JOSH S. ROSE *on Performance, Movement, and Photographic Observation

Technical Romanticism
How Josh S. Rose photographs Performance as a Technical and Human Act

written + interview JONATHAN BERGSTRÖM

Josh S. Rose is a visual artist and storyteller working across photography, film, and writing. His practice brings together visual and performing arts, centering on movement, emotion, and image. Recognized for his collaborations with leading visual artists, choreographers and dance institutions, Rose has built a unique artistic language that captures other art forms, especially performance, as both a technical feat and a deeply human experience, an approach he describes as “technical romanticism.”

Lenio Kaklea / The Birds
Performance documentation at MOCA November 2025
Performer Nefeli Asteriou
seen by Josh S. Rose

courtesy of MOCA

From photographing Lenio Kaklea’s The Birds to developing contemplative series such as Tired and The Standouts, Rose turns his lens toward how bodies move through space, time and social expectation. Whether documenting choreography, tracking the passage of daylight, or observing everyday gestures, his work focuses on the patterns and interactions that shape each moment. In this interview with LE MILE, Rose discusses the trust required to document dance, his approach to experimentation within live performance, and the ways repetition and observation inform his evolving work.

Jonathan Bergström
How did you come to photograph The Birds by Lenio Kaklea?

Josh S. Rose
This is one of those things that happens in a minute, but really over years. Kaklea’s piece was coming to the States for the first time and being performed at the Geffen Contemporary at MOCA. Dimitri Chamblas, a longtime collaborator and prominent choreographer and artist, recommended me to shoot it, as they were looking for someone who could jump in and capture the essence of the piece. Almost every performance I capture happens either with someone I have worked with a lot, or recommended by them. Dance is very personal and needs to be captured with care, but also very technical. The light is always changing, the movement can go from fast to slow and a shape comes and goes very quickly. I’m often seeing it for the first time with the audience. So, I’ve built up the kind of trust over the years that makes me a viable person to explore still photography during a performance like this.

When photographing choreography, what visual moments are you paying attention to?

Most choreographers who design for the stage are thinking about a mix of things: there is the meaning of the piece that is expressed through blocking, movement, shape and the interplay of dancers, but there is also wardrobe, art and lighting that help define that concept. Incredible works, like what Kaklea has created, have other things going on, too. At one point, she had a performer fly a drone and projected the drone’s view to the backdrop of the stage. In another, a trapeze hangs from the ceiling. Chamblas, who I mentioned earlier, does a piece with a giant floating balloon structure above the stage. Los Angeles Dance Project has a piece running that uses artwork from Barbara Kruger.

I often shoot dancers performing in and around art installations. So, I try to understand what it is that is trying to be impressed upon the audience and then heighten or accentuate that. I’m very interested in where the interplay of these elements happen. I like to find compositions within those juxtapositions. It’s like shooting a meteor shower or something. Every shot you take is different and you have to be okay with that and accept that a lot of this is stochastic. You’re in the design, so there is no bad shot. You don’t think in terms of good or bad, but rather in deeper explorations of the meaning of the work. It’s interesting that Kaklea’s piece is called The Birds, since birds are a great example of natural patterns of design. For whatever reason, I am very comfortable in a space like that, if not entirely amazed and inspired by it. I think that excitement and curiosity fuels how I see and shoot.

Lenio Kaklea / The Birds
Performance documentation at MOCA November 2025
Performer Jaeger Wilkinson in the back Louis Nam Le Van Ho and Amanda Barrio Charmelo
seen by Josh S. Rose

courtesy of MOCA

How do you balance documenting the work with expressing your own visual style?

My own style is a bit more experimental, or maybe looser, than it is straight documentation. Though when shooting a performance, I make sure I honor the work put into the production. Often what will happen is that I get inspired to try something within any performance and take the time to explore it. Sometimes that is literally two different cameras, but more often it’s a quick idea in between something more formal.

When I am being more expressive in my shooting, I like to experiment with double exposure, filters and often I will mess with the horizon line or find a surprising or unconventional composition. I think of these as tools for emotional expression. I think my visual style is a result of that personal approach, where my own chaotic-curious way of shooting meets the frenetic-emotional nature of dance. When it hits right, I think it sits at the edge of abstraction and that is what makes it beautiful. A certain level of unknown in art is meaningful because it leaves some things to the imagination, plays in the dark and feels wild and free. Often you have to fight against the exactitude of photography to achieve that kind of work.

Let’s talk about Tired. Why did the sun’s passage across the sky feel like the right structure for the project and what did committing to the full arc of daylight reveal that a single moment could not?

Tired is also about movement. But in this case, it is expressed through time. To feel the sun move, not by looking at it but by seeing how it changes something static, seemed like an observation worth pursuing. I became aware while shooting it that I was spinning, or the Earth was spinning with me on it. The interplay of movement here only happens if you sense the sun’s movement, or, in reality, ours. Once that idea entered into the equation, I could no longer see the piece without the narrative element of time.

I think with Tired, the visual is so arresting. This pile of tires is immediately metaphorical. If you look at two shots of it, the movement of the sun is actually hard to notice at first. But that’s what is interesting to me. You have to ask why it’s being duplicated. When you see the difference and focus on the subtleties, that’s when the idea reveals itself. I like an image or series that invites you to explore it. Less immediate, but the potential to reveal more.

You mention the contrast between movement and stationary objects whose purpose is movement. How did that idea guide the project?

I mean, who doesn’t feel a little run over by the wheels of time? Especially these days. This is the flip side of moving, of the revolutions we go through in our lives, of aging. I think we look at tires and think, yeah, that’s me, too - round and round and round. I just wanted to make sure that idea hits you when you look at it. You might have felt a bit of that with just one image, but spread out the images over time and I think it becomes an unavoidable takeaway.

The Standouts
seen by Josh S. Rose

“Dance is very personal and needs to be captured with care, but also very technical. The light is always changing, the movement can go from fast to slow and a shape comes and goes very quickly.”

Josh S. Rose speaks with Jonathan Bergström
for LE MILE .Digital

Compared to Tired, The Standouts feels more outward-facing. How did that change your role as an observer?

The Standouts is still me wondering out loud. In that work, I’m the outsider who quietly sits in the shadows and observes the louder, bolder, more assertive animals of the species. In all my photos, I feel like observation is key, but I think what might be felt in The Standouts is perhaps just a little bit more of an opinion. It’s not about all people, which a lot of art strives to be, it’s about a certain kind of person. But we all know this person, we even have a little of them in us, too. It’s not me, but it is something I recognize in me, in all of us. So, I’m observing others, but I’m questioning it inside myself, too.

In The Standouts, you describe behaviors such as running, shopping, and adding flair as efforts to “be more than who we are.” What made you want to examine these actions through this work?

I remember when I came of age and started finding myself at bars in my twenties, one of the things that stood out to me the most was the way people got louder as the night went on. To a point where, late into the night, a guy would just yell at the top of his lungs or a girl would take her top off, or cry performatively in public. It happened every time. And being, let’s just say less outgoing, it always seemed odd, behaviorally. I mean, I’ll be honest, I never liked it. But there’s a phrase, “We often dislike in others what we most dislike in ourselves.”

So, this is how I see people, or at least a subset of people, or subset of ourselves, as striving to be seen, heard and appreciated: look at me. But if I examine it, this is about me not really putting myself out there in that way and wondering about it, observing it, dealing with it.

I should talk about the stretching part. It’s purposefully rudimentary. It is supposed to feel almost clumsily done because it’s meant to show the thinking, the observation, and how when we do endeavor, it’s often less refined than we believe it to be, verging on rude, or abrasive. These are simplistic desires, being big. I’m just sort of anthropomorphizing it, having it over-manifest in them. There’s some Kafka in it.

When working on this series, did you find yourself observing people, culture, or behaviors, or all three at once?

All three are access points when I’m capturing for this series because some displays are more individualistic and others happen culturally. Going to the beach and being on display in a bathing suit is cultural, so is shopping or going to a museum. But running or standing on a wall with your arms outstretched is more of a personal choice that can be behavioral or even just one person’s colorful feather display.

The Standouts
seen by Josh S. Rose

The Standouts
seen by Josh S. Rose

Each of these projects presents endurance in different forms, physical, temporal, and social. Was that connection intentional?

Humans do have to contend with endurance. Doing things over and over again creates patterns and I put myself in positions to observe and shoot these patterns. I think what the question is keying in on is that there is also a human effect from this. I think that what I am often most intent on is how we respond to our need to endure in order to live. I imagine that is coming across in all of this.

Looking across these three bodies of work, what stands out to you now that may have been invisible at the start?

Movement has been a big part of my trajectory as a photographer. A lot of people know me through my dance work. I think what is coming out as my work evolves into series like this is that there is a deeper meaning to movement; there is more to it than the beauty of doing it gracefully. You can do that, but the full spectrum of how we move through life is on display through these works.

Are there any current works or cultural movements in music, film, literature, or art that feel especially inspiring to you at the moment?

I call my work “Technical Romanticism.” It’s an homage to the Romantic painters with whom I most identify as an artist. This was a time in art when artists were making works that captured the human response to the environment around them, with all the emotions and drama that that entailed. This reaction against order, reason and restraint is important in art. It empowers the emotional being and discusses the intersection of world events with its effect on us as human beings. People responding to their environments, it takes many different forms. But all of them feel inspiring to me. That is the direction my curiosity goes when I have a camera in my hands.

Tires
seen by Josh S. Rose

“What is coming out as my work evolves is that there is a deeper meaning to movement; there is more to it than the beauty of doing it gracefully.”

Josh S. Rose speaks with Jonathan Bergström
for LE MILE .Digital

all photography (c) Josh S. Rose

SHAHRAM SADAAT *on Photography, Identity, and Visual Culture

SHAHRAM SADAAT
Catches What Slips Between The Hours

written + interview HANNAH ROSE PRENDERGAST

Some sports aren’t sports at all. And yet, the groceries won’t take themselves in. Every day runs its course, but Shahram Saadat is there for the moment it falters — shut out in the hiss of closing doors. What most overlook, he catches instinctively, letting the absurdity frame itself. Life is so good at this; we rarely bother to notice everyone trying to make it in one trip. For now, you are here.

Photography by Shahram Saadat. Styling by Katie Shaw. Hair by Moe Mukai. Make-up by Stevie Squire. Casting direction by Emma Matell with casting assistance from Oliwia Jancerowicz. Set design by Sophia Willcox. Production by Sophie Hambling. Photo assistance by Dylan Massara with styling assistance from Sorcha Kennedy. Design by Stela Kost. Set assistance by Oliver Bell. Models: Cam, Don, Freddie, Isabella, James, Lian, Patrick, and Sarah.

Hannah Rose Prendergast
How has growing up between British, Iranian, and French cultures shaped your perspective and the relationships you form through the camera?

Shahram Sadaat
I’ve always lived between cultures, surrounded and shaped by them — but never fully belonging to just one. Growing up in different countries with parents from different backgrounds, I picked up pieces of each place: the language, the food, the traditions, the humor. I’ve learned to adapt, to blend in, to understand people from all walks of life. At the same time, I’ve often felt like an outsider, carrying parts of many homes without ever fully settling into one. It’s a strange in-between space, but it’s also where I feel most myself. My identity isn’t tied to one culture or place; it’s made up of all the little things I’ve absorbed along the way.

You staged Target Practice in Norwich in 2022 — a setting far from American gun culture, at least on the surface. What unexpected parallels stood out to you?

Target Practice was part of an ongoing series exploring the social dynamics and demographics of British cities. Each project involved traveling to a new location with a concept in mind, allowing the work to unfold through spontaneous interactions with locals. I found striking similarities: a shared fascination with control, threat, and spectacle, shaped by media, pop culture, and imported imagery.

Working with “real” people rather than actors brought a rawness to the project. Many participants were initially taken aback by the setup, but they quickly leaned into it — adopting poses, expressions, and gestures that revealed both playfulness and deeper social conditioning. It was in these unscripted moments that the tension between reality and performance became most visible.

How do you navigate the responsibility of representing a community you’re both part of and apart from?

It means holding a unique and sometimes challenging position: speaking from lived experience while also acknowledging that my perspective may not align perfectly with those who feel deeply rooted in that community. I carry parts of the culture with me — its values, stories, and struggles — but I also observe it from a distance, shaped by my own mixed background and experiences.

This dual position gives me the ability to translate, to bridge, and to connect. At times, it feels like I’m walking a tightrope, trying to honor the culture without claiming to speak for everyone in it. It also gives me a deep sense of responsibility: to listen carefully, reflect honestly, and represent with humility and care.

In both Jogging with Shopping and Out of Office, you explore how wellness and burnout are performed rather than felt. What draws you to these displays of efficiency and exhaustion?

We’re constantly under pressure to live efficiently — eat well, exercise regularly, and never waste a minute. Jogging with Shopping came from observing people in East London, where these expectations collide in everyday life. Society tells us to stay fit, eat healthy, and be productive, but also not to let any of it slow us down. So we merge it all — jogging with shopping bags. It’s a reflection of how wellness and efficiency get tangled, turning even self-care into something performative and rushed.

We’ve learned to wear exhaustion like a medal. In a world that measures worth by output, showing how drained we are becomes a way to prove we’ve tried hard enough, cared enough and pushed far enough. It’s not just something we feel — it’s something we display, hoping our struggle will be seen and, maybe, finally, validated.

How do you think our relationship to images has shifted, especially in the age of AI and visual manipulation?

We’re more skeptical than ever — even real images or videos can feel suspect. At the same time, we’re also more vulnerable to falsehoods, because manipulated content can look so convincing. The line between what’s real and what’s fabricated has blurred, forcing us to question not just what we see but how we decide what to trust. Believability now relies less on what looks true and more on context, source, and critical thinking.

For me, it’s less about exaggeration and more about reflection. Performance and documentationbegin to overlap — you’re not creating the surreal, you’re revealing it. In those moments, thework becomes a mirror, holding up the chaos, contradictions, or humor that already exist. It’sless about inventing absurdity and more about finding clarity within it.

“Machines give us structure in a world that rarely slows down.”

Shahram Sadaat speaks with Hannah Rose Prendergast
for Offline Edition - FW 2025 Nr. 39

How does going cashless change not only how we spend, but how we value ourselves?

When money becomes invisible, transactions feel less personal and more abstract. We’re less aware of what we’re giving up, and that can blur the emotional weight behind our choices. At the same time, with digital payments and financial tracking, our worth can start to feel tied to numbers on a screen — credit scores, spending habits, digital footprints — rather than our real-world character or contributions. In a cashless world, there’s a risk that self-worth becomes more transactional, more measurable, and less human.”

In The Whale (2024), the car wash becomes “a forced moment of respite.” Why do you think we rely on machines to grant us permission to pause?

Machines give us structure in a world that rarely slows down. Notifications stop, timers end, apps tell us to breathe — it’s as if we need external validation to justify rest. In a culture that values constant productivity, a machine’s signal can feel more acceptable than our own intuition. It becomes easier to listen to an app than to our bodies or minds, because we’ve been conditioned to associate rest with guilt — unless it’s scheduled, measured, or approved by something outside ourselves.

What place does Duende hold for you and the wider community?

Duende began as a gallery space and continues today as a publishing platform. Co-run by Sophie Hambling and me for several years, our mission was to showcase emerging artists with a strong emphasis on community and accessibility. As our practices evolved, it became more challenging to maintain a regular exhibition schedule. Duende remains active, though — we continue to participate in international art fairs and publish editions throughout the year, keeping the spirit of the project alive in a more flexible form.

What makes a compelling lookbook image?

It comes from the everyday — those small, often overlooked moments that carry their own strange poetry. I’m drawn to the idiosyncrasies that naturally unfold: a misplaced object, an awkward gesture, a clashing pattern. These aren’t staged or manufactured — they just are. But when you frame them in a photograph, they take on new weight. You’re not just documenting something mundane; you’re elevating it. You’re exposing its quiet absurdity or beauty. In doing so, you heighten that strange, liberating feeling of who the fuck cares — a kind of irreverence that resists perfection and embraces the mess of real life. It’s not about spectacle; it’s about attention — seeing what’s already there and choosing to care just enough to capture it.

What’s the secret to successful living?

I have no idea. Let me know if you find out!

“When money becomes invisible, self-worth risks becoming transactional.”

Shahram Sadaat speaks with Hannah Rose Prendergast
for Offline Edition - FW 2025 Nr. 39

all photography (c) Shahram Saadat

MIA FINEMAN *Casa Susanna

MIA FINEMAN
Casa Susanna - 160 Ways to Be Seen Without Being Seen

written + interview AMANDA MORTENSON

These days, visibility begins with a screen, curated, uploaded, compressed into metrics before it even has a chance to breathe. The Casa Susanna photographs were born in another tempo. Their images were exchanged by hand, slipped into envelopes, held close. The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Casa Susanna exhibition opens a door into this quieter visual world, one that sustained a cross-dressing community in 1960s New York long before hashtags or timelines existed.

In that era of strictly defined gender roles, Susanna Valenti and her wife Marie Tornell operated two small resorts in the Catskills. They were modest in size but expansive in purpose—safe havens where guests could arrive as themselves and leave the constraints of their day-to-day identities behind. The gatherings at these resorts and in New York City became a ritual. Cameras were constant companions, tools for recording and for becoming. Each photograph affirmed an identity, captured a gesture, and expanded a shared archive of self-expression.

Andrea Susan (American, 1939–2015)
Donna (Buff/Cynthia) in a navy dress in Susanna and Marie’s, New York City apartment, 1960s, Chromogenic print, 12.9 x 9 cm
Art Gallery of Ontario, Purchase, with funds generously donated by Martha LA McCain, 2015 / Photo ©AGO

The exhibition gathers around 160 works from three major collections—photographs from the Art Gallery of Ontario, from artist Cindy Sherman’s personal holdings, and from The Met’s own collection, gifted by Betsy Wollheim, whose father was part of the Casa Susanna circle. The selection includes chromogenic prints, silver gelatin prints, and Polaroids—the latter a breakthrough technology for this community. Polaroid cameras delivered instant results without the risk of sending film to a commercial lab, a critical safeguard in a time when gender nonconformity could lead to blackmail, arrest, or worse. In their own time, members of Casa Susanna used the term “transvestite” to describe themselves, a word now widely recognized as pejorative. The exhibition uses “cross-dressing” to describe the practice of wearing clothing associated with another gender than one’s daily presentation. The photographs show the kind of femininity these guests aspired to inhabit.

The ideal was deliberate, even nostalgic—rooted in the postwar archetypes found in McCall’s and Ladies’ Home Journal: the well-put-together neighbor, the serene housewife, the respectable matron. In the photographs, every detail—hemline, handbag, hairstyle—becomes a note in the visual composition of that identity. Poses are practiced and drawn from the vocabulary of mid-century magazine photography, with a hand on the hip and a pointed foot, knees together when seated, and legs crossed at the ankle. The images carry tenderness and defiance, each present in equal measure.They resist cultural norms simply by existing, but they also protect and nurture “the girl within,” as Susanna herself described it. In this way, the lens becomes a co-conspirator, a mirror that reflects back the self each sitter longed to see.

The exhibition extends beyond the walls to include issues of Transvestia, the underground magazine that served as a lifeline for the community. Published six times a year and mailed directly to subscribers, it offered autobiographical essays, style advice, and fiction alongside readers’ photographs. Functioning as a pre-digital social network, it stitched together a far-flung group into something resembling a public, though one that operated entirely out of sight. The curatorial approach, led at The Met by Mia Fineman, preserves this intimacy. Many of the photographs are small, close to the dimensions of a smartphone screen, but their presence in the gallery invites a different kind of looking. Here, scale becomes personal, measured in proximity. Standing before them, the viewer is drawn into the same hand-held space their original owners occupied, the same vantage from which they were once studied, treasured, and shared.
The quietest details in the exhibition are often the most affecting. A snapshot of Sheila and her wife Avis in matching dresses, tailored so they could wear them together; the patterned wallpaper behind Susanna and Felicity as they laugh in a summer kitchen. These are lived moments, captured for the circle that understood them, free from the staging of outside expectations.

Casa Susanna refrains from universalizing its story, presenting its subjects outside the frame of contemporary trans narratives. It invites visitors to encounter a community as it saw itself, through the images it made for its own eyes. In doing so, it restores a fragment of history to the broader photographic canon, reminding us that some of the most radical acts of visibility happen far from public view.

“One of the most important things you cannot experience when viewing images on a screen is a true sense of scale — the physical size of a picture in relation to your own body.”

Mia Fineman speaks with LE MILE
for Offline Edition - FW 2025 Nr. 39

Unknown
Gloria in Susanna and Marie’s New York City apartment, 1960s, Chromogenic print, 8.9 x 9 cm
Art Gallery of Ontario, Purchase, with funds generously donated by Martha LA McCain, 2015 / Photo ©AGO

Andrea Susan (American, 1939–2015)
Photo shoot with Lili, Wilma, and friends, Casa Susanna, Hunter, NY, 1964–1968, Chromogenic print 8.4 x 10.8 cm

Art Gallery of Ontario, Purchase, with funds generously donated by Martha LA McCain, 2015 / Photo ©AGO

Amanda Mortenson
These days, visibility begins with a screen. They´re curated, uploaded, compressed into metrics before it even has a chance to breathe. But the Casa Susanna images were never chasing an audience. How does their analog quietness speak to us now, in this overstimulated world?

Mia Fineman
In our current moment, when our visual lives are so completely dominated by screens, I think people — or at least some people — are beginning to crave firsthand encounters with the physicality of images, whether on the pages of books or magazines or on the walls of a museum or gallery. One of the most important things you cannot experience when viewing images on a screen is a true sense of scale — the physical size of a picture in relation to your own body. Ironically, these twentieth-century snapshots are almost exactly the size of a phone screen, created to be held in the palm of your hand.

Photography has always had a thing for secrets. When you first saw the Casa Susanna images, what did they whisper to you before you even read a word?

The first thing I noticed was that these are images of men wearing women’s clothes, makeup, and wigs — yet they are not drag queens. They are not performing an exaggerated, theatrical version of femininity. Rather, they are making a deliberate effort to appear authentic, to “pass” as ordinary women.
In their time, members of the Casa Susanna circle described themselves as “transvestites,” a term now widely considered pejorative. In the exhibition, we use the preferred term “cross-dressing” to describe the practice of wearing clothing typically associated with a gender different from one’s daily presentation.

What kind of woman did these guests want to become and what kind of woman did the camera let them be?

Their ideal of femininity was highly conventional, even somewhat old-fashioned for the time, rooted in the gender stereotypes of the 1940s and 1950s found in magazines such as McCall’s and Ladies’ Home Journal. The women they aspired to emulate were well-put-together and ladylike — the neighbor, the housewife, the respectable matron. The camera became a tool for creating and expressing these identities, drawing on the visual language of magazine photography and family snapshots. Posing was deliberate: when standing, often with a hand on one hip and one foot pointed and extended; when seated, with knees together and legs crossed at the ankles.

Unknown
Susanna standing by the mirror in her New York City apartment, 1960 – 1963 Color vintage print, 23 x 19 cm

Collection of Cindy Sherman / Photo ©AGO

“These are images of men wearing women’s clothes, makeup, and wigs — yet they are not drag queens. They are not performing an exaggerated, theatrical version of femininity.”

Mia Fineman speaks with LE MILE
for Offline Edition - FW 2025 Nr. 39

In a way, the lens was a co-conspirator, do you think these photographs were acts of resistance, or rituals of tenderness? Maybe both?

For those in the circle, seeing photographs of themselves dressed en femme was a profoundly powerful and affirming experience. The images carry a tenderness alongside a quiet resistance to prevailing cultural norms and expectations. Above all, the photographs functioned like magic mirrors, reflecting back an internalized self-image — what Susanna called “the girl within.”

How do you curate something that was never meant to be seen in a museum?

It’s not unusual. Most photographs, from the 19th century up through the present, were never meant to be seen in museums. That’s what makes the photographic medium so interesting—it’s capacious and touches on every aspect of our lives..


Let’s talk about the Polaroid. What role did that specific technology play in shaping the identities we see in these frames?

During this period, gender-nonconforming people faced intense persecution and lived with the constant threat of blackmail and denunciation. Sending film to a commercial lab carried a significant risk. A few members of the community learned to process film themselves, but the arrival of the Polaroid camera in the late 1950s proved especially popular among cross-dressers, offering both privacy and instant results.


Unknown
Lili on the diving board, Casa Susanna, Hunter, NY, September 1966, Chromogenic print, 12.8 x 9 cm

Art Gallery of Ontario, Purchase, with funds generously donated by Martha LA McCain, 2015 / Photo ©AGO

Unknown
Sheila and her GG Clarissa and friend, reading Transvestia, 1967, Gelatin silver print, 8.4 x 10.9 cm

Collection of Betsy Wollheim / Photo ©AGO

What’s the quietest detail in the entire exhibition? The one that most people miss, but you still think about on your way home?

I was surprised to learn that several members of the Casa Susanna circle had wives or girlfriends who accompanied them to cross-dressing gatherings. There is a small photograph in the exhibition of a cross-dresser named Sheila with her wife Avis, standing together in front of a fireplace in matching patterned dresses. They had these dresses tailored so they could wear them together. Avis wrote a column for their community magazine recounting her struggle to understand Sheila’s cross-dressing, with concerns ranging from anxiety about being outed to frustration over sharing the family clothing budget.

There’s something almost radical about someone printing their truth in black-and-white and mailing it across the country, long before Likes existed. These photos were passed hand to hand, folded, hidden, held close. What does "Offline" mean inside a show like Casa Susanna, where the act of sharing was slower, riskier, and maybe more intimate?

The members of this community exchanged pictures at gatherings and sent them by mail. They also published them in an underground magazine called Transvestia. It put out six issues a year, distributed to subscribers by mail. It was a community magazine in the sense that nearly all the content was created by its readers. In effect, the magazine functioned as a social network that helped them ease their loneliness and connect with others.

If you had to choose one photograph from the show to hang in your home — not as a curator, but as Mia — which one would it be and why?

There’s a photograph of Susanna and Felicity (whose public identity was John Miller, the brother of photographer Lee Miller) joking around in the kitchen at one of the resorts. I love how it shows Susanna’s sassiness and warmth, and the playful connection between the two women. I also love their tailored summer dresses and the vintage scenic wallpaper behind them. I’d be happy to look at this picture every morning.

header image
Unknown
Susanna, Marilyn, and Marianne, Hunter, NY, 1963
Gelatin silver print, 9 x 12.5 cm
Collection of Cindy Sherman
Photo ©AGO

FRANCESCO RUGGIERO *New World Order

FRANCESCO RUGGIERO
*New World Order

written Chidozie Obasi

At a time when the climate of the global fashion industry is changing with an increasingly ferocious pace, there’s no doubting Francesco Ruggiero’s credentials are a welcome respite: the Padova-born, Milan-hailed multihyphenate knows how to swoon, surprise and stun with his arresting look, as a creative of great poise and drive; no mean feat in a world shaped by downturns.

Ruggiero, who moved to Santorini with his family aged one and then to Athens a few years later, has been on a restless pursuit to discover himself far beyond the highly-coveted fixtures of the modeling system, dwelling between joyful thrills and punchy feels in equal measure. “I've always been very open hearted and kind to people, even if I couldn't really tell if they just wanted things from me or not,” he freely admits, with no signs of peacocking braggadocio on display. Chronicling a career that could spark pangs of envy to many of his peers, Ruggiero has graced campaigns and runways of brands like Calvin Klein, Zara, Moncler, Giorgio Armani, Oliver Peoples, to name a few. But there’s more to the story, which you’ll possibly read here first. You’re welcome.

total look PRADA

jacket ANTONIO MARRAS
blazer DOLCE & GABBANA
gilet + tank top ETRO
denim TOD’S
shorts JIL SANDER by Lucie and Luke Meier
necklace SWAROVSKI

“I started giving more attention to my mental health through the whole process of growing up and the difficulties... now it's so much clearer on how to approach things and how to maintain my stability.”

Francesco Ruggiero speaks with Chidozie Obasi
LE MILE Magazine EPHEMERAL, Nr. 38

dark blazer THE FRANKIE SHOP
white blazer TAGLIATORE
shirt PAUL SMITH
pants THE LATEST
tie CELINE
loafers SEBAGO

Chidozie Obasi
First things first: How did you venture into modelling?
Francesco Ruggiero
I started in 2020, right before COVID struck. My sister had this crazy idea to go into an agency alone and sometimes, as they say, one never has to bring friends to castings and jobs. They ended up signing me and my sister, but she’s someone who hates the modeling process. After COVID, I quit my two jobs as a salesman and as a barman, and I understood that this industry had way more potential for me.

Where did you begin such a venture?
I started modelling in Greece, and I must admit I had a couple of wrong people that managed me at the beginning. I didn’t feel represented in the way I wanted, even though at the beginning it was very exciting. So when I came across the right people and the right conditions were met, it was a way to cope and do the things I wanted to do while being myself: I felt happy. I struggled a lot at the start because I did things I didn't care about for cheap prices as I didn't have money for the second part of COVID; I was in Milan, with three people in one bed, which was insane, but I would do it all over again. I'm now very grateful to be comfortable and carefree.

What does fashion mean to you?
It's a very distinct and specific way to express yourself. There's a big misconception that if one is a model, he doesn’t really care about style and fashion, or about the things around. For example, I caught myself buying cheap stuff like Zara, H&M or garments that don't last. I realised that it's my job to actually feel good in clothes. I want to be, to be represented by fashion as I represent it through the images I feature in, you know. So it's a tough gig, but at the same time I understood the value of spending more money and time to research the right pieces that made me feel even more connected to the product.

How has its significance changed for you over the years?
At the beginning, it was something very ephemeral, but then it evolved into this thing that's more and more compelling to use to learn, know, feel and see garments. For example, I was watching a movie the other day (Memories of Murder) and the clothes they wore were so important, an element which can be sometimes brushed aside in the cinema industry sometimes. But that's what separates the greatest people of the world.

coat + socks PAUL SMITH
sweater FEDERICO CINA
pants ACT N1
belt VERSACE
shoes DR MARTENS

blazers + ties PAUL SMITH
top EXTREME CASHMERE
pants MOSCHINO
loafers SEBAGO

“I've always been very open hearted and kind to people, even if I couldn't really tell if they just wanted things from me or not.”

Francesco Ruggiero speaks with Chidozie Obasi
LE MILE Magazine EPHEMERAL, Nr. 38

jacket CASCINELLI
sweater FEDERICO CINA
shirt TAKATURNA
waist sweater CATERPILLAR
pants SETCHU

What's the biggest pinch me moment of your career and journey?
I think it hasn't happened yet, I don't know why. Actually, I feel there’s been a couple, but it was never something I’d consider major, maybe because it's not the career I want to pursue for the rest of my life. I know I want to do it as well as possible, but I don’t want to be solely remembered for my beauty. I think seeing myself in a very different position would be super, like doing a fashion brand or a campaign. I think the biggest ones I would like would be either Bottega or Prada, because they’re not very me and it would be great to explore their aesthetic.

How about your most complex time?
When I was younger, because I had a very specific set of parents who are non-politically correct, as they grew up in difficult times. They all had to do their own thing in their own way. My mom had her first tattoo at 13. And so basically she was like the black sheep of the family and on the streets doing her own thing: growing up, she had to survive to get where she is. And my dad, on the other hand, was the opposite: he comes from a very wealthy family, but then just decided to do whatever and throw everything, whatever they gave him, and he became the black sheep, too. My dad is someone who moved to Mexico and lived there for 15 years. He was never there in a sense, but that's his personality. I met him better when I got older and I went there, at a time when I didn't see him for nearly a decade. But then on the other hand, my mom always loved us, because she changed a lot when she had us. However, she didn't have the means and it was even more difficult, because growing up, we wanted things that maybe we didn't have. But we adjusted and we were kind, especially to our mom, because she was alone; now she's like the most adorable, full of tattoos mom ever.

Any advice you'd give your younger self?
I would have loved to understand the people coming to me, what they actually need or what I could tell them differently.

How do you juggle mental health?
I started giving more attention to my mental health through the whole process of growing up and the difficulties. I had to meet my girlfriend three years ago to understand how important mental health was, especially for things that involve love and trust, because that's when it gets more serious trusting someone when you're so in love and you try to give everything. So I started psychology sessions and now I don't almost don't do them anymore. I only attend therapy sessions when I feel like I have to, but it has gotten me to a point where now it's so much clearer when on how to approach things and how to talk myself through things and how to maintain my stability or don't get angry, don't think too far ahead. I don’t overthink things because that was my main issue about everything.

So now tell me about the book. How did it come about?
The idea started around a couple of years ago, and it was a collection of pictures I had on my phone of lost things and randomly found objects from all over the world, from Los Angeles, Brazil, Mexico, to Iceland where I went for the first time. Objects include the likes of gloves, hats and whatever you can think of. One night I was scrolling through this album of 60-ish pictures with a friend who's a photographer, and we began writing down all the coordinates of where we found these objects - given the through line of my gallery is predominantly consumerist and materialistic. For every picture, we wrote a story of who might have lost the object, and every picture has a different writing. It then translated into more things, like a movie for the book in which the protagonist loses himself across time.

Any future hopes?
I think my biggest hope is to be wealthy enough to be comfortable. I would like to be comfortable in the way that nobody around me has to feel like a burden. At this moment and time, I’m here trying to figure out what I like exactly. And when I find that out, I would like to transition from being just a model. I don't think modelling will ever actually go away, because I like the idea and I like the retribution, obviously, and that I have to take care of myself, because I always like training. But I would like for my creative process to become the centre. Then all the rest is more than welcome to step in, as and when it wishes.

seen COSIMO BUCCOLIERI
fashion director + stylist CHIDOZIE OBASI
head of production JESSICA LOVATO
assistant editor DAVIDE BELOTTI
editorial coordinator NICOLÒ BATTISTINI
make up DIANA DJURDJEVSKI
hair DAVIDE PERFETTI
set designer IRENE COVERI
talent FRANCESCO RUGGIERO

production assistant Anja Menegon
photography assistant Antonio Crotti
set design assistant Giulia Pettinelli
fashion assistants Anna Sarr, Cloe Rubinato, Hamin Lee, Loris Vottero, Maria Teresa Jurado, Gaia Cirillo

Fernando Lindez *Coming of Age

Fernando Lindez
*Coming of Age

written Chidozie Obasi

Fernando Lindez is a bona fide heartthrob: He’s the kind of person who doesn’t wake up in a bad mood, and when he picks up the Zoom call to speak to me, he’s already in good spirits, laughing charismatically between sips of water.

Throughout our conversation, Lindez strikes as someone who is both insightful and honest, whether we’re discussing his wildest dreams - having been an aficionado of the movie industry for years, he believes in the power of community culture as a weapon of growth - or the challenges of being in the public eye from a young age. “I honestly never liked being in front of a camera and actually hated it!” He exclaims, cheerfully, radiating emotion as you’d expect from a man whose career basks in the limelight from iconic appearances in the world’s leading runways to iconic series such as Elite. He isn’t all sunshine and light though: Lindez revealed some of his most challenging experiences, but it was his own insecurities that helped him find common ground in life and in the characters he played. Wielding a coming of age cast, including the likes of Mirela Balic, Ivan Mendes and Nadia Al Saidi, his role in Elite has been making serious waves. From his initial career dabs, and living up to popular expectations, to mental health – we dug deep.

FERNANDO LINDEZ wearing
total look VERSACE

LE MILE Magazine
TRANCE Issue, No. 36 Cover Fernando Lindez
wearing MOSCHINO

“I honestly never liked being in front of a camera and actually hated it! But now that I've seen all the videos or the episodes, it's funny to remember everything that I did in that project.”

Fernando Lindez speaks with Chidozie Obasi
LE MILE Magazine TRANCE, Nr. 36

Chidozie Obasi
With everything that has happened over the years, have these times of uncertainty affected your identity in a way?
Fernando Lindez
I think this period was a great one for me, particularly because I had the chance to be involved in projects where I learned a lot from my partners, from the directors I met and the people I had the chance to work with. I think it affected me in a positive way and made me grow as a professional, particularly as an actor. Obviously the pandemic crisis badly affected the film industry and the fashion sector too, but I feel like it's slowly getting better.

How did you get into fashion?
It was all pure casualty! I honestly never liked being in front of a camera and I actually hated it. But it all started around 2016 or 2017, with no social media. I remember a friend of mine posted a photo with me on Instagram and an agent from Uno Models here in Spain saw that picture, and then he reached out to my friend.

What was your wildest dream as a kid?
When you're a kid, it's difficult to have only one: I wanted to be a lot of things. I wanted to travel all over the world to record and talk about nature. And of course, the thing about acting was surely more in my mind than modeling when I was younger. I really liked movies, and became passionate about the film industry from early on. So I always thought about becoming a great actor.

Would you say that your Spanish upbringing has influenced you in your career in a way?
No, I don't think so. I move by my personality, what I learn from the people I’ve met, from the things I experience in life and work.
Obviously, I know where I come from and I really appreciate my culture: It’s one of the best in the world for me. But I'm always open to listening to other cultures, to learn from other people and I don't think I'm attached to just being Spanish I always like to grasp aspects from other realities: I think it's good to open your mind in that way.

total look VALENTINO

top CELINE

team credits
seen PAOLO BARRETTA
fashion director CHIDOZIE OBASI
style editor DENNIS CAPPABIANCA
grooming ANNA PELLEGRINI
light assistant LORENZO OGLIALORO

“I think that when you are in a bad position and when you are feeling bad, you just have to say it. And you have to know when to stop.”

Fernando Lindez speaks with Chidozie Obasi
LE MILE Magazine TRANCE, Nr. 36

blazer + tie MOSCHINO
trousers VALENTINO

Starting from fashion, you've also transitioned into the film industry with various roles. So how did it all begin?
So it all started at the same time, both modeling and acting. I remember when I started in fashion, they also called me for an audition for a TV Show. I didn't even have a lot of experience into the acting industry. But now that I've seen all the videos or the episodes, it's funny to remember everything that I did in that project, which was my first one. And I only have happy memories about it. After that, I discovered I could act and I was able to do it. I wanted to learn more, so I got into acting in schools to learn more about this practice, and I'm still doing it. I think it's a profession where one is always learning.

And then what would you say that was your hardest role to ever take as an actor?
I think on Escándalo, which is a Spanish TV show. For me, it was very hard because it was my first big project as a main character. It was also a character who experienced a lot of difficulties during the story and with a really big internal problem. He had a lot of traumas from the past, so for me it was difficult to find the way this character was living with how he reacted to all the people he was having relations with during the show. It was my first time doing sex scenes too, a very hard pick for me. But, you know, it was great because I had the chance to work with Alexandra Jimenez, who is a really good actress here in Spain: she was very professional, a really good partner.

And then in terms of the outside pool of people, have you ever felt pressured to be anyone else that maybe you were not feeling quite close to in the film industry or in any roles that you took on as an actor?
Not yet, but I think as an actor, if I take a role or a character it's because I really want to do it and because I feel like I can be that person.

For example, in Elite, at the beginning, I was a bit afraid because I was playing a homosexual character. I’m not, so I wanted to hide that. However, I didn't want people to see a heterosexual guy playing as a gay actor, but I had Omar, which is a very close friend of mine, who was always supporting me and telling me how to move, how to speak, how to react to things in a way that I don't usually do. And that also helped me a lot. But it was something that was extremely interesting to me. Of course, I put some things from my own, from Fernando to Joel (the character in Elite), but it's a mix of everything that pushed me further to grow.

Would you ever consider going into production or directing?
I mean, right now, I would say no. Because I'm focusing on my acting career and I feel like I have so many things to learn, so many things to improve. I like the job as a director more than a producer. But I will see in the future. For the moment, what I want to put my focus on is acting.

How do you feel projects like Elite have developed you as an actor or just as a creative in general?
It's been almost one year and a half of filming: we filmed two seasons, and especially in the last one, my character had a lot of weight. For me, it was more difficult than the one we filmed before. And now that it’s been produced, I can say it was a big challenge for me because I did things that I never did before. I learned a lot from that and from my partners. It was a really, really good experience for me, which I’m grateful for.

What would you say is the biggest thing that you've learned from this experience?
Compañerismo! Being together. We were a big group of actors and actresses. So yeah, I would say working on a team. The power of collaboration and of being together, and also crafting a good relationship with your partner for me, it was the most important thing because we were always helping each other. And as an actor, I think it's very important to be always open to help others. Because if you help others, they will help you.

total look HERMES

And what were the most difficult and challenging ones that you navigated when you were both in fashion and also now as an actor?
I had those complex moments. Especially, I remember, after the pandemic: a period where I really struggled with nutrition. I wasn’t in a good position, mentally. So I had to take a break to focus on myself, on my body, and on my mental health. I think that when you are in a bad position and when you are feeling bad, you just have to say it. And you have to know when to stop. You have to know your limits, and it's important to know yourself and to know where those limits are. Nowadays, I like to take care of my mental health: I go to therapy here in Madrid, teamed with sports. Together, these habits help to maintain a good mental and emotional balance.

Would you ever consider going into production or directing?
I mean, right now, I would say no. Because I'm focusing on my acting career and I feel like I have so many things to learn, so many things to improve. I like the job as a director more than a producer. But I will see in the future. For the moment, what I want to put my focus on is acting.

And in terms of social media and your image, you've become a mega star since Elite. How do you cope with the public, and how does bad and good criticism affect your mental health?
I always try to put limits on my social media, as I only have Instagram.
But, I'm also someone who doesn't like to show a lot of my intimate persona on those platforms. I feel a bit afraid, I have to be honest, of showing my life and talking to people on there. Because of the the public opinion which can demonise or categorize you in a bad way.

What is next for you?
I want to move to New York for a couple of months, I will see! don't know when I will move to that place, and I don't know when I want to leave. But yeah, I want to go there and, you know, continue modeling there in the States as well and grow as an actor and as a person.

follow artist @fernando_lindez
via Why Not Models

Studio GdB *Transforming Clay Tiles into Art

Studio GdB
*Transforming Clay Tiles into Art

written Benjamin Schiffer

Tiles are rarely the first object you notice when entering a room. Not so with the designs of Studio GdB - the Dutch design studio makes clay tiles the absolute center of attention.

The two founders and former graphic designers Gilles de Brock and Jaap Giesen challenged the status quo within the tile industry after realising that their ideas could not be translated with any of the conventional methods out there. Consequently, the duo created their very own custom digital printer allowing for a computer-controlled application of liquid glazes. The results are vibrant, unique and customizable tiles in a range of uplifting colours and extraordinary patterns.

Studio GdB
Gilles de Brock + Jaap Giesen

“There was never really a particular reason or planning behind working with tiles. It was more or less the instant idea ´Let's make tiles´. Apparently, we both thought that this was a really good idea.”

Jaap Giesen speaks with Benjamin Schiffer
LE MILE Magazine ISSUE, Nr. 35

Benjamin Schiffer
Your backgrounds are similar, right? Tell us about how you both met.
Jaap Giesen
We met in graphic design school eight years ago and since then our friendship has matured.
After that we decided to do an internship in Antwerp together, we moved there together. Gilles decided to keep on studying in Den Haag, so I went to Rotterdam. Luckily, the two cities are not too far apart from each other, so we got to meet every weekend.

When did you develop your first interest in interior design?
JG
We are both trained graphic designers and I started to grow a great interest in vintage furniture design. Gilles was more interested in technology and building machines. Looking at it now, it is the perfect collaboration and we found a middle way bringing together contemporary designs and technology.
Gilles de Brock
There was never really a particular reason or planning behind working with tiles. It was more or less the instant idea ´Let's make tiles´. Apparently, we both thought that this was a really good idea.

…and you successfully found your niche in the market. Congratulations!
JG
All by accident though! It started as a blind passion. Once the business started developing, our fascination also grew and we became very dedicated.
GdB
During the process, we developed an entrepreneurial understanding. We were always self-employed before. You are not really a business owner then. If you want to sell a product it will have to entail certain qualities and all these qualities that we needed were just there. We could pretend that it was a super calculated move and that we are very business-savvy. If it did not work out, we´d probably still do it, but be broke. We were lucky that everything worked out.

JG: There were surely many obstacles that we needed to overcome. Tiles are very heavy, so the question arose on how we would ship them around the world without breaking. Luckily, we got to solve most problems. At the beginning we did not think everything through. Youtube tutorials definitely helped us a lot in the beginning! We did not really have people that had the level of expertise that we wished for. We still do not know much about ceramic glazes, everything is more or less a trial and error procedure that takes time.

When did you realise that conventional methods would not work for your ideas?
JG
When Gilles was working as a graphic designer for a client, he wanted to print some ceramic goods.
GdB
In an arts and crafts store we saw these beautiful glazed samples. We just thought that it would be enough to use those ceramic glazes, but it turned out to be much harder than we thought. We quickly found out that what we had in mind was not realisable with the conventional methods. That's when we had to come up with our own.

I could personally scroll through your Instagram feed forever. The number of colour and pattern combinations seems infinite. Which designs are particularly difficult or impossible to realise?
GdB
We definitely have tiles that are hard to produce, but we don´t put those on Instagram, because then everybody would ask for those. We have a set infrastructure of production, therefore experimenting within that system is not the easiest and not the most efficient. Certain things just do not work in it. This does not necessarily mean that they are objectively more complicated, they just do not fit into the regular production line. It also does not mean that they won't become available at a later point. For now, we want to keep things simple and organised.


Do you guys have a personal favourite colour/pattern combo?
GdB
It's so funny, it is always the designs that we put on Instagram that get the least response. Everybody just seems to like the same patterns. It's not like we don't like them, but it's comparable to listening to the same song over and over again.
JG
I personally love the classic striped patterns with the moody colours. Everybody seems to love the rain and the marble pattern. At this point we start curating some designs a bit more carefully, combining different tiles together.

I assume there are little to no marketing budgets at this point. How do you get your product out there?
JG
We indeed have no marketing budgets. The only thing we do is post things on Instagram. Maybe we will spend money on marketing in the future. For now, what comes in through this organic method, we are fully booked. We never needed to invest in proper marketing - this is an incredible luxury. As soon as we were ready to manufacture the tiles, we put them on Instagram and people started to immediately order them - it sounds almost too good to be true.

(c) John Tods

“In an arts and crafts store we saw these beautiful glazed samples. We quickly found out that what we had in mind was not realizable with the conventional methods. That's when we had to come up with our own.”

Gilles de Brock speaks with Benjamin Schiffer
LE MILE Magazine ISSUE, Nr. 35

Which artists or artistic epochs inspire you?
JG
Sean Scully! He is the best!
GdB
He makes nice paintings with interesting colour combinations.We are inspired by some of the Dutch designers who also have innovative ways of production. It is less their outcome, but rather their principle of creating machines to do what has not been done before.

I assume your bathrooms and kitchens are also tiled with your own designs. How do you decide which designs can move into your homes?
JG
I have to ask the wife! I prefer the more classic styles with a modern interpretation and more muted colours.
GdB
To be honest, I have a hard time choosing, even though my kitchen actually needs some tiles. It is scary to put tiles in my own house, I might grow too tired of them too quickly.

In what way do you consider your work approach typically Dutch?
JG
t´s very straightforward. If we decide on doing something, we are going to make it work and we are going to make it fast.

Let's talk about interior trends in general. What trend do you think we'll see everywhere next year?
JG
I think that things can be a bit more fun, less serious. Warmer and brighter colours could be a thing.

Where would you like to see your tiles?
GdB
At the very beginning we wanted to do tiles for metro tunnels and hotel lobbies. I guess that this is still the goal. Those metro stations in NYC seriously need renovation. What we also learned is that you can actually use tiles on the exterior of buildings such as facades.
JG
Yes, having tiles on a skyscraper would be amazing! Very high on our priority list.

What advice would you give to someone who is seeking to make a career from their creativity?
JG
Commit to one thing and keep on doing it very well!

follow artist @studio.gdb
discover online www.studiogdb.nl

all images (c) Studio GdB

Eda Phanlert Sriprom *EDAVERSE

Eda Phanlert Sriprom
*EDAVERSE

written Chidozie Obasi

With a bold, soulfully powerful gaze, Thailandese artist Eda Phanlert Sriprom entrances you with an artistic practice full of haunting underpinnings and spiritual layers, which are soulful and poignant in equal measure.

Hailing from Buddhist Thailand, Eda’s craft—influenced by a journey into self-discovery and desexualization—braces a potent dynamism by bringing forth a beyond-gender, spiritual approach that transcends all manner of social constructs: It’s a complete channelling of emotion that takes you through the twists and turns of her life, providing a beautifully cathartic experience. By diving deep into her history, the artist discovered details about the intellectual aspects of a garment: Replacing traditional textiles with discarded materials, reconstructing the silhouette yet preserving their original underlying philosophy, Eda challenges social norms by fashioning clothes with a wealth of identities.

(c) John Tods

(c) Sun Thapphawut

“I believe that we all must be able to express ourselves and have the freedom to speak our minds so as to the accessibility to basic human rights.”

Eda Phanlert Sriprom speaks with Chidozie Obasi
LE MILE Magazine ISSUE, Nr. 35

Chidozie Obasi
In a world where the boundaries of art and culture are increasingly commonplace, how did you manage to find the right way to express your art?
Eda Phanlert Sriprom
I only focus and try to manage and find the truthful way to express my art, the absolute truth-which has nothing to do with the right or wrong way at all. Because things could have gone so differently in case there's bad timing or you’re in the wrong place. So I don’t necessarily think there’s a right way to achieve it. For example, in Thai culture, same-sex marriage is not considered as common sense, especially when two people are not legally allowed and validated as a married couple. Or the accessibility to become a monk which is only limited and restricted to cis male. Therefore, I believe that we all must be able to express ourselves and have the freedom to speak our minds so as to the accessibility to basic human rights.

What issues lie beneath your artistic practice?
As a Trans and a Trans artist, I have been facing the identity challenge toward the society and art landscape at large. Buddhism plays a major role in terms of how I recollect myself as it is today. I find it resourceful and it could be essential to the people in our community too. I find Buddhism being a truly universal art, and Buddha a true artist. But with cultural restrictions, all religions have been used as a tool dividing people rather than uniting them. That’s why I have been trying to articulate my Buddhism practice into my artistic one. With this approach, the audiences may feel more inclusive and eventually drawn into the essential core of what I try to share, which is how we cope with suffering. On the contrary, fashion is all about vanity and it's a powerful tool in order to get yourself validation, but it could become exhausting and you keep running in circles endlessly. Quite the opposite, the combination between fashion and Buddhism makes the balance between the two, and it’s formidable.

As a multi-dimensional artist exploring all manner of media, what’s your biggest limitation? And why?
Myself, from what I want and what I don’t, and that’s because I try not to take myself too seriously and at the same time, I try to make myself more serious or, let’s say, serious enough. At the end of the day, I decided not to swim against the tide and not fly against the wind to make sure I’m balanced - not to live too far behind but not too far ahead, in order to be present.

I’m extremely intrigued by the depth and sensitivity of your photographs: which series would you say is your most intimate, and why?
The relationship between me and the Buddha is personal and intimate. Getting myself shot in a somewhat Buddhist monk uniform for the first time, by my dearest artist and beloved brother Sun Tappawuth, was exceptional. I felt the closeness yet openness all at once. I felt the present between me and Buddha aligned on that wet-plate photograph. It’s incredibly liberating.

(c) John Tods

(c) John Tods

“Buddhism being a truly universal art, and Buddha a true artist. But with cultural restrictions, all religions have been used as a tool dividing people rather than uniting them.”

Eda Phanlert Sriprom speaks with Chidozie Obasi
LE MILE Magazine ISSUE, Nr. 35

(c) Eda Phanlert Sriprom

(c) Som Nurarak

Social commentary and spirituality seem to have a firm ground in your works, but what exactly moves you in that direction when drawing a line for a concept?
I decide to do something when I can’t feel the ground or I don’t see it clearly, or even when I can’t breathe properly. It must feel wrong in order to get it right. I lost interest when I could predict the destination. For example, as I mentioned earlier, having myself dressed up and documented as the Buddha is considered a radical and sensitive subject but I decided to stand by my truth based on my loving relationship between me and the Buddha himself. The reaction from the audience was diverse, and somehow I had been sued by someone who might have felt offended but I have to stand my ground.

Would you call yours an intersectional approach to examine the arts, and the world at large?
Aren't we all different and yet we’re so similar? Does the spirit have gender? Aren’t we all trans? Am I really convinced when someone says that he’s utterly straight? Literally, aren’t we all transitioning constantly? Having said that, as an artist, we must at least be truthful to ourselves and our artistic practices - whether it’s made to examine or desert the arts and the world at large. So to speak, the arts and the world to me are as singular as life itself.

What are your hopes for the people who view your pieces for their first time?
I hope that they feel the differences as the beauty and the similarities beyond gender and that raises questions within themselves. Be critical and be at ease with who they were, who they are, and hopefully who they would love to become, whether you might or might not like the answers or the idea but this is the essential process and that’s an essential part of our transitioning life.

follow artist @ladyboil
discover online www.edaeditions.com

Felipe Romero Beltrán *Boundaries of Photography

Felipe Romero Beltrán
*Boundaries of Photography

written Alban E. Smajli

The captivating world of Felipe Romero Beltrán awaits, where the conventional boundaries of photography dissolve into a mesmerizing mosaic of migrant experiences.

In his latest series, 'Dialect', Romero Beltrán masterfully intertwines elements of documentary, performance, and choreography, inviting viewers on a journey through the intricacies of human existence.

Within 'Dialect', Romero Beltrán uncovers the choreography of human experience, where bodies become vessels for storytelling and movement transcends the constraints of static imagery. Each frame pulses with the rhythm of lived experiences, inviting us to contemplate the profound interplay between individual narratives and collective consciousness.

© Felipe Romero Beltrán 2023
courtesy Loose Joints

© Felipe Romero Beltrán 2023
courtesy Loose Joints

© Felipe Romero Beltrán 2023
courtesy Loose Joints

“In 'Dialect,' the (in)communication between documentary, performance, and choreography delivers different approaches to reality. The implementation of these practices, within a traditional medium, allows me to deal or treat both the possibilities and limitations of photography when approaching a social subject.”

Alban E. Smajli
Felipe, your work in 'Dialect' seamlessly integrates documentary, performance, and choreography. How do these elements collectively enhance the narrative of the young migrants’ experiences?
Felipe Romero Beltrán
In 'Dialect,' the (in)communication between documentary, performance, and choreography delivers different approaches to reality. The implementation of these practices, within a traditional medium, allows me to deal or treat both the possibilities and limitations of photography when approaching a social subject.

Can you give an example of how these three elements – documentary, performance, and choreography – interact in a specific piece within 'Dialect' to tell the story of the migrants?
I think the reenactments are a clear example.

In these exercises, at first, incompatible elements appear (the performance as a documentary tool) but at the same time, the guys give me a hand to bring their memories to the image's present.

In 'Dialect', you've captured the 'dead time' of bureaucratic processes. How did you conceptualize and translate this abstract, yet weighty, concept into visual art?
In my opinion, it’s not that abstract but rather palpable. Three years of waiting to be able to access to documentation. It defines the entire project. The visual approach I took was a consequence of the situation I encountered within this group of guys.

You mentioned the three-year waiting period impacting the project. Could you describe how this period of waiting influenced the artistic choices or emotional tone in 'Dialect'?
It allowed me to build an affective space around the project. Otherwise, I might have applied a specific workflow to make the project functional. In 'Dialect', the dynamic was chaotic, visceral, and, above all, open to the possibility of never materializing into a project (for the first two years, I didn't even consider it a project).

Your series not only documents but also politically interrogates. How do you navigate the fine line between artistic expression and political commentary in your photography?
Absolutely. The photographic tradition has a special relationship with this. I attempt, from a personal standpoint, to place some questions through a photographic visual device that start from a specific case in Seville. Given the slippery nature of fine lines, the project's interpretation evolves over time and varies with each viewer.

Considering our theme 'TRANCE', how do you think 'Dialect' resonates with the idea of a collective cultural consciousness, especially in the context of migration and identity?
I like to think of the term Trance from its etymology - passage - (it has the same meaning in Spanish). For 'Dialect', this term signifies a passage, imposed by an external bureaucracy, that gathers a group of guys to live together and generate a social dynamic - external, peripheral - in autonomy from the normalization of society. Something I learned from the project was precisely that autonomy of the group, which over time I also shared, of the collective in spite of the logics that are executed.

You interpret 'Trance' as a passage influenced by external bureaucracy. How does this interpretation manifest in the visual narrative or the choice of subjects in ‘Dialect'?
The choice of subject emerged as a consequence of my photographic work. At the beginning, I was interested in taking pictures about the relationship of the guys with each other, the internal dynamics in this "small society". Then I realized the implications due to their political condition, so I added another layer, where the bureaucracy appears and dictates everything, still, the project is primarily a series of a group of guys.

© Felipe Romero Beltrán 2023
courtesy Loose Joints

Your work often involves extensive research. Could you share how your research influenced the development and execution of 'Dialect'?
Completely. I've had an academic background, and at the time I was writing my doctoral thesis. Naturally, one cannot isolate the different fields of your work, so I embraced the way of working in a broader sense. It was also a consequence of the time I spent on the project (3 years) that made this research possible.

Photography as a medium often captures a moment in time, but 'Dialect' seems to explore the concept of time itself. How do you approach this temporal aspect in your photography?
In 'Dialect', there are two types of moments: the first, following the documentary tradition, challenges the conventional notion of an 'event'. Rarely does something happen that can be categorized as a distinct moment; instead, it stretches to the point of exhaustion. The second type of moment has to do with the staging of moments already lived and inaccessible to the traditional photographic medium, through reenactment, in a failed attempt, in collaboration with the guys. we look for moments to bring back to reality.

“It allowed me to build an affective space around the project. Otherwise, I might have applied a specific workflow to make the project functional. In 'Dialect', the dynamic was chaotic, visceral, and, above all, open to the possibility of never materializing into a project (for the first two years, I didn't even consider it a project).”

Regarding the two types of moments in 'Dialect', could you provide an example of how you captured a 'moment extended to exhaustion' and its significance in the narrative?
These are moments where nothing happens. The photographic event, very much related to the tradition, is constituted as a lapse of time where something happens. However, in 'Dialect', these moments are drawn out, extending in time due to the prolonged wait for documentation.

The use of the body as a metaphor in 'Dialect' is profound. How do you believe the physical embodiment in your work communicates the psychological and emotional experiences of the individuals you photograph?
Politically, 'Dialect' represents both body and law. In this sense, and from a photographic consciousness, the body plays a fundamental role throughout the project: distances, dispositions on the body, point of view, treatment of light.

In 'Dialect', there's a notable choreographic element. How does dance and movement contribute to the storytelling in your photography?
Each project offers new learning opportunities. As an extension of 'Dialect', I am now working on a choreographic piece where the concept of movement is more explicitly explored.

© Felipe Romero Beltrán 2023
courtesy Loose Joints

© Felipe Romero Beltrán 2023
courtesy Loose Joints

Could you describe a specific scene or photograph in 'Dialect' where dance and movement played a crucial role in conveying the story or emotion?
The photograph where Youssef, Hamza and Bilal appear. Bilal is fainting lying on Hamza's shoulders and Youssef helps to carry him. This reenactment occurred thanks to the guys' explanation of this memory of Bilal. They played it repeatedly, generating movement around the scene. Given the static image's inability to capture an extended time lapse (unlike cinema), I decided to accentuate this limitation and represent the movement as statically as possible.

Looking ahead, how do you see your photographic style and themes evolving? Are there any new projects or directions you are particularly excited about?
Yes, absolutely. Right now I'm working on some pieces in relation to movement. I'm excited to continue exploring different disciplines that deal with a common subject, as well as a commitment to the photographic image as an autonomous language.

Dialect by Felipe Romero Beltrán is published by Loose Joints
Through to www.loosejoints.biz