JONI STERNBACH

Joni Sternbach, 16.02.20 #1 Thea+Maxwell, Unique Tintype, Santa Cruz, CA 2016. 

Afterimage by Christiane Pratsch Monarchi:

The image that captivates me is a tintype by Joni Sternbach, which won second place in the Taylor Wessing Photography Portrait Prize in 2016 out of over 4,300 entries. The image itself is fascinating because it combines a traditional photographic process with a contemporary subject. It features a young surfer couple, exuding relaxation, poise, and trust—qualities that elevate them into monumental representations of virility and youth. The composition is emotionally charged, evoking different narratives: perhaps they are returning from surfing or heading out to the sea, deeply in love, or simply enjoying the beauty of their bodies and the moment.

Growing up in America on the Gulf of Mexico, there was no surfing where I lived—just underage drinking and cars driving in circles. I always longed for that surf culture but didn’t experience it until much later in life. In my 40s, I learned to surf with my kids and husband in North England, and I’ll continue to do so for the rest of my life. There’s something incredibly special about surfing that has always drawn me in, and it connects deeply to my personal memories.

What fascinated me about the image was learning that Joni wasn’t a surfer herself. She initially began photographing the sea because of her interest in water and its environmental significance. She had no intention of photographing surfers, but eventually, she was drawn to them. Her tintype process, which was such a spectacle on the beach, led her to engage with surfers and over time, she developed a connection with them, photographing them in a way that speaks to both the vulnerability and strength of their characters. The trust and relaxation they exhibited in front of her camera transformed them into monumental figures, full of gravitas. The tintype process itself—so different from digital photography—adds to the timeless, object-like quality of the image. It’s a piece of art that will endure, much like the surfboards she photographs, which have their own monumental significance.

Making a tintype is an amazing process. I did it once in a workshop, and it’s highly controlled. The process is meticulous—you coat the plate, handle it with care, and expose it to just the right light. It requires a very specific environment, which makes Joni’s work even more impressive. She’s out there on the beach, doing something that typically requires a controlled setting, and that adds a level of fragility to her work. The wind, the elements—all of that interference creates beautiful imperfections in the final images, which I find fascinating. Joni’s ability to do all this on the beach, with such an unstable process, adds another layer of complexity and beauty to her work.

The beauty of Joni’s work lies in the diverse subjects she captures. Some of her other images feature older surfers or women with different body types, showing that surf culture isn’t just about the typical image of young, athletic individuals. There’s something timeless and humanizing in the way she captures people from all walks of life. The image I selected might be more traditional, featuring a young, blonde, athletic couple, but it’s the one that I couldn’t stop staring at. It’s a fabulous piece.

This image also seems to capture a specific moment in time—a snapshot from before things changed. It was taken in 2016; since then I’m not sure how Santa Cruz has been affected by wildfires but it's such a difficult time. Despite the challenges they face, these people are still going out to surf, living their way of life. It’s a time capsule, a reminder of a different era, and that’s something I find incredibly poignant. It’s not just about the photograph itself, but about the process and the environment in which it’s made. It’s also a beautiful portrait of a culture that is not just about surfing, but about a way of life.

Afterimage is an ekphrastic series about that one image you see when you close your eyes, the one still lingering in your mind. We invite artists and writers to reflect on an image they can't shake. This column has been a part of Objektiv since our very first issue in 2010.