There are some books that arrive with a quiet insistence, demanding to be seen not merely with the eyes, but with something deeper in the gut. Sally Mann’s at Twelve: Portraits of Young Women for Aperture is precisely such a book. For a father like me, with a daughter now grown to twenty-four, and a…
It is strange to admit, but I did not always know how to look at nudes. Not really. I do not mean in that bashful, adolescent way we are told to feel growing up in a culture that censor’s skin while glorifying it in everything from shampoo adverts to gallery retrospectives. I mean really look,…