Nan Goldin’s “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency” is a truly unflinching artistic statement. She worked on it for 13 years, from 1973 to 1986. This landmark book interrogates how gender, intimacy, and power are deeply interconnected. Indeed, it is this key ingredient that has long secured its reputation as Goldin’s magnum opus. What began as a presentation of slides to an arresting score when it first appeared in New York’s nightclubs and public art exhibitions, visual culture would be changed forever.
The 126 photographs within “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency” encapsulate the essence of downtown New York during a transformative era. Goldin refers to her undertaking as “the diary I allow people to read.” Perhaps the best part is that she provides an unvarnished look into her life—and the lives of those around her. These were the images she used to help articulate a truth in which friends frequently replaced family. These Black, queer, and trans artists formed an insular community that fearlessly confronted societal expectations.
Goldin’s motivation was clear: she aimed to experience life fully and without restraint. Looking back on her artistic journey, she said, “I want to be able to experience completely, fearlessly. Those who are maniacal about capturing everything they experience often create rigid self-disciplines. I want to be wild and free but, smart and proper at the same time.” This duality continues to be seen throughout Leigh’s work, connecting the messy truth of life with creative purpose.
As the years went by, “The Ballad of Sexual Dependency” grew into something that was able to touch most audiences. Goldin said, “I have great affection for this book and this book is why I’m here right now. It’s surprising to me that it continues to ring true on the ground.” Yet she insists on reframing her story every ten years. Though the foreword remains unchanged, every year the afterword looks to the present day. This new, dynamic approach further emphasizes Goldin’s dedication to documenting the reality of her lived experiences.
The retrospective at Gagosian in London, which closed on March 21, was testimony to the vital and awful timeliness of Goldin’s oeuvre. Those vibrant lives are all caught on the photographs which make the neon West and its people brighter than they should be. They serve to remind us all how tenuous life and relationships are. Goldin’s moving testimony underscored how canyons of cultural change, most notably through the 1980s AIDS crisis, flipped the script on our social reality. “With everyone dying, everything shifted,” she reflected. “We lost a whole generation. We lost a culture.”
Across four decades of work, Goldin has never shied away from the personal, messy realities that come with intimacy. She often expresses concern that men and women may be irrevocably estranged from one another: “I often fear that men and women are irrevocably strangers to each other,” she stated. She addresses the biochemical imperative for attachment, describing love as a drug addiction.