Fridge Food Soul

After the ‘best-of’ character of issue 001 and the mono-themed ‘food fad issue’ 002, number three is again somewhat more loosely conceived — less of a theme issue than a concept zine that aims to tap into certain elements of the zeitgeist. It consists of ten brand-new pieces in the form of essays, compilations of shorts, a still life series and even fiction — all circling around the anxieties of being alive in the world today and the way they reflect in what and how we eat. With pieces on chef culture, food diplomacy, paranoia about food safety, microwaves, internet urban legends and food crimes, the magazine’s graphic design takes cues from tabloid newspapers to fit the salaciousness and scandal-ridden character of its topics. Issue 003 is famous for my dinner parties’ signature blend of cultural criticism and bold, vibrant imagery at its best.

In collaboration with Laurent Poleo-Garnier, NIGHTNIGHT is an archive of images and texts from different sources addressing the theme of the night. Over the book as a party that degenerates with fatigue, alcohol and other stimulants, images and layout deteriorate, the subjects get tired, the vision is cloudy...

Sasha Phyars-Burgess’ first monograph, Untitled. Spanning three bodies of work, this 200-plus page monograph includes poems by Ser Alida and Aurora Masum-Javed, a conversation between Sasha Phyars-Burgess, Juliana Huxtable and Carolyn Lazard, and essay by Bill Gaskins. Designed by Studio Lin.

As recipient of the second annual Capricious Photo Award, Sasha is a vital, emerging voice in contemporary photography, engaging the charged line between documentary and fine art. Her work ranges from affecting studies on diaspora, family and place to revolving social phenomenons in which energy, beauty and power meet.

The second annual jury panel was helmed by Capricious Founder and Publisher Sophie Mörner and Associate Publisher Anika Sabin alongside Lauren Cornell, Katherine Hubbard, JOFF, Matt Keegan, Guadalupe Rosales, Ka-Man Tse, and Lyndsy Welgos.

Caravaggio’s Head of Medusa, 1596/97, painted in two versions, not only reflects light but is a painted reflection. Similarly, these photographs are all reflections in plate glass mirror. They document a relation in the present without content.

First edition of 50

Hervé Guibert’s photobook The Only Face is not a novel in the traditional sense, but it is filled with characters, settings, and mystery. It starts with bodies — their faces either eclipsed or out of frame — before unleashing a bravura sequence of portraits: friends, lovers, family, Guibert himself. As the book approaches its final act, his subjects are again obscured. Then they disappear completely, leaving behind only the objects they touched, until even those vanish, leaving only light.

Most of the photographs in The Only Face were taken on Guibert’s travels — to Italy, Spain, Germany, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, the United States — but their settings are, with few exceptions, small private interiors. The effect is an inwardness that communicates Guibert’s deep affinity with his subjects. In his prior books, many of these same individuals are identified only by initials, but here he has elected to use their first names, further instilling the whole project with intimate familiarity. Guibert describes his initial apprehension about making this intimacy public, but he ultimately realized that by publicly exposing these "familiar bodies, beloved bodies, I am doing only one thing — an enormous thing, I believe, in any case the goal of all my work, all my creative pretension — which is this: to bear witness to my love."