Marc Yankus, Commodore Criterion, 2013, color photograph. (Via)
If you can’t submit to art, to hell with you.
There’s a foreign legion of women, too. But we have no uniforms—no flags—and no medals when we are brave.
—Marlene Dietrich, Morocco
On the title-page spread of Julia Gfrörer’s new book Black Is the Color, long, curving strands of line emerge thickly from the bottom of the left page and ramble up and across the facing page. Some strands disappear off the edge of the book; others wander toward the top, like vines reaching for sunlight, finding their terminus midway up the page. The fine, sinuous lines easily resemble waves of hair—many of Gfrörer’s female characters possess fluid tresses—but they also take on the appearance of waterways, as seen from above: the oxbows and meanders formed by a river’s patient flow, or the fingered currents of river sediment as it spills into the sea.