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Minus Thirty by Angela Boehm



When we were kids, we hated things our sisters did

Backyard summer pools and Christmases were beautiful

And the sentiment of coloured mirrored ornaments

And the open drapes

Look out on frozen farmhouse landscapes.


Have you forgotten how to love yourself?”


Have You Forgotten - Mark Kozelek 





Some days it seemed a long way back to the house. Endless layers of white distorted distance and the unforgiving temperature elongated time.

On quiet days when the sky was clear from whichever direction she looked, whispers of perfection kissed her eyes and memories of times passed. 

Times when games were played and the laughter of siblings drifted through the air, to be lifted and transported up and away as if by invisible thermal stepladders, into a blue as pristine and clear as Joni’s voice as she sings of heaven’s hexagram’s, Furry’s boney finger and maps of Canada.


Sometimes if the narrative is not explicit then the cinema of the imagery must be acknowledged as inspiration for our own. 

It is easy to put words in the mouths of others when presented with such visual stimulation.



The photography in Angela Boehm’s breathtaking debut monograph Minus Thirty is an evocation of the childhood memories living in the unforgiving landscape of Saskatchewan. A time when the winter temperatures would regularly plunge well below negative thirty degrees Celsius.

With the passing of time and the ongoing changes to our global climate, these almost unthinkable temperatures are becoming less frequent but it was one of the nonnegotiable factors in Boehm’s methodology.

She would only embark on shooting sessions when the mercury dropped to that trigger temperature.


In doing so she has captured living landscapes that hint at a world of dreamscapes and romance whilst simultaneously documenting an environment that is equally harsh and unforgiving.


"My brothers and I Spent countless hours exploring those snow-crusted peaks, faces wrapped in scarves, our eyelashes turning into delicate white sculptures. Over time, the echoes of those winters have softened, fading along with what seems like the severity of winter itself. As winters become milder, the delicate beauty of those moments feels as though it's slipping away."

Angela Boehm



At points through the book a crow moves jaggedly across her frame. 

No solitude or murder here.


Whilst artists such as Michael Kenna or Yoshinori Saito have treated landscapes such as these on the other side of the world as sculpture, their images achieving an almost AI perfection, Boehm allows her subjects to be more than pristine and unattainable, she communicates the unforgiving and wild aspect of this beauty.


Roads washed into their backgrounds. Destinations, perhaps for another day.


A family home seen from a distance, is rendered almost insignificant against the backdrop of mother nature's wintery embrace.

And trees, not poised and aloof but blown and battered and all the more regal for it.

Minus Thirty is certainly about memory and experience. Both personal and global and whether viewed as a love letter to a childhood passed or a warning of decline and devastation at the mercy of climate change, it must surely be acknowledged for what it is. One of the most breathtakingly beautiful books of recent years. 


On this note, a comment regarding its design and printing.

Courtesy of Japanese designer Akiko Wakabayashi, the book is printed on soft uncoated stock and features an open spine binding with simple embossed white chopped boards. It would almost have been a crime to conceal these details, if not for the fact that the jacket itself is such an epic and appropriate image and does exactly what it is designed to do, protect and perhaps just hint at what awaits inside.


A gentle glimpse at the awesome reality of perfection.

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Copyright Robin Titchener 2018

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