Four Stories is composed of what seems to be a few vignettes, each told through a series of photographs. The structure suggests familiar narrative tropes where there are actually only symbols. Symbols which form an assumed arrangement, a situation that is easily read and fitted into our reality of images, past and present. Upon closer inspection however, the story is full of holes. What at first seems obvious, is only hinted and does not carry through. The settings have an artificiality, the time period is hazy and inconsistent and the emotional import is unclear. Something is amiss, slightly outside of the lines. The story is tangled up in context.
The women in these photographs inhabit ordinary roles, remnants of a time, yet they faintly resist. The familiar commercialized sexuality of these characters who are not youthful and light is out of place. That familiar language fails to sum them up. Almost in shadow, they defy their limited place because they subtly direct the scene, barely contain the situation and scarcely tweak their myth. There is an individuality warped by boundary, seeping through our traditionally myopic categorization. Are these women liars or are they all holding some bit of truth? Their choice seems imminent.
Putting myself in these sexualized stereotypes questions the credulity of our simple clichés which are segregated from connection and consideration. My presence doesn’t quite belong, an interloper in a scene we thought we understood. Incongruity is felt where there should be comfort, comfort and a reassuring glance.