Desire Lines looks at migration as an inherently human act – one that has defined human history and the geopolitical framework of our planet. Shipley’s photographs are seen in dialogue with interviews from migrants and long-term residents, 20th century oral histories and 19th and 20th century archival photographs. This mix of time and perspective highlights a region long marked by migration, individual desire and preservation, but also systemic dominance and colonial control, hidden in hundreds of square miles of remote terrain.
Desire Lines follows old and new movements through the desert landscape of the Sonoran borderlands of the United States and Mexico: paths taken by migrants and border agents, of missionaries and conquistadors, of indigenous people and industrialists. The messy and at times violent collision of peoples has created a region that defies the harmfully simplistic narratives so frequently attributed to our borders.
Shipley’s photographs focus on the disorienting experience of this landscape – a place of beauty or danger depending on the perspective of those moving through it. Deceptively empty, the landscape is under constant watch, heavily surveilled and controlled, with an ever-increasing military presence that has seeped into the lives of residents in surrounding communities.
We are our own universes. Each of us. Life is a journey through an immeasurable collection of such universes. How this journey will go, where it will take us, is not only up to us. Hence our being lost, waiting for a helping hand or a happy coincidence. Hence our projections of the future, but also memories of the past. Everything comes back. Panta rhei. But somewhere on this trail, each of us finds this one and only place that is home. Home not in a sense of the material four walls, but such constellations of different universes that together make up this space that can be called that. And this is the most beautiful part of it. In his newest book, Damien Daufresne unveils the secret of one such universe - Undertow.
As Marie Belorgey writes in her essay: “The pictures open and fold back on themselves by turns. They renew their sound, their weight, unfold their depth, or don’t, depending on the moment. The skins’ grain answers the photographic material’s, alternately expanding and tightening like starlings in flight, unravelling the metamorphoses of a same, luminous momentum, a flesh shared by beings and places, manifested following different degrees of density, permeability, transparency. And here and there the film, scratched, smeared with salt, studded with fingerprints, meets with the texture of a world we can feel is loved in all its forms, embraced according to the paradoxes it vibrates with.
It’s about beginnings, perhaps about ends, articulated in an open ellipse that marks out the moving, growing heart of things from crest to crater. Fusion, separation, thresholds. A path traced between times, reigns, elements. Relentlessly redrawn. The living wave throughout, precarious pier between waters unmeasurable and sky, of dust animating into a landscape, from whale to butterfly. All the way to winged concrete.”
A Country Kind of Silence continues my internal exploration of feelings surrounding my sense of identity. A sense that belonging isn’t as unattainable as it is hard to grasp. I still hesitate when anyone asks me where I’m from, no doubt a question owing to my unusual accent. England has been my adoptive home for some time now, 26 years to be exact. However, moving from where my heart is rooted has had a profound effect on me. Feelings of unease and uncertainty have always been with me and many of these are tied to the constant changes I see in my surroundings; these developments have often mirrored a change in myself as time’s gone by.
I wanted A Country Kind of Silence to be a response to this change – of perception and my personal sense of self. I want to celebrate this transitional period with images that show a quiet calm, a moment of silence capturing various tropes of the past before they are lost and forgotten. I associate these visual cues with my adopted sense of identity – I am always in search of cultural symbols to anchor my identity to.
I often think of my relationship to the images I shot, both the ones that were selected and the ones that were not, and how they each help me understand the place I’m in. The pink and blue hues just off a Kent high street and the faded-peach tones of a Brightonian hairdressers say so much about who we were and how we did things but also where we are now and where we are headed. Hand-stenciled signage in Great Yarmouth roused me to capture that image – signs like this are representations of a time and a place and everything in between, reminders that these sites once thrived. We pass them often – sometimes daily – and pay them little attention, except when their dilapidation stands in stark contrast to the new.
For me, these relics chronicle my own understanding of place – they have become a sort of roadmap to understand who I am, where I am and what my surroundings mean. I am forever assessing change, updating my knowledge to reinforce my sense of belonging. The urban landscape is borne entirely from our creation and it tells us so much – We plan and build, reap and destroy and repeat the process as we pass through. It’s easy to forget that many of these things still bear the influence of the past - telling us much about ourselves while stuck in time, surviving, struggling and sometimes just about existing.
Pang’Ono Pang’Ono explores the emotional and physical toll on women in Malawi in their quest to access clean water. The title — Pang’Ono Pang’Ono or little by little — is borrowed from a colloquial Chichewa expression referencing time and urging patience — used here to metaphorically reflect on the sentiment around water. With a population of nearly 21 million people, Malawi is one of the smallest and least-developed countries in Africa. Although the country has an abundance of water — with around 24,404 square kilometres flowing through its fertile land, including Lake Malawi, the third-largest freshwater lake on the continent — providing clean water to every single citizen is a national problem. One in three people live without it. Considered a domestic chore, the responsibility of securing water falls predominantly on the shoulders of women. The series was produced over a period of 10 days working on commission with WaterAid in Malawi.
Published to coincide with the twentieth anniversary of the US-led invasion of Iraq, Glad Tidings of Benevolence brings together Moises Saman’s photographs taken in Iraq during this period and the following years, with documents and texts relating to the war. Exploring the construction—through image and language—of competing narratives of the war, the book represents the culmination of Saman’s twenty years of work across Iraq.
‘My photographs are not intended to represent an objective account of the Iraq war against which to compare the texts. Rather, the book grapples with my own role and power as a narrator – particularly one with access to foreign publications – and the biases and limitations inevitably embedded in my work.’
Thirty years ago, Mark Power embarked on a journey to photograph the thirty-one sea areas around the coasts of the British Isles to create a visual representation of the shipping forecast. For nearly 100 years, the forecast has been broadcast four times a day by BBC radio and has seeped into the British public consciousness—it is a constant in an ever-changing world. Power’s book, The Shipping Forecast was originally published in 1996 and this newly edited, revised and much-expanded edition includes over 100 previously unpublished photographs.
‘The shipping forecast, of course, exists to save lives. It warns those at sea, or about to put to sea, of approaching storms. But for the majority of us, in Britain at least, its’ strange, rhythmic language is unashamedly romantic and oddly reassuring, despite forming an image of an island nation perpetually buffeted by wind and waves.’
When Diane Arbus died in 1971 at the age of 48, she was already a significant influence—even something of a legend—for serious photographers, although only a relatively small number of her most important pictures were widely known at the time. The publication of Diane Arbus: An Aperture Monograph in 1972—along with the posthumous retrospective at The Museum of Modern Art—offered the general public its first encounter with the breadth and power of her achievements. The response was unprecedented. The monograph, composed of 80 photographs, was edited and designed by the painter Marvin Israel, Diane Arbus' friend and colleague, and by her daughter Doon Arbus. Their goal in producing the book was to remain as faithful as possible to the standards by which Arbus judged her own work and to the ways in which she hoped it would be seen. Universally acknowledged as a photobook classic, Diane Arbus: An Aperture Monograph is a timeless masterpiece with editions in five languages, and remains the foundation of her international reputation. A quarter of a century has done nothing to diminish the riveting impact of these pictures or the controversy they inspire. Arbus' photographs penetrate the psyche with all the force of a personal encounter and, in doing so, transform the way we see the world and the people in it.
In 1909, a young mother called Emma Hauck was admitted to the psychiatric hospital of Heidelberg (Germany). She was diagnosed with Schizophrenia. 11 years later Emma would pass away in an asylum in Wiesloch at the age of 42.
Around that time a touching collection of letters was found in the archives of the Heidelberg hospital. All of these letters were written to her husband Michael, begging him to collect her. Each letter is written with overlapping words.
Some are so condensed as to be illegible. Some read “herzensschatzi komm’ (darling come) over and over; others only repeat the words, ‘komm, komm, komm’ (come) thousands of times.
Jungjin Lee’s extraordinary new artist’s book, Voice, comprises 46 large-scale photographs made in 2018 and 2019. While the photographs were originally made in deserts, mountains, oceans and plains, the artist writes, “My images should be seen as metaphors, a form of meditation. I do not depict landscapes or nature. The desert allows me to see my inner self, and my goal is to make images of what I feel there: the eternal sense of being open and present to the world.”
Lee’s work has expanded the boundaries of the photographic process to create images that are simultaneously textural and minimalist. After printing an image on hand-emulsified cotton or mulberry paper, she then alters its finish, using technological processes that result in a distinct, high contrast image.
Born in Korea in 1961, Lee began photographing while a student at Hongik University in Seoul, where she earned a BFA in ceramics in 1984. After graduating, Lee worked as a photo journalist and freelance photographer. She earned an MA in Photography from New York University in 1991. While in New York City, Lee worked for the photographer Robert Frank. Later, she traveled across the country and was deeply moved by the American desert, which became the subject of several of her photographic series.
“Documents Jurisic’s attempt to trace the story of her aunt Gordana, a glamorous figure who left rural Yugoslavia in the 1950s and whose subsequent experiences involving false identities and espionage remain mysterious. Jurisic presents her careful, fruitful research in a series of illustrated notebooks that recall WG Sebald’s approach to memoir, history and reflection." (5* review of My Own Exhibition in The Irish Times by Aidan Dunne)
"the latest body of work by Dublin-based photographer Dragana Jurišić, an on-going series comprising five fascinating chapters due to culminate into a fictionalised biography. Combining text and photography, appropriated imagery intermingles ruthlessly with notebook texts, video and performance, across diverse creative processes and narrated through differing voices. Hybrid and complex, My Own Unknown defies classification – its overlapping of languages, registers and motifs reflect the eclectic and expansive aesthetic and intellectual world of its author, Dragana Jurišić." (Natasha Christia for 1000 Words Magazine).
When politicians and pundits talk about the heartland, or the heart of the country, they’re generally not pandering to places like Roger Richardson’s Middletown, which is located in Orange County, in New York’s Hudson Valley. Yet the people and places in Let Me Sow Love exist right smack in the middle of myriad 21st-century American realities. Refreshingly, though, there’s not so much as a whiff of polemic in Richardson’s photographs. As the title suggests, this is a book full of what feel like genuine and compassionate interactions and engagements, as opposed to the now-expected confrontations. You sense right away that Richardson knows this place intimately, and these are his people. As a result, Let Me Sow Love presents with remarkable clarity a compelling portrait of an utterly realistic human community at a unique and radically insecure moment in the country’s history.
The late Philip Levine, arguably the greatest working-class poet of the late 20th century, once said that his goal was to write poems so transparent that “no words are noticed. You look through them into a vision of the people, the place.” Time and again, Richardson realizes Levine’s vision through his photographs, and it’s a vision that will be achingly familiar to anyone who grew up in or has spent time in strikingly similar working-class cities and towns all over the United States.
Photographer Rinko Kawauchi (1972–), known for her expressive mastery of gentle color suffused with light, has revealed the mystery, radiance, frailty, and strength of life in all its forms since her earliest works. Her gaze falls equally on the fragile and delicate beings in her immediate vicinity, be they flora and fauna or family members, and the vast workings of the earth, such as volcanoes and glaciers formed over long eons. The unique sensibility underlying her photography reveals the connections between these subjects, which all shimmer with the same vital glow. This will be her first major exhibition in Japan in six years, showcasing the essence of Kawauchi’s oeuvre through work from the past decade combined with never-before-seen images from her archives. M/E, the main subject of this exhibition and inspiration for its title, is a new series Kawauchi began shooting in 2019. The letters stand for “Mother” and “Earth,” combining to form both “Mother Earth” and “Me.” At a glance, the series’ images of Iceland’s volcanoes and ice floes and Hokkaido’s snowy landscapes may seem distant and unrelated to the everyday scenes from the COVID-19 pandemic that accompany them in the series. However, both types of image depict events now taking place on the planet we live on, and Kawauchi’s artistry alerts us to the connection between them. This exhibition invites the viewer to reconsider a range of questions about the workings of human life and our relationship with nature. In this exhibition catalog, Kawauchi herself has composed a sequence that allows visitors to relive the three-dimensional exhibition space, from the core series of the exhibition such as the new “M/E,” the yet unpublished “4%,” and “An interlinking” with new images, to her latest video work. The exhibition also includes a conversation with Haruo Saji, who was an influence on Kawauchi’s practice, and three essays, of which one is written by Masatake Shinohara, exploring the current state of Kawauchi’s work through both imagery and text. By changing the format and paper for each series, despite its simple binding, the book becomes a multilayered volume that embodies the depth of the exhibition
Out of print first edition/first printing with cover as shown.
“ This project has developed in two movements: that of the very action of walking, of covering the nooks and crannies of a given territory, and that of the continuous interrogation that, rather than search for answers, strove to think up new questions that would enable us to strike up a dialogue about possible realities. These walks were also stimulated by a double approach, that of photography and that of anthropology, that simultaneously suggested two different relationships and two different languages, combined to finally present a whole universe created as much out of listening and understanding human affairs as of the game of the gaze and interaction.”
Irma Estrada, from the text of the book
This project was carried out as part of an artist residency set up by the Centre d’Interprétation de l’Architecture et du Patrimoine (CIAP) in Amiens, between April 2021 and June 2022.
Sabiha Cimen spent three years photographing Girl Quran Schools in five cities in Turkey, a subject that she knows very well since she attended the same schools when she was a teenager with her twin sister. After becoming a photographer, she returned to those schools to work on her project that has now become the subject for her first book.
The title Hafiz refers to one who has memorized all 604 pages of the Holy Quran. Historically the task of memorization began during the time of Muhammad. The individual process can take up to four years and is usually done by girls ranging in age from eight to nineteen. Turkey has thousands of Quran schools.
This world has never been captured with so much intimacy before, as only Sabiha can do, because she is part of this culture. Every photo reveals a different aspect and gives us a deeper understanding of the daily life and the dreams of these girls.
Sabiha Cimen, 2020 Magnum nominee, is the receipient of W. Eugene Smith Memorial Grant in 2020, Lightwork Artist Residency in 2021, World Press Photo - Long Term Project award in 2020, and other grants.
Hardback/Open-spine binding with handmade Ebru endpapers.
Dry Hole is an eclectic selection of images extracted from a collection of Real photograph postcards, these were manufactured preprinted card backs for photographs that allowed postcards to be printed directly from a negative. The early part of the last Century spawned an explosion in popularity for RPPCs where they were both collected and used as an affordable and efficient way to communicate, particularly in North America. Fuelled by a reduction to the postal rates and the wider accessibility of small cameras designed specifically for this format. While many were mass produced and used commercially a proportion were made by amateurs and stand as unique historical documents conveying life in small town and rural America through the events, places and people they depict.
Collected and edited instinctively, David Thomson emphasises details contained within the larger frame of the postcards by cropping into specific areas - a subtle nuance of the light, a strangers gaze, an impending tornado, where the mundane and extraordinary hold company in equal measure. The accumulative effect of this diverse collection of images begins to elicit stories of past endeavour and adventures during a time when life was tough, but aspirations and hope were abundant.
The Unknown presents previously unseen portraits taken by photographer Rob Hornstra in 2003, while travelling through the Russian region of Chelyabinsk. He was working on his graduation project Communism & Cowgirls, for which he selected mostly personal images taken in people’s homes. The negatives of his chance encounters on the street remained untouched in his archive for years.
Two decades later Hornstra is wondering what has happened to the people he met?
“The liberty that I, as a foreign photographer, had to capture random passersby has disappeared. The developments that have taken place since my first trip to Russia, from the assassination of critical journalists, human rights activists and politicians to the recent invasion of Ukraine, give those encounters in 2003 a certain poignancy. The former Iron Curtain is being redrawn. Russia has never felt so far away.” - Rob Hornstra
Mikiko Hara has her own way of secretly capturing the strangers who cross her path: a young man on the train, a couple holding hands, a little girl playing in a park… Sometimes their eyes meet briefly as she presses the shutter, but Mikiko Hara does not exchange with her subjects. Yet, these portraits reveal something infinitely personal, as if the photographer and her subjects were bound by an invisible pact: being in the right place at the right time.
Mikiko Hara’s approach, firmly rooted in a documentation of every- day life, extends in the intimacy of her living space: cut flowers in the sink, a strawberry shortcake in the fridge, her three sons dozing on the floor. The eye of the photographer, who is also a mother and wife, moves back and forth from the outside to the inside, from the public to the private sphere. Wherever she is, Mikiko Hara observes and tells stories like fragments of life.
At the initiative of the publisher – who made the selection in collaboration with the artist – these unpublished photographs from 1996 to 2021 have been assembled in this book, entitled Small Myths.
The British Islesis an account of thirteen years of life across the United Kingdom, as seen through the lens of Jamie Hawkesworth. In this sprawling sequence of portraits and landscapes, Hawkesworth surveys the characters and terrains that make up the everyday fabric of his home country: schoolchildren and shopworkers, markets and estates, priests and professionals, cities and construction sites.
These photographs chart an alternative history of this eventful period of British history; a period punctuated by austerity, referenda, celebration, and conflict. And yet as much as a historical document this book is an exercise in curiosity, presenting a radically democratising portrait of the United Kingdom in which individuals, buildings and natural scenes are imbued with Hawkesworth's generous and dignifying eye.
Special limited edition of 200 copies. Each comprising:
- a signed and numbered copy of the first printing of the book
- a c-type print (signed, numbered and hand-printed)
- together housed in a linen slipcase with a tipped-in image.
The print is preserved in a hand made print folder constructed from the book’s marbled endpapers. Print size: 8 x 10 inches.
"The Dreaming contains 86 black and white images selected from my 27 years’ career in photography and traveling. When I turned 50, I decided to go through all the black & white negatives I had taken so far. Every moment of the journeys may have been vision of dreams – that’s what I thought when I tracked down my archive and such a thought gave me a hint to make this book."
- Yasuhiro Ogawa
Signed copy. 3rd edition.
All our copies come with a 6'x4' postcard size inkjet print (signed and stamped)
The photographs in Gli Isolani (The Islanders) by Alys Tomlinson, inhabit a hinterland between fiction and reality. Over a period of two years, Tomlinson documented the traditional costumes and masks worn during festivals and celebrations on the islands of the Venetian lagoon, Sicily and Sardinia. The images will be published for the first time in this new book, Gli Isolani (The Islanders), and exhibited at Hacklebury Fine Art, London from 7 September – 29 October 2022.
Working with a large format 5×4 camera, Gli Isolani draws upon the visual language of Tomlinson’s previous projects, lending the black and white photographs a veil of timelessness. At the project’s genesis, Alys researched the literature and poetry connected to the history and culture of the islands of Italy, exploring tradition and identity, ancient myths, folklore and fairy tales. Set against crumbling stone and rural fields, the images depict the elaborate and uncanny costumes and masks worn for Holy Week, and other events and festivals, often inspired by pagan ritual and beliefs. The fantastical tales and precious costumes have been passed down many generations within these communities where customs run deep. The gestures and the costumes depicted in the photographs draw on the relationship between man and the land, the sacred and the profane, and good and evil.
‘Looking into them, I see ordinary people in extraordinary habits. Pagan and religious. Masked and exposed. Collapsing time, in front of your camera. Within this present-past continuous, devils and saints, hunters and creatures take hold of my rooms. Inhabit them, tacitly. I try to listen to the tales their eyes and gestures tell, to the timbres of the light reverberating in all of these pictures.’ – Sabrina Mandanici
The definitive, full-career retrospective of the life and work of Chris Killip (1946-2020), one of the UK’s most important and influential post-war documentary photographers.
‘I didn’t set out to be the photographer of the English de-Industrial Revolution. It happened all around me during the time I was photographing’ Chris Killip, 2019
Grounded in sustained immersion and participation in the communities he photographed, Chris Killip’s keenly observed work chronicled ordinary people’s lives in stark, yet sympathetic, detail. His photographs are recognized as some of the most important visual records of 1980s Britain; as editor of this book Ken Grant reflects, they tell the story of those who ‘had history “done to them”, who felt its malicious disregard and yet, like the photographer with whom they shared so much of their lives, refused to yield or look away.’
Published to coincide with the first full retrospective of Killip’s life and work at the Photographers’ Gallery, London, this book, designed by Niall Sweeney & Nigel Truswell at Pony Ltd, presents photographs from each of his major series alongside lesser-known works. It includes a foreword by Brett Rogers, in-depth essays by Ken Grant tracing Killip’s life and career, and texts by Gregory Halpern, Amanda Maddox and Lynsey Hanley.
The photographs in It Was Once My Universe were created between December 16, 2018 and January 5, 2019 during Marie Tomanova’s first return home in over eight long years to her family farm in South Moravia, Czech Republic. It was not her choice to stay away from home for so long, but she could not return. And for her, it hurt to be away.
After graduating with an MFA in painting, Tomanova moved to the United States in 2011 and began to use photography as a means to work through her feelings of displacement living there. During this time in the United States, when things were difficult, she relived and idealized home in her mind, so when she actually went back to the Czech Republic in the winter of 2018, she was unprepared for the deep confusion and conflict she found in herself being home. During this time away, she felt she had become alien, and yet she still belonged. It was home, but so was New York City. John Berger writes, “To emigrate is always to dismantle the center of the world, and so to move into a lost, disoriented one of fragments.” It Was Once My Universe is about that. It is about contradictory feelings and disorientation. It is about home, family, memory, distance, and time.
Across the UK, town centres are undergoing a major transformation. Over the past decade, empty storefronts have become an increasingly familiar sight as businesses disappear from our high streets, leaving an atmosphere of uncertainty in their wake. In 2021 alone, more than 17,000 stores shut down nationwide – the combined result of the growth of out-of-town retail, the rise of megastores and more recently a shift towards online shopping, all exacerbated by a global pandemic.
While working on his previous project This Land, Martin Amis noticed the prevalence of closed premises, and began to explore this phenomenon further. Between 2019 and 2022, Amis photographed closed shops across Kent, gradually building a picture of how British towns are being reshaped by the decline of the high street. From pubs, post offices and bookshops to newsagents and social clubs, these spaces once served a vital role for communities. Focusing on the overlooked elements and architectural details, Amis captures the multiple layers of these buildings as they have morphed over the years, each revealing signs of social change.
Photographed in deadpan monochrome, these vacant storefronts are symbolic of a greater loss: the sense of community and cultural identity these spaces foster. The social spirit of local pubs and daily conversations in the corner shop are just some of the simple but crucial elements that help people feel less isolated and alone. In Closed, Amis presents a picture of the changing face of Britain through the microcosm of the high street. These ghost streets speak of the fragmentation of communities, an uncertain future and the ongoing evolution of Britain’s urban spaces.