Rob Lebow/Masha Kupets: Gorgeous

What happens if you take popular drag culture and pimp it up with "glamour, glamour, glamour"? Photographer Rob Lebow and Creative Director Masha Kupets have tried and the result is Gorgeous, a 'coffee table photography book' aimed to be released in 2014. Gorgeous will feature several well-known US-American artists from the LGBTQ scene, or as Lebow puts it: "It will include the entire LGBTQ spectrum: androgyny, drag queens, drag kings, gender benders, trans, plus a few surprises for shock and awe", all glammed up for spectacular portrait shots, their personal stories added in text form. According to its makers, the book is an attempt to celebrate the culture, and at the same time to educate about non-binary gender expression and challenge gender norms.
The mainstream fascination with drag culture is nothing new - think of La Cage Aux Folles from the 1970s, Priscilla, The Queen of the Desert from the 1990s, or RuPaul's ever so popular Drag Race. While the gay website Queerty assumes that the topic might be "challenging or unfamiliar to a lot of people", I'd argue that most people have seen and are not too fussed with a drag queen here and there. By nature it is fun and exciting on the surface, and deep at its best and tragic at its worst underneath. It has a history - after all, the Stonewall riots in 1969 were led by transvestites and trans people - and it has its own, brilliant, successful way of answering problems such as gender dysphoria, homophobia or transphobia. But most of all, it is so outspoken, so flamboyant, such a feast for the eye and the mind alike that it deserves to be celebrated.
I believe that Lebow and Kupets do not really need the slightly superficial educational approach which they repeat in empty phrases in their interviews over and over. Gorgeous has all the potential to be, well, gorgeous the way it is. The portraits are stunning, echoing great photographers such as Richard Avedon and playing on old-school Hollywood glamour in their simplistic, straight-forward, studio style. They are celebrating the diversity indeed, by capturing the great personas of the subjects, reverberating the vibes, the pride, the playfulness in simple and always beautiful black and white.

Cake Moss 

The Kickstarter for the project just failed to raise the required funding. The Gorgeous Project is not giving up, though. I'd love to see it succeed, because these pictures are so great to look at, they deserve a bit of good paper and nice printing. Maybe a good book will actually help the matter, and promote progressive gender conceptions, just by being lovely and approachable - a little bit of iconic glamour never hurts, and if there's one thing you can say about drag artists, they never fail to stand their ground.

Ernie Omega

Nazik Armenakian: Transgenders in Armenia

Today is the Transgender Day of Remembrance. This year, at least 238 trans people have been murdered - and this count does not include the numerous cases of suicide after transphobic violence. We need to remember them - "We can't bring back the trans people that have lost their lives but we can stop the body count increasing." (Ava Vidal)
Most murders were counted in Brazil, Mexico, and the United States. We must not forget, though, that transphobia is the daily fare in many other countries, too - it often starts with a smirk or a sarcastic remark, and ends in physical assaults, and many people are not even aware of what they are doing, when they casually use the word "tranny", or misgender a trans person. In other cases, people are fully aware - because hate is spreading, and as Russia is currently pointing out, gender and sexual minorities are an easy target.

Nazik Armenakian is a photojournalist, and in her long-term project about the LGBT community in post-Soviet Armenia, she sheds light on a few lives which are well-acquainted with transphobia and violence: the lives of transgender sex workers she met on Armenian streets. In an interview she describes how difficult it was to take these pictures, how afraid many people were: "Unlike biologically female sex workers, transgender sex workers are always in danger and are frequently assaulted." Armenia legally ruled out discrimination against homosexuals and transgender, but in everyday life, the threat remains. It needed a lot of time to build up trust until the women would let her into their apartments.
The result are sensitive, careful pictures, showing the fragility of the women. Some of them play with light and shadow, hiding parts of faces and bodys; often, the faces are averted from the camera. Armenakian rejects any blame of victimising, however: "For them, being photographed is a way of establishing themselves among society".
It is an innocent, curious approach that Armenakian takes there - the equation of visibility with establishment. It is only fair when you read her describing her confusion when she first met these sex workers, and found her notions of 'male' and 'female' were seriously challenged. She overcame her first shock, began talking to the women, learned their stories, shared their stories. It's a beginning, and sets a good example not only for her Armenian compatriots, but to everyone. To end with Ava Vidal: "You don't have to be personally responsible for anyone's death, being complicit by remaining silent is bad enough. Be better. Do better."

Sara Davidmann: Ken. To be destroyed

Visual artist and photographer Sara Davidmann has been an outspoken ally for the queer and transgendered in the UK for a long time - starting in 1999, and publishing her book Crossing The Line in 2003. Although I know the book pretty well, she disappeared off my radar for a while, until yesterday, when the Guardian published a piece on her latest project, Ken. To be destroyed, in which she carefully tells the life of her transgender uncle Ken. I took the opportunity and checked out her website. I was surprised by the extent to which she had dived into the subject matter, and the variety her work encompassed. She has certainly come a long way since Crossing The Line.
Davidmann has always had the best intentions. "I quickly realised that generally accepted ideas of cross-dressers are drastically inadequate", she writes in Crossing The Line before embarking upon a tour de force through cross-dressing, drag and male-to-female transgender. One of her main assets is definitely her close collaboration, which includes using a smaller, unobtrusive camera and editing the pictures with her subjects (as she recently told Coventry photography students). After the book, she would go on to explore gender, sex and sexuality in all directions, unbiasedly and with a natural curiosity; many of her projects express important thoughts about the ambiguity of gender, or about power relations between photographer and subject, or as in the case of her project view point, the viewer and the subject.
However, I always felt that her good intentions not necessarily do her photography a favour. Many of the pictures in Crossing The Line felt intrusive, slightly voyeuristic, and were in no way aesthetically pleasant - I thought her bystander's POV in the images dominated the book and unfortunately undermined her honest words and sensitively conducted interviews. Her later projects - visible on her website, unlike the images from Crossing The Line - look a lot better, are nicely lit and carefully framed. Yet they feel somewhat overthought, the brilliant texts under the pictures too ambitious for the images. Davidmann is an outstanding thinker, and an important ally, publishing, exhibiting and giving talks a lot; her commitment to make the invisible visible and open the public's eyes to the whole spectrum between 'male' and 'female' can only be applauded. I am just not sure whether her photography is living up to it.
Having said this, I am left to wish her the best for Ken. To be destroyed. The story in the Guardian about the family secret around her transgender uncle is thorough, deep and promising. Handled carefully, it can become beautiful and touching - and without wanting to be mean, I think it is a good thing that Davidmann is working with archive pictures this time.

If you have seen Ken. To be destroyed in Liverpool, let me know what you think!

The Photograph: Richard Avedon

Peter Orlovsky and Allen Ginsberg, poets, New York, December 30, 1963

"I wanted to combine a portrait wit a story that I wanted to tell" - Richard Avedon

"Your photo is straight that's why it's good" - Allen Ginsberg to Richard Avedon

Researching Richard Avedon's photography for my upcoming university essay, I came across this picture, taken in 1963. I instantly liked it for its simplicity and directness, and for the ease which with the close relationship between the famous beat poet Allen Ginsberg and his life partner Peter Orlovsky is being portrayed - and for the fantastic facial hair, obviously.
Ginsberg became a kind of a "pin up" for the intellectual part of the 1970s gay movement after the picture had been published on the cover of the 8/1970 issue of Evergreen Review. Avedon himself once stated that "a portrait isn't a fact, only an opinion", hence adding a second, political dimension to his pictures. He found inspiration in the changing times, and enjoyed challenging conventions by taking up provocative subject matters. He had the power to do so - by 1960 Avedon was already a wealthy, established lifestyle and fashion photographer, counted among the world's ten greatest photographers by Popular Photography. His sense for great, straightforward portraiture was infallible. This and his experience certainly enabled him to carry a political message in his pictures so subtly, so beautifully, and yet so confidently.  I can't remember Richard Avedon ever being named as one of the idols of the gay movement - it may be because of his modesty which definitely resounds in his portraits - but I think he should be.

This is the first installment of  'The Photograph', a series of pictures that I love, find remarkable or important, and which I will present on this blog on a non-regular basis.

Jennie Livingston: Paris Is Burning

Pepper Labeija in Paris Is Burning (Screenshot)

Paris Is Burning is a documentary film, directed by Jennie Livingston and published in 1990. It deals with New York's Ball culture in the late 1980s. The balls were, and are to the present day, large events where everyone, but mainly gays, lesbians, transgender, transvestites, and queer people of Afro-American and Latino origin, could have a great time "being fabulous", performing in drag or presenting extravagant dance styles.

The balls are extravagant, something for the eye to feast, giant parties, serving as well-needed upbeat moments in the film. They are so exciting, and the viewer immediately gets why the protagonists spend most of their days stealing clothes, planning outfits and performances, and organising more balls. It makes you want to go back to the wild New York of the late 1980s and early 1990s.

And then there are the quieter, pensive moments of the film. The excessive balls serve as a distraction from the often miserable life of the characters: Many of them deal with poverty, violence, homophobia and transphobia on a daily basis, prostitute themselves to make a living, or are ill with AIDS. To Livingston, they open up their dreams of gender reassignment surgery, or becoming a successful model, but also of security, wealth, a home, steady relationships - and it is these moments when you really start to relate to the protagonists.

Paris Is Burning also shows an alternative to the traditional nuclear family - many of the ball participants live in Houses, substitute families founded by and named after Ball legends which function as "mother" or "father". There are the Houses of Labeija, Xtragavanza, Ninja - united in their competition. It is heart-warming to see the love and care shared by the House members, and Livingston approaches this environment very sensitively to document the protagonists in private moments, off their outspoken Ball personas. The making of Paris Is Burning took seven years - and it is palpable. Livingston came really close to her subjects and achieved a honest insight into their lives, by conducting excellent interviews and mixing them with observed moments.

The ball culture exists still, but most of the protagonists of Paris Are Burning are gone. They died of AIDS or were murdered - Venus Xtravanza's death is one of the shock moments in the film. In this context, Paris Is Burning becomes kind of a memorial, mourning times and people long gone. But the way it celebrates life, diversity and self-expression is exemplary and highly enjoyable; a fundamental documentary to watch when you are interested in LGBTQ history.

Zanele Muholi: Being & Faces and Phases

Zinzi and Tozama II

Long overdue, the European Court of Justice recently ruled that homosexual Africans are now entitled to asylum is EU countries, given a persecution in their home country. In Mauritania and Sudan as well as in parts of Nigeria and Somalia, gays face the death penalty; in 27 countries homosexuality is punished with imprisonment of up to 14 years. Homosexuals face discrimination every day, are fearing for their partners, their families, and their lives - the harassment starts with open insult and ends with rape and murder. South Africa is one of the few countries where they are legally protected, but even there, 'corrective rape' and murder of lesbians is the daily fare.

Zanele Muholi is a photographer and activist based in Johannesburg, South Africa. Her photography is a strong statement against the discrimination, giving black LGBTQI a face and a voice. She was awarded the Index on Censorship arts award 2013 for her work on gender and sexuality in South Africa. Her work is beautiful and powerful - particularly her candid look on South African lesbian couples from the series Being. Her style is straight forward in (or despite) its versatility, including classic portraits, changing between colour and black and white, staged and observed. It feels very honest - her work shows what normally stays hidden, it is a brave testimony of love, and of existence.

Katlego Mashiloane and Nosipho Lavuta, Ext. 2, Lakeside, Johannesburg 2007

Ayanda Magozola, Kwanele South, Katlehong, Johannesburg, 2012

The last picture is from another award-winning series by Muholi, Faces and Phases, which is literally giving South African LGBTQI a face (or faces). These are the simplest portraits one can imagine - and in their simplicity they are powerful, they are poignant, they are fearless: Just look at those fierce eyes! The pictures are impressively confident. Zanele Muholi, her subjects, and her pictures stand up to threat and violence. Visibility changes awareness. These pictures visibly have the power to bring change.

HIV/AIDS in Photography: A Day With HIV

from Sao Paulo, Brazil, 11:00 am

In my last post about photography and HIV/AIDS, I wrote about the power of photography coming out of the community - representing the most intimate insight possible, in the most truthful way. Yesterday I came across a project that takes on this approach, and takes it to a new level: A Day With HIV, presented by Positively Aware magazine, assembles snapshots, self-portraits and other pictures from HIV+ people and their allies, telling the story of living with HIV.
Most pictures that we see today, which were taken "in the community" have been made by professional, trained photographers - such as Albert J. Winn or Nan Goldin. In A Day With HIV, however, everyone who can access a digital camera or a smartphone can participate and submit their "best shot against HIV". The result is a strikingly versatile gallery of pictures, all taken on 21st September 2013, organised by the time of day they were taken at. There are happy families and cute pets, people at leisure and at work - and the people's drugs, people hiding their faces; and there are personal accounts below every picture.

Ji Wallace, Sydney, Australia, 11:30 am

Documentary Photography is so much about giving "power to the people" - it is nice to see a project taking this so literally like A Day With HIV. It is, in a way, the ultimate representation of what it means to live with the infection. A Day With HIV, as every project that includes giving people cameras and voices rather than taking pictures of them and writing about them, is believable and authentic - and it serves its purpose wonderfully: to make people outside the community relate and understand, to open eyes, to fight the stigma. Aesthetes may snub the snapshot look, the pixelated pictures, the content-before-look approach. But in the days of internet, iPhones and selfies, we all should be used to pictures like those presented in the gallery. I, for my part, find the project quite interesting and enjoyable. As so often with HIV: You need to look beyond the surface, beyond the first impression, and you'll be surprised to find bubbling and bursting life.

Damone Thomas, Kingston, Jamaica, 1:45 pm

Gregory Costa, Maisons Laffitte, France, 11:00pm