Alec Soth, or how I wish I could take pictures,

I was going to write about "Passing by the Abercrombie and Fitch store the other day, I found a gathering of non-ironic plaid shirts," and how "this disturbed me for a moment until my neurons made the right connections... then it just disappointed me," but I'm sitting in the living room of my new apartment and can't sleep. Our shy cat Tsuki keeps jumping up onto the table by the window to watch the orange street, and I am excited about a new show of photography that opened at MassArt today.



Alec Soth's "Dog Days Bogota" has been one of my favorite photo books ever since I first laid eyes on it. He pictures are always wonderful documents made with elegant composition and full of soft colors. Wikipedia says, "His photography has a cinematic feel with elements of folklore that hint at a story behind the image." In a way, I suppose this is correct. Soth weaves between people presenting something strange and unique to the camera, and the environment they find themselves in, with all its ridiculous beauty. His photos exude compassion and respect. The change from large to medium formats for this book leaves less room for his usual rigid (yet natural) compositions, but only a little, leaving room for more heart in the photos, and a little less brain.

I envy the way he succeeds in treating both people and landscape in different and similar ways, letting circumstances dictate what happens. Mostly I envy the courage it takes to undertake photographic projects in such a manner.