September 7th marked the opening of ‘Philadelphia’, the inaugural show of Quil Lemons, a radical queer photographer who, at age 26, is already pushing the boundaries of both queer and black representation. Lemons first gained notoriety with ‘Glitterboy’, a series of portraits that sought to decode traditional understandings of hypermasculinity within the black community. ‘Quiladelphia’ picks up where ‘Glitterboy’ left off; Lemons continues his deconstruction of hypermasculinity whilst equally seeking to construct an original narrative of his lived black and queer experience.
Of course, ‘Quiladelphia’ does differ from its predecessor in some significant ways. 6 years have passed since the viral success of ‘Glitterboy’ and, in the time since, Lemons has undoubtedly grown into his self-professed radicalism. Whilst ‘Glitterboy’ represented the joy of queer-black adolescence, ‘Quiladelphia’ speaks to the sensuality of queer adulthood. Its subjects are intimate, vulnerable, and unapologetically erotic. Many of Lemons’ subjects are nude, bound, or in one case, engaged in penetrative sex. The images are purposely striking, a reminder that, to Lemons, seeing is believing; only through encountering queer existence can the audience come to fully conceive of it. Through his visual encounter with queerness, Lemons seeks to render mainstream lived experiences that are all too often marginal. In part, Lemons makes himself a vessel for this mainstreaming – by telling his story, he tells the story of many others.
Despite this, one would be mistaken to assume that ’Quiladelphia’ is simply an expression of proudly queer sexuality – though it does this very well. Lemons tackles issues of faith, motherhood, and the complexity of being both black and patriotic in a country built on black oppression. The apparent contradictions in ‘Quiladelphia’ are a reminder that no community is a monolith. Lemon sees the ambiguity of African American life as something to be celebrated, not questioned. His flirtation with the American flag is not the result of an undying love for “The American dream and the pursuit of liberty”; rather, it’s a love letter to his America, an America which is composed of and represented by the disparate citizens of Lemons’ imagined community – ‘Quiladelphia’.
Surprisingly, Lemons’ radicalism hasn’t been a roadblock to commercial success. The photographer counts Valentino, Gucci, Calvin Klein, and The New York Times among his better-known clients, though perhaps in our post-BLM era, the mainstreaming of black bodies shouldn’t be such a surprise. More and more companies are seeking to capitalise on the power of the black dollar. Inevitably, this work raises questions over the sincerity of Lemons’ activism: can the artist retain his firebrand reputation whilst equally remoulding the orthodoxies of the art world? Only time will tell, but for now, Lemons continues to effortlessly straddle the boundary between the mainstream and the margin.
Undeniably running through the entirety of ‘Quiladelphia’ is an unbridled sense of urgency. Since the release of ‘Glitterboy’ six years ago, the American conception of race, sexuality, and gender has fundamentally shifted. ‘Glitterboy’ sat in a pre-pandemic era in which the American collective memory was still largely informed by the reality of a black President, a time in which – despite the election of President Trump – the progress of progressivism felt like an inevitability and not a political battleground. In the years since, America has been rocked by the brutal murder of George Floyd and the racial reckoning that followed, as well as a pandemic that highlighted the disparity between the health outcomes of black and white Americans. Taken in combination with a Republican party that now outwardly proclaims the benefits of slavery, Lemons’ work feels all the more combative – an artistic addition to the frontline of an all-American culture war.
So, if we see Lemons as a culture war combatant, his primary weapon is memory. In allowing us to conceive of his past, Lemons speaks to an America of both the present and the future. ‘Quiladelphia’ highlights the subaltern among us and allows us to recognise the complexity of our current existence, and yet, it equally speaks to a future America, an America in which conventional notions of blackness, queerness, and identities between the two are both celebrated and rendered mainstream. History will show us whether Lemons’ future America becomes reality, but for those too keen to wait, all that’s needed is a trip to the land of Lemons – the land of ‘Quiladelphia’.
Quiladelphia is showing until November 4 at the Hannah Traore Gallery, in New York. To keep up with Lemons’ work, visit his website.
Article by Toby Clarke.
Toby Clarke is a London-based student and Journalist studying MA in Cultural and Creative Industries at King’s College London. Clarke previously served as the editor-in-chief of The SOAS Spirit, where his articles covered topics related to migration, social housing, and political corruption. Now a staff writer at GAY45, Clarke’s articles aim to tackle these same issues and their intersection with queerness.
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