Marie Tomanova's America

After moving to the U.S. in 2011, she searched for a sense of belonging by photographing strangers she met on the streets. The images, like the people in them, don’t have much in common — they’re shot in different locations, over the course of many years and rarely include the same subject. But there is one thing they all share: Tomanova shot them, and in doing so, captured the intoxicating energy of today’s youth in New York City. This is Tomanova’s America. It’s diverse, it’s gritty and at times, angry, but with a palpable sense of hope for the future.

A few days before the opening of Young American, we caught up with the artist to discuss her work.

Tell me about Young American.

I’ve been shooting these portraits for a couple of years now. I guess it all started when I moved to New York City. My second week here, I saw Francesca Woodman’s show, which was basically the start of my photography career, because she really inspired me to take pictures. I started with self-portraits, but on the side, I was shooting all of these beautiful, young people I was meeting in the city. I realized I had a ton of these intimate portraits where I really managed to connect with the person, so I decided to put them into a show. It’s called “Young American” because all of these people represent what it means to me, to be a young American. As an immigrant who came to the United States, I was just really naive about what America was actually like. Once I came here, I realized it was totally different than I had imagined and it took me awhile to really carve out my own space here. But that’s the greatest thing about New York — everybody will eventually find their own people here. Taking these photos was really the way that I found mine. I’d spend a few hours with someone, shooting them, asking what their dreams were, and why they came to New York, just letting them tell me their stories.

Because of all of that, the photos themselves are incredibly intimate. They’re all close-up portraits and in a way, I think they show that we’re all the same. We’re all just humans who have dreams.

I know you have a background in painting. Does that affect how you approach your work?

The biggest struggle I had in the beginning was just timing. I used to paint one piece for a month, then move onto the next one. But with photography, I would take 500 pictures in an hour and be like, ‘Oh my god. How do I choose just one?’ I really struggled with editing down my work. The first couple of years were rough because I really didn’t have a process.

What do you think it is about photography that allows you to express yourself in a way painting didn’t allow?

It’s just the fact that I can shoot anybody I meet and really capture them in their own way. Like, I’ll meet people at openings, or on the subway, or I’ll see somebody I want to shoot on Instagram, and what photography does is allow me to actually create a real connection with them, and capture that in the photo.

I know most of your previous work has been self-portraiture. How did the process of shooting these images — of other people — compare to capturing yourself?

My self-portraits have been a lot about realizing who I am and that I am here, in the United States, and coming to terms with that. It was really a journey of discovery when it came to my identity and displacement. It was tough, sitting on a plane one day, leaving the Czech Republic and never going back. Then I went from a small town in North Carolina where nobody knew me to New York City. It was like starting over completely, where no one could judge me. Being from a small town, everybody sees you a certain way because they’ve known you forever. So, how people see you kind of becomes who you are. But here, I could be whoever I wanted, which was really freeing, but also really confusing, because I had moments where I thought I had lost myself, and didn’t know who I was or where I belonged. Taking self-portraits really helped me to see myself in the landscape and justify that I do belong here, that I can be wherever I want. With these portraits, I’m showing my vision of America and my experience in the United States through images of all these people I’ve met that reflect who I am. In a lot of ways, though, thy almost feels like self-portraits, because through them is my idea of America, the America I like and the America in which I feel I belong. That’s very important to me — to actually feel like I have a place here. So, looking at these people and their portraits I feel like, ‘Yes, I can relate to this. This is my America.’

Most of your self-portraits are in the nude. These photos don’t showcase nudity. Was that a conscious decision?

Honestly, it started because I was working as an au pair when I was in North Carolina, and I would take photos in the morning, or whenever I had time. So, I didn’t want to waste any trying to think of what to wear.

I really loved the performance aspect of shooting myself. I’d put down a tripod and find places to take photos. Nature here in the United States is so different than what I was used to at home, and it really amazed me — the smell of the soil, the texture of the moss. You experience it and feel it on your body. So, I really enjoyed walking around and climbing trees, seeing and touching all of these things I’d never seen before. But it also brought me back to my childhood growing up in the countryside, spending time on the vineyard or in a field. Even though I was in the United States, I was finding myself through these memories of my youth, and this sort of familiarity in the unknown. There was no room for fashion. It was about the body, and how the body fits, and literally creating space for myself by squeezing between tree branches or a patch of mass. My body became a representation for how I fit into this world, and the relationship between them.

Youth has always been such a fascinating topic for artists. I mean, we have the obvious example of Larry Clark, who has made a career out of documenting youth culture, but so many artists, from musicians to painters, have been inspired by kids. What is it for you that’s so captivating about them?

There’s a certain energy and honesty, and almost a naivety, in the way young people think, and dream. They have such strong beliefs and a real dedication to want to change things. I think that’s incredibly powerful. When you’re young, you’re not afraid, you’re not so cynical yet. You’re ready to change the world. It’s not like they’re going to some 9-to-5 job that they hate, with three kids, just desperate to survive. They still have their whole lives ahead of them, and so much potential.

Right now the whole concept of what is means to be an American is being hotly debated. You have Trump literally stopping people from coming into the country. What has been your experience as an immigrant in the current climate?

I know I’ve struggled a lot with feeling like I belong, and I think it’s so important to make sure everyone feels included. But with Trump right now, he’s making everyone feel the opposite, and it’s really terrifying. I asked my friend what he thinks the biggest shock will be for me when I go back to the Czech Republic because I haven’t been home in seven years, and his answer really resonated with me. He said, ‘I think you will have the hardest time with the lack of diversity’ because 90 percent of Czech people are white. So, before I moved to the U.S., I was never challenged with race questions, and I didn’t understand it for a very long time. That’s again why youth culture is so important — so they can deliver the opposite of what Trump is saying.

What does it mean for you to be ‘American’ then?

I spent my first year in the U.S. in North Carolina, and I just had no idea what I was getting into. I mean, I thought everything there was so big and fast and crazy, then I moved to New York and was like, ‘Okay, this is fast.’ But what I found here that was so important was all these young kids who actually have a voice, and they actually use those voices on social media. All of the important issues we’ve been talking about, like gun control and the #MeToo movement — they bring them up, and they keep bringing them up, until things actually start to change. They are the real America. Not Trump’s America, or corporate America, but the youth that’s here, and very real, and has a voice.

Young American is on display at the Czech Center New York from June 28-August 10.

Art

LIA LIA by Iga Drobisz

Your work often explores intimacy and vulnerability. How do you create a safe and authentic environment for your subjects during a shoot?

The past few months, I’ve been working on two series of photographs: nudes of women in their own apartments and portraits of women before and after giving birth. Both series involve capturing them in deeply personal spaces—bedrooms or nurseries—where they feel at ease.

Shooting in their spaces, in their own beds, plays a crucial role in creating comfort. I choose film and cameras that show them in a way they find beautiful and empowering, emphasizing softness and warmth. It's a stark contrast to modern, hyper-detailed phone cameras that sometimes reveal more than one wants to see.

Your photography has a distinct emotional depth and texture. How do you approach the interplay of light, color, and composition to achieve this?

My process is highly intuitive. I’ve never formally studied photography or apprenticed under anyone—I learned by experimenting and seeing what felt right. It’s about trusting my instincts rather than adhering to rigid rules.

What role do personal experiences or cultural influences play in shaping the stories you tell through your images? Many of your photographs feel deeply narrative.

Growing up, I was surrounded by great cinematography. My grandmother had a TV, but my mom only brought home VHS tapes—films with substance. I think that exposure shaped how I see the world, how I approach subjects, and the narrative depth in my work.

What role does spontaneity play in your shoots? Do you leave room for improvisation, or is everything carefully planned?

To balance spontaneity and structure, I go in with a clear plan and strong direction, but I remain open to surprises. It’s about letting the subject feel like the shoot is about them, not me. That openness often leads to the most unexpected, meaningful moments.

What inspired the shoot with singer LIA LIA? How did it come together?

Collaborating with Ruby and Naomi always takes me out of my comfort zone in the best way. For this shoot, we wanted to transform someone with an iconic face but also someone like Lia—someone with a clear sense of self.

Giving her a completely new look was exciting; it brought an unexpected energy to the set. The approach was playful and experimental. The night before, I had no idea what wigs Ruby would bring or what colors Naomi might choose. It was a beautiful mix of spontaneity and collaboration.

What inspires you the most?

Movies and music are big inspirations for me, as well as the work of other photographers like Carlijn Jacobs, Harley Weir, Rineke Dijkstra, Charlotte Wales, and Nan Goldin.

What emotions or truths are the hardest for you to express through your art, and why?

I don’t think I consciously try to express specific emotions when I work. Instead, I follow what feels right in the moment—what draws me in or excites me that day. It’s less about a deliberate expression and more about letting intuition guide the way.

Art

Luna Luna: Surrealist Spectacle Lands in New York

November 21, 2024

In the 1980s, André Heller, an Austrian artist, singer-songwriter, and former actor, was looking for a new place to showcase his art. He had already taken to gardens, creating a colorful, surrealistic character using 40,000 flowers, and to the skies, organizing a 'fire theatre,' which involved an over-the-top fireworks show complete with steel-frame sculptures set on fire. But he had never tried out a fair.

So began "Luna Luna." Created as the world's first art carnival, "Luna Luna" combined the spectacular with the absurd, showcasing original rides and attractions from rising and already-at-the-top artists in Hamburg. Nearly forty years since its debut, followed by foiled plans for a worldwide tour, breached contracts, and 44 storage containers, the art fair has finally returned, calling New York home after re-debuting last year in Los Angeles.

By Hailey Johnson
Photography by Delvin Claro and Sabrina Sarnitz, courtesy of Luna Luna LLC

On a recent evening in Hudson Yards, a small carousel featured characters in quirky, Twister-like poses and an outstretched dog with seven legs. (Almost a century old, the rides are no longer rideable.) Goofy wooden sculptures were elevated in another corner, some of them cross-eyed or with a horn for a nose. A geodesic dome glowed, with Gregorian chants hovering somewhere above it.

"It's an art experience like no other," Michael Goldberg, Chief Experience Officer of Luna Luna, said recently. "People get to see artists do things they've never done before," he added.

Goldberg, founder of Something Special Studios, a creative agency behind many Nike campaigns, was determined to resurrect “Luna Luna” after reading about it online in 2019. Goldberg shopped for investors, eventually teaming up with DreamCrew, a media company co-owned by the rapper Drake. (Details on the company's investment remain vague; sources have reported that DreamCrew spent over "100 million dollars.") In 2022, an intensive restoration process began, with a team of artists reviving many of the original works, which had remained in boxes in a Texas warehouse for over thirty years. Several had been in pieces. (The team reportedly had to rebuild each work "bolt by bolt.")

That night, at the Shed, fourteen out of the original thirty-five works were on display, including the small carousel (Keith Haring), the goofy sculptures (Kenny Scharf), the neon dome (Salvador Dali), and a towering Ferris wheel decorated in drawings of stick figures, upside crowns, and references to Jim Crow (Basquiat). Missing works are in a "constant state of restoration," Goldberg said. Meanwhile, new attractions are joining the line-up. For the New York show, the Puerto Rican duo Poncilí Creación was commissioned to create "PonciliLand," a blink-and-you-miss-it section where guests "can create fantastical characters out of custom building blocks." Poncili also developed floating characters, inspired by performers who circulated the original “Luna Luna” fairgrounds in 1987. Known as "Lovers," the two characters, large and dreamlike, teetered to one side, mumbling the kind of nervous groans one does before a fall. (They never ended up falling.)

I asked Goldberg if, given that today's culture doesn't quite look or feel the same way as it did in 1987, there was any hesitation in showing some of the original works. On a back wall, a tribute featured Manfred Diex's "Palace of the Wind," a show featuring performers who fart into a microphone; on another, two ornate pedestals held sculptures of spiral poop.

"I don't see any reason why we wouldn't show any of these works," he said. "A lot of the time, art is exclusive and uninviting. The big difference between “Luna Luna” and other art experiences is that it has many sides to it, and things that have a bit of humor and playful energy. "As for "Palace of the Winds,” the decision to keep it was simple: farting is universal. He went on: "The “Crap Chancellery" is, conceptually, one of the most important works in “Luna Luna.” Daniel Spoerri's dad was killed in the Holocaust, and the work was inspired by Albert Speer, who was Hitler's architect. He took the facade of what was meant to be a Nazi shrine and turned it into the facade of a bathroom with two steaming statues of shit standing on the outside. These works are extremely important and are things that we would definitely want to honor and draw attention to."

As “Luna Luna” further develops, the show will likely change. "It will continue to evolve as we go to different cities in response to the spaces that we pop up into and in collaboration with the local city," Goldberg said." With it, there will be new characters and new stories to tell. One aspect that won't change, though, as Goldberg assured, is a long-held sentiment about a potential partnership. At one point, early on during the original “Luna Luna” era, McDonald's wanted to buy into it. Heller said no, adding that he "didn't want it to feel like Disneyland." Goldberg agreed. Nonetheless, as I watched Kenny Scharf's dizzying swing ride go around for what felt like the hundredth time, with the cartoon characters decorated on it blurring together (one with a villain's grin, another morphed into a martini glass), I couldn't help but feel like maybe I was at Disneyland, only not as robbed, but just as entertained and exhausted by its rides and fantastical characters, and wanting to go again.

Luna Luna, Hamburg, Germany, 1987.

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.