ISO Magazine - Spring 2010 by Michael George

SPRING 2010

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TSOANYU

ISO OPENING

EDITOR’S LETTER Photographers often photograph to understand. In our investigations we capture memories to see where we’ve come from and to understand where we’re going. As we grow up, just like anyone, we try on different hats. And as we put on different hats, we see through different lenses. The photographer’s unique perspective is what guides the creative heart of the medium. It is what separates the citizen from the professional journalist, the artist from the commercial photographer, and the student from the amateur.

professional who graduated from NYU and found success as a celebrity portrait photographer. Her insights begin our exploratory journey that presents the world through cheap, vintage, and foreign lenses. Next, you will experience the joys of handing your camera to someone else. There are wonderful surprises in the projects showcased throughout the issue. Many of these photographers search for an understanding of home and place, whether that is found in This Promised Land or in family members who were once lost.

When traveling we see through a foreign lens, often foggy and intriguing in its salience. When we are children, we live in the moment; our memories are marked with the value of a disposable camera. As we reach adulthood, we begin to lose our sense of self as we enter the “real world” and are no longer powered solely by dreams and ambitions. We begin to struggle with the perspectives of our “personal” and “commercial” work.

Here at ISO, we are launching a plan of expansion. We are no longer solely a print publication. We hope you will visit our website and subscribe to our blog for consistent updates from the ISO team. In the future we hope to interact with our readers through events in the community. Your involvement with ISO broadens our perspective of the ever-changing photographic community, and we are thankful for your willingness to share in this experience.

For this reason we begin our Fall 2009 issue with a stimulating conversation with Emily Shur, a working

MICHAEL GEORGE, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

ISO STAFF AND CONTRIBUTORS EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

Michael George DEPUTY EDITOR

Corinne Rapone WRITERS

Peter Curtis Michael George Deirdre Hering Aaron Krol Julia Pugachevsky Jenna Spitz Pey Chuan Tan Alison Wynn COPY EDITORS

Alex Brown Francis Poon Laura Stephenson BLOG MANAGER

Alex Brown BLOG WRITERS

Hannah Holzwarth Julia Pugachevsky Avantika Shankar Katie Vogel

ART DIRECTOR & SENIOR DESIGNER

Danlly Domingo DESIGN ASSISTANT

Nina Culotta PHOTO EDITORS

Sasha Arutyunova Jenna Spitz

PHOTOGRAPHERS

Alex Arbuckle Sasha Arutyunova Beryl Bevilacque Shraddha Borawake Peter Curtis Katie Frank Ben Franke Michael George Arieru Iwahori Daniel Jaffe Melodie Jeng Ruoyi Jiang Jennifer Kinney Katie Kline Kristina Knipe David Macedo Dennis Nazarov Maggie Owsley Thomas Prior Meredith Rom Calie Schieman Emily Shur Erin Wahed Michelle Watt Alison Wynn Pey Chuan Tan César Vega

FINANCIAL SUPERVISOR

Mia Torres COMMUNICATIONS TEAM

Jenny Eom Melodie Jeng Francis Poon Laura Stephenson FACULTY ADVISOR

Editha Mesina SPECIAL THANKS

Irene Cho Yolanda Cuomo Department of Photography & Imaging Danny Domingo Thomas Drysdale Michael Messina New York University Thomas Prior Emily Shur Tisch School of the Arts Tisch Undergraduate Student Council Deborah Willis

CONTENTS EDITOR’S LETTER

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CONTRIBUTORS

FOR (EMILY) SHUR

BY AARON KROL

BY ALISON WYNN

BY PEY CHUAN TAN

VIEWER EXPECTATIONS THE NEW FABRIC OF ABSTRACTION IT TAKES PICTURES

BY DEIRDRE HERING

BY JULIA PUGACHEVSKY

PETER CURTIS: MYTHOLOGIES REAL AND IMAGINED CÉSAR VEGA: THIS PROMISED LAND

BY JENNA SPITZ

KATIE KLINE: DIPTYCHS

THOMAS PRIOR: BLACKROCK TOWER + THE LONG COURSE THE GALLERY

BY PETER CURTIS

BY MICHAEL GEORGE

INTRODUCTION BY SASHA AURTYUNOVA & JENNA SPITZ

PHOTOFLO DIRECTORY

HOW TO SUBMIT

COVER Untitled (Alamogordo), César Vega INSIDE FRONT COVER Untitled, Dennis Nazarov INSIDE BACK COVER Untitled, Dennis Nazarov BACK COVER Train to L’Viv, Peter Curtis

ISO CONTENTS

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FOR (EMILY) SHUR

Glancing at Emily Shur’s portfolio can be daunting. Her photography encompasses a multiplicity of practices from commercial portraiture to personal landscapes. There is a wide breadth of work to take in. However, this depth is refreshing and often inspiring. Shur’s life and work interact complexly in different ways at different times. This multi-layered notion of artistic practice has allowed her to work between genres and to investigate a wide range of photography. PC: Your work varies from personal landscapes to celebrity portraits. What role does photography play in your life? ES: Photography plays many different roles in my life. It’s how I make art. It’s how I make a living. It keeps me sane and makes me crazy, all at the same time. Photography is an escape. It also makes me feel as though I belong somewhere. PC: How does a commercial shoot differ than a personal one (if at all)?

by Peter Curtis

ES: I don’t think the two could be more different if they tried. For me a commercial shoot is an artful blend of people skills, diplomacy, creativity, and technical know-how. Commercial shoots are not all about me or my opinion. The goal is to make everyone happy, including myself, and that has a lot to do with the photographer’s ability to quell anxieties and problem-solve on set. The client is always in the back of my mind on a commercial shoot. I need to make sure that I come away from any and all jobs with a usable and hopefully great image (or images) for the client’s purposes. That is the task at hand, and if I can do that, I have a better chance at getting hired again. Much of commercial work is about repeat business and building a good working relationship with clients.

both types of shooting. But the act of shooting is very different as well as the subject matter. There are virtually no people in my personal work, yet I make a living as a portrait photographer. So a big difference between the two types of work is also the fact that in one I have to deal with other people and their personalities, hang-ups, likes and dislikes. In the other I am usually wandering around with a camera on my shoulder or in the back seat of my car, sometimes not speaking to anyone all day. I quietly search for pictures to take, and that process is very relaxing for me. I’m always spending time by myself.

On the other hand, my personal work is all about me and my opinion. I’m not trying to please anyone but myself, which is why the work is so gratifying. I put similar pressures on myself in both my commercial and personal work, so there is a level of stress I associate with

ES: Technically, I usually look for a graphic composition and one that is hopefully not too cluttered – something pleasing to the eye. The quality of light must be photogenic and add to the image. On an emotional or intellectual level, it’s hard for me to

PC: Despite their different origins, your personal photographs describe a similar space. What do you look for when photographing?

describe specifically what I look for when photographing. I often gravitate towards situations that evoke some form of sadness within me, though I don’t think of my images as melancholy or depressing. I think that sadness, when illustrated well, can be very beautiful as well as truthful. PC: How did you start as a commercial photographer? ES: While I was at NYU, I interned for a couple years at a music magazine, and upon graduating in 1998, I got a job at a different music magazine. I was too nervous and scared to attempt a

career as a photographer at that point. I worked at that magazine for about a year and left after deciding that I should at least try to pursue my lifelong dream of being a working photographer. During my time working at magazines, I learned a lot about the industry. I looked at portfolios and saw how things worked within the magazine world. I met some of the photographers who shot for the magazine I worked for, and I would often ask if I could pick their brain about all things photo. I asked for their opinion on my work. I would also ask my bosses to check out my portfolio when they had some free time. At that

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point I realized it would take quite a bit of effort to elevate my work to the level of “professional photographer.” I worked hard to make my portfolio more commercial-friendly. I played around with strobes and took pictures of friends and acquaintances specifically with the mindset of putting together a portfolio with which I could get work. I would rent a darkroom and print for my book after I got off work. Eventually, I put together a portfolio good enough to begin showing to magazines. I started first with the contacts I already had from my jobs in photo departments at different magazines. I also dropped off my portfolio to pretty much every

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magazine in New York on their designated “drop-off days.” After much rejection and continual portfolio improvement, I finally booked a shoot. Then one more. Then another. And so on. I worked for very little money, sometimes for free. I took any shoot that anyone was willing to give me. I shot people, restaurants, objects, whatever. I was not picky. Meanwhile, I continued to work as a photo editor part-time at numerous magazines. I filled in for people a couple weeks here and there. I eventually scored a two-day-a-week job at Newsweek where I worked for a couple years until I left in the summer of 2001. That was my last office job, and I have been shooting full-time ever since. PC: What are your influences, photographic and otherwise? ES: The person who got me into photography initially is undoubtedly Irving Penn. One of the first photo books I ever purchased was Passage. I bought it when I was in high school, and I can safely say looking at that book changed the course of my life. Penn did everything well. He mastered virtually every facet of photography, from connecting with his subjects to becoming a master printer. My personal work, which is largely landscape based, is also influenced by the work and shooting philosophies of William Eggleston, Stephen Shore, and Richard Misrach. Other influences would probably be things I see in movies, while driving, or on my daily dog walks. Reading books is good, too.

PC: I read about your “fake plastic trees” project on your blog and was very excited, as there are a few of those towers near where I live in New Jersey. Where did the idea to document them originate and how did it develop? ES: I have been working on an ongoing body of work in Japan for the past five years or so, and I found I was inspired to shoot my personal work only when I was there or travelling outside of Los Angeles. I wanted to challenge myself and start a project here in L.A. In the past I have never been a project-oriented photographer. I usually shoot what interests me and edit the work into groups later on. I felt I needed to push myself and make a body of work that had a common theme other than place. I was in a bit of a photographic rut at the time and wanted to get excited about my images, so I went on a little hunt for an idea that would allow me to shoot in the way that I am comfortable, yet would still be different enough to challenge me. My husband came up with a bunch of potential ideas, and the one I responded to the most was shooting these cell phone towers that are disguised as trees. They are everywhere here in Southern California, and I thought that photographing them would be a great way for me to stay true to my way of shooting and still work on an ongoing project. I started with one near our house that I see everyday and moved on from there. In the beginning I wasn’t taking any pictures that I liked. But I kept at it and have now shot over thirty towers. This project has gotten more and more interesting to me as I’ve continued to work on it. What started as something I was kind of forcing myself to do has

become a project I really care about and am excited to finish and show to people. Having spent a decent amount of time on it at this point, I’m starting to think of the images as “future landscapes” and how specifically my generation’s overuse of technology has physically altered our current landscape. I needed to give myself an assignment, a deadline, and a goal. It had been a very long time since I did anything like that, and I’m glad I did. ■ Opening: Michael Cera (left) and Amanda Seyfried (right); Previous: Rikugien Garden (Tokyo, Japan); Opposite: Picnic Table (Queenstown, New Zealand)

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ISO FALL 2009

VIEWER EXPECTATIONS by Aaron Krol

In 1909, the photographer Sergei Mikhailovich Prokudin-Gorskii set out to document the daily lives of ordinary Russians across the vast expanse of the Tsar’s dominion. The expedition, conducted under the auspices of Nicholas II, who provided passes to restricted regions of the Empire and a specially-converted railroad car to house Prokudin-Gorskii’s darkroom, continued on and off until 1915 and yielded thousands of photographs, over two thousand of which have survived to the present day. These photographs were taken in full color.

Overnight Camp by a Rock on the Bank of the Chusovaia River, Sergei Prokudin-Gorskii (1912)

I never really thought about the history of color photography before I saw the Prokudin-Gorskii portraits. If pressed I would have admitted that color film must have been possible by 1939 at the latest, just in time to produce The Wizard of Oz. Nevertheless, my impression of the world before 1960 was that it was inhabited largely by mopey beige figures huddled against sepia backgrounds. On the superficial level, I knew that we always existed in full color, but there is a profound difference between knowing something and actually seeing it physically represented. I found these early color photographs fascinating and unsettling all at once. It’s difficult to pinpoint what is so jarring about the Prokudin-Gorskii images. The dated clothing is a part of it, forcing the viewer to realize that fashion in the age of the Homburg was not monochrome – and, more importantly, that a man in a sack coat could still stand against a

blue sky. The more unexpected colors contribute as well. It is one thing to observe that a man’s jacket is brown, quite another to find that the humdrum mug in his hand is a striking navy blue. But the greatest surprise was the ease with which I could place myself behind the eyes of the subjects now that their world was as colorful as mine. Suddenly, the past didn’t seem so distant and unreachable a world in ProkudinGorskii’s photos as it did in the wellknown monochromatic snapshots of the Great Depression, World War II, or even 1950s suburbia – a time and place that should have been much more familiar than pre-Soviet Russia. The Russian Empire may not have had televisions or long neckties, but its grass was every bit as green as mine. I tried to imagine myself inhabiting the body of a Russian soldier, observing the scene from the inside, and found, to my astonishment, that I could. This was something I could never achieve with a Dorothea Lange. Prokudin-Gorskii used his own, patented technique of color photography, which he developed in stages between 1902 and 1906. However, several methods of capturing images in color have existed since James Clerk Maxwell’s experiments in 1861. Most of these early processes involved shooting three separate slides through different filters to capture the additive red, green, and blue tones, then projecting them on top of one another. Others utilized the subtractive colors cyan, magenta, and yellow that form the basis of most color photography today or emulsions of silver chloride that

react to different frequencies of light waves. All of these techniques require long exposure times, usually resulting in three separate shots. This prohibited action photography and resulted in an abundance of still life photography. Furthermore, bulky, specialized cameras were unavailable to most photographers not involved in color experiments, and elaborate projection equipment made viewing the results an awkward process. Thus, the early color photographic process proved mostly to be a failure. These initial experimental photographs also tended to fade rapidly; reports of successful efforts as early as 1840 are therefore difficult to substantiate. Prokudin-Gorskii’s method was not immune to these limitations: the collection of his images available today have been digitally recreated from his original negative plates. My experience of viewing ProkudinGorskii’s collection relies more on my expectations than to the images themselves: perhaps in one hundred years when three dimensional rendering is the norm, two dimensional photographs from our era will seem distant and impenetrable the way black and white photographs do now. For all the discussion that goes on about photography and truth, our expectations are never concrete, and it is startling when we get more than we are prepared for. Prokudin-Gorskii’s mission was to compile a record of life in his time for Russian schoolchildren of the future, and he recognized that the best technology would produce the most accurate record. The photographers

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of today might consider what their medium doesn’t adequately capture – movement, dimension – and bear in mind that this is what will make their work seem otherworldly to the audiences of the future. Is the moving image already making us feel less involved with the still moments we see photographed? If a photographer aims to produce a jarring sense of realism, he might imagine the visual desires of future viewers and from there transcend the expecations of how an era should be depicted. The real lesson, I suppose, is for the audience that looks to photographs to define the past. As viewers, we’ve been taught to be wary of what the photographer intentionally did not capture, but we rarely consider what is beyond his ability to convey. The truth is that a photograph is not inherently any more or less honest than a painting, a novel, a scrap of graffiti, or any other medium. It is a fragment, limited by the creator’s intention and, most of all, the limits of the medium itself. To look to photographs for the most accurate impression of the past is to neglect the fact that even in a world of tonal greys, the sky has always been blue. ■

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THE NEW FABRIC OF ABSTRACTION by Alison Wynn

CONTEMPORARY IRANIAN PHOTOGRAPHY IN PARIS

November is “Photo Month” in Paris, a celebration of the medium’s birthplace. It’s hard not to lose oneself in the endless mass of exhibitions crowding the streets and gallery spaces. Walking along the Seine, I came upon an exhibition of photographs planted right on the sidewalk. The culprit: Musée du Quai Branly, which is famous for its collection of African masks and tribal art. Quai Branly is certainly not the first space that comes to mind when I am looking to visit a phenomenal photo exhibition, but I was luckily persuaded by an oddly enthusiastic Parisian to see the Iranian photography show inside.

Musée du Quai Branley, Alison Wynn

I entered the dark ambiance of the gallery, an atmosphere meticulously engineered by architect Jean Nouvel. While a gloomy environment works wonders in the darkroom, it is less effective when looking for a photo exhibit among shadows cast by ancient masks and sculptures. Though difficult to find, I located the exhibition, 165 Years of Iranian Photography, floating on a platform above the arts of Asia and Oceania. The gallery established a historical context for the exhibit by installing two paintings from the Qajar dynasty of nineteenth-century Iran. These portraits were frontal depictions of wealthy aristocrats, rendered in a manner reminiscent of early Italian Renaissance portraiture. The single-subject oil paint portrait originated in the Occident, just like the photograph. This being the

case, the first images mounted in the exhibition were not taken by an Iranian, but by Antoine Sevruguin, the son of a Russian diplomat who was one of the first photographers to work in Iran. Sevruguin’s images depict Iranians, quite literally, through a Western lens. However, this iconographic style was abandoned for the rest of the exhibition. The next series of photographs jumped to the 1960s, leaving me wondering what had occurred in the photographic world in Iran for 80 years after Sevruguin introduced the photograph as art object. What followed was a string of violent documentary images from the Iranian Revolution of 19781979 and from the war between Iraq and Iran during the 1980s. The images of war were powerful but few; a tumultuous apex preceding a series of later contemporary photographs. The photographs of crowds in football stadiums, families, soldiers, cityscapes and abstractions provided an unanticipated shock of color after such an abundant collection of somber black and white prints. The synthesis of rich visual history and digital innovation was particularly striking in the compositions of Rana Javadi and Sadegh Tirafkan, who both chose to incorporate imagery of fabric in their photographs. Javadi’s work, When You Were Dying (2008), depicts brightly colored silks framing elegant portraits of women. In Sadegh Tirafkan’s Multitude series (2008), a vibrant fabric is woven into the

content of the photograph, replacing the individual garments and the spaces between bodies in a crowd. I was compelled to consider the thematic implications of the work which in this case was the juxtaposition of fabric and image, which represents more than just a combination of materials. The works of Javadi and Tirafkan illustrate the union of two different artistic media, the textile and the photograph. In Iranian tradition, the textile is not only decorative, but is also considered an important mode of artistic expression because it is more relatable to Iranian culture than the stoic portraits of aristocrats. The depiction of textiles in the photographs is not simply an allusion to texture or decoration; it is an echo of historically significant methods of representation. This bold amalgam of ancient and modern traditions is an innovative example of an emerging visual conversation triggered by digital technology and harnessed by young Iranian artists. In this new method of representation, the photograph coupled with the tangibility of the cloth become part of a whole image, referencing the flexibility of the medium itself. Javadi’s work subverts the traditional posed portrait by interlacing it with other images. In a similar fashion, Tirafkan’s series creates a visual comparison between the tightly-woven bodies of the crowd and the delicate threads of the silk, which lends itself to contemplation far beyond the “fabric of society.”

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The photography of Javadi and Tirafkan initiates a reflection on notions of surface and substance, reality and representation. They use individual images in the same manner as a painter uses oil paint, using photographs instead of pigments to create expressive forms. In an almost alchemic manner, layered traces of different realities fuse to create a powerful image. A new kind of photography has emerged, a blend of multiple media stitched together with invisible thread. ■

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IT TAKES PICTURES

by Pey Chuan Tan

Top: Untitled, Pey Chuan Tan; Bottom: Untitled, Pey Chuan Tan

It’s Friday night and I’m at a friend’s dinner party in her studio apartment. Platters of finger food, empty beer bottles, and crumpled Dixie cups are scattered across the cramped coffee table. Nestled within the mess are two or three disposable cameras, each neatly wrapped in paper packaging: Walgreens, Kodak, CVS. As the end of the night approaches, I overhear some confusion as to whom each camera belongs to, an issue that would have never occurred with a regular camera. Not only are disposable cameras a physical throwaway, but the transience of the moments captured makes them a perfect visual tool for recording life’s impermanence and imperfections. The simple photographic box, preloaded with a single roll of 35mm film, provides convenience in situations where a camera may be easily stolen, lost or damaged. Growing up, the opportunity to use a disposable camera arose only on poorly planned, last minute family holidays when someone neglected to pack the regular camera. My father would grudgingly purchase a couple of the overpriced photographic contraptions from gift shops, and we would embark on a zealous point-and-shoot spree. Weeks later, we would gather at the dining table to review 4” x 6” prints of photographs taken in haste, while my mother and aunt would lament the fact that the disposable lacked the necessary technology to accurately portray the magnificent views of wherever we had gone sightseeing, and that one of us should have remembered to grab that Olympus Stylus film camera (with “Epic Zoom” function) from home. In the most basic sense, the disposable

represents a functional device for the photographic layman. And in a more aesthetic sense, it presents a lo-fi alternative to digital technology. The cheap plastic lenses, questionable film quality, and fixed focal length of the single-use camera make it popular with those who gravitate towards the lessthan-perfect style of photography. This isn’t a new visual current per se; the “disposable” aesthetic is a self-reflexive art, referencing the documentary-style works of Nan Goldin, perhaps even the raw, overexposed fashion spreads by Juergen Teller and Terry Richardson. The ease of point-and-shoot, coupled with the low cost processing, compels us to document every detail of our lives, inane as they may be to the outside world. The result is an autobiographical photographic story, guided effortlessly by intuition and a disregard for photographic pretense. It’s a peculiar throwback to no-frills, snapshot photography, that plays upon the amateur handiwork of our family albums. Each roll of film developed from a disposable camera brings an element of surprise; the prints are a mixed bag of joy and disappointment, an ode to life’s hit-and-misses. Awkward as they may be, the photographs possess a fair amount of magnetism - there is something romantic about the overexposed frames, over-saturated colors, and the unexpected glare and lens flare that make the inspection of these haphazard pictures so unexpectedly fun. The harsh flash of each exposure releases itself simultaneously with the split second that a singular memory forms in our minds; and conveys that impression with the visual accuracy of straight

photography. It’s this idea of chance and the unexpected that beckons us to take a closer look at what comes back from the photo processor. Often, what makes or breaks these otherwise unremarkable prints is the verity of the personal details. What you see is what you get – maybe a little speck of dust on the upper right corner or your mother’s finger blurring half of the frame. While the disposable may not boast the clarity of a thousand mega pixels, it definitely has the uncanny ability to magnify the details we remember best. In an era where so many images have become part-photo and partPhotoshop, the disposable provides the opportunity to create simple, impressionistic images. Quite literally, it’s a straight shooter, going to the heart of the matter and capturing subjects with minimal fuss. More than just a party accessory, it has become the perfect medium for the “decisive moments” of our generation, appealing to us with an arresting honesty that’s so hard to come by these days. ■

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FEATURED ARTIST

ISO KATIE KLINE

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FEATURED ARTIST

DIPTYCHS KATIE KLINE by Jenna Spitz

Our travels from place to place, day to day, do not announce their significance all at once. Because we do not know our purpose, we are constantly creating metaphors. When we look back at the frames we shoot everyday, we find the patterns that define our curiosities, our styles, and our stories. Photographer Katie Kline is inspired by a myriad of influences, including surf-culture, sustainable living, ukulele music, beer, quilting, sightseeing, and cats among many other animals. Her passions may serve as metaphors for her work: Kline’s ongoing diptych series is a quilt of vibrant color and echoing shapes. Her subjects are both intimate and universal. Since graduating from Tisch in 2005, Kline makes use of her vacation time to travel from coast to coast, visiting family and photographing familiar surroundings. With an eye for the idiosyncratic, she compiles humorous, heartwarming diptychs that are as refreshing as a cold one on a hot day. JS: How would you describe your work? KK: It’s intended to reflect postcards. Quick observations of saturated color, striking shapes, and dramatic light. I photograph to remember a combination of time, place, and feeling, and to share some of the humor and magic of everyday life.

JS: Your diptychs bring a fresh perspective to commonplace subject matter. The images are spontaneous but not incidental. Do you have any particular influences?

when they moved in, left over from the previous tenants. I’m drawn to how people arrange objects in their living spaces. Objects continually fascinate me.

KK: I am a constant observer. I’m often distracted and bemused by movies, memories, postcards, snapshots, windows, scrapbooks, picture books, textiles, and animation. In terms of other image-makers my heroes include Martin Parr, David Graham, Stephen Shore, Graciela Iturbide, Mitch Epstein, Robert Frank, and Jeff Mermelstein. Many of my influences round out my imagination and artistic aspiration.

JS: All of your work is titled by location, providing general context to the images while leaving the content up for interpretation. I like how this fits in with the postcard aesthetic. How do you relate to the locations you photograph?

JS: Do you share Martin Parr’s affinity for kitsch? KK: Most certainly. I am an avid collector and I’ve frequented flea markets since high school. Parr’s Postcards and Objects books are great. I always enjoy observing what people choose to collect, hoard, and sell. When I first started photographing, I loved documenting found still-lives in flea markets and garage sales. JS: I like the ceramic owl in Brooklyn, NY / Birmingham, MI. It’s great. KK: That owl is in my friend’s backyard in Williamsburg, but I like how it looks like it could be anywhere. It was there

KK: I grew up in Los Angeles, and moved to New York having never visited before, when I started at NYU at age 18. All my photos are taken during my day-to-day life in New York and during visits to my family in the West and the Midwest. I’m more inclined to photograph when I’m less distracted by busyness. When I photograph in New York it’s often when I explore new corners of the city on weekends, holidays, or during the summer. I’ve returned to Southern California, the Oregon Coast, the suburbs of Detroit, Texas, Brooklyn, and Fire Island multiple times, but I rarely go specifically on photographic excursions. I almost always photograph while spending time with the people I love. My relationships with friends and family tie my images together, and most of the subjects included in my diptychs are the places where they take me.

ISO KATIE KLINE

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FEATURED ARTIST

JS: Many serious photographers like to carry pocket cameras with them day-to-day, but you photograph almost exclusively with inexpensive point-andshoots. KK: I found while I was a student at Tisch that using an Olympus Stylus Epic freed me to photograph instinctively without over-thinking the medium. Since 2004, I’ve been collecting 35mm point-and-shoots and now use a combination of the Olympus, Leica Minilux, and Contax T3. Shooting with pocket cameras is always a bit of a gamble. I guess I like that. It helps me make a lot of quick, instinctive shots to up my odds. I make sure to get 4” x 6” prints every time I process a roll, and I like to collect and arrange them in thrift store photo albums or shoeboxes. I’ve never been all that interested in the technical aspects of shooting. I much prefer the results. JS: So how did this project begin? KK: The diptychs are a new twist on an ongoing project. I’ve always liked how my images communicate in clusters. I’m not a photographer who makes large, individual images. I’ve never made a print larger than 11” x 14”. While working for Sylvia Plachy in 2008, I was deeply inspired by how she shows work from throughout her career in diptychs and triptychs. I then started grouping

my photos. I showed my images to a few friends and family to help recognize the matches. I need fresh eyes to help with my edits. It’s like when you’re working on a jigsaw puzzle for hours, can’t find a piece, then someone walks by and in seconds puts one in the correct spot. JS: Do your pairings tell a story? KK: Almost every image or diptych tells a story, but I think the stories are all much more mundane than the images themselves. I really like how my photographs make my life seem a little more interesting than it actually is. This is where I’d like the viewer to create the story. My titles encourage this openended narrative. JS: As a viewer, I’d say your life looks pretty interesting. KK: Thanks! I’m pretty pleased with it. JS: You’ve only used film for this project. What makes you stick to the medium? KK: I’ve never been content with my work any other way. I need to shoot film to force myself to trust my instincts. I like the film process partly because it was the way I was taught, and the way I fell in love with photography. JS: You’ve been working at the

International Center of Photography (ICP) for almost two and a half years now. How does that environment influence you? KK: The way my work at ICP inspires my life and artistic practice is incredible. I can’t imagine doing anything else. I started as an intern and now I work in the Community Programs department as Coordinator of the Teen Academy Program, where we offer black-and-white darkroom courses to high school students from diverse backgrounds. I’m inspired daily by their curiosity and enthusiasm for photography, art, and life. I was introduced to the power of community art-based projects through the Community Collaborations course at Tisch. Ever since then, it has felt right for me to work with young people who are interested in the medium, eager to learn, and may not otherwise be exposed to opportunities in the arts. JS: Do you have fond memories of Tisch? KK: Yes, the Photo Department at Tisch changed my life. I met many of my closest friends there, and continue to stay in touch with a number of students and professors. I visit the department whenever I can and consider it a home away from home.

ISO KATIE KLINE

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JS: Sylvia Plachy said that when you string images together in an essay, a show, or a book, the groupings become “more than the sum of their parts.” In relation to your experience making diptychs, is that about right? KK: Sylvia is so brilliant! I completely agree, and it certainly resonates with my work. My process of collecting, matching, and re-arranging really describes who I am as a person and an artist. I also like how the quote can be applied to quilt making, an art and craft passed onto me by my mother. Quilting is another creative process I really enjoy. JS: Your wit shines through your work. Where did you get your sense of humor? KK: My father’s most frequent and accurate criticism of movies is, “There weren’t enough jokes.” He has worked in animation my entire life and introduced me to comedy at a young age. I always thank my father and my brother for my sense of humor. JS: There are only two portraits in the project, but most of your compositions imply a human presence. Do you often photograph people? How do they figure into the diptychs? KK: It’s much harder to photograph

people and be able to control the feel of the image. I am more drawn to spaces inhabited by people and what a setting can imply about them. Objects and private environments are telling of personal interests, experiences, and involvements. I only recently started photographing friends and family, and I rather like some of these images. I’m surrounded by such creative characters in my life - I hope they all can wiggle their way into my work. JS: Your subjects are much more intimate than, say, in Martin Parr’s photographs. In diptychs like Palm Desert, CA / Brooklyn, NY, you juxtapose classic postcard subjects with intimate encounters. How does your own personal remembrance evoke a universal feeling? What makes images like these, ones that we will all remember? KK: I like how that portrait is classically framed and lit in a universally known setting, the restaurant booth. The subject’s expression is both ambiguous and direct. I think everyone has faced her at some point in his or her life – just like the sunset. JS: What’s your opinion on postcard sunsets? KK: I think they’re great. I can’t get enough. I almost like them better than

the real thing because they are portable and sharable. Film documented sunsets are simpler than digital and I think more painterly. That quality is nice. JS: Your color palette reminds me of old Kodachrome photographs. I see a resemblance to Mitch Epstein’s colors of the 1970’s and ‘80’s, and to images in old family albums. What does your mother say about your photographs? KK: My mother loves when I shoot film and print in the darkroom. She far prefers c-prints to inkjet. I use Fuji Superia Xtra 400 speed color negative film (and recommend it to my students) because you can buy it at the drugstore and the color is always great. Since I hardly ever shoot portraits, skin tone and “natural” color really isn’t that important to me. I much prefer saturation – I want the image to reflect what I remember from the moment I photographed, which is usually brighter and bolder than it may have actually appeared. ■

Intro: Brooklyn, NY / Birmingham, MI. and La Crescenta, CA / Fort Worth, TX; Opening: Crescent City, CA / Riverdale, NY; Previous: Palm Desert, CA / New York, NY; Opposite: Palm Desert, CA / Brooklyn, NY

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MYTHOLOGIES REAL AND IMAGINED

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“Photographs, I think, give people an emotional response that they can connect with a rough tangible idea.” PETER CURTIS

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by Deirdre Hering

PETER CURTIS In the summer of 2008, Tisch photography student Peter Curtis crossed an ocean and found a family. Separated by the trials of World War II, his grandfather moved to the United States to escape Soviet rule while his brothers chose to remain in the Ukraine. It was a decision that divided a family for two generations. One plane ride was all it took for the people that he once knew only through photographs and stories to quickly come alive. For two weeks, he witnessed the country through their eyes, heard their stories straight from their lips, and documented every step of his experience. The resulting photographs leave nothing to be desired; from portraits, to still lives, to documented moments, Curtis captured it all, giving the series a heavy sense of corporeality. It is as if the trip exists in our memory as much as it does for him. The quiet car trips, the danger of a flash flood, the nervousness that accompanies a meal shared with a family of strangers;

all exist simultaneously within the series, but for Curtis it’s not enough. With plans to further expand the series, he assures that its strength will lie in its ability to communicate both his family’s story and that of Ukraine itself. “To do this,” says Curtis, “I need to return to Ukraine.” DH: Did you intend to turn your trip to Ukraine into a series from the start? PC: I didn’t intend for the trip to be a series, and I think it shows in how different all of the photographs are. I brought a lot of film in case I was compelled to photograph, which I was. Even now, I separate the Ukraine pictures from the rest of my photographs more because their association with a specific place and time complicates them more than their differences from other photographs I’ve taken. DH: Was there a language barrier to overcome? If so, how did that affect the series? PC: I don’t speak Ukrainian, and only understand very rudimentary phrases. While I was there I learned to read a bit better. I was traveling with my mother who is fluent, so communication wasn’t hopeless. That said, I never really talk when photographing. The only time it became an issue was when I had to ask people to pose for formal portraits such as the couple in their garden. Even then I don’t like to tell models or subjects what to do. I like them to relax and pose themselves, and then I look for the right moment to take the picture. DH: Does working with family members change your process at all? Were you reluctant to capture scenes or ask things of your family that you wouldn’t normally think twice about with a stranger? PC: I don’t think so, but that partially has to do with what I would think to photograph in general. I don’t like taking advantage of people with my camera. DH: The images in this series run the gamut from documentary, to portrait, to still-life. What sorts of subjects were you drawn to?

PC: I don’t know; I don’t think much at all when I am taking pictures. I came back with all kinds of pictures of all kinds of things. I took formal portraits and snapshots of my family, street photographs, landscapes. One recurring theme that didn’t make a final edit was stray dogs, I found myself photographing stray dogs often. DH: There is a tangible sense of separation between you and your subjects in this series; many portraits were either taken at a distance or when the subject was least expecting it. Is this a stylistic effort or a result of your separation from your family? PC: I guess it was a function of my alienation. Although I also think it was a function of the way I photograph. I like to place subjects in large compositions and the resulting effect, I think, is that viewers are more aware of my presence in taking the photograph.

DH: I first saw your photographs before I learned what they were about. They are wholly capable of standing alone, but they take on a whole new meaning when viewed in the context of your experience. How big of a role does narrative play in your process? PC: I’m not sure how big a role the narrative aspect of photography plays for me. I mean, I don’t want people to really get the same sentiment from my photographs that they would from an artist statement. Photographs, I think, give people an emotional response that they can connect with a rough tangible idea. So knowing that these were pictures I took in Ukraine with my family, viewers could perceive my consciousness while there and perhaps draw some conclusions based on that connection. DH: You had just fourteen days to connect with a family you had never known and document it in a meaningful way. Were you ever worried that you were

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missing out on chances for real interaction because of your desire to document the trip?

those who know it best. Did they compel you towards subjects that you wouldn’t normally photograph?

PC: Photographing for me has always been a real way of interacting, not just as removed sort of documentation. When I took portraits of my family members, the interaction often made us closer, and gave us things to talk about.

PC: No, I mean, ultimately I photograph from my perspective—which was broadened by meeting my family.

DH: How active of a role did your family members play in the series? Were they self-conscious in front of the camera or eager to be captured? PC: Some of them, like Uri and Natalia (the couple in the garden) were self conscious; others less so. I don’t know how eager they were to be photographed, but most were happy about it. DH: You had the unique, dual experience of being a complete stranger in a foreign place with the advantage of seeing Ukraine through the eyes of

DH: You mention that in order to complete the series, you need to return to Ukraine and continue what you started in the summer of 2008. But as of right now, what have you learned from your experience, both about your family and the mythology of Ukraine? PC: I think the experience has helped me get to know family members and their lives. And to see the country. Those are rather obvious and simple but they provide a counter weight to the stories and histories that I heard from my family here for most of my life. ■

Opening spread: My Mom in Uri’s Car; Previous: Bus (left) and Bridge Collapse (right); Opposite: Dinner; This page: Uri and Natalia (top) and At Uri’s House (bottom)

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THIS PROMISED LAND

“It was, in part, a need to conjure up my own definition of what America actually is.”

CÉSAR VEGA

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by Julia Pugachevsky

CÉSAR VEGA For decades, every inch of America has been inspected, with every shadowy corner illuminated by the flash of a camera in a quest to pin it down and rip it open. Continual exposure of the diverse elements of our nation seems to spoil the surprise.

but by revealing the undulating landscapes and endless skies. Ultimately, America through Vega’s lens becomes a palette of color in negative space, a mesmerizing abstraction that catapults the observer across the vast landscape itself.

However, looking through César Vega’s photographic journey in This Promised Land, it becomes clear that the secret to maintaining mystery lies, ironically, in the bareness of the work. Instead of relying on shadows and portraits to tell a story, Vega does something a bit different—he tells his story of traveling the country through bright and boundless landscapes. In this world, people play a diminutive role—the emphasis lies in the land itself, rather than what people interpret it to be. Suddenly, it is the environment that takes control of the viewer, not by dictating what to feel or think,

JP: How did the series begin, and what were you hoping to explore with these photographs? CV: The series began as a need to travel around the United States to get a better idea of what was really out there. It was, in part, a need to conjure up my own definition of what America actually is. We all seem to have ideas of what that means, I just needed to do some fact-checking. The resulting photographs are the way I witnessed and defined it. JP: The series is titled This Promised Land. Why? CV: I grew up in Miami, Florida, a city made up mostly of immigrants who abandoned their patria for the promise of more to come, of opportunity and advancement. The funny thing is that I picked the title before I’d even started photographing. It always seemed to be the right name. I really feel that’s what this nation represents for millions of immigrants and I felt it when I went out to see what this promised land has to offer. JP: Your collection combines both landscapes expanding to the horizon and everyday places such as public swimming pools and factories. What did you intend by the clash of subject matter, and how are all these images interrelated? CV: I don’t know that they necessarily clash, the two. Collectively, the variety

of images works towards illustrating the whole, filling in blanks where the others can’t. They are interrelated in the fact that they all, to some extent, describe the same place. JP: In your work, there is a strong emphasis on sunlight and well-lit settings. There’s a sort of bareness to your work, letting the mystery lie more in the subject matter. Why is that? CV: As a photographer I am naturally attracted to spectacular light and I’m certainly not unique in that regard. A moment draped with very delicate and beautiful light also plays the role of a pedestal, it makes the moment more exceptional and attractive to me. I also tend to work somewhat slowly which has lent itself to quieter frames that allow me to focus on more subtle aspects, it’s not necessarily a choice I’ve made, it’s the way I work. JP: The photographs of vast landscapes and expansive skies are beautiful, but also a bit intimidating in their expansiveness. What moods do these photos evoke in you? CV: It’s difficult to avoid the landscape in America. It’s also a comforting way of defining America, very exciting actually. I quickly realized that America was not all that different from the rest of the world. To me, these landscapes are almost an alphabet I could use to define any other country or landmass across the globe. They’re sort of building blocks that you could rearrange and alter slightly. JP: Whenever people are part of the shot, they appear small in comparison to their surroundings. What is the purpose of this? CV: People seemed insignificant to me. They certainly explained a lot of what I saw but I didn’t want to rely on them to define the places I visited. You can

find quirky and off people everywhere and every country has them in some form or another. I was more interested in the way the people had chosen to develop their space and define their landscape. It’s a more efficient and direct way of viewing what’s truly unique about these places since to some extent I am trying to exalt the lack of unique-ness, their universality. JP: Is there a particular artist or work that influenced this series? Or was it inspired more by personal experience? CV: It was definitely fueled by my personal experiences in Nicaragua and some lack of “American” experiences whilst growing up in Miami. JP: Some of the places you’ve photographed, such as hotels and swimming pools are more or less ordinary settings. What struck you about these places that made you want to capture them?

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CV: It was the familiarity of these places that made them clear choices to me. We all have our ideas of what these places look like, what they mean, their significance. They were an effective way of translating America into terms most anyone could comprehend and relate to.

JP: Upon embarking on this project, did you have a set destination and route or did you just photograph as you went along?

JP: Out of your whole experience photographing the country, which place is the most memorable or special to you?

CV: There were certain places that I knew I would stop for the project. I used them as a loose structure for the rest of my stops. Everything in between was a bit impromptu, sometimes going out of the way to explore certain places.

CV: I would say the Northwest was most memorable. There were a few places I witnessed there at odd hours that were more stunning than I could have fathomed.

JP: Is there any place in particular you missed during your tour of the country and wished you could have photographed?

CV: I didn’t spend any time in New England. My greatest wish is to spend more time photographing, there are too many places I missed and even some of the places I did visit deserve more time than I could afford them. ■

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Opening spread: Untitled (Shiprock); Previous-left: Untitled (Badlands); Previous-right: Untitled (Traverse City) Opposite: Untitled (Chicago); This page: Untitled (Barton Spring)

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BLACKROCK TOWER +

THE LONG COURSE

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THOMAS PRIOR

“I like people awkward and landscapes ordered.” THOMAS PRIOR

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FEATURED PROFESSIONAL

by Michael George

THOMAS PRIOR Throughout the world there are places where people go to let loose— leisure spots to relieve stress, to breathe. Some seek release in calming activities like fishing, biking, or sitting on a beach. Others seek the anticipation of freefalling into freezing cold water or driving at a breakneck speed where the world becomes nothing but an abstraction of forms and color. Thomas Prior photographs those with a thirst for adrenaline. A bit of a wanderer himself, Prior travels between locales, never making any deep connections. He observes quietly and leaves no traceable relations except for those between photographer and distant subject. His latest travels included stops in Bonneville, Utah, where the salt flats have become famous for the infinite terrain fit for high-speed drag racing, and in Salthill, Ireland, where Blackrock Tower reels in anyone looking to take an icy plunge. Many photographers immerse themselves into subcultures for the experience, falling deep into the lifestyles of others and transforming their own character in order to more accurately reveal the culture from within. Prior discovers the magic in short-lived adventure where he chooses to remain an

observer. His images are reactive, as if he photographs a dance without knowing the choreography. The work provides a raw, momentary view that combines the wonderment of a snapshot with the quality and vision of someone looking for something just a little bit more. MG: Tell me a bit about these projects. TP: I guess it takes me a long time to change habits. I want to move into a more straight documentary area but have always concentrated on one-off single moments. Recently, I went to Utah and Ireland to practice looking at specific places and how people use them. Both of these places were chosen because I had been to them before and they both left a mark on me. I remember thinking, “I’m coming back here.” I want to do a few more of these types of projects (1-2 weeks… never getting involved deeply with the people) and develop them into a condensed portfolio. Later I want to do a project I’ve been thinking of that will take much longer and be more about individuals and places. I have one trip planned in January and one trip planned in February of 2010. Both are places I’ve never been, I want to see how I’ll approach them compared to a known place. I never want to convey a message or theorize too much. I just react and try not to think. I wasted a lot of time in my 20’s… living… and now have a new fire to explore and spend all my savings and shoot as much as I can and see if I can somehow eek a living out of it. MG: Both locations you’ve chosen to document are gathering points for a specific activity. Both have to do with thrill-seeking and adventurous types. Is that one of the reasons you were attracted to the locations? Was there anything more specific that drew you back after your original visit? TP: It was a mixture of the super dedicated people and beautiful open landscapes. I remembered the changing light and engine noise of Bonneville, Utah.

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Starting at about 4pm in summer the light changes by the minute all the way till dark after 10pm. Blackrock diving tower is such a cool structure, out there on that pier all by itself, and it’s so un-Americanly dangerous. The locations are simple yet not at all boring. They’re visually incredible but made more amazing by humans. MG: When you say these people are dedicated do you mean they’re constant… Always there? TP: I think more like personality. It takes a specific personality type to jump into freezing water when the weather is super shitty. It takes a specific personality type to risk death and drive super fast. It’s fun being around people that are passionate about what they do.

MG: What benefits are there to these short-term engagements? Some documentary photographers say you should live with your subject for a few weeks before you even take a photograph. What would you say to that? TP: I shot most of the good photos in the first 3 or 4 days of each project. I wanted to get quick impressions of each location with fresh eyes, react to a situation, put interesting stuff on film, and then move on. Next year I want to start a long term project where the subject will be more important than the place, so in that scenario, it will help to slow down and study a little more. These projects are like fun little sketches, a kind of warm up.

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MG: Perhaps it is the opposite then, there’s more charm in the innocence before you really know a person or a place. Do you think your long-term project will replace these sketches? TP: I plan on doing short projects for a long time. I’ll probably take the best of the best and combine it all later. I have no idea how my long-term project is going to turn out. There’s tons of variables I have yet to work on so I don’t know how that’s gonna go. MG: Your images show the elderly in both locations doing things we might normally associate with youth. You also mentioned you feel like you wasted a lot of time and are trying to change that way of living. Is this attraction an appreciation for others who continue to “live” even after they’ve reached a certain age? TP: The elderly thing is mostly coincidence. The drivers happened to be old guys who are retired drag

racers and ex-fighter pilots. Little kids use the diving tower in Ireland and then the same bunch of old guys come every day. The water is freezing cold, and the wind is brutal, so you don’t see many teens or middleaged people. Maybe subconsciously I was attracted to these old dudes living it up, but it was also just cool to see a crusty old timer go 400 mph. Maybe “waste time” was the wrong way to put it... I waited around for stuff to happen, and now that I’m getting older, the itch to move forward is so much stronger. MG: The Long Course images have a rugged masculinity (smoking, cars, motorcycles, the subject’s intensely aged faces). But you also have these men caught in awkward moments. TP: That kind of awkwardness is what I naturally react to. I like people awkward and landscapes ordered. This style runs through all of my photos and it’s how I’ve always made pictures.

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MG: A lot of contemporary photographers are attracted to that awkwardness. It feels the most like a moment. TP: Yeah I agree. MG: Do you ever form deeper relationships with your subjects? Are your interactions as short lived as your experience in documenting? TP: The only deep photographic relationships I’ve had in the past have been with my Dad and brother. My interactions were short for a reason. With this project I was looking for good representatives…a broad view of the types of people using each landscape… the individual, and my relationship to them, wasn’t as important. I was trying to get the gist of a place in just a few portraits. I have a few more trips planned to similar bizarre recreational spots, where I will do the same types of investigations, and later on down the road, I’ll edit them into a book.

MG: Do you go on these ventures alone? TP: Yes I go alone. There’s no real significance to going alone... I like being alone... I can’t think when other people are around. I have mind-numbing patience and move at my own pace, spending as little, or as long as I like in a certain place. MG: Other than all of these future projects do you plan/want to break away from the fashion scene you’ve assisted on for quite sometime and focus on personal work/a commercial portfolio? TP: I have no idea what I’m gonna do in the future. I’m leaving all my doors open...I just want to keep taking pictures. ■

ISO THE GALLERY

THE GALLERY a note from the photo editors In our waking lives, we perceive magical and mysterious things. When we venture out into the world, our own feet can feel unsteady beneath us. We begin to question whether we are flying or falling, sinking or emerging, sleeping or standing wide awake. Imagery propels us to places where weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve never been and places we may never see for ourselves. In order to share these puzzling sights, ISO is featuring a selection of student work that surrounds the theme of mystique. SASHA ARUTYUNOVA JENNA SPITZ

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Untitled #2 from the Buried series, Calie Schieman

Opening spread: Pat, Michael George

Metallic Bodies, Shraddha Borawake

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Untitled, Beryl Bevilacque

Previous: Untitled, Daniel Jaffe; Opposite: Family Portraits, Arieru Iwahori

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Untitled from the Iceland series, Maggie Owsley

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Untitled from the Iceland series, Maggie Owsley

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Untitled, Kristina Knipe

Previous: Parkour, Ben Franke

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Suite for Euterpe and Melpomene, Michelle Watt

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Untitled (Prague), Sasha Arutyunova

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Somewhere, Melodie Jeng

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Oklahoma, Storm Clouds, Jennifer Kinney

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Untitled, Ruoyi Jiang

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Thereâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Never Anything Good On, David Macedo

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Untitled #1, #2, and #3, Erin Wahed

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Dr. Seuss Hands and Catharsis, Katie Frank

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Untitled #1 from Buried series, Calie Schieman

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Castaway, Alex Arbuckle

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Bonnaroo, Meredith Rom

Next spread: Untitled, Kay Ohta

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ISO PHOTOFLO

70 PHOTOGRAPHERS

COLLABORATIONS

PORTFOLIOS

GALLERIES

AGENCIES

www.justinvisnesky.com

JUSTIN VISNESKY Visneskyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s photography will bring you back home.

www.angelabaconkidwell.com

ANGELA BACON-KIDWELL Angela photographs dreams. Her photoillustrations will leave you wishing you could fall into her images.

www.filemagazine.com

FILE MAGAZINE A collection of unexpected photography. (Pictured: Photo by Betty Schlueter)

PHOTOFLO

PHOTO BLOGS

RESOURCES

www.bowmanstudio.com

BOWMAN STUDIO Go for the portfolio. Stay for the projects.

20x200

Contact Editions contacteditions.co.uk/home Love Photography. Support Photography.

Cig Harvey www.cigharvey.com “Contrary to popular web belief, Cig Harvey is a girl not a boy.” She also takes great pictures.

www.20x200.com “Art for Everyone.” Ever walk into an art gallery and say, “I want that,” until you looked at the price tag? 20x200 releases limited print editions by contemporary photographers and artists with a starting price of $20.

Urban Outfitters Blog blog.urbanoutfitters.com I know what you’re thinking. Urban Outfitters. Blaargghhh. But it’s actually great.

GOOD Magazine www.good.is GOOD Magazine’s Picture Shows are a great opportunity to view independent photojournalism narratives.

Jeremy and Claire Weiss Photography www.day19.com Jeremy and Claire Weiss haven’t lost the innocence that comes with amateur photography. They’ve captured its magic and transformed it into a successful commercial business.

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ISO DIRECTORY

DIRECTORY ARBUCKLE, Alex alex.q.arbuckle@gmail.com ARUTYUNOVA, Sasha sashaface@gmail.com www.ispoketoosoon.com (954) 822-3243 BEVILACQUE, Beryl bcb275@nyu.edu BORAWAKE, Shraddha sub203@nyu.edu www.borawake.com BROWN, Alex abb306@nyu.edu CULOTTA, Nina cmc590@nyu.edu CURTIS, Peter peteracurtis@gmail.com www.petercurtis.net DOMINGO, Danlly danlly@danllydomingo.com www.danllydomingo.com (562) 537-9465 EOM, Jenny seom@nyu.edu FRANK, Katie klf273@nyu.edu FRANKE, Ben btfranke@gmail.com www.benfranke.com GEORGE, Michael michaelgeorgephoto@gmail.com www.inceptivenotions.com (239) 898-1799 HERING, Deirdre dlh309@nyu.edu HOLZWARTH, Hannah hanatomic@gmail.com

IWAHORI, Arieru ai503@nyu.edu (917) 361-1310 www.arielledelfino.com JAFFE, Daniel thejaffenator189@yahoo.com www.thesunismadeofyolk.com JENG, Melodie melodiejeng@gmail.com www.melodiejeng.com JIANG, Ruoyi rj617@nyu.edu (917) 902-9595 KINNEY, Jennifer jen.kinney@nyu.edu KLINE, Katie katie@katiekline.com www.katiekline.com

RAPONE, Corinne corinne.rapone@gmail.com (609) 730-2269 ROM, Meredith meredithrom@gmail.com www.meredithrom.com SCHIEMAN, Calie cns244@nyu.edu SHANKAR, Avantika aas521@nyu.edu SHUR, Emily emily@emilyshur.com www.emilyshur.com SPITZ, Jenna jennaspitz@nyu.edu STEPHENSON, Laura lcs331@nyu.edu

KNIPE, Kristina kek297@nyu.edu

TAN, Pey Chuan pct226@nyu.edu

KROL, Aaron ald331@nyu.edu

VEGA, CĂŠsar cesar.vega@nyu.edu www.cesarmvega.com

MACEDO, David david@davidmacedo.com (760) 703-6934 www.davidmacedo.com NAZAROV, Dennis zvezda@gmail.com OWSLEY, Maggie andthen.shesaid@gmail.com www.andthenphotos.com POON, Francis francis.poon91@gmail.com PRIOR, Thomas thomasprior79@gmail.com www.thomasprior.com PUGACHEVSKY, Julia jp2523@nyu.edu

VOGEL, Katie kjv207@nyu.edu WAHED, Erin erinwahed@gmail.com www.erinwahed.com WATT, Michelle mw1298@gmail.com WYNN, Alison akw267@nyu.edu

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HOW TO SUBMIT

This project was initiated by students in the Department of Photography & Imaging and the Gallatin School of Individualized Study and funded by The Tisch Undergraduate Student Council, the Department of Photography & Imaging, and various individual donors. All NYU Students are invited to contribute.

TO SUBMIT CONTENT FOR THE NEXT ISSUE, PLEASE VISIT

ISOZINE.COM IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN AD SPACE, PLEASE CONTACT MICHAEL GEORGE AT MICHAEL@ISOZINE.COM