(Above) Georges Dudognon, Greta Garbo in the Club St Germain (circa 1950s). San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Members of Foto Forum (2005). © Estate of Georges Dudognon
Exhibition: Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance and the Camera, Tate Modern, London, until October 3 2010
When 'Nasty' Nick, Craig, Mel, Darren and co trundled their suitcases into the first Big Brother house, who would have thought that the "social experiment" of 2000 would turn us into a nation of voyeurs?
Fast forward to 2010 and four million still tuned in, hungrily watching the doomed love affair between Jonas (Basshunter) and Katya, Vinnie Jones bait Alex Reid or Stephen Baldwin bible bash.
On the streets of Britain, we are watched too – by an estimated 4.2 million CCTV cameras, or one camera for every 14 citizens.
How fitting, then, that as the final Big Brother hits our TV screens, Tate Modern opens a major photographic show on voyeurism and surveillance – where people are caught unawares on the street, through their bedroom windows or like the Impressionist painter, Edgar Degas, coming out of a pissoir.
Susan Meiselas, Carnival Strippers. © rosegallery.net
At times the camera is turned onto the crowd as they greedily gawp at murders and drownings, leer at strippers or ogle and, disturbingly, touch unsuspecting lovers.
Scenes of surveillance unfold before our eyes. Michael "Ozzie" Myers, an American politician, for example, is caught taking bribes from undercover FBI agents in a hotel room in scenes similar to those of the Duchess of York being secretly filmed by The News of the World offering to sell access to her ex-husband, the Duke of York. Even the symbols of surveillance are turned into artworks, such as the notorious Grosvenor Road RUC police station in County Down, Belfast.
With around 250 photos and several films, this exhaustive and exhausting show provides an excuse for a fresh and eclectic view of the history of photography including favourites such as Henri Cartier Bresson, Robert Frank, Helmut Newton and seminal works, notably Nan Goldin’s Ballad of Sexual Dependency.
But rather than telling a chronological story, the old and new masters are powerfully juxtaposed. Philip Lorca diCorcia's modern day New Yorkers, for example, amble down the street next to Walker Evans' equally unsuspecting subway passengers of the 1930s.
The essence of photography is laid bare as crucial questions are provoked. How do we look at these photos, how has the photographer shaped our view and who is looking at whom within the shot?
Oliver Lutz, The Lynching of Leo Frank (2010). Acrylic on canvas, CCTV system (camera and monitor), installation. © Lutz 2008, oliverlutz.com
Sometimes we do not know where to look first. With Susan Meiselas's carnival strippers, for example, should we focus on the leering reaction of the male audience or the girls?
Moral dilemmas are confronted as we look at and linger on images which are traditionally taboo or almost too private, like Nick Ut's image of Paris Hilton as she realises that she is going to jail, her face contorting with extreme terror and tears.
We feel uncomfortable looking at this deeply personal moment and her grief, yet we are unable to tear our gaze from it. Indeed, it is one of the most compelling images in the show, highlighting the ambiguity of photography and our response to it, and proves just how intimate the medium of photography is.
It is as if we are holding a mirror up to ourselves and our culture and, sometimes, we may not like what we see. Oliver Lutz, for example, makes us participate in his Lynching of Leo Frank, whether we want to or not.
Furthermore, as we are confronted by the imaging technologies used by Government and the military in the final section of the show or Sophie Calle’s personal surveillance, rummaging through the belongings of strangers in hotel rooms, it perhaps challenges us to ask ourselves what we find acceptable to be photographed or filmed.
Admission £10/£8.50. Book online.
Accompanying catalogue, Exposed: Voyeurism, Surveillance and the Camera, is edited by Sandra S. Philips, Tate Publishing, £29.99. Buy online.
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