James Bidgood: Pink Narcissus, or The Woes of Money

James Bidgood, Cadet, Pink Narcissus

When I had just started university, "back in the days", I was asked to write a paragraph about 'a person I particularly admire'. My teacher at that time was a red-haired, henna-painted San Francisco native who would regularly spread some joy in the gray uni hallways with colourful pro-choice or gay-rights posters on her door. (That is how I remember her anyway...) Hence, I decided not to go with the typical "my grandmother because she has had a hard life" or "Beyoncé because... that booty!" choice. I went all the way and wrote a text about James Bidgood, whose Taschen monograph I had bought on discount in some obscure bookshop a few weeks before.

This is what 19-year-old me wrote about Bidgood: 

"The U.S.-American photographer and filmmaker James Bidgood is a person I particularly admire for his devotion to his work. Bidgood made his only film Pink Narcissus in the years from 1964 to 1970. In those six years, he and his leading actor shot scenes when they had enough money and otherwise lived from hand to mouth and slept in Bidgood's small apartment. There, he would design and build up all the required imaginative sets himself, using cheap and primitive materials such as plastic leaves, aluminium foil and chicken wire. Due to his perfectionism, Bidgood needed twenty to thirty takes and an incredible mass of footage for each scene. When the film was taken away from him before he could finish it he fell into depression and destroyed most of his film material. In regard to his enthusiasm and endurance as well as his creativity James Bidgood is an inspiration for many people who believe in what they love most."

James Bidgood, Mandolin, Gilded Cage, mid-1960s

Makes him sounds like a legend, doesn't it? To be honest, back then I wasn't to prone to research and most of the facts presented are probably taken straight from either the monograph or wikipedia. One thing I definitely omitted to acknowledge - negligently, I need to say, and for no good reason, given my rather, eh, liberal teacher: Bidgood is an artist with a vision. A very queer vision.

James Bidgood should be widely celebrated as a pioneer of gay art, because that is what he is. His images are wonderfully camp, bubblegum-coloured fantasies. The gorgeous boy models - Pink Narcissus' actor Bobby Kendall was Bidgood's lover - are wearing rather little, and in between all the glitter, glamour and kitsch (Bidgood's training as a New York costume designer certainly did not go unused) lies a naive longing for romance. The images, inspired by 1920s nude photography and the legendary Ziegfeld Follies revues, are a feast for the eyes, reveling in excess, in the beauty of a time where, to paraphrase the equally flamboyant Liberace, "too much of a good thing was wonderful".

Bobby Kendall in Pink Narcissus

But in the end, it was just a paragraph I had to write and I would soon move on to pen argumentative essays about whether homosexuals should be allowed to join the army (copies are provided on request). The monograph was packed into some box when I left the country some time later, and basically forgot. So when Out Magazine told their Facebook community today: "Fund This: James Bidgood's Art. The iconic photographer and designer is raising funds so he can continue creating.", it led me to make two surprising discoveries; that a) Bidgood is not, as I had assumed, dead; and b) that I am still totally crazy for his work, that I find it admirable, and that I think more people should be inspired by it.

So here's the deal: James Bidgood is fundraising. The godfather of all camp is alive and kicking, and he needs money to produce more glitz and glam with a new digital camera and (oh my goodness, think of the creative possibilities!) Photoshop. Because, you know, not every pioneer is rich. And even plastic leaves and chicken foil need to be paid.

So get your purse out, and excuse me while I go looking for the box with the monograph. And please say hi to my teacher.

Pride: Review

I finally managed to watch Pride yesterday. For everyone who completely missed out on Facebook, Twitter and every relevant magazine, here's the trailer:

I was naturally curious to see it, since it's set in South Wales (where I happen to live), it's about the gay and lesbian community (which I happen to support), and it's about the struggle of the Welsh miners in that capitalist catastrophe better known as the Thatcher era. Produced by the BBC and starring a whole bunch of top actors, the film had its big debut in Cannes, and from thereon set out to conquer our hearts. 

It's a cheery little gem, this film. It just does everything right that is needed in order to give the audience a bloody good time. There are the outsiders and the oppressed, lots of fairly complex yet not overbearing characters to sympathise with. There are cleverly-written, cunning, funny lines, and there's the notorious scene highlight that includes a group of innocent women, some of them elderly, and a dildo. There's the lovely underlying message, quite a few prejudices from all sides taken on with good humour, there's the link to the real events of 1984/1985, and a heart-lifting climax. There's Dominic West and Andrew Scott as a loving couple - how can you not love them?!

It's a simple formula, I guess. Yet it works. It is such a feel-good film, it should be taught in film class at every college as the best example of the feel-good film. I can't quite put my finger on what makes Pride so special. It might be that everyone involved in making this movie really seemed to care. Or maybe it is just Dominic West and Andrew Scott, or that adorable Welsh accent. Maybe y'all should go watch the film and find out for yourselves.

(Warning: You'll find yourselves with a very possessive tune stuck in your head, and a sudden urge to show solidarity to anything around you. That's not a bad thing, mind you.)

Gustav Hofer and Luca Ragazzi: Suddenly, Last Winter

Suddenly, Last Winter is a documentary film made in 2007, when the Italian journalists and long-time couple Gustav Hofer and Luca Ragazzi found themselves confronted with a violent wave of homophobia. The violence flared when civil partnerships for homosexuals were firstly proposed to the Italian parliament, and while Gustav and Luca were understandably excited about the development, Christian and conservative parties and movements braced themselves against it, leaving the country politically unstable and its people in fear and anger.

The premise is a simple one: On Gustav's initiative, the couple hits the streets, attends protests and endures numerous, endless conferences of the senate to understand the dispute. They try to interview as many people as possible, politicians, civil movement leaders and seemingly innocent passer-bys. And they never shy away from directing the camera at themselves: their disappointed faces, the fear in Luca's voice after being threatened by fascist demonstrators. By continually asking the right questions in the right moments, they subtly deconstruct the arguments of the self-called "defenders of the family and traditional values" and reveal their weak spots. When talking to politicians, more often than not, hypocrisy and a dangerous entanglement between the purportedly secular state and clerical influences come to light. When interviewing the religious, they find unreasonable fear, ignorance and hate. "I don't know what you're afraid of!", Gustav shouts in one particularly intense debate. "They say the same things, like broken records, the poor things", Luca will reply soon, exhausted by the empty phrases.

Luca and Gustav watching the news.

What makes the film so successful is not its immediacy - the hand-held camera in midst of the demonstration - or its makers' perseverance. Suddenly, Last Winter is a very personal film, and that's what makes it special. Luca and Gustav open their doors and their lives to the viewer, thereby making visible what their political opponents would love to hide forever. "We were never good at hiding", they admit at the beginning of the film, and they are right. They've staged scenes with themselves watching or reading the news, recapping their legal situation in bed and cycling past posters advertising the highly contrived "Family Day 2007". With a wink they'll comment on their own bad acting - after all, this is how they are, it's a film about what they feel. Sometimes it's subtle self-deprecation, sometimes honest outrage and fear, and the mixture makes Suddenly, Last Winter a worthwhile watch.

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.