I love Jack Pierson’s photos, and his new book from Twin Palms Publishing, entitled Every Single One of Them, has just been released at the start of the summer as every thick, well-oiled, homoerotic tome of fresh photography should be. It’s the perfect by the pool distraction for those of you living out your Fire Island-esque fantasies. I love Pierson’s world because it has a precious brevity to it, like the tag ends of memories we hold on to of flings or relationships. His photography also makes me feel really aware of the passage of time and I wonder about the story behind the photo, something I can’t always say about photographers like Bruce Weber, whose models, though beautiful, are so preened they often have a glassy, unreal quality. Pierson doesn’t get enough attention these days.