An Apparition of Memory
https://christopheguye.com/shop/an-apparition-of-memory
https://christopheguye.com/artists/brigitte-lustenberger/biography
http://sannedewilde.com/
Part 2: ‘The Island of the Colorblind’ was turned into an immersive painting-installation that is meant to make the viewer experience what it is like to be/paint colorblind. The installation takes the idea of cooperatively creating content with subject and viewer another step further. The space the viewer enters, consists of four walls covered in 4 infrared wallpapers, picturing the Micronesian island, on the inside. On the outside it is a ‘work in progress’ that grows as participants pin the painting they made on the wall outside when leaving the space. Visitors entering the room are invited to sit down. On the table in front of them they find a set of headphones, paint, water and brushes and printed pictures. As they put on the headphones a voice guides them through the painting-process while telling them the story of the colorblind community on the island Pingelap. The text of the audio used in “The Island of the Colorblind -painting installation’’ is based on the mythical story of how the islanders believe colorblindness came to the island and is mixed with quotes and questions that came up during the painting sessions with the achromats.
https://www.nickknight.com/press/inewsrfmg
And it puts me directly in contact with the very large audiences of Weibo, Twitter, Facebook, SHOWstudio, Tumblr, and Instagram. I am getting through to them all instantly, and they, in turn, have all elected to see my photographs. It’s their feedback that makes it so exciting.
I find working with Instagram because of its spontaneity, so refreshing. Sometimes I want to work in a very considered and meticulous way but sometimes I don’t and Instagram affords me that little bit of personal freedom. I am unencumbered. It’s reignited a love for photography.
“Photography is often blamed, unfairly and incorrectly, in my opinion,” he says. “People are so distrustful of Photoshop, as if it’s some way of making people feel bad, that they’re being lied to. Even the word manipulation is negative, it’s one of the words that Kanye would cross out in the dictionary when he was taking out the bad words.
“Photography is a fantasy, there is no reality. So, the idea that photography, or image making, is in any way an abstract version of truth, is false. Photographers who are really good at their craft manipulate everything, because of course they do. All the great painters manipulate with their vision because you don’t want to see reality from me – you want to see what I see that you can’t see. That’s what makes it exciting.”
“Knight is at the forefront of democratising photography and re-establishing its place in our social-media saturated lives.”
“If you step back and look at these images they’re very reminiscent of the Dutch flower painters of the 17th century, there’s a romance to them: they’re soft and gentle.
“But if you stand close to them, you can inspect the structure the AI has invented and see they’re actually quite mechanical, brutal and tough. And I love that.
i News – Rhiannon Williams (2021)
Nick Knight cuts selected roses straight from his garden and arranges them specifically, using only daylight to illuminate his subject. Photographed on an iPhone, the digital images are enlarged and filtered through software that uses AI to infill the space between pixels. What appears at first glance to be a historical approach to flower photography is actually at the very cutting edge of imaging technology.
Uses iPhone to photograph roses from his garden on his kitchen table. “He applies an Instagram filter (either Sierra or Hudson for the initiated, though he also dabbles with Ludwig) and plays around with colour and contrast before running the image through Topaz Labs, AI photography software that sharpens unfocused areas, and spending hours poring over the composite picture with his retoucher Mark.
Olivia Parker (born 1941) is a Manchester-by-the-Sea-based American still-life photographer.
Natasha Myers is Associate Professor of Anthropology at York University.
She convened the Plant Studies Collaboratory in 2010 to serve as a node for collaborative interdisciplinary research on plant-based ecologies and economies.
Her first book, Rendering Life Molecular: Models, Modelers, and Excitable Matter (Duke 2015) is an ethnography of an interdisciplinary group of scientists who make living substance come to matter at the molecular scale. This book maps protein modeling techniques in the context of the ongoing molecularization of life in the biosciences. It explores how protein modelers’ multidimensional data forms are shifting the cusp of visibility, the contours of the biological imagination, and the nature of living substance. What, it asks, does life become in their hands?
I like to think of art practices as forms of dissensus that can rearrange our sensoria and sense making. I think about disrupting the intention of the camera, the logic of the grid in ecology, and producing data forms that cannot be arrayed along a chart or graph, that resist quantitative analysis. Becoming Sensor is about disrupting modes of attention and forms of knowing about the more-than-human that are so entrenched in settler common sense. It’s a kind of de-schooling, an unlearning, which can help us forget everything that we thought we knew about “nature.”
Plants also provoke rethinking the senses, sensing, and sense making. People tend to think plants can’t communicate because they have no eyes, ears, or mouths. We wanted to render our bodies available to sensing plant sentience, sensing what plants are up to, how they move and grow, and tune into their sensibilities and gestures.
https://culanth.org/fieldsights/becoming-sensor-an-interview-with-natasha-myers
Becoming Sensor is about disrupting modes of attention and forms of knowing about the more-than-human that are so entrenched in settler common sense. It’s a kind of de-schooling, an unlearning, which can help us forget everything that we thought we knew about “nature.”
EVANS, Meredith. 2020. “Becoming Sensor in the Planthroposcene: An Interview with Natasha Myers.
Art in the Planthroposcene: Refuse the aesthetics of ruin porn, which constrains our imaginaries about plants expressing their powers to sites of cultural decay and times of human extinction. Cultivate, instead, a taste for Planthroposcene porn: art that keeps people in the game by staging intimate relations among plants and people. MYERS, Natasha. October 2018 p.9.
Becoming Sensor aims to make strange the ways that the conventional ecological sciences have not only been deployed to colonize land, but also to colonize our imaginations; how they evacuate all other ways of knowing the living world, most especially those local and Indigenous knowledges that are attuned to the sentience of lands and bodies.
website: https://natashamyers.wordpress.com
https://www.stephengill.co.uk/portfolio/portfolio/nggallery/album-1-2/Night-Procession/thumbnails
“Stephen Gill has learnt this: to haunt the places that haunt him. His photo-accumulations demonstrate a tender vision factored out of experience; alert, watchful, not overeager, wary of that mendacious conceit, ‘closure’. There is always flow, momentum, the sense of a man passing through a place that delights him. A sense of stepping down, immediate engagement, politic exchange. Then he remounts the bicycle and away. Loving retrievals, like a letter to a friend, never possession… What I like about Stephen Gill is that he has learnt to give us only as much as we need, the bones of the bones of the bones…”
Iain Sinclair
Stephen Gill (b. 1971, Bristol, UK) became interested in photography in his early childhood, thanks to his father and interest in insects and initial obsession with collecting bits of pond life to inspect under his microscope.
https://www.stephengill.co.uk/portfolio/portfolio/nggallery/album-1-2/Night-Procession/thumbnails
https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=147976830509294
https://www.stephengill.co.uk/portfolio/portfolio/nggallery/album/please-notify-the-sun/thumbnails
Ghostly images of animals caught in trailcam footage.
https://www.nobodybooks.com/product/night-procession-portfolio
Photographs of single birds in everyday locations. The birds themselves are photographed very small, so the viewer has to search through the images of urban decay to find them.
https://www.nobodybooks.com/product/birds-portfolio
Birds taking off, and flying around a post in a field.
https://www.nobodybooks.com/product/the-pillar-portfolio
Photographs of light filtered through colourful gloops and textures, apparently of decaying substances.
https://www.nobodybooks.com/product/please-notify-the-sun-portfolio
Scrumpled newspaper looking like animals and figures.
https://www.nobodybooks.com/product/a-series-of-disappointments-portfolio
https://www.personsprojects.com/news/eeva-karhu-polku–paths
https://www.purdyhicks.com/exhibitions/89-eeva-karhu-finding-the-path-within/works/
‘My camera is my eye. It captures moments between what I’m viewing and me. I record the time that I will soon pass through while I experience the timelessness of its passing. I walk a circle which path has neither beginning nor end. I photograph this path where each beginning is the horizon of the last one. By layering all these photographs together they form one image that documents my journey. In a sense I record time and in so doing, I continue its movement forever.
I study this cyclic movement. I take part in it and imitate it, by walking the same circle route during one year. While walking, my feet find the rhythm of the way. A monotonic beat is unleashing my thoughts. Knowledge of the past and the future is dropping onto the path; bit by bit the present reveals its timeless essence’.
Through the layered structure of her photographs, Eeva Karhu reflects on time and its cyclic nature, using multiple exposures as her technique for recording time’s passage. Her art engages in the study of perception and cognition. The human eye and memory are not like a camera, which records everything unselectively, because the experiences relayed by our visual receptors are always coloured by our emotions and other sensory impressions.
The Landscape brings together for the first time a collection of McCullin’s landscape photography, primarily set against the stormy backdrop of Somerset, where he now resides. The imagery of his home county, ravaged by storms, projects the associations of a battlefield or the views of one intimate with scenes of war.
The book also features landscape images from throughout his career taken in Syria, Iraq, Indonesia and India.
If you look again at McCullin’s landscapes, you start to sense the figure who made the pictures, invisible behind the lens, stepping forward with nothing but his own shadow – in the marsh, against the snow, along the causeway, over the brow. By now, he is stripped of all superfluities. He is not a man in repose, who lingers lazily. He is striding into the wind, as always.
Mark Holborn ‘One Man Walking’ introduction The Landscape p9
John Gossage (born 1946) is an American photographer working from Washington DC. His artist’s books and other publications use his photographs to explore the interplay between landscapes, urban environments, and the unseen or overlooked aspects of the places that are part of our everyday lives. His work not only captures the aesthetic of these locations but also invites viewers to consider the deeper stories and histories embedded within them. His work is noted for under-recognised elements of the urban environment such as abandoned tracts of land, debris and garbage, and graffiti, and themes of surveillance, memory and the relationship between architecture and power.
“I am a humanist, like most of us are, I can’t really step back to see the beauty and order of all this; closeness brings chaos and dread in this case. We have done harm to the place we live, I’m told, but it seems to me that we have done the most harm to ourselves and our best-laid plans. The planet has a plan to fix this, if we don’t.”
Should Nature Change 2019
I have absolutely no idea what I am doing any more and am totally sure of it. And that’s how it works’
Gossage was born in Staten Island, New York City in 1946 and at an early age became interested in photography, leaving school at 16 and taking private instruction from Lisette Model, Alexey Brodovitch and Bruce Davidson. He later moved to Washington, D.C. to study, and subsequently received a grant from the Washington Gallery of Modern Art which allowed him to remain in the city and refine his photographic technique. He has shown his photographs in solo and group exhibitions since 1963.
After a number of years with Nazraeli Press his usual publisher is now Loosestrife Editions and Steidl. He has taught at the University of Maryland, College Park and curated several photographic exhibitions.
John Gossage’s first monograph, The Pond (1985), has been republished to great acclaim.
His other notable books include Stadt Des Schwarz (1987); LAMF (1987); There and Gone (1997); The Things That Animals Care About (1998); Hey Fuckface (2000); Snake Eyes (2002); Berlin in the Time of the Wall (2004); Putting Back the Wall (2007); The Secrets of Real Estate (2008); and The Thirty-Two Inch Ruler/Map of Babylon (2010); The Code ( 2011); She Called Me by Name (2012); The Actor (2011); Who Do You Love (2014); Nothing (2014); and pomodoii a grappolo (2015).
For Vimeo limited access versions of most of these books see: Vimeo Photobookstore.
For full list of his work see Wikipedia references: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Gossage#References
For details of books published by Steidtl: https://steidl.de/Artists/John-Gossage-0921316154.html
Gossage photographed a small, unnamed pond between Washington, D.C., and Queenstown, Maryland, between 1981 and 1985.
The title was intended to recall Henry David Thoreau’s Walden, but Gossage advocated a more all-embracing view of the landscape, exploring the less idealized spaces that border America’s cities and suburbs. Although many of the images in The Pond appear unruly or uncared for, Gossage found moments of grace and elegance in even the most mundane of places.
A few years after being photographed the pond had dried up.
The pond is a literary monologue, a narrative landscape book, character development — all of it. … It’s set in Queenstown, but a few of the shots were actually taken in Berlin. I won’t tell which ones. I wanted to speak metaphorically about nature and civilization, which I realized halfway through my project. It’s a work of documentary fiction. The sites are universally trivial. There are many ponds, and that one may not even be there anymore.
The book is different [from the exhibition] in that it’s a narrative. You start at page one and move your way through. I was surprised because I really liked the show once I saw it. It’s given me new things to think about — things I haven’t digested yet.
John Gossage interviewed in Katherine Boyle (2021)
the sense one gets from the kind and placement of the trash around Gossage’s pond is that it wasn’t necessary to put it there, and the effect of doing so could not have been completely unanticipated; a few of the culprits may have been only willfully ignorant, but most were surely worse – those of us (I think we all do it, with varying degrees of indirection) who disfigure the landscape as a way of striking at life in general.…
Though Gossage’s study of nature in America is believable because it includes evidence of man’s darkness of spirit, it is memorable because of the intense fondness he shows for the remains of the natural world. He pictures everything – the loveliness of gravel, of sticks, of scum gleaning the water… He doesn’t even hesitate to photograph what we admire already (which is riskier, it being harder to awaken us to what we think we know), abruptly pointing his camera straight up at circling birds, and, later, over to a songbird on a wire.
Gossage does not use his survey of wood around a lake to stress an indictment; the off-road landscape through which he leads us is a mixture of the natural one and our junk, but his focus is not so much on the grotesqueries of the collage as on the reassurances of nature’s simplicities.
Adams, Robert (24 February 2013). “Robert Adams on John Gossage’s ‘The Pond’ (1986)”
Exhibition: John Gossage: The Pond, Smithsonian American Art Museum, Washington, D.C., 2010/2011
It’s all about the ordinary now, the little things at the edge of your consciousness, the “signs” all around you.…
Everyone everywhere now has a small thing that has changed for them. The big things, those things that always happen to someone else, the other people, the ones on the news. The earthquakes, the floods, the fires, the disasters, are all still there in their grand scale. But it’s that the birds that used to come to your backyard are no longer there is what keeps you up at night.
John Gossage Artist’s Statement https://prix.pictet.com/cycles/disorder/john-gossage
What I have been photographing for [Should Nature Change] are moments when the normal slips, and the disorder starts. Subtle things that whisper to you that things have started to change and in all likelihood not for the best. Nature looks slightly different, it’s a bit warmer, there is a fire at the edge of town, a few of the people much younger than you have a different look in their eyes — remember the dinosaurs?
Black and white pictures of the country I come from and at this point in my life, work to understand.
The Times They Are A-Changin when I was younger I thought that song was about something different.