Reuben Radding’s “Heavenly Arms,” published by Red Hook Editions, is a book that resists easy categorization. It’s a collection born from a decade of wandering city streets, a search for what Radding calls “the musicality of American life, the scent of human connection and conflict.” And in its sprawling, often enigmatic tapestry of images, it achieves precisely that. This isn’t a book that offers neat narratives or tidy conclusions; instead, it invites the viewer to surrender to the flow, to navigate the currents of subjective memory and association that ebb and flow between day and night.

My own introduction to “Heavenly Arms” was one of intrigue tinged with a delicious sense of disorientation. Accustomed as I am to photobooks with a clearly defined thematic spine, a cohesive narrative arc, Radding’s approach felt refreshingly, almost defiantly, different. It’s a book that embraces the fragmentary, the ambiguous, the unanswerable. And in doing so, it mirrors the very nature of street photography itself, that art of capturing fleeting moments of urban existence, often without context, leaving the viewer to piece together their own interpretations.

Radding’s own words, included in the book, offer a crucial entry point. He speaks of a childhood Polaroid, a fabricated moment of joy captured at his father’s insistence, and how this image sparked a lifelong fascination with the complex relationship between appearance and reality in photography. “The photograph is a lie, and the photograph is the truth,” he muses, a sentiment that echoes throughout “Heavenly Arms.” These images are “truthful” records of what the camera saw, but their meaning is not fixed; it is fluid, shaped by the viewer’s own experiences and desires.

This notion of subjective interpretation is key to understanding Radding’s work. He isn’t interested in storytelling in the conventional sense. He’s not providing captions or explanations to guide our reading of the images. Instead, he presents us with a series of visual fragments, moments snatched from the chaos of urban life, and trusts us to find our own connections, our own narratives within them.

And what fragments they are. there are a few that particularly struck me, and they remain vivid in my mind. That image of the woman outside Tony’s Di Napoli restaurant, her long jacket thrown open to reveal bare skin, tattoos, and a defiant pose, is a perfect example of Radding’s ability to capture the unexpected, the provocative. It’s a photograph that demands questions. Was this a staged encounter, a carefully orchestrated performance? Or a spontaneous moment of rebellion, of self-assertion? What is she thinking, what is her story? Radding offers no answers, leaving us to grapple with our own assumptions and interpretations.

Then there’s the haunting image of the young boy, his face painted, a toy gun in his hand, dressed in a kilt amidst what appears to be the aftermath of a parade. It’s a photograph that speaks to the complexities of identity, of performance, of the blurring lines between childhood innocence and adult constructs. The boy’s gaze is at something out of shot we don’t get to see.

And that surreal tableau in the woods – the deflated mannequin against a tree, the male figure fleeing with another doll – is a moment of pure visual poetry, evocative and unsettling in equal measure. It’s a scene that could be plucked from a dream, a fragment of a half-remembered story.

These are just a few examples of the rich and varied imagery that populates “Heavenly Arms.” Radding’s eye is drawn to the odd, the unexpected, the moments that disrupt the everyday flow of urban life. He captures the beauty and the ugliness, the joy and the sorrow, the connection and the alienation that coexist within the city’s embrace.

The book is beautifully produced, the black and white tones rich and nuanced, enhancing the often-gritty realism of the images. The sequencing feels intuitive, guiding the viewer through a series of emotional and visual shifts, from moments of quiet contemplation to bursts of frenetic energy.

Throughout “Heavenly Arms,” there’s a sense of restless energy, a feeling of constant searching. Radding is a wanderer, a flaneur with a camera, drawn to the pulse of the city, to the ebb and flow of human interaction. He’s not afraid to get close, to immerse himself in the chaos, to capture the raw and unfiltered reality of life unfolding on the streets.

The quote from Max Beckmann, which Radding includes in the book, feels particularly apt: “Rather than lose our way in dry theorizing about the unattainable, wouldn’t it be better to take a walk, and experience once again that youthful new dream of the Earth?” “Heavenly Arms” is a testament to the power of observation, to the importance of simply being present and open to the world around us.

Radding’s own reflections on his photographic practice, included in the book’s afterword, provide further insight into his artistic vision. He speaks of his desire to capture “human connection,” the ways we seek it, celebrate it, yearn for it, and reject it. He acknowledges the inherent ambiguity of his images, their reliance on the viewer’s interpretation, and embraces the “not knowing” that is an integral part of the creative process.

In the end, “Heavenly Arms” is a book that stays with you. It’s a collection of images that linger in the mind, prompting questions and sparking new ways of seeing the world. It’s a reminder that beauty and meaning can be found in the most unexpected places, if only we are willing to open our eyes and surrender to the unfolding rhythm of life. Reuben Radding has given us a book that is both challenging and rewarding, a testament to the enduring power of street photography to capture the essence of the human condition.

Regards

Alex