Public Libraries with Photobooks – can you help?

Bonifacio Barrio Hijosa of ‘Gloves for Dummies‘ got in touch earlier this week to share a map he is putting together to highlight public libraries in which you can get access to both books on photography and a selection of photobooks.

You can see the map below, if you have libraries to add to the map, get in touch with Boni via the ‘Gloves for Dummies’ Facebook page here.

– Matt


View Public Libraries with Photobooks in a larger map

For Japanese photographer Nobuyoshi Araki, ‘All Women are Beautiful’

The following post by Wayne Ford can also be found on Wayne’s Posterous blog here.

67 Shooting Back. (©Nobuyoshi Araki/Courtesy of Galerie Steph/Ooi Botos)

 In the mid-1960s, Japanese photographer Nobuyoshi Araki began documenting his young wife through a highly personal and intimate series of photographs titled, My Wife Yoko (1967-1976), this expansive body of work is now considered one of the photographers most significant, and would lead to the self-publication of the now seminal volume, Sentimental Journey (1971), the first of over 350 books since published by the prolific and at times controversial artist.

Crucially this work also marked a critical juncture in the development of ‘personal photography’ in Japan, in which the photographer and subject are inextricably linked, leading Araki to remark, ‘If I didn’t have photography I’d have absolutely nothing. My life is all about photography, and so life is itself photography.’

Post-war Japan was a particularly fertile period for photography, where a generation of photographers responded to social upheaval by creating a new visual language dubbed ‘Are, Bure, Boke’ (rough, blurred, and out of focus), and it is against this backdrop that Araki grew up. Writing in the accompanying catalogue to All Women Are Beautiful — an exhibition of twenty-two photographs at Galerie Steph in Singapore — art historian Charles Merewether, suggests that in particular, both Takuma Nakahira and Daido Moriyama and the group around the magazine Provoke — which sought to break the rules of traditional photography  — were of critical importance in influencing the young Araki, ‘because of their visceral engagement with their subject matter, especially the subject of the street and the expressive character of individual lives.’

‘A photographer looks at everything, which is why he must look from beginning to end. Face the subject head-on, stare fixedly, turn the entire body into an eye and face the world,‘ comments Shomei Tomatsu, one of the most influential photographers of the Provoke era. We can see this sentiment reflected in the work of Araki, whose oeuvre is wide and varied, stretching from his celebrated street photography, through still-life, to his female nudes, portraits, and his ongoing series featuring women in Kinbaku — a traditional form of bondage, which utilises an intricate series of knots each leaving a distinct pattern on the skin — a body of work for which he is possibly best known.

Lewd Painting. (©Nobuyoshi Araki/Courtesy of Galerie Steph/Ooi Botos)

‘Women now queue around the block outside Araki’s home just to be photographed, but his personal preference remains with the average, everyday woman,’ says Stephanie Tham, director of Galerie Steph. ‘I think he feels a bit more empathy with housewives because they are more pedestrian and simple, and he manages to make them look beautiful.’

Within a minimal white interior, a young woman dressed in a vibrant red and blue kimono sits on the floor, her long dark hair tied with a small red ribbon, and her gaze firmly fixed on the photographer. To her side, three plastic dinosaurs stand on a small table— a motif frequently encountered in Araki’s work — and the only other colour in the composition, at her feet we encounter a tangle of suggestive rope, and in the foreground we see Araki’s Leica. What we are experiencing in this beautiful photograph, is what the art critic Adrian Searle refers to as a ‘complicit menage-a-trois of photographer, model and camera, a kind of ritualised theatre of objectification.’

From the initial photographs of his wife, women have formed a subject at the very core of Araki’s artistic output, he ‘has developed a continuous exploration of women in the privacy of their own home and in his city Tokyo,’ writes Merewether. ‘He has rarely made photographs outside of Tokyo. They are neither photographs of the street nor of bars or public places yet, nonetheless, they are what Araki often refers to as “my Tokyo.” The photographs are about individual woman, their bodies, their exposure to another, to the outside. Often they occur as a result of requests from the women themselves. These photographs are neither pornographic nor sexual. Rather, they are intimate portraits and one can feel a kind of intoxication that comes from this contact.’

67 Shooting Back. (©Nobuyoshi Araki/Courtesy of Galerie Steph/Ooi Botos)

In his series of Lewd Paintings, Araki marks the surface of the photographic images with bold swashes of opaque colour, and inscribes them with kanji. We encounter a woman leaning against a wall, her arms tightly bound behind her back, the black ropes criss-crossing her chest, once again her gaze is fixed firmly on the photographers lens, with her kimono falling away to reveal her naked form. Around this black-and-white portrait, are daubs and layers of yellow, red, and aqua, heightening the tension within the image. In another image from the series, a woman lies naked on a bed, strong leather straps restrain her torso, whilst ropes bind her ankles, one hand is raised creating a haunting shadow on the wall, above her, occupying half of the composition is a dense mass of calligraphy, whilst below a wave of blues and mauves wash over her body.

‘Women? Well, they are gods. They will always fascinate me,’ says Araki, who frequently appears in his own photographs. In one such image, we see a beautiful young woman bound to the trunk of a tree, her vibrant blue and red kimono the only real colour in a sea of monchrome hues. To the left of the photographic frame, Araki stands making direct eye contact with the viewer, in his right hand he holds a pole with which he lifts the woman’s kimono revealing a dark waft of pubic hair.

In Araki’s photographs we experience what Searle refers to as ‘an injunction to make more of the things in life that matter; love of life and its complexity most of all, in the knowledge that one day it will all end.’

– Wayne Ford

Writing and Books

David Hempenstall wrote the following piece in response to Sean Davey’s writing on Araki’s ‘Sentimental Journey, Winter Journey’ . It reminds me of a quote by Dick Higgins:

“Most of our criticism in art is based on a work with separable meaning, content and style – “this is what it says” and “here is how it says what it says”. But the language of normal criticism is not geared towards the discussion of an experience, which is the main focus of artist’s books.”

– Artists’ Books: A Critical Anthology and Sourcebook 1985

David Hempenstall

Sean Davey has sat down at his typewriter and opened a vein to chuck some words at Araki-san’s red book. Davey worked in conjunction with the Photo Book Club to put on a fantastic Aussie event a while back (and another coming soon!), and has now furthered the conversation (and injected more enthusiasm) into the undertaking.

It’s a good read. Plenty in there to make you want to run to the shelf (or your favourite book buying website) to grab a copy and sit quietly thumbing through it (using whatever order your cultural heritage dictates or desires). Plenty in there to make you pause at certain pictures, plenty in there to make you take a step back and consider groups of pictures and the book as a whole, plenty in there to get your hackles up when you don’t agree or find an assertion not to your (own) liking – and this all together may be the strength; that he hasn’t reduced it to ‘sad story photobook’ in an attempt to make the writing a short cut to actually sitting with the book itself.

I personally find writing to be incredibly difficult and am always grateful when there are pieces out there that remain accessible, that leave the work discussed intact and at (somehow) arms length – it hands over the gift of directions drawn with a stick in the carpark dirt without the crippling ‘fact’ of GPS and ‘streetview’… you point yourself down the road and make your own discoveries, your own landmarks, your own experience of each bend and curve.

Hats off to those who wield the pen!

 

 

Nobuyoshi Araki, Video Documentary and Interview

Below is a video exploring Araki’s contemporary practice as part of the video series ‘Contacts’ by Studio ARTE.
And as a bonus – below that is an interview between last month’s featured artist Nan Goldin and Nobuyoshi Araki!

Thanks to those who have submitted personal reflections, we will post these soon, and if you would like to comment, do so in comments section.

INTERVIEW: “Naked City: An Interview with Nobuyoshi Araki by Nan Goldin” (1995)

By Nan Goldin, ArtForum, January, 1995

In 1992, the editors of the Japanese Magazine Deja-Vu invited me to Tokyo to meet Nobuyoshi Araki. I’d already heard about this wild man of Japanese photography and of his diaristic, intensely sexual work. Araki had procured a copy of my Ballad of Sexual Dependency, though it’s unavailable in Japan due to stringent censorship laws. I was astounded to find a man on the other side of the planet who was working the same obsessions I was.

We met for the first time at Dug, his regular jazz bar in Shinjuku, where he presented me with a bottle of I.W. Harper Bourbon (his favorite drink) with my name on it. Now it’s stored there next to Robert Frank’s. He showed me his Tokyo that night; we went to the back-alley bars on the Golden Gai, bars that used to be brothels, and that seat about six people each. It’s said that no one can really translate Araki because he speaks in puns and jokes.

Most Japanese women are too shy to translate his endless sexual allusions, so when the women in his entourage blushed furiously, I’d say “Is he talking about his penis again?”

Araki is a superstar in Japan. You realize this if you chart his wake through the streets of Shinjuku–young girls screeching, yakuza gangsters pointing, salary men stopping dead in their tracks. No photographer in the West has this kind of public visibility. The people of Tokyo love Araki–he’s one of their own, a homeboy, and he loves them back: his work has been one long poem to his city of birth and of choice.

Araki has published almost a hundred books. He once told me he’d spent years as a commercial photographer making other people famous, and now he’s an artist making himself famous. Though he’s long been celebrated in Japan, his work has only recently been exported to the West, through the word of mouth of Western artists like Robert Frank, Jim Jarmusch, and myself. In the past few years he’s had retrospectives in Graz, Austria, and in Frankfurt, and gallery shows in London, Cologne, and New York.

As Araki’s work starts to spread, I’m sure some will find it misogynist. I don’t, but perhaps that’s because I know the man: I’ve seen and known his generosity and curiosity about people and about life, his love for and appreciation of women, his naughty-boy attitude toward what is taboo or revered or overserious. Much of his recurring imagery–girls in school uniforms, girls in complicated rope tricks, girls in love hotels–is popular in Japanese pornography; but Araki crosses the line between pornography and art. His work is colored by love, and meant as homage–to women and to beauty and to his own desires. In Japan, where women’s roles are in a period of flux and the idea of female identity in the Western sense is a new one, many young women find Araki’s images liberating. To show their bodies, to flaunt their sexuality, feels to them like freedom; teenagers flock to Araki to be photographed by him.

Since I first met Araki we’ve collaborated occasionally, and recently we published a book together, Tokyo Love. I believe he has attained greatness a number of times–in Araki’s Tokyo Erotomania Diary, and in Sentimental na Tabi/Fuyu no Tabi (Sentimental journey/winter journey, 1991), which he calls his “purest” book, a deeply moving record of his honeymoon with his wife, Yoko, in 1971, and then of her death from cancer in 1990. Araki is a driven man. On the day of our interview he’d done a long shoot at a rented studio in the afternoon. As usual, he had an entourage in tow, and we all headed for a Spanish restaurant to talk over squid-ink pasta eaten with chopsticks. Then we returned to the studio, where Araki held a workshop on photographing the female nude. Some of Tokyo’s leading directors, designers, editors, and actors were in attendance, and he kept them going till midnight.

NAN GOLDIN: One of the things Westerners feel about Japan is that it’s a very conformist society–as in that Japanese proverb, “The nail that sticks out must get hammered down.” Are you a nail sticking out?

NOBUYOSHI ARAKI: No, I’m not the nail that sticks out, probably because of my in-born vitue. I’m more like a naughty boy.

NG: In the text you wrote for our book together, Tokyo Love, you say you now only want to photograph happiness.

NA: Yes, but happiness always contains a mixture of something like unhappiness. When I photograph unhappiness I only capture unhappiness, but when I photograph happiness, life, death, and everything else comes through. Unhappiness seems grave and heavy; happiness is light, but happiness has its own heaviness, a looming sense of death.

NG: Why do you always say that photography itself has a smell of death?

NA: To make what is dynamic static is a kind of death. The camera itself, the photograph itself, calls up death. Also, I think about death when I photograph, which comes out in the print. Perhaps that’s an Oriental, Buddhist perception. To me, photography is an act in which my “self” is pulled out via the subject. Photography was destined to be involved with death. Reality is in color, but at its beginnings photography always discolored reality and turned it into black and white. Color is life, black and white is death. A ghost was hiding in the invention of photography.

NG: A lot of master photographers who have been working for a long time, like Robert Frank, Larry Clark, and William Klein, have become frustrated by still photography and have started making films.

NA: I resolve that feeling by working on the Arakinema show. It’s not the artistic process of shifting to another kind of expression that attracts me, it’s something more emotional–the biological impulse to bring the dead to life. I want to revive what photography has killed. Every photograph kills sound and words, reducing them to a flat print. I want to add sound and words. Films come close, but films by a photographer are usually another way of showing photographs. The photographer is just using movies to enhance the photo’s liveliness. Even if Frank, Clark, and Klein try filmmaking, I would doubt they become cineasts. They’d always remain photographers–just photographers presenting their photographs as films.

NG: What is the Arakinema–a movie? Stills shot on video?

NA: Arakinema is slides shown simultaneously on two slide projectors, so that the photographs overlap. What makes Arakinema compelling is that there’s a sort of sensuality of vision when photographs intertwine. My relationship with my subject is extremely important to me–I value that time and space of communication between myself and the subject when I’m working–so the more sensual the photograph is, the better. And if I mix old photographs with new ones in Arakinema, something I hadn’t noticed may come out. When I take photographs I collaborate with the subject; when I show photographs they collaborate with each other. And the relationship with the audience comes on top of that.

ara 746 08 INTERVIEW: Naked City: An Interview with Nobuyoshi Araki by Nan Goldin (1995)

NG: Have you ever made films?

NA: Around 1963, I made a 16-mm. film with a Bolex. It was like John Cassavetes. Back then, I was looking at Italian Neorealist films by Roberto Rossellini and Vittorio de Sica; I liked their documentary touch with boys and girls on the street, and their use of ordinary people as actors. I found an old prewar apartment in my neighborhood, and I followed the life of the boy who lived there, as if I was seeing myself in him. I was shooting 16-mm. film and at the same time taking still photographs of the same subjects. I collected the photographs in the book Satchin [the name of the boy Araki photographed], which was just published. So really l started with movies–I made three altogether.

NG: You were young then–20 or something.

NA: In 1964 I was 24. Perhaps my desire to show photos in series comes from my experience making 16-mm. films. Banmei Takahashi’s recent film The New World of Love contains a number of my photographs. That link with cinema has always been there.

NG: When did you start taking photographs?

NA: I was taking photographs before I made any films, but it was around the time I was making films that I got serious about taking photographs. I took my first photo at elementary school, on a school trip in the early ’50s. My father, who was an amateur photographer, had given me a camera called a Baby Pearl, and I brought it with me on the trip. I began by taking pictures of a classmate I liked, and of the Ise Shrine.

NG: A “Baby Pearl”?

NA: The Baby Pearl was a camera with a bellows, made in Germany or Japan, I’m not sure which. I began by taking pictures not only of girls but of scenery. More recently Tokyo Nude, for instance, has both nudes and scenery. So I’ve always been doing the same thing! I’ve made no progress.

NG: Your father was a shoemaker?

NA: My father owned a geta [wooden clog] shop in Tokyo. He took photos when he wasn’t working, and he was good at it–ordinary scenic photos. Typical, stereotype-Japanese photos with a field in the front and Mount Fuji in the back.

NG: Was he still living when you got famous?

NA: He was still alive when I won the Taiyo Award, in 1964, and the Taiyo Award was a prize for young photographers then. But my father came from the Shitamachi, which is a traditional working-class neighborhood, and he was also very shy, so he didn’t show he was happy. After he died, though, people told me he’d boasted about me and the prize to everyone. If he were still alive, and saw me with this foreign photographer called Nan Goldin, he would have been thrilled. I wish I could have shown him myself the way I am now.

NG: In Japan, people recognize you in the street. You’re a superstar. Are any other Japanese photographers as famous?

NA: I don’t think so. But most of the famous people in Japan travel in their cars, and I still ride the subway. I like to be out on the streets among the people.

NG: Given the sexual obsession in your work, and the strict obscenity laws in Japan, have you had trouble with the authorities?

NA: Yes, but with the police only, not with the people. The police once came to an exhibition of mine, but by chance I wasn’t there, which was kind of lucky because I would have been arrested on the spot. The gallery people were taken away. This was the “Photomania Diary” show, in April 1992. We had set up a huge light box with about 1,500 35-mm. slides, so they were really small; eight of them showed sexual organs. The cops looked at every single one with a magnifying glass.

NG: Are the “Obscenities” and “Bokuju-kitan” series a reaction to that?

NA: Yes. During the inquiry they gave me this simple rule that no photograph could show a sexual organ. So I had the idea of scratching the genitalia in the photographs to hide and erase them. In part, I had to teach people that genitalia are not obscene in themselves; it’s the act of hiding them that’s obscene.

During the war, whatever didn’t pass the censors in Japan was painted over with bokuju, or Chinese ink. So in my new book, Bokuju-kitan, I hid the genitals with Chinese ink, just to show the police that was more obscene. [Bkuju, Chinese ink, kitan, strange stories; Araki in punning on the title Bokuto-kitan, “Strange stories from east of the river,” a famous novel by Kafu Nagai.] But I wasn’t doing it just as resistance to censorship, or as a joke: I was creating another form of art. If obscenity laws can be used to create new art, maybe it’s ok to have a certain number of restrictions.

Since I began photographing genitalia, there’s been a trend toward allowing pubic hair to be shown in photos. When I was told I couldn’t show genitalia, I thought it might be acceptable to hide them by inserting what’s called an “adult’s toy” [a vibrator] in them, or some other foreign object. They said no. Maybe they realized that there’s essentially no eroticism in nudes; the body only becomes erotic when there’s some action or relationship. What I do with obscenity is in the tradition of the Edo period’s “spring pictures” [pornographic woodblock prints], which expose only the genitalia and the face and leave the rest of the body clothed. Maybe the future trend is not for “spring pictures” but for “spring photos”–that’s it!

ara 747 08 INTERVIEW: Naked City: An Interview with Nobuyoshi Araki by Nan Goldin (1995)

NG: What about women in Japan–some people in the U.S. will want to know whether you’ve had any complaints from them.

NA: Never at all. As far as I know, all women love me.

NG: What photographers have influenced you?

NA: I like photography so I like all the photographers before me, even if they’re lousy or not my style. But among foreign photographers, Frank, Klein, Eugene Atget, Walker Evans, Ed van der Elsken, and Brassai were the ones who stood out when I was young. I was working in advertising, at Dentsu, so I had access to foreign magazines and plenty of information. I remember seeing work by Richard Avedon and Irving Penn.

NG: I’ve always had the impression you particularly admire Frank. How did you meet him?

NA: Someone from Japan gave him my book Araki’s Tokyo Erotomania Diary. Later, when he was asked what Japanese photographers interested him, he said “Araki.” We met when he came to Tokyo. I think of him as an older brother. But he’s more serious than I am.

NG: Are you interested in American artists using photography, like Cindy Sherman?

NA: I like Cindy Sherman’s work, which isn’t that far from photography.

NG: What about Japanese photographers?

NA: When I started photographing, Ihei Kimura and Ken Domon were active, but they were completely different from me. The photographers I associated with and liked included Shomei Tohmatsu, Daido Moriyama, and, among the less-known ones, Takuma Nakahira. But Japanese photography was itself influenced by Europe in the ’20s and ’30s and then by America. In the ’60s and ’70s we all looked at Frank and Klein, and at the catalogue of the U.S. exhibition “Contemporary Photographers–Towards a Social Landscape” [at the George Eastman House, Rochester, in 1966]. I might have been influenced by those photos. I don’t want to see it as “influence,” though: I am more influenced by my subjects, women and the streets, than by other photographers. People abroad are interested in my photographs now because I’ve always worked in Tokyo. My work has nothing to do with influence from the West; it’s based on my relationship with my subject.

NG: Does success in Europe or America interest you?

NA: Not much. I don’t travel abroad. I don’t have much of a desire to have everyone around the world see my stuff. My new book, Bokuju-kitan, has only a thousand copies, but that’s all right.

NG: You wouldn’t just travel for pleasure, or to visit me?

NA: If it’s going to be just the two of us, Nan, I’ll start English classes tomorrow.

NG: But you wouldn’t travel to take photographs?

NA: I did photograph in New York once, in 1979, and it was really exciting. But I use words in the process of photographing, so its difficult taking pictures overseas. I usually talk to the model as I’m shooting–it’s a “word event.” Words wouldn’t be necessary if I were looking at the subject as a “thing,” an object, but I want to capture my relationship with the subject, the action between us, the flow of time and mood. If I were photographing foreigners I’d really have to study the language.

NG: What about the lexicon [Arakeywords: The Araki Lexicon]?

NA: The book is in progress, with a Japanese writer. It will be like a dictionary of me. The writer has already put together nearly 500 words I invented–my keywords.

NG: How many books have you published?

NA: About a hundred.

NG: In Europe and America, if you have more than five or six books, they start to think you’re getting too popular–that you’re overexposed. Do other Japanese photographers publish so much?

NA: No, but I’m a kind of photo-play-aholic. People say I’ve published a lot, but essentially I think photographs should be taken and published fast. The nature of the medium doesn’t require you to consider everything and work it out thoroughly.

NG: How long does it take you to plan a book?

NA: There’s no specific rule–sometimes a month, sometimes a year. It depends on how I feel.

NG: Have you ever collaborated with any other photographer on a book, as you did with me?

NA: Collaboration is a kind of love affair. No, I’ve never collaborated with any other photographer.

NG: Do you have any favorite among your books?

NA: Sentimental na Tabi/Fuyu no Tabi (Sentimental journey/winter journey). I have to pick that book, because it marked the start of a new phase of my work. What I said earlier about my desire to shoot happiness and the joy of living has to do with the fact that I showed death in that book. I’ve taken a variety of photographs since then, but eventually they boil down to the idea of photography being simply a diary, a record of what happens day to day.

NG: What’s your latest obsession, your latest body of work?

NA: I have an obsessional subject: “From death toward life.” And I’m working on a diaristic work–a book of photos all taken with a compact camera, to be published in the spring.

NG: For me, the fact you’ve done so many books is one of the things that’s inspiring about your work. Another is that you’re the only photographer I know who uses whatever format you want.

NA: Photography is a collaboration with the camera, and every camera is unique; our time can’t be captured by a single camera. Using one camera is like being confined to a fixed idea. If I photograph a woman with a six-by-seven, medium-sized camera and then fast with a compact camera, the photo will be different. If you take the camera as “man,” it’s as if I throw four or five men at a woman. Obviously her response differs depending on who he is. There’s also a difference depending on whether it’s a camera I have a lot of experience with, one I’m using for the first time, or one that’s hard to use.

NG: An old lover and a new lover.

NA: Love too depends on the kind of person you’re dealing with.

NG: Do you ever photograph men or boys?

NA: Only a few, but I’d like to photograph more. I photograph because of my relationship with the subject. I’m a late bloomer, and am immature when it comes to relationships with men. Perhaps I should start.

NG: Aren’t you going to Osaka to photograph a boxer?

NA: Yes, his name is Tatsuyoshi Joichiro. Someone asked me to a fight; I’m very interested to go. What I want to photograph, though, is not the match itself but the training, in the small space that is his world. He’s on the brink of his career, he’s insecure, he’s not sure he’ll win. I’m interested in men’s weakness.

NG: Do you ever have sex with your models?

NA: Almost always. A photo shoot is very erotic; it’s part of the atmosphere.

10% Off select Aperture titles for Meet-up Members

A huge thanks to the folks at Aperture publishing who have kindly offered the Photo Book Club community 10% off select titles, including Nan Goldin’s ‘Ballad of Sexual Dependency’ which we are looking at next month.

This special offer code will be sent to all members of our meet-up community at the beginning of next month. If you are not already part of this, you can add yourself below. And if you do not wish to be a meet-up member but would still like the code, please email Matt here.

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So what books are available to get 10% off?

Nan Goldin, The Ballad of sexual dependency

John Gossage, The Pond

Robert Adams, Summer Nights, Walking

Sally Mann, Immediate Family

Stephen Shore, Uncommon Places

Japanese Photobooks of the 60’s and 70’s

Fred Ritchin – In our own image

William Christenberry, Kodachromes

Rinko Kawauchi, Illuminance

Bruce Davidson, Subway


Other Books by Ken Schles

While we have only been looking at ‘Invisible City’, Ken Schles’ other books are just as highly regarded, helping make Ken one of the most important photobook authors around.

Ken’s latest book ‘Oculus’ is listed below alongside an in-depth video from Ken, looking through the images and text contained within.

Oculus by Ken Schles


 

The first Photo Book Club Meet-up

A huge thanks to all who came down last night to the Hotshoe Gallery in London for an evening with the Photo Book Club, a bunch of great books and beer as part of ‘Photobook London‘.

It seems that all who came down really enjoyed the event and we are already working to arrange the next meeting. If you would like to be notified of the next meeting, pop your email into the box below the image.

The Photo Book Club at Photobook London

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We had some great books brought along to the meet-up including Tim Hetherington’s ‘Infidel’, Watabe Yukichi’s ‘A Criminal Investigation’ and Nobuyoshi Araki’s ‘A Sentimental Journey’ . We were also lucky enough to be joined by Maxwell Anderson of Bemojake publishing to give us an insight into the production of Kenji Hirasawa’s ‘Celebrity’ which raised interesting questions on sequence, design, colour and the notion of celebrity.

– Matt

Maxwell Anderson, Harry Hardie and Matt Johnston (L to R)

Eugene Richards: Books

We are coming to then end of May and ‘Cocaine True, Cocaine Blue’ by Eugene Richards, i know many have been in touch for recommendations of other books by Richards to check out. So here is a comprehensive list for you to enjoy.

Where possible, Amazon links have been provided

Links
www.eugenerichards.com

The Photo Book Club World Map

We would love to create a comprehensive map of all the best places to buy photobooks and zines around the world and so are asking for your help!

Let us know where the best place to buy photography books and zines are near you. We will add them to the map with your comments and a thanks.

email: mail@photobookclub.org
twitter: @photobookclub
hashtag: #photobc

(The map will always be available for reference from the Resources page of this site)

You can see the shops we have already placed by viewing the map below or click the link to open in google.



View The Photo Book Club World Map in a larger map