Vulnerability from Dina Litovsky
My photography has never been personal. It has functioned as a shield to a cornucopia of goblins — obsessions, fears, and insecurities, all hiding behind a curious but detached exploration of the space around me. I have become a cultural voyeur, able to translate the behavioral and emotional nuances of strangers into visual stories. Everything that I photograph resonates in a personal way, but my photos have always served as a deflection rather than a confession. They have never been vulnerable.
The artist statement for Meatpacking, a series that I worked on for 3 years, describes it as an exploration of after-dark courtship rituals in the nightlife capital of New York City. But what propelled me to walk, night after night, behind groups of young women in stilettos, was the pervasive anxiety of entering my mid-30’s. I turned myself invisible as I sought out the rush of beautiful strangers being desired. Dressed down in army pants and sneakers, I would photograph men whose gazes were so focused on their target that I could stand just a few feet away without being noticed. Few traces of the masochistic self-therapy exist in the final images, but every one of my projects has been driven by a similar desire to get away from my most vicious goblins.
