Kyle Berger’s photographs are like the glitch in your mid-western dream—familiar landscapes disrupted by surreal inserts that twist the sense of “normal” until it warps beautifully. Raised under the flicker of strip mall signs in suburban Canada, Berger layers suburban ephemera—golden arches, crows, carnivorous snacks—into scenes that feel both hyperreal and dream-tinted.
In series like If There Was Money on the Ground Someone Would Have Already Found It, Berger stitches together commercial symbols, wildlife, and religious or patriotic iconography, daring us to question how trust, image, and satire collide. It’s in that collision where the “aha” moment lands: that strange tension where entertainment meets skepticism. Berger calls this his version of the post-truth era, a visual wink at how swiping can deaden surprise—and how absurdity still finds cracks to seep through.
Berger champions the still image not by freezing time, but by bending reality. His process marries point-and-shoot spontaneity with the precision of studio still life—props, lighting, meticulous post-production. Every detail feels deliberate yet tongue-in-cheek, inviting both confusion and delight. He reveals his working methods in behind-the-scenes posts and playful interviews, showing that making surreal can be as joyful as the result.


