Photo Eye Yesterday Review

Earlier this year Photo Eye reviewed Yesterday and I neglected to share it on this blog. An oversight on my part especially considering it was one fo the most thoughtful reviews of the book to date and I am so very grateful to Christopher Johnson of Photo Eye who really understood what I was trying to achieve with this work.

“What Kydd has successfully created here, to my mind, is a fixed point. A unchanging and timeless time. A time capsule, even, of the pandemic. But, not in its anxiousness and jarringness, this is not the pandemic of radio buttons and phone scroll throughs and fear… This is the pandemic of slow hours and uncertain waiting. The Pandemic of empty roads. The Pandemic of being startled to hear voices in the dark. The Pandemic of permissive travel notes, that we have printed and resting on the passenger seat, but never think we’ll be called on to use because to interact would be stranger than not to interact. It is the Pandemic of birds in surplus and Nature’s reclamation.

Yesterday is an achievement. It shows us Kydd evolving in her book form. There is a master narrative here, though its something more like Walden than Death on the Installment Plan. The narrative ambles, rather than lurches; it whispers... It is a work of tranquility. A work of silences and deep, unhurried breaths. Yesterday is a set of dream-view goggles to transpose upon your waking eyes. It is, as the narrative itself suggests (you’ll just have to get your hands on one) a window.”

Read the full review here.

Touchstones at the A Smith Gallery

On view at the A Smith Gallery in San Antonio Texas until the end of the month, I am thrilled to share the first exhibition of my collaboration with fellow photographer and visual artist Dawn Surratt. Touchstones will then travel to Cary, North Carolina in April, followed by The Griffin Museum in Boston in July and the Page Gallery in Camden Maine in September.

Review of "Yesterday" in Antidote

 

“The subtle design decisions such as the warm, slightly toothy surface of the paper that hold the delicately focused photographs, physically draw you back in time to immerse yourself in Yesterday’s embrace. Once held there, Sal brings us back to acknowledge the present through her poetic expression of grief for the time we live in. Though we weep alongside Sal for our world and what we’ve lost, her photographs give us a reminder that we can face uncertainty to find beauty and strength in the “repeated refrains of nature”.”

Deborah Dawson, Antidote.

 

New Workshops!

Whilst I enjoy teaching online, it was such a joy to connect with students in person at Maine Media this past September. I was blown away by the work they made, as everyone brought such a great work ethic and supportive attitude to the week.

I will be teaching the Lyrical Photograph online again this fall with LACP, and with Nord Photography in the new year I’ll be returning to my Text & Image class, also online. You can find out more about those classes on my workshop page. I’m also really excited to be heading to Wisconsin to teach in person at the new Wild Rice Retreats next Fall. Can’t wait!

Page Gallery Show Coming Soon

 

My solo show at The Page Gallery in Camden is opening soon on October 21st. We will be opening the show in tandem with Camden’s artwalk that evening from 5pm to 7pm.

I will be launching my new book “Yesterday” which is accompanied by a series of photopolymer gravures, as well as other new work.

For those who can’t make it on the 21st, I’ll also be in the gallery on the following Saturday 1pm - 3pm.

Hope to see you there!

 

'Yesterday' Pre-orders Now Available

 

I am so excited to announce my new book “Yesterday” coming out in October with Datz Press.

Yesterday is a book of photographs made during the summer of 2020. Although much of the country was in the midst of the Covid 19 pandemic, on this remote island off the coast of Maine, we still felt free from much of the toll that Covid was taking. That summer represented a pause in time, a moment where life could feel normal, when we were still holding on to a world of yesterdays.

You can pre-order Yesterday here.

 

Memorial Day Open Studio!

 
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Please join me this Sunday, May 30th for a Studio Sale and open house.
I’ll be showing some new work and would love to gather and catch up! I’ve missed you all!

Sunday May 30th

2pm - 5pm

220 South St
Rockport

 

2021 Exhibitions

Well it finally feels like the world is starting to open up and I’m delighted to share some exhibition news.

upcoming exhibitions

June 10 2021 Page Gallery - Reverie
Aug 19 2021 Page Gallery - Materiality
Jan 7 2022 A Smith Gallery - Touchstones
July 7 2022 The Griffin Museum - Touchstones

Internal Dialog group show - TBD

I will be showing some new work at the Page Gallery in Rockport as part of their show Reverie, this show opens June 10 so stay tuned for the opening. Later in the summer I will also have work in their show Materiality which opens August 19th! A busy summer for sure.

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Poem for Paula

 
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It’s been seven days 
that have passed,
in this world 
without you.
And I’m still searching, 
for your face,
scrolling for memories
in the dark.

It was Fall when we began,
our stained hands,
tipping trays.
He’s cute you whispered,
a friendly aside.

The openings when
you showed up,
you always showed up,
always knew that
it mattered.

Later, Houston.
Turell at dawn,
Twombly by lunch,
Rothko in the afternoon.
A stolen day
Just for us..

Summer, binding books,
frustrated with the folding, 
with the exactness of the making.
You took what you needed, 
leaving the rest, 
making it yours
uniquely, brilliantly,
perfectly
yours.

New Orleans in December, .
A balm of dusty beignets 
on a cold afternoon.

Last month, of you,
the only mention —
It’s a drag, you said, 
but I’m doing okay,

I just get really tired.

And I believed you, 
about the okay part.

A shared vision —
my words colliding 
with your blues, ochres, silver. 
our expanding constellations 
on the page.

I’ll do it soon. I said.
Weeks passed.

I heard you, at the end, saying hi, 
at the end, I heard you.
Not knowing,
it was the last time.

And in my diary, 
my note, too late: 

 - poem for Paula.