There is a peculiar fascination I have with the process of truly getting to know things; the more I delve, the more layers and fresh horizons seem to unfurl before me. This sensation resonates deeply with so much of my own life, whether it is plumbing the depths of a new photographic project, peeling back the rich history of a beloved place, or indeed, losing myself within the pages of a profound photobook. There is an undeniable magic, almost alchemical in its nature, within the physical object of a well-made publication. Its satisfying weight in your hands, the ritual of turning its pages, allowing the images to slowly, deliberately reveal themselves. This feeling of tactile immersion, of truly experiencing the work rather than merely seeing it, is precisely what makes “Cyclone” by Alena Kotzmannová, published by Eastern Front, such a compelling and utterly captivating read. From the moment I unwrapped it, I knew I was in for a journey into the nuances of perception, a journey that promised to challenge how I see the world.

Alena Kotzmannová, as an artist, has long explored the unsettling dance between reality and its unreality, the deformation of experience, and the subtle ruptures in time, space, and perception. It is a world where, as she herself so eloquently puts it, “The paradox of getting to know things fascinates me – the further I go the more layers and horizons open before me.” This statement, right from the heart of her approach, at once drew me in, speaking to that intrinsic need within me, and I believe within many of us, to express something about our own fluid perception of the external world. She rightly asks the fundamental question of ‘Why?’ about her work, defending its importance to a broader public, not by offering concrete answers, but by reacting to the inherent vagueness and complexities of life itself. This is art that aims to challenge, to invite deeper consideration, and to cultivate diversity in how we choose to perceive the world around us. Her method, rooted in conceptual and intermedia art, yet often expressed through what appear to be traditional black and white photographs, reveals a meticulous mind that subtly shifts meaning through deliberate composition and careful collection.

The central concept of ‘Cyclone’ is brilliant in its simplicity and devastating in its effect, an indirect comparison of photographic pairs taken at different intervals from the same vantage point. This approach pulls the viewer into a profound sense of uncertainty about the sequence of events and phenomena, and indeed, about the very principle of photography itself. This is where the book truly shines and speaks directly to the core of my own photographic philosophy. It serves as a visceral masterclass in the power of patience, of subtle observation, and of how minimal changes, almost imperceptible at first glance, can profoundly alter narrative and feeling.

My mind at once leapt to the very first image you come across in the book, a woman standing beneath an umbrella, shielding herself from the sun, her messenger bag resting on the ground beside her. She faces away from the viewer, clad in a summer dress, and the entire scene is framed through what appear to be bars, creating a sense of separation from her. It looks as though she is staring intently into the side of some massive storage containers, a rather mundane backdrop for such a quiet, intimate moment. It is a beautiful image in its own right, contemplative and enigmatic. Yet, in the second half of the book, a later image appears that looks almost identical, almost a mirror, but it is distinctly not the same. The subject has turned ever so slightly, and you can now discern the delicate curve of her chin and the soft line of her nose beneath the umbrella’s shadow. This is a tiny, almost imperceptible change, yet looking between the two frames, it makes a truly significant, even haunting, difference. This subtle shift transforms her from an anonymous, distant figure into someone far more mysterious, more present, and undeniably more contemplative. It perfectly illustrates how taking your time, waiting, and making many pictures for the right outcome can yield a profound transformation. It is the visual equivalent of saying, “Here is what you could have had if I never spent time and skill waiting for the right image.”

Another remarkable instance of this perceptive play is the shot of a cafe or restaurant, presented as an almost empty, serene scene with tables and chairs set up, poised in silent anticipation of diners. It is a calm, composed image, evocative of a moment before the rush. Then, when I came across the second version of the scene, it took me a while to notice her own subtle reflection visible on the glass of the window, a reflection entirely absent from the first photograph.

She must have been taking the image through the window, subtly incorporating herself as an unseen observer within the scene. This quiet, almost haunting revelation speaks volumes about the photographer’s inherent presence, the multiple layers of reality that exist within any given moment, and how we are always, perhaps unknowingly, a part of the spaces we see. It asks us to look, and then to look again, to truly interrogate what we are seeing, to question the surface.

The visual exploration of composition and deliberate choice continues with an image looking over water, a blimp drifting gracefully in the top right corner of the frame. From a pure compositional standpoint, the first image is absolutely perfect, the left-hand side of the frame is taken up mostly by a large building, anchoring the image beautifully and creating a balanced, harmonious vista.

However, when you turn the page to the second shot, the blimp has drifted perceptibly to the left, leaving that side of the image feeling unbalanced and far too busy. This direct comparison is a visceral demonstration of the crucial difference even a momentary shift in time, or a fraction of a second in pressing the shutter, can make. It powerfully reinforces Alena Kotzmannová’s underlying message that “Time and place do not matter” in the traditional documentary sense of strict adherence to sequence or location, but rather that the experience of time and the subtle rupture in moments are precisely what she captures and illuminates.

Kotzmannová’s philosophical approach to photography, her assertion that its fundamental role is to create diversity and challenge people to perceive the world differently, resonates deeply with my own outlook. She explores photography’s multifaceted storytelling value, its inherent ability to deceive, its multiplicity, and its accessibility, always seeking new paths and pushing the boundaries of the medium. Her method of working with her own extensive private archive, incorporating images from different places and time periods to contemporise a theme, reflects a profound understanding of how images speak to each other across the ages, transcending their original context. This echoes my own ongoing struggles in the demanding process of post-production for my own projects, where finding that elusive, perfect combination and sequence of images to truly articulate a deeper, unspoken message often feels like an endless, yet rewarding, puzzle.

What she achieves in ‘Cyclone’ is an unspoken message, a powerful invitation for the viewer’s own perception to complete the story. It is a sophisticated, intellectually stimulating, and emotionally resonant body of work that truly showcases the profound depth that can be explored within the photographic medium when approached with such deliberate intent. Eastern Front has presented this conceptual brilliance beautifully, with a tactile quality to the book that allows the diptych structure to powerfully guide the viewer through Alena Kotzmannová’s intricate dance with time and perception.

Ultimately, ‘Cyclone’ by Alena Kotzmannová is a compelling reminder that the true essence of photography lies not always in dramatic, grand moments, but often in the quiet, subtle shifts, in the very act of seeing and observing with patience. It celebrates the profound artistry of stillness and the immense impact of intentionality. It is a book that will make you look longer, feel more deeply, and truly ponder the elusive nature of the moments we capture, and the profound experiences they subtly leech from our lives.

Regards

Alex