Yoav Friedländer




A Form Of View | Yoav Friedländer

As an Israeli my perception is chaotic; composed of mediated American culture, desert landscapes of childhood, and war, which became integral in my life. I was trained to see and understand the world through photographs. The motivation for this visual exploration is the strong influence American culture, specifically in the form of photography, had and still has on my Israeli origins.

Photography visually mapped reality since it started; a broken promise that we’ve made to ourselves by looking up to the medium as a neutral reflection of what visibly exists. Many of our understandings of reality, are being described by photographs and have never being experienced by us in person. Photographs have set the expectations for things we might experience in the future; at times we find ourselves considering what is real to be different from how it should be according to its own image.

My work is a conjunction between Israel and America. It focuses on similarities and differences between two different cultures and sets of geographical locations seen through my perspective as an “Americanized Israeli”.

I base my thesis on the recognition that our world is informed by images. Photographs represent and replace experiences, memories, landscapes and objects. Our past still exists in the form of photographs, and we will move on to a future which be is based on those photographs and the context through which we interpret them. Since the invention of the photograph, reality has become augmented by its own image. I am focusing my work at that point of friction.


Bear Kirkpatrick

Bear Kirkpatrick 2

Bear Kirkpatrick 3

Bear Kirkpatrick 4

Beark Kirkpatrick 1

Bear Kirkpatrick’s forbearers were an ad hoc mixture of adventurer-navigators, naturalists, whalers, Puritans, dissidents, judges, and witches. He was born in the American south to a mother raised in Brahmin Boston and to a Harvard-educated geologist father who, several days after Bear’s birth, was sent across the world to war in the jungles of Southeast Asia. His upbringing was scattered across the Eastern seaboard, resting longest on a farm in New Hampshire during his teen years where he learned the survival skills of tracking, fishing, and hunting. He was educated at Phillips Exeter Academy, the University of Michigan, and the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. He has made his living by turns as a stone-wall builder, roofer, mason’s tender, bookkeeper, furniture builder, and video art installer.

Bear Kirkpatrick defines his imagery as evidence, documents of past and present human psychological states. He is presently working to develop a model to prove that acquired characteristics are not only inheritable as a result of natural selection and artificial selection, but also as the result of psychological selection as created by the environmental pressure of human memory.

His work has been exhibited at Daniel Cooney Fine Art, 555 Gallery, Flowers Gallery, the Center for Fine Art Photography, Corden-Potts, Rayko, photo-eye Gallery, Houston Center for Photography, wall space Gallery, Drift Gallery, jdc Fine Art, Bowersock Gallery, and the Corey Daniels Gallery.

His work has been honored with the 2013 & 2014 Critical Mass Finalist Selection, the NH Charitable Foundation’s Artist Advancement Grant, Amy Arbus’ Curator’s Selection at The Center for Fine Art Photography’s 2014 Portraits Exhibition, and 3 International Photography Awards.

He has solo exhibitions presently at The Center for Fine Art Photography in Ft. Collins and jdc Fine Art in San Diego, and forthcoming at 555 Gallery in Boston.

Bear Kirkpatrick lives and works in Portsmouth, NH.


Charles Grogg

I take the title of this portfolio, “After Ascension and Descent,” from a phrase by Pierre Joris in A Nomad Poetics in which he calls for an approach to writing that accounts for what Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari refer to as “rhizomatic,” allowing for varieties of discourse, idioms, syntax, even languages.

I gave the work this title because I am at a loss when it comes to speaking of knowing one’s roots. My family, with its adopted members, silence about its past, reverence for the absolute at the expense of the profane, has taught me to speak one language only. To be monolingual is to be foreshortened, and like so many Americans I know I speak a provincial, not a global, language. The advent of “wireless” living does nothing to allay this. If anything, we are almost hopelessly tethered—to each other, to the world. It’s when we forget this, when we think we are free beyond complicity, that we encounter trouble looking for meaning.

Thinking in these terms has resulted in these images, an expression of desire for growth at the moment of inhibition, when hesitation is the gap between desiring and having.


Sarah Stonefoot – Suspension

Image Credit: © Sarah Stonefoot

The botanical objects I have brought into the home are stopped in transformation. Their location is often questionable and their capacity for self-motivation is ambiguous. Fluent in a secret language that’s rich in mythic rawness, they crawl, branch, sprout and mimic their surroundings. Domesticated and anthropomorphized, leaves and seeds obtain a poetic vitality through their relationship to the home – a space that welcomes imaginative rediscovery.

Given my desire to experience nature firsthand, I prepare for each photograph with a sensory exploration. It is only after I have altered the botanical material, pulled it apart and stripped leaves from its stem, that I can find in nature something new, something different and something unexpected. As Pierre Mabille notes in The Mirror of the Marvelous, “Alice’s adventures in the rabbit burrow or through the mantelpiece mirror encourage us to search for other gaps where we can penetrate the marvelous.” Like Alice, I’m hoping to find my portal into reverie.

We shelter ourselves both with and from nature but we are still part of its world. Within the home sunlight serves as a constant reminder of nature’s transience. Its luminous, shimmering and prismatic effects readily trigger the thoughts and daydreams of quiet rooms. The home is an unbounded interior; within its walls one’s mind can drift and worlds can arise. Leaves, seeds and buds I use become swarms and armies descending upon furniture. They respond to and are altered by the home’s architecture and its resident. Reclaiming their space, the natural objects remind the furniture of the life it once held. With newly acquired botanical inhabitants the home transforms into a landscape. Curtains are large open skies and the seat of a chair is an open field. These invitations to reverie are most welcome in the space of the photograph – an ideal place for the construction of new worlds. – Sarah Stonefoot


David Emitt Adams


I was born in Yuma Arizona in 1980. By the time I was an adult the Arizona desert was far from that once documented by Timothy O’Sullivan. Never have I known this landscape without roads, homes, buildings or urban sprawl. This notion of land untouched by the hand of man is so foreign it might as well be make-believe. As long as people have been in the American West, we have found its barren desert landscapes to be an environment perfect for dumping and forgetting.

The deserts of the West also have special significance in the history of photography. I have explored this landscape with an awareness of the photographers who have come before me, and this awareness has led me to pay close attention to the traces left behind by others. For this body of work, I collect discarded cans from the desert floor, some over four decades old, which have earned a deep reddish-brown, rusty patina. This patina is the evidence of light and time, the two main components inherent in the very nature of photography. I use these objects to speak of human involvement with this landscape and create images on their surfaces through a labor-intensive 19th century photographic process known as wet-plate collodion. The result is an object that has history as an artifact and an image that ties it to its location. These cans are the relics of the advancement of our culture, and become sculptural support to what they have witnessed.