Sarah Stefanutti - Agoraphobia

ag·o·ra·pho·bi·a

/ˌaɡərəˈfōbēə/

noun

  1. an anxiety disorder which involves an intense fear of being in open, often public, places or situations where it may be hard to escape, or where help may not be available.


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Agoraphobia is a long-term art project on the relationship between subjects and spaces. In particular, I have been following the life of my grandmother, aged 95, and her confinement within her flat, as she hasn’t left this space for over a decade due to past traumatic experiences. I tried to capture the daily rituals of a domestic life that is mostly marked by stillness and silence. The more I dug into the representation of my grandmother’s agoraphobia, the more a strange sense of claustrophobia emerged within me in the solitude of her apartment. And yet, although my grandmother’s condition makes her life challenging, lacking human contact, I couldn’t help but notice how her inner world has become filled with fascinating details marked by subtle daily domestic rituals and great care for her space. The domestic space becomes both a home-temple as well as home-prison from which she cannot escape. Although this project started a few years ago, I can’t help but think of how current it has become in the last few weeks, where most of us find ourselves in some form of physical confinement due to the Covid-19 lockdowns. The unique life of my grandmother suddenly becomes strangely familiar to each one of us; and my work, that intended to capture the strange condition of the isolation of a single human, is now strangely contemporary and representative of the human condition.

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Tropographics - Filippo Bardazzi and Laura Chiaroni (SooS Chronicles)

A trópos is a recurring element. A trópos is a motif in narrative. (Yes, also in visual narrative). A trópos is a cliché. Everything can become a trópos, but each of them is not present as itself. It is there to direct to something else. A trópos keeps changing: that's what makes it always the same.

Tropographics is a project by Filippo Bardazzi and Laura Chiaroni—SooS Chronicles. It is definitely not a series of beautiful pictures found by chance on the web. And it isn't either a collection of random weird scenes. This is instead our trip through landscape and photography, in search of tropes around the world. The archive will be constantly updated and expanded with new categories.

All images have been taken using Google Street View.


BUS STOP

Bus stops are small reproductions of our lives. You stand or sit there waiting for a ride that can bring you to your final destination. During this wait you share a limited space with unknown people. Sometimes you talk to others, sometimes you just ignore them because you are busy thinking or because you just want to scroll through your phone with no particular reason. We have two friends that we've always known as a couple. They first met at a bus stop 15 years ago. They are now married with children. Life is often unpredictable.

COCA-COLA

Coca-Cola is likely the only thing you can order in any place of the world you happen to be. In the middle of the desert or in the jungle, on the snowy mountains or on a hammock in front of the Caribbean Sea, a can of Coke is always available, with the same taste, the same packaging, the same bubbles. First sold in pharmacies, now you can find it anywhere except (maybe) pharmacies. Its distribution is so widespread thanks to an extensive advertising coverage, showing the world famous red and white logo. Even Santa Claus loved this soft drink so much that he started wearing these colours as an uniform for his job.

DOG

It is said that a dog is a man's best friend. Yeah, maybe. We don't have enough evidence for that. Surely they are everywhere and they populate cities and outskirts together with us for centuries. Most of human activities can be done with a dog on our side. Dogs sometimes act in ways that look mysterious to us: we don't know what they say when they bark or growl in the streets and it's funny how they get in touch by sniffing each other's butts. They are faithful but there is no way you can eradicate their freedom to sleep on a dusty roadside and their will to run behind a passing car.

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Ruby Steele- Women on Sofas

With Mother’s day fast approaching this Sunday, we’re starting off this week by celebrating Ruby Steele’s “Women on Sofas”. Ruby’s series challenges the Western traditions of domesticity and womanhood, exemplifying how “woman” and “the domestic” are not mutually exclusive terms designed to limit one another. Rather, the women in our lives are not only mothers, but are–”daughters, friends, strangers, writers, artists, models, priests, students, business women, entrepreneurs, musicians, actors, doctors, scientists, technicians”– and anything they choose to be.

- Alexa Fahlman


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The domestic space is one we all understand. A home, no matter which way you view the word, involves spaces of conversation, activity and thought. Such spaces hold the potential for negativity and positivity. It is interesting to observe how a space holds itself for someone, and their emotional response to it. Feminist critique considers the human geography of space, both in the gendered nature of space and existing conceptualisations of space. A magnitude of diverse environments within our society differ in their pre- existing tendencies to welcome one gender or the other. Culturally, we are encouraged to adhere to this. “Women on Sofas” was driven by a curiosity about the space a woman occupies in contemporary western society. The work explores how we experience ourselves in the domestic and public arenas, whilst celebrating our diversity and power in unexpected ways. It looks at the pride and pleasure we take in our strength and resilience, and in challenging society’s expectations of us. In spite of growing freedoms in many areas of society over the past century, the domestic sphere is still often seen as women’s terrain. It is a space into which we are welcomed. It has been interesting to observe this space, disrupt it and take it beyond its ‘natural’ limits, whilst exploring our emotional response to it. The women come from diverse backgrounds and cultures which span eight decades. They are mothers, daughters, friends, strangers, writers, artists, models, priests, students, business women, entrepreneurs, musicians, actors, doctors, scientists and technicians. Women on Sofas was the project that offered me the opportunity to celebrate these women, both ones I knew and ones I was yet to meet. The sofa is more than a domestic object; it is imbued with symbolism and a rich history. It holds a familiarity and is an invitation for togetherness. These photographs bring that intimate space into the outside world and ask us to reconsider what it means to get comfortable, and feel safe. They also consider the social function of the sofa, and allow that function to broaden into the idea of bodily experience. The image of the sofa initially suggests inactivity. “Women on Sofas” works to challenge that. “Women on Sofas” says ‘I am in the world, I’ve made a surprising home here, and now I’d like to welcome you in.’

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Alena Shilonosova - The Street of the Blind

As the weeks of uncertainty progress, I become more and more aware of both the luck and privilege which allow me to sit comfortably at an IKEA desk, and write to you each week. When I walk my dog down a quiet neighbourhood street, I pull my mask from my face to feel the fresh air coat my lungs. Just for a few seconds, a crisp inhale tells me I’m able and alive. Those of us, like myself, who interpret for a living, might feel as though we’ve exhausted our sensory apparatus’ trying desperately to comprehend the state of the world–in fact, we probably have. However, as painful as exhaustion may feel, it reminds me, like breathing, that I’m still alive, and that being able to feel anything at all is something to be grateful for.

Our senses are often one of the things we take for granted the most in life. Here, Alena Shilonosova takes us through Rusinovo, a street of the blind and visually impaired in the town of Ermolino, Kaluga, Russia. Her work explores a community of those regarded as “invalid”, their day to day lives, and their hardships.

- Alexa Fahlman


Until 1995, Rusinovo was a separate village where the visually impaired were sent from different regions of the Soviet Union. In 1948, the basic enterprise for the blind and visually impaired was built here. The main activity of those in the village was the installation of boards for TVs called "Rubin". After the political rearrangement, the development of the village stopped and the construction of new houses and a rehabilitation centre were frozen. The village was attached to the town called Ermolino, and became what is now a separate street situated five km away from the city, where people without visual impairment also live. Nowadays, the blind spend their time in a workshop, manufacturing “RUSiNovoPak", a collection of medical pipettes. However, it’s considered unprofitable for the enterprise, therefore in the neighbouring workshop, people without disabilities produce cardboard to help cover the losses of the workshop for the blind. Since the Soviet times, there has been an assembly hall in the production building, where the choir of the blind, a library and a gym have organized for many years. The blind and visually impaired live in several five-storey houses; there are private houses behind them on the street and it looks as if it were a street in the usual village.The residents know very well where everything is situated. They are able to get to the shops, to the production building and to the post. If it is needed, neighbouring people will help without hesitation. The larger half of the blind in Rusinovo are seniors who moved here during the Soviet period; children who were born with a full vision have left. In total there are 115 blind and visually impaired people in Rusinovo.

Alexander Rakovich works as Chairman of the society of the blind in Borovsky district. He lost his vision at the age of five because of flu complications. He works in Rusinovo and lives in the neighbouring town of Balabanovo, where he also runs the …

Alexander Rakovich works as Chairman of the society of the blind in Borovsky district. He lost his vision at the age of five because of flu complications. He works in Rusinovo and lives in the neighbouring town of Balabanovo, where he also runs the business.

The evening meeting in the library devoted to A. I. Solzhenitsyn.

The evening meeting in the library devoted to A. I. Solzhenitsyn.

In 1942, the house of Victor Sergeyevich Solovyov in Prudischi village in Kaluga region was bombed by an airplane: Victor’s entire family was injured by the glass. Victor received an invitation from the Society of the blind and moved to Rusinovo in …

In 1942, the house of Victor Sergeyevich Solovyov in Prudischi village in Kaluga region was bombed by an airplane: Victor’s entire family was injured by the glass. Victor received an invitation from the Society of the blind and moved to Rusinovo in 1954. After the incident, he had residual vision, but eventually lost it completely.

Alexander removes the toys from the Christmas tree after the New Year holidays.

Alexander removes the toys from the Christmas tree after the New Year holidays.

The production building has a daily standard of 2400 pipettes per shift. Employees say that there is almost no work that should be done. Someone finishes the daily standard before the work shift is over and leaves early. Moreover, the work week is s…

The production building has a daily standard of 2400 pipettes per shift. Employees say that there is almost no work that should be done. Someone finishes the daily standard before the work shift is over and leaves early. Moreover, the work week is shorter than most - people work just 4 days per week.

Natalia Vyacheslavovna Belopuhova was born in Rusinovo and lives there till now. Vision problems were inherited from her blind parents.

Natalia Vyacheslavovna Belopuhova was born in Rusinovo and lives there till now. Vision problems were inherited from her blind parents.

The first and the last steps of the stairs are marked in yellow color for visually impaired.

The first and the last steps of the stairs are marked in yellow color for visually impaired.

Sergey Valentinovich Ivanov has been blind since he was born. It was inherited from his visually impaired father. When someone asks Sergey if he wants to be sighted, he answers, “How is it possible to want something that I don’t know?”

Sergey Valentinovich Ivanov has been blind since he was born. It was inherited from his visually impaired father. When someone asks Sergey if he wants to be sighted, he answers, “How is it possible to want something that I don’t know?”

Daily routine helps the residents navigate. Many can easily find the right way through Rusinovo just by using touch.

Daily routine helps the residents navigate. Many can easily find the right way through Rusinovo just by using touch.

The residents go to the libraries to read books in Braille and listen to audiobooks on flash drives. Sometimes there are literary evenings: a librarian invites a lecturer from Borovsk, which is situated close by, to read the biographies of writers a…

The residents go to the libraries to read books in Braille and listen to audiobooks on flash drives. Sometimes there are literary evenings: a librarian invites a lecturer from Borovsk, which is situated close by, to read the biographies of writers and their works aloud.

Ivan Sergeyevich Hripunov moved to Rusinovo with his family when he was 40 years old. At that time, his vision was gradually lost.

Ivan Sergeyevich Hripunov moved to Rusinovo with his family when he was 40 years old. At that time, his vision was gradually lost.

Table tennis for the visually impaired called “Showdown” reminds me of air hockey, where people are guided only by hearing and touch. The blindfold makes the game equal between the participants with residual vision and the blind.

Table tennis for the visually impaired called “Showdown” reminds me of air hockey, where people are guided only by hearing and touch. The blindfold makes the game equal between the participants with residual vision and the blind.

A guide made of rubber tracks serve to and from the production building. They lead from the first floor of the building to the workshop on the third floor.

A guide made of rubber tracks serve to and from the production building. They lead from the first floor of the building to the workshop on the third floor.

Agadzhan Kakadzhanovich Khanov or just Alek, as the locals call him. He has lived in Rusinovo since he was 23. He lost his vision after an accident.

Agadzhan Kakadzhanovich Khanov or just Alek, as the locals call him. He has lived in Rusinovo since he was 23. He lost his vision after an accident.

Residents from Rusinovo do not go outside on their own. Their children and relatives help. They have a habit of going to a few shops where the shop assistants help them without cheating, they don’t go to a self-service supermarket alone. They go the…

Residents from Rusinovo do not go outside on their own. Their children and relatives help. They have a habit of going to a few shops where the shop assistants help them without cheating, they don’t go to a self-service supermarket alone. They go there very rarely and only with the relatives.

On the opposite side of the production for the blind there are greenhouses where flowers are grown. Only people without disabilities work there.

On the opposite side of the production for the blind there are greenhouses where flowers are grown. Only people without disabilities work there.

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Gideon de Kock - Short Stories

A subtle look at contemporary Hong Kong, Gideon de Kock’s “Short Stories” is an ongoing project now encompassing almost 5 years worth of street and documentary film photography. He writes to me stuck from his family home in Somerset West, South Africa. What was meant to be a short family visit with his girlfriend, subsequently turned into a 4-week lock-down and self-isolation period, where he now waits until further notice to return to Hong Kong.

- Alexa Fahlman


My personal depiction and documentation of Hong Kong started around the time I picked up my first camera as an adult. I had just moved to the city after 18 months in Mainland China - the "small" city of Taizhou to be specific - in the capacity of an English teacher. As a musician prior to all of this, I was unable to pursue this passion due to unfamiliarity with the new environment, moving around, and lack of an "in" into the musical community, if you will. 

I like to walk, as a result I like to explore, and out of the need for a creative outlet came photography - a comfortable addition to an already solitary and somewhat insular habit. Hong Kong is such a visually stimulating city I couldn't help but find things to photograph. I feel many parts of Hong Kong are unrepresented to an outsider, or expat like myself, and so I took it upon myself to document. In hindsight, I was simply looking for answers to unknown questions at an uncertain point in my life, and the depiction of an underrepresented Hong Kong and an invisible working-class demographic became a vessel for this. Inevitably, it became an ongoing project themed around empathy; empathy for others and your environment - the place you currently call home. I was never interested in capturing "grand gestures"– moments of awe and wonder–as I've always been enamored by the beauty of subtlety. 

As in many cities like Hong Kong the pace of living and work can be taxing on the individual, and it becomes too easy to be sucked into an environment and routine where we look outward for sustenance, beauty and pleasure; our blinkers tightly secured against the mundanity of the constant. Some don't see their homes any more, they don't truly *see* their neighbors. This documentation eventually formed the foundation of my first solo photo book Some Near Some Far.

These images are here to remind us of what we’re missing when we lack attention; moments of the surreal, moments of humour, moments of beauty–all grandiose in their near invisibility–lost were we to not pay a modicum of attention. Hong Kong has had a turbulent time since the Umbrella Revolution back in 2014, to the ongoing Extradition protests in 2019, and now we’re all sharing the burden of the current COVID-19 pandemic. 

These “short stories” lack context because they’re rich enough for you to craft your own narrative. They’re here to encourage empathy for your fellow people and place, to develop a deeper understanding that we’re all sharing so much, but these photos are also filled with nuance that requires understanding and patience to wholly grasp. On the most surface of levels, these are really just beautiful vignettes of a vibrant and dynamic city, captured on 35mm film.

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Jin Liu - Fiction

"Fiction" is a project that I have been doing since 2016. By observing spaces with a mixture of real and unreal factors that people construct in the daily environment. This project explores people's various desires behind this behaviour model, as well as unveiling the challenges they are facing towards ideology and traditional values.”

Jin Liu on Instagram

Sayuri Ichida - Stranger in a Strange Land

In 2012, photographer Sayuri Ichida began her path to New York. Following a similar path was Japanese ballet dancer, Mayu Oguri. They met in 2017, and formed a friendship out of a shared struggle to settle in a foreign country–the overwhelm of self-doubt, alienation, depression, and lingering regret. These experiences of displacement became the impetus for their ongoing photographic collaboration Stranger in a Strange Land. As the series sees Mayu perform ballet movements in unorthodox locations, Sayuri captures the ebb and flow of an immigrant’s search for belonging in a foreign country.

- Alexa Fahlman


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Mayu is a Japanese ballet dancer who currently works for the New York Theatre Ballet. We are both immigrants from Japan, and our paths to New York were similar, with both of us spending a few years in Europe before coming and settling in the city on our own. On our journeys to New York we both experienced various degrees of self-doubt, alienation, depression and at times regret, ultimately followed by a sense of reawakening and rediscovery of our inner selves. With this series I aim to convey some part of the jarring experiences we independently shared as immigrants looking for their place in a foreign country.

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Can you speak more about your path to New York as a Japanese immigrant? What made you want to settle in New York? Do you miss Japan?

Before I left Japan, I was into the fashion industry and I always had this impression that Japanese fashion was influenced by western trends. At that time I was working at a commercial photography studio and tired of seeing these copied ideas and creations. I made up my mind and decided to move to a place where the trends are born. I first spent two years in London where I first got a taste of life as an immigrant. In 2012, due to a visa issue I had to leave the UK and set the next destination to New York. After spending a few years far from my home country, I gradually started rediscovering the beauty of my own culture.

As time has passed, how does your experience compare to what you expected?

Every goal I aimed for took much longer than I anticipated, but I feel that part of the experience and the setbacks we experience as immigrants are necessary to move us forward.

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In retrospect, what was the hardest part about immigrating to America? Would you have done anything differently? Do you have any advice for those wanting to follow a similar journey?

Dealing with the feeling of being an outsider was the hardest part for me as an immigrant rather than technical issues such as language barrier or visa issues. If I could have done something differently, I would say that is to go to a university in a foreign country rather than just going to a language school or go straight to start living in the country. I was young and didn’t think realistically back then, but putting yourself in a situation where you have no choice but to communicate with other people and use their own language and idioms is essential to understanding the culture.

How does the political tension and anti-immigrant rhetoric in America affect you personally–your work, and your art?

I try to ignore politics in general, but the anti-immigrant rhetoric offends me to my core.

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Dancers usually perform on stage, but because I shot Mayu on locations that could be considered unorthodox for a dancer, the combination of a ballerina and outdoor scenery gives the series a sense of dissonance. To emphasize this effect I knew that I had to do things differently from a typical dancer’s portrait so I also deliberately set out to shoot her as an object in a frame. I kept asking her to express something different from beautiful formal ballet dance. Everything she does as a dancer is so beautiful, so I asked her not to be too beautiful.

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Mayu’s pregnancy with her first child in 2019 was a beautiful occasion for both of us to rethink the meaning behind this series. We decided to continue in the same style, shooting on location throughout the city. I personally find the the lines of Mayu’s body against the bare colorful backgrounds of city walls astonishing. To me they represent the beauty and grace of becoming a mother, as well as the strength that is expected from a woman to be one. I see these pictures as a reminder that our future should always take priority over our past.

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Zahra Reijs - Verse Vruchten

First and foremost, on behalf of the team at Broad, I would like to say that our hearts and prayers go out to everyone during this surreal time. We like to think of Broad as a global, family-like community, and hope that we can all come together during this time to process and overcome the uncertainty and fear surrounding this pandemic.

With love, Alexa Fahlman


As COVID-19 continues to spread rapidly across the world, life as we know it feels increasingly static. Restaurants, shops, bars, museums and libraries are closing their doors. Universities and public school systems are suspending classes. As our community spaces have shut down, and social distancing has become essential, it’s natural that we have all felt a sense of loss, loneliness and isolation. However, while we rest in self-isolation, I hope that this week’s series will remind us of the power of community–a picture of hope to look towards the life we will eventually return to once this is finally over. While we may not be able to gather in groups, meet for coffee or roam around markets, our communities remain just a FaceTime, text message, or email away.

Community is at the heart of Zahra Reijs’ photo series this week. “Verse Vruchten”, which is Dutch for fresh fruits, refers to the Blaak markt where Zahra shot her portraits of market-goers. East of Markthal (a modern foodie utopia), is the cheaper Blaak market: a huge open-air street market that sells all manner of fine foods to kitschy odds and ends. This market is a hub of culture, connection and community. Living close to this market in Rotterdam, Zahra remarks that she has always been amazed by the different styles and makeup she sees, so much so that she was inspired to compile this series.

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Many of us have been to a street, open-air, covered, farmers, flea, or night market– or have at least seen one. Every culture has them; The souks of Marrakech, Tsukiji Fish Market, Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen, Grand Bazaar, and Portobello. In spite of their regional particularities and differing spatial forms,  these markets have a ubiquitous universality- public spaces of inclusiveness and heterogeneity. Markets are accessed by and accessible to everyone- they function as a public space which is both economically and socially inclusive. As such, markets are often the most socially diverse public places in communities, bringing together different ages, genders, ethnicities, and people of varying socioeconomic statuses. Here, people–especially marginalized groups–gather over the experience of food, shopping, and conversation. These are spaces in which we can freely loiter, mingle and become accustomed to each others’ differences in a truly everyday, public and improvisational space. With community spaces such as markets, which inspire social inclusion and the mingling of different cultures, we are able to grow our sense of local community based on connection, interconnection, and social interaction.

Do you think the culture surrounding the Blaak markt is threatened by the city's globalization, especially with the big Markthal Hall? Or do you think that the big hall has brought more tourism to the Blaak markt and has helped support the vendors?

Markthal is super expensive and commercial compared to the local market so not many locals go there for their groceries. Also, Rotterdam locals are quite stubborn and not very easily impressed by new big concepts like Markthal, so I guess that helps haha. The city has gotten much more busy in the last couple of years, so in the end, a lot of businesses including the Blaak markt improved their sales and become more popular. 

So, do you hope that the city will preserve the Blaak markt as a social space?

Definitely... its not just about food but it’s a social gathering as well. 

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When you first submitted your photos, you pointed out that your series was dominated by female portraits. Was this a conscious decision?

I’ve always been more interested in photographing women. I can't really put a finger on why, but I feel like it has something to do with projecting a part of myself onto my portraits. It makes the most sense that I would project this onto women since I am one myself!

I’m also mesmerized by the movement of women. There’s beauty, even if it's just within a flicker of their eyes. Perhaps, as a woman, we just simply have a different connection to women than with men…

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“Photography is the best excuse to get yourself into someone else's world and out of your own–that is something I'll always cherish.”

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Why do you think there is such a concentration of unique characters and playful dressers at this particular market?

Rotterdam, with over 170 different nationalities, is the most multicultural city in the Netherlands! If you walk around Blaak market there is such a beautiful mix of cultures to be seen, which translates to the way people dress. I don't think they realize their sense of playful fashion/self expression as you call it; it's just the way they are...it's as pure as can be.

What was your favourite part about shooting these women?

People in Holland are pretty closed off and like to live in privacy. Some days, I can’t find anyone who wants to be photographed. Yet, those who do show themselves proudly, some still aren’t sure of how to react, but I really hope they realise how beautiful they are.

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Personally, I love markets! I  think if we had more of them, society would be more colourful and accepting. Do you think markets are a way for people to re-learn community in a world which is constantly becoming more removed?

I agree! It’s becoming a rare social gathering where–for once–it doesn’t matter where you’re from, what you do or who you are. To me it also feels a bit like film photography, or writing a letter instead of a text message. I guess you could say that this way of “market-living and connecting” is more authentic than the main world we live in right now.

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Send love to your community, stay healthy, and keep your Broad outlook.

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Tuesday Talent - Tom McGahan

One of our deepest, most universal needs, is for a sense of identity and belonging. As such, we constantly search for ways of meaning-making and remembrance. Often times, we find meaning and identity in landscape, attaching our emotions and memories to the places we have seen and touched. Our identities, as well as our memories aren’t however, always associated with happiness. Landscapes can sometimes be associated with grief, loss, and pain. In his poignant photo essay “Landscape of Lament”, Tom McGahan memorializes the stages of bereavement—denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance—within his photographs of nature’s rural, spiritual and ceaseless landscapes.

- Alexa Fahlman


I have the same name as my father, “but he’s not named after me’’ he would say, in his thick County Tyrone, Northern Irish accent. After a brief illness on the 21st of October 2017, my father gently passed away. In the immediate aftermath of his death, I embarked on this series of images to—in some way—try to record the process of grief and preserve the feelings and emotions that arose through each image. My father spent his later years in the home where he was born in Northern Ireland; it is a place that is steeped in tradition, highly polarized due to the division between the two main communities. It was almost a given that my father would have a traditional Irish wake. Dad was brought home and laid out with the casket open. For two days, friends, relatives, and clergy came to pay their respects, sit down, drink gallons of tea, and tell stories. It was all very social seeing long lost relatives and many new faces that would have been part of my father’s life. Even in the midst of the grief and exhaustion, it felt a very natural process—it brought death right up close, and in this, diminished the ultimate fear of death and dying.

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In Irish tradition, when the body was taken from the house, Keeners would sing a lament over the body. The practice of keening — where women would gather and wail in grief at an Irish funeral—died out in the mid 20th century. In the words of Richard Fitzpatrick, keening was “letting it all out, having a good scream, coming from the feet up, a good cry, a good purging.” Grief has since become suppressed in Western culture, as we strive for happiness, death and the sadness that follows, encroach too much upon our own sense of mortality to the point that it must be pushed to one side, “Our grief now is too contained. We rely on taking anti-depressants. We go to a grief counsellor” (Fitzpatrick). *Click here if you’re interested in learning more about the keening tradition and reading Richard Fitzpatrick’s article.

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Yet, different cultures have preserved their own ways of dealing with death. In the not too distant country of Tanzania, the burial traditions of the Nyakyusa people initially focus on wailing, and are followed by feasts. They also require that participants dance and flirt at the funeral, confronting death with an affirmation of life.

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The process of grieving is said to come in five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. However, these stages never come in order—sometimes in reverse and sometimes all at once—but within these stages are glimpses of fond memories, and deep love that seems to become stronger, and takes on a deep seat within us.

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These images where recorded using a large format camera, and only one exposure at each of the location; they were all taken during the first year after my father’s passing. The process was both arduous and cathartic, I wanted to bring it up close, almost like at ‘the wake’, to expose the myriad of emotional landscapes I found myself in. Words themselves cannot express the emotions that arise during from grief; this collection of Landscapes is my Keen to my father.

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Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.

-C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

 
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Maksym Rudnik - Sluzewiec Racetrack

Maksym Rudnik’s series is a visual story about the Sluzewiec Racetrack in Warsaw- Poland’s main racetrack. I caught Maksym during a spare moment away from his current project in Athens (stay tuned!) After a quick email exchange, I was lucky enough to find out more about the racetrack’s significance to Poland, its history and the relationship between animal rights and sport.

The country, Maksym notes, has a long history of horse racing which can be dated back to 1777. However, during the communist era, Polish horse racing became severely limited, when gambling and large social gatherings were made illegal. Despite these sanctions, the Sluzewiec Racetrack (the only long-term running racetrack in communist Poland) continued to operate, it was called by racegoers an ‘icon of freedom’ – distant from the everyday reality and rules of communism. Maksym’s photographic narrations reveal a post-communist nostalgia, reflected by the faces of elderly man who have been coloured by their histories. Although the betting pools have since slowed, the ritualized gathering of regular racegoers within the Warsaw racetrack recreates the same camaraderie of times long past.

- Alexa Fahlman

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Can you tell us more about the racetrack?

Back in the day it was a huge entertainment for many people. The grand opening and main race held in the middle of the summer is very popular among Warsaw citizens. Yet, during ordinary race weekends there are not that many visitors. The people attending are mainly older people who take a chance and bet on small amounts of money in order to hopefully win some. I visited this place during a couple of race weekends to document the races. During the week in the early morning hours I went to the stables and barns which are nearby to portrait some of the people working there with horses and the jockeys taking their time to practice with their horses. It is a magnificent place surrounded with trees yet it is almost in the very centre of Warsaw.

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What do you think it is about the racetrack that people love?

Horse racing is spectacular; whether through the visual subtleties of the jockey’s uniforms, or through the horses themselves - monumental, tall and very beautiful.. There is a gambling aspect as well - it seems exciting to bet and have a chance of winning even if it’s a small amount of money. When it comes to older people, this excitement is historic. In Poland during Soviet Union occupation, there were not many entertaining activities and people were very limited in different aspects of their lives. This particular racetrack acted as a kind of icon of freedom during occupation. People were able to gather during race weekends which was not legal (people gathering) back then and they were able to decide how to spend their money - win some, or loose some. 

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Is there a lot of controversy over the racetracks in regards to animal rights, etc? Do many people believe that racing should be banned?

There were some controversies but really minor. I really enjoy horse racing and am amazed by race horses - the way they look, their movements and their grace . On the other hand, I’ve been a vegetarian for many years and am aware of how harmful these races can be for them. It remains a long discussion when debating about the current state of animal freedoms. Personally, the best would be to see wild herds of horses somewhere in the mountains, but as far as I know these horses couldn’t be taken into the wild after having lived as a race horse.

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The photos in your series all feel very nostalgic, as if they were taken decades ago. Did you create this mood on purpose, or is it simply a result of the racetrack’s history coming out in the photos?

Most of my work is nostalgic, the colours, the subjects I choose. I think the fact that it’s analog from the beginning to the end makes it nostalgic too. This particular subject came along perfectly when it came to fitting my aesthetic. Old spectators, kind of retro jockeys uniforms, barns where the horses live - they are all a little bit of the past, I was just lucky enough to capture it.

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