Out of Nowhere; Queer Lineage and Archives PREFACE :
In this third installment of the 3rd-language publication, we take a moment to celebrate queer archives and lineage. As Queer people, much of our experience is shaped by an innate knowledge of erasure and oppression that comes not only from having our identities denied and marginalized, but from the absence of representation. Through documentary artistic practices, we are marking the lines that converge to shape our identities. These lines cross through territories of race, class gender and history, forming complex geographies of queer community. These geographies are at times jagged and contradictory, and it is within these tensions we find that which is enlightening, and that which is Queer. I remember walking through lower Manhattan, freshly uncloseted, raw queer and alone. I was chain-smoking and listening to David Bowie on repeat, when I looked up and saw a large black awning. The word NOWHERE was printed on it in white block letters. I peeked into the window of the establishment,
and saw that it was a Gay club. I felt my heart drop towards my feet and I was flooded with questions. “Is this where I am?” I thought to myself, “have I found myself nowhere? In a culture rooted in the absence of history, and born of silence? What is my connection to the past and my future as a Queer person, how do I make a space in history for myself to exist?” The work that we have chosen to show in this issue is all about creating space for ourselves as Queer people in different contexts. From Veronica Stein’s Blak is Brite, which explores her need to create a safe empowering space for herself as a Queer Brown woman, to H-Melt’s series of portraits and poems that document and celebrate the daily lives and struggles of Queer people, we make art to understand ourselves within the context of history, and to mark down where we fit for those who will look back at us. Allie Shyer, on behalf of 3rd Language.
ZEMORA TEVAH “Before We Fought, Now We Celebrate”: A Critical Queer History of Northampton’s Annual Pride March (EXCERPTED)
I was thirsty for a queer archive, for some kind of reassurance that deviants (and the construction of deviance) were a worthy academic interest, meriting intensive study (and existence). I wanted concrete “proof” of pre-existing radical queer histories that could infuse and enthuse my disillusioned queer self. I romanticized the idea of a queer archive, imagining that it would affirm my desperate wish to inherit (and inhabit) a queer genealogy. My desire for a queer past was “archive fever,”1 the illness that provokes scholars, historians, and anyone else to enter an archive on an impossible search for “origins” or “beginnings.” I was driven to the Archive by an empty feeling and a sense of loss, resulting from my new and intimate understanding of the condition of queer precarity.2 After what had felt like a yearlong battle with the administration over whether or not queer studies (or indeed, queerness itself) was legitimate, I needed validation of my perverse longing to learn about degenerates with fucked-up genders and freaky sexualities. I imagined that a queer archive,3 unlike my school, would honor and admire my compulsion to pursue the study of “dangerous desires.”4 1 Carolyn Steedman plays with Derrida’s concept of an “archive fever,” in Dust: The Archive and Cultural History, (Rutgers University Press, 2002). See also Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996). 2 Precarity has been used to describe life on the margins, and increasingly at the center, of neoliberal capitalism; it is a condition of being—the ambient and ever-present sense that one’s life is particularly vulnerable to destabilization. Judith Butler writes about precarity in “Performativity, Precarity, and Sexual Politics,” Revista de Anthropologia Iberoamericana 4, Issue 3 (2009). See also Kathleen Stewart, “Precarity’s Forms,” Cultural Anthropology 27, Issue 3 (2012). 3 My primary site of research was the Sexual Minorities Archives in Northampton, MA. 4 I borrow the term “dangerous desire” from Amber Hollibaugh who writes about the political dimensions of queer sexual desire in the wake of the AIDS crisis. See My Dangerous Desires: A Queer Girl Dreaming Her Way Home, (Durham, NC: Duke University Press), 2000.
VERONICA STEIN
BLAK IS BRIGHT: A Performance in Brown The
survival of the Brown, Queer, Female body is dependent upon her ability to (re)create affirming spaces as refuge from the dominant social, cultural, political and environmental systems which preform to marginalize her very existence. An impro visational endeavor that challenges oppressive social contracts, she establishes occupancy within transient spaces temporally unclaimed by dominant cultures. This recurring quest for space reclamation is a survival strategy she, like many other marginalized individuals targeted based upon assigned identity markers, has nourished since childhood. Her strategies are informed by a visceral double consciousness; a duality which mandates she maintain a cohesive understanding of how dominant socio-cultural-political- environmental systems of oppression operate, and another, informedby her own social-cultural-political-environmental reality. She resists the former and is guided by the later in order to cultivate affirming physical, psychological and emotional spaces. Within her (re)-claimed spaces she establishes a visual lexicon uniquely her own; one which does not require outside validation in order to function effectively. Contingent upon her strength and resiliency, It is here that she (re)negotiates personal contracts by which she abides. Gained though experience, she maintains self-awareness that the operation of dominant social systems will inevitably require that she forfeit her (re)claimed space, asserting that her resistance to dominant social systems is contaminated; that her right to occupy space does not maintain validity. It is then that she must once again engage in the cyclical process of navigation, relocation, recreation and reaffirmation. She does not embody blackness however. She instead glows vibrantly, reigniting her process from where she left off. Born in San Jose, CA, Veronica Stein is a Chicago based photographer, textile and performance artist. Over the past 11 years Stein has encouraged a body of work which investigates how social constructs of gender, class, race, sexuality and space acquisition perform in response to the Queer, Black, female body.
How does your work respond or contribute to a queer lineage/ archive? I frame queer as a socio-political action which extends beyond limited conceptions of gender and sexuality. I frame queer as a noun, adjective and verb. Queering actively challenges and resists social norms. Through performance, installation, photography, textiles and sculpture, I queer traditional visual signifiers and develop an alternative visual language specific to my phenomenology. I challenge my audience to translate this visual language, thereby unpacking what it means to perform non-normative “ways of being� in order navigate and resist dominant social contracts.
How does your specific community influence your work? I navigate transient spaces, navigating through both dominant and marginalized communities; occupying hybrid identities. As a community organizer and artivist, storytelling performs as a catalyst that may provoke creative dialogue and encourage the (re)negotiation of oppressive social contracts. As a member of multiple communities, some targeted, others dominating, I embody a double-conscience which elicits an ethical dilemma. From my peculiar perspective, I have assigned myself an informant. Community education is contingent upon transparency. Collective engagement lends social change. What is the role of documentation in your work? Voices of individuals systematically marginalized based upon assigned identity markers are intentionally silenced. Our stories are either re-framed or permanently erased from history in order to compliment the dominant meta-narrative, for the purpose of sustaining the status quo. Although agency in documenting one’s narrative is a rightful endeavor, many do not gain access to the resources and outlets that will enable us to record our histories. tories. Therefore I document my phenomenology in order to ensure that my story, and the micro-narratives of marginalized communities in which I navigate, will not be lost. I assume the role of informant and documentation acts as an effective tool for the reclaiming of our histories.
H. MELT My artistic practice is not separate from my every day life. I use the people, places, and experiences from my daily life as source material for my poetry and art. I document Chicago’s queer and trans communities because not enough people are doing it. Because people need to know we exist, we make art, and we are real. I view my work as queer. I define queer as a verb—an active challenging of the individual and institutional powers that define who and what is normal. The goal of my work is to empower everyone who differs from the norm to share their experiences–regardless of whether or not they recognize themselves as queer. It is through my art and writing that I understand and question myself. It is through my art and writing that I understand and question others. I want others to understand queer experiences and use the power of queerness to resist. To make the world a safer space for all. H. Melt is a poet and artist who was born in Chicago. Their work proudly documents Chicago’s queer and trans communities. They are the author of SIRvival in the Second City: Transqueer Chicago Poems, described by Original Plumbing Magazine as “a queer call to arms asking us to take up a pen (rather than a sword) to document the richness of our complex queer lives.” In addition, they’ve participated in Chicago’s queer arts scene by publishing and performing in places such as: Chicago IRL, In Our Words, Lexica at Salonathon, Making Out with Wes Perry & Friends, Nuts & Bolts, and Subject to Change. They are currently an emerging teaching artist with Young Chicago Authors, an MFA candidate at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago and hard at work on their next book: Straight Jacket.
Briefly explain your work: I am a poet and text artist. I write poems and essays capturing the stories of my own life and my communities, rooted in the Chicago tradition of realist, confrontational portraiture. In addition to my writing, I make text art—applying short phrases or words like “no hetero,” “trans pussy,” and “damn straight” to found objects such as condoms, clothing, posters, maps, flags, and every day items. I also collect and photograph text that I find interesting—on a button or a license plate. Both my poetry and art are rooted in queerness. How have other queer art/artists shaped or contributed to your work? Audre Lorde. Edie Fake. Mark Aguhar. James Baldwin. Dean Spade. Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore. Rebecca Kling. Julia Serano. Keith Haring. Catherine Opie. Amos Mac. Felix Gonzalez-Torres. John Waters. Kiam Marcelo Junio. These are a few of the queer and trans artists, writers, and activists who have influenced my work. Right now, I am very inspired by Topside Press. They are focused on trans fiction. Even though I’m not a fiction fan, it’s very exciting to see the work they’re doing—books they’re promoting, interviews they give, awards and recognition they receive. One of the most important queer artifacts in my life is Chicago IRL, which was a print publication that featured writing, art, interviews and more focused on Chicago’s creative queer communities. Being accepted into that publication changed my life. Meeting Joe Varisco changed my life. I found community through Chicago IRL and am so thankful for its existence.
Joe Varisco is a documentarian and producer focused on utilizing creative collaborations as a means of building community relationships and deconstructing boundaries.
JOE TELLS ME The results came in I am positive in a text message with a smiley face Received Friday December 14 1:40 pm
Jesus Plaza aka [X]P is a queer Mexican DJ, choreographer, performer and hair stylist currently living in Chicago.
ODE TO JESUS You were the first to dye my hair
A triangle upside down
A saint painting brown blank canvas
I walked away scared I’d be bashed from behind
You called it virgin bleach didn’t sting
No one even said a word.
Mixed bright pink to brush on the back of my head
Janie Stamm is a sequin dress wearing printmaker who was born on Miami Beach.
ELECTION NIGHT 2012 nuts and bolts @ township Tonight american queer party is on the ballot In my second election I’m voting with my hellos
We dance the devil out We strut sequin shine
Hi Janie Hey Joe
We celebrate like We won something
Mar is white sox fan Mar is south side irish
buy another cheap drink
on the north west side logan squeer is alive
We stay til 2 am We stay til close
waving pink nails plastic stars & stripes
because there’s no where else to go.
after election results balloons drop & pop
Is creating an archive a collective effort? How does the idea of the collective or group work influence your practice? I am part of a collective movement of queer artists in Chicago creating and performing with and for each other. I want us to gain more exposure, to be recognized for our creativity and hard work. To expand our reach while staying connected to community. I want people to stop moving to New York. I want us to be recognized as an artistic movement that is specific to Chicago, and also connected to the work queer artists and activists are doing across the country and across the world. What is the role of documentation in your work? I proudly document Chicago’s queer and trans artistic communities and my place within them. I write about the people who I love, my friends, mentors, fellow artists and organizers. I document our queering of the city’s architecture—the places that welcome us for one night a month and those that close the door in our faces. Sometimes those are the same places. I am documenting what’s happening right now in the lives of queer and trans people in Chicago. I am writing the history as we live it because I’m afraid of being erased. Of never getting the acknowledgement we deserve.
Adelante Print and pastel on fiber paper Mexico City, 2013
CLARA ATRI
Soy esto. Bueno, a veces… cuando se puede… cuando me lo permito. Nos fragmentamos. Tú, yo… Todos nos fragmentamos. “A Veces…” es una serie de retratos de diferentes mujeres lesbianas que explora la fragmentación a la que son sometidas las personas que pertenecen a una minoría aislada, discriminada. Uno se fragmenta al quedarse callado, al querer ser algo que no es, al aceptar algo que no quiere, al saberse diferente y no asumirse con dignidad. La serie también invita a la reflexión sobre la posible reintegración a través del dolor compartido con otros seres humanos, como resultado de la discriminación, sin importar la minoría a la que se pertenezca.
Clara Atri was born, raised and enjoys living in Mexico City. She has had the opportunity to participate in different photography, drawing and writing workshops in Mexico and the US. Her main focus is to stay still in order to see and share with others that which she comes upon through the process of contemplation and self exploration.
Briefly explain your work: My work consists of combining different visual techniques, mainly related to photography and drawing, in order to share that which I slowly come upon… images revealed by paying attention and trying to see not merely with my eyes. How does your work contribute to a queer lineage/archive? It is nice to be able to see one´s own visions in a tangible form and, hopefully, passed down from hand to hand. My work contributes to a queer lineage/archive mainly because it is now out there and no longer solely in my head. It is not mine anymore… and for this I am deeply thankful.
How does your specific community influence your work? I live in a somewhat close, traditional community both religiously and culturally speaking. Therefore, a feeling of segregation has been my loyal companion throughout my life. This has taken me to explore both the world I live in and myself as a means to better understanding. The thorough, compromised and daily exploration has in turn made me hesitant about certain practices because of what I´ve discovered to be genuinely important. This is what I offer in my work‌ an invitation to look within, to be an outsider of the conventional but an inhabitant of the world, of the universe‌ to dare be part of humanity as a whole.
Yes, Other. Print and pastel on fiber paper Mexico City, 2013
AquĂ Mismo Print and pastel on fiber paper Mexico City, 2013
Por AllaĂ Print and pastel on fiber paper Mexico City, 2013
ADAM LIAM ROSE Both my upbringing in the charged Occupied Territories of Israel and my sexual orientation form the backbone of my practice. I frequently include personal narrative and experience to relay my political and social understanding of boundary. Performance, photography, sculpture, print and fiber are incorporated to investigate the paradox of displacement and the experience of belonging. I am interested in the polyvalent and clashing notions of lands, borders, permanence and home, and how these are negotiated by nations as well as in daily social life; in the power relations that exist through personally or societally inflicted exile. These interests are frequently coupled with investigations into the machismo, the monumental and the artificial. I am interested in what occurs when space is created, decontextualized, repositioned, pushed and shoved and made anamorphic. Adam Liam Rose is an Israeli-American visual artist living and working in Chicago, IL. He creates sculpture, photography and textile based works that explore themes of masculinity, sexuality, safety/comfort, borders, and home. His work utilizes materials of impermanence and nostalgia—non-archival paper, muslin, thread, found objects, cyanotype and digital photography. Rose graduated from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC) in Spring 2012. In 2013, he will attend the Vermont Studio Center as part of their Resident Artist program. In 2012, Rose’s work was part of the exhibition “All You Can Eat” at the Tom Robinson Gallery in Chicago. Rose was also invited to exhibit at the 2011 show “CartoonInk! Emerging Comics in Context”, at SAIC’s Sullivan Galleries. He is currently working as assistant to artists Anne Wilson and Joan Livingstone.
Embroidery on muslin (an embroidery a day for two weeks) 2011
Shuafat refugee camp. Photographic composite, 1997
Shuafat refugee camp. Photographic composite, 2012