photo essays

The photos in this book are not about Los Alamos, New Mexico. Although some of them may have been taken there, many--maybe most--are from Eggleston's familiar Deep South. One is done in an airplane flying over God-knows-where.

But the photos aren't about the locations. They are about color. And the main colors are red, white and blue.

If Eggleston's "...Guide" was photographed under the influence of the design of the Confederate flag (as Eggleston has claimed), then the framework and inspiration for this book are the colors of the American flag.

Robert Frank's monotone classic "Americans" had the underlying theme of the American flag. Eggleston's "Los Alamos" uses the colors of the flag as a motif. Shot over the years 1966 through 1974, there is a range of emotions within the photographs. There is cynicism--those were times ripe with cynicism--but there is also much found to admire in the American landscape at that time. Particularly the richness of the colors portrayed in the most banal and commonplace of subjects. In this arena, few photographic artists compare with William Eggleston.

Los Alamos is a full-color, 175-page, photographic portrait of a New Mexican town. These images, captured on film by master photographer William Eggleston, range from 1966 to 1974 and superbly capture the ups, downs, scenery, and close-ups of a living, breathing city. No text distracts from the full-page photographs, which are presented as the works of art they are. This large sized compendium is a welcome and recommended addition to any personal, professional, academic, or community library Photography collection.

Eggleston is a bit of a mystery. His photographs make you open your eyes wide and say, "Wow!" but it's hard to say what it is about them that is so stunning. This book is the best thing he has published to date and it offers the clearest window into Eggleston's genius that I've seen. Reproduced on large pages in rich colors that leap out and shake you until you splutter, these pictures bypass the intellect and kick your sense of raw beauty like a mule with a belly full of habaneros.

It's clear to you that the beauty is all about the color, or is it? What's happening with the composition? Soemthing is at the tip of your tongue, but try as you might, you can't say what makes these pictures so obviously works of great genius.

When you calm back down and try to figure how a book of pictures that look almost like snapshots could sting you so hard, the accompanying essay by Thomas Weski gives the best account of Eggleston's work that I've seen to date---short, but clearer and more insightful than Janet Malcolm's meditation on color and snapshots in Diana and Nikon or Eudora Welty's introduction to The Democratic Forest.