Brian O'Neill

Beach Boulevard | This project is a meditation on the constitution of the local and its effects. For example, the prioritization of economic production and consumption at “the local scale” is known as fiscal localism. As a normative political philosophy, constitutional localism is posited as the solution to political polarization and social unrest, shifting governance to “the local level.” Beyond/beneath/within (it’s all a matter of context) federalism, we can have different forms of localism. Furthermore, one’s views might be cast aside for being “localist,” due to preference for a place, a space, that limits the vision of possibilities of engagement with the wider world.

All of these things make “the local.” In considering these localisms and cognates, localism can also correspond to a site of reflection and analysis connecting fragments of experience that bind people, capital, and technology.

Southern California is a particularly apposite laboratory for building such vernacular connections. Tracts of homes, of trailers, the grid of streets and highways extending into the horizon, oil fields, industrial plants, strip malls, and personalities can all be precisely photographed. On my “minimal adventures” along the capillary avenues of Huntington Beach, California, Beach Boulevard served as my orientational axis. This project, culled from tens of thousands of photographs, archives, and observations, is therefore a multimedia meditation on place, but also a societal condition.

Susan Georgette

With this body of work (it felt like) I had no choice......it pulled me along the road like a pied-piper, taking me where it would. This is a story of a land, of a county within the Heartland of Florida, where few people go - as most flock to the two coasts looking for beaches. It is a story of diverse communities living within the area of a small American town: the franchised and the disenfranchised bumping up against one another in a strange, unusual, comedic - sometimes hilarious - but harmonious way. Cowboys, cattle, the orange industry, workers from Mexico - legal, rodeos, antiques , closed-down mental institution where some of the inmates wandered into town and never left. The kindness of people to one another regardless of status. My first work - within this story - "Cowboys & Oranges" was just the beginning though I did not know it then. Here I give you: ARCADIA, Fla. www.susangeorgettephotography.com

Yentl Gijbels

Dear | Dear, Touch this letter tenderly with your eyelashes. Don’t overthink. Re-read only at dusk or dawn. Put it away, store it somewhere in your dreams. Allow it to become fluid, tear it apart, put it back together. Whatever you do, don’t try to reason with it. Yours truly, X www.yentlgijbels.com

Shira Gold

By A Thread | Nights consumed by thoughts that swing between hesitation and hope, always questioning. In the face of darkness and uncertainty, how do we choose to step into the light?

The isolating experience of a global pandemic upended my relationship with space, time, and community. Feelings of isolation evolved into a solitary sanctuary – a residence of self-exploration and reflection. Then, amid variants and opposing viewpoints, I was told to let go of my masks and reveal myself to the outside world as we all stepped into a revised normal.

Regulations intended to guide and protect us have highlighted the significant moral and political divisions that cut through our social worlds. How do we heal? The ever-evolving reactivity and adjustments to our daily life and the trepidation of shifting towards the new were the inspirations and catalysts for this body of work.

By a Thread is a response to the uncertainty of transition, deconstructing the feelings that arise in response to tightening and loosening rules. It reflects on humanity’s need for order in the face of disorder, and the sense of uncertainty we feel as we navigate those conflicting impulses within our selves and our society. Oft maligned, moths evoke a sense of rebirth and regeneration, with an innate pull towards liberation through their symbolic and transformative beauty. After such a prolonged period of blackout, we too are called to leave the haven of our cocooned worlds behind. In this transition, we are drawn instinctively to the dawn and the hope that it brings, a promise that until now has been just beyond reach.

Conceived amid Covid in the fall of 2020, By a Thread reacts to a “moth outbreak” that besieged Vancouver’s lower mainland. After much evolution, the series finally concluded in synchronicity with the easing of pandemic mandates. In keeping with earlier series, the imagery of By a Thread expresses a shared experience through visual metaphors. Semi-transparent moths are delicately suspended while taut, artificial threads delineate rules and safety orders, a gesture towards our tenuous relationship with the future. Haphazard strings intersect, disrupting the certainty of our path and signifying discord. Silk fibres illustrate a natural arrhythmia that complicates the emerging present.

As with the luminescence of the moths’ wings against the backdrop of negative space, we too have within ourselves the capacity to take flight and move forth. www.shiragold.com

Douglas Caplan

Japanese Vending Machines | This project explores the colorful world of Japanese vending machines. Japan has 5.52 million vending machines spread across the country. With a population of 127 million people, that’s about 23 people for each vending machine. Each year 6.95 trillion yen (US$65 billion) is spent on vending machine purchases in Japan. Japan is a culture like no other. Traditions are honored and conformity is expected. But while cultural shifts are changing the attitudes of younger generations in particular, Japanese vending machines continue to thrive and serve as emblematic reminders of the conformity and the convenience that is central to Japanese culture. There is virtually nowhere in Japan that can offer escape from vending machines. They simply exist. They are efficient and reliable. They are colorful and inviting. I find them elegant. www.douglasedwardcaplan.com

Camus Wyatt

peace in a little heap of livid dust
Photographs from New Zealand Aotearoa 2020-

‘… one can find here in New Zealand all the drama needed for a thousand novels, plays or poems.

For the world is here, not somewhere over the horizon…

All the world is here, waiting for us to heal our own blindness.’ — James K. Baxter

peace in a little heap of livid dust is an ongoing work begun in 2020, a few months into the pandemic. It is about this place and time; things that change, and things that stay the same. It is based on our relationship with nature - a particular aspect of life on these islands – and on the process of long, slow looking. www.camuswyatt.works

Curtice Taylor

Victorian Men | “Wretched social laws—a result of neither health measures nor any logical judgment—have diminished my work. They have hindered my means of expression; they have prevented me from bringing enlightenment and emotion to those who are made like me.” —C.P. Cavafy, 1905

ClampArt is pleased to announce “Curtice Taylor | Victorian Men”—the artist’s first solo show with the gallery.
Curtice Taylor imagines a young English gentleman moving to New York City in the late 19th century. He is the third son of a well-to-do, perhaps aristocratic family. Not in line for major inheritance or title, the imaginary man came to America where the prosecution for his private proclivities were less severe. Well-educated like other men of his class, he was also intrigued by the scientific breakthroughs of the day from Darwinism to archeology. Photography, the very new, scientific process for capturing reality, particularly fascinated him. Upon arriving in the city, he joined one of the many flourishing camera clubs and soon found a studio with north-facing light overlooking Union Square.

Taylor pictures the artist as well traveled, visiting and photographing Roman ruins and papal gardens. And when back in England, he photographs English gardens and landscapes, along with the odd portrait. It was these images for which he was known, and many were sold in a few well-placed galleries.

However, it was in New York that Taylor’s mythical artist photographed male models, which make up the bulk, though not all, of his “found portfolio.”

It is with this fictional man in mind that Curtice Taylor shoots portraits in his actual studio on Union Square in New York, which was built in the early 1900s, complete with northern light. Employing alternative printing processes of the 19th-century, specifically cyanotype often toned with ammonia and tannic acid, Taylor then frames the works in period frames or appropriate reproductions, building his own collection of portraits of Victorian men. Taylor writes: “I see my artist behind his 8 x 10, wood and brass camera instructing a model to stand nearer to the draped curtain and to not look at the camera.” In fact, it is Taylor himself directing the young men which appear in his images.

Taylor augments the photographs with written artifacts of the Victorian era to reflect the frustrations, anxieties, and longings of gay men who lived in those painful times. “While my work is imbued with nostalgic thoughts and aesthetics, it also recalls past desires and longing for the glow of youthful skin illuminated by natural light.” www.curticetaylor.com

Lauren Zhou

Model Minority | My maternal grandmother passed away in October of 2021. After that, photography re-entered my life as a source of comfort and a way of processing my loss. I sought to use photography to celebrate my paternal grandparents, who currently work and live in Flushing, Queens. In Model Minority, I explore the American Dream as it relates to Asian Americans in New York.

None of my grandparents graduated from college, so they’ve never held professional jobs. In Flushing, my grandma earns money by selling her cross-stitch and Zhong Ze (a Chinese sticky rice dish); my grandpa helps with the finances.

Growing up as a first-generation Chinese American, I felt so much pressure to exceed academically. A lot of people think of Asian Americans as a monolith. They excel academically. We live out the American dream. But that's not necessarily true. Especially for what I've seen in Flushing.

This series is a celebration of Flushing and all of its service workers, as well as a celebration of my family. The process was closure for me, following the death of my grandma, reaffirming photography as a creative, healing presence in my life. laurenzhou.myportfolio.com

Greta Valente

Tell us of pain | Tell us of pain is a project developed in Naples. It is a journey. An awareness of a human that walks asleep, reading The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran and searching for its own awakening. In these lines and in these colors I understood and made peace with the pain: the breaking of the shell that encloses our understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that it's heart may stand in the sun, so we must know pain. www.gretavalente.com

Wong Wei Him

Behind the Looking Glass | In many ways we emphasis on the view of a space through windows or balconies in various heights, so much that we are willing to pay an extra for the spectacular scene. As both a photographer and architect, I find learning how to appreciate what is happening behind that looking glass has equal sense of surprise and joy.

Making reference to a classic novel by Lewis Carrol, the expression of looking glass has a double meanings in English language. One of the expression is mirror, and the second expression means ”contrary to what is expected”. www.wongweihim.com

Chrissy Lush

Lush The Thing With Feathers | The Thing With Feathers is a new body of work currently in-progress.

The title is borrowed from an Emily Dickinson poem, “Hope” is the thing with feathers. I’m exploring desire and Lacan’s concept of objet petit a.

More to come soon.

I am marked and distinguished by the pattern of my desire as by a fingerprint. And yet, isn’t it obvious that I myself am not the author of my desires? I can’t simply decide to have desire for something. In a certain crucial sense, desire comes to me from beyond myself. -Richard Boothby (Sex on the Couch: What Freud Still Has to Teach Us About Sex and Gender, p. 22) www.chrissylush.com

Renata Crespo

Men & Flowers Can Coexis | I like to introduce myself as a self-taught woman artist who began her journey after falling in love with photography at the age of 20, when on my birthday I was given a Canon 1200D, my first camera ever. Back in 2016 tho, I study the basics of photography at the School of Creative Photography of Havana.

I unravel concepts through the visual, using photography as my main medium. My work is a projection of my own experiences and personal battles. I use my art as a way of self- understanding and with the ultimate purpose of educating and give representation to the issues I have faced.

My practice has been recognised by institutions and publications such the Rotterdam Photo Festival and the contemporary art magazine Al-Tiba9. My art has been featured on many digital platforms with a feminist and integrationist approach. Feminist, Curated by GIRLS and Black is Mag are some of them. Another recent highlight of my journey was being included in the Black Women Photographers collective.

As someone who comes from a very ‘‘men don’t cry’’ society, the male figure has always lacked in fragility for me even though, I’ve always believed in the potential of women and men, equally.

In Cuba it is almost impossible to escape from the indoctrination of male superiority, that is brought to us in micro-doses to our daily life. Most of the time we don't even stop to think about some specific behaviours because we are so used to following those patterns since we are little, that we don't even question them anymore.

The identification and recognition of a term: Micro-machismo played a significant role in the motivation to start this project.

The realisation of these commonly unperceived acts of violence taking place in everyday life against women in Cuba, was one of the first culture shocks I confronted once living in The Netherlands. It absolutely astounded me, so I decided to start a project wherein I capture manhood along with the delicacy of such a frailness symbol as is a flower.

For ''Men and Flowers can coexist'' so far I have captured Cuban and Dutch men; friends I've met along the way who share the vision of the series, are committed to gender equality, and condemn toxic masculinity. renatacrespophotography.vsble.me

Wong Chung-Wai

So Long Hong Kong, So Long | Since January of 2021, there is a minimum of three flights every day fully loaded with Hongkongers, leaving Hong Kong for the UK. It is expected that 250,000 to 320,000 Hong Kong residents will immigrate to the UK in the next five years. This mass migration wave is a consequence of the anti-government protests in 2019 and the increasing threat from the mainland Chinese government.

‘This is no longer the city I once knew.’

In the mind of these people, they are leaving Hong Kong permanently, with the risks of never being able to go back. I myself was one of the people on those planes. Leaving the city that I loved for my whole life, with the feelings of perplexity and depression of leaving my family, friends, and career behind.

All the photographs in SO LONG HONG KONG, SO LONG were taken during the time of such a dramatic change to the city of Hong Kong between 2020 and 2021.

In the beginning, I can see this work as my farewell letter to Hong Kong, and also to the first half of my life. But when I continue developing this body of works, I kept asking questions to myself. What makes me follow the footsteps of my parents forty years ago, to escape from socialist China once again. What is the force behind all these? Pushing people away from their homelands. What is this modern migration wave means to a place, to a clan, to a family, and to a man? I realized this work is more than personal, it is also a conversation about the complexity of HongKongers' identity and cultural roots.

By displaying the sense of change in Hong Kong, in terms of time and emotions. These images show a certain kind of atmosphere in the city right now after the failure of the democratic movement in 2019. An undeniable sense of complexity, powerlessness, uncertainty, fate, hesitation, and the loss of hope.

I would like to use this work to share these thoughts with the world, and to the audience who care about Hong Kong, and care about the people who are still there and those who came from there.

After all, I always felt I was only telling the first half of the whole story. So what is next? What is the second half of this story? Do those people who have left found their homeland, their promised land, on this another side of the world? What if they haven't? What if they've failed? www.chungwaiwong.com

DMT

HOLYDAY | HOLYDAY is an ongoing documentary project shot in film, from October 2021 onwards. Every day has its own terror and holiness and it is in identifying with the oddities and mundanities that comfort is found.

After a year of nothingness that followed two close interactions with death, I began taking photos again, borrowing my grandfather's film camera. In that year, I had come out as non-binary and realised I was neurodiverse. HOLYDAY is as much a celebration of finding oneself in the small, patterned eccentricities of everyday life, as it is a narrative of processing PTSD. It features a lot of mirrors and glasses, mirroring the curiously reflective nature of the project.

It is photography, not as an answer or a question, but as a place to go when the world is otherwise loud. dmterblanche.com

Rafael Quesada

Standing Still | Produced during 2020-21 in The Netherlands, this project represents the charm I encounter in the ordinary. I’m attracted to those everyday things that are just standing there, without drawing attention but somehow representing a relation between human and nature.
These photographs are the result of a year of walks, observations and reflections in the provinces of North Holland and Gelderland. A view of my relationship with the dutch surroundings in the time where the world was standing still. photo.rafaquesada.com

Russell C. Banks

Floating World | As passenger and artist, I both embrace and witness the tension between the dream and the reality— that amorphous border between our mundane, daily lives and the packaged, fantasy world the cruise industry sells. I see it as a metaphor for how many of us live—who we are at this time.

I’m drawn to situations where the veneer of elegance and glamour seems a bit thin, and the humor and irony begin to show through. And behind it all is desire: our human need to be indulged, to feel special, to get the selfie.

This project started in 2016, when I began walking the ships with a camera to make something interesting during my wife’s favorite kind of vacation. My photojournalism degree from long ago led me to document the overdone decor, the specialized architecture and best of all—the way the passengers adapted to this artificial environment. As the body of work took form, I named it after the “Floating World,” (Ukiyo) of Japan’s Edo period, where privileged society gathered to seek pleasure and relaxation through art, entertainment and a variety of indulgences.

After the pandemic’s onset, the fleet was grounded for nearly two years, but in fall 2021 the ships resumed sailing, and I am happy to be working again, just as thousands of others were eager to reenter the Floating World after a dark and difficult time. russellcbanks.com

Joshua McMillan

Midnight at Sixty-Four | The midnight hour is a time that nearly everyone associates with darkness.

Sitting at 64 ° North, the weeks surrounding summer solstice in Dawson City, Yukon prove to give a different representation to midnight. Though the sun dips low, it never goes away. Casting a warm quiet glow over the town through the middle of the night.

Midnight at Sixty-Four is simply an observation of this midnight light & the characteristics it gives to the bright, historically rich northern town.

I would like to acknowledge that the photographs were made on the First Nation territory of the Tr'ondëk Hwëch'in. www.joshuadmcmillan.com

Daniel John Bracken

Daniel John Bracken is a Visual Artist working primarily with photography. Originally from New York, Daniel has just recently finished the MA Photography programme at the Royal College of Art. Focusing on interdisciplinary relations among space, time, and the diary within photography, the artists work traverses traditional notions on looking. Currently based in London, Daniel has had works featured in a number of group exhibitions and publications that have been displayed throughout Europe and the United States.

‘It’s Safe Behind the Glass’ is a working title, taken from an enclosure sign at London Zoo.

Forming an illustration of time loss, the photographs conceptualise a gap between the perceived and physical – brushing against fleeting moments within the domestic and the natural worlds. The images string together a narrative that alters our perceptions on looking. Much like spectres of memory, they slip into and out of sequence, showing an affected familiar moment; a nod towards the Uncanny. The photographs become timeless and frozen. Drawn from personal dreams and memories: archives, manuscripts, and novels become the main inspirations for delineating images. Referencing Virginia Woolf’s narrative techniques, the photographs drift past autobiography - out of their timelines, out of their environments; and become familiar moments that have been forever changed. It is in these gaps that the body finds its weightlessness. Abysses of anonymity, of time loss. A shift out of space – out of time. The images further contrast meticulous human intervention through evidence of craft and labour. The natural world becomes changed, almost forced to stop. Time that has been lost, trapped in the instant, but mostly forgotten in these spaces. Abandoned. The defiled grave, the decrepit rituals. Research into Victor Turner’s Liminal and Liminoid become important: these ritualistic moments between “being” and “becoming”.

Perhaps this is where the photographs sit: as the Double within nature, a mirror to time. The viewer is forced to look between the perceived and the photographic. www.danieljohnbracken.com

Jukka Tilus

From Where the Planes Leave | City of Vantaa in southern Finland spreads to both sides of the Helsinki-Vantaa airport. I moved to Vantaa a few years ago and this ongoing series is about my wanderings in Vantaa suburbs and somewhere between them. Jukka Tilus is a photographer and artist currently living in Vantaa Finland. His work is very much based on concepts like coincidence, improvisation and unplannedness. jukkatilus.com

Adil Manzoor

Thake' peynd | There’s a Kashmiri idiom I recall my grandparents saying: When you take a tree that is rooted in the ground and transfer it from one place to another, the tree will no longer bear fruit. And if it does, the fruit will not be as good as it was in its original place. Over time, I have found that this knowledge about trees does not extend as a metaphor for human belonging. As modernity grows its piercing roots into our current times, some people weren’t left a choice to be still as a tree.

Some have a home and outlive its comfort; they leave, feel nostalgic, restless, and homesick, but don’t have any other option than move out, to escape ennui, death. Some have to search for and create homes in other cities, from one apartment to another, in one person or another, not only to find themselves at home once again, but to make new meanings of the word home. As a photographer, this nomadic existence has taught me how to find solace in strangers.

I would never have thought of leaving the city as the summers were cool and winters snowy and we're enclosed by the mountains and have some of the largest fresh lakes. I used to spend the days of my childhood learning to swim, catching butterflies, and playing cricket.

As the clouds pressed lower and the mountains became red, the last bit of innocence was slowly squeezed out of my childhood. A rush of blood and suffering came up to the surface, and suddenly I was thrown into the throes for Aazadi — curfews, strikes, teargas, police, army and taranas. Winters used to be windy, harsh, solitary, and quiet. I knew the war wouldn’t finish in a month or two. It has come true: it looks like the war will never end.

When I'm bored, I start taking photographs; of my folks, or if I'm in a different city I try to find a home in other people. I try to find in them both the cool summers and snowy winters I know to be home. Whenever I travel back to my home, I end up discussing everything under the sun with my friends who are around. Lately, we’ve been talking about how we become people of multiple cities, and how we might be able to figure it out, to live with this more-than-oneness?

For a few weeks now, I've been back home with my family, and often, I'm bored. I go back to my familiar sport, taking pictures. Sometimes, these photos capture my cousins and my aunts, the spaces I occupy and move through, seizing a few moments of their lives.

The place I call home is very bright and beautiful but also bleak — like a deserted heart. One of my friends recently texted me, you're from a city of stars, but little does she know it's always moonless, this city.

Note: Thake' pyend' is a Kashmiri word that denotes a resting spot or home. A home is more than a space where your soul gets peace. A home necessarily doesn't happen to have a structure, it can be a person, house or anything which doesn't even have a material shape or form.