Fruma Markowitz

Searching for the Kahinah | “Searching for the Kahinah” is part travelogue, part archive, part fact, part flight of fancy, but mostly a visual journey celebrating the many interwoven narratives and unique intersections of culture and tradition characteristic amongst women of the Maghreb (North Africa). During a long-awaited trip to Morocco in 2020, I learned that Jewish, Muslim, and Amazigh (Berber) women have shared friendship, plus a confluence of stories and myths, religious beliefs and practice, personal adornment, and handcraft design that goes back centuries - and became intrigued. I found it remarkable that groups we in the West consider at odds with one another, in fact lived side-by-side with respect for years, mostly because the women amongst them made it so. Since that trip, I've built an ongoing personal photographic project based upon this foundational concept.

After October 7 of last year – as a Jewish woman, and a photographer – this story of Jewish- Muslim-Amazigh co-existence and friendship became only more emotionally poignant for me. The war between Israel and Gaza is painful any way it is approached. My instinct says to me that if women were running the show, things could look very different in the Middle East. The Kahinah, who was a real historical figure of the 8th Century, embodies precisely that female strength, heroism, and leadership for Jewish, Muslim, and Amazigh people alike. She is my muse.

Each work combines cyanotype and mixed-media collage elements with imagery from a vast archive of photos of these women, made by men at the turn of the 20th century at a time when North Africa was being colonized by Europeans. Sold as tourist postcards, the images were meant to “other” these women/cultures as “exotic,” souvenirs of a way of life considered antiquated, “barbarian,” and destined to be replaced by a superior (French) Empire. The women depicted were often sexualized and labeled with a photographic nod to the Orientalist movement in painting that was still in vogue at that time.

My imagination and a pair of scissors literally cut the portraits out of this posed, imposed reality, and offers them another world - a woman’s world - where my historical research coupled with their shared connective tissue can be realized within a new context, far away from the romanticized version of them as “other.” Cyanotype, with its rich blueness, is for me the appropriate process to use in making these works. Blue is not just any color in the cultures of North Africa and the Middle East. In this part of the world, the color blue represents a deep spiritual force that protects against the Evil Eye, of which women are to a large extent, the arbiters thereof.

My images aim to turn all this on its head, to reverse the gaze - the power - that is male. Here I’m offering a point of view that, between moments of factual observation and flights of fancy, considers an alternative space where women look directly back and hold the gaze. https://frumamarkowitz.photo

Reuben Radding

HEAVENLY ARMS | HEAVENLY ARMS is my first photobook created from the last ten years of my practice of wandering city streets, photographing life unfolding in New York City, or wherever else I am. I always had a deep faith that this seemingly undirected, improvisatory process of being in a state of immersive reaction every day could reveal more complex truths than the factual intent of the documentarian, or the concept-driven agendas of the fine art scene, and I believe this book does exactly that.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/heavenlyarms/heavenly-arms

Nick Ortoleva

In the Middle of Uncertainty with My Arms Opened Wide | More often than not, I feel as though I am watching life go by from a third person point of view. Dissociative, detached, and feeling out of body, I don't feel as though I am present. It is an unruly feeling that I have learned to embrace, rather than fight against it.

My perception of the present is rendered similarly to looking through the viewfinder of a camera, reflected and refracted through what seems to be a series of convex glasses, further being distorted and altered via a focal ring. Small details that might normally be unseen catch my eye through this tunnel vision focus.

In the Middle of Uncertainty with My Arms Opened Wide is a window into my distorted world, where I aim to represent what living with this disconnection is like. My camera acts as a tool of clarity while simultaneously blurring this grounded reality and this third person, out of body point of view. This embrace of the two materializes into contemplation, reflections, and glimpses of a skewed in-between point. There is a need for a visual record and through close examination, my ongoing project aims to address myself, and where I stand in the world amidst this intersection, by using a sequence of images that are dependent on my unreliable, dissociative memory.

In this search, I seek patterns to follow that naturally create an order and by bringing these fragments together I look to composite a large, singular scene. Orbs of light and portals into other worlds,  just removed from our reality and are often subtle, hidden, and require slow observing when looking to uncover them. These subtle gateways and delicate moments unravel within our everyday life swiftly just as light diffuses through dew drops or how a wisp of gnats dance in the sun as it sets through the trees. These moments are fleeting and demand an acute description but are discoverable almost anywhere. www.nickortoleva.com

Diana Cheren Nygren

Mother Earth Nevertheless She Persisted | A city girl and skeptic to my core, I feel an overwhelming sense of awe in the face of a desert spread before me or the expanse of the ocean. Within these magnificent landscapes, humanity seems small and insignificant. Geologic eras are etched into layers of rock and our time on earth seems short in contrast. So far there have been thirty-seven epochs in the history of this planet. Humans have been on Earth for less than two of these, though our impact on the shape of the planet has been tremendously outsized. What will the next epoch look like?

I have mounted scenes of human habitation behind acrylic, plastic walls that we imagine can safely separate the things we do from having an impact on the natural world. I have then affixed these scenes onto and within sweeping landscapes. I am presenting this work without glass. The constructed world behind the acrylic is literally protected, while the landscapes remain exposed and vulnerable. A continuity of line and color between these two parts of the work hints at their interconnectedness. I use the desert southwest of the United States as a stand-in for what the majority of the land on our planet might look like as it continues to be shaped by rising temperatures, drought, and fires. Ultimately, I present these multi-layered images in hand-painted wooden frames, alluding to the next chapter in the planet's history. As the image pushes beyond its edges, the story continues to evolve.

In spite of human activity, the Earth continues to transform and reinvent itself. The Earth is not coming to an end. Its inhabitants cannot escape its permanence, and the power it has to shape their existence. The question remains, as nature reinvents itself, can we adapt with it? Will we be part of that next chapter? www.dianacherennygren.com

John Hensel

The Measure | The coin and empire emerge together. A mercenary without local ties could pay the expenses of life if impartial quantity replaced the personalized systems of credit and obligation that predated it. Coins as we know them—small, circular, and stamped—appeared in Anatolia around 600 B.C.E., facilitating the paying of soldiers and the buying of slaves. How ironic now to look upon the emancipator stamped on copper-platted zinc.

This series of coins were worn in use over their lifetimes. I’ve collected these over a couple decades, in that nearly forgotten time when cash was still in everyday use. Worn effigies, bas-relief in copper and zinc, they hold a value, but what is it?

It has always been a latent truth that money is valued over human lives in our society, but seldom has it been so starkly on display in our previous years of COVID and as the founding principles of our nation are being sabotaged by those who pretend to Lincoln’s legacy. www.johnhensel.net

Ileana Doble Hernandez

Los Gringos | In elementary school I learned that the American continent is only one, it's not divided between north and south. For us, people of the United States are not Americans, because America is a continent, not a country. "Los Gringos" is a series of street photographs; some of them taken at parades and marches, with whatever camera available, over the more than twelve years that I've been living in the U.S. as an immigrant.

What I like more about a photograph is that its meaning depends on the context in which it is experienced and on what it is juxtaposed with. When put together, I see these pictures in a very special way, almost as a diary of "America". By juxtaposing these as diptychs I point to my nuanced perspective and to situations that feel intertwined. A clash between classes, races, genders and beliefs is still present, as it was many years ago, when Robert Frank took the road.

The title of this project and the all-over-the-country snapshot style inevitably draw from Frank's work. Like him, I am a foreigner trying to make sense of what I see. However, and despite its somewhat pejorative meaning, the title also represents my own roots. I grew up referring to people of the United States as 'gringos'. 'Gringo/gringa', a very common word for Mexicans, can be traced back to the Mexican-American war, when Mexican soldiers yelled "Green go home" to their United Statesian counterparts, who wore green uniforms.

I came to this country believing in the idea of a singular 'american dream', the romanticized hard-working success-finding ideal. I've come to realize that this ideal is not at reach for everyone, it is like a photograph, it depends on the context in which it is experienced and the community one is part of. www.ileanadobleh.com

Caitlin Loi

All That There Is | Caitlin Loi is a British-Chinese visual artist based in London. Predominantly working with analogue photography, Loi’s work often focuses on themes which are drawn from her everyday surroundings and personal experiences. Whilst simultaneously embracing commonly overlooked moments translated through her imagery, her work embodies a sense of stillness and fragility. Loi’s photographic observations result in working between analogue and printmaking techniques where she additionally finds interest in alternative photographic processes. Her interests also surround image curation, the gallery space, and art direction.

I’ve also attached a project statement below from looking at the other Portfolio projects, in case that would be better suited:

‘All That There Is’ developed from reflections.

Reflections over the past few years and recognising my own thoughts and feelings with my growth journey. It is a visual diary of how I have felt based on my surroundings and an outlet for me to express the ambiguous nature of the in-between. ‘All That There Is’ comes from a place of anxiety and fear of the future but also as a reminder to myself that what’s in front of me is, all that there is, and I don’t have to constantly overthink life and all of its many obstacles but can at least try my best, that being all we can do.

Kurnia Ngayuga Wibowo

Something Lost Into The Water | I live in a family environment that adheres to certain traditions, but my belief in those traditions is only partially embraced by me, causing differences in perspectives in various aspects.

In a phase when my parents were concerned about my future, I was asked to bathe with holy water to eliminate the perceived negativity residing within me. I could only comply with their request while internally suppressing rebellion to release rationality in believing in an abstract hope.

Through this work, I attempt to reflect on what I experienced and felt during that time, exploring my questions about the actions and traditions my parents believe in, why water plays a crucial role in the spiritual aspect of the society where I live, and how it shaped my personality until now. yugaknow.wixsite.com/photo

Elizabeth Calderone

The concept of home is very complex to me. After living through years of emotional abuse by my mother I moved into the home of my estranged father. His house has never felt like home to me and with the new diagnosis of depression and anxiety I got very lonely. So in an attempt to save myself from myself, I began a new way of thinking - home can be my own body. To me, home is the idea of feeling safe, loved, and supported. So why couldn’t I be that for myself?

After years of hearing my mother call me horrible names and then gaslight me this new way of thinking was no easy task. I wanted to die, but I also wanted some sort of comfort home provides.

None of it was easy as I first began to further destroy myself. I walked too close to the edge, I made bad decisions. I let the wrong people touch me because I needed to feel wanted. I made mistakes and looked to the camera for answers. As I began to want to heal from the trauma I started to find the solace i was looking for. I had to build a relationship with my father and relearn what a loving bond should be. I had to learn how to like myself. I had to chip away at the immense sadness.

This project mixes photographs and old journal entries from the times i was struggling the most. The photos show my environment and the people who have helped me grow. This series is about perseverance. It is about finding love within yourself even when you can’t think of one nice thing to say. It is about not giving up even when things get too difficult. I can now see the strength within myself and this body of a home stands tall.

Leila Babakulova

Wild Strawberries | The tart smell of strawberries warmed in the sun. The air is so warm that it is hard to breathe. Tram's grinding on rails. The rustling of leaves. Blinded  by gold through the squinting when the bus is flooded with the light of the evening sun. What do we see in front of our eyes at critical moments in our lives? What do we remember?

Based on stories, literature and cinema, it is not our success, our achievements, the many things that have been accomplished that are in front of our eyes. No, it will be a picnic by the lake, the laughter of a child, happiness when you swing so hight on the swings that you can see the crowns of trees and the sky. At critical moments, when you are very shaken, most often you just try to “live”.  Going onto the new impressions, trying to see as much as possible, trying out a lot of things. And you do it so fast, as you are trying to catch up a fast train. And quite successful, because you are getting a quite impressive list of "awards" and "achievements".

But what a disappointment it is when, at that very moment, you realize that all you have in your memory are just lines of protocol where nothing but dry data - date, time, location, and action.  No color, no taste, no smell. You have a lot of thoughtful beautiful pictures that you have been documenting, but they do not give you the right feeling. That is when you get really scared. It turns out that you spent precious time not to live. You just blew past. By stopping, giving yourself permission not to run by achievements, I started to fix the details of my life on my mobile phone, fragments of small, imperceptible miracles, moments of sadness and joy. I allowed myself not to bring the process to the perfection, not to try to do everything according to the rules and canons, not to try to do it beautifully and “as it should be”. I just listened to the sounds, felt on the skin, saw, smelled, breathed. Having enjoyed every moment, I made a memory card. These pieces make up a picture that I like much more than all my achievements and winnings. www.instagram.com/leliababakulova

Emil Gataullin

Mezen: By Sky’s Edge | “Here is a door behind which the hidden is revealed, enter and you will see not what one wants to see but what is” — writing on a big wooden cross, Kuloy village, Arkhangelsk region, Russia.This series speaks about the fate of Russian northern villages following the fall of the Soviet Union. The passing, the disappearance and fading of a rural way of life, and the challenges faced by locals in their efforts to adapt to a harsh modern reality.

The Mezen River in the north of Russia is 966 kilometers long and passes through the Komi Republic and the Arkhangelsk region, before finally flowing into the White Sea. It freezes in October and thaws in April. Villages and settlements are strung out along its banks like memories of days long gone. Time in the Mezen villages seems to have stood still, with its backdrop of centuries-old wooden cabins, ruined churches, and archaic crosses; people talk more about former times than about the here and now; the past seems more real than the present.

With the collapse of the USSR in the early 1990's state support for agriculture was reduced almost tenfold, and the villages gradually started to die. Many people lost their jobs, and many of them moved away from the settlements. Those who remain behind take care of themselves, just as their ancestors did for centuries before them: they bake, they hunt, and they fish. They feel abandoned, and live in a state of timelessness, somewhere caught between a past lost forever and an uncertain future. Far from the big cities and cultural life, the present shimmers like an inaccessible star — somewhere out there, on television or in the pages of a magazine.

I first learned about the region at the end of the nineties. I was studying at the Surikov Moscow Institute of Art at the time and discovered the Russian painter Viktor Popkov and his renowned “The Widows of Mezen” series. It reveals boats by steep banks, large log cabins, and old women in red clothing. These paintings awoke my interest in life in the Russian provinces, at the edges of society. This comer of the world called to me for many years, but it always seemed too far away and inaccessible. However, in the summer of 2017, I finally found myself there — and the Mezen has had a hold on me ever since. That marked the beginning of a long-term project through which I returned to the Mezen several times, visited more than 50 villages where I lived with the locals, immersed in their everyday. www.emilgataullin.com

Tony Wang

Unfinished Epilogue | My photographic works lie on the intersection between collecting cropped compositions from daily moments and staged experiences with collaborators. Through gathering images for three years, I recognized that my photography approach is distilled from the way I process my experiences.

Unfinished Epilogue explores the experiential quality of the photographic medium. For me, recollection is related to the process of creating. By montaging cropped compositions of mundane daily occurrences and staged narratives that make up how I see the world, I aim to connect the fragments from my memories to form a web of new information. Unfinished Epilogue aims to provide these visual interludes for viewers to look, recollect, and discover the intricacies of the interconnectedness of their lived experiences through a personal lens. www.tonywang.space

Ciro Falciano

✻.·.·✧.·.·✦⌇.·.·✧︎︎.·.·✦⑊ | Rhizome is a philosophical concept that describes a nonlinear network of heterogeneous elements that connects any point to any other point.
The concept represents a metaphor, embodying a specific subterranean modification of the herbaceous plant's stem. Its most interesting feature is that it can autonomously develop new plants even in unfavorable conditions.
The rhizome metaphor was adopted by the philosopher Gilles Deleuze and by the psychoanalyst Félix Guattari in their work "A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia" (Mille plateaux, 1980).
Since the rhizome is an acentric system, non-hierarchical and free of a fixed order, it contrasts the central, hierarchy-style tree model, where every meaning is arranged accordingly - in a linear way.
Therefore, the goal of this long-term photographic project series, entitled "✻.·.·✧.·.·✦⌇.·.·✧︎︎.·.·✦⑊" is to collect an indefinite number of photographs conceived and irrationally generated by emotional impulses. They'll then be placed in a rhizomatic order to find connections, original paths, new interpretations, and hidden meanings. www.cirofalciano.com

Liz Albert and Shane VanOosterhout

Instant Classic | In our project, Instant Classic, we have been sleuthing and acquiring anonymous Polaroids circa 1960-2000. Discarded photo albums, shoeboxes packed with forgotten snapshots; images lost beneath decades of clutter. Years ago, our subjects showed up for a Christmas party, a romantic encounter, 10th grade geometry. Responding to cues from what we perceive in these Polaroids, we add poignant and humorous phrases from our personal journals and recent conversations – inner thoughts we imagine the individuals and their observers may be thinking and feeling.

Friends from childhood, we grew up a block apart from each other – simultaneously following and deciphering the codes of preppy suburbia. Irony and sarcasm were our preferred secret language – this is how we buffered our tender, emerging identities against what we perceived as the winds of deadly conformity. Looking in the rear view mirror in our 50s, we aim to give an empathic and humorous voice to our subjects.

For Gen X kids, the Polaroid SX-70 was a magical device, producing an on-the-spot tangible photo which recorded a heartbeat of time. With the push of a red button and a synchronous buzz, the moment became evidence. In today’s digital universe, we remain transfixed by the Polaroid camera’s clever design and the vibrant memory-object it leaves behind. www.lizalbert.com

Denise Lobont

Flower Sellers | This project documents one of the oldest historical spots in Bucharest, essential to the Romanian cultural heritage and history alike: the Coșbuc Flower-Market. The main focus of this series is the figure of the male flower seller whose machistic traits and expression are shown in sharp contrast with the sensitive, delicate craft of floristry. Even though showing off a blustering bravado, becoming friends with them I discovered that under this manly harness their emotions were resonating with the bouquets sold. Highlighting the complexity of human nature and the redundancy of gender norms, the documentary is to be read as a visual exploration of toxic masculinity and a tribute to male mental health, which encourages soft emotions associated with feminine behaviour not to be repressed by men. deniselobont.com

Polina Titarenko

Polina Titarenko (1999, Tver) based in Saint-Petersburg, Russia. She started her education at Academy of Art and Documentary Photography «Fotografika» In 2021. Her photographs contemplate vulnerability of the present. Topics she tends to gravitate towards are power possession and religious control.

Anastasia Shubina

Deportation | In 1943 the Soviet leadership forced the Karachays to leave their lands in the North Caucasus and move to Central Asia. Officially, they were deported for collaborating with German occupiers and opposing the Soviet regime but these charges were later dropped. During the night the Soviets cordoned off villages and ordered people to leave their homes under the threat of execution. They were only allowed to bring enough food to last them a few days. Thus, the Karachays spent several weeks on the road, suffering from hunger and disease in overcrowded cattle cars. In Central Asia the people were separated and resettled around several regions of the Kazakh and Kirghiz SSRs. The living conditions were extremely difficult. They lived in dugouts and relied entirely on their belongings brought from the Caucasus. In the first few years of exile the population decreased by a quarter. Only 13 years later, in 1956, the Karachays were rehabilitated and allowed to return to their homeland.

Khurzuk, Uchkulan and Kart-Dzhurt auls used to be the cultural and economic center of Karachay, but after the deportation they fell into desolation. Now, only three thousand people live there, many of whom are elderly survivors of the deportation or were born in Central Asia. Despite having spent much of their lifetimes in deportation, they retain their culture and language. Centuries old log houses are still standing in the auls, despite the fact that during deportation they were burned, dismantled for firewood, and turned into barns and outbuildings. Many of the houses are now dilapidated, but people kept living in them until recently. The Karachays’ houses were also plundered, but they managed to preserve their antiquities by bringing them along into exile and then bringing them back to the Caucasus.

The Russian government recognized the deportation of the Karachays as genocide in 1991. While the deportation affected all families and is painful to remember, the Karachays are convinced that their story is unjustly forgotten and strive to tell it. https://glish.org/

Donna Bassin

Environmental Melancholia | In this time of climate crisis when intervention is urgent and still possible, I have created a series of ‘memorial’ landscapes to injured and dying environments using visual metaphors to celebrate our natural world, call attention to the precariousness of our global ecosystem, and provide an opportunity to contemplate unthinkable experiences of environmental devastation.

As the natural world suffers increased destruction, our physical survival is threatened, annihilation anxiety rises, and we retreat into denial and inactivity. We must raise our emotional connection to the climate crisis to move from the position of passive bystanders stuck in environmental melancholia to engaged witnesses.  

Inspired by and reacting to the idealized, seductive beauty of Hudson River School landscape painters, the photomontages are, at first glance, pictorial and idyllic. I hope viewers will be drawn in by the splendor of the landscape and the ease of relating to a familiar subject. A closer look challenges the sublime. I intend to puncture complacency around the “ongoingness” of our environment. I want observers to look beyond their expectations and ask, “Wait, what is happening here?”

I alter the colors and scale with editing tools and materially affix a photograph of a flourishing nature scene on rice paper onto a base print of a depleted environment. I link the two photographs through a color relationship or composition – for example, a mountain’s curve to a line in a stream – and secure them with photo corners. These postcards from the past reference souvenirs gathered in a scrapbook for remembrance: our natural world reduced to a nostalgic relic.

Our planet is in a precarious place, disintegrating as we lose glaciers, animals, trees, and fertile land. I attempt to stop things from vanishing, fix the harm, restore the losses, and put the land back together. I tear natural resources from one photograph and hastily connect them to another depleted environment with Japanese washi tape, creating a visceral experience of damage and repair. www.donnabassin.com

Wen-Hang Lin

And I Wander | And I Wander is an ongoing project depicting the reciprocal relationship between personal identity and place, two concepts that interact along an experiential spectrum from blissful belonging to painful alienation. As an immigrant in America for three decades, my continuing quest to feel at home here has been the impetus for this series. It’s a journey that leads me to explore the idea of “America” – its national patchwork of historical, social, and cultural norms – and understand how that relates to me and vice versa.

To produce the project, I cut carnival mirrors to resemble my silhouette and placed the nebulous humanoid within the varied landscapes. This chameleonic being dreamy echoes its surroundings. Yet, depending on each image’s relation to the camera and immediate environment, the chameleonic presence is never fully incorporated, which waxes and wanes in visibility. Balancing the ‘yang’ of these landscapes’ tranquil stillness is the potent melancholy ‘yin’ of this solitary figure: conveying my unreconciled yearning for a sense of belonging in America. WensPhoto.com