Emma Gluckman is a Brooklyn-based photographer who tries to capture moments evoking hypnagogia, the transitional sate between wakefulness and sleep. Seductive, grotesque and melancholy, her images twist and mutate, dissociating before your eyes.
“Dissociative behavior, repressed memories, insomnia, the aftermath of assault—all things that come and spin like gumballs in my subconscious while the world around me is muted, like my psyche is wearing earmuffs. I second-guess my memories and scrutinize my body. I try to hush my internal clamor by reaching for my camera. I find ritual catharsis when I arrange objects, bodies and bedrooms; paste, stretch and twist; and take a damn picture so I can stop thinking about it already. Sometimes I shoot spontaneously. Sometimes a found moment beckons an emotion I am unable to articulate. Frequently my images are carefully posed, or temporary installations I’ve documented photographically. I am interested in the notion of a photograph as evidence of a moment, and the moments I’m attempting to transcribe are flashes of my subconscious, the way a hypnogogic brain reassembles images from a wakeful experience to manifest disquieting scenes. Each scene exists in a room in the flesh dollhouse of my body, connected by ethereal hallways.”