- Title: Tinisima A Novel
- Author: Elena Poniatowska
- Year Published: 1992/This Edition: 1998 (Penguin Books)
- Year Purchased: 2004
- Source: Barnes & Noble clearance rack
- About: Although she is now one of my favourite photographers, the image that introduced me to Tina Modotti was not by, but rather of, this magnetic and enigmatic woman. It was, of course, an Edward Weston.
Tina Modotti with her arms raised by Edward Weston (Source: Wikimedia Commons, Public Domain)
I enjoy his work, but feel a resolute kinship with the art of the woman whose talent he encouraged. Tinisima, in translation from the original Spanish, is a fictionalized account of her turbulent, sacrificial, frustrating, many-faceted life. In a way, it is a more fitting tribute to its mysterious subject than any well-researched biography.
- Motivation: Having read Patricia Albers’ excellent biography Shadows, Fire, Snow a couple of years earlier, I was interested to see how a fictional account of Modotti’s life would play out.
- Times Read: 1
- Random Excerpt/Page 171: “Eight picture in one day! She always mulled over each shot, even visited the scene and studied the light at different times of day before shooting; she waited for the exact moment, the click ringing out in the sacred silence. Now he is telling her to press the shutter without thinking about the results, like the unconscious blink of an eye. That is journalism.”
- Happiness Scale: 8 1/2
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea.
Not just a blog, a philosophy
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 
Great shot. So pure.
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Isn’t it? Which is why I was instantly captivated by her. I love her work even more, though.
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It’s intimate, has the quality of being private. I always find intimacy in art, anywhere really, instantly gripping.
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I do, as well. The level of intimacy achieved in that photo is exceedingly rare, even for other artists/muses who were also lovers.
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Of course, there is something voyeuristic in observing intimacy.
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True, although there is something at least a tiny bit artificial about any intimacy that is created to be shared.
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