AM/PM

October 04, 2024

We all get by with a little help from our friends. It’s that power of connection that fueled AM/PM, photographer Tommy Rizzoli’s first exhibition he orchestrated alongside director and photographer Noah Berghammer. The two met on a day like any other in New York City, connecting over their appreciation for art and creating from within, but they didn’t know back then that they were already in the process of growing something bigger than themselves.

Tommy began capturing snapshots of those closest to him while growing up in DC, and took that passion with him to New York. Meditating upon the temporality of a singular moment — especially in a city where relationships, jobs, and apartments come and go like the wind — he reaches for his camera in the moments that make him feel. Not all of those moments are jovial; some may be forlorn or nostalgic, but they are real.

By Kayla Curtis-Evans
Photos by Tommy Rizzoli

Noah recently founded PRIV.Y, a creative agency and production company based in the Lower East Side. As the gallery’s director, he had been patiently waiting for the right project to debut within the space, a project that would empower artists like Tommy and himself and truly highlight the strength in unity. AM/PM was the perfect place to start.

office sat down with Noah and Tommy after the exhibition came to a close — but ahead of their plans to release an AM/PM book sometime later next year — to discuss Tommy’s craft and what it was like organizing their first show together.

Noah Berghammer— I first met Tommy when he came by my studio in Chinatown and we instantly clicked personality-wise. We're both quite spontaneous and outgoing people. But I think Tommy and I kind of balance each other out — I'm a raging optimist and Tommy's kind of like, 'Eh, I don't know,' about that stuff. That day, he told me about this concept that he had, which was AM/PM. Tommy, you'd had this concept for a while and it's kind of taken different shapes and forms other than what we created. Do you want to talk a little bit about different forms it's taken and where the idea came from?

Tommy Rizolli— I grew up in the city of DC, and being out with my friends and having independence was a really prevalent factor in my childhood. So it makes sense that my work then progressed into just photographing my friends, whether it's editorial work or more documentary-based work, like this project. When I moved to New York, I was introduced to some really special, hardworking artists that ultimately became some of my best friends, along with people that I had been friends with for a really, really long time. So it was initially conceptualized as I had been shooting my friends in New York and then maybe two years after that, I was like, 'Oh, that'd be cool to do a book or something.' The concept highlighted this juxtaposition of my really tight-knit group of friends here, in the daytime and then at nighttime.

NB— That was the thing that was really drawing to me. I feel like I've grown so much as an artist since moving to New York because the city forces you to, based on how much you're intaking the people that you're meeting and the experiences that you're having. I hadn't heard anybody really define it in a way that was so clear until Tommy talked about AM/PM. Because when I first moved to New York, I would meet all these people at parties, at events, at Fashion Week — and I'd think, 'How do you actually become friends with these people?' To me, my daytime friends were the people that I turned into real friends. So it was funny having somebody else come in with this whole concept that illustrated that so well. I don't even think that I had really seen many images from your concept of the show. I was really just drawn to your work at large. And to the concept, and then to you as an artist. Tommy, I know you talked about a book, but was the fine art context ever something you were thinking about within your work?

TR— I don't think so. I can’t really describe what my work is. I think something that's important to me is, at least when it comes to photography, that style can be a hindrance. For me, themes in my work are more important and, in my work there are always a few, but the overarching one is that the people I photograph — whether it's commercial work or personal work — are people that I'm really genuinely close with and have a real connection with. So yeah, I wouldn't say fine art was in the back of my mind. I don't even know if I knew that that was a way to describe certain styles of photography. I just wanted to shoot the shit I wanted to shoot. I didn't really give a fuck.

NB— Having been your friend for a year and a half, you've been so unwavering to that motive. I get frustrated with Tommy every once in a while because he chooses not to shoot commercial work. But then you see in the images why they work, it's because there's a relationship there and nothing is forced. I'd always wanted to have this physical space for my community to find refuge or to be able to show work or perform. I was thinking live music venue, I was thinking cafe, I was thinking concept store. But then I thought, 'What could a gallery or an exhibition space look like if it's also an office and also a performance space?’ — kind of like this shapeshifting, melding place. And when I was able to secure that, I thought to myself, 'Now I have a gallery. Who do I show?' And you immediately popped into my head. Having gone through that whole process together, I know that it was pretty emotional for you to go through the negatives and whittle down what images would make the show. You want to talk a little bit about the curation process?

TR— Yeah, I mean it was really cool. First it was looking through all the negatives and then cross-referencing those with the selects we wanted in the show and then figuring out which ones we wanted to hand-print. It was super emotional. I mean, it was five years of living here just flashing before your eyes. I have a newfound gratitude for my friends. People come and go, but it's nice to see how close we've all gotten and the people that have remained.

NB— A lot of these relationships and these connections that we have to people, we don't really have a clear definition of why they are so special. When I look at your work, especially in the context of all of it together, what I feel are very emotive feelings, but I don't really know what they are. When I see you riding on the dirt bike across the Manhattan Bridge, I don't really know what that makes me feel, but I know it makes me feel something, you know? It's defintiely an emotional process when you're going through work and then you're giving it context and then you're dealing with why that context was important to your life. I know that some of those images touch on past relationships. They touch on friends that you're not really friends with anymore. They touch on people that have remained for 20 plus years in your life. It is really kind of like sitting back and saying, 'This is who I am.' So when you're thinking about yourself as a photographer, or better yet as a person, who are you?

TR— I think I've always had a lot of confidence in knowing that my friends are special. They're good people and they're really hardworking and talented. Maybe they don't take themselves seriously, but they take their work really seriously. I was happy to just be with them and be able to document them and live in those moments with them. My memory is so bad, but I can look at any photo and I can tell you, almost down to the day and what year it was, what we were doing and what street it was on. That's another part of why I was so emotional. It's just like, holy shit. That was five years ago. Time flies.

NB— And I really loved listening to you recall those things when we were going through the images. Kayla, it took us so long to whittle down our selects. I genuinely don't think we had our selects until about two weeks before the show. We started with about 80 or 90 images and we wanted to whittle it down to about 25. And I think it really came down to Tommy, your memory, it was like, 'Yeah, this might be a better image, but nothing was happening there.' Whereas another image had a really meaningful memory attached to it. You're not really that traditional photographer in any way, shape, or form [laughs]. So I was curious in looking through these photos with you, when do you decide to take a photo?

TR— It connects back to what you were saying. I have such a deep emotional connection to the photos just because of how I was feeling in that moment. I don't know if it's tangible. I either get the feeling or I don't. Like with Dom for instance, it was just pure joy and freedom and risk. Or with Jalen, it was volatile and it was really fun and sad. I think it's just about whether or not I really feel a strong emotion. But I'm definitely not a technical photographer by any stretch of the imagination.

NB— The way you take photos, I think, is reflective of the type of person that you are. When I asked you what was important to you about doing a show, it was just that people thought your images were honest. There is no more honest image than the ones that you choose to take in moments where you feel something. I think all artists can relate to that to some degree. I don't even know if you take photos of strangers ever.

TR— Right. No, it's not my thing.

NB— I'm sure there have been times in your career where it would've been really easy to just commit to being a street photographer or a studio photographer or something like that. But I think your sheer defiance against that has been what's really guided you. I'm not necessarily saying that it's always comfortable or easy to do those things, but I think the reason people gravitate towards your work is because of the attachment that's there. It's not because the images are using the best source of light or that they're super technical. I think there’s so much more to be said about you taking the photo rather than the photo that's being taken.

TR— Thank you.

NB— Talk to me a little bit about the whole idea of having a show about you. How do you feel about that?

TR— That aspect, as I'm sure you know, is not my forte [laughs.] I think it was easier for this because it felt like it almost wasn't even about me. It felt like the show was about my friends so I think that was easier for me to digest. It's definitely hard receiving compliments. The marketing and the promotion of it is definitely something that I'm not good at or something I'm super interested in. But I know it's important. I am really happy to be the one to take the pictures and I do think my friends, in a lot of ways, are a reflection of me. So I do think there were some aspects in the show where I was like, 'Okay, this does have me in it.'

NB— I think it has a lot to do with your selflessness as a photographer as well. You really do want to show the best parts of the people around you. I feel like that's what I noticed being in the room with 200 people at our opening. Your dad actually came up to me and he said, 'Doesn't he have a way of just making all the people around him feel so special?' And I thought that that was something that just was really powerful and impactful because you do have that charisma about you. And I think that when you choose to take a photo, it's almost like saying like, 'I love you.' You know what I mean? This is just your way to tell your friends that you love 'em.

TR— I think that's a good way of describing it. Yeah.

NB— How do you see your career going forward as a photographer, now having drawn this line in the sand?

TR— I definitely want to focus more on shooting in studio. I love editorial work. Something that is always in the back of my mind is, 'Can the way I photograph translate into that setting?' I have shot editorial stuff before and that's something I want to explore more. I just want to continue photography in my own way. That's the most important thing.

NB— I think what's been the most important for me to realize as well, as an artist, especially someone who's young in New York, is that there's a lot of energy around hustle and making it for yourself. Now taking on the role of an agent and an art dealer, I'm having to really step on the opposite side of things and say, 'Well, what's even important to you as an artist?' One thing that I've realized about Tommy is that what's important to him is staying really true to himself. I have to find a way to continue to empower artists like Tommy in spaces that I can now provide without losing why I'm doing it in the first place. And I think that that was why it was such a beautiful experience to be able to start that show with you Tommy. It felt like some semblance of success, but I think I honestly, for us, it would've been successful if we just got the doors open. Can you talk a little bit about the experience of us working together on this and this being our first real show?

TR— Yeah. I mean, I thought it honestly went pretty well. Something I really appreciated was that you gave me a lot of space and respected my creative decisions. I felt like we communicated and we worked through some adversity.

NB— Having gone through something like that, it just made me super proud to be your friend. You don't really know what kind of friendship you have with somebody until you do something of substance together. I think it was exactly what it was supposed to be. It's a beautiful thing when you can make things like that come together. And the only way you can do that is with the help of your friends.

Art

Pamela Sneed’s Speaking Tongue opens at Dashwood Projects

November 15, 2024

Pamela Sneed’s latest exhibition, Speaking Tongue, will be on view at Dashwood Projects from November 20 to December 21. The show features twenty watercolor and ink paintings inspired by her recent trip to Kenya, where she was deeply moved by the elegance of giraffes, the landscapes, and the energy of Nairobi.

Blending her background as a poet and visual artist, Sneed’s work reflects on themes of identity, nature, and connection. Her paintings capture the beauty and spirit of the animals she encountered, alongside reflections on her own experiences as part of the African diaspora.

This exhibition marks Sneed’s first solo show with Dashwood Projects and will be accompanied by a new book, also titled Speaking Tongue, to be released in December.

By Enzo Holdt
Artworks by Pamela Sneed

Art

Tiebreaker - Alvin Armstrong

November 15, 2024

There is a moment of silence right before the play. Just before the racket strikes the ball as it hangs weightless in the air, breathless and charged. It’s the fleeting yet decisive instant that can alter the course of the match, determining who wins and who loses.

Alvin Armstrong depicts this crucial moment in his new exhibition Tiebreaker, symbolizing the risks and rewards of competition. It’s an implication of something else at stake, where athletes push not only their bodies, but their spirits to the absolute limit.

The dynamic figures embody the strength, grace, and agility juxtaposed by the vibrant color palette evoking not just the joy of competition but the charged energy of the court.

Tiebreaker is opening Thursday, November 16th at Anna Zorina Gallery.

By Rea Brayshaw
Artworks by Alvin Armstrong

Art

The Things People Are Ashamed To Take Photos Of: The Photography and Films of Yuhan Cheng

Yuhan’s latest exhibition of photo and video work titled 窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里 takes its namesake from what could’ve been a mundane encounter. A month after moving to New York City from Chengdu, China, they stumbled across an abandoned fish tank left curbside. It reminded them of “the rotating fish in a tank that faded into the background of their mother’s home in Chengdu”, a thread connecting childhood familiarity that transformed into a symbol of greater significance in adulthood. A tank is a world within a world; a microcosm secluded from the broader chaos of the outside. Since then Yuhan has captured the other kinds of “fish tanks” closest to them in their photography and short films. Not literal ones necessarily– but intimate confined spaces in Chengdu and NYC where time stands still.

In the midst of taking snapshots of loved ones, Yuhan decided to turn their tender but examining lens on themselves. They realized shooting self-portraits unraveled a deeper understanding of their own nonbinary gender and queer sexuality. Yuhan admits in one of their short films “I hide from looking at my own body.” Yet, in the seclusion of their room which doubles as a dark room, Yuhan began to develop their first nude photos chronicling the subtle wounds; bitten cuticles, bruises, and scrapes they’ve accumulated involuntarily, once again documenting the things people choose to hide.

窗子外 Outside the Window, Inside the Tank 鱼缸里, debuted at FAR-NEAR Studio Hours a gallery in Chinatown focused on expanding the art world's view of Asia and Asian artists curated by Lulu Yao Gioiello. The event merged Yuhan’s works from the past three years, including 70 photographs, three short documentaries, and one installation. There was something uncanny about the gallery’s atmosphere – from the dollar store teal green curtains obscuring every window to the clusters of framed photos mimicking how photos of relatives are displayed in one’s childhood home, to the darkened lighting that was both disorienting and cozy. All these details were meticulously chosen to imitate the rooms depicted in Yuhan’s films and photography. In other words, the audience was invited to Yuhan’s “fishtank”, to share the odd balance of comfort and unease of being known intimately. We talked to Yuhan at Cafe Reggio to understand how their latest body of work came into being.

Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity.

Ora Margolis— Were any memories/childhood experiences you had in Chengdu important to how you've developed as an artist?

Yuhan Cheng— Growing up in Chengdu, especially in a military household, shaped and gave me a source of contention how I understood my identity. There was always a sense of conflict when it came to my body and feeling like I didn’t quite fit the expectations around me. This tension has been a driving force in my practice, pushing me to explore identity and belonging in my work.

Tell us a bit about your latest exhibition Outside the Window, Inside the Tank at Far. What headspace were you in when taking these photos?

YC— Outside the Window, Inside the Tank is about the fluidity of self; our bodies, our environments, and our identities. The idea of water as both a symbol of confinement and freedom is central to the photos and film that comprise the exhibit. This fluidity much like how I see my experience moving between Chengdu and New York, where similar feelings follow me no matter where I am. Water mirrors the body, the frame, and the room, which are all containers of the self.

Previously, you’ve said you wanted the exhibition space to look "like your room". How did you make that happen and why is your NYC room important to you?

YC— My room in NYC is an extension of my identity. It’s where I feel vulnerable and where I explore myself most openly. It’s a manifestation of my sense of self. I recreated certain elements in the exhibition—the green sheer curtains, the dollar store shower curtain with bubbles, and the center installation depicted a self-portrait deteriorating in water, reminiscent of a fish in a tank. This room, like any other room or container, magnifies the tension of self-exploration.

Has your idea or comfort with your gender identity and /sexuality changed since you’ve delved into photography?

YC— Yes. The process of photography and filming has been a mirror to my own understanding of self. Initially, I was exploring my friends’ identities through the lens, but slowly, it became a tool to confront and understand my own queerness and gender identity. The process of photographing my queer friends and then myself allowed me to come to terms with who I am.

How did you and Lulu Yao of FAR-NEAR Studio meet, and what makes her a good collaborator?

YC— We first connected when I reached out with my series Princess of Funan River. Lulu understood the struggles and complexities in the work and she invited me to expand on those ideas with her. Our collaboration has worked because Lulu truly resonates with the themes I’m drawn to, like fluidity, transformation, and the intimacy of navigating belonging.

After completing Fish Tank and Remnants of an Amateur Film, what kind of movie do you want to make next?

YC— Right now, I’m more focused on writing. I need to understand what I want to say before making another film. Writing helps me find clarity;it’s a crucial part of my process.

What kind of camera do you use and why?

YC— I use a Canon AE-1. I started with it and I still love it. It's small, spontaneous, easy to use, and light. It allows me to capture moments naturally without overthinking.

What's your biggest fear?

YC— Being disconnected from my sense of self, from others, and from the things I love.

When do you feel most like yourself?

YC— It’s during those fleeting moments when I complete a project. That feeling fades quickly, leaving me searching for the next project to reconnect with that sense of fulfillment.

How do you want people to feel when they interact with your art?

YC— I want them to feel whatever resonates with them. I don’t want to prescribe the experience; it should feel right for each person.

Your work focuses on the close knit communities that surround you or various metaphorical “fish tanks”. What communities do you feel closest to?
YC— The queer artist community, both in Chengdu and NYC, has been a source of comfort and understanding for me. There’s something about shared struggles and shared creative language that feels like home.

What's the biggest difference between living life as a queer artist in NYC and in Chengdu?

YC— In both NYC and Chengdu, I’m learning more about myself. NYC offers a sense of freedom, while Chengdu is home, a place of comfort and history. Neither place defines me but both are significant parts of my path.

What are your next moves/goals?

YC— I want to continue exploring both film and photography, expanding my narrative style and experimenting across mediums. During my show, I found new ways of seeing my photographs such as by adding a window screen between frames or letting a self-portrait fade and grow mold in water. These approaches allowed me to see my work not just as 2D images but as 3D objects.

I want to keep pushing the boundaries of how photo and film can interact, and I’m also interested in trying photojournalism. My focus remains on collaborating across mediums and continuing to accumulate experiences that I can translate into sincere honest work.