silent stories, waiting to be told

out of the blue by kirill golovchenko

when i read about the photography triennial that's on right now in hamburg, i remembered another photography exhibition i saw at hamburg's deichtorhallen back in april. it was an exhibition of young european photographers and while much of it looked like trying-too-hard thesis projects that got barely passing grades, there were two young photographers who were doing something that got my attention. one was ukrainian kirill golovchenko. his large piece, composed of smaller photos, out of the blue, photographed on a black sea beach through a bathing ring, was whimsical and touching and with its vintagey treatment, felt like it tapped into something of the instagram-y pulse of our times, while saying something deeper about the culture of leisure time.

out of the blue by kirill golovchenko

out of the blue by kirill golovchenko

it was the first piece you saw as you came into the amazing cathedral-like exhibition space and it warranted a longer look. the girls liked it and stood before it, pointing out various whimsies to one another, for quite some time. i liked it too - plenty of whimsy and a healthy dose of strange-making ostranenie on the typical beach scene, making us see it anew. and what was a panda doing on the beach?

collection by jan brykczynski

the other photographer's work that spoke to me was jan brykczynski from poland. he photographed everyday objects in what once were grand surroundings of a palatial home that had been in his family for years. the obvious grandeur was a bit worn and shabby and the photos evoked those tropes of memory and forgetting that so often speak to me. who knows why these particular objects were collected? the stories behind them are surely long forgotten, but there's something poetic about them photographed individually on the ledge. as an object photographer myself, they spoke to me.

collection by jan brykczynski

collection by jan brykczynski

a number of the works juxtaposed the grand setting to the mundane realities of everyday life in the 21st century. ironing would undoubtedly once have been done by servants and now one must do it oneself, albeit still in the grand surroundings. and while it's not necessarily a photograph i'd like to own, it made me think of the great, sweeping swaths of history blowing through europe (and the world, for that matter), leaving everything changed.

collection by jan brykczynski

i think his work spoke to my inner collector as well. there's just something comforting about the act of gathering like objects and displaying them. the documentation of it. the gathering. the collection of memories. the silent stories, waiting to be told.

desuetude in photography

this photo of an abandoned farmhouse in SD is by me

bloggy friend celkalee sent me a link to some stunning (if a bit over-processed) photography of abandoned places by dutch photographer niki fejen. some of the the photos were featured yesterday on huffington post. i initially thought the photographer was a woman and it's weird how i had a different feeling about the photos before i found out fejen was a man. fejen calls the style urbex (urban exploring) and he likes to wander places you're not supposed to go (i like him already).  he makes me want to visit chernobyl even more than i did before. (note: i have chosen not to post any of his photos here (it seemed impolite) - please visit his website to see them.)

but as usual, the photos have me thinking. i find them, with their HDR style, to be over-processed and despite the subject matter, too slick. tho' at the same time, they are rich and lush and i linger at each one, taking in all of the details of the desuetude. but the processing gives me pause as to their authenticity. i have to wonder if some of them aren't staged.

errol morris devoted an entire chapter of his book believing is seeing (which i highly recommend, it's a must-read if you like to ponder photography) to a photo of mickey mouse amidst rubble that may or may not have been staged by photographer ben curtis in lebanon on 2006. morris does an exhaustive analysis of whether the photo was staged, even interviewing curtis, who says it was not. he also sensitively explores the feelings such photos bring forth in us and the meanings we instinctively ascribe to them and how they can be used to manipulate public opinion. it's a discussion of authenticity and staging that's worth reading. but i digress a bit from fejen's photos. and i recognize that if they are at times staged, it means less than if photos of war are staged.

as i looked through the gallery on fejen's website, some of the photos just rang with a false note for me. was that moss on the bed in photo no. 11 really that green or has he dialed it up in photoshop? photo no. 36 - i have to wonder if that bowler hat was really there on the back of the chair, or did niki pick it up and place it there for the shot? the wheelchair in no. 44 and no. 45 would seem to indicate proof of staging. the open doors, affording a peek in to a jesus statue down the hall in no. 46 seems a bit too perfect. the way the chairs are carefully lined up in no. 122. and the doll with the gas mask on in the chernobyl set, did she really have that on and was she really sitting on that chair? but does any of this matter? anytime you raise your camera and take a shot, you're making choices about what's included and what's not and you are, in a sense, manipulating the scene. it's part of the medium. i think when it bothers me is when it causes the photo to ring false.

i also find it a bit annoying that for the most part, the photos are not labeled as to where they are taken, tho' i recognize that abandoned hospital near berlin that so many have photographed. i wonder why he has chosen to do that? i look at them and the first thing i wonder is where it's at. is he afraid we'll all jump on a plane and go take our own pictures? or does he think it lends meaning for us to imagine for ourselves where they are? me, i just find it rather irritating.

i am, however, a sucker for a dead piano (no. 28, 33, 36, 146, the organ in no. 58) - there is such aching beauty in those. and i still remember the first one i saw and photographed, in an old castle along the banks of the volga river. unfortunately, it's buried somewhere in a box somewhere in this house and i cannot locate it at the moment, so i can't show it to you. 

monday ephemera

you know what can totally make your monday? when someone starts it off by saying, "if you tell me to jump, i'll say how high." in fact, i think that's set the tone for my whole week - it's going to be a good one.

gold's curio store, sante fe

wouldn't you like to visit this place?
perhaps take in the monster show?

colorado, a pioneer merchant

this photo makes me think you don't have to have everything perfectly in order to be able to get started. you should just jump right in.
that's another motto for my week.

 these photos are from this fascinating collection of images of america from 1897 to 1924 by the detroit photographic company.

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last week, the voynich manuscript, this week, the book of kells.

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if you really love words and writing and even reading, read this.  

it will make you want to wake your verbs right up.

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the h boards on pinterest: hairy, halloween, helleristning, homesteading, house ideas (this was one of my first boards on pinterest), husband could make this (a personal favorite).

wordless wednesday - nyhavn