Sisters, Saints and Sibyls: An Analysis of Three Selected Prints by Nan Goldin

Written in response to Nan's Goldin "This Will Not End Well" exhibit at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam.

Sisters, Saints and Sibyls: An Analysis of Three Selected Prints

Nan Goldin

Self Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004.

Three mounted Cibachrome prints

25¼ × 78 inches; 64 × 198 cm

Displayed in: Sisters, Saints and Sibyls (2004-2022)

Three-Channel Video 

35 min., 17 sec.

Exhibition: “This Will Not End Well” Oct 7, 2023 until Jan 28, 2024

Stedelijk Museum, Amsterdam

Nan Goldin is a seminal figure in the history of photography, known for her candid depictions of relationships, sex, and addiction during the AIDS crisis in New York City. In many of her works, her muse is her own life and the lives of her friends and loved ones. In Sisters, Saints and Sibyls (2004-2022), she tells the story of her late sister Barbara through photographs, music, and voiceovers, as well as her struggles with rehabilitation. I have chosen three photographs to focus on, originally titled Self Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004. These photographs have been displayed as prints in previous exhibitions, but I will be focusing on their function as part of the larger slideshow displayed in “This Will Not End Well” at the Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam. In this essay, I will provide visual, historical, aesthetic, and critical context of these photographs, as well as my interpretation of the work and its subject matter. 

To understand the context of the three photographs, I will first visually analyze the larger slideshow Sisters, Saints and Sibyls. The layout, display, and sound design of the slideshow were all vital to my experience as a viewer. The exterior of each screening room at the Stedelijk Museum was dark and humming with sound. The darkness was the first thing I noticed, as it hindered my spatial awareness. As a viewer, it put me in a state of complete vulnerability. I entered the room titled Sisters, Saints and Sibyls and saw three giant screens mounted against the wall as a triptych. One screen was tilted slightly to the left, one to the right, and one in the center. These angles were mimicked in the arrangement of the platform on which the viewers were standing, creating an octagonal shape. This setup had the potential to alter the viewer’s perspective and range of visibility based on where they were placed in the space. I stood to the right of the room, allowing me to see the screens in the center and on the left. At first, this induced anxiety, as if I was missing a crucial part of the slideshow, but as it progressed I felt a sense of relief that I could direct my focus to whatever image I chose. 

Each screen displayed a different photograph or video clip playing simultaneously. The slideshow began with still images of religious imagery, coupled with the story of Saint Barbara narrated by Goldin. The images then transitioned into old photographs of Goldin and her siblings as children. The size of the frames swallowed me, and the rapid changing between the images produced an overwhelming effect, like watching a life flash before my eyes. Goldin began to tell the story of her older sister Barbara. Many of the images were in black and white, emphasizing the memorializing function of the piece. Goldin uses these old photographs to contextualize her original recordings, which capture the moments leading up to Barbara’s death. The video camera shakes as she travels down a bleak, woodsy path, crosses a bridge, and arrives at the scene of her sister’s suicide. The movement of these shots brings a harsh awareness to Goldin’s presence as she physically moves through a haunting memory. Further, the muted colors and graininess of the recordings create a ghostly effect. 

Sound is crucial to Goldin’s work, especially in this piece. As artist Guido Costa notes, “She ranges between employing a given piece of music in a symbolic way (perhaps to represent a given period in time, a community, or an idea), and using lyrics as a specific commentary on the images, or as a tool for revealing a different meaning within them.” In Sisters, Saints and Sibyls, faint whispers, verbal fights, and screams are layered over photographs, producing a cinematic effect. The soundtrack is particularly fragile and emotional, including evocative songs such as Johnny Cash’s 2002 cover of “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails. This song is played as Goldin displays photographs from her hospitalization. The photographs from this sequence include close-ups of self-harm, Goldin’s hospital bed, and the self-portrait included in the three selected prints I have chosen. In this display, Goldin smiles shyly in a blurry close-up, half of her face clouded by shadows coming from the left. The composition of the photograph is extremely intimate, and the angle makes it seem as though Goldin took it herself. The shadows dramatize her features, making half of her face appear hollow, whereas the light from the car window brightens her complexion. This contrast between light and dark creates a balanced, symbolic self-portrait of Goldin as an adult. She appears content and strong in a moment of grief. The colors in her hair and makeup are flushed and rosy, creating a warm palette of scarlet and amber. 

These rosy shades are echoed in the middle photograph, which displays a branch of pink flowers. The image has an intense depth of field, making the background completely unintelligible. The bokeh technique has been used in this image, creating depth between the background and the foreground, as if they are in completely separate worlds. Goldin may have set the camera to its maximum aperture, choosing the flowers as her subject. Ironically, the flowers are only slightly in focus, as if the image was taken quickly and thoughtlessly. There is warm, orange light emanating from behind the flowers, possibly coming from a sunset, or even light coming from the windows of a building. These warm tones give the image a magical quality. The image was most likely taken outside at dusk or dawn, drawing from the cool blue tones in the background. Further, these blue tones could represent water, as they appear fluid, like they are melting and swirling into each other. 

Next to the flowers is a wide, still photograph of a graveyard. The image is a breath of fresh air despite its subject matter, with its lush earthy tones of green and brown. It seems to be taken with the same film stock as the flower image, based on the richness and saturation of its colors. The photograph has no clear lines to indicate where Goldin is standing in the space. It could be upside down, tilted, or flipped, yet we would still see a relatively similar composition. The only indications of space and direction are the patch of light brown in the right-hand corner, which trickles down into a small, square-shaped pool of water. There is also a larger patch of brown in the upper left corner, which is decorated with small patches of sunlight. With these visual cues, I saw that I was looking at only a slice of the graveyard, one that is flooded with rain, yet still calm, peaceful, and void of any visible gravestones.

The arrangement of these images made me question their function in the piece. They act as an entire self-portrait, even though they are three separate photographs. There is a contrast between blurriness and sharpness, warmness and coolness, and still and static movement throughout these three photographs. Although Goldin is capturing the graveyard where her sister is buried, the images are rich in color and rich in life. The pinks and greens in these photographs are a striking contrast to the muted, black-and-white images shown in the first half of the slideshow. As a viewer, this was indicative of Goldin’s grieving process, as well as her struggles with feeling trapped within the turmoil of drug addiction and loss. The slideshow tells a nuanced story, traveling through the darkest parts of Goldin’s journey, connecting it to other women’s stories of rebellion and despair, and ending with a touching memorial to her beloved sister. The three-channel format of this slideshow was extremely effective at creating a balance of these elements, shifting in between light and dark, the colorful and colorless, beginnings and endings, and the pain and relief of losing a loved one. 

Nan Goldin’s work is ever-changing, and she is known for redisplaying her photography through slideshows and adding new elements of sound, music, and archival material. According to Goldin, making slideshows gives her “the luxury of constantly re-editing to reflect my changing view of the world.” This constant altering and editing of her work is a trait associated with contemporary art, or culture that is “ripe for rapid and constant change.” Nan Goldin was a key figure in the rise of queer photography in the late twentieth century. She rose to prominence by highlighting the queer underground scene in nightclubs, hotel rooms, and apartments of close friends. Her photographs were explicit, gritty, and graphic, often pushing the boundaries of what photographers could capture. The bulk of these photographs were biographical, as they depicted Goldin’s life, family, and friends. Her work as an artist was self-reflexive, as her “touch” and presence in the work were always noticeable. This trait can be traced back to modern art movements such as Abstract Expressionism, where the artist’s hand and “gesture” were meant to be visible. Goldin channels this same approach in her photography, but in a contemporary style, as her work is constantly changing and being edited. According to Tate Women Artists, “Her refusal to fall into place as a chronological, linear autobiography can also be interpreted in terms of the collapse of the idea of fixed, universal truth in postmodern culture.” With this explanation, one could argue that the reappearance of Self Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004 in Sisters, Saints and Sibyls directly represents the fluidity and dynamism in contemporary art. 

To continue this argument about contemporary art, Goldin’s ability to revisit her work shows that her work is not fixed to one point in history. Although many of her photographs were taken in the 1980s, which may explain the film stock, fashion, quality, and subject matter of her work, she displays these images in other contexts, sometimes with new videos, voice recordings, and music. This is what makes her work somewhat difficult to categorize, as it combines several elements from the past and present. Goldin breaks boundaries by constantly revisiting her work, which may be interpreted as repetitive by some audiences. However, she approaches each stage in her life and history, including addiction and grief in Self Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004, with a fresh perspective and new material. The viewer may never see the same thing twice, as Goldin’s images are constantly rearranged and recontextualized. 

Goldin recontextualizes many images in Sisters, Saints and Sibyls. The three images that I have selected are displayed in the Stedelijk Museum in the form of a triptych. In religious settings, triptychs are used for “ritual concealment, revelation, and above all, protection of its visual or textual content.” Goldin’s choice to display the slideshow in this way may be to stimulate the feeling of standing in front of an altar or to “protect” the subject matter, in this case, the lives of herself and her sister. Architect Hala Wardé explains that the structure of this room in the Moderna Museet in Stockholm was reminiscent of the Salpêtrière chapel in Paris. Goldin’s choice to reference religious imagery and structures in her slideshow makes the inclusion of Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004 seem intentionally spiritual, like she is preserving her grief and sorrow in a sacred way. 

Goldin eyes the camera in the first photograph in Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004, giving a mysterious, all-knowing look. The photograph is blurry, signaling that Goldin most likely took it herself. Many of her works are self-portraits, taken at a time of joy, intoxication, or most often, deep sorrow and turmoil. One of her most famously unsettling works, Nan one month after being battered (1984), depicts Goldin with deep bruises across her face. Her self-portraits are much more intimate and personal than the traditional portrait, as they are taken intentionally, by the subject. In Reflections on Self-Portraiture in Photography, Ina Loewenberg argues that “Women have been so frequently used as subjects in the arts, including photography, that self-portraiture is a way to keep control of their representation. This does not typically result in more ‘beautiful’ or flattering depictions of the artist-subject. However, it does result in the subject really being the subject and not an object.” This description directly describes Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004. It is not intentionally flattering, but it is truthful, as if Goldin is saying, “Look at me, right now, in this moment of grief.”

Nan Goldin

Nan One Month After Being Battered, 1984

Silver dye bleach print, printed 2008

15 1/2 × 23 1/8" (39.4 × 58.7 cm)

The Museum of Modern Art, New York 

These three lonely frames are strikingly different compared to the vibrant frenzy of bodies in Goldin’s famous work, The Ballad of Sexual Dependency (1981-2022). This slideshow, which consists of over 700 photographs, depicts “the highs, the lows, and the lives of relationships.” The photographs show people kissing, dancing, and hugging. Some are having sex, crying, or laughing. Others gaze lovingly, indifferently, or contemptuously at their partner. In the background, a playlist of iconic love songs narrates the euphoric and tumultuous experience of relationships. This sensual and evocative slideshow is the stark opposite of Sisters, Saints and Sibyls, which seeps with loneliness, pain, and suffering. These photographs do not feature the chaotic activity of Goldin’s friends, but rather focus on the hollow lives of her family and herself, as seen in Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004. These photographs are dark and brooding, with deep, earthy tones and hazy streams of light. Goldin seems slightly detached, always moving, aimlessly documenting a reflection of her grief as if she is a ghost herself. This chillingly differs from Ballad, where Goldin seems fully present and active in the scene. As Anne Sward writes, “She doesn’t make herself invisible, as many other photographers do; instead, she seems to be meeting the people in front of her, looking them right in the eye.” This is not the case with Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, 2004. Goldin is alone, grieving, and letting us watch.  

Women’s bodies are historically considered to be the muse of many artworks, however, in Nan Goldin’s self-portraits, she reclaims her identity as both the artist and subject. Her work appears relatively unstaged, natural, and candid, as seen in the images above. The self-portrait, the blurry image of flowers, and the flooded graveyard are displayed side by side in Sisters, Saints and Sibyls, creating a visual biography of Goldin. When considering the context of the slideshow, which focuses on “women who are trapped, figuratively and literally, in both psychological and mythical contexts,” one could argue that Goldin’s self-portrait is a depiction of the female gaze and an exploration of the role between artist and subject. These roles are explored in other works like Ballad, where several photographs display women fixated on their appearance. In Photography in the First Person, writer Harrison Adams argues, “We are made to imagine that these women are preparing themselves to meet the male gaze out in the world, and more immediately, the male partners who appear with these women later in the slideshow.” This argument acknowledges the distinction between the male and female gaze in Goldin’s work. Goldin captures moments that show the influence of male dominance and power in relationships, as shown in Ballad, yet her photos are distinctly captured through the female and queer gaze. They are tender and honest. They are focused on the subject, not as an object, but as a complex human being. Artist Carolee Schneemann recognized this empathy-driven artistry in her 1975 performance work, Interior Scroll, where pulls a scroll out of her body that includes this text:

There are certain films we cannot look at

The personal clutter

The persistence of feelings

The hand-touch sensibility

The diaristic indulgence

The painterly mess

[continued] 

Carolee Schneemann

Interior Scroll, 1975

Beet juice, urine and coffee on screenprint on paper

Image: 905 × 1830 mm

Frame: 1015 × 1956 × 60mm

Tate Collection, London

` In this performance, Schneemann is commenting on the criticism of art made by women being overloaded with “personal clutter” and “feeling,” somehow making it less credible than art made by men. Goldin’s photography is rich with feeling and personal details, yet it can be argued that this sensitive quality is what makes it so moving to audiences. Her slideshows are like sprawling love letters to her life, captured through her gaze. In Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, 2004, it’s as if Goldin is gazing at herself and using the self-portrait to hold autonomy over her image and her life. 

Goldin alludes to feminist ideas further in her slideshow. She begins Sisters, Saints and Sibyls with the biblical story of Saint Barbara, who was locked in a tower, awakened to Christianity, and eventually tortured and beheaded by her father. Goldin then narrates the upbringing of her sister Barbara Goldin. The Goldin sisters suffered immensely throughout their childhoods, particularly Barbara. She was sent away to mental hospitals consistently throughout her adolescence, battling with her mother’s demands to be a perfect child. She was deemed mentally ill and took her own life as a teenager. After her suicide, Nan Goldin followed in Barbara’s footsteps, running away from home as a teenager and finding solace and comfort in a group of friends. Here, Goldin began to pick up her camera. It can be said that Goldin’s use of the camera is a survival tool derived from her instability with her family. Laura Matwichuk argues, “Goldin’s colour photographs evolved out of social, political and economic anxieties of the late 1970s and early 1980s which considered the nuclear family unstable and fraudulent.” With this argument, it can be said that the history of Goldin’s work can be coupled with her reliance on herself and close friends as her chosen family. Chosen families were and still are a vital aspect of queer culture, as many LGBTQ+ individuals are outcasted by their families and forced to find community and acceptance elsewhere. Goldin celebrates her friends and lovers with her photographs, arranging them as if they are a family photo album. 

Goldin’s tendency to capture her life in an unabashed, intimate manner has influenced many contemporary photography practices today. Her tender depictions of herself and her close friends in moments of sickness, heartbreak, and death have become hallmarks of “experimental self-fiction,” as claimed by Emma Wilson. Throughout her career, Goldin’s work has been seen as provocative, graphic, and shocking by critics and viewers alike. However, others see her raw photographs and slideshows as a profound display of empathy. Art historian Alfred Pacquement writes, “No one has gone farther in exposing an often-painful life. Her photos reveal emotional or amorous encounters, the tragic experiences of the years when AIDS decimated a community, and her closeness with the milieu of drag queens and transgender people, but also happy moments of love, tenderness, and harmony. Unlike a diary in which secret anecdotes, sentiments, or emotions are encountered, Goldin relies on the presence of pictures, which, as the popular saying goes, ‘Speak louder than words.’” Pacquement’s statement highlights the blend and juxtaposition of tragedy, pain, and joy in Goldin’s work, which can be seen clearly in Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004. Goldin’s work may be considered controversial because she did not shy away from depicting, or alluding to addiction, abuse, sickness, and death. She did not hide the tragedies of life or mask them with vague symbolism, rather, she shoved them right in the viewer’s face. This can be seen most prominently in Nan one month after being battered (1984). When looking at Goldin’s work in the context of the late 20th century, which involved widespread drug use, transphobia, homophobia, and the AIDS crisis, this was a time of profound loss and suffering. Goldin’s camera was a tool to capture and transform this suffering and memorialize those who passed.

To conclude, as a viewer, I am both inspired and frightened by Nan Goldin’s Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004. I admire that the photographs are not conventionally perfect. They are blurry and seemingly random, yet deeply moving when given context. I interpret these three photographs as a self-portrait of Goldin at one of her lowest moments. It seems like a culmination of all of her works, including the sensitive, emotional details of Ballad and the blurry, lonely haziness of Memory Lost. While watching Sisters, Saints and Sibyls, it’s as if I was flipping through someone’s Goldin’s photo album, or reading her diary. It is disturbingly personal, but its honesty is what makes me feel so connected to Goldin as an artist. In a quote from Goldin, she says, “My visual diary is public; it expands from its subjective basis with the input of other people. These pictures may be an invitation to my world, but they were taken so that I could see the people in them. I sometimes don’t know how I feel about someone until I take his or her picture. I don’t select people in order to photograph them; 1 photograph directly from my life. These pictures come out of relationships, not observation.” As a viewer, I can see the care that Goldin puts into her “visual diary,” photographing each person as if they are her lover or her family. It’s the relationship with her camera that strikes me as deeply personal. She uses it to capture the humanity in her subjects, even at their darkest moments. In Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004, it seems as though she is humanizing herself, empathizing with herself, and showing the world that it is natural and human to grieve. 

As I stood in the screening room of Sisters, Saints and Sibyls, I could hear shaky breaths and faint sniffles from the people standing next to me. Some stayed and watched the slideshow more than once, transfixed by the glow of the screen. I imagined that the room was full of people with some form of pain, feeling some kind of catharsis through Goldin’s work. If I had lost a loved one, Portrait in drowned graveyard, King David Cemetery, VA 2004 would feel like my own self-portrait, and I may find even more emotional connection with the work. If I had lost a loved one to AIDS or suicide, then I would interpret her larger body of work as being arguably one of the most honest and humanizing depictions of humanity’s darkest struggles. 

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