Bob Coulter, Bad Girls Hotel, Book Review, photo book, Goliath, Goliath Books, MixOfPix, noir, new york


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1-23-2007

All photographs courtesy of Goliath.eu. Used with permission.

Bob Coulter's Bad Girls Hotel has just about everything I love in an erotic photo book. Hell -- this pile of dangerous delectation is packed chock-full of all I could ever want in life. It's got bad girls and hotels, yes -- these two probably top the list -- but it's also got garish decorations, fishnet stockings, death's-head necklaces, fallout-shelter tattoos, Wild Turkey, knives, devotional art, duct tape, chihuahuas, cigarettes, bare light bulbs, coat hangers, bare mattresses, hissing radiators, rusted old sinks, jelly donuts, gold sequins, gummi worms, rosaries, handcuffs, panties, a naked girl in a sombrero, and a tarnished nickel revolver, not to mention lace, leather, lime green, safe-t-orange, satin, silk, cheap cotton ticking and, most importantly, flesh.

The flesh is of the nubile and feminine kind, with hotter-than-hot models -- some familiar, some not -- comfortably ensconced in the trashy environs of this legendary flop, posing and preening and putting off so much attitude you can cut it with a Tijuana switchblade or snort it with a rolled-up Jackson.

To give you some context: All these photographs were shot over the course of a year at the disreputable Carlton Arms Hotel on 25th Street in Manhattan. As the introduction describes it: "Nobody in their right mind would ever stay there. So the guests that do stay there are mostly European tourists, and some natives who want to be able to say they spent a night in a room that reminds you of the Merry Pranksters' Magic Bus." Another point made in the intro is that "I guess almost nobody does acid any more... but if they did... this is how they would decorate a hotel."

In fact, lots of people do acid any more, and apparently most of them find work decorating hotels like the Carlton Arms. The walls and fixtures are explosions of gaudy hues and hallucinogenic shapes mingled with wallpaper that looks left over from '40s. Surely no one in their right mind would stay there, but if you, say, happened to be on the run from Big Jimmie Fingers and Hacksaw Mike, with eight grand in your valise, a rusting .45 tucked into your waistband and a a straight razor tucked into your sock garter, this is the joint you'd hole up in, hopefully with a couple of Coulter's dames to keep you company while you smoke your last pack of Luckys.

In Hotel, the style of Coulter's photography is starkly-lit, with defined shadows and radiant, even garish colors, clever use of perspective and a healthy appreciation of sensory overload. The shabby environs are so exquisitely dressed as to suggest a movie set -- dime-novel noir, you understand -- with as much richness and texture as one might expect from a shutterbug who appreciates the squallid eroticism of the ghetto fabulous. But even if you might accuse Coulter of tragedy tourism, the gusto with which he and his subjects enjoy the environment is so deliciously evident that the energy positively radiates off the page. This is in-your-face trash crossed with lovable camp, and presented with such artistry that the images taken on the richness of a Tarot card, packed with icons of faded elegance and unfettered creative madness.

It's also worth mentioning that the photos are powerfully erotic; Coulter's models are gorgeous, and he has a knack for catching them in moments of potential energy, when savage sexuality lurks within the perfect lines of a jauntily-cocked hip or an arched back, ready to explode.

Bad Girls Hotel is a beautiful entry into that small genre of photo books that rev on sensory overload and the celebration of explosive squallor. It's a delicious collection of creative, sexy photographs, and a hell of a lot of fun.

Bob Coulter's Bad Girls Hotel can be purchased at Amazon.com

Bad Girls Hotel - by Thomas S. Roche Top of the Guide


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