Sunday Edition: McCauley, Castermans and Smith
PHOTOSNACK #137
Every Sunday, I reach out to photographers previously featured on PHOTOSNACK and ask them to send me their spontaneous thoughts, observations, reflections, or advice.
Today, I am sharing with you the messages I received from Alison McCauley, Nicolas Castermans, and Stephen Smith.
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Alison McCauley
Shimmers is a series of images I captured in the Côte d’Azur between 2013 and 2023.
“the way the light shimmers on the surface and the dark flip side of it all”
This fragment of a sentence sums up everything I want to convey in words about this series of photographs, and of all my images, this is the one I feel best sums up that duality that I so badly wanted to explore.
The light side, I refer to, is that which bounces off all shiny surfaces, but especially of the sea.
The dark side is a little more complex. The Côte d’Azur is a destination that’s invaded by visitors and tourists. It offers a hedonistic lifestyle that attracts many in search of escapism, pleasure, and fast money. A great deal happens in the shadows here. While working on this series, I often had a quote from Somerset Maugham in my head. He referred to the French Riviera as “a sunny place for shady people.” This fits with what I saw and felt.
In this series, I’ve included many images taken underwater. These images literally show a dark and mysterious underside, but they are also a metaphor for shady happenings and for the dark that, I believe, is in each of us. It’s this contrast between the beautiful, shimmering surfaces and the dark, flip side that intrigues me.
Shimmers is currently my main obsession, and I'm delighted that my new book with a series of these images will be released by Photo Editions very soon.
Alison McCauley was featured in PHOTOSNACK #97.
Nicolas Castermans
In the heart of South America, where the untamed beauty of the desert meets the endless horizon of the Pacific Ocean, lies a road less traveled - the Pan-American Highway. For me, embarking on a solo motorcycle journey from Guayaquil, Ecuador, to Lima, Peru, along this legendary route was not just a road trip - it was an odyssey filled with extreme feelings of adventure, freedom, and the exhilaration of the open road.
As I ventured deeper into the heart of the desert, the true magnitude of the journey began to unfold. The rugged terrain tested the limits of my endurance, while the vast emptiness of the desert reminded me of my own insignificance in the face of nature's raw power.
Yet, amidst the dangers and challenges of the desert, there was a sense of freedom and exaltation that pulsed through my veins with every mile traveled. The solitude of the road became my sanctuary, offering moments of quiet reflection and unparalleled connection with the world around me.
After about three weeks on the smooth asphalt of the Pan-American Highway, I decided to venture onto rugged dirt roads that wound through the dunes. For two days, I rode alone, with nothing but the vast expanse of sand and sky stretching out before me. The isolation was palpable, yet exhilarating, as I embraced the raw beauty of the wilderness. Then, just when I began to feel tired and stressed about the risks I was taking, I stumbled upon the welcome sight of civilization. It was only here that fate intervened in the form of a flat tire, a problem that I don't know how to fix alone. I have been lucky.
As I reflect on the journey now, this photograph stands out in my mind. I took it from the workshop I found to repair the tire. In the image, the harshness of the desert is juxtaposed against the feeling of comfort of seeing civilization in an environment so devoid of life, encapsulating the essence of the adventure I lived.
Nicolas Castermans was featured in PHOTOSNACK #105.
Stephen Smith
A ten-minute walk from my home in Lucerne, Switzerland, lies Friedental, or Valley of Peace, the largest of the five municipal cemeteries of Lucerne. It was dedicated in 1885 and comprises some 42 acres and 14,000 graves. It is situated on a moraine plateau left over from the ice age at the edge of town. There are several well-known persons buried there, including Carl Spitteler, a winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, and Willem Mengelberg, celebrated conductor of the New York Philharmonic and the Concertgebouw Orchestra, Amsterdam. Numerous elaborate sculptures adorn the graves of Lucerne's patrician families. But countless others of many religions are resting here in simple graves and urns. I'm convinced that one of the reasons the architects of the cemetery chose this spot was that it is privy to some of the last rays of the sun to reach the town.
I often walk to the cemetery alone - usually just before dusk - with my 4x5 view camera to slowly wander the aisles of graves, enjoying the peace and solitude and the natural beauty of trees, shrubs, flowers, and birds and the view down the glacial valley, discovering exquisite works of art by unknown, gifted sculptors, and occasionally encountering the grave of a long-lost friend or acquaintance, the memory of whom has faded.
Anyone who has used a large format view camera will know how slow and methodical the process of photographing with one is. Setting up the tripod, unfolding the camera and bellows, choosing a lens, composing and focusing on the ground glass (with the image upside down and reversed) under a dark cloth, choosing front and rear standard movements, tilt, swing, rise, and fall, carefully metering the light and choosing an exposure, factoring in reciprocity failure and bellows extension. Then after inserting the film cassette and removing the dark slide, the crowning moment when one stands beside the camera, looks intently at the subject, and slowly and confidently presses shutter with the cable release. The image, latent on the film, is carefully stowed away to, in its turn, wait patiently to be freed in the developer.
A very contemplative and satisfying process.
The inhabitants of Friedental - the trees, the stones, the sculptures, the shrubs, the dead - are ideal partners for this photographic exercise. They wait on me with undying, eternal patience while I decide on angle and composition. I’ve never been rushed, except by the sun in its unhesitant heading toward the crest of the neighboring hill. Or perhaps by this admonishing figure in this photograph that I discovered there the other day. What is he so urgently wanting me to know? That I have but seconds to press the shutter before the sun abandons us? Or that our days are counted, and I must make the most of them?
I will try to get his answer on my next visit.
Stephen Smith was featured in PHOTOSNACK #095.
Sunday Editions are here to connect you with photographers whose work you previously explored through PHOTOSNACK.
I want to reveal some authentic parts of the people behind the cameras.
I don’t ask them any specific questions. I ask them to share whatever pops into their mind when thinking about YOU - the readers of this newsletter.
It makes their responses genuine and personal.
I hope you enjoyed today’s Sunday Edition.
Until next time,
Tomasz
A terrific introduction to three very interesting photographers, thanks very much for the thought and time on these Tomasz.