i’m cataloging “The Waiting Game” by Txema Salvans.
It is so very beautiful.
Addendum: this book is beautiful and sad and interesting, but I have a couple of squeamish feelings about it…
1. both intro essays are by men. Not that they can’t speak eloquently and compassionately about prostitution, but I feel a woman’s voice would have lent another view. Martin Parr discusses the artist and his method of photography. John Carlin wonders about the prostitutes themselves, but in a sort of voyeur way. He asks questions, but doesn’t explore where the questions come from.
2. In Martin Parr’s intro essay he notes that Salvans “employed a cunning deception to help him get access to his models” because the prostitutes were not cool with being photographed. I appreciate that these images expose a profession we might not otherwise be able to see, but I am uncomfortable with the devious way he went about getting the photographs. I know that most street photography is taken surreptitiously, but I’m starting to question this. As a woman, I would be very upset finding a random photo of myself on an artists’ website or in a book. I have no control over the context or my own image. Upon reflection, this body of work seems exploitative. He could have paid for their images, but maybe Salvans didn’t want to feel like a john…
More to think about.
Talk to me Tumblr.