Dialogues: 36 Photographs & 20 Poems is a new publication from 205-A and the first book in a series that explores the intersection between photography and poetry. The publishers, Aaron Stern and Jordan Sullivan worked in collaboration with poets Tom Sleigh and Will Schutt to bring together these unique pairings. The book features the photography of Ed van der Elsken, Alex Webb and Rebecca Norris Webb, Alain Laboile, Emma Phillips, Mark Borthwick, Brian Merriam, Coley Brown, Jordan Sullivan and Aaron Stern.
As a teenager Joseph Nakaha fled with his parents to neighboring Tanzania when ethnic-based fighting erupted in Burundi after independence in 1962. In 1972, he was a refugee again and then in 1993 when civil war broke out, he and his wife and grandchildren again fled the country.
Now 67, Nakaha is a refugee once again.
Timothy Fadek, who used to go to the bar, on East 60th Street and Lexington Avenue, felt a twinge of melancholy when he learned it was to close last December and be replaced by — what else? — condos. He set about to chronicle the last days of the place that had been a regular stop on his way home from the School of Visual Arts in the late 1990s.
Margaret Bourke-White was a pioneering figure in 20th century documentary photography. As a founding mother of LIFE, she became a world-famous symbol of globe-trotting photojournalism. And that she did it in a male world made her success even more spectacular
When Korean-born photographer Hatnim Lee was a child, her parents’ Washington, D.C. liquor store was a home away from home. She was an infant when her parents moved to the United States to open up shop, and she spent much of her childhood chipping in and
Sally Mann doesn’t believe in talent. She believes in hard work. The kind of work it takes to ride unruly horses, to hoist an 8x10 camera, to constantly fend off controversy, and to write an honest book about a complicated existence.
These here are some real New York ladies.” Nobody had ever come to my defense like this. It was a snowy January afternoon. The weather was cold but the mood was cheerful. Jill and I had just left her apartment in Harlem, near West 100th street, Morningside Park and the majestic cathedral that overlooks it. We were headed to the other side of Central Park, towards 70th street. In New York, you can only tickets for the bus with small change, which you usually only need for laundromats. Standing across from the stony-faced driver, I was digging in my pockets for a few more coins. “Just take a seat,” Jill said. “The drivers won’t care, he’s used to it.
Deserted streets with beer cans blowing down the road…a cowboy washing his shirts…a train on its way into a million acres of emptiness…a Vietnam vet who lost twenty years of recent memory…a whole town for sale…meth warnings...a tattooed waitress in neon light. All of these inhabit the Last Best Hiding Place.