JTF (just the facts): Published in 2024 by Trolley Books (here). Hardcover with exposed spine, 224 pages, with 201 color photographs. Includes texts by Charlotte Jansen and the artist. Design by Emma Scott-Child. (Cover and spread shots below.)
Comments/Context: In her raw, messy, and yet tender photobook Sorry I gave birth I disappeared but now I’m back, the Hungarian photographer Andi Gáldi Vinkó reflects on her experience of becoming a mother and losing herself. At the point when her career was rising, the artist learned she was pregnant. Gáldi Vinkó says that she didn’t have time to prepare for motherhood (also admitting that it might not even be possible to prepare) and was shocked by her vulnerability and incapacity. She turned to her camera to “get through the hard times, the questions, the dilemmas”. The book was first published in 2022, sold out within months, and the second edition was printed earlier this year. It won the 2023 Kraszna-Krausz Foundation Photography Book Award.
Over the past couple of years, more photobooks have openly engaged with less public and less talked-about journeys of motherhood. My Birth by Carmen Winant (reviewed here) was one of the first to forcefully reclaim the process of giving birth, with power, empathy, and bold openness. In her striking self-published book The Quickening (reviewed here), Ying Ang shares the emotional landscape of new motherhood. Other artists have focused on a wider range of related issues, including the frustrations of infertility treatment (Elina Brotherus) and the decision not to become a mother (Jackie Dives). And photobooks such as Stiya by Cole Barash (reviewed here) and Mother by Adrian Samson (reviewed here) offer the perspectives of new fathers.
As a photobook object, Sorry I Gave Birth immediately feels exciting and powerful. It is a medium-sized cardboard book with an open spine, and a photograph of a pregnant belly takes up the entire front cover, overlaid with the embossed title (and the artist’s name) in white font spread across five lines. The title, Gáldi Vinkó explains, “refers to this whole feeling of being left out” and was a reference to an email she sent out, part of which read “Sorry, I gave birth”. Inside, most of the photographs are printed full bleed, and occasionally interrupted with short but sharp sentences. There are no captions, page numbers, or any other design elements. The book also easily lays flat making the interaction even more enjoyable. An essay by Charlotte Jansen, curator of the group exhibition “Birth” (2019) which explored the representation of birth and surrounding topics, opens the book.
To build her narrative, Gáldi Vinkó brings together photographs of pregnant women (many are her friends) with their children and partners. Through images of transforming women’s bodies, crying babies, exhausted mothers in the act of breastfeeding, and in between moments, she captures many feelings, including uncertainty, exhaustion, fear, wonder, and joy. Her focus on the full range of emotions inflicted by both physical and emotional trauma makes the book really stand out.
One of the first photographs in the book is a full spread shot of a pregnant woman floating in water, as light reflects in sparkles, making it feel calm and effortless. Yet very quickly the visual flow turns to the mundane reality of motherhood, with shots of saggy skin, milk, stitches, blood stains, and even midnight Google searches.
The book also has a healthy sense of humor, from one of the first images showing two turtles on top of each other to fun pairings such as the juxtaposition of a pregnant woman holding a squash with a photo of a man pushing out his belly while taking off his t-shirt. And in another one a photo of a baby’s butt seated on the face of Belle (from Beauty and the Beast) is paired with a close up of a baby’s mouth showing teething. In yet another shot, the artist sits on the toilet as her baby crawls to her for attention.
Images of nature are placed next to photos of bodily fluids, reflecting on the often raw but significant moments of early motherhood. The artist offers her middle finger to a stain on sheets, while the picture on the right depicts four stacked containers filled with milk and set in snow. A spread with “power of vulnerability” handwritten in all caps is followed by a full bleed image showing a woman from the back wearing a postpartum diaper. In another instant, a photo of apples (many of them rotten) sprinkled on green grass is paired with a close up shot of a nipple decorated with a small flower.
One of the last spreads in the book pairs a sentence reading “I will have a big comeback I’m working on something” and a close up shot of a baby’s face with a runny nose. Sorry I Gave Birth is an intimate photobook that thoughtfully reflects on the experience of motherhood. Together with other photobooks that deal with a wide range of issues related to motherhood, it expands the conversation, making a warm and humane contribution. Gáldi Vinkó also notes that this project will always be a work in progress, it is ”about becoming, understanding, and remembering,” adding later on “I love being a mother. I also loved being an artist.”
Collector’s POV: Andi Gáldi Vinkó is represented by Deák Erika Gallery in Budapest (here). Her work has not yet found its way to the secondary markets, so gallery retail remains the best option for those collectors interested in following up.
