As the press release states, “Weir’s images bear witness to the humanity and ingenuity of those living there—constructing the domestic and familiar against a backdrop of displacement.”
Homes is available exclusively online at Loose Joints. All proceeds will be donated to La Cimade, a French charity dedicated to the welfare of refugees and migrants.
We meet at Friend Editions, where Ezekiel's photos and books are displayed. In talking about the Cruising story, they note the support they received from their parents. Both of us come from Catholic school and FIlipino immigrants — we were both rightfully surprised. Apparently their mom is still trying to get them to become a priest. I’m in a suit, they’re in a skirt, the situational irony is not lost upon either of us. But, even if their parents didn’t get their queer erotic photography, the support is still endearing. Apparently, while shooting, Ezekiel’s father had been excited to drive everyone around, beaming after hearing there was a famous gay pornstar in his backseat.
While Volume 1 of SMUT consists of more documentary style snapshots of the lives of female friends who are sex workers, Volume 2 is a more of an editorial. Yet, as has been notably lacking in the fashion industry, there’s a level of respect and intimacy between photographer and model, evident in how Ezekiel speaks of the production of their book. They reminisce on each model by name — friends, pornstars, friends who are pornstars, gogoboys, and someone’s silver fox uncle who was discovered at a wedding — who was apparently so excited to get spanked on camera, that he bought a train ticket to London for the entire day.
office — What was your first introduction to porn?
Ezekiel — I would say my first intro to ‘pornographic’ material was when we immigrated to the UK in the early 2000s and the top shelves of British corner shops (aka bodegas) would be lined with ‘Lads Mags’ such as Zoo and Nuts magazines, which would often have a half-naked or provocatively posed woman on the front cover. In terms of my first pornographic video, I remember it quite vividly. It was a homemade tape of some old guy masturbating that was uploaded onto Xvideos, which I secretly watched on the family computer whilst the rest of my family were out (sorry Mum and Dad).
Is there a relationship between the desire to observe and the desire to be observed?
Absolutely, especially in queer culture. Gay people have a tendency to be always looking for people like them, whether that be in a sexual manner or in a way to find comfort within spaces that are dominantly heterosexual. We just have a natural ability to find and gravitate towards each other in any situation. In my opinion, to be observed is to be acknowledged and seen, and the desire to be observed is a desire to exist.
Some people theorize that identity construction relies on performance for an audience — whether it be real or imaginary. Do you believe in the internal voyeur?
That’s a very interesting take, I think the idea of identity construction via performance is prevalent now more than ever especially due to the digital age we live in. Everyone’s always performing (whether they like it or not) for some sort of audience. Some could say that day-to-day life is inherently performative, or even just being an adult; where you have to sort of perform the idea that you have a career and your whole life figured out. So to answer your question, yes, I do believe in an internal voyeur because it’s hard for the idea of external voyeurs not to seep inwards.
What's your voyeurist fantasy?
At this moment, my ideal fantasy is to not be perceived in any way shape or form. Basically just don’t look at me, but maybe do… But don’t tell me you’re watching of course, or else this wouldn’t be a voyeurist fantasy at all.
Some photos involve Ezekiel themself, adding a third layer of observation and making us question where we stand on the spectrum of watcher to watched. Ezekiel does this story referencing the phenomena of Sleep Streaming, where people will pretend to sleep on camera and undress as more donations come in. Performers feign ignorance and pretend to be aloof to the fact that they are being watched, despite the fact that they themselves were the ones who set up the stream, who positioned the camera, and who are secretly conscious and awaiting viewers. Is that not the case for the digital age? Are we all not just walking around SoHo hoping for some street photographer to catch us looking unbothered and offhandedly stylish? Are we all not subconscioiusly performing for the thousands of newly minted party photographers that seem to keep popping up around the city? Are we not all sometimes our own neighbor in the window?
With To Dream of Smoke, Allen merges his art practice and love of rap music. He explains the influence of rap on his work, “I love rap music because it's so thick with lingo and many times very regionally specific terminology and accents that I wonder how much someone outside of this music culturally understands when listening?” This question of understanding and viewership is at the center of Allen’s exhibition, the latest entry in Allen’s “Body Surrogate” series which presents and reimagines representational depictions of Black masculinity. His pieces have been exhibited in spaces around the world including Screw Gallery, Galerie Kandlhofer, Von Ammon Co. and Icebox Project Space.
- The Race 1, 2023-2024
Allen uses late 2010’s viral rapper Tay K as an entry point to force viewers to confront our complicity in systems that force Black boys into survival tactics. In The Race, he juxtaposes Tay K’s first photo posted from jail with the platinum certification for his song "The Race" aligning them with a shattered hand mirror. The piece shows the disconnect between the commercial success of Tay K’s brief rap career and the broken systems currently shaping his life. He asks us to reconsider the media portrayals of Tay K, “How much can we judge the actions of a child fighting for survival, what if instead of just punishing him, we punished the society that failed him?”
- The Race 2, 2024
In The Race 2, Allen takes inspiration from Gil Scott Heron’s “Pieces of a Man" and recreates the photo of Tay K through an assemblage of inmate property inventory bags. In addition, the bags contain a shredded shirt and shattered glass. Using this construction, he visualizes the dehumanization and humiliation that occurs within the United States’ prison system.
- Untitled (self portrait), 2024
In Untitled (self portrait), Allen pairs a portrait of Maryland rapper Q Da Fool with a ski mask stretched over a bag of powdered sugar. He tells me about the encounter that inspired the piece, "I used to wear ski masks to try and look tough or unapproachable. One time, someone came right up to me and felt at ease talking to me because of my soft, even sweet eyes”. Through this interrogation of Black masculinity and its performance, Allen questions the desire to appear intimidating in the first place.
- I Choose Violence, 2024
In I Choose Violence, Allen draws attention to the mental health crises within the Black community particularly impacting Black men. The piece which consists of photographs and scales is named after the song “I Choose Violence” by Atlanta rapper Glokk40spaz, Allen was inspired by a line in the song where Glokk40spaz alludes to self harm. Allen was taken aback by this break in armor and related through his own struggles around body dysmorphia and an eating disorder. These experiences are aligned in the piece through the grouping of a bathroom scale and digital scale for weighing drugs.
Catch To Dream of Smoke at No Gallery before it goes.
Self Portrait (31), 2024
oil on panel 60 x 48 ins.
(LOVELL-086)
Portals (Cala Deià), 2024
oil on panel 60 x 48 ins.
(LOVELL-088)
Born in 1992 in Chicago, IL to Puerto Rican and African American parents — Gerald Lovell began painting professionally at 22, and has been beautifully capturing candid moments ever since. When asked about one of his most intimate pieces, a group portrait featured in the exhibition named Untitled, Lovell calls it “an act of biography." "These are all scenarios in which we're living.” The moments that he captures are universal, and there's a palpable sense of tenderness in the communal aspect of his candids.
Discussing his perspective as an artist, he emphasized the importance of embracing his subjects, "I'm meditating on things we may take for granted. Traveling, eating, friends, I cherish it all." It's clear when speaking to him that painting gives him a sense of purpose, and that his work is deeply personal, “Everyone I paint is a friend of mine.” From a friend to the hit Hulu series The Bear, his list of references is encyclopedic and expansive. He praises The Bear's capability to beautify simple moments in the kitchen like cutting vegetables, or even decorating a plate reminds him of painting. “Restaurants are feeding you an experience, and I'd like to do the same in my work."
Ant on His Patio, 2024
oil on panel 72 x 60 ins.
(LOVELL-083)
Lovell finds the majesty in moments that are like any other. From intimate portraits of friends grilling, as seen in Ant on his Patio, to images of strangers committed to memory, it's evident that Lovell uses painting as a form of therapy and sacred outlet that allows him to access memories hidden in his mind. It was evident while speaking with him that his work is handled with care, and an extrospective view of the people and world around him.
Untitled (Christian's Birthday), 2023
oil on panel 72 x 60 ins.
(LOVELL-080)
Waiting I, 2023
oil on panel 24 x 24 ins.
(LOVELL-079)
Daria, 2024 oil on panel
72 x 60 ins.
(LOVELL-084)
