ACHIM LIPPOTH | Wrong Right Wrong
Issue 06Usually children are very true to themselves and no one can force them to perform. This leads to an exciting challenge: how can a photographer get them to do what he or she wants in a picture? How can they play the roles a photographer needs but remain natural? These are the points which make the photography of children so interesting—finding ways to show the childrens' authenticity.
ALEJANDRA LAVIADA | Photo Sculptures
Issue 02These images are a study of past and future histories, of classicism and modernism, and of photography’s role and relationship to other artistic media.
The abandoned buildings and transitional aura of Mexico City are the starting point and inspiration for my photographic work. For each project I choose an “endangered site,” which refers to places that are in the process of being demolished or transformed completely.
ALEJANDRO CARTAGENA | Suburbia Mexicana
Issue 10IN 1990, I MOVED FROM THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC to Monterrey, Mexico, my mother’s home country. Sixteen years later I was still searching for my Mexican identity. After two years of photographing, I came across the work of the Mexican photographer Eugenio Espino Barros. In a way, it was seeing how he understood and organized both urban and natural spaces that I became compelled to pursue a body of work that dealt with the Mexican landscape.
ALEJANDRO GONZALEZ | Inappropriate Behavior
Issue 10This series is an inventory of individuals subject to rejection or exclusion based on their sexual preferences. It is a denunciation of homophobia. Symbolically it is also a call to respect differences—political, ideological and religious. Homophobia is not exclusive to Cuban society. “It is curious and even surprising that a revolution such as the Cuban revolution, which set out to eradicate the hereditary social structure and create a new social ethic, would, in turn, passively inherit homophobia from the previous society.”
ALEX WEBB & REBECCA NORRIS WEBB | Violet Isle: A Duet of Photographs
Issue 09Alex Webb: Our book, Violet Isle—a little known name for Cuba inspired by the rich color of its soil––began as two separate projects: my exploration of the streets of Cuba and Rebecca’s surprising discovery of unique and sometimes mysterious collections of animals throughout the island—from tiny zoos and pigeon societies to hand-painted natural history displays and quirky personal menageries. As we photographed more extensively in Cuba, however, we began to see that despite the differences in our visions and our choices of subject, our work sprang from a response to a similar notion: the feel of a nation in a kind of bubble, an economic, political, cultural, and ecological bubble. Following a book publisher’s suggestion, we decided to try weaving our photographs together.
ALINE SMITHSON | Arrangement in Green and Black
Issue 11I am the youngest of two girls, born in Los Angeles to parents who did not think it was possible to have children. My mother was a proper, educated, and elegant woman, the daughter of a Hollywood minister. My father was the kind of man who could do anything—he grew up on a ranch in Arizona, and tried his hand at trick riding, carnival performing on the Bed of Nails, drumming, mining, became an automotive foreman, and by the time I came along, had settled into the daily grind of life as a salesman. My parents met in Alaska. My father was working as a photographer for a construction company, and my mother, not finding any suitable men as an elementary school teacher, took the bus from Los Angeles to Alaska, wearing high heels and a hat. I like to think she struck gold in the Yukon. Both my parents were charming, fun, and had a wicked sense of humor. Though my parents supported my artistic leanings, my mother strongly suggested that I become a dental hygienist. Contrary to my mother's wishes, my dreams led me to New York City and the world of fashion and art.
ALINKA ECHEVERRÍA | The Lightness of Being
Issue 01I am primarily interested in water as an environment and how visual language takes on new significance in the space created by a body of water. Synchronized swimmers enter a silent world of orbital motion, a realm devoid of air and gravity, and make it theirs. In this womb-like environment, heavy bodies become weightless and everyday burdens evaporate. Navigating the water in synchronicity is a sensory experience based on memory and silent language. Individuals breathe together, move together, and become each other's support in the human structures they create but will never see. As the sole underwater spectator, the ceremonies of ritualistic practices became for me a tableau vivant rich in symbolism.
AMRO HAMZAWI | Iraqis Today
Issue 04Ordinary Iraqis are the first victims of the Iraq War, yet there is barely mention in the media today of the cruel toll the conflict has taken on them. It is difficult to give a precise estimate of the number of civilians who have perished or were injured as a result of the invasion, but by all accounts the conditions on the ground are a humanitarian disaster with the civilians caught in the line of fire between the occupation forces, the militias that have taken over the country, and the various insurgent groups wreaking havoc.
AMY ELKINS | 15 Minutes
Issue 01It is hard to describe the way everything occurred back then. Most things were rushing and crashing around me. I had moved away from New Orleans less than a year before Hurricane Katrina devastated the first place that felt like home to me. By my second year in New York, all of what I had left behind shifted tremendously. New Orleans was deluged, my grandmother had passed away, and my father called one night from California to tell me he had been sentenced to twenty-seven months in a federal prison for a blue-collar crime. I didn’t pry into knowing too much about it.
AMY STEIN | Stranded
Issue 02Stranded began while I was driving 65 miles an hour down I-95 in rural Maryland. In the distance, on the right, I saw a car with its emergency lights flashing, broken down on the side of the highway. As I slowed and approached the vehicle I saw a group of teenage boys crowded under the hood of a souped-up Chevy. Their car was broken down, their day ruined. They were stuck, stranded on the side of one of America’s busiest interstates, waiting for help in the form of a tow truck, the highway patrol or a sympathetic motorist. Cars raced by and no one stopped. Then I pulled up with my camera.
ANANKÉ ASSEFF | Banal Crimes
Issue 01To live with a sensation of permanent insecurity in a social environment where values are being undermined by arbitrary violence; to come to feel that our own identity is the cause of our vulnerability, that one’s sensation is multiplied indiscriminately… Starting with the 2000-2001 economic and institutional crises in Argentina we began to experience a daily sensation of insecurity and violence in society.
ANDREA BRUCE | Ingushetia’s Decisive Moment
Issue 07This is the start of a story, one that has taken place in many countries under the influence of many different religions. It is a story of people, torn by politics because of their honest yearning for hope, who are left vulnerable to the teachings of extremism. It is an old story, one I have personally seen unfold in Iraq and Afghanistan—which is why it frustrates and intrigues me. It seems to go hand-in-hand with war.
ANDREA STAR REESE | The Urban Cave
Issue 04“Don’t call me homeless” -Country
The Urban Cave, which I began in 2007, is an ongoing effort to document men and women living in makeshift dwellings around New York despite the city’s efforts to empty their encampments. It is a story about the resilience and humanity of people who live “on the other side” of conventional society. Most of all it is about a group of individuals and the spectrum of their lives, rather than their deprivations.
ANNA-LEHMANN BRAUNS | Works
Issue 03 NYPH SpecialInteriors are the subject of my photographic work. I choose the public spaces of restaurants and hotel lobbies, bars or just lost corners in a cinema foyer or a disco. The rooms are always deserted and devoid of human presence. The basic idea of my work is the symbolism of longing for what is a fleeting, ephemeral life, its remembrance, and the desire to preserve it.
ANNABEL CLARK | Journal
Issue 11A FEW DAYS BEFORE Christmas in 2002, my mother shared the news that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Having lived with the impression that cancer was a death sentence, I was devastated. I began to imagine what she would look like without hair and a breast. As the idea was forming, she asked if I would photograph her through this process. I felt that if we turned the disease into a project, it would become less scary. We could objectify and observe it. If we could anticipate the completion of the project, then we could anticipate the end of the disease.
ANOUSH ABRAR | 50 Cent / Deja Vu
Issue 03, NYPH SpecialThere was a time when eleven-year-old girls would learn the words of songs they liked. They did this in order to sing in front of a crowd of familiar people such as their family and friends.
Times change. My work is a reflection of this change.
ANOUSH ABRAR | Californication
Issue 02sThe film studios, the celebrities, the entertainment capital of the United States—the state of California revolves around the film industry and its success. Projecting an image of fame and fortune, beauty and happiness, Hollywood draws people like a magnet. I started this photo project in Los Angeles because I wanted to get as close as possible to the young people who flocked to this city seeking fame and fortune.
ARA GULER | Aphrodisias
Issue 06APHRODISIAS, the most celebrated of the several ancient cities, is dedicated to the goddess Aphrodite. The city was situated in the village of Geyre, located in the district of Karacasu in Aydin Province. Sixty years of excavations have revealed ancient buildings of major importance in Aphrodisias. These include the Temple of Aphrodite; the Sebasteion; a stadium capable of seating 30,000 people, the best preserved example of such a structure in Turkey; the Tetrapylon; the Hadrian Baths; and the Odeon. Everything began by chance in the late summer of 1958.
BETSY SCHNEIDER | Sweet Is The Swamp
Issue 13I never have been able to take a good ice cream cone-eating picture. I have tried and tried literally dozens of times. Is it that I am too busy eating and balancing the ice cream that I am unable to really focus on making a good picture? Maybe the idea is too cliché, or maybe it has just been bad luck. This summer when I was trying yet again to do this I dropped my Mamiya 7. It wasn't the first time I dropped that camera but the repair people tell me it was the last. That was bad luck. Since then I have been debating whether or not to replace the camera.
BOB BLACK | The Oxen of the Sun
II Words, like small billows under hull, tiller the jib of my meandering thoughts. Pictures, like wisps of exhalation, rudder the carriage of my body's hinting. I have always worked both, rhyme and flap, to set my life's navigation right—Ballast of Boom and Keel—the steerage from which I have tried to helm my way home. A halyard in its pulling.
III How does one see through the clouded time of unseeing, especially when they themselves tell stories with pictures while all along they have struggled with the nature of how to see. So, it is me. I am blind, blind in my right eye from a congenital disease, Coat's.
BRENDA ANN KENNEALLY | Fast Eddie
Issue 05It was not until I took up photography in my early thirties that I was able to spend much time around my father. He battled depression, addiction and compulsion all of his life, as did his own father had done, and I am dutifully fulfilling the legacy he left for me. I too have inherited depression, and an addictive and compulsive personality.
I learned everything I know in the rooms of twelve-step recovery programs, held in basements of anonymous churches.
BRIGITTE GRIGNET | Chiloe: La Cruze Del Sur
Issue 06In 1974, I was six. I was in Belgium and I had never heard words such as exile, torture, dictatorship, junta, or desaparecido. My mother had a pupil, Pilar, a Chilean girl who came to live in our small industrial suburb with her family to escape the regime of dictator Augusto Pinochet, who had seized power in a military coup in 1973. Everything about her was unfamiliar to me: her language, why she had to leave her country…even her name. I imagined other stories, other lands, and other people, images that stayed with me for a long time.
CARRIE LEVY | 51 Months
Issue 11IN 1996, MY FATHER WENT TO JAIL on my 15th birthday for 51 months. Truthfully I do not care about the sequence of events. A prison sentence for a father is a prison term for his entire family. Until the day we found out my father was going to jail, I lived an average life on Long Island, New York. Since all we could do was go on living a normal life, I continued to go to school, apply to college, hang with friends, spend time with my mother and brothers, and somehow try to do the same old activities. When someone is in prison it feels more like a death and then a resurrection.
CESARE BEDOGNE | Broken Images
Issue 01The Prasomaso Sanatorium, built in an isolated place in the Italian Alps for the treatment of tuberculosis, was deserted in the sixties and remains completely abandoned. Molded by rain and ice, absorbed by the vegetation, it gradually acquired an enigmatic form of existence. When I crossed its corroded threshold for the first time, as a doorway to the unknown, I recognized my landscape of desolation, stilled in a frozen twilight: the mysterious bareness where the soul, alone, returns to itself.
CHARLES HARBUTT | Metaphoros
Issue 05I was born nearsighted, or myopic. Everything more than a few inches from my face was a blur with little detail. I did not know there was anything unusual about it. I thought everyone saw the world that way. Myopia made every day an adventure. Wow, was that a bear coming in the front door? Ah, no, it was just mom in her fur coat. Every moment was full of possibilities and I had to figure out what was actually going on.
CHERYL KORALIK | Notes from Africa
Issue 09I COME FROM A LARGE FAMILY. When proudly introducing all of his children, my father would jokingly say he bought me from the gypsies. The seed was planted and I guess that's how it started—my wanderlust, traveling and exploring the world, never being able to settle down in one place for long. It was February 1991 when my feet first touched on the West African soil of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso. And as if it were yesterday, those initial visuals remain vivid in my mind's eye. Ouaga was so full of life. Motos (small motorcycles) filled the unpaved roads, weaving through the crowds creating a mirage of dust. Still, the vibrant colors of the Burkinabée women’s native dress illuminated as they balanced baskets of food on their heads and carried babies on their backs.
CHRISTOPHER LAMARCA | Natural Gas
Issue 02The landscape always speaks for itself. It is devoid of ideology. The land is the truth, its reflection a mirror into our lives. To feel the dirt in one’s teeth is a visceral experience, an experience that requires letting go and having the strength to step out of one’s comfort boundaries, both physical and emotional.
CIBELE VIEIRA | Senseless
Issue 05Senseless started as a natural response to recent upheavals in my life. Last year I lost my father after an 11-year battle with cancer – an event that brought home the reality of our ephemeral nature. Then came the economic turmoil that brought so many of us, including myself, face to face with the struggle to survive.
Overwhelmed, I kept to my studio, searching for a new project as a way to come to grips with my new reality. Although things looked the same, they did not mean the same things as before.
CORNELIA HEDIGER | Doppelgänger
Issue 02I was born in Switzerland and grew up with the fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Anderson, and Trudi Gerster. At a young age I became fascinated with storytelling and intrigued by the subject of the Doppelgänger.
COTTON & SISSE | The Space Between
Issue 04“Besmirch,” to damage or discolor
New emotions surface when we see the beauty in something that has almost been destroyed—in this case pictures shot on reversal film twenty to thirty years ago. Moments captured in the past become even more precious when we realize what was nearly lost. This series explores the way the mind navigates reality within a photograph. We connect in a new way with the deteriorating images. Water soaked, and over time, they have transformed into individual and unique creations with complex textures and colors.
DANIELA EDBURG | The Remains of the Day
Issue 04Many ask me if I am obsessed with death but I think that I am more interested in artificiality. I believe that artificiality is true human nature and it comes precisely from our notion of death. This notion sparks our need to transform the environment in which we live. We therefore have an amazing creative, and at the same time, destructive drive to leave a mark on it or possess it. Our manmade objects, environments, and lifestyles constantly awe me. I live and breathe artificiality and am fascinated by these contradictions in human nature.
DAVID J. CAROL | No Plan B
Issue 13As a kid, I never traveled anywhere. My parents would go away sometimes, but they never took me along. I was only on a plane once before the age of 20. I was sent alone to Florida one summer to visit my grandparents for a week. I still remember exiting the plane and being hit in the face with that warm, humid and aromatic tropical air. An unfamiliar yet quite exciting experience. To this day I'm still very conscious of the smell, temperature and feel of the air of a new place as I deplane.
DOMINIC NAHR | The Family Connection
Issue 05The walls that protect my father’s emotions, heart and soul are fortified and high. I was planning to see him in New York as he was passing through on a business trip in 2005. I had not seen him for months. Then his mother, Christa Nahr died March 15 of that year. We both traveled instead to Freiburg, Germany, where her funeral was to be held.
This story is about my father and the twenty-four hours I spent with him back home in the southern German countryside.
DONNA FERRATO | The Tribeca Collection
Issue 07The Tribeca Collection was born from a capacity for capturing the meaning of life, in all its gritty reality. I value my neighborhood – its history, the streets, the old buildings and artifacts, moonlight across the cobblestones, smells of spices, and sounds of construction —seeing how things look as they go up.
ED KASHI | Three
Issue 02It came to me in a dream... I was laying in bed one morning and three images from a story in Brazil flowed through my mind's eye like a cinematic strip. This idea of three images... seeing in threes... became a focal point for combing through my more than twenty years of images, looking for the visual connections, visual language and visual poetry of three.
EDITH MAYBIN | The Tenby Document
Issue 03 NYPH SpecialI return to these pictures once in awhile. The more I look into them and read the feelings they stir in me, the more I think perhaps these are stories about my mother.
It is a relationship of mystery. I am not being poetic; I just do not understand it or how it works. Then I turn around and there is my daughter.
ELINOR CARUCCI | A Retrospective
Issue 11MY MOTHER WAS THE FIRST person I ever photographed when I was 15, and I still continue to do so obsessively. Gradually, the subjects of my work expanded; from my mother, to my father and brother, to the extended family, to my husband, Eran, until, in recent years, when the center shifted, at least partially to my children. The camera is a way to get close, and to break free. It is a testimony to independence as well as a new way to relate to my family.
ERIC KLEMM | Silent Warriors
Issue 04The image of the Indian from my childhood has been a heroic and romantic one. For me, like so many others growing up in Germany, there was an attraction and identification with North American Indian culture. When I immigrated to Canada, I eventually learned about the real story of the Indians, which is not romantic at all. I am picking up the thread where photographer Edward Curtis’ work ended. But now, nearly one hundred years later there are no more Great Warriors, their place taken by ordinary people who refused to give up.
ERNESTO BAZAN | Cuba
Issue 04In June, 1977, when I was seventeen years old and getting ready to graduate from high school in Palermo, Sicily, I had a dream in which I heard six words being spoken: “You need to become a photographer.” The next morning, I announced to my parents, who looked at me in disbelief, what my future profession was going to be. Far from wanting to sound like a preacher, I like to believe that it was God’s voice. Through this first revelation, I was given the chance to dedicate my life to photographing a broad range of feelings and emotions, the most simple and yet very universal conditions of our humanity: its sacredness in its basic and quintessential forms.
ERNST HAAS | Color Correction
Issue 02sI looked at an apple for such a long time until it became the first apple I had ever seen.
I was so excited that I called a friend to tell him my experience. But how could I find the right words for what I had experienced? How could I describe my visual sensations with such literary words as red, yellow, green, shining, and round after this movement of nuances and counteractions in form and color, even in touch and smell?
+ Introduction by William Ewing, Curator
+ Text by Alex Haas