In all of my prints, I collect things that I’ve cut out from Google Satellite View – parking lots, silos, landflls, waste ponds. The view from a satellite is not a human one, nor is it one we were ever really meant to see. But it is precisely from this inhuman point of view that we are able to read our own humanity, in all of its tiny, reliably repetitive marks upon the face of the earth. From this view, the lines that make up basketball courts and the scattered blue rectangles of swimming pools become like hieroglyphs that read: people were here.

At the same time, like any photograph, satellite imagery is also immediately an image of the past. That is, to look at satellite imagery is to

look not only down upon ourselves but back in time, even if only by a matter of hours or days. In recording the moment at which things as bizarre as water parks and racetracks covered the earth, the photograph also implies that moment’s own passing, encoding each tiny structure with vulnerability and pre-emptive nostalgia. My desire to collect these pieces stems not only from the fascination of any collector but from a wish to save these low-resolution, sporadically-updated pixels–these strange pictures of ourselves–from time and the ephemerality of the internet.

More images and other interesting projects on Jenny Odell’s website. Jenny Odell is a Bay Area native/captive. Having studied English at Berkeley and design at The New School and the San Francisco Art Institute, she shortly thereafter found herself working for the man but maintaining an artist alter ego by night. Her work has been featured at the

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, the Google Headquarters, and Les Rencontres D’Arles in France. Prints of her work are available by request and on the always-reputable 20×200.com. Much more about her hobbies here or on her blog.

According to a UN study one third of the world’s food goes to waste – the largest part thereof in the industrialized nations of the global north. Equally, 925 million people around the world are threatened by starvation. The series ‘One Third’ describes the connection between individual wastage of food and globalized food production.

Rotting food, arranged into elaborate still lifes, portrays an abstract picture of the wastage of food whilst the accompanying texts take a more in depth look at the roots of this issue.
‘One Third’ goes past the sell by date in order to document the full dimensions of the global food waste.

“Isabel M. Martinez is interested in the phenomenological aspects of human experience. Perception is a recurring theme within her practice, and has become a foundation for her to explore the possibilities and limitations of photography. She approaches the medium as a means of visual transcription for ideas reflecting on the notions of time, space,

simultaneity, and duration. In doing so, experimentation and process have come to the forefront of much of her work. Non-linear narratives, superpositions and juxtapositions are often employed in the creation of her images; spatio-temporal relations are predominant subjects.”

According to quantum mechanics we have forty conscious moments per second, and our brains connect this sequence of nows to create the illusion of the flow of time. So, what would things look like if that itermittence was made visible? This body of work explores that hiccup, that blink, that ubiquitous fissure in the falling-into-place of things.

In my work I attempt to articulate something in between the freezing of time – that so often characterizes photography – and its relentless passing. I hint towards temporalities that are fluid, speculative, and somewhat loose. I am looking for the line that divides the finite (probability) from the infinite (possibility). If time is a succession of

instants, I want to see what lies in between them. I am after the gaps between instants of consciousness.

The photographs in Quantum Blink are composed of two exposures taken instants apart. The striped pattern is the result of masks placed in-camera, this feature allows me to blend two images together and at the same time keep them from fully fusing onto one another. Visually, these works appear to shift and change depending on the distance and the angle from which they are seen; an illusion of volume may become apparent, while other times it may seem as though there are three images at play.

What is this strange place? It might be a temple of some kind, a place of worship? Some people seem to put a lot of effort into climbing those endless stairs, lugging heavy bags along to where they are so eager to get. Others seem to be decending, disillusioned perhaps – shyly glancing at those who do not know, yet, what to expect?

Well, it’s really just stairs at Berlin central station, but stretched into infinity this mundane means of transportation becomes a mythical plane on which all sorts different realities become imaginable. The travellers are authentic in their daily routine, yet become actors in a much greater play.

J. Scriba is a media artist, physicist and photographer from Germany. The above series is part of [situ art] projects.
“I use the term [situ art] to refer to art created at or in relation to a specific place (“in situ”). However, these projects at public places like airports, railway stations or office buildings don’t portrait concrete

venues but rather capture the essence of a situation: a gathering of people linked by common goals or interests and the desire to communicate with each other and their surroundings.”
You can find all his interesting projects on www.jscriba.com.
Worth viewing and reading about Pinakothek, DLDscape and Bach_10K.