CT Hedden. Photo: Damien Frost.
Clubs might have closed, and the smell of sweat on the dancefloor, pulsating music and feel of a stranger’s touch may seem like a distant memory, but drag queens and queer performers continue to find ways to have fun in self-isolation. There are hedonistic digital parties, virtual make-up challenges, and now, the chance to dress up for portraits via Facetime with Damien Frost. The London-based photographer shares these on his eponymous Instagram account in the hope that people outside the scene from far flung places will be able to “appreciate the craft and ephemeral artists at play.”
Frost is no newcomer to the alternative queer scene, photographing drag performers for his 2013 book Night Flowers, which captured the “spirit of transformation and reinvention.” Wandering the streets of Soho and East London, he approached strangers that he thought looked interesting, shooting the wild and wonderful characters he found against a dark backdrop in a way that mirrored old master’s paintings, while highlighting the self expression and creativity of his subjects.
Left: Julius Reuben. Right: Danni Spooner
Now with the world in lockdown, Frost is limited to his house. Initiating the portrait series Social Distancing not only as a way to keep himself entertained—“on the one hand, my aims are utterly selfish, I love taking portraits of people and this allows me to continue that process” — but also to highlight the struggle that many people working in the nightlife and gig economy face during this quarantine period. Like many businesses, the coronavirus pandemic has shuttered the doors of LGBTQ+ clubs (for many it will likely be forever), a dire situation for the drag queens and performers dependent on their existence. For those transitioning on hormone therapy too, the pandemic has made accessing treatment all the more difficult.
Galvanised by the oxymoron of the term ‘social distancing’, and the strangeness of this coronavirus-induced lockdown, Frost began scouting for the most exciting personalities in LGBTQ+ scenes from Berlin to Hawaii, Iraq to France. In the images he’s produced so far, there’s an inherent surrealist quality due in part to his framing and the transformative dress of his subjects who wear masks made from spikes, floral headdresses and outfits fashioned from tape-measures that obscure the face and body. Drag is “not always about subverting gender roles, it’s about exploring other identities and inhabiting this dreamworld where you create your own reality,” Frost says.
Left: Élan D’Orphium. Right: Amy Kingsmill.
Frost also draws inspiration from the vanitas paintings of the Dutch baroque era that explore ideas of transience and vanity of earthly pleasures, situating his iPad against a backdrop of withering flowers and fruits. The “symbol of death that is usually present in the vanitas paintings is actually just the whole situation we’re in where this disease is hovering around us all,” he explains. These compliment the bold backgrounds he helped his subjects find around their houses: bold artworks in greens and pinks, antique tiles and patterned wallpaper, a grand piano and a fireplace adorned with dolls.
Frost is present in all the images too, although he knows the quality would be better if he simply took screen grabs. The graininess and flatness of the projected image, often due to bad internet connection mean it’s difficult to make out any details, he says. “But this is just the situation we’re in at the moment so in that sense it’s capturing that.”
Although he initially felt like he was “fiddling while Rome was burning,” Frost has given the LGBTQ+ community something to focus on during a day that would otherwise be spent fretting. While social media “doesn’t quite work as a substitute for the communal feeling of being in the same room with people you love and respect,” it does give performers the chance to get dressed up, practice their craft and express themselves, he says.
See more from the series below:
