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A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

A brand new publication by us, Reference Press! It is with immense pride that we release Icon Stations by Daniel Adhami into the world, a 650 page odyssey into the world of wayside shrines. Meditative and revealing, Icon Stations marks the completion a 5 year journey by Adhami, capturing the folk art tradition of Icon Stands created across hundreds of years on the island of Crete. It is a work of great beauty, a typology of sorts that reveals both the structures and the innate human need to mark the landscapes we inhabit. It is an alternative portrait of the island, but also a portrait of longing, of the universal yearning to connect with divinity, an otherness, and to reach out hopelessly for infinity. Launched last Thursday, we are nearly half sold-out already, so hit the link in our bio to get this remarkable book. It is a privilege to share this beautiful work with you.

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Step into the programme shaping this year’s Offprint London!

📚 Talks & book signings:

This year, the fair presents an inspiring series of artist talks at Reference Point (@referencepoint180), bringing together a dynamic range of contemporary voices.

Throughout the three days of Offprint, a dedicated programme of book signings will offer unique opportunities for meaningful exchanges and engaging encounters between artists and visitors.

[NEW!]

🖨️ Live printing installation:

The fair will also feature ‘Relic’, a project by RRose Editions (@rroseeditions) and artist Lucy Helton (@lucyhelton), a multi-analogue fax machine installation that prints book pages live.

Fax machines can be seen as relics—potential technofossils, or human-made objects that may eventually become embedded in the Earth’s geological record.

The thermal prints generated during the event will be compiled into a collective artist book, published in a limited edition by RRose Editions and made available to Offprint visitors.

🔊Sound Programme:

New Dimension’s Ben Goulder (@newdimensionhq) will curate a sound programme for Offprint London, bringing together international friends and collaborators, including BOOT MAG and VieImprint.

Moving between aural pleasure and pain, the programme will extend the fair’s atmosphere beyond the page through a resonant selection of sound, interference and low-level seduction.

🖍️ Colouring Art Book Workshop:

On Sunday, 17 May at noon, join us for a colouring art book workshop on the occasion of the launch of 'Spot 100 Difference Colouring Art Book', a colouring book with no beginning or end by Masanao Hirayama (@masanaohirayama), edited by Hato Press (@hatopress).

(Please note that the programme is still being updated.)

👉 Discover the full programme schedule on offprint.org
📍Offprint London, @180.studios, 15-17 May 2026

@luma_arles
#offprint #offprintlondon #offprintlondon2026 #180studios

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Book of the Week: Living Room, Waplington
Like only a handful of photo books before or after it, Nick Waplington’s Living Room arrived like a comet and left a crater so large that we still find ourselves falling into it thirty five years later. His first book, it features bright, frenetic, textured, patterned, joyous photographs documenting the lives of friends, family and neighbours on the Broxtowe housing estate in Nottingham. Waplington’s work is a series of glimpses into the domestic bliss of Thatcher’s Britain, in intentionally sharp opposition to the grainy, black and white, downtrodden interpretation of working class life that was so prevalent in the 1980s. Though the images feel candid, as if stolen on a small point and shoot, Waplington photographed everything with a large format landscape camera, setting up large rigs in living rooms across the estate and then just waiting. The images aren’t staged by any means, but they are deeply considered, the result of patience and trust on the subject and photographers part. Throughout Living Room there pervades a sense of adventure and escapade, family life rife with joy and trouble, mishaps and laughter. In a confined, controlled space, we go on endless journeys. So many of Waplington’s images are of children, and more are shot from the viewpoint of children as if with his camera, he is seeing the estate as a magical place for imagination, able to change at the whims and desires of your play. It is hard to overstate the influence of this work: since 1991 it has defined the British photobook and informed the entire cultural photographic understanding. Here we have the first edition, in hardcover, and we still can’t quite believe how good it is. Yours for £160. DM us.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Points of Reference 006: The Photographic Work of Herve Guibert

Herve Guibert’s photographs do not appear as those of a painter or photographer, instead these images originate from the mind of a writer. They are animated objects in space, bodies in bed, waiting, in rest and in reading. In his images, reading is perturbed by hope, or made uncomfortable by the desire for inspiration like the restlessness of wanting.

Guibert’s writings and photographs capture his life as a drawn out summer – still, but reverberating with expectation and a sense of longing driven by desire. When we sit with Guibert’s still lives we witness the act of writing as something relative to space, like a fickle love that needs precise conditions to flourish, a theme his work intimately explores.

In ‘The Only Face’, a recently published book of his photographs, it is the condition of travel that premises him to take out the camera and document. What emerges is not so much a record of place but one of familiar faces out of context, as if the love he feels for his subjects is amplified by the new surroundings.

“Of course I will be out the moment it begins to feel like it is my room, or else it is that I wait until I know something is about to be finished to begin at all, and by then it is too late.”

Guibert flirts with questions like a philosopher, but refuses to be confined to a life lived reading and writing alone. Through his images, he is reaching. His work is full of unsent love letters rising out of the will to create - this imagination is more vivid than reality or impending doom. Here the people and the books, the tools for creation and the translation of our thoughts, are revived. The mind reconfigures in a quiet place that holds no continuity, instead only the potential for inspiration.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the week: Adieu A X, Nakahira
In 1977, Takuma Nakahira fell into a coma as a result of alchohol poisoning. The Provoke founder and central figure of a new Japanese photography movement awoke to find he had sustained memory loss and aphasia, putting an end to his prolific writing as a theorist and critic but, remarkably, furthering a philosophy of photography he had been practising his whole life and moving closer towards before his accident. When Nakahira began Provoke magazine in 1968, with Kōji Taki, Yutaka Takanashi, writer Takahiko Okada, and, from the second issue, Daidō Moriyama, he was concerned with photography as a medium wholly separate from language. They spearheaded an are, bure, boke” (rough, blurry, and out of focus) style, deliberate but spontaneous in their images, turning Bresson’s concept of the decisive moment as not something to wait for but something that existed in reality if you could shorten the distance between the camera and the subject. Nakahira wanted to remove the conscience from the photographic process, allowing a direct confrontation with reality that was not mediated or filtered by the bias and protection of the mind. Of all of the Provoke photographers who were inspired by this idea, it was Nakahira who pushed it furthest, releasing in 1973 a now legendary publication of what was effectively catalog photography, completely unsentimental and devoid of a human touch. After his coma, Nakahira’s memory loss was so bad that the camera effectively became his method of remembering. He - as he himself said - became a camera. Using the photograph as a record to understand and see the world; shooting not out of sentiment of thought but for posterity and rigid documentation. The work in Adieu is remarkably beautiful, Nakahira’s natural eye stayed with him despite his challenges, but the instinctual approach is clear. The images exist in this strange tension of unemotional sanitisation and yet have the feeling of deep intimacy that comes with peering into someone’s memories. An important, revelatory work from a titan of a photographer, yours for £150. DM us.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Book of the Week: A Wonderful Time, Aarons
Slim Aarons was not interrogative in his photographs; he made his career, he said, from “photographing attractive people, doing attractive things, in attractive places.” His images have become so much a part of the public imagination, that when we think of post-war high society, what we are really thinking of is Aarons, and his wealthy, old money, attractive people doing their attractive things in their attractive surroundings. He is not casting judgement nor making moral claims in his composition, instead he is democratic in his images, attempting simply to capture the people as and where they are, which is every corner of the world, in marble rooms, grand divans, and besides infinite swimming pools. A Wonderful Time was his first book, and in my humble opinion his finest. It is loose in its remit; where later works had higher specificity here the subtitle tells you all you need to know: this is an intimate look at the good life, as understood by Slim. The book itself is a journey from coast to coast of North America with detours on tropical islands and colonial hideaways, all without a single ounce of self-awareness or shame. Famous faces of powerful people who did not seek fame but were awarded it by their status populate every image - senators skulk in the backgrounds of dinner parties, aristocratic grandparents hang on walls, and everyone seems to have a number after their surname. They are all dressed in the very finest garb, linens and silks that allow the lounge lizards to glide softly through gilded existence. You can flick through the pages of this book and not find a care in the world, save for ones developed on the polo field or through the croquet hoops. And so, with whatever attitude you may go into this masterful work, you leave much in agreement with Aarons - this does seem like the good life indeed. Aarons’ words accompany each photograph, and he is a charming, insightful writer who tells elegant stories with wit and ease. This is the first edition of a most legendary book, in near fine condition for £400. DM us to make it yours.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 005: The Continuous Monument Series

You’ll probably recognise the cool, rational lattice stretched across the tables and cabinets of the Quaderna series issued by Zanotta in the early 1970s, and since absorbed into the general furniture-consciousness. Less familiar, perhaps, are its origins as the underpinning philosophy of Superstudio, a radical Florentine architecture collective for whom the grid was to be understood not just as pattern but proposition. Originally titled “Serie Misura M,” the work was less furniture than unit of measure - a tool to critically evaluate the contradictions and ambiguities of modernity and instead offer up an alternative model of existence.

Founded in 1966 by Adolfo Natalini and Cristiano Toraldo di Francia, Superstudio emerged at a moment when social and political certainties were beginning to fray. Concerned that architecture was increasingly serving a consumerist agenda, rather than the needs of the people, Natalini and di Francia began working on their Continuous Monument, a theoretical mega structure that would extend across the whole globe. A series of speculative architectural drawings depicted this monolithic ‘supersurface’ as it slid implacably over coastlines, cities and deserts: the infinite plane a blank canvas for a new way of living and relating to the world. The grid, incessant, without flourish, fought back against the contemporary need for individualistic, unique design and the identity crisis of the International Style. It’s hope? To restore ‘cosmic order on earth’ and foster an environment against which the absurdities of modern consumption might be exposed.

More striking yet are their collection of surrealist photomontages, building on the Continuous Monument series. The collages are manifestos disguised as postcards from a future, one that Superstudio could envision but not materialise. Natalini and di Francia never built a building, and their limited furniture output was dwarfed by the scale of the world they envisioned. At their very core lay a utopian belief that design, when reduced to its bare essential metrics, might reveal something about who we are.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Points of Reference 004: Mirrors in the Work of Yayoi Kusama

Long before her Infinity Mirrors had gained such acclaim, Yayoi Kusama found herself on the front lawn of the 33rd Venice Biennale in 1966 – uninvited to exhibit, yet prepared to do so anyway. Upon the grass, she meticulously placed 1,500 mirrored orbs until the ground was no longer ground, and instead a silvery, spheric lake of reflections. The mirrored spheres, like mystical crystal balls, multiplied passerbys into an endless reflection – continuously repeated, distorted and swallowed into a constellation of selves. This work was named Narcissus Garden, a nod to the ancient Greek tale of Narcissus who falls into the river after becoming infatuated with his own image in the passing water. Kusama’s orbs became a confrontation of ego and vanity, masked as a fascination with the self.

During the opening week, Kusama installed herself into the piece too, selling the mirrored orbs for $2 each advertising it as “YOUR NARCISSUM FOR SALE”. This satirical and transactional performance became a commentary on the commercialisation of art as well as our obsession with our own image.

Yet, there is a quality to the work that reminds one of her famous polka dot works – the repetition and singularity of each orb like that of her dots, representing a oneness, a universality. A reminder that we are in fact all the same, our collective reflections coming together to create one unified self.

Since 1966, the mirror as material has become synonymous with Kusama, the most seminal and widely spread example being the Infinity Mirrors installation for the Tate Modern in 2012 which showed again from 2021 to 2024. Hovering above or drifting across a watery surface, Kusama’s mirrors invite us to peer down and in, to recognise ourselves multiplied, as infinite, to see the many reflections of ourselves in each other.

The work of Kusama can be found in Reference Point’s Library.

Book of the Week: Issey Miyake, Penn SOLD
When Issey Miyake first saw Irving Penn shoot his clothes in a Vogue editorial, he saw the expression of his clothes that even he himself had not been able to articulate. Penn, an established American master of the medium, held Miyake’s designs in the same reverence and the two began a long-distance creative partnership that ran for nearly two decades and came to redefine the fashion photograph. As Miyake explains, their collaborations were based on A ŪN, a Japanese concept of communication where two parties throw voiceless messages to the other. Miyake designed, Penn shot, and the two did not interact with each other besides this; they worked in unspoken understanding and total trust. Miyake asks, Penn answers, and his answers created new questions for Miyake. The designer never saw the photographer shoot, he kept an intentional distance, and Penn allowed Miyake to use whichever images, in whatever form, he chose. It was a radical relinquishing of control from both artists, and testament to a friendship built on mutual respect and trust, and beyond just the images, the results it yielded are extraordinary. It was through this system that Miyake began to design clothes with Penn’s images in mind, thinking of how he would interpret and communicate his ideas. Though always present in his practice, during his collaboration with Penn Miyake began paying closer attention to how he would accentuated shapes and use fabric as a medium and catalyst for Penn’s art making. So when Miyake was approached by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective, it was Penn who he asked to articulate his career’s works. Penn had never shot something of this length for a designer before, and only for an artist he found such kinship with would he have accepted the assignment. The resulting book, published in very limited quantities, is the culmination of a friendship, of a life, of a revolution, and the images are testament to that. Flat lays of intricately pleated garments sit alongside sanitised but delicate portraits of models in the wares. The clothes come to life under Penn’s eye, and Miyake’s total genius is on full display.

Book of the Week: Issey Miyake, Penn SOLD
When Issey Miyake first saw Irving Penn shoot his clothes in a Vogue editorial, he saw the expression of his clothes that even he himself had not been able to articulate. Penn, an established American master of the medium, held Miyake’s designs in the same reverence and the two began a long-distance creative partnership that ran for nearly two decades and came to redefine the fashion photograph. As Miyake explains, their collaborations were based on A ŪN, a Japanese concept of communication where two parties throw voiceless messages to the other. Miyake designed, Penn shot, and the two did not interact with each other besides this; they worked in unspoken understanding and total trust. Miyake asks, Penn answers, and his answers created new questions for Miyake. The designer never saw the photographer shoot, he kept an intentional distance, and Penn allowed Miyake to use whichever images, in whatever form, he chose. It was a radical relinquishing of control from both artists, and testament to a friendship built on mutual respect and trust, and beyond just the images, the results it yielded are extraordinary. It was through this system that Miyake began to design clothes with Penn’s images in mind, thinking of how he would interpret and communicate his ideas. Though always present in his practice, during his collaboration with Penn Miyake began paying closer attention to how he would accentuated shapes and use fabric as a medium and catalyst for Penn’s art making. So when Miyake was approached by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective, it was Penn who he asked to articulate his career’s works. Penn had never shot something of this length for a designer before, and only for an artist he found such kinship with would he have accepted the assignment. The resulting book, published in very limited quantities, is the culmination of a friendship, of a life, of a revolution, and the images are testament to that. Flat lays of intricately pleated garments sit alongside sanitised but delicate portraits of models in the wares. The clothes come to life under Penn’s eye, and Miyake’s total genius is on full display.

Book of the Week: Issey Miyake, Penn SOLD
When Issey Miyake first saw Irving Penn shoot his clothes in a Vogue editorial, he saw the expression of his clothes that even he himself had not been able to articulate. Penn, an established American master of the medium, held Miyake’s designs in the same reverence and the two began a long-distance creative partnership that ran for nearly two decades and came to redefine the fashion photograph. As Miyake explains, their collaborations were based on A ŪN, a Japanese concept of communication where two parties throw voiceless messages to the other. Miyake designed, Penn shot, and the two did not interact with each other besides this; they worked in unspoken understanding and total trust. Miyake asks, Penn answers, and his answers created new questions for Miyake. The designer never saw the photographer shoot, he kept an intentional distance, and Penn allowed Miyake to use whichever images, in whatever form, he chose. It was a radical relinquishing of control from both artists, and testament to a friendship built on mutual respect and trust, and beyond just the images, the results it yielded are extraordinary. It was through this system that Miyake began to design clothes with Penn’s images in mind, thinking of how he would interpret and communicate his ideas. Though always present in his practice, during his collaboration with Penn Miyake began paying closer attention to how he would accentuated shapes and use fabric as a medium and catalyst for Penn’s art making. So when Miyake was approached by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective, it was Penn who he asked to articulate his career’s works. Penn had never shot something of this length for a designer before, and only for an artist he found such kinship with would he have accepted the assignment. The resulting book, published in very limited quantities, is the culmination of a friendship, of a life, of a revolution, and the images are testament to that. Flat lays of intricately pleated garments sit alongside sanitised but delicate portraits of models in the wares. The clothes come to life under Penn’s eye, and Miyake’s total genius is on full display.

Book of the Week: Issey Miyake, Penn SOLD
When Issey Miyake first saw Irving Penn shoot his clothes in a Vogue editorial, he saw the expression of his clothes that even he himself had not been able to articulate. Penn, an established American master of the medium, held Miyake’s designs in the same reverence and the two began a long-distance creative partnership that ran for nearly two decades and came to redefine the fashion photograph. As Miyake explains, their collaborations were based on A ŪN, a Japanese concept of communication where two parties throw voiceless messages to the other. Miyake designed, Penn shot, and the two did not interact with each other besides this; they worked in unspoken understanding and total trust. Miyake asks, Penn answers, and his answers created new questions for Miyake. The designer never saw the photographer shoot, he kept an intentional distance, and Penn allowed Miyake to use whichever images, in whatever form, he chose. It was a radical relinquishing of control from both artists, and testament to a friendship built on mutual respect and trust, and beyond just the images, the results it yielded are extraordinary. It was through this system that Miyake began to design clothes with Penn’s images in mind, thinking of how he would interpret and communicate his ideas. Though always present in his practice, during his collaboration with Penn Miyake began paying closer attention to how he would accentuated shapes and use fabric as a medium and catalyst for Penn’s art making. So when Miyake was approached by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective, it was Penn who he asked to articulate his career’s works. Penn had never shot something of this length for a designer before, and only for an artist he found such kinship with would he have accepted the assignment. The resulting book, published in very limited quantities, is the culmination of a friendship, of a life, of a revolution, and the images are testament to that. Flat lays of intricately pleated garments sit alongside sanitised but delicate portraits of models in the wares. The clothes come to life under Penn’s eye, and Miyake’s total genius is on full display.

Book of the Week: Issey Miyake, Penn SOLD
When Issey Miyake first saw Irving Penn shoot his clothes in a Vogue editorial, he saw the expression of his clothes that even he himself had not been able to articulate. Penn, an established American master of the medium, held Miyake’s designs in the same reverence and the two began a long-distance creative partnership that ran for nearly two decades and came to redefine the fashion photograph. As Miyake explains, their collaborations were based on A ŪN, a Japanese concept of communication where two parties throw voiceless messages to the other. Miyake designed, Penn shot, and the two did not interact with each other besides this; they worked in unspoken understanding and total trust. Miyake asks, Penn answers, and his answers created new questions for Miyake. The designer never saw the photographer shoot, he kept an intentional distance, and Penn allowed Miyake to use whichever images, in whatever form, he chose. It was a radical relinquishing of control from both artists, and testament to a friendship built on mutual respect and trust, and beyond just the images, the results it yielded are extraordinary. It was through this system that Miyake began to design clothes with Penn’s images in mind, thinking of how he would interpret and communicate his ideas. Though always present in his practice, during his collaboration with Penn Miyake began paying closer attention to how he would accentuated shapes and use fabric as a medium and catalyst for Penn’s art making. So when Miyake was approached by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective, it was Penn who he asked to articulate his career’s works. Penn had never shot something of this length for a designer before, and only for an artist he found such kinship with would he have accepted the assignment. The resulting book, published in very limited quantities, is the culmination of a friendship, of a life, of a revolution, and the images are testament to that. Flat lays of intricately pleated garments sit alongside sanitised but delicate portraits of models in the wares. The clothes come to life under Penn’s eye, and Miyake’s total genius is on full display.

Book of the Week: Issey Miyake, Penn SOLD
When Issey Miyake first saw Irving Penn shoot his clothes in a Vogue editorial, he saw the expression of his clothes that even he himself had not been able to articulate. Penn, an established American master of the medium, held Miyake’s designs in the same reverence and the two began a long-distance creative partnership that ran for nearly two decades and came to redefine the fashion photograph. As Miyake explains, their collaborations were based on A ŪN, a Japanese concept of communication where two parties throw voiceless messages to the other. Miyake designed, Penn shot, and the two did not interact with each other besides this; they worked in unspoken understanding and total trust. Miyake asks, Penn answers, and his answers created new questions for Miyake. The designer never saw the photographer shoot, he kept an intentional distance, and Penn allowed Miyake to use whichever images, in whatever form, he chose. It was a radical relinquishing of control from both artists, and testament to a friendship built on mutual respect and trust, and beyond just the images, the results it yielded are extraordinary. It was through this system that Miyake began to design clothes with Penn’s images in mind, thinking of how he would interpret and communicate his ideas. Though always present in his practice, during his collaboration with Penn Miyake began paying closer attention to how he would accentuated shapes and use fabric as a medium and catalyst for Penn’s art making. So when Miyake was approached by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective, it was Penn who he asked to articulate his career’s works. Penn had never shot something of this length for a designer before, and only for an artist he found such kinship with would he have accepted the assignment. The resulting book, published in very limited quantities, is the culmination of a friendship, of a life, of a revolution, and the images are testament to that. Flat lays of intricately pleated garments sit alongside sanitised but delicate portraits of models in the wares. The clothes come to life under Penn’s eye, and Miyake’s total genius is on full display.

Book of the Week: Issey Miyake, Penn SOLD
When Issey Miyake first saw Irving Penn shoot his clothes in a Vogue editorial, he saw the expression of his clothes that even he himself had not been able to articulate. Penn, an established American master of the medium, held Miyake’s designs in the same reverence and the two began a long-distance creative partnership that ran for nearly two decades and came to redefine the fashion photograph. As Miyake explains, their collaborations were based on A ŪN, a Japanese concept of communication where two parties throw voiceless messages to the other. Miyake designed, Penn shot, and the two did not interact with each other besides this; they worked in unspoken understanding and total trust. Miyake asks, Penn answers, and his answers created new questions for Miyake. The designer never saw the photographer shoot, he kept an intentional distance, and Penn allowed Miyake to use whichever images, in whatever form, he chose. It was a radical relinquishing of control from both artists, and testament to a friendship built on mutual respect and trust, and beyond just the images, the results it yielded are extraordinary. It was through this system that Miyake began to design clothes with Penn’s images in mind, thinking of how he would interpret and communicate his ideas. Though always present in his practice, during his collaboration with Penn Miyake began paying closer attention to how he would accentuated shapes and use fabric as a medium and catalyst for Penn’s art making. So when Miyake was approached by the Musée des Arts Décoratifs for a retrospective, it was Penn who he asked to articulate his career’s works. Penn had never shot something of this length for a designer before, and only for an artist he found such kinship with would he have accepted the assignment. The resulting book, published in very limited quantities, is the culmination of a friendship, of a life, of a revolution, and the images are testament to that. Flat lays of intricately pleated garments sit alongside sanitised but delicate portraits of models in the wares. The clothes come to life under Penn’s eye, and Miyake’s total genius is on full display.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Points of Reference 004: Travelers Digest

It is a familiar story; two writers, living together in relative squalor, start a magazine as a means to make a name for themselves. They fill the pages with their friends, and a couple of the bigger names they know, and hope that everyone else will find them as interesting as they do. They keep it up for a few issues, changing the style, format, and conceit, achieve none of the acclaim they had hoped for, fold the magazine, and move on to bigger things. What was unfamiliar in the story of Victor Bockris and Jeff Goldberg, who founded Travelers Digest out of their West Village Apartment in 1977, was their friends.

Bockris and Goldberg existed in the twin spheres of Andy Warhol and William Burroughs, Bockris had just finished a writing job for Muhammad Ali and was spending lots of his time with relatively unknown musicians including Blondie, Joey Ramone, and David Byrne, and Goldberg was dating an up-and-coming writer called Kathy Acker. Between them, their coterie of willing contributors to their satirical travel magazine created one of the most jaw dropping mastheads ever assembled.

The original concept of the publication was that Bockris and Goldberg’s gang of scrappy artists suddenly had just enough money in their pockets to leave downtown New York and needed a place to document their travels. Ted Berrigan writes about a bar fight in Guadalajara, Gerard Malanga photographs the acropolis, and Amos Poe documents European toilets. It mostly works.

By their third and final issue, the travel conceit had faded, and the magazine became a broadsheet of desperately cool images. Magazines are, above all, a game of timing, and Travelers Digest did not play it well. The burgeoning punk movement was too concerned with its own conception to accept a magazine that placed it within a Beat and Pop lineage, and Bockris and Goldberg’s multitudinous world meant it was hard to place. Not a punk zine, not a literary journal, not a downtown chronicle - Travelers Digest feels like it was destined to be a historical oddity, appreciated too late to save it from the trash heap of short run magazines.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Book of the Week: End of an Age, Graham
Under synthetic colours, with your synthetic brain creating synthetic time and synthetic music burrowing its way into the depths of your increasingly synthetic bones, the real world, the one unaltered by chemicals and electronics, seems to just slowly slip away. In the morning you will feel different, worse, pained, and the revelations that changed you in a haze of sweat and flesh won’t make the sense they did some hours ago. But the feeling will be clear, or clear enough. The feeling of everything standing still, of lives moving around you in unison and you, steadfast, like a skerry against the waves, knowing you will last forever, and everything too will fade in an instance. It is the knowing that you cannot hang on to that tangible infinity that fills you up and breaks your heart. It is the knowing that kills you. And it is this feeling, abstract and verbose though it is, that comes rushing back when you flick through Paul Graham’s remarkable photobook End of an Age. Taken in unknown night clubs, with few defining geographies, each image is a stand alone portrait of someone young, in a state influenced by something or other, looking longingly out to the vast unknown. About half of these are in sharp focus, taken with a flash that washes the scene in sanitary lighting and reveals, perhaps, a falsity to the experience they are living. Then the other half are the dream state, the fuzzy, coloured, soft images that seem to jump off the page and into your soul. They are ethereal works, rendered in such impossible colour that they feel totally universal. These figures exist outside of time and space, they are tied only by a shared life in that hinterland between youth and age. In the abyss of colour they straddle worlds, holding at bay the beast of responsibility that will surely come soon. These are not images of ecstasy. They are images of expectation, of dread, of taking what you can while you can before it all disappears. They are images taken at the end of an age, and they make up one of the finest photo books of the last 50 years, published by Scalo of course, exceedingly rare, and yours for £200. DM us.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.

Points of Reference 003: Geometry in the work of Francesca Woodman

Some Disordered Interior Geometries (1981) is one of eight artist’s book created by the photographer Francesca Woodman (1958-1981). Woodman spent five years on an extended series of self portraits until they came together in an abstract storyline between the pages of a 1930s geometry exercise book she had found at the bookstore Malador in Rome. She inserted her photographs atop the geometric illustrations, and in cursive handwriting composed text that was able to speak to both the mathematic and the artistic contents of the book. “This odd geometry of time…” she reflects in cursive written beneath a single photographic print stuck onto a page of the sun-bleached mathematics book, “This mirror is sort of a rectangle, although they say mirrors are just water specified.” 

‘Some Disordered Interior Geometries’ is the most explicit expression of Woodman’s fascination with mathematics, but she was exploring euclidian ideas from the beginnings of her practice. In Study for Space² (1975-1978) we glimpse the photographer formulating her own geometrics. Several rectangular line-drawings demarcate boxes to be stepped into and then out of again, to duck under and reach through constructing confines within the photographic frame. Looking at Woodman’sphotographs, we see a fascination with angles marrying a resistance towards their tendency to confine.  

Woodman’s work holds tension between feeling and thought. A body represents disordered interiority and the mirror, or camera, an attempt to create form from the formless. 

The work of Francesca Woodman can be found in Reference Point’s library.