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INVERTED IMAGES |
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An investigation of the lesbian identity through visual and cultural representation |
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Lesbian Women and their perception of themselves It is Tessa Boffin’s opinion that ‘[h]omosexual desire may be representable, but not the homosexual “self” ‘ (Boffin & Fraser, 1991, p.xx). The desire to represent the ‘self’ within a lesbian identity has occupied the minds of women photographers for nearly a hundred years, following on from the representations of artists such as Hannah Gluckstein and Romaine Brooks. Not all lesbian women accepted Havelock Ellis’s sexual inversion theory in the way that Radclyffe Hall did, and Sonja Ruehl has discussed this, referring to ‘the somewhat bohemian and avant garde’ circle of women photographed in Paris in the 1920s by Berenice Abbott, who were ‘disapproved of by Radclyffe Hall … the Paris set found Hall naïve and her view of sexuality over-simplified’ (in Boffin & Fraser, 1991, p.137). They did, however, acknowledge that their sexual preferences set them apart from the rest of society, particularly if they wanted to live openly in all-women households. The medium of photography gave women a chance to explore their identities and to create images using powerful metaphors which maintained their individuality and rejected the standard, societal representation of women. Berenice Abbott (1898-1991) spent three years photographing mainly lesbian women and homosexual men in the arts world. She disagreed with the way in which women were traditionally photographed and is quoted by Emmanuel Cooper as saying, ‘I strive for psychological value, a simple classicism in portraits’ (1994, p.164). The portrait of Janet Flanner (fig.15, above left), made by Abbott in the late 1920s and shortly after she finished working as Man Ray’s photographic assistant, illustrates how far removed from convention her photography was and also sees the beginning of a female self-perception that was not dependent upon society’s expectations. Flanner wears masculine clothing – a man’s jacket, shirt and cufflinks teamed with a top hat – but there are also unmistakably feminine touches, like the brooch pinned at her throat and her hair showing in a fashionable bob underneath the hat. Having established a gender duality, Abbott then proceeds to deepen the mystery surrounding her model by placing two masks on the hat – one dark, one light, perhaps symbolizing masculinity and feminity, as suggested by Sonja Ruehl (op cit, 1991, p.36). Masks equal mystery and the desire to hide one’s identity, but also have another dimension, that of the theatrical – is this woman really presenting herself as sexually ambivalent or is she playing with our perceptions? Also working in Paris at this time, but in a completely different politicized milieu, Claude Cahun (1894-1954) was involved in making a series of self-portraits in which she portrayed herself variously as masculine, feminine and androgynous. She set up complicated tableaux and used costumes, make-up and props such as masks (fig. 16, above right), mirrors and even enclosed herself in furniture in the creation of her photographs. The mask portrait was contemporary to that of Flanner by Berenice Abbott, but Cahun has hidden any visual clues to her identity in a large cloak with a hood, and covered it in masks, a further indicator that there are possibly many layers to be uncovered before her ‘real’ identity is revealed. One of her most striking self-portraits was created in conjunction with Marcel Moore, her partner of over forty years. |
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WORDS PICTURES |
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It shows Cahun standing before, and reflected in, a mirror and has the legend of Narcissus as its central context (fig. 17, left). Jennifer Shaw (in Downie, 2006, p.35) has pointed out that ‘[at that time] … narcissism was linked in the popular imagination with femininity and lesbianism’. This is not to say that Cahun was conforming to the conventional image of Narcissus blinded by his own beauty and the submissive Echo pining for him. Like Abbott, there were more layers of ‘psychological values’ in the photograph, which Is by no means a straightforward image of narcissistic self-regard. In fact, what is most striking about this photograph is its disjunctiveness, the contrast between the self reflected in the mirror, captured second-hand by the camera – physically exposed, unaware, seemingly lost in contemplation – and the self captured directly by the camera – |
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