Tag Archives: photography

A Moment’s Encounter

Some photographers find their calling at an early age, playing around with a parent’s camera and taking snapshots of their friends. Not Su Yang, who also works under the name Jan Sol. As a child, he never felt drawn to photography, and he didn’t really start taking pictures until college. “I was studying advertising, and a professor told us to carry around a camera, so we could capture inspiration on the fly,” he says. “I liked taking shots of scenery everywhere, and when I put them online, to my surprise a lot of people liked them, which motivated me to keep going.” Eventually, magazines and fashion brands took note and started seeking him out for collaborations—and before long, almost by accident, he’d become a professional photographer.

有些摄影师很早就对摄影产生兴趣,喜欢摆弄父母的相机,拍摄他们朋友。但对苏洋来说却并非如此。小时候的他从未对摄影格外感兴趣,直到上大学他才真正开始拍照。他说:“我当时在学广告,那时候老师会建议我们随身带一个小相机,可以随时抓到一些灵感。然后我就喜欢到处拍一些风景,没想到传到网上还挺多人喜欢的,这就给了我一些动力继续拍下去。” 杂志和时尚品牌最终注意到他的作品,并开始与他合作。就这么偶然间,他很快成为了一名专业摄影师。

Unsurprisingly for a fashion photographer, most of Su’s work features human subjects. Yet that wasn’t always the case. “When I first started out, I didn’t like to take pictures of people at all,” he says. “I was far more interested in the world around me than in other people—and not just in terms of photography.” Shots of scenes and landscapes seemed let him more easily express his moods.

Later, as he started taking fashion assignments more regularly, he began to study the works of classic photographers and became fascinated with how they captured their subjects at a particular moment. “Only then did I start to practice, and the more I shot human subjects, the more interesting I found them.”

作为一名时尚摄影师来说,他的作品自然大多是人像作品,但他说,“其实最开始拍照的时候,我是一点都不爱拍人的。” 他说,“我当时对周遭环境事物的兴趣远远大过对人的兴趣,不仅仅是在摄影上。” 对他来说,场景和风景照片更适合传达情绪。


Even Su’s noncommercial photography carries the imprint of his background in fashion. He often shoots his models alone in a room, sitting half-naked on a bed or on the floor, sunlight filtering onto rumpled bedsheets. The models have an air of self-conscious vulnerability as if they’re aware of how exposed they are—and aware too of how unnatural their position is, how strange it is to be sitting for a photograph. Su seems almost to be reminding us how carefully staged the moment is.   

In one photo, for example, two models, chests bared, look directly at the camera, their eyes meeting the viewer’s gaze. Yet their candor is at odds with their tension in their arms and the affectation of the props in front of them—a dinosaur figurine, a dragonfruit, and an open pomegranate. This combination of intimacy and artifice resembles nothing so much as a fashion shoot.



For Su, taking photos of human subjects offers than just an glimpse of a life at a moment in time. It forges a link between photographer and subject. “It’s about you participating in an interactive relationship—in the relationship between you and someone else. Your every move affects it,” he notes philosophically. “Whenever I shoot people, I’m actually constantly learning new ways to interact or connect. This is something really wonderful, even a bit zen.”

对于苏洋来说,拍摄人像照片不仅仅是对生命中某个时刻的一瞥,更是在摄影师和模特之间建立联系。“这个过程不仅仅是你单方面地去捕捉一些画面和角度,而是你本身就参与在这一个互动关系——你与他人的关系之中,你自己的一举一动都牵动着它。” 他指出,“我后来会认为我自己在拍摄人物的过程中其实是在不断学习与人交流或者交往的一个途径,这个事情非常奇妙,甚至有些禅意。”

His most recent project, Shanghai Passengers, is a study in the fleeting connections forged by the outsiders who pass through China’s largest city. “In recent years, Shanghai has had more interaction with the broader world. Every day a lot of people come and go, either stopping by for a few days or staying on for a year or two.” These visitors come with diverse backgrounds, and they mold their identity in response to their surroundings. “I find this fascinating. It’s like peering out from a box into a room, and this room is a part of the city.”

他最近的项目《Shanghai Passengers》(《上海过路人》)探讨着外来人在这座大都市参与的那些短暂互动关系。“我觉得上海近几年来与外界发生的联系越来越多,每天都会有很多人来来去去,短暂停留几天或是来呆个一两年。他们来自不同的文化社会背景,来到上海之后自然而然有一个自我身份与环境融合的过程,我觉得这个东西很有趣,像是从一个盒子里窥视一个房间,而这个房间又是城市的一部分。”

Recently Su has begun re-evaluating his relationship to his art. “For the last year or two what I’ve focused on is pausing and returning to my own life, immersing myself in my relationship to my surroundings, and trying to get out of the ruts of my previous photography.” 

Oddly enough, his philosophical view of photography as source of human connection has led him to turn his lens back to scenes without people. “I’ve become interested in real things again. I’ve returned to landscapes and documentary photography,” he says. “It’s like a circle, and you’ve reached a certain point again. But then you discover it’s really different from last time.”

最近,苏洋开始重新审视自己与艺术的关系, “近一两年更多是停下来重新回归到自己的生活里,融入到自己与周遭的关系里,尽力抛除以前拍摄时候的 ‘惯性’。”


This newfound interest in things is less a move away from human subjects than an attempt to hone a style. Whether he’s shooting for a fashion brand or working on his own projects, Su seeks to make his photography distinctively his own. “Now I understand my work as conveying a sense that it’s mine,” he says. “It’s a pretty individualized thing.”


Website: jan-sol.com
Instagram: @jan_sol


Contributor: Allen Young

网站: jan-sol.com
Instagram: @jan_sol


供稿人: Allen Young

China’s Contemporary Ruins


Green fields stretching to the horizon and trees rising up to the sky, bridges crossing streams and trails of smoke rising from the chimney of a house—that’s what you expect to see in the traditional landscapes of Chinese shanshui art, whose name literally means “mountains and water.”

But the scenes captured by Zhang Kechun have none of this. His series Between the Mountain and the Water is shrouded in stillness, poverty, and thick smog. The locations he shot certainly lie between mountains and water, but high rises have replaced the green peaks, and debris has stopped up the flowing rivers.



断桥 达坂城

In 2008, Zhang Kechun experienced first-hand the cataclysmic Wenchuan earthquake in northwestern Sichuan, and the snapshot he took of that terrifying moment won him the National Geographic Picks Global Contest.  The experience, he says, “broadened his field of vision and made his work more systematic.” After shooting his series The Yellow River, in which he traced the waterway up to its source, his photography “naturally expanded to cover the entire country.” And that’s how this new series came about.

Scouting out the perfect location is essential to every shoot. Barren mountains, crumbling walls, surreal scenes with clusters of high rises—they’re all hidden in plain sight, waiting to be discovered. The hazy, low-contrast feel of his images also doesn’t need much post-processing, it just needs to be shot on an overcast day.

2008 年,张克纯亲历了那场灾难性的汶川大地震,抓拍到震撼的瞬间,让他一举获得美国国家地理学会全球摄影大赛自然类大奖。这段经历所带给张克纯的,他说,是让他的 “视野更宽泛,工作更系统”。在拍摄完沿着黄河溯源的《北流活活》系列之后,张克纯镜头里的视野,就 “自然而然地覆盖到整个国家”。因此,这个系列也就应运而生了。



“My focus has really always been how ordinary people get by in such a rapidly developing country. Against a sweeping historical backdrop, I look at the lives of those who play bit parts,” Zhang says. “I covered practically the whole country to take these photos.”

The scene that left the deepest impression on him is an image of students holding class under a truncated bridge. The imposingly tall structure cuts through the landscape, heading who knows where, while a group of students lined up in rows attend a physical education class underneath, obediently following instructions.

“I think it’s a metaphor for the current state of China,” he says of the photo. He thinks all of his works are very explicit: they’re the kind of image that can be easily understood at a glance. Perhaps his photos, in the subjects they capture and the stories they tell, offer a thinly veiled commentary on a country constantly in the throes of sweeping change.

“其实我一直在关注处在高速发展中的这个国家下的普通人的状态。一个大的时代背景下,小人物的生活。” 张克纯说。“我几乎跑遍了整个中国来拍摄这些照片。”


我觉得它隐喻了中国的现状。” 张克纯说。他说他的作品很直白,是那种观众可以一眼看明白的照片。那么,也许他要说的东西,要阐述的故事,作为观者的你我,应该也可以通过这一张张照片体悟出来罢。


Website: www.zhangkechun.com

Contributor:  Chen Yuan

网站: www.zhangkechun.com

供稿人:  Chen Yuan

Love through the Lens

Like the Beatles, Jeon Yunyoung thinks all you need is love. The Seoul-based photographer, who works under the name Neuj, sees love as an omnipresent force that powers the world, and believes it comes in all shapes and sizes. His photography reflects this belief, sometimes in obvious ways, with lovers locked in a passionate embrace, and other times more subtly, by choosing as his subject a close friend or family member.

“I want to convey all the emotions I feel in my photographs,” he explains. “But I also hope that, by sharing my work, and by establishing a relationship between artist and audience, I can spark new feelings.”

像披头士乐队(Beatles)一样,首尔摄影师 Jeon Yunyoung 也认为“爱才是人们最需要的”(All we need is love)。他将爱视为一种无所不在的力量,是世界的原动力。他坚信,爱会呈现出各种形态。他的摄影作品恰恰反映出这种信念,有时,爱以明显的方式呈现,譬如热情相拥的恋人;有时则更微妙,譬如摄影的对象是他的好友或家人,爱就通过镜头含蓄地展露。


Website: jeonyunyoung.com


Contributor: George Zhi Zhao

网站: jeonyunyoung.com


供稿人: George Zhi Zhao

Korea’s Pastel Schoolhouses

Macaron-colored walls composed in tidy symmetry. An intoxicating, sugary dream where time seems to have stopped. These aren’t stills from a Wes Anderson film—they’re real shots of Korean schools taken by Spanish photographer Andrés Gallardo Albajar.

Gallardo, who now lives in Estonia, took these photos in Seoul and Busan while traveling. “It all started by accident, when I got a little lost in Seoul and ended up in the playground of a school. I was fascinated by their pastel colors, their trees, their symmetries, and the symbols like clocks, the national flag and the alphabet I didn’t understand,” he says. “But I never expected I’d do a series about Korean schools.”

马卡龙色的外墙,整洁对称的构图,时光仿佛静止于甜美梦境里,让人沉醉。而这一切,并非是韦斯·安德森的电影画面,这是 Andrés Gallardo Albajar 镜头里韩国校园内的真实景色。

生于西班牙、目前长居爱沙尼亚的摄影师 Andrés,在旅行途中拍下了首尔和釜山两地的校舍,这一切都出于偶然。当时我在首尔汉城迷了路,最后走到了一所学校的操场上。我被他们柔和的颜色、树木、钟表、国旗,还有它强烈的对称感和我不认识的字符给迷住了。” Andrés 说,但我从来没有想过,我最终会组成关于韩国学校的一系列作品。”

Gallardo’s experiences in Europe and Asia have given him diverse impressions and experiences. Korea and Spain have different styles of architecture, but they have a lot in common, he notes, since they both have centuries-old cultures. For him, the process of exploring and taking pictures in each one is equally fascinating.

Asked how Korea differs from Europe, he says, “the people in South Korea were extremely nice to me, and that made a great impression. One can tell that South Korea is doing well financially, since you can see plenty of modern architecture by some of the biggest contemporary architects. That doesn’t happen in Estonia, for instance, where everything is more local.”

Andrés 在欧亚两地的经历,给他留下了不同的印象与感触。首尔与西班牙的建筑虽然风格不同,但区别并不大——它们都留有古代文化的印记。对他来说,探索和拍摄的过程都一样迷人。要说到比较,Andrés 说:韩国的人民对我非常好,这给我留下了深刻的印象。另外你可以看出,韩国在财政上做得很好,因为你可以看到很多当代最伟大的建筑师的现代建筑,而在爱沙尼亚,情况并非如此,那里的一切都更有本土气息。

“As a matter of fact, visiting all these schools had a big nostalgia effect on me. As a child my only purpose in going to school was to see my friends and play football or other games during breaks,” he explains. “When doing this series, I often had to wait until the break was over so I could take photos freely. While waiting I could observe the kids playing on the playground, and I could see how, even though thousands of kilometers and around 30 years separated them from my experience, kids will always be kids.”

事实上,参观所有这些学校,让我产生了很大的怀旧感。孩童时代,我上学的唯一目的就是去见好朋友,在课间休息时我们可以一起踢足球或者玩别的运动。但在拍这些照片的时候,我不得不等到休息时间结束,才可以自由拍照。在等待的时候,我可以看到孩子们在操场上自由自在地玩耍嬉戏。即使我的童年和他们隔着几千公里,也隔着大约 30 年的时光,但孩子永远都是孩子啊。” Andrés 如此感慨道。

The East Was Red

“The east is red, the sun is rising. From China comes Mao Zedong.” So goes China’s most famous propaganda song, “The East is Red.”

China in the 1960s and 1970s was indeed red. From the propaganda posters covering the streets and alleyways, to the copies of the little red book in everyone’s hands, to the Mao badges on their chests, red—symbolizing leftism, communism, socialism, and revolution—filled every aspect of people’s lives and thoughts.

In a new project entitled The East Was Red, artist Sheila Zhao finds old photographs from that time and retouches them, highlighting the political atmosphere of the time.


六七十年代的中国,确实是红色的。从大街小巷遍布的宣传画,到人手一份的 “毛主席语录” 或毛主席勋章——象征着左派、革命、社会主义和共产主义的政治红色,充斥着人们生活和思想的方方面面。

而这个系列名取自红歌《东方红》(The East Was Red),Sheila Zhao 找到当时的老照片,并进行了再度创作以突出那个时期的政治气氛。

Born in Beijing in the 1980s, at age seven Zhao moved to the US, where she grew up and studied. Of course, without the benefit of personal experience, Zhao is a stranger to those times, so hard for outsiders to grasp or comprehend.

But Zhao’s love of documentary photography, especially historical images, transports her back in time. “I’m not a historian or an expert in the Cultural Revolution, by any means,” she says. “I look at that time in history from the point of view of someone interested in the images it created, and in what that says about the country’s collective identity at the time.”

Sheila Zhao 其实是 80 后,在北京出生,七岁时搬到美国,并在那里完成了学业。照理说,Sheila 对那个时代是陌生的,没有亲身经历的加持,也很难理解和感受。

但对纪实摄影尤其是老照片的热忱,把 Sheila 带到了这段历史面前。“我不是一个历史学家,也不是一个研究当时运动的专家。我从一个对所创造的形象感兴趣的人的角度来看待历史上的那段时期,以及这个国家当时普遍存在的集体认同感。”

All of the images in The East Was Red, and all her other archival images, were acquired from second-hand antique markets near Beijing and Shanghai. As the majority of the photos were taken in the 1960s and 1970s, a common theme stood out:  “I noticed the photographer and those being photographed from this period, whether consciously or not, brought politics into the shot,” she says. Clearly, people in that time lived entirely under its shroud.

Fascinated by this, Zhao began retouching select photos from her collection, coloring over the posters, images, Mao badges, and books of quotations with a cherry red, using the color to stand in for these thoroughly political objects. On the one hand, this alludes to the color’s political significance, and on the other, it lets the viewer, who can see how prominent the red is, understand just how widespread Communist ideology and the cult of personality had become throughout China. 

《东方红》系列的所有照片,Sheila 档案中的其他照片一样,都是在北京和上海附近的古董二手市场淘到的。这个系列则大多选取于上世纪六七十年代间所拍摄的照片,几相比较,有个异常明显的特征浮现出来:“有趣的是,我注意到在这个时期,摄影者和被拍摄者都有意无意地把代表政治的东西包括进来。” 可见,那时期的人们完全生活在其笼罩之下。

于是,Sheila 在再度创作的过程中涂红了标语、照片、勋章和 “红宝书”。鲜艳的大红色被用以代替这些照片中这些充满政治意味的 “物件”,一来对应 “红” 的隐喻,二来,观者只消参见照片里红色有多么壮观,就能发现当时的共产主义思想和个人崇拜情结,在全中国是有多普及。

“China underwent a very unique socioeconomic movement at the time, which coincided with the rise of photography. It happened to be when cameras became more accessible, leading to more people using them as a means of self-expression,” Zhao says. “In the early 20th century, photography was still something that was reserved for the privileged. By the mid-20th century, cameras became even more common. Although they were still considered a luxury, there wasn’t that sense of exoticism of being imported anymore. Looking at photos from that era, it’s quite interesting to see how political doctrines influenced people’s lives.”

“中国当时所经历的是一场非常独特的社会经济运动,也恰巧发生在摄影史上,当时越来越多的人开始有机会通过摄影媒介表达自己的观点。” Sheila 说,“在 20 世纪初期,摄影仍然是特权阶层的活动。但到了中期,相机的使用开始变得越来越平民化,尽管还稍显奢侈,但它已不再那么具有‘舶来品’的异国气质。所以在照片中,我发现当时的政治辞令是如何影响人们描述和记录自己生活的方式,这是非常有趣的。”



Contributor: Chen Yuan



供稿人: Chen Yuan

Please Mind the Gap

“Please mind the gap.”

It’s an announcement every urban commuter is surely familiar with. This phrase is also what inspired photographer Weilun Chong to create his eponymous photo series, Please Mind the Gap.

After attending university in Singapore, the Malaysian photographer decided to stay, and it’s there, in his adoptive city where he now works full-time as an advertising art director. A few years back, a serendipitous accident that happened on his way to work was what led to the project. “I nearly lost my phone through the gap between the train and the station platform one day,” he recalls. “That was when I glanced through the gaps towards the next carriage and came up with the idea.”

“The best part about the project was that it was something I could work on during my daily commute,” he adds. “It wouldn’t take up time I can spend with my wife outside of work.” At the time, Chong’s wife was close to delivering their firstborn, and so, working on a project that could fulfill his creative thirst while not intruding into family time was a heaven-send.

A month after inspiration struck, Chong took the first picture in the series. Ever since then he’s continued taking photos in Singapore and Hong Kong.


这句话,大概常坐地铁和公交通勤的人们,丝毫不会陌生。而 Weilun Chong 创作的同名摄影系列,也正是受到这句话启发而来。

生于马来西亚,在新加坡念完大学的 Weilun,如今已是全职广告艺术总监。这个个人项目始于好几年前,契机来得很巧——“有一天,我的手机差点掉进地铁站台的空隙,然后我就扫到了一眼车厢的空隙,拍摄车厢间隙的想法就形成了:‘我可以在每天上下班上下班的路上做这件事,也可以陪我妻子一起。’”当时,Weilun 即将和他的妻子迎来第一个孩子,而这个摄影主题,恰好可以让他兼顾家庭与摄影创作,“这可能是命中注定的。”


“Sometimes I spot an interesting character or anticipate a possible interesting scene. When I do, I approach the subject fast and inconspicuously, waiting to take the shot at the right moment,” he says. “Other times, if I have a bit more time, I’ll just take random snaps.” In the platform gap, as the doors are closing, with everyone calm or in a rush, fatigued or full of excitement, a moment is captured in time.

After all, each time we step onto the train platform, we begin a new journey. In his photography, Chong celebrates this, rightfully recognizing each of his subjects as the protagonists of their own stories.

“有时候我会看到一个有趣的角色,或者可以预料到一个有趣的场景,我会迅速且不引人注意地接近它,然后我就等着拍下那个瞬间。还有一些时候,如果我有更多的时间,我就会随机去拍。” Weilun 说。站台间隙中,车厢闭合时,每个人或紧张或从容、或疲惫或振作的神态,从此定格。



Contributor: Chen Yuan

Intimate Strangers


In the lens of Chinese American photographer Jesuuna, the air is always suffused with a heavy grief. She captures wounded people who are only a camera’s distance away and gently lays their wounds bare before our eyes.

在美籍华裔摄影师 Jesuuna 的镜头下,空气中总是弥漫一股挥之不去的忧伤。她捕捉到那些受伤的人,与我们隔着一台相机的距离,把伤口轻轻揭开在我们面前。

Doi Kim
Doi Kim
Doi and Head

Of all photography’s charms, the most enigmatic is how it binds together subject and the spectator—utter strangers in real life—in an intimate relationship through the photographer’s gaze.

In the series Ache,  we see that the model is not smiling and has dropped all masks and defenses. Her expression is by turns vacant and estranged. We’ve never met the grief-stricken girl in the photographs, but we can almost touch her pain; when the pictures were taken, she must have felt a deep mental anguish. Jesuuna says the model is a good friend of hers from college, someone who always encouraged her to take the leap and pursue her dreams. When she first moved to Seoul, she stayed with her friend, who was then in a state of deep malaise. “One morning I woke up, saw her curled up on a yoga mat, and was immediately struck by her beauty,” Jesuuna recalls. “I then asked if I could take photos of her, and she obliged. We shot them a few days later on a humid afternoon with no plan in mind.”


在《Ache》(《伤痛》) 系列里,我们看到模特儿脸上没有笑容,她脱下一切防备和掩饰,眼神时而空洞、时而疏离。我们不认识照片中这个悲伤的女孩,却仿佛能触碰到她的伤痛,在拍摄这组照片的同时,她饱受精神不适所苦。Jesuuna 说模特儿是她大学时期的好友,也是一直以来鼓励她去勇敢追求梦想的人。“我现在住在韩国,当我在首尔与她同住时,一次早晨醒来看见她蜷缩在瑜珈垫上,当下我觉得她好美。我问能不能拍下这样的她,她答应了。几天后在一个潮湿的下午,我们没有任何计划的拍了这组照片。”

From Ache / 《伤痛》
From Ache / 《伤痛》
From Ache / 《伤痛》
From Ache / 《伤痛》

“A week later, when I first viewed the scans from the negatives, I teared up immediately, because I could see the affection I felt for her and the heartache she had suffered through,” she says.


From Ache / 《伤痛》
From Ache / 《伤痛》
From Ache / 《伤痛》

At age eight, Jesuuna was diagnosed with a hearing problem, and since then she’s had to live with hearing aids. As a child she began to search for a different way to experience the world. One day she took her mother’s camera and discovered photography. “The camera became an extension of me,” she says. That’s how Jesuuna describes the medium’s meaning to her. It became a third sense, beyond sight and sound, and ever since that discovery she’s given herself body and soul to photography.

“Most of the time an image or feeling will be very strong and vivid in my mind until I create it. These ideas are uncontrollable, and only by manifesting them can I feel at peace, even if I’m not clear on what the meaning is,” she says. “I hope to create works that stand the test of time, and tell stories that are complex and evoke a myriad of emotions.”

Jesuuna 八岁时被诊断出听力有问题,从此需要戴着助听器生活。不能好好听见,她开始向外寻找另一种感受世界的方式。直到她从妈妈那里偷来一台相机,接触到摄影,Jesuuna 是这么形容摄影对她的意义:“相机就像是我身体的延伸。” 所见所闻之外,摄影成为她的第三个感官,从那时候开始她就全心将自己投入摄影。


Instagram: @jesuuna


Contributor: Yang Yixuan

网站: jesuuna.com
Instagram: @jesuuna


供稿人: Yang Yixuan

White Night

Chengdu-based photographer Feng Li has worked on a single project, White Night, for over a decade now. The series, quirky and surreal, is a visceral exploration of the odd moments between and behind those we most often pay attention to. With no plans to stop or start on another, he says the series will only come to an end if he loses interest in taking pictures altogether.

Though in his early days he experimented with black-and-white and film photography, he now works primarily with a Sony digital camera and a mounted flash. Capturing everything in flash is a purposeful decision, often making it difficult to distinguish the time of day, a hallmark of the series.

来自成都的摄影师冯立,已经在单个摄影项目《白夜》(White Night)上进行创作逾 10 年了。这个系列离奇而超现实,它是对那些我们最会关注的人之间和其背后的古怪时刻的一种本能探索。由于还未计划停止或开始另一个摄影项目,冯立说,只有当他对拍照完全失去兴趣时,这个系列才会结束。


In an old article, the interviewer attempted to draw a comparison between Feng’s photography and his original field of study – Chinese medicine and acupuncture – writing, “It’s as though he approaches portrait photography as clinical cases. When the bulb’s warning light flashes, he’s able to accurately pinpoint the illness’s acupuncture point.” When I asked Feng, however, if he thought his previous profession influenced his artistic work, he replied that he thought the period had at most an indirect connection.

In such a response, one sees ties to the fact that even within the realm of artistic photography, he does not seem to care for either comparisons or a discussion of influences. White Night began when he was taking photos for his job as a photographer with the Chengdu propaganda department; that evening, he recalls, was particularly foggy, and the fog and the lights wrapped themselves around each other in surreal ways which reminded him of scenes from films by influential directors such as Angelopolous or Tarkovski. When I brought up this story, however, with a shrug, he replies, “It happens those are a few of what amount to the few films I’ve seen.” When I asked about photographers he’s named in the past as being of interest – Diane Arbus, William Eggleston, Nobuyoshi Araki, Han Lei – he said he had never used his own photographs to draw any comparisons to those of others, and that he rarely looks at photo books himself.


即使在摄影领域,冯立似乎也不太爱比较或讨论影响的作用。《白夜》这个系列,开始于他在成都市宣传部门当摄影师的时候。在他记忆里的那个夜晚尤其模糊,蒸腾的雾气和朦胧的灯光,以超现实的方式把夜包裹,这让冯立想起了安杰洛波卢斯(Angelopolous)或塔尔科夫斯基(Tarkovski)等导演的电影场景。然而,当我提起这些的时候,他却淡然地答道:“碰巧这些只是我看过的为数不多的几部电影中的一部分。”当我问及他曾提起过感兴趣的摄影师,诸如黛安娜·阿伯斯(Diane Arbus)、威廉·埃格尔斯顿(William Eggleston)、荒木经惟和韩磊时,他说他从来没有用自己的照片来和这些人作比较,他自己也很少看影集。

It is difficult even to say that Feng considers himself an artist. Instead, he says, “I think of myself as a photographer, but use an artist’s style in order to think.” He has not tried other artistic mediums, and expresses no desire to do so. His primary inspiration, he says, is life, and his sole aim seems to be to approach life as a kind of unreal, storied fabric; he looks for unreal moments that to him ultimately comprise our chaotic reality. Nor does he spend his time fastidiously choosing the photos he likes best. There aren’t any unpublished White Nights photos, he says; basically anytime he takes a picture, he releases it online. Asked whether he minds that some have evaluated his work as ugly and amateurish, he said he’s never minded others’ experiences, and that ugly and amateurish are good evaluations as far as he’s concerned. Indeed, when I asked him to talk about composition and aesthetic, he claimed his photos have neither.




What, then, does Feng Li look for when he is photographing? Tellingly, when I asked him to describe a moment he’d been unable to capture, he said he was unable to describe it – “just like the moments I captured.” He told another interviewer that a good photo prevents you from understanding what happened and that it is filled with unknown, mystery, and uncertainty. I tried to go a step farther and ask what he thought a successful photo is, only to have him tell me that there is no such thing as a successful photograph – “just difficult-to-put-to-words photographs, no-way-to-use-writing photographs, or no-need-to-use-writing-to-describe photographs.” In terms of subjects, he says he can only run into them, that they cannot be sought out.

那么,冯立在摄影时在寻找什么呢?我请他描述一个他无法捕捉到的瞬间,但他却说这无法描述──“就像那些拍到的瞬间一样。” 他说,“一张好照片,它阻止了你理解发生的事情。它充满了未知、神秘和不确定的因素。”


But despite his reticence to discuss influence, style, form, aesthetic, Feng Li has in fact expressed a pretty clear worldview throughout interviews and in his own artist’s statement: the world is problematic and in a state essentially of primeval chaos, such that a distinction between the real and the unreal is difficult to achieve. The moments he seize tell a story of a dangerous world, “reality’s others face,” an underbelly of existence that essentially is our reality, only too many people are too afraid to look directly at it. The only way to live, in Feng Li’s mind, is to do one’s utmost to understand the reality of existence through experiencing the world around oneself, the value of which cannot be replaced by others’ stories and experiences.


For all that, though, he does not claim to understand reality; far from it. When previously asked to define his works in a few words, he responded he had finally reduced it to one: “Why?”

He calls eternity a question mark and says that he is still unable to understand the world, in the same way that he can’t express in words what his photographs might mean. This is a particular paradox: Feng thinks it of utmost importance to understand the chaotic world but rejects attempts to define or contextualize the photographs that attempt to capture that chaos. But paradoxes by nature wrap in on themselves: so perhaps the paradoxical nature of Feng Li’s mission – finding the unreal cracks that make our reality so real – made further inconsistency inevitable, and perhaps ultimately that is this artist’s point.



Website: fengli-photo.com
Instagram: @fenglee313


Contributor: Kiril Bolotnikov

网站: fengli-photo.com
Instagram: @fenglee313


供稿人: Kiril Bolotnikov

The Old

According to the most recent statistics, as of October 2017, 27.7% of Japan’s population, or around 35 million people, are 65 or older. While Japan’s rapidly aging population has long been an issue for the country, the numbers are still shocking.

Born in Manchester, England, photographer Lee Chapman has lived in Japan for over two decades. His photo series The Old turns his lens onto Japan’s aging society. They still stagger along on traffic-clogged thoroughfares and eke out a living in alleyway shops.

最新统计显示,截至 2017 年 10 月,日本 65 岁以上老年人口为 3515.2 万人,占总人口的 27.7%。虽说对日本老龄化社会所面临的诸般问题早有耳闻,但真正看到数据时,却依然显得触目惊心。

出生于英国曼彻斯特的摄影师 Lee Chapman,已经在日本生活了二十多个年头,他的这个摄影系列《The Old》,正把镜头聚焦于在日本生活的垂垂老者──车水马龙的大路上,他们依然蹒跚地走着;沿街的小店里,他们依然勉力维持着生计。

“I was initially fascinated by Tokyo’s older areas and districts,” Chapman says. “These neighborhoods often have large elderly populations, so a series of photos featuring them just gradually built up.”

Almost none of the individuals featured in this series were deliberately chosen – most were just chance encounters. “They are mostly all people I spotted on the street, in bars, or in restaurants,” he says. “People that to me at least are interesting, and people whose faces, or the situation I photographed them in, seemed to tell a story.”

“我是先为东京较古老的城区所吸引,而这些地方往往聚集着大量的老年人口,因此一系列以他们为特色的照片才逐渐建立起来。” Chapman 说。

所以镜头里的老人们绝大多数都是 Lee Chapman 在街上随机遇到的,而并非经过层层挑选的拍摄对象,“他们基本上都是我在街上、酒吧或餐厅看到的人。他们是对我而言至少有意思的人。他们的脸上,或者我拍下他们的那刻情景里,似乎都在讲述一个故事。”

One particular photograph that’s engraved in Chapman’s memory is his shot of a silver-haired woman rolling up metal shutters.

“I initially saw only her hands and feet, and then as her face appeared, I quickly got the shot,” he says with a grin. “But the main reason it’s one of my favorites is that when she saw me standing there, she immediately – and rather forcefully – commandeered me into helping her . . . After opening it, she invited me inside to chat with her.”

最让 Lee Chapman 感到动容的一张照片故事,是这个拉卷帘门的老婆婆。

“这是我很满意的一张照片。她站在卷帘门背后,起初我只看到她的手和脚,当卷帘门缓缓上升,她的脸最终出现的时候,我当即按下了快门。” Chapman 说,“但我最喜欢这张照片的主要原因之一,是她看到我站在那里,她立即,甚至是不容分说地,请我帮她拉开卷帘。然后老婆婆还邀请我进屋聊聊天。”

She ended up becoming just about the only person in the series Chapman would spend time with. Chatting with her, he learned that this was her former store, but as age began taking its toll, she closed down the shop and converted it into a living space.

“It was a very interesting half an hour or so that I wouldn’t have had without taking that photograph,” he says. “It’s also even more poignant now as I’ve never seen the shutters raised since, let alone seen the lady herself.”

这次经历几乎算是 Chapman 在拍摄这一系列中唯一与之“共度时光”的老人了。聊天里,Chapman 得知照片里拍的是老婆婆从前开的小店,但因为她年事已高,疲于经营,现在这里只算是她的住所,早已不作商铺。


With the sheer amount of elderly citizens in modern Japan, many have voiced concern for their well-being. Must they live the rest of their lives alone? What are the realities of their living situations?

“The lady who I talked with was living by herself and was clearly very lonely,” Chapman notes. “Her kids didn’t live nearby, and she couldn’t get out much, a situation that, given Japan’s aging population, is sadly only going to get more common.”


“就我之前提到的那位拉卷帘门的老太太来看,她一个人生活,显然很孤独。她的孩子不住在附近,她也无法独自出门。” Chapman 说,“鉴于日本人口老龄化的情况,很遗憾这样的事只会变得更加普遍。”

In the middle of the fast-paced city, the old get by at their own inevitably slower rhythm. Leading slow lifestyles, the aging population of Japan can struggle to find belonging in the rapidly developing metropolis. Chapman says that this series has helped him come to terms with the impermanent nature of the world around him.

He tells us, “These areas I often shoot in are changing at an alarming rate and fascinating old buildings are being demolished everywhere. Of course, it’s not just the buildings that are disappearing, but also the people who once inhabited them. This element also makes my work seem more pressing, and in some small way, more important,” he says.

在快速发展的城市夹缝中,老人们用自己缓慢而不得已的节奏生存着。因此拍摄这个系列,让 Chapman 更加意识到了周围世界的无常性。


Website: leechapman.photos
Instagram: @tokyotimes_lee


Contributor: Chen Yuan

网站: leechapman.photos
Instagram: @tokyotimes_lee


供稿人: Chen Yuan

Dear Sky

Arthur Mebius is a Dutch photographer and aviation enthusiast from Amsterdam. His photo series, Dear Sky, is a look inside Air Koryo, the state-owned national airline of North Korea. The airline boasts a fleet of 19 vintage aircraft, including Cold War models by Soviet manufacturers Antonov, Ilyushin, and Tupolev, many of which date back to the 1960s. Because of sanctions and environmental restrictions, Air Koryo’s only remaining international flights are its China and Vladivostok routes.

Arthur Mebius 是来自荷兰阿姆斯特丹的摄影师和航空爱好者。他的摄影作品系列《Dear Sky》(《亲爱的天空》)用镜头记录了朝鲜国有航空公司高丽航空(Air Koryo)。这家航空公司拥有 19 架老式飞机,其中包括苏联制造商安东诺夫(Antonov)、伊留申(Ilyushin)和图波列夫(Tupolev)冷战时期的机型,还有许多 20 世纪 60 年代的飞机。由于航空制裁和环境限制,高丽航空现在唯一的国际航班是往返中国和符拉迪沃斯托克的航线。

After learning of Air Koryo in 2015, Mebius journeyed from Amsterdam to Beijing to board a flight to Pyongyang and experience the airline for himself. Since then he’s taken a total of 24 flights on different types of aircraft. With his Fuji X100T he documented the planes, passengers, and crew he encountered in his travels.

Below you can view more of Mebius’s images and read a short excerpt from his book.

在 2015 年知道高丽航空后,Mebius 特意从阿姆斯特丹飞到北京,坐上了一趟飞往平壤的航班,亲身体验了这家航空公司。从那以后,他一共乘坐过 24 架不同型号的飞机。透过他的富士 X100T 相机,他用镜头记录了在旅行中遇到的飞机、乘客和机组人员。

下面即是由 Mebius 所拍摄的照片及他书中的片段节选。

“Sunan Airport City, September 14, 2016 ––

In one of the apartment buildings in Sunan, next to Pyongyang airport, the haze of 7.27 cigarette smoke is lit by flashing colored lights pinned to the wall and a Moranbong Band CD pumps from a stereo in the corner. Two flight attendants sit demurely on a sofa, an animated card game is in progress at the table. The flight engineer from the Tu-154 is already asleep in a chair. Animated conversation forms a steady roar as tales of the week are cut with memories of a Belgrade nightstop and a zero-zero landing in the depth of a Moscow winter.

The team effort of these comrades, patriots all, is the visible peak of a mountain of institutional knowledge as big as Mount Paektu made of Juche-orientated aviating, and whatever the obstacle, decade or politics, the mission is accomplished.”

“平壤顺安国际机场,2016 年 9 月 14 日——

在位于平壤顺安国际机场旁边的一栋公寓大楼中, 7.27 牌香烟的烟雾中,透着墙上彩色灯的灯光,角落的音响播放着朝鲜女子乐队牡丹峰乐团(Moranbong Band)的CD。两位空姐端坐在沙发上,兴高采烈地玩着扑克牌。Tu-154 客机的飞行工程师已经在椅子上睡着了。他们热烈地谈论着本周的八卦,以及在贝尔格莱德停飞过夜,在莫斯科的寒冬能见度为零时,客机盲降的回忆。


Dear Sky is now available on the Neocha Shop in limited supply.

《Dear Sky》现已于 Neocha商店限量发售。

To pay via PayPal or international credit card, please check out through our Shopify. To pay with AliPay or WeChat, please visit our Weidian.

如需使用PayPal或国际信用卡支付,请转至我们的 Shopify 页面;如需使用支付宝或微信支付,请至我们的微店

《Dear Sky》The People and Planes of North Korea’s Airline



Product Details:

  • Year of Publication: 2017
  • Hardcover
  • Number of Pages: 128
  • Size: 20 cm x 27.5 cm
  • Price: 55 USD


  • 出版年份: 2017
  • 精装版
  • 页数: 128
  • 尺寸: 20 x 27.5 厘米
  • 价格: 350 RMB

Website: arthurmebius.com
Instagram: @arthurmebius.com_


Contributor: George Zhi Zhao

网站: arthurmebius.com
Instagram: @arthurmebius.com_


供稿人: George Zhi Zhao