“The sexual imagination is full of dark and politically incorrect fantasies that people shouldn’t feel guilty about or be ashamed of, and pornography helps us to work them out as a kind of immersive fiction.” Canadian artist Bruce LaBruce in conversation with Antoine Schafroth.
“Pornography as a political tool”, can you develop this idea?
In my movie “The Misandrists,” Big Mother, the faux-nun leader of the lesbian feminist terrorist cell, declares that “pornography is an act of insurrection against the dominant order; it expresses a principle inherently hostile to the regulations of society.” I believe I stole that line, probably from either Simone de Beauvoir or Ulrike Meinhof (the movie is a kind of mash-up of their respective sexual and feminist philosophies). Still, it pretty much describes my view of pornography. (I added the sentence, “When men are taken out of the equation, there’s nothing more potent” to accommodate Big Mother’s lesbian separatist agenda.) I see pornographers and porn stars in general as sexual warriors of a sort, pushing the pleasure principle to the extreme, smashing taboos, fighting sexual repression. I see them as sacrifices on the altar of the reality principle, providing fantasies and sexual release for people constrained and frustrated by the effects of surplus repression. The sexual imagination is full of dark and politically incorrect fantasies that people shouldn’t feel guilty about or be ashamed of, and pornography helps us to work them out as a kind of immersive fiction. There is so much shaming and judgment in the current zeitgeist, particularly coming from the left, which has traditionally been associated with conservatives on the right. There is a “thought police” quality to the left now that I find disturbing. So for me, pornography allows me to sidestep that a little bit. It’s more of a ludic space, a playful, imaginative world where the same rules don’t apply. (I’m talking about the fantasy realm. Obviously, issues of consent and age of consent within the professional standards of the porn industry itself are essential.) Apart from all that, porn is a vast area of representation that is untapped in terms of using it for political purposes, including agitprop or even plain old propaganda. I’m not sure why more people don’t make porn with more explicitly political messages or themes. When people are blissed out and aroused, they could be more susceptible to all sorts of ideas! But personally, I also like to take it to the next level and question and challenge the conventions of the porn industry itself. Gay porn is also implicitly political in its militant and aggressive depiction of same-sex sexuality. It’s particularly useful for making tolerant, patronising liberals uncomfortable about the reality of the homosexual act, which they otherwise might not really want to think about. And transporn is the great uniter. Everyone seems to love transporn!!
The film poster of your last movie, “Saint Narcisse”, seems inspired by Andy Warhol’s cover for The Rolling Stones album “Sticky fingers”. Could you speak about your inspiration for the movie and its potential link with Andy Warhol?
Yes, that is the reference. “Saint-Narcisse” opens with a close-up of the protagonist’s crotch as he’s sitting in a laundromat, the camera craning up to his face. It’s a Warholian gesture, leading into a wild sex scene in the laundromat, which is something you might have seen in a Warhol movie. (Think “Nude Restaurant” or “Blow Job” or “My Hustler” – sex and/or nudity in public spaces.) But “Saint-Narcisse” is certainly not my most Warholian film by a long shot. My first three films, “No Skin Off My Ass,” Super 8 1/2,” and “Hustler White,” made direct references to specific Warhol/Morrissey films (like Flesh, Trash, and Heat), or to his cinematic work in general in terms of camera style and subject matter. I even style myself very much like Warhol in “Super 8 1/2.” Warhol’s movies are often pure melodrama and camp, which I often trade in, but sometimes more in the spirit of Fassbinder, whose work was more strictly narrative and much more overtly political. But there’s always a bit of Warhol in my movies, like the “fuck life in the gallbladder” scene in “Otto,” or the militant feminism in “The Misandrists” which was partly inspired by Warhol/Morrissey’s “Women in Revolt,” my favourite film of theirs.
The term queer is often associated with your work. Is it something that you claimed or a label that fits your work and makes conversation easier?
I’ve been around a long time, so queer has meant so many different things at so many different times in my life that it’s difficult for me to use it without experiencing those echoes from the past. There were times, for example, when I did not relate to the word because it had a particular political connotation that I didn’t necessarily identify with. At a certain point, it was much less inclusive, being associated more with a kind of largely white middle-class gay activism, especially in terms of AIDS. Or, at one point, it became quite disassociated from the old school, “pre-liberation” sensibility, which I’ve always had a soft spot for. (My thing has always been mixing sensibilities that seem on the surface to be completely incompatible with one another, like old school gay, punk, romantic, and pornographic.)
The queer moniker became associated with a very P.C., traditionally leftist posture, which I’ve always rejected as more of an anarchist at heart. I use it somewhat casually today as a way of avoiding the current alphabet soup of LGBTTQQIAAP, which is so anodyne and so broad that it has become almost meaningless.
In 2015, you got a retrospective at MOMA, New York. How was this experience?
Fun!!! It was a ten-day retrospective showing all the feature-length films I’d done up to that point, the latest having been “Gerontophilia,” as well as a program of my short films. So I spent a couple of weeks in New York introducing screenings and doing Q & A’s, being treated to lovely dinners, having parties thrown for me, and generally basking in the attention, as much as a quasi-misanthropic, somewhat introverted, occasionally anti-social person can bask. But it all made perfect sense, because Rajendra Roy, the main film and video curator at MOMA, and I had known each other forever, back to the very first MIX NYC days, and my films had been very seminal for him, so to speak, so it was fun to share that moment of glamour. And of course, my long-time producer, Jurgen Bruning, came over from Berlin for it, and my longtime US distributor, Strand Releasing, was there to share and care. And my Cuban husband at the time accompanied me, and he’d never been to New York, so it was amazing to see him soaking up the city. I still love him dearly.
Can you talk to me about “The revolution is my boyfriend” polaroid series?
About that series of Polaroids in particular? Part of my gallery work has consisted of doing live Polaroid and photography events at my photograph/art openings (or at other larger art events) wherein I dress up models as revolutionaries or terrorists or zombies or terrorist zombies and have them act out abduction and torture scenarios while splattering them with fake blood and gore. I generally do a photo shoot and then a series of Polaroids in which I invite members of the public to pose in these scenarios, with or without splatter, clothing optional. I take two Polaroids, giving one to them as a take-home art piece and keeping the other for my own archive. I’ve documented some of this work in my new “Death Book” from Baron Books. The atmosphere is never negative but more playful and cathartic (I’ve done several on Ecstasy!), a kind of carnivalesque quality that allows people to let go of anxieties and the general rules of decorum. The “The Revolution Is My Boyfriend” series was taken at my show “Heterosexuality Is The Opiate of the Masses” at Peres Projects in 2005 when the gallery was downtown in Chinatown in L.A. It was a particularly fun one. Everyone was in the spirit of it. It was partly inspired by the Abu Ghraib prisoner held by the USA army scandal in which Iraqi detainees had been subjected to torture, including physical and sexual abuse, rape, sodomy, and murder. The images and videos had been all over the media, so recreating it in a play space was both a political statement and a kind of cathartic way of processing the spectacle of it by queering it and camping it up.
If you had to send one artwork to the Aliens, what would you send and why?
Of my artwork? I would probably send my movie L.A. Zombie, which is about a shape-shifting alien zombie from another realm or dimension who disguises himself as a homeless schizophrenic person, finds newly dead bodies in L.A. and fucks them back to life with his big thick alien cock that has a Scorpion-like stinger at the end of it that squirts black squid ink when he comes. That should inspire the Aliens and compel them to visit us!
What are you working on at the moment?
Oh gee, I have about three or four films in various stages of development, some still in the script stage, several attached to different producers, that I will now try to get off the ground post-pandemic. My movie “Saint-Narcisse” will have a general release in Canada (by Raven Banner) and in the USA (by Film Movement) later this summer. And I have another book coming out later this year called “Fixations” (published by Milos Mestas) which is more of a retrospective of my image-based work in the form of a high-end art book. And I want to start a new film script from scratch that is partly about my experience in lock-down which is kind of like Hustler White meets Hitchcock’s Rear Window!!
Bruce LaBruce
Artist: Bruce LaBruce / @brucelabruce
Art Editor: Maria Abramenko / @mariabramenko
Interview: Antoine Schafroth / @a.schafroth