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The Mountain Valley - Vintage Photo - 1960s

1960s

Mountain valley is a color vintage photo, realized in the Mid-20th Century. Good conditions and aged. It belongs to a historical and nostalg...

Old days Photo - Church is a black and white vintage photo, realized in the early 20th century. Good conditions and aged. It belongs to a historical and Nostalgic album including h...

20th Century School, Mountain Landscape, Black and White Photograph, unsigned, ebonized wood frame. Image: 19.25" H x 15.25" W; frame: 28.5" H x 24.5" W. Provenance: From a New York ...

The Valley - (Wastelands) - 2003 20x20cm, Edition of 10, plus 2 Artist Proofs. Archival C-Print, based on the original Polaroid. Artist inventory Number 1233. Signature label and Certificate. Not mounted. For sale is a piece from the Wastelands series. Published in: WASTELANDS, published by edition braus, Wachter Verlag, Heidelberg, 2006 (monograph) Exhibited: Wastelands, Städtische Galerie, Waldkraiburg, Germany (S) (2006) / Wastelands, Zephyr, Mannheim, Germany (S) (catalog) (2006) Wastelands, Kunstverein Recklinghausen, Germany (S) (2007), Stranger Than Paradise, Scott White Contemporary, San Diego, (S) (2012) Reality with the Tequila: Stefanie Schneider’s Fertile Wasteland by James Scarborough “How much more than enough for you for I for both of us darling?” (E. E. Cummings) Until he met her, his destiny was his own. Petty and inconsequential but still his own. He was cocksure and free, young and unaccountable, with dark hair and aquiline features. His expression was always pensive, a little troubled, but not of a maniacal sort. He was more bored than anything else. With a heart capable of violence. Until she met him, she was pretty but unappreciated. Her soul had registered no seismic activity. Dust bowl weary, she’d yet to see better days. A languorous body, a sweet face with eyes that could be kind if so inclined. Until she met him, she had not been inclined. It began when he met her. She was struck in an instant by his ennui. The sum of their meeting was greater than the imbroglios and chicaneries of their respective existences. He was struck by the blank slate look in her eyes. They walked, detached and focused on the immediate, obscenely unaware of pending change across a terrain of mountainous desert, their eyes downcast and world-weary, unable to account for the buoyant feeling in her heart. His hard-guy shtick went from potentiality to ruse. The gun was not a weapon but a prop, a way to pass time. Neither saw the dark clouds massing on the horizon. They found themselves alone in the expanses of time, unaware of the calamity that percolated even as they posed like school kids...