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John Lehr

10.10.2011 | Kyle Tata

Crumpled Cheeseburger, 2008

With his latest solo exhibition named after a term for type proofreaders and containing photographs with titles such as (sic) and Gibberish the comparison to language in John Lehr’s work is quite apparent. The majority of the work in Stet, Lehr’s former exhibition at Kate Werble Gallery, contained extremely close cropped photographs of advertisements and other commercial signage. Despite the fact that the original intent of these advertisements is to communicate, there is not much discernible information to be found in most of Lehr’s images. Instead, Lehr is much more concentrated on the aesthetic disruption of these signs in our society. Images such as (Sic) depict an advertising sign that has broken down and has become a functionless tool for communication. In this image, as with many of his others, Lehr plays with the implied space of the photograph and creates an incredible amount of surface tension within an image that appears to be almost caving in on itself.

sic, 2009

Marquee, 2010

Although the relationship between humans and the commercial landscape has been a major focus for much of Lehr’s career, his most recent work seems to show less interest on the surrounding environment and more about advertising objects themselves. Lehr’s intensely saturated and slightly over exposed photographs vividly presents the artificiality of both the subject matter and literal construction of these signs. Additionally, with these photographs printed nearly to the same size as the actual objects they depict, and displayed without frames or borders, they create an intriguing play between real life object and representation.

Bread and Graffiti, 2008

Gibberish, 2010

One could read Lehr’s work as an examination on America’s obsession with consumerism and advertising, however his critique never seems to be an overbearingly harsh one. Rather, Lehr’s work often falls into a mature degree of deadpan absurdity. Photographs such as Bread and Graffiti demonstrate the humor of finding such contrasting forms of signage within in the same environment. However, in Lehr’s pristine, but barren landscape, it is hard to decipher what looks more out of place.

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Sasha Rudensky

10.07.2011 | Briana McKinnell

Red Square, from the Novij Mir Series, 2010

Sasha Rudensky is a Russian-born photographer who moved to the United States as a young child. In an attempt to maintain the artist’s connection to her heritage, Rudensky’s work explores her native country. Over the past 30 years, the Soviet Union has undergone much social and political change, a subject that serves as a dynamic base for her photographic practice. On a broader level, Rudensky seeks to catch the true identity of a place, defined by its people, culture, politics and history. Her photographs target the intimate details of daily life, which she believes form the heart of a place.

School House, Serpuxov, Russia, from the Remains Series, 2005

Her overall practice is very formal. She selects her subjects for aesthetic and pictorial reasons, while also being color centric and using only natural light. The driving force behind her artwork is the urge to connect with Russia, so much so that the artist has a genuine empathy with her subjects; each one is a part of her. The photographs serve as a mental map of imagined and real memories from a lost childhood. She endows a political theme by photographing most of her work in the former Soviet Union. As her practice evolved, she realized that there was more that she wanted to present than desolate and ruined towns. More importantly, is the link between the past and the present, the young Russian girl and the American photographer.

Bus Station, Sevastopol, Ukraine, from the Remains Series, 2004

Each of her haunting subjects is set against a different backdrop of Eastern Europe, often representing a part of herself that never fully left. While Rudensky stages the photographs and selects her subjects beforehand, the entire process is more casual and natural then her polished photographs appear. In actuality, the setting is loosely staged and the subjects are asked to act themselves. Her most recent series, Novij Mir, which in English translates as “New World,” highlights a new generation of Russians. Rudensky seeks to portray the result of the collapse of the Soviet Union, by showing how as a people they are reinventing themselves.

Dressing, from the Novij Mir Series, 2009

This questioning of identity through portraiture also leads to the ongoing discovery of what defines a place. Which raises the larger question: How does place affect the definition of home and what our idea of home is? ‘Red Square’ is an adept example of Rudensky’s artistic practice. The photograph was taken from her friend’s window last winter. The snowy haze over the iconic square gives it an ethereal quality. In the composition the Red Square is perfectly framed – appearing to only be a projection, more fantasy than reality. ‘Red Square,’ like her other photographs, is a visual translation of Rudensky’s memories of home. Her nostalgia-tinged pictures oscillate between present day reality and the illusion of the past.

Art School, from the Novij Mir Series, 2009

Sasha Rudensky was born in Moscow, Russia and began taking pictures in high school. She moved on to study Studio Art and Russian Literature at Wesleyan University where she received a BA, and received her MFA in photography from Yale University in 2008. She is currently lives in Brooklyn, New York and is a Visiting Assistant Professor of Art at Wesleyan University and Lecturer at Yale University.

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Nicholas Gottlund

10.06.2011 | Robin Juan

The hardcover version of my "Crystal" book, the second in the "Sister Pick Me Up" series.

Robin Juan: Hi Nicholas, thanks for letting me interview you. Not only are you an artist but you founded a small publishing house, Gottlund Verlag, in Kutztown, PA during 2007. Can you give us some background on yourself as an artist and how you feel each practice informs the other? And do you feel like Gottlund Verlag is an extension of your artistic practice or the other way around?

Nicholas Gottlund: My pleasure. While I was in school I was doing a lot of printmaking and had a summer job making book boxes for the library’s rare/artist book collection. This lead to an interest in multiples and editioned works which I still explore on a daily basis in making books for the publishing house.

When I started printing and publishing books, I also moved towards photography within my own practice. This opened things up a lot and allowed me to use the real world in a way that I hadn’t previously. What I mean is that the combination of photographic image and the book format made it possible to develop and kind of subvert a new narrative structure. I’ve been working in this way since.

Gottlund Verlag is a way to collaborate with artists I admire. It informs my own practice, but is hard to define or separate from it as well. I spend my days going back and forth between book and personal work, day and night.

RJ: What did you envision for Gottlund Verlag when you first started, and how did it all come about?

NG: I wanted to be able to make books with artists, but in a very hands-on way. I knew that I wanted to produce books entirely in house, from the editing and layout to the printing and binding. All the decisions are made between the artist and myself. It keeps things simple and we have more control over the final result.

Things so far are going pretty much as I had hoped. I’ve always known more of what I didn’t want Gottlund Verlag to be. I’ve allowed myself to have more fun and expand into multiples that are a little more far out, like doing a series of photo-blankets with Peter Sutherland.

It all came about by deciding to move back to my hometown. I spent a year building the studio and living outdoors. I did some printing for money and then moved into publishing. I come from a family of printers, so it seemed oddly natural and easy to get into.

Untitled (Mt. Storm, WV), 2011. This photo plays a central role in the Crystal book.

RJ: How many books and editions have you released thus far?

NG: Around 20 including what I’m working on currently.

RJ: You recently expanded to a second space in Baltimore. How are you adapting to having a much more public presence in a city? And in what capacity does Kutztown influence you?

NG: Haha, well the Baltimore location is technically more public, but doesn’t feel that way because its Baltimore. It’s nice though, people can stop by and see what’s new or hang out and look at books. I keep my own book collection in the work space for when I need a break or a reference.

Kutztown is such a nice place to escape to. It really is an escape. I’m much more relaxed when I’m there and working becomes fluid and easy. That sounds so funny, but it’s true.

I've been experimenting lately with using book cloth backwards for boxes and hardcovers.

RJ: What projects are you working on right now with your own work and Gottlund Verlag?

NG: Gottlund Verlag is doing a special edition of photograms by Jason Fulford and 4 book series of Ed Panar’s high school photos to be released over the course of the school year. We’ll have these both at this coming NY Art Book Fair.

I’m working on the first large book of my own work titled Possession and a series of large (30×40) monochrome c-prints called Baker’s Dozen. I’ve also been doing a booklet series, Sister Pick Me Up that act as sketches for my Possession book.

RJ: During a time when the general consensus seems to be that print is dying, do you think there will be a continued market for art books?

NG: Yes. I think as long as there is a market for art, there will be a market for art books. I don’t see a difference in the two, at least in the kind of art books we’re talking about.

RJ: Do you consider the books you publish to be “artist” books then?

One of nearly 90 5 x 7 in. photograms that Jason Fulford recently sent to the studio. We are working on a special edition of these.

NG: I do. Because ultimately a book I publish isn’t so much a “Gottlund” book as much as it is the artist’s book. The artist has the control. My eye and hand is certainly in each edition, but the goal is to have the artist’s original vision be articulated as clearly as possible. Because these books are more closely related to the art world than the book world, I’m not so worried about the “death of print.”

RJ: How do you choose artists to work with?

NG: Because I make small editions and it’s just me making the call, I can do books with artists that may be less well known. There is a freedom in that and it allows me to just look at the work and decide how it will function in book form and how strong the ideas are. There is no formula as to how a project comes about though.

Another of Jason's photograms. Each clamshell box in the edition of 20 will hold 4 prints.

RJ: What are you reading right now?

NG: I just finished Thomas Pynchon’s Inherent Vice. Highly recommended.

Nicholas Gottlund

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This Week in Stock Photography

10.05.2011 | Jon Feinstein

Photo Copyright: Shutterstock

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Ellen Jong

10.04.2011 | Samantha J. Sheehan

Carnal Script, Page 31, 2009 from Getting to Know My Husband's Cock

Ellen Jong is a photographer and multimedia artist who lives and works in New York City. She has authored two books of photographs, Pees on Earth (2006) and Getting to Know my Husband’s Cock (2010). She chooses two of our most intimate and commonly shared experiences—peeing and loving—and explores them fully and completely, the only parameter being her personal experience.

Jong shoots with small format cameras, available light, and often times without the use of a tri-pod or viewfinder. Her images are loose and informal. The use of grain, contrast, blur, glare, and tilt are typical. There is very little control, which is important, especially in Pees on Earth. The images are an event, a thing that happened, was photographed, and will never happen again.

from Pees on Earth

Pees on Earth is essentially a travel diary. It is a collection of photographs that spans several years and continents, bound together by a single subject: the author urinating in public. Jong pees on anything and everything to be found in the public domain. Sidewalks, front stoops, fire escapes, box trucks, front yards, on roofs, under trees, into cups, in the sand and the snow. The images are first and foremost, very pretty. The liquid is alluring, illuminated, an elegant spray, or sparkling droplets. In other images it’s a puddle or a graphic splotch on the pavement, like a Rorscach for passersbys. By virtue of the topic they explore, the images are very easy to relate to.

The process that Jong develops in Pees on Earth is unique, part performance, part landscape, and part self-portrait. The act of peeing becomes possessive, leaving a piece of you behind. The photograph itself becomes memorial, a proof of existence.

Cockatoos, 2009, from Getting to Know My Husband's Cock

Pees on Earth

Getting To Know My Husband’s Cock is similar yet different. Similar in the way that it’s a book comprised of beautiful images and intimate content, and infused with genuine sentiment. But this book has a little more poise. There are many images of Jong’s Husband’s Cock. But there are also images of sex, still lifes made in their home, landscapes, portraits of their cat, and words. Jong punctuates the book with full-page images of handwritten notes she calls Carnal Script. One of the smartest and funniest sets of pages is a full-page image of a handwritten note that reads: “’Til death do us part,” immediately followed by a full-page image of a cemetery. The cemetery is in mottled glow time light, in the center is a tall erect head stone framed by part of a v-shaped tree trunk. It looks like exactly what it sounds like, a dick between two legs. It might be a hokey image if it wasn’t saved by its sincerity.

My favorite image is of Jong’s husband performing oral sex on her (page 60); the photograph is made from her perspective, framed on the sides by each of her legs and on top by her spread hand, which shields his face from the flash of the camera. Her husband’s eyes are gently closed. He is completely consumed, and consumed is the word.

Cum, 2008, from Getting to Know My Husband's Cock

Birthday Flowers, 2006, from Getting to Know My Husband's Cock

Both Pees on Earth and Getting To Know My Husband’s Cock are at once deeply personal and entirely relatable. In a conversation between Jong and Annie Sprinkle—published in Pees on Earth—Sprinkle says, “Body- or sex-oriented media is a mirror that can be held up to people to look at and respond to.” That is true in each of Jong’s books. While looking at these images, we can’t help but think, “I know what this feels like.”

Jong’s pictures are like the conversations that you have on your best friends couch when you share a joint, or a beer, or a bowl of vegetables, or whatever it is you most enjoy sharing with friends. They are about the sensations we all have—physical and emotional—that we admit to our spouses, our friends, and ourselves but rarely ever commit to a public forum. Jong does that and then some.

ellenjong.com

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John Lehr

Sasha Rudensky

Nicholas Gottlund

This Week in Stock Photography

Ellen Jong

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