Ametsuchi by Rinko Kawauchi

My review of Ametsuchi by Rinko Kawauchi (Aperture, 2013) is now available on photo-eye. You can get the book here.

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In 2007, Rinko Kawauchi travelled to the city of Aso to witness the ritual crop burning (or yakihata) of the region’s farm and grasslands. Largely replaced with chemical means of fertilization, the almost 1300 year old tradition of crop burning have a unique place in local culture. Mesmerized and haunted by the dramatic flames and rituals, Kawauchi returned over the years to capture the transformed landscape. Channeling smoke, flames, earth and the cosmos, Ametsuchi captures this annual ritual, connecting earth, fire and sky and powerfully evoking the cycle of life and death in a beautifully designed book.

All images © Rinko Kawauchi and Aperture (courtesy of photo-eye)

Kawauchi has received wide acclaim within the art and photo world for her poetic images and beautiful books. This new book feels like a departure, not necessarily in tone, but in structure and focus. Unlike Utatane, Aila, or even the recent Illuminance, which wove together disparate poetic images to magical effect, Ametsuchi uses the crop burns as a way to deal with larger metaphoric and spiritual concerns that have always been present within her work, but less explicitly stated. Dispensing with her signature square-format images, Kawauchi also began using a 4x5 camera, which slowed her process considerably and works well giving the images extra detail, but also panoramic scope.

All images © Rinko Kawauchi and Aperture (courtesy of photo-eye)

The book begins dramatically with flames. The sky is dark with smoke and flames dance upwards, engulfing the dry pale grass. Slowly, figures emerge in the distant landscape moving through the waves of desiccated grass. The images progress steadily and have the same rhythm as the flames they depict – undulating and threatening. Initially, the flames are fierce and unyielding – surrounding the frame or moving quickly along controlled lines in the landscape. Just as quickly, they subsided, leaving only a delicate tarp of ash on the distant hills and tree branches. People appear throughout, but are largely absent or wander through the burnt or newly verdant landscape.

All images © Rinko Kawauchi and Aperture (courtesy of photo-eye)

All images © Rinko Kawauchi and Aperture (courtesy of photo-eye)

The title Ametsuchi is comprised of two Japanese characters meaning heaven and earth, or top and bottom. It is also the title of a traditional Japanese pangram often chanted, which translates as “Song of the Universe.” This sense of cosmic completeness is also present in the work as Kawauchi moves from images of flames, to stars, to the sun, to the scorched earth and back to green fields. In addition to the crop burns, the book’s central subject and unifying thread, the book also includes images from the Shiromi Shrine, planetariums, the Tokyo sky and the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem. Cyclically arranged, the work eventually loops back to scenes of the newly fertile fields replenished by the violent burns. The middle of the book is dominated by images of religious ceremonies – primarily Shinto, but also Judeo-Christian. While Kawauchi’s inclusion of blurred images of individuals praying at the Western Wall feels slightly out of place, it fits the holistic, spiritual feel of the work.

All images © Rinko Kawauchi and Aperture (courtesy of photo-eye)

The book is beautifully printed and designed by Hans Gremmen, one the Netherlands’ most interesting and talented designers working with photobooks. In a variation of Japanese binding, the pages are cut along the side and bottom leaving only the top uncut. Color negative versions of the images on the outside pages hide in the folds. Paging through the book, you catch glimpses of the parallel, negative world, which reinforces the conceptual thread of heaven and earth without feeling heavy-handed. Notably, the book’s dust jacket also turns into a double-sided poster with a negative image of the cover on the back. The book is largely free of text save a concluding statement by Kawauchi and the aforementioned pangram.  

Ametsuchi will no doubt appeal to admirers of Kawauchi’s work, but many may also miss her looser, signature snapshot style. While the book does not represent a huge departure for Kawauchi, it is an admirable risk. Too often artists settle into a familiar mode of working and need to risk failure more often. Kawauchi does that in her new book powerfully melding thoughtful design and evocative work.

All images © Rinko Kawauchi and Aperture (courtesy of photo-eye)

Please note: This review originally appeared July 29th, 2013 on photo-eye. You can get the book here.

Garry Winogrand ed. Leo Rubinfien (Yale/SFMoMA)

My review of Garry Winogrand ed. Leo Rubinfien (Yale University Press/SFMoMA, 2013) is now available in the July/August issue of The Brooklyn Rail. For those of us on the East Coast, the show comes to Washington, DC next spring and the Metropolitan Museum of Art that summer. For now, we have the book.

Be sure to check out the rest of the issue including this interview with LaToya Ruby Frazier, the tribute to Sarah Charlesworth and more...

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For many young photographers in the ’70s and ’80s, Winogrand was a mythic figure. The territory Winogrand carved first in the streets of Manhattan, and later in the rodeos of Texas, the airports of New York City, and the open streets of Los Angeles, helped established a photographic language of spontaneous engagement with the world. Part of a generation of photographers who took to the streets in post World War II America, Winogrand prowled the streets of Manhattan with a hand-held Leica camera and wide-angle lens seeking, with each packed and titled frame, to capture the chaotic fervor of the city. Lionized by the Museum of Modern Art’s famed photography curator John Szarkowski, Winogrand’s work helped solidify and define the tradition of street photography so thoroughly that for a long time his presence seemed inescapable. Like all influential artists, his presence was so pervasive and widespread that the singularity of his vision and achievement all but disappeared. Although Winogrand has remained a touchstone for a generation of photographers, tackling and defining his legacy has proven to be a mercurial task.

 All photographs © Garry Winogrand and Yale/SFMoMA (courtesy photo-eye)

 All photographs © Garry Winogrand and Yale/SFMoMA (courtesy photo-eye)

While Winogrand was the subject of a MoMA retrospective shortly after his death in 1984, the show did not delve deeply into his massive archive, nor did it explore his later work, which was largely dismissed by Szarkowski, the show’s curator. At the time of his death, Winogrand notoriously left behind thousands of rolls of undeveloped film, countless unedited contact sheets and transparencies, and piles of proof prints. Sensing a need and opportunity to address a friend’s work anew, Leo Rubinfien, an accomplished photographer and writer, has initiated and co-curated a massive revisionist exhibition and catalog of Winogrand’s work, along with Erin O’Toole, Sarah Greenough, and Sandra Phillips. In order to put together this show, Rubinfien scoured Winogrand’s contact sheets, unprocessed film, and countless proof prints. What is remarkable and noteworthy about the exhibition is that almost half of the nearly 400 pictures have never been published or exhibited, and many have never been printed until now.

Any attempt to understand Winogrand must also grapple with his enormous output as well as his own reluctance to edit his work. It also prompts the question: which Winogrand are we talking about—and whose? As Erin O’Toole astutely notes in her essay, this problem is intrinsic to understanding his work. Curators and friends have always played a central role in shaping and defining Winogrand’s work and legacy—whether it is Szarkowski or Tod Papageorge, who curated his 1977 exhibition and book Public Relations. It has also led to the dissenting opinion that the success and ultimate canonization of his work is largely a result of the editorial and curatorial work of Szarkowski and others. Given his talents, this criticism is unfair. The end result may have still been voluminous, but Winogrand assiduously poured over his contacts, pushed himself to take new and different pictures, and was always focused in his attention.

 All photographs © Garry Winogrand and Yale/SFMoMA (courtesy photo-eye)

However, toward the end of his life he increasingly abdicated the responsibility of editing. Perhaps Winogrand simply became overwhelmed by any attempt to grapple with his innumerable images. The ratio of successful pictures to failures is usually high with any great photographer, but it seemed to grow in the end. The volume grew and the pictures became darker and more melancholic. Sadly, his untimely and sudden death cut short any potential attempts for him to grapple with his later work. The immensity and uneven quality of the later work also makes it difficult for others to assess, but stresses the importance of an editor or curator and makes Rubinfien’s accomplishments even more impressive. Paradoxically, it also leaves us wanting more.

  All photographs © Garry Winogrand and Yale/SFMoMA (courtesy photo-eye)

 All photographs © Garry Winogrand and Yale/SFMoMA (courtesy photo-eye)

Retrospectives are unique opportunities to revisit and assess an artist’s work. They also require difficult choices—especially for such a prolific artist, who left little or no instructions and so many images. Given the constraints of any exhibition and book, some of Winogrand’s work has sadly been omitted—namely his limited color work, his work abroad, commercial work, as well as his work on sports and on his own family. In the face of these tough editorial choices and Winogrand’s lack of direction, perhaps the more appropriate response would be to also open up his voluminous archive and make it at least partially accessible to the public as part of the exhibition­—duds and all. As an artist with a voracious appetite and boundless energy, Winogrand seemed determined to devour America and the turbulent times in which he lived. His archive offers a unique opportunity to rediscover his work—each show or book allows us to revisit acknowledged masterpieces, discover new ones, and see what else Winogrand’s restless eye can teach us about ourselves and our evolving republic. It also shows us many Winogrands, each one compelling and engaging in its own way.

You can get the book here.

Please note: This review originally appeared in the July/August issue of The Brooklyn Rail.

Twin Boat by Koji Onaka

My review of Koji Onaka's Twin Boat (Session, 2013) is now available at Paper-Journal. You can get a copy of the book here and here.

 All images © Koji Onaka and Session Press

  All images © Koji Onaka and Session Press

 All images © Koji Onaka and Session Press

Also check out this longer piece on his work by Dan Abbe at American Photo here.

afterimage Vol. 41, No. 1

Check out the latest issue of afterimage (Vol. 41, No. 1). It includes a revised version of my talk from last summer's VSW Photo-Bookworks Symposium, "What Good Are the Critics? Or How to Dance About Photography," as well as some other great looking pieces by Carla Williams, Penelope Umbrico and others.

Disquiet by Amani Willet

I'm excited to co-publish my review of Disquiet by Amani Willet with fototazo. If you're not familiar with the site, check it out. There are lots of fantastic articles, interviews and work. Thanks again Tom.

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Parenthood has a tendency to disrupt lives in more ways than expected. The joys and excitement are intricately entwined with a host of new worries for your child’s future and the world they will inhabit. Each event has new ramifications not only for your life, but your child. As a recent father, Amani Willet saw his own son born into a turbulent atmosphere of economic collapse and societal unrest. From the global economic crisis to Occupy Wall Street and the ongoing wars abroad, Willet saw the world his son was to inhabit profoundly shift over the few short years of his young life. Like all unexpected events, they raised new questions and put priorities in new, often stark, relief. Disquiet, Willet’s new book, explores this uneasy tension weaving together the personal and political in ways that are rich and rewarding.

All images © Amani Willet and Damiani Factory (courtesy photo-eye)

The book opens, and is punctuated throughout, with smoky images of the street. Figures lurk in the background, barricades block off exits, fires rage and police move in from the edges, circling the crowds. Although not immediately apparent, it soon becomes clear that the images are from Occupy Wall Street and record the clashes between protestors and police beginning in September 2011 in Downtown Manhattan. There are four such interludes, or chapters, in the book that punctuate the landscapes, urban details and images of Willet’s family that make up the rest of the book. The ethereal smoke and blurred figures provide a chaotic backdrop and build a palpable anxiety throughout the book.

All images © Amani Willet and Damiani Factory (courtesy photo-eye)

All images © Amani Willet and Damiani Factory (courtesy photo-eye)

What is especially refreshing about the work is the careful balance of personal and political. Even in the most skilled hands, overtly political art generally devolves into propaganda or forgettable cliché. While there is no stated political agenda within the work, Willet’s work illuminates the ways in which the outside world infiltrates and colors the events of our lives – shaping and molding our moods, actions, hopes and fears, as well as the future. As Marvin Heiferman notes in his eloquent essay at the end of the book, Willet takes a decidedly sentimental approach to his subject – openly acknowledging the love, affection and worries he feels for the multiple generations of his family depicted in his images. Whereas many photographers eschew emotionality for fear of being mawkish, the intimacy of the work enhances its political and emotional impact.

Throughout Disquiet, there is a sense of being on the threshold of change, wary about what is to come and what lies ahead, yet still hopefully moving forward. As the title suggests, there is an overall darkness that permeates the book. Houses hide behind dark branches at night. A lone dog stares down at us from atop a dark stairwell. A pregnant woman looks through a parted bedroom curtain. The same woman sleeps restlessly in a dark room. Her subtle movements at night blurred. A small boy wanders off into the mottled shadows of the woods – the darkness obscuring his face, gaze and ultimate destination. President Obama lectures from a solitary TV in an empty office lobby – speaking to us all, but no one in particular. One of the earliest images in the book is a photographed scrap of paper with a quote by the novelist Julian Barnes, who writes about how something new can emerge from collapse and sets the tone for the book.

 

All images © Amani Willet and Damiani Factory (courtesy photo-eye)

Art is not the most reactive medium. In responding to the events around us, it often takes time before truly meaningful work can emerge. Given this delay, it is often easy to dismiss art for not being engaged enough with the world, or for accomplishing so little. The reality is it just responds on its own time and often in unexpected ways. The continuing tragedy of the global economic collapse, the US’s ongoing wars and political gridlock, are far from over, but we are beginning to see engaged work that grapples with these issues in a variety of ways. Rather than turn away from the world, Disquiet captures the palpable anxiety, malaise, confusion and hesitation of a world seemingly out of wack – a world riddled with social inequality, comfortably safe from the endless wars abroad yet under the watchful eye of a globalized surveillance state and anxious of what is to come. Despite all this, there is the desire that family, friends and loved ones surround us, helping us move forward and giving us hope and something new amidst the chaos and smoke.

You can get a copy of the Disquiet here.

Wildlife Analysis by Bryan Graf

My review of Bryan Graf's Wildlife Analysis (Conveyor, 2013) is now available on Paper-Journal.

Each copy has a unique sequence, but the video below gives you a preview. You can get the book here.


BryanGraf ConveyorArts from Conveyor Arts on Vimeo

White Road by Ivan Sigal

My review of Ivan Sigal's White Road (Steidl/Corcoran Gallery of Art, 2012) is now available on photo-eye. You can get the book here.

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In the late 1990s, Ivan Sigal journeyed to Central Asia with two goals. As an employee of Internews, he was tasked with initiating and assisting media projects in the region, but he also was drawn to the area as a photographer. However, the vast complexities of the region defied any simplistic answers or clichéd narratives. For almost ten years, Sigal lived, worked and photographed in Russia and Central Asia. Traveling through countries struggling to find their way in the aftermath of Soviet control, Sigal saw lives adrift, clinging to old traditions and yet yearning to break free of the legacy of Soviet rule. Realizing that imposing a preconceived narrative was foolish and deeply flawed, Sigal sought to create a personal yet evocative narrative of his experience while also illuminating the changing region. Enigmatic and defying expectations, Sigal's White Road uses own his nomadic experience and sense of dislocation as a lens to read and explore the landscape of post-Soviet Central Asia.

All images © Ivan Sigal and Steidl/Corcoran

All images © Ivan Sigal and Steidl/Corcoran

White Road is composed of two books that come in a simple cardboard book. The larger of the two books contains the photos and the second is composed of Sigal's diary entries. Although at first glance the boxed set and separate books seem excessive, the work would simply collapse without the supporting text – a rare occurrence for most photobooks. Divided into five sections, these read more like short stories or vignettes than traditional diary entries. Alternating between first, second and third person, there is an immediate sense of dislocation. Like a fitful daydream, the text places you simultaneously in the midst of Sigal's journey yet safely removed. The entries also reveal Sigal's peripatetic existence during his time in Central Asia – a veritable blur of vodka, cheap hotels, frustrating travel delays, cramped buses, shared car rides, late night parties and alcohol fuled conversations. Although the hardship of the journey is frankly addressed, the text is thankfully free of condescension, complaint or paternalistic regard. Instead, the hardships become a poetic refrain that enriches and give context to the images, Sigal's life on the road, and the people in the photographs.

All images © Ivan Sigal and Steidl/Corcoran

Like the repetitions in the text, the images often come in multiple frames – looping and circling around the subject. At first, this seems like a lack of editing, but the rhythmic repetitions not only flesh out certain dramatic moments, but also give a poetic refrain to Sigal's travels and the people's lives he is documenting. Photographed mostly in Kazakhstan, Tajikistan and Russia, with several pictures from Uzbekistan and Afghanistan, the panoramic scenes and 35mm black and white images reveal factories, fisherman, weddings, makeshift circuses, private homes, hospitals and outdoor markets. Although there are times when the location seems clear, most of the time it is unknown save the picture index in the back of the book. Intersperced throughout the book are also full bleed images of maps in Russia that mark transitions and serve as chapter breaks.

All images © Ivan Sigal and Steidl/Corcoran

Travelling throughout Central Asia, Sigal's book covers a wide terrain. Subjects and individuals are visited briefly and then left behind. This allows the images to fall neatly into Sigel's purposely ambiguous narrative. Unfortunately, in his attempt to avoid any forced narrative Sigal leaves his subjects largely nameless and voiceless. While the sense of dislocation is palpable in the text and images, Sigal's strategy runs the danger of merely reflecting his own restless state and creating another misleading narrative. This allows for a poetic narrative, which works nicely when paired with his text, but feels like it is avoiding a deeper engagement with his subjects. This may not have been possible given Sigal's frequent travels, or even desired, but recent examples like Rob Hornstra and Arnold Van Bruggen's excellent Sochi Project also point to the possibility of deeper engagement whilst still avoiding the false narratives Sigal seems to fear.

All images © Ivan Sigal and Steidl/Corcoran

As Roth explains in the book's afterword, "white road" loosely translates as "safe journey" in Kazakh, Kyrgyz and Uzbek. Written underneath signs on the Central Asian steppes, the words greeted Sigal, as well as countless other travelers, as they crossed the countryside. The auspicious words not only express the hospitality found in the people and towns Sigal visited, but they also recognize the hardships and unknowns that lay out in the expansive landscape. Deeply personal and heartfelt, Sigal's White Road offers us a poetic vision of a nomadic life and turbulent time, while also capturing a landscape and people caught between radical changes and the unshakable weight of history.

Please note: This review originally appeared on photo-eye on July 1st, 2013. You can get the book here.