This publication is mode possible with public funds from the New York State Council on the Arts, the Institute of Museum and Library Services, the National Endowment for the Arts, Center members, donors, subscribe~s, and our PQ, advertisers. Thank you.
NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE ARTS
CPW STAFF
Executive Director, Ariel Shanberg
Program Director, Kate Menconeri
Assistant Director, Larry Lewis
Development Director, Kathleen Kenyon (on-leave)
Arts Administration Intern, Karen Schlessinger
DIRECTOR EMERITUS
Colleen Kenyon
BOARD OF DIRECTORS
Peter Brandt, Sarah Hasted, David Karp, David Maloney, Kitty McCullough, Yossi Milo, Sarah Morthland, Dion Ogust, Robert Peacock, Platon, Kathleen Ruiz, Alan Siegel, Gerald Slota, Bob Wagner
ADVISORY BOARD
Philip Cavanaugh, Susan Edwards, Susan Ferris, Julie Galant, Howard Greenberg - Founder.Sue Hartshorn,W.M. Hunt, Doug James,Greg Kandel, Ellen Levy, Peter MacGill, Marcia Reid Marsted, Elliott Meisel, Jeffrey Milstein, Ann Morse, Gloria Nimetz, Sandra Phillips, Lilo Raymond, Ernestine Ruben, Neil Trager, Rick Wester
PHOTOGRAPHY Quarterly #87, Vol. 21, No.2. ISSN 0890 4639.
Copyright © 2003. Center for Photography at Woodstock, 59 Tinker Street, Woodstock, NY 12498.
Text © 2003 Colleen Kenyon, Paul Anthony, Tulu Bayar, Kristin Buchholz, Krista Elrick, Clover Earl, Chrisian Erroi, Paola Ferrario, Danielle Goodyear, Joan Harrison,William Harroff,Yancey Hughes, Dorothy lmagire,Jim Knipe, Katharine Kerisher,Janelle Lynch.Thomas McGovern.Andrea Meyers, Stacy Renee Morrison, Nobuko Oyhabum Mary Pockock, Trina Porte, Carla Shapiro, Brian Sullivan, Mayumi Terada, Hong-An Truong, Kelly Watts, ShoshannahWhite,
All photographs and texts reproduced in this Quarterly are copyrighted by the artists. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the Center for Photography. The opinions and ideas expressed in this publication do not represent official positions of the Center. Printing by Meridian, East Greenwich, RI. Editors, Kate Menconeri, Ariel Shanberg,and Kathleen Kenyon (on-leave). Composition by Digital Design Studio, Kingston, NY. The PHOTOGRAPHY Quarterly is distributed by Ubiquity Distributors, Brooklyn, NY.
SUBSCRIBE: to receive the PHOTOGRAPHY Quarterly four times a year USA $25 / Canada & Mexico $40 / International $45. Please make checks payable to CPW; MC & VISA accepted.T 845 679 9957 IF 845 679 6337 I info@cpw.org / www.cpw.org
Once Upon a Time colleen kenyon 4-16
This article showcases work by contemporary photographers and writers whose lives have been abruptly impacted by sudden change. Such circumstances include the onset of serious illness - physical and emotional, death of loved ones, loss of home, economic distress, accidents, rape, and more.
The question Once Upon a Time asks is, when faced with astonishing life situations how do artists cope? Understanding these events can be mysterious and overwhelming. Does one stop making art or begin again in a new way?
When "normal" life stops, the "fairy tale" ends.The artists and writers in this feature tell the journey of healing.This is the next chapter of the story. Making images and writing about their experience, they show the paths they have taken in grappling with their obstacles.
Extremes of high and low can add a dimension to artists faced with trauma - they may become more open to the extremes and
contradictions of life - perhaps more open to novel connections and associations.
These photographers and writers depicthow in times of turmoil - they use the creation of art as gesture of faith in their healing process. In times of despair, is making artwork a meditation through which we deepen our spirit? What can we see and gain by viewing the work?
All of us live now in a tumultuous moment where unexpected events affect our lives. Making art and viewing it are ways to bring order to our personal lives and be reminded again that each one of us can act to bring about a more harmonious world.
Human creativity is a wellspring of hope for our culture. As we confront seemingly insurmountable problems, we need to remind ourselves that positive solutions can and do appear -often like magic - from the creativity within each of us.
If you cry enough, will your tears become a beautiful waterfall?
When your heart breaks into pieces, will you be able to put it back together?
If your mind becomes muddled by eccentric patterns and messages,will you ever speak the language of sense again?
When you lose your dearest friend, will you find them in the maze?
If your body is taken over by intruders, will you locate the secret code to hold them at bay?
When your stars go out of control, will you be able to construct a new universe?
If you hold up a mirror, will it reflect your light?
Yes,artists can do that.
-Colleen Kenyon, 2003
Once Upon a Time artists were featured in on exhibition of the some title curated by Kenyon at CPW January I 8 - Morch I 6, 2003.
(Kew Gardens, NY)
Life Is I The most traumatic experience of my life was watching the collapse of the World Trade Center. The most traumatic experience of my life was the break up of my fifteen-year marriage. The most traumatic experience of my life was to experience both less than twentyfour hours apart. A deep depression and severe migraine headaches were to follow for the next three months. How does an artist survive trauma? The photographs in this series are a record of experiencing trauma, spiritual growth, and the acceptance of necessary losses in one's life.
I began this series in the summer of 1997,triggered by my reading of Yolom's Existential Psychotherapy and the gentle but certain unraveling of my marriage.The series started as an intellectual attempt to find the equation (if not the solution) to the problems of my life; it soon transformed itself into a visual diary over a period of five years. After September I I, it became my obsession; producing each image was a therapeutic encounter. If I accept that my life is a mirror of countless other lives and that my experiences are anything but unique, then the work takes on a universal quality. The events of September I I substantiated that belief. I grieved with countless others who lost so much that day.
It has taken me more than eight months to write anything about the collapse ofWTC, or the breakup of my marriage. Both seem to be forever connected. I met my wife fifteen years ago in the lobby ofWTC 2 on the fourth of July 1986and left her home on September 12,200 I. By then the gleaming giants had become tombstones. Life is ironic.
Withinsight I Long befor~ I was diagnosec and treated for thyroid cancer, my photographs hinted toward mystery and irony within relationships.After the experience, these themes became central to my image making. I call this portfolio Withinsight because of the implied double meaning. "Within sight" refers to the familial subjects that surround my physical and emotional space, and "with insight" suggests the vision that comes from memories and the knowledge gained after a personal crisis.
Nearly four years ago my life changed forever. Mid-way through a routine annual check up, my doctor asked me about a lump on my neck. "What lump?" was my first response. Within that nstant, my life was taken over by tests, surgery, and radiation treatment. Four months later my body started to become mine again. At first all I wanted to do was spend time with close "riends in exotic places. I didn't photograph anything except th_e clouds drifting past my home. Then, the effects from the radiaEmerging. from the series Withinsight. 2001 toned gelatin silver print tion began to settle in and change my body. Now, common activities and foods that I took for granted are no longer part of my life. Finding the right mixture has been my challenge these past three years.
Living with cancer is a journey. There are many gifts and lessons to learn every day. My cancer has brought me to many freedoms; mainly the ability to live with uncertainty and to embrace the mystery of the unknown.
The Worst Would Be Time / In the decade between the late 1980s and the early 1990s I had a series of neurological problems that changed me.
All of a sudden every connection and link I had naturally and unconsciously learned and built around myself was either trembling or gone.
For quite a long time I've analyzed myself, using photography to visualize my emotions and help me see my boundaries more clearly.
Referring to the five senses and using them as guidelines lead me to the visual language I am currently using. Contemplation, redundancy, stillness,and time are the tools I used to first understand and then express different levels of consciousness.
INHERITANCE:The Elder Relatives series/ My inheritance consisted of some money, a collection of scarred paintings, two old pugs with putrid breath, and a seventy year old aunt with a weak and broken heart. The walls of the house hadn't been painted in almost twenty years. Magazines hadn't been thrown out or recycled for ten years. My aunt's heart and kidney were failing because of heavy dosages of wrongly prescribed medications.
I spent two summers between the public dump and the hospital. In the house, I coordinated crews of workers while trying to console my aunt, who kept clinging to the past that was gone.They say that life is a circle, not a straight line. In those two summers, this thought generated fear and anxiety for me. I was afraid to work and find myself at the starting point all over again.I found myself on somebody else's circumference and as I divided many numbers by 1T, I could not find the measure of the ray and the position of my center. In those days, I photographed to survive and to be reminded of who I was. I photographed to pay tribute to my ancestors that were no more.
A fine heart specialist and a successful bypass operation brought my aunt back to good health. Stucco and paint revived the apartment walls. Life is back to normal now, but my photographic triptychs haunt me. They are the evidence of those times in life when one is exposed to the ephemeral nature of existence, and moments of JOYare immediately followed by the fear of loss.
(Woodcliff Lake, NJ)
Persephone series / My life experiences have led me on a photographic journey of the perplexity of life and death.The presence of great losses has drawn me to further confront the idea of absence. I have searched out quiet, intricate, and solitary places in hopes of gaining an understanding of the significance and manifestations of life. The camera and the way I compose the world around me act as solace and a means for healing and survival. To my surprise, what has developed is a photographic representation of my existential journey that greatly parallels the Greek myth of Persephone and her continual passage into the underworld.
My photographs can be interpreted as self-portraits that reflect life exoeriences. My progression and development as an artist have paralleled my growth through the process of grief. My earliest images emphasized fragmentation and absence rather then continuity and presence. As I began to surface from the silence, so did my images.The skeletal suggestions of the images became fleshed out with light, movement, shadows, and depth. Strong contrasts emerged symbolizing my gradual acceptance of life and death, light and dark, and good and evil.The last step I took was to symbolically enter my photographs in the form of a shadow. I breathed a playful, spirited presence into my images.
These images are part of a visual recounting of my passage through menopau'se, breast cancer treatment, and healing modalities. I hope they will lend support to the legions of others walking a similar path.
The images are dedicated to my beloved husband and children, to my doctors and the health professionals who have helped and continue to help me, and to my family, friends, students, and all the strangers who have lent me so much support - especially to the sales lady in Target who gave me a huge hug and told me her own story when I most needed to hear it
An Unfolding Story I My life changed forever on November 22, 1989. On that date, I contracted an illness that, for six years, left me flat on my back in severe chronic pain and still affects me today. I couldn't work. My savings quickly evaporated. Depression developed. I examined the possibility of being bed-ridden for the rest of my life. Technology seemed my only choice for employment and the continuation of my career. I was mot vated, but transformation was required on many levels.
Over time, I came to realize that I had to go on creating in order to survive physically and emotionally. One valuable resource I had in abundance was
time. Other than melancholy and a prescription drug-induced state, my mind was unimpaired. My hands were shaky from the pain, but otherwise fully functional. Those times I had to remain prone, my chest could serve as my drawing table and workspace as long as I kept the scale small.Though I didn't realize it at the moment, I had the necessary resources to give my creative life renewed purpose and, eventually, it's greatest success.
My digital prints often make people laugh,then think. Both are healthy, life-affirming methods of addressing the difficult contemporary issues represented in the works. Humor and playfulness act as gates that help individuals open up to new perspectives,while anger and confrontation function only as barriers.Through faith, love, and extensive physical therapy, I began a slow recovery seven years ago.The work presented here originated and developed during this "painful period." My once desperate choice has blossomed into true healing and an invigorating career path.
Creatively I felt like I had fallen off an abyss, and my frustration led to a sense of futility, paralysis, and despair. I became terribly depressed.
I began what has now become a long engagement with various psychiatrists and therapists. After a few years of psychotropic medication, I felt much better and quit the regimen prescribed to me. This threw me into a state of hypomania and I ended up in a psychiatric hospital for eleven days. My diagnosis was changed from acute depression to bipolar disorder and I will perhaps have to continue with medications for the rest of my life.
Prior to this episode of darkness, I had never seen myself as a suitable subject for personal work. Self-portraits seemed to be either self aggrandizing or narcissistic. My crisis created a desire to look into myself, to try to peer inwards in an attempt to discover what had gone wrong with my psyche. I wanted to show the psychic pain of my illness.I was hopeful that if I could capture it, I might understand it more fully. I hope that these images capture a semblance of the distress a victim of this illness must endure. And yet, I also hope that they exemplify how the creative act can help to restore a person to wholeness when life, at times, seems unbearable.
(Schenevus,NY)
Trauma: CRASH I On February 18, 2000, around 6 pm in a snowstorm, the rear wheels of a tractor-trailer ran over the Subaru I was driving when the truck passed me at high speed on 1-88 near Oneonta, NY. I experienced the crash in slow motion vision as the huge spinning truck wheel moved toward me. Then there was a loud crack and a white light filled the truck with a glowing silence.When I opened my eyes, my car was on the side of the road and I could get out. The gray snowy day was transformed; everything was sunny,clear dry and bright. I didn't cry even when they were putting staples in the back of my head at the hospital. I was completely calm and remained so for five months.
And I was in shock.When it wore off several months later I became anxious and distracted. I cried easily. I was afraid to drive. I started having trouble accomplishing anything. I began treatment for post-traumatic stress.When I could work on art again, I found that
I'd lost my earlier thread. I started a series of tiny collages I could make while lying down. These became the Unidentified Woman in reference to how I'd been described in the local newspaper.
(San Bernadina, CA)
Bearing Witness (to AIDS) I In 1986 I learned that a group of men with whom I had lived in college in the I 970's had all died from AIDS. They were gay and rented space to me in their large suburban home outside of Washington DC., and the news of their deaths left me shaken -not only because of my fond memories of them but because we all had participated in the promiscuous sex and drug use of the time. To this day I wonder why I was spared the fate of my friends.
Due to this unanswer2.blequestion I decided to focus my work as a photographer on people living with AIDS. As I met and photographed more and more people with the disease, I became struck with their diversity and uniqueness. I have come to feel that the stories I am told and the pictures that I make are precious objects and mementos of a rapidly changing time and place. My role has shifted from documentarian to historian and from observer to caretaker
(New York, NY and Mexico DF)
House/Home I Until age ten, I lived in the western New York house where the images were made. While I approached the work with the subjectivity of one iri an intimately familiar environment, I also approached it with the objective remove of a documentarian. I paid particular attention to the formal qualities of the subjects, and sought evidence of age and neglect: stains, missing fixtures, antiquated materials and styles.
The images in House/Home - void of traces of occupancy -also suggest absence and abandonment: folded chairs, a bare mattress. Central in my work are these themes, in addition to impermanence, change, memory, and loss.
Stairs,200 I, c-print(San Francisco,CA)
holdingback,no more
it is a weeknight, like any other; darkroom chemistry lingers in the air:
side by side, we create in your studio it used to providesuch pleasure.
smudges of yellow paint cover your face, you run out to grab a couple of burritos,
as you had done countlesstimes before.
i've lost track of the number of meals we've shared here.
you are gone a remarkably long time. upon returning, you toss a bag of food on the counter listing the contents with annoyance in your voice.
it seems you can barely tolerate my presence 1n your space anymore.
i pretend everything is normal and don't say a word.
you must have known, had some idea, that your decision to exclude me would have an affect.
i stewed for days, bothered by your indiscretion. i allowed it to build, until it took on a life of its own.
it would have saved a whole lot of heartache, if i had simply said at the time, fuck you.
Daily amnesia settles over life piecemeal. In gutters, it is only rotting fruit that stinks where leaves fan out in non-blood red. Death becomes something natural and quiet again. Feeling guilty and lucky, I don't clench up each night facing an empty chair; I can watch the news for Yankee scores and nothing more. The vacuum left by September I I th still puts me there and Sinatra blares out melodic optimism. Once again, I forget to make airline reservations, thinking it can wait
TornadoI Molested
deadly silence then crushing chaos until all safety blows apart before you
her childhood split in two
like a lamppost by a blade of wheat
once nourishedeach new day she'd reach into life as into bowls of candy
now lethal days implode in her like burstingatoms that instantlyclear landscapes of all life signs
we have the radar we've all practiced what to do so why do we ignore those screaming sirens and simply run to see the damage
(Mrnneapolis,MN)My work has grown out of a need to explore certain past experiences. I worked my way through memories of the time I spent in a mental hospital (as an adolescent) and this eventually led me into an intense search of the "things" that underlie these experiences.
The process of search takes place both inside and outside of the physical things I make. The "outside" involves trips to the hospital, reading what I can find on related subject matter, and looking for anything that will help me to a deeper understanding of all I search out - such as artwork, film, and architecture. The "inside" interrelates with the "outside" - but seems less direct. I tend to accumulate things in my physical work. While I am obsessed with order and composition - the "overlappings" of my "searches" become physical "overlappings" which make up several orders simultaneously.
(New York, NY)
mama's house I My maternal grandmother, Mama, has lived in the same house for over sixty years I can trace my life from girlhood to womanhood in the photographs that hang from the corkboard in her house. Mama's house is my dollhouse. It is my small sanctuary. If I stand in the living room I cari see all four outer walls. Within these walls I am the granddaughter, daughter, niece, sister, girl, and woman.
The photographs of Mama's house began during a time of great desperation and profound sadness.Composing the photographs let me float through worlds of memories in order to face the present.The camera allowed me to enter a safe and sacred space. It was a magical fairytale world where I was always young and I was always beautiful. It was a world where no matter what happened I was always loved.
(Omaha, Nebraska)
Faces of Rape & Sexual Abuse Survivors Project I Many think it will never happen to them. I was one of those many until the night my former neighbor broke into my apartment and raped me on August 9, I 999. That night I was forced to wake up to the reality - the reality I didn't see - of how easy it is for anyone to be the next victim. That night, I was forced to learn how much it hurts to be violated in a very sacred place; my womb. The offender was sentenced to twenty years in prison. I am one of the few lucky ones who got some sort of justice. But I know the majority is not so lucky.
My project reveals the inner strength of women and men who have been put to the ultimate trial of their lives. Despite being victimized, many are determined to make it through. Most, including me, are still in the healing process. I hope that it also helps break the stereotypes toward victims of sexual abuse -the survivors are both women and men, of different age groups, and various ethnic and economical backgrounds. It is not just a women's issue. Neither is it just a racial or religious issue. It is a very basic human rights issue.
There is a paradox in our acceptance of the impermanence of phenomena and our complete denial of the impermanence of our selves,including death.The day I was told I had two types of cancer on the move, my solid, comfortable relationship with the world was forever shattered. Life suddenly had become less substantial. I understood that permanence is an illusion created by repetition. Everything had become fragile - an infinity of potential lay within this fragility.We are transient, and within the fluidity of experience, we can embody the transcendent, awaken to wonder, and become chemists of our own destiny and joy.
I need to let my base se/( sleep that the resplendent may emerge (ram beyond the shadows to dance in the light o( ordinary reality.
Austin,53, Braintree,MA, FebruaryI 0, 2002, from the series Facesof Rape,2002 gelatin silver print Bone Scan,2000, c-printObituaries to Prayer Flags I I have hand copied from the New YorkTimes,2200 obituaries of people who died in the World Trade Center, Gregory Richards, Gregory Spagnoletti, and Gregory Trost are just three of the 3000 people. Each is written in black ink on white vellum, a stiff translucent paper Each will be hung outside to sway in the wind, to be rained upon and to glow in the sunshine.They will hang for months.
Over time the rain will wash away the words, the sun will bleach the
ink and the wind will move and wrinkle the vellum. Over time the sun will shine, the rain will fall, and the written word will disappear.As the ink fades under the force of weather, the papers will change from obituaries to "Prayer Flags."The obituaries will change from black words on white, to pure whiteness. I now have 2200 obituaries hanging on lines from trees. As I write each day, I plan on hanging all 3000.
I am interested in exploring popular United States cultural stereotypes, icons, and the exploitation of the general public by the mass media. I am especially disturbed by the perpetuating myth of the "All American Family" -in their perfect home, surrounded by a white picket fence, and steamy hot apple pie cooling on the window sill. In addition, the spouse is magnanimous and the three children are not only obedient and respectful, but they have also lettered on the high school sports team.
"Lies, lies, and more lies. Its not only advertisers who shame us and make us feel guilty if we don't fit the stereotypic family, it happens in grade school, our place of worship, at work, and in the government. I believe we have become a culture of hypocrisy, where 'image' is more important than the truth."
Although some of these collages appear fun and whimsical, upon closer observation a more disturbing reality begins to become evident. Underlying issues of abuse, rape, incest, and abandonment begin to emerge from one picture to the next.
To Be Born With Breasts I In my sophomore year of college I cast off my concern with the opinions of others and allowed my art to have a persqnal real life meaning. I was diagnosed with depression, anorexia, and post-traumatic stress disorder, and art became the means to convey the turbulent emotions and feelings of these conditions. My art is now cathartic. It allows me to creatively explore concepts I may otherwise be too hesitant to examine.
I use photography as a way to portray the often stark reality of life, something you may not otherwise see with just the unaided eye. The fluid sequence of life is less tangible than the singular moment I am motivated by photography's ability to relay concepts with accuracy and yet keep a degree of distance that yields an easier cognitive and passionate consumption. I am now able to explain my emotions and experiences to others who may not have before understood.
(Portland, ME)
I had a profound experience in June 200 I - a month where, seemingly,I could not stop bleeding. It started with a two week long menstrual cycle, followed by the moles on my face spontaneously dripping with blood and finally a nose bleed that was somehow monumentally symbolic of the emotional transformation I was going through.
A significant relationship had ended a few months earlier, This breakup was a puncture, a small space that allowed me to open myself up and look inside. I was on my deck reading a passage in a Jeanette Winterson book that affected me deeply and I began absolutely sobbing. (I should mention that for a number of reasons, before the end of this relationship, I had not really felt much of anything for years ... I had not allowed myself to cry in over five years.) As I was uncontrollably sobbing, suddenly I realized my nose was bleeding. I mean it was really hemorrhaging, my tee-shirt could not absorb all of the blood and I was leaving a trail as I made my way from the deck to the bathroom - crying all the way, as if symbolically -I was acknowledging my wounds. The cut of which I'd never taken the pressure off finally gave way. I bled and bled and cried and cried, watching the flow of blood and tears drain into the sink -swirling down endlessly I did not try to stop it; I somehow felt I needed to bleed. Ultimately, the bleeding stopped abruptly and immediately; I could breathe freer and deeper than I had in years.
This is the winter of my grandmother's death. Photos of the skies taken on the day she left show atmospheric reaction. Mountainous cloud-cover moving in a rolling boil almost touching down to the pirnacle of the hill nearest Sandy's cabin. Strangely tumultuous skies, so unlike the peace, which resided within her.
Several of us took solitary walks up our hill--tha: steep, rocky slope that now, and briefly, shoulders a Buchholz name, if only to get a better look at that sky. Feeling her voice of caution against weather and bear with each ascending step. We are more alone here without her, forgetting we were ever real without her nearby.
She pulled us together through her story-telling like those running stitches sealing warmth into every quilt, wrapped around each one of us, and how loved we were by her, forever without question.
Holding lengths of fabric on her lap for months at a time, snipping, arrang ng, pinning, and stitching shapes of color into comfort.
Deep inside these quilts is where the wealth of this family resides.
We are wandering now, exposed.
once again gazing up from the base of our hill. Deer tracks, gilding snow, blackberry bushes bare, we weep feeling her here.
Knowing just weeks ago she was warning us to watch for deer.
And now-the first hunting season any of us has entered without Her-Dad, Sandy,and I each hit deer.
Did you know these accidents were in the making as we clung together sobbing and singing, pouring over pictures of you woven into our lives?
Did you stir up those skies to let warnings fall from Heaven only to be missed by our vision so tunneled in grief/
Or did each warning you admonish over the years act as protection as we swept our legs into cars to climb again up and over the gully road, disappearing into danger when we thought we were safe drivers, knowing these woods and the roads that twist through them. Believing in luck. When it was always your spell that kept us safe.
Now that she exists somewhere outside of this time, are we left to fend off the trickery of the Fates without her magic?
Are we charged with pondering each day's premonition in the status of these changing skies?
How vulnerable I feel having to search for Her in the sky. My Love, our protector, Woman-Healer of the hills with gifted tongue and lucid memory, remembering each soul you found and inspected so carefully, like a child collecting seashellswhile moving through your allotted stretch of life. Sharing with us the details of these tangled lives, proving the depth of our connections, like a wedding-ringed pattern of our brief encounters.
We are always,and never alone.
Remembering this while breathing warmth into the lifted space beneath your quilt under still skies,sprinkled with stars and rehashed stories which evoke her presence.
We continue to speak of you as though you still reside at the base of our hill.
I refuse to believe you have left at all when I walk up the hill, or drive the gully road, or just look up into the sky. Every day that I face, You are both here and gone.
Simen Johan,text by Lyle Rexer.Twin Palms Press,Santa Fe, NM; 2002, hardcover. color and black-&-white photographs, donated by YossiMilo Gallery,NYC.
Bearing Witness (to AIDS), by Thomas McGovern, text by Barbara Hunt and Nick Debs.VisualAIDS Art Press,New York, NY; 1999, hard cover. black-&-white photographs, donated by the photographer.
Catalogs listed below donated by the Howard Greenberg Gallery, NYC:
Gjon Mili, text by John Loengard; 1994, soft cover. black-&-white photographs.
Henry Holmes Smith: Photographs 1931-1986/A Retrospective, text by JackWelpott, Theodore R.M. Smith, and Leland Rice; 1992, soft cover. color and black-&-white photographs.
Anton Bruehl, text by Bonnie Yochelson; 1998, soft cover. color and black-&-white photographs.
Appeal to this Age: Photographs of the Civil Rights Movement, 1954-1968, text by Steven Kasher; 1994, soft cover. black-&-white photographs.
The Hungarian Circle, text by Michael Simon and Karoly; 1995, soft cover. black-&-white photographs.
Arnold Newman: Selected Photographs, text by Reinhold MiBelbeck; 1994, hardcover. black-&-white photographs.
Peter Sekaer: American Pictures, text by Adam D. Weinberg, Allison N. Kemmerer; 1999,soft cover. black-&-white photographs.
Dr. Dain L Tasker, text by Bonnie Yochelson; 2000, hard cover. black-&-white photographs.
All books below donated by Eric Aitken, Hartsdale; NY:
Odyssey:The Art of Photography at National Geographic, text by Jane Livingston with Frances Fralin and Declan Haun, Thomasson-Grant, Charlottesville, VA; 1988, hard cover. color and black-&-white photographs.
The World of Henri Cartiel"-Bresson by Henri Cartier-Bresson, the Viking Press, New York, NY; 1968, soft cover. black-&-white photographs.
David Plowden:A Sense of Place, foreword by David Crosson, W.W. Norton & Company, New York, NY and London; 1988,hardcover. black-&-white photographs.
The Photographs of Dorothea Lange, text by Keith F.Davis and Kelle A. Botkin, Harry N. Abrams, Inc., New York, NY; 1995, hard cover. black-&-white photographs.
Sebastiao Salgado:Workers/An Archaeology of the Industrial Age, introduction by Sebastiao Salgado and Eric Nepomuceno, Aperture, New York, NY; 1993, hard cover. black-&-white photographs.
Weston's Westons: Portraits and Nudes, preface by Alan Shestack,text by Theodore E. Stebbins, Jr., Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, MA; 1989, hard cover. black-&-white photographs.
Eliot Porter's Southwest text by Eliot Porter. Holt, Rinehard and Winston, New York, NY; 1985, hard cover. black-&-white photographs.
Editor, Kathleen Kenyon
In the project Aphorisms, / evoke amidst /ayers of visual "white noise", the role of personal spirituality, power, and know/edge amongst three women, one Jewish,_one Muslim, and one Christion, and through them search for a commonality that surpasses class, race, oge, and religion. •
TULU BAYAR (Lewisburg, PA) receiveo her MFA in Photography and Electronic Media from the University of Cincinnati in Ohio. She has exhibited in many solo and group exhibitions including at the Warsaw Project Space (Cincinnati, OH), Artemisia Gallery (Chicago, IL), the 825 Gallery (Los Angeles, CA), and at the 18th International Sculpture Conference (Houston,TX). Bayar has been an artist in resident at Great River Arts Association (Little Falls,MN) and JayArts Council (Portland, IN). She is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Art and Art History at Bucknell University.
It is o~en said, "the soul of a city is found in its people". In the City, the expression of self is nearly always on expression of relationship to others. The message is found in their faces and their form and when we look quietly at the photograph, the message becomes clear and compelling.
YANCEY HUGHES (Beacon, NY) works both as a ~ne art and commercial photographer. His commercial clients have included Christie's Auctioneers, Macy's Department Store, and Sotheby's. He has served as a staff photographer for Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts, the Museum of Modern Art, and the PublicTheater. His personal work has been published in Nudes 3 (Graphis Publication), The Cigar Connoisseur(Clarkson Potter Publishers) and Photo District News from which he received the New Talent Award. Hughes is an Adjunct Professor at La Guardia Community College.
In Our Cosmetic Case, the compacts containing illustrations of non-white, non-black women found on products in our society, demonstrate the comparison mode between one's reffection and the illustration on the mirror. When applying makeup, one hos the always-already image in mind that one is striving towards, or the option is not to be the a/ways-already. In either case, we still hove to deal with the image.
DOROTHY IMAGIRE (Manchester, CT) received her MFA in Photography from RISO.Her work has appeared in many exhibitions including I 00 Years of Photography:PersonalVisionsof the 20th Century, and PicturingAsian America. She has been included in Lucy Lippard's The Lure of the Local (The New Press),and received numerous honors and awards, including the New Forms Regional Initiative Award from the New England Foundation/NEA in 1991-1992. She has been an artist in resident with the Surdna Foundation Lecture Series at RISO,Yaddo, and is currently a Visiting Assistant Professor at Trinity College in Hartford, CT
In the bright room; calm, light air, gentle breeze, fresh breeze. I The smell of white point. The smell of bleach. I I loved him more than my life. I don't remember the reason why. I This gaze seeks nothing. It knows that it is to be lost forever.
MAYUMI TERADA (New York, NY) received her MFA from Tsukuba University, Japan. She was awarded Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum Prize in 1985 and the Young Master Prize in the 67th Sogetsu Exhibition in 1986. She has exhibited in New York City at White Box, the Annex; in Tokyo, Japan at Base Gallery, Gallery Saatchi & Saatchi,Gallery K2, Heartland Gallery, and Gallery Natsuka; in the Bronx, NY at the Bronx Museum of the Arts; in Korea at the Busan Metropolitan Art Museum, among many others. Terada's work is included in the collections of the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum and Center of Photography at Woodstock.
In the series Viet Nam: Some Kind of History / represent the confficted space that I occupy, using them to describe inherited political, global, and personal histories that ore inextricably bound together. My work questions these histones by examining my own family history that has been violently transfigured by colonialism, war, and economic oppression.
HONG-AN TRUONG (Durham, NC) has shown her work in exhibitions including En Foco:New Works Photographersat Godwyn Temback Museum at Queens College (Flushing,NY), Asian Lensat Chambers Fine Art Gallery (NYC), and will be included in the on-line exhibition OnlySkinDeep:ChangingVisionsof theAmericanSelf,organized by the International Center for Photography (NYC). In 200 I, she receivedthe Durham Arts Council EmergingArtist Grant and in 2003 Truong was an artist in residenceat VisualStudiesWorkshop (Rochester,NY). She received a BA in Englishliterature from the Unverstiy of Arizona in 1998.
If we ask ourselves; "What is photography about?" and if we really cut deep, way beyond that myriad of answers that all build on personal feelings, then, the one word that covers all answers must be "Truth".
It is about being able to believe. A fundamental desire in all human beings -being able to believe. "Truth" must be the right answer to our question.
If it was not, then photography would not have been able to impact our world the way it has.
Truth is the exact quality that has enabled photography to influence and shape the world we live in, and also what has made photography what it is today -a respected mixture of art and science.
Let us strive to preserve that one quality. Let us exercise restraint, when we, in our search for gold and glory, feel tempted to manipulate and distort reality, in order to create sensation.
Let us strive for the raw and un-manipulated truth. Art and photography have been closely connected since the birth of the science "photography". Talented and respected photographers have slowly and steadily brought photography to a point where it is no longer "related to art" but has become "art", an art as strong as words and capable of making dictators tumble.
Art is about personal expression, whether words, paintings or photographic statements -a strong weapon, feared and favored by all, but fools. The "Digital-revolution" is probably the best thing that ever happened to photography, because it has given us reason to face and address an eminent problem in today's society -the ever increasing melting of truth and fantasy. As photographers, we have a unique chance to make a statement. We can stand behind the unaltered hand-made print. We have a unique chance to once and for all distance our beloved part of this fantastic medium from industrialized mass-produced art. Are you ready?
We are - durst-pro-use.com is committed to support you in your quest for personal expression ... today .... tomorow .... for as long as there is a need .....
Attendeesof qualifiedphoto workshopssponsoredby HasselbladUSAare eli~ble to purchaseselect Hasselbladand Visatecequipmentat specialpricesunderthe HEROWorkshopProgram.The follm•vingexamplesare onlya smallselection of the savingsavailable Fora completelistingof prcx:luctsand the fulltermsand conditionsvisitwwwhasselbladusacom
Outfit (body,CFEor CRlensandrollfilmmag;,z,ne)
Body
Outfit (body,45mm lens,lensshade,strap,battery,spmtlevelandquick-changeplatE
