Judith Donath

An Inoculation of Solitude

A solitude arises, paradoxically, in densely populated urban spaces, a response to the anonymity of crowds and to the innumerable fleeting encounters with passing strangers, their faces glimpsed and soon forgotten. Such solitude can slip into loneliness, when the city’s chatter and bustling clamor start to sound like chants mocking one’s stark and inescapable aloneness. Yet solitude-amidst-millions can also be freeing, an escape from family ties and community eyes. The ability to carve out solitary moments, even just a few seconds or simply in a corner of one’s mind, is essential when living among so many others; the early 20th century sociologist Louis Wirth noted: “The reserve, the indifference, and the blasé outlook which urbanites manifest…[are] devices for immunizing themselves against the personal claims and expectations of others”.
Solitudes evolve. When the coronavirus epidemic descended, crowd became synonymous with contagion, seclusion with safety, and the technologies that connect us became another paradoxical source of solitude, enabling us to live with relative ease in extended isolation. Post-pandemic, elements of this disconnection linger: commuters trickle into echoing lobbies where banks of elevators wait expectantly for the waves of workers who still have not returned.
These photographs are a meditation on the varieties of urban solitude.

About

Judith Donath is a photographer whose work focuses on people—on their relationships with each other and on their interactions with technological, architectural and natural environments. Her photographic work is grounded in the traditions of street photography, but she also embraces experimental processes and presentations. Donath is a well-known new media designer and theorist, and her experience with computational technologies and insights about our rapidly changing world inform her image-making practice.

Donald P. Johnson

Things, Shed…
Most days I take a walk. My goal is always the same no matter the location, time of day, or season: walk, contemplate, notice. As I walk I look for interesting objects. Things lost, abandoned, or forgotten; the whimsical, the unusual or the mundane. Nature and humans both continually shed into our environment. Nature continues the cycle of creation, life, death, and renewal. We humans, however, have a different way of leaving things behind. Our discarding can be accidental, careless, willful, or malevolent. At its worst, what we cast off has permanence. At a minimum these discarded objects mar everyone else’s experience.

Things, Shed… shows the contrast between the organic cycle of nature versus the durability of human-discarded objects. Sadly, over time many of our abandoned things begin to look like they actually belong. I don’t expect this work to solve the on-going ecological disaster caused by humans. Rather, I hope these images will invite reflection on the question: “Can we do better?”

About

Donald P. Johnson is a photographer and technologist currently living in New Bedford, Massachusetts. Raised in upstate New York, he spent many years living in New York City and has since relocated to the south coast of New England. He holds a BS in Math/Computer Science and an MFA in Theatre Light Design. Donald worked in theater for a decade before transitioning to the technology sector. Photography was initially a means of documenting his theatre designs, but he has since made it the focus of his artistic practice. Donald mainly photographs intimate landscapes, urban scapes, sea scapes, and the convergence of people and nature. He hikes to photograph and photographs to hike.

Jami Goodman

A Joy to be Hidden, A Disaster not to be Found

For as long as I can remember, I’ve stayed in the background shadows, having internalized confusing messages I’d heard as a child. Now I have children of my own. I’ve spent the last 17 years raising them with intention, trying desperately to recognize and honor the sound of my own voice, and theirs.

As a meditation and ongoing effort to notice my voice, I take pictures of flowers, seeing myself in their form, especially as they age. In the spirit of wanting to widen my scope but not having a clear goal in mind, I set about taking more photos, allowing the camera to lead the way. Examining the work as it emerged I noticed I was documenting what’s left of my daughters’ childhoods as the clock quickly ticks down to college. I saw my sadness, fear, and grief as I prepare to let go of our fairyland and hurtle toward the next stage of life where our tight-knit happy family no longer lives together full-time. But as I continued the work, something else emerged. I suddenly realized that my penchant for dark backgrounds, shadows, single subjects, and blur are like the flowers; substitutes for myself, revealing personality traits and even some secrets I’m still not quite ready to share. The photos in this series depict time spent with my children, but making these photos actually set about the unintended work of pulling myself out from the shadows, letting go of beliefs and behaviors that no longer work in my service, and exploring what it might be like to tiptoe out of the dark and into the light. The process has been burdensome, aggravating my lifelong battle between taking cover in the comfort and safety of invisibility, and the human need to be seen and heard; accepted as-is. Using aesthetic elements and photographic techniques as metaphor, this work begins my journey into the light. Indeed, there is risk to being noticed, but there is even greater risk to a life being left unfound, in the dark.

About

Jami Goodman is fine art photographer living in New Hampshire. Raised in Massachusetts, she earned her BS in Communicative Disorders at the University of
Rhode Island. She went on to Northeastern University where she received her MS in Applied Educational Psychology and CAGS in School Psychology. Jami worked as a school psychologist in New Hampshire for over a decade before deciding that she wanted to raise her young family full time. When time allowed, she took adult education classes in drawing, watercolor, and photography, and found the most joy in photographing flowers. A family crisis in 2019 brought life to a standstill, but Jami picked up her camera again when the pandemic hit in 2020. Photography has been a form of meditation and a way to find peace and creativity while living within the unknown.

Laura Ferraguto

The Peace of Wild Things

When I was five, my family moved to a home surrounded by woodlands. I remember this place as something out of a fairytale. An abundance of native plants and wildlife flourished there. Until my younger sister was old enough to join me, I explored the woods alone. I created an imaginary world, where each tree and patch of wildflowers became my friend. Although that world faded as I grew older, a reverence for the land was deeply instilled in me. As a true introvert, I’m guided by a need for solitude, but there can be a fine line between solitude and isolation. My need for quiet and private space can lead to disconnection and loneliness. I retreat to the natural world as a source of healing. Walking repeatedly near my home, I investigate small details in the landscape. Close observation provides a sense of hope and of belonging to something greater than myself. The image making process becomes an attempt to immerse myself in the peace and transcendence of these moments.

About

Laura Ferraguto is a visual artist working in digital photography and alternative processes. Her work explores the natural environs of her native New England, and themes of solitude and reverence for the earth. Her images investigate details of the landscape that come from suspended time and close observation.

She holds a B.A. from Boston College in Studio Art, focused on painting. For over 25 years she has worked in sectors of the book industry, including trade publishing and copyright licensing. Ferraguto’s work has been featured in groups shows at the Griffin Museum of Photography (Winchester, MA); PhotoPlace Gallery (Middlebury, VT); Boston Nature Center; the Wellesley Free Library (Wellesley, MA); a public art installation at Fan Pier (Boston, MA); and has been
published by Mass Audubon.

Born and raised in Connecticut, she now lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.