“Glory to the hawks and their awing ways, moderate, and high.” These are the last words uttered in Kovi Konowiecki’s poem named for his series of photos, The Hawks Come Up Before the Sun. The images that follow feel like isolated chapters bound by the geo
“Glory to the hawks and their awing ways, moderate, and high.” These are the last words uttered in Kovi Konowiecki’s poem named for his series of photos, The Hawks Come Up Before the Sun. The images that follow feel like isolated chapters bound by the geography of the California desert and a tangled web human relationships. Konowiecki who originally hails from Long Beach, CA, is an outsider to this place of arid vastness and solitude. Yet, his empathetic eye and ability to conjure nuance and narrative from a series of single and at times disparate images might convince you otherwise. Rather than a statement, these sunsoaked depictions feel like the exploration of a place as internal as it is tangible. A myriad of quiet encounters elevated by the camera amidst an expanse of dusky brush and cracked highway.
