≡ the DOG call ≡

Dogs have had a constant presence in my life. Their relevance in one’s life can have huge proportions as does their presence in art. They’re not only present in portraits, partnering their fellow humans, but also often portrayed by themselves. Sometimes they turn into brands, sometimes they turn into pop objects, often they serve decorative purposes. Their presence in artistic circles is significant. Understandably. Artists tend to live out-of-the-ordinary lives, sometimes working alone for several hours that turn into days and weeks, sometimes having too much time on their hands, a confluence of circumstances that seems perfect to choose dogs as everyday partners. I’m immediately reminded of several (terrible) works depicting dogs, not even worth mentioning and what I chose to present here is a very short selection of visual works addressing dogs and their nature.

I – Araya Rasdjarmrearnsook

SC_Pub_Araya_Rasdjarmrearnsook_issuu© Araya RasdjarmrearnsookPray, bless us with rice and curry our great moon, 2012. Video still.

«Dogs appear regularly in Rasdjarmrearnsook’s more recent works, embodying vitality for her. In her daily life, the artist cares for strays, feeding them at her workplace, Chiang Mai University, and keeping several in her home. Like Davis, Rasdjarmrearnsook flirts at times with anthropomorphization, using poetics to open a window into the lives of her “companion species.”13 As in her work with corpses, she sides with her subjects, forging subjective alliances in shared isolation. The intimacy she keeps with the dogs––in The Treachery of the Moon (2012), they sit with her watching Thai soap operas interspersed with violent news footage, and in Pray, bless us with rice and curry (2012), they eat with her––ventures into Donna Haraway’s notion of “becoming worldly,” a revision of the entanglement of “being with” animals that Jacques Derrida explores in The Animal That Therefore I Am (More to Follow). The dog has particular connotations in Thailand. Stray dogs are ubiquitous in urban centers and villages, and in the Theravada Buddhist tradition, monks must share food with them. Although dogs have this unique status through religious tradition, they are still considered inferior beings: the word for animal, sat, is used as an insult, and the word for dog, maa, is also used to denigrate people of various races and classes.16 What does it mean for Rasdjarmrearnsook to join the dogs? And what does it mean for her to invite them to watch TV, visit the beach, or attend a dinner party with her?» excerpt from a text by by Ruba Katrib present in an exhibition catalog.

II – Francis Alÿs

c-magazine-107© Francis Alÿs (in collaboration with Rafael Ortega), Gringo, 2003, Mexico, video documentation of an action.

III – Sohrab Hura

«It was in the summer of 1999 when my mother was diagnosed with an acute case of Paranoid Schizophrenia. I was 17 then. The doctors, in retrospect, had said that she had already started developing the symptoms many years prior to that. Symptoms that nobody had noticed. But it was the break up with my father that caused her condition to suddenly come alive and then deteriorate. Over the years, the walls of our home started to peel off, people had stopped coming to our home because my mother was too scared to let anybody in and all that remained were the traces of a life that no longer existed. Our initial years were spent hiding from the world. Hers out of paranoia and mine out of embarrassment and anger at who she had become. But after all these years I’ve realized that my mother had never stopped loving me. (…)

Over the years when my mother’s condition started to improve I started to photograph at home more. Apart from my mother the focus of the photographs also included her dog Elsa who had been her sole companion at home for many years and also the house itself whose condition deteriorated or improved as my mother’s illness regressed or progressed. Her relationship with Elsa which had substituted intimate human contact as simple as touch or conversation all these years, had played a big part in my mother’s improvement. In the late winter of 2014 Elsa died having grown old in her 13th year. That winter was a strange one because for the first time it had rained everyday and the sun wasn’t seen on most days. Towards the end my mother had even opened up to my father with whom she had separated almost 15 years ago. It was her separation with him that had triggered her illness in the first place.» excerpt from Sohrab’s statement.

India. 2009. Ma and Elsa sleeping© Sohrab Hura, India. 2009, Ma and Elsa sleeping, from the series Sweet Life

INDIA. 2009. Ma and Elsa fighting over something© Sohrab Hura, INDIA. 2009, Ma and Elsa fighting over something, from the series Sweet Life

INDIA. 2011. Elsa waiting to play with someone© Sohrab HuraINDIA. 2010/11. Elsa waiting to play with someone, from the series Sweet Life

NDIA. 2014. Elsa not able to move.© Sohrab Hura, Elsa Not Able to Move, from the series Sweet Life

INDIA. 2014© Sohrab Hura, India, 2014, from the series Sweet Life

IV – Mark Peckmezian

dog_04© Mark PeckmezianUntitled.

dog_03© Mark Peckmezian, Untitled.

Mark_Peckmezian_020© Mark Peckmezian, Untitled.

V – António Júlio Duarte

ajd_021© António Júlio Duarte, from the series East West, 1990 – 1994.

Lotus_006© António Júlio Duarte, from the series Lotus, 1999.

023© António Júlio Duarte, from the series Jesus Never Fails, 2004.

VI – Scott Alario

1600x120067© Scott Alario, from the series Our Fable.

1600x120090© Scott Alario, from the series Our Fable.

1600x1200© Scott Alario, from the series What we Conjure.

VII – Andrew Fladeboe

«My Fulbright experience began in Cromwell, the furthest point from the sea in New Zealand. I spent 10 days working on a merino sheep station familiarizing myself with their practices and how they use their dogs to guide the sheep. They really put me to work, and while I was still getting over jet lag I was already pulling out Scottish thistle and learning just how long a day is for the average Kiwi farmer. Despite the hard work, I learned to love the long days in the fresh air and see just how instrumental a team of dogs is to practically any sheep farm.

After this “farm boot camp”, I bought a car and have been moving along to different locations trying to do as much photographing as I can before winter. My first stops were a few stations in the Hanmer Springs area. I took part in a muster that moved 3,000 ewes over a mountain and down a valley through a dense fog. Using whistled commands, the shepherd was able to situate the dogs to gather the sheep from over 100 yards away and move them along over the rough terrain. It was incredible seeing these dogs work tirelessly for their masters with an intelligence that shows the ability to think ahead and solve problems.

I often get asked why I would travel to the other side of the world to photograph dogs working on farms. I think the answer lies in the fact that working dogs serve a distinctive and crucial role economically, historically, and culturally in New Zealand. The working dogs in New Zealand were vital to the development of the country. New Zealand achieved its early wealth through the sheep industry which dominated the economy from 1856 to the 1980s. With the landscape of New Zealand offering vast expanses of territory and steep terrain, it would be impossible to farm sheep without the help of dogs.» excerpt from Grantee Voice: Andrew Fladeboe – Photographing in the shepherd’s realm | Fulbright New Zealand.

SheepDogs© Andrew FladeboeSheepdogs, 2011, from The Shepherd’s Realm.

Scooter© Andrew Fladeboe, Scooter Backing Sheep, 2014, from The Shepherd’s Realm (Volume III: New Zealand).

thePack© Andrew Fladeboe, Leader of the Pack, 2014, from The Shepherd’s Realm (Volume III: New Zealand).

Gåte© Andrew Fladeboe, Gâte and the Troll Boulders, Lundehund, 2013, from The Shepherd’s Realm (Volume II: Norway).

Dilko of Stokke© Andrew Fladeboe, Dilko of Stokke, Buhund, 2013, from The Shepherd’s Realm (Volume II: Norway).

Senja_of_Jonsvatnet_1024© Andrew Fladeboe, Senja of Jonsvatnet, Lundehund, 2013, from The Shepherd’s Realm (Volume II: Norway).

VIII – Mathias de Lattre

«Looking Back through history, many kings have favored Galgos ands Podencos; and they are also finely represented in numerous paintings. And yet, some of these dogs that we consider »born into nobility » could have been better off not being born at all – often, they are mistreated by their masters for underperforming during hunts. Beaten, abandoned or actually tortured to death, these Iberian greyhounds have been taken in by families, non-profit groups or breeders. Mathias de Lattre started taking photos of these unfortunate animals from Spain and Portugal in 2012. the sad look in their eyes, seemingly a remnant of their past suffering, very quickly made the young photographer think he should take their picture in the environment that destiny had found for them. Found through friends of friends or during walks, it was as if these dogs had become gifted with what we narcissistically call « humanity ». That is what Mathias de Lattre wanted to show in his photos while remaining in the style of portraiture that h prefers. In their new homes, the Galgos ans Podencos become the photographer’s models, ans their story disappears behind their appearance – Doug relaxes in a patterned chair, Lola glows in black and white and Gazhal sits in a winter garden setting. Eschewing the anthropomorphism of fables, circumventing the profusion of the bestiary, these greyhounds from southern Europe show themselves in especial st of portraits, fragile and magnificent.» text by Hervé Le Goff.

Aitch© Mathias de Lattre, Aitch, from the series Salvados.

Aitch© Mathias de Lattre, Lili, from the series Salvados.

Aitch© Mathias de Lattre, Kyra, from the series Salvados.

Aitch© Mathias de Lattre, Reina, from the series Salvados.

≡ Thick as air ≡

lauchingping_01© Lau Ching Ping, Secret Police at Queen’s pier, from Last Glimpse of Hong Kong series, 2012.

130457538135930000_Lau-Ching-Ping-3© Lau Ching Ping, Schoolmate on Park Island, from Last Glimpse of Hong Kong series, 2012.

“To 2013, If you are reading this exhibition epilogue, that means you had survived 2012 safe and sound.

People of Hong Kong that live in this era would still be writing something about world ends thing, no matter what is the reason behind, is a laughable matter. After all, we are being intimidated by this world ends thing from the day when we were born. Not so long ago, in the eighties, our relatives, friends flee for foreign land, fight for British nationality selection scheme. Those who did not plan to leave or did not have the ability to leave, left themselves a hole in their hearts. The return of sovereign right to China in 1997, Mr. Tung’s, mother tongue tutoring, Asian financial crisis. 911 New York, principal officials accountability system, SARS pandemic, 1st July rally, Lehman brothers, financial tsunami, HSBC share subscribe, bird flu contagion. We are so used to this ‘centennial level’ of incidents, so called crisis, for what history taught us is to let those fatal disease, bankruptcy and catastrophe be awaited, for tomorrow is another day !

Hong Kong people are already immune to this world ends syndrome, we have it inherited in our genes, despite that, we still get numb, get annoyed. We pardon those who do not have this kind of experience as we did, it’s just not the kind of experience that an average earthling should have. ‘2012’ is a bland subject for us, way beyond compared with Valentine’s Day or Christmas commercially. Stella and me are typical Hong Kong people. We committed ourselves monthly to discuss tedious matters of our exhibition, there’s no other kind of impractical behavior to make us feel more like : we have been there before.

When I employed myself in this series of photography, while imagining in every corner, every constant, the drained people of Hong Kong leave marks in their city, traces of their civilization. Of course, who will stay until the end ? Who’s the audience ? If you are alive, that would be you !

When I took the photographs of the new government buildings, I imagine the chief executive looking at the Victoria Harbour coastline, photographing the last glimpse of his vision of Hong Kong. Is he looking at the West Kowloon across the harbour? Or the new government buildings that are haunted by the soul of the veterans? Imagine the bus drivers when they drive pass Tai Po road, encounter the high voltage electric wire that symbolises civilization, or the professionals in the water treatment plant, the football fans in grass sports ground, the housewives in public housing or luxurious mansions, the lonely salesman at Star ferry pier, the tour guide outside Ocean Park, the wedding photographer underneath the Tsing Ma bridge, the school kids on the beach waiting the sun rays to flow. I set my tripod up, open the lens, seeing the inverted image through the ground glass, the glass surface review another reflection from behind. With naked eyes, I use the magnify glass head on with ground glass for viewing and focus; in relation to drawing, when you set up the easel, pen holding far reach for an arm length, narrow your eyes to view the perspective of world, the proportion, the structure and form in front of us. This narrowing of our eyes when we draw, the white and blur scenery coincide with the action when the world ends, the great explosion force our eyes to narrow down again so as not to pierce by its radiant light.

Layers and layers of images could easily arouse sensuality, on the other hand, metaphysical sense overlaps with reality. The creative dialogues repetitively bring abstract thinking back to our living self, or the spaceship for universe exploration never ever had a successful launch, she took off and then to be found fallen on the ground again. The reason behind the story never falls from the polluted city, education and culture. To the people of Hong Kong, we are forced into indifference, take it for granted already.

lauchingping_04© Lau Ching Ping, Wedding photographer underneath the Tsing Ma bridge, from Last Glimpse of Hong Kong series, 2012.

130457537747648750_Lau-Ching-Ping-2© Lau Ching Ping, Primary student in Ocean Park, from Last Glimpse of Hong Kong series, 2012.

The time has come. Adieu, traditional Chinese characters and Cantonese, Hong Kong movies, television shows, the last two Cantonese lyricists, beds in hospitals, infant milk powder, food safety, Dongjiang water supply, the last China White dolphin. The replacement would be the political poll survey, politician and their propaganda, Home Affair Bureau thinks that recreation is top cultural priority. Academic freedom and university campus security were brought to an unprecedented level, the core value of publishing only rests on consumerism and marketing.

Live and be prosperous. The process is more important than the result. As people of Hong Kong, what we have is an undated goodbye, doomsday without timeline. Make every day the last day of your life, tomorrow is another no better day. I do not know, whenever there is a doomsday, how many people could survive. At this very moment, I sincerely thank the brave Stella for sharing with me this creative experience that has no past.

The dust from the scans of film negative shown on the monitor is the larger and brighter than the star Sirius hanging outside my window. Imagine to travel sixteen light years back from Sirius to earth, the conscience priority of the dust that rest on the monitor would be so minute as if it ceases to exist. When the thyself of 2013 look back to this very moment of your present self, you might as well forget it completely already.”

Ping’s text. Full work can be seen here.

lauchingping_03© Lau Ching Ping, Water treatment technician at Shatin, from Last Glimpse of Hong Kong series, 2012.

lauchingping_10© Lau Ching Ping, Gardener in Zoological and Botanical Gardens, from Last Glimpse of Hong Kong series, 2012.

≡ Silence (…) less than 30 miles away from Athens ≡

2© Petros Koublis, Semitas, if breathing’s a meadow, from In Lanscapes series, May 2013.

3© Petros Koublis, Unicorno, And heavens if, from In Lanscapes series, January 2013.

13© Petros Koublis, Kyma, Because it is a solid land, from In Lanscapes series, February 2013.

A landscape is an illimitable state. It’s not restricted within the visible area in front of our eyes, but it extends in an undefined distance, reaching for the limits of our interpretation over ourselves and the world around us. It is because every landscape is eventually defined as the vast open field where our thoughts and feelings are meeting with the outside world. It’s both an imaginary field and an actual reality, a perpetual state and a momentary revelation.

In November of 2012, I started exploring the area just outside the outskirts of the Greek capital, trying to reveal the gradual transformation of this, once, intimate nature into a distant, otherworldly state. The fact that these distant landscapes can be actually found so near to the city of Athens is something that reveals the parabolic character that every Landscape seems to bare inside but it also creates a definite contrast that reveals the dramatic condition of our current civilization.

I started working on a series of images that were aiming to express the undefined, mystical presence that wanders around these areas, a lost connection between us and a beauty that regardless of its obvious magnificence it always remains far, strange and unfamiliar, hidden behind an unreasonable mystery. Moreover, it’s not only nature, eventually it is beauty itself that has lost its intimate character, overtaken by the values of an artificial illusion that’s reflected through our collapsing cities.

This is the concept behind the creation of the “In Landscapes” series.

17© Petros Koublis, Milagro, As water drips through stone, from In Lanscapes series, January 2013.

19© Petros Koublis, Almas, The rain is a handsome animal, from In Lanscapes series, December 2012.

31© Petros Koublis, Penombra, So all beds will so blissfully blossom, from In Lanscapes series, March 2013.

Exploring the area around Athens’ metropolitan area for this series of photographs, I also tried to analyze the landscape as a completely distinctive language, in terms of the photographic representation of an area, the aesthetical complexity and the philosophical impact upon the understanding of our lives. After all, the crucial and tense historical period that our country is going through today created a demand for an in-depth overview of our present civilization and way of living.

Reflecting on these elements, I tried to approach and comprehend the bare essence of the landscape’s structure and incorporate in the series several variations of more abstract landscape images. Next to images of larger scale landscapes like mountains, meadows or seas, I decided to place some miniature equivalents that would reflect the same dynamics with the larger ones, this time in a more personal and immediate way, exactly because of their miniature nature. The image Kyma (meaning “wave” in Greek), is part of these miniature landscapes which are meant to be presented next to the large scale ones of this series.

The preservation of these dynamics was one of the key elements that led to the specific narrative this project has. The landscape presented as an illimitable, extended state of mind. A private, unknown language that feels both personal and universal. Intimate in a distant, unfamiliar way.”

text by Petros Koublis. Source: Fototazo

37© Petros Koublis, Erepo, Then crawls like rains, from In Lanscapes series, January 2014.

40© Petros Koublis, Insperato, If somehow all suddenly awakes, from In Lanscapes series, February 2014.

42© Petros Koublis, Hegira, All nearness pauses, from In Lanscapes series, December 2012.

٠ Yaakov Israel’s quest for the man on the white donkey ٠

yaakovisraelqmwd11yaakovisraelqmwd22yaakovisraelqmwd44yaakovisraelqmwd45yaakovisraelqmwd71yaakovisraelqmwd76yaakovisraelqmwd34yaakovisraelqmwd67© Yaakov Israel, all photographs from the series The quest for the man on the white donkey, 2011

“As referred by the Jewish tradition the Messiah (the Prophet) will arrive riding on a white donkey.
Few years ago, as I was taking photographs near the Dead Sea a Palestinian man rode past me on his white donkey.
It is after having developed this plate that I’ve realize that I had encountered my “Messiah”; this meeting brought me to initiate the body of work that carries the name: “The quest for the man on the white donkey”.


As my “Messenger” revealed himself, the search for a deeper understanding of my Country and what defines me as an Israeli became an urge to look for the in-between places, the non-usual; suddenly a detail requested my attention as I stood for hours waiting for a meaning to reveal itself: or pushed me away, puzzled. But in the end I had to hold to it. I cannot let go until that detail is made mine, until the allusive and enigmatic find their place in my understanding of what I deem as authentic, real.
The “Quest” is an attempt to relay a personal take to the Israeli reality with a broader sense of belonging to the global human collectivity.
Because here the evidences of the past are so strongly intertwined with the marks of the present and the questions about our future: sometimes it is possible to see all this revealed in front of one’s eye, and all at the same time.
Part of my identity as Israeli is to question everything, not to leave anything for granted: to show the tensions that constantly exist, to convey the truth behind the construction of the reality.
Religious, social aspects filter into everyday life and their meanings are exposed as the journey moves on. Jewish missionaries, lost souls and individuals living in the fringes of the society: all blends in to form this landscape of humanity.”

Yaakov’s statement

٠ Rodrigo H. and the case of curiosity’s drift ٠

This post introduces another invited scribe for this blog: Rodrigo H.. Though it’s not his first post as a newcomer, he has made a singular contribution to accompany his visual work, which is entitled to its own post. From here on Rodrigo will wonder adrift amidst his affair with curiosity and the places it leads him to. From now on, we will be fortunate enough to share.


20110728-_MG_8789© Rodrigo H., Principe Real, Lisboa, July 2011

MG_5784© Rodrigo H., la naturaleza de la representación II, 2012

Why do I photograph?

I photograph out of plain “simple” curiosity or, perhaps, nosiness. I am an observer. I ask questions, lots of them, everyday and about everything; although most of them are not —cannot be— verbalized. I have always been what some would define as shy but I’d rather refer to as “quiet”.

I don’t see the world as a spectacle —this word makes me uncomfortable, it is too patronizing, too cocky (too French) and too simplistic for the complexities that surround us— and neither as a stage. There is something overtly teleological about this other word, as if there were always a final purpose, a closure dictated by a script.

However, it is true that our lives are filled with dramas, stories and epic struggles; after all, we are —that is, our minds are— hard-wired to spot patterns and causalities in each and every one of our activities, thus it could be said that we evolved to create narratives.

But I prefer to think of the world not just as stories, but also as problems to be pondered upon, as explanations to be sought. I long to understand the things, the objects that surround me. I want to find the order of causalities, to grasp their consequences. I want to find relations. I want to be able to understand; to know. Not to find a purpose, or a motive or even a structure, just phenomena, things that happen not for a specific reason but for a series of circumstances so complex we have not yet learned how to imagine them.

And that is, perhaps, my only true ambition.

28000.story_x_large28003.story_x_large© Rodrigo H., from the series Fixed, Carcavelos

The problem, as Craigie Horsfield[1] often has said it, is the difficulty we all face when we try to “say” the world. It lies in the incompleteness of our language, in us being unable to fully communicate our experiences, to —objectively— share the minute details and subtleties of our daily existence in all their uniqueness. A sort of “phenomenological handicap” that is. A paradox which, simultaneously, makes us feel frustrated and forces us to keep trying. It makes us look for common grounds, for metaphors, analogies, formulas to identify with others and with the world. Ways in which we could be able to “say” how we really apprehend beauty, pain, concern or any other feeling or experience which moves us.

I chose photography not so much as a way to do this —to tell the world— but as a way to ask, to wonder if I can actually do it. Rarely I have been able to “tell” something visually, to formulate a message, to articulate a discourse. In part because I always feel obligated to assume a certain responsibility not to leave “open” my telling or, at least, not to leave it all in the vicinity of ambiguity, as it often seems to be the mainstream formula nowadays.

I also chose —mainly— chemical photography as a method of slowness, of pause.

50871.story_x_large© Rodrigo H., Algarve Agreste27871.story_x_large© Rodrigo H., from the series Residues, University, Lisbon

Photography, as everyone who takes it seriously knows, has to do a lot with chance, more than we usually care to admit. But it also has to do with readiness, with the ability to extract something out of that chance, it means to be able to “jump” —Vilem Flusser[2] has an excellent reflection on the etymological meaning of the word apparatus and its relationship with photography— and preserve whatever we saw or felt and that might be worth communicating.

Of course, this doesn’t always comes as we initially thought. Something goes wrong. The end result is innocuous, wordless and bland; redundant. And that is when we try to revive it, to fiddle with whatever scraps of visual meaning we can extract out of it and try to turn it into a valid formula that someone else —anyone else— might also find interesting. Digital workflows make this process so much easier and fast.

And I have nothing against them, except, that they no longer “works” for me. They make me anxious.

Good formulas are hard to derive, they are built on general principles, valid principles —some might say “universal,” but I feel that this is too big of a word. These formulas are able to function not only as good descriptions but also as tools, as starting points, as referents. We always come back to them, we tear them apart, we try to understand them, to read them. But they always seem to have more meaning, more narrative, more memory underneath.

Good formulas take time and a lot of trial and error to be built, and, of course, a lot of luck too.

I assumed chemical photography because it is —more— vulnerable to human mistake, it functions at a slower pace, it makes me wait. It allows me to think if my questions are well articulated, if I am actually making any questions or just collecting random visual data out of a mere temporary “interest”. It gives me time to build a purpose for my initial curiosity. It allows me to learn —as Horsfield would say it— this «method of a vulnerable time»[3] that, I’ve come to believe, is photography.

Rodrigo H, Lisboa 2013

post_tren-950x460© Rodrigo H., tram portrait

1. Horsfield, C. (2006). “World and Word.” In: Craigie Horsfield. Relation, edited by Catherine De Zegher, 43 – 68. Lisboa: Jeu de Paume [Paris] / Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian [Lisboa] / Museum of Contemporary Art [Sidney].

2. Flusser, V. (2006). Towards a Philosophy of Photography. Translated by Anthony Mathews. London: Reaktion Books. Original edition, 1983. Reprint, 3d.

3. Horsfield, C. (1999). Im Gespräch / Conversation [Exhibition Catalogue]. Edited by Uta Nusser. Stuttgart: Dumont / Württembergischer Kunstverein.

┐ Terike Haapoja – mind over matter over mind └

MG_3413-640x400MG_3419-640x400© Terike Haapoja, Anatomy of Landscape, Durational images, 2 parts, 2008 Glass, plywood, live plants, light, electronic, water, 150 cm x 90 cm x 20 cm

When one stands before a landscape, two lines of thought appear. One treats the landscape as a framed fragment of our field of vision, distanced plane of forms and tones, structured by our viewpoint. The other, in contrast, follows the grass from underneath our feet to the distance, hears the resonance of the wind in our ears, smells the soil, synchronizes the pulses of the body with the life inside the view. Abstractions, mathematization and objectification of nature emerge from the first line of thought, just as theories of perception, duration and experience from the second. But still they exist as parts of the same view.

It has been estimated, that if we would have to build all that which the earth provides for us now for free, the number would exceed all measurements. The great machine is, it seems, economic by nature.

ANATOMY OF LANDSCAPE consists of two large, painting-like landscape images. As the viewer comes closer to the painting, it becomes visible that the image consists of live plants and real soil. Automatic watering-, ventilation-, heating- and light system, necessary for sustaining life inside the painting, is visible from the other side of the frame. The lights change accoording to the daytime from sunrise to sunset.

databaseworks2WC3000L2jpg-700x400-11_15_13© Terike Haapoja, In and Out of Time, 2005. Video diptych, duration 4,5h, mute. Size of the projection 180x4000cm.

When a creature dies, it’s inner time ceases. It does not experience time, but becomes an object in the flows of the other’s times. This is why photographic time is always ponting out to the viewer: the absence of the other, revealed by photography, makes the viewer painfully concious of her or his own presence. Photographing a dead body, as the early photographers did on battlefields and graveyeards, doubles this absence. The other is dead, and in the photograph even the death itself has passed away.

Still, death as absence of time is just one point of view. Time does not cease – instead, vivid life continues inside the corpse. The community of microbes live on, interaction with the surrounding world continues as gazes and organic compounds are relesead from the body. The transition from subjectivity to an object is a proces much longer then the moment of dying. The ritual of a wake besides the dead body has served as a way to live thought this phase of transition.

The video installation IN AND OUT OF TIME shows a diptych of a calf, that has just passed away. The image on the left shows a recording of the calf as seen with an ordinary video camera. The image on the right shows the same calf, as seen with an infrared camera. The video’s are in synchrony: as the body of the calf cools down, it’s image slowly vanishes from the infrared image. The original recording time of 7 hours is visible as a time code in the video. The duration of the projection is 4,5 hours

3COMMUNITY2COMMUNITY© Terike Haapoja, Community, 2007. 5-channel video installation, 5-channel sound

Terike’s amazing body of work can be “seen” here

┐ roots & fruits #1 – Ana Marta └

© Ana Marta, Untitled, from the series Palm Trees don’t belong here, Porto Santo, Portugal, 2012

© Ana Marta, Untitled, from the series Palm Trees don’t belong here, Porto Santo, Portugal, 2012

© Ana Marta, Untitled, from the series Palm Trees don’t belong here, Porto Santo, Portugal, 2012

© Ana Marta, Untitled, from the series Palm Trees don’t belong here, Porto Santo, Portugal, 2012

“Porto Santo is a summer tourist destination on the island of Madeira, appreciated for its natural resources, particularly for its beaches. However, in winter, this fascinating place is forgotten and left to cry (…) The title “Palm Trees don’t belong here” is a metaphor for the occupation of the territory and the marks left by humans in nature.
The Palm Tree, an exotic imported species, is a counterpoint to the Dragon Tree, a local indigenous species and one of the symbols of Porto Santo. The work focuses on the control and occupation of a space with its geographic, physical, social and economic limitations.”

Ana Marta’s statement

Despite her young age, Ana Marta has been working with photography for more than a decade. During these last few years, the expected mutations of a path made out of enthusiasm and discovery, have given way to a strong aesthetic and a very cohesive evolution in the way she is learning to deal with her subjects.

Today, the way in which Ana Marta merges social matters with a careful composition of the landscape where they belong denotes the same careful way with which she observes the world and the place each occupies in it.

In the coming years, I would expect Ana Marta’s craftiness and courage will help her portray, report, denounce and add content to our visual realm. The documentary style can be redundant, and so can be working in series, though here we will not run that risk given that these images now made cautiously will soon become fearless and turn out to be what they were always meant to…

by Sofia Silva

The rest of the series can be seen here

┐ Alison Stolwood └

© Alison Stolwood, Dark Green Fritillary on Wildlife Attracting Mix – installation shot 2011

© Alison Stolwood, Painted Lady (with sponge & with Fruit) – installation shot, 2011

© Alison Stolwood, Light Trap [Florescent]

More of Alison’s work here

┐ Hallgerður Hallgrímsdóttir └

© Hallgerður Hallgrímsdóttir, Untitled, from the project the light of day, 2010-2011

© Hallgerður Hallgrímsdóttir, Untitled, from the project the light of day, 2010-2011

© Hallgerður Hallgrímsdóttir, Untitled, from the project the light of day, 2010-2011

© Hallgerður Hallgrímsdóttir, Untitled, from the project the light of day, 2010-2011

More of her work here

┐ Robbie Nolan └

© Robbie Nolan, Untitled, from Trees

© Robbie Nolan, Untitled, from Trees

“The poet Keats spoke of how the ‘cold philosophy’ of science would, by explaining the mechanics of the physical world “unweave a rainbow”. In a sense the aim of this series of photographs was to display the falsity of this claim when related to colour. Colour is often thought of as something solid, immutable and objective. Certainly objective colour exists as measured in wavelengths of light, but this does not mean humans are able to view it objectively. The physiology of human sight is one easily susceptible to outside influence, and all manner of environmental factors can affect our perception of colour. In fact recent discoveries made by molecular biologists have found that miniscule differences in the amino acids of eye can occur between individuals, and as a consequence there is the potential for us all to perceive colour slightly differently. Colour as we perceive it has no physical reality of it’s own, instead it exists solely within the neural pathways of our brains.

It is this idea of colour as a liminal space on the threshold of existence which interested me. Inspired by early spirit photographers, with their use of slow shutter speeds and double exposures to create apparitions of the deceased, in these images I have created ‘ghostly’ shapes using coloured fabric and a prism filter to break the light into it’s constuent spectral colours, with no post-production editing. In doing so I have tried to use the camera to pin down the idea of colour as bridge between tangible and intangible, subjective and objective. Despite Keat’s claims against science the very nature of colour means it will always remain an essentially unknowable world – something I have tried to reflect in the work.”

Robbie’s statement

More of Robbie’s work here

┐ Erwan Frotin └

© Erwan Frotin, Pain à Pieds Bleus, from the series Sketch, 2006

© Erwan Frotin, Perdreau Fantôme, from the series Sketch, 2006

More of Erwan’s weird “species” here work here