Book Review: No One’s Land

No One’s Land

This stunning book from Ricardo Dominguez Alcaraz, a Spanish artist, is a step up in the world of print-on-demand. The images were selected and sequenced by José de Almeida, of the Camera Infinita publishing house. Peecho, the Amsterdam-based print-on-demand company, printed the book with subtle color and tonal variations.

My copy was mailed to me from Seattle, USA, and I understand that Peecho uses a distributed model of printing, with partners around the world.

Alcaraz told me that he and Almeida supplied images that they thought would print well through Peecho and were pleased with the first copy of the book they ordered. (Another Peecho user told me that he had to order a sample book and then resubmit his images after some toning adjustments.) In any case, the book is more attractive than ones I have made through Blurb, and quite a bit less expensive. I will be using Peecho in the future for my self-publishing.

Alcaraz’s book is full of intriguing images of suburbs, “intermediate places that are absolutely necessary for the city,” according to his introduction. My only complaint about the book is that Alcaraz’s thoughtful introduction is rendered in not-quite-perfect English. This is made up for by the eloquence of his images, which can be universally appreciated. He makes a poetry of wooden pallets, stunted trees, billboards, roadsigns and other ephemera of the suburbs.

Almeida skillfully sequenced the images into a flow that links one picture to another, building a work that is more powerful than any individual image. His touch demonstrates the value of a careful and thoughtful editor. Alcaraz told me in an email that he saw his work with fresh eyes when presented with Almeida’s sequences.

No One’s Land is a treat, and reminds me once again of how powerful the printed image can be when sequenced into a carefully-made book.

— Willson Cummer, Fayetteville, New York, USA

Ricardo Dominguez Alcaraz

© Ricardo Dominguez Alcaraz

DominguezAlcaraz.com

Working in the shadows is fine. You have the peace of not being exposed and the pressure it entails. But working in the shadows is unappreciated. You do an essential function, or at least an important function, but no one sees you and no one knows your existence, so no one knows your importance.

At the surrounding zones of the city something like that happens. We don’t realise their importance. In fact, we don’t even realise their existence. We pass through these zones in cars, motorcycles, bikes and even by walking. And we do not realise that these limits are what make the way for us to get to the city, make the way for the existence of this city. They nourish the city and through them crosses the things that make a city become a city.

Usually we presume the things and we don’t ask why or how it was. It’s normal, today more and more — the “modern” life is faster, impulsive and direct. There’s no time for reflection, the decisions are here and now. The “now” rules. So we go to our things, fast and without looking around. 

No One’s Land pretends the opposite. It pretends to stop, take a break, look around and reflect. Mainly about the city limits, about these territories that are in a no man’s land, about what defines them and about their importance for the citizens in a city.

But you can’t try to understand them from inside your car. You must walk through them, listen to their sounds, smell their scents, see what things are arranged in them. And the first thing you realise is that, although they are part of the city, they are completely different from the city itself. They are still, almost changeless and it seems that there isn’t much to do in them. They are the perfect and necessary opposition to any city and they cannot exist without each other.

And what do I do? I observe, I listen and I document it all. But without indicating a way of thinking. Just documenting it in a neutral way. I think it’s the better way to give these zones a voice and the chance of being seen and understood. 

— Ricardo Dominguez Alcaraz, Valencia, Spain

no one's land

no one's land

Ricardo Esteves Pinto

© Ricardo Esteves Pinto

www.RicardoEstevesPinto.com

The day I saw Saturn

Sometimes I need to leave.
To turn my back to the known places and just go. And search, and look, and feel.
I need to live it instead of reading, talking or looking at it through others’s eyes.
I need to experience something new, which will burn my mind as the light burns the film.

That day I saw Saturn.
That day I went to some abandoned mines.
An abandoned place is not really abandoned.
It was there before men; it will be there after.
It’s a place, even without a function, it’s there.
It just is.
Fascinating place, combining men’s leftovers with nature’s never-ending comeback. Not as a struggle, as an embrace.
The day was over, I entered the night. Through a telescope I looked up and there it was.
The rings are true.

— Ricardo Esteves Pinto, Lisbon, Portugal

© Ricardo Esteves Pinto

© Ricardo Esteves Pinto3

Ricardo Kump

© Ricardo Kump

www.RicardoKump.com

The images in these series are an attempt to capture beauty in these places where industrial sites meet nature, the beauty that exists between the decay and the ordinary life. The aim here is to bring harmony out of an assortment of abandoned objects, abandoned places, natural and industrial landscapes.

Ultimately, this body of work is a meditation on the new Irish landscape, and more importantly, a foreigner’s impressions of this landscape.

Living in a new country and starting a new life, everything around me is inspiring, and photography is a way for me to keep my thoughts and impressions of the places I have lived.

— Ricardo Kump, Dublin, Ireland

© Ricardo Kump