Friday, February 7, 1997
Photographers walk the streets in an attempt to capture the
essence of ‘the world’s oldest profession.’By Vanessa
VanderZanden
Daily Bruin Contributor
Their naked limbs stretch out from street corners; their darting
eyes jump from speeding car to speeding car in hopes of spotting a
john. With a quick roaming of their hands, they find the contours
of their bodies, and now, through the silent pictures hanging on a
sterile white wall, they discover their voice.
Currently at the Paul Kopeikin Gallery, "Prostitution" exhibits
photography from close to 17 artists and photojournalists. Their
honest depictions of street life document the history of "the
world’s oldest profession," showing everything from a fully clothed
male prostitute walking past a diner window to a nude Indian girl
clutching her ravaged frame. Running through March 11, the show
crosses the boundaries between art and reality.
One black and white shot centers on a robust Asian girl in her
late teens, licking her lips in the mirror as her dress hangs at
her waist to reveal a lacy black bra. Peeling wallpaper and a
mattress with clothes strewn about are reflected in the looking
glass, as well as a table bearing everything from Marlboro lights
and an ashtray to a toaster and a can of hair mousse.
"Me and a friend just hung out at a massage parlor for a day,"
says photographer Ken Miller of the piece titled "Tosaney." "I took
about 100 pictures of girls that day and the one of Tosaney is the
only one that ever got shown. It kind of explains and sums up the
others."
The 1988 work best depicts the mood of Miller’s day and the
girls’ attitudes. "They were real playful. Phones kept ringing and
they kept laughing, telling customers at the door that they were
busy all day," Miller explains. "It was taken in the community room
where they kept changing into different outfits."
Hanging beside this work is another of Miller’s pieces,
"Gorgeous." Its obscured shot of a single female face looms in
sharp contrast to the bright atmosphere of Tosaney’s brothel. Here,
a large unsmiling woman stares straight ahead from beneath pulled
back hair and unlit surroundings.
"I took Gorgeous’ picture in a parking garage where there was
only a 75 watt light bulb in the whole area to illuminate her
face," says Miller. "Cars would come in  the johns knew where
to go.
"There’s always someone out just hanging around on the street,"
says Miller. "It’s nice because I don’t have to make an appointment
with anybody. They’re not used to the idea that I’m not gonna rip
’em off or take their drugs. I just take pictures and give ’em
pictures."
Working the Tenderloin district of San Francisco for the past 10
years, Miller makes a point of befriending his subjects. Going so
far as to visit them in prison, he delivers them snapshots and
writes them letters. Though often times it can be difficult to
learn that some have gotten sick, the worst is to lose touch
altogether.
"I run into people sometimes who know what’s happened to them,"
Miller says. "A lot of them have died. That’s my project  I
hope to know them all of their lives."
While Miller’s additions to the gallery represent the essence of
his photographic mission, Amy Arbus’ selections highlight an
intense three-month period of her life. During this time, she paid
a cab driver to chauffeur her every weekend from midnight to three
in the morning around the areas New York hookers frequent.
In one shadowy black and white photo, "Proposition," a
prostitute in white spiked heels and bobby socks walks between two
lines of cars in her underwear and a garter belt, beneath the night
time blur of streetlights. Another piece, "Body Language," reveals
an equally grainy shot of a working girl in a halter top, short
shorts and spiked heels hanging on the window of a sports car.
"I think they’re some of the most romantic pictures I’ve ever
taken," says Arbus. "I think maybe that’s why there was such an
objection to them. They sort of celebrate this tragic thing that
has to go on. I make them look beautiful and sexy because, to me,
they are."
Originally taken as a fashion series for The Village Voice,
Arbus’ photos caught flack for allegedly objectifying women. The
publication refused to print the pieces, preferring Arbus’ earlier
works which involved random shoots of average people in the down
town area whose unusual attire marked them as trendsetters. Yet, in
the 10 years she shot downtown, Arbus never learned as much about
herself through her work as she did when she photographed the
prostitutes.
"I found out much more than just how to be attractive to men,"
says Arbus. "It was difficult for me to be a woman for the first
time. This time, they were terrified of me. They thought I was
approaching them for sex. They couldn’t understand why I would want
anything else."
After managing finally to take the pictures without upsetting
the subjects, lighting provided a set back. Only eight pictures out
of the entire three-month shoot turned out the way Arbus desired.
Yet, the two examples on display in the Paul Kopeikin Gallery aptly
convey Arbus’ take on the entire experience.
"I think their knowledge of life and how to get what they need
is really quite deep," says Arbus of the spotlighted prostitutes.
"The johns are completely anonymous. It doesn’t matter who they
are. I was completely in awe of these women. I thought they looked
great. I didn’t want it to be cliche. I wanted to show them like
the rest of us."
This attitude shapes the outcome of the show. Kopeikin began
collecting the photographs after seeing those taken by E.J. Bellocq
just past the turn of the century. These portraits showcase
prostitutes in respectable poses, treating them as women first, and
marketable goods somewhere else far down the line. This realization
continues to affect Arbus, even seven years after the completion of
her project.
"I would see one girl for a while and then suddenly not see her
again," she relates. "It’s hard to say you can get attached to
someone who you never talk to, but you do. It was tough to
sometimes see them get sick or just have them disappear."
PHOTO: "Prostitution" is on view at the Paul Kopeikin Gallery
through March 11. For more info, call (213) 937- 0765.
(above) Photographer Danny Lyon artfully captures the reality of
prostitution in "Haiti."
(top) Photographer Jose Antonio Carrera’s "Jinetera in la
Habana, Cuba," portrays a woman on the street.
Gallery patrons view artwork.