"The convergence of the Faustian bargain, the envy of others, the symbol of failing in a sexual competition, and of course, death by drowning all converge around the swimming pool," says Dr. Garrard, a psychiatry professor at the Baylor College of Medicine in Houston and an author of Psychiatry and the Cinema.
Born and raised in LA (among other places) where going to the beach or someone's swimming pool is an everyday activity, Prager does not seem to take water for granted. Instead, she commonly casts bodies of water as major elements of foreboding or loss, curiosity and sexuality in her images.
I grew up with a pool and ever since JAWS always thought there was a shark at the bottom just waiting to eat me, even when I was looking straight down through the clear emptiness. "There is something about water that suggests a loss of control, not being able to stand in it, with your head vulnerably sticking out," said Dr. Judith Beck, director of the Beck Institute for Cognitive Therapy and Research in Bala Cynwyd, Pa. "There is an anxiety of pools, of them being a danger area. Intellectually, people know they are not in danger, but their gut tells them that they are."
Prager uses our anxieties about water and the ambiguity they offer to further develop her exploration of female identity, where water acts on characters to reveal change - a violence of some kind, a search, then discovery, and even if it's not witnessed, there is the expectation of transformation.
Now on view at M+B gallery in Los Angeles: 612 North Almont Drive
Los Angeles, California 90069, T 310 550 0050
M+B is pleased to present the exhibition Week-end, the latest body of work by 29-year old photographer ALEX PRAGER. Completely self-taught and recognized for her trademark vision that trumps any formal training, Prager’s Week-end is a collection of 18 color photographs as dazzling as they are bizarre. The exhibition opens January 30, 2010 and will run through March 6, 2010, with an opening reception for the artist on Saturday, January 30 from 6 – 8 pm.
