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If acclaimed street photography is defined by the decisive moment when form and content converge with the artist’s vision, then Mikiko Hara’s images of the streets of Tokyo are quite the opposite. Hara made a conscious decision to discard reliance on the viewfinder, which led to a body of work that is true to her intention to capture street life as a continuous process. In other words, there is no decisive moment. Her analog images, made by holding a 1930’s German Ikonta camera at chest or waist level, rather than on her eye appear to treat random moments as of equal interest to her. A kind of objectivity for Hara is derived from these oddly focused, chance encounters. Hara relies on her intuitive ability to gauge the proper distance to and exposure for her subject while using the camera to capture iconographic moments like other vanguard street photographers. However, unlike the precision of Garry Winogrand’s or Lee Friedlander’s street photography in which we see the relationship between the photographer and the subject, Hara’s indiscriminate method allows her subjects to reveal themselves — making her an invisible flaneur who understands the minutiae of life — such as an insect on a window or a child peeking from a tent.
Although in a New York Times interview with Caroline Hirsch, Hara has described her six-centimeters-square photographs as “all taken by mere accident,” the images in her first solo exhibition, In the Blink of an Eye, at the Miyako Yoshinaga gallery are hardly haphazard. The selection of 20 color photographs taken from 1996 to 2000, heighten prosaic pictures to unusually poignant feeling. Hara finds fleeting moments such as the blurred image of a child behind a translucent curtain from the “Fringes of Articulation,” (2004) series, or the slightly out of focus image of a dog peering out of a car window which she framed against the backdrop of a tall, imposing building from the “Here and There Behind the Clouds,” (2008), series. These transitory occurrences, that would otherwise remain unnoticed, become memorable instances.
Poussin and the Dance is a valiant attempt to break into Poussin’s staunchly academic oeuvre and provide a relatable point of entry, highlighting the exciting elements of revelry and movement despite impenetrable and unemotional rendering.
Anarchist illustrator N.O. Bonzo produces decentralized media in a highly bureaucratic cultural landscape. Their illustrations, murals, and literature emerge in unexpected places, from the streets of Portland, Oregon, to the far ends of Reddit and Twitter, addressing relations of labor and identity in the workplace and on the streets. Growth and care are central themes…
This exhibition explores how images of the human body were used to provoke profound physical and emotional responses in viewers from the 15th through 18th centuries.
With scavenged materials, Amanda Maciel Antunes constructs a motherland.
Where are the directors taking the stage to acknowledge workers’ demands today?
The collaborative handmade paper- and printmaking center at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts publishes new works by Liz Collins and Sarah McEneaney.
There is a debate whether the memory of Little Syria should be seized upon to tell truthful and positive stories about Arabs in the US, or whether any conflation between its history and contemporary politics is inappropriate.
The profile includes works by Egon Schiele, Amedeo Modigliani, Peter Paul Rubens, and a prehistoric Venus of Willendorf figurine.
These horrifying dolls definitely won’t murder you in your sleep.