Muge, Go Home

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The collector turned art dealer, Mark Pearson, opened his gallery Zen Foto in Tokyo earlier this year. The gallery's focus is on contemporary Chinese photography and the next exhibition will be a solo show of a young photographer originally from Chongqing who is now living in Chengdu. I am aware that this is a gross generalisation, but I have struggled with a lot of contemporary Chinese photography. Not to get too theoretical here, but a photographer (who shall remain unnamed) once remarked to me that Chinese photography seemed to go straight from pre-modern to post-modern, a transition that made it kind of rootless. Whether this is true or not, at the height of the Chinese contemporary art boom when foreign collectors and dealers were buying up entire galleries without even knowing the names of the artists they were getting, I could not understand why a lot of this stuff was deemed to be so exciting. I found much of it to be overly conceptual, or just plain over-the-top, but perhaps that speaks more to my taste for subtlety. That said in a country like China there are always a significant number of exceptions to any rule and Muge is one of them.

His series Go Home on his hometown documents the changes wrought by the construction of the Three Gorges Dam downstream from Chongqing on the Yangtse River. His shots from around the city show why it is has become known as the "Fog Capital", it seems to hang thick in the air across the whole city. Everything about these photographs is muted, from their tone to the atmosphere that they convey. The fog that clouds the entire city is accompanied by an uncomfortable sense of expectation, as if its inhabitants have resigned themselves to some distant, uncertain fate. Unfortunately the scans on Muge's site are not so great, but I will definitely be stopping by to see the prints if I make it to Tokyo soon.

document the changes wrought by the construction of the Three
Gorges Dam downstream from Chongqing on the Yangtse River

Matthew Swarts

Untitled, 2005 Matthew Swarts has a lot of intriguing and really diverse work on his website. He has done some fairly straightforward series on children with cancer and people with developmental disabilities, but in his recent work he seems more interested in exploring the limits of photography and its changing borders as a result of the internet. He spends "an inordinate amount of time collecting strange images from the web" and combining photographs with informational graphics to get results like the image above. I liked his aesthetic which goes against the grain of the cold, objective, high precision imagery that is so common these days. These images are sometimes hard to find a way into, but I found their complexity intriguing.

Pascal Fellonneau

Pascal Fellonneau, Akureyi, Iceland, 2005

Pascal Fellonneau's images reveal a different side of Iceland to the quasi-lunar scapes that we are used to seeing from this extraordinarily beautiful and strange country. The sweeping vistas are still there, but he focuses more on the details of how people live on this island. His images are crisp with eye-popping colours and people are pretty scarce. They made me think of an abandoned toy-town (which may well be the case given Iceland's recent financial woes) with only a few passers-by left coming through.

Steven B. Smith

Evergreen, Colorado, 1999 Steven B. Smith's Close to Nature and The Weather and a Place to Live "chronicle the transition of the Western landscape into suburbia." They are studies of the ridiculous ways that man interacts with nature, by turn extraordinarily strange, funny and depressing in their bleakness. The man-meets-nature-and-produces-weirdness thing is not exactly uncommon, but I think Smith has a very keen compositional eye and does not go for the obvious subjects, often focusing in on the more easily overlooked details. A great trip into American suburbia that makes you want to go back for more but to never, ever live there.

His work will be on show at Sasha Wolf in NY in January.

Yaniv Waissa

Yaniv Waissa, Disintegration of a revived nation Yaniv Waissa is a young Israeli photographer working around memory and landscape. His series Disintegration of a Revived Nation deals with "the urban revolution, manifested in the massive construction of buildings, roads, bridges and all kinds of huge concrete structures," and "with the changing generations." His statement on the series contains no overt political messages and mentions nothing about the Arab-Israeli conflict, but I find that this work, which deals with rebuilding and replacing the old with the new in Israel, gains a layer of meaning by virtue of the political context in which it is being made.