i first came to seiichi furuya through his most famous image, the contact sheet that shows his wife's suicide, or more precisely, shows him showing us his wife's suicide. and then coming to him through all the questions which follow such a fantastically passive event. is it mediation? astonishment?
i've been thinking about photographers in love, and the photographs they make while in that state. and also its shadow-twin: same photographer, making something out of a place of loss from that love. what is it to make a memory out of loss? to distill the precise ache of mourning? in photographs tha
the manner i've been looking, lately. and what i've been looking at.
birdholes, chattanooga, tennessee
century plant, backyard, savannah, georgia
the house next door used to be a strip
moriyama's photographs consistently evoke dark, struggling identity-in-the-making. they are grainy, full of contrast, and seem to be about the eternal underside of things. araki's photos, in contrast, seem to be puerile, joyous reaction against such moribund thoughts, and there is a playfulness evid