Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Elementary Calculus by J Carrier


My review of J Carrier's Elementary Calculus (MACK, 2012) is now available on photo-eye. You can read the review below or here.
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From the decentralized production and exchange of commodities to radical shifts in migration, globalization has transformed the world in numerous ways. What is often lost in these abstract discussions is the effect these changes have on people throughout the world. Shuttled and tossed about, lost amidst the shuffle, and driven by new economic opportunities, or the lack thereof, they are forced to survive and find a new place in environments that are often foreign to their own. In Israel, the seemingly endless Israeli-Palestinian conflict not only defines our perceptions of the region, but also masks our recognition of its own demographic and social transformation in the face of globalization. Shot in Jerusalem and Tel-Aviv, Elementary Calculus, J Carrier's excellent new book explores the unseen and unspoken consequences of migration, exile and displacement in the region with intelligence and sophistication.

 
All images © J Carrier and MACK 

Captured in a loose style and muted tones, the book is full of reoccurring motifs. Telephones and telephone wires, pigeons, stray cats, fruit, flowers and migrants fill the pages. Carrier's landscape is also filled with symbols and signs. Hearts and Stars of David appear as graffiti on walls and in the designs of wrought iron fence. Posters and flyers advertise housing and products in multiple languages. The central characters in the book are migrants from Africa, South Asia and East Asia. Clutching their cell-phones, they seem to wander bewildered through a landscape and city foreign to their own. Alone or in pairs, they crouch and huddle in phone booths or carry groceries home to their apartments. Strangers in a strange land, the phones offer links home, small oases, and connections to loved ones far away. 

All images © J Carrier and MACK 

Although there is a narrow range of images and subjects, the book's focus and edit creates a powerful narrative of displacement and longing. In one image pairing, miscellaneous cell-phone parts strewn across the sidewalk for sale are juxtaposed with another sidewalk full of pigeons – two opposing technologies of communication. The cellphone parts offer the hope to repair and fix existing and/or outmoded technology, while the pigeons suggest that some old technologies never truly disappear – they just get pushed aside. In addition to the repeated subjects, image sequences of successive frames pepper the book. One such sequence shows a crane operated vending machine filled with money. Like the fraught circumstances of their existence, it teases the imagined players with money that is so close, yet just out of reach. Fortunately, the repetition and limited subjects never becomes tiresome, but gives the book a rhythmic pace. The gaps and blank pages function like pauses or line breaks. The image sequences build, reflect and expand upon Carrier's themes like rhyming stanzas in a poem.

All images © J Carrier and MACK 
All images © J Carrier and MACK

The book is almost text free, but opens with a quotation from Mahmoud Darwish, a Palestinian poet. Although Darwish was a passionate advocate for Palestinian self-determination, it is his eloquent words about the anguish of exile, rather than his politics, that matter here. The only other text is three words that appear on two discarded cigarette packs and a polyester jersey. TIME, DISTANCE and INFINITY – three words that define and shape the lives of the individuals in the book. The oxymoronic title also touches on the complexities of being a foreigner in the Holy Land – simple in theory, but much more complex in lived reality or practice. Never truly a part of the region's political, religious and cultural history, and denied the possibility of full assimilation, the migrants hover and float at a distance, co-existing on the margins, like the cats and pigeons that fill the book and streets. 

All images © J Carrier and MACK

For the better part of the past decade, J Carrier has traveled from Ecuador to Africa to Israel. A self-described nomad himself, Carrier shares an affinity and affection for the men and women in his images. Tightly focused and smartly edited, Carrier has created a compassionate and thoughtful meditation on exile and migration. Two similar images of doves on a wall begin and end the book. Taken seconds apart, they transform the book into a loop and summarize its themes. The solitary doves, like the migrants, inhabit the fringes and cracks of the Holy Land. Nestled between historic landmarks and ancient walls, surrounded by symbols, hampered by economic and social restrictions, they are virtually invisible, yet always in plain sight.

Please note: This review originally appeared on photo-eye Magazine. You can buy the book here.

Tuesday, October 09, 2012

Welcome to Springfield by Michael Abrams

My review of Michael Abrams' Welcome to Springfield (Loosestrife Editions, 2012) is now online at photo-eye.
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It's easy to lose track of all the Springfields. They populate the United States' landscape as the American ur-town – ubiquitous, instantly recognizable, yet mysteriously opaque in their sameness. Everywhere and nowhere, the very name seems to crystallize the American town. After all, there is a reason the town in The Simpsons is called Springfield. Michael Abrams' Welcome to Springfield is a startling collection of vernacular and found imagery that takes us into the dark heart of a fictitious Springfield of his own creation. Shifting through private and collective memories, Abrams reveals the mundane reality and repressed fantasies at the heart of a prototypical American town.

All images © Michael Abrams and Loosestife Editions

From the enigmatic cover image of a family wearing hand-made masks to the images of smiling debutantes, the book's images constantly alternate between the visible surface and unspoken underbelly of Springfield. While there is no clear or apparent narrative to Abrams book, the juxtapositions and editing moves us in and out of a secret world of closely guarded and impolite secrets. The book brings together private nudes, backyard family portraits, goofy personal shots, rude family album outtakes and photobooth snaps to reveal the tumultuous id of a typical post-war American town. Most of the images are not shocking, but we are also given the occasionally jolt – a woman in leather bondage, completely bound and gagged; a woman playing dress up and coyly posing with a gun; or a nude male standing outside with a bag over his head. Images are presented full-bleed and actual size, with occasional color overlays, and in their original discolored, faded state. All is not completely dark in Abrams world, but the moments of joy and levity are tempered with sexual, racial and psychological drama. This is not Mayberry.

All images © Michael Abrams and Loosestife Editions
All images © Michael Abrams and Loosestife Editions

Throughout the book there are also numerous smart design details, like the inclusion of antique painted wallpaper, that suggest we need only peel away the flowers and a new world will emerge. Almost completely hidden in the back of the book is a small pamphlet with numerous erotic images of women posing for lovers. A group shot of three laughing men in the beginning sets the tone. The women enclosed are clearly trophies and conquests to be shared – moments of intimacy quickly and covertly transformed into lurid social currency. There is also a three-page typed story by Gerry Badger inserted into the book on folded paper. Badger's contribution about one of the town's residents is an odd, but affecting, short story that reads like a cross between the local police blotter and a Philip Roth novel.

All images © Michael Abrams and Loosestife Editions
All images © Michael Abrams and Loosestife Editions

Excluding the protagonist of Badger's story, Aaron Miller, Nadine is one of the book's few, if only, characters. We first see Nadine in her yearbook photograph, but she is referenced in numerous places. Generic and effusive notes of praise to Nadine are written on the back of photographs of other women from her own collection. A stereotypical high school sweetheart and prom queen, Nadine is the idealized American girl. Judging from the notes and their admiring tone, she stands for the aspirational longing of many women in this town. One woman even promises to name her first daughter Nadine. Like the wallpaper, Nadine unwittingly represents the pristine façade of post-war America that covers the darker reality of Abram's Springfield. Whereas portraits like Nadine's and her classmates are meant to be shared, most of the rest of the images were clearly taken in private, placed in shoeboxes rather than albums, and rarely, if ever, shared.

All images © Michael Abrams and Loosestife Editions

Rooted in their own time yet given new context and meaning, Abrams has woven his own tale from these disparate images. Appropriation is an age-old artists tool that can yield marvelous results, and Michael Abram's book is a prime example. Finally, I'm reminded of Tolstoy's famous quote that “happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” In Abrams' Springfield, he has created his own seemingly unhappy and dysfunctional family, or town, as the case may be, and in doing so revealed the uncanny, haunting underbelly of post-war America.

Please note: This review originally appeared in photo-eye Magazine. Order the book here.