Todd Hido
American, b. 196811419, 2014
Archival pigment print mounted on aluminium Dibond.
35.6 x 27.9 cm / 14 x 11 in
61 x 50.8 cm / 24 x 20 in
96.5 x 76.2 cm / 38 x 30 in
121.9 x 96.5 cm / 48 x 38 in
187.3 x 149.9 cm / 73 3/4 x 59 in
Signed, titled, numbered, and dated on a label affixed to the verso of the mount
Edition of 10 + 3 AP — 35.6 x 27.9 cm / 14 x 11 in
Edition of 10 + 3 AP — 61 x 50.8 cm / 24 x 20 in
Edition of 5 + 1 AP — 96.5 x 76.2 cm / 38 x 30 in
Edition of 3 + 1 AP — 121.9 x 96.5 cm / 48 x 38 in
Edition of 1 + 1 AP NFS — 187.3 x 149.9 cm / 73 3/4 x 59 in
© The Artist
Where has she just turned from, or toward? The woman looks off to the right, chin over a bare shoulder, red hair falling in a soft flip, lips a startling scarlet against skin warmed by some low lamp. Behind her the wall is a deep aquarium teal, and the contrast of that cool ground with her warm face is the kind of thing that should not work and completely does.
Intimate Distance is a good title, and an honest one, because that is exactly the register: close enough to count the freckles, far enough that she remains a stranger, absorbed in a thought I am not party to. Hido photographs women rather as he photographs houses at night, from a respectful remove, letting the lit interior imply a life while keeping its door shut. The shoulder in the foreground is practically a landscape.
I have stared at this longer than a portrait of someone I will never meet strictly warrants, which is, I suppose, the trap such pictures set. There is a whiff of the 1960s about it, the bob, the lipstick, a paperback-cover glamour, though pinning down the exact reference is a mug's game. Printed large as archival pigment on Dibond, the teal deepens and the red sings, and she goes on looking away, sealed in her own weather.