Taube

For seven years Cara Galowitz (b. 1964, lives and works in New York) walked the streets of Corona, Queens every day during her lunch break from her nearby museum job, where she worked as an art director. These photographs, which she calls “an exercise in seeing”, capture the vivid juxtapositions of one of the most ethnically diverse neighborhoods in the world.

Through layers of irony, humor, and visual sophistication, these photographs evoke a place that is a continual work-in-progress, where the past, be it faded lettering or crumbling architecture, collides with the present in the form of spontaneous street decorations, signage, graffiti, and religious iconography. The images evoke the struggle and resilience of the people of Corona, as well as capturing the quirky beauty of the streets.

Cara Galowitz is a graduate of the Cooper Union School of Art where she focused on graphic design, photography, and fine art. She has pursued a long career as a museum art director and has shown work at the Newark Museum, the Museum of the City of New York, and the Grey Art Gallery.

The mystery of love and its language, translated into a photographic discourse

The starting point for the series by Anaïs Horn, which the artist, who works in Vienna and Paris, began in 2013 and now comprises eighty photographs, is the book Fragments d’un discours amoureux (Fragments of a Language of Love) by the French philosopher and author Roland Barthes. Terms such as “asceticism,” “magic,” “yearning,” “venerable,” and “unfathomable” serve Horn as models for her staged photographs. The linguistic “figures,” from which Barthes developed his “discourse” in an open structure, find their counterparts in views of people, landscapes, objects, and spaces. The result is a cosmos of images that is as non-binding as it is intimate, as touching as it is light, as vulnerable as it is challenging, and appears to be infinitely expandable. Viewed together, fragments of collective experiences and cultural codes of our notions of love become visible.

Human, City, Pigeon

Public perceptions of the pigeon have shifted drastically over the past centuries. In the 1700s, it was welcomed as a guest who commanded humans’ unfailing solicitude; today, by contrast, it is often perceived as a nuisance. It has become an animal that defaces squares and buildings. Why does the pigeon in the settings of our daily lives prompt feelings of loathing and fascination, but also indifference? Jens Gerber’s photographs undertake an expedition into the city of the pigeons. Rounded out by essays by Marina Rüdiger and Laurens Schlicht, the book illuminates the subject of the city pigeon from the perspectives of photography, science, and literature, and explores the question of how pigeons shape the built environment and how the latter informs their behavior in turn.