Thursday, December 8, 2016

Recently Received

Selected photobooks acquired in 2016, in no particular order:

Boris Mikhailov, Diary (Walther König, 2015)

Mikhailov lets his freak flag fly in this dense visual memoir. What starts out as a loose photo-documentary study of post-Soviet Russia gradually degenerates into an insane clusterfuck of imagination, and a narrow window into Mikhailov's inner Id. Photos are crayoned, ripped, taped, weathered, and tossed on the page, or not. The subject matter ranges from sexually charged snapshots to animals to pure collage to pedophilia. Religious iconography, violence, political rallies, panoramics, peeing...somehow it all coalesces into a beautifully conceived ton-of-bricks shitstorm. No other book like it.

Dr. Melvyn Willin, Paranormal: Caught On Film (David and Charles, 2008)

When is a film lightleak a harmless accident of chemical reaction? And when is it..Your Dead Grandfather Channeling A Hot Stock Tip?!! When it's in a book of paranormal photos, that's when. Dr. Melvyn Willin combines naiveté, basic ignorance of photographic process, and overly wishful spiritual assumptions to create one of the most entertaining photobooks I saw this year. Provocative visual tricks spiced with short investigative essays...Hm, some of these images make you stop and wonder for a moment —No, not really.  As with The National Enquirer, it's hard to know if the authors truly believe what they're writing, or if it's just cynical manure. In any case the extreme liberties taken with truth and cherry-picked visual subjects have special resonance on the heels of the recent political season.

Curran Hatleberg, Lost Coast (TBW, 2016)

Viewing the place you grew up through the eyes of another photographer is an unsettling experience slightly akin to hearing your own voice played back on a recorder. On one level you know it's reality. But it feels like a parallel universe. Hatleberg stayed a year teaching at CR and exploring my old stomping grounds photographically.  I spent the first 18 years of my life here but the place is mostly unrecognizable in this book. Not only has he weeded out identifying landmarks, the general approach aims at the vulnerable underbelly. I suppose coming from Yale the Lost Coast's poverty might leap out at a visitor. Richard Rothman's fell under the same spell with Redwood Saw. What can I say? There's more to the place than white trash, but you knew that. It's a photographer's prerogative to slice and dice reality, to opinionate, and Hatleberg —one of the best young shooters out there— has done just that. Just keep in mind while reading, the map is not the territory.

Warren Hutchinson and Nick Foster, This Is Not An Atlas (Mark Batty, 2004)

Speaking of maps and territories, this odd little book spans the globe to present a tautological world-view of shop signs. There's nothing too fancy here. It's your basic typological photo project, in this case focusing on storefronts branded with the word "World". But the quirky presentation style, self-deprecating introduction, and flood of strange images mark this as a labor of love. Hutchinson and Foster are as obsessive as trainspotters. Available used on Amazon for 99 cents, this book kicks the shit out of most precious year-end bookmania favs.

Matt Stuart, All That Life Can Afford (Plague Press, 2016)

This is Magnum Matt's magnum opus on his hometown London, featuring a selection of his best street work from the past decade. I saw this book at various points in its development. It passed through many iterations, and a few publishers before Matt finally put the thing out himself. I'm pleased to say all the tinkering, reshuffling and steady shooting paid off in the end with a handsome book, tightly edited. Most serious street photographers probably own a copy already. I think the appeal might expand to anyone generally interested in urban photography and/or with a sense of humor. The title seems a comment on the universal accessibility of such images, available to anyone with a camera regardless of means.

Chris Shaw, My Life As A Night Porter (Twin Palms, 2005)

This one didn't resonate with me when I first saw it many years ago. But after looking through last year's Horizon Icons, I was inspired to give it a fresh look. This time it went down better and I wound up buying a nice used copy. Shaw dreams big. Like Horizon Icons, My Life As A Night Porter is literally a gigantic sloppy mess, sprawling across the pages like a drunk on a couch, and inviting all his obnoxious photos over too. Usually that would be a negative, but in the case of both Shaw's books, it kind of works. I love the mix of weird notes and typewriting and felt-tip handwritten captions. The images? Meh, honestly there are some here I could take or leave. But the whole thing is so raw, intimate and heartfelt, it's an affirmation of photobooks' transformative powers. Chalk one up for honest rule-breaking.

Don Imus and Fred Imus, Two Guys, Four Corners (Villard, 1997) 

I stumbled on this book at random in a coffee shop in Moab, Utah last Spring. When I got back home I couldn't wait to order my own copy. Not for the photography, which is mediocre by the authors' own admission. It's the biting commentary which is solid gold. Don Imus is a well known radio host. I think his brother Fred may actually be an amateur photographer, but he doesn't take himself too seriously. Together they know just enough about the high-brow art world to skewer it better than any photo book since Duane Michaels' FotoFolliesReading Two Guys, Four Corners is like attending a comedy roast in which photography itself is the target. Why aren't there more books like this?

Dan Boardman and Aspen Mays, Where We've Been, Where We're Going, Why? (Conveyor Editions, 2016)

Conveyor has a well earned reputation for pushing the envelope, and with this title they've outdone themselves. This platypus of a photobook is the only one I've seen with two separate wirebound spines opening from either side, connected by end pages. Why did they choose that particular design? Fuck if I know. But I respect wackiness and I've gotta give props when I see it. Each photographer takes one half the book. The photographs jump all over the place, mostly in personal snapshot territory and often re-appropriated from public archives, before joining in the middle around the 1986 Space Shuttle Challenger disaster. Why? Ask Jeremy Haik.

An-My Le, Small Wars (Aperture, 2005)

I bumped into a used copy of this last summer which made me wonder why I'd never looked more closely at this wonderful book. Enough has been written about Small Wars by now that I probably can't add much of substance. An-My Le's trilogy combining personal Vietnam photos with war re-enactors and then real military drills is profound and disturbing. Although my favorite section is the first, there are brilliant photos throughout. In an Orwellian world of shifting alliances and indefinite warfare —eleven years after this book the U.S. is still entangled in Iraq and Afghanistan—  Small Wars traces the course back to Vietnam...and then as far into history as the reader wants to take it.

Maude Schuyler Clay, Mississippi History (Steidl, 2015)

This one was published on my birthday last year, too late to make my 2015 year-end list. Before seeing this my main exposure to Clay was through her wonderful portraits of her cousin Bill Eggleston. Now I realize they were just the tip of an impressive iceberg. Clay's been making photos of local friends, family, and strangers for decades. Collected in one book for the first time, the best of them show a rare sensitivity for southern light, mood, and interior revelation. The printing is large and perfect, just what you'd expect from Steidl. 

Christophe Agou, Les Faits Secondaires (Self Published, 2013)

After Christophe sadly passed away last fall, I sought out this title, his second book and the only one of his three that I didn't yet own. I think it might be my favorite. It's certainly his loosest work, a monochrome blend of blurred focus, long exposures, and hyper-contrasty blowouts reminiscent of Antoine D'Agata or Michael Ackerman. The images burn with a ghostly glow which seems at once out of character and portentous. Knowing where he was headed it's had not to assign them a revelatory, spiritual component. 

Adam Ekberg, The Life of Small Things (Waltz Books, 2015)

A strange little book, this material reminds me a bit of Tjorborn Rodland without the fashion/nudity angle. I'm usually not a big fan of carefully staged narratives, but these photographs are weird enough to intrigue. Ekberg has a thing for flames, balloons, and, as the title implies, small things, usually shot at distance in centered compositions. What it all adds up to is anyone's guess, and I think that's the point. Mysterious project bla bla bla. Plus it comes in a plain cardboard box which should count for something.

Nick Turpin, On The Night Bus (Hoxton Mini Press, 2016)

Turpin adds to the tradition of frosted-glass portraiture with a study of night bus riders in London. Folks on a bus are sitting ducks in a way, and Turpin's photos treat them as such. Using a zoom lens he crops extraneous detail to penetrate the headspace of strangers, a dreamland of inner revery, muted colors, and condensation. It's a kinder, gentler world than, say, Tokyo Compression. The best of these images take on a painterly feel which leave the evening commute of packed smelly buses far behind.

James Allen, Ed., Without Sanctuary: Lynching Photography in America (Twin Palms, 2000)

Photographs of Southern lynchings collected by Allen over decades. Holy fuck! This isn't the sort of book you'd keep on your coffee table. It's probably not a book that you'll ever want to reread. One stomach churning turn is sufficient. The pictures of wretched corpses would be grisly enough on their own, but what pushes them into monstrous territory are the observers caught by the camera. Some look proud, some are smiling, all were entertained. The combination of bloodlust, violence, and mass hysteria is bone chilling, and a reminder of photography's unique potential. The book is prefaced by an unforgettable introduction by Hilton Als, a bitter screed calling out racist society, his own experiences as a black man in white culture, and questioning the publisher's commission of Als. Best take a seat before cracking this open.

Chuck Forsman, Western Rider (Center for American Places, 2003)

This one hits pretty close for me, since I've been taking photographs through my own car windshield for decades. I know, I know, it's a well worn cliché. But my camera is right there in the cup holder below the gearshift and sometimes I just can't help it. Forsman's dashboard photos are as good as they come. Better than Friedlander, Bradford, Wallace, or most others I can think of. Maybe it helps that he isn't even a photographer — he's a painter— so he's unburdened with photo history or silly shoulds and shouldn'ts. The photographs —roughly dating from the tail end of the film era— are printed fullframe, sometimes with sloppy negative carrier marks. All of which adds up to one charming little book.

Alexandra Crockett, Metal Cats (Powerhouse, 2014)

Heavy metal rockers holding cats? WTF? In the hands of a lesser photographer this might quickly veer into ironic territory. OK, there is an element of that. But Crockett threads the creative needle to create a project much closer to homage than mockery. Taken mostly in home environments, her portraits of heavy metal musicians with their pets are a window into an unknown world. The home decor, long hair, tats, piercings and dark symbolism you'd expect are here. But the subject matter is strangely tamed and transformed by the simple placement of soft furry kitties. Where do these silent killers go when the volume is cranked to 11? Who knows. But the overall effect of the book is humanizing and inclusive.

Roger Eberhard, Wilted Country (Scheidegger and Spiess, 2010)

It's unusual for me to respond to a book based only on color palette. But the washed out tonality in these photographs is simply entrancing. It conveys the feeling of naked void better than any subject matter could. I'm guessing the photos are Polaroids, but they've been stripped of their normal borders and reduced to bleak rectangles. Most are at least 2 stops over-exposed, and more closely resemble an Ed Ruscha screenprint than a photograph. Rarely have abandoned old barns and heartland gas stations appeared so iconified. 

Karl Baden, The Americans By Car (Self Published, 2016)

Karl Baden's prankster streak continues with this quiet homage to Robert Frank. The book contains 83 photographs sequenced shot-for-shot to correspond with the photographs of The Americans. All were shot by Baden from car interiors. Some of the connections are more obvious than others, but taken as a whole the effect is quite entertaining. The scope of the project becomes even more impressive when one realizes that many of these photos weren't made as part of the project, but only later edited into shape. The Americans has spawned countless reference points and projects over the years. This is the best one I saw in 2016.

Michael Schmelling, My Blank Pages (The Ice Plant, 2015)

This one came out at the tail end of last year, just in time to make a few year-end lists (although not mine) and pique my curiosity. What a great little book! The images, pulled from Schmelling's archive of machine prints, are reproduced at 4 x 6 and with just the proper amount of sheen to feel like a sheaf of drugstore photos. The material is mostly haphazard snapshots from Schmelling's life. They might describe a very loose narrative, or perhaps there is no pattern. It's hard to tell. That angle is overshadowed by the kicker, and the thing which pushes this into a special category: Schmelling's handwritten notes are scrawled in pencil across most pages in the book. Holy smokes! It must've taken him days to annotate the entire print run! Penciled captions! Better than any signature. Better than any essay. A solid dose of the tangible.

Wendy Ewald, Secret Games (Scalo, 2000)

I stumbled on this book at random in a used bookstore in Ashland, amidst an absolute wreckage of a photo section. Secret Games collects photos made by kids under the tutelage of various Ewald collaborations over a thirty year period. As with any multi-authored material the results are hit or miss. But mostly hit. They're done old school with b/w film. Some have weird markings. Some show borders from the neg carrier. All have a directness, lack of pretention, and sheer original variety which is sometimes grasped by pros but is more commonly the domain of amateurs. The fact that these wonderful photographs were made by young people with very little training drives home one of the central paradoxes of photography: its democratic accessibility somehow remains a source of surprise.

Scot Sothern, Street Walkers (Powerhouse, 2015)

Sothern recounts various escapades luring prostitutes into his Camaro for early-morning photo shoots in the grittiest parts of L.A. and Tijuana. Each foul-language anecdote is accompanied by one or two raunchy photos. It's a strange microcosm of drug-addled women, she/males, and trans workers hustling for a few dollars. Sothern manages to find a respectful stance while gratifying his own photographic —and sometimes other— urges. The combination of text and photo is notoriously difficult, but Sothern strikes a good balance with each media pulling equal weight. The writing is filthy, direct, and rather wonderful. Same words apply to the photos. Unfortunately the reproductions are terrible, but they get the point across. This is quite possibly the dirtiest book I own. 

Christine Osinski, Summer Days Staten Island (Damiani, 2016)

A blend of portraits and social landscapes which encapsulate the suburban seventies better than anything since Dazed and Confused. If Osinski's portrait subjects ham it up slightly, any awkward feelings are superseded by a vibe of untucked innocence. The Gen X crowd will recall their childhoods of tube socks, chain link, feathered hair, and post-sixties nonchalance. Other generations will probably just see a foreign planet. The photographs are nicely capped by a (too-short) interview with Osinski about the project.

Gary Briechle, Photographs (Twin Palms, 2012)

Alt-process enthusiasts sometimes have a tendency to get so caught up in analog minutiae that they forget the most important thing, the subject matter. Not so with Briechle. Although he shoots wet collodion on glass plates, his material is closer to fleeting hand-held imagery: dark, unsettling, and downright odd. Paging the book one wonders, where does he find this stuff? A: Somewhere in upstate Maine amid family and friends. The photos display a deft touch with view camera on par with Nicolas Nixon or Sally Mann, combined with strange blurs and marrings characteristic of the process. As with all Twin Palms books the production is top-notch, glossy images dominating black matte paper.

Kenneth Graves, The Home Front (Mack, 2015)

Kenneth Graves made these photos in the Bay Area in the 1960s and 70s, but until now they'd never received much circulation or recognition. Their general consistency, cleverness, and occasional brilliance puts them in the upper echelons of old fashioned street photography. They're a joy to view, and Mack did the street photo community a real service by resuscitating this work. Unfortunately their design team didn't get the memo. The mangled production effort hampers the overall impact. Cardboard cover, full bleed excess, matte paper. I'm not sure what Mack was thinking. Their design is usually excellent, but not in this case. Still worth a look for anyone seriously into street work.

Amanda Tetrault, Phil And Me (Trolley, 2004)

Tetrault's long term photo study of her schizophrenic father hits the perfect balance between personal diary and bedraggled documentary. The books combines a range of material from 35 mm b/w shots to photobooth reels to color snaps, mixed with poems and snippets by written by Amanda's father Phil. Readers may be reminded of 2013's Hesitating Beauty. But whereas Joshua Lutz photographed his ill mother with controlled discretion, Phil And Me is a wild, disruptive, and ultimately liberating take on mental illness. Found by chance at Powell's.

Lee Friedlander, Street and Western Landscapes (Yale University Press, 2016)

The Friedlander juggernaut keeps rolling along, with multiple books published by Yale Press in recent years. You'd think by now we'd all have a good grasp of his style, strengths, and weaknesses, and we do. For those needing a reminder, the point is hammered home by this year's efforts. Pulling from photographs shot throughout his career, Street confirms that busy urban settings have never been Friedlander's true forte. The book's handful of successful images will already be familiar, since they're reproduced from previous books. The less successful ones will pass by without impact, like pedestrians on a busy sidewalk. The end product is a letdown which might be fun for those just now learning about him, true completists, or hard core street freaks. Most others should pass and save their money for Western Landscapes, Friedlander's best book of the young millennium. Like the sweeping territory it documents, this tome is huge, dense, and rather awe inspiring. Friedlander has always been a master of layering, with a unique ability to cluster and compose disparate material across the frame. In recent years he's dragged his flash-equipped Hassy through the barren brambles to see just how far he can push this technique. The results are pretty damned impressive. The best photographs here grab disorienting swaths of vegetation with no obvious point of interest beyond blissful visual excess. The photos come two to a spread with no let up for two hundred pages. Did I mention the printing is large and virtually exhibition quality? For those who can't afford a sheaf of 200 Friedlander prints, which is most of us, Western Landscapes is the next best thing.

Eros, Spring 1962, Volume 1, Issue 1

The initial issue of Ralph Ginzburg's short-lived periodical Eros is mildly amusing from a contemporary pornographic perspective. It's a ray of light into a past world when porn was rarely discussed or shown in public. Compared to 2016 —when any sexual permutation conceivable is just a mouseclick away— the imagery is tame. But tucked in the back of this journal is an early photo essay by none other than young Garry Winogrand. He was 24 at the time, still wet behind the ears, and not yet a very good photographer. But even in the spring of life his voyeur instincts were evident. Love In The Subway is a candid study of underground lovers in New York, an 8-page teaser of the impending flood he would soon unleash. To my knowledge none of these photos have been published elsewhere. Found by chance in a used bookshop on a recent trip to Arcata. 

Stephen Waddell, Hunt and Gather (Steidl, 2011)

A nicely seen collection of subtle color street photography in the vein of Ricardo Cases or Huger Foote, shot by Waddell over the course of roughly a decade. The best images here are the ones without people, when Waddell can get out of his own way and display his rare sensitivity for collaged palette and found material. However, the peopled shots are fairly, well, pedestrian. None of the images are helped by the hamfisted captions or the art-speak afterward by Michael Fried. Even so there are enough good photos spiced throughout to make it worthwhile.

Chrissy Piper, Where The Day Takes You (J & L Books, 2014)

A sequence of odd little moments from Piper's archives, this felt at first like a misfit for J & L. But after a few repeated readings I realize that's probably exactly why it's in their catalog. A collection of random black and white snapshots? Just what you wouldn't expect. In other words, perfect. Piper wanders with handheld camera in the street photography tradition yet somewhat askance from it, grabbing small moments, concerts, pets, kids, and daily ephemera. Like Eggleston's Guide the layout undergoes subtle vertical shifts from page to page depending on the material's perspective. There are few knockout punches here but the quietly observational tone might build to TKO.

Ivars Gravlejs, Useful Advice For Photographers (Dienacht Publishing, 2016)

Old timers may remember these rules from a few years back when they had a brief viral moment online. Now they are available for the first time in pamphlet form. Gravlejs' eighty basic rules of photography would be less biting if they weren't so darned normal. Most appear pulled directly from conventional textbooks. But the clear, clever way in which they're presented, with absurd examples, highlights the hazard of doctrinaire approach. The booklet is printed pocketsized with clear plastic sheath (signed, in true prankster form) and lanyard. Fits easily around the neck or in any gear bag. The pitch perfect follow up to Early Works, my photobook of the year in 2015.

Michael Ormerod, States of America (Cornerhouse Publications, 1993)

The only photobook by British photographer Ormerod, who died in a roadside accident while photographing in Arizona almost a quarter century ago. States of America is a rough survey of his American photo trips. They display an outsider's sharp attention to the overlooked vernacular combined with a well-honed eye for visual discontinuity.  Although there are no captions I'm guessing most were shot in the American West in the 1980s. Even the ones shot back east have a western roadside feel of openness and possibility. These are opinionated photos made with a voice, with a vibe similar to David Graham, Henry Wessel, Bernard Plossu, or Joe Deal. I prowl a lot of used stacks and haven't encountered this book often. Bookhounds should buy it on the spot at any reasonable price.

Olivo Barbieri, Site Specific (Aperture, 2013)

Barbieri is probably best known as a pioneer of the tilt-shift craze which hit photography several years ago. But as this 10-year compilation shows, he's made a broader range of human landscapes exploring other styles, often from an aerial perspective. Along the way he's become an art-world darling, showing at Venice Biennale among other places. But despite that fact, his photography is quite impressive. Real worlds blend seamlessly with computer-morphed landscapes to create bizarre scenes. What psychedelics was he on when he made these? What was in front of the camera? Does it matter any more? What planet am I on? A good book to lose yourself in momentarily as you forget why these questions ever seemed important.

Gregory Halpern, Zzyzx (Mack, 2016)

The photobook lists each December tend to cluster around one or two titles of universal praise. For a variety of reasons 2016 will be the year of Zzyzx. Halpern's beautifully printed SoCal travelogue contains some dazzling images, with just the right blend of offbeat portraiture, desert cantos, and broken social landscape. Add the fact his last book sold out, the hippest publisher, perfect title, and a hint of inscrutable narrative, and you've got a formula for success. I can't say I don't like it. It's OK. But I'm not totally on board. The whole effort seems just a bit too calculated for my taste, a star vehicle as carefully tailored for acclaim as any Hollywood Oscar bait. That might just be my kneejerk reaction to popularity talking. Maybe if the exact same book was made in obscurity by an unknown I might love it. Hard to say. In any case photobook collectors should snatch up copies now and sit on them a few years, large returns guaranteed. I'm not saying that for personal gain. I don't own it and have nothing at stake.

Isabella Rozendaal, On Loving Animals (Veenman Publishers, 2007)

You might expect a book called "On Loving Animals" to have a sentimental SPCA vibe, and there is an element of that here. What saves this pet snapshot stash from the syrup-pile is Rozendaal's sharp nose for the bizarre. In exploring the tenuous human/animal relationship, she seems to relish the boundaries and off-moments. The horses spitting blood, shaved dogs, and tongue-extracted cats, in other words. But it's not all about objectification. Somehow Rozendaal's extreme candids convey a heartfelt passion, a feeling and sensitivity for animal companions. Trust me, the last thing the photo world needs is yet another god damned book with a social message. But this one bucks the odds to assume a role of excellent, frivolous entertainment.

John Maclean, Hometowns (Self Published, 2016)

The material is as advertised in the title. Maclean photographed the hometowns of two dozen international art idols, with interesting results. A mix of straight and altered images keeps the reader off-balance, while the innovative double gatefold design seems at once whimsical and integral. Maybe an artist's hometown has a strong effect on their creativity. Maybe not. In any case the search has left an imprint on Maclean, who has managed to create his own interesting photos while simultaneously channeling the vision of others. Fun to read with or without captions.

Brigid Berlin, Polaroids (Reel Art Press, 2015)

Brigid Berlin was an integral member of Warhol's Factory scene and perhaps its most prolific daily documentarian. Her collection of Polaroid Portraits, selected from an archive of thousands, is not only a Who's-Who of art celebrities circa 1970 but an homage to the Polaroid era. The images are printed actual size and with magnificent sheen. Only by touching the page can readers reassure themselves these aren't the real thing. A amphetamine-fueled freewheeling spirit carries the day —these artists look genuinely buzzed and happy!— but doesn't truly come into its own until the book's final quarter, a mind-bending sequence of double exposures which hits like a Serra sculpture to the cranium.

Kentucky Renaissance: The Lexington Camera Club and Its Community, 1954-1974 (Yale University Press, 2016)

I'm fond of this not necessarily for the photographs, which are the sort of mid-century modernist muddle that every camera club engages in: barns, shadows, morning dew, multiple exposures, etc. They're OK, I guess. But the broader inspiration for me is the idea that weird creative shit can happen anywhere. If it can happen in post-war central Kentucky, as this book shows, it jogs my outlook and puts a spring in my step. The Lexington art sleeper cell went beyond photography to include free thinking stalwarts Wendell Berry and Thomas Merton. Together with activist-type rabblerousers Traub, Coke, Meatyard, Davenport, and Greene, the setting was ripe for horrific unconventional photo ideas to fester, and fester they did. Fortunately for the establishment, they were quashed and forgotten until this book put them at safe enough remove for reconsideration. I'm not sure what's happening in Kentucky now. Mitch McConnell, Rand Paul, whiskey, horse racing...? 

Alex Kayser, Artists' Portraits (Harry Abrams, 1981)

Featuring a selection of artist portraits from the 1970s, this small flipbook could be considered a companion volume to Brigid Berlin's Polaroids. All the bigwigs are here, shown in fine style. But, unlike Berlin's frenetic Aim-&-Blast process, these portraits are nicely composed, probably the results of traditional portrait sessions. The master touch, and the thing which separates it from a slew of other poorly printed 1970s 35 mm books, is the fact that the photos are hand colored. This is a practice which has largely faded from prominence in the digital era. So it's fun to be reminded of it, and see it done well. The peculiar mix of oil paints over silver gelatin casts strange pastel tones which create a world in and of itself.

Longer reviews of recently published photobooks written for Photo-Eye:

Jack London, The Paths Men Take (Contrasto, 2016)
William Eggleston, Portraits (Yale Press, 2016)
Kenneth Josephson, The Light of Coincidence (University of Texas Press, 2016)
Diane Arbus, In The Beginning (Yale Press, 2016)
Philip Perkis, In a Box Upon the Sea (Amnoc Press, 2016)
Joel Meyerowitz, Seeing Things (Aperture, 2016)
Rosalind Fox Solomon, Got To Go (Mack, 2016)
Gregory Crewdson, Cathedral Of The Pines (Aperture, 2016)
Kevin Bubriski, Look Into My Eyes (Museum of New Mexico, 2016)
Bertien Van Manen, Beyond Maps and Atlases (Mack, 2016)
Colin Delfosse, Toute Arme Forgée Contre Moi Sera Sans Effet (Editions 77, 2015)
Noritaka Minami, 1972 (Kerher Verlag, 2015)

1 comment:

marko said...

Agree totally about the Kenneth Graves book. The format chosen does not fit with the work at all, and in fact damages it. Suited the Mark Cohen's Dark Knees work, but not Graves' style. He unfortunately died this year as well. Hopefully there will be a fitting collection of his excellent work at some stage.