Let’s be honest.
The right piece of advice, at just the right time, can make all the difference.
For example, a friend once told me, when the voices in your head get too loud, turn the music up even louder.
(That’s wisdom, people.)
I decided to try it on Tuesday, as I twitched and shook from the collective exhaustion of a full-week on the road in Portland, followed by a 2-day-trip-home, after flight cancellations and delays saw me land in Albuquerque in the middle of the night.
I had one song that I thought might do the trick, once I finally got home, so I ran a hot bath, and turned that shit up as loud as it would go.
What was my magic musical potion, you ask?
Have you heard it yet?
That shit is so hot it makes my eyeballs melt. A genuine 2019 fusion that shakes the rump and boggles the mind.
And given that not ONE but TWO top African-American NFL draft picks ran videos of them riding their horses, last week during the draft telecast, this song is totally of the now.
Straight out of the Dirty South.
Who knows why places have their moment at a given time?
In Hip-Hop, of course there’s the Bronx and Queens for the early days, and the world would be very different if Ice Cube and Dre had never come along out there in California. (You too, EZ.)
But that Atlanta trap sound over the last few years, with artists like Migos, has felt like a true cultural breakthrough in the age of Trump.
And perhaps it actually arose in opposition?
It’s definitely a theme I discovered at Photolucida last week. So many photographers, (including me,) had their stories of a project, or image, that was catalyzed by the campaign/election/inauguration/Trump’s first two years.
Quick synopsis: the trip was genuinely brilliant, and one of the best I’ve ever had.
But I’m far to tired and woozy, (or Bad and Bougie,) to get into the details today.
Especially as Portland will certainly be a 3 or 4 part series in the coming months.
Rather, we’re going to do a short-ish book review, so I can go drool on myself in the corner and try not to operate heavy machinery.
A few months ago, “Trace,” a little, sleek, 3-book-collection turned up in the mail from Yoffy Press in, (you guessed it,) Atlanta, GA.
I’ve reviewed two of their publications before, the experimental “1864,” by Matthew Brandt, and the excellent, photography-to-combat-depression-movement-building “Too Tired For Sunshine,” by Tara Wray.
In a world of true confessions, the publisher, Jennifer Yoffy, is a long time colleague who came out to ski this February, and we’re in discussions to do a book together, which will be my first. (If you can believe it.)
I’ve gone on the record before with these relationships, so you can decide for yourself if I’m showing you good work, or being nepotistic. (Or both.)
But in this case, I’ve supported her program in the column before, and this book arrived before we even decided to work together, so I feel like we’re in the clear. (You may, of course, disagree.)
“Trace” is a compilation of 3 small books, as I said, and it’s not hard to keep them in order, once they come out of the slip, because the title spells itself out across the collection.
Kota Ezawa’s book is first, and it’s a head trip for sure. The truth is, they all are. This book is a literal embodiment of how I feel as a human being right now, and for that, I love it.
For his book, Kota Ezawa presents an image that builds piece by piece, and is clearly not photographic. Only at the end, or nearly the end, do we realize that it’s built upon one of the most iconic images ever made: JFK’s family by his graveside.
The image grows, section by section, and then you know what it is. Of course that last picture, adding in John Jr, tugs at your heart in a surprising way.
Book 2 is by my long-time colleague Tabitha Soren, by now an acclaimed artist, who was once known as a very-young VJ on MTV, in another lifetime.
I saw these pictures, from the project “Surface Tension,” at Euqinom Gallery in San Francisco in 2017, and thought they were incredible. Ironically, she’d once showed me an early version, on a tablet, at a festival, and I didn’t get it.
I was dubious.
But as prints on the wall, and in book form, (and fully finished,) this project is as smart as it is visually arresting. Scary cats, scary Harvey Weinstein, it’s all the same.
Our made marks, and our attentions spun, are all pulsing through our devices these days.
The Matrix has arrived, and we’re all plugging in willingly.
Final shout out to the title page on Tabitha’s book, as they are surprisingly good. I’ll be sure to photograph it for below.
Finally, the package has a book by Penelope Umbrico, an artist I’ve had the pleasure to hear speak twice, and have interviewed for the column as well. (Check out the long read here.)
Penelope is easily one of the smartest artists I’ve encountered, and yet she manages to use visuals well too. (Total package.)
This project features just the digital circles and made marks, the trace lines around defects on used screens being sold on Ebay.
She spends hours and hours, collectively years of her life, pursuing the digital rabbit holes that help us understand the world around us.
Penelope, I salute you.
And now, as I still have to work today, and even tomorrow, (before I get the nap I so dearly deserve,) I will leave you.
Bottom Line: Beautiful, smart, killer little compilation
If you’d like to submit a book for potential review, please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. We’re particularly interested in submissions from female photographers, and artists of color, so we may maintain a diverse program.