Written by Katie Grierson

Edited by Hillary Mitchell

Once again looking out the windows from his New York City apartment, Arne Svenson’s new series of photographs is titled “A Beautiful Day” and captures passersby on the streets below him during the first waves of the Covid-19 lockdowns. These works follow his famed series “The Neighbors” in which Svenson documented the movements of his neighbors through their windows. The voyeurist series would garner him acclaim, and an unfortunate lawsuit. Speaking to Musee Magazine’s Founder and Editor in Chief Andrea Blanch in 2014 about the photos, Svenson stated that his work on “The Neighbors'' began when, as he quotes, “realized what I was seeing was life at its most basic, which can be life at its most beautiful.”

“A Beautiful Day” was born similarly, isolation making this photography necessary for him. While “The Neighbors” and “A Beautiful Day” are comparable in many ways–both taken without the subject’s knowledge, with the purpose of keeping the people photographed anonymous and exploring universal truths through human figures–“A Beautiful Day” feels more ironic, emotional, and aware of the distance between Svenson and his subjects. No longer shot through unassuming neighbor’s windows, the series does lose the unique framing that the windows offered and that was indicative of those photographs; instead, we are presented with something closer to street photography–candid and longing.

We’re heavily aware of the Covid-19 pandemic throughout the series. In No. 27, a kid is sauntering in the sun, body contorting; you can imagine him skipping. In the foreground, a masked man stands shrouded in the shade. The contrast is undeniable and speaks to the reality of our lives then, and now. No. 29 shows a masked worker surrounded by plastic trash bags. In No. 5, a lady looks out a car window, bundled, a blue mask peeking over her scarf, only her eyes and forehead visible. Throughout these photos is a feeling of mourning, of anger, of distance. Svenson’s decision to zoom in and stay in his apartment is more meaningful, and how he ached to take these photos cuts to our core. We are both the passersby and Svenson, both hoping for connection, both too far away.

Capturing people honestly and letting us explore ourselves through their likeness, which has always been Svenson’s goal, succeeds here. The photos are interesting, complex, and have a narrative story trapped in each one. A man is mounting his bike in No. 10 of the series, only his boot and the bright yellow curves of the wheel shown, and yet we can’t help but wonder where he’s going and what he looks like, whether we know him or not. A master of timing, the people remained obscured, and in images like No. 2 and No. 16, the intentionality of this is undeniable. The cropping is also specific–narrow images ensuring a single moment is captured and not an overwhelming scene.

Almost acting like the Everyman, the subjects of these images let us step inside them, live there, and discover truth and humanity. A simple moment becomes wondrous in the lens of Svenson’s camera.

The exhibition will be on view online and in-person at the Robert Klein Gallery in Boston, MA from January 15 to March 19, 2022.