Brooklyn-based photographer Rob MacInnis captures candid portraits of farm animals in his aptly titled Farm Series. The desaturated, vintage-looking photos provide a nostalgic and straightforward view of cows, horses, goats, and more. Staring completely calm at the camera, they pose for family photos in barns and in the wilderness. Sometimes, MacInnis will also highlight a single animal in up-close and personal portraiture. It showcases their wild, textured hair and kind eyes.
There’s something that’s delightfully ordinary about these photos. They aren’t flashy or bursting with color. Instead, they depict a simpler life that’s unfettered by technology and dense cityscapes. It’s as if by looking at these images, we’re reminded of old family portraits – ones where we’re younger and things didn’t seem so complicated. (Via I need a guide)
Andrea Tese creates Inheritance, a poignant and thought-provoking photographic series that involves a deeply personal documentation of the artist’s mourning process following the passing of her grandfather. Apart from it being a personal tool for grieving, the Inheritance project is also an exploration of existential ideas in regards to legacy, impermanence, and the definition of self.
These photographs function simultaneously as an acknowledgement to the ephemeral nature of life and as an indulgence in man’s unwillingness to give in to this understanding – his desire to arrest time, to counter anonymity, to leave something behind, to be immortal.
By rearranging the mundane objects that filled Grandpa’s home before his passing, Tese creates these pictorial compositions that recreate her grandfather’s life in a profound, and powerful but controversial way. In essence, here, we see life as a collection of objects, a rather simple and intuitive idea, but one that certainly makes us think whether we get to leave this world with a valuable legacy or not. Are material objects our life-long legacy to our family and friends, and is that enough? Do our personal belongings carry the essence of our being?
Anyhow, it is inevitable to dismiss the fact that Tese does capture her grandfather’s spirit through his ‘junk’. After all, with most philosophical questions aside, it is fair to say that our stuff will be the only tangible pieces of self that will be left after our death. Inheritance is a definite ” poignant reminder that our junk will outlast us all.” (via Co.Design)
Amidst the violence and chaos ravaging parts of her native Lebanon, the photographer Rania Matar does not aim to make sweeping political statements about the Middle East; with her complimentary bodies of work titled Ordinary Lives and What Remains (now on display at Houston’s Bank of America Center), she hopes to capture the resilience of the human spirit. Fighting the photographic and documentary urge to re-victimize survivors of war, she offers a more nuanced picture of the lives of Lebanese women and children.
Much of Matar’s work explores global representations of femininity—in a recent monograph, she published images of adolescent girls inhabiting a space between freedom and familial responsibility, the childhood bedroom— and in Ordinary Lives, the artist’s powerful sensitivities color the otherwise bleak black and white war-torn landscape. In “Broken Mirror,” a young woman meticulously adjusts her veil before a shattered mirror, her perception of self seen as fractured by her environment but preserved within her emotional core. Similarly, “Dead Mother” captures the veiling process as a ritual connecting female youth to a monolithic photograph of the matriarch, an undercurrent of modern political and social debate serving as a relentless backdrop.
What Remains operates as an arguably less subjective series of architectural photographs, documenting the aftermath of 2006’s war between Israel and Hezbollah. The series separates itself from Ordinary Lives in its deliberate use of color; the bright blues and yellows read like surrogates for the displaced families that once inhabited the violated spaces, offering a powerful tonal continuation of the striking and complexly seen human spirit captured in Ordinary Lives. Where we once viewed children, embracing the walls in rich gray tones, we are offered a Winnie the Pooh wall hanging, daydreaming beside an empty closet. Take a look.
When her mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, the photographer Isa Leshko faced the prospect of her own aging process and ultimately her own death; in refusing to photograph her family during that time, she retreated to farms where elderly animals were housed and photographed them for her series Elderly Animals. Many were rescued from factory farms where they had been genetically modified, abused, and they were therefore facing premature death; others were part of their caregiver’s families and always had been. Like she would with a human subject, the artist spent hours with her subjects, communing with them on straw beds and sometimes visiting them multiple times.
In the iconic Camera Lucida, Roland Barthes meditates on the poignancy of photographic memory, writing, “Whether or not the subject is already dead, every photograph is this catastrophe.” The well-seen photograph fixes a moment within the space between light and shadow, reminding viewers that the exact instant pictured can never be recreated. In her rich black and white tones, Leshko realizes the potential of her camera to make permanent her elderly bestial subjects, and in the process of remembering each creature, the viewer is forced to recognize his or her eventual death.
The artist writes in her artist’s statement, “I have come to realize that these images are self-portraits,” uniting the living, the aged, and the deceased under a single canopy of mortal experience. Within the glimmers of the blind bovine eyes, the bare bones of the rooster wings, the grey snouts and balding patches of fur, we might all recognize what we must someday leave behind, and we are forced to search for what remains within Leshko’s thoughtful frame. (via HuffPost)
Danielle Julian Norton’s art is slightly horrifying and absolutely fascinating in all its strangeness. Whether it’s a creepy Kubrick-like collaborative performance with fellow artist Tarrah Krajnak or a multi-tiered suspended installation created entirely of rice, glue, and monofilament, Norton’s style elegantly exposes the dark underbelly of weird as something quite shockingly recognizable and hypnotic. Her fantasy is not about the dream. It’s about us. How we are stuck in a twisted understanding of what an animal is or should be: the cruel psychology of our own distance from reality. The need for it. The ego of it. The horror of both.
Pittsburgh artist Nikki Rosato creates delicate sculptures from carefully dissected street maps, the roads and waterways creating a paper mesh resembling veins and arteries. See more of this sculpture and some of her 2D work after the jump.
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Katie Sims, born in 1988, is an emerging British artist gaining strong momentum in the art world– receiving the Jerwood Drawing Award and Richard Ford Award, Residency at the Museo del Prado, Madrid.
According to Pryle Behrman, Sims paintings “pay homage to masterpieces by Mantegna and Poussin, but deconstruct their studied, graceful air through the organic fluidity of her brushwork and the incongruous addition of geometric shapes that further undermine the compositional structure of her source images.”
Additionally, and on a purely guttural level, each piece is paradoxically busy in a faint and strange minimal manner that is truly difficult to execute with a certain consistent visual ease.