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In 'Lago', Ron Jude returns to the California desert of his early childhood as if a detective in search of clues to his own identity. In a book of 54 photographs made between 2011 and 2014, he attempts to reconcile the vagaries of memory (and the uncertainty of looking) with our need to make narrative sense of things. Using a desolate desert lake as a theatrical backdrop, Jude meanders through the arid landscape of his youth, making note of everything from venomous spiders to discarded pornography. If one considers these traces to be a coded language of some sort, Jude's act of photographing and piecing them together becomes a form of cryptography like a poetic archeology that, rather than attempting to arrive at something conclusive, looks for patterns and rhythms that create congruity out of the stuttering utterances of the visible world. According to Jude, these harmonies, when we're lucky enough to find them, are probably the closest we can get to discovering actual meaning and grasping the potency of place.
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12 Hz--the lowest sound threshold of human hearing--suggests imperceptible forces, from plate tectonics to the ocean tides, from cycles of growth and decay in the forest, to the incomprehensibility of geological spans of time. The photographs in Ron Jude's '12 Hz' allude to the ungraspable scale and veiled mechanics of these phenomena, while acknowledging a desire to gain a broader perspective, beyond the human enterprise, in a time of ecological and political crisis. '12 Hz' consists of images of lava tubes and flows, tidal currents, glacial ice and welded tuff formations: pictures describing the raw materials of the planet, those that make organic life possible. The images were made in mul...
"Ron Jude's latest book project brings new life to a selection of his own early photographs, made in the early 1980s in central Idaho. Enhanced by "special effects" filters ..., edited here nearly 30 years after its making, this somewhat accidental, experimental body of work acquires unexpected nuance and humor."--Publisher's site.
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In his previous book, Alpine Star, photographer and publisher Ron Jude appropriated and recast a collection of his hometown newspaper photographs as a cryptically humorous meditation on the grey area between personal history and collective memory. Jude's latest series of photographs, Other Nature, adds a more intimate, diaristic strain to this line of inquiry. In this handsome volume, two separate sets of his own 4 x 5 color pictures (made between 2001 and 2008) combine to create a subtle and uncanny instance of what Jude has called the "slippery threshold of narrative" in still images. Drawing on the concerns of the New Topographics photographers, Jude's accounts of anonymous motel rooms and the stranger regions of the American landscape could, on first glance, be mistaken for an ecological critique. But as the exterior and interior details of these environments (floral patterns, wood grain, sunlight) begin to merge, interrupt and inform each other, the book shifts into a more abstract, subjective register, provoking reflections on photography, the visible world and the things hovering just outside our physical perception.
In a small community on the Oregon coast in the middle of the twenty-first century, disease ravages the civilized world and the human race is saved, but is transformed by genetic engineering
"The history of color photography goes back over one hundred years, but the medium only came of age as an art form in the late 1960s, when it was called ""the new frontiers""."
This publication reissues a beloved photobook classic--acknowledged as such by Martin Parr and Gerry Badger in the third volume of The Photobook: A History--that has been out of print since the hardcover edition was published in 2010. As photographer Jason Fulford (born 1973) recently learned firsthand, mushrooms have a way of growing and spreading wherever they touch ground. It all started when a friend of Fulford's gave him a box, found at a flea market, full of photos of mushrooms--unassuming pictures taken by an unknown but almost certainly amateur photographer, apparently as notes for some mycological studies. Fulford's art photographs (aside from his well-known book Dancing Pictures, which depicted people getting down to their favorite songs) are usually of staid, quasi-mute objects: a smashed Dorito chip overrun with ants, two bronzed doorknobs spooning, the blank back of a street sign. Yet these mushroom images got stuck in Fulford's mind, like a bad song sometimes does, and they started to grow in his own work. The Mushroom Collector combines some of the original flea-market mushroom pictures with his own images and text by the artist about the project.