If you take a peek at Danielle Nelson Mourning’s blog, you will find wonderfully candid observations about places, things, or people she’s encountered and how they influence her creative perspective. For instance, there is a post about Marchus who has Stargardt, a rare eye condition. Mourning writes about his desire to experience more smells in artwork, specifically, “leaves in a forest which change constantly depending on light.” Then, there is Tod Papageorge’s brave encounter with Garry Winogrand which leads to a lifelong art-filled friendship. Mourning talks about this pair with honest admiration.
Each quick note or meditation brings us back to Mourning’s own body of work– drawing us deeper into the magnetism which aids in cultivating her own quietly powerful narratives. It’s an appreciation for the human condition and all its ephemeral passions. Although Mourning started out in the commercial world, it’s clear her heart transcends that superficial artifice.
Beth Galton‘s series Cut Food is a side of food photography rarely seen – the inside. Galton is a prolific photographer specializing in food. While she works primarily in advertising and commercial photography, Cut Food is one of several conceptual projects from Galton. The series captures common foods, though some not so commonly sliced in half. Canned soups and a cup of coffee seem to rest perfectly in half of a container. In order to catch some of these Galton replaced the liquids in the foods with a gelatin.
Louise O’Rourke’s photographs document not just the idea of rejected beds as a form of waste, but more so, the repetition of intimate objects made sadly public with age, which moves her work into a particularly lonesome study of humanity’s careless romance with things.
From Toy Story to the Velveteen Rabbit, children’s literature seems to capitalize on a similar theme that O’Rourke tugs at here: because our beloved objects don’t age gracefully– or even at all– they get thrown away and easily replaced. We don’t even need to see the newer model to know that it is there. It is always there: lingering. Waiting. The job of an object is to selfishly service us until we are done with it. These are the rules. In this sense, objects can never win. Caught in limbo, O’Rourke’s wayfarer beds transition onto the street, heart exposed, welcoming vagrants or rodents. A sad Dickens’ death. It is not a story of waste, but love. Wherever the new bed is, the old bed is not, and will never be again.
However, there is a sign of hope. O’Rourke also notes the value of reinventing old finds such as discarded photographs, of which she peels at the emulsion, saving the scraps, to create a new context and authorship of the image, one that is more ephemeral or abstract.
She states, “By removing the emulsion, I further remove the photograph from the event and even claim the moments that stand out to me. By physically altering the found image with no negative to reprint from, I create my own narrative from those previously captured stories.”
Perhaps, through art, there is life after love for objects.
The work of Alex Prager has always been dramatic…or perhaps the correct word is ‘cinematic’. It may not be surprising that in addition to being a photographer, Prager is also a film maker. His newest series of photographs, titled Compulsion, resemble movie stills the moment the film takes a turn for the worst. The images capture a distressing unresolvable anxiety. However, there is also a strangely pleasant disaster-flick aesthetic found in the images. The photographs underscore the prettiness and predictability of dramatized demise. [via]
Photographer and designer Manon Wethly has been experimenting with a series of photographs that is almost certainly as fun to shoot as it is to look at. Wethly flings beverages of all sorts into the air and photographs the flying liquid. The floating globs of wine, juice, coffee, and milk which are in midair for a moment are instead frozen for a single image. These flying spills resemble abstract glass sculptures. They’re color against the blue sky and swirling shapes make these “accidents” artful. [via]
Nathan Kaso‘s series Miniature Melbourne takes a tilt shift look at the Australian city. Tilt shift is a photographic technique that essentially “corrects” the distortion created by perspective. The technique has the effect of making an scene resemble a miniature version of itself. Tilt shift photography has been featured on Beautiful/Decay in the past. However, Kaso transformed 10 months worth of his tilt-shift Melbourne photographs into a time-lapse video. Miniature Melbourne captures the work and play, the large life of the city. Watch the video after the jump. [via]
The work of legendary street artist Banksy is now iconic, even throughout the larger art world. Photographer Nick Stern uses these easily recognizable images as a starting point. Stern literally brings Banksy’s pieces to life. He restages the wall art using real people and objects in place of the spray paint and posters. Using living subjects adds emphasis to the often powerful and startling art of Banksy.
Kyle Thompson is the artist behind these haunting photographs. His image are darkly surreal, seemingly caught in the middle of a or sinister or tragic situation. An autumnal palette adds a slight chill to each scene. What may be most surprising about the work, though, is its creator. Thompson’s biography states that he’s only been photographing work since he was 19 years old – the young photographer is now only 21! Further, Thompson is a self-taught artist with no formal training.