March 13 – May 31, 2010

The Center for Photography at Woodstock (CPW) is pleased to present “PQ:100”, an exhibition surveying the photography, films, videos, and photo-based installations that have been featured on the first 100 covers of CPW’s publication PQ (Photography Quarterly).

As PQ reaches this milestone issue and print media continues to struggle to redefine itself amidst the digital age, CPW invites audiences to experience the contrast between engaging art objects and art as re-presented, re-produced, and re-interpreted in print form. When producing a publication, choices have to be made. Images are cropped. Textures and sheens are democratized. Sense of scale and dimension is lost. And, as it was for the first 88 issues of PQ, whether the image was toned, color, or not, it may be reproduced in black-&-white.

The exhibition “PQ:100” provides a unique opportunity for the public to experience nearly all of the original works featured on the covers of PQ as well as the chance to grasp the shifts, trends, and ideas that have been explored throughout photography over the past 30 plus years. The exhibition’s installation design will emphasize that dialogue by having CPW’s publication displayed on running reading shelves throughout the gallery, along with the artworks used to illustrate its covers, which will be installed salon-style above the actual issues, giving visitors a unique chance to re-engage simultaneously with the broad spectrum of ideas that have been published in the issues and on the covers of the first 100 PQs.

An integral component of CPW’s kaleidoscopic mix of program offerings, PQ, originally published as Center Quarterly, was the brainchild of CPW’s founders, Michael Feinberg and Howard Greenberg in 1979. Initially conceived as a black-and-white foldout brochure and a way to broaden CPW’s efforts to champion photography as a fine art form beyond the borders of Woodstock, NY, the publication has since blossomed into a 60-page full color publication with an international subscribership including numerous public and private institutions. For over three decades it has brought forth innovative ideas and imagery through essays, interviews, portfolios, and served as source of discovery for new voices in contemporary photography. The artists represented on the publication’s covers additionally reflect not only photography’s icons but also the deep wealth of talented image makers that have made the Hudson Valley and its surroundings their home.

Over the course of its history, PQ has been under the stewardship of three primary editors. Kathleen Kenyon served the longest term from 1982 to 2003. During her tenure, PQ reached new heights of excellence by serving as a platform for expanded dialogues centered around CPW exhibitions, engaging not only photography but film, video, and photo-based installation art. Important issues of the time that were addressed included explorations of race, gender, sexual identity, cultural politics, and artists from under-recognized regions and communities. In addition PQ began to present artist portfolios and featured issues dedicated to the promotion of collecting of contemporary photography through collector interviews and by highlighting CPW’s annual benefit auction. PQ is currently under the editorship of CPW’s executive director, Ariel Shanberg, who has overseen the publication since 2003. Recent highlights under Shanberg’s editorship have included the publication’s growth from 32-pages to 60-pages and transitioning from black-and-white to full color. PQ recently received a design overhaul by the design firm, de.MO under the supervision of Giorgio Baravalle.

As an independent publication, the strength of PQ has always been the rich diversity of voices which have contributed to its pages. Guest editors, essayists, interviewers, and contributors to PQ have ensured that the dialogue on and through photography serves to forward the medium and the ideas explored through it forward in ways that mainstream photography publications, often beholden to advertisers and profit margins, cannot be. The impressive roster of contributors include the likes of Julia Ballerini, Nancy Barr, Malin Barth, Robert Blake, A.D. Coleman, Elizabeth Ferrer, Stephen Frailey, Lia Gangitano, Ellen Handy, W.M. Hunt, Ellen K. Levy, Carlo McCormick, Robert C. Morgan, Sandra Phillips, Fred Ritchin, Miriam Romais, David Levi Strauss, Leslie Tonkonow, David Travis, Marilyn Waligore, and Joseph Wolin, among many others.

Other ongoing features of the publication have included “Photography Now,” an annual juried competition which has identified some of the most exciting emerging voices in the field as selected by leading curators, editors, and gallerists such as Jen Bekman, Julian Cox, Dana Faconti, and Kathy Ryan. Each year CPW introduces its most recent artists-in-residence to PQ‘s readership through portfolio features. Regular book reviews identify noteworthy monographs and critical texts.

A complete on-line index of the PQ can be found by clicking here.



Time Tracers

curated by Ariel Shanberg

November 10 – December 23, 2007

The traditional use of a photograph has been to capture the ubiquitous encapsulating “moment” that is a split second of time which seeks to represent/reflect a larger span of time.

The five photographers featured in “Time Tracers” defy that tendency, seeking to represent through the single image or the grouping of multiple images, the passage of time. To do so, they employ a variety of techniques including long exposures (ranging from minutes to days), sequencing multiple images to trace time’s mark on their subjects, and pushing the boundaries of the photographic medium’s ability to record the passage of time on a single sheet of film/paper.

-Ariel Shanberg, 2007

Ariel Shanberg has served as the Executive Director of CPW since 2003.

This exhibit was made possible in part with support from the Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts,  the New York State Council for the Arts, a state agency, Holiday Inn of Kingston, and Bob Wagner.


"Time Tracers", curated by Ariel Shanberg, November 10 - December 23, 2007Rebecca Cummins

"Time Tracers", curated by Ariel Shanberg, November 10 - December 23, 2007Blake Fitch

"Time Tracers", curated by Ariel Shanberg, November 10 - December 23, 2007Mark Klett

"Time Tracers", curated by Ariel Shanberg, November 10 - December 23, 2007Chris McCaw

"Time Tracers", curated by Ariel Shanberg, November 10 - December 23, 2007Junsik Shin

Photography Now 2004


curated by Ariel Meyerowitz

February 7 – April 4, 2004

Press release →

As a gallerist, I regularly view artists’ portfolios in an effort to find the diamond in the rough and as a means of keeping my finger on the pulse of today’s photography trends.

In CPW’s annual juried call for entries, I reviewed over 218 submissions from photographers of all ages and levels of experience. I expected to find a certain thematic consistency, but such was not the case. What I saw reminded me that photography has no boundaries. The eight photographers chosen for this exhibition are a wonderful affirmation of its diversity.

Representing the social documentary tradition, Lewis Steven Silverman turns his camera toward the solitary figure – an elderly man seated on a park bench, a man meditatively raking sand, a person kneeling in prayer under an archway – each composition exudes respect for the intimacy of the moment captured. Jelisa Ljn Peterson creates a compelling essay of an African village which beckons the viewer to participate with Peterson’s subjects as they crouch on the ground behind a pile of socks for sale, sit along the railing of a boat heading out to sea, or walk along a flooded road beside a truck full of passengers.

Nate Larson creates a visual and text-based diary of incidents shown with related objects that signify prophecy and a personal event in his own life. Catherine Day’s multi-media pieces of an abandoned house, a flowing river, a porch and garden, accompanied by an object from each site, take the viewer on a journey to a place perhaps from Day’s past, which conjure familiar associations.

Art Murphy’s architectural photographs of bridges, train tracks, and industrial pipes are atmospheric and graphically striking. Doris Mitsch makes great use of a new medium – Scanography – to transform flowers, grass, shells, and bird’s nests into layers of fabric, cresting waves, tentacles, or skin.

Liz Wolfe’s colorful diptychs and triptychs are mysterious double entendres. Suggestively placing an octopus on a doll’s head, pubic hair inside a doll’s lingerie, a beaded cactus on top of sequined underwear, she seems to be questioning difficult issues of young sexuality. Finally, Peter Tytla meticulously crafts collages from his own photographs – rusting cars, gas station signage, cats, abandoned shacks, and nude women set against picturesque landscapes. The end results are fascinating, fetishistic scenes of sexy, junkyard art.

Thanks to all who entered the competition for sharing your work with me. A special thanks to the Center for Photography at Woodstock for the invitation to jury this exhibition and for being so helpful.

– Ariel Meyerowitz, 2004

Ariel Meyerowitz, was born in NYC in 1971 to photographer, Joel Meyerowitz, and works-on-paper artist, Vivian Bower. She began working in the art community in 1991 as an intern at the Friends of Photography / Ansel Adams Center in San Francisco, CA. She went on to work for the Scott Nichols Gallery, and in 1995 upon returning to NYC, worked as the Associate Director at the James Danziger Gallery. With more than ten years experience in the field, Ariel opened her own gallery in 2000, which is currently located in the art district in Chelsea. Specializing in 20th & 21st century photography, the gallery’s inventory is eclectic ranging from contemporary conceptual work to classic vintage prints. Genres include: abstraction, color and black & white landscape, architecture / industrial scenes, still life and flora, social documentary, sports, science, fashion and more. Since its debut, the gallery has garnered a reputation in the critical press as well as the community at large as a respected, up and coming gallery, showcasing both established and emerging photographers.

[one_half first]"Photography Now 2004", curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Catherine Day[/one_half]

[one_half]"Photography Now 2004", curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Nate Larson[/one_half]

[one_half first]"Photography Now 2004",  curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Doris Mitsch[/one_half]

[one_half]"Photography Now 2004", curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Art Murphy[/one_half]

[one_half first]"Photography Now 2004", curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Jelisa Lyn Peterson[/one_half]

[one_half]"Photography Now 2004",  curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Lewis Steven Silverman[/one_half]

[one_half first]"Photography Now 2004",  curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Peter Tytla[/one_half]

[one_half]"Photography Now 2004", curated by Ariel Meyerowitz, February 7 - April 4, 2004Liz Wolfe[/one_half]

Tomie Arai

Tomie Arai

MOMOTARO / Peach Boy

November 2 – December 22, 2002

Momotaro/ Peach Boy is a series based on the popular Japanese folk tale about a baby boy who emerges from a giant peach and grows up to become a hero. The piece is composed of thirteen wood panels arranged to form ‘pages’ of a fictional narrative. Each of the panels is composed of a painted laser transfer that incorporates family photographs and images assembled from popular culture. These images include photographs of my father, grandparents, and son, as well as cartoon characters, material from the National Archives, traditional Japanese motifs, and illustrations appropriated from magazines, and children’s books.

As a third generation Japanese American, my interest in constructing a contemporary Japanese American folk tale was inspired by family memories of the internment. At the heart of this narrative is the experience of the Issei (the first generation of Japanese in America) and the role the Nisei GI’s played in changing American attitudes and opinion after World War II. My own work over the years has focused on projects which explore the relationship between art and history, and which combine autobiography, oral history, and portraiture in the art making process. Oral traditions, storytelling and nontraditional forms of bookmaking have also fascinated me. I am particularly interested in folk tales, folk histories, and stories created to explain historical events that are passed down by word of mouth over many generations.

Momotaro is a classic adventure tale, but it is also a story of hope and redemption. It can be read many ways. During World War II, the Japanese government used Momotaro as a propaganda vehicle for promoting nationalism and imperialist expansion overseas.  In my updated version, Momotaro is a story about the immigrant experience; a story of possibilities and second chances.  The traditional story is told as follows. An old couple nearing the end of their lives have always dreamed of having a child. One day they discover a giant peach floating in the river and when they open the peach, a baby boy leaps out. The boy grows up, goes off on a journey to defeat the monsters that have been terrorizing his village, and returns to his village laden with riches. In both the traditional and contemporary versions of this story, the couple is rewarded for a lifetime of hard work and self-sacrifice with a perfect child. Momotaro’s brave deeds redeem his aging parents in the eyes of society. The peach, an Asian symbol of longevity and fertility, is woven into Momotaro’s clothing in the form of a crest and appears as an ever-present reminder of the importance of family and community.

Momotaro was told to me as a young child, and it was not difficult to see my father as the brave young boy who goes off to fight the wicked ogres. I have tried to retell this story from both a child’s and an adult’s point of view. In the retelling, I was less concerned with the truth, as with presenting a completely imaginary version of the truth. Momotaro is not a celebration of my father¹s heroic deeds, but an examination of the ways in which we create folk heroes and share stories of survival by bending the truth, fictionalizing history, and embellishing memory. Momotaro is a piece that explores the fusion between folk traditions and a contemporary art practice that is grounded in the recording of personal and social experience. Unlike the original folk tale, there is no ending. The final panel in this sequence, a self-portrait with my first child, becomes both the end and the beginning of the story.


Tomie Arai lives and works in NYC. Ms. Arai has painted murals with community groups in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, taught art to children in NYC public schools, and has designed permanent public works of art for the National Endowment for the Arts, the Cambridge Arts Council, and the New York City Board of Education. Her work has been exhibited nationally and her prints are in the collections of the Library of Congress, the Avon Corporate Collection, the Bronx Museum of the Arts, the Japanese American National Museum, and the Museum of Modern Art. She has been a recipient of two New York Foundation for the Arts Fellowships, a National Endowment for the Arts Visual Arts Fellowship, and a MidAtlantic Arts Foundation Visual Artists Residency. In 1997, she was one of ten women nationwide to receive an Anonymous Woman Grant for achievement in the visual arts. Ms. Arai is currently completing a 60-foot mosaic mural commissioned by the Percent for Art Program in NYC, which will be installed in the lobby of the new Administration for Children¹s Services Center in NYC. This winter she will begin work on a memorial for Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in honor of the civil rights movement commissioned by the Riverside Church in NYC.

Invisible Cities


curated by Kate Menconeri

June 1 – July 28, 2002

How do we construct, re-create, and unify a past that is simultaneously now? Inspired by the Italo Calvino novel of the same title, the artists in Invisible Cities, coming from the U.S., Canada, and South America, delve into the slippery territory of memory with visual tools, layers, and creativity. They explore how the past can shape our understanding of self, history, culture, the present, and how memory can shift and change quite readily, dissolving into pure imagination and re-vision.

 Magicians indeed, they reveal new ways to think about and visualize that which we carry within but cannot see with the naked eye. If photography is said to endorse the existence of things, this work ironically validates that which cannot be seen, but also calls into question the veracity of the photograph itself and explores our ever changing perceptions of what was, what should have been, and what is.

In Italo Calvino’s novel, Invisible Cities, the young explorer, Marco Polo, is commissioned by the emperor, Kublai Khan to tell him of the cities within his empire. Each story takes us to diverse and vast lands – each one different, each with its own jewel. Soon Kublai realizes that each of these places are in fact the same place – and he begins to question if they even exist at all. I’ve often thought of memory as a fluid part of perception. Places existed in my mind before I had ever actually been there and once I did in fact visit – the places I had imagined continued to exist on their own – while one informed the identity of the other, the new perception became a different place – and both remain embedded in my mind, existing simultaneously on their own. Each piece of information about a place recalled to the emperor’s mind that first gesture or object which Marco designated the place. The new fact received a meaning from that emblem and also added to the emblem a new meaning. Perhaps, Kublai thought, the empire is nothing but a zodiac of the mind’s phantasms. – Calvino, Invisible Cities

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The past is mediated by memory on all levels – personal, historical, collective, and cultural. And memory is a silent but all encompassing presence, informing our decisions and perceptions, and propelling us forward each moment. One has to begin to lose memory, even small fragments of it, to realize that memory is what our entire life is made of. A life without memory wouldn’t be life, just as intelligence without means of expression wouldn’t be intelligence. Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our action, our feeling. Without it we are nothing. – Luis Bunnel, My Last Sigh

Like Marco’s “discovered” cities, the past is simultaneously unreachable and ever present. While the facts of the past are fixed, memory changes with the filters of time, distance, new experience, knowledge, and desire. It easily shifts, dissolves, and reasserts a new story. We begin to remember things differently and we may have no idea of what has already been forgotten. The past is by nature invisible outside of ones own perceptions – an invisible field – a city – and only in the present does the past (or future) actually exist. As in some of the chapter titles in Cities, signs and our own desires can again alter and reposition the past. Memory becomes both real and imagined. The place that I had re-built in the shadows had gone to rejoin the places glimpsed in the swirls of awakening, set to flight by that pale sign the fingers of the rising day had traced above the curtains. – Marcel Proust, Silent Heights of Memory, Combray, Remembrance of Things Past.

Someone might dream that remembering and forgetting can be acts of will, rather than aggressions or gifts of chance. – Jorge Luis Borges. Memories may exist for some great episode in life – a first kiss, but it is also the corner we passed yesterday, the grocery list we try to remember once we reach the store. Borges wrote, while forgetting purifies, … memory chooses and rediscovers. What we bring forward is sometimes a matter of choice – but often we cannot escape the experiences we’ve had or the stories and events that continue to shape our perceptions today. I am every instant of my lengthy time, every night of scrupulous insomnia, every parting and every night before. I am the faulty memory of an engraving that’s still here in the room and that my eyes, now darkened, once saw clearly. – Borges

Employing photographic based tools to explore this elusive terrain both parallels and questions our historical understandings of photography as the documentation and authentication of what is real. One day I received from a photographer a picture of myself… because it was a photograph I could not deny that I had been there. – Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida. Photographs are said to capture a moment in time forever, preserving the past for as long as the image remains – they are our only “real” visual evidence. The power of photographs thus to trigger memory is widely felt, and often used in media and advertising to prey on our emotions.

Have you ever found an old box of letters and photographs or a diary that once you picked up you couldn’t put down because it completely and blindly transported you to another time in your life – to the people you no longer know and the places you will never again go? Keisha Scarville delves into her past with personally charged objects and narratives. What might appear to have generic or little meaning – a toothpick, a shoelace – carries the force of her past and brings her life lessons forward. Oscar Muñoz shows us the fleeting faces of those lost in historical/political tragedy. In this work you see only yourself until you breath onto the plates, reclaiming the past and thus the importance of remembering. Terry Boddie metaphorically combines personal and cultural symbols, exploring the relationships between knowledge and history and their own regenerative possibilities. Terry’s layers of information, from the portrait of his sisters – (taken annually) to the symbols drawn in mourning – all speak of the passage of time, birth, rebirth, death, and reincarnation. Shauna Frischkorn freezes the duration of the commonplace – where nothing may have actually happened – and shows us absence as the subject itself. While some of the work in the exhibition does in fact trigger memory, it reveals more about how the past shapes the present now.

The past is not always employed to relive or remember, but to reconstruct a dialogue about the now. James Fee juxtaposes his Father’s documentary pictures of Peleliu Island in 1944 with his own current images of the same place not to revisit the past but to better understand his present. Fee’s large color scenes, uncluttered and empty of specifics reveal a present that is molded by absence, inheritance, and imagination. Gayle Tanaka examines issues of appearance and the intersections of time, culture, personal history, and the construction of memory. In her multi-media work, each informs the other, exposing how her identity continues to be shaped by her inheritance.

While painting can feign reality without having seen it, in photography I can never deny that the thing has been there… Photography’s “noeme” [essence] will therefore be “that-has-been”. [which does not mean that which was] – Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida. But while thought to be real, photographs, mirroring memory, can be harnessed to alter the facts, deceive, invent, recreate, and fantasize, and are not necessarily referential to any real event or time. Unseen images of the mind are revealed by the transformative power of the medium and the imagination. What P. E. Sharpe literally shows us is not in fact the item she references in her titles, but that which metaphorically transports us to an unseen past, where the very real visual of absence triggers memory. Gerald Slota’s disturbing and ambiguous scenes of childhood and family reveal something a bit more menacing than the ordinary. Based not in the facts of the past but in the imagination, these deeply layered and marred images may suggest an elusive and unreachable past. His processes mimic the way in which we can distance and separate ourselves from the facts and the past, and while this work is in fact not based in any literal space or time, and is not about memory, it may indeed trigger powerful emotions, fears, and recollections. Carol Golemboski, too, uses visual tools to create a more psychological plane for the objects she pictures.  As found objects, the stories she tells are not based on a known or real history, but her own imaginative associations and a response to the energy these mysterious objects resonate. She takes us into the future and reminds us of a sense of melancholy… and a mounting dread that comes with the realization that our own stories will suffer the same fate. In Robert Flynt’s intimate portraits the past and present co-exist and communicate. The found photograph and the artists’ invented image create a jangling dialogue unbound by time, touching upon sensuality and the temporal body, loss, relationships, and our infinite place within the cosmos.

In exploring themes of memory and past and present in their artwork, the artists featured are not looking to “capture moments” to preserve for all time. This work transcends time, creating a dialog about the present and what exists within the invisible cities that surround us. The unseen is seen, the past meets present, and fact meets fiction.

-Kate Menconeri, 2002

… A Man sets himself the task of portraying the world. Through the years he propels a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses, and people. Shortly, before his death, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the image of his face. – Jorge Luis Borges

[one_half first]Terry Boddie[/one_half][one_half]James Fee[/one_half] [one_half first]Robert Flynt[/one_half] [one_half]Shauna Frischkorn[/one_half] [one_half first]Carol Golemboski[/one_half] [one_half]Oscar Muňoz[/one_half] [one_half first]Keisha Scarville[/one_half] [one_half]Gerald Slota[/one_half] [one_half first] P. Elaine Sharpe[/one_half] [one_half]Gayle Tanaka[/one_half]



a video exhibition curated by John Mannion

November 3 – December 16, 2001

This video exhibition, on continuos play, is featured in conjunction with We Are Named, a visual arts exhibition curated by Susan Evans and is accompanied by a special issue of the Canter’s magazine, PHOTOGRAPHY Quarterly, with articles by Evans, Mannion, and Gary Hesse (Jamesville, NY).

The videos in PASSENGER look to the identification of family and gender as markers of who we are and how we view our own personal identity. The inner perception of self is a result of our personal states and thoughts during our lifetime, Plainly said, when we define ourselves we must decide who we are and where we belong. In many ways, we are defined by our histories; the content of our past haunts the decisions we make now.

The ghosts of ourselves make us wonder what might have occurred had history taken a different course. What if the answers weren’t the same? The understanding of who we are forces us to define the relationships we have made to our immediate environment. What’s more is that we are carried along by our own inertia; how the self has already been defined. We are who we say we are. This sets up an interesting binary, we are defining our  self while our self is defined by where we are and have been. We become passengers of our own self-identification.

The first tape in the series is Los Animales made by Argentinean artist Ivan Marino and Arturo Marinho. The tape looks at a place called Chino, located in Buenos Aires. It is an area famous for tango and nightlife. My interest in the piece is the way that the main characters, two men sitting in the street, are partially defining this part of town as it defines them. These men are who they are by choice and tell us of their life through the drinks they have on the street.

They speak of women that both define them and drive them to live. “I was born from a woman, I live for a woman, and I will die for a woman.” An inevitable tragedy it seems. A man who appears to run a local establishment sings about a woman who loves him but whom he does not love himself. “I am sorry that I do not love you anymore.” This prophecy of endless conflict between man and woman is a large part of their dialogue. It is part of the sexual tension that is so much a part of the tango, so much a part of this space.

The next tape in the series is entitled Le Memoria de los Caracoles (The Memory of the Snails) made by Chilean artist Edgar Endress. This autobiographical video diptych looks at two seemingly innocent events that come to have a larger distinction upon the narrator in the tape. The work remarks on the subtle and sometimes unnoticed way that an oppressive government, in this case that of General Pinnochet, can touch your life without you even knowing.

In both of these stories Endress is unintentionally participating in the wrong doings of this totalitarian dictator. In the first tape Endress gives us a simple story, essentially that he participated in waving to and venerating Pinnochet’s motorcade traveling with full military parade. While his father was the only one present to protest. In the second tape another simple text places Edgar on the wrong side of good unwittingly. He gives guards the oranges that will be used to beat and torture people who are wrongfully imprisoned. Even though he did not have an idea of what the symbolism of his acts where at the time, there is regret found within the tone of the tape.

The ghost of these events charges the tape with frenetic energy. Le Memoria de los Caracoles points us back to the circumstance, but the mood that Endress relays tells us of his opinion. Even though these were out of Endress’ control they turn into ghosts. They seem to motivate the tape. In both of these tapes the father is present and is, to some extent, a hero. In this tape the father figure is indeed choosing the right decision and makes an ideal self that the child in the tape, a young Edgar can look to. This makes the absence of father seem so much more important in the next two tapes.

John Orenticher’s tape 3 X Named evolves out of a personal investigation of Orentlicher’s biological parents. The tape is quite amazing to me in that I clearly see how as a viewer I am implicitly participating in who this person is. The test in this piece begins to define his parents. As it happens i see and feel my understanding of John’s identity though his own investigation, one that builds for me nearly as it must of for himself, or as I imagine it would. A pair of images appear in the piece together. In one, there is a figure that is cut out, maybe his father. This heightens the awareness of his absence. Little is mentioned of Orentlicher’s father only that he was a Jewish intelligent from a large family. John’s investigation of himself seems to assign his identity as outsider even though he does not intend this from the  investigation. He asks simply who his parents are. But all it really creates are more questions.

This last tape is by Margaret Stratton entitled Kiss the Boys. This tape takes a normative view of homosexuality and entwines it with the memory of her lost parent. Her father becomes a ghost of herself – someone who judged and watched Margaret. As in Endress’ and Orentlicher’s tape the acts of the parents significantly affect their children. THe absence certainly becomes part of her self-identity. She, even when recognizing her own desires, must appease the structure that her father exists in, haunted by that which defines herself.

As with life and our definition of anything we define ourselves by what we know. Where have we been? What are we told? Wondering what might have been raises most of the content in these works. These are questions that we ask ourselves all the time.

The way that society dictates, or parents dictate, is our first lesson in defining who we are. These tapes, when brought together, begin to show the way we can be affected by larger forces, be they social, political, or something other.

– John W. Mannion, 2001

John W. Mannion is an artist and educator who currently teaches at Light Work in Syracuse, NY. He has taught photography, digital imaging, art history, and media studies at Syracuse University and served as co-director of Sparks Gallery, also in Syracuse.



John Kleinhans


November 3 – December 16, 2001

The photographs in this exhibition are drawn from recent work around my home in Woodstock, New York; as well as Monhegan Island, Maine, and Cape Cod, Massachusetts.

I have been privileged to have traveled to far places and have photographed in Europe, Asia, Africa, and the American West. I’ve seen some of the highest mountains and deepest canyons, but it is the landscape where I have spent my life in the northeastern US that moves me most deeply. The Hudson Valley region, with its wooded hills (Westerners are amused to find the word “mountains” applied to the Catskills), fields, farms, and small towns everywhere shows its long habitation and cultivation. Likewise the coast of New England although very rugged, is on a human scale. The little rock of Monhegan reveals the same sort of remnants of many lives lived that we find on our hikes around Woodstock. The overgrown paths, bits of stonewall, and long abandoned orchards are like flickers of memory.

Technical / This show is my first extended effort in digital printmaking. Working with my computer, scanner, and printer has been challenging, occasionally frustrating, and always exciting. The magic I experienced when my first black-and-white prints emerged in the tray of developer 36 years ago, I am experiencing once again. I watch the print head go back and forth, faithfully obeying my most minute commands and feel I’m watching a miracle.

There are pitfalls in working digitally. Whereas in the darkroom one may always be trying to increase one’s control of variables like lightness, contrast, and color, with the computer one must, on the contrary, learn restraint, since the control available goes so far beyond one’s needs. At first there is the temptation to play with every trick in the Photoshop toolbox and risk producing garish monstrosities. The thing I value most about photography is its faithfulness to the visual reality I saw when I first exposed the film in camera. Retaining this fidelity is the greatest challenge in the digital realm. But once this self control is mastered it is such a joy to be able to make that highlight just as white as it should be, to get the black really black, to get that magenta cast out of the sky, to handle that scratch on the negative perfectly. Finally, when you work with your image on the screen you can get to know it better than you ever had before – you can explore every detail. Since my images are made first of all to please myself, this leisurely exploration of the picture provides new enjoyment. The photographs begin as 4×5” color negatives, which I shoot in camera and then develop. They are scanned on an Epson 1680, cleaned, and fine tuned in Photoshop 6, and printed with an Epson 1270 on Lumijet Classic Velour paper (watercolor).


John Kleinhans was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in 1942. In college he began as a music major but turned his attention to psychology and was particularly interested in the psychology of visual perception. He spent twelve years as a psychology professor at Rutgers, Manhattanville College, and the University of Connecticut. During his years in academia he became more and more involved in photography, and ultimately devoted himself to it after his show of French Landscapes at the Alliance Francaise in New York City and his move to Woodstock, NY. In Woodstock John has been closely involved with the Woodstock School of Art where he has been a vice president since the early 1980s. He has also served as a chairman and trustee of the Woodstock Artists Association and an instructor at the Center for Photography at Woodstock. Additionally he works as a designer at Woodstock Percussion Inc.  Kleinhans set up his first darkroom in 1965, began making color prints in the 1970s, platinum prints in the 1990s and is now busy exploring digital photography. He has worked in portrait, architectural, art, aerial, and news photography but always returns to landscape. He has published two books of his landscape photographs – An Image of Monhegan (Precipice Publications, 1997, 2nd edition 2000) and Woodstock Landscapes (Precipice Publications with Golden Notebook Press, 2000).


Juri Kim


August 18 – October 21, 2001

My recent work represents the complexity of communication.

These images reveal how different cultural and ethnic methods of communication intersect with my own daily life. I search for a relationship between the single hand alphabet of the deaf and the visual language of myself and other artists. I have created my own system of hand gestures as a type of language, which I use to communicate with others.

In the process of this investigation, I have discovered new facets of my own identity. I have opened myself not only to deaf people but also to the people with whom I interact on a daily basis. My work functions as an avenue towards my better understanding of all people.

I project my own hand gestures onto light sensitized canvases. Using various materials and processes I play with contrast, layers, and manipulate the image surface. The images emerge in varying degrees of clarity, from blurred to distinct. In the final piece the photographic image is sealed between layers of varnish.

Juri Kim was born in 1964 in Seoul, Korea and currently resides in New York City. She obtained both her Bachelor of Fine Arts (1988) and Masters of Fine Arts (1990) at the Ewha Women’s University in Seoul, Korea and an additional Masters of Art (1993) at New York University. She took part in the Artist in the Marketplace Program at the Bronx Museum of the Arts in Bronx, NY (1996). Kim has been in numerous exhibitions, including a recent solo show at the A.I.R. Gallery in NYC, Unknown Generation X:? Who Are We? a group show at the Maine Artists Space, and Hands and Waves, Waves and Hands at John Jay Gallery in NYC. Juri has been awarded a PS 122 Project Studio Program grant and the Beatrice Jackson Memorial Award. Kim was a resident in the Center for Photography’s residency program, WOODSTOCK A-I-R in 2000; additionally she has been a resident at the Millay Colony for the Arts, Henry Street Settlement, and the Virginia Center for the Creative Arts.

Made in Woodstock


curated by Ariel Shanberg

August 18 – October 21, 2001

Art can be made with and without anything. Artists continuously remind us that the notion of what is art is an open playing field and not necessarily needing of a definition. Yet what art of all kinds and all artists need is time – to focus, to develop, to create. Woodstock and its community has long been a source of that precious commodity. It has been used as a point of inspiration and a place where one could focus on expressing that which is internal by distancing them from the distracting hustle of their daily lives.

Recognizing the special quality of our region, the Center for Photography at Woodstock, with support from the National Endowment of the Arts and the New York State Council on the Arts, began WOODSTOCK A-I-R, a residency program for photo-based artists of color in 1999. After 22 years of supporting artists using photography through exhibition, publication, fellowships, workshops, and educational programming, we recognized the need to bring artists here and share Woodstock’s gifts with them and give them the ability to produce new art work, complete previous projects, and contemplate their next step by providing housing in the historic Byrdcliffe Artist Colony, stipends for food and travel, honoraria, work space and facilities, support, and most especially, time.

With that gift, they have gone on and given us a gift of their own. Often inspired by our everyday surroundings, they have interwoven their ideas with Woodstock, the Catskills, and the Hudson Valley and allowed us to see our everyday world through their eyes. In doing so they have honored and continued the tradition of art made in Woodstock.

– Ariel Shanberg, 2001

[one_half first]"Made in Woodstock", curated by Ariel Shanberg, August 18 - October 21, 2001Susan Evans[/one_half] [one_half]"Made in Woodstock", curated by Ariel Shanberg, August 18 - October 21, 2001Nina Kuo[/one_half] [one_half first]Charles Martin[/one_half] [one_half]"Made in Woodstock", curated by Ariel Shanberg, August 18 - October 21, 2001Karina Skvirsky[/one_half] [one_half first]"Made in Woodstock", curated by Ariel Shanberg, August 18 - October 21, 2001Yoshi Sugitatsu[/one_half] [one_half]"Made in Woodstock", curated by Ariel Shanberg, August 18 - October 21, 2001Kunié Sugiura[/one_half] [one_half first]"Made in Woodstock", curated by Ariel Shanberg, August 18 - October 21, 2001Danny Tisdale[/one_half] [hr]