A large book which initially missed its mark with me. I found it cold alienating, the women someone were detached and locked into their own worlds. Obviously this is what the artist was trying to capture. But when I bought it, I wanted glamour and the hint of those dark secret worlds which are pursued within the other books which concentrate on photographing women. Here however the paint is revealed. The women are still locked into poses, but gone are the cooing cum shots of yore, the enticement.
Here the women, a variety of famous faces from various arts, look bereft forlorn, abandoned, morose, intense - some of which verges on the much castigated "heroin chic" but after having worked with people in the fashion business - says something about the world they inhabit. Whilst the pictures neatly composed in her previous work, depict the brash glamour - these dig into the mire and show the flip side. The women then reveal the truth behind the facade, or at least one truth. Can it all really be as morose as this?
Certainly it can be, this is a huge problem, when you "arrive," constantly caught in the whirl, playing the part, garners more attention, fame and wealth, but also increasingly problems with an elusive self as R D Laing puts it - the personal split between the image and the personal reality. This leads to an increasing desire to inhabit an interior world to recompense reality and more and more reliance on chemicals or creeds to shore up the discrepancies and glue the whole thing together.
So this is what the book, represents, not for the attention of the male lurid gaze, but more a social reality, art photography book still locked in that Vogue like world. Whilst the world loves a fake, it appears reality is a bigger let down.