I do not know that much about Hatleberg’s work. I did get a copy of his last book, River’s Dream, as I had missed out on Lost Coast, his first book with eminent American publishers TBW Books. My surface reading of River’s Dream suggested a post-Soth investigation of American topography. I was reminded of Doug Dubois, Alec Soth, Kristine Potter, and Matt Eich, amongst others. What was different from the other artists I mentioned is that I believe it pivoted more toward an idea of spirit, not spirituality, through the pictures for clarity. There is a deep yearning for transcendence in the work, as far as I can tell. The lucid use of golden light and photographs of people communing is offset by representations of America, through snakes and crushed cars, that seem to serve as metaphors for the country and its outlook. There is, like Soth’s penultimate book, A Pound of Pictures, a feeling of melancholy in this work as well.
Thus, by invoking a term like spirit, I am suggesting, by way of interpretive transcendence, a process of looking inward for answers along the landscape of a country deeply in decline, whose themes of manifest destiny and pervasive Christian zealotry, awake in its politics, are being tested at the moment. There has been a retrenching of American values over the past decade. The nation is trying to untie its dark history (still), while operating under the lash of a fierce political divide, and I believe this is reflected in River’s Dream and now Blood Green, Hatleberg’s latest book with TBW.
What Richard Prince has evoked by casting doubt on American consumer culture and masculinity can be found in the work of Hatleberg, and I dare say that it even begins to address the vaunted topic of class within the American socialscape. Again, this is a surface reading, and I suspect other broader themes about geography also accompany this, and, as in the work of Matt Eich, also discuss race and class. Above, I suggest Kristine Potter in relation to the nascent Southern Gothic feeling embedded in her books Dark Waters and Manifest. There are shadows cast from the long line of disjointed American history in both artists’ work with themes of God’s country, and the echo of the indigenous genocide that is a continually evaded topic, with more prominent awareness given over to America’s most consistent ghost, that of slavery.
Whereas these themes are only tangential in my mind while reflecting on the work, I would gather they are likely present in the author’s thinking as well. How can they not be in 2025? In terms of spirit, I can only suggest that Hatleberg, like many of us, are scaling the surface of such a colossal edifice and doing our best to usurp the gravity of history’s wretched ghosts by communing with people in the present, by finding a reciprocity of feeling in making images very low to the ground, licensing not our individual desire for acknowledgement, but doing what photography does best, which is to present a feeling or a reltable, if non-absolute distribution of meaning.
There is also a symbolic dimension to the use of snakes in Hatleberg’s work. Though I have made notes about the plethora of snake-infused photobooks over the years, Blood Green is pushing, like Robert LeBlanc’s Gloryland, the symbolism unrepentently (yep), and in this, I feel that it is a symbolic overture that actually flows within the whole of both books mentioned, therefore absconding it from the cheap thrill one-snake shot in many other books. If you got a snake in yer book, I ain’t mad, just sayin’ maybe get 3-4 more. The ouroboros motif, found as a blindstamp in the corner of the book, intones a further spiritual reading of the material, with esoteric themes of return, and the reconciliation of the material/spiritual universe is a question of transcendental order in relation to the physical and political ailments of America today. In terms of Hatleberg’s use of the snake, his previous book, of which this seems to be a kind of outtake book, also had one of the better boa in the bathtub photographs that I have seen.
I spent a decent amount of time with River’s Dream. I very much enjoyed and think in many ways, those pictures constitute a more formal approach to large-format photography, even when doubles occurred throughout the book. In Blood Green, there is something slightly less static, and I feel a little bit like I’ve struck a note in the green everglade inferno. There is a feeling of in-between here that is found in the other book, but I feel somehow these images are slightly looser and I dig that vibe. I see it as a perfect add-on to the previous book. Still, I also kind of dig this as a separate volume, one that gets into the sinew of things, shakes the blood clot loose a little bit, and feels more about the subject than about the photography itself, which in both cases is really exceptional.
This book, oddly, feels, though thinner, slightly more resolved. Perhaps that is, and this is only a guess, that in it being an afterthought or addendum, with two proven books in the can, something the team could engage in with a bit more fun, less worry about the sophomore slump (which did not happen, obvs) and in this, were allowed some wiggle room to get a bit more evil. That is slightly tongue-in-cheek, but I certainly think the air is thicker down here. I feel a little bit more like I am swatting large mosquitoes away while trying to keep my fingers from the alligator snapping turtle or croc’s mouth. In short, I feel slightly more enveloped.
Overall, I feel most drawn to this of the two I am familiar with, but I guess it is sort of like volume 2b from what I am sure will eventually be a whole trilogy. I do not see this as a full third volume, given that the press release even discusses the material was culled from the same trove of images that brought us River’s Dream. I could be wrong. I think this is perfectly fine as a third volume, but I get the sense it’s not considered the same way as the other two, which, honestly, as noted above, might have led me to liking this one even more. Hatleberg is obviously a tremendous talent, and I get the sense that, and this is kind of conjecture, that he holds back a little bit, and with this book, there is a feeling of letting go. I would love to see the beast unleashed again in the future.
It should also not be lost on anybody how fucking good TBW Books are getting with their releases. They are in that sweet spot right now where they are taking chances and making lasting books. This is a crucial stage of things, as their contemporaries, whom I amn’t going to name, have decided to embrace volume and up their output rather than push things into a new realm of possibility. Books by Christian Patterson, Mark McKnight, and Hatleberg emphasize this, amongst other titles. I hope they continue this mode of thinking. The game is challenging right now. When we see loads of dreck being dumped into the publishing sphere, it’s pretty clear to me that TBW will stand out in retrospect. I see it now, but I think it will be even more essential over time. Great collaborations are forming under the TBW helm, and this is a perfect example of a good relationship with an excellent artist and visionary publisher pushing the needle forward. Get it!