Wednesday, August 10, 2016


This is what passes for great art in our decadent time:
Falling within the snapshot tradition—familiar, ad hoc, a smidgen unfocused—the stills are filled with random details like the Band-Aid on Goldin’s chest in “Buzz and Nan at the Afterhours,” the wadded-up tissue in “Sandra at the Mirror,” or the dirty feet of her “Roommates in Bed.” Many of the pictures still pack a wallop; the stranger sitting next to me held his hands to his head for most of the show. They include photos of women sitting on the toilet (I’ve read there were no doors in the bathroom at Goldin’s loft), men masturbating, a whole sequence of people shooting up heroin, the fresh scar of an ectopic pregnancy above a woman’s shaved crotch.
Move over, Vincent Van Gogh!

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