Nan Goldin made a career of photographing her friends withering from heroin and AIDS, her sister slipping into suicidal depression and the bloody eyes and heart-shaped bruises left by her lovers for the public. Now, the 57-year-old photographer says she is done sharing.
What does this rejection from Nan Goldin mean in the days of manic Facebook oversharing and instant-viral Disney bong rips?
Has the definitive confessional photographer re-discovered the joys of privacy at the time when we’ve voluntarily obliterated it as a society?
I don’t want to show my life to the public this way anymore. It’s cost me a lot and I don’t want anyone to know anything about my life today.
Or perhaps traveling and photographing Communist suburbs around Paris is just more interesting and less precious than her current social circle.