What first struck me about this year’s photographic show, which ran in the Avenue Armory park until 27 April, was the almost total absence of traditional photojournalism. Without the flood of protests or the urgency of crisis photography to which I got used to while I did do social media, I was afraid that the fair might also be venial; Repeat the archive and annoying struggles instead of the present moment. However, when I make a road on the maze of 64 international exhibitors organized by the Association of International Photography Art Dealers (Aipad), the most striking was that I was the prevalence of contemporary indigenous artists who have political urgency opportunities in personal explorations, with sincere gone -ignored) sense of humans.
This year’s stock exchange crosses a wide landscape of well -known land – portraits of celebrities, historical icons, colossi of the photographic field – but most reward visitors who take the time to deal with the supplementary programming and presenters. At the back, the Photobooks + Partners section offers a welcome counterpart to the buzz of the cabins: tactile and revealing, it adds depth to artists who may be able to break visitors on the ground floor. As Aipad executive director Lydia Melamed Johnson told me: “One of the things we see a lot is that in the under -represented communities that run the camera in itself and their own communities.” That spirit carries through the Aipad Talks series, which, instead of setting up tokenism, makes real space for contemporary photographers from different demographies to speak at their own work.
In the stand of the Stephen Bulger Gallery in Toronto, a targeted solo survey follows four decades work by multimedia artist Shelley Niro (Bay of Quinte Mohawk, Turtle Clan), whose practice Diep is rooted in her Kanien’kehá: Kaawk. Niro’s work shifts fluently between sharp cultural criticism and intimate reflection, often peppered with disrespectfulness.
“I think making art when a native woman is politics,” Niro told me at the fair. ‘It doesn’t matter what you do [or] What you put there. I could make paintings of wooden spoons and people would see it as politics. ‘
Three large photo collages of her Portrait Series (1991 presentation) offers a rare look at the daily experiences of indigenous people. Initially in the midst of the turbulence of the Kanesatake Movement, or OKA crisis-a 78-day impasse between the Canadian government and Mohawk Land Defenders about holy, disputed area-the works reflect Niro’s personal response to public unrest. While the reporting in the media was aimed at conflict at the time, her first piece from the series, “Untitled” (1991), which she described me as “a celebration of life”. The collage documents a Powwow scene, with her two sisters who smile challengingly. Ranked like a page from a family -plaque book, the work underlines the community, resilience and joy in the light of hostility.
Kitty-Corner from this stand, more of Niro’s works are displayed by the Andrew Smith Gallery in Tucson together with the work of another smart cultural commentator, Zig Jackson (Mandan-Hidatsa-Arikara), who combines performative portraits and documentary photography to combine stereotypes.
“His work is about making it aware that the indigenous population is everywhere,” said gallerist Andrew Smith. “You may not notice them in urban areas, but they are there.”
Rights Society (Ars), New York)
Jackson was born in a military family on a reserve in North Dakota and honors genuine indigenous veterans and their families in his current families Tribal veterans Series (c. 1994 – present), the warrior not as a remnant of the past, but as a symbol of contemporary indigenous identity and patriotism again.
In a more satirical vein, Jackson’s series 1991–92 Indian photography Tourists photograph Indian The camera – literally and conceptually – turns over the colonial gaze, which parodies the objectification of indigenous people by treating the voyeurism of tourists as a spectacle. A photo that can be seen on the stock exchange, who depict squatted white tourists who bump their cameras in the faces of native individuals in ceremonial clothing, is daring-I actually laughed out loud with second-hand shame but the series never feels mean or damn. Anyone who has seen a street photographer who has chased a wannabe influencer in Soho recognizes the inherent voyeurism of the photographic medium, and feels the exploration of Jackson to be read as a (literally) black and white condemnation of the pastime.
In the rear corner of the position of the Obscura gallery of Santa Fe, Douglas Miles (Apache-Akimel O’odham) shows intimate, black and white digital collages that embrace irony and meme culture. Juxtap positions of pixel -related images of the internet are covered with images of contemporary Apache -skateboarders and members of the community. On a photo of the RES Skate demo Series (2024), a baseball-covered skateboarder kickflips about a crowd of 19th-century Apache individuals that sat next to a train, while Gun-Moting Soldiers watch. The manufactured scene feels like the soldiers lean casually on the fence near the skaters in Tompkins Square Park about breakfast rolls, instead of supervising the likely forced transport of people. Is this comparison dark? Yes. Is it also strange funny? Yes.
In the Scheinbaum Russeek Gallery stand in Santa Fe, Cara Romero (Chemehuevi) shows lively, theatrical digital portraits, combining native futurism and humor. Romero’s “The Zenith” (2022) surrounds MvSkoke artist George Alexander with floating white corn in the starry sky Cosmos and offers a deceptively airy meditation about the fragile future of heritage foodways. In the unintentional following the recent Blue Origin Rocket -launch by Amazon CEO (and Whole Foods Mogul) Jeff Bezos, Romero’s piece does not imagine the future as a non -disposed playground for technical billionaires, but as an space where ancestral knowledge and sustainability can bloom.
While Niro, Jackson, Miles and Romero anchor some of the most cunning showcases of the stock market, a wide range of indigenous photographers promote powerful, self -determined stories with more sincerity. Monroe Gallery of Photography, also located in Santa Fe, shows striking works by Diné photographer Eugene Tapahe’s Art heals: The Jingle Dress Project (2020-present), who connect and protest ritual to promote collective healing. In the stand of its own Bruce Silverstein Gallery of New York, Dakota Mace (Diné) and Sarah Sense (Choctaw-Chitimacha) turn to oral histories and archive research respectively how individual memory forms shared culture shared culture.
Together these artists do the limits of photographic canon and not position indigenous experience as a subject, but as a vital critical lens. In the midst of the constant movement of the fair, these works manage to anchor you – sometimes with humor, sometimes with tenderness, often with both.
