In a world were we are bombarded with images to the point of exhaustion it takes patience and stamina to find photographs that matters. Impact is a term often used to describe a photograph that stands out among others. To create impact in today’s visual overflow photographers often find themselves reaching deeper in their bag of tricks, often resulting in shocking and controversial work. One such artist is British photographer Richard Billingham.

Billingham’s work fits into a genera often referred to as Intimate Photography. This is a type of photography mixing the aesthetic of snapshots with more traditional social documentary photography. The results are often ultra realistic portrayals of real people in real life situation. The subjects usually have a close personal relationship to the photographer. However, this reality might seem distorted to some. More often than not the featured subjects are eccentric, handicapped, poor or ill people, rather than your average Joe. This kind of work confronts us with our own taboos and cultural chains by taking advantage of our natural born curiosity and voyeuristic tendencies. Our reaction is often to take a moral high ground and accuse the photographer of exploiting their subjects. This is of course the reaction that most of these photographers wants us to have. The impact of these photographs are not created by their technical brilliance, but rather by the concept and theme they communicate and the connection they make with our own life experiences.

Richard Billingham’s rise to fame came after the publication of the book Ray’s a Laugh. It is a photo essay about his chronic alcoholic father Ray, his obese, chain-smoking and tattooed mother Liz, and his unruly younger brother Jason. The family lives in a council tower block in Birmingham where Ray spends his days drinking cheap cider and off license liquor. The collection of photographs paints a tragic picture of a dysfunctional family, but also depicts humorous and tranquil moments. Originally, claims Billingham, the photographs were never intended for publication. They were taken as reference material for his paintings while attending Sunderland Art College. As the story goes, a visiting examiner saw the photographs in Billingham’s studio and suggested that they might represent a better expression of his family than his paintings. That this collection of photographs just found their way into the public domain by accident seems a little hard to believe. The story nevertheless strengthens the realism of the photographs. What the photographs might lack in terms of technical perfection they make up for in a consistent and clear artistic vision.

So what happens when such images transforms from snapshots, via books, into large format exhibition prints? First of all their status as art is emphasized. The photographs are now without a doubt meant to be viewed by a large audience. We are no longer viewing private images, but public prints on display in a gallery. In a sense the visual and thematic impact of the photographs are multiplied. We’re now supposed to have an opinion about them. Secondly, we are confronted with the fact that snapshots or documentary photographs can be art. On could say that the craft is being overshadowed by the concept or idea behind the work itself. On the other hand, who’s to say that Billingham isn’t an excellent craftsman when his methods actually help to emphasize what he tries to communicate? Would “technically perfect” photographs have worked at all in this case?

A collection of photographs from Rays a Laugh were selected for the now infamous 1997 Royal Academy of Arts exhibition Sensation: Young British Artists from the Saatchi Collection. It also featured works such as dead tiger shark floating in tank by Damien Hirst, Marcus Harvey’s portrait of mass murderer Myra Hindley, frozen cast of Mark Quinn’s head made with his own blood and Ron Mueck’s sculpture of his naked, deceased father. This undoubtedly elevated Billingham’s work to new heights by putting him in the league of YBA (Young British Artists). He won the Citibank Private Bank Photography Prize in 1997, and was in 2001 shortlisted for the Turner Price. So what’s the controversy?

Billingham has shared with us intimate moments with his family. His family members didn’t sign up as models for the shoot, and as such were taken advantage of. But Richard Billingham didn’t choose his family either. He had to cope with what birth gave him, a life sentence as a member of a dysfunctional poor working class family. He took what he was given and arguably turned it into something great. This is his reality, his normality, and the freak show we make it into probably says more about ourselves than the Billingham family. Who are we to judge? There is a Richard in all of us. There is no greater psychological force in our life than our family. Most of us keep the skeletons in our closet, as some sort of misunderstood loyalty. Maybe the explicit nature of Ray’s a Laugh makes us afraid to confront our own misfortunes? We must not forget the warmth and humor found in these images as well. Reducing Ray’s a Laugh to a tragic epos is just too easy.

Of course, Richard Billingham isn’t the only photographer creating controversy with publication of intimate photographs. Larry Clark, Corinne Day, Nan Goldin, Alessandra Sanguinetti and Petter Hegre have all invited us in to their private spheres. The whole genera and its snapshot aesthetic isn’t new, and still very much alive. Critics claim that shocking images won’t last long in the minds of the audience. Just think of news photography and how indifferent we have become to watching images of starving children or victims of war. While this is true, should one stop reporting human suffrage? I think the answer is obvious. In the end Billingham has created art as perfect as art can be. A body of work that asks as many questions as it answers, but more importantly, succeeds in creating debate in a time when most of us have difficulty feeling anything. In the end, only the Billingham family can tell if going public has been worth it. I’m sure it can’t be easy.