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Francis Carr (District of Maine politician)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Francis Carr
Member of the U.S. House of Representatives
from Massachusetts's 17th district
In office
April 6, 1812 – March 4, 1813
Preceded byBarzillai Gannett
Succeeded byAbiel Wood
Personal details
BornDecember 6, 1751
Newbury, Massachusetts
DiedOctober 6, 1821 (aged 69)
Bangor, Maine
Resting placeMount Hope Cemetery
Political partyDemocratic-Republican
Spouse(s)Mary Elliot
ChildrenCongressman James Carr

Francis Carr (December 6, 1751 – October 6, 1821) was a U.S. Representative from the District of Maine, which was then part of Massachusetts. He was also the father of U.S. Congressman James Carr, and the founder of a political and mercantile family in Bangor, Maine.

Carr was born and attended common schools in Newbury, Massachusetts. He later moved to Haverhill, Massachusetts, married Mary Elliot (b. 1755 in Amesbury), and engaged in the mercantile and shipbuilding business. He also represented Haverhill in the Massachusetts House of Representatives.[1]

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  • ✪ Photography and Homoerotic Desire
  • ✪ CIA Covert Action in the Cold War: Iran, Jamaica, Chile, Cuba, Afghanistan, Libya, Latin America
  • ✪ University of Iowa College of Liberal Arts & Sciences 1PM Commencement - May 16, 2015
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- Welcome to the SVA Theater. My name is Donald Albrecht. I'm the Museum of the State of New York's curator of Architect and Design. - And my name is Steven Vider. I am a Mellon post-doctoral fellow at the Museum of the City of New York, and we are together, the co-curators of the museum's new exhibition, Gay Gotham, Art and Underground Culture in New York. Which just opened last week. We are excited to be introducing tonight's program, Photography and Homoerotic Desire, as part of our Gay Gotham program series. An honor to be co-presenting the discussion with the School of Visual Arts. - Tonight we are gonna hear from a distinguished panel of art critics and scholars and writers, and the panel discussion will be moderated by Philip Gefter. It's going to discuss the artists and patrons who helped establish the art market for homoerotic photography, during the 1970's, a very dynamic period in New York, which is covered extensively in the exhibition and the related book. They're gonna explore the legacy of boundary pushing artists like Robert Mapplethorpe, and his patron Sam Wagstaff. Both of whom are mentioned in the exhibition. As well as George Dureau, and Peter Hujar the latter is also featured in the exhibition. Through the work of these photographers, homoerotic photography found it's way into New York city galleries and museums, changing the art scene profoundly, and forever. We'd like to thank our co-presenter for this evening, the SVA BFA Photography and Video Department, specifically Chair Steven Frailey, and his colleague, Maria Dubon. I also wanna thank our Gay Gotham series sponsors. You can find the full list of the programs, and all the sponsors in the program that's on our website. - On the programs I would like to take a moment just to invite you to our next Gay Gotham event, on December 6th at 6:30 pm, which will be held at the museum, titled Making the Queer Scene. For this program we welcome a group of writers, performers and activists to the museum, including Michael Mustoe, Linda Simpson, and Julie Tollentino, to discuss the historical and ongoing importance of queer nightlife in New York. You should have a postcard with all of the Gay Gotham programs listed on your seat. I also wanna mention the museum tomorrow on October 15th, at 1:00 pm, we have a family read aloud of the book, I Am Jazz, written by 16 year old author, and LGBT activist, Jazz Jennings. You can participate in a guided discussion for both children and adults on gender expression and identity. I wanna mention, also, we have... The museum has generous funding from the Keith Haring Foundation for all of our children, and youth and family programs. Programs we're really grateful to them, for that generous funding. And of course we also wanna invite you uptown to visit Gay Gotham at the museum. We're at 5th Avenue, on 103rd street. You can get a Citi Bike, or take the 23, and get there pretty fast. Before we begin, please do take this moment to silence anything that buzzes or beeps. But also we do encourage at the Museum of the City of New York at all our programs, to Tweet during the program, using the hashtag, Gay Gotham. - Okay now I'd like to warmly welcome our moderator Philip Gefter. Philip Gefter was on the staff at the New York Times for over 15 years. Where he wrote regularly about photography. His essays are collected in the book, Photography After Frank, which came out in 2009. He's also the author of Wagstaff, Before and After Mapplethorpe, a Biography, which came out in 2015. And that book, I must point out, was a really seminal work in the development of the exhibition. Both in their specific relationships to each other, Mapplethorpe and Wagstaff, but also in the whole theme... One of the main themes of the show, which is the idea of gay networks or gay communities, and how they worked, not only within a generation, but across different generations. And that idea was very seminal to the show, and both, from reading Philip's book, but also in interviewing him, and meeting with him, he was a great influence on the show and the book. Thank you. (audience applause) - Thank you Donald. Hi, good evening. Thank you all for coming. Gay Gotham, on view at the Museum of the City of New York, is a show about the influence of the gay sensibility on arts and letters throughout the 20th century. It highlights individuals, around whom, circles of artists and writers and musicians, and entire sub cultural attitudes helped to define high culture, and low, across the last century. Some of these figures, Mercedes Lacosta in the 1920's, Richard Bruce Nugent in the 30's. Lincoln Kirstein, and George Platt Lynes in the 40's. Leonard Bernstein in the 50's, Andy Warhol in the 60's. Robert Mapplethorpe in the 70's, Greer Lankton in the 80's, and Harmony Hammond, in the 90's. So this panel is going to take a closer look at one decade, the 1970's. And Robert Mapplethorpe's circle of influence on photography. So I wanna begin introducing our illustrious panelists. In alphabetical order, from left. Vince Aletti, the eminent and prolific author and photography critic for the New Yorker. And regular contributor to Art Forum, Aperture and Photograph Magazine, among other publications. Vince's collection of photographs has been the subject of several books, including Male, Rodeo, and Untitled Anonymous. He was co-curator of Avedon Fashion, 1944 to 2000. The 2009 exhibition at the International Center of Photography. And this past spring, he curated a show of Robert Mapplethorpe's work for the Moran Bondaroff gallery... I'm sorry if I mispronounced that. In Los Angeles. He wrote the introductory essay for Peter Hujar, Lost Downtown. Out later this month from Steidl. Vince knew Peter Hujar very well from the 1960's on, and he's going to talk about Hujar whose work is finally getting the serious recognition it should have gotten in his lifetime. Eclipsed, as it was, in the glare of Mapplethorpe's fame. Next to Vince is Cynthia Carr, the author of several books, most recently Fire in the Belly, The Life and Times of David Wojnarowicz. A very thorough biography of the artist which won the Lamda Literary Award for gay memoir, biography, in 2012. Her work has appeared in Art Forum, the New York Times, and other publications. And on staff at the Village Voice in the 1980's and 90's, she regularly chronicled the work of contemporary artists. Currently she is a fellow at the Leon Levy Center for Biography, at work on a biography of Candy Darling. Peter Hujar was Wojnarowicz's lover and mentor, and Cynthia is going to discuss Wojnarowicz's work in the context of that relationship. Next to Cynthia is Allen Ellenzweig, an art's critic and the author of the very influential book, The Homoerotic Photograph. His essays have appeared in Art and America, The Gay and Lesbian Review, Worldwide, the Village Voice, and online journals, the Foreword, and Tablet. Currently he is at work on a biography of George Platt Lynes, who he's going to discuss in greater detail. And Robert Reid-Pharr, far right, is distinguished in presidential professor of English and American Studies, at the CUNY Graduate Center. And a visiting professor at Harvard this semester. Is that... That's correct? Yes, okay. (laughs) He is a specialist in African-American culture, and a prominent scholar in the field of race and sexuality studies. And among the books he's published are Black Gay Man, essays, which won a Lamda Literary Award for LGBT studies. Once You Go Black, Choice, Desire, and the Black American Intellectual, and Archives of Flesh, African-America, Spain, and Post-Humanist Critique. Out this year. Robert's going to talk about the work of Alvin Baltrop, and address the issue of African-American representation in the context of homoerotic photography. Before the panelist begin their presentations, I'd just like to give a brief overview of the period, when photography and homoerotic desire first became visible to the public. I'm fond of pointing out that in the early 1970's, the rise of the gay rights movement occurred simultaneously with the growing stature of photography in the art world. I am fond of pointing that out. (laughs) (audience laughs) This was nothing more than a coincidence. Until the end of that decade, when the gay sensibility had become an indelible ingredient in photography's coming of age. Homoerotic representation in the work of Dwayne Michaels, Robert Mapplethorpe, Peter Hujar, George Dureau, Arthur Tress, Jimmy Desana, and others, reflects a cultural moment when the veil of fear, for the urban homosexual, had been lifted. And the work of these artists began appearing on the museum and gallery wall. Until Stonewall, in 1969, the taboo against homosexuality in America was strict and fierce. The social stigma could destroy careers and lives. I was surprised to learn that until 1963, the New York Times used the words, homosexual and pervert regularly, and interchangeably. And until 1965, the Comstock Law made it illegal to send photographs of the male nude, through the US mail. While homoerotic imagery exists throughout the history of photography, from Thomas Eakins, Baron von Gloeden, F Holiday, George Platt Lynes, and Minor White. This strict taboo made it impossible for these artists to show that work in public in their lifetime. In post-Stonewall New York City, as gay men were coming out of the closet, Manhattan crackled with a new erotic charge. The gay male gaze had never been freer to roam in plain sight. And it was in this period that the presence of homosexuality and the homoerotic rose to public visibility and photographic art making. There's my name. (laughs) Dwayne Michaels made the Unfortunate Man, here in 1975, when he was 42. An eloquent piece about the alienation of the homosexual in society. He writes, under the image, "The Unfortunate Man could not touch the one he loved. "It had been declared illegal by the law. "Slowly his fingers became toes, "and his hands gradually became feet. "He began to wear shoes on his hands "to disguise his pain. "It never occurred to him to break the law." Of course, Michaels chose a beautiful specimen of the male form, an object of homoerotic fantasy, to make his point. The power of male beauty, a counter balance to the prejudice endured for his kind. Several years later, in 1978, Robert Mapplethorpe, just over 30, made this ballsy self-portrait. Mapplethorpe was unapologetic, in fact, defiant, about his homosexuality, a generational shift, from the suppression and alienation rendered in Micheals's Unfortunate Man. Mapplethorpe's self-portrait is a nose thumbing fuck you to prejudice. A provocation that rubbed society's own worst attitudes and fears about homosexuals, in it's face. This photograph, entitled Bruce to St. Croix, 1976, is by Peter Hujar, a contemporary of Mapplethorpe. Hujar wanted to reintroduce male genitalia into Western art. He was intent on foregrounding the penis, but here he took it a step further. I don't think the erection had ever before been photographed with such aesthetic regard. Bruce to St. Croix is contemplating his own erection with the same curiosity as the viewer. Given the shock value at the time, of male genitalia in general, and an erection in particular, the first time this photograph was shown, in a gallery, in 1978, the critical reaction was nothing less than hostile. That year the Markuza Pfeiffer Gallery, on Madison Avenue, mounted a show called The Male Nude, A Survey in Photography. Which featured the works of more than 75 photographers, throughout the history of the medium. Some male, some female. Heterosexual, homosexual, including these images I'm showing here. The critics were contemptuous. Dismissing the male nude show as homosexual themed, despite the diversity of photographers, and the variety of representation of the male figure. Just to say that the male nude was a threatening subject in mid 20th century America. Still bound to a Puritanical ethic. And, an erection. That was, well, explosive. While an erect penis might compel spontaneous sexual desire in some, in others it summons a call to arms against a brandished weapon. Like kryptonite to the heterosexual man. It's my belief that straight men have a difficult time looking at the male nude in general, and male genitalia in particular. Because of a fear of being implicated. As if by simply looking at a man's penis, it might reveal an attraction. Anyway, I wanna end this little overview with a quote from a negative review of the male nude show, by Ben Lifson, in the Village Voice. He singled out Hujar's, Bruce to St. Croix, and writes, as if holding his nose, "One young man sits in a chair, staring "and holding his enormous erection. "Finding neither comfort nor use in his sex. "Stymied and baffled in a desert of excess." Then he goes on, "The nude in art is "a matter of convention. "In photography it's difficult, because "every day experience doesn't readily "proffer naked people, to say nothing "of men with phallic symbols between their legs." Well Mr. Lifson, wherever you are, men don't have phallic symbols between their legs. They have penises. (audience laughs) But it just goes to show the arms length distance on the subject the critics maintained at the time. Anyway with that, I'm going to turn the floor over to Allen Ellenzweig. Thank you. (audience applause) - So many photographs, so little time. (audience laughs) I'm going to start... First of all, I'm talking about George Platt Lynes whose life span ran from 1907 to 1955. His career, professional career as a photographer would generally be credited as starting 1928, until his death. I start with this image of Tony Sansone from an album of his, you know, of his physique. It's one of those physique albums which recalls, sort of, the nude aesthetic albums of the late 19th century. George Platt Lynes would have been aware of this, he was interested in this kind of vernacular photography. And indeed met Tony Sansone. And photographed him. I think we can recognize here that what Lynes has done is aestheticize the male physique. It doesn't have quite the commercial punch that the earlier images have. It's in a domestic interior, and thereby... It is... Turns the landscape of the male nude into an object of reflection. Another pair of physique models from the period were the Ritter brothers. I would suggest that this probably... This image probably was not for public consumption. The fact that there's full frontal nudity suggests to me that this was probably the kind of commercial image that would've been sold in an underground market. But, nevertheless, George Platt Lynes used the Ritter brothers for his own purposes. And I think we should note here, for a second time, that we're seeing two men from the back view. Thereby, they're not identifiable. We can't exactly know that they're in fact brothers. And I would also point out that the strange striated image in the back, which reads as a flat object of some sort might distantly recall the doric columns of ancient Greece. And thereby that might be, if I'm not stretching the point, might be a distant illusion to the homoerotic age of antiquity. Here we have an early nude study by George Platt Lynes, probably of Lloyd Wescott, the brother of Glenway Wescott, who, with Monroe Wheeler, were the two men most intimate and important in George's life. They were mentors and lovers to George. And here, I think George is really beginning, at an early stage, it's 1930 now, to master the lighting and modeling of the male nude. At roughly this period, Lynes also was beginning to photograph Greek statuary from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Presumably because you can't always find a friend to pose for you. This image is an unusual image in his corpus. He was invited by Julian Levy, his gallery dealer to participate in a show at the Museum of Modern Art in 1932, which was a show of murals by American painters and photographers. It's noteworthy to mention that Lincoln Kirstein was in fact the overall curator of the entire exhibition. But he asked Levy specifically, because of his expertise in photography, to curate the photography portion. Here we have two... I'm sorry that it's a sort of inferior image. But we have two Greek statues, quite likely from the period that he was taking the photographs of Metropolitan Museum antique statues, that are super imposed with images on the left, images of nature on the right. Some sort of a industrial, or machine, imagery that is framed by the silhouettes of the two bodies. They are, in fact, mirror images of one another. I think George here, quite consciously is evoking Greek classicism. Thereby allowing him to deal with the homoerotic, but, of course, whenever you have these sorts of references to the Greek, to the antique, you also have a certification that this is art, not pornography. This mural was roughly 8x16 feet. It did not attract very much attention. It was an experiment, certainly, for George, and it was not something that he ever had an occasion to repeat. Here we have two images of a personality who made his name in Paris. He is a Senegalese dancer, and musician. He went by the name of Feral Benga. And he was a backup musician, playing drums, in Josephine Baker's act in the 1930's. Of course Josephine Baker, and many other American blacks were in Paris, at a period when American jazz was much favored. American blacks were participating in what was, essentially, a kind of Negrophilic moment in France. Benga, a Senegalese, also appeared in Cocteau's Blood of a Poet, and it's likely that it was through George's affiliation with Cocteau, his friendship with Cocteau, that he got to know Benga. On the left the image is a kind of symphony, I would say, of angles, shadows and highlights. While at the right, it's a more measured, and economic composition. Portraying Benga, almost as a figurine, and I would suggest it recalls, to some extent, Mapplethorpe's Ajitto series. On the left here we have a portrait of the English choreographer, Frederick Ashton, with three of the dancers from the Gertrude Stein, Virgil Thompson opera, Four Saints in Three Acts. The dancers were found by Ashton at Harlem's Savoy Ballroom. The image, seems to codify a sort of... What I would call a classic trope of white sexual imperialism, vis-a-vis the black other. The black male figure. A charge that was sometimes leveled at Mapplethorpe. On the right we have an unusual portrait of Jimmy Daniels who was a nightclub entertainer in Paris in the mid-30's, and then when he returned to America, opened up his own place in Harlem. Called, strangely enough, Jimmy Daniels. Jimmy Daniels and Benga were both relatively prominent personalities in the transatlantic gay cosmopolitan world. Which was, of course, the world that George Platt Lynes was photographing. On the left we have an image of Victor Craft, who was a musician. He was 17 at this time, and was the young lover of Aaron Copland. The image is a sort of Cocteau-esque dreamscape of a young man seeming to float in some nether world. And I couldn't help but note that there was an image, somewhat similar of Jean Marie, the star of Jean Cocteau's Orpheus, which, of course is actually is a later iteration of this kind of dreamscape imagery. Here we have, in fact, Cocteau on the left. And I think George is engaged in a sort of surrealist joke, with the way the hand is disembodied from the rest of Jean Cocteau. On the right we have one of George's most iconic images, the Sleepwalker. Both apparently were being considered for inclusion in the Museum of Modern Art's Fantastic Art, Dada, and Surrealism show, of 1936. We should note that despite all of the surrealist practices that George engaged in, he in fact did not want to be thought of as a surrealist. And I would give three reasons for this. For one thing he was not in the least interested in a theoretical cast of mind. Manifestos were not in his purview. He also wanted no part of being a school. Part of a member of a school. He wanted to be an individual, and thought of as an individual. And lastly, he probably was aware that the surrealists were quite anti-homosexual, Andre Breton, in particular. This is an image from 1945, and I think here we see George's real mastery of interior studio lighting. His ability to present a delineation of the human form in light and space. And I think it compares, favorably and well beyond favorably, with the earlier back image of Lloyd Wescott. Note, by the way, again we have hands here. Just as we had in the Jimmy Daniels image, and the Cocteau image. What that means, in a kind of surrealist sphere, I'm not quite sure. But here the hands seem to be lit from within. From 1937 to 1940 George was involved in a series of mythological images for which Glenway Wescott was going to write the texts. Here we have Actaeon. Actaeon was the god who spied Artemus bathing, and she, in her fury, that he should stare at her virgin beauty, forbade him the power of speech, and otherwise would be turned into a stag. Actaeon was, himself, a hunter, hearing the call of his hunting party, he cried out and was immediately transformed into a stag. Thus he began to flee his dogs, who, not recognizing him, tore into him. But not before he raised his eyes towards Mount Olympus, in the hopes that the gods would intervene. They did not. Lynes shows here his ability to suggest with very economical means the key moment in the narrative. These two images are from a series. Threesome in a Bedroom. And it's not for nothing, that it's a threesome, I suppose, given the nature of Lynes' private life with both Monroe Wheeler and Glenway Wescott. This recalls for me, AD Coleman's term the directorial mode in photography. It's shot and imagined almost as a stage scene. The artifice of the images are not disguised. They are undramatic in the way the threesome is presented, you know, we're simply taking off our clothes, no big deal. We're getting ready. It's unpornographic, yet it is impressed with an erotics to happen beyond the moment of the picture. This is Male Nude in Director's Chair, 1943. It is at once a nude and a portrait. I would say it's more portrait than nude given the sitter's frank engagement, first with the photographer, then with the unknown viewers who will see him. It's a moment of direct communication, held in suspension, and I think has a particular electric charge. Here we have a portrait of Mardsen Hartley, who Lynes and Wescott and Wheeler knew for decades previous. This is about 1942, or 43. At a time when Hartley was, in fact, renting studio space from Lynes. It is a haunting image, both because Hartley is old and tired looking. A young man, like a ghost, hangs in the background. Hartley had just lost the most recent love of his life. He had been living in Maine, with a Portuguese family, and the Portuguese fisherman's son, drowned in an accident. There are also echoes of an earlier loss for Hartley, who, of course, during World War I, had been in love with a soldier who died in the first World War. This is an image of Orpheus, the ballet by Balanchine. Lynes was the de facto official photographer of the New York City Ballet. Since I have to hurry up, I won't say much more than that. Chuck Edwards, 1950, here we see quite clearly that the way that the composition is organized, the penis, the genitals are front and center. I would add that Chuck Edwards was the lover of George Platt Lynes in the late 40's, and then became the lover of Sam Wagstaff. Finally, a photograph of what would have been transgressive both for the intimacy of the pose, and also for the interracial makeup of the couple. I could say a lot more. Both the models were briefly lovers of George Platt Lynes. I'll just leave it there. (audience applause) Okay. - Hi everyone, how are you all, good evening. You all are looking quite beautiful. (audience laughs) And, I will say that the stage set up here is a little strange. It's like that 70's game show, The Dating Game. (audience laughs) Bachelor number one. We've been given a strict ten minute limit, so I will try to stick to that. I'm gonna read my comments. And I want to ask your indulgence as I think out loud about the historical and sociological structure sounding how we look, and are looked at in turn. I want to suggest that even as we rightly celebrate the massive leap forward following the Stonewall riots, and the availability of what one might think of as legitimate homoerotic imagery, that is to say, the beautiful sexy pictures that one might find in the gallery, and not the dirty book store. We nonetheless remain embedded within history. We are creatures whose ability to see and be seen, has been produced by, and through, very real economic, social and cultural apparatuses of which we tend to be only half conscious. I've written recently that part of what troubles me about the very exciting renaissance of interest in Robert Mapplethorpe, and by extension his partner and champion, Sam Wagstaff, is that we have in fact been rather effectively trained to see Mapplethorpe's work as existing only at the very pinnacle of high art. Indeed much of the language and logic that accompanies the historic dual exhibitions of Mapplethorpe's work at the Getty Museum, and the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, turns on the idea that the artist's naughty content. His stylized BDSM photographs. His photographs of porcelain, smooth naked male and female bodies, is eclipsed by his remarkable technique, the precision. Attention to detail. And elegance of the images creates them as something that is decidedly not pornographic. Indeed this was the very argument, by the way, advanced by the legal team that in 1990 successfully defended the Cincinnati Contemporary Art Center and it's director, Dennis Barrie, from charges of obscenity after they mounted The Perfect Moment of the large and remarkable retrospective of Mapplethorpe's photography that shook and shocked the nation from it's very first showing. But of course times change. I would suggest, however, that those changes are not as random as we might think. We are right to celebrate the ways in which the truly valiant work of LGBT activists has drastically altered the ways that we are seen. I think, however, that it is important, particularly at this moment in our history, and the history of this country... I mean the election. That we take stock of how we have changed or been forced to change the ways that we see, including the ways that we see ourselves. In the case of Robert Mapplethorpe part of what animates the current excitement about his work is the fact that the artist is dead. His passing from acquired immune deficiency syndrome in 1989, at the age of 42, separated the complexity and messiness of his living humanity from the lush genius of his art. Moreover his untimely death confirms both polite narratives of a generation of gay men lost too soon because of homophobia, and AIDS phobia, as well as impolite talk of immature, drug addled, and sex crazed queers whose passing allowed for the sobriety and the respectability of contemporary gay and lesbian communities. It is the strangely resilient nature of this developmental narrative, bad 70's faggots literally giving up their lives to make way for contemporary, married, property owning, only ever so slightly left of center, members of a catch all LGBT community that I want to think about with you all. By first offering some concrete examples of the basic structural changes and by structural I mean the changes in the actual physical structure of the city, of New York, that helped to provoke and solidify this mindset. Bad 70's. Good naughts, or good 2000's. In making these points I want to focus on the much less well known, much less vigorously heralded photographer Alvin Baltrop. Baltrop was born in the Bronx in 1948, and died from cancer in 2004. From 1969 to 1972 he served in the US Navy, where he took a series of amazing photographs of Navy life. What I want to mainly examine, however, are the photographs that he took from approximately 1975 to 1986. That chronicled the social and sexual environment of the crumbling piers on the west side of Manhattan. The series of photographs, collectively known simply as, The Piers, detail the vibrant life taking place in a zone of the city that because of disuse had become a magnet for not only sexual minorities, transgender persons, and youth, many of whom were homeless. But also a community of visionary artists seeking to reimagine urban spaces considered useless and redundant by much of the rest of the city. In spite of their obvious disrepair the piers became much like Times Square. Locations at which unexpected forms of interracial and class mixed, interaction and investigation was possible. I have in mind now Gordon Matta-Clark's use of Pier 52, as the site for his installation Day's End. You're looking at Day's End now. A work that involved Clark's cutting large sections out of the pier's massive warehouse in order to allow access to light, art and sound from outside. Thereby commenting on the ways that the many people who used the piers were themselves cutting through received notions of where, and with whom it was possible to socialize. Alvin Baltrop's work was very much in conversation with Matta-Clark's. He photographed Day's Ends from many angles. This is Alvin Baltro's photograph of Day's End. Often paying particular attention to the ways that New Yorkers directly interacted with Matta-Clark's work. What distinguished Baltrop, however, was his absolute fascination with the way that human subjects used the piers as stages on which they might not only engage in, so called, public sex, but also display... Promenade, one is want to say. The animal beauty of their bodies. The lushness of flesh pressed fearlessly against unyielding steel and concrete. Or to state the matter even more simply, Alvin Baltrop demonstrated an eroticism that gained it's potency, it's heat, from the display of ever more technically... Not from the display of ever more technically proficient images, of a cropped, coiffed, blazingly white and soon to be domesticated gay subject, but instead through the portrayal of figures whose sexiness is supported by their boldness. Truly sexy. The ways in which their postures, poses, states of undress... Of dress and undress, suggest individuals who are not quite tame. Who want and are wanted. Who see and are seen. But not in ways that might be easily replicated or capitalized. Or to get to the punch line of my comments tonight, Baltrop's work demonstrates a homoeroticism that takes root in the many cracks and crevices of hyper-Capitalist society. And white supremacist society for that matter. It suggests sexualities and sexual practices that cannot be easily recognized, or manipulated by the Titans of either Wall Street or Park Avenue. Instead Baltrop's many photographs operate as markers of the naughtiness always taking place just behind the back of polite American society. This is actually a little bit earlier. Baltrop, as I said to you, was in the Navy, during the late 60's and early 70's. He took a bunch of photographs of Navy men looking gorgeous. I would suggest to you then that, as with Times Square, the demolition of the piers, and rehabilitation of the area, to the west of the west side highway, was never simply a matter of urban renewal. It was never simply about making things better. But also a calculated and pointed effort specifically to form new types of gay community. Types of community that are presumably more mature, and less self-destructive, while also being much more available as participants and objects within the hyper consumerism that is often taken as a stand in for, so called, American culture. But I want, in the little bit of time that I have left, to... I want us to make an argument for both nostalgia and outrage. I want us to imagine what possibilities of life and love are lost, in our ongoing efforts to attain normality. A place at the overfull and shaky welcome table. I want us to imagine what modes of seeing and what protocols of the erotic, the sexy, we leave behind as we run headlong toward the American conceit. That with enough dollars or euro, one might purchase both respectability and identity. I admit then that I long for, not so much, the dirt and destruction that Alvin Baltrop chronicled, but the joy. Isn't she lovely? The sense of possibility and belonging that LGBT communities produced in the face of unremitting assault. I want access to an erotic world in which we are all invited to look and be looked at, to touch and be touched to know and be known, in a place that is once hard and forgiving, hectic, and hot. That would be New York City. I also want us to pay much more strict, much more precise attention to the price. This is... None of the pier photographs are... Most of them are not dated. But this is an image of a body that has been fished out by the police. What you can't see is, it's been cropped and there's a very large crowd of people, looking at the body. I won't stay on it for too long. The turning consumption of human bodies, the displacement, the systematic violence. The grinding despair that has never stopped in this city, or any other. I want us to recognize how often we are encouraged to not notice it, to never see, to assume that the stillness of which our existence has nothing in common with the stinking bodies that wash up daily on streets that we all hysterically claim to love. I ask you to set your gaze free. That is Alvin Baltrop on the left. And that is his friend, on the right. To allow yourself the luxury of coming to understand how much energy has been expended to keep you from turning your head in one direction and not another? I entreat you to reject rigid and fearful... The rigid and fearful isolation that is continually haunt, as an antidote to the irritating funkiness of human potentiality. Alvin Baltrop looked unblinkingly at the beautiful-ugly complexity of queer life. I invite you to look with him. Thank you. (audience applause) - I've been asked to talk about Peter Hujar. As much as I've thought about Peter Hujar, I never feel like I can get much critical distance from him, or his work. It still feels too personal, too fraught. We were close friends and neighbors for 20 years, before he died. He photographed me and my boyfriend, including these guys. And this guy. I knew many of his subjects. I saw his work in the darkroom, and stacks on his work table. Peter's work moved me, excited me, unsettled me. And I felt the same way about his friendship. He was a comfort and a challenge. Giving and demanding. He knew the people admired and respected his work but he was making it at a time when there was very little institutional support for photography, and little financial reward. Virtually no market. Especially for his strongest, most distinctive work. His portraits and nudes. Besides Peter hated the idea of market. Or catering to it. He photographed his life in the broadest sense. The people in his orbit, which was really quite expansive, when you come to think of it. William Burroughs, Candy Darling, Fran Leibowitz, Charles James, Charles Ludlam, Susan Sontag, Divine, and a boy he met the night before at the St. Marks Bass. Jerking off in a chair. Chaffed at the idea of making work to appeal to someone outside of that orbit, especially if it meant censoring himself. He didn't like being called a gay artist. He felt boxed in by the description and limited. Shunted into a very few galleries that would show homoerotic work, but he wasn't about to stop photographing naked men, and he had no interest in classic, tasteful nudes. His work was charged, heated. In the presence of a compelling subject, he didn't know how to be cool. You can really see that in his pictures of David Wojnarowicz, who's here on the screen. A compelling subject if there ever was one. Peter introduced me to David, not long after they'd met. And I wasn't impressed. I thought he was gawky and unsophisticated. Not worthy. But when Peter showed me his portraits of David, I understood the attraction. I saw him through Peter's eyes. A sexy, sensuous guy, with piercingly intelligent eyes. And an un-self conscious grace. I'd been through several boyfriends with Peter. One introduced me to him in 1969. But David was the only one who was really substantial, and driven and visionary. He changed Peter's life. Although that wasn't especially obvious at the time. Peter admired David's commitment and activism, and was a bit in awe of his very public ferocity. Peter's anger erupted in more private displays. One on one. But David's example also made Peter more confident about his darker and more erotic work. David was fearless. Peter for all his charismatic charm was fearful and ridiculously insecure. David was a shining example, all the more surprising because he often seemed like an awkward kid. One of the things that Peter and I did together was look at books, magazines, and pictures. I was always curious to see what he would respond to, what image would stop him, and if I had a new collection of male images, I'd ask him to come over. We looked at von Gloeden, Platt Lynes, George Dureau, Bruce Webber, Larry Clark, but we ended up spending most of our time with the little 4x5 prints, that I started picking up at a place called Physique Memorabilia, just down the street. I didn't know anything about physique photography when I started collecting it. Except that it reminded me of the little magazines I used to sneak home as a teenager in the 50's. It had pictures of nearly naked men, posing like statues. But the pictures I found were beautifully produced, and so cheap I could bring home a handful, for the price of a hamburger. I don't think Peter and I ever used the word kitsch. Although I certainly did when I wrote about the pictures later. It's not that we weren't critical. We were both quick, decisive editors. But we enjoyed the photos too much to analyze them. They were charming, innocent, sexy, and clearly made for us. For the queer gaze. And these are all pictures that were made, probably, mostly in the 50's and 60's, and sort of came back into circulation in the 70's and 80's. And definitely influenced the way we thought of the past and the present in terms of male imagery. Thank you. (audience applause) - Hello. I'm gonna be talking about David. David Wojnarowicz. And a lot about his relationship with Peter. But I think the first thing to be said is that David never considered himself to be a photographer. As he put it, "I don't know how to operate "a camera, on anything other than automatic." But he did start taking pictures as a teenager. Those pictures are all lost, and he started again in 1979. Now the work I'm gonna show you, I have to admit, it's not gonna be homoerotic like the other things you've seen. David's work was autobiographical and political. And, the impetus behind the photography always was the feeling that his reality was invisible and he was gonna put things out there that made him feel invisible in the world. I think this started in childhood when the neighbors knew what kind of violence was going on in his house, and did nothing to, you know, do anything about it. Right up to the reality of AIDS, which was ignored for so long. It's like, I'll take a picture, I've got evidence. Early on David identified as a poet. This was a fact that he kept hidden, for some reason. But the first visual work that he did, is really about his literary heroes, and there was a jinay collage and then he started his Rimbaud in New York series. He made a photo stat of the cover of illuminations and created the mask, and then he got three different friends to pose as Rimbaud. And I'm gonna read like one paragraph from my book about the Rimbaud work. Rimbaud was a kind of load star for David at this point in his life. He identified with the poet. They had been born 100 years apart. Rimbaud in October 1854, and David in September 1954. Both were deserted by their fathers and unhappy with their mothers. Both ran away as teenagers. Both were impoverished and unwilling to live by the rules. Both were queer. Both tried to wring visionary work out of suffering. David just didn't know yet the rest, that he would soon meet an older man, and mentor, who would changes his life. As Paul Valery had changed Rimbaud's, and that he too would die at the age of 37. David actually created a kind of photo script. I'm just gonna show the five of these pictures that he did, but he had dozens more ideas for the poet's adventures. Most of them were never photographed. Like he had Rimbaud eating at the Salvation Army cafeteria, Rimbaud making rude gestures at the St. Patrick's during mass. Those things were not photographed. But in fact these pictures were never exhibited until his last show which took place in 1990, at PPOW. And at that point, he had this to say about them. "I had Rimbaud come through a vague "biographical outline of what my past had been. "The places I had hung out in as a kid. "The places I starved in, or haunted, on some level. "I realized just recently when I was "printing up the series, that ultimately "this was the only way I could deal with my past. "Rimbaud gets off a ship on the shore of Coney Island. "Hustles outside the terminal bar. "Hangs around movie houses. "Jerks off. "I also, at the time, was starting to work "on word pieces on the walls of warehouses "along the Hudson, which don't exist anymore. "And I posed the character of Rimbaud "against those walls. "There are all these references to art "and to mythic images. "Gay images that I embodied or was attracted to. "Then Rimbaud dies of heroin. "And drops dead. "So it was a short life. "I think there's a strong sense of isolation "in the Rimbaud series, and a strong desire for release. "It's about homelessness, and about being "intelligent in a society that's totally uncaring "and unforgiving in terms of my inability "to adhere to it's structure." Now late in 1980, after he had done those pictures, David met Peter Hujar at the bar on 4th Street and 2nd Avenue. They were lovers very briefly, I think maybe a month, they were actually lovers. And then they had, what David described to me as, "A very complicated friendship, relationship, "that took time to find a track to run along." And it was the most important relationship in David's life. At the time, he was doing stencils on the street. He was in a band called Three Teens Kill Four, No Motive. He was about to publish a book of what he called monologues. And he wasn't a visual artist. One night, Peter Hujar had two friends over for dinner, Gary Schneider and John Erdman, and Peter showed them some little drawing or doodle that David had done. Neither Gary or John remembered what it was, or thought it was very good, but Peter thought it was genius. Peter said, "David left it, and I have told him "he has to become a visual artist." And a long story short then Peter also got him into a show. So he now had to make a painting. And this was one of those summer group shows, at a SoHo gallery... I mean Julian Schnabel was in this show. It was like, kind of a big deal to get into it. So, David had to make a painting. So he took this photograph of Peter, and made a stencil, and then he made this painting. And that's his first painting. It's called Untitled Green Head, from the summer of 1982. Now I think when David began, it was interesting to hear Vince talk about how Hujar felt encouraged by David's strength of character and all that. But I think there's a lot of evidence that David didn't trust his own ability to make a painting, and he didn't trust his ability to draw. All the early work is done with stencils. And I don't think he ever knew how to stretch a canvas, for example. He had never been to art school. Most of the work was done on Masonite, or found materials like maps. And in terms of using Hujar's image, I could see David saying, "Oh you want me to "make some work, okay. "You're in the work." But I can also see him using the Peter image, to instill a kind of confidence about what he was doing. Saying to himself, "Peter's with me." In fact, eventually, David would say, of his art career, "Everything I made, "I made for Peter." He made... I have most of his images on a hard drive and I've counted... There are like 14 or 15 early paintings in which he uses that stencil. This is the most well known. It's called Hujar Dreaming. The longer title is Peter Hujar Dreaming, Yukio Mishima, Saint Sebastian. It's also from 1982. David's work always had a message. And those early paintings with the Hujar stencils, plus the military images, you know, they're about war, I'm against war. And you know, that's great, but it doesn't really have anything to do with David's life. I think that you can see that this is... That's starting to change here, because this piece deals with... I mean maybe it's not real apparent but it does deal with homophobia. Mishima's book, Confessions of a Mask, is about a young man dealing with homophobia in post-war Japan. And the main character masturbates in front of a picture of Saint Sebastian. And he uses, what you'll see at the very end, David did take other pictures of Saint Sebastian. He was interested. He's sort of a... I guess an almost cliche homoerotic image, as a martyr. Persecuted by the establishment. And in the paintings, the Saint Sebastian paintings, he never seems to be suffering, and he looks good in a loincloth. And... (laughs) So... David used him early on, but that sort of stopped later. In fact he made an early version of this painting, with just Mishima and Saint Sebastian. And it's definitely looks better in this version. I believe that he used the Hujar stencil for the last time in 1984. Then Peter comes back into the work. And... This is a tough picture, it always gets to me. (sighs) And it's always struck me... Hujar's image is used so much in David's work. And he's always lying down. Anyway. Hujar died of AIDS on Thanksgiving, 1987. And David made this photo just minutes after his death. And also photographed his hands and his feet, 23 photos all together. This photo of him becomes the basis for another piece. He silk screened a rant about government indifference to AIDS over the photos. He used a bunch of them. Peter's head, hands, feet. He had a whole, sort of, grid of them. And then the rant goes over it, and it's the rant that includes words like, "I'm carrying this rage, like "a blood filled egg." David made reactive pieces. And that's the reason that I included this painting. This early work. It's from 1984. I think this is where that begins. If something upset him, it's personal, he would make a piece about it. This piece is called Fuck You Faggot Fucker. And... (laughs) Those words are written on... Well, this is not a very good reproduction, but it's actually written on there. That scrap of paper that's between the bottom two photos. It has those words, and an obscene drawing. And David found it on the street. And then he decided to make this piece, in reaction to this homophobia that he found. So the photos are bottom right. He's got the Saint Sebastian posed at the pier. David spent a lot of time at the piers also, and did take some pictures there. So we've got the pier photo there. And then the other three are David and John Hall at the Christodora builidng. (laughs) Back when it was empty and filled with garbage. And not inhabited by hedge fund managers. But also John Hall and Bryan Butterick are the two other men there, they were two of the three Rimbauds. He was always using them. And then of course, at the center, we have the stencil of two men kissing. I think that, you know... I wanted to... I'll conclude just by saying that when Peter got his diagnosis, he insisted that the doctor tell him on the phone. He wouldn't go into the office. So the doctor told him on the phone. "You have pneumocystis. "You know, PCP, therefore AIDS." And he then had to send a written letter, with, you know, all of the diagnoses and whatever, so Peter got this letter in the mail. David took the letter and then he had made several sizes of that central stencil, of two men kissing. He took a small version of that stencil, and put it onto Peter's letter. And I thought that was... I mean that's sort of a beautiful response to that terrible news. And that's all. Thank you. (audience applause) - I'm gonna open the floor to questions in a couple of minutes, but I have two just to start for specific panelists. I wanna ask Vince a question about Peter Hujar. I mean Peter and Robert Mapplethorpe were contemporaries. They lived 10 blocks away from each other. They knew some of the same people. They went to the same bar, sometimes. They went to the bar, which was a neighborhood bar. Can you talk about how they might have felt about each other? (laughs) (audience laughs) - Well... I don't know how Robert Mapplethorpe thought about Peter, but I know Peter thought he was a hustler. And I don't think that... I think in some ways he admired that. I think he wished that he could be a hustler, but it was totally not in his character. I think he also was contemptuous of that. I mean, I'm sure that he... Like, they had a very... A mutual friend in Lynn Davis. Who operated between the two of them when they were both sick. And I think made a, you know, a real connection between them. But it didn't make Peter any more sympathetic to Robert. I think he understood that the work was strong. He understood that, you know, it had it's backers, and attention in the galleries. But I also think that he... It was something that he was not interested in. In a real way. I think he knew that he was making very different work, even if he was making... They were both making nudes. They were going about it in very different ways. - No, I mean I'm struck by that too, in their work. When you think about it, on paper, they both were making male nudes, and somewhat homoerotic imagery. They were both making portraits. But Mapplethorpe's work, you know, he was aspiring to a kind of, you know, classical resolve. - Right. - You know it's like I like to think of his work having a kind of arctic elegance. And Hujar's work is quite different, it's much more intimate. - Well yes and much more warm, and I think you can see that much more strongly in the portraits. Comparing the portraits of the two of them. They are much more different, than the nudes for instance. - Allen I wanna ask you about George Platt Lynes. I want to read a quote from Bernard Perlin, who was a very good friend of Geroge Platt Lynes. And he wrote an introduction to a book in which he says, he writes, "George Platt Lynes was the prototypical "established gay man of the 30's, 40's and 50's. "He personified everything most homosexual "men strove for, to be extraordinarily handsome, "successful in his work with universal recognition, "and status, living a princely life in excellent style. "Having a prodigious sex life, plus love affairs, "that were serious and meaningful. "He was the role model for us. "He was the epitome of a stylish life, "also an artist's life, successful and admired." I mean, how many people do we know like that? Like zero? (laughs) (audience laughs) I mean what's interesting to me is the way that he did represent something and, you know, to his circle and his circle were all... They were fairly accomplished people. So, I mean, I just wonder if you have... - Well I think first we should know that George was just a simple boy who grew up in Englewood, New Jersey, in the Berkshires. His father was an Episcopalian minister. And he was lucky in that at age 18, he was sent off to Paris, to get ready for college, take some additional coursework, and he was sort of overseen by relations there, who lived in Paris, and knew Gertrude Stein. And introduced George to the Gertrude Stein salon. George was all of 18, beautiful, precocious, he in fact started as... His intentions, his hopes were to be a writer, a figure in the literary world. He was already reading lots of modernist literature. So, he had all of this advanced knowledge that would allow him to enter the Gertrude Stein salon, at a very tender age, and impress people. People who were already there. When he eventually turned towards photography, he was able to... He already was part of that world. He met Monroe Wheeler and Glenway Wescott in late 1927 if I'm... I think... No, late 1926. Then, you know, they became his mentors, they brought him into the life as it were, but it was a life that was transatlantic. - So he embraced that and then personified it in a sort... - He did, and it lasted a good long while. But it didn't last forever. - No, I understand. I guess the point I wanna make in that is that... I'm always fascinated by the gay sensibility and what it is. I mean it's changed... It changed over the course of the 20th century, but that to me is a fairly cogent observation of what the gay sensibility might have been in George's time, in the 30's and 40's, when, I just wanna say, I think that there was a roomy, very roomy closet in Manhattan, where even though people could live double lives, and they had to live double lives, there was still room within the other life. Where they could traverse, you know, kind of high culture and all of that. - Right if you were a cultural figure in New York or Paris, and you lived at a certain level of cosmopolitanism, yes, you were freer to express yourself as a gay person. - No I was just... You sort of answered the question that I had. Clearly he was someone who came up within a gay environment, and a very large group of people who were all gay and supportive. But that he wasn't officially out. - Yeah exactly. - In the more public way which probably just was not possible, in that period. - The reason I'm so interested in George Platt Lynes here, in terms of the 70's is there's a link... Actually Chuck, it's not Edwards, and I'm blocking his... - Chuck Howard. - Chuck Howard, thank you. Chuck Howard was George Platt Lynes' boyfriend, and then Sam Wagstaff's boyfriend for a year or two. In the early 1950's. Wagstaff met Mapplethorpe and basically kind of, you know, helped him, gave him the biggest leg up any artist could ever have. They met in late 1972. In 1975, Sam took Robert to Bernard Perlin's house in Connecticut, where all of George Platt Lynes' prints and negatives were stored. And they spent the afternoon just Robert and Sam, going through all of George Platt Lynes' work. And I believe that that, basically was... He was, you know, Sam was showing Robert that this body of work as a kind of template for Robert to then go onto make his own work. So I think that there's a really... George Platt Lynes is significant in what, you know, how Robert Mapplethorpe became Robert Mapplethorpe, in a way. - Because quite a lot of that work was not at all public at that point. - Exactly, and George Platt Lynes... - It would have been the only way he would've seen it. - Right exactly. I mean he was not known... By that time he had actually, you know, died a sad death, and nobody knew who he was. - But by the late 1970's certainly by 1977, there was a striking and well regarded show of George's work at the Sonovan Gallery. - Right. - And all of a sudden a whole younger generation of photographers were able to look at this work, and say where did this person come from? This was being done 20, 30 years earlier. - And Sam Wagstaff walked through that show and dismissed it. (laughs) - Did he? - Yes. But I think that that was actually a strategy to kind of help promote Robert, and that's another story. - I'm kind of curious, also about the... Thinking about Alvin Baltrop, who... Did he have any show in his lifetime? Was he known at all in his lifetime? - What I know is that he had two small... He was in two group shows, in the East Village. And mainly, Alvin Baltrop did an enormous amount. He's the... The images are at Third Streaming, by the way, are held by them. Mainly those images were collected by people, and then people at Third Streaming had found them. But I don't know that he ever had a show by himself. And I know that one of the things that happened with Alvin Baltrop is that he mainly showed those photographs in bars in the East Village. - Oh. That's what I was wondering, like how... 'Cause I don't remember noticing, or being aware of his work until much later. - I think that he wasn't... People weren't generally aware of him until rather late in his life, and became very aware of him after his death, as a matter of fact. - How did he make a living? - He worked in bars in the East Village, and also, of course, he was in the Navy for those years, as well. - We don't have that much time, we only have about 10, 15 minutes, so I'd like to open the floor to questions from the audience. And I think, are there microphones in the audience? So... If there are any questions, or... Nobody? Not one question? - Someone right up front. - Oh okay. - Here. - Oh right there, right over there. (laughs) - [Audience Member] So it's striking that there's no woman talked about on this panel. And I'm curious what does that suggest? Is it about the reality? If so, what do you think about that? - Does anyone wanna tackle that? - I mean isn't the theme homoerotic photography? I guess I don't... I usually think of that as men anyway. But is there... Can you address that? - What you don't think of that as man? - I think of that as men. - Yes. - So... - I tend to also, and I also think that there might have been women photographers working, but they were not visible. And I think that's probably... It's that simple. You know, and maybe now, in retrospect we can identify certain photographers, but I don't know who they are. So... You know. Yes? There's a microphone. - Yes. (laughs) - [Audience Member] Where... Who actually owns a lot of these photographs? Now are they in museums, or private collections or what? - Who owns these photographs now, are they in museums or private collections. It depends on who we're talking about. Robert Mapplethorpe, they're in both museums and private collections. Peter Hujar, more and more. Alvin Baltrop, you might be able to answer that more than I. - Is this on? With Alvin Baltrop he's at... And this is an easy one. Most of his images are owned by Third Streaming, which is a... Third Streaming, here in the city. And they are trying very hard to put him back into circulation. So I don't know of any museums that actually owned his images, or of private collectors who own the images, but they're often being seen, particularly in Europe. - Can I just go back to the earlier question? In my book, The Homoerotic Photograph, I did include two women who produced images that, to me, were clearly homoerotic. They were... I mean, you know, I wasn't sure if your question was why weren't women photographing women. Why weren't they the subject of this panel as well. But if we're talking about women photographing men and creating images that could be interpreted as homoerotic, I certainly have an image by Starr Ockenga, and another by Marie Cosindas. Which were clearly homoerotic. - Meaning they were designed for men to look at men? - Well, you know, Marie Cosindas, her famous image of two sailors in Provincetown, when I asked her for permission to use it, she said, "Gee, do you think that's homoerotic?" (laughs) And I said, Ms. Cosindas, I assure you every gay man I've shown this photo to, thinks this is homoerotic. So it may not have been her specific intent, but clearly... - Can I just say one thing? I just think that we're wrong to say that homoerotic means images of men... - For men? - Images only of men. The word just... It's just not true. And certainly, I think that the other thing is that, if you're meaning... Homoerotic is a very broad term. So there's all sorts of things, all sorts of images that are produced by women, that could easily be recognized as homoerotic, whether or not those are easily identified as lesbian or not. I can't actually answer the question... It's above my pay grade. (laughs) To answer the question about why no women are represented on this panel, it's not something that we discussed before, I can say that. I think it has more to do with the personnel, but certainly, you know, I can't imagine that there are not billions... Lots and lots and lots of homoerotic... I know that there are lots, and lots, and lots of homoerotic images of women, American women, photographers, by women photographers. - Other questions? There are a few up there. Either one, it's up to you. The microphone. (laughs) - [Audience Member] There were, of course, women doing homoerotic photography in the 70's and the fact that you're not talking about them I think is, partly a reflection of the social, economic, cultural factors that Robert was addressing. Thinking of people like Tee Corrine, who some of you may know. Who was doing spectacular photographs of solarization, of nude women bodies, in the 70's. But most of the women working the way she was were lesbian separatists. And they really did not... They chose not to be involved in the commercial photography world, which wouldn't have had much to do with them anyway. But they really kept apart from the whole world of dealers and curators and collectors that you've been talking about. So, they existed but in a sort of parallel universe at that time, which never got to the attention of the mainstream, as far as I know. - Can I ask you a question back? Can I ask, you sir, a question back about that? Since you seem to know things. Important things. (audience laughs) and I'm assuming other people in the audience would know. So, how is it possible to see the images that you're talking about? Particularly of photography that's been done by women who were lesbian feminists, or who were not interested in commercial spaces? - [Audience Member] Well the first place I'd say is to go to the Lesbian Herstory Archives in Brooklyn, because they have files on all of these kinds of art from those times. Tee Corrine's own work and papers are at a archive at the University of Oregon, I believe. Some of the other women are still around. Like Joan Byron, for example. And, if I may make a shameless plug, you should call the Leslie Lohman Museum of Gay and Lesbian Art. Down in SoHo, which does not have a lot of that work yet, because back in the 70's they weren't able to collect very much, but they're now involved with what they call diversity initiative to bring in a lot more work by women. And they're out actively searching those who are still around and trying to get that work in. But they know who they are, even if they don't have the works. - Thank you, that's great, that's good information. So, actually hand the mic down, to the gentleman who had a question as well. - [Audience Member] Thank you. Thank you for the panel, this was great. I was familiar with some of the images, but not the individual photographers. So that's great. I can look them up later. But my question, I guess, is one of continuum, in the sense of, you know, this is a panel on photography and homoerotic desire. And homoerotic desire, has always been around. But it was termed better than that. It's always been there. But what struck me about these images, I guess because they're on film, you know and such, for the most part... And there was, you know, kind of thought put into lighting and texture. They were so textural, there was an intimacy that came through for me even within the ones on the piers, and the ones that maybe had been more, you know, catch as catch can, or whatever. But... From that standpoint of these images that maybe were originally created to be viewed in private, or with a select group of friends, you know, coming into the 70's and 80's, where you had mass production of homoerotic images, you know Torso and Advocate and all these magazines that no longer exist. And then into, you know, porn, pornography, video porn, that... Which I remember in the 80's and 90's was kind of a... - Can I interrupt you and just help ask you to land the question? - [Audience Member] Oh I'm sorry. My question is in terms of production of images, homoerotic images, what has that done in terms of actual expression of homoerotic desire? Within people, has it encouraged it, has it focused it in a certain way? Is it normalized it? Has there been a role in that? - I mean I think there's an evolution in the continuum, and I think there are people working, you know, since, George Platt Lynes, and since Mapplethorpe, and Hujar, and others, you know, into the 80's and 90's and 2000's. You know, I mean... I guess I don't know if that's an answer to your question. - I think normalized is probably a good way to put it. Certainly there's, after all the magazines you mentioned, after all the, what's available now, these pictures look sort of antique. Certainly there's a different approach to them that would probably... Anybody working in the same way today, they would look a little classic. Which I think is fine. But there's been so much between what we've been looking at now, and today, that's kind of... Normalized might be a nice way to put it. Just made it all much more easily accessed. And sleazed. (audience laughs) - I think we've exceeded our limit. It's 8:02, and this was going to eight, so I'm gonna have to wrap it up. But I wanna thank our panelists. That was all wonderful, informative. (audience applause) And thank you all for being here. (audience applause)


Political career

In 1793 Carr moved to Bangor, Maine, which had incorporated as a town only two years before. As in Haverhill, he was elected to represent the area in the Massachusetts House of Representatives (1806–1808), and later the Massachusetts State Senate (1809–1811).[1]

Carr was the first citizen of Bangor to serve in the U.S. Congress. He was elected as a Democratic-Republican to the Twelfth Congress to fill the vacancy caused by the resignation of Barzillai Gannett and served from April 6, 1812, to March 3, 1813. He was an unsuccessful candidate for reelection in 1812 to the Thirteenth Congress, and resumed mercantile pursuits. In 1814 he witnessed the British sacking of Bangor following the rout of local militia in the Battle of Hampden. He died in Bangor, Maine, October 6, 1821, and was interred in Mount Hope Cemetery.[1]

Carr Family

The Carrs remained an important mercantile and political family in Bangor well into the 19th century. Francis' son James Carr succeeded him as a U.S. Congressman (1815–1817), though he died by drowning in 1818 on the Ohio River. Another family member, Joshua Wingate Carr (1796–1879), became Mayor of Bangor (1839–1840) and the city's U.S. Postmaster. The Carr-Wing House on State Street in Bangor, which Joshua Carr remodeled in the Gothic Revival style in 1844, remains a local architectural landmark. Joshua's great-grandson Elliott Carr Cutler (b. Bangor, 1888), became a famous surgeon and professor of surgery at the Harvard Medical School, while Elliott's brother Robert Cutler, became the first National Security Advisor under President Dwight Eisenhower. Robert wrote about the Carr-Wing House and his "Great-Uncle Frank" (Francis Wingate Carr) in his autobiography No Time for Rest (1966).[2]


  • United States Congress. "Francis Carr (id: C000175)". Biographical Directory of the United States Congress.


  1. ^ a b c Edson Irving Carr, The Carr Family Records (1894), pp. 69, 105.
  2. ^ Robert Cutler, No Time for Rest (Little, Brown, 1966), pp. 1-18
U.S. House of Representatives
Preceded by
Barzillai Gannett
Member of the U.S. House of Representatives
from Massachusetts's 17th congressional district

(Maine district)
April 6, 1812 – March 4, 1813
Succeeded by
Abiel Wood

 This article incorporates public domain material from the Biographical Directory of the United States Congress website

This page was last edited on 13 May 2019, at 13:07
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