“This is Major Tom to Ground Control.I’m stepping through the doorand I’m floating in a most peculiar way and the stars look very different today.” (David Bowie) I have seen a movie about cosmic collisions in the Planetarium in Buenos Aires. How little important we are, just some spot on a huge map of little dots that belongs to another huge map of little dots. And trying to find out who we are we look up to the sky as if the answer was just there, written by cosmic collisions. But what we see are stars that already belong to the past, time is always ahead of us and the star that seems to twinkle to us in reality is already long gone. This is Day 8 from Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ for @burndiary , very happy that I was asked to post a little longer.]]>
The last photo Nancy has of her father was in frond of this trees. He was a metal worker and the trees are in the backyard of an old factory. And it’s the place where she feels close to him. Today I accompanied her to take these photos for my series. It was partially clouded but suddenly sun came out, until I took the photos and then vanished again. It was as if he was present for a brief moment. I am Sarah Pabst , @_sarahpabst_ on my last day for @burndiary posting from Buenos Aires.]]>
Burying the Lead
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Following Typhoon Haiyan, 60 Filipino families were forced to move into Leyte Provincial Jail after being left homeless and destitute. For close to a year, they lived alongside their incarcerated relatives, some of whom were accused of rape and homicide. I gained access to the prison and verified that families continued to live in the jail after 6 months.
Since this series was shot, the families have long since left the jail, but their fates are unknown to me. I began to question where these images fit into my own life as a result. It disturbed me how quickly news breaks and inevitably disappears while one’s images remain interred in the archive.
For an upcoming survey and exhibition of contemporary Filipino photographers in Manila, I was presented with the opportunity to show new work, but decided to move backwards, revisit this series, and create one of a kind ambrotypes (photographs on glass) using the 19th century wet-plate collodion process out of my original digital files with the help of The Penumbra Foundation.
Everything about this series is outdated or rather obscure from the aesthetic to the location itself. As captions, I’ve used traditional Filipino riddles in various dialects that I’ve collected.
As opposed to an exercise engaging in nostalgia, my decisions emerged from a need to consecrate and imbue these seemingly generic and direct images of Filipino faces with the fragility and unseen idiosyncrasies of that traumatic moment in time.
Lawrence Sumulong (b. 1987) is an emerging photographer based in New York City. He received his B.A. from Grinnell College in Iowa where he studied creative writing and won the James Norman Hall Aspiring Writer Award as well as the Lorabel Richardson American Academy of Poets Prize.
His work has appeared in The GroundTruth Project, a global journalism initiative supported by the Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting, Le Monde’s M Magazine, the Milk Gallery, The New Yorker: Photo Booth, The New York Times, NPR, and Verve: The New Breed of Documentary Photographers.
His postcard series for the publication, Abe’s Penny, is in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art Library and the Brooklyn Museum Library.
He is the photo editor at Jazz at Lincoln Center.
Like every country also Argentina has it’s dark spots in history. This is Nancy. She’s a daughter of one of the 30000 ‘desaparecidos’, missing persons from Argentina’s dictatorship from 1976-83. She was 12 years old when her father José was abducted, a rifle put in her stomach because she won’t stop screaming by an uniformed person. She would never see him again. A ‘desaparecido’ has no body, no grave. He just disappeared. Nancy forms part of my ongoing project of the children of the missing. She’s an incredible woman, so strong and kind. I am Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ for @burndiary posting from Argentina and showing you her story. This is Day 7, my last day for Burndiary.]]>
Springtime fresh Kodak snapshot that I just couldn’t resist! The air is simply magic in the outer banks in spring..warm during day, coolish at night, windows open for good sleeping..I have lots going on. Ready to launch a book and big print show in the works definitely has an edge to it…all the more reason for a light touch.. #obx #spring]]>
A woman goes for a walk with her baby in the afternoon sun in the city center of Buenos Aires, being observed by a stencil. In autumn, sun draws large heavy shadows that seem to swallow the people walking through the streets. This is Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ for @burndiary showing you fragments of my life in Argentina.]]>
“Roaring dreams take place in a perfectly silent mind. Now that we know this throw the raft away.” (Jack Kerouac) Love makes you vulnerable. At a certain age we all wear our backpack of broken stories, damaged hopes and little wounds time has given us through the experience of life. When we meet someone, we put down our backpack, both of us, and first we put it aside, so the other one won’t see but then we open it and with every day we reveal who we are. Relationships can be cruel times. There’s no greater solitude than when you are with someone but the other one is not there. And you try to find out who the other one is but what you are really trying to find out is who you are. It’s a journey, a journey together, a risky journey, but worth every part of it. So, throw your raft away, stroll the streets of your city and try to find out who you are on this quite philosophical Day 6 from Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ for @burndiary from Buenos Aires, Argentina. This photo forms part of my ongoing personal project on love.]]>
“Since I have been born I’ve slept more than a 10000 times but I’ve never dreamt of flying.” That’s how a Japanese movie starts that we saw the other night. And I noticed that I never dreamt of flying. When night falls I stand on our balcony and watch the city calm down. Only the wind and the lights never stop, and with them the dreams we have. I see someone walking down the street, she stops for a while, turns around and then keeps walking, a brief indecisive moment. Maybe this is how life works, I think, watching her, you walk, stop, turn, hesitate, turn around again, go on. Then I go back into the house, hoping that this night I’ll dream of flying. Day 6 has just begun for me, Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary from Buenos Aires, Argentina.]]>
Her name is Chelydra Serpentina Serpentina. Her pink tongue wiggles when under water to simulate a worm to attract a fish which then becomes breakfast. Her mouth opened now simply as a defense against me. An intruder in her space. She should know by now I am her friend. I’m a turtle/tortoise man since childhood. How do I know she is a she? Because this is egg laying time down here in the marshes of the outer banks. The only time you can see snappers out of the water and moving around on land is in spring for egg laying. The eggs don’t have much of a chance with fox and raccoons around. Yet some make it after 90 days of incubation. If by some miracle a baby does make it to the water and survive the first few years , then there are zero natural predators. However ,crossing the highway is not something these prehistoric looking creatures were hard wired to protect themselves against. So they are dependent on motorists like me who will stop the car and move them to safer ground. This full grown ( probably 30 lbs) female just showed up in my front yard about sunrise as I was having morning coffee. I did not mess with her because she didn’t appear to want to be messed with!! I wanted to point her in the right direction, yet she had a mind of her own and slid off into the bushes. I hope to meet her again next spring. #obx #easternsnapper]]>
I had a wonderful dream this night. I can barely remember what happened but I was with my grandmother. She died 6 years ago. I could see her perfectly, her voice, she was so close. I somehow managed to visualize her as I am trying every day in daylight but memory vanishes. It might be the most painful, your memory becomes photographs, existing photographs but your inner photos vanish, doesn’t matter how hard you try to keep them. Maybe it’s the work of time that heals all wounds but I’d prefer to keep this wound open and to be able to remember her so clearly as I could see her this night in my dreams. She was a great person. This is the only photo not from Argentina but of my ongoing personal project that I started on my last trip to Germany about my grandparents, World War II and memories. I thought it was the only photo possible for the feeling I have this cloudy morning in Buenos Aires. This is Sarah Pabst @_sarahpabst_ for @burndiary showing you a little bit of my life here in Argentina.]]>
City going to rest. All those dreams are going to sleep behind the windows, every light is someone preparing for this night’s rest. And one by one the windows will turn dark until only the night lovers stay awake, sleepless listening to the sounds of the car wheels rolling down Avenida Cabildo. This is Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ for @burndiary , saying good night from Buenos Aires.]]>
Day 4: I like photographing flowers, especially when they are already fading. You can buy flowers almost everywhere on the streets in Buenos Aires. Another kitsch thing, but well, I am a romantic person. You can’t deny who you are. This is Sarah Pabst @_sarahpabst_ for @burndiary from Buenos Aires, Argentina.]]>
Another sunny day. Today I almost hoped for some rain as I am tired and rain gives you the excuse to relax. But then you see the marks the sun leaves on the wall and you get soaked up with energy. Buenos Aires is a restless city, people are always rushing and so do you. People here seem to never sleep. – This is the only non digital photo, I recently bought an analogue Hasselblad and fell in love with it. This is a scanned Kodak Portra. When I first saw the portrait appearing on my screen his look captured me, again, and I remembered when we met, the same look, one gaze and the scene freezes, for a brief moment. Our memory works with stills, not moving images. Maybe this is why photography has so much power. “What we see is not what we see but who you are.” (Fernando Pessoa) I am Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary from Buenos Aires, Argentina.]]>
The Sleep of Reason
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The window on the high-speed train to Naples, Italy, frames an idyllic picture – rolling hills, sun-covered vineyards, and fertile farmland. But beneath the fertile soil of this region lies something insidious, an amalgam of industrial, hospital and nuclear waste that is spiking cancer rates and spreading alarm across Southern Italy.
The setting is Campania, Italy, and the Naples coastline, former playground of Roman emperors. The region’s natural beauty has been spoiled by the trash on its streets. Piles of garbage line the highways, farmland, and playgrounds. Heaps of waste under overpasses, filled with industrial by-products, are torched in large fires with billowing poisonous black smoke, a practice perfected by organized crime. Now, after decades of these practices, the consequences are emerging – reports of tumors, scientific studies suggesting links, testimony of mob turncoats pointing to millions of tons of dumping. Everyone is scared, inhabiting what feels likes a living graveyard.
Greg Kahn (b. 1981) is an American documentary photographer. Kahn grew up in a small coastal town in Rhode Island, and attended The George Washington University in Washington D.C. In August of 2012, Kahn co-founded GRAIN Images with his wife Lexey, and colleague Tristan Spinski.
Kahn’s work concentrates on issues that shape personal and cultural identity. His clients include NationalGeographic.com, The New York Times, Nike, stern, The Wall Street Journal, and Washington Post Magazine. In 2011, Kahn was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for his work on the foreclosure crisis in Florida and in 2014, with The Sleep Of Reason, he was shortlisted for the Emerging Photographer Fund.
The window of our neighbors or better said, the neighboring building. We don’t know each other, but I love their window, the curtains that fly in the wind, the light behind it and the anonymous life. I can spend long minutes watching, wondering if they also watch us, somehow it makes me melancholic, the little details on the piece of cloth that moves with the wind and seems to have it’s own life and liberty until at some point, they close the window and the show for tonight ends. I am still reading Jaime Saenz these days, as I said, I am a night lover. Here s a fragment of his poem “La noche”- “Extrañamente, la noche en la ciudad, la noche doméstica, la noche oscura; (…) no tiene nada que ver con la noche. Pues la noche sólo se da en la realidad verdadera, y no todos la perciben.” Good night to you, I am Sarah Pabst @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary from Buenos Aires, Argentina.]]>
Day 3: I grew up in rural Germany. So every now and then I have to escape the city. We went to the forests of Ezeiza, and only 20 minutes away from the city center suddenly you find yourself in the middle of singing birds, horses and golden leaves. Wandering around you soak up the oxygen, we went horse riding for a while. I have always loved horses. And the silence of the woods, nothing but the sound of the hooves on the ground, birds and the wind. Sometimes, happiness is so easy to achieve…. I am Sarah Pabst , @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary fragments of my life in Buenos Aires, Argentina.]]>
Day 3: Dozens of doves fly up in Parque Centenario in the Villa Crespo Neighborhood of Buenos Aires. It’s a popular place to spend Sundays, sip a Mate and eat Pastafrola. I am Sarah Pabst, @_sarahpabst_ posting for @burndiary, showing you a little bit of my life here in Buenos Aires, Argentina.]]>