Aquatics

Rating:
Summary: through a glass wetly
Review: Henry Horenstein has done it again.

I won't pretend that I'm a disinterested reader; I wrote the introduction to the paperback version of this photographer's book "Creatures." But I'm a recovering photography critic, and I like to think I've learned a few things about what's good and what's merely glamorous. In "Aquatics," Horenstein has continued on a recent path, an approach to photographing animals and fish without going into the bush or strapping on tanks and going underwater. He does this by spending his days at zoos and aquariums, at no risk to his life or equipment (except maybe on trips to the Bronx Zoo). The advantage this gives him is that rather than worrying about survival, he can think about artistry. And the art that results is mysterious and wonderful. In "Aquatics," we see, in glorious black and white, sea creatures of surpassing strangeness, seen by a photographer who celebrates that strangeness with an unforgettable vision. It's an us-and-them world that Horenstein shows us, with fish, reptiles, jellyfish, and all manner of other oddities, coming into view in a way both beautiful and scarifying. He shows us denizens of a darker, colder world as we might encounter them through the glass of a face mask, but far closer than we might want or ever be able to manage. And the best thing is that, for all the sense of being right there with these critters, neither we nor Horenstein had to get cold, wet, or scared to death. This is an elegant and terrific book (and I didn't write the introduction).

Owen Edwards

Rating:
Summary: through a glass wetly
Review: Henry Horenstein has done it again.

I won't pretend that I'm a disinterested reader; I wrote the introduction to the paperback version of this photographer's book "Creatures." But I'm a recovering photography critic, and I like to think I've learned a few things about what's good and what's merely glamorous. In "Aquatics," Horenstein has continued on a recent path, an approach to photographing animals and fish without going into the bush or strapping on tanks and going underwater. He does this by spending his days at zoos and aquariums, at no risk to his life or equipment (except maybe on trips to the Bronx Zoo). The advantage this gives him is that rather than worrying about survival, he can think about artistry. And the art that results is mysterious and wonderful. In "Aquatics," we see, in glorious black and white, sea creatures of surpassing strangeness, seen by a photographer who celebrates that strangeness with an unforgettable vision. It's an us-and-them world that Horenstein shows us, with fish, reptiles, jellyfish, and all manner of other oddities, coming into view in a way both beautiful and scarifying. He shows us denizens of a darker, colder world as we might encounter them through the glass of a face mask, but far closer than we might want or ever be able to manage. And the best thing is that, for all the sense of being right there with these critters, neither we nor Horenstein had to get cold, wet, or scared to death. This is an elegant and terrific book (and I didn't write the introduction).

Owen Edwards