LaQuann Dawson Discusses Erotic Self-Portraits and New Black, Gay Art Anthology

In a new book, the New York City-based photographer and filmmaker LaQuann Dawson proposes a love letter to the city's queer communities. Created in collaboration with Impulse Group New York, Dawson performs as curator for Our Light Through Darkness, an anthology of photography, essays, erotica, illustrations, and poetry from queer artists that begins shipping this month.

"What you are about to witness is a series of images and stories collected from queer artists across NYC and beyond," Dawson said of the project in a release. "It portrays erotic self-portraiture, HIV survival stories, poems about sex and love, joyous illustrations, and so much more. My hope is that this book will help further immortalize us and serve as proof that we exist and that we will continue to exist. I hope that our visibility will show queer people all over that they are not alone and they do not have to be. I hope that the artists involved continue to exercise their talents and share their stories."

The artists are numerous: Donja R Love, the playwright behind works like One in Two, a stand-out Off-Broadway production that commemorated 10 years since he seroconverted; illustrator Kendrick Dave; photographer Cole Witter; and many others have contributed. But Dawson, who centers the experience of being Black and queer in his work, namely through self portraiture, served not only as curator but featured artist.

Here we talk to the creative about his art practice, the importance of community, and the legacy this anthology falls in.

You can get a copy of One Light Through Darkness by making a $35 donation that will benefit LGBTQ+ community partners Destination Tomorrow and GLITS, inc. You can make your donation online.

Self portrait by LaQuann Dawson.

In ways this project is about community, right? How important has community been in your life and in your process?

This project is about community in every way. The artists in this book are a part of a chosen family I have been building for 5+ years. Their bodies of work are based in love, celebration, survival, and curiosity. These are the people who have protected me, raised me in my 20s, put me on and have allowed my name and work to travel. I want this project to live as a thank you to my community for living, for creating, for surviving, for searching and for being found.

Can you tell me how the idea for this project came about and why it was important for you?

When Impulse Group NYC approached me with the idea of a coffee table book, my mind immediately went to Joseph Beam's In the Life and Essex Hemphill's Brother to Brother - two anthologies curated by and filled with work by Black gay men all with different perspectives and life experiences. I wanted Our Light Through Darkness to nod to an important Black queer tradition that we all appreciate and benefit from, but are not always aware of. The Black queer community often has a reputation for being something less than a community. Because our community is perceived to be so small, we are expected to want and need the same things at the same time and level of urgency. The natural tendency we have to seek for each other, to gather and to celebrate is fucking incredible. I think about Tenz Magazine, Destination Tomorrow, BGC (Black Gay Chat), Out Magazine, The Schomburg Center, Trappy Hour, cruising spots in Central Park, sex parties, The Center, Black gay twitter, MOBI (Mobilizing Our Brothers Initiative) and Impulse Group NYC. These are all locations we created in order to be together in mourning, in celebration, in hiding, in protection and in joy.

This book is important to me because I hear so much about the lack of representation Black and queer artists have. I have watched us struggle to be seen and accepted by corporations, publications, government systems and society at large. I want us to realize that we are a society and we have space already. Where it does not exist we have the power to create it. I want Black and queer people to stretch toward the spaces that are created for and by us and to continue to build them. My hope is that Our Light Through Darkness will serve as one of many spaces where we can see ourselves exist and celebrate one another without needing to squint.

Have you been able to maintain a creative community within quarantine?

Hell yes. If anything, I have been more productive, collaborative and creative in the past 12 months than I was in years prior. I have always prioritized creation over almost everything - regardless of the circumstances or who wanted my stillness. The pandemic was not able to stop me from creating or from finding my community because through art and the internet is where I found them in the first place.

Creating with and for Black and queer communities has given my life purpose. It has informed my direction and my survival. By minimizing the amount of things we could do outside of our homes, we've been given even more space to create. Since quarantine began, I have curated, shot, directed and released MOBItalks: A Digital Series for MOBInyc, contributed to the annual award show for Native Son starring Dyllon Burnside, produced a campaign with Jack'd, a Black History Month series with GLAAD and so much more. Most recently, I was called upon by Impulse Group NYC, an organization sponsored by the AIDS Healthcare Foundation. This group was formed to engage, support and connect gay men throughout New York City and New Jersey. Their call resulted in Our Light Through Darkness, an art book that would celebrate the lives and experiences of Black and queer people.

Self portrait by LaQuann Dawson.

Are these things you examine within your own work and how did you begin this exploration?

I have spent much time craving visibility and affirmation from men, corporations, institutions, and the media. I have watched the people I love do it too and it often feels like a misuse of our time, energy and talents. It is boring, really. To be fair, visibility is difficult not to crave because the alternative can be quite isolating. I remember moments in my career where I'd send hundreds of emails asking for eyes on my work and wouldn't get a single response. I understand this is a part of the process as an artist, but in that time I was neglecting people who were already looking at me.

In my work today, I often question whose gaze I am creating for and existentially, who I am living for. What I've found is that I am creating for myself and for extensions of myself. I am wanting to see myself in art in ways I won't see elsewhere. I am seeking to deeply examine myself and my people through portraiture, poetry, illustration, and interview. I am wanting to leave behind proof of our existence - not necessarily for later, but for today. I no longer have interest in waiting. I do not want to wait another ten years for a show like Noah's Arc to exist. I do not want to beg for attention from anyone who does not see my value. I do not want any of us to.

Self portrait by LaQuann Dawson.

As an artist who works with erotic self-portraiture, particularly a queer Black artist, can you talk about that experience specifically as well as perceptions you've encountered as a result of your work?

I reflect on my journey as a self-portrait artist often and I wonder how I went from taking outfit photos in my daddy's backyard to posing in front of satin sheets wearing nothing but a broken crystal thong to cover my manhood. At an early age, I recognized the power that allure has - How it makes people smile, how it makes them lie, and how it makes them talk to you differently. A lot of my journey as a gay Black man has been made about sexuality and body parts. It is about my curiosity and inexperience as well as the outside world's curiosity and inexperience. The truth is, I have always wanted to be sexy. I feel like a lot of us did and still do which is what makes our relationships with shame so complicated.

It is interesting really, how my self-portraits eventually developed into a documentation of my growth and sometimes even a spectacle of insecurity. I've had to confront that insecurity often and recognize the power there is in genuine confidence. To create for my own gaze, my own affirmation and to share it still. I do wonder sometimes what people think of me. Who do they think I am because they've seen a photo of my body? Do they think I'm a slut? Do they think they can talk to me any kind of way? Am I giving someone permissions to something? Am I worthy of less respect? Does this affect how well I can do my job? Will anyone ever want to date me? Does anyone care that I took that picture of my ass because I had just gained 24 pounds after losing it to diabetes and I finally felt good? Do they know that most of these pictures aren't about sex at all?

I do not always feel like I belong to myself. Upon meeting, people search for ways to possess me. They tell me what I look like to them and inside of their world. Sometimes I catch my friends and loved ones making remarks about people who expose themselves too much. They say "this is the wrong kind of attention" and "people should want more for themselves than just a bare ass on the internet". They say "sex is easy". Apparently, you cannot wear a belly shirt to Thanksgiving dinner and be respectable at the same time. They blame success and attention on our bodies alone and not the work or the journey or the effort. And maybe they're right. Sometimes, they will catch themselves and attempt to "politically correct" their shitty comments. The attempts will fail because they think they are being honest. This is how they truly feel. Erotic self-portraiture is my effort to take claim over my body, my life, my sexuality, and what I do with them all. It is an aggressive assertion of my ownness and how much I belong to myself.

Self portrait by LaQuann Dawson.

Our Light Through Darkness is a self-portrait too. I curated the book with a specific focus on self-portraiture. Artists like Teacoa Rushton, Cole Witter, and David Maurice fill the pages of this book. I believe it is important for us to be able to see ourselves in such intimate ways. There may be value in being visible to the whole world, but to be visible to yourself, to really see yourself, to want to see yourself, you have to shine light in your own direction. You must question who, where and why you are. You must decide how much of and which parts of yourself you are wanting to share with the world. Proving one's own aliveness is not an easy task but it is an important journey to embark if we truly want the representation we wish for.

Our Light Through Darkness was created to remind Black and queer communities that we own our stories, our bodies and our experiences. Together we can find and create spaces to share our lives without restriction or silencing. This book is not quiet, shy or modest - it is aggressive, it is transparent, it is ours.

Self portrait by LaQuann Dawson.

Self Portrait of Cole Witter

Self Portrait of David Maurice

Self Portrait of Mojo

Self Portait of Quinn Hines

You can get a copy of One Light Through Darkness by making a $35 donation that will benefit LGBTQ+ community partners Destination Tomorrow and GLITS, inc. You can make your donation online.