The New Yorker, review by Hilton Als
2025
Stan Douglas is a powerful, one-of-a-kind artist who doesn’t declare his importance through flash or by making press-ready declarations about how to look at his various films and photographs through the lens of autobiography. Instead, he digs deeply through and around images that speak volumes about the poignancy of being, especially as history disappears us. Born in Vancouver, where he still lives and works, the now sixty-four-year-old master has dedicated his working life to making art about the experience of storytelling—all those stories, as Joan Didion once said, we tell ourselves in order to live.