Nan Goldin
[Photographer, b. 1953, Washington, D.C., lives in New York and Paris.]
Every time I go through something scary, traumatic, I survive by taking pictures.
Where is the line between life and photographing life?
There is a popular notion that the photographer is by nature a voyeur, the last one to be invited to the party. But I’m not crashing; this is my party. This is my family, my friends.
[The snapshot is] the form of photography that is most defined by love. People take them out of love, and they take them to remember—people, places, and times. They’re about creating a history by recording a history.
I used to think I couldn’t lose anyone if I photographed them enough.
For me it is not a detachment to take a picture. It’s a way of touching somebody—it’s a caress.... I think that you can actually give people access to their own soul.
...anybody can take a picture. Now, you don’t even have to be a person, you can be a telephone. There were always too many pictures in the world and today there are billions of pictures.
If I want to take a picture, I take it no matter what.
