Kyle Thompsonwas born in Chicago on January 11th, 1992. He began taking photographs at the age of nineteen after finding interest in nearby abandoned houses. His work is mostly composed of self portraits, often taking place in empty forests and abandoned homes.
His work encapsulates the ephemeral narrative, a nonexistent story line that only lives for a split moment. These images show the collapse of narrative, as there is no defined story line with a beginning and end; instead, these images create a loop. This fleeting moment lives on in a constant unchanging state. By diverting the view of the face, the images become more ambiguous, the viewer is no longer able to tie a defined story line to the image.
An intimate landscape of life with my significant other, destined to inevitable separations only to fall in love again and again. The orbit around the warmth of a red supergiant star whose life is constantly feared of nearing its end and the violent pulse of new feelings.
As a critic, I find myself in a strange position with Hanya Yanagihara’s “A Little Life.” Her doorstopper novel, about the lives of four college roommates who remain life-long friends, is one of the best new books I’ve read this year. And due to its exceptionally graphic depictions of physical abuse, sexual abuse and self-harm, and the way those depictions infect the narrative like a cancer, it’s one of the few pieces of art that I could be convinced deserves a content warning even for adult readers. I want to tell you all to read it. But I would also completely understand and sympathize with people who heard tell of both the greatness and pain of “A Little Life” and decided to let Yanagihara’s considerable achievement pass them by.
Jimmy De Sana (November 12, 1949 – July 27, 1990) was an American artist, and a key figure in the East Village punk art scene of the 1970s and 1980s. De Sana's photography has been described as "anti-art" in its approach to capturing images of the human body, in a manner ranging from "savagely explicit to purely symbolic". William S. Burroughs wrote the introduction to his collection of photographs Submission which was self-published in 1980.
The images Arbus made in Central Park and Washington Square are the subject of a new show, Diane Arbus: In the Park, on view at the Lévy Gorvy gallery in New York through June 24.
The exhibit features photos from throughout Arbus’ brief but storied 15-year career, including some of her most famous images, such as Child with a toy hand grenade in Central Park, N.Y.C. 1962, as well as many others that have never before been displayed.
Using actors within carefully considered settings, Hannah Starkey’s photographs reconstruct scenes from everyday life with the concentrated stylisation of film. Starkey’s images picture women engaged in regular routines such as loitering in the street, sitting in cafes, or passively shopping. Starkey captures these generic ‘in between’ moments of daily life with a sense of relational detachment. Her still images operate as discomforting ‘pauses’; where the banality of existence is freeze-framed in crisis point, creating reflective instances of inner contemplation, isolation, and conflicting emotion. Through the staging of her scenes, Starkey’s images evoke suggestive narratives through their appropriation of cultural templates: issues of class, race, gender, and identity are implied through the physical appearance of her models or places. Adopting the devices of filmography, Starkey’s images are intensified with a pervasive voyeuristic intrusion, framing moments of intimacy for unapologetic consumption. Starkey often uses composition to heighten this sense of personal and emotional disconnection, with arrangements of lone figures separated from a group, or segregated with metaphoric physical divides such as tables or mirrors. Often titling her work as Untitled, followed by a generalised date of creation, her photographs parallel the interconnected vagueness of memory, recalling suggestions of events and emotions without fixed location or context. Her work presents a platform where fiction and reality are blurred, illustrating the gap between personal fragility and social construction, and merging the experiences of strangers with our own.
Over the past months I've been working with Australian photographer Ray Collins to bring his amazing oceanscapes to life in the form of cinemagraphs, a blend between photography and video. Each cinemagraph is created from one of Ray's stills, and sets it in infinite motion, making a unique moment in time last forever.
These cinemagraphs inspired André Heuvelman from the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra to get together with pianist Jeroen van Vliet to record a very moving custom soundtrack, which I combined with a selection of the cinemagraphs.