A new open-edition print every month.
An ongoing series with 12 new images every year.
Because life got ahead of me and I never got around to launching October's print, so here's two at once. Both prints available at the reduced price through the end of November.
Back when I first moved to Japan, I lived in a quiet neighborhood in an area called Nerima in western Tokyo. About a block from my apartment was a park that consisted entirely of a bamboo grove with a simple path through it. It wasn’t very big, roughly square and only about 30m/100ft on a side. Still, I spent time there nearly every day, especially at night.
In the early hours of the morning, when I was often out walking in lieu of sleeping, this park was a regular stop. In the springtime, when new bamboo shoots were rocketing up at a half a meter per day, the new stalks were alien-looking spears, not yet bearing their branches and leaves.
In the spring of 2017, a couple years after my grandmother died, I was in the grove, looking at these new stalks and thinking of her, thinking about the cycles of life and the value of new growth. The bamboo silhouetted against the dim sky of low clouds suddenly seemed of particular importance, and this photograph was the result.
Wandering around at night, paying attention to the world around you, you notice interesting details everywhere you go. Here, a typical tall apartment block with a variation. One bright light marking the top of the exterior stairs, splashing illumination across the exterior of the building like an abstracted lighthouse.
My response to many (most?) things in life is to go for a walk. This particular evening, I had found myself in a bad, bad mood. If I sat down with that mood, I’d be uncomfortable. If I went to bed, I’d be sleepless.
So instead, I went for a walk.
And my reward for that walk was a number of observations that turned into photographs, including this one.
Original photography by David R Munson. Captured in 2018 in Musashi Ward, Saitama City, Japan.
The images are about 7×9 inches, printed on high-quality 8×10 inch Hahnemühle photo gloss baryta paper using archival inks. This print is part of a project in which I will release a new print in an open edition every month.
I have always preferred to print my work in smaller sizes. Smaller prints are more intimate. They don’t dominate a space, but rather punctuate it and invite you to get closer. You have to get closer to them to examine their contents. This is something I value as both an artist and a collector of art.
Prints ship from San Antonio, Texas, in the United States.
About Dozen Editions
On the first day of each month, a new open-edition print is released in this series. 8×10” prints of B&W images from my personal archives. The images reflect my explorations and wanderings with the camera. They are special to me personally, and I want to share them with you.
Why choose this format? I like small prints and I have always preferred to print my work in smaller sizes. Smaller prints are more intimate. They don’t dominate a space, but rather punctuate it and invite you to get close. You have to do so to examine their contents, and this changes your experience of and relationship with the work. This is something I value as both an artist and a lover of art.
The images are largely but not exclusively taken in Japan.
Dozen Editions are monochrome, printed on Hahnemühle baryta photo gloss paper with archival pigment inks. Orders are filled and shipped by a trusted partner in the United States. Each image is carefully prepared and proofed before release to ensure that my high standards of quality are met, to help ensure your satisfaction with your investment.
About Pricing and Availability
These are open-edition prints. What this means is that they are not limited in number, which allows me to make investing in original artwork more accessible to a wider range of patrons.
Prints are priced at a reduced rate for the first month, then revert to the standard price thereafter.