Motel 42 (Leaf, 2024) is another testament to the never-ending slew of American road trip books. However, in Eloïse Labarbe-Lafon’s book, you can’t see much of America outside of the cigarette-stained roadside motel rooms she and her lover Adrien have occupied. You can read about the places they visited in the back of the book, in both French and English. These anecdotal encounters often add the grit and reality missing from the pictures, which can be seen as semi-performative and voyeuristic, or both. It might seem like a contradiction to suggest that performance and voyeurism can be viewed in tandem. Still, the act of being viewed is nuanced, and it is often less about anonymity and a lack of consent than we might imagine. Voyeurism does not always imply a complete lack of awareness that it is occurring.

Motel 42 is a strange book. First and foremost, one notices the hand-colored approach to the photographs and that the majority of the images are of Eloïse Labarbe-Lafon, the artist. This suggests that someone else is handling the camerawork (possibly a tripod), presumably Adrien, which indicates the direction of the point of view. The artist herself has suggested or maintained a specific way to take the photograph, challenging any spontaneity we might have otherwise assumed. This makes it more like a directorial debut than a suggestion of observation. This aspect of the work, with its constant revolving, even if it’s just minor detailing of the rooms, suggests that the theme is less about America or a specific place than it is about performance set in a particular trope of the establishing shot: the cheap American motel. This is not a detriment to the pictures, but when you read the diary of the journey in the back, one comes away wanting to hear more about the experiences as they are spoken in a tone of voice that one can relate to.

The pictures themselves are well done. The hand-tinting, as mentioned above, reminds one of Hans Bellmer, Ellen Rogers, Paulina Otylie Surys, Boris Mikhailov, Nicol Vizioli, and particularly Jan Saudek’s work that oscillates between fashionable uses of color applied in a garish manner with a primary base, rendering the application somewhat rudimentary, but this is how the form follows the paper substrate. Hand-painted photographs do not behave like a canvas; expecting them to perform like a painting would be an exercise in futility. Instead, the paint presents a hyper-real sensation that distills the images into the realm of the unbelievable. This tactic acknowledges they are staged images, thus allowing the critique of the photos to remain within the realm of the imaginary. Of course, it would be hard not to acknowledge Sophie Calle’s work when thinking through Eloïse’s images. There is undoubtedly a feeling of self-referential attitudes found in Calle’s work here, with the writing at the back of the book adding to the autobiographical feel. That said, it is less about gaming the viewership and can be seen as a more playful extension to the audience than in Calle’s often narcissistic (my reading) output.

Motel 42 is built on a form of repetition of the artist’s body in one continuous (if slightly changing) motel space. The repetition makes it intentional and defies being read as purely typology-driven or purely performance-driven. Somewhere between these modes, the book offers something dream-driven and elusive, much like the country in which the pair find themselves. I like the book, but after reviewing much of Eloïse Labarbe-Lafon’s other photographic work on her Instagram and website, I see that there is much more to offer in her work. In other works, the hand-painting extends beyond self-referential into several different territories, creating something equally, if not more challenging. Here, I am reminded of Krass Clement’s Drum and how, in constraint, the use of one room or environment suggests an artist’s ability to get creative, to find nuance in the seemingly prison-like architecture of confinement. This is a good start for a very talented young artist finding her way into the photobook medium.

I think on the production side, some slightly different choices could have been made for the paper stock to reflect the materiality of the artists’ painted works, but it’s a minor observation. Although I am personally uninterested in the nudes in the book or the more erotically driven subject matter, I can see it evolving into something more cerebral down the road. I like the pastiche of the motel, but I believe the next work will feel more like an evolution in which slightly cliched motifs will be dropped. You can see this already in her more recent work. There is undoubtedly a strong voice forming, and this is its first invocation. Keep an eye on Eloïse.