These intriguing images have a gentle and surreal nature, with a clear affection for the natural world. More than just the scenes’ tiny subjects is surprising about these photographs. Their creator, a photographer who goes by the name of Fiddle Oak, is only fourteen years old. With assistance from his older sister, Fiddle Oak conjures these playfully dreamy landscapes. While his sister Nellie, also a photographer, helps Fiddle Oak with various tasks, the shooting and editing is exclusively done by this young photographer. [via]
Photographer David Emitt Adams‘ series Conversations with History captures images and time. Adams collected discarded cans from throughout the Arizona desert. The cans, eroded and reddish-brown, are as much as forty years old. Using wet-plate collodion, a 19th century photographic process, Adams develops the desert scenes directly onto the cans found there. The timelessness of the deserts emerges through the images on the can, the decades of corrosion on it, and the antiquated photographic technique.
Photographer Abelardo Morell brings that outdoors in in his series Camera Obscura. Morell installs a lens or prism in a window and transforms an entire room into a camera obscura. The view outside is then projected on the opposing wall – upside down through the lens and right side up through the prism. A long-exposure photograph captures the outside world as its projected within the room. He says of the process and series:
“Over time, this project has taken me from my living room to all sorts of interiors around the world. One of the satisfactions I get from making this imagery comes from my seeing the weird and yet natural marriage of the inside and outside.
We interrupt this broadcast to bring you an important message from your environment courtesy of Jung Lee, master translator, whose photographs place neon signage in unconventional places, working as emotive subtitles.
Each piece reminds us– it’s not necessarily the people we are searching for in relation to love, but the lingering romanticism of time and space: the feeling of earth cradling our fall.
Photographer Sohei Nishino creates unique maps to document memories more than geography. An avid traveler, Sohei snaps countless photographs on his trips around the world. By hand, he recreates the city from his many images as one large collage. Not intended to be accurate representation, the ‘map’ is a record of the city as he experienced it. He’s recorded trips to cities such as London, Paris, Jerusalem, Istanbul, Osaka, Berlin, and more. To get an idea of the way the concept works check out the first two images – a ‘map’ of New York and details from the collage.
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.