Photography

Pope Mountain Arts Centre shines spotlight on photography and pottery artists

Pope Mountain Arts Centre shines spotlight on photography and pottery artists

Pope Mountain Arts Centre is showcasing the talents of local artists Taylor Hansen and the husband-wife duo Colleen and Jim Fitzpatrick as April’s featured Artists of the Month.

The Fitzpatricks specialise in pottery, crafting stunning, innovative, and functional pieces. Their passion for ceramics and global inspiration shines through in their vibrant colours, textures, and designs as they continually seek to innovate and learn from artists worldwide.

Hansen, known for her landscape photography, reflects on her artistic journey, stating, “Photography gave me instant results that didn’t need to dry or be clear coated.” Now, in her mid-30s, Hansen explores new artistic avenues such as woodworking, vinyl art, watercolour, and creative writing.

“Having photography and pottery as a new art form for feature artists, we are excited to have Taylor Hansen and Colleen and Jim Fitzpatrick here during April,” said Jo Anne Alexander, program manager at Pope Mountain Arts Centre.

The Artist of the Month program, which started in Fall 2022, aims to support and promote artists of all genres, averaging eight to nine featured artists annually, Alexander said.

“In February, we showcased kindergarten classes from Nakal’bun & David Hoy School, greatly appreciated by the community,” Alexander said. Pope Mountain plans to feature an artist from Prince George in May.

The month-long exhibition, held in the building gallery, is widely promoted on Pope Mountain’s social media platforms and website, offering artists the opportunity to sell their work.

“It has become quite popular, with requests from artists outside of Fort St. James,” Alexander mentioned, emphasising its openness to artists from any community within the area.

Interested artists can reach out to Pope Mountain Arts via email or the website, with no strict selection process in place yet.

“I am always looking for new and interesting art forms,” said Alexander, adding that community members are also welcome to nominate an artist or encourage them to contact her for a show opportunity.

The exhibition is open to the public during designated hours on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Thursdays, with workshops and classes held monthly at the centre. Artists are encouraged to interact with visitors during their show, and some arrange evening receptions featuring refreshments and artist talks.

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Why Is Nan Goldin Considered a Trailblazer in Modern Photography?

Why Is Nan Goldin Considered a Trailblazer in Modern Photography?
nan goldin trailblazer modern photography

 

The legendary American photographer Nan Goldin never attempted to fit into mainstream society. She created her own family, her own ways of expression, and her own artworks regardless of the external demands. Decades later, her unique aesthetic vision influenced generations of photographers and revolutionized visual language. Here is what makes Nan Goldin a trailblazer in the world of modern photography.

Nan Goldin: Voyeur Turned Participant

goldin twisting photo
Twisting at My Birthday Party, New York City, by Nan Goldin, 1980. Source: MOCA, Los Angeles

The unique artistic style of Nan Goldin undoubtedly emerged from her troubled early years. She grew up as the youngest child in a respectable Jewish family based in Massachusetts. She never felt comfortable within the limits and restraints imposed on her by the outside world in this setting. The turning point was the suicide of her elder sister Barbara whom Goldin adored. After several years spent in psychiatric institutions expressing signs of homosexuality, Barbara decided to lie down on the tracks of a commuter train. Their parents never explained anything to the children, yet the truth was out there. It was then that Nan realized she needed to find a way of keeping her loved ones close to her, whether in life or death. Photography became the perfect medium for doing that.

Soon after the tragedy, the future artist ran away from home. Goldin started selling drugs at the age of thirteen. By her late teens, she became heavily addicted to heroin. She lived with friends, attended a hippie high school with a free curriculum, and gradually gathered around groups of like-minded creative minds. They were outcasts just like her, at odds with the normative world.

nan goldin protest
Nan Golding protesting. Source: Frieze

Since her earliest photographic experiments, she aimed to capture the beauty of her found family, their personalities, and their shared moments. Among her friends were drug addicts, homeless artists, drag performers, and unemployed actors. All these people often appeared in the works of other photographers who intended to capture the depravity of youth, the non-normative lifestyles, or the unusual preferences, essentially juxtaposing these marginalized people with the normal world.

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Nan Goldin was different right from the start—she was never a voyeuristic camerawoman invited to someone’s party. She was the equally welcomed guest, if not the host. The most compelling part of her oeuvre is the deep love and mutual respect between Goldin and her models that always seem visible in her works.

Her Lifestyle Defines Her Methods

nan goldin susan photo
Bea, Ivy, and Susan in the Corner, The Other Side, Boston, 1972, by Nan Goldin, 1972. Source: Marian Goodman Gallery

Although Nan Goldin received formal art education which came significantly after her art practice had already started, she never allowed theory to interfere with her vision of the process. Goldin’s oeuvre came from her lifestyle and her needs, as did her photographic style and artistic methods.

One of the markers of Goldin’s emotional involvement in her works is the use of light. All works

preceding the late 1980s featured artificial light or a total lack of it and were always shot at nighttime. This concept was far removed from a deliberate artistic decision—Nan Goldin’s lifestyle simply did not allow her to see daylight. For many of her friends, particularly drag queens, going out during the daytime was too dangerous. The whole drug-fueled bohemian surrogate family lived, partied, and wrote its history at night.

The change came to Goldin’s life after rehab. While recovering from her heroin addiction, Goldin literally and figuratively saw the light of day and was mesmerized by its varieties and undertones. Spending almost all her conscious life in the darkness, she had no idea of how complex sunlight could be. The rehab brought more than addiction recovery—it brought new artistic methods and possibilities.

She Puts Her Theory into Practice

nan goldin cookie casket photo
Cookie at Vittorio’s Casket, New York City, September 16th, by Nan Goldin, 1989. Source: Fotomuseum Winterthur

Upon leaving rehab, Goldin faced a world that was even more hostile than the one before. The late 1980s saw the full swing of the AIDS crisis that would kill more than 40 million people by 2022. The artist and her chosen family, with their rampant drug use and unprotected sex, were among the prime targets of the disease. Over the span of several years, Nan Goldin lost so many friends that she herself felt guilty after testing negative. The same friends who were dancing, partying, and laughing in her old photographs were now lying sick in hospitals or being dressed for their funerals adorned with flowers and surrounded by crying survivors. These images created a powerful and heart-wrenching narrative that went beyond personal grief. It was also a sobering look at the indifference of those in power who did nothing to save their lives.

Goldin’s activism goes far beyond artistic means. She is the founder of an activist group P.A.I.N. – Prescription Addiction Intervention Now which demands global pharmaceutical companies to take responsibility for the ongoing opioid crisis. According to independent research, millions of people develop addiction to prescribed painkillers, while the companies refuse to share information about possible risks and side effects of their medication. So far, the biggest achievement of P.A.I.N. is forcing several cultural institutions to sever all financial ties with the Sackler dynasty, the manufacturer and distributor of one of the most addictive drugs on the market.

Nan Goldin Turned Her Life Into Art

goldin trixie photo
Trixie on the Cot, NYC, by Nan Goldin, 1979. Source: Guggenheim Museum, New York

The concept of transforming one’s life into a work of art is quite romantic. This notion frequently surfaces in the biographies of art collectors and socialites who immersed themselves in opulence, surrounded by the most expensive objects, the trendiest artists, and the most scandalous celebrities. They idealized their lifestyles filled with champagne and caviar in literature and painting, crafting narratives that evoke envy through tales of luxury, excess, and freedom.

In her works, Nan Goldin essentially did the same. The only difference was that her life was far from a glamorous fantasy of privilege. Nonetheless, she decided that her life was also worth documenting. This approach raised enough concerns inside the respectable art world, which accused Goldin of promoting drug use and self-destructive lifestyles. She survived several attacks in public and numerous incidents from angry visitors attempting to destroy her works. The attackers were mostly men. The artist believes the reason behind the violent outcry was the inherent sexism present in the photographic world. Just like many progressive art spheres in the 1980s, the world of photography was dominated almost exclusively by men who barely tolerated talented women. Goldin’s photographic account of her life was a long-awaited alternative to the omnipresent male gaze.

Over the years, the influence of Nan Goldin reached astonishing heights. Generations of young photographers adopted her raw, uncompromising style to tell their own stories, while the great masters like Juergen Teller and Wolfgang Tillmans named her as the principal influence in their art.

Outsider Turned Leader: Success Story and Questionable Connections

goldin kimono photo
Self-Portrait in Kimono with Brian, NYC, by Nan Goldin, 1983. Source: Metal Magazine

Ironically, her snapshot aesthetic and raw imagery made their way to popular culture. Their popularity is reflected in fashion campaigns and celebrity photoshoots. Goldin hardly finds this amusing, however. She is completely indifferent to pop culture but not in a snobbish manner. Mainstream media have never had a place for people like Nan Goldin before and she is very cautious in entrusting her feelings and messages to the general public. Great popularity leads to a great misinterpretation and for an artist like Goldin, getting her message right is pivotal. Many speculations and theories are thrown around her oeuvre daily, and Goldin finds some of them deeply offensive.

Some fans of Goldin’s work believe that the photographer shaped the present-day aesthetic of a generic Instagram post with its snapshot style, seemingly honest narratives, and use of music and poetry as captions. Some even link the format of The Ballad of Sexual Dependency—Goldin’s revolutionary work in the form of a visual diary—to contemporary oversharing on social media and faux intimacy created in one’s feed. If you agree with these points, you have all the right to do so, but please never tell that to Nan Goldin’s face.

Nan Goldin Hates Social Media with Passion 

nan goldin ava photo
Ava Twirling, NYC, by Nan Goldin, 2007. Source: Sprovieri Gallery

Goldin feels uncomfortable in the environment of omnipresent social media. For her, the world became oversaturated with images that are mostly empty and meaningless, so the sheer force of visual communication has diluted too much. She has an Instagram account which she mostly uses to share photos of her new tattoos and old photographs from her private collection.

According to the artist, the overwhelming and unnecessary amount of images has blurred the line between photographs of life and actual life. Her biggest concern is the loss of ability to look and see—not in a superficial way, but in a way that allows the public to appreciate the qualities and the reasons for the existence of artistic images. In that sense, the immeasurable popularity of Nan Goldin and the monstrous number of shares and reposts of her work seem somewhat ironic and intriguing.

Light Painting 101: Sometimes less really is more

Light Painting 101: Sometimes less really is more

You don’t have to light paint everything in a scene. Sometimes, keeping parts in the shadow is emotionally more powerful.

The abandoned Hog Farm hippie commune. Wavy Gravy and his wife once stayed here in the 1960s. California.
The abandoned Hog Farm hippie commune. Wavy Gravy and his wife once stayed here in the 1960s. California.

What is light painting?

The term is often used loosely to describe any addition of light to a night photograph. Really, though, light painting is a technique that uses a handheld light source to illuminate a scene during a long exposure. Your flashlight is your paint brush, and you are quite literally painting the scene with light. Similar to a film director, you control what you illuminate and what you keep in shadow using your handheld light. Night photographers have used this technique for many decades.

Let’s see how I went about light painting this image.

Before I begin…what is this?

Nestled in nature, it’s easy to see why the Hog Farm hippie commune would have moved to this actual hog farm on top of a mountain in California in the 1960s. Founded by peace activist Wavy Gravy, the Hog Farm is perhaps best known for their involvement at Woodstock in 1969.

I put some miles on my shoes that day. I only had an exposure of 50 seconds because the city lights below would otherwise grow too bright. So I ran from position to position to light the windows and doorways in a single exposure.

Running…so much running

Earlier that day, I had walked three miles for my usual exercise. Then in the evening, I made the 1.3-mile night hike up the steep mountain trail. I probably walked (or sometimes ran) for about two miles while photographing. During the hike back down, my knees began feeling the weight of the camera bag and the day’s mileage.

The setup and the lighting

Setting my camera on a tripod, I focused it on the interior of the building and set the camera for 50 seconds at f/9 ISO 200. I stopped down a bit to get the city lights more as pinpoints as well as to lessen the amount of light in the exposure in general. 

I probably lit this the way you think I might. Then, I ran around the exterior of the building. I stopped at each window and doorway. There, I aimed a red-colored light from my ProtoMachines LED2 light for several seconds before hastily moving on to the next opening. Finally, I ran to the back of the building, ducked underneath the two windows, and aimed the light up at each window. The first time I attempted this photo, I didn’t run fast enough, and only one of the back windows was lit.

Sure, I could have lit the interior. But it wouldn’t have felt as ominous. In this case, I felt that emotionally, it felt heavier and weightier to leave the walls and ground in dark shadow. Mysterious. Emotional. Sometimes, less is more. And it’s up to you as the artist to determine what is right for you.

ProtoMachines lights

I get a lot of questions about the ProtoMachines, and I should have addressed it earlier. There is currently no stock. I hope that they release more lights in the future. However, for now, what I would recommend is that you simply email them to get on their waiting list. Tell them I said hello.

If you wish to light paint with another light, there are many options available. I have written Bright ideas: The best light painting tools for night photography, a guide that provides a lot of information about light painting subjects.

Griffin Lipson shoots for the stars taking photographs of A-list celebrities

Griffin Lipson shoots for the stars taking photographs of A-list celebrities

Griffin Lipson‘s life changed because of a chance encounter on an otherwise average train ride.

The William Penn Charter School graduate was a 22-year-old photographer who had recently moved to New York City when a head photo editor for the New York Times sat next to him.

Shortly after meeting him and seeing his work, she hired him.

His journey as a celebrity photographer began with Lipson starting at the top.

His first subject? Oscar Award-winning actor and producer, Nicole Kidman.

“I was so green, I was so naïve, I didn’t really understand the magnitude of what was actually happening in the moment,” Lipson told NBC10.

He learned as he went along, capturing A-list celebrities like Tom Hanks, Grace Jones, Meryl Streep and Denzel Washington.

“From the exposure to the Times I was able to connect with other clients,” Lipson said of the experience.

Then, at 24, he took a risk deciding to go freelance. Eventually, he found himself at the Met Gala where a photograph Lipson shot of a then-pregnant Cardi B getting ready for the gala went viral.

“Within 20 minutes every news publication put it out. That was really a viral, viral, viral moment that was everywhere.”

Since then, he has been in the presence of international entertainment television and film royalty, cultural and political icons, including Dame Judy Dench, former US president Bill Clinton, former US Vice President Al Gore and director/producer Spike Lee.

The Philly native collaborates with his subjects like people, not stars, and even put NBC10’s own Keith Jones at the end of his lens.

He told NBC10 that the real craft is getting his subjects comfortable like he did with model Kendall Jenner. He traveled the country with her and went from admirer to peer.

“I approached Kendall and the team like I approach anyone in my life and we have a friendship and we developed that,” he said.

Near the top of Lipson’s list is human rights activist Malala Yousafzai who he says continues to be a source of inspiration for him and his work.

“The biggest thing I learned about myself is that you have to forget the noise. You put your head down, you go to work, and you just keep grinding,” he said.

This Exhibition Presents an Extreme Vision of Japanese Visual Culture

This Exhibition Presents an Extreme Vision of Japanese Visual Culture

Speaking from his new gallery space in Holland Park, Michael Hoppen talks about showcasing the extremes, eclecticism, and many nuances of Japanese aesthetics

April 11, 2024

Upon buying his first vintage photograph in Portobello Road in the 1980s, Michael Hoppen entered into a love affair with Japan. He had caught sight of a 19th-century albumen print of two Sumo wrestlers, their bodies entwined as they stared back unwaveringly at the camera. Drawn to the strange artifice of the image, for the next few decades, Hoppen began regularly visiting Japan. Still to this day, the gallerist travels at least twice a year to forage for new discoveries. 

As an artist-in-training in the 1980s, Hoppen says he was “completely blown away by Japan’s energy and diversity. I was seduced by almost everything I laid eyes on.” Okashi, an exhibition at his eponymously named, newly opened gallery in Holland Park, is a visual testament to Hoppen’s lifelong Japanophilia.   

First conceived years ago, Okashi was postponed due to the pandemic. “We knew we wanted to bring many different strands of Japanese culture to light, assembling different works from across mediums into one exhibition space,” Hoppen says. “The common thread running through the show is storytelling, which stems from the traditions of manga that have been prominent for many centuries. These play out in items of clothing, such as the kimono or even a fireman’s jacket that is on display in the exhibition.” 

Eclectic and expansive, Hoppen didn’t want to simply repeat or encourage familiar understandings of Japanese art with Okashi. “The show intends to convey narrative and folklore as a central aspect of Japanese culture,” he says. “But the aim was to appreciate that every item on display was handmade with care and fabricated with incredible attention to detail.”

‘Okashi’, which literally translates as sweets or confectionery, also signifies a kind of cornucopia, Hoppen explains. “The concept of okashi used throughout Japanese aesthetic history refers to those things which delight for their strangeness, their humour, or their power to intrigue,” he says. The contrasts conveyed by the word itself mirror the rich complexity of Japanese culture, alluding to juxtapositions between history and modernity, tradition and novelty, innocence to sexually charged imagery, and staged artifice to the realness of post-war street photography. 

The striking contrasts at play reflect a country grappling with a new sense of self amid a violent and turbulent history, especially before and after the Second World War, which irreversibly changed the economic and cultural landscape. “Trauma deeply impacted Japan after the war – it brought about a massive rupture in society,” explains Hoppen. “When the Americans occupied Japan, it brought about some fundamental changes. Some aspects of American culture were accepted, but there was always a strong desire to protect and preserve what is considered authentically ‘Japanese’. The culture has been vehemently opposed to forms of intrusion.” 

In the post-war era, a school of experimental photographers looking to break convention including Shomei Tomatsu, Daido Moriyama, Eikoh Hosoe, Masahisa Fukase and Nobuyoshi Araki proposed an entirely novel visual language and expanded the very parameters of what photography could be. “Moriyama and other photographers of his generation were creating images specifically for photo books,” says Hoppen. “Photobooks are rare, collectible items that require visual fluency and can initially be challenging for an English person to understand. It can be hard to figure out what you’re looking at, but the more you see, the more you learn.”

Okashi also assembles the photographic works of Gen Ōtsuka, notably his work Ballet Dancers, Tokyo (1954), which reveals two young dancers leaning down towards the camera in elegant arabesque – a positioning of bodies echoing the staged theatricalism of the sumo wrestlers that had initially attracted Hoppen. 

Meanwhile, work by celebrated photographer Eikoh Hosoe is also on display. Hosoe’s iconic series of photographs Barakei, also known as Ordeal by Roses (1961) features portraits of Mishima Yukio – the last samurai to die by ritual suicide (known as seppuku) in 1970. A dramatic moment that shocked the world, the book reflects how Mishima wanted to be perceived after his death – acting as a kind of visual requiem. 

Elsewhere in the gallery, Okashi features work by the prolific photographer Nobuyoshi Araki, whose provocative shots – situated somewhere between fine art and pornography – introduced Japanese audiences to the world of graphic eroticism, continuing the sexually explicit genre of Shunga that had flourished in the 17th-century Edo period but had only been viewed by the elite, ruling classes. “Araki is a figure who is better known outside of Japan largely because he was a very good self-publicist,” Hoppen says. “He’s by no means more or less important than the others, but he was brought up in the heart of the underbelly of Tokyo and was surrounded by the nightlife, the prostitutes, the gangs and the yakuza.” 

From a generation of photographers with an open, if not unfiltered, punk spirit, according to Hoppen, Araki was “very fixated on representing Japanese culture in its rawest sense. His work is often misunderstood, but his sexually explicit images and rope bondage works can also be read as reflections of the culture at that time. He’s a kind of diarist who challenged social mores, especially by confronting the increased censorship in Japan in the mid-80s.”

Okashi is an exhibition embracing extremes, eclecticism, and the many nuances of Japanese aesthetics. Reflecting a country that has continually sought to reinvent itself while also resisting influences from the outside world to preserve its culture, the show reveals a kaleidoscopic perspective – a rich visual alchemy of traditions and innovations that shape the delightful strangeness, or ‘okashi’ we associate with Japan. 

Okashi is on show at Michael Hoppen in London from 13 April – 30 June 2024. 

5 photographers documenting British working-class life today

5 photographers documenting British working-class life today

We explore After the End of History: British Working Class Photography 1986-2024, a new touring exhibition curated by Johny Pitts and featuring the likes of Ewen Spencer, Eddie Ochtere and Richard Billingham

11April 2024

When you look at the history of British working-class photography, there’s a tendency to focus solely on struggle and hardship, as if the essence of working-class existence could be distilled into moments of adversity. Chris Killip, for instance, was known for his powerful black-and-white shots of communities in the UK, particularly his In Flagrante book which portrayed industrial decline and its impact on communities in the North East. Shirley Baker documented candid working-class life in post-war Britain, and Daniel Meadows chronicled marginalised individuals and residents on council estates. Yet, to confine working-class photography within this narrow frame is to overlook its dynamic evolution, and myriad hues beyond mere survival.

From the inception of photography in the 19th century, when the cost rendered it a privilege of the elite, to the seismic shifts of the Industrial Revolution, photography has mirrored the metamorphosis of society. Urban landscapes, the rise of industry, the heartbeat of working-class neighbourhoods – all found expression through the camera’s eye. It became a tool for advocacy, for shining a light on the harsh realities of labour and living conditions

35 years down the line, it’s interesting to think about what British working-class photography has become – particularly in the wake of the catastrophe that we call our Tory government. This is the idea that historian and curator Johny Pitts invites us to consider in Hayward Gallery’s touring exhibition After the End of History: British Working Class Photography 1986-2024, which explores life through the lenses of working-class artists like Kavi Pujara, Elaine Constantine, Rene Matić, Ewen Spencer, Richard Billingham, Serena Brown, Nathaniel Télémaque and Eddie Otchere. “Usually my work speaks to inclusivity, but actually, the first thing I thought when I designed this exhibition was who I wanted to exclude,” says Pitts. “Which is to say, how do I design a show that excludes people who’ve inherited loads of money, or the usual ‘concerned’ British documentary photographers from middle-class backgrounds who document working-class people, instead of working-class people documenting themselves? I love some of the work that has been made by these middle-class photographers, by the way, but I wanted to transgress the usual canon that gets mentioned when we think of British photography.”

“This is also why I chose the era after the 80s. Curators, who are often of a certain age, seem to be obsessed with anything before the 1990s or the tyranny of the new – the latest hottest trend. But I think there are big gaps in our knowledge of the recent past. I grew up in the 90s and 00s constantly being fed images of (usually white) miners and protests, but my working-class life had a completely different logic and look.”

As the exhibition kicks off in Herbert Art Gallery & Museum, Coventry – before heading to Focal Point Gallery, Southend-on-Sea in July and Bonington Gallery, Nottingham in September – we turn to five photographers featured in the show to hear about what being working-class means today and how this transpires through their image making.

“Being working class is about choices – or lack of them – as well as how much confidence you have as you move through the world. This is even more evident now, as the gap between those who have and those who haven’t has widened.

“These images are from This Golden Mile, a project that emerged as a means for me to reconnect with Leicester, its residents and my past, after three decades living away in London. I returned to my childhood city in 2016, the same week as the EU referendum result – a moment when both the personal and political converged. While the vote was ostensibly about Britain’s role in Europe, it also fuelled a surge of anti-immigrant sentiment. Moving back with my wife and two young children, I needed to redefine how I saw my old neighbourhood today, that it was no longer the place of racist taunts and attacks that I had endured growing up here in the 70s and 80s. 

“In the wake of Brexit, I wanted to show that ultimately this experiment in multiculturalism had succeeded, how this immigrant community had enriched the city rather than pushing it to ‘breaking point’, as so often stated in pro-Brexit headlines.”

“[Working class] means my childhood, my teens and my twenties, my friends and family, my culture and everyone I knew. It puts a label on a life that, as I look back, came to an end when I moved to London and started to work in a different world and meet people from all walks of life. 

“This is the Northern Soul scene in the 90s. The narratives I am trying to share are the passion for music and the fact that the scene goes beyond the dancefloor in so many ways. If somebody looks up any dancefloor footage on YouTube from a Northern Soul event and is excited by it, then maybe goes on to attend an all-nighter, I feel like I’ve done my job. I don’t want this music or scene to die with my generation.”

“The photographs I’ve collaboratively made have attempted to create a portrait of the White City Estate, as well as represent everyday aspects of being a young Black person living in the area. It is key to highlight that White City was formerly the site of an imperial-colonial exhibition grounds that hosted the 1908 Olympics alongside a series of contentious human villages. In addition to this, one of the photographs also shares a map of the White City Estate, which shows how most roads in the area are named after a country contributing to events held at the previous exhibition grounds, as well how every housing block’s name valourises imperial-colonial figures of the British Empire. Intervening in the imperial-colonial histories of the site, the photographs centre on ordinary Black experiences and renderings of Black joy. Slim and Wavy are two of my kingship collective peers living on the estate, who are featured in the photographs I’ve contributed to the exhibition. 

“A lot of contemporary depictions of Black life in and or around council estates are fairly sensationalised. I find that these types of representations exist in dissonance with the everyday realities Black people may actually experience living and working in these types of areas. So for me, it’s important to create ordinary and fairly mundane depictions of Black life, rather than hyped-up or romanticised representations.”

“Being working class can feel like starting life five steps behind other people, but it’s also taught me the value of having your village, your community to lean on and to support those around you.

“These images are part of a series documenting the appropriation of working-class culture in fashion. I made a selection of bootleg designer tracksuits and photographed them near each of my subject’s homes. All of the subjects in the series were friends from my area in West London; Chantelle’s (Bollo Bridge) lived here most of her life and the area has seen huge urban regeneration and gentrification. Many people who lived in the area had their blocks knocked down and were rehoused in different parts of the country. Since I took this image just six years ago, the building behind Chantelle in this image no longer exists and has been replaced with expensive flats.

“The project is about more than just clothes, it’s about the erasure of community and the influence working-class people have on us as a society. I want the viewer to see these images as a reminder that, in many ways, working-class people are constantly priced out of spaces, communities and culture that they very often build from the ground up.” 

“I produced five prints for the show. All of the images are quasi-portraits and quasi-documentary images. You can see it’s late at night, you sense there is music in the air. Everyone is dressed to impress. They’re dancing, they’re hanging out. This is a society of young people after midnight. 

“There are entire worlds they have not told you about. These worlds are hidden to protect the scornful gaze of others. If young people, mixed shades of people all dancing with hardcore junglist energy are to be feared, it’s because it’s beautiful and spiritually correct. We must be free to dance, to create high times and ride bass lines as our divine right. We need spaces like parks for sound systems. We are here to dance in the face of oppression and we must collectively defend our working-class pastimes in all their complexities. A ruthless antithesis to the corporationalist work ethic. This ethic is oftentimes a race to the bottom. Let it go. Remember who you are. Dance.”

After the End of History: British Working Class Photography 1989–2024 begins its tour at Herbert Art Gallery and Museum, Coventry and is running until June 16. The full touring schedule can be found here.

WePresent | Maxi Magnano’s cinematic photos bring Buenos Aires to life

WePresent | Maxi Magnano’s cinematic photos bring Buenos Aires to life

Growing up in a suburban town an hour outside of Buenos Aires, photographer Maximiliano Magnano was uninitiated with the humming streets of the Argentine capital. By now, he’s walked them all. When he first moved to the big city in his twenties, it was his camera that pulled him down main avenues and back alleys, and got him to grips with the intimidating metropolis. He’d spend whole days wandering around, finding his way by getting lost, and taking “way too many” photographs. “Photography was my access to this city,” Magnano says, “It’s a way of being in contact with the world. I know that wherever I go, I’m going to take my camera and I’m going to be interested in looking and paying attention to the place, to its shapes and colors.” 

About 10 years ago, when Magnano was just starting out, he took a photo of a gas station at night. It’s not an image he’s published or that he’s used in any significant way, and looking back on it, he even regards it as a bit cliché. But it was the photograph he took when everything clicked: “I understood that I wanted to make images that people can relate to from an emotional standpoint.”

Photographer Jason Byron Gavann Takes Us Inside Boston’s Unsung Queer Scene

Photographer Jason Byron Gavann Takes Us Inside Boston’s Unsung Queer Scene

The Girls Giving Face, Cleavage, and Polyester, 1977.

“Girl, still on for 5pm tomorrow?” I texted Jason Byron Gavann to confirm our visit. “Yassssss,” he shot back. “I have red and white so just bring your grande culo.” It had been a year-and-a-half since I first dropped by the photographer’s loft in the Artists Building in Fort Point. Though multiple people had told me I needed to look at his photographs of queer Boston and Provincetown, I had no idea I was entering the sanctuary of an icon. A contemporary of “Boston School” photographers David Armstrong, Nan Goldin, Mark Morrisroe, and Jack Pierson, Gavann has been curiously omitted from  these histories. But his gorgeous photography speaks for itself. This year, I put a selection of his pictures from a gay bar called Together (or Together’s, as Gavann calls it) in my exhibition As the World Burns: Queer Photography and Nightlife in Boston, on view at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, through April 21. When we got together last month for drinks and dinner at his loft, we discussed his early photo practice, legendary friends, and pursuit of an artistic life across forms and professions. “I couldn’t survive on just one form of expression,” he told me. Accordingly, he now works as a beauty advisor at Sephora, so I’ve been begging him to give me a makeover.

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JACKSON DAVIDOW: First of all, Jason, it’s a delight to be here. You just cooked a beautiful dinner. What was it?

JASON BYRON GAVANN: It’s a Neapolitan red sauce with sweet red peppers and yellow peppers. It’s everything you want when it comes to Neapolitan pasta. Cooked it all with love for you.

DAVIDOW: Oh, that’s very sweet. So, I have had the pleasure of getting to know you over the past year-and-a-half because of this exhibition I’ve curated, As the World Burns: Queer Photography and Nightlife in Boston, which is currently at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts. Through my research, you’ve emerged as one of the most important photographic chroniclers of queer life in Boston and Provincetown and beyond, really from the 70s to the 90s. It’s been so wonderful to familiarize myself with your practice. How did it begin?

GAVANN: Well, initially when I went to school, I loved art and I really wanted to express myself through some medium, but I didn’t know what that was going to be. And I love, love, love old Hollywood films. And being born in ’51, we had all these amazing actors and actresses and black and white films. So when I first took a black and white photography course, it was at UMass with this teacher, Warren Hill. I didn’t exactly know what I was going to photograph and he said to me, “Photograph what you’re most familiar with.” And a light went off in my head and I thought to myself, “I’ll photograph my friends.”

DAVIDOW: You grew up in Boston as well, correct?

GAVANN: I grew up outside of Boston in a little town called Everett, and I came out in a little area in downtown Boston called Park Square. That was a place where so many young runaways and hustlers and drag queens and confused and lost gay kids came out. There was a place called Hayes and Big Fits, and we all were allowed to go in there.

DAVIDOW: What was that?

GAVANN: It was a fast food restaurant. It was like self-service. I mean, we didn’t have any money, any of us, unless somebody was hustling on the street and turned a trick and wanted to buy us something. So we’d go in there and have Jell-O or a hot dog or a hamburger.

DAVIDOW: This is in the late 60s or early 70s?

Jason Byron Gavann

Norell, ca. 1977.

GAVANN: That was in 1969 or 1970. I became friends with this whole constituency of runaways and lost children from East Boston and South Boston.

DAVIDOW: Who were some of these people? 

GAVANN: They were young gay kids at the time. Where we hung out was a very tough area, because being gay back then wasn’t as accepted as it is now. We watched out for each other a lot. I didn’t have to depend on prostitution because I still lived at home, but most of those kids were living on the streets hand to mouth. Eventually, everybody started finding ways to make money, whether that was shoplifting, prostitution. I had a job at Filene’s Basement as a stock boy. 

DAVIDOW: So you were photographing them, and they were modeling for you?

GAVANN: Yes, eventually I did. When I went to school, I told all my friends, “I’m going to be a photographer”, and everybody responded with, “You’ve got to take my picture.” And everybody would get all dressed up in drag and I’d come over and take pictures. I was interested in makeup and hair, so I volunteered to do that, which eventually became the main way I supported myself in life. I’ve been a makeup artist for MAC Cosmetics for 20 years. And I’m an LBA [licensed beauty advisor] at Sephora, but not then. Then, I was just interested. I was excited to have access to all my friends that were wild and transforming themselves from boys to girls. I didn’t really know the dynamics of any of it because I was so young. All I thought about is that it was magical and I felt compelled to record it. And everybody seemed excited by the prospect that I was taking a photography class where I could go and develop film and process it. I mean, everybody was vain. Everybody was loving themselves.

DAVIDOW: Some of my favorite photos that you took were at a club called Together’s on Boylston Street. Can you tell us what that was like?

GAVANN: Initially, I was beginning to photograph at The Other Side when it was starting to close down around 1978. And everybody started going to a new club called Together’s. And Colette, my best friend, was now beginning to transition into a woman. She was a runaway.

DAVIDOW: Where was she from? 

GAVANN: She was from East Boston. Most of the street kids that I became friends with were from the projects in East Boston. They were all from really poor families and didn’t have much. They were ostracized and beaten up and bullied by kids in school because it was a time when you couldn’t walk around and be what they considered a fairy or a Mary or a fag or any other name that they could conjure up to diminish you or make you feel bad about who you are and who you wanted to be. So we found a place where we could all congregate. We didn’t go someplace where people were going to do a character assassination on us. I mean, we’re all, “Girl, you look gorgeous, honey. I love that top. Where’d you get that little top? I stole it on Shirley Ave.” They did whatever they had to do to get a little piece of fashion or jewelry, like a new pair of heels. Everybody wanted to look fabulous, it was the 70s. 

Jason Byron Gavann

Colette in her dressing room, 77-78.

DAVIDOW: It sounds like photographing your friends and yourself to a certain degree was entangled with your interest in fashion and presenting yourself?

GAVANN: It was the whole package. I seemed to gravitate more to the people I considered to be my sisters, and we bonded because we were interested in the same things. So, Colette was doing a show as a trans girl. I can’t say a woman. She was still young.

DAVIDOW: She was like, 18 or something?

GAVANN: Yeah, about 19. She was dead by the time she was 23. She had a sex change at 19 and she confessed to me that she regretted doing it. So all of a sudden, what was like Disneyland became something else. It went from dressing up and acting to reality. 

DAVIDOW: It sounds like the transition you’re describing is also one from the 70s to the 80s?

GAVANN: Yeah, from one decade to the next, everyone’s dreams seemed to be coming true. No one really was relying so much on… Well, I can’t say on prostitution because a lot of my friends were prostituting. I was fortunate enough to continually educate myself. I eventually became an assistant in the head of the fashion department at Jordan Marsh, which made me even a bigger photographer because now I was actually photographing fashion and still lifes for the Boston Globe

DAVIDOW: And soon after you were pursuing fashion photography in Italy, correct?

GAVANN: Well, I was really lucky to get that job. I was going from photographing in the streets and bars and at my friend’s homes with a 35 millimeter camera, to now setting up images that were more composed, more controlled. And I was really into beauty. I had friends that were in Jordan Marsh who told me maybe I should go to Italy, and that’s when I got the bug for traveling. Since then, I’ve probably been around the world twice. 

DAVIDOW: And also, Boston was a tremendously rich and exciting place to be a photographer in this period. Did you know other practitioners, some of whom are now very celebrated in art and photo history?

GAVANN: I knew them all. We were all out there in the streets together initially.

DAVIDOW: Who are you talking about?

GAVANN: Nan Goldin was out there. David Armstrong was out there. There’s a photographer that no one really mentions, Peter Otto. Eventually I met a lot of the students from the Museum School. Mark Morrisroe, Jack Pierson. But when I became friends with Mark and Jack–

Jack Pierson

The Right Field (Jack Pierson), 1997.

DAVIDOW: Mark visited you in Paris, correct?

GAVANN: Well, Mark got a traveling scholarship from the Museum School to go to Paris. And when he told me he was going, I told him, “Oh, I’m going to Paris to live there.” I’m actually going there to show a color portfolio that had a lot more portraiture, like photographs of all the queens and drag queens that I had known during the early 70s. But now they were big because I had access to a dark room. I didn’t have to pay to have anything printed. So I created a great portfolio and I said, “I’m out of here. I’m taking this work to Paris.”

DAVIDOW: You just moved to Paris with this amazing portfolio?

GAVANN: Well, it’s funny because my life has been so serendipitous that when I had my portfolio one night and I was with a bunch of gay guys and we went into this restaurant, there was a guy that used to pick up young boys, and he was always interested me, even though I never hooked up with him. He actually was the doorman at The Other Side, and he asked me 

DAVIDOW: What was his name?

GAVANN: I don’t know. We called him Fat John. 

DAVIDOW: Well, was he a fat john?

GAVANN: He was very wealthy, and the only reason he had a job as a doorman at The Other Side was so he could try to pick up all the young boys that were coming into the bar. There were a whole bunch of men like that. We call them chicken hawks, and they were always trying to pick all the young twinks and queens up. I mean, they all liked me. I was adorable.

DAVIDOW: You were the perfect twink.

Jason Byron Gavann

Sylvia Sidney, ca. 1983.

GAVANN: I was a really cute boy, I really wasn’t a drag queen. I didn’t really wear makeup. I had long hair and I always had it blown out in shag. I wore very fabulous disco clothes, and those guys were always attracted to me. This one particular guy told me that he was a partner in a gallery in New York City and that he was going to pay my way to go and meet this guy. And it happened to be Samuel Hardison, who represented George Dureau, Duane Michals, Robert Mapplethorpe, all these major photographers. But at that time, I didn’t know who they were. But I did my research and realized that I had hit the jackpot. Robert Mapplethorpe happened to be in the gallery the day that I went for the interview with Sam.

DAVIDOW: What was he like?

GAVANN: The gallery had his show up. It was like the fist-fucking portraits and leather portraits and all the stuff he did in his studio and the flower pictures. And I thought, “He’s famous and he’s showing a big gallery, this could happen for me.” But I had also made plans to go to Paris, so I wasn’t going to stick around in New York. Sam was really interested in my work, and he told me, “I want you to go see the best gallery in Paris, it’s called Galerie Tex Braun.” And he gave me a letter of introduction to meet them. I brought my portfolio to show them and they loved it and offered me a show. Mark wasn’t there when I did my show because I guess his money had run out and he went back to the United States. I ended up getting a loft in Paris and stayed there and then came back in the summertime to go back to Provincetown. And, as fate would have it, when I went back to Provincetown, Sam Hardison had opened up a gallery there and now was representing me in Provincetown and giving me shows and selling my work. And I was living off of the money I was making from the photographs he was selling. It was like a dream come true.

DAVIDOW: What was Mark like?

GAVANN: Mark, he was younger than me. It seemed to me that that whole little group that stemmed out of the Museum School as well as Nan Goldin, who was one of their idols because she went to school there, it seemed like they all were very driven by fame and fortune and recognition. But they also seemed really interested in me and wanted to be close to me, and I ended up doing portraits of them.

DAVIDOW: You have a brilliant portrait of Mark in Paris. Can you tell me what’s going on?

GAVANN: Mark and I didn’t really know anyone. We were both new that winter in Paris, I seemed to have much more of a personality for meeting people. I got a job, so I got connections real fast. Mark and I would photograph each other. He was staying at the Victory Hotel, and I went and I photographed him there, and then he photographed me there. He eventually left Paris and I stayed and met a whole slew of artists, dancers, painters. I photographed everybody I thought was interesting and I wanted to create a portfolio. I would take them back to the little apartment I lived in initially, which looked like a cell. It was all made of big, huge stones, and it looked like something Marie Antoinette would have been incarcerated in before she was executed. So, I created a portfolio called Cave People.

Jason Byron Gavann

Mark Morrisroe at the Victory Hotel, ca. 1981. 

DAVIDOW: So the portrait of Mark belongs to that series?

GAVANN: No, the portrait I did of Mark was done in that little hotel room. Mark was much more willing to take his clothes off and be photographed nude. I was always shy. I felt a little uncomfortable, especially since he had the biggest dick in the world, it made me feel like I was hung like a child of three. But all I really did was I pulled my pants down and I was on this fireplace and he had me go up there with a mirror reflecting. 

DAVIDOW: I’m trying to picture this.

GAVANN: It sounds weird, but he was using a Polaroid and he was just shooting all these pictures and they were flying out of his camera, and I think he was taking them and putting them in the toilet. I think that’s how they were stabilized. I was using a Rolleiflex camera, so my process was a little more technical.

DAVIDOW: It didn’t involve toilet water?

GAVANN: It didn’t involve toilet water, but it involved me getting Mark exactly where I needed him to be to do more long time exposures. There was this wallpaper with his very bizarre flowers, and I had Mark put his hands up and spread his fingers out and look into the camera. There was something eccentric and a bit off about him, but I summed it up to the fact that he is an artist. He was driven in a different way than I was. People were more attracted to me than my art. People seemed to always want to be friends with me or sleep with me.

DAVIDOW: Do you have a life philosophy, Jason?

GAVANN: I do. If you’re not happy with whatever you do, it doesn’t matter how good or how successful you are. Shows never really meant a tremendous amount to me as much as the quality and the stamp of approval I gave my own work. I looked to create good images. Whether or not they were in the Louvre, I always thought to myself, “Who knows, maybe someday they will be?” But I wasn’t about to go knocking and begging. I traveled all over the world instead. There were other things I wanted to do, there were other places I wanted to photograph. I photographed the pyramids when I went to live in Cairo and I went to Indonesia, then I went to India and I went to Italy where I lived for years. I did a portfolio of still lifes. I did a portfolio of flowers. I did a portfolio on my dog, Mr. Pie. I couldn’t survive on just one form of expression. I cooked, and I had a catering company. I was a hairdresser. I taught in a beauty school. I worked for MAC Cosmetics for many years. I’ve done so many different things to survive.

DAVIDOW: You’ve done it all.

Jason Byron Gavann

Drag Queen with Corsage and Cigarette, 1977.

GAVANN: But everything has been creative and artistic and shared. Sharing is very important to me. I love being kind. I love taking care of people. I’m very nurturing. So just as much as I create art and love it, I love these other things too. 

DAVIDOW: Thank you for sharing all your memories and insights and work with us, Jason.

GAVANN: Thank you. I hope I didn’t chew your ear off.