Ecstatic, orgasmic communion with the city.
Fucking New York offers a thoroughly exciting, provocative and playful take on the absurd relationship between New Yorkers and their city. With a subtle sense of humor and seductive play of light and shadow, the empty streets of New York themselves become protagonists of this magnificent book.
Que se passe-t-il quand les villes font l’amour? Fucking New York est l’aboutissement d’une série de photos où les femmes prennent leur pied dans la ville du tout possible.
Millions of citizens’ throbbing lust buried under traffic lights and newsstands and coffee chains. Fucking New York has a manicness to it reminiscent of American Psycho.
A striking tribute to the passion and hustle that makes the city tick.
We still live in a world where women being seen as sexual beings is a struggle. We’re just as sexual as men and our desire for pleasure is just as important. Nikola Tamindzic knows this; he’s created a work of art that speaks volumes and comments on a social stigma that needs to be destroyed.
New York is a disgusting, dirty, rude, unpleasant city, and we who live here and love it want it in us, on us, and about us. At once an epithet, an exhortation, a desire, and an active state, Fucking New York is a dizzy swirl. The Bronx is up and the Battery’s down, and the women are humping concrete all over town.
Sometimes you just want to grab hold of those buildings, throw yourself at the sidewalk and ugh, ugh, ohhh.
Every once in a while someone comes out with something that makes you bite your lip in both attraction and envy, like goddamn, thank you. This is how we feel about Nikola Tamindzic’s newest book Fucking New York.
Take-charge, don’t-give-a-fuck women copping a feel, licking, sucking, and writhing against fire hydrants, on police cars, with brownstone lions, along grungy sidewalks, and against filthy windows — all gorgeously shot and styled. The fucking, which plays on the city as a voyeuristic candy land, is abstract, playful, strange, beautiful, ecstatic, and occasionally downright possessed.
Unprecedented is the word. A dreamlike trance of celebratory sexual solidarity. A silent, organic declaration of female empowerment. As if the term ‘male gaze’ had been buried definitively in a time capsule for a 100 years, to be mocked and laughed at a century later, along with the countless galleries and magazines across America who serve up feminism as a commodity on a daily basis in order to cash in and sell product to a hyper-charged, fad-obsessed, click-bait addicted, super-sensitive swath of confused, guilt-ridden consumers.
Distant, architectural, slightly removed from reality, quietly sensual photographs — their flow broken up by in-your-face closeups and an occasional overtly humorous shot. The uncanny/unreal city feeling the images evoke are reminiscent of surrealist painter Giorgio de Chirico’s plazas, punctuated with Lynchian humor.
He's certainly nabbed our curiosity.