It’s a remarkable book. It’s partly a memoir, partly an extended meditation and guide to asking for help in life and on the internet, and, which came as a bit of a surprise, there’s an awful lot about me and our marriage in there too.
PARIS — I used to abhor Nan Goldin’s “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency” (1979–1986), her famous 45-minute operatic show of 800 color slides set to a choppy 80s pop music soundtrack. I first formed this opinion after seeing it at the Whitney Museum in 1985, and then by looking at the book in 1986. I never reconsidered my opinion, not even after spending some more time with it in 2003 at her little retrospective at Galerie Yvon Lambert in Paris (one of Paris’s top galleries that will be closing soon). I felt then that her photographs merely plagued me with clichés.