Katie Silvester is a film photographer based in London. Silvester strives to bridge the gap between commissioned and personal work by breaking down and utilising the genuine intimacy of friendship on set. Drawing inspiration from her time on the road, and the freedom and spontaneity it affords, she captures the natural beauty of her subjects and explores their connection to the world around them.
One by one, over the past year, the New York-based photographer Matthew Morrocco invited a group of his closest artist friends over to his bedroom in Brooklyn, set up his tripod, handed them a mirror, and proceeded to take their portrait.
My name is Jeremy Snell and I am a cinematographer and humanitarian photographer. Though I am based in Brooklyn, NY, I spend most of the year traveling around the globe for work. I gravitate mostly towards portraiture.
In Caleb Stein’s imagery, community triumphs over the individual. In this interview, he speaks with us about his photographic approach, his fascination with small-town America, and the soothing power of water.
Photographer Jesse Diamond was coming off a divorce, and struggling with loneliness and uncertainty when he began making the black-and-white photographs that comprise his forthcoming book, White Noise (minor matters). Without realizing why, he was drawn to compositions that set lone figures in empty spaces, and to crowded scenes. Looking back, Diamond writes, his attraction to the scenes he captured relates to his childhood on the road with his musician father. “To this day, I find comfort in being alone within a vast space, and I also feel very much at home in large, crowded surroundings.”
Much of my photography stems from early emotionally strained years involving difficult relationships. In many ways the private world that reveals itself in my work is my own mechanism of escape. The process of my life organizes all these chaotic abstractions of existence, molding them into often surreal and theatrical forms. The results can be explosive, threatening and also sweet and sentimental. It is a universe of fragmentation and irrational disorder that is beyond my zone of safety. Yet it is my world. One in which I can always retreat to because I can manage it. I am the star of my own show.
When I was four years old my parents went through a torturous divorce. My father had been using all manner of drugs and was an acute alcoholic. The relationship had been abusive, often to the point of serious violence, and finally my mother had no choice but to flee with me and go back to Spain.
Eventually my father sobered up, and we’ve remained in contact through the years. As a child I was sent to visit him during summer breaks from school. Each day he would insist that we go out so he could take photographs of me. Years later I realized that the pictures he was making were illustrations of an imaginary relationship. One that he had created in his mind. This delusion had become his secret universe, hidden away from the rest of the world. In most of the pictures of us he had scattered around his house, I was not smiling: proof that even at an early age I did not trust that this ‘relationship’ he was attempting to depict was in any way real. The pictures were fiction.
As much as it is difficult to admit to myself, I know that I am like my father. There is a sense of ever growing isolation and peculiar delusions, thus photography has become my therapy and my best friend. I am intrigued by life’s obscure curiosities. Transfixed, they are what I have; what has me.
Taking its name from a line in the Wallace Stevens’ poem “The Gray Room,” Alec Soth’s latest book is a lyrical exploration of the limitations of photographic representation. While these large-format color photographs are made all over the world, they aren’t about any particular place or population. By a process of intimate and often extended engagement, Soth’s portraits and images of his subject’s surroundings involve an enquiry into the extent to which a photographic likeness can depict more than the outer surface of an individual, and perhaps even plumb the depths of something unknowable about both the sitter and the photographer.