BianchiFireIs009
Tom Bianchi, Climbing Out
This is part two of my "the shut-in makes it out to art shows" series. (Scroll down for Part I, a recap of A New Currency at Snowflake/Citystock.)
On Saturday, I shot even further down Cherokee to phd Gallery for the opening of Fire Island: The Photographs of Tom Bianchi. Gallery proprietor Philip Hitchcock had done some nice preliminary PR on this show, so I knew it had an interesting narrative. The photographs, shot in the mid-1970s on SX-70 Polaroid film, have been digitally enlarged and reproduced on archival paper; there are 24 represented here, but they were curated from a pool of more than 6,000. The artist, Tom Bianchi, began his career as a lawyer, and began to shoot after receiving a Polaroid camera as a corporate gift. His subject was Fire Island:
"Part Garden of Eden, part Sodom and Gomorah, this tiny little barrier to Long Island, just south of the Hamptons, was as much a state of mind as it was a destination. Synonymous with freedom to gays around the word, Fire Island was the ultimate mecca where gays and lesbians who often lived their lives in secret, were free to be who they were, among their own, living and playing without judgment or scorn."
One of the most interesting things to note about these photographs is that though you will see plenty of (usually toned and well-tanned) bodies, you will never see a face. That's because at the time, it was "career suicide" to be outed as gay. There is something about the anonymity of these photographs that makes them not just historically reflective, but very poignant. They have survived the journey from small to large format in fine form, too: the Polaroid format writ large translates to saturated color and soft edges, which gives these photographs a dreamy, summery feel.
For those who feel squeamish about such things -- this is St. Louis, after all -- note many of these photographs feature full-frontal male nudity. (I will remind everyone, however that the satyr depicted in Montorsoli's Reclining Pan, which has been on view at the Saint Louis Art Museum for decades, is not wearing boxer shorts, either.)
My only regret on Saturday was not trying harder to track down Mr. Bianchi, who was there for the opening. That's no small thing: Bianchi is now world-famous as an artist. Those simple, early Polaroids eventually led to 12 art photography books, three documentaries and many sculptures. But it was too much fun just people-watching, since a good part of the crowd was made up of bouyant, sunburned revelers who'd trekked from Tower Grove Park, where PrideFest was underway. I also need to note that if you stop by to see this show, also check out David Landcaster's Please God, Make Me Not Queer: Modern Prayers Painted on Alumnium, which are beautiful -- and cheeky, too. --Stefene Russell
