y the elegant defacement of his own cover of Purple, Mark Borthwick simultaneously negates and reclaims a publication with which he is widely identifi ed. But Social documentaries amid this pist is neither an appropriation or a parody. It is, rather, a compilation of photography and text that serves as an introduction to a complex body of work that defi es easy description; perhaps urban pastoral might do. I prefer to think of Mark as a closet romantic who messes with form; wether it be the printed page, a garment, a sound, or an event. Primarily a person with a camera, a democratic, Warholian logic pervades Mark’s thinking. Something like; “If this girl is beautiful, then shouldn’t this one be?”, or, “If we admire a dress for its shape and lines, can’t we admire the sidewalk for the same reasons?”, etc. Mark also likes to give his subjects things to do-like hold this plant/pillow/ or entire rack of dresses.

Art that looks (deceptively) easy to make is often imitated, and one has long seen the trickle-down influence of Marks lets-step- outside-to-take-this-picture aesthetic. Not simply a photographer who sleeps around with other media though, Borthwick is closer to being a conceptual artist operating from within the brittle little universe where a certain kind of art practice meets fa-fa-fa-fashion. But, once again, it is the romantic impulse that separates Mark from the pack. His world is the world of daylight, or maybe the muffled dusk, when magic’s in the air. Gently choreographed celebratory images made in collaboration with a willing cast of family and friends are particularly welcome in a climate where photography’s engagement with youth can only be described as vampiric. Yet, Mark does feed off of his own frenetic production, frequently re-photographing and republishing earlier projects in different formats. form, once again. The writings that accompany the images and occasional collage are, um, challenging and deeply eccentric. Think of Joyce (James). Think of jetlag (Air France?). Think of a long, stoned conversation you once had with someone you suspected might be a genius.
Tim Maul, NYC

Mark Borthwick
Social documentaries amid this pist
Published October 2002

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