Ruby Steele- Women on Sofas

With Mother’s day fast approaching this Sunday, we’re starting off this week by celebrating Ruby Steele’s “Women on Sofas”. Ruby’s series challenges the Western traditions of domesticity and womanhood, exemplifying how “woman” and “the domestic” are not mutually exclusive terms designed to limit one another. Rather, the women in our lives are not only mothers, but are–”daughters, friends, strangers, writers, artists, models, priests, students, business women, entrepreneurs, musicians, actors, doctors, scientists, technicians”– and anything they choose to be.

- Alexa Fahlman

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The domestic space is one we all understand. A home, no matter which way you view the word, involves spaces of conversation, activity and thought. Such spaces hold the potential for negativity and positivity. It is interesting to observe how a space holds itself for someone, and their emotional response to it. Feminist critique considers the human geography of space, both in the gendered nature of space and existing conceptualisations of space. A magnitude of diverse environments within our society differ in their pre- existing tendencies to welcome one gender or the other. Culturally, we are encouraged to adhere to this. “Women on Sofas” was driven by a curiosity about the space a woman occupies in contemporary western society. The work explores how we experience ourselves in the domestic and public arenas, whilst celebrating our diversity and power in unexpected ways. It looks at the pride and pleasure we take in our strength and resilience, and in challenging society’s expectations of us. In spite of growing freedoms in many areas of society over the past century, the domestic sphere is still often seen as women’s terrain. It is a space into which we are welcomed. It has been interesting to observe this space, disrupt it and take it beyond its ‘natural’ limits, whilst exploring our emotional response to it. The women come from diverse backgrounds and cultures which span eight decades. They are mothers, daughters, friends, strangers, writers, artists, models, priests, students, business women, entrepreneurs, musicians, actors, doctors, scientists and technicians. Women on Sofas was the project that offered me the opportunity to celebrate these women, both ones I knew and ones I was yet to meet. The sofa is more than a domestic object; it is imbued with symbolism and a rich history. It holds a familiarity and is an invitation for togetherness. These photographs bring that intimate space into the outside world and ask us to reconsider what it means to get comfortable, and feel safe. They also consider the social function of the sofa, and allow that function to broaden into the idea of bodily experience. The image of the sofa initially suggests inactivity. “Women on Sofas” works to challenge that. “Women on Sofas” says ‘I am in the world, I’ve made a surprising home here, and now I’d like to welcome you in.’

Leonardo Magrelli - West of Here

All the images in this work derive from wallpapers and screenshots taken by different users while playing Grand Theft Auto V —a video game set in Los Santos, an “open world” scenario that closely resemble Los Angels and its surroundings. Thus, the city of the Studios, of Hollywood and film industry, becomes itself a staged set and a virtual replica, a duplicate of its original. This fake city, this double, may bring to mind Buthrotum, the citadel built by Troy’s exiles in the likeness of their destroyed hometown. And just like Buthrotum, Los Santos looks more like a remembrance than a copy. It is immediately familiar and recognizable, but at the same time vaguely odd and ambiguous. Pieces are missing, distances are altered, dimensions changed. 

Here, somehow and surprisingly, what Vittorio Sermonti wrote overall about the Aeneid is valid as well: “We must adopt the syntax of dreams, which absorbs [narrative] inconsistencies in a clear realism, meticulous, conflicting and tangibly unreal.”

Is it possible to photograph such a virtual place? And what does it mean to do so? What light are we writing with? These and many other questions, some of them also concerning the topic of authorship, have been already faced by many artists. Nonetheless it’s a matter of investigation that continues to fascinate.

Finally, this work was meant as well as a tribute to a long series of great photographers who worked in Los Angeles widely throughout the second half of the past century. Even if it is mainly through cinema that the city of L.A. has become part of the collective imagination, however the influence of these artists can not be underestimated. With their own perspective, all of them contributed to create an idea and an image of the city that is still vivid and lasting.

Alena Shilonosova - The Street of the Blind

As the weeks of uncertainty progress, I become more and more aware of both the luck and privilege which allow me to sit comfortably at an IKEA desk, and write to you each week. When I walk my dog down a quiet neighbourhood street, I pull my mask from my face to feel the fresh air coat my lungs. Just for a few seconds, a crisp inhale tells me I’m able and alive. Those of us, like myself, who interpret for a living, might feel as though we’ve exhausted our sensory apparatus’ trying desperately to comprehend the state of the world–in fact, we probably have. However, as painful as exhaustion may feel, it reminds me, like breathing, that I’m still alive, and that being able to feel anything at all is something to be grateful for.

Our senses are often one of the things we take for granted the most in life. Here, Alena Shilonosova takes us through Rusinovo, a street of the blind and visually impaired in the town of Ermolino, Kaluga, Russia. Her work explores a community of those regarded as “invalid”, their day to day lives, and their hardships.

- Alexa Fahlman

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Until 1995, Rusinovo was a separate village where the visually impaired were sent from different regions of the Soviet Union. In 1948, the basic enterprise for the blind and visually impaired was built here. The main activity of those in the village was the installation of boards for TVs called "Rubin". After the political rearrangement, the development of the village stopped and the construction of new houses and a rehabilitation centre were frozen. The village was attached to the town called Ermolino, and became what is now a separate street situated five km away from the city, where people without visual impairment also live. Nowadays, the blind spend their time in a workshop, manufacturing “RUSiNovoPak", a collection of medical pipettes. However, it’s considered unprofitable for the enterprise, therefore in the neighbouring workshop, people without disabilities produce cardboard to help cover the losses of the workshop for the blind. Since the Soviet times, there has been an assembly hall in the production building, where the choir of the blind, a library and a gym have organized for many years. The blind and visually impaired live in several five-storey houses; there are private houses behind them on the street and it looks as if it were a street in the usual village.The residents know very well where everything is situated. They are able to get to the shops, to the production building and to the post. If it is needed, neighbouring people will help without hesitation. The larger half of the blind in Rusinovo are seniors who moved here during the Soviet period; children who were born with a full vision have left. In total there are 115 blind and visually impaired people in Rusinovo.

Alexander Rakovich works as Chairman of the society of the blind in Borovsky district. He lost his vision at the age of five because of flu complications. He works in Rusinovo and lives in the neighbouring town of Balabanovo, where he also runs the business.

The evening meeting in the library devoted to A. I. Solzhenitsyn.

In 1942, the house of Victor Sergeyevich Solovyov in Prudischi village in Kaluga region was bombed by an airplane: Victor’s entire family was injured by the glass. Victor received an invitation from the Society of the blind and moved to Rusinovo in 1954. After the incident, he had residual vision, but eventually lost it completely.

Alexander removes the toys from the Christmas tree after the New Year holidays.

The production building has a daily standard of 2400 pipettes per shift. Employees say that there is almost no work that should be done. Someone finishes the daily standard before the work shift is over and leaves early. Moreover, the work week is shorter than most - people work just 4 days per week.

Natalia Vyacheslavovna Belopuhova was born in Rusinovo and lives there till now. Vision problems were inherited from her blind parents.

The first and the last steps of the stairs are marked in yellow color for visually impaired.

Sergey Valentinovich Ivanov has been blind since he was born. It was inherited from his visually impaired father. When someone asks Sergey if he wants to be sighted, he answers, “How is it possible to want something that I don’t know?”

Daily routine helps the residents navigate. Many can easily find the right way through Rusinovo just by using touch.

The residents go to the libraries to read books in Braille and listen to audiobooks on flash drives. Sometimes there are literary evenings: a librarian invites a lecturer from Borovsk, which is situated close by, to read the biographies of writers and their works aloud.

Ivan Sergeyevich Hripunov moved to Rusinovo with his family when he was 40 years old. At that time, his vision was gradually lost.

Table tennis for the visually impaired called “Showdown” reminds me of air hockey, where people are guided only by hearing and touch. The blindfold makes the game equal between the participants with residual vision and the blind.

A guide made of rubber tracks serve to and from the production building. They lead from the first floor of the building to the workshop on the third floor.

Agadzhan Kakadzhanovich Khanov or just Alek, as the locals call him. He has lived in Rusinovo since he was 23. He lost his vision after an accident.

Residents from Rusinovo do not go outside on their own. Their children and relatives help. They have a habit of going to a few shops where the shop assistants help them without cheating, they don’t go to a self-service supermarket alone. They go there very rarely and only with the relatives.

On the opposite side of the production for the blind there are greenhouses where flowers are grown. Only people without disabilities work there.

Svetlana Troitskaya - We Can't Live Without Cosmos

After the collapse of Christianity, with its inherent belief in the afterlife, the visible space became the only possible place for humanity to live, in the future. The aspiration to learn the outer space replaced religion, instead of the belief in the otherworldly came the belief in progress. Achievements in space exploration were officially presented as part of the advance towards a communist society, as well as the triumph of science over religion and, in a way, desacralization of heaven.

With the evolution of astronautics, a new mythology of space was formed. It was based on the simplified theory of Konstantin Tsiolkovsky about space colonization. Soviet propaganda was responsible for the creation of mythological images in the state. The first symbols were Belka and Strelka, after them — Yuri Gagarin, the first human to journey in outer space, endowed with a lot of positive qualities and completely devoid of negative ones, which immediately made him a hero and an immortal symbol. All stages of the Soviet space industry were represented in literature, cinema, architecture, and even in the household items design.

The picture of reality of a Soviet man was built in many respects around the myth of space exploration. The created images allowed people to feel involved in what was happening and to be proud of the state. The myth was working for the Soviet ideology, but as the USSR collapsed, ideology changed. Reality began to transform, as well as its relation to the myth. The cosmic myth continues to exist, but does it now affect reality?

Collective memories of the first manned flight into space construct national identity and unite different age groups. Leadership in space gives a sense of national pride, which derives from the Soviet era and is still strong both among the eyewitnesses of that event and their descendants. Cosmic mythology became one of the bases of national and group identity.

Michael Gaillard - The America Experiment

On a formal level, I am very conscious of the compositional armature on which the content rests. I believe the most successful images embrace the two-dimensional space of the photograph, and certain formal techniques help make that possible. It makes sense why I was always drawn to the 8x10 camera (although now I'm also using a Phase One IQ4 with a tech camera). Sometimes my images belong in a series of images with a strong conceptual motivation, while others are almost entirely formal experiments that serve as a pause or a beat in a more heavily freighted series of images. Usually the symbolism of my images is subtle, with their formal concerns often taking a front seat. Lately though, my work has taken a more explicitly topical turn. 

Last fall, deeply troubled by the state of our country and its future, I decided I needed to channel my anxieties and turn my lens on an America in crisis and make a body of work that was more explicitly topical than what I had done previously. Of course, there is a long tradition of such endeavours throughout the history of photography in America. Many of the most notable works in the first half of last century were lauded for a new objectivity, but this objectivity was the product of privilege. Consideration of the conditions that allowed for this “objectivity” were conspicuously absent from the content. I hope I can approach this project in such a way that allows for my privileged subjectivity to be interrogated in the analysis.

While our divisions are more starkly apparent in the age of Trump (exemplified today in so many ways, and certainly to be made more so in a post-COVID environment), the reality is that America has been manifesting, exploiting, and even weaponizing divisions since its founding. The grand American narrative and its illusions are at odds with the lived experience of most Americans, and symbolic and literal marks of that contradiction are rendered throughout our landscape. 

Gideon de Kock - Short Stories

A subtle look at contemporary Hong Kong, Gideon de Kock’s “Short Stories” is an ongoing project now encompassing almost 5 years worth of street and documentary film photography. He writes to me stuck from his family home in Somerset West, South Africa. What was meant to be a short family visit with his girlfriend, subsequently turned into a 4-week lock-down and self-isolation period, where he now waits until further notice to return to Hong Kong.

- Alexa Fahlman

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My personal depiction and documentation of Hong Kong started around the time I picked up my first camera as an adult. I had just moved to the city after 18 months in Mainland China - the "small" city of Taizhou to be specific - in the capacity of an English teacher. As a musician prior to all of this, I was unable to pursue this passion due to unfamiliarity with the new environment, moving around, and lack of an "in" into the musical community, if you will. 

I like to walk, as a result I like to explore, and out of the need for a creative outlet came photography - a comfortable addition to an already solitary and somewhat insular habit. Hong Kong is such a visually stimulating city I couldn't help but find things to photograph. I feel many parts of Hong Kong are unrepresented to an outsider, or expat like myself, and so I took it upon myself to document. In hindsight, I was simply looking for answers to unknown questions at an uncertain point in my life, and the depiction of an underrepresented Hong Kong and an invisible working-class demographic became a vessel for this. Inevitably, it became an ongoing project themed around empathy; empathy for others and your environment - the place you currently call home. I was never interested in capturing "grand gestures"– moments of awe and wonder–as I've always been enamored by the beauty of subtlety. 

As in many cities like Hong Kong the pace of living and work can be taxing on the individual, and it becomes too easy to be sucked into an environment and routine where we look outward for sustenance, beauty and pleasure; our blinkers tightly secured against the mundanity of the constant. Some don't see their homes any more, they don't truly *see* their neighbors. This documentation eventually formed the foundation of my first solo photo book Some Near Some Far.

These images are here to remind us of what we’re missing when we lack attention; moments of the surreal, moments of humour, moments of beauty–all grandiose in their near invisibility–lost were we to not pay a modicum of attention. Hong Kong has had a turbulent time since the Umbrella Revolution back in 2014, to the ongoing Extradition protests in 2019, and now we’re all sharing the burden of the current COVID-19 pandemic. 

These “short stories” lack context because they’re rich enough for you to craft your own narrative. They’re here to encourage empathy for your fellow people and place, to develop a deeper understanding that we’re all sharing so much, but these photos are also filled with nuance that requires understanding and patience to wholly grasp. On the most surface of levels, these are really just beautiful vignettes of a vibrant and dynamic city, captured on 35mm film.

Jin Liu - Fiction

"Fiction" is a project that I have been doing since 2016. By observing spaces with a mixture of real and unreal factors that people construct in the daily environment. This project explores people's various desires behind this behaviour model, as well as unveiling the challenges they are facing towards ideology and traditional values.”

Anastasia Doroganova - Educational Centres (Russia, 2019)

edited by Alexa Fahlman

Educational centres dedicated to their regional districts are a unique feature of Russian life, carrying a centuries-old history. While educational centres started to become popularized in 1905, many of these remained private centres primarily serving affluent families. However, as response to the pedagogical changes that were taking place in post-revolutionary Russia, the calls for universal access to these educational centres were granted. In turn, these educational centres were organized by regional and local authorities, and became a common institution. Within urban areas, working families especially benefitted from these centres as they provided both education and a form of childcare. 

The teachers and students enjoyed great variability in the formats and educational approaches; arts, crafts, writing, sport, etc. Activities were organized in local surroundings, while lessons were delivered in school rooms and pioneer clubs within property management agencies, trade union committees and factories. In an effort to support these centres, a 3% tax was charged to those living in the community as a means to contribute to the centres’ upkeep. Between the 1970s and ‘80s, the centres flourished due to adequate funding, equipment and experienced teachers. Yet, following the dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, many centres were faced with unprecedented challenges. Departmental support ceased, and funding was drastically cut. The number of these centres significantly decreased, many of which were bought and sold as real estate.

Nowadays, these district centres carry on their work as supplementary educational centres. While some were able to implement newer systems and integrate into commercial services, others have tried to keep what they have. They remain housed in the basements and semi-basement floors of buildings, and are forced to survive using their own resources. Despite these difficulties, the educators continue to work, and their purpose remains the same. Children are enrolled in classes for free, and those involved in the centres have begun to see a new generation attending these classes, most of whom are children without any other opportunities. 

Taylor Dorrell - Parallax

Parallax is a series of images made while traveling the eastern half of America working as a camera operator for an aerial survey company. Spending up to ten hours hours flying a day, one experiences a shifting of perspective. In flight, the landscape quickly becomes an object shifting into division - seen from the ground in layers and detail, then from above, as flat and broad. We never see the images or how they're used, but we're told that the images' quality is so high that one pixel is equivalent to two centimeters on the ground. Printed at full quality, the image could cover the entire area photographed. The image is more real than we can fully comprehend. In addition to this directional shift in perspective is also a location shift as we land in small airports across the eastern half of the US. The rural, urban, and suburban areas start blend together, further confusing the subject-object relation as the familiarity with a town without context (sometimes forgetting what state you're in) seemingly floats in a void. This division, rather than creating a synthesis, or a more complete view of the world, further complicates it. Communicating our lack of ability to fully grasp the Real.

Sayuri Ichida - Stranger in a Strange Land

In 2012, photographer Sayuri Ichida began her path to New York. Following a similar path was Japanese ballet dancer, Mayu Oguri. They met in 2017, and formed a friendship out of a shared struggle to settle in a foreign country–the overwhelm of self-doubt, alienation, depression, and lingering regret. These experiences of displacement became the impetus for their ongoing photographic collaboration Stranger in a Strange Land. As the series sees Mayu perform ballet movements in unorthodox locations, Sayuri captures the ebb and flow of an immigrant’s search for belonging in a foreign country.

- Alexa Fahlman

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Mayu is a Japanese ballet dancer who currently works for the New York Theatre Ballet. We are both immigrants from Japan, and our paths to New York were similar, with both of us spending a few years in Europe before coming and settling in the city on our own. On our journeys to New York we both experienced various degrees of self-doubt, alienation, depression and at times regret, ultimately followed by a sense of reawakening and rediscovery of our inner selves. With this series I aim to convey some part of the jarring experiences we independently shared as immigrants looking for their place in a foreign country.

Can you speak more about your path to New York as a Japanese immigrant? What made you want to settle in New York? Do you miss Japan?

Before I left Japan, I was into the fashion industry and I always had this impression that Japanese fashion was influenced by western trends. At that time I was working at a commercial photography studio and tired of seeing these copied ideas and creations. I made up my mind and decided to move to a place where the trends are born. I first spent two years in London where I first got a taste of life as an immigrant. In 2012, due to a visa issue I had to leave the UK and set the next destination to New York. After spending a few years far from my home country, I gradually started rediscovering the beauty of my own culture.

As time has passed, how does your experience compare to what you expected?

Every goal I aimed for took much longer than I anticipated, but I feel that part of the experience and the setbacks we experience as immigrants are necessary to move us forward.

In retrospect, what was the hardest part about immigrating to America? Would you have done anything differently? Do you have any advice for those wanting to follow a similar journey?

Dealing with the feeling of being an outsider was the hardest part for me as an immigrant rather than technical issues such as language barrier or visa issues. If I could have done something differently, I would say that is to go to a university in a foreign country rather than just going to a language school or go straight to start living in the country. I was young and didn’t think realistically back then, but putting yourself in a situation where you have no choice but to communicate with other people and use their own language and idioms is essential to understanding the culture.

How does the political tension and anti-immigrant rhetoric in America affect you personally–your work, and your art?

I try to ignore politics in general, but the anti-immigrant rhetoric offends me to my core.

Dancers usually perform on stage, but because I shot Mayu on locations that could be considered unorthodox for a dancer, the combination of a ballerina and outdoor scenery gives the series a sense of dissonance. To emphasize this effect I knew that I had to do things differently from a typical dancer’s portrait so I also deliberately set out to shoot her as an object in a frame. I kept asking her to express something different from beautiful formal ballet dance. Everything she does as a dancer is so beautiful, so I asked her not to be too beautiful.

Mayu’s pregnancy with her first child in 2019 was a beautiful occasion for both of us to rethink the meaning behind this series. We decided to continue in the same style, shooting on location throughout the city. I personally find the the lines of Mayu’s body against the bare colorful backgrounds of city walls astonishing. To me they represent the beauty and grace of becoming a mother, as well as the strength that is expected from a woman to be one. I see these pictures as a reminder that our future should always take priority over our past.

Edouard Sepulchre - A Month in the West II

“In 2015 I spent A Month in the West and found there what really interested me in photography. The large spaces, the horizontal structures, the colors, the light, the desert, the mountain, the lost places. In 2019, I went back there. It was a way to follow up on this work, but by bicycle this time, just to see the difference. Over time, cycling has become more than just a means of transport. Being on the road riding a bicycle stimulates the imagination and as a photographer leads to a different narrative.”

Dmitry Ermakov - River Under Earth

“The European part of Russia was originally populated mostly by Finno-Ugric people, not by Russians. There are still four million of them. They speak different languages, but united not only by blood. They are pagans — sometimes, having converted to Christianity or Islam, without fully realising it.

Many of our customs and tales came from these people. And our roots as well. I found out that some of my grandparents were partly Finno-Ugric, though they never spoke about it, for political reasons. Their history is similar to the indigenous people of North America – the Finno-Ugric lands were, in fact, colonized by Russians and Tatars. History is always written by the winners and that’s why our origins are seldom talked  about – though it’s no secret. The locals are skeptical of the federal authorities as well. No wonder why: i.e., just look at the terrible life conditions in many villages. So, these people rarely talk to strangers.”

“They are also quiet about their pagan tradition because there’s a dark side to it. A story from an Udmurt village: the village chief took apart the prayer house and rafted the logs down the river. A few days later, a fanatic cut off his head. And those stories are aplenty.

From the Baltic Sea to Western Siberia, Russia remains Finno-Ugric land, in a manner. If you only go a couple of hundred miles eastward of Moscow or St.-Petersburg, you will see the Finno-Ugric matrix through the depressing provincial routine. In some remote places, tens of thousands of real pagans live. This phenomenon in the supposedly Orthodox Russia is a silent agreement of the people with their rulers.”

“I travelled to many places where Finno-Ugric people live: Udmurtia, Mari El, Chuvashia, the east of Leningrad region. I saw their world full of archaic things, with Nature as the main religion. But the tradition may soon be gone due to globalization and “Russification”. With my project, I want to save some essence of this original wild beauty.”

Zahra Reijs - Verse Vruchten

First and foremost, on behalf of the team at Broad, I would like to say that our hearts and prayers go out to everyone during this surreal time. We like to think of Broad as a global, family-like community, and hope that we can all come together during this time to process and overcome the uncertainty and fear surrounding this pandemic.

With love, Alexa Fahlman

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As COVID-19 continues to spread rapidly across the world, life as we know it feels increasingly static. Restaurants, shops, bars, museums and libraries are closing their doors. Universities and public school systems are suspending classes. As our community spaces have shut down, and social distancing has become essential, it’s natural that we have all felt a sense of loss, loneliness and isolation. However, while we rest in self-isolation, I hope that this week’s series will remind us of the power of community–a picture of hope to look towards the life we will eventually return to once this is finally over. While we may not be able to gather in groups, meet for coffee or roam around markets, our communities remain just a FaceTime, text message, or email away.

Community is at the heart of Zahra Reijs’ photo series this week. “Verse Vruchten”, which is Dutch for fresh fruits, refers to the Blaak markt where Zahra shot her portraits of market-goers. East of Markthal (a modern foodie utopia), is the cheaper Blaak market: a huge open-air street market that sells all manner of fine foods to kitschy odds and ends. This market is a hub of culture, connection and community. Living close to this market in Rotterdam, Zahra remarks that she has always been amazed by the different styles and makeup she sees, so much so that she was inspired to compile this series.

Many of us have been to a street, open-air, covered, farmers, flea, or night market– or have at least seen one. Every culture has them; The souks of Marrakech, Tsukiji Fish Market, Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen, Grand Bazaar, and Portobello. In spite of their regional particularities and differing spatial forms,  these markets have a ubiquitous universality- public spaces of inclusiveness and heterogeneity. Markets are accessed by and accessible to everyone- they function as a public space which is both economically and socially inclusive. As such, markets are often the most socially diverse public places in communities, bringing together different ages, genders, ethnicities, and people of varying socioeconomic statuses. Here, people–especially marginalized groups–gather over the experience of food, shopping, and conversation. These are spaces in which we can freely loiter, mingle and become accustomed to each others’ differences in a truly everyday, public and improvisational space. With community spaces such as markets, which inspire social inclusion and the mingling of different cultures, we are able to grow our sense of local community based on connection, interconnection, and social interaction.

Do you think the culture surrounding the Blaak markt is threatened by the city's globalization, especially with the big Markthal Hall? Or do you think that the big hall has brought more tourism to the Blaak markt and has helped support the vendors?

Markthal is super expensive and commercial compared to the local market so not many locals go there for their groceries. Also, Rotterdam locals are quite stubborn and not very easily impressed by new big concepts like Markthal, so I guess that helps haha. The city has gotten much more busy in the last couple of years, so in the end, a lot of businesses including the Blaak markt improved their sales and become more popular. 

So, do you hope that the city will preserve the Blaak markt as a social space?

Definitely... its not just about food but it’s a social gathering as well. 

When you first submitted your photos, you pointed out that your series was dominated by female portraits. Was this a conscious decision?

I’ve always been more interested in photographing women. I can't really put a finger on why, but I feel like it has something to do with projecting a part of myself onto my portraits. It makes the most sense that I would project this onto women since I am one myself!

I’m also mesmerized by the movement of women. There’s beauty, even if it's just within a flicker of their eyes. Perhaps, as a woman, we just simply have a different connection to women than with men…

“Photography is the best excuse to get yourself into someone else's world and out of your own–that is something I'll always cherish.”

Why do you think there is such a concentration of unique characters and playful dressers at this particular market?

Rotterdam, with over 170 different nationalities, is the most multicultural city in the Netherlands! If you walk around Blaak market there is such a beautiful mix of cultures to be seen, which translates to the way people dress. I don't think they realize their sense of playful fashion/self expression as you call it; it's just the way they are...it's as pure as can be.

What was your favourite part about shooting these women?

People in Holland are pretty closed off and like to live in privacy. Some days, I can’t find anyone who wants to be photographed. Yet, those who do show themselves proudly, some still aren’t sure of how to react, but I really hope they realise how beautiful they are.

Personally, I love markets! I  think if we had more of them, society would be more colourful and accepting. Do you think markets are a way for people to re-learn community in a world which is constantly becoming more removed?

I agree! It’s becoming a rare social gathering where–for once–it doesn’t matter where you’re from, what you do or who you are. To me it also feels a bit like film photography, or writing a letter instead of a text message. I guess you could say that this way of “market-living and connecting” is more authentic than the main world we live in right now.

Send love to your community, stay healthy, and keep your Broad outlook.

Tuesday Talent - Tom McGahan

One of our deepest, most universal needs, is for a sense of identity and belonging. As such, we constantly search for ways of meaning-making and remembrance. Often times, we find meaning and identity in landscape, attaching our emotions and memories to the places we have seen and touched. Our identities, as well as our memories aren’t however, always associated with happiness. Landscapes can sometimes be associated with grief, loss, and pain. In his poignant photo essay “Landscape of Lament”, Tom McGahan memorializes the stages of bereavement—denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance—within his photographs of nature’s rural, spiritual and ceaseless landscapes.

- Alexa Fahlman

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I have the same name as my father, “but he’s not named after me’’ he would say, in his thick County Tyrone, Northern Irish accent. After a brief illness on the 21st of October 2017, my father gently passed away. In the immediate aftermath of his death, I embarked on this series of images to—in some way—try to record the process of grief and preserve the feelings and emotions that arose through each image. My father spent his later years in the home where he was born in Northern Ireland; it is a place that is steeped in tradition, highly polarized due to the division between the two main communities. It was almost a given that my father would have a traditional Irish wake. Dad was brought home and laid out with the casket open. For two days, friends, relatives, and clergy came to pay their respects, sit down, drink gallons of tea, and tell stories. It was all very social seeing long lost relatives and many new faces that would have been part of my father’s life. Even in the midst of the grief and exhaustion, it felt a very natural process—it brought death right up close, and in this, diminished the ultimate fear of death and dying.

In Irish tradition, when the body was taken from the house, Keeners would sing a lament over the body. The practice of keening — where women would gather and wail in grief at an Irish funeral—died out in the mid 20th century. In the words of Richard Fitzpatrick, keening was “letting it all out, having a good scream, coming from the feet up, a good cry, a good purging.” Grief has since become suppressed in Western culture, as we strive for happiness, death and the sadness that follows, encroach too much upon our own sense of mortality to the point that it must be pushed to one side, “Our grief now is too contained. We rely on taking anti-depressants. We go to a grief counsellor” (Fitzpatrick). *Click here if you’re interested in learning more about the keening tradition and reading Richard Fitzpatrick’s article.

Yet, different cultures have preserved their own ways of dealing with death. In the not too distant country of Tanzania, the burial traditions of the Nyakyusa people initially focus on wailing, and are followed by feasts. They also require that participants dance and flirt at the funeral, confronting death with an affirmation of life.

The process of grieving is said to come in five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. However, these stages never come in order—sometimes in reverse and sometimes all at once—but within these stages are glimpses of fond memories, and deep love that seems to become stronger, and takes on a deep seat within us.

These images where recorded using a large format camera, and only one exposure at each of the location; they were all taken during the first year after my father’s passing. The process was both arduous and cathartic, I wanted to bring it up close, almost like at ‘the wake’, to expose the myriad of emotional landscapes I found myself in. Words themselves cannot express the emotions that arise during from grief; this collection of Landscapes is my Keen to my father.

Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.

-C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

Sayan Hazra - Bengaluru - Growing Fast

Bengaluru, known as India’s Silicon Valley, is the center of India's high-tech industry. The city is also known for its green parks and nightlife. Bengaluru has topped a ranking of 131 world cities based on their ability to change, innovate, and adjust to constantly evolving circumstances. This would not have been possible without Bengaluru being considered as the most important Indian city by technology companies. The ranking was published by investment management firm Jones Lang LaSalle ( JLL ) in Jan, 2019 and it tracked a wide array of metrics to assess socio-economic and commercial real estate momentum including a city’s GDP, population, corporate headquarters, foreign direct investment, rent absorption, transparency and more. Bengaluru has a huge population of 12.95 million and out of which migrants cross more than 6.5 million. This is due to both inter- and intra-state migration. This immigration is majorly triggered by the rise of the IT job market, and other businesses related to the economic and socio-cultural growth that accompanied it. 

The economy of Bengaluru is an important part of the economy of India as a whole and contributes over 87% to the economy of the State of Karnataka, accounting for 98% of the Software Exports of the State. The city is home to a wide range of heavy and light industries, as well as high-tech and service industries including information technology (IT) and electronics, telecommunications, aerospace, pharmaceuticals, biotechnology, food processing, automobiles, banking and finance, mining, steel, and cement production. India's software export industry, in particular, has grown rapidly after economic liberalization in the 1990s. Companies here have a huge cost advantage - an English-speaking, highly-educated workforce that is available at less than a quarter of the wages paid in the US or Europe. The technology sector is a key driver of both real estate and economic momentum, and is propelled not only by the large dominant tech firms but also by a robust start-up culture (There are currently 1,301 registered start-ups). 

“I prefer to work remotely. That gives me flexibility to work from anywhere in the world. I left my stable MNC job because it did not give me enough monetary growth within a short span, unlike start-up companies” says Pragyan (30), a software engineer who migrated to Bengaluru after graduating from an engineering college in Orissa. The ensuing influx of people from other countries, and a rise in wealth, have contributed to a metropolitan city culture. Bengaluru has emerged as a shining spot for real estate investors, with the city offering a sound return on investment and assured rental income. Shopping Malls are also mushrooming. Further, Bengaluru has an active night culture, and is home to over 800 clubs and bars; in fact, the city is referred to by many as the ‘Pub Capital of India’. “People do not need a reason to get drunk; in today's world it is perfectly crafted cocktails that everyone needs at a party. I have seen people moving from straight drinks to cocktails,” says Karthik (34), city based mixologist said when asked if he saw a change in the pattern of alcohol consumption in Bengaluru. 

The city has also been successful in drawing high levels of foreign direct investment, along with structural reforms. This encourages foreign real estate investors who are interested in India's favourable growth dynamics. Lokendra (37), who resides in a Villa community, and is a passionate marathon runner and technology geek, shares his view: “A sense of community is better when you stay in Villa-Society than that of apartment. Villas are expensive though. One can even have his own small garden and individual Villa”. However, as Shirley (48) notes, “Bangalore was kind of a suburb; one could see only green lands everywhere. One could enjoy a pleasant climate. But now it is a concrete jungle consisting of housing complexes, technology parks, villas, shopping malls. The climate is also changing.'' 

Shirley is an architect by profession and owns a construction company. She has been witnessing the city growing since her birth. She is very passionate about biking and owns 4 bikes - two BMWs and two Harley Davidsons. In fact, Biking, Cycling, Camping, Trekking are becoming popular among the people of this city. “ My dream is to travel the world - so I travel twice a year. I spend my weekends cycling between 100-150 kms.” says Jimmy (55), a Vice President of a telecom company, who has resided in the city for the last 20 years. Co-living and co-working spaces are redefining the previously separate concepts of 'home' and ‘work-place’. The tech savvy young population is highly dependent on mobile apps for their daily activities, and are also particular about their health and fitness. They prefer to consult with gym-trainers and health coaches. Mariam (43), who has done modelling for 400 ads & TV commercials over the last 20 years, is now a health and nutrition coach; “I do workshops and talks on how to use easy health hacks to navigate and manage our busy, stressful urban lives. I do raw food and plant based cooking workshops as well as organic tours and clean eating management sessions.”

Sayan Hazra is a visual storyteller based in India who investigates rapid changes of our contemporary world focusing on sociological and environmental stories. Visit his site to see more of his projects.

Maksym Rudnik - Sluzewiec Racetrack

Maksym Rudnik’s series is a visual story about the Sluzewiec Racetrack in Warsaw- Poland’s main racetrack. I caught Maksym during a spare moment away from his current project in Athens (stay tuned!) After a quick email exchange, I was lucky enough to find out more about the racetrack’s significance to Poland, its history and the relationship between animal rights and sport.

The country, Maksym notes, has a long history of horse racing which can be dated back to 1777. However, during the communist era, Polish horse racing became severely limited, when gambling and large social gatherings were made illegal. Despite these sanctions, the Sluzewiec Racetrack (the only long-term running racetrack in communist Poland) continued to operate, it was called by racegoers an ‘icon of freedom’ – distant from the everyday reality and rules of communism. Maksym’s photographic narrations reveal a post-communist nostalgia, reflected by the faces of elderly man who have been coloured by their histories. Although the betting pools have since slowed, the ritualized gathering of regular racegoers within the Warsaw racetrack recreates the same camaraderie of times long past.

- Alexa Fahlman

Can you tell us more about the racetrack?

Back in the day it was a huge entertainment for many people. The grand opening and main race held in the middle of the summer is very popular among Warsaw citizens. Yet, during ordinary race weekends there are not that many visitors. The people attending are mainly older people who take a chance and bet on small amounts of money in order to hopefully win some. I visited this place during a couple of race weekends to document the races. During the week in the early morning hours I went to the stables and barns which are nearby to portrait some of the people working there with horses and the jockeys taking their time to practice with their horses. It is a magnificent place surrounded with trees yet it is almost in the very centre of Warsaw.

What do you think it is about the racetrack that people love?

Horse racing is spectacular; whether through the visual subtleties of the jockey’s uniforms, or through the horses themselves - monumental, tall and very beautiful.. There is a gambling aspect as well - it seems exciting to bet and have a chance of winning even if it’s a small amount of money. When it comes to older people, this excitement is historic. In Poland during Soviet Union occupation, there were not many entertaining activities and people were very limited in different aspects of their lives. This particular racetrack acted as a kind of icon of freedom during occupation. People were able to gather during race weekends which was not legal (people gathering) back then and they were able to decide how to spend their money - win some, or loose some. 

Is there a lot of controversy over the racetracks in regards to animal rights, etc? Do many people believe that racing should be banned?

There were some controversies but really minor. I really enjoy horse racing and am amazed by race horses - the way they look, their movements and their grace . On the other hand, I’ve been a vegetarian for many years and am aware of how harmful these races can be for them. It remains a long discussion when debating about the current state of animal freedoms. Personally, the best would be to see wild herds of horses somewhere in the mountains, but as far as I know these horses couldn’t be taken into the wild after having lived as a race horse.

The photos in your series all feel very nostalgic, as if they were taken decades ago. Did you create this mood on purpose, or is it simply a result of the racetrack’s history coming out in the photos?

Most of my work is nostalgic, the colours, the subjects I choose. I think the fact that it’s analog from the beginning to the end makes it nostalgic too. This particular subject came along perfectly when it came to fitting my aesthetic. Old spectators, kind of retro jockeys uniforms, barns where the horses live - they are all a little bit of the past, I was just lucky enough to capture it.

Gabriella Achadinha - Lugar do Paraíso - Madeira

Meaning 'wood' in Portuguese, the island - located in the Atlantic, between Morocco and Portugal - was created by a volcanic Hot Spot which has left its one quarter exposed, and subsequently inhabitable. Paradisiacal, the island is a hotbed of natural beauty - fauna, flora, towering mountains, a brilliant of blue ocean and the juiciest of fruit produce. Renowned for its hospitality, the Madeirenses radiate a warmth; an approachability, with their laughs and chats marking the alleys of Funchal. From the chillier steep forested slopes of Gaula to the sunny seaside of Calheta, this photographic series aims to capture the stillness of the island. The contemplation felt in its landmarks of natural lushness. A simple yet enticing place, somewhat captured in a moment of the past that invites a slow pace.

Valerii Konkov - Monchegorsk, a city among beautiful mountains

Monchegorsk is an industrial city on the Kola Peninsula, whose life is centered around a metallurgical plant. Translated from Sami Monchegorsk means: a city among beautiful mountains. The city is surrounded by several hills, in the depths of which deposits of copper and Nickel ores have been discovered. In the 1930s, the construction of a factory began here, and a city began to be built around it. Now Monchegorsk plant is part of the financial giant «Norilsk Nickel». Unfortunately, people in cities like Monchegorsk don’t have many job options at hand. That’s why most of the population end up working in dangerous factories that poison the air with industrial emissions, causing several respiratory diseases such as asthma, pulmonary fibrosis and even lung cancer. The government wants to keep harmful emissions a secret and people receive threats for what they want to tell about what is happening in the city.

Alexa Fahlman - A Print Publication for the Digital Age

Over the past few years, there have been whispers that “print is dead.” As a fresh English grad with clichéd literary aspirations, this caused me slightly more anxiety than anticipated. When I moved back to Vancouver from the UK, a lacklustre literary career certainly felt emphasized. Compared to other cities, Vancouver is small, and its literary marketplace is even smaller. While major cities like London and Toronto have the population to support independent bookstores and boutiques, Vancouver seems to struggle when it comes to sustaining its niche market. As a result, the past digital decade has ushered in a new era of publication: hyper-relevant, digital outlets which give you easily digestible articles to read during your commutes to work. Overwhelmed with unread articles, disposable clickbait, and digital overload, I  began to get the impression that these iterations were true, print was in fact dead, at least in Vancouver. That is, until I met Gergo. 

Our first encounter was at a backyard buli (a Hungarian party) in 2018. It was a few months before I  was set to go back to the UK to finish off my degree. Just off of Main Street, the sky boasted hues of blues and pinks at 7 pm, beer taps were overflowing, and a variety of Costco birthday cakes (I counted at least 4) were being served. There I met Gergo, immediately introduced to me as ‘family’, and the creative mind behind BROAD. Pretending as if I hadn’t been regularly captioning my posts with #broadmag, I asked Gergo a bit more about the magazine, and how he got into photography. After some habitual small talk, I  learnt that he was born in Hungary and had immigrated to Vancouver as a teenager. He explained how at first, photography was just a means to document and process his experience, however, as he started to work in photography, it quickly became his dream job, he tells me, “it was no secret that I  wanted to make this dream of mine, into something real someday.”

How did BROAD mag come about in the first place?

Gergo: BROAD started on a sleepy winter morning when something inside my head told me: “you will start a magazine today.” And I did! That morning, I signed up for a new Instagram account and called it BROAD––I wanted it to be large in scope. One thing I knew was that I wanted to make a magazine about the things that were interesting to me and could make a positive change in an increasingly shitty world. I felt alone and kind of powerless online in a sea of never-ending content ready to be consumed. I was on Instagram and wondered: why are we all sharing these images? What’s the real use of it? How can we connect it to make something more meaningful out of it? So, BROAD started as a platform to collect inspiration and ideas from around the world. As we built on this concept, we started to foster and attract a community of like minded people. 

The following summer, almost a year to the day we first met, I got a message from Gergo asking if I’d be interested in writing for the magazine. His words verbatim were, “I’m about to make this into a real magazine. My goal is to have a platform where we all do what we love and what we are best at.” As a long-time follower of BROAD, I was ecstatic to say the least, so, this was an easy job to accept. Within the first week of October, Gergo and I had our first official BROAD meeting to go over the proofs and talk things over. He mentioned that he had always loved to collect and make magazines as a kid, “I would staple together a bunch of letter size sheets and filled them with drawings, comics or whatever I could think of at the moment.” Throughout our talk, I was reminded of print’s essential power as a medium–the way magazines hit you at a subconscious level, how they almost effortlessly engage our emotions and senses. I thought about my own collection of magazines, in particular, a collection that started when I  was around ten years old. I  was walking around the neighbourhood with my mom when we saw “FREE”  sharpie’d  in bold onto a big box of National Geographic magazines. After we took them home, I  spent most of my days pointing out my favourite photographs, making collages, and reading through decades of stories. On rainy days, reading these magazines made me feel like the whole world was in my basement––before social media, it was a means to feel connected to a world that felt otherwise unreachable. Documentary photography quickly became my way of translating the experiences of others from around the world; my favourite issue from April 1970 had a white tiger cub on its cover, “White Tiger in My House” by Elizabeth C. Reed, photographs by Donna K. Grosvenor. Stacked underneath was another issue from 1997, where A.R Williams and Vincent J. Musi followed the daily routines of Montserratians who lived under a volcano. There was a certain kind of feeling these magazines evoked, they weren’t necessarily trying to be timely, they were instead focused on the authenticity of human experiences- making them tangible, collectible, and shareable.

What sort of photographs inspire you? How do you go about choosing submissions?

Gergo: I find inspiration in simplicity and a photograph’s ability to convey a story with very minimal elements. Photographers who can do that definitely get my attention. There is a massive amount of talent in the BROAD community and it’s always a joy to dig into it and find the gems to show our audience. When I’m choosing submissions for a topic I look for many different things. Sometimes the image content is so powerful it needs no commentary at all, often it’s the synergy between a well thought-out series of images and the writing accompanying it that grabs me. The submissions that get our attention are the ones that have a strong cohesive look and an interesting concept that shines through clearly. If it can also make me smile that’s definitely a plus!

Regardless of BROAD’s online success, Gergo maintained that nothing could beat the experience of print, a sentiment to which I readily agreed. Living in an information-saturated world, we scroll, we refresh, we bookmark articles––that we say we’ll eventually read but never seem to––and become trapped in a never-ending cycle of internet fatigue. BROAD’s first printed issue is a response to this exhausted pattern, a collective effort to publish visual culture for the digital age. Here, we embrace the beauty in the ritual of reading a magazine, which forces us to slow down, reject online transience, and smell the paper. With these aspirations, BROAD is not a photography magazine, at least not in your traditional sense. Although it’s photography based, BROAD endeavours to rediscover the connections between cultures in an ever-changing and increasingly fractured world. Photography is therefore, the lens through which our contributors use to translate their global experiences across political, linguistic and cultural borders.

WATER VOL. 1

With the climate crisis on everyone’s mind, it seemed essential to take water––a resource which has become increasingly commodified, privatized, and marketed to us––and analyze it from a more human perspective. Whilst access to safe, clean water is a fundamental human right, it continues to be polluted, wasted and treated with unconstitutional disregard. The water crisis in Flint, Trudeau’s unfulfilled clean-water promise to Indigenous communities, and the overarching inaccessibility to safe drinking water around the globe, are all normalized into isolated issues which only affect the so-called “global underdogs”. With the media’s division between “us” and “them”, apathy and disaffection become inherent responses to the crises around the world. As activists and organizations lobby for change, this issue of BROAD aims to show how artists, photographers, and tinkerers can also participate in this political discourse. By bringing an international community together, we’re able to see the intersections of these issues, and how we’re all affected and inter-connected on a larger, global scale. While our goal isn’t to be strictly didactic, we do hope our readers will learn a few new things, and feel motivated to adopt a more sustainable lifestyle.  In vol. 1, we learn from Geoffrey Wallang that in his hometown Shillong, India––one of the rainiest places on the planet––a lack of adequate water-supply infrastructure forces locals to purchase water in order to bathe, drink and perform everyday tasks such as laundry . And as Zindzi Zwietering documents ‘Day Zero’, we’re able to analyze how class struggles are exacerbated by the city’s water restrictions. The social commentary of these articles, combined with their brilliant photography, act as a microcosm for the diversity of our relationships with the world, so if you want to know more, go purchase your own copy!

How has it been watching BROAD grow from instagram to physical print?

Gergo: It’s been a lot of work but a lot of fun as well. It takes a fair amount of dedication to keep things going with such a large project, and you also need a fair amount of humility to ask for help when you’re stuck.  First off, we received an overwhelming amount of submissions to our open call, which made me realize people were taking this really seriously. I spent weeks and weeks sorting through it all and very slowly the arc of the content finally started to crystallize. Then came gathering and preparing all the content which took way longer than I initially anticipated. I realized I was doing work that is normally done by an entire editorial team so it was very slow going initially. Now that we are launching the first issue we have developed a small but driven and amazingly talented editorial team so the next issue should come together a lot faster. During the making of this I have connected with people in all corners of the globe and made quite a few friends along the way. Which is definitely the coolest thing to come out of it so far for me! I am very proud of the work we’ve put together.

A few paragraphs ago, I  mentioned my existential doubt over my ambitions of venturing into the publishing world. This magazine’s title, BROAD, encompasses my outlook after months of working with Gergo and the team. Having read what the contributors have said about the ways in which something as simple as water connects us together, I find myself feeling more humbled, and distinctly closer to other people. A printed magazine has an archival quality, if I ever feel alone, BROAD is right in front of me, with its empathic pages, ready to remind me that I’m not. I  hope when you’re reading the magazine, you’ll feel the same too, and will agree with me when I say that print is not dead, but a way towards a better future. 

Gergo Farkas is the editor-in-chief of BROAD, VOL. 1 - WATER SINGLE ISSUE IS NOW AVAILABLE TO ORDER .

Alexa Fahlman is a copy editor, writer, and photographer for BROAD.

Tomaso Clavarino - Bye Bye Land

Tomaso’s on-going photographic essay “Bye Bye Land” is a stunning visual survey of the rapid urbanization taking place in the Jordanian capital of Amman. Whilst, Amman has been historically regarded as the major city of the East Bank, it passed the first decades of this century not as a modern city, but as a provincial trading centre characterized by its rural and nomadic cultures. It wasn’t until 1946, that Amman, with its new position as capital of Jordan, expanded into the booming, overcrowded urban centre it is today. Within recent years, Amman’s rapid population growth and continuous influx of refugees from nearby war-torn countries has gone through unprecedented growth, reaching a current estimate of 4 million inhabitants, with 50% of agricultural land being reconverted into urban areas. In a rapidly modernizing and industrializing area, Tomaso notes that the city’s expansion has been both abrupt and chaotic, leaving behind old cement, scarce green areas, inadequate infrastructures and almost deserted neighbourhoods. Moreover, impulsive developments has led Amman to become the most expensive city in the Middle East, surpassing Dubai, Abu Dhabi, and Doha. And yet, the city’s urbanization still doesn’t live up to its inhabitants’ expectations in terms of livability, breathability, and transportability. With that said, Tomaso’s high-contrast photos, tell a “Tale of Two Cities”– a story of Amman’s unsustainable modernization, social stratification and urban segregation.

- Alexa Fahlman

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“The irony is that there is increasing modernization going in in a city where entire neighbourhoods receive water only once a week. This modernization is taking away the only few resources still available to the population. Jordan, in fact, is one of the most water-scarce countries worldwide. According to the UN, with fewer water reserves and no changes in the development system, the country will run out of water by 2025.”

“Those living in poor and older neighbourhoods are unhappy with the situation due to the lack of resources, skyrocketing prices and limited infrastructures such as aqueducts. Of course all these issue have been exacerbated by recent urbanization, especially the lack of resources: more houses, means more water, more energy, and less soil for agriculture.” 

“From what I've seen I think that these development will lead to a wider gap between the rich and poor, and without a real investment plan for infrastructures, I don't know what the future of urbanization will look like…but I can’t imagine it will be sustainable.”