{"id":182568,"date":"2023-01-01T16:05:00","date_gmt":"2023-01-01T21:05:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/esse.ca\/compte-rendu\/wolfgang-tillmansto-look-without-fear\/"},"modified":"2023-01-31T11:37:58","modified_gmt":"2023-01-31T16:37:58","slug":"wolfgang-tillmansto-look-without-fear","status":"publish","type":"compte-rendu","link":"https:\/\/esse.ca\/en\/reviews\/wolfgang-tillmansto-look-without-fear\/","title":{"rendered":"Wolfgang Tillmans To look without fear<\/em>"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
Bjork\u2019s \u201cIt\u2019s Oh So Quiet\u201d and Coolio\u2019s \u201cGangsta\u2019s Paradise\u201d were playing back to back on the radio. The first season of Friend<\/em>s was on TV. O. J. Simpson was declared \u201cnot guilty.\u201d It was 1995, the year Wolfgang Tillmans\u2019s first photobook (published by Taschen) hit the shelves. It caught my attention as I was browsing in a bookshop in Milan; the front cover featuring the now-iconic Suzanne & Lutz, white dress, army skirt<\/em> (1993) was intriguing.<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
The image was so fresh, and different\u200a\u2014\u200aa boy wearing a skirt! A closeted gay boy with no gay friends, terrified by the homophobic climate that dominated Italy, I reached for the book with trepidation. I flicked through the first few pages and was instantly captivated: image after image, Tillmans\u2019s photographic eye spoke of the present like nothing I had seen before. It wasn\u2019t just the occasional shot of a naked hot boy that piqued my interest, although I appreciated the inclusion. The composition, colours, cropping, characters, the still lifes: every genre I had studied in mostly tedious art history classes was effortlessly stripped of its conventional mystique and reinvented for the 1990s. The energy, irreverence, and optimism. It was the perfect mix of classical and punk. Page after page, the book revealed the existence of a youth culture that I dreamed of but never knew really existed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I bought it right way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I walked back home, in the pouring rain, feeling equally giddy and apprehensive. A door had been opened. For months, as I was in search of my adult self, Tillmans\u2019s images gave me strength and courage. Through my darkest days of late-adolescent uncertainty, his photographs reminded me that somewhere, certainly elsewhere, a freer life could be possible. His photographs saved me. Not long after, I left for London, searching for freedom and finding a life that often, especially late at night or in the hangover mornings after non-stop clubbing, roughly resembled the photographs in Tillmans\u2019s book. But more importantly, I also met many friends who, like me, knew the book inside out and for whom it had been just as life-defining.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Given the importance Tillmans\u2019s work has played in my life, this is perhaps the hardest review I have ever had to write. The vast majority of the photographs on show at MoMA are like old friends. Seeing them blown up large stirs memories and emotions that go well beyond the appreciation of photographs in an artistic context\u2026 or does it? As I wander through the galleries, I think of Roland Barthes\u2019s Camera Lucida<\/em>, and especially the moment when he discusses the image of his mother, Henriette, aged five\u200a\u2014\u200aa photograph that, unlike the others he examined, is deliberately not shown in the book. Barthes\u2019s analytical pragmatism crumbles in front of the undeniable emotional stirrings that only this one photograph could trigger. A stranger would see simply a picture of a five-year-old girl. Cute, perhaps. Maybe even endearing\u200a\u2014\u200aa period piece\u200a\u2014\u200abut nothing more.<\/p>\n\n\n\n