Welcome to this edition of [book spotlight]. Today, we uncover the layers of ‘Moral Minority,’ bySergio Purtell* (published by*STANLEY/BARKER). We’d love to read your comments below about these insights and ideas behind the artist’s work.

Sergio Purtell spent 20 years photographing America’s contradictions.

What he captured was a country performing its own myths while living completely different realities. The Chilean immigrant arrived in Hamilton, Ohio in 1972 as a teenager who barely spoke English, but his camera became his translator. His new book “Moral Minority” compiles decades of street photography that shows parades, fairs, and public spaces where Americans display both their deepest insecurities and boldest confidence. The images reveal a nation obsessed with being seen, even when what they show contradicts what they believe.

Most photographers document what they see, but Purtell documented what others refused to notice.

His outsider perspective caught the small gestures, the quiet moments, the spaces between the spectacle where real life happens. He spent three decades attending community events across America, watching how people interact when they think nobody is really paying attention. The photographs in “Moral Minority” capture the tenderness and tension that exists in American public life, from the late 1970s through the early 1990s. This body of work stands as both historical document and prophecy, showing the seeds of division that would define America decades later.

The the Book

Moral Minority documents American life between 1977 and 1999, capturing a country caught between its myths of freedom and social reality. Sergio Purtell photographed parades, county fairs, and public spaces where Americans gather to see and be seen.

What makes this work unique is Purtell’s perspective as a Chilean immigrant who fled his country after a military coup. He arrived in America as a teenager with limited English, using his camera to understand this complex new place. His images show both the collective energy of American gatherings and the quiet moments that reveal authentic selves.

Published by Stanley/Barker in June 2024, this 184-page hardcover captures the seeds of cultural divisions that would define America decades later. Purtell’s work offers an outsider’s view of a country performing its identity in public while living different realities in private. (STANLEY/BARKER)

Overview of the project: What inspired you to create Moral Minority, and how did your experience as a Chilean immigrant shape the way you documented American life?

I’ve always been a photographer that works intuitively, rather than conceptualising a project or body of work before making the pictures. Moral Minority is a reflection of almost three decades of my life, the late-70s through the early-90s. During this time I grew from a young immigrant who barely spoke English to someone who built a life here in the United States full of deep connections and meaningful relationships. Photography was a means for me to be out in the world and explore it, to attempt to understand this complex country through my camera.

The work evolved naturally as my life did, and only much later did the project crystallise in its current form. I always recognised the common themes in the work and how the images worked well together even decades apart. My first book with Stanley/Barker, Love’s Labour, came out at the beginning of the pandemic. This book documented my travels in Europe beginning as a young man, and served as an escape for many people during lockdown when we could not leave our bubbles. I could never have predicted that.

Similarly, I could never have imagined that Moral Minority would come into existence in book form right around the culmination of the 2024 election. Many of the themes in the book are so directly relevant to our current sociopolitical climate. I think in this way, both of my books were premonitions of some sort.

In terms of my experience as an immigrant and how it shaped my way of documenting, I would say that it gave me a profound sense of curiosity. Later as I grew more familiar with this place, I gained a sense of perspective through which I could be both empathetic in my photography and critical in my thinking.

I’ve always been aware of politics since I left my birth country of Chile due to a military coup.

Observations of American culture: You described the stark contrast between Santiago’s closed-off homes and Hamilton, Ohio’s open white-picket fences. How did this early cultural observation shape your understanding of American society, and how did it influence the way you approached your photography?

At first, it mostly confused me. I asked myself why anyone would go through so much trouble to put up fences that served no material purpose. In Santiago, the architecture of the houses and neighbourhoods was very practical. The enclosed spaces were protective and also strong delineators of private property.

Of course, I eventually came to understand that the meaning of these fences was largely ideological. They were signifiers of status to everyone who passed by, of ownership of private property, and of a subscription to a patriotic ideal.

In terms of how all of this influences my photography, I can only say that it was one of the many markers of how Americans portray themselves to others that challenged me to look curiously and think critically about the country I now inhabit.

Depicting myths and realities: Your photographs explore the dual myths of emancipation and conquest in America. How did you navigate capturing both the idealised vision of the country and the more complex, unspoken realities?

It’s all right there in front of us. We are surrounded by bright lights and big signs that tell us how great this nation is, what we should be buying, how proud and patriotic we should be, or who we should fear.

But that’s only half of the story. Choosing to be present in the world, to be in public spaces, and observe the ways in which we share space with one another and interact with both friends and strangers illuminates the subtleties of the many disparate versions of reality in the United States. I think Moral Minority is a reflection of my own experience of trying to understand how to exist and how to understand my life here.

Public space as a site of human connection: Your work focuses on parades, fairs, and other communal events. What drew you to these public spaces, and what do you think they reveal about the social fabric of the country during the years you photographed?

Americans love to be seen. I was especially drawn to these public events and spaces because people often go there with the expectation that they will be looked at and that they are presenting a particular version of themselves. Things like parades and fairs also draw quite a diverse group of individuals across age, race, and class; situations where the serendipities and contradictions of who we are can be seen more clearly. There is a palpable energy to these moments, and I was able to harness that curiosity. People tend to display traits of both insecurity and confidence in public settings.

The passage of time and evolving themes: The images in Moral Minority span from 1977 to the early 1990s. How did your perspective evolve over that time, and did you notice significant changes in the way Americans engaged with public and private spaces?

I would not say that my perspective evolved so much as I grew and changed, as did the world around me. I continued and still continue to seek to work intuitively and be present in the world when I photograph, and in this way, there is a strong continuity to my pictures through the years.

Walls as symbols in your work: You mention that while making these images, a wall was coming down in East Berlin, and today, a wall is being built along the southern U.S. border. How do you see these physical and metaphorical walls influencing the narrative of Moral Minority?

In our lives currently, walls are playing an increasing role in how we interact with one another, both physically and metaphorically. Never before in my lifetime has the language used by politicians and everyday people become so outwardly divisive. The ideological strategies of the far right are being manifested verbally and in the structure of our government institutions and border infrastructure. While I was not as directly aware or considering this at the time I made these pictures, I think they serve as a preamble to the country as it exists today. There is still a lot of tenderness and subtlety in the pictures, however.

Human tenderness amid societal contradictions: Your images often capture moments of quiet human intimacy amidst the broader social landscape. How do you approach photographing these fleeting moments of rest and connection?

I have always approached making pictures from a place where I desire to be part of the world and to document it as it is, without prejudice. As such, I really don’t direct the scene or subjects in any way, and do my best to follow my feet and find myself in interesting social situations where I can work instinctively. People interact with one another in so many subtle ways, and the gestures we make can speak volumes even if they are missed in the moment. Small gestures can be loving, political, defensive, humorous, playful, etc., and are indicators of the many ways in which people can stay the same even as times change.

The role of displacement in your work: Having personally experienced displacement, how do you think this perspective informs the way you document people who live on the periphery or those who, as you put it, “testify to the intricate predicament between right and wrong”?

I have always tried to be democratic in who and how I photograph. By being present in the world and entering all kinds of spaces, I inevitably photographed people all across the spectrum. My own experience of displacement meant that I entered this country as a young man with only my preconceived notions of what this place was and the kind of people who lived here. My discovery of its intricacies and contradictions was gradual, and I didn’t always understand the social norms right away. I was seeing everything for the first time.

Advice for emerging photographers: For photographers interested in documenting social and cultural narratives over long periods, what lessons from Moral Minority would you share to help them develop meaningful and reflective bodies of work?

My advice would just be to trust your instincts and get to know who you are and why you make pictures. You don’t need to write a book, just go out as often as possible and engage and try and be present as you execute your craft. It should not feel like a job, but something that you want to do.

It may take a while for a body of work to emerge from your pictures, but if you maintain your curiosity and trust in fate your work will have some coherence and strength. Everyone works in a different way, but I have tried not to let an idea drive the making of pictures, rather let the making of pictures build the idea from within.

To discover more about this intriguing body of work and how you can acquire your own copy, you can find and purchase the book here. (STANLEY/BARKER)

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We’d love to read your comments below, sharing your thoughts and insights on the artist’s work. Looking forward to welcoming you back for our next [book spotlight]. See you then!

Martin Kaninsky

Martin is the creator of About Photography Blog. With over 15 years of experience as a practicing photographer, Martin’s approach focuses on photography as an art form, emphasizing the stories behind the images rather than concentrating on gear.