American Face Paint Making Out, Philadelphia, PA
TVs Under Tarp, Philadelphia, PA
Christine, Camden, NJ
Pardon Our Dust, Las Vegas, NV
Merry Christmas House, Philadelphia, PA
Ken and Don, Las Vegas, NV
What is it about this book that is so extraordinary? It may be, without exaggeration, one of the most terrific photo books that I have ever seen. It isn't the sort of work that typically holds much interest for me these days - probably a residual effect of graduating from a photography program with a more conceptual (is that even the appropriate term to use anymore?) bent, and the accompanying skepticism of the decisive moment. And yet. There is something about this book that moves me, despite these pre-existing conditions, that makes me want to grab everybody and say, "LOOK AT THIS BOOK", which I don't say very often (and never on the internet), which hopefully says something because it really is something exceptional.
Strauss's edit is expansive, and overwhelmingly inclusive (in fact, my one complaint about the book is that it seems too claustrophobic in some places - there are plenty of images that could have held their own across a two-page spread). Emergent patterns arise across differing geographies: the architecture and attire of checkout lines and their clerks, universal behaviors revealed when being photographed by a stranger, the inevitable tension between the protection and display of possessions. She is unfailingly generous with her context, providing descriptive titles for every photograph, and often pulls the curtain aside with commentary and conversations that continue to tie her to her subjects. These subjects are, all at once, unyielding, indifferent, desperate, defiant, exuberant, weary, courageous.
The images collectively defy categorization or definition, refuses to collapse neatly underneath any project description less broad than the loaded idea of 'America'. Under most circumstances, I would be tempted to dismiss the label as a cop-out, a sloppy evasion - but in this case, there is a balance that asserts itself through the ambition and scope of the book's approach. Strauss miraculously manages to pull the various threads of the story in a dozen different directions, providing a counterpoint to every point, a Jehovah's Witness for a crack addict, a gunshot wound against a newly inked tattoo of devotion. For every figure, a complementary focus on ground. This attentiveness to the latter is the book's saving grace - what propels it from the realm of 'good' to 'extraordinary', what makes the whole worth more than the sum of its parts, and worth looking at, again and again. It's clear that Strauss doesn't see the grim context of this surrounding landscape as static, but as an environment that mirrors its inhabitants' constant transformation from decay to growth (and back again), with all of the suffering and joy that occurs along the way. This empathy can be seen in one of the best images in the book, documenting a graffitied wall with two overlaid messages: "White trash whorse go home", and, "I love you". It's impossible to tell which came first.
Ostensibly, these photographs seem to be about survival. But in the end, Strauss manages to cobble together a compelling look at something similar, but much more elusive: life, with all of its collapsed complications, and how our contradictory impulses towards and against everything are reflected in the spaces that we inhabit - our mantles, billboards, buildings, bodies. The messages on the streets of Strauss's America lay these paradoxes bare: "Everything is not $1.00", "We Love Having You Here", and "Pardon Our Dust". And in the end, after all of the beatings and handstands, scars and sloppy kisses, simply, "We will win".
[Side note: Though you can find all of the images online, it is 100% worth the trouble to locate a hard copy - (something that I wouldn't necessarily say is true of all photo books) - there is an entire other dimension of pleasure in the book's sequencing of images, not to mention Strauss's commentary. Seattlites: you can find it at the Capitol Hill public library, Elliott Bay bookstore, etc. And, of course, on Amazon for criminally cheap, if you want a copy of your own.]
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