Immune, the second book of photography by Floria Sigismondi, is an aesthetic treat for the eyes. Sigismondi’s work is often bizarre, juxtaposing the subtly and not-so-subtly altered human form against exteriors and interiors that seem otherworldly, yet are gritty and textured enough to be supremely tactile. As with any collection of work, certain themes emerge: the imagery of war looms in the creative impetus behind many of the photographs in Immune, as do artistic depictions of Sigismondi’s pregnancy. The co-existence of these two themes is particularly interesting; are we to know that even in times of human casualty, life begins anew? Or are we to cringe inwardly at the kind of world we are bringing the next generation into? Of course, the photographic works in this book cover a much wider range of themes than just birth and war. Sigismondi is best known as a music video director and many of the pictures in Immune are still photographs taken from her video shoots. Taken out of context, for a moment the beauty and complexity of Sigismondi’s composition allows familiar faces such as Robert Smith, Leonard Cohen, and Meg White to go unnoticed as you instead marvel at the curious phantasmagoria contained on the page. Also of interest are the emergence of Catholic imagery and themes; whether these are the remnants of Sigismondi’s Italian background or a new reiteration of Symbolist and Decadent aesthetic ideals, I am unqualified to guess.

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