Sometimes beauty appears only for a short instant, as a flash of visual energy. It’s the photographer’s job to wait, observe, and then pounce.
Many painters depict themselves, but few work exclusively in the genre of self-portraiture. Selections from Haley Hasler’s body of work—the artist in costumes of everyday life.
Portraits of men in Philadelphia taken just moments after they catcall a woman on the street.
Pictures from a photojournalist embedded with a Free Syrian Army militia in Aleppo, the country’s largest city, now torn apart by war.
When an artist receives a heart transplant, his drawings of the procedure acquire all the gravity of a fever dream—intensely realistic, with hallucinations of the dead.
One woman powers herself with a solar panel. Another wears a neon sign in her Afro. In the future as in the past, identity is never one-dimensional.
When a photographer reviews 35 years of unposed family pictures—unexpected moments, children growing older—a symphony appears.
Multi-layered photographs show people’s inner lives merging with their environments—suggesting that what we see of reality is less than what actually exists.
Ear cleaners, knife grinders, street-side barbers—portraits of Indian tradesmen who maintain caste-prescribed professions.
Modern-day totem poles constructed from Americans’ favorite consumer materials—cars, beer cans, even cheeseburgers.
Irresistible watercolors of mouthy cowboys, automobile wrecks, boxing matches, rodeo clowns, and rock bands.
Square paintings that take the smallest things—a gas station’s roof, a swing set’s leg—and find unease in the most cheerful of circumstances.