mikel uribetxeberria.

I love it when my expectations (and my notions of what belongs where) are shattered. And when it’s done by a beautifully-honed image, then that’s even more kick ass.  It’s the sort of unassuming subtlety of these shots by Basque photographer Mikel Uribetxeberria that gets me. The locations are sort of banal and sterile, while the animals don’t appear unnerved; they’re almost pensively bored more than anything else. It’s the apparent, unapologetic normalcy of such an incrediblly abnormal situation that makes these shots so interesting.

holger pooten.

Slick-looking surrealist and gravity-defying shots from German-born, U.K.-based photographer Holger Pooten. Besides his personal work he’s also shot for heavy hitter clients like Adidas, Nike, Virgin, Orange, and Vogue. I’m especially into the first series of shots with the freeze-frame sprays of various projectile particles held geometrically in the air and the gravity-defying 3-D dissections. If you dig Pooten’s stuff, then you need to also check out the work of Denis Darzacq and the (again, German) team of Vivien Wayruch and Fabian Röttger.

Via PICDIT

chuck anderson: wandering off into space.

NoPattern (a.k.a. Chuck Anderson) is one of my fave artists ever. One of his prints, “Places You Can’t Imagine”, hangs above my bed.

Now, his website has (huzzah!) a promo for a new book of art, design, illustration, and photography he’s releasing, called “Wandering Off Into Space”,with (boo!) absolutely no details other than it’s coming in December 2008. It’s already the 17th. I need it now. I don’t need to know anything about it. If it’s from Chuck Anderson, then it’s awesomeness is guaranteed.

UPDATE: The book is now totally up for sale for the crazy reasonable price of only $25. Considering the quality of his work, Chuck is basically giving thie shit away for free. I’ve already ordered mine, and so should you. Right now. Plus there are some gorgeous new pics of the book as well. As if this wasn’t already all incentive enough, it’s been announced that a portion of the proceeds from the book are going to Invisible Children.

meg wachter: dumped the book.

I’ve been a big fan of Brooklyn-based photographer Meg Wachter for a while now, and was pumped to chat with her for a S+C Interview. She’s just released her first book, a tight-looking hardcover collection of her much talked about photo series “Dumped.” I want it badly, and so should you. Pick up a copy here.

rune guneriussen.

Welcome to the magic flipside world of Norweigan photographer Rune Guneriussen. Here, everyday objects take on a pack mentality. They evolve, animalistic and social, into tribes and herds of living, thinking things. Flocks of phones. Gaggles of globes. Hunting them down and capturing them in their new natural environment, each image is more stunning and revealing than the last…

vivien wayruch + fabian röttger: a nice idea every day.

Oh, A Nice Idea Every Day… you had me at hello. Seriously. I knew I was about to fall in love with German film-makers/photographers/objects of my affection Vivien Wayruch and Fabian Röttger when I read on their site that “our work is inspired by pretty much everything, mostly bad tv shows, video games, goulash and ponies.”

C’mon. That’s fucking awesome.

Constantly exploring, the huge variety and amount of work on their site has a kind of infectious, exploratory energy. Their work is fun, experimental, and doesn’t concern itself with much of anything besides the pure delight of trying shit out and seeing what happens. It’s pure and sunny and feels genuinely alive. In one of their photographic series, “Flying Things”, various household goods take to the sky. Maybe they were tossed. Maybe they’re levitating. Maybe they’ve just always been up there…

With “Magic Hands”, (and, really, who doesn’t want magic hands?) they take the same study of regular objects but this time they create the visual interest through the interplay of the objects with human hands.

I dare you not to enjoy the subtle brilliance of “Noodles”:

Their site is definitely worth checking out. On top of way more photographic series, there are also short films, video experiments, and an ongoing personal project, “Every Day”, featuring small and lovely photo experiments. Hence… A Nice Idea Every Day. More please.

To close off, two shots from their series “Colour Me Summer.” These just make me happy…

Via Today and Tomorrow

fred muram: kissing the ceiling.

I’m not entirely sure why this series from Canadian photographer Fred Muram fascinates me so much. Maybe it’s because kissing a ceiling isn’t something most us will ever do, yet it’s really not that difficult once you set your mind to it. It’s not a matter of “how” as much as a matter of “why?” And there isn’t really a “why”, which is both exciting and frustrating. I also like how it’s focus is on the study of how unusual it is to see the human body interacting with space this way; despite the implied romance of “kissing” something, we can’t see the people’s faces and so we’re not sure if they’re enjoying this or if it’s simply just happening.

Via Today and Tomorrow

james cooper.

Water is both a lucid dream and a contradictory nightmare.

Despite our evolution, it’s a place we’re no longer allowed to be. Comprised of it, our very bodies draw us toward it;  the water in our cells and the water of the world are like magnets constantly reaching out to each other. Life-sustaining and essential, we can’t live without water but despite our desire we aren’t allowed to live within in either. It beckons us but will just as easily, without thought, drown us. It promises everything yet assures us of nothing.

Viscous and prismatic, we are visually enthralled by its sights and sounds and within its heights and depths we can have an experience as close to flight as anything an unaided human will ever know. Though never far from our minds we know that this buoyancy can shift to prison without warning. Water is false freedom, and we are inevitably ether moored within it forever or expelled out. We may only visit. The moment you let yourself think only of its wonder is when you must immediately remind yourself of its treachery. Or you will die.

I’ve found photos that capture these thoughts. James Cooper’s amazing photos reflect every mood of water: beauty, deceit, abandon, hindrance, effulgence, release, life, and death. They are superb in every sense.

Via Tiny Vices

s+c interviews: meg wachter.

S+C Interviews is back! This time I’m totally pumped to have spent some time with NYC-based photographer Meg Wachter. I fell madly in love with her photo project “Dumped”, which has received some major and well-earned buzz. Turns out Meg is as rad as her need to douse people with breakfast cereal and take pictures of it, and she was kind enough to send some equally excellent out-takes from the “Dumped” shoot and some other remarkable and personal images as she shares her thoughts on “sploshing”, fake blood, and Björk…

Me: Tell me a bit about your background. How did you discover photography?

Meg: I discovered photography in high school and used the darkroom as a means of escaping my social awkwardness — I also admittedly had a crush on a boy at the time in my class. We only had one or two levels of photo classes, so I attended a photography workshop at local college over the summer for gifted and talented students. That was also my first exposure to retouching that I can remember.

As a senior in high school, I applied to Ohio University’s prestigious school of photojournalism and was rejected (in all honesty I didn’t know, at the time, the difference between photojournalism and commercial photography.) I still attended O.U. anyway and reapplied my sophomore year to their school of visual communications as a commercial photo major. I was accepted and managed to finagle my way out of having to attend a 5th year of schooling by taking classes for my program before I was even accepted. My whole background in photo has basically revolved around the theme of me making things happen for myself, despite major obstacles. I still don’t like being told what I cannot do.

Me: Let’s talk a bit about your series “Dumped.” How did the idea come to you?

Meg: I think Dumped was induced by a dream. I keep scraps of paper next to my bed when crazy thoughts need to be accounted for.

Me: What’s the process like for shooting “Dumped”? How do you recruit the “dumpees” and how many dumpings does it usually take for you to find the perfect shot?

Meg: The subjects in this series were my ever-willing friends. I promised them food and booze and a hot shower and they obligingly humored me. This series is proof of one of the many reasons I love photography and the things you can talk people into doing for the sake of a photo. There was only one “take” per person as it is messy business. I’d say about 50 frames per “dump” which happened in mere seconds.

Me: I’d like to permanently volunteer to be a dumpee anytime you need one. What would you dump on me… and is there a shower in your studio?

Meg: Most of the participants chose what they wanted to have dumped on them—as long as it was in the realm of being liquidy. A couple things I wish we would have done that day were fake blood (a la the movie “Carrie”) or goldfish & water.

And, yes, I have a shower.

I was planning on doing a 2nd round of Dumped, but ultimately decided against it (for now), for fear of being pigeonholed or too gimmicky. I also recently learned from a friend (who is a sex blogger) that these photos are huge in the fetish community of “sploshing.” This explains the incredible amount of traffic my website has been received and my having gone over my allotted bandwidth as of late. The internet is an incredible place…

Me: The thing that strikes me most about it is how absolutely happy everyone looks. What is it about capturing that moment of joyous shock that appeals to you?

Meg: The thing was that everyone asked me how he or she should react. I had no idea how everyone would respond and told them that I thought they just would react. I think the novelty of how random and unusual the whole ordeal was what contributed to the fun of it. The moment of reaction is what interested me, I suppose.

Me: In your series “Beautiful Decay” you document abandoned and dilapidated spaces. Like the title of the series hints toward, what is it about this decay that you find beautiful?

Meg: The abandoned school in question in this series had SO MUCH amazing furniture and books that were just left. It looked as if they had had a fire drill in the 80s and never came back. I was able to liberate 2 huge boxes of turn-of-the-century antique glass slides that are absolutely beautiful. (I’ve started scanning them and have attached a few of my favorites.)

It’s a battle between being appalled at how we, as Americans, lay things to waste and how disposable we view everything in our lives. On the flip side of this, it was amazing to see how quickly nature has taken over—and that is what I find beautiful. Another example of this is beautifully executed in the movie directed by Alfonso Cuarón, “Children of Men.”

Me: This is a pretty broad question, but I want to throw open the door and see what pops into your mind first. What inspires you?

Meg: Right now I am super inspired by the past. Right now I am reading a ton of historical fiction—specifically about Brooklyn (where I currently live) and Coney Island (which I’ve obsessively documented until it’s tragic demise this year.) I love the layers of this city and you can see it everywhere, but I am more interested right now in the actual stories behind the buildings, etc. I am planning on going to the NYC Department of Records soon to peruse their collection of Tax Photographs.

Me: If you could go anywhere in the world right now, without worrying about cost or family or personal commitments, where would it be and why?

Meg: Probably Japan. Because I’ve always had an interest in their pop culture and love the dichotomy of super modern versus super old in such a small amount of space.

Me: Aside from the work you’ve already done, if you could photograph any person or thing, past or present, real or imaginary, what would it be and why?

Meg: Björk. Hands down. I am inspired by her music as much as I am her collaborations with other musicians and artists alike. She seems completely open to the entire creative processes.

Me: If you could have anyone, living or dead, be a subject for “Dumped” who would it be and what would you dump on them?

Meg: Björk again. Because I’d love to photograph her anyway and because I think she’d do willingly do it. I’d probably dump some sort of sparkly paint on her…but I’d be more curious to see what she would suggest.

Me: Of all your work, do you have a favourite shot? If so, will you tell me what it is?

Meg: I have a favorite first shot. I must have been a junior in high school, with  a roll of tri-x, and my dad’s canon from the 70s. My best friend at the time, Andrew, and I were driving around a state park in my hometown (of Akron, Ohio) and got out to walk around a creek. I remember the instant of focusing on him as the clouds parted and that ray of light falling on him exactly. It was serendipitous and magical and could possibly be the moment I knew I wanted to do photography for the rest of my life.

All Images © Courtesy of Meg Wachter

david maisel: library of dust.

In his new book, “Library of Dust”, photographer David Maisel documents one of the most other-wordly, enigmatic, and heartbreaking photo projects I’ve ever seen. I simply can’t stop thinking about it, and when I try the thoughts of it just burst out into whatever I happen to be doing.

To me, it’s an achingly beautiful scientific truth that energy cannot be destroyed. The amount of it in the universe is finite, but it can be shifted and morphed into other forms. Everything is made of something else. When something dies it never really disappears; it’s taken by everything around it and fashioned into something brand new. No matter what purpose or import we think we may hold in our current state, inevitably, immutably, our destinations are all the same: in the end, we all become something else.

The Oregon State Insane Asylum, as it was first named, opened in 1883. While it operated until the early 1970s, some of the patients who died within its walls, unclaimed by their families, were cremated and their remains were sealed inside copper canisters.

With nobody coming to collect them, the canisters were placed in a room on long pine shelves. That’s where they’ve sat, some for more than a century…in limbo. Always waiting. When Maisel was first allowed entry he found that the canisters, neatly numbered on top from 01 to 5118, had exploded with patterns. Leeched and corroded and etched minerals traced their way across them, each pattern completely unique. 5118 human souls refracting themselves, through metal, into colour. On his first visit, inmates from a local prison were brought in to clean the hallways and other areas surrounding the usually-locked room of canisters. One of the men looked in and whispered “the library of dust.” And so Maisel had the title for his project.

Stored away for lack of alternative, not enshrined and cherished like so many others whose physical remnants are stored or celebrated, these humans’ bodies are after-thoughts. Whispers in a jar. Even though their lives and purpose might have been shuffled away – their difficult minds condemned for the sake of our convenience – the persistence of their dust is an ultimate inconvenience; try as you might to will and wish them aside they are all still here. In rows and stacks. And they want to be heard.

I don’t pretend to know what happens to people when they die, but I do know that everyone, everywhere, yearns to be acknowledged. Recognized and noted. Stars shine to be seen, waves crash to be heard, and even in death, or perhaps because of death, the matter we’ve left behind cries out as the energy that inhabited it ebbs out and finds its new purpose. Our bodies need to know that their sudden absence of spirit has been recorded. So that they can let go and their energy can move on.

This yearning cannot be stopped or impeded. The transference of spirit is a declaration of desire, of molecules and atoms and particles searching for newness once their home suddenly turns into a shell. It’s an eternal, unbroken cycle. Since The Big Bang everything has been connecting, living, dying, then connecting again… and so it goes. Denied their next connection, cycles slowed, these canisters find their way and reach out to us. Just like flower petals they open to attract attention, somehow wise enough to know that if routine or ceremony or just plain old decency isn’t enough to be remembered then they can always appeal to our vanity. So they’ve made themselves beautiful. They’ve willed themselves to crystalize, galvanize through their man-made metal casing, and catalyze outwards. Like a hand reaching forward, palm up. Silently, they ask for their rightful turn.

The organic, elemental shapes they’ve taken are no coincidence. Denied their transference, they manifest outwards as visual embodiments of what they might have become: a river’s edge, a leaf curl, a glacier, the azure of sky, the stratus of a cloud, or the pure, stark light of an aurora borealis. Aquatic and terrestrial and celestial, they mimic all the things that have been held from them.

David Maisel has taken photographs that give them rest. That complete the circuit of hope, to despondency, to resolve, to quiet triumph that they’ve traveled. These 5000 forgotten ones call out to us and say “Look. I was here once.” And when we consider these pictures we can absolve them by taking a moment, with grace, to look back and say “I see you. I know.”