The Pictorial List is a global online magazine exploring the beauty and complexity of all things photography. VOLUME ONE- NEW YORK BUY NOW © Copyright PERIPHERAL PLACES IN CONVERSATION WITH CATIA MONTAGNA A project by Catia Montagna that distills fleeting encounters and spatial poetics into triptychs - visual short stories that capture the in-between, where meaning often hides. READ INTERVIEW POINTE-AU-CHIEN IS NOT DEAD IN CONVERSATION WITH WAYAN BARRE Through Wayan Barre’s documentary, we are invited not only to see but to feel the lived realities of a community standing at the crossroads of environmental collapse and cultural survival. READ INTERVIEW SELECTED STORIES EXPLORE STORIES THE GHOST SELF PHOTOGRAPHY AND STORY BY BUKU SARKAR Buku Sarkar stages her refusal to vanish. Her photographs are unflinching, lyrical acts of documentation, mapping a body in flux and a mind grappling with the epistemic dissonance of chronic illness. READ STORY SELECTED INTERVIEWS EXPLORE INTERVIEWS © Russell Cobb Stay up to date Subscribing to The Pictorial List means joining a community that values visual storytelling. You will get exclusive content, inspiring pictorial stories, thoughtful interviews, book reviews, and more — delivered weekly. join the Pictorial Community >>> Follow us on Instagram #thepictoriallist @thepictorial.list Load More Media Partners BUILDING A COMMUNITY OF PHOTOGRAPHY If you are a photographer with a photo story to share then we would love to see it! We want to help support you and the work you create. Share your photography projects with us. submit © Bill Lacey

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Presenting the work of visual storytellers from around the world. BEYOND THE MASK By stepping beyond the scripted world of professional wrestling and into the raw terrain of mental health, photographer Matteo Bergami and professional wrestler Fabio Giarratano challenge long-held myths about masculinity, endurance, and heroism. READ STORY tell your story We want to show engaging work from visual storytellers, documentary photographers, and photojournalists from all around the world. We want important or interesting stories to be seen and read, new or old, and from anywhere. submit © Karin Svadlenak Gomez

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PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY October 22, 2021 TIMES PAST Photography and story by Simone Batini Introduction by Karin Svadlenak Gomez Simone Batini is a remarkable landscape and documentary photographer from the Tuscan region of Italy, who has dedicated his life's work to capturing the essence of the traditional trades and crafts that have become a distant memory in an ever-changing world. His stunning photographs preserve the beauty of a time where the small villages and humble family businesses of Tuscany still existed and thrived. Through his lens, we get a glimpse into what life used to be like in this special part of Italy, when craftsmanship was celebrated and hard work was the cornerstone of the community. In this story, we will explore Simone Batini's journey to document the disappearing trades and crafts of Tuscany and the impact of his photography on the region. The series of photographs titled 'Tempi Passati' (Times Past) was born from my idea of telling the artisan working realities still present in my territory. The photos for this series, on which I am still working, were taken in the Tuscany region of Italy, in the province of Lucca in Garfagnana, Middle Valle del Serchio, Alta Versilia and surrounding areas. I chose to work the images in colour, combining the search for a good light and an atmospheric situation, because I wanted to convey a sense of actuality. In fact, even today these old artisans are active in their tiring and exciting activities with the help of some young people. In the series there are portraits both on the workmanship and on the place and workshops where they spend their days. I photographed an ancient ironworks, where an elderly blacksmith is helped by his young nephew, old farmers and artisans in general who have experience. They take care of their tools and animals. The ancient crafts have been handed down for generations with the hope that they will never be lost and forgotten. The purpose of my photographic series is above all this: to ensure they are not forgotten. The series of photographs titled 'Tempi Passati' highlights the rich heritage of artisanal working realities in the Tuscany region of Italy. Through the use of color and atmospheric lighting, Simone Batini captures the life of the artisans of the region, including blacksmiths and farmers, as they go about their daily routine. Even though these traditions have been passed down for generations, they are at risk of being forgotten - something that Simone seeks to prevent. The purpose of this series is to ensure they are not forgotten and to celebrate the work of these artisans. By doing so, it is hoped that viewers will be inspired to appreciate and support the work of these artisans in their own community. view Simone's portfolio Read an interview with Simone >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>

PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY November 5, 2021 THE GOLDEN HOUR OF HAITI Photography by Vanessa Cass Words by Karen Ghostlaw Pomarico Vanessa Cass is a single mother of two that has been living and working in Haiti for over twenty years, who has an outrageous passion for street photography. What brought Vanessa to Haiti, was an unfortunate set of circumstances. Vanessa was seven years old when she came to live in Haiti with her mother, older sister, and brother after her mother and father’s abusive marriage ended in a difficult divorce. Vanessa’s mother uprooted her three children and moved from Silver Spring, Maryland in the United States, to Haiti where her grandmother took them in. It has not always been easy assimilating into the culture, Vanessa was viewed as an outsider for many years, still feeling at times she is a square peg in a round hole, Vanessa has softened those corners and has found inspiration in the connections she has made, becoming a lovely thread in the colorful tapestry of Haiti. The Caribbean Island of Haiti has had a turbulent past, much like Vanessa’s. Originally inhabited by the Taino Kingdom, history changed on the then Island of Hispaniola when Christopher Columbus landed on its shores on December 6, 1492. Over the years of European exploration and exploitation, Spanish, French, African and American influences, it wasn't until 1804 that the Haitians took their independence back. Haiti has been plagued throughout history with natural disasters causing catastrophic destruction, combined with the political unrest creating many challenges for the people living there, poverty being one of the many effects they face. In spite of all of these harsh realities, Vanessa sees another country, one that enchants her and inspires Vanessa’s dramatic photographic style of work. Vanessa says, “Haiti is a country bursting with art, culture, music, food, a lot of faith, with a little bit of VooDoo.“ A Jack of All Trades, Vanessa has found herself adapting to the changes in her country and it has actually given her the opportunity to explore many different career paths. She grew up in her family's antique business, and as an antique dealer she learned many things that helped to shape her future. Vanessa dabbles in painting, writing, curating, graphic design, and most recently opening a gourmet finishing salts and small batch hot sauce business. All of these passions bring Vanessa a great deal of pleasure. Vanessa told me “One day it dawned on me that I didn't have to limit myself to just doing one thing, art, photography, cooking, curating, writing, graphic design, I realized I could actually do everything all at the same time, and so I do!” Vanessa believes it helps to stay busy. So where did Vanessa find her passion for photography? Vanessa started studying art and was classically trained by the painter Roland Dorcely, who was himself trained by Pablo Picasso. Dorcely told Vanessa, “Painting is not your milieu, you do have talent but there is another part of the art world that is better for you, and everything you have learned with me will serve you when you find it.” Vanessa did find her art through photography. The inspiration for Vanessa’s work is reflected in her statement, "Faith is what gives the people of Haiti an incredible resilience to rise above and deal with a life that is difficult for anyone to understand that has not experienced life’s hardships. It shows in their impeccable starched and pressed clothes for church on Sunday mornings. It shows in the care they take in setting up their makeshift shops, shoeshine stands, and much more. This is the time of ‘Golden Hour', when I like to walk the streets and observe. The shadows at this time of day are amazing and seem to have a life of their own. They tell a magical story that can't be heard but is felt. It shows you how strong, beautiful, and wild the people of Haiti are.” After looking at her mentor Roland Dorcely’s paintings, I saw a familiar quality in Vanessa’s work. The contrast in images, the hot bright light of the sun, and the deep darkness of the shadows, the faceless people are often reflected in Vanessa’s photographic work. Looking back on it she realizes the impact he had in her life. Vanessa’s first camera was from a friend and street photographer, and her first workshop was with Eric Kim. Once she had an eye for the street, there was no turning back. Historically Haitians really don't like to be photographed. Vanessa respects their beliefs and traditions and has developed her own style of shooting, stepping back to take in the larger view and to allow her subjects respectful space. Vanessa photographs her subjects in stride against textured walls of light and shadow. Vanessa admits, “Sometimes I get caught, get yelled at, but with a smile and a compliment, I usually get let off the hook, and they don't mind so much.” Vanessa’s photographs embrace the contrasts reflected in life on the street. The bright angelic white, not only familiar but comfortable with the darkness, not afraid of it, the darkness is as much a part of them as is the light. The mood changes in Haiti to reflect current events in the country. “When things are going well you can see it,” says Vanessa, “Everyone is smiling, there’s a pep in everyone's step. When there is unrest or a catastrophe, the mood is very gloomy, but their resiliency is the strength that keeps the Haitians marching on”. Vanessa has lived, seen and photographed many things in the streets of Haiti. Being a single mother raising two children in Haiti has had its difficulties. Her family has witnessed horror, and tragedy, but they have found their own strength and resiliency from the people that have become their home and community. Haiti has made Vanessa tough, wise, empathetic, yet at the same time strong, and determined to fight for change. Photography and the Haitian people have been a constant source of inspiration for Vanessa and is why she is proud to call Haiti her home. This is not an ending to Vanessa’s story, there are many chapters to come. Vanessa is currently getting her degree in art history with a concentration in postmodern photography and will continue to share her art and unique style as an inspirational woman artist and photographer. view Vanessa's portfolio Read an interview with Vanessa >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author/s, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>

PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY November 28, 2021 ROCKETGIRL CHRONICLES Photographs by Andrew Rovenko Words by Karen Ghostlaw Pomarico For one family living in Melbourne, Australia while experiencing a sixth lockdown during a global pandemic, they made irreplaceable family experiences and fueled their creativity. Photographer Andrew Rovenko and his wife, Mariya, found inspiration in their daughter's imagination. Fueled by a mother and father’s love and devotion for their daughter, Rocketgirl Chronicles were born. The time spent together, and the connections they made are the true successes that will remain with them long after the pandemic is over. These adventures became the places where dreams really do come true, especially for Rocketgirl. Mia Rovenko is a four-year-old astronaut from earth, with a fascination with the night sky, the universe, and exploring her place in it. Andrew and Mariya felt that the lockdown was the perfect time to make their astronaut a helmet out of paper mache, and sew her a spacesuit to go with it. The empty landscapes and spaces of a city in its lockdown became other worlds in Mia’s universe or space stations and rocket ships. These chronicles document not only her curiosity and exploration in outer space, but gives her knowledge and a greater understanding and appreciation for the universe she lives in. Mia Rovenko was thirsty for knowledge of the universe. Andrew says, “Mia would constantly ask me to show videos, and read books about all things space. Facts about planets, their cores, temperatures, sizes. Then we would continue on to stars, nebulas, galaxies, and every object Mia became aware of.” Andrew admits that his new job as mission control for his little astronaut was challenging at times. Mia would question him to the extent he no longer had the answer, and he was thankful for google and a quick response. Their very first exploration to another planet was a neighbour's empty block of land overgrown with weeds, chosen because it was the closest “alienated” place Andrew says. When I asked Andrew how this photography project started, if there was a plan to take his camera and document the exploration, was it part of the mission? Andrew told me he never intended for this to be a photography project, so the camera did not have a special role, except to capture some valuable family memories. Even now they don’t always take the camera, and sometimes even if they do, not one photo is taken, holding those memories in their heart and soul. Andrew told me the locations are both spontaneous, as well as planned. He says, “Often we’d venture out somewhere where we planned, but found something even more interesting along the way and never reached the original destination.” Andrew says that some places that held more meaning than others were places that left a big first impression. They would revisit those places multiple times because he noted, “Repetition is one of the keys to learning. Unpredictable as to what will impress a child, a little experience can be a big experience.” Examples Andrew gives are a campfire on a beach, a taxi repair shop, and a floating dock that rises together with the tide. Andrew goes on to say, “They are portals to more questions, and learnings about how the world operates.” Mia’s mission is always the same, Exploration! According to Andrew, “Going to the unknown, or semi unknown places, finding new things, figuring out how, what, and why, experimenting, trying, and learning is what inspired Mia. Then she would apply those learnings and conclusions from her experiments some more, in a way, no different to real scientists and astronauts. Mia is also using her imagination, thinking creatively, and critically, something that we often lose when we grow up.” I asked Andrew how the missions ended, he told me, “There’s no 'On', or 'Off', but Mia’s experiences are interwoven. In a way there is no pretense, or duality, it’s just Mia who is a little astronaut when she goes out on astronaut business.” Like most children, Andrew says, Mia is always wanting just one more exploration into her imagination, often extending her mission by a few hours. Sometimes Mia’s explorations led to terrific finds and geological specimens from the planets and universes she visited, like moon rocks, spaceship bolts, remote control sticks, and other miscellaneous objects of discovery that day. But as a respectful space traveler, Mia leaves nothing behind but the shadows of their footprints. When one looks at these images, they are solitary moments in a desolate forgotten landscape, void of humanity other than what we have left behind. Yet there is light on a young vulnerable face, reflecting the hopes and dreams of a bright future. Her youth and innocence protected from the past and present, remain the inspiration and catalyst for a better tomorrow. Andrew says, “For every parent, the future of their child is something that’s a constant worry, and also a hope. They go hand and hand and it's always been this way, especially in current times.” Andrew prefers the viewers to make their own interpretations of the work, without clouding their judgement allowing the viewer to determine their own perspective. For him, “All our perceptions are true to us because of our own personalities, experiences and biases, irrespectively of the author’s original intent.” Andrew believes there is no right or wrong, and if the photographs evoke emotion or provoke thought, that is all he could hope for. This project was a family collaboration, being a positive influence in difficult times, becoming the glue that is making impressionable family memories. The time they spent together and the connections they made, Andrew feels are priceless, especially at that age. He firmly believes, “As bad as the pandemic is, everything has positives, and in some cases even outweigh the negatives.” The pandemic has allowed the opportunity for Andrew to stay and work from home, making his commute to work time, their adventure time. Andrew and Mariya hope that the connections they have all built, will remain with them all for a lifetime. These chronicles are a tribute to a family's strength in hard times, and inspiration on how to find the possible in the seemingly impossible. Andrew Rovenko is a photographer and creative technologist, originally from Odessa, Ukraine. Andrew moved to Melbourne Australia more than fifteen years ago, where he now works and lives. Andrew started his family here and shares his life with his wife Mariya, an artist with a degree in theater costume design, and his four-year-old daughter Mia, Rocketgirl. view Andrew's portfolio Read an interview with Andrew >>> Website >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author/s, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>

PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY December 3, 2021 THE CONDUCTORS A LOVE STORY Photography and words by Robert Sherman Introduction by Melanie Meggs Every day, millions of New Yorkers rely on the MTA subway system to get where they’re going. But behind the rumble of trains and the routine of the daily commute are the steady hands and sharp eyes of subway conductors — professionals who keep the city moving with little recognition. New York based photographer, musician, and composer Robert Sherman turns his lens toward these unsung heroes in a compelling photographic series that brings their world into focus. A Chicago native and current columnist and social media manager for the Fire Island News, Sherman has long had a passion for visual storytelling. In this project, he captures the quiet resilience, focus, and humanity of those working in the shadows of the city’s vast underground network. With a keen eye for overlooked details, Sherman invites viewers to see conductors not just as part of the system, but as individuals — navigating the rhythm, pressure, and poetry of life underground. New York City MTA SUBWAY, EVERYDAY: A few years ago, as I exited the middle car on one particularly relaxed subway ride, I noticed a conductor open her window and stick her arm out and point up to the ceiling for what seemed like no particular reason. I thought to myself, what a lovely gesture of reverence and reverie! But it turns out it was neither, as I discovered by asking the next one, I saw later that week. It is actually a required action taken by the 'middleman' conductor at every subway stop. Its purpose is twofold: it shows the roaming MTA platform inspectors that the conductors are alert and paying attention to their job, and, more importantly, they are pointing at a (previously unnoticed by me) zebra striped sign set in the exact center of each platform. This indicates to the watchful eyes of the conductor up front that it is safe to open the doors. This, in turn, protects the passengers from stepping out directly onto the tracks had the train not been aligned properly at the stop. It is a beautiful example of man and machine working in harmony. There may be the technology to do all of this automatically, yet it remains the chosen way to keep this charmingly human engagement alive and well. The zebra signs first appeared as general markers between every two cars around WW1, and the gesture itself originated in Japan, where it was being used for the same purpose, although more elaborately - including voice signals, and the turning of a complex set of switches. It is referred to there as shisa kanko. The MTA adopted and mandated this ritualistic action in the late 1990s after a number of incidents where passengers fell onto the tracks. And the new system has helped quite a bit in preventing that from happening ever since. At any rate, I still choose to see it as simply a beautiful gesture, one that connects me to the perhaps previously unacknowledged, hardworking individuals who help as many as six million riders arrive safely to their destinations each and every day. So, I set out to make a series of portraits in celebration of these conductors. We see them all the time, but perhaps we forget to look. With these images I hope that maybe we can now fall just a little bit in love with them, as well. I know I have. Through this series, Robert Sherman offers a rare and intimate look at the often-overlooked world of New York City subway conductors. His photographs go beyond the routine grind of daily transit, revealing quiet moments of resilience, the human stories behind the uniforms, and the rich diversity of lives touched by the MTA. In spotlighting these essential workers, Robert reminds us of the dedication and dignity behind a job that keeps the city moving. Next time you step onto a train, consider a simple gesture — acknowledge the conductor. A thank you can go a long way. view Robert's portfolio Read an interview with Robert >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>

PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY December 8, 2021 IN THE SPIRIT OF HISTORY Photography by Sharon Eilon Story by Gal Eilon As I enter the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, a special sort of quiet fills my mind. I am welcomed by the reverent atmosphere of a church, coupled with the holiness of the history this place holds. It's holy, but not holier than thou, letting me in gladly, unjudging. Surely, between the several different communities who occupy this space according to the Status Quo agreement, one must find at least one place to belong in. Even if I don't quite belong in this church, I think this church and this day should belong in me, in my soul. Of course, I am not a Christian, so that isn't the case for me. My interest and wonder weren't at the religious aspect of it, but rather at the beauty it held as a spiritual point of conjunction, containing pieces of history. That didn't keep me from enjoying and exploring further. Even as a stranger, the pull of this church had its hold on me for the day, as it does on so many others. This church was built in the fourth century by Constantine the great and is widely believed to be the place of Jesus Christ's crucifixion and resurrection. The duality of that charms me, the solemnity of death residing amongst the triumphant return of hope. That sort of coexistence is also reflected in the Status Quo, an agreement from 1757. The agreement is between several religious communities, among them are six different Christian communities. It was agreed upon to share rights over certain religious sites in Israel, one being the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, and respect the other communities who also find significance in the sites. This agreement goes so far as to detail that no changes to anything in the six of the sites shared by the Christian communities are to be made unless a consensus is formed, and thus, The Immovable Ladder was born. The Immovable Ladder is a ladder propped up on the ledge of a window in the church, and honestly, if I would have seen it anywhere else, there wouldn't have been anything special to me about it. Alas, this ladder has stood there for centuries, (almost) consecutively. It has seen more winters than I have, more than my mother has, and probably also my grandmother. It has stood by and watched what I call history unfold in real time, right there from that ledge. More than it is a symbol of the respect given to the agreement by the different communities, to me it is also a great symbol of resilience and the history it holds within it. This entire building contains an insane amount of history. In the 2020 pandemic, the site was closed to the public due to Covid regulations, only to be opened back up after a few months. This was the first time the church has been closed for visitors since 1349, during the Black Death. It baffles me how this place knows more history than I do, and it makes me respect it even more than I did before. It amazes me how the smallest details of this church have such a large effect on me, and on the church itself. It seems as if every other detail represents something else, a slightly different perspective on a similar experience that isn't really the same. Every golden accent and crook on the walls tell me another story, and I am filled with a bittersweet feeling that I do not have enough time to listen to them all, since I have my hands full photographing and listening to the people. I do listen to the people, of course, and enjoy it very much. I meet several different friendly faces, all with a different background, some different customs, but with the same desire to find comfort and strength within the history-saturated walls. I am suddenly reminded of all the people who have walked the pathways of this gorgeous church before them, seeking the same thing, and I am filled with a sense of understanding. My family has never been quite religious. We weren't frequent goers at our synagogue and weren't particular about many religious manners. Sure, we celebrated the holidays, I still do. But I never understood the sanctity of religion as a child, not until my late teens. When I was about eighteen years old, my friends and I at 10:03am, decided to go to the synagogue to hear the prayer at the beginning of the Yom Kippur fast. One of my friends used to do it every year, and so we all decided to come with her. We thought that now that we were becoming adults, maybe we should do it at least once, to feel what it is like. For Jewish believers, Yom Kippur is all about taking responsibility, repenting your sins, and apologising to whom you've hurt in the past year. I guess that, at eighteen, we figured we were quite old now and that we needed to take it seriously. But we were wrong. Because as the words of prayer were sung by all the synagogue goers, and as we hesitantly hummed them along, I wasn't filled with a sense of maturity, but rather with a sense of childlike wonder, marveling at the new atmosphere I was surrounded by. It felt holy and comforting in its togetherness. This wasn't a life-changing experience for me, and I'm still secular in my beliefs. I find my sense of togetherness in other places. And yet, being in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre brought back that memory for me, and I'm glad it did. I think it enabled me to better understand the people who came here before me, who are here with me, and who will visit after me. "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead." (1 Peter 1:3) This church is, indeed, a place of hope for many people, including myself. Many people come here searching for a religious experience of reverence, strength in their belief, and maybe even forgiveness. Others, like me, come here for the sacred spiritual beauty of it. It is my hope that I've managed to capture some of the beauty in these photos. As I leave the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, I find myself gaining a new understanding of the importance and beauty of truces, or compromises, and hoping it is something that will be much more prevalent in my own life and the life of others around me. I think we could all use some balance. So apart from the memories and photographs, I try and take a bit of the calm atmosphere with me, some of the lessons this place has learned over its history. Even if I don't quite belong in this church, I think this church and this day should belong in me, in my soul. Even if you can't fully identify with someone or something, it is my belief that you should still try and find the greatness in them. Otherwise, we will miss out on many great things. Sharon Eilon is an Israeli based photographer and an electrical engineer by profession. Following a health crisis, Sharon went through a life-changing journey after seeking treatment in India. After returning home healthy she decided to pursue her dream and learn photography. Since then, Sharon has been fascinated by the world of photography, reflecting the human spirit through her shutter. For Sharon, the act of photography has a meditative quality, making her feeling unified with the world around her at the present moment. view Sharon's portfolio Read an interview with Sharon >>> Website >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>

PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY December 22, 2021 THE LUMBER YARD Photography and story by Leigh Ann Edmonds Introduction by Karen Ghostlaw Pomarico We are often in search of what will make us happy in life. We go to faraway places, see and try many new and different things, meeting interesting people along the way. All of these experiences help us determine who we are, and where we feel we have a place of belonging. We often make meaningful connections in life that not only surprise us but allow us to grow and understand things in ways we never expected. Leigh Ann Edmonds is a woman with many talents pulling her in interesting directions both personally and professionally. Leigh Ann is a successful photographer running her own photography business and getting paid for the kind of photography she was finding little inspiration in. Leigh Ann was frustrated with that type of work and decided to close her photography business and concentrate more on her documentary work, and to go back home to her roots to work in her family's business, a lumber yard in northern Jefferson County, in the state of Alabama. For Leigh Ann, coming home was more rewarding than she ever thought possible. Reconnecting with her family and personally working with the people in her community on a day-to-day basis, has given Leigh Ann valuable insight and a genuine understanding of the integral role her family business plays in the building of a stronger and better community. Leigh Ann has made lasting meaningful relationships with her family and rewarding inspiring connections to her community. These photographs depict Shaw Building Supply, and the family and workers that are building a better place for the people of Jefferson County and surrounding communities to live and work in. When I decided to join the family business back in 2015, I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. For so long, I had not shown an interest with the small family building supply and my knowledge base and skills had been solely in photography for the past fifteen years. My focus was more on the outside world, travels, chasing what life had to offer and always thinking about life outside of my hometown. I went to school for photography, my first job out of university was in photography, I even started my own photography business back in 2006 where I was a freelance photographer for family portraits and weddings. But all this seemed to have changed overtime as my love of photography faded. My business grew and with that came more demands. My creativity diminished as bookings increased and I felt that I had become a generic portrait photographer, photographing individuals dressed in their Sunday best, smiling pretty for their photographs. I felt that my images lacked depth and purpose, and I easily grew bored of this redundancy... so I wanted out. Leaving a successful photography practice to work at the lumber yard seemed to many individuals a step back with my career. But it was the complete opposite. And therefore, I feel life has more purpose now than it did when I was only a photographer. It all started well before I was ever born when my grandfather moved to Birmingham in the 60s from a small sharecropping town in Pickens County, Alabama. Work was hard to find in the countryside if you wanted to do more than farm. He found work at Hays Aircraft over by the Birmingham airport but was eventually laid off. During this time, my grandfather used this as an opportunity to create a new path for him and all of his family for generations to come. The family business, SHAW BUILDING SUPPLY, started back in 1974. My grandfather and his two young sons (my dad and uncle) saw a need for this industry up in the northern Jefferson County of Alabama. The city of Mount Olive was growing as many families were moving out of the city and into the neighboring communities. They all had experience with construction and after much thought, they felt the time was right to plant roots in this small town just 12 miles north of the city of Birmingham. So, he and all the family moved out of the city and into a small, quaint community that has now been home to the Shaw family for over four generations now and counting. My grandfather passed away when I was just 11 years old, leaving the company to my dad and with the recent passing of my grandmother just a month ago, I found myself reflecting on their life and legacy that they left behind for their children and their children’s children. And this is when I found that what I am involved in now has much deeper meaning than all the years of me having my own photography company. This family business has given the family a bond of working together, reliance on another and has helped keep us close within the community. Without it, it’s crazy to think how scattered about all our family would probably be. The lumber yard has saved me in so many ways, not only has it provided a good life for me and all of the family it also helped to keep me working during the lockdown of 2020 with the outbreak of COVID-19. This job was essential whereas if I had only been a photographer, I would have not been able to keep work. Over the years I have noticed the value in small businesses within a community. It provides not only a service to the locals but also a place for employment who may not always want to commute to the larger cities. In a way, I feel it not only helps bring my family together but the community together as well. The lumber yard has a lot of character that makes it different than the bigger box stores such as Home Depot and Lowes. The small business has years of charm to it with the old nail bins to the mounted largemouth bass hanging on the wall of my dad’s office and a small coffee station where several of the regulars gather around in the mornings to discuss local happenings and petty gossip. Over the years I have taken note that it is more than just a business but also a gathering place for locals who enjoy their morning cup of coffee that the big box chain stores will never have. There is personality here and I feel that is what is lacking in the big department stores. The lumberyard is my favorite location to shoot with the business. This is where I find most inspiration with the local lumberyard dog, named TRAMP, to the sounds of forklifts carrying heavy loads of treated pine lumber. The work is hard and over time, I began to take notice how important it is for people to still work with their hands, outside in the extreme heat and humidity through the cold, rainy and wet winter months. The men in the lumberyard stood out to me in many ways as there were both older and younger generations of workers, not scared of manual labor. I didn’t know many of their names when I started working at the company and felt guilty for not having been more involved. I didn’t want to be known as the ‘owner’s daughter’ who hid away in the office. I wanted to get out and speak with them, let them know that I truly appreciated and noticed their hard work and efforts. When I first started bringing my camera to work, the employees seemed to run from me and avoid wanting to have their picture taken. It wasn’t until one of the employees saw an image, I had printed that they realized these were not the ‘posed’ formal photos that they were used to seeing. So, I feel after that, they didn’t run from me anymore. I didn’t know what I wanted to capture but I did feel inspired through the hard work of the employees, and I found myself wanting to document the lumberyard more often. My favorite time to photograph the employees was first thing in the morning when they would be loading trucks and getting ready for the workday. This was the least busy time, and it allowed me to capture the workers in their element without distractions of customers. I didn’t fully start to focus on the lumberyard series until 2020 when I started to focus on doing some of my own photography projects for me. I had been burnt out of photography for such a long time that I did not have a desire to pick up my camera without it feeling like work. This time, it felt more like I was shooting for a purpose again. Not those pretty, dressed up, perfect smiling family photos I had become accustomed to in years' past. This was real life, nothing pretentious and planned. Photographing the lumberyard not only helped inspire me with my photography again but it also allowed me to have a better understanding of the employees and the work that is involved as well as connect me to my family and community that I had been removed from for many years. I also feel that it is a way for others to hopefully find some insight into manual labor and the importance of it. My job at the family business is in their flooring department. It is a good balance for me as I feel that working in a different industry other than photography has given me more job skills to work with. Working in the flooring department still allows me to book photography sessions, but it also allows me to not feel the need to book every inquire I have. I feel working in this environment has allowed me to find balance with my creativity, with my family and with my work and community. There are many individuals who I deal with daily that may not ever know that I’m a photographer and then there are many individuals who only know me as a photographer. It’s kind of fun having the ability to wear two hats. Leigh Ann Edmonds has demonstrated the power of a return to one's roots and the positive impact it can have on both the family and the community. Her story is one of hard work, dedication, and the importance of community. As Leigh Ann has shown, there is much to be gained by forging meaningful relationships with the people and businesses in our local communities, and it is up to each of us to take the initiative and get involved. Let us all strive to build strong and vibrant communities by taking part in local initiatives, supporting small businesses, and striving to make a positive change. view Leigh Ann's portfolio Read an interview with Leigh Ann >>> Read the story "TURNING NEGATIVES INTO POSITIVES" >>> Website >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author/s, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>

PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY February 18, 2022 SOMETHING ABOUT THE FUTURE Photography by Francesca Tiboni Story by Karen Ghostlaw Pomarico Francesca Tiboni is a photographer living in Cagliari, Italy since 2005. Cagliari is the capital city of the Italian island of Sardinia. Under the buildings of the modern city uncovered in the layers of archeology is a civilization that dates back some five thousand years spanning history from Neolithic to today. This old Medieval city rich in culture and history, many customs, and traditions has helped evolve her photography in unexpected ways. Francesca first picked up a camera at the age of eight, a passion she says she has inherited from her father and never abandoned. Francesca started as a self-taught photographer, and did not feel the need to share her photography and describes this beginning of her artistic photographic process. “Photography is sort of a personal journey, a way to get to know and better understand the world around me, at the same time, to process the emotions inside me. A degree in Oriental languages and a career in corporate communication were the natural expression of the desire to research and take a closer look at the point of view of others, translating information from the perspective of the complexities and diversities from one culture to another”. Life changed when Francesca became a mother, “The moment I became a mother, the need arose in me to communicate with images in a less descriptive and more metaphorical way. In particular, the attempt to portray the complexity of my children pushed me towards the contemplation of the beauty and complexity of the world.” Francesca is involved in an ongoing collaboration with her daughter Cecilia. A project they call “Something about the future.” Francesca explains her and Cecilia’s directives. “We investigate through a series of collaborative portraits, the transition into adulthood." They explore together the definition of identity, with the overlap of conflicting emotions such as expectations, pride, hope, and fear. Together hand and hand they support one another and share the struggles and triumphs of the natural progression in life, of becoming an adult. Francesca and Cecilia’s project began when Francesca’s role as mother and role as woman became unclear. After experiencing the transition and complete selfless fusion with the bond of motherhood, she investigates what that projection of unity conveys towards her young children reappropriating their identity. This exploration has led to new discoveries taking a curious perspective that moves from the outside to the inside, revealing the complexities of transitions and transformations. We make these changes not only as a mother with children, but also for the child's development as they evolve gaining their independence and identity, tied to family but unique to their own being. We evolve as we grow and age. There are pieces of the past, that influence the present, that combine to change the future. Francesca describes the metamorphosis of transition and transformation of her daughter Cecilia as she experiences life through the challenges and enlightenments that come with the adolescence of a young woman. “The desire to describe the evolution of my daughter Cecilia began when she was 8 years old, today she is 11. Observing her I saw a poem that spoke not only of her, but of all the promises waiting to be fulfilled. As Cecilia grows so does the dialogue between us. I relive and retrace in a therapeutic way my own history which was characterized by a strong conflict with my mother and her refusal to give space both to my femininity and to my growth as a woman.” Francesca has watched her daughter from early years transitioning to a young woman today and describes what she has witnessed. “There is something poetic in girls, a combination of delicacy and strength, an anticipation of what will be the woman of the future that is sometimes already legible in the pride that is expressed in the first years of age.” Cecilia has always been a thoughtful girl, engaging in the world around her. She loves to enter and animate Francesca’s photographic work, playing with shapes and colors: “Photography is an art that fascinates me a lot and I enjoy making photographs with mom. When we collaborate, it is as if our souls come together and since we love each other very much, we create beauty.” Cecilia reports that she feels “immense satisfaction” when she sees the images she has created with her mom and about the role she plays, she believes that “it’s not that I have one role and my mom another...we get in tune and create together.” Francesca describes how her daughter experiences this interaction. “Cecilia plays with fabric drapes that she chooses both for their colors and for the way they drape and wrap around her body. The dimension of play and lightness is fundamental. The more she goes into adolescence, the more she tends to envelop herself in the drapes that become her cocoons. Her desire is to find and discover who she is in the images of herself. Cecilia’s body is constantly changing, as does the appearance to others, increasing Cecilia’s awareness.” Francesca sees that in Italy there has been a cultural effort for young girls to look at female models like writers, activists, scientists for inspiration and the aspirations of what a woman should be. Cecilia asks her mother Francesca “Why in Cagliari, the city we live in, there has never been a female mayor?” This concerns Francesca and makes her wonder if it is a legitimate ambition of a child to have infinite possibilities of realization in front of them, be integrated with the foretelling of the obstacles and discrimination that they may encounter along the way. Together Francesca and Cecilia are opening up a dialogue, communicating through their interactions with the use of the photographic process to discuss together their role as women as they evolve. view Francesca's portfolio Read an interview with Francesca >>> Website >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author/s, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>

PICTORIAL STORY PICTORIAL STORY February 25, 2020 DOMESTIC WASTELAND Photography by Vin Sharma Timon Story by Karen Ghostlaw Pomarico The urban spaces of New York City changed significantly during the Global Pandemic. Sidewalks once filled with pedestrians not afraid to knock elbows with a friendly smile, became vacant solitary spaces where distance was mandated and the masked smile became the ‘New Normal’. As spaces once open for public use began to close, more restrictions were imposed and city dwellers had to adapt to these changes. Everyone deals with change in different ways, some finding it more challenging than others. For Vin Sharma Timon, one particular day marks the beginning of her photographic documentary ‘Domestic Wasteland’. An authentic portrait of a family and their personal journey. It is a visual diary of the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, they shared, and how that strains the best of relationships. Vin depicts with complete candor the emotions and feelings her family confronted and had to learn to manage in new and difficult times of uncertainty. I asked Vin to paint a picture of what it was like at home prior to the restrictions and confinement of the Pandemic. What was the ‘New Normal’? What was a day in the life of the Sharma-Timon family like on any given day before the pandemic. “I often wonder what the norm was before the pandemic. Or if there is such a thing. Sometimes we feel like your typical Brooklyn family. We have a pet; we walk everywhere we need to go. We are a mixed-race family and we encourage our children to be open. Normally, we stop to chat with our neighbors and are thankful for the local bodega. We have books in every room; we have a quaint stoop for outdoor people watching. We dance in our kitchen and manage to share our evening meals together.” Vin may have had trouble describing ‘Normal’, but she easily depicted what was normal and what was not! Sometimes this is the best way to understand change. “I know what the norm was not. Before the pandemic, it was not dreading getting out of bed every morning. It was not crying late at night with an empty bottle of wine (or two) in a bathroom with the lights turned off. It was not binge-watching reality shows on a Monday evening, ordering cases of evaporated milk and toilet paper. The norm was not wiping down groceries (I did this) and ordering 50lb bags of flour because suddenly, I became a bread maker. In the last 23 months, I have baked bread twice and refuse to discuss sourdough starters. Though I still dance in my kitchen with my children.” Vin found one change in their living patterns and daily routines and customs to be perhaps the most profound. Once real connections were made with physicality, playing, hugging, touching. These connections are now made virtually, where an image on a screen replaces the hug, and is the hand you hold. For Vin, “The norm before the pandemic was not being separated from extended family members, unable to visit them, unable to grieve with them. Suddenly, our local friends and our neighbors became a lifeline.” Vin remembers this day, “March 16th, 2020, was the day I began documenting life at home with my family. NYC schools officially closed their doors due to the global pandemic and our lives were hurled into an abyss of madness. Lockdown, shelter in place, quarantine, remote learning - these became commonplace concepts in an ocean of uncertainty.” These new daily living adjustments are not small and insignificant but require much patience and diligence to practice. A family must find the resources to help establish new processes and routines. Combine this with different personalities and the dynamics of relationships between family members, it can create an atmosphere of frustration, and agitation leading to discontent. Vin shares with us her genuine experience and thoughts during this time. “Sometimes, I don't like my family. Mostly I love them, even admire them. We are a group of four who have become so intertwined in a very complex way during the last 33 months. What has happened during this time? Need I ask? The pandemic paved the way for puppies, plants, kitchen gadgets and a complete loss of self. I have become so wrapped up in the lives of my family, that I no longer understand where I fit in. I observe, I record. Yet I am not in the frame. My perceptions are there, stamped on every single moment, but the visual sense of 'me' is absent, except in the way I perceive the people closest to me.” Vin’s story investigates feeling lost and alone even when surrounded by people. Like a super colony, it is hard to move or think independently. For every action, a reaction. Like a pebble cast in water, the ripples spread far and wide, affecting far more than the spot it dropped. Loneliness can be experienced in many different ways as Vin describes the beginning of her day. “Waking up, placing our feet on the ground and beginning the walk that leads us to the day is no longer a mundane routine. It is a feat of greatness, an act of courage. Anything more than that is a bonus.” Vin shares her honest opinion, thoughts that are not always nice, but unavoidable when confronted with the intricacies and complexities of ‘Shelter in place’. “It cannot be normal to live with the same humans every minute of every day, every week, every month, every year. With little relief. I am so tired. We are all so tired. Yet, within the uncertainty, there is a deep appreciation for life and for contemplation.” Another huge adjustment Vin and her family had to make was remote learning, new home schoolers. Confronted with a new set of challenges, their home became their new schoolhouse. “Our entire apartment functioned as a school room. Literally, Brooklyn apartments do not always offer families the generosity of indoor space. I have seen our bathroom floor serve as a reading space, wiped the kitchen table down after a science experiment, seen my 12-year-old check in for attendance from the comfort of his bed. I’ve watched my 9-year-old, lying face down on the floor with an open laptop, her camera off while eating lollipops for breakfast. Welcome to pandemic schooling.” Roles in the family changed, one day Vin was a mother, the next day she was a teacher. Her children were just siblings, playing and quarreling like siblings often do, until the school day began and then they became classmates. This brought new complexities and challenges for her two young children. Vin tells us what it was like for her, and her children transitioning between roles. “Becoming a teacher and managing remote learning was a disaster. ‘Shitshow’ is the word that comes to mind. The constant questions of ‘when can we meet for a zoom call’? became tedious. Sure, anytime is a good time because every time is a bad time. No certainty of schedule, no idea about how many apps would be required in order to read a single day’s homework, no clue as to how to connect with peers. No one hated remote learning more than parents and guardians who stayed at home with their little people, all day, every day. As classmates, my children were either embracing each other or screaming at the top of their lungs. We did our best to give them space and a chance to take a break when they needed to. Who knows what the long-term effects of remote school are.” In the middle of the chaos, there is the rock, the sound of reason. When everything is going wrong, there is always one person that stands in front of the fan, catching all the debris. This was her husband’s role. For Vin and her family, he was the person they relied on to keep the peace, to mend any fences, and to be the voice of reason in a time that seemed to have none. “My husband’s role was honestly much the same as it always was - a source of support, a foundation. He really does insist that he carried on much the same way as before the pandemic. Interestingly enough, I agree with him. The only major change was that we somehow reconnected. We had begun to rely on our own separate schedules before the pandemic, busy with our own activities - him with his work and, oftentimes, me with the children. The pandemic offered a change to that, as well as presenting us with a challenge. For the first time since our first child was born, we were thrust together in close quarters. It has been a simple connection that we somehow lost along the way.” Life changed for Vin and her family, but these changes brought some unexpected connections. The table has become an important place for the family during the pandemic. Vin and her family now share their table embracing the importance of this simple but intimate gesture, of sharing food, nourishment, and family conversations. Vin talks about the ‘value of silence and reflection’. I asked Vin how this applies to their time together during confinement. What did Vin and her family learn, what was their takeaway as a family? “Before the pandemic, we were always busy. There was always something to do, somewhere to go, someone to talk to. Now, that value of silence and reflection has become meaningful, not to mention essential. Particularly when it’s applied to our sense of wellbeing. What was once taken for granted is now sought after - moments of quiet, time to sit and read a book or pick up a real newspaper, time to enjoy nothing but being present. Taking the time to accept the value of being alone at times. In terms of how this all applies to our time together as a family, it’s allowed us to trust each other. It’s given us time to allow for individual space, to respect personal boundaries and to help each other without having to speak. An embrace, a kiss on the cheek, a squeeze of the hand - I have learned how wonderful and heartfelt these gestures can be and how much more important they are now.” What is the reflection that helps them move forward? “We move forward as we have been the last two years - one day at a time. Doing our best not to rush, not to worry. Which of course, is nearly impossible when you are living through a pandemic. Most of all, I am confident in accepting that we need each other. I need the people I love. My family needs me. We are connected and that connection extends to friends who I miss terribly. I miss the kisses on soft cheeks; I miss the warmth of my friend’s arms and the sound of their laughter in my ears. We move forward with the promise that new kisses, new embraces and newfound laughter will be waiting for us. As the story continues to unfold, I find myself holding on to a tremendous love of life and all that we hold dear. What was once mundane is now a point of interest. What we took for granted is now in the spotlight. This is an unraveling of our collective domestic wasteland.” Life continues, and so will the Sharma-Timon’s stories. The obstacles along the way will be hurdled and they all will cross the finish line one day. For the Sharma-Timon family, it is the journey that will create the landscapes of their future and make the connections that will last a lifetime. view Vin's portfolio Read an interview with Vin >>> Website >>> Instagram >>> The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in the text belong solely to the author, and are not necessarily shared by The Pictorial List and the team. read more stories >>>