© Will Jennings, Untitled, from the series Tumbling Blocks, 2011
“As an intuitive response to the sudden death of my mother last summer I walked down the Suffolk coast, reconsidering the landscape of my childhood through the eyes of an adult, mourner and artist.
Concrete cubes sporadically emerged along the route, sole man-made interjections in a landscape of permanent flux. As I walked through fog they offered perspective, their staccato rhythm implied passing time, their angular form suggested a grid and attempted rationalisation of chaotic, uncontrollable nature.
I read the cubes as monolithic stelae. Blank vessels into which I store memories, emotions and idea – vessels as fallible as both body and mind, also falling prey to the forces of nature and time.” Will‘s statement
more of Will’s work here
When I was seven, when I was sixty-seven, my desire was the same. All I wanted was a horse in my backyard. I truly believed as a youngster that I would wake up one morning on my birthday and find a horse tethered, eating lawn grass and waiting for me. The surprising thing is that I still look. Perhaps it is my naiveté but more likely it is a persistent sense of hope that keeps this dream alive. This same ability to hope and dream kept me alive throughout the rigorous four and a half months of chemotherapy even though half of that time was spent in bed. As I built my muscles back day by day by taking longer and longer walks and hikes, I knew I was preparing for the day when I could swing my legs into the saddle, pat my horse on the neck, and ask her to carry me onto the beckoning trail.
When I was undergoing extensive chemotherapy, the recommended procedure for ovarian cancer, I never thought I could or would want to make another film. Still, I was not adverse to my loving partner of 20 years taking stills and videotaping my progression. When a San Francisco friend and filmmaker flew out to take me to the country for a week of retreat, I was not adverse to her shooting my bald head and skinny body as I swam in a Catskill creek. Eventually from my own hospital bed I did use my camera to film the huge bags of chemicals dripping into me, the nurse attending, and my own steroid-swollen face. Throughout the hospital time, I used horse images as meditation to take me out of the confines of the hospital room and to a landscape that knew no boundaries.
full statement here
Barbara’s web home here
© Melanie Bonajo, Waiting for something beautiful to happen, 2002
© Melanie Bonajo, Are all cliches true o3, 2007
“My ideas are jingles in my head, they come to me. To be able to make a song i have to give stucture to the melodies, like i have to put the thoughts and idea’s into matter to be able to impart the information and touch someone like it touched me first.
My work is an irregular impulse of experiences and aesthetic enjoyments stemming from the questions I have and the things that I know. I am not interested in a particular truth or a common reality, but I do have to understand and embody my truth, which I find from looking within. Although these things might be universal, consequently, questioning myself leads to the act of questioning you. Nothing should control the spirit.
My method of practice, making photographs, is simply a way of recording these thoughts. Primary to this visual diary is the notion of breaking free from everything that holds one down, such as: emotions, patterns, motions and
I attempt to shape awareness by giving expression to the contradictions of contemporary life -with dignity. Re-contextualising and reframing the world through my lens, I attempt to leave a feeling of something beautiful, unexpected, unfamiliar or inexplicable. I create wonder with vengeance about the true nature of things, from my point of view. This outcome – art – must hit someone with its mental and emotional power so you can feel what you see. You can not turn your head away. I believe our language has to be physical in order to touch someone. After any word or image which is a collection of many words hids energy.
Holding your gaze upon my photographs is an invitation to play. Confrontation can be liberating but it can also be bizarre. Melancholy and humor are important aspects for me. It might hurt a little, too.”
© Sunil Gupta, Pentamedine / Attitude, from the series From Here to Eternity, 1999
© Sunil Gupta, Chicago / Hoist, from the series From Here to Eternity, 1999
“I made this work partly in response to a period of illness brought on by the HIV. I thought that it might be time to thinks about how the virus affects my life…”
To view more of Sunil’s work click here.
© Lisa Lindvay, Bottles under bed
© Lisa Lindvay, Game Room
“These photographs depict the lives of my father, sister and two brothers, as they take on the burden of my mother’s deteriorating mental state. This work represents an extended look at the physical and emotional currents within their home to question the sanctity of family life and domestic comfort.”
To vie more of Lisa’s work click here.
© Jennifer Loshaw
“Throughout history, the desire for beauty has been used as a tool to help establish selfidentity. Through the drifting dreams of William Shakespeare to the concepts taught by the Dali Lama, we can see how society defines the self through a search for beauty. Since beauty cannot be positively defined, I find this to be a strange concept.
We create physical beauty believing it will identify us. Yet, our spirit makes up our identity. We cannot decorate this spirit; we cannot illuminate it in any other way then through personality and activity.
This exhibition is a response to the damage my body, the home of my spirit has suffered. The experience is one that most people will never understand; however, the subsequent feelings and the search for self-identity though the hunt for physical beauty may universally translated.
This series served as a healing tool for issues I have faced due to the changing condition of my burn scars. Making self-portraits became a powerful “therapeutic” outlet as I revisited my medical history. The process gave me an understanding that the feelings I was experiencing (and photographing) were temporary. This became a very important step in my development. I grew stronger and more confident in the idea of exposing myself in this manner. Emotions are important. Expressing them in a healthy manner is vital. These images are a gift to those who need the guidance and courage to begin their own healing.”
© Michael Weisbrot
The link to view the online exhibition of this major work can be found here