The realm of the secret self (El reino del yo secreto)

This essay is excerpted from New Queer Photography edited by Benjamin Wolbergs and published by Gingko Press.

There’s a quality of light I love that I find in all of M. Sharkey’s photos, and I find I am tempted to speak of him as someone like the portrait painter John Singer Sargent, and the way all of his photographs seem to belong to one world because of the light we find in them, a light not so much covering his subjects but illuminating them from within (…). “Queer Kids” then as a project is a radical one, because it shows them as wholly human, participating in their self-presentation, and even if they don’t seem confident in their expressions, exactly — there’s really only one vamp in this group, with their sunglasses, the hand on the hip — we see the confidence it takes to let someone in far enough to be uncertain in their presence. The word “vulnerable” is almost meaningless from overuse, but it means more than unguarded. It means that you admit someone to the realm of the secret self. Or at least, one of them. Even if that someone is only you, as the subject of the photo.

Continue reading: Hyperallergic (Alexander Chee)

How a Groundbreaking Book Helped a Generation of Lesbians See Themselves in the 1970s

JEB (Joan E. Biren) has self-identified as a radical lesbian feminist for years. A founding member of a collective of like-minded members called The Furies, she turned her passion for research and “absolute inability to find lesbian images” into a quest for greater lesbian visibility. The desire to see not only herself but other lesbians, and to find historical connections to gay women, led her to produce photo books, direct documentaries, and tour the country with a now-legendary slide show between 1979 and 1985 called “Lesbian Images in Photography: 1850-the present,” also known as the “Dyke Show.”

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L.A.’s queer Latino bohemia: ‘We are not the footnote’

Reynaldo Rivera didn’t pick up a camera with the intention of making art. The Yashica he retrieved from a pile of his father’s things was a way of bringing order to a peripatetic life that had him bouncing between the care of his mother, his grandmother and his father, between Mexicali and Los Angeles, between Stockton and San Diego de la Unión, a small, agricultural outpost in the central Mexican state of Guanajuato.

“I did it out of this need to have something stable in my life,” he says. “Photography makes time stand still. And for someone who has had a crazy life, hectic and moving (I left home when I was very young), it gave me some kind of normalcy. … It allowed me to freeze time in moments that were special to me, and I was able to relive them over and over.”

continue reading: Los Angeles Times (Carolina A. Miranda)