AUDIO
Jim Goldberg
Handwritten comments accompany the photographs we see here. They stand directly above or below the images. Sometimes there are only a few words. Sometimes longer thoughts. We quickly realize that the people in the pictures are speaking for themselves.
The photographs belong to the series Rich and Poor by the American photographer Jim Goldberg. In the late 1970s, he began photographing people living in public housing in San Francisco. He later also photographed wealthy individuals in their private homes. He asked all of his subjects to write comments to accompany the pictures.
This creates something rather rare in photography: we don’t only see these people; in a sense, we also hear their voices. The handwritten notes reveal their hopes, worries, wishes, and doubts. Sometimes they fit what we see in the picture. Sometimes they surprise us.
A similar phenomenon happens in everyday life: we think we know something about a person just because we see them, but the story is often much more complicated.
Goldberg works with precisely this contradiction. The photographs show clothing, gestures, living spaces, and postures. The comments open up a whole new dimension. Even taken together, they still don’t paint a clear picture. Instead, contradictions and unanswered questions arise.
In this way, the work reminds us of many photo albums in which we find handwritten notes next to the pictures, but Goldberg goes a step further: he lets his subjects speak for themselves. This emphasizes how limited our view of other people can be. What do we really see when we look at a photo? And what remains hidden?
The photographs belong to the series Rich and Poor by the American photographer Jim Goldberg. In the late 1970s, he began photographing people living in public housing in San Francisco. He later also photographed wealthy individuals in their private homes. He asked all of his subjects to write comments to accompany the pictures.
This creates something rather rare in photography: we don’t only see these people; in a sense, we also hear their voices. The handwritten notes reveal their hopes, worries, wishes, and doubts. Sometimes they fit what we see in the picture. Sometimes they surprise us.
A similar phenomenon happens in everyday life: we think we know something about a person just because we see them, but the story is often much more complicated.
Goldberg works with precisely this contradiction. The photographs show clothing, gestures, living spaces, and postures. The comments open up a whole new dimension. Even taken together, they still don’t paint a clear picture. Instead, contradictions and unanswered questions arise.
In this way, the work reminds us of many photo albums in which we find handwritten notes next to the pictures, but Goldberg goes a step further: he lets his subjects speak for themselves. This emphasizes how limited our view of other people can be. What do we really see when we look at a photo? And what remains hidden?