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| Anonymous Swedish Designer Nan Goldin - Ballad of Sexual Dependency 1993 photo-lithograph (exhibition poster) Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Allen Frame Nan Goldin and Allen Frame in the reflection, NYC 1981 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Nan on Brian's lap, Nan's Birthday, NYC 1981 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Ric at a restaurant, NYC 1994 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Joan Crawford on Fire, Thanksgiving, New Jersey 2005 C-print Walker Art Center, Minneapolis |
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| Nan Goldin Ivy wearing a fall, Boston 1973 gelatin silver print Guggenheim Museum, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Ivy in the Boston Garden 1973 gelatin silver print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Naomi close-up 1974 gelatin silver print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Bruce bleaching his eyebrows, Pleasant St, Cambridge 1975 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin French Chris at the Drive-in, New Jersey 1979 C-print Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Nan Goldin Self Portrait on top of Brian Kissing, NYC 1983 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Kim in rhinestones, Paris 1991 C-print Guggenheim Museum, New York |
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| Nan Goldin C putting on her make-up at Second Tip, Bangkok 1992 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin David in bed, Leipzig, Germany 1992 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Takaki with his mother Yumi 1994 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Honda brothers in cherry blossom storm, Tokyo 1994 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
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| Nan Goldin Gravestone in Pet Cemetery, Lisbon, Portugal 1998 C-print Whitney Museum of American Art, New York |
from Averno
You die when your spirit dies.
Otherwise, you live.
You may not do a good job of it, but you go on –
something you have no choice about.
When I tell this to my children
they pay no attention.
The old people, they think –
this is what they always do:
talk about things no one can see
to cover up all the brain cells they're losing.
They wink at each other;
listen to the old one, talking about the spirit
because he can't remember anymore the word for chair.
It is terrible to be alone.
I don't mean to live alone –
to be alone, where no one hears you.
I remember the word for chair.
I want to say – I'm just not interested anymore.
I wake up thinking
you have to prepare.
Soon the spirit will give up –
all the chairs in the world won't help you.
I know what they say when I'm out of the room.
Should I be seeing someone, should I be taking
one of the new drugs for depression.
I can hear them, in whispers, planning how to divide the cost.
And I want to scream out
you're all of you living in a dream.
Bad enough, they think, to watch me falling apart.
Bad enough without this lecturing they get these days
as though I had any right to this new information.
– Louise Glück (2006)