Local Art @ EPL

July 7, 2012

We are pleased to introduce local photographer Lisa D’Innocenzo as the next artist in our ongoing exhibition series Local Art @ EPL.  From now through the end of July, her compelling collection A World Drained of Color will be on display on the 2nd floor of EPL’s Main Branch.  Born from an interest in rural and urban landscape, the photographs explore “the tension between restless elemental energy and the dense immobility of human-made structures” while raising questions about “the nature of power, endurance, strength, and mutability.”  You can meet Ms. D’Innocenzo to discuss her work at an EPL reception on Saturday, July 14th at 4 p.m., and make sure to check back with Off the Shelf  later in the month for a featured interview with the artist herself.  Stay tuned.


Local Art @ EPL

March 2, 2012

We are very happy to introduce painter and photographer Alice Sharie-Revelski as the latest artist in our ongoing exhibition series Local Art @ EPL.  From now through March 31st, her collection A Glimpse of Galapagos will be on display on the 2nd floor of EPL’s Main Branch.  Captured during a 2011 trip to the Galapagos Islands, her photographs explore the diverse plant and animal life found on the islands including the Darwin finch and the great tortoise (pictured).


Local Art @ EPL

August 18, 2011

"Untitled - Fountain Square Arts Festival" by Warren Friedman

We are thrilled to announce a special summer treat for our ongoing exhibition series Local Art @ EPL.  Throughout August, we’re proudly featuring two dozen eye-catching images from the 2010 Faces of Evanston Photo Contest right here on the 2nd floor of EPL’s Main Branch.  Based on the common theme “Legacy,” the 26 featured photographs include Warren Friedman’s 1st place winner “Untitled – Fountain Square Arts Festival” (above) as well as prizewinners by Paulina Lopez, Jennifer Schuman, Jennifer Frankfurter, Anthony Icuzzi, and Barbara Seyfriend.  So make plans to catch Faces of Evanston as it wraps up its year-long, citywide tour and learn more about the annual Kiwanis-sponsored competition by visiting the websites for Faces of Evanston and the Kiwanis Club.


Trees of Knowledge

March 26, 2010

Yesterday I happened to read the editor’s introduction to the latest issue of Orion magazine. Orion is generally considered to be a “nature” magazine, and is usually shelved with similar titles at most newsstands and bookstores. But as the editor points out, Orion never intended to be viewed as any particular genre or fill any specialized niche within the magazine market. From Orion’s point of view, any writing anywhere that anyone is doing is in a sense “nature” writing. Since we all live in the natural world, any writing about people or place is in a way, writing about nature. Continue reading “Trees of Knowledge”


Shop Till We Drop

January 15, 2010

‘Tis the season for love, joy, peace, and religious rejoicing. ‘Tis also the season to express these most profound of human emotions through conspicuous consumption. As the months long pre-holiday shopping bonanza gives way to post-holiday and New Year’s sales, the message and the urge to buy, buy, buy remains unrelenting. (Was I the only one slightly horrified to overhear my companions on Christmas night, surrounded by piles of brand new stuff, express with equal parts malaise and resignation their plans to spend the next day shopping?) 

At the end of what has been a very long year for many Americans unemployed, underemployed, or just plain scared of losing their job/healthcare/home/future/etc/etc/etc, this message to keep on buying things seems particularly distressing. The queasy feeling in my stomach is what happens when our culture of consumption smacks up against hard against the reality of America in 2010.  Perhaps I’m looking at it in the wrong light and this holiday shopping (and last week’s resultant reports of better than expected December retail sales) is a good sign for the future in the face of the recent financial meltdown. But that argument begins to seem a bit short sighted after a Christmas week spent driving around suburban Ohio (or insert your favorite American Anytown here) where strip malls, megastores, and endlessly repeating chain retailers rise up from amidst overstuffed parking lots like some sort of Karl Marx Möbius strip nightmare.

If the idea is always for increased spending, an increased economy, and increased growth, scenes like our current suburban sprawlscapes lead to the question of where exactly into these already supersaturated asphalt wastelands this growth will be squeezed. Up until the current collapse, the rate of commercial sprawl nationwide over the past decades has been staggering. Developers and corporations have been throwing up shoddily conceived, cheaply constructed, poorly built structures for years with seemingly little thought given to the communities and landscapes laid bare for the sake of expanding commerce. And once these locations have fulfilled their (oftentimes relatively brief) usefulness or passed their sell-by date, they are often abandoned in favor of cheaper or more strategic new sites. 

Chicago based photographer Brian Ulrich has been capturing the fallout this ugly cycle on film for the past several years. Inspired by an abandoned supermarket on Chicago’s North Side that he passed on his daily commute in 2005, the photographer began searching out other such forsaken monuments to consumer culture. Spurred on by the recession, Ulrich’s project really began to take off and take on new meaning in 2008. Travelling around the country he found empty stores and shopping malls everywhere he went (who among us can’t reel off a list of the empty stores in our own neighborhoods?).

The photographs are eerie, managing to be at the same time both completely familiar and hauntingly strange due to the lack of people and product. These commercial meccas which we pass by and through everyday without thought take on a whole new sense of meaning (or is it meaninglessness?) and foreboding when stripped of their purpose. Some have fallen into complete disrepair, looking like ancient ruins (albeit ruins with cheesy tiling jobs and awful lighting). Others, which look much as they did before their abandonment, manage to seem even more unsettling, as they give off the feeling of ghost towns, depopulated with little warning and great haste. For photographs of such dull looking, uninteresting places they do a fine job of making the viewer uneasy. By rights, an empty Auntie Anne’s pretzel folding counter shouldn’t look this sad and forlorn. But if these are indeed the ruins and relics that our culture has to leave behind us, perhaps a sad empty feeling is just about right. View some of the photographs and read a brief interview with Ulrich at online magazine The Morning News.


Have You Read . . . ?

December 4, 2009

The Red Couch: A Portrait of America by Kevin Clarke & Horst Wackerbarth

When most people decide to take to the highways and road trip across the country, the idea is generally to travel fast and light and leave all excess baggage behind you in your asphalt wake. Taking an 8-foot red-velvet couch along for the ride doesn’t figure in to most sane road tripping plans. But that’s just what photographers Kevin Clarke and Horst Wackerbarth did over the course of a four year art project begun in 1979.

In 1976, while moving the couch from a NYC apartment onto a moving truck, a shaft of morning sunlight fell across the couch sitting in the middle of street. Photographer Clarke (who had been sleeping on the couch at a friend’s loft) was struck by the beauty of the scene, decided to take a photo of the couch sitting in the road, and an idea was born. Along with his West German photographer friend Horst Wackerbarth, Clarke began planning and raising money for the project: they would rent a van, cart the bright red sofa around the country, and photograph the artistic results of placing this large, slightly garish, and incongruous piece in the middle of everyday American life. After having a replica couch made, Clarke and Wackerbarth both began touring around the country, working independently of each other, and snapping photographs of the couch. Some of the images are just pictures of the couch in strange and beautiful places, but the more interesting photographs feature people that the photographers met in the course of their travels and asked to pose with the couch. These pictures feature everyday people (and a few celebrities for good measure) in the everyday situations of their lives, from a stockbroker on the trading floor, to a family that has just been evicted from their apartment building.

The fixed visual element of the couch lends a powerful unifying element to these photos of incredibly diverse people and places. What would otherwise be a fine collection of portraits depicting the vastness of the American experience is here given a strange and surreal edge by the constant presence of the couch. In this age of Photoshop, where virtually no image is what it appears to be, looking at these beautiful, sometimes eerie photographs it is often necessary to remind yourself that these pictures are the real thing. The bright red couch you see sitting in the middle of a Long Island landfill, or attached to a window-washer’s scaffolding high above the ground, or straddling a canoe in the middle of a glacial lake in Alaska was actually hauled, hoisted, or dragged into position by hand, not by the click of a mouse.

The Red Couch is definitely a  strange and beautiful book to be hunted down off the shelves. With an unusual visual surprise on nearly every page, it is a welcome reminder that art and magic can be found on any day, in any direction you care to look.


Have You Read . . . ?

September 28, 2009

Pictures From a Drawer: Prison and the Art of Portraiture by Bruce Jackson

picturesdrawer2

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and paging through this simple yet riveting book breathes a powerful new breath of truth into the tired old adage. The book is comprised of old prisoner identification photographs of inmates housed in Arkansas’ Cummins prison during the first half of the 20th Century. Writer, photographer, and filmmaker Bruce Jackson discovered the faded photos in a drawer in 1975, and these many years later using today’s advanced photo restoration technology he has restored the images and presents them here in large, portrait sized prints. The tiny mug shots he found were originally taken as prisoners entered or exited the prison system, but Jackson says, “I always wanted to make them big. The whole purpose of photographs like this is to make people small, to make people part of a bureaucratic dossier. They’re nameless.”

pictures4But Jackson has done powerfully right by the subjects pictures3here–they still remain nameless, but he has restored to them some of their humanity and their dignity. And to look upon their inscrutable faces and to return the stares of these long vanished human beings is to be sucked into a dark and teeming well of human emotion, surrounded by every permutation of grief, anger, fear, defeat, and defiance imaginable. These photographs are haunting and absolutely mesmerizing, capturing not just visible light on the film’s emulsion, but also burning the lives and stories of these lost individuals onto the images.


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