Dimitri Karakostas is a pretty damned sweet discovery for me. I have a huge weakness for those photographers - of which there are many - whose work is of the candid, 'snapper' sensibility where the images feel like loosened, stolen impulses from life. We don't know how much is constructed, how much is a genuine captured moment - but what exists in the frame is a moment of energy or intimacy that no other art can capture. There are lots of imitators whose work echoes that of artists like Ed Templeton who seem to have carved the path through this world - all pashes and skateboards and parties and moments of self captured eroticism and intimacy; and there are thousands of blogs of photographers chronicling their lives in this way. It can get overwhelming. But the beautiful thing is that when it works, and the eye and the sensibility is genuine, it commands your eye and your heart and you get that quickening of the pulse that is unavoidable given the energy that spills from the image. Karakostas is one of those where, for me, the intimacy and lightness just works. Don't ask me why. But it does.
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