Rachel Frank employs the perfect combination between instant photography and surrealism: double exposure. In order to convey the magic of nature and small scale anthropology, she combines snippets of reality that help the viewer escape to realms initially hidden from the naked eye. Her delicate shots of landscapes communicate the almost overwhelming smallness of our existences, yet the persistence of the human element reminds us that our surroundings have meaning merely because we exist to invest them with it. The following interview offers wonderful insight regarding the artist. Her answers are charged with a special kind of familiarity, but also an almost almond scented nostalgia that probably comes naturally when working in a field where you stop time to preserve certain moments.
Interview by Diana Dupu
The Polaroids Ina Ionescu shoots are mysterious and engage the viewers to dig further in themselves and find the hidden meanings caught in the frames. Connecting with her through this interview revealed to me a woman in love with her art and the beauty that is found in the discovery of well cherished memories.
Interview by Irina Gache
Ina’s portrait by Mary Revery
This Belgian photographer started to work with Instant film after learning Polaroid would cease film production. Inspired by the works of Anton Corbijn, he focused on travels, artistic nudes and portraiture. His work has been widely featured in international photography press and in the POLADARIUM calendar. www.polagraphy.be
Interview by Laura Beatrice Herman
In this short documentary, we talk to Ioana Cristina Casapu, co-founder of Romanian Polaroid Photographers and producer of upcoming group show “Emotion In Motion” about the past and future of instant photography, memories imprinted on film and the nature of art through emotions.
Interview by Medine Pop
Tools: Polaroid SX 70 Land Camera M1, Polaroid SX 70 Land Camera M2, Spectra
“In this air, you only get to breathe properly at night. Sometimes, my night slip slowly sticks to my skin like a deep jelly that’s about to drip. I can feel the sweat becoming part of my attire, like a gown that’s too hard to undress, like peach syrup melting under skimpy sun. The city has no smell and my fragrance dissolves itself nearly before touching my neck. I’m getting new freckles on my nose and cheeks, and while all languages of the world collapse in my head like providential rain, I still ache for cold sea breezes and unfinished sympathies with strangers in trains.