–   PHOTOGRAPH | by Vince Aletti (2010)

So Alone I keep the Wolves at Bay (Pau Wau Publications), the latest in Andreas Laszlo Konrath’s empathetic tributes to disaffected youth, nods to both Larry Clark and Jim Goldberg without imitating either. (Konrath’s two previous booklets, J.O.E. and Made in Brooklyn, are also worth searching out.)

–    THE NEW YORKER PHOTO BOOTH “ANDREAS LASZLO KONRATH: PUNKS AND MODELS” | By Maria Lokke (2011)

“Without my background in skateboarding or music, I certainly wouldn’t be a photographer,” Andreas Laszlo Konrath told me. Konrath is perhaps best known for his work documenting the high-end fashion circuit but got his start photographing his fellow punks and skaters. His transition into editorial photography began after his “My Generation” project, a series of stark black-and-white portraits of his peers, was picked up by Interview magazine. In 2008, he was included on PDN’s “30” list of emerging photographers. “I suppose from there it kind of snowballed,” he said.
This week’s issue includes Konrath’s photograph of Nina Arianda, for John Lahr’s profile of the up-and-coming actress. “Arianda could be fun and playful, but serious and strong, all within a breath,” he said. Konrath has a similarly impressive range.

–    BIOGRAPHY | By Charlotte Cotton (2015)

Andreas Laszlo Konrath brings his authentic and material relationship with photography to bear in his portrait and fashion assignments. Calling forth the rich heritage of photography and film’s experimental history, Konrath creates visual encounters with his subjects that are enduring and authentic.
His images appear in magazines including Holiday, Man About Town, New York Magazine, Variety, Vibe, W, as well as in advertising campaigns and special projects for Pierre Balmain, Rag & Bone, and the Toronto International Film Festival. Andreas Laszlo Konrath has photographed iconic cultural figures including Christian Bale, Josh Brolin, David Byrne, Bryan Cranston, James Franco, Debbie Harry, Ewan McGregor, Sam Rockwell, Jerry Seinfeld, Patti Smith, Kanye and new creative talents including Lil Buck, Devonte Hynes, Ezra Miller, Willy Moon, Dylan Rieder, Gabourey Sidibe and Liu Wen.              
Andreas Laszlo Konrath’s deep capacity for subjective visual storytelling underpins his commissioned and independent short films, which carry his evocative aesthetic. Konrath is also a leading creator of zines including J.O.E., Made in Brooklyn, If the Kids are United and Anthony No Name At Gmail Dot Com.
He is the co-founder of Pau Wau Publications with designer Brian Paul Lamotte.

–   BULLETT “WHY IS ANDREAS LASZLO KONRATH TEACHING KIDS TO MAKE ZINES?”| by Anthony Pappalardo (2015)

Two blocks from his studio in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, photographer and zinemaker Andreas Laszlo Konrath is explaining to a group of kids as young as 13 about zine culture. Konrath likens the renewed interest in zine culture to that of the largely romanticized vinyl resurgence. Both are cultures that never fully disappeared, but rather chugged away as people became fixated on CDs, digital cameras, and online publications. Romanticized trend pieces of zine fairs aside, there’s something earnest about zines that drives people to want more than pixels. “If you make 50 copies of a zine of your photography, only 50 people in the world can own it,” says Konrath. “There’s something about limiting something, that makes it feel really special and exclusive. It makes you feel a part of a culture that isn’t accessible, but it’s also about just having fun and engaging.”
In 2008, Konrath headed past the Brooklyn Queens Expressway with his friend Brian Paul Lamotte to a Staples on Morgan Avenue, where they began putting together their first publication. What people don’t realize is that, like recording a song, creating a zine is subject to the equipment it’s being produced with. It’s not about running an image through some fake-artsy filter and posting it to Instagram, but actually having an interaction with the surroundings and finding charm in limitations of the machines used to create a zine. “There’s an integrity that belongs to that specific location and your experience with that machine,” he says of the original experiments on the clunky copy machines.“There was a copier there that worked differently than all the others – it becomes an inherent part of that production. That’s what separates this culture from online culture.”
Together the pair founded Pau Wau Publications, in 2008, a limited-run zine press that’s worked with notable image makers such as Ari Marcopoulos, Richard Kern, Peter Sutherland, and Andrew Kuo. Save the presence of pro skater Quim Cardona, the workshop produced by The Converse CONS Project at Windmill Studios was filled with novices, learning the virtues of glue sticks, staplers, scanners, and manipulating Polaroid pictures, before running them through a copy machine and collating them into a zine. Both Lamotte and Konrath became aware of zines in the late – ‘80s, through punk rock and skateboarding, at a time when they were the primary source of communication for subcultures. Ordering a zine through the mail was more than commerce — the authors became your pen pals. After publishing my first hardcore zine in 1992 the landline at my parent’s house would occasionally ring with some other landlocked teenager wanting to talk 7”s or hype up his band, only because I printed the number in the masthead.
So what’s the point of passing down a seemingly dead format to a younger generation? Konrath isn’t a luddite, living off the grid, but rather someone who understands the inherent power of print, rather than scrolling solemnly on a screen. “Friendships can be built on this. So many people we’ve met in the past five or six years, has been through making zines,” he says. “The zine traditionally was always a tool of communication. The fact that it’s a tangible, physical object, is the most important factor. They can be touched, smelled; it’s a sensory experience that you can’t get online.”

–    EMMAZED INTERVIEW (Intro)| By Mahmoud Mfinanga (2017)

Driven by the desire to interact with surrounding communities, Andreas Laszlo Konrath nourishes his work with awareness, honesty, and personality. Andreas, a British photographer and co-founder of Pau Wau Publications, utilises these ingredients to mold photos that celebrate the ability to engage with people. For him, it’s not about who he’s shooting, but his response to what he’s shooting. Is it something that ignites his curiosity? Is it something that challenges his creativity? And is it something that strengthens his relationship with photography?

–    COLLECTOR DAILY | By Olga Yatskevich (2017)

The Brooklyn-based publisher Pau Wau Publications is a small independent imprint consciously experimenting with the book format, its physicality, and its form. The innovative publishing house is run by the photographer Andreas Laszlo Konrath and the designer Brian Paul Lamotte, and their publications are usually printed in small editions and often made by hand, produced in close collaboration with artists and with meticulous attention to detail. 
Among their recent titles are Infinite Power by David Brandon Geeting, the accordion-fold book Nassau Avenue by Daniel Arnold, and the risograph artist book Masks by Luke Barber-Smith, just to name few, and Pau Wau’s Zine Time vending machine installation was featured at MoMA’s Ocean of Images: New Photography 2015 exhibition. With their constant push to try new approaches (in everything from printing techniques and paper texture to binding) and to collaborate with both established and emerging artists, Pau Wau is one of the publishers setting the bookmaking scene in New York, if not beyond.
One of Pau Wau’s most recent publications is entitled Tupsu (V1), with photographs by Konrath and design by Lamotte. The first thing that immediately stands out about this thin photo book is its fluorescent orange/red cover (it is also a sticker), with a nearly full spread headshot portrait in black and white printed over it. Once inside, the stapled pages are filled with black and white images printed on high-quality metallic paper. This bold combination of an ultra-bright cover matched with shiny silver pages is daring and exciting. Konrath and Lamotte have eagerly experimented with the physicality of the images and the post-production process here, finding the most fitting combination for this particular project. The original prints were first scanned, then duplicated, then re-scanned and printed again (the colophon on the back cover lists full model details for all the equipment used in the process). This approach ensures that the resulting images have the same aesthetic feel, regardless of whether the originals were in color or black and white, with the distortion caused by the multiple layers of processing adding texture and incremental visual noise. The credit text appears on the back cover in a large font taking up the full spread, ultimately creating a thrilling graphic presence; otherwise there is no typical intrusion of page numbers or captions. The photographs collected in Tupsu were taken during a period of a few years. The narrative is focused on a young Finnish man (Tupsu is his name), and his portrait appears prominently on the cover. As the narrative unfolds, full-bleed photographs with a small border alternate with half cut pages, creating unexpected overlaps and interventions. The images on shorter pages are more dynamic, varying in their size, number, and layout, and bringing a sense of cinematic movement to the visual flow. Growing up in England, skate culture was a substantial part of Konrath’s life, and it still remains his biggest inspiration. 
Tupsu represents a composite portrait of the rhythms of that community. Most of the photographs are rather quiet and intimate – various portraits of Tupsu caught deep in his thoughts, friends chatting on stairs between skating sessions, a shot of Tupsu eating, friends jumping in the river. One spread shows a close-up portrait of a young man with his hand behind his head; four small horizontal images on a nearby strip show him from the back as he drives a car. Another selection features a full spread photograph on the right capturing a man skateboarding on an avenue, while the half page in the middle contains a small vertical photo of the same skateboarder at a different location. This kind of stuttering layout creates an exciting back-and-forth flow. An image of person’s spread hands, almost whited out by the flash, and a profile portrait of a man looking down are juxtaposed in another spread; both images are rather dark, while the shorter page in the middle is brighter and features one image on each side. One of the last images shows Tupsu looking straight back at the camera, relaxed and smiling; the forest behind him reinforces the calm atmosphere.
While we never get to know much about his life, Tupsu’s personality and character come forth with quiet intimacy. In the end, Tupsu’s elegant design and risk-taking production create a strong connection between the visual and the physical. The photo book’s overt physicality creates a very personal and tactile experience, while the cinematic visual flow adds rebellious dynamism to the otherwise serene photographs. As the title hints, Tupsu seems to be the first volume in a series, so it will be exciting to see where Konrath and Lamotte take this project next.

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