Francesco was driving: John was up front, his Canon Mark III on his lap. I was in the back, behind John, with Guido.
We’d been on the road for almost an hour. Guido had fallen asleep, his glasses askew, his blue polo buttoned to the neck. (…)
The guardrails had tiny orange square lights. The wires running above reinforced a horizontality broken only by sporadic verticals and signs in blue, green, white-sometimes yellow.
The rhythm and lull of our mouvement returned. Light flickered in the upper right corner of my sunglasses, creating a small steel-blue square on which two strands of my hair were magnified into thin lines that sketched free-form landscapes. They floated unhindered until the square broke into three disjoined petals traversed by fine dark lines.
I looked up. I remembered something i’d read about bats, about longevity and happiness, about listening, and about eyes not being the only way of seeing.
Pomodori a Grappolo by John Gossage is a set of three interconnected books.
Each book gathers images made in Northern Italy and Sardinia between 2009 and 2011, and each includes a short text by Marlene Klein. The written pieces—two stories and one epilogue—have been created in response to Gossage’s pictures, and reflect the 30 years that Klein has spent living and working in Venice.
An unexpected approach runs through all the details of the books, from the way elements repeat—or don’t, to the choice of materials and color. Since these three books are each a different trim size but include photos that are reproduced at the exact same size, the collective project functions as a study of the way that ink on paper can inform perception. The resulting objects are classic Gossage—clever, unique, and engrossing. A limited edition of the books, held together with magnets in a “disorderly” way, further explores these concepts.