MAN WITH A FILM CAMERA MAN WITH A

Over the last fifteen years, my photographic style has changed several times. When I was at university, I spent more time in nightclubs than studying, so my style was informed by photographing drag queens and dancers from clubbing in the LGBTQ+ community. This is probably why I first fell in love with photography; I got Distinctions from going clubbing.

After I graduated, I worked as a photography assistant. I worked with big name photographers and started to think that my work should look like theirs so I could be successful. So, I copied their style. I learnt a lot from experimenting this way, but I soon realised that these copied styles really weren’t me.

From there, I began photographing communities that I was interested in. I used available light and focused on capturing the uniqueness of my subject. I’m fascinated by what brings people together. I believe we are our best and most beautiful around those that share our passion. It was my curiosity in this that allowed my individual photographic style to emerge and become something I am now proud of.

I’ve been fortunate enough to get editorial work. This is where I add a fashion eye. I like the images that have a similar theme to my personal work, but with the addition of stylists and glam squad to make the talent polished. There’s less opportunity for innovation in that space, but I’ve found ways to push boundaries anyway. Outside of that though, for my personal projects, it’s still all about people and communities.

Having a camera around your neck is an all-access pass to the world. It is a great way to meet people, and be invited into worlds that are different to your own. When asking people if I could photograph them, I have almost always had good experiences…

I was once chased down the street in Baltimore—I was photographing what ended up being a trap house, where drugs are sold. Four massive guys came out and started screaming for me to give them my camera.

With my personal work about community, I don’t go with an expectation of what it should look like. I want the people to tell their own story, I let them lead, and I follow. Each project begins with just me and my stills camera – I make portraits of people and get to know them. I go back regularly, and let the relationship develop. Once people trust me, they share their stories and I can build from there, turn it into a short documentary or photo series.

Like my work with Drag Syndrome – a collective of Drag Kings and Queens with Down syndrome. There was so much joy, dancing, and drama on set. I loved collaborating with them, and I’ve actually recently won an award for the images.

Images are able to quickly evoke emotion, much faster than a book or a film. In an instant, an image can make one viewer feel pride and another hate.

It is rebellious to be Other. It is rebellious to be your true self. If you are in any way different to the status quo: be that queer, trans or non-binary, a person of colour, an immigrant, differently abled or neurodiverse, just marginalised in some way, simply standing proudly as yourself is rebellious. If you take a photograph of this and share it with the world, where people will project their opinion and judgement upon you, you are rebellious.

When I post images of same sex couples kissing, there is abuse written. When I photograph a trans person in a park with an amazing outfit on, we hear abuse. It is a risk to be different, it is brave, it is rebellious, and we all need to do more of it. @cameronmcnee

Words Rosie Barker

Throughout history, during revolutions, social justice movements, and civil unrest, fashion has been a key device in the act of protest. The colours, fabrics, and items we choose to wear - or not to wear - give us the ability to tell our story before we even begin to speak. At a glance, an outfit can proudly symbolise our beliefs in relation to social class, gender identity, religion, politics, allyship and more. What we choose to wear can be an act of compliance, or an act of rebellion.

During the French Revolution, wearing red, white and blue identified you as a revolutionary ally. Over 100 years later, Russia manifested the rejection of the monarchy in a literal rejection of the grandiose fashion and fabrics of the bourgeoisie. Opulence was out, and rough cotton and aprons, in the style of the working class, became the style of the rebellion. Even the simple denim jean – now a staple in most people’s closets – has its roots in anti-conformity. Once reserved for blue-collar men, jeans became popular when culture shifted to align more sympathetically with the working class, and in favour of androgynous fashion. Feminism and fashion have worked hand in hand throughout the movement. To the suffragettes, purple signified loyalty and dignity, white stood for purity, and green gave hope for the future of women’s rights. To wear these colours during that time showed that you believed women should have the right to vote. Later, the humble miniskirt became the symbol of women’s liberation, and now, fashion and feminism have become so entwined that there exists a theory that the length of hemlines correlates with the peaks and troughs of the economy – it’s called the hemline index.

In the late 60s to early 80s in the United States, a black leather jacket with black pants, dark sunglasses and a black beret, personified the Black Panther movement. The iconic uniform displayed strength and power, while rejecting Eurocentric beauty standards and spreading the message that black is beautiful. In the same era, black leather paired with studs, baby pins and a mohawk, refuted conservatism, and aligned the wearer with punk counter-culture. The LGBTQ+ movement demanded the freedom to express identity through fashion by dressing in drag and gender non-conforming styles. Direct revolts against homophobic laws of the time, during uprisings such as the Stonewall Riots, paved the way for today’s global pride parades.

These historic acts of rebellion through fashion have not only impacted the direction of the fashion industry, but have also shaped the role of fashion as a symbolic participant in the demand for social change. Today, we see the hijab at the centre of women’s rights protests in Iran, not simply as an item of clothing, but as a symbol of a woman’s right to choose. As we continue to express our identity through our clothing, how and when we wear what we choose to wear, will no doubt continue to play an important role in future social revolutions. During times of change, the world inevitably looks to what we wear, because, when it comes to social justice, fashion isn’t just an accessory, it’s a central character.