From Where Loss Comes is an unblinking look at how sacrifice and belonging are deeply rooted in the human experience.
Sixty photographs and close to 9,000 words consider a pain and suffering that is private, sacrificial, and yet rattles against values that are thought of as being inalienable — our fundamental human rights.
It is a story of the root causes of female genital cutting and mutilation (FGM/C). The practice presents a tragic dialectic. By submitting to a personal loss, a woman may be assured of membership in a community. Her alternative is to remain intact and enter into exile. It is an impossible choice.
For this work, Pradip Malde (Tanzania, 1957) returned to his birth country after an absence of forty-six years. WITH Sarah Mwaga, founder of the Anti Female Genital Mutilation Network (AFNET), he traveled more than 3,000 miles over three years, visiting remote communities to converse with and to photograph activist women (victims of FGM/C), the sacred sites where these rituals take place, and the cutting tools used by ngariba (Swahilli for “circumcisers”) who have renounced the practice.
Malde received a John Simon Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship in 2018 to complete the project. This book is dedicated to the life and work of Sarah Mwaga, who passed away in 2021 just as the book was at its final stages of production.
In 1991, Krass Clement travelled to Ireland at the invitation of the Tyrone Guthrie Centre, a trip which resulted in Clement’s best known publication Drum. This work, shot in a single evening on just three and a half rolls of film, has typified Clement’s work ever since. Clement works quickly, moving through spaces as a visitor and an observer, working as unobtrusively as possible.
Clement spent several weeks in Ireland applying his philosophy of process to each of the places he visited, most notably Dublin, two hours South of Drum village, and published by RRB Photobooks in 2017, and Belfast, this time two hours to the North, and published now for the first time.
Clement’s process remained the same for his time in Belfast, he moved through the city turning his lens on the faces and landscapes he found there; the children going to school, the shop fronts and the windows of private homes, the moments of open space between buildings. Yet in Belfast, the mood is different, not by design or by a change in approach but by the nature of the subject. Belfast in 1991 had seen decades of conflict, the ceasefire of 1994 still some years away, which, coupled with the decline of the ship building industry and economic policy of the later 20th Century had left great areas of Belfast in urgent need of regeneration. British soldiers wait in the front yards of private homes, children play in derelict-looking streets, Clement moves through them and documents without making judgement; he is not a journalist looking for an angle or a conflict photographer seeking to expose the truth on the ground.
In Belfast, Clement revisits his work over 30 years on, gathering 114 unpublished images and carefully placing then in sequence, offered without caption or comment. Clement’s work invites the viewer to take his place, to spot the lone figure walking through the scene, and provides space for the photographs to be read.
This work is simple in its elaboration: made in one afternoon on an island with a turbulent history. It follows a clear and linear course in which the misty afternoon slowly slips into the darkness. 'It didn’t take me long to realize the escape once again wouldn’t work' by Dieter De Lathauwer became a reflection on place and walking as a solution for inner problems. It was a failed attempt to escape. Started as a known approach to the landscape. Ended with the landscape turning out to be an obstacle. This intimate and poetic book is about accepting failure and weakness, and turning it into something new.
‘If I Call Stones Blue, It Is Because Blue Is The Precise Word’ is Joselito Verschaeve’s way to tell a story with the day-to-day encounters he experiences and relate them to the subjects that he’s invested with. By walking in between themes of literature, history, natural phenomena, and dystopia the artist creates images that can live in different contexts, and that are able to carry the fictional narrative he’s portraying. Part of that practice is seeing the potential in his local surroundings and seeing if they can hold the idea of a different place and time. And while the work is fictional, the images carry the idea of possible future events, threats, and repetitive history. While showing that the subject of dystopia and problematic times shines in its simple pleasures and appreciation of common living.
“I am less interested in solving the puzzle than in various individual interpretations of the clues, the notion of treasure hunting itself, and where this leads those who seek definitive answers: the dreams, fantasies and obsessions of individual searchers.”
— Emily Graham
In 1993 an author buried a golden sculpture— the Chouette d’Or (Golden Owl)—and released a book with eleven allusive clues as to its whereabouts somewhere in France. Nearly 30 years later, many continue to search for the treasure which remains unfound. Over a period of three years, artist Emily Graham, photographed those pursuing the treasure in their potentially futile quest, whilst collecting research and ephemera. The resulting images, combined with documentation on the search—texts, correspondence and maps— form her new book The Blindest Man.
The clues as to the whereabouts of the Chouette d’Or comprise of text and paintings and have lead a large number of searchers across the landscape of France. The game was designed to last two or maybe three years and searching for the treasure became a common pastime in France. The author—who was originally anonymous—is now dead, and only the truly committed continue to search against a tide of rumour, misinformation and re-herrings clouding their investigations. Scientists, doctors, retirees, and artists all continue with elaborate calculations and theories as to the location of the cache. Each have their own “zone” in which they scan the landscape, drawing conclusions from snapped branches, the contours of maps, and shadows crossing the land. Some are inspired to continue for challenge of code breaking, others for philosophical reflection, an adventure or a way of experiencing and seeing, a lens through which to look.
In The Blindest Man, Graham’s photographs reflect the mysterious clues of the hunt. Elusive and unexplained symbols occur throughout, such as a peacock on a hillside, markings on a wall, a spiral staircase leading into the sky—all left open to interpretation by the viewer. There is a sense of both implied narrative and pursuit with images of roads and paths which lead out of sight and a phone just off the hook. The motif of ‘unseeing’ recurs throughout—a man peering through a hole in the wall, a face obscured by dabbled sunlight and an eyeball in the palm of a hand. Graham’s photographs are presented alongside documentation around the search. Fictions and facts, combined with conjecture, collectively presenting the contradictions of a pursuit that has no answers and no end.
Signed copies are available for the first few customers.
In 2017, in the remote South-East of Australia, a man called the police and reported that he had murdered more than 400 eagles over the last two years at the instruction of his boss. The news coverage of the criminal trial for this act was the starting point for artist Matt Dunne to explore the wider deliberate killing of the Wedge-Tailed Eagle. Matt Dunne’s book ‘The Killing Sink’ is part true crime and part a public act of grieving for what has been lost.
Each photograph in Dunne’s book depicts a place where eagles have been killed, the animals themselves or the tools of their destruction. The images are black and white, echoing the detachment and impartiality of crime scene photography. The title of the book is drawn from the term ‘killing sink’, which is an area created when a territorial animal is killed and as a result, others of the same species are drawn to the location. The newcomers are subsequently killed and a cycle of killing is established. Collectively, the photographs in Dunne’s book intertwine the birds with the intention, psychology and history of the act of their demise creating a visual testimony.
Wedge-Tailed Eagles are Australia’s largest bird of prey, weighing up to five kilograms with a wing span of up to 120cm. Although, currently a species protected by the National Parks and Wildlife service, in the past some states offered bounties for their carcasses and it is estimated that more than 300,000 were killed in the decades before the late 1960s. The crime which originally inspired Dunne’s project meticulously recorded the investigation into the loss of life. Far from isolated, this crime—where eagles are trapped, shot, poisoned and killed—is one often repeated throughout Australia with vast distances and remote locations hiding these actions from prying eyes. Although the focus of ‘The Killing Sink’ is one species—the destruction of native species in agricultural interests is global. The book ultimately asks ‘what have we traded? How could it possibly be worth it?’
An exhibition of my photographs just opened at a museum in Sao Paulo, and there are also shows underway at museums in Rome and Beijing. While asking myself how my photographs may look to the people in these faraway places, I’m also in the middle of producing a voluptuous close-up shot of a woman’s cherry-red lips for a 3 x 3 meter billboard on the corner of the Yodobashi Camera building in Tokyo’s Nishi-Shinjuku district. Being the “red lip fetishist” that I am, I didn’t think twice before accepting that job, and working on that one shot gave me a boost and inspired me to walk over to the entertainment district west of the railway overpass, to shoot the crowds of people in the streets. As a result, volume 51 of “Record” is entirely dedicated to the Nishi-Shinjuku neighborhood. It had been a while since I’d last walked and shot in the Nishi-Shinjuku area, and while these photographs were made with my usual attitude, I particularly wonder how they will be perceived this time. On a different note, I’m recently devoting increasing amounts of time reading the “Fuji Nikki,” a diary that the late Yuriko Takeda wrote in the course of thirteen years at the family’s cottage at the foot of Mount Fuji. The further I’m getting into the author’s openhearted descriptions of concrete occurrences in her daily life, the more three-dimensional the events appear to be standing out from the flat text, and once common sentiments and emotions are completely wiped away, I seem to sense the author’s body temperature along with an almost humorous touch. And all the details of the long and troublesome time, disguised as “everyday,” that she had spent waiting, take on a kind of pliantness beyond words, making for nothing more and nothing less than an extraordinary account. For myself, this is another demonstration of conclusive toughness and flexibility, as also combined in the tool that is photography. (I think I don’t need to mention that Yuriko Takeda was the wife of the late novelist Taijun Takeda, and is the mother of photographer Hana Takeda.)
Whistling for Owls by Max Ferguson is a story of two parts; image and text; France and London, memoir and fiction; truth and lies. This is the first book by the Oval press imprint which will focus on quiet publishing on the edges of photography, literature and research.
In Whistling for Owls, oblique photographs and sometimes-poetic texts are combined create a loose narrative of love, loss and longing. The photographs depict observed details and imperfections of both domesticity and nature—an apple core on the ground, a broken window, a cluttered kitchen and carefully arranged dead butterflies.
Each image is heavy with implied narrative and symbolism—ripe nature just on the cusp of turning and the abandoned and rusting evidence of human presence. It’s unclear if the images signal an awakening or decay—or both—or neither. The text contributes to the ambiguity with the introduction of the enigmatic figure of the birdwatcher never making clear if she is a passing encounter or a pivotal figure in the narrative.
‘I first met the birdwatcher as she climbed over a style someway from the house we were staying at. She seemed startled to see me – as if I shouldn’t have been there. Maybe I shouldn’t have.’
For the past twelve years, Stacy Kranitz has been making photographs in the Appalachian region of the United States in order to explore how photography can solidify or demystify stereotypes, and interpret memory and history in a region where the medium has failed to provide an equitable depiction of its people. Rather than reinforcing conventional views of Appalachia as a poverty-ridden region, or by selectively dwelling on positive aspects of the place and its people to offset problematic stereotypes, this work insists that each of these options are equally problematic ways of looking at place.
This work does not attempt to illustrate a certain type of injustice in the hope of remedying it. Instead, Kranitz has come to Appalachia to open up a new kind of narrative, one that examines our understanding of culture and place in a manner that is poised between notions of right and wrong.
As the narrative of As it Was Give(n) To Me unfolds, the book provides an intimate perspective on a region forced to transition away from coal extraction as its dominant source of economic stability, an opioid epidemic that has wreaked havoc on communities, and the role of Appalachia in a politically divided nation.
In the spring of 2020, Aaron Stern and Lucy Helton began exchanging images via a thermal fax machine in an attempt to navigate isolation by engaging in virtual conversation.
As the pandemic continued throughout 2020 and into 2021 – two strange years marked by global disruption – they began inviting other artists to submit work to the fax machine.
OK, NO RESPONSE presents 140 of the resulting facsimiles drawn from the work of twenty contributing artists. The transmission of these photographs reduced them to their most basic forms, introducing errors, static, and random glitches. While the source images were varied and diverse, their translation, transmission, and recomposition as thermal prints on paper unified them in surprising ways. What began as an impulse to connect during a time of isolation became an unexpected visual manifestation of our interconnectedness.
Featuring faxed photographs from Juan Brenner, Antony Cairns, Madeline Cass, Jerald Cooper, Jeremy Everett, Christian Filardo, Fryd Frydendahl, Matthew Genitempo, Lucy Helton, Anthony Hernandez, Kovi Konowiecki, Gabby Laurent, Pixy Liao, Susan Lipper, Mark Mattock, Christian Patterson, Aaron Schuman, Bryan Schutmaat, Nick Sethi, and Aaron Stern.
"Carrying out this photograph project is because of the inspiration after reading the novel River of the North written by Zhang Chengzhi. Attracted by the powerful words in this novel, I decided to take a walk along the Yellow River to experience and feel the father-like broad and wide brought from this river, so that I could find the root of my soul .while along the way, the river from my mind was inundated by the stream of reality. The river, which once was full of legends, had gone and disappeared. That is kind of my profound pessimism. Nevertheless, as a vast country with a long history, its future is always bright. There is a descent in the matrix; there is her own nutrition to feed her babies; there is the power of creation to cultivate them strongly. The weak moaning finally will be drowned by the shout for joy. From this point of view, it seems, all shall be optimistic."
- Zhang Kechun
3rd edition, 1st printing.
Imperfect copy with bumps to spine ends - see example photo.
‘In 1989, I discovered them in my own back yard, landhungry and dirt poor.They came looking for work in the vegetable fields and fruit orchards ofLambton, Essex, Kent and Haldimand-Norfolk Counties. I liked them a lotbecause they seemed otherworldly and therefore completely vulnerable ina society in which they did not belong and for which they were not prepared.Because I liked them, they liked me, and although photography was forbidden,they let me photograph them. That’s all there was to it.’
Larry Towell first encountered the Mennonites near his home in Ontario, Canada, and his friendship with them gained him unique access to their communities. Rather than compromise their way of life, Mennonites have continually been forced to migrate around the world to maintain their freedom to live as they choose. Towell photographed Mennonites in Canada and Mexico for over ten years, and his own texts tell in detail his experiences with their communities: the harshness and poverty of their rural existence, the disciplines and contradictions of their religion, their hunger for land and work, and the constant struggle to keep the modern world at bay.
This second edition, reedited and re-sequenced includes forty new images from the photographer’s archive. Hardback clothbound, in slipcase with black ribbon
Photographer Annemarieke van Drimmelen (b. 1978, Dutch) and painter Jasper Krabbé (b. 1970, Dutch) have dedicated their new book to their two year old daughter, June.
Made for the most part on the Greek island of Hydra, the images in this publication reimagine a child’s gaze that still has an untethered and pristine view of the world. In trying to capture the unspoiled aspect of their surroundings, the artist couple found a new way of working that was inspired by things their daughter pointed out on their walks across the island.
It brought photographer van Drimmelen to focus on small and intimate details such as an animal shape formed by metal wire, debris that they found on the beach. Or the face they encountered in the deteriorating wall of a deserted hotel in an empty bay of the island. The photographs were then painted on by Krabbé to add an otherworldly second layer. The unexpected combination of paint and photo, sometimes with poems of Krabbé, collaged directly to the surface.
They bring about hybrid images that allude to a “third person”, composed of the collaborative view of two artists. Images are altered by going back and forth in a process of mutual trust; crossing out each other’s images on the way and welcoming the unexpected. To them making this work is a true journey into the innocence of the world view of the child.
In 1968, the West African photographer Rachidi Bissiriou set up his photographic studio, Studio Plaisir, in his hometown of Kétou in Benin, which he operated until its closure in 2004. The timing of this was conspicuous – Bissiriou was only 18 and Benin had only declared its independence from French rule eight years earlier, in 1960. Armed with a Yashica twin-lens camera, Bissiriou documented these heady times, spending the next three decades shooting black and white photographs of the locals in a standard 6x6cm format.
While traditional portraits from these times often showcased their subjects unsmiling and with a rigid formality, Bissiriou’s images are remarkable for their simplicity and a freshness that feels utterly contemporary. Shot against plain backdrops, or in the town where they lived, Bissiriou’s subjects posed wearing their own clothing, which could range from traditional West African attire such as grand boubou, head wraps and Ankara agbadas, to more modern styles that nodded to the explosion in youth culture at the time. The image of two men – each wearing shirts unbuttoned to their sternum, paired with flared trousers, or a group of three women in sunglasses posing proudly with their handbags clearly demonstrate the post-independence verve. Bissiriou’s skill was in forging a connection with his subjects, being able to put them at ease, and allowing their innate sense of self-expression to shine through. His camera often captured his subjects in a moment of quiet repose, by turns self-possessed, contemplative, and optimistic.
For Bissiriou, the desire to become a photographer was in his own words, 'because someone who is a photographer has the freedom to go anywhere and everywhere.' While the primary focus of his nearly three decades of photography were the residents and families of his hometown, the images are no less transportive, instantly painting a vivid picture of West African society during a ground-breaking moment of transformation.
Following on from the bestselling box set Gathered Leaves,published to accompany Alec Soth’s touring exhibition which opened in London in 2015, this unique publication brings together five of Soth’s major books in their entirety in a single, compact, and densely detailed volume. Across more than 700 pages of newsprint, Soth updates and reimagines the original version of Gathered Leaves by reproducing every spread from these five books with detailed annotations in the form of notes, text extracts, and additional photographs. This new roadmap through Soth’s oeuvre also includes a new introduction by the artist.
Soth’s meteoric rise to international acclaim began with his first book, Sleeping by the Mississippi (2004), an elegiac road trip down the ‘third coast’ of the United States, which has since has sold through numerous print runs and is widely acknowledged as a classic. The success of his subsequent volumes Niagara (2006), Broken Manual (2010), and Songbook (2015) elaborated Soth’s lyrical but unflinching approach and reinforced his position as a master of the book form. His most recent work, A Pound of Pictures (2022), brings a new, poetic perspective to the idiosyncrasies of American life and the practice of image-making, broached once again through Soth’s now-distinctive road trip format.
Paperback with fold-out map jacket, printed on newspaper, 21.5 x 26 cm, 720 pages
"Everything we see hides another thing, we always want to see what is hidden by what we see. There is an interest in that which is hidden and which the visible does not show us.This interest can take the form of a quite intense feeling, a sort of conflict, one might say, between the visible that is hidden and the visible that is present."
Photography duo Albarrán Cabrera uses photography as a tool to investigate reality. The images that make up their latest book ‘Photography Syntax’, function as the notebooks of their philosophical research. Together with the texts, the photographs testify to the use of photographic processes as a means of going deeper into the reasons and thoughts behind the images.