“Having exhibitions in our own spaces means that we are in control of our own stories, and the ways in which they are told.” As Kroeger asserts, presenting queer art in queer spaces could help correct some of this. As it stands, the artists most strongly associated with “queer art” are figures like Andy Warhol, Catherine Opie, Robert Mapplethorpe and Keith Haring-rather than the trans or POC voices whose voices and vital contributions shouldn’t be overlooked. “It is often the case that minority voices are being silenced or ignored, and there isn’t a sensitivity to the complexity of the queer story,” Kroeger points out. It’s inevitably difficult when queer narratives are represented in mainstream galleries, for a general public that isn’t necessarily familiar with the breadth of LGBT+ experiences, as some of the nuance can be lost. Why is it necessary to be validated by the establishment, and what kind of stories are being privileged?” “I think there is still an implicit classism in the idea of this kind of subversive art being validated by the establishment. However, she concedes that it’s important to be cautious, as galleries can sometimes act to consolidate pre-existing power dynamics. “There is something really meaningful about seeing queer work that has historically been relegated to basements and underground spaces finally being recognized as important by the art world at large.” “I think that it is really important that queer stories are finally being told by established institutions,” she says. On the one hand, she notes that seeing queer art in mainstream institutions does represent progress. Kroeger explains that queer art doesn’t necessarily have to be shown in specifically queer locales, but there is a difficult balance that has, as of yet, not been fully addressed. “Without queer venues as cultural hubs, so much of this activism would not be able to take place.” “The work is understood as a living part of the venue, and it is an opportunity to reflect not only on the significance of the history being told, but also the importance of the space housing it,” she explains. The show’s curator, Emma Kroeger, explains that Dalston Superstore is intended to feature as a part of the exhibition, as well as its venue. Moreover, the choice to house these documents of queer struggle in a traditionally queer space feels like an important recognition of the role of LGBT bars and clubs, both in building community and consciousness-raising. To present this narrative of queer activism within a queer space enables the LGBT+ community to remain in control of their own histories, suggesting that they don’t need any institution to validate their stories and legacy. The cultural hub’s programming-running from club nights, to sexual health screenings, to a regular writing group-is generally diverse, but it still feels bold to hold an art exhibition here.
#GAY SEX ART GALLERY ARCHIVE#
In a perfect symbiosis, this imagery is brought to life in a community space that itself - through its staff, customers, and the urban mythology that surrounds it - serves as a living and breathing archive of over ten years of queer life in London.
Opened on 29 November and running until January 2020, documentary images of protests, placards and posters litter the bar’s walls. It was striking then, to see that East London queer bar Dalston Superstore would be hosting AIDS, SEX, QUEER POWER-”a herstory of Act Up London”- an exhibition presenting art and artefacts from Act Up London’s thirty-year-strong archive to mark World AIDS Day. When larger institutions present the stories of marginalized groups, it can feel like a sidelined perspective is being offered up to the voyeuristic gaze of a public which wants accessed to these perspectives without necessarily giving anything meaningful in exchange. Yet it’s hard to ignore the power dynamics at play. Not only are LGBT+ perspectives being validated, but it represents a wider cultural shift in which queer aesthetics are finally being appreciated. Queer cultural output, which has traditionally been censored, sidelined and ghettoised has officially made its entrance into mainstream institutions. Across the United States, and in New York in particular, this summer saw a roll-out of exhibitions in response to the fiftieth anniversary of the Stonewall Uprisings. In London alone there have been group showcases like Queer British Art 1861 – 1967 at the Tate Britain (2017) and Kiss My Genders at the Hayward Gallery (2019), as well as the archive-driven Queer Spaces: London, 1980s – Today at the Whitechapel Gallery this year. In the past few years, there’s been a remarkable uptake in exhibitions on queer subjects by large-scale artistic institutions.
Gordon Rainsford, SM Pride March, 30 October 1993