safety. <div><br /></div><div> While volunteering with the aid organization <i>Care4Calais</i>, Meeks soon discarded his original plans to make portraits of the migrants. In a conversation with David Campany at ICP, Meeks said he realized that formal portraiture would take him out of encounters and experiences, out of the complexity of being lost, out of being available to what he was witnessing. Instead, he followed the traces left by the migrants, focusing on the places they inhabited, however briefly, on the evidence of their presence, human detritus, and on the land itself, seemingly as impregnable as their access to asylum. Without a single migrant’s photo, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK419" target="_blank">The Inhabitants</a></i> nonetheless carries the feeling of a journey of displacement, bewilderment, of being a stranger in a strange land.
<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>“The edge of the water, the edge of land . . . beyond this, what?”</i></div><br />
To bring other voices into the latent narrative, Meeks engaged poet and writer George Weld, . Their collaboration, <i>The Inhabitants</i>, is a tour de force of the marriage of photographs and poetic text, each powerful in its own right, but transcendent together.
Weld’s months of research and writing drew inspiration from such varied sources as Homer’s <i>Odyssey</i>, Rodin’s <i>Burghers of Calais</i>, Agnes Varda films <i>The Wasteland</i>, <i>The Road</i>, and <i>Children of Men</i>. Always in the first person, whether experiencing or observing, his extended poem envelops the reader in closely intimate conversation with voices of lament, of wonder, and longing. When asked about whose voices, Weld responded, “The voices here are all invented . . . They come together not to document a reality but to create one.” <div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidydxzvX7XgKXKntMiKTXKxlV9u6NIKSOvG0HoLtAgjVprhNYQs1qa7Ur9a3pfXkYqAPkZbrjNBZI2Z7IS42HJDKaWFR_Eibmv4hnNI_CUhvqOBaTMw9Zw9xIxr58WdD_MsNoqvlDP2ZeOL1MHlc-gOjYykbM19jGOCuugyemESnqmaz9U989qK-2DsA4/s1330/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.48.32%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1330" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidydxzvX7XgKXKntMiKTXKxlV9u6NIKSOvG0HoLtAgjVprhNYQs1qa7Ur9a3pfXkYqAPkZbrjNBZI2Z7IS42HJDKaWFR_Eibmv4hnNI_CUhvqOBaTMw9Zw9xIxr58WdD_MsNoqvlDP2ZeOL1MHlc-gOjYykbM19jGOCuugyemESnqmaz9U989qK-2DsA4/w640-h478/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.48.32%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGunBb2ElVoCM1FlwhRHXwZSnWMjmnUXLKtjpDRChIRhUF9xXbAGpkzW1Uccg_BgSiW9ec-g16v8q3rsMpPL4qmM2FISPuiDwpDLxowlaO7mJ3ek8dKgv2IcoJXB52OCUiZJNYjkkhmWjTL6ICinoTdThzbiuFK_Vdu1uG8nnCbm6Fmo4jyr_pteL1KI/s1330/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.48.41%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1330" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBGunBb2ElVoCM1FlwhRHXwZSnWMjmnUXLKtjpDRChIRhUF9xXbAGpkzW1Uccg_BgSiW9ec-g16v8q3rsMpPL4qmM2FISPuiDwpDLxowlaO7mJ3ek8dKgv2IcoJXB52OCUiZJNYjkkhmWjTL6ICinoTdThzbiuFK_Vdu1uG8nnCbm6Fmo4jyr_pteL1KI/w640-h478/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.48.41%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Despite their independent work and previous discussions about how the text and its many voices could interact with the pictures, both Meeks and Weld agreed that the actual form of the book, it’s meaning, came together during the editing and physical collaboration in Meeks’ studio in the Hudson Valley. Having no prior experience of these places other than Meeks’ archive of over 4000 photographs. Weld said he had “lived in Ray’s world” for those months as they shaped the book.
<br /><i><br /></i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>“I carry seeds with me, sewn in the hem of my jacket.”</i></div><br />
Slip-cased, <i>The Inhabitants’</i> textured off-white cover and barely visible debossed title hints at the tenuous traces of what’s left behind. Opening immediately to a white field and simple but propulsive line by Weld, the book’s tone is signaled by the shock of the following page: a full bleed, dark and formidable landscape. Thus, the journey begins.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOLXl8pX23_4vBiIv2iwccfRjHaee0qLlGHZebBYTuWoPx7jr2q0Vp-ZtPKnUJ0MixX9VAwBeSRhBonUQ7pbHvFy81X4Jav7VuUtDHav6vipkcrbJMHJk2Jcfyn2LjuUbWvWqF5r38Uw5fxB47CdIkEeFzdpTPcYP5Qvfw9KQkEPAhdPbxDhTOMy5D9M/s1330/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.47.19%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1330" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSOLXl8pX23_4vBiIv2iwccfRjHaee0qLlGHZebBYTuWoPx7jr2q0Vp-ZtPKnUJ0MixX9VAwBeSRhBonUQ7pbHvFy81X4Jav7VuUtDHav6vipkcrbJMHJk2Jcfyn2LjuUbWvWqF5r38Uw5fxB47CdIkEeFzdpTPcYP5Qvfw9KQkEPAhdPbxDhTOMy5D9M/w640-h478/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.47.19%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Primarily in black-and-white, Meeks’ photos of mysterious dark forms, dense foliage, and broken industrial remnants convey unsettling undertones and elicit feelings of menace and disorientation. Is that blackened entrance a place of shelter or of danger?
<br /><br />
With contributions by Meeks, Weld, Morgan Crowcroft-Brown and Michael Mack, the cinematic design underscores Meeks’ restless framing: up, down, near, far, oblique, direct, and the deft and generous use of white space cradles the weight of Meeks’ photos. Midway, a run of subtle color images provides a brief pause in the black-and-white, perhaps a glimpse of a land of promise, a hoped-for future. The choice of a small, italicized font elevates the sparsely distributed text which often rests in isolation on the page and adds counterpoint to the photos. Every decision supports their intention. </div><div><br /></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfjsqvnMNyr9w3cJWgCTE4hyCx9tBoqA9digmCpMQRmsMUoWxdMKETRJH2HdbB4A2vqJ3CDCzL0zVCBr32YwPMn-EQsVGgwa9G_SQt4cEQ4ahiJAyUJcSX7ohyphenhyphenX4lTQytbJ1qXvz3oqsWpdrJ2koiZSwVSdj7GEszxwLMdHx2LSR0yvFsFpFt7huSKjg/s1330/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.47.42%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1330" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBfjsqvnMNyr9w3cJWgCTE4hyCx9tBoqA9digmCpMQRmsMUoWxdMKETRJH2HdbB4A2vqJ3CDCzL0zVCBr32YwPMn-EQsVGgwa9G_SQt4cEQ4ahiJAyUJcSX7ohyphenhyphenX4lTQytbJ1qXvz3oqsWpdrJ2koiZSwVSdj7GEszxwLMdHx2LSR0yvFsFpFt7huSKjg/w640-h478/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.47.42%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />There are many ways to read <i>The Inhabitants</i>, photos first, text first, both together, but in order to absorb its layered richness and depths, I would recommend slowly and repetitively. Flowing as tide and current in contrapuntal movement, the pictures and words, neither taking dominance, weave together a fully resonant experience.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZK419" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b><div>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaXkV3OesB0gBdRsucpu_VP-9JERDhjNAnsZAqCSW-od7FyS5iNrFImHntWKdF5CCY0CMUzPYJcbflPzl2d1gEVR8sUl8ZF9OP8cv5KH7f7BgwxULTVUqI3wYDgSFaOlY4HjpGRQHBOs2J9fbBjFGpunEMOKtCqb5EmE9jtPN-9zWaYxD9HsAfhSM4gc/s1330/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.48.58%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1330" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaXkV3OesB0gBdRsucpu_VP-9JERDhjNAnsZAqCSW-od7FyS5iNrFImHntWKdF5CCY0CMUzPYJcbflPzl2d1gEVR8sUl8ZF9OP8cv5KH7f7BgwxULTVUqI3wYDgSFaOlY4HjpGRQHBOs2J9fbBjFGpunEMOKtCqb5EmE9jtPN-9zWaYxD9HsAfhSM4gc/w640-h478/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.48.58%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiSMhcxQcHwlukCL0BKO5xw5k9SlVCA74FA637JOI5ZtUzcBgcMcXooMScy292rHJFFF6jUXw08Clp78NNE4Pwa4b-mGvc0DDx_Fco6gytmUuR5LcpQpK8J0GX9_-CkJFZvCRoDEYrJ8FuC6IU1BxhdByDbuYuljSG9BKEat9UUB8kF1NEQJUUBBw1Zs/s1330/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.49.05%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1330" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFiSMhcxQcHwlukCL0BKO5xw5k9SlVCA74FA637JOI5ZtUzcBgcMcXooMScy292rHJFFF6jUXw08Clp78NNE4Pwa4b-mGvc0DDx_Fco6gytmUuR5LcpQpK8J0GX9_-CkJFZvCRoDEYrJ8FuC6IU1BxhdByDbuYuljSG9BKEat9UUB8kF1NEQJUUBBw1Zs/w640-h478/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.49.05%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpqJc5jmz0oIMWiGUvZlsYbZMEpLqqhsU8nKceF2bTpaa0kxUuJLRKMJ0-5k4U62Ji9locjZe9zMaMHsIQloCXHlbc8OPwLI_Ckn4sGDd0DgGfc75afENSe_RzBfRjnM2ByjNdiDEpRZeawc0RUJzCRxotAokpoGaolviNGdNggB1rDHfn9fxKuVVjts/s1330/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.47.51%20AM.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1330" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpqJc5jmz0oIMWiGUvZlsYbZMEpLqqhsU8nKceF2bTpaa0kxUuJLRKMJ0-5k4U62Ji9locjZe9zMaMHsIQloCXHlbc8OPwLI_Ckn4sGDd0DgGfc75afENSe_RzBfRjnM2ByjNdiDEpRZeawc0RUJzCRxotAokpoGaolviNGdNggB1rDHfn9fxKuVVjts/w640-h478/Screen%20Shot%202023-10-23%20at%2011.47.51%20AM.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="281" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5c2FkCRWHSDFlzDSr1fVhIzuvjunP7P7Avo-A3pKaiB850YU2m-nUuspc7lvqz2UlX51FsIWdCteES4B_9XIEck3xAN-uDw_MNaj8pFifLMGgeL-iJNKkyHMlij49NFHssyCOKrqO3XvmEtl5NBBAaEtQ31MnxyBpNOPCqO-Ee-crRTX2Z0So-yDwz38/w130-h200/thumbnail_Cheryl%20Van%20Hooven%20headshot%203_4139.jpeg" width="130" /></div> <span> <b>Cheryl Van Hooven</b> is a photographer and writer based in New York and often working in the California Mojave Desert. Her work has been exhibited internationally and is in the collections of the Brooklyn Museum, the New York Public Library, Miriam and Ira D. Wallach Division of Art, Prints & Photographs, Imagery Estate Winery Permanent Collection at Sonoma State University, among others. She is currently working on a photo/text book.</span>
</div></div></div>Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-35789608409298494182023-10-16T09:03:00.000-06:002023-10-16T09:03:58.950-06:00Book of the Week: Selected by Blake Andrews
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Publish Your Photography Book (3rd Edition)</span> <span id="xAuthors">Text by Darius D. Himes & Mary Virginia Swanson</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Blake Andrews</span> <span id="xSummary">“All fine art photographers fall into one of two categories: Those who’ve published a photobook, and those who hope to publish one."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr>
<td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="581" height="338" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/d/du604/du604.jpg" width="245" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU604" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Publish Your Photography Book</a>. By </span></div><div style="font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12px;">Darius D. Himes & Mary Virginia Swanson.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU604"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU604" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Publish Your Photography Book </span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">3rd Edition<br />
Text by Darius D. Himes & Mary Virginia Swanson</span><br />
Radius Books, Santa Fe, NM, 2023. 272 pp., 200 color illustrations, 7¾x10¾".
</div><br />
All fine art photographers fall into one of two categories: Those who’ve published a photobook, and those who hope to publish one. The new guide <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU604" target="_blank">Publish Your Photography Book</a></i> is aimed primarily at photographers in the second camp. Since that group includes yours truly, I approached this book with bated breath. “The first book to demystify the practice of producing and publishing a book of photos,” promised the back cover blurb. Would this be the catalyst that finally pushed my hazy book dreams into reality? If the jury is still out on that question, it’s not entirely the book’s fault. This primer lays the foundation. Construction details fall to the readers.
<br /><br /><i>
Publish Your Photography Book</i> is co-authored by two experts in the field, Darius D. Himes and Mary Virginia Swanson. Two decades ago Himes — professing “a love for photobooks that grips my soul” — was the founding editor of photo-eye’s booklist (the physical precursor to photo-eye’s blog). He then helped launch and manage Radius Books before moving to his current position with Christie’s photo department. Mary Virginia Swanson is a photo reviewer, teacher, mentor, and generally acknowledged photobook guru. Together these two old hands make a crack team. They originally collaborated for a regular column in photo-eye magazine called “Publishing The Photobook”. That ran from 2004 to 2007, ending ironically around the time that photo-eye ceased physical publication.
<br /><br />
Perhaps inexorably, Himes and Swanson’s column eventually found its way into book form. The first edition of <i>Publishing Your Photography Book</i> was released by Princeton Architectural Press in 2011, followed by a second edition in 2014. Both proved popular. Not only did they reflect and report on the growing photobook phenomenon, they helped to juice its engine. Driven by increased options for self-publication and a growing market for collectible monographs, the photobook world is now more expansive and sophisticated than ever. But publishing remains a basic conundrum for many aspiring authors.
<br /><br />
All of these factors have conspired to propel the third edition into reality. As with past versions, this one is designed by David Chickey, but this time through his own imprint Radius Books. Perhaps ownership afforded him more control over the final product? In any case, his stamp is all over the design. It unfolds casually on uncoated stock, its lively layout tucked into a thin hardback cover. As for the contents, they’e been revamped, enlarged, thickened, and updated. The references and examples are current, at least for now. But of course the photobook field is always shifting.
<br /><br />
In any case, the basic bookmaking steps are evergreen. As in past editions, Himes and Swanson begin with an overview of photobook culture — Q: Who Cares About Books? A: Photographers do. Amen — before moving on to nuts and bolts. First is the conceptual and logistical preparation, then the decision of whether to self-publish or go with an established publishing house (for most aspiring bookmakers, this choice will be imposed by outside factors). Then comes the actual production of the book, and the subsequent marketing and distribution, with varying reams of spreadsheets and paperwork. Each chapter is broken down further into subheadings. If the overall process is daunting, a final chapter of case studies proves that yes indeed, it can be done. The experiences of Todd Hido and Alec Soth may not be applicable for everyone, but their comments are still informative and entertaining. Appendices on book parts, timelines, and glossary cap things off. All in all, it’s a remarkably thorough guide.
<br /><br />
Even with this book in hand, the publication process can devolve into a chaotic mess. There’s just no escaping the countless variables and moving parts. Realizing this, Himes and Swanson have included a handy workbook to track tasks and goals. It’s a thoughtful addition which was lacking in the first two editions. The richly illustrated examples are another nice touch, sampling the personal libraries of Melanie McWhorter and Rixon Reed. Their freshly updated collections are something to aspire to, or perhaps just drool over. <i>Publishing Your Photography Book</i> is also interspersed with transcripts from roundtable conversations. Every chapter has at least one, and they’re a great way to pick the brains of experienced authors and industry insiders.
<br /><br />
This guide is intended to support and spur a new generation of bookmakers. Ideally, photographers will move from the hopeful camp to the published one. That’s likely to happen since bookmaking resources have become more accessible than ever, accelerating in the 9 years since the second edition.
<br /><br />
But publication may be a mixed blessing. The current glut of photobooks have created an increasingly fractured and crowded field. The potential audience has Balkanized. According to Himes and Swanson, a small publisher might shoot for a print run of 500 to 1,000 books, down from ~3,000 decades ago. That diminished figure may already be out of date and in need of downward revision. 300 books, anyone? 200? All of which is to say, it’s still easier to make a book than to make readers care about it. Luckily for them, Himes and Swanson don’t face this problem. <i>Publishing Your Photography Book</i> is sure to connect with an eager and satisfied audience. It should maintain currency for several years, at least until the next revision.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=DU604" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b><div>
<b><br /></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="267" data-original-width="400" height="134" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/bookstore/bestbooks/2021/headshots/blake_andrews_831844a.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b>Blake Andrews</b><span> is a photographer based in Eugene, OR. He writes about photography at <a href="http://blakeandrews.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blakeandrews.blogspot.com</a>.</span>
</div>Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-34519529241736216442023-10-02T07:22:00.003-06:002023-10-04T15:17:26.105-06:00Book of the Week: Selected by Meggan Gould
<!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">Book Review</span> <span id="xTitle">Hunting In Time</span> <span id="xAuthors">Photographs by Ronit Porat</span> <span id="xReviewer">Reviewed by Meggan Gould</span> <span id="xSummary">"It is useful to know what makes us let down, or put up, our guard, what makes us instantly melt or bristle. My own bright-copper-kettle pleasure points are as follows: clocks, owls, negatives, shadowy enigma, pointed anonymity, archival deep dives, dead birds, tools in deadpan still life, reworked narratives where truth is slippery, and fictions enticing..."</span>
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="702" data-original-width="500" height="400" src="https://images.cache.photoeye.com/books/i/iz194/iz194.jpg" width="285" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<span style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ194" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Hunting In Time</a>. </span><span style="font-size: 12px;">By Ronit Porat.</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 12.8px;">
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ194"><img alt="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ194" border="0" src="https://www.photoeye.com//img/mbooktease_icon_white.gif" /><span id="goog_898492939"></span><span id="goog_898492940"></span></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span><span style="font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px;">Hunting In Time</span> <br />
<span style="font-size: 18px; line-height: 24px;">Photographs by Ronit Porat</span><br />
<br />Sternthal Books, 2023. In English. 192 pp., 6¾x9½".</span></div>
<br />
Raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens… I asked my students this week to list their favorite photographed things, emphasis on photographed. (And, of course, the inverse: things that automatically raise eyebrows or make them cranky when in photographic form.) It is useful to know what makes us let down, or put up, our guard, what makes us instantly melt or bristle. My own bright-copper-kettle pleasure points are as follows: clocks, owls, negatives, shadowy enigma, pointed anonymity, archival deep dives, dead birds, tools in deadpan still life, reworked narratives where truth is slippery, and fictions enticing. This partial list was generated while in the thrall of Ronit Porat’s <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ194" target="_blank">Hunting in Time</a></i> — as if this book wrote this list for me, reminding me of each and then sequentially checking the boxes.
<br /><br />
This is the tale of a murder. Almost a century ago, several teenagers attempted to rob a clockmaker in Weimar Berlin, and he wound up dead. No pun intended. A cacophony of midnight-clanging clocks interrupted the robbery, the perpetrators were spooked, the clockmaker was killed. He had a side gig, dabbling in producing pornographic photographic material in the back room, often starring… you guessed it, one of the future murder suspects. Lengthy — and internationally publicized — murder trials ensued, invoking sexual deviance and underage consent, as well as the ethical foundations of a society in flux.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5InAP3e-lE85LnaS9uR_qM7WBLkPA7v9w03xADWVa5pS_MfhUIPEB6h1P4nqDBDx6sx-waosRrE42uhwuQKkWLON5tHE9S-TIeh3kY1R091GZg91OMrF1-dB8Tno8HVB-J3Zez3EvufgoRrF6BN8l6JpIX2nzMhIn41qaj6qwrb45VnZV1g5N50yJ2Gw/s625/RP3-1024x654.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="460" data-original-width="625" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5InAP3e-lE85LnaS9uR_qM7WBLkPA7v9w03xADWVa5pS_MfhUIPEB6h1P4nqDBDx6sx-waosRrE42uhwuQKkWLON5tHE9S-TIeh3kY1R091GZg91OMrF1-dB8Tno8HVB-J3Zez3EvufgoRrF6BN8l6JpIX2nzMhIn41qaj6qwrb45VnZV1g5N50yJ2Gw/w640-h472/RP3-1024x654.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />I said this was a tale, but it is not exactly a narrative. This book is based in multiple exhibitions that the author put together based in and around the archival record of this murder. An essay by Ines Weizman provides a larger societal framework for the murder and its aftermath, helping to contextualize much of the photographic material that Porat was able to mine, as well as her methodological approach. Gender politics are invoked, as is encroaching Nazism, biological clocks, trauma, and the tale of a box of stereoscopic photographs that were supposed to be burned but were not.
<br /><br />
Composed of an astonishing breadth of photographic source material, the images weave a complicated and haunting web of associative thought and non-linear pathways. The murdered clockmaker’s photographic record of an obsession with young women serves as a starting point, as do images sourced from contemporaneous publications supporting a then-burgeoning interest in studies of criminal psychology. Fashion magazines, supply catalogues and patent application sketches (handcuffs, corsets) all add to Porat’s repository of suggestive enigma. There are stern owl eyes, limp dangling rabbits, birds in flight and birds on hands, female bodies in motion and female bodies at rest, watchmaking and surgical implements, gloved hands, and cigarettes.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_F53K9Fig3D0MZ4A_Clc4Orni4o-jRuaivcrIteTrmntLmqus_0UdTTznQcICuZt5id4G9IXIZS55qoKM5Gpg3q1oNgvL_uxSSKVyI3yOUqf9HgMR-D3JAK7kX2Q00TF1IFG_x-Je8YWdEJr1ykLZnQ4KJ4bf_96YFGxgGv38XdhpxD_CWtByzzQM2o/s614/RP6-min-1-1024x654.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="443" data-original-width="614" height="462" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_F53K9Fig3D0MZ4A_Clc4Orni4o-jRuaivcrIteTrmntLmqus_0UdTTznQcICuZt5id4G9IXIZS55qoKM5Gpg3q1oNgvL_uxSSKVyI3yOUqf9HgMR-D3JAK7kX2Q00TF1IFG_x-Je8YWdEJr1ykLZnQ4KJ4bf_96YFGxgGv38XdhpxD_CWtByzzQM2o/w640-h462/RP6-min-1-1024x654.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Meticulous documentation of the photographic source material lies enticingly at the back of the book. I spent a not-insignificant amount of time indulging in scratching the itch of the raison d’être of each photograph. Sources range from Ilse Bing to eBay and from Walker Evans to Etsy; <i>photographer unknown</i> was responsible for many. The artist absorbed and physically translated each gleaned photograph with equal-opportunity care; a photograph of a chastity belt in a Parisian museum was lifted from howstuffworks.com and rendered as a negative, followed two pages later by the swan half of Francesca Woodman’s interpretation of Leda and the Swan, similarly inverted and astonishingly arresting. Each image is absorbed into the visual logic of the whole. Singular photographs coexist with multiple exposures and spliced montages; the intermingling of whole and fragment, comfort and danger, predator and prey is allowed to mirror the murky confusion of the tale itself. A rich gamut of monochrome possibilities is represented, simultaneously luminous and shadowy, with tonal ranges in shades of gray, permutations of sepia, and purple-browns.
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB11D2MT9F_NLQnrpBw1utoY99kxtl31n0jBuqQ1NLcIFqLJolMCGLRhHAVlZPXNGh4XLEPHXwX6TodRHrHdCXXAcj3ZKSEO60Bv-pPqvet0SiFozFHseOSkwAIKHnJjUPZq8y_8AolR7GOiFrshhiyjzbX738PGBJ2Y-Z958SsIgzIsRPfMy0l24z-2w/s618/RP4-1024x654.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="449" data-original-width="618" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB11D2MT9F_NLQnrpBw1utoY99kxtl31n0jBuqQ1NLcIFqLJolMCGLRhHAVlZPXNGh4XLEPHXwX6TodRHrHdCXXAcj3ZKSEO60Bv-pPqvet0SiFozFHseOSkwAIKHnJjUPZq8y_8AolR7GOiFrshhiyjzbX738PGBJ2Y-Z958SsIgzIsRPfMy0l24z-2w/w640-h464/RP4-1024x654.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />There is no true-crime-podcast resolution here, neither redemption nor indictment for any of the protagonists. Within this humble, linen-bound cover, I read an invitation to speculate on the power of the archive, and a simultaneous reminder of its inherent futility. Or, our own photographic gaze and its consequences (as maker or audience) is as unreliable, and influenced by cultural milieu, as that of the many photographs produced in and around the murder of a clockmaker-pornographer in Berlin, a century ago. And these photographic musings are a few of my favorite things.
<br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=IZ194" target="_blank"><b>Purchase Book</b></a><br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://blog.photoeye.com/search/label/Book%20Reviews" target="_blank">Read More Book Reviews</a></b>
<br /><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXa_VYXqkXEX95PATi_7OIVRaWHuFa2JqiE3jdfW_p3Porz7jx6ghzkaA48RzMZq-_xs-lKjhLpcNe8Bd-Ow5_0tg9U_U9P7XDnjNBlkyMJRMJqqNp2mNwzgNirgmXIpbfKy1YWFvKyEKJb548-c_i2nyv9US21xwGrwiV3vqsnagA9hz36xrNoKET4Vo/s619/RP7-min-1024x654.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="455" data-original-width="619" height="470" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXa_VYXqkXEX95PATi_7OIVRaWHuFa2JqiE3jdfW_p3Porz7jx6ghzkaA48RzMZq-_xs-lKjhLpcNe8Bd-Ow5_0tg9U_U9P7XDnjNBlkyMJRMJqqNp2mNwzgNirgmXIpbfKy1YWFvKyEKJb548-c_i2nyv9US21xwGrwiV3vqsnagA9hz36xrNoKET4Vo/w640-h470/RP7-min-1024x654.jpeg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="424" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhH4Es5feMUDw7Rk5zvaU6ly2Cvrgg0eriM1nJsquzDQOLQME8B5OP2agbkYpsRnH6wL3uD2QAmGVBGSO1JDM0cUNz_A-It_qeScdRAB2jk9j5Yvp7-spGIYx3as-GGavAm8DB6b8Xx0Gs3WTRrSEJF4DCKU6AT_gSwgEucHFrWHQ6_sAgqwavw5cJ=w133-h200" width="133" /></div>
<b>Meggan Gould</b> is an artist living and working outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico, where she is an Associate Professor of Art at the University of New Mexico. She is a graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,, the SALT Institute for Documentary Studies, and Speos (Paris Photographic Institute), where she finally began her studies in photography. She received an MFA in photography from the University of Massachusetts — Dartmouth. She recently wrote a book, <i><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/bookstore/citation.cfm?catalog=ZJ948" target="_blank">Sorry, No Pictures</a></i>, about her own relationship to photography.
<br />
Owenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13712630169488397329noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7308462812779999986.post-16172285267084551282023-09-28T12:32:00.005-06:002023-09-28T12:42:45.288-06:00New Work by David H. Gibson <!--FEATURED POST HEADER INFO-->
<div style="display: none;">
<span id="xTag">photo-eye Gallery</span>
<span id="xTitle">New Work by David H. Gibson</span>
<span id="xAuthors">PHOTO-EYE GALLERY</span>
<span id="xReviewer"></span>
<span id="xSummary">photo-eye is thrilled to share new work by David H. Gibson</span></div>
<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david%20h.-gibson/index?image=1&id=13048&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio17&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage022" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg95a-PTf_MWc_w-Rxh5QVhxQnKNW7nX4R-jHWljI_iIkJs3YwMdJ-Vxji8jvJrunK-oedInEFHpG88H2VmoK2Gp2je3gvWhFbwNXpnPjmrH7fvaU0jgpNZ82xGQSkZmulKhDU8aCAvQ9a0gi_JN7ih26lZzjIvMzv0Rs3WBVF5qlphb9-S4Xr0-M01lyU/w640-h160/DG1877%20Sunrise%20Moments%252c%20August%2027%252c%202022%252c%207-23-48%20a.m.%252c%20Eagle%20Nest%20Lake%252c%20New%20Mexico%2022%208033-8035.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david%20h.-gibson/index?image=1&id=13048&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio17&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage022" target="_blank"><i>Sunrise Moments, August 27, 2022, 7:23:48 a.m, Eagle Nest Lake, NM</i><br />10x40 in. Archival Pigment Ink Print, Editon of 25, $1200</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p style="font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">For David H. Gibson, making photographs is "a constant process of experiencing the unexpected…like listening to music with its structure of sound forming and unfolding during performance."</p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david%20h.-gibson/index?image=1&id=13048&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio17&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage023" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="1200" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4XgWPGuOaso5IZkNpPVLo4BGD4SlD4jY02f9nJlWvVUnHS9RRmBVgg2127cOPTyWyfCc08UrAZCoyacePP9BWikonUFUotSqsRn0tW1hT6qtT9MAXtNF8OVf1SSycgcCQtHPDn9yJxW1HgluJdRiimHLQvs0XjY9X35ly-FkMb7Mp_hRwn3FiS7ENzrY/w640-h160/DG1885%20Sunrise%20Moments%252c%20August%2027%252c%202022%252c%207-33-43%20a.m.%252c%20Eagle%20Nest%20Lake%252c%20New%20Mexico%2022%208060-8062.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david%20h.-gibson/index?image=1&id=13048&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio17&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage023" target="_blank"><i>Sunrise Moments, August 27, 2022, 7:33:43 a.m, Eagle Nest Lake, NM</i><br />10x40 in. Archival Pigment Ink Print, Editon of 25, $1200</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br />
<p style="font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">Every August, David H. Gibson packs his camera and heads to New Mexico to continue a project he has been working on for at least two decades — photographing Eagle Nest Lake in the early hours of the day. David seeks to capture the ever-changing lake in his photos, each representing a unique moment in time, recording nature's artistry...</p><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david%20h.-gibson/index?image=1&id=13048&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio17&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage024" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="130" data-original-width="1200" height="70" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBUSEcHx9zFyCtRjUOJjYNXByLg_tDsVZeJwVVoDqUjQstW9flVXUzqJ1W0D3UOgkkjUnbo8hrOgpaY9p5mom4wVbvufnt0vbvL5BVMuosiPpJYO-4Q2BVDjGqOE3USi0-vJrnGOt5YFHOSBM_XqkANyhFcSXB0oZpsKaBWbSMReCeari0mrc7Dd8QETg/w640-h70/DG1886%20Sunrise%20Moments%252c%20August%2031%252c%202022%252c%206-59-01%20a.m.%252c%20Eagle%20Nest%20Lake%252c%20New%20Mexico%2022%208156-8162.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david%20h.-gibson/index?image=1&id=13048&imagePosition=1&Door=1&Portfolio=Portfolio17&Gallery=1&Page=#LBimage024" target="_blank"><i>Sunrise Moments, August 31, 2022, 6:59:01 a.m, Eagle Nest Lake, NM</i><br />5x40 in. Archival Pigment Ink Print, Editon of 25, $1200</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>
<p style="font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">While the location is fixed, each minute of every morning is a different experience. Sometimes the lake is shrouded in mist, creating a mysterious and ethereal atmosphere — other times bright and sparkling, dark and stormy, or calm and peaceful...but every experience is different and memorable.<br />
</p></div>
<h4 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/artists/david%20h.-gibson/homepage?id=13048&door=1&Gallery=1&Page=" target="_blank">>>View more work by David H. Gibson<< </a></span></h4><br />
<h4 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blog.photoeye.com/search?q=David+H.+Gibson&x=12&y=9" target="_blank">>>Learn more about David H. Gibson<< </a></span></h4><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>
<p style="text-align: center;">* * *<br /><br />
PRINT COSTS ARE CURRENT UP TO THE TIME OF POSTING AND ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE.<br />
<br />* * *<br /><br />
If you are in Santa Fe, please stop by we are open Tuesday– Saturday, from 10am- 5:30pm. <br /><br />
<a href="https://www.photoeye.com/gallery/">PHOTO-EYE GALLERY</a><br />
1300 Rufina Circle, Unit A3, Santa Fe, NM 87507<br /><br />
</p>
<p style="text-align: center;">For more information, and to reserve one of these unique works, please contact <br />
Gallery Director <a href="mailto:anne@photoeye.com"><span class="s1">Anne Kelly</span></a><br /><br />
You may also call us at (505) 988-5152 x202</p>
<br /><Br />Galleryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07898430015572158694noreply@blogger.com