STANLEY/BARKER has revisited Shore’s series with an exquisitely produced limited edition publication of Luzzara


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In 1993 world renowned photographer Stephen Shore travelled to Luzzara, a comune in the province of Reggio Emilia, Italy, where he photographed the town’s people, streets and squares, in beautifully subtle shades of black and white, just as another American master, Paul Strand had done forty years earlier. Today STANLEY/BARKER revisits Shore’s series with an exquisitely produced limited edition publication, which includes a number of never before seen photographs.

Speaking the series Shore said, “There was no way I could approach Luzzara as though I was not familiar with Strand’s work. At the same time, even though I was going to Luzzara exactly forty years after Strand, I was not interested in producing a re-photographic survey. In a certain way, Strand’s work does not need simple updating, because the kinds of people and farms and landscapes he photographed still exist in very much the same form today. But, they exist side by side with the modern world. A key feature of Italian life, at least to my New World eyes, is the presence of the traditional within the modern. My aim, then, was to produce a companion volume to Strand’s work; to produce a group of pictures, which to the limit of the subjectivity of my vision, supplement Strand’s work.”

Shore is one of the worlds most respected living photographers. His series of exhibitions in New York in the early 1970s sparked new interest in color photography and in the use of the view camera for documentary photography. He was the first living photographer to have a one-man show at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York since Alfred Stieglitz, forty years earlier, and has had one-man shows at meuseums such as MoMA, Jeu de Paume and most recently C/O Berlin.








Creative Writing: Dressed-Up Like Dominoes

Victorian women

I was so frail back then, and my attire would suggest no less. It was all virginal white – reams and reams of white lace and hand-laboured embroidery, lettuce-like frills spilling around my slip of a figure. Great feathery plumes sheltering my face from the sunlight and covering my semi-permanent, startled gaze.

The frills of my dress served to decorate my spineless back. And it was spineless – like a Jellyfish! My usual style of confrontation was to hover and float about an issue until a man noticed and took over.

This was to be the only time I ever challenged anyone. Autumn 1898. Here, alongside another woman decked-out in the delicate uniform of conformity and widely accepted femininity. Yet she was all black with just a few accents of white.

Like dressed-up dominoes, the two of us were pitted between two upright wooden posts to contain the action. We raised our tiny clenched fists and we began our tussle in front of an audience exclusively of men.

Fighting women – a spectacle so absurd men could pay to watch, and women to enter. It could only ever happen between these two wooden posts and it was two men who would blow the starting whistle.