My camera roll is an aide-mémoire, in the old-fashioned sense, a way of collecting souvenirs, which, like any trinket, might be meaningful only to me. And so what? I can scroll back through time, because of my camera, and remember where I have been, what I saw, whom I was with — and this isn’t limited to what I captured in an image. Each image triggers associated recollections, and they roll alongside, hovering around each picture.
From ‘Home’, by Benjamin Rasmussen
I came across this project via Mossless, and it’s quite something. Bouncing between Wyoming, the Faroe Isles, and the Philippines - the three locations that Rasmussen calls home - the thing that struck me most was not the differences between these places, but the similarities. The photographs are beautiful, but it’s also wonderfully edited and sequenced. Check it out.
The beauty of ideas is that they are like waves in the ocean and they connect with things that came before them, and I think it is very important to embrace things that interest you and influence you, and incorporate them into what you do, as all artists have always done. The ones that say they don’t, are lying. Or are afraid that their work won’t be seen as being original, somehow.
What I was saying was that I always found more interesting things outside of the mainstream. The things in the margins are more moving to me. Throughout history there has always been a mainstream culture, and a marginal culture, and the most innovative things are in the margins. Not always, but most often.
What Parr-Badger have not yet done, though, is rigorously prune their shelves. If they want to see themselves as unofficial curators of the genre, then they need to make some tough and, no doubt, controversial judgments. The history of art is not a democracy in which every photo is as good as every other. It’s easy to be a revisionist if all you do is permit a lot of titles into your history that earlier writers ignored or excluded. By allowing into their Volumes any book that intrigues or amuses them, or that has an outré or political edge, they have shied away from having to defend which ones are the most vital and why some (and not others) have had—or should have—lasting influence.
Recently, content has made a comeback and been deemed worth paying for again. But no one talks about “selling out” anymore, since it’s obviously the primary, unstated goal of every venture. And even though the billionaire gurus still speak in reverent tones about changing the world, most people share the same cynical lens we embraced back in 1995. It’s clear now that today’s most exciting, innovative, friendly-seeming tech companies are tomorrow’s megacorporations, prone to gobbling up all originality and innovation and spewing out something far more predictable and disappointing. Even Ted Talks now feel about as inspiring and unique as infomercials. No matter how great your idea might be, your trajectory is clear: One minute you’re happily hiding out on Hoth, and the next minute you’re toiling away on the Death Star.