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Tillmans can be oppressive with his cloying sentiment, that Sontagian moribund, everything mementos, everything matters, everything porcelain, precious. Show me a Tillmans photo of people having fun and know its death. Opposite Steiner's photo suites: that no one matters - that you can discard any of these photos - replace them with any other moment of life. Ignore the politics: here there's actually people having fun. People smile, people jest. This is not the search for the perfect embalming light. It's not people in the societal bondage gear of photography or Cindy Sherman cruelty. There is no distant connoisseurship. Just what collectivizes in the fringes of your eyes at night.
See too: Wolfgang Tillmans at Galerie Buchholz Wolfgang Tillmans at Maureen Paley, Amalia Ulman at The Gallery at El Centro
