It was in 1965 in Brooklyn when Michael Dunn found himself being scolded in Brother Thadeus’s office for dressing inappropriately for Catholic school. “Next time I see you, we’ll be attired according to the school code,” Thadeus instructed. Outside the principal’s office, the new rebel, adorned in her denim jacket adorned with patches, was cautioned by the poetry instructor, “The nose ring – you might want to remove that.” With the structured uniforms of ‘Heaven Help Us’ (1985) and ‘Loving Annabelle’ (2006) in her mind, Andrea Modica’s ‘Catholic Girls’ remains steadfast in challenging conventions, showcasing thick kohl-rimmed eyes styled with a pompadour and a leather jacket that exude the defiance of a motorcycle club, rather than a classroom atmosphere.
Modica was raised in a girls’ Catholic school in Brooklyn. It was a different era for Catholic education, she acknowledged, and it was beneficial for her. “There were many avant-garde nuns,” she mentioned, “And quite a few younger instructors in their 20s who motivated us to form opinions and voice our thoughts. I wouldn’t be here, conversing with you, had it not been for the art teacher Len Bellinger – she really influenced my path.” It was with that muse that Modica boarded a train from Yale, where she was a photography student in 1984, to Brooklyn.
(Image credit: Brooklyn 1984, courtesy of L’Artiere)
Only a few years had passed since high school, and gazing at the new generation of girls, her thoughts shifted back to her challenging high school experiences – the tribulations of adolescence, as she firmly stated, “I wouldn’t hold Catholic school responsible for that.” Observing the girls made her eager to confront that distressing section of her past. The concept transformed into a substantial project when she discovered other Catholic schools in New Haven and captured images of girls there as well – one of the haunting pictures features a girl gazing unsmilingly at the camera, while her blurred classmates giggled around her. Her focus wasn’t on the aesthetics, but rather on how swiftly she could capture the moment between classes, mindful of avoiding reprimand from a teacher – a challenge considering her small stature at five feet alongside a hefty 8×10 camera, which she continues to use. In hindsight, Modica was attracted to places and groups from which she felt excluded. “I wanted to carve out my space there,” she reflected.
Shortly thereafter, Modica began photographing Yankee baseball players in the minor leagues – a complementary project, as she described it. It wasn’t the sport itself that captivated her, but their regulations aimed at suppressing individualistic expressions, such as facial hair – leading her to concentrate on their uniforms and physicality. “They insisted on a specific expectation of politeness,” she reminisced, “Here it’s about uniformity – there’s very little of that embellishment that the high school girls are truly breaking through in their uniforms.” This highlights her intrigue with uniforms – observing individuals articulate their identity within a framework of imposed guidelines.
(Image credit: Brooklyn 1984, courtesy of L’Artiere)
Music heavily influenced the environment during Modica’s high school days, characterized by fringe and striped stockings inspired by ‘70s counterculture and disco. When she began documenting the girls, punk and reggae had taken root. “Her hairstyle was inspired by a drummer from one of the girl bands,” she remarked, indicating the girl featured on the cover, whom she met a few weeks back. Her school predominantly permitted black or navy-blue socks and shoes, alongside a crisp white shirt complemented by a pleated skirt. “But nobody objected to black lipstick or a chain,” she chuckled, recalling how girls at Catholic school used to roll their skirts up, “And collars, reminiscent of dog collars. So, these were methods through which girls could assert their individuality within the confines of the regulations. Nobody said you can’t have hair that’s ten inches tall!”
Modica employs a 19th century platinum printmaking technique, which is labor-intensive. Between requesting a shot and the release of the shutter, several minutes could pass. “Which is an eternity for someone to maintain stillness,” she noted, “Part of the reason nobody is smiling.” This allows the girls enough time to present themselves before the camera, producing a blend of documentation and performance. One girl obscures her face while standing on a table, preparing the gym for a gathering. “I would have certainly advised them to shift a bag or step down a level,” she said, likening it to a fashion shoot – an aesthetic her work largely embodies.
(Image credit: Brooklyn 1984, courtesy of L’Artiere)
There were several photographs which she discarded years ago, she indicated. “Some of the girls possess prints of them,” she noted, as she distributed prints to all of them. Many attended the launch, with Bellinger and other educators assisting her in locating them, after a span of forty years.
(Image credit: Brooklyn 1984, courtesy of L’Artiere)
(Image credit: Brooklyn 1984, courtesy of L’Artiere)