If you find yourself in State College, Pennsylvania, during April, consider a visit to Schlow Centre Region Library, 211 S. Allen St., where its community room gallery is hosting an art exhibit of close to 60 pieces by 15 members of the Farmland Preservation Artists of Central Pennsylvania.

Started in 2005 to “promote the preservation and appreciation of farmland through the visual arts,” the Farmland Preservation Artists (FPA) group was created as a joint venture between the Art Alliance of Central Pennsylvania and the Centre County Farmland Trust.

The participating artists are not preserved- farm owners, nor is their subject matter typically preserved farms. However, their artworks must portray farms in central Pennsylvania, roughly defined as between Bloomsburg and Dubois, from Maryland to the New York line.

The FPA group of accomplished artisans works in varied media, ranging from paintings and other illustrations to photography. They portray themes that feature the beauty of the rural landscape, highlight farm life and agricultural products, as well as illustrate issues affecting farmers and their communities.

In support of these goals, FPA members also strive to increase awareness and support for farmland preservation through the exhibition and sale of their art. A portion of their financial proceeds is contributed to the Centre County Farmland Trust.

R. Thomas Berner is a professor emeritus of journalism at Penn State and an FPA member since 2012. His area of artistic expertise is photography.

The exhibit includes his photo titled “Steering Wheel.” It captures the steering wheel of a tractor viewed through a hole in the scarred wooden siding of an old Centre County barn. He is also displaying two other photographic works, “Truck and Barn” and “Barn Window.”

Berner attributes his interest in barns to noticing their appeal while driving on Interstate 81 decades ago.

“As a photographer, I noticed how wonderfully scenic barns were,” he said. That appeal led him to a passion for photographing barns and resulted in his self-publishing two books, “Pennsylvania Barn Stories” and “Pennsylvania Quilt Barns.” He subsequently discovered and joined FPA, as well as the Historic Barn and Farm Foundation of Pennsylvania.

Bellefonte-based plein air artist Susan Nicholas Gephart, a founding member of the Farmland Preservation Artists of Central Pennsylvania, describes herself as having a great passion for landscapes, the outdoors and nature.

Since moving to the area in 1977, this Penn State graduate has been pained to see farmland being eaten up by both residential and commercial development and feels strongly that “this landscape is worthy of our seeing, in artwork, if not in person.”

The owner of S.Nicholas Art Studios, Nicholas Gephart’s artworks have been a part of most of the Farmland Preservation Artists’ exhibits through the years, including her three works on display at Schlow Library.

“Sunset Bliss,” done in pastel, was completed at Hameau Farm near Belleville, where Nicolas Gephart rents studio space and also leads artist retreats.

Her other two pieces are oil paintings. The riverbank near Lock Haven was where she painted “Crosswinds Along the Susquehanna,” on a blustery April day when the skies were alternately spitting rain and snow. “Last Snow in the Valley” is another plein air piece, which captures a chilly feel.

“Abundant Yellow,” a floral work done in pastel, is among three entries being exhibited by State College artist Anne Kenyon. Painted in September, its bright yellow wildflowers and goldenrod are surrounded by other vegetation and trees that are starting to fade to autumn tones.

That picture, as well as her other two submissions, “Butterfly Garden” and “Too Hot for Plein Air,” were all painted in a Centre County park that was once a farm. Kenyon, who joined the FPA about 15 years ago, frequently displays her fine art pieces at the organization’s exhibitions.

Landscapes of natural spaces are her specialty, drawing on local scenes, farms and gardens for her inspiration. Kenyon describes herself as coming to State College from the Philadelphia area to go to school, marrying into a family that loves camping and fishing and never leaving the area she now loves.

In addition to cherishing Centre County’s remaining rural beauty and appreciating the mission of farmland preservation as a way to retain it, Kenyon notes she became involved with FPA in part due to her admiration for the caliber of its founding artists.

Artwork by members of the Farmland Preservation Artists is also on display and for sale at venues other than formal exhibitions.

Until recently, when a renovation project got underway at Toftrees Golf Resort’s The Field Restaurant, it showcased FPA’s pieces on an ongoing basis. While that facility is temporarily out of use, two other locations that continue to display small exhibits of FPA works are The Federal Taphouse in State College and Bull Run Taphouse in Lewisburg.

Schlow Centre Region Library’s hours are Monday through Wednesday, 9 a.m. to 8 p.m.; Thursday, noon to 8 p.m.; Friday, 9 a.m. to 6 p.m.; Saturday, 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.; and Sunday, 1 to 5 p.m. For more information, visit lanc.farm/4aLZ5Ll.

I’m not sure if it’s the sexual component that catches my attention. Perhaps it’s some elements, especially snails, that evoke a sense of familiarity in me, but also nostalgia for something I can’t quite identify. There’s a call back to my childhood, and it’s precisely the snails that evoke it. They were my only playmates when I spent the summer in a remote mountain location, in my grandparents’ garden which after a storm became the perfect habitat for these small creatures, as slimy as they were curious. Back then, I would pick them up from their shells, place them on my arms, and let them slide over me, amused by the trail of slime they left on my skin. I didn’t know it then, but I was assimilating them. In fact, that’s exactly what Ivana Sfredda talks about in the photos she showed me a few weeks ago in her studio in Milan. Soak up is the title of the series still in work in progress that the Molisan photographer has been working on since 2022, or perhaps even earlier. Interpreting the Anglo-Saxon term “soak up” literally, it refers to the sensation of enjoyment perceived in the act of assimilation. A unique human and animal need, that of joining someone or something, of being connected, and of “annihilating the boundaries that delimit a body.”

Ivana Sfredda’s macro shots do not contemplate any subject hierarchy. A strawberry in a man’s mouth, a group of worms intertwined, a droplet about to fall from an old faucet, all appear one after the other in a carousel of images that dance hand in hand in a perpetual circle, without jerks or arrogance. Hand in hand, united, assimilated into each other, in the other. So that in the act of encounter between two bodies, there is no longer a “my body” and “your body.” The power dynamics that humans have built in the relationship between artifact and nature are nullified. Perhaps this is where my childhood memory fits in, where it is clear that in that space-time arc, I did not know of this imposition, and no construct had yet had time to settle in the logic that today exists in me, the inequality of man > animal or even more so, artificial > nature.

But there is something beyond this unconsciousness or yet uncorrupted consciousness. Ivana explains it to me by citing Mario Perniola, a philosopher, writer, and theorist of contemporary art, delving into the sexuality mentioned earlier. Because it is clear that in the union of two bodies there is a tension that moves them towards each other, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be laden with a pleasurable end. Perhaps it’s just an unconscious need to lose one’s original form?

«Perniola identifies in sexuality a point of suspension that he defines as neutral sexuality: the detachment from one’s own body that implies a sense of estrangement, cybernetic and indeed neutral. This erotic impulse detaches itself from the pursuit of carnal pleasure in function of an intense contact where the organic and inorganic body becomes a meaningful surface. A very powerful communication system that leaps beyond the categories of human/artificial, human/animal, animal/artificial – relative to being as such – which traces the fluid architectures of an alternative body.»

As explained by Ivana Sfredda, in the encounter with the other, the self feels fulfilled. This reminds me of a book I read some time ago when I was searching for a more conscious self. A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle – found in the “esotericism” section of a bookstore – actually talked about this. It discussed how the self exists only in the reflection in the other, when the annulment of the ego occurs, which only defines the boundaries of a prison where a false narrative of ourselves lives. So, in Ivana Sfredda’s shots, which she explains to me are a sort of exercise and play, all this is visually translated, as if to illustrate the daily and widespread existence of continuous equal and harmonious connections between elements that seem distant both in a hierarchical and semantic sense.

«The series focuses on the meaning of contact and relational energy, an exercise in imagining how these incomplete relationships can represent profound portals of learning.»

Courtesy & Copyright Ivana Sfredda

ELLENSBURG — Charlie Tadlock’s fascination with the open road came to him in his search for his artistic voice in photography on the highways of Montana.

Now, that fascination has earned him the Society for Photographic Education’s Award for Innovative Imaging, an annual prize given to six photography students from across the U.S. whose work exhibits a forward-thinking approach to the field.

Tadlock’s mid-term exhibition, “Vast and Solitary Lands,” caught the judges’ attention with its focus on exploring the familiar highway landscape through the lens of non-traditional photographic techniques.

“I fell in love with the road in the final semester of my undergrad,” Tadlock said. “At that point, I was thinking about nostalgic landscapes, and the feeling of being nostalgic for a past that never really existed. I traveled all over Montana for that body of work, and in the process, found that nostalgia on the road itself.”

As a third-year Master of Fine Arts student at Central Washington University, Tadlock has been able to hone his craft through experimentation, research, and – most importantly – play.

“It really lets you play around in your first year, and I explored a lot of different ways of thinking about my work and where I wanted to go with it,” he said. “I started going down the classic tropes of talking about my family and my home and my heart and such, but it just didn’t work for me. That summer, I doubled down on what I like doing, and took my photography back to the highway.”

Tadlock’s work combines digital photography and analog printing methods for a true cross-generational examination of our relationship to the materials we use, as well as the relationship between reality and image. He pairs instant Polaroid photographs with more traditional high-resolution digital images in his exhibition, contrasting the two mediums while reconciling their visions of the highway landscape.

“I wanted to really bring a focus to the materiality of the medium,” Tadlock said. “The way I went about that was to take this ‘perfect’ digital image taken on a high-end camera and printed on a high-end digital printer, and then throw a Polaroid I took with my phone on top of it.”

As part of his degree, Tadlock teaches beginning photography in addition to his own studies. He chose Central’s program because it would present him with an opportunity to be in front of other students.

“Part of the reason I chose Central was the three years of teaching experience I get as part of my program,” Tadlock said. “I have my own classes, so I’m coming in way ahead of other grads in the job market, because I’ve already worked in my field for three years.”

Associate Professor of Art and Design Marcus DeSieno, who has served as Tadlock’s mentor in the program, said the progress he has seen in Tadlock’s work has been nothing short of incredible.

“Charlie’s growth has been absolutely phenomenal to see,” DeSieno said. “He’s an exceptionally bright mind and hard-working student, and he’s really hit the ground running here.”

As part of the award, Tadlock’s five submitted pieces were on display at the March 21-23 SPE conference in St. Louis. The conference serves as both an opportunity to recognize emerging talent in the field, and as an important networking opportunity for participants.

The SPE is one of the world’s largest forums for fostering the understanding of photography, and serves as a hub for its members to share insights and art in the common pursuit of excellence in creative expression.

DeSieno said that winning the award provides an excellent springboard into a photography career.

“Charlie’s work is going to be on full display in front of this huge group of potential mentors and connections,” he said. “That spotlight, along with the award itself, are going to give him a great leg up as he enters the workforce and looks for teaching jobs around the country.”

Tadlock’s work will be on display in CWU’s Sarah Spurgeon Gallery from May 14 to June 1, as part of his MFA thesis exhibition.

Photo of Alexander Gronsky. Image by Обывало (deleted account) from Wikimedia Commons. CC BY-SA 4.0.

Holod Magazine published an interview with the award-winning Moscow-based photographer Alexander Gronsky. Global Voices translated a part of the interview, edited it for clarity and republished it with the permission from Holod.  The photographs are embedded from Alexander Gronsky’s public Instagram account. 

In the 21st century, photographer Alexander Gronsky reinvented the genre of landscape and became famous worldwide — he received numerous international artistic and journalistic awards, including the prestigious World Press Photo Award. His photographs look like the grand paintings of old masters, with people also becoming part of the landscape. Gronsky could have easily left Russia after February 24, 2022, but decided to stay, and, for two years now, he has been documenting what Moscow looks like and how it lives during the war. He photographed the funeral of Navalny and the aftermath of drone attacks on Moscow City, but his photos are not at all like typical reportage shots. They clearly capture the spirit of the times and how the war intrudes into the urban space. The editor of Holod, Alexander Gorbachev, talked to Gronsky about how he achieves this.

Alexander Gorbachev (Gorbachev): For the past two years, I have been looking at Moscow with the eyes of a stranger — and I see how differently these eyes view the city. One perspective is that nothing has changed: people sit in restaurants, ride on bike paths, go to clubs — and the war does not break into this ordinary life. Another perspective is that this is a space of totalitarian police control, where one can be taken to the station simply because someone sees something on your balcony or overhears a conversation in the metro. Moscow in your pictures is something third. It is not a city that lives an ordinary life, nor is it a realized dystopia. How do you define it for yourself — what is this Moscow like?

Alexander Gronsky (Gronsky): I have this question myself. Actually, I answer it through my photographs. Well, it’s not exactly answering: my work doesn’t have a conceptual core, I don’t think I want to tell something specific about Moscow. I go out from my house, wondering the streets of Moscow, wanting to find out: what is happening with Moscow?

Right after [February 24 2024, the start of full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine], there was a feeling that Moscow was the epicenter of some events, but these events were completely invisible. And a method of capturing these changes emerged from my confusion. That is, I engaged in classic street photography: just wandering the streets and snapping what catches the eye. Initially, it seemed that I was creating completely disjointed stuff, but over time, things began to crystallize, focal points emerged.

For example, billboards. I was interested in the intrusion of a new reality into the landscape — and so I started shooting these billboards. The very first one I took in early March [2022] — just then on Leningradsky Avenue, among the ads for TVs, cars, and apartments, signs appeared that read “Za mir.” [“For peace” but with a Latin Z, which is the government’s symbol for the war, instead of a Cyrillic З] And just a day before that, I saw people detained for holding posters that said “За мир,” but without the Latin Z. This turnaround shocked me — how language began to function differently.

Gorbachev: I think that those who encounter your work for the first time might ask: where are the people, actually? You are photographing the city, the space of human life, but the people in your photographs are not the main subjects; they are more a part of the landscape.

Gronsky: Yes, that’s a long-standing tradition of mine. I don’t get close to people. I’m generally a shy person, I don’t like pointing the camera at people to make them feel uncomfortable, which in turn makes me nervous. On the other hand, when you shoot from a greater distance, more elements enter the frame — and it feels like you’re capturing some complexity.

It’s funny that many museum curators keep telling me: listen, no need for people, just capture the pure urban space — like a sort of sculpture, so to speak. And I understand them: an empty city looks much more grandiose in a museum, making a stronger impression. But I actually want to break that grandeur. I really like this quote by Chaplin: “a close-up is always a tragedy, a long shot is always a comedy.” That’s why I want my pictures to have an element of human comedy. I think that little figures of people help me to accept the landscape myself, they bring a human scale to it. If there were no people, I would feel too much anger towards it.

Gorbachev: I think this is very evident in the picture from Navalny’s funeral. The tail of the line against the backdrop of a residential area makes the photo very poignant.

Gronsky: Yes, probably. There were many photos taken from this angle — there was a bridge with a spiral staircase, and everyone climbed it to take pictures of the crowd. But by the time I got up there, the crowd was already thinning. It turned out that, although there were many people, they were against the backdrop of some vast emptiness.

Gorbachev: How did this series start? In February–March 2022, many of us were deciding what to do next. How did you decide to take these photos?

Gronsky: In the beginning, I was very disoriented. I  was in a sort of slump at that time. And right at the New Year night of 2022, I made a promise to myself: to get a grip, to roam the city every free day, shoot what I liked, and immediately post it on Instagram. It didn’t matter if no one found it interesting.  I’ve been involved in photography all my life and don’t know any other way to pull myself together.

By the end of summer 2022, I felt burnt out and unsure what to do next. Then, patriotic posters started appearing more frequently — I ran all over Moscow trying to capture them. There were few at first, and being an optimist, I was sure that it could all end any day and that I needed to capture even the slightest changes in the landscape because otherwise, no one would believe that it was all like this.

I spent a tremendous amount of energy on this. But in the last year, these patriotic signs have appeared on every corner, and I no longer think it will end soon. And the feelings from capturing this are now completely different.

Alexander Gronsky’s photographs can be viewed on his website, his Facebook, and his Instagram account.

Park ranger and a school of bigeye trevally, Cabo Pulmo, Mexico, 2015

‘Once in a while, I get an email from people telling me that, thanks to a photograph that they saw somewhere, they began scuba diving. Some mentioned the photographs helped them lose their fear of underwater animals or the fear of not knowing what is beneath them in the water. If you begin to dive, you will love the ocean and that’s the very first step towards sea protection and sea regulation’ – Anuar Patjane

Photograph: Anuar Patjane/Thames & Hudson