Photography Turned In On Itself Opening Honest New Windows

We may not notice as we all carry cameras with us everywhere we go, but the photographic artform has become an everyday event in our lifetime. We all snap everything at any moment, any event, capturing a moment without thinking. But that wasnt always the case. Initially, this artform was only seen through a narrow prism of privilege. The primary impact of photographic images began in the mid-19th century, with the democratisation of the portrait, when not only the rich could capture for eternity people they loved. Find out more in Photography Turned In On Itself Opening Honest New Windows. Image on left: Nan Goldin Skeletons coupling, New York City (1983) from “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency,” 1973–86, 126 archival pigment prints, in frames, each: 15 3/4 × 11 × 1 1/8 inches (40 × 27.9 × 2.9 cm), overall dimensions variable, edition of 10 © Nan Goldin Courtesy the artist and Gagosian

Art up until the 20th century presented a narrative through a narrow prism of privilege: Afterall, it was only the rich who could afford the services of in-demand artists who would paint their places and loved ones. That was in many ways until along came photography. Suddenly, images of people and places were much more affordable via the modern technology of the camera.

A crucial turning point for the more everyday use of photography was the launch of the Kodak Brownie camera in 1900, which sold for just one dollar. This inexpensive, simple-to-use camera, along with low film and processing costs, brought personal photography to the masses and created the concept of the “snapshot”

Also in the early part of the 20th century, artists began to use cameras as a way to question what art was at that moment, what light meant, what form meant, and so the camera became part of the artist’s lexicon as well.

Much of the 20th century saw this invention directed outwards, towards alluring people and luscious locations, sharing happy and beautiful moments. And then a collision happened, where the artist and the people met. Suddenly, there were art photographers who turned the camera inwards and encased within images their own worlds, universes filled with far more brutal realities.

Nan Goldin Bruce on top of French Chris, Fire Island, N.Y. 1979 from “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency,” 1973–86, 126 archival pigment prints, in frames, each: 15 3/4 × 11 × 1 1/8 inches (40 × 27.9 × 2.9 cm), overall dimensions variable, edition of 10 © Nan Goldin Courtesy the artist and Gagosian

These moments were of LGBT lovers, heroin use, mental and physical ill health, cramped, mouldy living spaces for communities that were forgotten or shut away. One such image maker was Nan Goldin.

She is an American photographer and activist whose work explores, in a more in-the-moment snapshot-style, the life moments of the many undocumented communities, intimate relationships, bohemian living, a much wider diversity, including  LGBT, subcultures and other taboo lives: many a lost generation.

Nan Goldin Dieter on the bed, Stockholm 1984 from “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency,” 1973–86, 126 archival pigment prints, in frames, each: 15 3/4 × 11 × 1 1/8 inches (40 × 27.9 × 2.9 cm), overall dimensions variable, edition of 10 © Nan Goldin Courtesy the artist and Gagosian

This was her world, and her images gave a window into lives that were shut up behind brick walls. Now, all could look in. Goldin was not a voyeur, but a participant, meaning her images had the power of truthfulness to them, somewhat confessional rather than scopophiliac.

Nan Goldin Cookie at Tin Pan Alley, New York City 1983 from “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency,” 1973–86, 126 archival pigment prints, in frames, each: 15 3/4 × 11 × 1 1/8 inches (40 × 27.9 × 2.9 cm), overall dimensions variable, edition of 10 © Nan Goldin Courtesy the artist and Gagosian

Her images are stunning and haunting, visceral and honest. At a time when the ‘portrait’ is a selfie, these images remind us that the whole world was not always on show and that it takes a creative from within to show reality, sometimes beautiful, sometimes painful, but always truthful. Goldin described it at the time as

“the diary I let people read.”

Many consider her magnum opus to be The Ballad of Sexual Dependency, her images taken between 1979 and 1986, which debuted in New York nightclubs and public art exhibitions. Initially shown as a slideshow with music to her friends, it became a published book in 1986.

Nan Goldin Sandra in the mirror, New York City 1985 from “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency,” 1973–86, 126 archival pigment prints, in frames, each: 15 3/4 × 11 × 1 1/8 inches (40 × 27.9 × 2.9 cm), overall dimensions variable, edition of 10© Nan Goldin. Courtesy the artist and Gagosian

This January, the Gagosian gallery is presenting Nan Goldin’s The Ballad of Sexual Dependency Photography Installation, to mark forty years since it was first published.

Confessional images that cut through the gloss and get straight to the hard-worn reality. This is why it endures. Nan Goldin, along with a handful of other image makers at the time, opened up not just a new potential for a new honesty in photography at the time, but also opened up a world that before had been hidden away.

Nan Goldin, The Ballad of Sexual Dependency, January 13–March 21, 2026, 17–19 Davies Street, London
Gagosian.com

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