Recipient of the 2019 Light Work Photo Book Award
American Origami is the result of six years of photographic research, and results in a statement of over 700 photographs which closely examines the epidemic of mass shootings in American schools. The project includes first person interviews, forensic documents, and press materials, as well as original photographs and texts. The varied elements repeat and fold into each other, illuminating relationships between myth-making, atonement, and collective healing. Bound in a unique way, the book creates a parallel world of the past and the present, showing the silenced landscape interwoven with the personal artifacts created by those left behind.
“Though tactically quiet, American Origami is a profoundly dark and moving testament to how gun violence has ravaged the American school experience. It stands alone as perhaps the most intelligent and graceful photographic account of how communities metabolize this almost seasonal horror, and how mass shootings have become a deeply painful part of the American fabric.” - Paul Reyes, Editor of the Virginia Quarterly Review
Some(W)Here / Self-Published, 2012
"Those who like landscape, portraiture, architecture, or documentary will not be intrigued. Those, however, who like the paintings of Redon and the films of Bergman or the surreal dream poems of Breton will find this book quite to their liking." - Christopher Johnson, Photo-Eye
$45 // Sold Out
Signed Copy // Sold Out
Special Edition // Sold Out
Excerpt from review by Marc Fuestel for Eyecurious
... Like the subconscious, Some(w)here does not neatly catalogue memories of different times and places, but instead allows them to shuffle together into a more complicated and confused whole. Much of what we see is revealed through a window or behind curtains and the reflective matte paper stock itself contributes to this impression of distance from the subject. While it deals with many of photography's major themes—place, time, memory, dreams and reality—it isn't interested in making any grandiose statements. It is a quiet and modest book (it fits nicely in the palm of your hand), a book of emotions and atmosphere rather than of concept or ideas. It successfully conjures up the world of dreams and of memory, but without offering any particular resolution: Gonzalez's images obstruct as much as they reveal, and the impression that the book leaves is elusive and even a little frustrating, like an intense dream that you cannot quite remember.