That’s Never Going To Happen, like Snow in July
Photography by and courtesy of Taryn Segal.
The first time Taryn Segal and I met was across the road from the Church of Scientology headquarters in Los Angeles.
We were in the same city for the first time after being Instagram friends for a year and were trying to land on the perfect spot for our debut IRL hangout. Well aware of our mutual love for the absurd, Taryn suggested meeting at one of the city’s most recognisable and strange landmarks. ‘We’ll meet there but won’t get too close because they’ll try to get us inside,’ she texted me, following up later with, ‘Gonna be like five late, please don’t go inside.’ While I sat across the street on the Lime bike I’d ridden there, and with Taryn’s stern words in mind, I marveled at the building while trying my best to give it little attention, afraid that if I was caught ogling, I’d be lured in, or worse, stuck in a horrible conversation. Taryn arrived on cue five minutes later in a yellow T-shirt that, in bold text, read ‘TRUST ME’, and after we sheepishly walked around the perimeter of the building that radiated an unsettling eeriness, I’m especially glad I did.
Taryn’s latest zine, Snow in July, is a celebration of the absurd oddities seen in day-to-day life whose occurrences are as rare as snow in July. From her friend with pectus excavatum eating Fruit Loops from her sternum divot, to a drawer of taxidermied mice or scenes from the Las Vegas Long Hair Miss Rapunzel Competition, Taryn’s photographs make you reconsider what you thought you once knew.
After release parties at both the Los Angeles and New York City Fucking Awesome stores, Snow in July, published by Pomegranate Press, is out now.
Let’s start by talking about the title, Snow in July. What is its importance to the body of work?
Snow in July is a phrase used to describe something so unlikely that it’ll almost never happen. It’s always stood out to me as a way to describe a very special, superfluous occasion. The thesis of the collection of work is that it's centred on the little oddities we come across in our daily lives, which are special occasions in their own right. Seeing something really strange on the street is as rare as snow in July.
Was there a particular image that set the tone for what Snow in July was going to be? Where you were like, I’m going to base everything on how strange this occurrence in this image is?
No, because that’s already what I mostly focus on in my day-to-day. Most of the work was shot in 2024, with a few photos from this year. There are a lot of highlights from the first time I travelled out of the country. There are a couple of shots in my hometown of Santa Cruz, some in LA, and photos from Croatia and Australia. I wanted to put these images in a home that felt like a really easy palette, where the viewer can get to know me that way.
Did you want the zine to be like an introduction to your work in a way?
I wanted it to be more of a prequel to future bodies of work that I intend to put out. My work has evolved so much in the last two years, largely because I’ve left the country, and my world has literally expanded now. But I still look for the same oddities and bizarre charm everywhere I go.
Was that Australia trip the first time you ever left the country?
No, I went to London, Paris and Croatia in one trip. There are a few photos from that trip in there: the three ladies on the beach I took while in Croatia, and the girl in the butterfly cape is from London.
What was it about going overseas that ignited that shift?
I am fascinated by groups of people who gather because they share something in common. People who live anywhere are all going to be a particular way more or less because of their surroundings and culture. I was seeing a lot of visual inspiration in London because it’s a metropolitan city where everyone speaks English, but the culture and norms are very different, same as in Australia; the people are so different from the States. There is something really fascinating about that.
What draws your eye to these weird oddities?
Because they’re weird oddities, and I have to get a photo of that! It’s something I’m naturally drawn to; if there’s something weird on the street or something in a subway car, I’m intrigued. Those are the things that you’re going to see a lot more of in New York City, which is why I wanted to move here. There are photographers who I admire in other cities and all over the world who capture weird shit and succeed at it. But I like action, I like high energy, and New York is that. I want to step out on the streets and not know what I’m going to run into.
Was your mind blown when you went to New York for the first time?
I had just turned fourteen, was on the eighth-grade DC trip, and knew I had to live there from that moment. Then, when I visited for a month in 2022, a year before I moved here, I was taking photos constantly. I didn’t even realise I was doing street photography; I was just like, of course I’m going to take photos.
I wanted to ask about the cover: what drew you towards that image?
Jesse [Feinman] sent over a few options, and that one felt like the most intriguing. It’s a punched-in photo that’s featured in full in the book of my friend Marika; it’s an outtake from a commercial job we were doing earlier this year. I love the zoom-in; she’s wearing all this jewellery and has these feminine hands. It doesn't feel like this showy, trendy photo of a sword; it’s more like, ‘what is this person doing with a sword?’ And then you open the book, and it’s all just bizarre.
I’ve thought a lot about covers of books and zines that I like, and a lot of the time it comes down to this sense of urgency, danger or confusion, and I think that photo hits the danger and confusion level well. Also, she’s wearing this fur coat, but she’s not showing off the sword; it’s like she’s proud to have the sword, as if it’s her pride and joy.
She is. It’s her sword, and she’s really proud to own it.
To wrap this up, I wanted to ask about the Taxidermist photo. I remember you telling me that it was a part of a series you shot but never got to run. Can you talk a bit about it? To me, it really encapsulates the weirdness of Snow in July.
So, I found this taxidermist woman because there was a magazine that was having an issue about controversy. I didn’t get it in time, so I kept it as personal work. I was trying to think of things that were controversial but not politically motivated. I was thinking about how some people want to be cremated, and cremation really freaks me out. It’s shocking to me when people want to be cremated, which is controversial to me. Then my next train of thought was people who bury their pets versus cremate them, or what about people who stuff their pets. I found Amber, a taxidermist who works Upstate. She does a lot of hunting pieces for people, lots of birds and mice, and the mice are typically gifts. There were so many photos I wanted to put in the zine, and we landed on that one because it was more object-focused, where it was like, here is a drawer of mice.
The tail is crazy, seeing it just stick out under her thumb.
It’s a real ‘Oh my god, you have a drawer of taxidermied mice! Of course you do’ moment. She had a bag of birds that she uses for students when she teaches courses. There was a photo of her holding a taxidermied possum, and she’s also covered in tattoos, so the juxtaposition of that is cool. I’m really excited to put all the photos out.
