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IN STUDIO with Marco P. Valli and Luca Santese of Cesura – ep. 13

IN STUDIO with Marco P. Valli and Luca Santese of Cesura – ep. 13

For the thirteenth episode of IN STUDIO, we went to Cesura‘s spaces in Pianello Val Tidone, province of Piacenza, to meet Marco P. Valli and Luca Santese, two members of the most active photographic collective in Italy. Known primarily for their joint project Realpolitik, a series of portraits of Italian politicians, including Giorgia Meloni, Silvio Berlusconi, and Matteo Salvini, the two photographers shared with us how it all began. From working together to coexisting within a collective, Marco and Luca also discussed the behind-the-scenes of their work and their upcoming project in the United States.

The Cesura Study: An Alternative Model

We find ourselves at the foothills of the Piacenza hills, in a two-story building with a somewhat Spartan appearance. Here is the headquarters of Cesura, the photographic collective founded by Alex Majoli – now a full member of Magnum Photos – and active since 2008. Around forty people, including photographers and assistants, work in this space equipped with all the necessary tools to make them autonomous. From post-production to the actual printing of photographs, to framing and transport for exhibition production. On the ground floor, a large co-working area precedes a printing laboratory. On the mezzanine, there is the archive of their publishing house, established from the beginning as a means of disseminating Cesura’s work. Upstairs, there is the editing room and the darkroom, along with a small kitchen that allows Cesura members to fully immerse themselves in this place, potentially without leaving for entire days. The sense of sharing is immediately palpable, as well as atypical for photographers. We are used to encountering artistic collectives or visiting large co-working spaces of mostly visual artists; the idea of a photographic collective working in unison with the foresight to emphasize the name Cesura rather than the individual intrigues us a lot. There are many questions we want to ask Luca Santese and Marco P. Valli, but let’s start from the beginning.

Why are we here in Pianello Val Tidone and not in the city?

LS: For various reasons, actually. One is that the dimensions of these spaces, for our budgets, would never have been sustainable in the city. At the same time, this is a place where one can retreat, so it changes the dimension in which you work. The legend – but it’s true – says that the place was chosen by drawing a circle with a compass on the map. About an hour’s drive from the main airports and near highway junctions.

How was Cesura born, and how did you end up here?

MPV: Luca Santese is one of the founders of Cesura, and I joined a bit later, in 2011. At the beginning, Luca was an assistant to Alex Majoli, then the collective was founded with its publishing house to promote Cesura’s work and ideology. The initial policy was not to sign projects but to release them only under the name Cesura, to make the collective as known as possible. It was funny at first when we arrived somewhere, and they said, “Are you Cesura?” Our idea has always been to bring Cesura first because the most effective thing that passes is the idea of collectivity. Then, of course, competitiveness has always been fundamental inside, both for better and for worse, but it has made everyone grow very quickly. Life here has never been “comfortable,” but, surely, living a sort of training has made photographers more prepared for more challenging situations. Let’s say that those who pass through here get toughened up and become more resistant, so it’s useful, it shapes you. In a way, living here and working intensely together also acts as a filter, especially at the beginning, as an aspiring photographer; it makes you understand if you are suited for this type of work.

How do you experience this place? Do you live nearby?

MPV: At first, we settled here. In the assistant phase, the guys live here; now we go back and forth from Brianza. When we work in pairs, we always meet here. This is the best space for productivity, which increases by 300% compared to when we are in Milan. What you would do in a week of work here, you do it in three days because everyone else works in the same direction. Usually, there are many of us, and comparison is frequent and crucial for us.

Do you think it can be said that there is a Cesura method that is consolidating and being passed down?

MPV: Yes, it depends on the photographers. Each has their method, but there are factors that keep us together, especially from a structural and organizational point of view.

Let’s talk about your Realpolitik project. How did the approach to politics come about?

LS: This is a fascinating story, especially because it aligns closely with Cesura. Cesura’s activity began before its official establishment, around 2005. Alex Majoli opened this studio with Alessandro Sala, one of his early assistants. Alex’s idea was to stay away from the city and build a studio that was also a laboratory, so he could have complete control over the entire production process. Relying on external support led to errors, delays, inaccuracies, and costs that became exorbitant. This meticulousness, if done externally, costs a lot. However, if you manage it yourself and train people to handle it, it has a different impact, besides costing less. At the beginning, there was a real division of labor – a couple of us focused on post-production, some on printing, a couple on assembly work and frame construction. All of this gave Cesura its soul. After years of being assistants, there was a risk that photographers would disperse into various agencies. The idea was different: stay here and establish a collective. That model of independence that had been created was applied to Cesura. To get to the point, none of us was a billionaire, and there was no one sponsoring something like this at that time, so the need was to start by shooting in our own territory.

Did politics come into play at this point?

LS: Yes, Italian politics was one of the first fields we worked on from the beginning. It was within reach, cost-effective, and we had the real potential to sell photos internationally. When in 2018 the situation of Italian politics changed, becoming hyper-populist, we realized there was an opportunity for us to work on a project together and provide a comprehensive narrative of the Third Republic in Italy.

Why do you think it was necessary to tell the story of the Italian political situation at that particular moment?

MPV: Consider that our background comes from Magnum. What sets it apart from many others is their work on contemporaneity with the idea of creating an iconography of the present with a broader perspective, not just chronicle-like. Following in this vein, Realpolitik was an opportunity for us to create a collective project, with the intention of forming a new iconography of Italian political representation and propaganda. In practice, it’s interesting because Third Republic politicians started self-producing their propaganda, nullifying the representation that photographers created of power. At that time, there was no one producing counter-propaganda or, at least, trying to subvert the propaganda canons proposed by politicians. We stepped into this gap. We began searching for an aesthetic that could counterpose itself in a satirical, critical, and grotesque way to the representation that those in power made of themselves. From that point on, we started following the main political events, which, individually, remain mere news, but in the organicity of a five-year project, they gain meaning – the documentation of the transformation of political power in Italy.

LS: Think about our photos of Giorgia Meloni, so grotesque, satirical, and comical. If – hypothetically – our country went to war, something that has actually happened but in a more explicit way, these photos would take on a whole different weight. This is the vision we try to uphold – looking at the present but trying to consider history, so that the images can continually acquire new communicative power.

A bit like John Heartfield did with satirical photomontages against Hitler’s Germany?

LS: Exactly, in the field of photography, political satire has been scarce, especially in Italy. Our attempt, with this grotesque, revealing, theatrical aesthetic, is precisely to create true masks of Italian comedy, or rather, Italian tragicomedy. There’s a beautiful page that I feel like promoting, called Meme Press Photo, which pokes fun at photographers. There’s a photo showing a roof covered in snow, and a person, with a shovel, removing a small corner. The meme says: “This is your impact on history, that is, nothing.” The flow of images bombarding us today is so intense that it’s like trying to respond to a bombardment with a pellet gun, but simultaneously, it’s not certain. This is work that can be thought of even for those who will come in ten, twenty, thirty years and can have a historicized perspective. Berlusconi is an example. The photographs we took of Silvio Berlusconi, when he passed away, became iconic images of the last Berlusconi.

In this counter-propaganda operation, have you ever encountered external obstacles, perhaps criticism or bureaucratic hurdles? Is it a problem to publish an image of this kind?

MPV: No, it’s not a problem because politicians are public figures, and during rallies or events, they can be photographed. The use of light we employ is not attackable, in the sense that everyone takes portraits as they see fit. We have had encounters with politicians, yes. For example, when we did Il Corpo del Capitano, we flew to Catania, and Matteo Salvini was coming out of the trial, and we handed him the book.

Do you know what politicians think of these portraits?

MPV: Actually, they don’t think anything. In fact, there is a sensational story about Salvini related to the cover of Time Magazine. In 2018, we took a portrait of Salvini, captured with light from below. Salvini is smiling, and the light makes him appear Mephistophelean. It is the photo we published on the first fanzine of Realpolitik, and after a few months, we sold it to Time, which made it the cover of an issue titled “The new face of Europe.” Vivienne Walt‘s article criticized Salvini’s actions during that period. A month after the publication, we went to Rome, and during a League demonstration, they handed us a leaflet. In the center was the Time cover. Salvini essentially used it to self-celebrate as an international politician. At that point, we were left stunned and said, “Satire alone is not enough.” A portrait like that, for someone who hasn’t had visual education, doesn’t see its critical sense. The important thing is that it says “Time” and Salvini’s face. From that moment, we decided to work on Il Corpo del Capitano, to try to create an even more alternative, raw, more noir iconography that would dismember Salvini at a communicative level and make the photos untouchable. We turned him into a mask, put him on the cover without eyes so that he couldn’t exploit it in any way.

LS: When we gave the book to Salvini, he had a small twitch. Our goal is to work so that these means become the iconography of our time, even for the future.

How do you manage to shoot politicians so closely?

MPV: The photographs for Realpolitik were taken at a very close distance. We manage to get very close only during small provincial rallies. There are fewer people, fewer photographers, and we can approach more easily. In some cases, we were really lucky, getting as close as twenty centimeters from their faces.

Do you enter the rallies as accredited press photographers? Have you ever been discovered? Are the equipment similar?

LS: They have never said anything. The only factor that might arouse suspicion is the fact that there are two of us. The equipment is quite similar, although we use an external flash, which is somewhat unusual for press photographers.

Do you plan to expand this project internationally?

MPV: In addition to continuing the work on Italian iconography, we want to try working abroad, focusing on the American elections. We are considering working on Texas because, besides being the largest American state, it is currently undergoing a phase of change. It is a Republican state that might not be Republican anymore after the next elections. In short, it’s a bit of Ultra America. Our focus is not only political; the intention is also to narrate other central aspects of the country to obtain a diverse story.

Let’s talk about your work. How is it to work as a pair? It’s a bit atypical for two photographers.

MPV: Being part of a collective has accustomed us to working with many people. For us, the important thing is that the project has value and is done well. Being two allows you to take twice as many photographs, especially in a context like political rallies where time is limited for shooting.

Does the competitive factor come into play?

LS:
Yes, of course, but competition is positive. When Cesura was born, all the photographers were young and very competitive; they wanted to assert themselves. However, at the same time, we managed to learn that working together is a great strength. Now that we are more mature, we can do it more consciously without that youthful immaturity. A great example is the collective project on the Arab Spring. When the Arab Springs erupted, all the photographers divided the territories, and there we managed to bring home a complete job, which would have been impossible without the group. Marco and I work together because we get along well, and we know that working as a pair is only an advantage. Competition exists, but it’s healthy.

In collective projects, you never credit a specific photographer for a particular shot. I think this also shows the overcoming of an ego, which is not obvious.

MPV: The only time we are “obliged” to put either my name or Luca’s on the photos is for publications in newspapers. Often, however, as we review projects like Il Corpo del Capitano – which is the result of two years of work – we have no idea who took the shots. Especially for that project, we were very set on the same lens and light; we were like two operators producing two perspectives.

Being primarily recognized for the Realpolitik project, is it an obstacle to your personal research?

LS: I would say no. One must always remember that what you do is not who you are. In addition to the joint projects, Marco and I have our individual research, which is very different from Realpolitik, less popular and towards a more challenging path. In this sense, it is easier to be associated with this type of aesthetic – Realpolitik – because it is more popular and circulates more, while our personal research is more niche and circulates only in galleries.

MPV: The only thing to be a bit careful about is the long term. If you only take photos of politicians with that type of aesthetic, you risk the path of mannerism.

Our customary question: what can’t be missing in the studio?

LS: Actually, we need almost everything that is here. The real wealth, from a pragmatic point of view, is our equipment, printers, machinery, vans, which individually would be impossible to maintain. For example, having a darkroom is possible only because a group of people came together and created it. The van to transport the works, as well as all the internal services, we also offer to external photographers or agencies, allowing us to maintain our own activity and invest.

Ph credits Andrés Juan Suarez

Midjourney: Redefining the Landscape of Travel Photography with AI

Midjourney: Redefining the Landscape of Travel Photography with AI
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Greg Snell, a seasoned travel photographer and videographer, is steering the tourism industry towards an unprecedented direction with the help of an AI tool named Midjourney. The innovative technology has the ability to produce strikingly realistic images based on simple prompts, a development that could potentially redefine the landscape of travel photography.

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The AI Revolution in Travel Photography

In a world where visual content is king, the integration of artificial intelligence in travel photography is not just a novelty, but a game-changer. Midjourney, the AI tool adopted by Snell, generates images that are astonishingly lifelike, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish them from actual photographs.

With its ability to create captivating visuals from simple prompts, Midjourney has been instrumental in producing travel content for the tourism industry. This development is particularly significant as it challenges the traditional role of travel photographers, raising questions about the future of the profession.

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The Interplay of Authenticity and Artificiality

Despite the impressive capabilities of Midjourney, Snell remains firm in his belief that the authentic experience captured by actual travel photographers will continue to hold value for clients. “While AI can generate visually appealing images, it falls short in replicating the unique human perspective that a travel photographer brings to the table,” he explains.

However, Snell acknowledges that the technology could impact the visual representation aspect of travel photography. “It’s a double-edged sword,” he admits. “On one hand, it could potentially make certain jobs obsolete. On the other, it opens up new possibilities for creating more compelling and engaging content for the tourism industry.”

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Navigating the Future of Travel Photography

As the lines between technology and humanity continue to blur, travel photographers like Snell are navigating this new terrain with a mix of caution and optimism. While the future of the profession remains uncertain, one thing is clear: the role of travel photography in shaping our perception of the world is here to stay.

For now, Snell continues to explore the potential of Midjourney, using it as a tool to enhance his work rather than replace it. “It’s all about finding the right balance,” he says. “AI can be a powerful ally, but it will never replace the authentic experience that comes with being a travel photographer.”

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As we move forward in this era of technological advancement, the story of Greg Snell and Midjourney serves as a reminder of the transformative power of AI. It challenges us to rethink our notions of creativity, authenticity, and the role of humans in a world increasingly dominated by machines.

Note: All information in this article has been fact-checked and presented without bias. The quotes used reflect the true intent of the speaker and contribute to the narrative’s integrity.

In the realm of travel photography, the advent of AI tools like Midjourney signals a seismic shift. While it may change the way we perceive and create visual content, it also opens up new possibilities for storytelling. As we stand on the precipice of this evolution, the story of Greg Snell and his journey with Midjourney offers a glimpse into the future of travel photography – a future that is as exciting as it is uncertain.

Lessons in life and art from Yoko Ono

Lessons in life and art from Yoko Ono

As the major retrospective Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind opens in London, we delve into the artist’s 7-decades of groundbreaking art to extract some invaluable wisdom

13February 2024

To neatly categorise Yoko Ono into a specific art movement would be a disservice to her life and artistic practice. The now 90-year-old artist’s breadth of work takes on several forms: she composed music and poetry, used her art and celebrity as a vehicle of protest, surrendered herself to the mercy of strangers in Cut Piece, self-published a book of instruction paintings, and irrevocably altered conceptual art in the 1960s. This impressive and varied oeuvre even prompted the art critic Jonathan Jones to proclaim, “Is there any contemporary art style that Yoko Ono did not pioneer?” 

Despite this, Ono’s artistic contributions in the 20th century were eclipsed by her relationship with John Lennon and for allegedly “breaking up the Beatles”. An unfortunate accusation that is somehow still a matter of contention decades later. However, over the last two decades, art institutions, such as San Francisco’s Museum of Modern Art in 2002 and the Serpentine Gallery in 2012, have carefully recontextualised her work, detached from the Lennon of it all. Focusing instead on how her art engaged with ideas of liberation, the horror of war and violence against women through its avant-garde aesthetic. This approach to her work underpins the upcoming retrospective of her artistic practice at the Tate Modern in London titled Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind.

The exhibition attempts to cover Yoko Ono’s prolific seven-decade career, showcasing over 200 works spanning photography, instruction pieces, and music. “Yoko Ono’s work has this incredible ability to alter how we view the world, and its significance cannot be underestimated,” explains assistant curator Andrew de Brún in a conversation with Dazed. “One of the things that we really hope people take away from the show is Ono’s call for collectivity and sense of hopefulness despite turbulent times.”

To celebrate the opening of this momentous exhibition of Ono’s art, we look back at some defining moments of her life and work. 

A simple command, such as “Light a match and watch it go out” in Lighting Piece (1955), constituted much of Yoko Ono’s earliest works. The young artist became part of Fluxus, an art movement that sought to disrupt the notion of fine arts – specifically by challenging the relationship between art and spectator. These event scores, later termed ‘instruction paintings’, were developed following her move from Japan to New York in 1953 to study at Sarah Lawrence and invited the audience to engage in acts of imagination and participation.

Ono’s self-published art book Grapefruit (1964) – often described as the pillar of conceptual art in the 1960s – was made up of these simple instructions and laid the foundation for much of her work during the time. With instructions such as, “Leave a piece of canvas or finished painting on the floor or in the street” in the score Painting to Be Stepped On (1960) or “Listen to the sound of the earth turning” in Earth Piece (1963), Ono’s audience was encouraged to interpret the pieces from their own perspective and ‘complete’ them in the present. 

In a performance piece that would become iconic, Ono invited the audience to participate in Cut Piece (1964). Seated motionless on stage, the audience was instructed to cut away pieces of her clothing and take them away with them. In the archival video documentation of the performance, the artist is seen submitting her body to strangers as they display varied levels of cruelty in how they cut the fragments of the garment of her body and, ultimately, become part of the artwork. While this is often seen as a work of feminist art, writing by art historians such as Julia Bryan-Wilson assert that the work applies more broadly to the impact of war on both men and women as the performer for Cut Piece is not bound by gender. Through this act, she probes the audience to explore themes of power and agency through the intersection between her own physical body and the aftereffects of violence.

By the mid-1960s, Ono developed a keen interest in filmmaking. This saw her produce genre-defining avant-garde short films, specifically through her use of the singular shot to disrupt antiquated ideas of sexuality and the female body. In Ono’s 1966 film Bottoms, these bodies become landscapes, and the human form dissolves into abstraction. The picture, which is entirely black and white, features a number of nude bottoms in the form of close-up shots set against a harsh background. It was censored heavily in London and confiscated by customs upon being brought to America. With a soundtrack that consists of interviews of the people whose rears are on screen and their thoughts on the project, Ono begins to unravel what public perceptions of the project and Bottoms could entail.

In other films such as Freedom (1970), where the artist films herself for a minute trying to take her bra off, and Fly (1970) – based on the instruction ‘Let a fly walk on a woman’s body from toe to head and fly out of the window’ – Ono continues to capture the unvarnished, unadulterated reality through her unrelenting repetition. Her films ask spectators to face their own uneasiness and reconsider ideas of vulnerability, intimacy, freedom and beauty. 

First displayed in 1967 at the Lisson Gallery in London, Ono’s enigmatic installation Half a Room (1967) confronts the viewer with absence rather than presence, with the void left by what is missing rather than the solidity of what remains.  Prompted by a day in the 1960s, when Ono’s boyfriend Anthony Cox had disappeared from their flat in London, she spliced a room cleanly in two to depict the absence of her ‘other half’. The work – a physical representation of the room with every object from the chairs to the teapot sliced in half – offers a disorienting glimpse into the fragmented nature of existence and the human condition. Through this spatial disruption and rendering the material objects on display ‘useless’ through its halving, Ono aptly captures the existential and turbulent unease of heartbreak. Like much of her work, Half a Room is a meditation on human connection and belonging. 

In Yoko Ono’s two-week-long Bed-In for Peace (1969) in Montreal and then Amsterdam, the mundane becomes a platform for radical expression, and a bed is transformed into a site of protest and defiance. Foregrounded by Ono’s turbulent childhood – due to American Intervention in Japan in World War II and a desire to challenge the onslaught of violence caused by the American War in Vietnam – Ono and John Lennon retreated to the sanctuary of their hotel room and invited the press into their honeymoon suite to answer questions about the war and documented their interactions for the film Bed Peace, which was uploaded on Youtube in 2012 with the message: “WAR IS OVER If We Want It. It’s up to us and nobody else.” Here, she uses their shared vulnerability and the power of their celebrity as one of the most famous couples in the world as a tool for social change.

While this act of resistance may not have led to material changes, it remains both deeply personal and profoundly political, a testament to the power of intimacy and solidarity in the face of injustice. Through this non-violent demonstration, Ono invites us to reconsider the boundaries of activism and the potential for transformative action in even the most unexpected of spaces. 

Ono’s artworks, particularly her later pieces, are imbued with a profound desire for global peace. This sentiment is evident in works like “Helmets (Pieces of Sky)” from 2001, which repurposes helmets from the Second World War adorned with blue puzzle images of the sky. Accompanied by instructions urging viewers to “Take a piece of sky” and to “Know that we are all part of each other”, Ono’s artwork serves as a poignant reminder of the universality of human emotions and how we are all connected as one.

In another project, “Add Color (Refugee Boat)” – conceived in 2016 in response to the crisis of mass displacement – Ono invites visitors to scribble, paint and draw on a white rowing boat and the stage that surrounds it. Ultimately, Ono’s broader artistic practice fosters a sense of coming together, but more importantly, it serves as an effective reminder of the ongoing catastrophic displacement of people from their homelands due to imperial intervention by America and Britain. 

Yoko Ono: Music Of The Mind is running at Tate Modern from February 15 until September 1, 2024. 

Lunar New Year traditions through the lens of three photographers

Lunar New Year traditions through the lens of three photographers

Lunar New Year traditions through the lens of three photographers

Friends gathered around dinner table enjoying Chinese New Year meal

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Caroline’s group of friends laugh while eating a Chinese New Year dinner together.

Caroline Xia


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  • We asked three photographers to document their Lunar New Year celebrations.
  • Celebrations typically include traditions to bring prosperity and fortune into the new year.
  • Three different Lunar New Year celebrations showcase the importance of cultural heritage and community.
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Lunar New Year, also known as Spring Festival or Chinese New Year, is celebrated in East Asian countries, including China, South Korea, and Vietnam.

Beginning with the first new moon of the lunar calendar and ending on the full moon, celebrations typically consist of traditions to bring prosperity and fortune into the new year with loved ones.

We asked three photographers to document how they celebrate the holiday with loved ones, from gathering for dinner with traditional Chinese dishes, adorning their home with decorations, and paying respects to ancestors and late relatives.

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Caroline Xia

Xia is a photographer and filmmaker born and raised in Queens, New York. Their work focuses on amplifying stories about East Asian Americans and children of immigrants in vibrant ways. Xia documented their Lunar New Year’s dinner that they hosted with their sibling and a few close friends.

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Oil sizzling over a whole fish

Leslie pours seasoned hot oil over a whole steamed fish.

Caroline Xia



They have a tradition of hanging decorations around their front door to bring good wishes for the new year. They also cooked traditional Lunar New Year dishes, including whole steamed fish with hot seasoned oil on top, roast duck, fried noodles, fried pork dumplings, yu-choy, and tomato and egg.

“The recipes all come from my grandma,” Xia said. “We watched my grandma cook for us growing up and tried to absorb as much as we could. We will still call her while cooking to ask her questions about her recipes and techniques.”

“The fish is the most important part for us because my grandma includes this for every Chinese New Year dinner; it feels like the centerpiece of the meal,” they added. “The point is that the fish must be a whole fish to symbolize abundance.”

Decorations being hung up over the front door for Lunar New Year

Leslie hangs up a Chinese New Year door couplet sign on the side of their front doorway.

Caroline Xia



Ramona Jingru Wang

Wang is a contemporary photographer based in New York City. Her work explores how images intervene with our reality and create connections among people and space, investigating how we care for each other through photography.

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Wang will be celebrating the Lunar New Year with her friends.

“We are going to make a coconut chicken broth hotpot at home, and we are also going to a karaoke bar to sing Chinese songs,” she said. “My family and I always love to have hotpot on holidays because it is simple to cook for a big group of people, and everyone gets to pick what they want to eat.”

“The coconut chicken broth hotpot that we had this year originates from Hainan, southern China, where it is famous for their seashores and mountain chickens,” Wang continued. “I grew up in southern China, so it was a very common option for hotpot when I was a kid.”

Hot pot being served in a bowl with assorted ingredients

Hainan Coconut Broth Hotpot being served in a bowl.

Ramona Jingru Wang



Wang said Lunar New Year is important to her because it allows her to connect with family and friends through a shared cultural experience.

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“Celebrating Lunar New Year allows me to connect with my family and friends, and usually it is a time of nostalgia and remembrance of both of our personal and collective past growing up in our shared culture,” Wang said. “The celebration and sharing of my culture with my community makes me feel grounded and that I belong to something that’s larger than myself alone.”

Lunar New Year card being signed

A Lunar New Year greeting card drawn by Meiting.

Ramona Jingru Wang



Her favorite tradition is to watch the live broadcast of the Spring Festival Celebration Gala on TV on New Year’s Eve.

“It’s a television performance program that every Chinese family watches at the same time,” she said. “Even though the performances usually cringe, I thought it’s a very strange and beautiful feeling to experience with a billion people all together in one night.”

People sitting on the floor in front of the TV while eating hot pot

Friends enjoying hotpot while watching the popular Taiwanese TV Show, “Kangsi Coming.”

Ramona Jingru Wang



Sam Lee

Lee is a Chinese American documentary photographer in New York City. Through photography and writing, she explores religious expressions, their intersection with politics, and topics of human rights, social justice, and heritage.

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Lee documented her time at the home of her uncle, Szuning Lee, in Chinatown for the Lunar New Year. She described her connection to Chinatown, where her father and uncle were raised and her grandmother owned a fabric store on Mulberry Street.

“I think of my family’s roots here as a gift I hope to build upon, and I want to make my home here by creating my own community and finding a place in others,” she said.

Lee said her favorite part of the holiday is “bringing friends together and sharing in my culture is so special to me, even as I keep learning about it myself.”

“It’s a time when I feel so at home in New York,” she said. “These things also make me feel close to my Chinese grandmothers and make me think of the experiences and qualities we’ve shared.”

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Altar with parents photographs, decoration, and assorted foods

Szuning’s altar for his parents and Buddhist deities.

Sam Lee



Burning incense and laying out the altars is Szuning’s favorite tradition for the New Year.

“It always makes me feel like the process and act provided a pathway to my parents and ancestors. This is what my mother instilled in us,” he said.

He described how he set up his altar with fruits, pastries, a chicken, and roast pork to honor his parents and Buddhist deities.

“I will start off the day by lighting incense and offering prayers to my parents,” Szuning said. “I will ask them and the Buddhist deities for their protection, granting of good health, longevity, prosperity, luck, and happiness for my son, his mother, my brother- and sister-in-law, my three nieces, my sister-in-law’s family, cousins, and of course, my friends and loved ones.”

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Man praying in front of family altar in apartment

Sam Lee



“Perhaps it’s silly, but from the time I was a child, I would take the time to list everyone, one by one, who I thought of asking the Buddhas and now my parents to grant their protection over,” he added. “I was afraid if I missed someone that something bad would happen to them and that somehow I was responsible, so this was the one thing I made sure I did with care. I would add to the list throughout the day as I thought of someone else.”

Sam looking out the window and smiling in apartment

Szuning in his apartment in Chinatown.

Sam Lee



“We didn’t celebrate Christmas, so this was our Christmas,” Szuning said, recalling his childhood memories of Lunar New Year. “It was the one day we could be Chinese and not feel like we were on the outside.”

He added: “Most importantly, it was also the only day my brother and I got to skip school.”

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Impossible Studios Welcomes Photographer Jordan Probst to the Team

Impossible Studios Welcomes Photographer Jordan Probst to the Team

Impossible Studios, known for its eclectic mix of award-winning photographers and directors, is beyond excited to announce the newest addition to its family, Jordan Probst. With a knack for shots that pop off the page, Jordan’s eye for the extraordinary has brought him into the spotlight, collaborating with big names like White Claw, Heinz, Pillsbury and Jack Daniel’s, to name a few. 

Jordan’s journey from the world of classical theatre acting to the forefront of commercial photography has equipped him with a unique lens through which he views each project. It’s this blend of creative vision and industry insight that makes his work stand out. His approach isn’t just about capturing stunning visuals; it’s about weaving narratives that resonate. 

“We’re beyond thrilled to have Jordan join us,” said Marco D’Angelo, executive producer & partner at Impossible Studios. “His work speaks for itself, but it’s his energy and approach to storytelling through photography that make him the perfect fit for our close-knit team. Jordan’s addition represents exactly what we’re all about at Impossible – pushing creative boundaries and building a family of the best talent in the business.” 

Jordan has previously collaborated with the team at Impossible, and his official inclusion in the roster feels like a natural progression. “Working with Impossible Studios has always been a highlight for me. There’s a vibe here that’s hard to find elsewhere – it’s creative and it genuinely feels like family. I’m stoked to be on board officially and can’t wait to dive into more projects together,” said Jordan. 

Impossible Studios prides itself on being more than just a production house. It’s a place where each project is an opportunity to do something groundbreaking. Jordan Probst joining the roster is a testament to the studio’s commitment to bringing the best artists together under one roof. 

Check out Jordan’s work here

Are photographers traditionalists or pioneers?

Are photographers traditionalists or pioneers?

In the dynamic world of photography, there exists a fascinating dichotomy between traditionalists and pioneers. On one hand, some adhere to the time-tested techniques and conventions of the craft, cherishing its rich history and heritage. But on the other hand, there are the pioneers, pushing boundaries, embracing innovation, and reshaping the very definition of what photography can be.

But which side holds more sway in the ever-evolving landscape of visual artistry? And which side of the fence do you sit on?

Traditional styled B&W portrait — Andrea Gardiner

Embracing tradition: The art of preservation

Traditionalist photographers find solace in the tried-and-true methods of the past. They honor the legacy of iconic photographers like Ansel Adams and Henri Cartier-Bresson, whose masterpieces continue to inspire generations. For them, there is an inherent beauty in the meticulous process of film development, the soft click of a mechanical shutter, and the tangible feel of a printed photograph.

These photographers often specialize in genres like landscape, portrait or documentary photography, where the emphasis lies in capturing authentic moments with precision and clarity. They meticulously study composition, lighting, and framing, adhering to established principles that have withstood the test of time. To them, photography is not just a medium of expression but a sacred art form to be revered and preserved.

Rear curtain sync with dancer Alyson King

Forging new frontiers: The spirit of innovation

On the opposite end of the spectrum are the pioneers. They are fearless visionaries who thrive on pushing the boundaries of what is possible, like Brooke Shaden. Armed with cutting-edge technology and boundless creativity, they are constantly seeking new ways to challenge conventions and defy expectations. From experimental techniques to digital manipulation, their work knows no bounds, transcending traditional notions of photography.

These photographers often gravitate toward avant-garde genres such as conceptual, abstract, or surreal photography, where imagination reigns supreme. They harness the power of digital tools and software to manipulate reality. Creating fantastical worlds that blur the line between fiction and reality. For them, photography is not just a means of capturing reality but a tool for exploring the depths of human perception and emotion.

Traditional Burlesque with performer Skye Medusa

Finding harmony: Bridging the gap

While traditionalists and pioneers may seem opposed, the reality is far more nuanced. In today’s interconnected world, many photographers find themselves straddling the line between tradition and innovation. Drawing inspiration from both camps to create truly unique and compelling work.

For some, this means marrying the timeless elegance of black and white film with the versatility of digital editing techniques. For others, it involves blending traditional portraiture with immersive virtual reality experiences. The possibilities are endless, limited only by one’s imagination and willingness to embrace change.

In the end, perhaps the true essence of photography lies not in adhering to a single ideology. It can be in embracing the diversity of perspectives and approaches that make it such a vibrant and dynamic art form. Whether you find yourself drawn to the nostalgia of traditional techniques or the excitement of cutting-edge innovation. There is no denying the profound impact that photographers — both traditionalists and pioneers — have on shaping the visual landscape of our world.

Forget pancakes, Lauren Maccabee photographs Ashbourne’s annual Shrovetide football “free-for-all”

Forget pancakes, Lauren Maccabee photographs Ashbourne’s annual Shrovetide football “free-for-all”

Due to the hectic nature of the game, Lauren actually rarely saw the ball in play. But luckily, she was much more interested in photographing the bystanders, capturing a sense of the atmosphere and anticipation. During the match grinning (or slightly disgruntled) teenagers are shown with arrow face paint indicating their chosen team, older fans are seen leaning on their balconies taking advantage of their vantage point, and wider shots show a vast sea of heads, images you’d much rather expect from a festival headliner as opposed to a community sport. In one of Lauren’s favourite images, four young boys are immersed in the game; keen to get involved in the action, they’ve clambered up a tree, shouting passionately to their team about the whereabouts of the ball. She also managed to nestle her way into the pre-game ticketed lunch, where she spoke to locals, and got her only up-close look at the ball – “meticulously” hand-painted by locals – and heard the 1891 Shrovetide Anthem being sung.

For Lauren, it’s hard to put into words just how unifying the Shrovetide is, “it brings people together in a way which you can’t really fully understand unless you’ve been”, she says, with different generations mingling in a manner that’s rarely seen. On the one hand she encountered kids standing on walls making TikTok dances and shouting lyrics of the Shrovetide Anthem, and on the other there were “old timers” in their 80s and 90s reminiscing about the Shrovetide of their youth, all joined together by the eccentric event. So when you’re flipping your pancakes later tonight, take a moment to think about the sweaty players bustling a ball down the streets of a small northern town, with no real reason as to why.