KITSCH GALORE
The silver cover with graphically unfitting fonts introduces us to Parr's portrait of Mexico: Bad taste.
Mr. Villareal, in his introduction masquerading as a letter to Parr, does it justice basically retching over the page with a pretty vile portrait of his homeland. It's not untrue, but it ain't true either. It's a textual snippet of a vast country that comes across as it would be the only thing there is to it. It's unfair. As is the rest of the book. But then, it certainly doesn't claim to be fair. Just an angle. Parr's angle.
Compositionally, Parr's photos are often rather convincing. Technically they aren't. Imagine photos taken with a one-way Kodak camera of yesteryear. That's what you will find here. Bad technology doesn't make anything art. The food photos with plastic cutlery making a pattern are interesting if seen as a series. I really like the cactus with the sign as a rare find and a testimony to an eager eye. Parr's obsession with hats is as apparent as it is obnoxious.
Few of the photos are memorable but there are some: The stillness of the lizard with the ultra-typical tourists in the blurred background, the Malboros with the outline of the Cathedral behind, the serial Jesuses, the tires in mexican colors, the yuxtaposition of raw and "ready-to-eat" chicken feet, the U.S.A. sign, the baby with cones of icecream in its crib, ... The highlight is a tourist taking a photo of a friend while waring a T-Shirt with a very similar scene. Delightfully absurd.
But overall, the book is reminiscent of an assignment given to a first-year art student. Especially the portraits are exceptionally terrible.
But then, I guess, Parr didn't make this book to please. Rather to make money instilling some unease in the viewer. And it succeeds at both quite brilliantly.