Work I Like – Page 43 – New Landscape Photography

The photographs in this series, titled Scarred Land, which were all produced in Israel, deal with war, the damage it inflicts upon the terrain, and the natural recovery over time. The battle sites and military training zones depicted have not been memorialized or preserved in any way, and are now naturally recovering from the inflicted trauma as well as being reclaimed by the earth. The focus of the imagery on war zones is to portray to the viewer that this is how we, as human beings, treat each other and the world we live in.

We are a unique species defined by our intelligence: the ability of abstract thought, understanding, self- awareness, communication, reasoning, learning, having emotional knowledge, retaining, planning, and problem solving. This intelligence enables us to create/invent ever growing technologies through which to better our lives. Unfortunately, some of these technologies are also implemented for the purpose to assault one another and to defend ourselves, which in turn damages the Earth. In my opinion the rationale for going to war with another nation, state or people — whether it be over resources, religious ideology, cultural differences, or power — is completely absurd. If everyone took the time to look at the larger picture, the traumas inflicted during war and in its aftermath have detrimental repercussions for not only us and future generations, but for the planet we inhabit and all of its living beings. Therefore, the ramifications are not advantageous to anyone or anything and we could eventually be the means to our own demise.

— Beth A. Gilbert, Boston, Massachusetts, USA

June 12, 2013May 29, 2013

Lewis Francis

www.LewisFrancis.net

This series, titled Amargosa, is about a river that cannot be seen but that makes its presence felt through the human and natural landscapes it creates and supports on the surface above.

The Amargosa River flows under the Mojave Desert for 185 miles from Nevada into Death Valley in California. It is an underground river for most of its course. Visible above it are optimistic preparations to channel and direct its flow during flash floods. The quality of these waters is low (Amargosa means bitter in Spanish), but it is enough to allow life to subsist around it.

Beyond the scattered clues on the surface, it is almost an act of faith to believe that a significant amount of water truly flows below the desert here.

The invisible Amargosa River may be in danger of being diverted and its water used to supply Las Vegas. Not only would such a move put an end to the delicate natural ecosystems that depend on the Amargosa, it would also spell the end for the close small communities that have managed to carve a niche for themselves here as well.

— Lewis Francis, Long Beach, California, USA

June 10, 2013May 29, 2013

Stephane Bednarek

www.StephaneBednarek.net

I have worked as a train driver for 19 years in France and Belgium, and in that time I have seen the evolution and mutation of the railroad landscape. I used a camera to record this mutation of my work environment. It’s a bit of a “duty” to remember. Many of the original buildings have disappeared and there are no pictures of these, so I try to keep this memory alive with photography. I keep a neutral view without artifice.

— Stephane Bednarek, Poix Du Nord, France

June 7, 2013May 29, 2013

Dennis DeHart

www.DennisDeHart.com

Rambles in the Parks: Olmsted’s Distant Effects in the Pacific Northwest is a multi-disciplinary, fine-art photographic-based research project. The photographs focus on the Olmsted brothers’ substantial opus of parks, institutions, and residential spaces throughout Oregon, Washington and Idaho. My emphasis is on the parks and their overall designs, plants, habitats, edges, waterways, architecture and topiary. Rambles in the Parks examines seasonal changes and their effects on the parks, both in terms of quality of light and how the seasons change our perceptions of space and place. In addition, I employ historical research that includes a re-photographic component: juxtaposing historical images and maps, for example, with my contemporary photographs.

— Dennis DeHart, Moscow, Idaho, USA

June 5, 2013May 29, 2013

John Viggiano

www.JohnVigg.com

My work offers new ways to document and interpret the contemporary landscape. New visualization and surveillance technologies are changing who we are and how we perceive the world around us. The now ever-present use of satellites, drones, cell phones, GPS and numerous other sensing devices radically reshapes the very meaning of photography, and what it means to record the landscape. My current project — programming a drone to photograph for me — is an experiment to come to terms with these radical new ways to visualize the world around us, and how they affect our very sense of self. A photographer no longer needs to stand anywhere. The use of technology has provided an untethered eye to view with, and a new aesthetic for understanding what the future of imaging has to offer.

— John Viggiano, Asbury Park, New Jersey, USA

June 3, 2013May 31, 2013

Magnus Bjerk

www.MagnusBjerk.com

I am interested in how we make divisions between our surroundings and ourselves and how borders and tensions exist in and between the psychological, urban or natural landscapes. Although we find nature savage, it is also where we find the sublime. This can be frightening, because we realize that something unobtainable and larger than ourselves lurks in the landscape. Perhaps it reminds us of our inherent, uncontrollable human instincts.

This perceived border between nature and culture is both diminished and increased throughout this series, as the inside and outside world seems to melt together in some images and appears more separated in other images. Some of the photographs are printed directly on acrylic sheets, increasing these optical illusions.

Even though some of the images are almost partially becoming abstracted and not containing visible traces of nature outside, it doesn’t mean that I am not interested in nature. I am also very interested in what’s “behind” the “forms,” or in other words, the “facade” that we consider to be reality. The way the trailer frames our scope is comparable to how human perception is constructed or “colored” individually.

The animal affects this distance between the viewer and the landscape outside, not only as a physical obstacle, but also because the dog is a domesticated animal that is somehow caught between nature and the human.

As the animals in the trailers are looking back at us, it can be asked whether it is nature looking back at us or if it is ourselves looking back at ourselves.

— Magnus Bjerk, Berlin, Germany

May 31, 2013May 31, 2013

Eliza Lamb

www.ElizaLamb.com

Hopewell. My hometown.

The event of going home is a complicated one. Although I moved to Hopewell as a child, it has never truly been a place that I could relate to or feel a part of. In fact my earliest intentions were to leave as soon as possible, and although I did just that, I cannot deny the soft spot in my heart that it still occupies or the pull back that still consumes me. The story I present here is less about a town and the people that live in it and more about my relationship to it — a marrying of both the frustrated teenager I was, and the sentimental adult that I am.

Once a thriving port during the Civil War, Hopewell hasn’t seen its heyday since. Today it struggles to keep its economy afloat and the local grocery stores in business. Unlike many American cities, Hopewell isn’t on the decline. In fact it has been about the same my whole life — a small, unchanging factory town in central Virginia. It is a city that seems to make futile attempts to re-establish itself but somehow slips tiredly back into what it was before. This is a place where trying seems to count as much as doing, traditional southern values still rule, and optimism is born but seems to fade away quickly in the southern heat.

I’ve often wondered why this parcel of Virginia seems to be standing still and unchanged. Now, years later I’m finding that I might just be looking at it all wrong. Maybe my lens of success doesn’t matter here, maybe it’s not even right. Maybe all that some people, some places need is simplicity and continuity –- maybe they don’t need the next step, and maybe they don’t want it.
Maybe here hoping is enough.

— Eliza Lamb, New York City

May 29, 2013May 19, 2013

Spencer Murphy

www.SpencerMurphy.co.uk

Inspired by the countryside in which I grew up in, my pictures explore man’s relationship with nature and as a force that exists separately and in conflict with the world. If the pictures appear staged, it’s a nod towards the order behind things. If they seem dark or set the viewer ill at ease, then it’s in recognition of the chaos that underlies that order. If they represent a world at once familiar and yet utterly alien, that’s because it is our own.

— Spencer Murphy, London

May 27, 2013May 19, 2013

Max Li

www.MaxLi.nu

River Indus is the place I often visit at weekends. It is located in one of the few quiet suburbs. However, with the introduction of the government’s massive urbanization plan, both sides of the river will be transformed into a huge residential area which houses more than 100,000 dwellers. Over the past winter, I went to the banks and tried to photograph the places that haunted me repeatedly.

This project documents the temporal existence of the suburban landscapes and the beauty of everydayness. It explores the tension between temporality and transcendence.

— Max Li, Hong Kong

May 24, 2013May 19, 2013

Bob Avakian

www.BobAvakianPhotography.com

The camera is a mirror that allows me to see my surroundings with new eyes while at the same time becoming more aware of myself. Out at night, alone, the day’s cares recede and the sense of time fades. Allowing a heightened awareness to take over, I direct my attention to conveying the quiet and solitude of the night. It is this shift in attention, I believe, that allows me to experience the moment with a different vision.

I photograph the landscape at night and at dawn. The camera captures the frames as stills, freezing time, regardless of the length of the exposure, and creating an image different from what the eye perceives. I like to believe that these resulting images are from a moment suspended between night and day.

My exposure and printing decisions enable me to take the surroundings I know so well and present them as they have not been seen before. What fascinates me about this process is that magical element of surprise. I venture out in search of scenes that contain an unknown light source of have some other mysterious quality. Of course there are times when I don’t find anything. Since the night sets the stage, I never know where I will wind up. It reminds me so much of life.

— Bob Avakian, Edgartown, Massachusetts, USA