"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.
"I hear the sound of victory. I hear the sound of victory. I hear the sound of victory”. 1976, the centenary-a procrastinator's wet dream"
The kids are smiling, their bodies are interlaced within the disused tire mound and the coyote snarls staring
Mimi Plumb’s The White Sky (Stanley/Barker, 2020) is the excellent follow-up to her much acclaimed Landfall (TBW, 2018). The White Sky continues to mine her archive of California and the social and psychological terrain of the 70’s American West. The book is somehow a little less about spectacle than Landfall was and in many ways, this adds layers to her vision. Instead of a stellar flow of single overly strong images, which worked as perfect introduction to Mimi’s work, with The White Sky there is something more subtle at play. That is not to suggest the images are less attractive or that they do not stand on their own, but there feels like a more cohesive thread between the images of children and the 70’s Californian landscape that they inhabit than previously seen.
Laurie Blakeslee’s photography is a poignant look inside family, memory and loss, capturing moments of her aging parents and their consuming passions. Laurie was the first person I met when I moved to Idaho from Arkansas. Actually, we met before I moved
Laurie Blakeslee’s photography is a poignant look inside family, memory and loss, capturing moments of her aging parents and their consuming passions. Laurie was the first person I met when I moved to Idaho from Arkansas. Actually, we met before I moved, at a national Society for Photographic Education conference and I count myself very lucky to have her be my introduction to Boise. I thoroughly enjoy Laurie’s ability to capture the quiet complexities of family and the weight her images give to the simplest things.
Born in America and raised in Juárez, Mexico, photographer Claudia Lopez charts the narratives that trace back and forth over the border that separates Lopez and her family from the city that will always be her first home. Like many others, Lopez and her
Zanele Muholi teases apart one of her favorite images from her 2016 series of self-portraits in an exclusive conversation with LensCulture
South African photographer (and self-titled visual activist) Zanele Muholi has gained international recognition for her direct, powerful imagery. Muholi devoted years to a body of work called Faces and Phases (2006-2016), in which she directed her camera towards members of the black lesbian and trans community in South Africa. Muholi has exposed herself to innumerable acts of aggression and violence during the course of her career. Despite this, she continues to pursue her work, in part to insist on a visual history and visibility for members of her long-overlooked community.
"In contrast to the concrete metaphors in the urban architecture and the materiality of construction, the bodies and flesh of the workers on the beach refer to something humane: of the flesh, tactile and intimate, something that is deeply lacking in these
“In contrast to the concrete metaphors in the urban architecture and the materiality of construction, the bodies and flesh of the workers on the beach refer to the humane: of the flesh, tactile and intimate, something that is deeply lacking in these otherwise isolated lives.”