This article contains image descriptions in the captions to help those with visual impairments.

After witnessing heterosexual male on male relationships growing up and during his time at University, photographer Ben Sharp wanted to explore the balance between straight male intimacy and how society and culture within the west impacted on these relationships forming and their longevity. We recently spoke with Ben to explore these themes that come to play in his body of work, No Homo.

Interview by Harry Rose

The work follows your own experiences and outlook on masculinity and male intimacy, what made you want to explore this?

The work established from a close but complex relationship I formed with a straight male during my time at university; this friendship inspired my project ‘pretty boys’, an exploration into masculinity, but the investigation into male intimacy and the relationship between straight and queer males wasn’t fully explored until ‘no homo bro’. 

I struggled to create and sustain close bonds with straight males, so this friendship was interesting for the pair of us as neither of us had never had a close friend of the same sex with a different sexuality to our own. Whilst our opposing sexualities wasn’t a factor which impacted the initial friendship, it became apparent as we grew closer, through our discussions, that highlighted our upbringing and experiences in life differed massively; one of these points being that our views and experiences of male intimacy were polar opposite. 

Whilst he didn’t necessarily conform to every traditional masculine stereotype, I remember us having a conversation rather early on about how he wouldn’t open up about hardships or personal issues to “the lads” from home, and nor did he have the desire or need to do so. I, however, being someone who had grown up to be both physically and emotionally intimate with my close friends found this fascinating, and this really begun my exploration into masculinity, before focusing specifically on male intimacy between men.

What were your observations of ‘lad culture’ growing up?

Within my research for the project, there was an extract from R W Connell’s Masculinities which touches upon male friendships, discussing how heterosexual men don’t predominately have close 1:1 bonds with other men, likening these friendship groups to that of a wolf pack – and I think this is something that I would relate to through my observations. The research suggests that within heterosexual male friendships, men are more likely to form a bigger group of friends with a leader, without any of these bonds being built upon substance or depth, whereupon the individuals within the group are disposable and can be easily replaced by another figure. To an extent, I agree through my own experiences - If you are to differ or challenge the cultural norms of the masculine ideal, then you aren’t accepted, and subsequently excluded, from the ‘pack’.  

Growing up, for me, the majority of male friendships that I witnessed, which conformed to traditional masculine archetype, were bonds built from their passion for sports, interest in girls or humiliation/intimidation of others – which in some cases can manifest into misogyny and/or homophobia. At the time, I was rather intimidated by these individuals but as I grew older my I emphasised them, because my understanding of ‘lads’ evolved to realise that for some, their actions mask their insecurities which have be indoctrinated by society. There’s a quote from Nan Goldin’s introduction in The Ballad of Sexual Dependency that I’ve cited throughout my practice which epitomises this notion; “For many years, I found it hard to understand the feeling systems of men; I didn’t believe they were vulnerable and I empowered them in a way that didn’t acknowledge their fears and feelings” (1987).

You mentioned that growing up queer and being unable to obtain and sustain close relationships with straight men. Do you feel this was more based on societal pressures on straight men to maintain a level of masculine dominance? It often took a lot during the 90s and 00s for a straight guy in school to openly form a friendship with a Queer person. 

I would definitely say it was a contributing factor; I think because I didn’t conform to the masculine ideal, not having a huge interest in sports for instance, and that generally speaking I was rather sensitive and attentive, it was difficult for me and straight men to bond because of the societal pressures placed on them to remain masculine. And in the case that I would begin to form a close bond with a straight male, there was the possibility that they would also likely be labelled as ‘gay’ - a term, during this time, deemed as negative - so understandably rather than being possibly ridiculed for this, they were more likely to distance themselves from queer individuals.

Your photographs show a deep and clear connection between each subject, with a boundary between bromance and homosexuality being explored. How much of these images reflect your own experiences growing up as well as society today?

For me, I’ve always felt my practice has been a form of therapy or self-exploration, and this project is definitely an example of this; as I mentioned above, the work stemmed from a friendship at uni and to an extent the imagery reflects my journey of exploring the limitations and boundaries of this relationship. The dynamics of our friendships were complex over the years because the boundary between bromance and homosexuality between the two of us was explored and challenged. 

Subsequently, my physical and emotional experiences with ‘straight’ men has occurred on multiple occasions and I think it does reflect the times we live in; we live in a time where sexuality isn’t demonised to the extent it was even a decade ago. However, on the other hand, with an increase of acceptance, there’s this new territory I think we’re currently exploring where heterosexual men are more comfortable with queer individuals, but because of  ‘toxic masculine’ ideals being deeply rooted into society, a form of internalised homophobia can still prohibit their relationship with queer individuals – whether that be sexual or not. 

Tell me more about some of the people you photographed, their connection to you and one another.

So, the four guys I photographed for this project were studying the same bachelor’s degree as me at Falmouth uni, but funny enough I wasn’t overly close to any of them before the end of our final year. During my interactions with Sam and Matt in particular, I had noticed how their friendship defied the stereotypical male bonds I had observed and researched into, so I approached them about modelling and being fellow photographers were happy to do so. Unlike other straight male friendships, the pair were comfortable to be physically and emotionally intimate with one another yet still very confident in their heterosexual sexuality – I remember finding this friendship inspiring and how this is, or should be, the true representation of masculinity.

It was really lovely to see that over the course of our final year we all became very close friends and I feel this is reflected within the work. Even though the project was founded upon a different relationship, the series also begins to examine my relationship with these guys, and explores not only the boundaries of their own friendships but also their relationship with me; a duality of photographer and subject, but also of queer individual and heterosexual group of ‘lads’. 

Lad culture has also impacted the Queer community in different ways. The fetishisation of ‘lads, scally’s and chavs’ are prominent in porn and dating apps. Why do you think the culture has been adopted in such a sexual way?

I remember during my research for the project and my dissertation (an analysis on Laura Mulvey’s male gaze within contemporary culture), there was an essay which hypothesised that the reason some queer individuals have fetishized masculine men it that, on some subconscious level, it is way of regaining power from their oppressor; stereotypically speaking, lads, scallys and chavs all fit this masculine archetype, and are associated as being homophobic, so it could be argued it is a way queer individuals overcome homophobia they’ve face. I don’t necessarily agree whole-heartedly with the theory, but I think it’s thought provoking and raises questions as to why the queer community objectify and are allured to masculine characteristics and traits. 

I also, think that society on a broader scale idealise and objectify male beauty who appear to have masculine characteristics and attributes - particularly in western culture. With this in mind, it is incredibly difficult to break-down the queer communities’ complex relationship with fetishising masculinity without analysing society’s relationship of beauty and masculinity. 

I grew up attending an all-boys school. Any form of affection or simply caring for another boy you’d be branded as gay and thus the onslaught of insults and demonisation begins. Do you think this embedded part of lad culture means it's hard for those relationships to form?

Yes definitely! This is how the title of the project came to fruition; even though men seem to be more frequently comfortable with each other, there’s a point where it’s too far, “too gay” – and I remember on several occasions where I was in a setting with a group of ‘lads’, and two would be rather intimate before one of them turning around saying “no homo bro”. There always seems to be a degree of resistance when men are too physically or too emotionally intimate with one another, highlighting how ‘toxic masculine’ ideals of male intimacy still seep into society. 

From my own experiences as well, I think the environment and context also plays a massive role in men forming close relationships. For instance, I’m more likely to form conversation or friendship with a ‘lad’ in a 1:1 setting as oppose to being in massive group of guys, because usually in large groups of ‘lads’ a form of animalistic competition to impress others, through humiliation of others, begins to occur. Alcohol and drug use can also be a big contributing factor– men who do so, have lowered inhibitions, so care less about their masculine appearance to society and are therefore happy to confide in one another. 

Do you think it’s gotten better for straight men within lad culture to open themselves up to someone else in a deeply personal way?

Yes, I think it’s definitely improved, men are more likely to open up and confide in others, more than they would have done even 5 to 10 years ago. Within recent years, there has been a massive light shone on gender and sexuality and there’s been numerous really important discussions about the problematic aspects of masculinity, such as self-reliance and emotional repression, and how this can effect people’s mental health and that confiding in other men isn’t a sign of weakness nor negative thing to do.

However, I think that gendered social constructs are so deeply rooted into our society that it’s going to be really difficult to create systemic change when it is built in the foundations of our society. As recent reports have cited, male suicide rate last year was the highest it had been in almost 20 years, highlighting that even with progress in the mental health sector with programmes in place to prevent suicide, there’s still a lot to be done. But I’m an optimist at heart so I believe that with artists, researchers, councillors etc. studying and challenging the gender and sexuality norms, problematic ideals will dilute and factors which can restrict male friendships will deplete. 

Instagram: @ben.ashley.sharp

This article contains image descriptions in the captions to help those with visual impairments.

“I’m interested in how when an individual or a community is able to represent themselves, the stories they have to share can shake up preconceptions and open up new information about their lives than can be observed by an outsider looking in.”

One of the important roles within photography is being a representative and visual voice for your subject. However, this can sometimes travel a very fine line between exploitation and representation. Anthony Luvera’s practice, on the other hand, demonstrates the representative abilities of photography. Giving autonomy to his subjects, he acts not only as a photographer, but a facilitator and collaborator. Working with his subjects in creating a self-representation that honours, and gives a three dimensional look at who they are, Luvera’s work has positively utilised the photographic medium, bringing attention to various issues and communities, including homelessness and the LGBT+ community. 

Luvera is also recognised for how he documents his projects, highlighting how the research and development stages of a project are more than just background work, and are equally important as - or arguably, more than - the final outcome images. So much so, that the process becomes a vital component of the final body of work, as is evident in Residency, Assembly and Not Going Shopping, to name a few. This documentation gives a real insight into what Luvera and his collaborators explore, giving the viewer a rare and privileged look at more than just the “surface” of the project. “The process of a participatory project or a socially engaged practice, is as important, if not more so, than the finished pieces presented to an audience.”

I caught up with Anthony to dive into representation within collaborative practice, and get an exclusive look at his latest project made in collaboration with Sarah Cromie, She / Her / Hers / Herself. Described as “an evolving portrait of an individual’s experience of gender transition”, it was due to be exhibited at Belfast Exposed in April and May of this year (2020), but like many, was unfortunately put on hold due to the CoronaVirus pandemic, and we look forward to seeing the full project exhibited in 2021.

Alice Turrell (AT): From your body of work Not Going Shopping, to the Young People's Guide to Self-Portraiture for National Portrait Gallery, to your role as a photography educator, you clearly have a passion for facilitating the creative expression of others and collaborating in your work. When and how did you first get interested in this form of photography? 

Anthony Luvera (AL): My practice took a collaborative turn in 2002. I was invited by Crisis, the charity for people experiencing homelessness, to photograph at their annual shelter event over the Christmas period. I declined the invitation saying something about preferring to see what the people I met would take photos of. A short time after this I was doing some consultation work for Kodak on their single use cameras, and I found myself in a position to access a large donation of cameras and processing vouchers. I went back to Crisis and proposed to create a project in their activity centre, Crisis Skylight. It became clear to me that a straight documentary approach wasn’t the only way to tell other people’s stories using photography. Alongside developing this project, I continued to teach photography and facilitate community programmes for community photography projects, museums, galleries and cultural spaces.

AT: Your work often highlights issues and subjects within communities, for example Assembly which is a collaboration with people who have experienced homelessness which was recently exhibited as part of Taking Place, at London’s The Gallery at Foyles. Why is it so vital for communities to be given the chance and space to represent themselves and have their work seen rather than a photographer fully taking charge? 
AL: I think one of the wonderful things about photography is the many different kinds of ways the medium can be used to speak about the world. Early on, when working with people experiencing homelessness, and other groups of people from marginalised or overly-spoken for backgrounds – such as children from lower socio-economic households, people with mental health issues – I quickly realised that their experiences and the things they were interested in saying about their lives were much more interesting, nuanced and enlightening than the stories I could convey on my own. Even when a photographer fully takes charge, as you say, their work is still contingent on a range of contributions by other people – subjects, assistants, technicians, friends and colleagues – and usually this input is hidden and goes unacknowledged. I’m interested in how when an individual or a community is able to represent themselves, the stories they have to share can shake up preconceptions and open up new information about their lives than can be observed by an outsider looking in.

AT: That is a really interesting point to make, there are so many people who are often overlooked who’s work goes into any project other than the photographer.  When it comes to starting up a new collaborative project, what is your initial approach like? Do you find people are quite open and welcoming or cautious? 

AL: When starting a new project, there will always be a number of practical considerations to work with, in relation to things like budgets, resources, and timing. There also will be the agenda of the commissioners, funding bodies and partner organisations to take on board. I think it’s important to have a clear understanding of how these factors will play a part in how I determine the way I conceive the invitation I present to participants. For example, when beginning a project with people experiencing homelessness in Birmingham, I spent around a year or so getting to know the staff and individuals associated with SIFA Fireside, a charity for people experiencing homelessness, before inviting participants to use equipment with me. One of the ways I approach this is to spend time volunteering within the organisation, meeting as many people as I can, and having informal conversations about my plans. You might say this is a kind of consultation. It’s a really useful way for me to find out about how people feel about what I hope to do and to find out the best way to go about it. Some people are curious and enthusiastic, others are not interested, but there’s never any point trying to convince someone to be involved in a project.

AT: Your process and approach seems really considerate, with you flexible and moulding to what you learn from getting to know the participants and situation better. Really letting them guide you in a way.  Do you ever feel that when facilitating people's creativity there is a danger of it becoming exploitative? Or see it in the work of others? If so, how do you avoid this? 
AL: These are really interesting questions you ask. They strike at the ethics of a collaborative practice. I think it’s important to be as clear as you possibly can about the invitation you’re asking people to take part in and to share as much information you have about your intentions, the conversations you have with individuals and organisations that commission, fund or otherwise support the creation of the work, and decisions you make about its realisation and presentation. I think often there can be a misconception that if a project is collaborative, participatory or co-produced in some way, this a good thing in itself. However, it seems to me that questions ought to be asked about the intentions of the artist; the intentions of the participants; and how the power balance of their engagement plays out in the process of making the work.  

AT: Both photographers and audiences can have a tendency to focus on the finished project, the end result, and gloss over the process and journey to get to final pieces. Arguably - especially in participatory projects - the process is more important. What is your stance on this view? And if in agreement, how do you make sure the process is seen? 

AL: I entirely agree with you. The process of a participatory project or a socially engaged practice is as important, if not more so, than the finished pieces presented to an audience. Over time, I came to realise this through my practice and have attempted to represent this in a number of ways. In Residency I included the Polaroids from the creation of the Assisted Self-Portraits and documentation of the participants and me working with each other, alongside the photographs and Assisted Self-Portraits we made. In Assembly, I included screen grabs from the software we used with a laptop tethered to the camera equipment, and audio recordings of conversations between the participants and me when making and editing the work. In other projects such as Not Going Shopping and Let Us Eat Cake, the participants and I created blogs throughout the making of the work. I think it’s interesting to find ways to enable participants to be part of the recording of the process using various kinds of media, so that it’s not just me doing the telling of what happened and how it happened. 

AT: Your work demonstrates perfectly how photography can be a catalyst for social change and awareness. Did it take a lot of experimentation, trial and error to find what works best for you? 

AL: I’ve been working in ways described as collaborative, participatory or socially engaged for eighteen years now, and I have learnt a lot about collaboration through each project. And each project informs the next. In this sense, my practice has been an ongoing experiment of trial and error, and I think this is what keeps me interested in working in the way that I do. 

AT: What advice would you have for photographers interested in pursuing collaborative and participatory bodies of work? 

AT: Listen carefully to the people you work with. Ask questions about what you hope to do with participants, and take on board their answers. Find ways to share decision making with participants. The most important part of any collaborative or participatory body of work, is the relationships you develop with participants and the trust that will hopefully emerge through this. This can’t be faked – certainly it shouldn’t be – and often this takes much more time than you expect. But it can sometimes take you down a different creative path to the one you expected, and this can be an exciting way to learn more about the people you work with, yourself, and your practice. 

I also think it’s important to be aware of other artists and researchers who also explore collaboration and participation, and not just in photography. Get to know about who else is working in this way today and to find out about practices of the past. From the 1970s to the 1990s, photography projects carried out by many individuals and organisations across the country are described as being part of the community photography movement or involving collaboration in many different kinds of ways. Just a few of these people include Jo Spence, Rosy Martin, Judy Harrison, Paul Carter, Andrew Dewdney and Martin Lister. Their practices and writings, and the work of many others, is a rich seam of learning and inspiration to draw from. This is one of the reasons I set up Photography For Whom?. The periodical looks seeks to shine a spotlight on the important yet overlooked work that was done in the past and to generate critical discourse about contemporary practice. 

AT: As an educator, what do you look for most in projects? What, in your eyes, makes a body of work stand out? 

AL: Commitment by the artist to developing the technical, aesthetic, conceptual and ethical basis of the work. This process is often called research, but really it’s a process of experimentation, reading, thinking, and trying things out. It seems to me, even with the apparently simplest idea, when all of these elements are in sync a body of work will stand out.

AT: Are there any up and coming artists or projects you think we should be keeping an eye on? 

AL: There are so many. A few that immediately spring to my mind, including Arpita Shah, Maryama Wahid, and Nilupa Yasmin. Their work was exhibited in the group exhibition Too Rich a Soil, curated by Nicola Shipley, at the New Art Gallery Walsall earlier this year. I really appreciate how each of these artists, in different ways, explores cultural identity and celebrates the roles of women in their families and communities. The work of Dawinder Bansal also made an impression on me recently. I saw her video work Asian Women & Cars: Road to Independence at the Blast! Festival in 2019. It’s a marvellous composition of oral histories, film, photographs and sound that tells the stories about the relationships between South Asian women living in Sandwell and the Black Country, driving, and their cars. It’s a thoughtful piece about cultural identity, patriarchy, and independence. 

AT: Could you tell us about your exciting latest body of work that was meant to be shown in Belfast recently but was placed on hold due to the pandemic? 

This project is called She / Her / Hers / Herself and is made in collaboration with Sarah Cromie. I first met Sarah through the making of Let Us Eat Cake, a collaborative body of work made in 2017 with queer people living in Northern Ireland, commissioned by Belfast Exposed and exhibited in their gallery that year. Sarah began to accept her trans identity around this time and when Let Us Eat Cake culminated we continued to work together. She / Her / Hers / Herself  is comprised of a mixture of elements including images made by Sarah on her mobile phone, and photographs and video we create together. It is an evolving portrait of an individual’s experience of gender transition, the expression of femininity, and the broader changes taking place in Sarah’s life as she establishes a new career as a beautician. An exhibition was scheduled to take place at Belfast Exposed in April and May this year but has been postponed. We are now looking at some time in 2021. 

AT: What is next for you and your practice? 
I’m continuing to develop She / Her / Hers / Herself with Sarah. I’ve also been working on the new issue of Photography For Whom?, which will be out within the next month. And we have some exciting plans for public events and future issues of the periodical. I’m also progressing my work with people experiencing homelessness in Birmingham, commissioned by GRAIN in association with SIFA Fireside. I’m just as excited about exploring issues to do with community, collaboration and representation as I was 18 years ago.

You can see more of Anthony’s work at http://www.luvera.com/

Words and Interview by Alice Sophie Turrell