An Introduction

By Kerry Bashford

 

Curator and photographer Garrie Maguire asked six queer photographers their response to the idea, and the experience, of the word ‘presence’ and the echoes of performance associated with it. The responses were as varied as the definition of the words themselves.

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In an affecting series of self-portraits, EFP cries for the camera and in doing so captures that moment when we are truly present, those instances of extreme grief or supreme joy, and exhaustion that exposes us at our most bewildered and vulnerable. More than being “sad selfies”, these images remind us how rarely personal record manages to capture a real moment. The artist is curating the act of crying, while still striving for ultimate authenticity.

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Edwin Surijah encourages his subjects to be emotionally present and uses portraiture as a form of psychological expose and emotional exhibition. With subdued tones and sombre expressions, Surijah induces an atmosphere of intimacy that includes the photographer and viewer, as if we have been invited into their interior world. 

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Presence in fetish or power play is often referred to as mindfulness, but Jaxom McKee’s images allude to another definition, a charisma, a palpable energy of attraction through power play. Recognising the drama of eroticism and the sheer theatre of SM play, we are guided through scenes of hardcore sexuality while being seduced by its satisfying aesthetic.

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Tyler Tippett erases context and settings altogether and focuses exclusively on the subject, allowing each image to breathe within its own dynamic, to tell a story through a single pose, like stills from imaginary shows. He drenches his images with an often-playful palette, whose stark contrast with the subject, dark and dangerous, creates even greater energy and purpose.

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Matto Lucas takes the most private, personal act of everyday life, urination, one of our most rudimentary behaviours, and finds it surprisingly rich and complex in connotation. An act of degradation becomes art, secrecy becomes spectacle, base waste finds its own beauty. It’s also a site of desire, even humour, not surprising given the collection is called Taking the Piss.

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Kevin Bernardin’s gallery of alternative queer artists threatens to leap from the lens. He captures each artist at a peak moment of their performance or as a stage silhouette, while hinting at the energy in the room with the vibrant audience response. It’s a familiar tableau for anyone who has attended such a show or encountered any such coverage, but there’s an intensity here that makes you feel as if you were, well, present.

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Presence plays a great part in the creation of queer culture and character. Coming out is an act of presentation, the reiteration of that act through art generates space and a place in the world. We speak of recognition in terms of visibility as if we are assigned the role of subject at birth, as if we need to be seen, that we are there to perform, yet that desire often lends itself to superficial and stereotypical results. The photographers in this exhibition feel the need to be seen but they want to have ownership of the image and desire to direct the gaze.