A briefcase containing a meticulous account of the affair between Gunter K., 39, and his then secretary Margret S., 24. from May 1969 to December 1970, found in an abandoned German apartment. Everything from clippings of her hair to detailed accounts of their sexual escapades, and countless photographs of Margret in her underwear smoking cigarettes, staring out windows, looking with an intense longing back into the camera. Gunter’s intricate and obsessive nature of accounting this affair is both slightly creepy and entirely fascinating. It taps into our most voyeuristic nature. It is the complete telling of the ultimate secret.
Looking over these photographs has me thinking less about this woman, her bouffant hair and nylons, and more about myself as a version of this woman. I start to archive my own sexual history, thinking of who I’ve been and of the men I have been with. I think about driving empty lonely highways late at night and waiting in parking lots for a tour bus. I think about winter and last call in small smoke filled bars. I think a lot about what drives people to keep such massive secrets. If I were to have been documented– myself looking out of motel room windows, smoking cigarettes by a drained pool in the winter in Los Angeles. How would it look to the rest of the world? What kind of lover would they call me? What details would be sparred and which ones shared? What would my eyes say back through the lens of their memories?