Contrasting views of the subcontinent of India are presented by Belgian photographer Henry Lambert in his new collection, India Above and Below. Lambert’s photographs span the 1970s and 80s, when he was married to famous filmmaker Parma Chakraborty and spent years with her exploring her home country. The photos are a juxtaposition of intimacy and estrangement; you stand in Lambert’s shoes, seeing what he sees, but you still feel at odds with the subjects. Why? Because they seem eerily indifferent to Lambert, as he is likely to them. You are in private homes, at band rehearsals, photo studios of other photographs, backstage at cabarets, but you still feel strange, like you don’t belong. Lambert goes for this pure strangeness: he doesn’t avoid it, in fact, he invites it. You begin to feel a bizarre quality of India and wonder if that is what has emerged from the last quarter of the 20th century. It is unclear just what we are looking at. Are those fruit sellers hidden among the lush, colorful photos of produce stalls, or is that a mirage, a trick of light? (This question can apply to almost all of the pictures.) Where do the objects leave off and the flesh-and-blood people begin? Lambert’s vision of India is crowded, brutal, heaving with color and texture—and as remote from Western life as if the photos were taken two centuries ago. You wonder if you’ll ever get to know the place at all—or want to.

Question

Contrasting views of the subcontinent of India are presented by Belgian photographer Henry Lambert in his new collection, India Above and Below. Lambert’s photographs span the 1970s and 80s, when he was married to famous filmmaker Parma Chakraborty and spent years with her exploring her home country. The photos are a juxtaposition of intimacy and estrangement; you stand in Lambert’s shoes, seeing what he sees, but you still feel at odds with the subjects. Why? Because they seem eerily indifferent to Lambert, as he is likely to them. You are in private homes, at band rehearsals, photo studios of other photographs, backstage at cabarets, but you still feel strange, like you don’t belong. Lambert goes for this pure strangeness: he doesn’t avoid it, in fact, he invites it. You begin to feel a bizarre quality of India and wonder if that is what has emerged from the last quarter of the 20th century. It is unclear just what we are looking at. Are those fruit sellers hidden among the lush, colorful photos of produce stalls, or is that a mirage, a trick of light? (This question can apply to almost all of the pictures.) Where do the objects leave off and the flesh-and-blood people begin? Lambert’s vision of India is crowded, brutal, heaving with color and texture—and as remote from Western life as if the photos were taken two centuries ago. You wonder if you’ll ever get to know the place at all—or want to.
Question
Use the passage to answer the question.

What is the reviewer’s argument in this critical response?

(1 point)
Responses

The reviewer argues that the photographs do not bring the viewer any closer to India than if they were there.
The reviewer argues that the photographs do not bring the viewer any closer to India than if they were there.

The reviewer argues that India feels strange, and is as foreign as ever to Westerners.
The reviewer argues that India feels strange, and is as foreign as ever to Westerners.

The reviewer argues that Lambert’s photographs make the viewer question their Western life.
The reviewer argues that Lambert’s photographs make the viewer question their Western life.

The reviewer argues that Lambert’s photographs inspire people to want to visit India.

GPT 3.5 · Answer

The reviewer argues that India feels strange, and is as foreign as ever to Westerners.