Berlin 1982

This black and white photograph, simply titled ‘Berlin’ by John Gossage, looks like it was made with an embrace of whatever he found in front of him. Looking at the image, the details emerge slowly. It’s a dense thicket, where spindly bushes jostle for space amongst fallen leaves. Gossage doesn’t seem interested in clarity. The print itself isn't overly contrasted, which creates a muted, almost melancholic feeling. It is a view, but the image is fighting against visibility. The beauty of the piece comes from the process. Photography is, after all, a dance with light. The light here is soft, almost shy, filtering through the branches and leaves. Gossage’s image feels like a conversation, an intimate exchange between the artist, the camera, and the overlooked corners of a city. It makes me think of Eugène Atget, another photographer who found beauty in the ordinary, the forgotten. Art’s a dialogue across time, isn’t it? It's about embracing the messy, the ambiguous, the things that don't quite fit.