Zaar Riisberg (Zaarchasm) // Other People’s Cunts

Mural in Horsens of a young girl reading by light in a fantasy setting. Some artistic soul felt that it lacked something.

There’s a certain kind of photographer that seems to have aesthestic urge to shoot what other people have created. I’ve often run into the sentiment, that only those that cannot create copy or steal. Real artists steal I am told. I disagree, real artists inspire. Not only others, but themselves as well.

At the risk of being a smidge philosophical, we all shoot or depict stuff that is something in and of itself. The interesting thing is what you do with it. What is motif or portrait, if you don’t work with it? Natural? Not necessarily. The artist sees the potential in the amalgamation. She knows there’s not even light, but only energy. She knows how to convey and invoke. She doesn’t leave them much, which is the greatest gift an artist can leave behind. In the end the ‘physical manifestation’ matters little. A real artist gets in your head.

Art is a drug, just like every other sensory input is, and reality is a chemistry soup ripe with photon flies. Whether you are art directing a videogame, shooting photography, writing a screenplay or indeed shooting a movie. When it comes to conveying it all, it is hardly ‘your story’ or told by you - it’s always a work in progress, building on previous work. The greatest story ever told, as far as we know, is not the Bible, nor is it Star Wars. It is the story of humanity.

Everything is a collaboration - one thought gives sustenance to another spark of insight with no fear of failing. Or, indeed, inspiration fails, we start looking inward and dissolve as a race and a factor in reality. Your choice, really.

Zaar Riisberg (Zaarchasm) // Moonimalism & The Reality of the Internet.

I am currently mooning you with my moonimalism. It's a prop to me, just like to the flat earthers. It is not real you know? The internet is, and everything on it, is for real. You can totally construct a reality online that will hold up- nah, you'll end up writing suicide notes to fickle followers and voyeurs that'll just move on should you and the pill bottle succeed in your anguished cry for help. Don't let them have the satisfaction. Don't bare yourself to the bottom feeders, let them wallow and rot in their own festering mentality. Also, have a nice week.

What? You want more? Yeah - so do I, what do you suppose we do about that?

Zaar Riisberg (Zaarchasm) // The Vestiges of the Veteran Fighter

As a ray of light starts to shine on my life again, my brother walks in darkness

Surrounded by both love and uncertainty he once again dons the vestiges of the veteran fighter

Round one, round two, round three - on the ropes - but still last man standing

A smile, a shoulder and an iron will through internal hell

Depended upon, loved and revered

A father, a friend for life

Stronger than all

Unique.

Lasse Fischer // Big Deep Breath

We should talk about something.

In the aftermath of the European and Danish elections many might feel disillusioned, exhausted, and some even bitter. Let us take a collective breath and giant exhale as the dust settles. What did we learn? Well, for one we got to experience precisely how intense it is to live in a time where the cries for our attention are shriller than ever, at least according to my memory. The need for attention whether it be products or politics has always existed, but the commercialization of our attention is something rather new. Our electronic devices have made it laughably easy for anyone to gain access to us, and as such, our spaces of refuge from the hustle and bustle of everything around us have shrunk - and are still shrinking with remarkable speed.
Pling
Did you reach for your phone? Of course not, this is a text and there was no actual sound, but you get the picture.

Big Deep Breath

We have happily embraced this development with relatively little criticism, and even when we criticize we mostly do not act on our arguments against the invasion of our privacy and mental resting places. And we have become complaisant with this reality because we get used to how things are very quickly, especially if it involves more convenience and comfort for us. And so the great trade-off of our time is that of our private refuge for an endless catering to our needs. It is someone’s best interest for you to pay attention, but it will not always be in yours, no matter how flashy the screen might get. And so we get to the crux of this post.

It is easy to get riled up, and one should get their blood pumping from time to time over important issues, but with the way we live there is always a cause to bleed for. Being a big consumer of political commentary and news on Youtube I know how anger, sadness, frustration and utter disbelief can be summoned within minutes of the first press on a screen. It is crucial to get some distance once in a while. I recall overhearing a 16-year old punk kid discussing climate change the other day crying out ‘it is all too late, were going to die’, his green mohawk wiggled with fear and frustration as he talked. And while being at a barbeque at my parents place my brother in law decreed the then upcoming election to be ‘the most important in history’. I silently made a salad in the kitchen while he vigorously discussed this with my sister in the living room.

Big Deep Breath

I am not one to beat real and heartfelt issues to death with a big ‘all things are relative’ stick because there are genuinely causes for concern that should be taken serious, but such concerns require a measure of rest as well. When dealing with an unending stream of information it might be difficult to figure out when to take a break, but let me tell you, anytime is fine. Living in a constant stream of reasons for emotional upheaval isn’t healthy for anyone. Do it now, take a walk, drink a cup of coffee with a friend, paint something, put the phone away – take care of yourself. While you do that let us reaffirm a couple of truths and contemplate some well-meant pointers:
 
Consuming media without the time to reflect on the information given is merely consumption.

Some things are out of your control.

Seeing results take time.

Be ready to admit when you are wrong.

Getting upset is a valid response, but not always productive.

Striving for a positive mindset and perspective will greatly increase your quality of life.

Pay attention to your own, your family’s, and your friend’s well-being.

Take care of yourself, take a breather.    

Zaar Riisberg (Zaarchasm) // Hipster Scheister

I remember the first time someone said to me ‘but you’re a hipster’. The glare I sent the person in question, almost sent him to an early grave. Hipsters are retro fakers in my book - it is just a fad, just modern morons thinking it makes them authentic. All these soft men with long beards and tattoos coming out of every crevice, trying to convince you they are ‘pain addicts’. Yeah, try living with the gout, pussies. Pain becomes very relative then.

Both women and men buy clothes in second hand stores for prices that would make Solomon blush. When they’re studying, an old type writer is positioned in front of an MacAir which, when you check their screen out, rather often, either is working hard on an empty Word doc or being very creative on Facebook. Hipsters SUCK - hence I scoffed, when I was likened to one.

Shit man, be different, I get it, but be you. Donning someone else’s visage or craving what others have, or indeed are capable of, is not you. And if you want to provoke, have substance and be clever about it - and most important of all: do not be a copycat.

Why are you letting yourself be ‘influenced’? ‘Omg, that’s so cool’ - no, it is not. Cool is Quentin, cool is knowing your shit, cool is knowledge - cool is not some rich trouser stain telling you what to buy, who to emulate and what to think. But we already had this discussion at the cusp of entering 2000, and look where we are. Harrrruuuumpff.

I am shooting myself in the foot not branding my stuff on IG, or being my own person. I remain insignificant to most, but I will just dig my heels in. One thing, though. Well, actually two. I am not a hipster and you should get a shave, manchild.

Artballistics Editorial // We are more than Photography

We are about process, art, critique. Critique is needed to create better. We are about video as well as stills, about canvas as well as technique. We hold each other to a higher standard, while we seek to appeal to not only a few. The focus of Artballistics is the ‘worthwhile’, the opposite of thumbing, as it were. Just like sex, art and creation get better and more immersive the more you focus on it.

I have asked some people to participate that bewildered tell me they are not photographers. It was never the intention of AB to be exclusionist in that way, which Eskild Krogh’s contributions show. You have to think of AB as a reaction to ‘the new old world’. We were entering an age of science, arts and reason when it, quite literally, blew up in our faces because we forgot to educate the broad masses - oh, and oops, did not eliminate poverty.

We have entered an age of stupidity and greed instead - the age of the CEO, corporate shells and a system that only sees you as a consumer. To combat that we need charm, art, humor, satire, wit and guile. We need to eliminate the noise and focus.

New stuff includes 2 new blogs coming up and stuff from Rubenstein and Sabine.

Zaar Riisberg (Zaarchasm) // A Touch of Comfort

I took this shot on a whim - and it was taken at least 2 years ago. Still, I remember a certain feeling of endearment which was possibly why I took it. And I was right. As I edited it, I see the woman on the right had put her hand in a classical position, trying to signal comfort. A lot of people would not see that detail, evident as it is, because they would be focussing on their clothes and the horrible notion, that islam is the biggest threat against Western society. It is not. Stupidity is.

It is a shot I am very proud of, as it is one of my signatures to capture emotion. Here, I must have sensed it, as I was passing, because the hand was initially obscured. I will be putting more up of my earlier high end stuff, and pouring my mind into it. People scream at me to be an author or a writer full time. I will do both then.

Zaar Riisberg // You Live, You Learn - going back to Flickr and other concessions

I am not at all deterred when it comes to keep doing Artballistics.com - namely, because I think there is a need for this stuff. There is a need to oppose modern art for its shallowness, and there is a need to continually evoke the kid from The Emperor’s New Clothes and follow his example.

But ‘how’ is still something I debate with myself. Hard lining it, and saying that it has to be original work all the way, is not working. I understand, that I am at the center of this, but I am nearing the end of one of the worst journeys of my life. I know what I have to do here on AB, I know what I should do commercially and artistically AND personally. But I do not have a leg to stand on, a pot to piss in or a famous window to throw it out of - and I refuse to be boxed in. If the trip gets too comfortable, I am still the kind of person that will punch the self eject button during a calm flight - the storm is just more interesting, and turbulence makes for a fun ride. Yeah, the ground is hard when you crash into it. Fuck the ground. Leap.

I still want contributors and suggestions, but I should probably ‘tap’ people and ask for contributions from people that I find interesting, and I have been entertaining the idea of changing my IG to an account for AB, because it would make more sense for me to go back to Flickr, because what I need more than anything else, is an ‘organiser’, so customers can easily browse my stuff when given a non public link - until I get a hidden, digital catalog made.

I do want to brand AB, and we have ideas for weekly content. But me, and the people I count on, have heavy real life issues to deal with. For me, I should make the change that my personal website and AB is where I express my self and my views and nowhere else. It is a no brainer, really. But anyone that knows me for real (that would be my mother, basically), knows that I am exceedingly thorough, and though I do not shy away from conflict, I am always pre meditating in the shadows, before I leap at your throat, and I seldom, very seldom do anything in affect.

I wrote a piece on Facebook a while back, that I am posting here. I have a few other classic posts that I will move here, I invite the other contributors to do the same, and I will thin the categories and make the site more poignant going forward. Or wait, until you see that I really will follow through. I understand, if some people liken me with crying wolf on AB. All I can say, is that this project was born out of the storm of my life, and I will never fucking let it go, even if it is only me and a few others.

Zaar Riisberg // Critique Acidique (critique as a dick)

I had a run in with modern art on Instagram, and it illuminated to me how far gone culture and art is in the mainstream. Everyone lives on a deceitful surface called taste - and if you do not comply with the conformity of this crap, you are simply labelled a hater. This 'artist' was peddling his stuff in adds, and yes, he has no way of keeping them out of my stream. But he is going to have to bite a tough titty on that one, as I simply do not care. And the very worst thing about me is, that you cannot ignore me, if I do not want you to. You might break off from me, you might lambast me or indeed flog me and leave. But you will be back, as curiosity will have you turn stalker.

But I digress. The artwork itself is a mishmash of colors with a statement in white, and in big broad the letters: 'STOP TRYING TO FIT IN, WHEN YOU WERE BORN TO STAND OUT'. I decide to comment, and this is an add, mind you. I tell him that I would expect the artwork itself to be a tad more original when it carries a statement like that. I may have overstepped, when I wrote that I am no fan of 'everyday art', and find it exceedingly boring. 

I was bored, I admit that. The guy says 'thanks for the feedback', but he does not know what to do with it. He then tells me to order some antacid, as he has heard that works really well. The logic of these 'artists' seeks to preserve a status quo, in which we are just consumers. That is hardly the job of art. Regardless, this guy should be able to take it, if he really is an artist. But he is not, he is a shameless pretender - and there are morons enough to buy this shite. I know the type: hipster beard, tattoos all over and an empty ballsack. Only wankers buy everyday art.

Some of my friends, the very best ones too, have highlighted to me, that I might have scared people off with my staunch, sometimes acidic behaviour. I am well aware of that. But you are wrong - why does it scare you that I insist on substance, quality, decency, empathy, loyalty and moral? Have you stopped to think, what this looks like from my end of the world?

I am not an asshole or a poisonous individual, I rather insist that people treat each other like they themselves would like to be treated. This has, oddly enough, left me with very few friends and alienated a ton of photographers and others that seemed to dig what I did. People I have worried about, consoled or helped continue to turn their back on me. If I can scare you off, fear is to ripe in you.

Fortunately, I have the guts to stand by my convictions and call out pretenders and shitty art. Yet, everywhere I go, I am treated like a pariah or indeed a bad seed - even people I cared deeply about crippled my relation with them by insinuating that I was a tortured artist or was frustrated to be overlooked or they had no clue how absolutely horrible my life has been for the last 3 years. I will admit stuff like that has stung like a motherfucker on a personal level - it is never funny hearing people you value give such an assessment of you. You literally die a little. Luckily, I am as Phoenix as they come - and I WILL rise above it.

Ron Rubenstein // Ad Hoc Randomness

Text by Zaar Riisberg

Ron is one of my favorite photographers. Forget Gump, but it is kind of a box of chocolates dealing with Ron. Combined with a raw style, not very often imbued by lots of editing - but bare, or naive, as Martin Sabine put it. Naive here, being a good thing, a conscious thing. So many people are semantically challenged, so I thought I would underscore that. The above one he sent me after I asked contributors for their version of 'the lone tree'. Not very lone, this one, but you get that trees might feel alone in the big city. Until a car rams into them and it is love at first sight.

He also has a keen eye for interesting stuff. Which is one of my modes myself, not seldom does something grab my attention, with my mind going 'hey, wtf was that, and what can I do with it' or 'fuckin hell, that looks different'. Click. Snap. Home. We did have a small voyeur discussion here on AB. I wonder - because this certainly evokes a stalker feeling. But the scene is probably nothing of the sorts. It is called 'conveying', for those of you wondering.

This is the kind of shot that I just love. It is how I see the world - it's a geometry of particles, compartmentalized, nothing ever touching and none of it really exists. No people or actors, yet the stage plays it out by itself, and proves you do not need action to tell a story, if you can rattle the brain of your audience. The last one was originally posted on IG.

Martin J. Sabine // Is Online Privacy a Reality or just a Pipedream?

Our nation is controlled by opaque, amoral artificial intelligences -- and so are we. A lot of
people worldwide feel trapped by Facebook, the big-data platforms use AI’s to analyse, taunt
and manipulate us. Facebook is the worst of them, because most AIs are really only interested
in selling you stuff, Facebook is really only interested in keeping you engaged with Facebook,
and conversely, that often means filling you with anger and fear. Facebook has shown that a big
data AI can control our opinions and manipulate our emotions. But it's far from the only AI of its
kind, and this is just the beginning. The big data AI cat is out of the bag, and it knows everything
about you. Facebook is particularly powerful because it has convinced people to maintain an online presence and to log the contents of their lives within its structure. Most big data systems need several different data sources, collected from different sets of online activities, to create their profile of you: where and when you log onto the web, the locations tracked through your phone, who your friends are.

Facebook uses buttons and cookies embedded in web pages to build a profile on you even if
you don't hold an account with them and are just a visitor. But even if you have enabled an ad
blocker and don't ever click "Like," there's enough data out there for Facebook to trawl and to
find out plenty about you. It could track what your friends say about you, and use data collected
from other sources. If you have a whole network of friends who are local to you, there's a good
chance you live locally; if you shop at a number of stores or supermarkets in a local area, and
those supermarkets and stores share your loyalty card data with data brokers and then those
data brokers share it with Facebook, Facebook would be able to figure out where you live and
shop. Because there are so many data sources, opting out of Facebook data-sharing won't opt you out of the manipulations and predations of big data. If we're going to get a handle on these AIs, we need solutions that target the whole online ecosystem, not just one particularly obnoxious site. The conversation can't just be about Facebook.

One of the biggest AI growth areas is in accurate facial recognition solutions ... This AI
technology can scan 1 billion photos and recognize/identify photos in just one second."
According to the industry insiders, it's ready to deploy in banks, offices and hospitals. It won’t
matter if you don't have a Facebook account: Your bank card and loyalty card usage will be tied
to your face, and your bank will share that information with data brokers and credit reference
agencies such as Experian. You can't opt out of banks and stores. It will mean that every time
you step within reach of a camera, the AIs will collect data on you. Every time you use a card.
Every time you get tagged by a friend in a photo. Even trying to shut it down by denying
permissions and other close out methods won’t work the system is too big and intrusive, without
opting out of society entirely we are not going to get the privacy or protection we desire.
The other growth area and possibly the most frightening with regard to data collection and
spying is the move to so called “smart” products in the home. Products that you interact with
such as Amazon's Alexa and Google's Siri and a plethora of others with a benign presence in
the background such as lighting and fridge freezers and even toothbrushes that log how many times you miss brushing your teeth. All these items are in your own personal environment and
with regard to Alexa and Siri in touch with their respective manufacturers and managers every
minute of everyday, your viewing and browsing habits at the mercy of the conglomerates and
also the potential for smart TV's to actually being able to “see” you going about your daily life.
All companies that collect such personal information should be forced to request specific
permission for each destination they want to share data with -- blanket permissions wouldn't be
accepted. That would make large-scale data harvesting relatively inefficient, this in itself would
not fix the primary problem with Facebook. It knows enough about you, through your
interactions solely on Facebook to make you sell your soul for clicks and likes. Facebook needs
to grow a conscience and stop feeding off negative emotions. Blocking data-sharing would be a
little annoying. You might have to come up with different logins for different websites again. But
the only way we're going to free ourselves from a world run by AIs to break big data back down
into little data again.

As we know from recent coverage in the media Facebook at present, others will follow, are
being publically charged with selling and passing on privileged data to third parties and also
allowing their platform to be manipulated by “dark forces” to interfere with sovereign politics and
to proliferate “Fake News” which can destabilise governments and allow the threat of terrorism
to spread. I personally believe the time has come for a cold hard look at the way these platforms
operate or because of the amount of money generated by these huge corporations is this just a
“Pipe Dream”....

Kaz Narumi // Window

This train is bound for "my old past"

The interior of the train was even more bitterly chill than the snow-covered plains without.

I soothed almost into a dreaming slumber by the numbing narcotic of the cold.

I was dreaming of my old glad days when I had chased my friend through the flowering

grasses of the summer meadows and of my late mother wiped away my tears and helped me understand.

I'm so tired.

My friends, my mother, I'm looking forward to seeing you....soon...

EDITOR'S NOTE

Finally, we present another exciting artist/photographer. Kaz is known to have a huge heart for others, always trying to support or inspire others. Sometimes via his own work, but also by sharing that of others he himself finds interesting or giving.

Lasse Fischer // Shades of Armenian Grey // Part III

Day two
They had trapped us in a room with soft zigzag carpets and a ceiling impossible far away from the floor. They made us stand in a circle - Wait; there was something before the carpets and circles. Outside the snow made its way from the heavens down onto the mountainside, layering the black rock with a soft white powder. Being surrounded by walls surrounded by mountains made a nice frame for the hangovers I had to endure.

I woke up dizzy and crawled down the polished marble steps, down to the pool were an elderly Armenian gentleman opened the locked door leading into the pool area despite him not understanding a word I was saying. We shook hands and nodded. The pool was empty, and after gasping my way through a few lanes of angst provoking lack of oxygen I laid on my back floating in the water, staring at the ceiling. My brain gently bobbing up and down within its cranial juice, following the rhythm of the blue liquid in the pool, as it recovered from the pomegranate marinade. Something loosened up inside of me and my body rose an inch in the water. Was one of the components of freedom distance? The water carried me and my thought to the edge of the pool. I stayed there floating long after I had a shower, put on my clothes, and went to eat breakfast. The sensation of hovering above ground, using my body in different physics, followed me like a shadow. I tried washing it away in the shower, but to no avail, it stayed attached to my feet. On my way to my room a glittering luggage transporter drove me outside the hotel doors, where I was confronted with the mountains. It seemed like they had bent the land around them to their will, and I understood why the soil and the trees bowed their heads and backed out of the way for these juggernauts of geography. They had a power over their surroundings, an unspoken agreement with the world that they persevered, watching over the earth, as the rest of reality rose and fell. In the depths of my situation, the wet and shiny eyes of the day after drinking, I too could sense the immense back catalogue of thoughts that had been projected onto their silent and stoic bodies, as I bent my neck, searching for the end of the massive wall of rock. My stomach grumbled. I had neglected to eat all morning, and to see to it that my vessel would carry me through a day of the never ending discipline of team building.

Returning to the subject of carpets. They made us stand in a circle. The shoes of the participants were all pointed to the middle of the zigzag carpet. A young smartly dressed guy talked about an exercise in teambuilding. I had always hated the idea of networking and being social, making contacts, because the words left somewhat of a metallic taste in my mouth. Maybe I should stop biting down so hard when they emerged. My eyes followed instead the lines on the floor, and I fell in to the light brown crevices between the black and blue stripes. When I came back up I was making a tower out of spaghetti, tape, and a magenta colored string. We skewered a marshmallow on top of the construction and came third in the competition. I sighed, and yesterday’s vapors filled the conference room. We applauded ourselves. A room filled with masturbatory youth workers. I jerked along with the others. Reflective store fronts and structured beams started rising from the zigzag carpet. They had followed me into this hotel in the middle of nowhere. They manifested themselves in the room between the participants. I took a step back as one sprang up from beneath my feet. I felt myself growing irritated. There was apparently no complete escape as long as people sought it out, this feeling of things being hollowed out. A string tugged at my wallet.

Day three
Cream gave me shit for my writing. She thought it could be funnier. It was fun for me though. The situation, the sweaty hands, the smell of feet, the insecure glances and the whole setup was somewhat ridicules. Hold that thought a second; we have to do an energizer game. After being turned into a chicken, a penguin, a human, and lastly a wise human I returned to the notion of
being more fun.

Martin Sabine // Strange Encounters

I’m interested in how some bodies are “in an instant” judged as suspicious, or dangerous, as
bodies to be feared, just because we can’t explain something it doesn't follow that we should be
afraid, some judgments in some circumstances can also have lethal consequences. There can
be nothing more dangerous to a body than the social agreement that that body is dangerous.
Look at today's society a real and present paranoia prevails. There’s a real suspicious guy. This
guy looks like he’s up to no good, he’s on drugs or something. This is further compounded by
racial profiling, he looks black. he’s wearing a dark hoodie, now he’s coming toward me. He’s
got his hands in his pockets, he’s a black male. Note the viscous slide: suspicious, up to no good, coming at me, looking black, a dark hoodie, wearing black, being black. The last statement makes an explicit racial overtone as to what we are all seeing right from the very beginning. We are seeing a Black man is already implied in the first description “a real suspicious guy.” Let me repeat: there can be nothing more dangerous to a body than the social agreement that that body is dangerous.

Are we as a society right to feel fear, because a stranger is a dark shadowy figure. I use the word “dark” deliberately here: it is a word that cannot be untangled from a racialised history. To use this word as if it can be disentangled from that history is to be entangled by that history. The racialisation of the stranger is not immediately apparent—it is disguised, we might say by the strict anonymity of the stranger, the one who after all, we are told from childhood, could be anyone. We witness from this example how this “could be anyone” is pointed: the stranger as a figure, points to some bodies more than others. This “could be anyone” thus only appears as an open possibility, stretching out into a horizon, in which the stranger reappears as the one who is always lurking in the shadows. Note; most films use this premise as a precursor to murderous intent. Note also that the perception of others is also an impression of others: to be made into a
stranger is to be blurred. I have since described racism as a blunt instrument, which is another
way of making the same argument. Stop and search, the so called “Suss law” for example, is a
methodology that makes this bluntness into a point: Stop! You are light brown with dark
features, Asian! Your carrying a rucksack You could be Muslim! You could be a terrorist! The
blurrier the figure of the stranger the more bodies can be caught by it. So long as a society we
recognise such injustices exist then we can become clearer when we legislate against it, and as
a consequence stop racial profiling and the demonisation of whole cultures from becoming the
norm.

© M.J. Sabine 2018.

EDITOR'S NOTE

Perhaps a small coincidence, or perhaps great minds think alike. But neither Zaar Riisberg nor Sabine had read each other's contributions. Not quite same theme - still, focus is the same. They both live in countries built on immigration and now watch in horror, as the rhetoric has taken a turn they had never expected. See Zaar Riisberg's offering on the same theme here.

Xenia Chantzi // Xen Zen

Xenia Chantzi // Xen Zen

Text by Zaar Riisberg

The Stoics were philosophers of Greece and somewhat Rome/Italy. In some ways they are reminiscent of the Cynics of Athens, like Diogenes and Anthisthenes, but different. It is the calm, the stoic, the minimalist, the sense making of the geometry that puts us at ease. Xenia provides a place to breathe for others, something that purveys her personality as well. If the silence breaks and the waves crash instead of a calm sea, she will stand in place. She has been exploring new avenues of her talent, but this is vintage Xen. She has an incredible knack for the dreamy seascape and the greyscaled minimalism that goes along with it.

EDITOR'S NOTE

Xenia is from Greece and while having mostly worked in mono, she now dabbles in some color, if you check her IG. Like Martin Sabine one of the things you first notice when you see a few frames of her work, is a sense of light, especially when it comes to highlights and dark tones - and, indeed, managing them.

Martin Sabine // Neighbourhood Watch

Is this Voyeurism? – At first glance the image looks voyeuristic but be careful of the “Venus Eye Trap” the original shot is of a naked woman in a yoga pose a perfectly acceptable portrayal of health and wellbeing. However add the shadow of a window frame and the image takes on a completely different set of values, we are them lured into the realm of
voyeuristic behaviour which for some in society is a taboo.

How is that an image can switch between two standards and values by digital manipulation,
it is a condition that is being debated daily within the media can we really rely on what we
visually see, after all a photograph is usually looked at but seldom looked in to. “Peeping” at
this sensual image is a delight of decadent art; the watcher who records the supposed crime
(both the artist and consumer of the art) is constructed as being marginal, powerless to act
and so exculpated from any action, a passive subject within a complex pleasure.
Please remember though this particular image was taken with the full knowledge and
permission of the subject, does that exonerate the viewer from having an emotional
attachment or detachment from the image or in fact of feeling uncomfortable? probably
not.

What we have to remember is that all photography by definition is voyeuristic for example a
“street” photograph of people in public places generally taken without permission could be
deemed to be voyeurism, I think its best summed up by a quote from Helmut Newton who
said; “Any photographer who says he’s not a voyeur is either stupid or a liar”…….

© M.J.Sabine 2018

EDITOR'S NOTE

It is usually an extreme attention to detail that floors you with Martin Sabine. But often, it is also a thought provoking tour de force to witness his creations. It demands you look at it for longer than the average 5-15 seconds...if that.

Ron Rubenstein // Ron On or Roll On

Text by Zaar Riisberg

I tend to think about Ron's stuff like I do Werner Herzog films - it's never boring. So when I get a mail from him that says 'for AB', and I discover it's a video clip. Shit, I don't know - do I open this? I did. I suspect this falls in the category of 'now art'. Some will go what the fuck, but others will get it. I get it. I cannot explain it, but I get it. And so, I laughed and shook my head, in fact, I nearly pissed myself, because this is gold.

In a sense this is life and what it is all about represented in less than 5 secs. I know one thing that makes an artist. a gift for the unsaid - just leave it hanging. Like Ron just did. Leaving people hanging is normally rude. Here, not so much.

The Gloryhole Deception

by Zaar Riisberg (Zaarchasm)

We would all like for the image to speak for itself. Sometimes, it depends on what kind of mind you have and where it is. Art should be provocative - but it cannot just be that, you need aesthetics, and while some of it may come out in an analysis of the work, there should always be an aloof mystique that you cannot explain. Art makes us realise things we cannot realise through math or physics. You know what I am talking about - that sense you get sometimes, where you are so close to understanding something profound. It is not your brain fucking with you. It is a flash of intangible insight. The thing is, as valuable as something like that is, you will always be at a loss to explain it to others - they have to feel it for themselves.

So. Whether you suck the right or the left one, is entirely up to you. I am just the artist.

Ron Rubenstein // The Pacific

Text: Zaar Riisberg

It's like he shoots from a forgotten era, a likeable, sometimes rural and gritty US I personally would like to visit. The best things, are things you cannot explain why you dig. Half the time I can not pinpoint what it is - I feel thrown back to the era of Dennis Stock. Something classic or other - Ron makes seemingly dead things into live poetry. A torn inner curtain and a certain light, bam, that's a Rubenstein. I see a lot of my peers going for the same style shots, and never moving out of their comfort zone - some of them hugely talented visually, but they keep delivering variations of the same aesthetic. Ron has always been a barrage, but over the years, the frequency of stellar work has increased - and Ron is, for me, at least, one of the best. And he has the name - he already has the fucking name...

The Shot itself

Some would probably thumb over this, others would scratch their head and wonder what the fuck I am on about. They have no sense of mood. This shot has - from the crooked mid line, to the two worlds apart, to the magnificent geometry playing itself out in the entirety of the shot, with more shades of grey, than a mere fifty. Crafty. But the mood? A long lost James Dean outtake with him not in frame, perhaps? Something lingers, you get the sense, that something invisible or out of frame, is unable, or does not want to leave. And maybe, that is a good thing. Moving on, is always preferable, but not to soon.

Tyson Rayburn // Wanting More

By Tyson Rayburn

Curves, curves everywhere curves. Everyday curves come and go without notice as life flows to your daily grind. Stop! Unwind, concentrate on your surroundings and you will see a whole new world of shapes. Things are never made up of any one shape but there are more curves than you can imagine and finding the right part of it to capture is the challenge. Bring on the challenge! Observe it until you stop in awe. Give the shapes life for others to see. A climax of curves for all to gawk at while wanting more.

EDITOR'S NOTE:

Tyson is often pointless. In a very good way, mind you. Curves seem to find him, and his architecture shots often exude a softness you will not find elsewhere. They have the cutting joy of glass and geometry imbued with curve lines. Some of Tyson’s work will envelop you - this one, for example.