Dock, You Meant
In a comment-conversation with badfaggot, I was prompted to think of historical queer culture and New Orleans and remembered I had recently read in Southern Cultures an article that featured photographs of 1950's bohemian/literary New Orleans that were decidedly queer.
I tracked down the article again and actually read it and found that the photos were by Jack Robinson, a queer celebrity/fashion photographer who grew up in Clarksdale, MS, and died in relative anonymity here in Memphis, working as an artist in stained glass design. When he passed away in the late 90s, many old photos were found, most of them his professional portraits of celebrities but also these photos of a queer New Orleans of an era that saw Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams in the same places, though none of the pictures I've seen features them. One interesting picture, though, is of a very handsome, younger Clay Shaw caught for history in a pre-trial, relatively, seemingly happy queer context.
In 2002, here in Memphis, the Jack Robinson Gallery and Archives was opened in the South Main arts district. I drove down today after my doctor's appointment and checked their location and hours. I called the directors, too, and made arrangements to visit tomorrow on my day off.
I've lately been interested in a queer subject to tackle from a documentarian's angle, to spark an adventure in slant exposure and then its distillation in fucked essay form. It's nice to see this largely un-mined queer subject lift its head here in Memphis. Where the Southern Cultures article and the local gallery (well-intentioned, I am sure) seem to safely encase Robinson's queerness within the larger package of bohemia-become-celebrity, I'd like to -- while not excising that larger context -- find a way to equally emphasize the positive values of Robinson's queerness and the Southern, New Orleans queer culture that fostered it. (For some reason, both texts also seem to whisper Robinson's sexuality in the same breath as the alcoholism that led him from NYC back to Memphis in the early 70s.)
This project smells of richness and fun, and I look forward to bopping around downtown tomorrow with my eyes screwed in and my questions about me.
I tracked down the article again and actually read it and found that the photos were by Jack Robinson, a queer celebrity/fashion photographer who grew up in Clarksdale, MS, and died in relative anonymity here in Memphis, working as an artist in stained glass design. When he passed away in the late 90s, many old photos were found, most of them his professional portraits of celebrities but also these photos of a queer New Orleans of an era that saw Truman Capote and Tennessee Williams in the same places, though none of the pictures I've seen features them. One interesting picture, though, is of a very handsome, younger Clay Shaw caught for history in a pre-trial, relatively, seemingly happy queer context.
In 2002, here in Memphis, the Jack Robinson Gallery and Archives was opened in the South Main arts district. I drove down today after my doctor's appointment and checked their location and hours. I called the directors, too, and made arrangements to visit tomorrow on my day off.
I've lately been interested in a queer subject to tackle from a documentarian's angle, to spark an adventure in slant exposure and then its distillation in fucked essay form. It's nice to see this largely un-mined queer subject lift its head here in Memphis. Where the Southern Cultures article and the local gallery (well-intentioned, I am sure) seem to safely encase Robinson's queerness within the larger package of bohemia-become-celebrity, I'd like to -- while not excising that larger context -- find a way to equally emphasize the positive values of Robinson's queerness and the Southern, New Orleans queer culture that fostered it. (For some reason, both texts also seem to whisper Robinson's sexuality in the same breath as the alcoholism that led him from NYC back to Memphis in the early 70s.)
This project smells of richness and fun, and I look forward to bopping around downtown tomorrow with my eyes screwed in and my questions about me.