blog

MEMBER SIGN-IN

We're sorry, we can't find the username and password combination you've submitted. Please try resubmitting your information. Please note, username and password are not case sensitive.

Not a Style.com member? Join now, it's free and easy.

USERNAME PASSWORD

Remember me next time

forgot Sign-In Information?

submit

NOT A MEMBER?

Join Style.com to get full access to our special features and community. It's fast and free.

join now

JOIN NOW

We're sorry, but we could not accept your request. Incomplete/incorrect fields are highlighted in the form below with a ! symbol. Please fill out these fields and click submit.

To access this feature, fill in the fields below and click "Submit." To get full access to Style.com's special features and community, join now

USERNAME

PASSWORD

E-MAIL ADDRESS

CONFIRM PASSWORD

Please send me occasional e-mail updates about new features and special offers from Style.com.

Yes No

I understand and agree that registration on or use of this site constitutes agreement to its User Agreement, Privacy Policy, and Mobile Terms and Conditions.

SUBMIT

our town

May 2, 2008 1:10 pm

Gc1

Gregory Crewdson, whose stylized, surrealist stills have become contemporary classics, photographs memories of things that never happened. His latest exhibit, which opens on May 4 at White Cube’s Mason’s Yard space in London, is a series of shots of a snowy, sleepy Massachusetts town. As usual, the images are rife with uneasy subtexts and unresolved issues: The otherworldly glow from a TV set, a glimmer of light on a patch of muddy snow, and the reason why a man is pushing a shopping cart up a dreary road remain unexplained. In this new snowbound setting, these pivotal moments remain forever frozen in their strangeness.

—Ana Finel Honigman

Gregory Crewdson, courtesy of White Cube

tags: