A selection from Truth or Consequences by Thomas Chéné.

@4 days ago with 260 notes
#Art #Photography #Thomas Chéné #Portraiture #Lanscape #Lanscape photography 

"Thus far, scant attention has been devoted to the role of viewing in the event of photography where it is responsible for the always unfinished nature of this event. The position of the spectator is one that any subject can hold at any given moment, whether or not she is photographer or photographed. The overemphasis on the role of the photographer and the lack of weight attributed to that of the spectator are derived from the prevailing but erroneous conceptualization of photography in terms of sealing off a certain instant framed by the photographer who observes it and who witnesses it from the outside, of freezing this instant or sealing it in death before sharing it with those who observe his or her testimony. But a photograph is never testimony of the photographer alone, and the event of photography, unlike the photographed event, continues to exist despite all other considerations. The preservation of rigid binaries between “inside” and “outside,” in terms where that which can be seen is that which was present before the lens at the moment of capture of a shot that has now been inscribed as a photograph presented in turn to the scrutiny of spectators external to the event, represents a misunderstanding of both photography and of the photograph alike. The event of photography is never over. It can only be suspended, caught in the anticipation of the next encounter that will allow for its actualization: an encounter that might allow a certain spectator to remark on the excess or lack inscribed in the photograph so as to re-articulate every detail including those that some believe to be fixed in place by the glossy emulsion of the photograph."

@4 days ago with 31 notes
#Art #Photography #Theory #Ariella Azoulay #Portraiture #Power #Politics #Identity #History 

"Water is a mysterious combination of the mysterious and the material. Imagine something that impinged on by everything, in contact with everything remains to this day mostly transparent – even crystal clear when taken in small enough quantities. Water is transparence derived from the presence of everything. Water is transparence derived from the presence of everything – that is water sifted down, filtered out through the planet Earth – Earth, aquifer that clarifies and realises purity."

– Roni HornSaying Water”. Photographs from East of the Sun, West of the Moon by Gregory Halpern & Ahndraya Parlato.

@1 week ago with 254 notes
#Art #Photography #Gregory Halpern #Ahndraya Parlato #Portraiture #Landscape #Poetry #Prose poetry #Roni Horn 

California, as seen by Robert Adams.

@1 week ago with 346 notes
#Art #Photography #Robert Adams #Landscape photography 
If you’re in Austin, TX, try to make it along to see Motor Chronicles, a show of photographs by Matthew Genitempo and Bryan Schutmaat:

Very thrilled to announce the opening of MOTOR CHRONICLES, an exhibiton of new photographs by Bryan Schutmaat and myself.

Join us at 7PM Friday night, October 24th, for the opening reception at Farewell Books.

If you’re in Austin, TX, try to make it along to see Motor Chronicles, a show of photographs by Matthew Genitempo and Bryan Schutmaat:

Very thrilled to announce the opening of MOTOR CHRONICLES, an exhibiton of new photographs by Bryan Schutmaat and myself.

Join us at 7PM Friday night, October 24th, for the opening reception at Farewell Books.

@4 days ago with 113 notes
#Photography #Art #Matthew Genitempo #Bryan Schutaat #Portraiture #Landscape 

Muriel Rukeyser, reading The Ballad of Orange and Grape

@1 week ago with 8 notes
#Art #Poetry #Muriel Rukeyser 

Love and forgetting might have carried them 
A little further up the mountain side 
With night so near, but not much further up. 
They must have halted soon in any case 
With thoughts of a path back, how rough it was 
With rock and washout, and unsafe in darkness; 
When they were halted by a tumbled wall 
With barbed-wire binding. They stood facing this, 
Spending what onward impulse they still had 
In One last look the way they must not go, 
On up the failing path, where, if a stone 
Or earthslide moved at night, it moved itself; 
No footstep moved it.

— Robert Frost, “Two Look at Two”

Photographs from Sequester by Awoiska Van Der Molen.

@1 week ago with 92 notes
#Art #Poetry #Robert Frost #Photography #Awoiska Van Der Molen 
Found on the tumblr of Nich Hance McElroy:



"In the tense silence the continual buzzing of the horseflies was the only audible sound, that and the constant rain beating down in the distance, and, uniting the two, the ever more frequent scritch-scratch of the bent acacia trees outside, and the strange nightshift work of the bugs in the table legs and in various parts of the counter whose irregular pulse measured out the small parcels of time, apportioning the narrow space into which a word, a sentence or a movement might perfectly fit. The entire end-of-October night was beating with a single pulse, its own strange rhythm sounding through trees and rain and mud in a manner beyond words or vision: a vision present in the low light, in the slow passage of darkness, in the blurred shadows, in the working of tired muscles; in the silence, in its human subjects, in the undulating surface of the metaled road; in the hair moving to a different beat than do the dissolving fibers of the body; growth and decay on their divergent paths; all these thousands of echoing rhythms, this confusing clatter of night noises, all parts of an apparently common stream, that is the attempt to forget despair; though behind things other things appear as if by mischief, and once beyond the power of the eye they don’t hang together. So with the door left open as if forever, with the lock that will never open. There is a chasm, a crevice."
- László Krasznahorkai, Satantango

Found on the tumblr of Nich Hance McElroy:

"In the tense silence the continual buzzing of the horseflies was the only audible sound, that and the constant rain beating down in the distance, and, uniting the two, the ever more frequent scritch-scratch of the bent acacia trees outside, and the strange nightshift work of the bugs in the table legs and in various parts of the counter whose irregular pulse measured out the small parcels of time, apportioning the narrow space into which a word, a sentence or a movement might perfectly fit. The entire end-of-October night was beating with a single pulse, its own strange rhythm sounding through trees and rain and mud in a manner beyond words or vision: a vision present in the low light, in the slow passage of darkness, in the blurred shadows, in the working of tired muscles; in the silence, in its human subjects, in the undulating surface of the metaled road; in the hair moving to a different beat than do the dissolving fibers of the body; growth and decay on their divergent paths; all these thousands of echoing rhythms, this confusing clatter of night noises, all parts of an apparently common stream, that is the attempt to forget despair; though behind things other things appear as if by mischief, and once beyond the power of the eye they don’t hang together. So with the door left open as if forever, with the lock that will never open. There is a chasm, a crevice."

László Krasznahorkai, Satantango

@1 week ago with 66 notes
#Art #Photography #Prose #László Krasznahorkai #Nich Hance McElroy 
4 days ago
#Art #Photography #Thomas Chéné #Portraiture #Lanscape #Lanscape photography 
If you’re in Austin, TX, try to make it along to see Motor Chronicles, a show of photographs by Matthew Genitempo and Bryan Schutmaat:

Very thrilled to announce the opening of MOTOR CHRONICLES, an exhibiton of new photographs by Bryan Schutmaat and myself.

Join us at 7PM Friday night, October 24th, for the opening reception at Farewell Books.
4 days ago
#Photography #Art #Matthew Genitempo #Bryan Schutaat #Portraiture #Landscape 
"Thus far, scant attention has been devoted to the role of viewing in the event of photography where it is responsible for the always unfinished nature of this event. The position of the spectator is one that any subject can hold at any given moment, whether or not she is photographer or photographed. The overemphasis on the role of the photographer and the lack of weight attributed to that of the spectator are derived from the prevailing but erroneous conceptualization of photography in terms of sealing off a certain instant framed by the photographer who observes it and who witnesses it from the outside, of freezing this instant or sealing it in death before sharing it with those who observe his or her testimony. But a photograph is never testimony of the photographer alone, and the event of photography, unlike the photographed event, continues to exist despite all other considerations. The preservation of rigid binaries between “inside” and “outside,” in terms where that which can be seen is that which was present before the lens at the moment of capture of a shot that has now been inscribed as a photograph presented in turn to the scrutiny of spectators external to the event, represents a misunderstanding of both photography and of the photograph alike. The event of photography is never over. It can only be suspended, caught in the anticipation of the next encounter that will allow for its actualization: an encounter that might allow a certain spectator to remark on the excess or lack inscribed in the photograph so as to re-articulate every detail including those that some believe to be fixed in place by the glossy emulsion of the photograph."
4 days ago
#Art #Photography #Theory #Ariella Azoulay #Portraiture #Power #Politics #Identity #History 
1 week ago
#Art #Poetry #Muriel Rukeyser 
1 week ago
#Art #Photography #Gregory Halpern #Ahndraya Parlato #Portraiture #Landscape #Poetry #Prose poetry #Roni Horn 
1 week ago
#Art #Poetry #Robert Frost #Photography #Awoiska Van Der Molen 
1 week ago
#Art #Photography #Robert Adams #Landscape photography 
Found on the tumblr of Nich Hance McElroy:



"In the tense silence the continual buzzing of the horseflies was the only audible sound, that and the constant rain beating down in the distance, and, uniting the two, the ever more frequent scritch-scratch of the bent acacia trees outside, and the strange nightshift work of the bugs in the table legs and in various parts of the counter whose irregular pulse measured out the small parcels of time, apportioning the narrow space into which a word, a sentence or a movement might perfectly fit. The entire end-of-October night was beating with a single pulse, its own strange rhythm sounding through trees and rain and mud in a manner beyond words or vision: a vision present in the low light, in the slow passage of darkness, in the blurred shadows, in the working of tired muscles; in the silence, in its human subjects, in the undulating surface of the metaled road; in the hair moving to a different beat than do the dissolving fibers of the body; growth and decay on their divergent paths; all these thousands of echoing rhythms, this confusing clatter of night noises, all parts of an apparently common stream, that is the attempt to forget despair; though behind things other things appear as if by mischief, and once beyond the power of the eye they don’t hang together. So with the door left open as if forever, with the lock that will never open. There is a chasm, a crevice."
- László Krasznahorkai, Satantango
1 week ago
#Art #Photography #Prose #László Krasznahorkai #Nich Hance McElroy