unediting: madhav goyal

How much effort do you put into your Instagram profile? Check the caption. Check the final edit. Go back and look at the 35 iterations of the image. Fret over obsessive minor details. Make sure you tag the right people, use the right tags. Everything to get some level of perfection...but was perfection the goal?

In this series I talk to photographers and artists and go behind the scenes of what the final version of a picture looks like.

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elegy in healing

Once upon a time, I looked out my window and saw a concrete building illuminated by the setting sun- golden and glowing. I wondered why the sun wasn't shining on me, promising myself I'd look past it by never looking into the past.

Some days my resentment is hot and molten, like an unforgiving Indian afternoon, but forgiveness learns to find its way to my tongue, even if all it does is make me quiet.

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the things that made us

They lay conjured on the ground - blue and yellow envelopes, restaurant receipts with ink lightening into paper, and dusty polaroids. They lie patiently, like they were made for a vision, a ballad. My bedroom floor became a museum for the decade we made, and the things that made us.

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elements of photography: composition

Rule of Thirds, Leading Lines, Fill the Frame, Golden Ratio… if you google photography and composition, endless rules like these will come up. But that is not why I arrived at the world of art- I came here for the lack of any stringent rule. I had nothing to abide by, so I could do anything without being granted the scorn of a rebel. Not all art is rebellious, but art that makes a difference is.

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shells on the beach

I recall my younger (till age 5 or 6 I guess) self never really looking at my mother as ‘my’ mother or ‘a mother’. She was simply an angel like creature, a vision, something akin to the fairies they’d tell you so profoundly about when you’re younger (why did they stop?).

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self portrait of a liar

When I lie- I am a calm, collected pool of thought and intellect; someone who cares not just about herself, but the whole world, someone photographable from every angle, living a life full of beautiful streets and privilege. When I lie, I am not the woman looking for the worst in others or vivid reasons to be sad.. When I lie, I am everything I aspired to: self-sufficiency, independence, the opposite of needy.

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a.v., whom i've dreamt

sam sax once said that the body “rages, riots, and rots” / unlit post diagnosis
tired / of the blood cells that won’t multiply on time / shitting where i sleep
last night, i dreamt i was gutted and served/ praying
that someone would show themselves
at my bed
ready
to braid courage into my hair

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the body: a home for love

the body: a home for love is a photography series by Deun Ivory chronicling the narratives of black women (including the photographer) who have endured sexual assault. It is meant to be a visual storytelling of how pain and patriarchy manifest in the lives of young black girls.

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nanette: an art history critique

Nanette is a cross cultural examination wrapped in a blanket of jokes. At it’s very core the stand-up comedy is in fact a traumatic confession, an existential confrontation, a rant on mental illness, comedic concealment of trauma and internalised homophobia.
But most importantly, it is an extensive interrogation of art history academia, and artists. And the fact that Gadsby is autistic only deepens our respect for her work.

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