{"id":129334,"date":"2018-09-17T13:00:56","date_gmt":"2018-09-17T17:00:56","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=129334"},"modified":"2018-09-17T16:52:20","modified_gmt":"2018-09-17T20:52:20","slug":"the-lightning-sheen-of-a-do-rag","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/09\/17\/the-lightning-sheen-of-a-do-rag\/","title":{"rendered":"The Lightning Sheen of a Do-Rag"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

America, The Beautiful<\/em>, 2017.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

While I can\u2019t recall where it happened\u2014where online, that is\u2014I first encountered John Edmonds\u2019s photography in 2013. I chanced upon his work only to feel somehow formerly familiar with it. Not the imagery, necessarily, but the pull of it. How it grazed on my consciousness, prompting me to immediately email my friend Sarah a one-line dispatch with two links to his portraits. The subject: his name in all lowercase\u2014\u201cjohn edmonds.\u201d<\/p>\n

If memory serves, I was suggesting his work for the second issue of Adult <\/em>magazine, which Sarah founded. What struck me was how John\u2019s approach felt plain, in the same way natural light can feel all at once holy and plain. The everyday. The glorious too. A church. Your high school gym. That<\/em> light. Or the patch of light on your floor that you witness every afternoon. And yet every afternoon, that patch of light temporizes you. It insists on what\u2019s least insistent: delay.<\/p>\n

The nude. How when disposed to natural light, the nude, as depicted by John, becomes statuary but not still. Living; having lived. Will live so much\u2014and so much more. The diffusing nature of shadows and the strange, compelling way shadows come alive like moving images projected on the muscles of a back. On the sharp and secret sail of a pelvic bone. The attitude of an elbow. The peaceful sides of a face. Her heavy lids; his tattoos. A scar\u2019s pulpy proof. On the lightning sheen of a do-rag. The rippled elegance of a knuckle. A diamond stud, out of focus. His palms; her underwear line; a bum, bare and black, in bed. The worn edges of a green towel, like moss draped on a naked lap. A person\u2019s profile suddenly made planetary, as if rotating on its axis\u2014absorbing the sun only to live in its dimmed wake, occupying space as only silhouettes can:\u00a0suggestively.\u00a0<\/p>\n

Six or so months after I emailed Sarah, six of John\u2019s photographs were published in the summer 2014 issue of Adult<\/em>,\u00a0in a spread titled \u201cYou Stay on My Mind.\u201d The words were, and still are, the very sentiment of John\u2019s work. Possessive and teasing. Impossible to forget. Bringing to mind. An invitation to return. The door left open or ajar.<\/p>\n

His photographs are hospitable. You feel the draft. You stay awhile. There\u2019s quiet. Repose. Memory in the angles of a stranger\u2019s posture. The slope of what happens when you give into another body\u2019s slope. You make eye contact with a pair of closed eyelids. You latch onto what\u2019s available: a neck, a hood, a blue. You accept and, even more so, lose yourself to what\u2019s available: a neck, a hood, a blue. What I now see as John blue. Or John yellow. John red. John lit. What I\u2019ve come to recognize as the effect of John\u2019s work. Seeing one of his photographs for the first time isn\u2019t new\u2014not only new\u2014but reminiscent.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve said before of John\u2019s photographs that he doesn\u2019t simply capture light, or seize the romance of its spectacle, but he seems to quote<\/em> light. The grief and strength evoked from it and how it ropes together sensitives. How if you stare too long into the light: tears, speckled ghosts. John cites the wisdom of light as it shines on his subjects\u2014but also as it leverages the body. Whole, half-seen, intimate, introducing. It haunts. It says hello.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Elijah<\/em>, 2017.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Untitled<\/em>, 2017.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Untitled<\/em>, 2017.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Untitled<\/em>, 2018.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Untitled<\/em>, 2018.<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Durga Chew-Bose is a writer and editor based in Montreal. Her debut collection of essays, <\/em>Too Much and Not the Mood (Farrar, Straus and Giroux), was published in 2017.<\/em><\/p>\n

John Edmonds is an artist working in photography whose practice includes fabric, video, and text. He received his M.F.A. in photography from Yale University School of Art and his B.F.A. in photography at the Corcoran School of the Arts and Design.<\/em>\u00a0He has participated in residencies at Light Work, the Center of Photography at Woodstock, Fabrica, and the Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture.<\/em> Recent exhibitions include \u201cFamily Pictures\u201d at the Columbus Museum of Art, curated by by Drew Sawyer; \u201ct\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eate\u201d at David Castillo Gallery, curated by Mickalene Thomas; \u201cJames Baldwin\/Jim Brown and The Children\u201d at The Artist\u2019s Institute, curated by Hilton Als; and \u201cFace to Face\u201d at the California African American Museum. He lives and works in Brooklyn, New York.<\/em><\/p>\n

Excerpted from <\/em>Higher<\/a>,\u00a0b<\/em>y John Edmonds.\u00a0All images are courtesy of John Edmonds and Capricious Publishing.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  While I can\u2019t recall where it happened\u2014where online, that is\u2014I first encountered John Edmonds\u2019s photography in 2013. I chanced upon his work only to feel somehow formerly familiar with it. Not the imagery, necessarily, but the pull of it. How it grazed on my consciousness, prompting me to immediately email my friend Sarah a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1596,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[37345,37389,37344,15558,100,10443],"class_list":["post-129334","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-adult-magazine","tag-durga-chew-bose","tag-john-edmonds","tag-light","tag-photography","tag-photos"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nThe Lightning Sheen of a Do-Rag by Durga Chew-Bose and John Edmonds<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Durga Chew-Bose on the photography of John Edmonds.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/09\/17\/the-lightning-sheen-of-a-do-rag\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"The Lightning Sheen of a Do-Rag by Durga Chew-Bose and John Edmonds\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"September 17, 2018 \u2013   While I can\u2019t recall where it happened\u2014where online, that is\u2014I first encountered John Edmonds\u2019s photography in 2013. 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