Book: Motoyuki Daifu, Project Family

JTF (just the facts): Published in 2013 by Dashwood Books (here and here). Softcover, 50 pages, with 35 color images. There are no texts or essays included. (Spread shots below.)

 

Comments/Context: Motoyuki Daifu's flash lit photographs of his overstuffed family apartment in Yokohama easily cross over into visual chaos. The place itself is filled to the brim with parents, brothers and sisters, laundry, dirty dishes, cats, and the ever multiplying clutter of daily life. His images take a diaristic look at life in these cramped quarters, using a loose snapshot aesthetic to capture the eye popping density of color and texture seemingly found in every direction. Stepping into this environment full of visual stimuli for even just a moment is a bit overwhelming.

The best images in this thin volume reduce the mess into barely controlled still lifes, where a sink overflowing with dishes, a kitchen table of condiments, or a pile of bagged garbage and recycling turns into an overlapping riot of bright color. In these works, the jumbled too muchness of the stuff fills the frame to the breaking point. Other photographs introduce family members into this busy world, where open mouthed sleepers lie sprawled amid the debris and a snatched bowl of noodles offers a fleeting moment of peace. Daifu's photographs of his siblings add a sliver of surreal humor to the proceedings: three full-mouthed teenagers stare in the same direction with stunning similarity and the seemingly rolled back eyes of a brother punctuate tooth brushing and the face down passed out end of a meal. Even in all this claustrophobic, right-on-top-of-it chaos, there is a surprising amount of quiet tolerance and easy going joy.

Part of the charm of this book is its endearing warmth; the glare of Daifu's flash never turns harsh or particularly critical. (This was also true of his last project, Lovesody, reviewed here.) Rather than turn these pictures into pared down formal exercises, he has embraced the rush of cacophonous energy found in his home and let it run free. His photographs reject the entire notion of deadpan observation, and instead bring some low key personality back into the artistic discussion.

Collector’s POV: Motoyuki Daifu is represented by Lombard-Freid Projects in New York (here). His work has not yet reached the secondary markets with any regularity, so gallery retail remains the best option for those collectors interested in following up.

 

Transit Hub:

• Artist site (here)
• Feature: American Photo (here)

 

Book: Craig Fineman, Pools

JTF (just the facts): Published in 2012 by Stussy/Dashwood Books (here and here). Hardback, 68 pages, with 66 black and white images. The book also includes short essays/remembrances by Duncan & Malcolm Campbell, Michael Gutierrez, Jim Goodrich, Pat Ngoho, Audrey Rader, Lorin Flemig, and Mike Funk. (Spread shots below.)

Comments/Context: Craig Fineman's black and white images of late 1970s dry pool skateboarding aren't like most skateboard photography. They aren't about attitude, or swagger, or roughness, or trick making one-upsmanship. Instead, they turn the gravity defying moves of these athletes into a kind of stop motion ballet, following the flowing momentum of arms and legs across curved expanses of smooth concrete and then freezing the action at moments of grace and power. They capture skateboarding with a sense of pared down purity that seems almost elemental.

The images in this thin volume were all taken at one midday session, where the bright sun beats down and casts shadows across the lip of the empty kidney shaped pool. In many cases, Fineman positioned himself at the bottom of the pool, looking up at his subjects as they moved up and down the side walls. The result is a set of images that are often underneath the action, where the apex of the turn is the most precarious and the subject is about to drop. Riders balance with outstretched arms and flexed knees, turning with precision or grinding the edge, with long sun bleached hair thrown into motion.

The architecture of the set up and Fineman's sense for composition lead to images with unexpected vitality. Bodies surf the concrete like waves, cresting with stored potential energy. The shadows cast on the bottom of the pool are like echoes of the primary action, the silhouettes distorted into another plane of movement. And when the upward angle is just right, the extended fingers of the riders seem to pluck the electric wires overhead like guitar strings. 

The fluidity and suppleness in these images transcends the normal boundaries of sports photography, taking the pictures toward the elegance of dance. Fineman's photographs combine wheels up muscularity with sculptural refinement, turning the gestures of the riders into natural forms.

Collector’s POV: It is not at all clear where vintage prints from this book might be found, as Fineman doesn't appear to have either obvious gallery representation or any secondary market history. Add the information to the comments area if you know the details.

Transit Hub:

• Features/Reviews: American Photo (here), Trendland (here), Slate Behold (here)