With tomorrow’s Hey, Hot Shot! entry deadline on the horizon, it seems apropos to have a grand summary of just a few of the entrants - think of this is as the big loud long burst of fireworks at the end of the display.

Swainson’s Thrush, 2007, by Todd Forsgren

I love this bird, from a series called Bird Banding Project by Todd Forsgren. The bird is tangled, delicate, pitiful, with that one big eye. I thought at first that he was stuffed, dead, and displayed in this net the way captured butterflies are tacked to a board, until I read this:

Ornithologists now use mist nets instead of shotguns for data that cannot be obtained with the help of binoculars, microphones, or telephoto lenses. These nearly invisible nets are set up like fences and function as huge spider webs, catching unsuspecting birds. The researcher carefully extracts the bird from the net. Each bird is measured, aged, sexed, and banded with an individually numbered anklet…Then the bird is released, unharmed.

That being said, I can almost feel that little guy trembling as if I were holding him in my fist. Mr. Forsgren explains in his work statement that these images showcase a “fragile and embarrassing moment” for the birds - and I think this hits very close to that mark.

into the cave, by Tim Gerdes

In this snapshot of wholly different fauna there is palpable power and motion in the primate vaulting himself into a cave, like it’s a still from a clip of the whole action (for the sake of continuity, one could say that this is the escape after the capture depicted in the previous image - why not). It could be Godzilla, with the head and shoulders already having disintegrated into the ominous shadow of that hole. But, I think I’ll let Mr. Gerdes speak for himself:

I’ve been long enamored with the films of Stanley Kubrick, David Lynch, Alfred Hitchcock and Orson Welles—among countless others. The cinematography of Gordon Willis—particularly on “The Godfather” and “Manhattan”—was my first realization in the artistic importance of lens-work.

I’ve worked to channel this inspiration at “Traumnovelle,” to present images with a cinematic flavor, and that tell a story—or rather where each images tells the single frame of a much larger story.

Church, 2007, by Bryan Keefer

Leaving the animal world and entering the world of the hyper-human, Bryan Keefer portrays the interior of this church with an overwhelming sense of lack of presence, that there should be someone at the lectern and people in the space, but it is conspicuously empty. With the brilliant, raw light streaming in from the window and the chandelier above unlit, it seems even more like people haven’t breathed in this room for years. There is a feeling of rustic modernity about the structure as well, but the feeling of abandonment is undeniable.

Self Series #8, by Gabriela Herman

Here, human is entirely present in the image, although in a collaged and somewhat awkward way. What is interesting about this photo by Gabriella Herman is that the body doesn’t look like it actually exists in that place even though it fills it so totally. The shadow on the floor is the only quality of the body that moors it to its surroundings. The legs and bizarre bend of the upper body, which seems to angle deeper into the floor than is logistically possible, make it look like a twisted marionette that has been lowered in. Even though the body is still it exists in a strange state of flux, with the torso moving against the hips and the legs going in their own way altogether; indeed Ms. Herman herself says it has always been her habit to “incorporate a lot of movement in [her] images.”

Facsimile I (Alaska), by JD Gaul

For a change of pace: this photographer presents a series of “facsimiles,” images which act as exact reproductions of places and things. What I like best about this photo is the little piece of flotsam in the lower center on the ground; amidst such a broad expanse of gravel and wet that little detail somehow anchors the larger structure in the back and gives it a ring of authenticity. The photographer’s other photos seem to each have a similar small detail that pulls the larger image into the space of reality and beefs up the statement that they are in fact facsimiles of something preexisting.

Wadi Rum JORDAN, by Marie Sauvaitre

This image is another broad landscape with some minute but all-important detail, detail that takes a second or third look to differentiate: the ant-size trail of figures cutting across the photo from the left. It’s a detail that makes a big difference when understanding the photo, from a series about which Ms. Sauvaitre says,

Reflecting on globalization, mobility and the new roles of borders, ERRANCES - French term for something between exile and wandering - explores and pays homage to nomads’ home through color landscape photographs…From my own experience of exile, I am drawn to these tensions between the pulls of nomadism and the search for the feeling of home. When looking at nomadic dwellings, I am touched by their vulnerability, their transience and the enigmatic play between interiority and exteriority that they engage with the landscape in which they integrate.

I think this image communicates this tension as well as transience and vulnerability loud and clear. It exists not only in the trail of nomads, but also in the ambiguity of the sky, the blanket of nutmeg-y ground rolling out, and the sheer size and isolation of the various rock formations.

Wave, by Slava Deryuga

The first thing that jumps out of this photograph is it’s similarity to The Great Wave off Kanagawa, a familiar Japonese woodblock print made in about 1830. The detail and sharpness of the foam on the crests of the water and the depth and range of blue is massively appealing in a way similar to the crashing wave of the aforementioned print. The photographer explains that her “goal is to make every picture true to nature,” and I think there is great adherence to that rule in this photo in the crushing density of the wave and the rushing froth on the surface.

Restaurant, by Remi Thornton

From big ol’ waves to sleeping buildings: Remi Thornton explains that pictures taken at night are the most exciting to him,

I seek out objects that are taking a break for the night. A water fountain in a park, a construction vehicle, a pedestrian bridge - these things have totally different personalities when there is no one there to use them. What I’m capturing is not complex and only partly conceptual–I make an effort to keep things pure, simple and eerily beautiful.

This photo seems very Edward Hopper Nighthawks to me, minus the people. There is something of the all American to Thronton’s pictures, albeit with a dash of the eerie and otherworldly contributed by the absence of people. In keeping with the idea of the restaurant “taking a break,” I love that the light on the front sign seems almost like a little nightlight.

Leslie’s Keys, by Erika Ritzel

This is another picture of things without people that still show the everpresent footprint of the people who have been, but from an entirely different angle than the previous image. Ms. Ritzel explains her work better than I do:

I focus the camera on domestic interiors; these are the spaces I believe have the most emotional resonance. When people leave, objects remain which hold the meaning of their owner. These environments may be void of human life, but a residue of presence remains, which retains the meaning of their inhabitants and embodies the history of the space. The people might leave the location, but they are never really absent. When photographing, I respond to places that are familiar to my own experience of domestic space, whether directly or indirectly.

Nobody Belives You!, by Massimo Cristaldi

Voilà, from conspicuous lack of people to plenty of people. What is so mesmerizing and pleasing about this photo is the way it seems to transport the viewer to a different time and place. Mr. Cristaldi says of his work, “Taking images is for me a way to transform into physical things my inner visions and memories.” Looking at this image takes you by the hand and guides you into Mr. Cristaldi’s memory and shows you this humorous, sweet, visually engaging scene.

That brings us to the end of the Hey, Hot Shot! Grand Finale Tour. For all you procrastinators, peruse the posts, get your work together and throw in your lot before it’s too late - the extended deadline ends at 11AM tomorrow. Best of luck to all competitors!

my patient at home, Toronto, by My Le Nguyen

The work of My Le Nguyen has stayed with me since i first saw it, and it still retains that initial punch in the gut. She says that her background in and practice as a registered nurse informs her photography, and vice verse. This may explain the sense i get of emotional impact coupled with practical clinicality (if that is a word).
This particular photograph excites me for it’s simplicity, that every element is in it’s place for a reason…the patient, who we cannot help but relate to, seeming to mutely slide off the page…the pillows creating waves for him to drown in as well as extending into the viewer’s space…the “lifeline” connecting him/us to the kneeling saint, whose ornate frame mirrors the patient’s head…and that light switch! Okay, sorry, i’ll stop the dissection. In the much less analytical words of My Le:

I am drawn to subject matters that are immediately surrounding me, physically and emotionally, such as my family, Vietnam, and the patients I care for when I go to work. I’m attracted to ordinary everyday things, and how the ordinary can speaks loudly about itself and about our relationship with life. I like creating tension, mystery, and exploring isolation, hope, and the oddities in life….
I now feel that nursing drives my knowledge in photography; and photography drives my knowledge in nursing. These two, in turn give me knowledge of life and and how to live it, which I think works out pretty well.

Indeed. Thanks My Le!

Okay, now, i’m not going to tell you again! Enter it!

51st and Warrington by HHS! contender Jeffrey Stockbridge

It’s 4:39 in the morning and I just returned home from work. All I want to do is sink into my warm covers. But first, I want to briefly share a photograph with you.

Jeffrey Stockbridge is a 24-year-old photographer based in Philadelphia. He writes:

As a photographer I am compelled to make photographs that reveal what is ordinarily hidden. I am attracted to the elusive and mysterious nature of areas that are outcast from the rest of society. This desire has brought me to many economically depressed neighborhoods in Philadelphia. The houses I photograph have aged. They have been deserted and left to decompose, yet there remains a lingering memory of a past life. With furnishings still intact and personal belongings scattered about, it is as if the inhabitants simply disappeared. The ready-made scenarios I discover inside the houses I photograph are tranquil, yet unsettling.

See more of his work on his fabulous website. Best of luck, Jeffrey.

One more day to enter, y’all. ‘Nighty ‘night.

Binoculars, by Erik Dalzen

Of the many things in art for which I am a sucker, a big one is Hiding. This is particularly the case in photographs that are essentially straightforward, such as the work of Erik Dalzen. Using different fabrics draped over ostensibly mundane objects (if we are correct in assuming the titles name the hidden thing), he creates spaces that are at once dramatic, romantic, staged, and absurd. The fabric is also used as backdrop for the covered object, making it, in a way, both figure and ground, even as it conceals the “true” subject.

My life and my work have been influenced by countless contradictory factors. In school I was taught one history; my own research revealed another. I was raised in a conservative community but reared with strikingly liberal siblings. I heard certain sentiments in church and others in punk music and literature. I enjoyed poverty’s company in Brazil and now have run-ins with true affluence in New York. I have coped with death from addiction while finding an addiction of my own in art. Through it all I have developed a critical and quizzical mind. Art ideas surge up as personal reconciliations of such disparate experiences.

In my work what is shown is one thing, and what is suggested is another. I meld half-truths, misinformation, and partial evidence to speak to an audience as familiar with incongruities as myself. I photograph with a palette of the banal, commonplace, and everyday. I borrow from numerous “-isms� to shape works that are accessible on varying levels, where a casual glance provides one pleasure and a careful study offers further still.

The included selections are from a body of work titled, “Some Things.” I am exploring the act of titling, the role of artist and viewer, perceptual effects of advertising, estimations of consumer goods, and the blurring of subject in respect to setting.

Keep it up Erik! And for the rest of you procrastinators, no more excuses. The deadline has been extended for YOU!

Untitled by aspiring HS Nathan Millis

Yes, once again you ask and we willingly comply. The new deadline for the Fall 2007 Edition of Hey, Hot Shot! is Saturday November 10 @ 11 AM S-H-A-R-P! You have a little over 3 full days to make it happen. Get it in, get it out there!

[And in the meantime check out the work of aspiring Hot Shot Nathan Millis.]

Untitled (Cape Cod, Massachusetts, USA) by Carlo van de Roer

Water obviously has many many symbolic functions, particularly in ways relating to our bodies. The work of Carlo van de Roer, however, is compelling because of the water that’s missing. The emptied swimming pools he photographs are rich with history, to the point of being ghostly. The residue of their past heightens the sense of  uselessness, yet the pools retain an eerie dignity that is unexpected. Each space becomes individual, without the homogenizing liquid veneer.

I think Carlo can describe it much better than me:

When full, the surface of a swimming pool is a flat continuation of the pool edge, obscuring what is below the surface. When drained, the depths are revealed — allowing us to examine the empty pool postmortem.
These locations were once bustling social environments, and visiting them was a collective, public experience. Now deserted by swimmers, the experience of visiting these pools is solitary, still and private. Some have become bogs, homes or gardens — new lives that often go unobserved. Photographing them can be a voyeuristic and dark experience. I have focused on an intimate view of these locations, using tight crops which also emphasize the absent, making these photos as much about what is not there as what is there.

Thanks, Carlo! And fer the rest of yous, come and jump in our pool before time runs out! (too much?)

Jumper by aspiring HS John Wells

It’s Halloween and November has arrived whether wanted or not. For the occasion, a slightly darker shot from HS hopeful John Wells. Black and white has become a novelty here on the Hey, Hot Shot! Blog, and just as I have said before, we’re givin’ you exactly what you’re givin’ us. I am still in a state of shock and awe over the teeny-tiny amount of b+w that comes our way each round. And sometimes you really do just want to ooze with excitement over some zone system action.

For some seductively superb black and white work [that is also a little creepy], come on down to the jb Friday evening for the opening of Beth Dow’s solo-show Fiedwork. AND to really get ahead of the game, you can get your hands on one of Beth’s prints over on 20×200. Take a peek.

Happy, happy. We’re feeling festive for some photos and you have but just one week, enter before you’re time is up!

“Sofa” from the series To Stop a Sudden Outburst by Cortney Andrews

This stunner from Cortney Andrews is lovely and jarring at the same time. She has a delicate touch in the way the shadows play across the fabric and then lock into recognizable forms- the menacing yet limp fingers, and the feet distorted but still possible. I love also the use of the sofa to take up almost the entire frame, separating the viewer from any kind of grounding ground, or means of escape. Despite these disconcerting moments, the jar in the foreground remains the most ominous element to me, and reinforces the sense that something is not right.

From her statement:

“Using the ritualistic structures of sadomasochism, the subject positions of dominant and submissive are frequently invoked within my images. The drama of S/M operates in a highly controlled fantasy situation, which is often derived from a traumatic experience. I feel the reenactment of this experience can be a positive emotional reawakening for the participants. My images similarly inhabit a controlled fantasy situation, where I can project and, therefore, validate my feelings with an alter ego.
The imagery is intended to seduce the viewer with the use of compelling color and body language, but its complexity lies in layering these tonalities with a darker, secretive, and threatening quality. By creating a visual language depicting concealed internal desires, I believe it is possible to provoke change in the external world and encourage new discourses on the dynamics of “looking,” sexuality, and power from a feminist perspective.”

It seems most of Cortney’s work relies on the presence of figures to drive home the narrative but I am drawn to this, where the shadow designates perhaps the absence of someone.

Speaking of absence, I sense your absence from the competition! Time’s running out, enter today!

Denver, Colorado by Jesse Chehak

Aspiring Hot Shot Jesse Chehak submitted work from his series Fool’s Gold - a project about the American West, about people, about landscape, about opportunity, and, well, pretty much everything in between. On the work he says:

The pictures are the results of several long, contemplative, road trips based on prior geographic and historical research. I often revisit significantly narrative locations, while shooting spontaneously the contemporary circumstance. Each picture is a meditative interaction between myself, the camera, and the subject. The result is an attempt to connect the past and the present, revealing some truth behind the opportunistic nature of the American West.

A student of Joel Sternfeld, Jesse cannot emphasis enough the value of working with an artist you admire, but also are insanely intimidated by. And I couldn’t agree more.

Keep it up Jesse. And everyone else, remember the clock ticks… So… Enter today!

Hello by Jennifer Zwick

When I read Jennifer Zwick’s work statement, the first line of which reads, “Ahh, breasts. Bouncy, brazen balls of comedy, each and every one,” I must admit that I was intrigued. I had yet to look at her photos but I was dying to see what Ms. Zwick had written this about. I was more than pleasantly surprised: the above photo juxtaposes a pair of breasts against a flat, floral wall; they protrude awkwardly, and yet they don’t look ugly or lose any of the usual appeal or sexual connotation associated with breasts; I laughed a little when I looked at it. The more I looked at them, the more the word boobs filled my head, and made me painfully aware of the set I’ve got. Ms. Zwick seems to have captured the ungainly and everpresent yet innocent, giggly quality of a woman’s breasts, a duality she explains she has recognized:

As a lady, no matter what you are doing, you have them.
On the toilet? You’ve got breasts.
Buying cereal? There they are, along for the ride.
Trip and fall on your ass? The twins will see your fall, and raise you a couple aftershocks of their own.
Hello, they say!
You can ignore me, but someone, somewhere, is aware of this part of you.
Hello!
Well, hello right back, you bizarre body parts. Hello to you too.

Head to her site to get a handle on the rest of her work, like Hanging (front and back) which functions toward a similar aim as Hello, to depict the “comical awkwardness of having a body.” I chose to put up Hello because it’s just so funny, and if anything forces one to think of that comical awkwardness, it’s these two boobs sticking out of a wall. Everyone else, better hurry up and enter just like Jennifer did before it’s too late!