The inspiration for Gail Albert Halaban’s international Rear Window–esque photography series is, like the Hitchcock film, a bit creepy.
In 2007, Albert Halaban, her husband, and their newborn daughter moved from Los Angeles to a loft-style apartment in Manhattan. On her daughter’s first birthday, balloons were sent to the apartment from the florist across the street. There was a note saying how great it had been watching their daughter grow up. The family had never met the florist.
For the full article, please visit Slate
Many a city dweller is familiar with the habit of stealing a peek (or full-on stare) across the street into your neighbor’s window. Living in densely populated cities where apartments are stacked in front of one another like dominoes makes it an especially easy hobby. Several years ago, photographer Gail Albert-Halaban also found herself staring out at the people milling about in the apartment and storefront windows in her New York neighborhood and soon had the idea to explore this fascination with watching other people’s lives, turning it into an opportunity to confront the feeling of isolation in a large city in her ongoing series “Out My Window.”
For the full article, please visit The Washington Post
Pointing to the large panes that line the street-side wall of her Chelsea home and studio, the photographer Gail Albert Halaban explains the provenance of her celebrated “Out My Window” series. “When my daughter was little, I used to feed her late at night while looking out, and on her first birthday, the shop across the street sent me balloons and flowers, but I’d never met them. They’d seen us the entire year and they noticed that people were over and having cake, so it must be a birthday party. It totally inspired the project.”
For the full article, please visit T Magazine
Gail Albert Halaban was first inspired to train her artistic gaze through others’ windows during a period of personal tragedy. While her five-year-old son was in the hospital for serious heart surgery, the photographer contemplated the nature of modern care, which allowed doctors to glimpse her son’s medical realities through electronic devices.
“I realized all the technology in a hospital is remote. The doctors were monitoring my son’s heart from a different floor. They could look inside his body without being near him. I realized I could look at the world in the same way,” she told the British Journal of Photography.
For the full article, please visit The Huffington Post
As this year’s edition shows, the Paris Photo fair is displaying an evermore panoramic view of the photography art market.
Since the world’s largest photography fair moved to the glass-domed Grand Palais in 2011, Paris Photo has shifted from what was once seen as a pure photography event to a fair that attracts more well-known contemporary art galleries and shows works that aren’t always defined as simply photography.
For the full article, please visit The Wall Street Journal
How do you make friends in a big city? Despite brushing shoulders with hundreds of strangers every day, it’s easy to feel like a ship at sea. Anonymity can be comfortable, though, which is why — for many of us at least — the desire to connect rarely propels us beyond a voyeuristic curiosity about the neighbors. The lit, open window quickly becomes a lozenge for loneliness.
This suspended state of communion is something we can all identify with. It simmers through the paintings of Edward Hopper, films like Rear Window and Amelie, and the writings of people like Charles Baudelaire and Paula Fox. More recently, photographer Gail Albert Halaban has mined it to great effect in her series VIS-à-VIS, Paris, which features cinematic scenes of domestic life frozen within the city’s bright window frames.
For the full article, please visit Hyperallergic
New York-based photographer Gail Albert Halaban first began peering into people's windows many years ago, and her fascination with the public versus the private in urban life inspired a voyeuristic photo project and then a book, Out My Window, in fall 2012. It caught the eye of Cathy Remy, photo editor for Le Monde's M magazine, who invited Halaban to take her show on the road to Paris a few weeks later. The initial process went the same in Europe as it did in New York, with a few exceptions: Remy and Halaban found participants through Facebook, friends of friends, and word of mouth, and all gave permission in advance, though reactions toward the nature of the shoot were a bit polarizing.
For more on Gail Albert Halaban's Paris views and a slideshow of new works, please visit New York Magazine
Professional WomenPhotographers is delighted to announce Gail Albert Halaban as its 2013-2014 lecture series opener at the Metropolitan Opera Guild.
Halaban is that rare photographer who photographs urban people, family life styles and personal artistic projects. She’s had five solo shows in major New York galleries and also established a thriving career in advertising though photographing what she loves.
For more information please visit Professional Women Photographers' website.
Many of the houses Hopper painted when he summered in Gloucester in the 1920s are still here. Photographer Gail Albert Halaban has revisited them, photographing them from the same perspective from which Hopper painted them. “Hopper Redux, Photo-graphs by Gail Albert Halaban,” now up at the Cape Ann Museum, looks at these homes, their inhabitants, and their history, through a contemporary lens — although one clearly shaped by Hopper.
This exhibit is not, by any means, an Edward Hopper show. There is one drawing by Hopper on view, from the museum’s collection. Otherwise, it’s all Halaban’s photographs, which have their own poetry: startling clarity, luminous, whiskey-rich tones, and a certain melancholy that adds gravity to the visual bravura.
For the full article please visit The Boston Globe website.
To New Yorkers, Edward Hopper is likely to evoke visions of moody nighttime urban scenes. But the painter created some of his most famous work in the bright seaside town of Gloucester, Mass., on Cape Ann, where he spent time in the 1920s. The photographer Gail Albert Halaban has been locating the original houses in Hopper’s paintings there and taking pictures of them as they look today. Greta Bagshaw, whose husband’s family has owned the ‘‘Mansard Roof ’’ since 1962, is accustomed to the attention. ‘‘Not infrequently we’ve seen people who set up easels in our backyard to paint it,’’ Bagshaw says. ‘‘We know it’s time to put up the awnings each year when we’re eating on the porch and we turn around and see a big tour group watching us eat dinner.’’
Read the full article on the New York Times website.
Gail Albert-Halaban, who lives and works in New York, began photographing when she was 6, when she made a camera for her first grade science fair. She holds an MFA from Yale University.
Her art explores the tension between public and private life, what is seen by all, and what is hidden. The series Out My Window is a collection of images taken through and into windows in New York City, she acknowledges unspoken voyeurism and exhibitionism, tells us to admit we all do it, and then pushes us to confront the hope, isolation and other emotions that lie behind the gaze.
The pictures seem intrusive, but are nearly all posed. The residents are collaborators and their apartments are lit specifically to make these pictures, which explore a defining urban experience: becoming secretly familiar with the neighbors’ most intimate moments.
In the end, the process of producing this series of images is a kind of performance that serves as a remedy for the symptoms that they portray: by ringing on doorbells, Albert-Halaban helps bring anonymous neighbors into each others’ lives. The set-up of the camera and the staging of the resultant photograph become an occasion for new friendships.