Pairing extracts of pages from her personal diaries with portraits of young women in their teens, the American photographer paints a candid picture around the complexity of growing up.
The placement of Templeton’s accounts and the photographs was carefully considered, to ensure no mistakes were made with regard to associating particular words with specific images. She was especially mindful of sequencing. “I didn’t want to place any entry I thought was really sensitive next to a person,” she says. “I didn’t want any misinterpretations.” By candidly revealing her intimate thoughts and reflections, Templeton de-stigmatises subjects which too often go undiscussed, demonstrating a path through even the most difficult times.
“This amazing compendium of photographs celebrating the Golden State is truly a love letter to California. One hundred and ten photographers offer intriguing photographs and perspectives on our special sliver of the west coast. At a time of Covid, wildfi
It is a brave individual who is willing to take on a visual exploration of the entire state of California, especially a state that has landscape ranging from the sublime to the more sublime–landscape, people, and places that sit along a spectacular coastline, landscapes that include iconic National Parks and mountain ranges, landscapes that move across deserts and fields of agriculture. But alas, artist and curator Michael Rababy took it all on, and the result is a new book, California Love: A Visual Mixtape, showcasing a stunning collection of work by 110 California-based photographers in 320 pages with 608 images. The book reveals a shared appreciation and alignment for all that makes this west coast state the storytelling, dream-holding place that it is. The images are as varied stylistically as the state is geographically, and reflect the people, places, and personality that help define California.
Last summer, the photojournalist and animal rights activist Konrad Lozinski went undercover to document life inside an integrated pig fattening barn in Poland. “This photo was taken during the daytime,…
When I drive through the streets of Los Angeles, I am overwhelmed by the homeless encampments that are literally everywhere–in door ways, under freeway over passes, in every park in the city–clusters of tents are now a ubiquitous part of the landscape. Co
"The Seven Cities" is the third in his series called "The Invisible Yoke." Here he looks at the people and places of Hampton Roads, and at the weight of memory.
Eich’s latest photography book, “The Seven Cities,” is a look at the places and people that make up Hampton Roads. It shows the variety that anyone can discover in an hour’s drive from an oyster roast in Suffolk to a Russian Orthodox Church service in Virginia Beach to an Amtrak bus station stop in Newport News. It also illuminates the grief, hope, anxiety and laughter of its people.
"I actually have no idea what street photography is, but I can oddly sense its look-off-tilted cameras, bit of asphalt, coupla ppl, maybe a mean looking dog, some bit of crazy occurring in the corners, some action as it were"
It is becoming
I began this review with these questions in mind, mostly in passing as they reflect the cacophony and performance of Mihai Baranbancea’s incredibly chaotic and brilliant Falling On Blades (Edition Patrick Frey, 2020). The book is thick tome full of intense images of Barabancea’s Romania. It is in colour and likely shot through a Yashica T4 or Contax-some form of small compact camera that allows the artist close access to the innumerable scenes of wild Romania. I tend to think of this kind of work once belonging to Vice in the early 2000s and that is not a slight against Mihai-in fact, that would have been about the timeframe when Vice was equally chaotic and sociologically-speaking was pushing boundaries that now in 2020 that as a news organisation look slightly faded and increasingly unnecessary. I am reminded of Peter Sutherland, Dash Snow etc. when I look at Mihai’s work. He has an access to Romania that outsiders do not and you can feel the low-light and flash-induced images in all their fast-paced glory. There is an anxiety involved. There is a palpable danger and a return to risk-taking that seems to have gone missing over the past decade.
"The picture stays in the kid. Tell heaven don’t wait for me"
What is an image produced if not the perversion of self either in or out of frame? Authorship is dictatorship, no? What to do with a pare?
Game Over, and if this isn’t an obvi
Pardon me while I bloviate awkwardly regarding the magnificent efforts of David Billet & Ian Kline’s Rabbit /Hare published by Deadbeat Club in the year of our Ford, 2020 (Technically). The book is packed with singular impacting images that show a Texas of the mind instead of a pre-packaged land of people built on simple historic myth and the stereotypes that one reaches for in the mind if unfamiliar. Sure, there are cowboys. They are African American and often women. There isn’t a piece of BBQ in sight, but the natural world rages upon the frame from aviary flights of fancy to the car’s rearview window to the feline onslaught reaching for similar prey. There are hints of religious experience, the ecstasy of which is being carried out by a girl holding her nose underwater and another man dreamily laying against the ground in nocturnal bliss.