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INTERVIEW / Sophie Barbasch - ‘Fault Line’

Images by Sophie Barbasch Interview by Elizabeth Breiner Sophie Barbasch is a New York City-based photographer. She received her MFA from Rhode Island School of Design and was selected as one of Photo Boite’s 30 Under 30 Women Photographers in 2012. Her work has been exhibited internationally. She describes her latest project, Fault Line, as an exploration of the themes of connectivity and isolation as they relate to her own family and their life in the tiny coastal town of Brooklin, Maine. The title, referencing a fracture in the earth’s crust where the ground will split apart in the event of an earthquake, also serves as “a metaphor for a divided family with a complicated history” while literally alluding to the ideas of “fault, or blame” and the way in which family members struggle to support one another despite the cracks that form beneath the surface of daily life. For a number of your previous projects you experimented with appropriating or soliciting content from Craigslist users, yielding an interesting range of results, at once intimate and impersonal. What prompted you to turn your focus to a subject as immensely personal as your own family? The two projects are similar in that each one stems from my personal life. With my Craigslist work, I was thinking about romantic relationships. With Fault Line, I am dealing with family. While the projects are formally different, both of them are about navigating interpersonal relationships. Often when I am making work, I think about it in a relational context. For example, with my Craigslist project, I was a character and the men who responded were characters, or participants. It was an exchange between two people – two experiences were implied at any given moment. With this project, the subjects are more identifiable, and rather than appear only once, they recur throughout the series. It is less about the single moment, the single exchange, and more about presenting characters over time. This is a new challenge for me. Before, my work was more about fragments and excerpts – this project is more about an ongoing story. Although it is personal terrain, the portraits are often staged. It is close to home, but it is also a version of my family that I direct. This is part of what appeals to me about it. When I started this project, I was feeling disconnected from my family after years of being away. Also, grad school pushed me to be more upfront about my motivations for taking pictures. A lot of my artistic questions stem from the experience of growing up in my family. I think this is true of most people. Right now I feel like I should embrace this rather than avoid it. So do you think in terms of your own artistic development Fault Line is better understood as a continuation of or departure from your prior work? I see it as a continuation of my earlier photo series. In a way, I feel like I have been dealing with the same themes since 2008. In this iteration, the cast of characters is more clearly delineated, but many of the ideas that I’m trying to understand about connection and isolation have fueled my work for a long time. Clearly nature has as much of a presence in many of these images as your human subjects. Were you aiming to show something in particular about your family members’ relation to the natural world around them? I think of nature as an unknown. I want to express the feeling of being alone in the unknown and the associated feelings of helplessness, wonder, despair, confusion, introspection, etc. I think I am not so much trying to show their relationship to the natural world as I am trying to express my own opinion of it. What was it like to face your family members in the (relatively) newfound role of photographer? To what extent did you approach this project as ‘your’ story as opposed to ‘theirs’? In general, I find it strange to switch between real life and photographing someone, because the balance shifts. Suddenly you want something from that person and you are also controlling the situation. This has always felt awkward to me. Sometimes it’s hard to ask, even when it’s people I know so well. But I think overall my family likes to be involved. Also, I have been photographing them since I was 14, so they are used to it by now. I approach this project as primarily my story, but of course my story is interconnected with their story. It’s hard to separate one from the other. Maybe I photograph them to figure out where the stories diverge--where I am separate from them, where our experience is shared and where it isn’t. The photos themselves don’t provide any answers to this, but maybe the process does, where we try out different ideas and see what resonates and what doesn’t. I love the illusion of movement created by the rolling waves of grass in the photograph of the young boy sitting in the moored canoe. Do the contrasting themes of motion and stasis have a place in this series? Yes, motion vs. stasis is one of the dynamics I am trying to convey. With this picture, I am attempting to capture a few different contradictions. The grass looks like water but it is solid. The boat should be moving but it is still. Maybe he shouldn’t be alone, but he is. He should be more in control of the boat than he is. It is a strange time of day to be in a boat, and it’s unclear why he is there. The relationship between him and the person looking down at him is also unclear. These formal elements are so obvious that maybe they don’t really add up to anything in particular--they are just slightly strange. Technically, there is nothing wrong. I spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to imply that something is about to go wrong--that it is fine but almost wrong. That was my goal in making this photograph. In this case, the stillness is what makes it fine and the implied motion is what suggests something might go wrong. Can we trace this experimentation with different ways of visually conveying underlying tension and instability throughout the rest of the series? I can think of a few other instances where you seem to deliberately disrupt your viewers' instinctive formal and conceptual expectations – employing off-kilter compositions or capturing your subjects mid-blink, for example… I am also thinking about contradiction in the photo of the boy, my brother Tom, who has one eye open and one eye closed. Here, the tension is about being present vs. not present, or here vs. not here. The half-open eye is something in between open and closed, between being here and not here. It’s also about seeing vs. not seeing. We can’t see what he sees. This is not a big deal, since it is just a blink, but nevertheless, it is still an unknown. It is an unknown we barely need to register--it is slightly irregular but it is fine. I am photographing him from nearby, so he is close, but the road behind him suggests distance and a far-away place. There is the place he is drifting to in his mind and also the physical place he has come from or might drift toward. His body is sort of slanted, as though he is being pulled slightly down. This contrasts with the telephone line above him, which is like a string that might pull him upward. In this sense, the photo implies a few different directions, or spaces: near vs. far, down vs. up, and inward vs. outward. These dynamics are frozen in the frame. The freezing itself--the making of a still image--contrasts with these kinetic suggestions. What I’d like to imply is that these elements are precarious and on the verge of shifting. This image was the first one I made for the series and it relates to the title. I think of him standing at a point from which things move in different directions. The idea of moving, unstable ground relates to a fault line.

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INTERVIEW / Fay Elizabeth Harpham - 'Oxidation is Loss'

Untitled, backstreet view of high rise flats close to the town centre, 2014 Your project 'Oxidation is Loss' is based around your hometown of Scunthorpe. How was your experience growing up there? My childhood was pretty good, I had a loving and supportive family who couldn't have provided for me more if they had tried. From an early age I knew that I wanted to do something creative with my life and Scunthorpe wouldn't be the place that I could excel at this. Scunthorpe was a place where you had to find your own amusement, because there weren't many things to do if you didn't! Having other friends to play with, the town centre to loiter in aimlessly, and the park to play in were safe havens. Activities and places which are perpetuated into ghostly existences now; the town centre is pretty much a strip of pound shops and the park I played in has been demolished. I remember summer holidays meandered and felt like they went on forever. A bliss that I will always remember fondly, and the only time when it didn't seem to rain constantly! Untitled, view into Keadby Power Station, 2014 So was your decision to photograph Scunthorpe a chance to reevaluate your hometown once your life had opened up somewhat? What was your thought process upon returning to photograph there? It was more of feeling of sadness,through circumstantial change, than a need to evaluate. I only travel back now to see my family, and it became more and more obvious to me the degradation the town was suffering once I was removed from it on a daily basis. I have lived away from Scunthorpe for nearly 11 years now, and, over that time, I have seen a lot of change. I was increasingly aware every time I visited of the dilapidation of architecture, industry and talk of job cuts and unemployment. I feel very strongly that small towns are often marginalised and forgotten about in the grander scheme of things, especially places where the main industry and income is reliant on pretty much one source (the Steel Works in this case). Untitled, Anti Poverty Group cabin, Market Hill, Scunthorpe town centre, 2014 I was also very interested in evolution, adaptation and degradation at the time of embarking on the project. I also started to wonder what exactly makes people stay where they are, and what effect the changes I saw have had on the residents and the questions that this raises. This, coupled with the clear decay that was happening in the area were the main reasons for embarking on the project. I wanted to create a body of work, which documented and explored life in a small town, stripped of its livelihood, in the present day. I do think it's nearly impossible if you have a connection with your subject to not implode some of your own emotion into your images. However the tone of the work is sympathetic and explorative; revealing a sadness but also togetherness of it's findings. Paul and Kath, retired, 2013 Is there a particular image from the series that you have feel best displays your mixed emotions? I would find it impossible to use just one image to answer this question! With the project being an exploration of small towns, their decline and their residents, there are so many elements, which make up this exploration, creating within themselves questions again. However, there are two images which I feel go some way to giving a context of the situation present in Scunthorpe. Untitled, Frodingham Road area, Scunthorpe 2014 Untitled, West facing raised view from Atkinson’s Warren, Scunthorpe, 2014 The two images, although completely different, for me encapsulate this small town. The view of the housing in Image #1 shows a scene from a backstreet very close to the town centre. What I find so interesting about this image is the kind of patchwork pulling together of materials to make up the houses, and the gated backyard. I find something quite interesting in the idea that if these houses were to be transported to London for example, even though quite clearly run down, would be worth probably a lot more than they are worth in their current location. Image #2 gives a geographical context to the size of the town. Atkinson’s warren is only a 15-20 minute walk from Frodingham road. In this time, we are faced by a scene that couldn’t be much more different; vast countryside for miles with some memories of past industry alongside the remaining industry flickering in the haze of the horizon. The project combines various elements in its working form, including photographs and interviews with a wide range of residents. The interviews with residents, for me, are as important as the images themselves. There was a particular interview I took in February 2013 with a lady called Barbara, retired, who has lived in and around the Scunthorpe area her whole life. I immediately thought of this particular interview when answering this question. There was one question and answer in particular that I feel sums up so well my exploration, raising further questions through its answer: Do you wish you’d moved away from Scunthorpe or are you happy to have stayed here? 'I think I’d have moved if I were a bit younger, yes. Now, my family and friends are around here. I think it’s too late for me to move. I think one of the main reasons people do stay in Scunthorpe is because of their families. I think you’ve got to be very brave to move away and leave your family. My opinion on Scunthorpe has changed ever so much for the worse over time, but I put up with it. I have to. I live here.' Untitled, Top signal box and road crossing gates, Keadby, 2014 I think the answer to your question signifies the strongest theme of your work, of families surviving amidst external pressures. I also feel this more clearly in your images devoid of people. Was it a conscious decision to isolate the landscape? Landscapes are such a significant part of the fabric of most places that in some ways you maybe forget about them. I find the idea of association very interesting. For example, if we have been on holiday to a place we remember events; these events are often triggered by the environment. We remember meals out, we remember the places we visited and the emotional connection within our enjoyment of that place. When you live somewhere, you often imagine your family, friends and people around the area first. When something becomes mundane, or you get used to it, you often forget the surroundings to some extent. Untitled, closed shop, Frodingham Road, nr Britannia Corner, 2014 Because the project is so heavily based around connections to an area, and the relationships between people and environment, I found that the inhabitants very rarely stay because they particularly like the scenery and the architecture but because of family, or a feeling that they simply cannot move, often, not really knowing why they couldn't. The landscape creates an entrapment on different levels for different people. That, and the idea of class, wealth and different motives and triggers for settling down in an area I feel are shown in a much less explicit way through landscapes. Untitled, Doncaster Road, 2014 See more of Fay's work at her website.

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INTERVIEW / Jennifer Haley - 巡礼 Junrei

Firstly I'd like to ask about the title 'Junrei' - As I understand it's a pilgrimage taken across Japan? Yeah that's it's loose meaning. The title was actually one of the last things decided about the project as the trip itself was never consciously intended as a pilgrimage per se. The series grew very organically, independent of a fixed concept, and it was only really after all of the images were shot and I began the editing process that I realised the significance of the journey and the effect that the places had on me. I also read quite a bit about Japanese culture and their ideas on spiritual and religious pilgrimages which helped to really contextualise my thoughts and bring the project to a close. Many photographers find creative simulation in Japan - what is it do you feel makes making photographs there so unique? It's difficult to say. I think that initially, because everything is so different from what we're used to in the west, it's exciting and stimulating and you want to photograph constantly. It has a very diverse mix of images to offer, from the natural landscape to the crowded cities and then the people and their rich culture. It really is a unique place. But then beyond that, I felt that there was almost an atmosphere there, which is hard to put into words but had a very positive, creative effect. There is an ancient Japanese word, 'Iki', which doesn't exactly translate into English but refers to appreciation of beauty and an original, calm and refined state of mind, which for me, defines Japan and my experience perfectly. How do you think the book with Brown Owl Press complements the project? Did the book help you refine a body of images more loosely defined? Definitely. I'm a strong believer that not all photographic projects should or need to be presented in book form but I felt that for Junrei, the layout of the book really aided the narrative element of the images. When considering the logistics of the book though, the style for me, was very important. I feel that Junrei is a project that needs time spent with the images in order to understand them more deeply and so I wanted the presentation to be well-thought out but also quite modest. The images and the sentiment wouldn't have suited a larger or hardback book for example, so I decided on the current format to compliment and complete the project. On a side note, through University or in making your own images, do you think there is pressure to publish work in book form? I wouldn't necessarily say that there is a pressure to present work in that way but I do think that universities encourage it through specific workshops and projects that demand a book as the final outcome. I think that this can be a good thing though, in many ways because photo books have changed a lot in recent years and self publishing has been a big facilitator of this, so it is important to be aware of the market and of the possibilities of producing a book. I also feel like the market itself and how much self publishing has grown is encouragement, particularly for emerging artists, as it presents a much more accessible and viable way to get their work seen by a broader audience at a relatively low cost. As an emerging artist yourself, what are you currently working on? Also, does the necessity of marketing, or at least how to attract sufficient attention to your work, cast influence on which projects you choose to create in the future? Like a lot of other emerging and freelance artists, I don't currently make enough money from photography to survive without another job so unfortunately this means it's difficult to find time to focus on my own projects. Just before Christmas however, I returned from a five month trip through South East Asia, so I am currently waiting on some film being developed from that. I'm not entirely sure yet what I want to do with the images, whether I produce another book or not but hopefully I'll be putting something out from that later this year. I would love to produce another book at some point in the future but I don't have anything at that stage just yet. In regards to the necessity of marketing, I have always tried not to place too much pressure on creating something 'marketable' and focus more on what I enjoy shooting. Having said that, I knew a lot of people at university who only made images that would improve the marketability of their portfolio and get them work. I think it is very dependant on what area of photography you're interested in though. Fashion photography for example, obviously works with trends and so you have to create images according to current trends to be able to attract paid work. And of course this is very important for emerging artists trying to make a living, but I have tried in the past to cater projects towards attracting attention but always found it difficult to work solely towards someone else's view. I always felt slightly false and it hindered my creativity. This project in particular made me realise that I'm much happier shooting without a fixed agenda and creating projects organically. See more of Jennifer's work over at her website.

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INTERVIEW / Jordi Huisman - Outline

Tell us about Flevoland, the setting for your project 'Outline'. Flevoland is province of The Netherlands with the southernmost point some 20 kilometers from Amsterdam. The area used to be sea, until the 1950’s, when the government turned it into land. Nowadays there are a lot of fields for agriculture, some small cities and villages and some forests. The remarkable thing about those forests is that the trees there are precisely aligned. That’s because they were all planted that way, in a strict grid. But the thing that fascinates me the most about the land is that it’s entirely situated under the water level of the surrounding water. Flevoland is in effect an island, being completely surrounded by water.

What is the atmosphere like in Flevoland? Is it as tense and unnatural as your images suggest it to be? It is a kind of unnatural when you start noticing the grid of trees. Everything feels new, although it isn’t and it isn’t very well maintained either. There is some history there, but it is mainly history of the place when it was sea. Scattered across the land you can find poles that mark places where ship wrecks have been found. I believe there’s even a pole marking the crash site of a British military airplane that crashed there in the sea in WW2.

Is that part of what draws you to these types of stories; trying to find a certain history where, particular in the new developments seen in 'close, but not really', it would appear as if there isn't any? Yes, maybe it is. I have to admit I never really realIzed it like that. I think that a lot of things I'm interested in in photography are somehow related to things that have happened somewhere or things that will happen. Which is odd, since photography itself is about capturing the present. Last year I've been working on a series about areas in the Netherlands that the government decides to 'give back to nature'. For instance an old air base that was dismantled, torn down and left for bushes and animals to take over. That's a typical project for me. Too bad this particular subject turned out to be a bit dull to photograph.

How important personally is the process of actually taking the photographs? Do you feel you create more engaging photographs when you are yourself more engaged with the subject? The actual taking of photographs is very important, because that's when surprises can find their way in the things that I photograph. I've never done a lot of research before I went out to take pictures. What works the best for me is to just go some place and wander around looking for pictures. Of course I don't just shoot whatever crosses my sight, I look around with my subject in mind.

For 'Outline' and 'Close, but not really' there is a small part of extra engagement since I grew up in the area and I know my way around. When I'm abroad it's harder to capture the interesting stuff, I tend to be overwhelmed by the foreign and unfamiliar surrounding. A couple of years back I made a series about a small city in Wisconsin, and only after spending a couple of days there I could focus on photographing the story I wanted to.

Where do you then see your future work then lying? Do you hope to place yourself back in unfamiliar settings or is documenting the stories of your homeland more interesting to you? Both will work for me. I just know that when I'm working on something abroad, I should limit myself to a certain area. Otherwise there will be too much information to stay focused on the subject. It might also be a matter of choosing a subject that is limited to a certain area.

See more of Jordi's photography and books at his website.

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INTERVIEW / Paolo Morales - Photographic Relationships

The first thing that struck me about your work is the diversity of culture you feature. Was this a conscious decision to represent a wide spectrum of society? I don't think it was a conscious decision to represent a wide spectrum of society. The diversity in the pictures, I believe, is a product of moving through different parts of the United States with the goal of making different kinds of pictures. Another product of moving through different parts of the country also causes the subjects in the pictures to change, which contributes to the diversity or wide spectrum of people represented in the work.

That being said, I actually haven't traveled around America all that extensively to make new work. In the past year, I traveled to Los Angeles, New Orleans, and San Francisco for the sole purpose of taking pictures. The majority of the work, however, is produced in Providence, Rhode Island (where I live right now) and New York, where my family lives. I've also taken some of the pictures in Boston. Diversity is an interesting issue in the pictures because it points to the subject--who the people are and more importantly how those people are visually described--rather than the picture's individual content. And what I hope is for the pictures to point to emotional isolation despite being physically close to other people. In the best cases, I hope diversity in my pictures can suggest that feelings of isolation and the desire to connect to and reach out to others transcends race, economics, and cultures.

Do you then set out knowing what sort of images you hope to create or is the process more organic? The making and editing process definitely starts organically. As I produce more and more pictures the process and the decisions I make (both in how I move through the world and in the process of making pictures) becomes deliberate. In the past year or so, I have been photographing a neighboring family here in Providence. I met them one uncharacteristically warm November afternoon in 2013 after walking around all day trying to convince people to allow me to photograph.

I remember feeling distressed because I had to make work for a critique the following week and needed more pictures. So as I was walking I saw them on a porch. I gave them my pitch and they thankfully allowed me to photograph them. The picture for me was important because it embodied all my emotional and compositional preoccupations: a woman (Cindy) sits on the far left of the frame moving the hair of a young boy staring back at the camera while another similar looking young boy watches Cindy pay attention to someone else other than him. And on the far right of the frame is a young girl physically divided in the space by a fence. Like the other young boy watching Cindy take care of someone else, she appears isolated and alone, and perhaps longing for attention. I like the picture because all the characters (or people) look emotionally isolated from each other despite physical proximity. I recently had the chance to watch a Robert Adams interview and then someone suggested I read more of his writing. Something struck me about his description of how projects begin; he said (this is a paraphrase) that all projects begin with a gift. This picture, I like to say, was my gift. Or more specifically, it was Cindy's (and her grandchildren's) gift to me. For a few months I continued to return to the house knocking on their door trying to return a print to them as a thank you. One afternoon Cindy was home and I gave her the print. And that is what started my photographic relationship with her and her family that slowly turned into friendship.

Since then, I returned regularly with prints in hand and continued making pictures. I've been to a couple birthday parties, watched her grandchildren grow, and observed the love and support she has for her husband, mother, and children. And so when I say my decision making becomes more deliberate, I mean that I hope to see the implicit potentials in those relationships and take those organic situations and make deliberate photographs out of them. Another way of saying that, perhaps more generally, is that the more pictures I produce organically the more deliberate I can be the next time. I am letting the pictures tell me where to go. If there is photographic potential in a situation I hope to parse and exhaust its possibilities.

Do you feel that in the realm of such a friendship is where your strongest work happens, as opposed to, as you suggested, finally capturing the portrait of a willing stranger?​ Ideally both situations yield usable results that advance the plot of whatever I happen to be working on. Though to claim that both situations have equal potential to yield strong work isn't fully honest. To clarify, I walk around giving my pitch and searching for moments and people to photograph in hopes I will make a picture that I could have never imagined. That feeling of discovery, wonder and serendipity is what drives me to continue walking and producing new pictures.

But, to answer your question, yes, it is undeniable that my better work is produced within sustained photographic relationships. I attribute the better pictures to access. There is a degree of unquantifiable comfort when a person or group is familiar with me, even if I see them just for a second time. It's usually a positive for the pictures because when I see people multiple times I can start to ask for things (to produce pictures) that I wouldn't have been able to ask for or have access to if we were just meeting for the first time. For example, without a prior relationship, I most likely wouldn't be invited to photograph birthday parties or be able to have access to more intimate or unguarded moments. Sustained photographic relationships allow me to stack the odds to make better pictures.

Find more of Paolo's works at his website.

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INTERVIEW / Rachel Woroner – Sentimentality & Desire

When did photography first become an outlet for you to explore the sentimental? Photography has always been a way for me to express sentimentality, emotion and desire. I began taking photographs when my father gave me my first camera around the age of 11, although it was not until my teenage years that I began to really explore emotion through imagery. What is it about photography that makes it so suited to this sort of personal expression? Sentimentalism is motivated by desire; photography is motivated by desire, a longing to connect and a fear of the loss of a moment. Approaching photography with tenderness and love allows imagery to become extremely emotional. The magic of photography for me is its ability to preserve fleeting moments that which I do not wish to lose. The medium acts as an expression of affective attachment and an insight into the dynamics of interpersonal relationships. I am drawn to the immediacy of experience and photographic images as personal artifacts and expressions. How do you wish your images to be experienced, as a narrative or something more ambiguous and thematic? This is entirely up to the viewer. Of course images strung together can often express poignant narratives, but I believe it is also important for images to have the ability to exist by themselves. A strong photograph should hold tension on its own. Because these images are so personal, it is up to the viewer to choose what effect the photograph will have on them, finding their own desire within the image, their own punctum. What do you feel is the most important photograph, for whatever reason, you have taken so far? My grandmother’s frail worn feet, with freshly painted red toenails, days before she passed away. Photography acts as a reality of the past. It is after all, a technique for freezing time. This image of my grandmother is not simply a document, but rather a tool for my memory. It is the contrast in the brightness of her toes, fragility of her body, the closeness of death that is immortalized in the image that makes it extremely powerful and important to me. What are you working on at the moment? Trying to shoot lots. Also been working on a small zine entitled From Where I’m Standing, which is coming soon! See more of Rachel’s work over at her website, and follow her continued images on Tumblr.

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INTERVIEW / Lenka Rayn H. - Portraiture

Images by Lenka Rayn H. Interview by Elizabeth Breiner One of your portraits was recently shortlisted and selected for exhibition as part of the 2014 Taylor Wessing Portrait Prize, with this same image chosen for the front cover of next month’s British Journal of Photography. Can you provide some background for this striking and soon-to-be widely-circulated image? Firstly I have to say that I am really proud that the image has been selected for the exhibition, but it wasn’t one of the 4 shortlisted for the main prize. I was commissioned by the parent of the sitter to take a portrait of his two daughters, because they missed their school photo. It was a dark December day and the girls were not really looking forward to the session. I expected two giggling girls, but to my total surprise they where both really serious and great at following my directions. I did a few versions that I thought were good and would be nice for the parents. I also photographed some options for myself and was able to get something that was totally unexpected and got me really excited. I would not have been able to achieve this if their father didn’t give me total creative freedom and fully trusted me.

You have experimented considerably in your approach to portraiture throughout your career thus far, from Czech Pensioners and Family Document to Artists Lives and Dark Series. Do you see this as an evolutionary process or a multidimensional one? Is there a consistent thread that runs throughout? Definitely a multidimensional one. I see myself as someone who has many ways expressing one self. My first love was documentary style portraiture and I still treasure it as a great privilege to be let into other people’s lives and being able to capture some of it. I am a very curious individual. My other portraits come from a love of art and wanting to produce an image that I personally find appealing and strong. The way I capture people is very personal and the atmosphere in each image is something that I enjoy to look at and find peaceful or intriguing.

The images that form one of my favourite of your series, Family Document, show a wary intimacy between your family members and yourself as photographer — there is a tough beauty to these images that successfully circumvents sentimentality. What prompted you to undertake this project? Did you find it difficult to navigate such personal subject matter? I started this documentary after I moved to London. When I went back home I felt this need to document what was once familiar and now became more special and interesting. For example the interior of my childhood flat once uninteresting and boring was now full fascinating little details. My father’s face and his daily habits became captivating to watch and I wanted to have a record of it for purely personal reasons. Suddenly everything became this huge visual feast that I had a need to capture.

Compared to many other artists who work in the field of portraiture, you seem less concerned with revealing something ‘essential’ about your subjects than you do with capturing them in an interesting manner or according to a preconceived style. To what extent do you see your portraits as a reflection of yourself – or your artistic intentions – and to what extent as a reflection of your subjects? My portraits are all about my artistic intentions and not really about the subjects at all. I would say I treat them as objects that I find for whatever reasons fascinating and transform them into my body of work. However I never really know what the final image will be. It’s all a combination of the light that day, the subject’s ability to let go of their own guards and our interaction with each other during the session, but I remain in charge through out the whole time. I like to think it’s a very calm peaceful process that we both enjoy.

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INTERVIEW / Roslyn Julia - Works

I enjoy your images for the peace they find in such varied spaces. What is on your mind when you're making such photographs? I tend to surround myself with peaceful, authentic people and experiences and enjoy to bring my camera along and photograph in this type of space. I like to think that my photographs capture the true essence of the moments which unfold in front of me. Since this is the frequency I am surrounded by most, this is what comes through in my images.

How much of your work would you class as autobiographical? Do you approach these situations differently compared to a project more composed such as 'Vacant'? Most of my work is autobiographical in the way that it really is a visual journal. My series 'exist' shows this the most. The difference between most of my work and ‘Vacant’ is that I'd say the latter I approached more intently. As for my other work, I don't feel I approach it at all… more like it approaches me.

‘Vacant’ is really the only series so far that is different from that. It started when I kept seeing these structures on county routes that I was driving on pretty frequently. I became very interested in the structures and imagining why they were left or what had happened there far before I started photographing them. I first started photographing them on a trip in Tennessee—there were so many I couldn't resist and I was lucky I had brought my 67 camera on that trip. I photographed each structure from a couple different angles; in a way I felt like I was making a portrait of the house. Each place seemed to have an energy about it, as if they each had a story they wanted to share.

Do you feel making such photographs can become a vulnerable process? I think it is more of an instinct then anything. I've always felt an urge to take pictures of my experiences and surroundings and share them with people since I was very young, it never crossed my mind that it might be a vulnerable process for others. I suppose I've always been very honest and open with all aspects of my life.

How do you feel your work's experience changes between book and exhibition? I like to assume the experience of my work lives in a similar realm whether it is in a book or hanging on a wall. I’ve been working on layouts for my series exist while simultaneously making prints of the work. The experience of work in a book can be more intimate; one owns a book, keeps it on their shelf, re-visits it when they please and calls it their own.

In an exhibition setting, of course, the relationship one has with the work is a more public experience, sometimes a social experience and for the most part they will not be leaving with a piece to hang on their wall. This is part of the reason why I am so fond of books; I think it makes room for an artist and a viewer to have a sort of lasting connection. On the other hand, I’ve made the conscious decision to be printing quite small and I hope that will allow for a more intimate experience while in an exhibition type setting.

Where do you see yourself in a few years time? What do you hope to achieve? The goals and finish lines I hold onto currently include publishing a book (or two) of my work, showing the prints I have recently finished and shooting more portraits. I always have a variety of photo project ideas in the works, some that take years and some that come together in months. Overall I hope to continue making work that excites me and be able to share it with others; either in print, online or while hanging on a wall.

Explore more of Roslyn’s stories at her website.

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INTERVIEW / Jacob Burge - UK and Japan

What first drew you to making images? The main thing that drew me in was the instant nature of photography and the freedom that it gave me. A camera is not such a complicated piece of equipment to use, compared to computers and the likes of photoshop, so I enjoyed being able to experiment and find my style without hurting my brain too much.

What did you photograph at the beginning? In the beginning I was photographing anything and everything; I didn’t have any real focus or concepts, but I would always end up photographing texture, patterns and interesting colour combinations when out and about snapping. At the same time a couple of friends had started their own clothing labels and I would offer to help them without really knowing much about fashion photography - I just wanted to experiment and find my style.

Tell us about 'Daydream Fantasy', a project that appears complex and layered in meaning. How did the project come about? Well the style of this project came about from being a bit bored with straight photography, I go through phases of needing a change and to make something fresh. I’ve always had a love for design, drawings, paintings, graffiti etc. but could never do it, so this is my way to create something with that flavour. I had been doing a lot of street photography at the time so had many images of lone people looking lost in thought or daydreaming as they went about there daily lives and wanted a way to visualise this. The images are blended with vintage matchboxes I had been collecting in Japan, where I now live.

How do you look back at the work you made in the UK compared to your current work in Japan? Hmm, good question. The work I was making in UK was slightly random as I was still trying to find my style, which I guess I am still. Moving to Japan helped me find some perspective of my past work and helped me move forward with new projects. It was overwhelming at first, I just wanted to photograph everything, but now I’ve learned to slow down and focus a bit more. I guess photographing in a unfamiliar place/country will always be more exciting at first but I’m actually looking forward to photographing in UK again when I go back.

Japan for me is actually quite tricky to photograph in an original way, I see many photo books or projects that usually focus on Tokyo, which is all good, but for me it doesn't really show anything new. Living outside of Tokyo has been much more interesting and ahs helped shaped my current projects. My first experience of Tokyo was seduction, like everyone else, by the bright lights, brash colours and swarms of people. After a while Tokyo started to resemble a warped kind of Disneyland, which is great, but I wanted to explore and see behind the artificial makeup of this mega city. My antidote was the suburbs on the outskirts of Tokyo and finding it much more interesting than salary men and neon lights. For me the image culture of Tokyo is never ending, many books and zines have been churned out, some more original than others. It’s tricky to find an unique viewpoint, especially in place like Tokyo but its a good challenge and helps to push me out of my comfort zone.

Many are prone to romantisice, almost fetishise, their approach to photography; Would it be fair to say your relationship to the medium is less precious? And would a heavily experimental process key to your future work?

Yeah that’s a fair comment, I don’t think of myself being in the obsessive category when it comes to photography. I’ve already got a habit/obsession of buying vinyl records that I’m trying to get under control, so I’m using all my will power not to get addicted to cameras. I much prefer just getting out there and using my camera rather than analysing and discussing pixels. For me I just want my future work to feel fresh. Heavy experimentation is one way I like to create, but I still have a love for the more traditional methods.

See more of Jacob’s varied portfolio at his website.

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’My Neighbour Jozef Franko’ by Julie Lauritzen Review by Sophie Iona Read ‘In a large city like London it is quite rare to know ones neighbours.’

It would be hard to isolate a moment in time where the pace of life got so fast that we stopped to notice the small things, the details that last in our memories of the people we once knew or the places we had traveled. Sometimes it takes something to open our eyes and give us the time and space to navigate through something ignored. My Neighbour Jozef Franko does exactly that. The small publication, hand bound by Lauritzen, carefully navigates through a world that seems untraveled by many; the world of our neighbours. Travelling through the pages seems parallel to exploring Franko’s world. The photographs, shot on medium format, take us on the visual journey through Franko’s home while the text opens doors to his past, his beliefs and his personality. By choosing to ignore a traditional linear narrative Lauritzen has instead opted to mirror her own experience with Franko. The result is a haphazard fragmented path through his life and through his home, giving permission to the reader to find his or her own way. Presented with a mixture of images the reader is able to put a face to the name, but also explore how a person is reflected in their home, and in their possessions. Images depict the trash and treasures stored in his home, possessions belonging to him and his soon to be divorced wife, allow a birds eye view into the life of a person who could be on our own doorsteps. While a project depicting an elderly character can often run the risk of victimizing the protagonist and becoming overly voyeuristic, Lauritzen has managed to show Franko in a positive self-assured light. While the text explains how Franko struggled in his early years it also shows his optimism, his passions and his honesty: presenting an outgoing, jovial character with a lust for life. Images showing Franko having breakfast alone, lit in a warm morning light with a regular meal of tea and toast does not evoke sadness, but instead a sense of respect. The book investigates how the residents of such a heavily populated city can often feel alone, especially the elderly. We only ever visit Franko within the confines of his home, further highlighting an idea that without this outside intervention from Lauritzen his stories would not have been told, and his excitement sharing such tales would not have been felt. It is interesting consider how a life can exist within such confines, is it our duty to open doors to new relationships? As we come to the end of our journey with Jozef we are left with a note from the artist, explaining her own personal motivations behind the publication. While the book shows only a snapshot of the life of a vivid man, it promotes an idea of opening your eyes to look at what could be right in front of you. A story of a neighbor, a man with an interesting history but also a story of our relationship to others; of a sense of community that does or does not exist.

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‘Spook Light Chronicles, Vol. 1 & 2’ by Lara Shipley and Antone Dolezal Review by Lex Thompson

Ghost Show May Be In Session

A glowing light appears, sometimes bobbing up and down or splitting into multiple orbs, in an area of the rural Ozarks ominously known as the Devil’s Promenade. It has done it for generations. Assorted scientists and government agencies have studied them and still know nothing, or at least nothing they will tell us. But, the Spook Lights are less conspiracy theory and more mystery. Lara Shipley and Antone Dolezal’s Spook Light Chronicles approach the subject with just this sensibility. The series is now in its second volume. The books have simple, unassuming dark blue covers. Gold foil stamping of the title and a silhouetted design, a cluster of orbs on volume one, and a man wearing hat and suit on volume two, bring a sense of elegance and mystery to the investigation. Vol. 1 – The Road and the Light (2013) The first page is a series of press excerpts and witness testimony about the spook lights. These kinds of contextual phrasings reappear throughout the book guiding our looking at the photographs. The photos themselves are a mixture of types of images: archival and historic photos, portraits, landscapes. They shift back and forth from black and white to color, old to contemporary. The assembly speaks to the duration of the lights, setting a context for their long history among a people and culture. The portraits, with quotes presumably by those pictured in the portraits, make the project not so much about finding the lights themselves, but about the culture that surrounds them. The photos express a kind of skeptical belief. Night roads with unknowable lights in the distance are set alongside photographs that are obvious and familiar tricks of the camera and exposure. In one wooded photograph a person lurks under a bed sheet as blowing branches blur through the long exposure. The person waits, clearly unable to deceive with such a rudimentary cliché, but maybe hoping to startle a passerby. Or, maybe the person is waiting under the sheet so as not to spook the light emerging from the wood. Either way there is a kind of hokey and sympathetic expectation in the photo. There is no attempt, or even need, to differentiate what is documentation and what is theater in these photographs. Factual or staged, it is not about discovering the truth of the lights, proving anything one way or another. The photos are about wanting to see, or believing in spite of one’s unbelief. They suggest wonder and a kind of human bond that forms around the unknown. Volume one ends with a map, old, water stained, and torn along the edges. Drawn by the hand of retired Army Captain Bob Loftin. It delineates the roads, and test sits, but most importantly charts the shifting locations of the lights, a kind of analytic expression of their elusiveness. Here is the chart to the locus of unknowing, tightly wound into the landscape of a place and people, populated by the photographs that precede it. Vol. 2 – The Phosphorescent Man (2014) While the first volume centers on the phenomenon as it builds up in a place, the second volume is focused on how this anomaly coalesces in a person – or a series of people to be more accurate. “Spooky” is the name given to a series of individuals who have become a kind of channel for the spook light. If the photos are to be believed, they are either a kind of shaman like figure, a showman milking the gullible, a bartender, an archivist, or maybe all at the same time to one degree or another. Whatever his nature, he is proprietor of the Spook Light Museum. The center of the book includes a narrative about the passing of the mantle from one Spooky to the next by means of a close encounter of the 3rd kind with the lights – if we can translate the term from space visitations to paranormal apparitions. Surrounding the tale, the factuality of which is pointless to question, are images of Spooky, or at least images that suggest they might be of Spooky. There’s a found photograph of two men dressed in capes and horned masks having cocktails – Halloween party, fraternal order, or a break from an occult rite? In the portrait, I’d Be That Soulless Man, a young man stands alone in a clearing by the woods, exhaling what should clearly be cigarette smoke, but in this context becomes the ectoplasm of a nineteenth-century séance. As it says in one excerpt from the book, “if the light didn’t shine, Spooky would.” And within this show are the faces of people earnest and true. It’s often hard to know for sure who is in the pictures and their precise connection, if any, to the floating lights and the man who guides folks to them. But, in the end it’s not the point, just like Spooky is a trans-generational conglomeration of many individuals, the figures in the book come together to assume this larger whole and bring us closer to the mythos and culture of the Phosphorescent Man and his realm in the Devil’s Promenade. In the end, these are not books made to tell us something. They do that, surely, but more importantly than that, they bring us into a world, a world of not knowing. While one can use the index of credits in the back of the books to source the origins of the image as either appropriation or the work of either Shipley or Dolezal, that hardly seems necessary. The photographs come together so cleanly in the books that their very differences are what make the volumes hold together as a kind of archive of research into the idea of the spook lights and the expectation that surrounds them. The Spook Light Chronicles, Vol. 1 & 2, house images that can be just as haunting as the things that they attempt to present. One is left with the faith that any additional volumes will further deepen the mystery.

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INTERVIEW / David Brunetti - Palestine

David Brunetti is a London-based photographer whose portraiture and documentary photography has focussed on some of the World's most pressing and underreported concerns, including the rise of Tuberculosis in India, the post-war landscape of Uganda and the effects of domestic child labour in Nepal. David's award-winning storytelling has seen him work with charities and display in exhibitions across the world, including the Taylor Wessing Prize, the Kuala Lumpur International Photo Awards 2013 and Prix de la Photographie '13. The portraits featured are from his upcoming series "Looking for Palestine", as well as selected images from his project "Deadlock".

"Khaled Barghouthi", image from 'Looking for Palestine' How did you first come to explore Palestine? The first time I visited Palestine was in 2004. It was a relatively short trip, only a few weeks long, too short to gain any meaningful insights into Palestinian culture or a true understanding of the underlying causes of the Intifada and the occupation but somehow it had a tremendous impact on me – and how I approach my work. Like everybody else, I grew up with images of the Israeli-Palestine conflict in the papers, on the telly, and the grown-ups discussing it casually at the dinner table. Though it was constantly at the back of my mind, as I was growing up the conflict about Palestine, the First Intifada and the Oslo Process never really sparked my interest until much later. It was a conflict that was always in the news and always accompanied with a relentless supply of identical images and unchanging arguments. Maybe it was the repetitive nature of the reporting and analysis that had curbed my interest when I was younger.

Image from 'Deadlock' During the Second Intifada, I was already living in the UK, I realised how incessantly repetitive and reductive the reporting on all issues touching on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict really was. And I began asking questions, reading up on the history and politics of the region, and finally, wanting to pursue my first project abroad, I decided to visit Palestine to see for myself. What I just couldn’t understand was the insistence and reliance of mainstream media on a false moral equivalence between Israel and Palestine. The news coverage often implies that both are equals. It infers a sense of comparable suffering occurring on both sides but in reality it’s not a symmetrical conflict at all. The impression you get from reports that attempt to set events – like the airstrikes on Gaza this week – into some sort of context with ‘comparable’ events reinforces the idea of Israeli ‘restraint’ and ‘proportional response’.

"Taysir Odeh", image from 'Looking for Palestine' The scale of Palestinian suffering, the loss of life, the destruction of civilian property, and the absolute denial of basic human rights of an entire population on the basis of their ethnicity tends to get lost in these reports. And while I don’t want to minimise the fear of ordinary Israeli civilians, I believe that media accounts trying to paint a balanced picture by comparing the Palestinian and Israeli experience of occupation and conflict do a great disservice to reality. I’m not a war photographer, I’m not drawn to all out conflict but I wanted to see for myself because I knew that the news I was consuming at the time weren’t accurately reflecting the reality of the people living in the West Bank and Gaza. And I wanted to meet the people who’ve remained nameless on so many occasions and learn from them what it means to live under military occupation.

"Ihab Zahdeh", image from 'Looking for Palestine' Were your subjects quite open to the idea of being photographed? How did you go about relaying their story into a photographic language? I’m often surprised that when people think of Israel they think of the occupation, yes, but they also associate Israel with food, music, art, holidays and parties in Tel Aviv, academia, business and successful IT start ups. Israel is all this, it’s a country with history and a future and not just an occupying power. And the same people associate Palestine with the occupation, the wall and apartheid only. This reduces Palestinians to stereotypes. When I think of Palestine, I also remember the people I’ve met, the food, the music, the culture and how beautiful it is. But many people are genuinely surprised when I talk about the people I met and the projects they were involved with or about the cultural life in Ramallah and East Jerusalem. And I find this terribly sad. Not for the Palestinians sake, they know who they are, but for us, here, in the West because we chose to look at Palestine and only see victims and perpetrators. Western societies can so easily identify with Israeli families but still seem to have difficulties to extend the same benefit to Palestinian society who is seemingly always in need of explanations and justifications. I think the way Palestinian culture and the Israeli occupation is represented in mainstream media says a lot about our world view and how we, in the West, in Europe, in the UK, view areas of conflict in general.

"Maya Khaldi", image from 'Looking for Palestine' And as we speak, the offensive against Hamas in Gaza is still underway, and is a perfect example of how stereotypes and misconceptions are reinforced through repetition. Palestine, the Israeli military occupation, apartheid and Palestinian resistance have been in the news for so long that it’s only of interest to the newsrooms and editors when the “situation” escalates and violence flares up. The structural violence of the occupation that ruthlessly controls every aspect of Palestinian life in Gaza, the West Bank and in East Jerusalem is of little interest in periods of tentative calm. As a result, we only “see” Palestinians when violence fares up. We see them in images mourning the loss of loved ones, at countless funerals, and among the ruins of their homes. But by constantly framing Palestinians in the context of violence only, by not recognising Palestinian society in its complexities, we become desensitised to the loss of human lives. The number of Palestinians who have lost their lives in this most recent assault on Gaza continues to grow but it’s crude to even count the number of fatalities because they remain faceless and nameless when their loss devastates families and communities.

Image from 'Deadlock' I think it’s important that we don’t paint Palestinian society as entirely consumed by violence and conflict at all times. For now the attention of international media is on Gaza yet again but sooner or later there will be a truce brokered between Israel and Hamas. But this will not change the realities on the ground. The media presence that is currently so overwhelming will eventually wane again but the images of violence, loss and destruction will stay with us colouring our perception of Palestinians. Once I explained my reasoning and motivation for a project that addresses this shortfall, everybody I worked with was incredibly open to meet with me. Every single person taking part said that there is more to Palestine than just occupation and suffering. And I absolutely agree; Palestinians have a lot to offer. There is a lot of talent and ambition in Palestine that deserves attention. And by continually reinforcing stereotypes that underestimate Palestinians we’re unable to understand the conflict or to show true solidarity in a way that effects change.

"DAM (Brothers Suhell and Tamer Nafar and Mahmoud Jreri)", image from 'Looking for Palestine' The idea I had in mind was raising visibility of ordinary Palestinians as well as interest in their work and art. But instead of trying to tell stories about the occupation, I wanted to show real people with real aspirations who are talented – beyond stereotypes – changing what outsiders (like us) look at or reflect on when they think of Palestinians. I also wanted to avoid producing a straight up documentary project because Palestine and Palestinians have been subject to so much media attention since the Naqba and the 47-year long occupation of the West Bank, East Jerusalem and Gaza. Palestine is overrun with foreign journalists constantly trying to document the occupation in order to explain to foreign audiences what the conflict is all about. I wanted to avoid the documentary style because I felt it may be part of the problem.

"Hanin Taraby", image from 'Looking for Palestine' Instead, I asked my sitters to chose a place they feel comfortable in to give them control over the project, their portrait and how they would like to be portrayed. Some have chosen a home environment while others preferred to have their portrait taken in their place of business because they felt it was representative of their work. It was important for me to collaborate with my sitters and hand over the control as to where or how they are portrayed to them because in many instances Palestinians are portrayed in a particular way and often without involving the sitter in the process at all. It was my way of making sure they feel comfortable and in control. Also, I wanted to take the portraits free of preconceived ideas or prejudice on my part. Involving the sitters in this way made sure I don’t fall back on clichés and stereotypes. See more of his work at davidbrunetti.com

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ARTICLE / Matthew Walker - On Recollection

“The true picture of the past flits by. The past can be seized only as an image which flashes up at the instant when it can be recognized and is never seen again.”

Walter Benjamin (On the Concept of History, 1940)

The past dwells within images of space and transition only to be aroused as a momentary instant of recognition. Personal experience and occurrence formatively drive cognitive associations generating place images through associated voids in the record. Subjects, both intrinsic and obscure, are often lost in romantic notions of progress and transition. The artifactual nature of the landscape is a place maker of memory, a representation of an unseen past, a flicker of occurrence, and constitutes a part of the record. History is not bound to a seamless chronology, but is itself a collection of disparate memories and experience sewn together through the progression of time.

Recollection (Visual Studies Workshop Press, 2011) is a photobook originally published in commemoration of The College at Brockport’s (State University of New York) one hundred seventy-fifth anniversary. The project was supported with a commission from the 175th Anniversary Arts Committee and an artist residency at Visual Studies Workshop in Rochester, NY. In this work reflection is informed through a study of place. As evidenced in the title, the premise of this photobook is the boundless nature of memory and how one reconciles the unknown with what is present. This work reorients the traditional study of the past and shines a light on fleeting ruminations rooted in ethereal perception that populate space as vestiges of memory. Personal perspective informs the unknown existing between perceptions of the past and space in its contemporary form.

As the photograph evolves from an act of commemorative culmination to a catalyst for exploration and exchange so too does the means by which we see the past. In this sense, the memorial gives way to layers of disparate occurrence rooted in physical space bonding with gaps in the record and shaping a sense of the past. Specifically, informing one’s sense of the visual through otherworldly considerations rooted in memory and identity employs the image as an instigation rather than memorial. The spatial dimension of the photographic frame also shapes the image as it dictates the limits of the composition. Absence is as powerful a trace as any place marker. The inability to reconstruct a physical sense of the past acknowledges the role of self in reconciling the unachievable with the unknown. The photograph is ideal for exploring concepts of the past. It is the notional qualities specific to the medium that promote such possibility.

The limitations of history are in some respects its greatest asset and insure that the past is constantly reconsidered and picked apart from a variety of perspectives. The vibrancy of discourse highlights the fluid nature of the discipline, the fragile nature of historical constructions, and the alternative potential of visualization. Non-visual histories join the contemporary photograph in an oblique variation of re-photographic strategy and engage the relationship between past and present as exposed, tentative, and incomplete. The confines of a contemporary photograph provide the context for what is otherwise absent. The past is in fact unfinished and remains so as it is investigated, challenged, and reworked. One constant that remains is location, which continues to inform representations of place over time.

Recollection is a work of conceptual history that explores the visual nature of the past through the contemporary landscape. This body of work acknowledges the limits of historical perspective and represents the potential of contingent opportunity. The photograph and sense of the past that inhabits these combined readings promotes the push and pull between time and memory. History is augmented through the visualization of the present. The inherent contrast between period occurrence and contemporary place images promotes the association of memory or the absence thereof. The physical gives way to something other. The singularity of experience supplants the traditional narrative.

See more of Matthew's work at his website mwalkerphoto.com (function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){ (i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o), m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m) })(window,document,'script','//www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga'); ga('create', 'UA-48683678-2', 'onawhitewall.com'); ga('send', 'pageview');

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'A Head With Wings' by Anouk Kruithof Published by Little Brown Mushroom, 2011 Review by Emily Leonard

Along with many of Anouk Kruithof’s projects, 'A Head With Wings' is difficult to categorise as simply a photobook. This is a mix between a photobook, an installation and an object where the viewer is fully involved by opening up pages to reveal more images and developments to the story. Unlike many of Kruithof’s other publications, 'A Head With Wings' involves text. Published by Little Brown Mushroom, one of the requirements of this collaboration was to include text as well as having a predetermined format, cover and binding. Kruithof’s interest and talent of playing with the book format often manages to open up the restrictions which other books appear to abide to. 'A Head With Wings' is an explosion of images, following the actions and movements of a man in his own world through a series of images reconstructed by Kruithof. Composed of mostly black and white A5 images printed straight onto the book pages and glossy poster fold out images placed into the book, 'A Head With Wings' is a world in itself. This book is a marvellous experimentation of materials and ideas. The images come from Anouk’s archives, where she used images of a man she had photographed in a Berlin park. He had unusual gestures and expressions and she appreciated how he could exist so far from reality. These images were used by being cut out and combined with other images from Kruthiof’s archive, repositioned and stuck onto cardboard and then re photographed. This incredibly tactile way of creating an image is what is reflected throughout the book. The viewer is part of that tactile action by opening up the glossy poster paper to reveal the images. The book imitates the state of the main character. Almost hallucinatory, the text and images have a hint of surrealism. The book is very palpable in the way it initiates the view of what may be happening inside the man’s head, or at least Kruithof’s idea of what it means to live inside one’s mind, so far from reality. This playful motion creates the illusion of opening up further into the main character’s actions. The importance of these actions indicates Kruithof’s preference of not working too much in Photoshop. Perhaps this makes her more connected to the book, seeing as it has always existed in some sort of physical form. This playful way of working is conceivably a connection to the free-flowing nature of the main character. Kruithof has said that the text, which is a fictional story, was not created to coincide with the images. Yet seeing that it does sit next to the images, the reader naturally makes connections between both of them. The text feels like a stream of consciousness, much like the alienating gestures and the movements that the main character makes throughout the book. However, to think of it as two separate stories in the same book is equally as interesting, the book becomes even more complex and surreal. A Head With Wings leaves me with the feeling that anything is possible within the book format. Even with being restricted to a specific book size and binding, Kruithof has still managed to pull her unique style of pushing the boundaries of installation into this little book.

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‘United Kingdom’ by James O Jenkins Review by Katie Stretton

"My lasting thought of attending all these customs is the sense of fun and enjoyment that was palpable everywhere."

To photograph is in some way to be curious about that world and ‘United Kingdom’ by James O Jenkins is perhaps a perfect example of this. Humans are by nature curious about other humans and how they are different and similar to ourselves.  In a world where we are increasingly told about globalization and warned of the dangers and merits Jenkins’ work shows us how much we have and are coming to treasure the national and local traditions which not only identify our separate countries but also some of the cultures within them. Jenkins has taken that curiosity and travelled around a country which is not just one of the fastest growing but also most diverse in the world and explored some of the local diversities which makes up what we know as the UK. However here we do not find the documentation we might expect of such customs and instead we find ourselves with a different kind of treasury which focuses on the people who not only partake but who are in fact THE traditions. From the well known Guy Fawkes Night, familiar across the nation, to the lesser known celebrations such as the Rochester Sweeps Festival, the Abbotts Bromley Horn Dance and the Burning of Bartle, ‘United Kingdom’ offers us the chance to engage with an array of costumes, masks, objects and faces which look back at us and show us how we are perhaps constantly both on the inside and outside of any given community at any time. In a manner which could remind us of Avedon’s ‘In The American West’, Jenkins has alluded to what we might call typography without creating portraits which might take on a sterile quality – indeed these are anything but that. Jenkins was eager to show a friendliness and warmth, which is so easy to overlook, and the portraits successfully show, both individually and as a collection, the aspects of the people and traditions that he set out to. We find ourselves not only asking questions about why these people are dressed like they are, but also who they are. The book is reminiscent of map and guide books, not only because the contents are organised into locations but because the book itself takes on some of these qualities; for example, the cover is textured in a similar way to an ordnance survey map with a cloth-like feel and colours which also allude to the same object. What comes across strongly throughout the book is the enthusiasm and interest on both sides; the people’s interest in these traditions and Jenkins’ interest in people. To embark upon such an exploration would be daunting for many of us and what is clear here is that the initial interest here has never faded making the work feel much more like encounters with old friends than the acquaintance of strangers.

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INTERVIEW / Amiko Li - Saudade

'Saudade' is a quiet, thoughtful project that, as you suggest, processes a more turbulent background. What led you to create the work? I think of photography as a very personal medium, like a diary. I started to photograph after I came to Chicago, everything here was new to me. Back then I made photographs without knowing what I am pursuing. I was in this rather comfortable situation which enables me to explore my new surroundings. Later my fragility and discomfort emerged from my photographs, because my naive perspective that I grown up with has been challenged. The break-up I had in 2013 summer especially accelerated the process and I felt like I need to restudy everything that I thought I know. I started to realize this awkwardness and sensitivity I had in both my photographs and life. So in a way I had the photographs first, but it took sometime to figure out what do they mean to me.

Do you take the same approach with portraiture also? How do your personalities meet in the images? Yes, definitely – I have always been interested in young couples, and young love. After the split up I start to photograph couples, I photographed Kevin, who has been in a long term relationship, while me on the other hand has never been with someone for that long, so I really want to know. How does it feel, and how can you keep that. I think for me photography become a way to learn, to understand.

How do you think this project compares to work you've created during a more stable time? I think it contributes to my larger concept, and I think they share similar tone and emotions, however visually there is more complexity in the later works, the stories and thinking are distilled in the photographs. The earlier works depict my naive perspective of life and love, and for this project I think is more like a journey to discover and understand on my own.

Is this organic style of photography how you plan to continue working? What are you hoping to achieve in the future? I find the balance-keeping in photography interesting. I usually start off wandering, photographing, and through that process something will always catch my attention. I will then make work around that, or repeat the same approach to that subject matter until it got contrived and I would start over wandering again. For example, I met this young couple in my friend's party and I went to their apartment and photograph them, later I photographed more young couples. I hope through photography I can understand myself better, and become more comfortable of myself.

See more of Amiko's work at amikoli.com (function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){ (i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o), m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m) })(window,document,'script','//www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga'); ga('create', 'UA-48683678-2', 'onawhitewall.com'); ga('send', 'pageview');

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ARTICLE / Benjamin Haywood - The Everyday

Many photographers and photography students think of travelling to new places to make their work. As a tourist on holiday who finds everything interesting taking pictures of roads and street signs, they approach the new place with fresh eyes. They might see some incredible things that they had never seen before and they will take photographs of them because they are different from what they know. But as the tourist, who finds that their photographs of their holiday never live up to the experience of it, the photographers pictures are not as interesting as experiencing the places in them. Taking a photograph of something beautiful and fresh is obviously not easy, but I would argue that a photograph of something outside of your experiences or daily life, will always be interesting. On the other hand, the experience of your home town, or the place that you live, is not particularly special, it is common to you. If you can remove yourself and try to regain the ‘fresh eyes’ that you have when you visit somewhere new, and then make a photograph that causes people to stop, that is more interesting than the experience of visiting the place, that is a successful picture.

A boy walking home from school or a woman walking to the shops or someone driving home from work, these moments that don’t get noticed, examples of daily routines that have existed as long as human’s have. Sharpening tools to hunt with as ancient man has become the walk to school as a modern boy, and these events are as overlooked by the participants as ever. These common aspects of our lives change gradually and subtly, but with photography one can scrutinise these moments. One can see in their light, shape and colour, so much about human kind and a group’s specific culture.

‘The human world is not defined simply by the historical, by culture, by totality or society as a whole, or by ideological and political super-structures/ It is defined by this intermediate and mediating level: Every day life.’

An individual or groups culture, history and society is conveyed through these small moments, the tableaus that they happen in. Identifiers that one does not need to notice, but that once discovered can tell a lot about them. That is something that I am talking about in Uckfield Matters. This work is about the everyday of the town, as well as the people that occupy it. Here is the ‘middle class taste tribe’. Unspectacular, not quirky or rare. When I get really wrapped up in a piece of work I really appreciate any small amount of routine that I have. Making a bowl of cereal or pouring a cup of tea, common gestures that you do not notice, become rituals that ground you and keep you human. It is really strange then, to focus that piece of work that I am lost in, on those very sorts of common gestures that act as therapy for me. In the same way, I have started making work about my hometown, a place that grounds me, allows me to breathe and takes me away from London where I feel frantic. I am looking at things in my work that usually provide solace from it.

One key to the everyday has been colour. Making lucid, captivating images of things that would normally be overlooked. Or, simply, creating a beautiful picture, where the unimportant subject simply provides the aesthetic formula for the image. The everyday, common place or banal is a good subject to realise the power of the photographic. Because it is subtle it doesn’t pull your attention away from the aesthetic quality of the image. Once you have been grabbed by a picture of two blue buckets you can understand the unique potential of photography. See more of Ben’s work at his website, and say hello on twitter. // <![CDATA[ (function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){ (i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o), m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m) })(window,document,'script','//www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga'); ga('create', 'UA-48683678-2', 'onawhitewall.com'); ga('send', 'pageview'); // ]]>