September 30th, 2010
The Photographer Elinor Carucci
An open toilet. A woman’s menstruation blood inside. Tweezers tug at a female chest hair. Red, painted lips close-up. Fingernail imprints on the palm of a hand. A small child with a running nose. The scars of a caesarean-section on a scarred stomach…concentrated intimacy.
Art must touch something. Spirit or heart or something. At best both.
Elinor Carucci photographs herself and her family and herself in relation to each individual member of the family and the relationships between them. She delves so deep that the boundaries between the observer and the depicted appear to be removed. The monstrous truth, the painful honesty in these pictures develops a strange, shocking effect. But it is nothing more than the everyday free of everything artificial.
A freshly shaven armpit. One sleeping and one screaming child. Nothing special really. Elinor Caruccis pictures are great art. Which touches the spirit and the heart.
Translation: Samantha Cooper