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Posted: 20 Oct 2015 05:00 AM PDT
    As the story goes, shamans of centuries long past make pilgrimages to the peaks of the Andes mountains to preform their hallowed rituals; bodies, preserved for untold years, have been found on the mountaintops, says San Francisco-based photographer Brian Flaherty, supporting the local lore and legend. In modern-day Peru, Flaherty discovered an unbreakable spirit similar to that found in the heroes of yesteryear; Notes from Peru is his love letter to land, and to the generations of people and animals who have shaped it. Although the photographer had long dreamt of visiting Peru, it wasn’t until recently that he and his wife finally made their voyage. There was no roadmap; the hope, he explains, was simply to watch, listen, and record life in the balmy desert, the lush forest, and perhaps most of all, the highest altitudes. The natural wonders of the country never ceased to delight and astound; “there were multiple times where it felt like we were on another planet entirely,” notes the photographer of his extensive journey. For five days, the photographer joined his wife and their guide on a trek through the Andes, where they stopped off in tiny, remote villages where local farmers spoke not English or Spanish but Quechuan, the language of the native peoples. They brought with them coca leaves, food, and school supplies as gifts, and the people welcomed them warmly, despite the language barrier. The portraits in Notes from Peru, admits Flaherty, came about from the villagers reaching out to him, not the other way around. The faces the photographer encountered were unforgettable, marked by years of having weathered the elements at their most inhospitable. Their lives were hard-won and laborious; “we were on what felt like the trek of a lifetime but to them it was just another Tuesday afternoon walk,” says Flaherty of the people he met, many of whom survived by herding alpaca. The animals must be relocated frequently to ensure ample grazing areas, meaning that the farmers often spend several days covering long distances at an altitude of over 15,000 feet before settling under the straw roofs of their adobe homes. The sense of community, suggests Flaherty, was palpable. Rice, potato, and alpaca farmers devoted their lives to tending to their homes and their farms, and everyone was there to lend one another a helping hand. “We saw about twenty or so men building one family’s house. The whole community had to pitch in to get it built,” explains the photographer, adding that this kind of togetherness and selflessness was evident throughout the trip. In Peru, Flaherty found people who put their bodies, hearts, and souls into their work, often over the span of several generations. In our culture of consumerism and fast-paced living, the photographer supposes much can be learned from the care and dedication of the native peoples. Everywhere they went, he and his wife saw people making do in the harshest of conditions. He heard tell of a festival in which all the villages come together in celebration and prayer; “whether it’s sunny, raining, hailing or snowing, they dance all the same, night and day,” the artist adds before concluding, “This is Peru.”             All images © Brian Flaherty The post A Photographer’s Love Letter to the People and Animals of Peru appeared first on Feature Shoot.  |
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Posted: 19 Oct 2015 07:22 AM PDT
  “The sad and harsh reality for Black people is that there is nothing that separates the Trayvons, Erics, and Sandras from any of us,” says Atlanta-based photographer Ervin A. Johnson of the young African American men and women victims of police violence in the United States. As a Black man, the photographer has faced that fact head-on, and from the anxiety and despair that comes with it, he derives the power to make his voice—and so many others—heard. For #InHonor, Johnson applies solvents to his photographic portraits, allowing the physical distortion of pigment to stand in for the brutality that has been and continues to be done to living, breathing Black bodies. #InHonor, admits Johnson, resulted in large part from the guilt that came with standing on the sidelines while others marched and in some cases, risked their lives in protest of the persecution of Black Americans. The shootings, strangulations, and abuse of Black citizens brought with them currents of fear, intimidation, and feelings of helplessness; these experiences, stresses Johnson, are not unique to him, but ultimately, he chose to speak out in a way that only he could do. Johnson began by photographing his friends and acquaintances and was quickly overwhelmed with eager faces wanting to be a part of the #InHonor movement. He continues to photograph throughout Atlanta, New York, and Chicago, with upcoming sessions in the latter in November. The process of decomposing the prints is one he’s honed over a long period of time, and he’s hesitant to go into technical details, explaining only that he has over the course of the project gained control over the ways in which various solvents interact with and disrupt the photographic paper. While many have been quick to comment on the aesthetic merits of Johnson’s method, he confesses that hearing people describe the work as “beautiful” is upsetting. With each portrait, the artist and his subject have revisited the traumas people who have died and been violated, and in turn, they have acknowledged that they are in fact, as innocent men and women of color, in very real danger. The process is a painful one, and the erasure of pigment, no matter how artfully executed, is a reminder of violence and an elegy to those who have been lost to it. #InHonor is ultimately a tribute to “Blackness” and all that term connotes, a lamentation for those gone and a cri de coeur for generations to come. Recently, Johnson has begun publishing the work online and posting it physically in public spaces. He has made posters downloadable by the public. Sometimes, they are vandalized and torn; other times, the artist has found that his voice resounds, that people repost his images around the country. He welcomes us all to use the hashtag #InHonor. As a black gay man, Johnson stresses that he has been made to feel as though his life is somehow less valuable than others, but #InHonor, in spite of and perhaps because of the emotional toll it’s taken on its creator, has reminded him of his own inherent worth. And he will continue his work until that simple fact is recognized by all; says the artist, “Of course all lives matter. That is a given. Black life, however, is precious. Our bodies have a tragic and equally powerful past.”            All images © Ervin Johnson The post #InHonor Portraits Make Visible the Violence that Has Been Done to Black Bodies, Cry Out for Change appeared first on Feature Shoot. |
