About Exiles, Cornell Capa once wrote, Koudelka's unsentimental, stark, brooding, intensely human imagery reflects his own spirit, the very essence of an exile who is at home wherever his wandering body finds haven in the night. In this newly revised and expanded edition of the 1988 classic, which includes ten new images and a new commentary with Robert Delpire, Koudelka's work once more forms a powerful document of the spiritual and physical state of exile. The sense of private mystery that fills these photographs--mostly taken during Koudelka's many years of wandering through Europe and Great Britain since leaving his native Czechoslovakia in 1968--speaks of passion and reserve, of his rage to see. Solitary, moving, deeply felt and strangely disturbing, the images in Exiles suggest alienation, disconnection and love. Exiles evokes some of the most compelling and troubling themes of the twentieth century, while resonating with equal force in this current moment of profound migrations and transience.
Incredible black and white photos with emphasis on the ordinary but extraordinary . Life in Europe in last years of the previous century as seen by Koudelka. Not exactly pretty or happy pictures.
Super essay by Czeslaw Milosz in the introduction here, but overall I enjoyed Koudelka's Exiles less than his earlier, earthier, work on the Gypsies in Slovakia. Exiles seems a little too arty at times. The earlier Gypsies is also experimental and revolutionary in its own way, but seems more natural and engaged, less interested in making a statement about art than a statement about people.
Whereas the young Koudelka personally got to know the Romani, visiting them in their forced settlements over the course of several years, his work in Exiles seems more distant. Undoubtedly, this is a mark of Koudelka's own experience after he fled Prague in the wake of the 1968 Revolution and wandered over Western Europe. For all that, it struck me less, and while technically more accomplished, conceptually seems more scattered and less compelling than Gypsies. His photos of the Romani were rich because they grew out of extended observation of one group of people.
Fortunately, neither of these books is dry photojournalism or blasé news reportage. Koudelka's universal reach beyond the surface of things toward the soul underneath is masterful, but I was more drawn into his smaller project in Gypsies.
Koudelka has an uncanny ability to capture the sculptural quality of light, building an architecture of photography through stunning compositions and a tactile exploration of the world - his pictures feel tangible, just there on the other side of the frame. Nobody does it quite like him.
And Czesław Miłosz’s introductory essay is a masterpiece on its own - a moving analysis of exile and creation, loss and rebirth. I felt spoken to in a way little other writing ever has, in limpid, poetic, efficient language.
My favorite living photographer, and my favorite photographic book. I had this out of the library almost constantly when I was a student. Odd, because his work is so different to what mine was at the time.
I can enumerate the various qualities that make most of these photos great works of art. There's an extreme sensitivity to the play of light and conviction to dissolve down into absolute black (the cover photo is a prime example of this). The theming is strong throughout: Boundaries and the movement therearound, things out of or on the cusp of place and all the history that implies, profoundly depersonalized environments, the depravations that come part and parcel with dispossession. Most photos are masterfully composed.
Somehow I've just never found it all that compelling when taken altogether. There are several photos where everything I previously mentioned synthesizes into striking and at times surreal moments that knocked me sideways (in the best way) but those photos are few and far between. It's not that I'm looking to be bowled over on every page or anything. It's just that too much of the collection feels like an academic masterclass in technique all worked over in a (justifiably) dour mood.
The most damning critique of Exiles is that too much of it is too safe.
Been wading into the world of photography of late and eagerly brushing up on the classics; Koudelka is a very recent discovery and I was struck by his pretty raw/realistic style, loved it; a lot of his work is freely available online at the internet archive, go check them out!
4/5: While I didn't feel too connected with the photography, it was still cool to look at. I found this one cause of recommendations for books like The Wisonsin Death Trip, both having dark, eerie photos. Overall, it did what it needed to do. - Constant Reader