"Seemingly fragile creatures, the lost girls of Rebecca Tillett are alone in the middle of the desert of the American imagination. There are no icons, no pin-ups, and they celebrate nothing but the constant repetition of the great existential failures. There was a time in which those boundless lands gave dreams; subsequently those dreams became nightmares. Now, simply, there is nothing more.

Declared on several occasions as one of the purest voices of the new erotic photography, Tillett has maneuvered skillfully in the globalized fall of intelligence. She refused the ride to stardom. Refused Conde-Nast . Refused suitors from swollen portfolios. Her subjects - strictly feminine - celebrate the American lowlife, a flight from the black heart of the Empire that is as fascinating as it is effective. With floating pop and underground references Tillett is in the margins of every important movement over the past twenty years, a Sylvia Plath of photography."