Hesitating Beauty. Photographs by Joshua Lutz. Schilt Publishing, 2012. |
Hesitating Beauty
Reviewed by George Slade
Photographs by Joshua Lutz.
Schilt Publishing, 2012. Hardbound. 96 pp., illustrated throughout, 6x9".
Without overwhelming the remaining contents of the book, the endpapers advance the argument Lutz (and Christen, acknowledged co-editor as well as designer) have contrived in this fascinating portrait of mental disturbance within social normalcy, in the emerging suburban context that valued conformity and feared its betrayal. The design also calls the authenticity of images into account; was there a bug-eye filter one could use back in the day? Or is this a contemporary, Photoshop manipulation, a designer's trick, brought to bear on an archival fugitive?
Hesitating Beauty, by Joshua Lutz. Published by Schilt Publishing, 2012. |
Hesitating Beauty, by Joshua Lutz. Published by Schilt Publishing, 2012. |
Hesitating Beauty, by Joshua Lutz. Published by Schilt Publishing, 2012. |
One close-up image of a wrist encircled with medical labels—"FALL RISK," "Haldol"—reveals a name. Jinne Lutz, born May 24, 1947. So, a major clue; we could well be witnessing the photographer's mother in a descent from normalcy to something else, a state disconnected from the "real" world. The photographs, both pre-Joshua and post, support the alienation as well, for the most part—there are some visions, like those endpapers, which seem a little too good to be true. The sign of the demon, 666, on the back door of a crashed bus. Road signs devoid of information. Tree trunks with suspiciously anthropomorphic formations, coming alive as we stare. Nature comes alive for readers as it may have, in unsettling, inassimilable ways, for Jinne.
Hesitating Beauty, by Joshua Lutz. Published by Schilt Publishing, 2012. |
Not unlike Christian Patterson's "factive" book (or is that "docu-fictional"?) Redheaded Peckerwood, Lutz's book draws us in with enough credibility to sustain belief, then spins us around with seeming tangents and time shifts by introducing contemporary beauties whose own psychological foundations may be no firmer than the mother-figure Jinne's. There is an unnervingly cinematic quality—Hitchcock, Buñuel, perhaps—and surprising punch to this modestly scaled publication. How sane are any of us? How close are we to the edge? Ultimately, how much can we trust what we see?—GEORGE SLADE
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GEORGE SLADE , a longtime contributor to photo-eye, is a photography writer, curator, historian and consultant based in Minneapolis, Minnesota. He can be found on-line at http://rephotographica-slade.blogspot.com/