Author Archive for burn magazine

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Day 2

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Day 2: Sun sets and the night arises in Buenos Aires. I am a night lover. This is a part of a poem by Jaime Saenz, Mexican poet: “Cuánto dura la noche? – En realidad nadie sabe, aunque le haya asignada una duración de doce horas, por razones de orden puramente práctico. – Lo cierto es que la noche dura en el espacio, mientras que el día sólo dura en el tiempo.”So, how long lasts the night, in space? We’ll find out. Somewhere, in this immense city, people are preparing for the night, everyone in their own way. Somewhere lovers set out to embrace the darkness and to dance a while under the southern cross. This is Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ , posting for @burndiary to show you a little bit of my life in Argentina.


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This is Mia playing in the Rosedal, a rose garden in Palermo, Buenos Aires. Mia is Stefi’s daughter and Stefi is one of the two protagonists of my series “Just Mothers” which was recently awarded with the 3. Prize in the Picture of the Year (POY) Latam category “Women in Society”. “Just Mothers” is a simple story about Dai and Stefi, about friendship, sacrifice, the daily struggle to survive, but most of all it’s a story about love, the unconditional love of a mother to her daughter. Although the series ended, I keep seeing them, and I also still take photos of them. We became friends. And I am Sarah Pabst @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary from Buenos Aires, Argentina.


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A man entering the subway is illuminated by the sun. Sun is so present here. That might seem a strange comment but if you were born and raised in a country, where the sun rarely appears during winter month as soon as you see that it s a sunny day you would jump up and go out to enjoy it. I love the sun. And I love Buenos Aires although it can be a tough place to live. Often people ask me “why do you live here??”, looking at me if I was crazy, leaving German economy and safe life behind. And I can’t answer it, because it’s a question that only the heart can answer. The heart constantly seeks it’s place to live and when it feels calm you know you arrived. But living far away from your home and family, the heart also chooses another thing- constant longing and nostalgia for your beloved ones. If you choose another country you chose solitude somehow, being a foreigner forever, everywhere, because even in your own country you’ll be different when you come back. Long comment and basically I only had wanted to give you an epigraph of the photo. Well, that’a a man entering the subway and this is me, Sarah Pabst @_sarahpabst_ posting from Buenos Aires, Argentina for @burndiary .

My back

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Last minutes of Day 1. This is me. Or better said, this is my back. This photo forms part of my ongoing personal project on love. Sounds kind of kitsch but it’s about getting to know someone, getting to know yourself, see yourself through your own eyes and someone else’s eyes. Difficult to explain. In the next days I’ll post more photos about it.. this is Sarah Pabst @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary from Buenos Aires, Argentina.

San Telmo

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This is Day 1 from Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary . This week I’ll show you a little bit of my life in Buenos Aires, Argentina. San Telmo, my former neighborhood, one of the oldest ‘barrios’ of the city.


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This is Sarah Pabst @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary from Buenos Aires. I love the skies here, they change rapidly and clouds transform in wild formations. This is our balcony view at the Redonda, a church in the Belgrano neighborhood in Buenos Aires. It’s a sunny autumn day. Even after two years living here it still confuses me that may isn’t spring but autumn.


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Hi, this is my first post for @burndiary. My name is Sarah Pabst, I am a German photographer living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I woke up this morning to the great news that I ll be taking over burndiary this week, showing you a little bit of my life here. That’s Blas, my boyfriend, one second before I woke him up.

jill corona – creature of the west


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Jill Corona

Creature Of The West

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There is a creature that dwells in the warm desert of the West, one with searing red eyes that blink slow & steadily like a long hot drag of a cigarette burning in the night. It’s tentacle-like arms are generations of families that have lived and died in a rusty basin where copper runs deep, Saguaro is plentiful and the summers are blistering hot. It is a pulsing, living (and dying) congregation of community and people, with both despair and hope strengthening it’s strong-reaching roots. Within it’s clutches are stories of life and survival, as well as death, decay and environmental deterioration.

The images and work in Creature of the West are an attempt to capture and preserve what’s left of a dying American smelter town.



I am a photographer currently living near Phoenix, but was born & raised in the small mining community of San Pedro near Hayden, Arizona. I have been documenting the crumbling presence of my hometown as it struggles with environmental issues (high cancer rates and toxic clean-ups) as well as social, community and economic obstacles (drugs, crime, destruction). I travel from Phoenix to San Pedro as often as possible endeavoring to record (with photographs) the deterioration of the people, environment and community spirit of this beloved, mostly Hispanic barrio as it faces a questionable future.

 This work was shortlisted for the Emerging Photographer Fund 2014.

allison davis o’keefe – mother: daughter; daughter: mother

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Allison Davis O’Keefe

Mother: Daughter; Daughter: Mother

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“Mother: Daughter; Daughter: Mother” is an ongoing personal project about the awkward place between being a daughter and having a daughter.

For the first year and a half of my daughters life, I didn’t take any photos.

Being alone with a child was a depth of loneliness I had never known.

and yet I was still a daughter – a role that hadn’t changed.

switching between the two dynamics and having the worlds collide is confusing and awkward.

every time I am with my mother I revert to a childlike place of needing to feel that I belong

But I am a mother too so where do I fit?

One day, when my daughter was about two and a half, I found a plastic “toy” camera in my office and some expired film.

This is where the project started.

It continues as I use the camera to navigate my joy and discomfort.



Allison Davis O’Keefe is a graduate of Claremont McKenna College, the International Center of Photography, and the Eddie Adams Workshop.

Her career in journalism began with CBS New in New York and Washington, DC covering the US Congress, presidential campaigns and other major events around the United States.

In 2012 Allison released her first book titled, One Goal, which was awarded the prestigious book prize by the PDN Photo Annual in 2013.

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Allison Davis O’Keefe



kerry payne and natalie grono – sonar madre (mothers dreams)

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Kerry Payne & Natalie Grono

Soñar Madre (Mothers Dreams)

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Soñar Madre (Mothers Dreams) is a body of work produced by two friends: seekers, artists, alchemists, separated by 30,000 miles but continually inspired by one another as women and artists.

In honor of Mother’s Day, they have collaborated, in conjunction with the Instagram feed @echosight; on Motherhood, from two perspectives. Natalie, mother to two beautiful daughters. Kerry, who learned motherhood is an impossible dream.

The images blended show the menstrual blood that defies one, every twenty-eighth day, in a bloody emotional battle of hope and loss; and the children, birthed in water, raised by the sea, that delight and inspire the other, day after day after day.

An example of how a body of work need never been ‘done’, Soñar Madre has divided roots…. New York and Australia; an earlier project, and an ongoing personal documentation. Inspired by Kerry Payne Stailey’s “The Children (I Never Had)”, originally published on Burn in June, 2014, the inclusion of the evocative and mystical images of the children of Natalie Grono has enabled two artists with distinctly unique visions to jointly produce an entirely new body of work.




Long ago you were a dream. 

I awoke
in a storming pool of blood, 
yours and mine. 
We were born, reborn, 
You, to this world.
Me, as mother. 
The flesh of my flesh.  The breath of my breath. The dream of my dream. 


Long ago you were not a dream. 

I was not called to be a mother
all the years I might have been. 
Then there was him, 
our longing was born, 
but nothing more. 
Calendars turn, battle of wills
forgive me, love
this body has won. 
So quietly we grieve
the babies I bleed.  


For our mothers, your mothers, and theirs.



Kerry Payne Stailey is an Australian photographer based in New York City. She is drawn to the healing power of photography – a tool she uses for exploring and acknowledging emotions as guides to the path of happiness. Kerry has studied photography, documentary film making and writing at the International Center for Photography, School of Visual Arts, and New York University. She is a Snr Fellow of the United Nations Foundation Instacorp, and her images and projects have been published and exhibited widely worldwide.


Believing we are surrounded by beauty and magic everyday, Natalie Grono’s photographic storytelling powerfully transports the viewer into her wonderful world as she shares the stories and moments she encounters along the way. With her award winning photojournalistic background shooting for magazines and newspapers, Natalie’s images are regularly published and exhibited worldwide. Natalie lives close to a beautiful beach in Australia and travels as much as she can.

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Kerry Payne

Natalie Grono


michael webster – too many black people in one place

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Michael Webster

Too Many Black People in One Place

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Intro by Roy Edroso

There is a neighborhood called Coney Island just up from the beach in south Brooklyn. Because the gentrification waves that have transformed much of the City have not reached it, the world mostly hears of its crimes, and sometimes about politicians visiting to show concern and promise improvements. Down by the water is the Coney Island the world knows better: the boardwalk, the Cyclone, the hot dog eating contests at Nathan’s, the carnival games, the sea and the surf — what the New York Economic Development Corporation (a not-for-profit facilitator of government and private sector cooperation) calls on its website a “historic entertainment destination.”

The world may also know, if it reads the New York papers, about the real estate squabbles that in recent years caused sections of Coney Island’s amusement parks, as entertainment destinations were once called, to be torn down. A developer named Joe Sitt bought up land at Coney Island and negotiated long and hard with the City over its use, sometimes demolishing batting cages or go-kart tracks, seemingly for emphasis. Sitt talked about his own lavish plans for the properties — “Vegas-style” was a frequently employed adjective — while the Bloomberg Administration tried to talk down the price.

The City eventually got control of enough of the land to build new amusements on it, or rather contract with other companies to build them; Sitt’s company continues to hold parcels, some of which remain deconstructed (though he recently leased to a shop that sells merchandise relating to the Brooklyn Nets, who play at Barclays Center, another product of real estate speculation further north in Brooklyn).

Other developers hold land in Coney Island too, and you may see at their websites great plans for its use, including residential and business towers, anticipating  larger changes; some of these plans are years old, but the developers have plenty of time to see them through.

This alarms some activists and nostalgic New Yorkers and expatriates. But it is reasonable to note that Coney Island has been convulsed by speculation many times since the first amusements were planted there more than a century ago. As long as rides and clam bars and games of skill are in operation, you might say, Coney is what it was.

You might also say that about the rest of New York, though that too has been affected by speculation. In fact it has gotten so intense that a new term for it has been generated: hyper-gentrification. This may be briefly described as what happens when gentrification cuts out the middleman. The middleman, in this case, would be those advance parties of urban pioneers who once made beachheads in poor neighborhoods. That’s how it had been done for decades: artists and adventurers would come to the East Village, Williamsburg, Greenpoint, and such places to get the cheap rents and make a scene, and after a while big money would chasing after. But now big money is bigger than ever, and has discovered that doesn’t need an advance guard. It finds cheap land, buys it up, and creates new markets all by itself. The outsiders will come not as pioneers now, but as customers.

Thus city life grows ever more expensive. But the City knows its own interests, and gives some elbow room to its poorest residents via low-income housing and other forms of public assistance; also, the big money provides opportunities for them to fill their income gaps with the hard jobs, on or off the books, that the wealthier residents need someone to do for them: cleaning their apartments, hauling their furniture, driving them home in the middle of the night.

Like everyone else these folks need to relax, to blow off steam, to get a change of scene, but they can’t spend a lot on that. The need is more pressing in the summertime, when apartments are close and hot; on the worst days the city makes overnight “cooling stations” of community centers, but those are not places to cut loose in. So they hang out in parks, on street corners, in playgrounds. There are limits on what you can do there, too, so sometimes it’s worth a trip to Coney. There you can take advantage of the official attractions, which are more expensive than they once were — the Luna Park complex, for example, now offers “wristband deals” starting at $32 — but even when money is tight you can drink outside at Coney, and dance to boomboxes on the boardwalk, and play on the beach and swim in the water.

When night falls the atmosphere changes a little. On big nights, like the Fourth of July, thousands of people are out, and their voices gather and rise above the music. Some have been drinking a good long while; others haven’t been drinking but have been laughing with friends, running in the sand, riding bumper cars and screaming on the Cyclone, walking the length of the boardwalk and back, eating clams and hot dogs, breathing the sea air, and getting the good kind of tired that makes you forget how tough the days are, then realize you’re not tired at all, just relaxed. You have plenty of jam left. You may have been toasted by the sun, but the sun is down now and the air is cooler. The abundant lights of Coney now shape the space, make a glow that you’re inside, and you may be aware that you are literally at the edge of the City; no skyscrapers tower over you; beyond the beach is only the black ocean.

But you are in the City still. Occasionally you’ll see, in the middle of the throng, a few cops standing close to a young man, and as you pass you check to see if his hands have been cuffed. In front of the Polar Express a cop car moves slowly through the crowd, and patrolmen call and motion for them to disperse. This is nothing unusual; just crowd control; you’ve seen it here before. And if one night you see cops on horseback, riding in to take command of the street, it may seem strange but it’s something you’ve seen before, too; not here, but at anti-war demonstrations, or at Occupy Wall Street, or at the Tompkins Square Riot. That’s what they’re sent to do if there’s a threat. You don’t see a threat here, but somebody does. Obviously. They must. You can’t imagine they were sent just to get people out of the way, to make them feel — innocent as they are, as long as they’ve been coming — that they aren’t welcome.

The deeper into the night it gets, the more active the police become. Yards away are the trains that will take you back, and you may decide it would be a good idea to beat the crowds. You’ve had a good time, and you don’t dwell on the police activity. There is after all a good bit of crime further up from the beach — a cab driver was just slashed there, you saw it on the news — and you don’t want it coming down to the entertainment destination. Neither does anyone else.  Changes are coming that will make that less likely, maybe in time unthinkable. People have plans for Coney, as they always have. They’re just bigger than they used to be.




On July 4, 2013, I took my 14-year-old son to the Coney Island amusement park in Brooklyn, New York. We were present as police closed off a section of the park that was popular with lower income, mostly darker skinned New Yorkers, many from projects around the city. The cops forced all the businesses to close along that stretch and used a line of mounted police to drive thousands of people off the street. We saw police beat a young woman who protested. They beat her down to the concrete with their fists and then kicked her while she was down.

There were no acts of violence or vandalism or any other kind of civil disobedience that precipitated the police action. People were behaving peacefully and generally appeared to be having a good time.

The following morning I returned to the scene and asked one of the business owners why the police had cleared the street.

“Too many black people in one place,” he said.

I am an American Photographer currently living in the United States.


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Michael Webster

In Bed With Martin Parr

In Bed With Martin Parr




Goodbye from Melbourne

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My grand love, the thing I return to most, my greatest pain. This is goodbye from me, I thank you all so much for your kind and beautiful comments, and for following along. It has been a humbling and rewarding journey, and a great priviledge. Thank you so much @burndiary @burnmagazine @diegorlando @davidalanharvey! If you would like to keep in touch with my work, this is me Katrin Koenning @k_koenning. Goodbye from Melbourne, Australia.

The stars

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“The stars we are given. The constellations we make. That is to say, stars exist in the cosmos, but constellations are the imaginary lines we draw between them, the readings we give the sky, the stories we tell”. R. Solnit Katrin Koenning @k_koenning for Burn Diary from Melbourne, Australia.


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Domestic Constellation #2. Today is my last day posting here for Burn Diary. Wishing you a glorious weekend! Katrin Koenning @k_koenning from Melbourne, Australia


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The Australian government is planning to forcibly close regional Aboriginal communities. Today in Melbourne thousands of people came together to stand with our Indigenous Brothers & Sisters. ‘Always was, always will be, Aboriginal Land’. Katrin Koenning @k_koenning for Burn Diary, Melbourne, Australia. @photobookarchive

The tallest building in Melbourne

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The tallest building in Melbourne, in flexible disguise #2. This is Katrin Koenning @k_koenning for Burn Diary from Melbourne, Australia.