Mark Cáceres

"Boy with American Flag Shirt, Cummington Fair" - Southern Carnival Photography

2016

"Coney Island Mist" is a black and white photograph. Edition of 10. 21.5 by 16.5 inches (framed) Mark Caceres is inspired by the work of Jeff Jacobson, Al...

"Chicken Showmanship, Cummington Fair" is an edition of 5. Mark Caceres is inspired by the work of Jeff Jacobson, Alex Webb and Alec Soth. Mark Cáceres w...

"Cowgirl Queen Contest, Iowa State Fair" is an edition of 5. Mark Caceres is inspired by the work of Jeff Jacobson, Alex Webb and Alec Soth. Mark Cáceres...

"Girl with Stock Prod, Cummington Fair" is an edition of 3. Mark Caceres is inspired by the work of Jeff Jacobson, Alex Webb and Alec Soth. Mark Cáceres ...

"Rockin’ Tug, Cummington Fair" is an edition of 5. Mark Caceres is inspired by the work of Jeff Jacobson, Alex Webb and Alec Soth. Mark Cáceres was born ...

"Atlanta Fair" is an edition of 5. Mark Caceres is inspired by the work of Jeff Jacobson, Alex Webb and Alec Soth. Mark Cáceres was born in Buenos Aires, Argentina and moved to the ...

Edition of 6 Signed and numbered in pencil, and blind stamp on print margin Signed, titled, dated, and print type in pencil on print verso. Paper size: 37 x 30 in., Image size: 30 x ...

Documentary Photograph. Contemporary Inkjet on cotton. Limited edition of 5. Signed front and verso. Framed in lacquered black frame with spacer) The first person to photograph the Huichol in their remote communities in the inaccessible canyons of the Western Sierra Madre was probably the Norwegian anthropologist, Carl Lumholtz. He ventured into their territory in 1895, shortly before the arrival of the French naturalist and ethnographer Léon Diguet, who was also a photographer. Like so many who were engaged with documenting Indigenous peoples across the Americas in those brutal years of expansion and settlement, Lumholtz believed that the disappearance of his subjects was inevitable: “the weaker must succumb to the stronger, and the Indians will ultimately all become Mexicans.” The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—prove that Lumholtz was fortunately, terribly wrong. They reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like Lumholtz or Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines...

Fernando Bayona, Once Upon a Time: "Piel de Asno". Fine Art Inkjet Print Sizes: S: 25.6 x 20.8 in. / Ed. 3 M: 41.7 x 33 in. / Ed. 3 L: 53.1 x 41.7 in. / Ed. 2 + 1A.P "The narrat...

Documentary Photograph. Contemporary Inkjet on cotton. Limited edition of 5. Signed front and verso. Framed in lacquered black frame with spacer) The first person to photograph the Huichol in their remote communities in the inaccessible canyons of the Western Sierra Madre was probably the Norwegian anthropologist, Carl Lumholtz. He ventured into their territory in 1895, shortly before the arrival of the French naturalist and ethnographer Léon Diguet, who was also a photographer. Like so many who were engaged with documenting Indigenous peoples across the Americas in those brutal years of expansion and settlement, Lumholtz believed that the disappearance of his subjects was inevitable: “the weaker must succumb to the stronger, and the Indians will ultimately all become Mexicans.” The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—prove that Lumholtz was fortunately, terribly wrong. They reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like Lumholtz or Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines...

Documentary Photograph. Contemporary Inkjet on cotton. Limited edition of 5. Signed front and verso. Framed in lacquered black frame with spacer) The first person to photograph the Huichol in their remote communities in the inaccessible canyons of the Western Sierra Madre was probably the Norwegian anthropologist, Carl Lumholtz. He ventured into their territory in 1895, shortly before the arrival of the French naturalist and ethnographer Léon Diguet, who was also a photographer. Like so many who were engaged with documenting Indigenous peoples across the Americas in those brutal years of expansion and settlement, Lumholtz believed that the disappearance of his subjects was inevitable: “the weaker must succumb to the stronger, and the Indians will ultimately all become Mexicans.” The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—prove that Lumholtz was fortunately, terribly wrong. They reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like Lumholtz or Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines...

The first person to photograph the Huichol in their remote communities in the inaccessible canyons of the Western Sierra Madre was probably the Norwegian anthropologist, Carl Lumholtz. He ventured into their territory in 1895, shortly before the arrival of the French naturalist and ethnographer Léon Diguet, who was also a photographer. Like so many who were engaged with documenting Indigenous peoples across the Americas in those brutal years of expansion and settlement, Lumholtz believed that the disappearance of his subjects was inevitable: “the weaker must succumb to the stronger, and the Indians will ultimately all become Mexicans.” The photographs of the Huichol by Pablo Ortiz Monasterio—taken on some twenty trips over the past three decades—prove that Lumholtz was fortunately, terribly wrong. They reveal abundant evidence of cultural survival (what the Huichol call “la costumbre”), made possible by their extraordinary resistance to the religious, nationalist, and economic forces that have long assaulted—and that continue to assault—Indigenous communities everywhere. Though Ortiz Monasterio is also an outsider, he does not operate—like Lumholtz or Diguet—as an old-fashioned preservationist, nor is he confident in the superiority of Western culture, nor is his work only destined for museum vitrines...