2016 — Imagery from Landin's series "Silenzio" appears on the cover of Grace, a title by Natashia Deón - published June 14.
"With her debut novel …Natashia Deón has announced herself beautifully and distinctively. Her emotional range spans several octaves. She writes with her nerves, generating terrific suspense …
— Jennifer Senior. The New York Times.
2013 — Landin's imagery appears on the cover of Magnificence, a title by Lydia Millet - finalist for the Pulitzer Prize - published November 11.
"Warm, moving, funny; Miller's lush prose has you in her thrall from the start." — Jenny Hendrix. Boston Globe.
2013— Nancy Landin (right) shares some conversation with authors Gina Frangello and Rob Roberge. Imagery from Landin's "Nuovo" series is featured on the April 9th debut of Roberge's The Cost of Living.
writing is both drop-dead gorgeous and mind-bendingly smart. The Cost
of Living is an intimate, original, important novel that I'll be recommending
for years to come."
— Cheryl Strayed, best-selling author of "Wild" (Oprah's Book Club selection)
Landin's imagery appeared on two foreign language titles: Jusque dans nos bras by author Alice Zeniter published March 3, 2010 and En La Guarida Del Zorro by Charlotte Link published March 10, 2015.
imagery featured on the September 1, 2011 Random House UK imprint
of Anil's Ghost by
Michael Ondaatje, author of The English Patient
title carries Landin image
“Allison Amend is a gifted storyteller whose view of contempory life is wonderfully acute, original, and surprising”.
—Allison Lurie, author of Women
and Ghosts and The
2005—B&W ANNUAL 2005—Single Image Contest Award
Merit Award Mistero 1
Merit Award Mistero 24
Magazine—February, Issue 23—Cover and Spotlight article
March 12, “Shows To See Now” Artemisia
black-and-white images explore the limits of New Age spirituality and
the significance of symbolic objects —eggs, stars, conch shells—to
the artist’s children.
New Age spirituality, a major tendency in contemporary photography, is brought to one of its limits in Nancy Landin’s twenty-three black-and-white images of her young Eurasian son and daughter posing with symbolic objects, such as cups, conch shells, eggs, candles, sticks and especially five-pointed stars. Landin’s photos are not portraits, but records of significant gestures, such as offerings, libations, salutes and prayerful meditations, from a nonexistent religion. Her children do not assert individuality against the generic meanings that Landin has programmed into her vignettes, but seem willingly to acquiesce in the role of archetypes. In the show’s best image, the only one that breaks with tranquility, Landin’s daughter, wearing a slightly parted white blouse, holds her hand over her breast below a broken starfish resting on her chest.
Reader, “On Exhibit: 20 small stories about Nancy Landin”
|Nancy Landin calls her current series of photographs “Small Stories,” because many of them suggest “magical” tales to her. Her subjects are mysterious and suggestive: some leaves on a wall, a broken window, an indistinct nude in gentle light. The colors are soft, supple, sensual, with none of the glossy assertiveness of much conventional color photography—a result of the unusual process she uses to print them. Read the entire article|
1993—NEWCITY, August 12—“Hearts and Bones” Artemisia Gallery
“Hearts and Bones” silver gelatin portraits of young girls and women. In “Hearts and Bones,” her moving photographic series of funerary statues of women, Nancy Landin “sees the world of women through a lens of unresolved sorrow.” Taken close up, in clear but not sharp black-and-white, Landin’s subjects float in an uncertain zone between flesh and stone. The faces on the statues are reposeful yet deeply expressive of grief. They eternalize mourning. In one remarkable shot, Landin breaks the peace of sadness with a wild Gothic gesture, capturing herself in a graveyard, dressed in black, seizing the back of a stone angel suspended from a cross. Landin’s face wears the same expression of tranquil agony that appears on funerary statues, but she makes sure that she cannot be confused with a piece of sculpture. Does this refusal to identify signal romantic hope or stoical despair? (Michael Weinstein)