Today I’m sharing photographs of myself with Lance and wanted to discuss Grindr and the story of The Little Prince.
Recently, I watched the film version of The Little Prince. I love stop-motion animation and felt inspired by the aesthetic of the film for this set specifically. I’ve recently learned The Little Prince is one of the best-selling books of all time second only to the Bible — high praise for a children’s book. For anyone who doesn’t know, The Little Prince is the story of an aviator who crash lands in the desert and encounters a little boy whose planet is home only to himself and his friend, a single rose. The story is something of a coming-of-age story in which The Little Prince learns how to nurture himself and the world around him in order to truly appreciate the small, beautiful things in life which adults lose and understand less as they age.
I don’t often think of my work as a coming-of-age story or a morality tale. I have no real agenda with this work besides meeting and showcasing attractive men for the enjoyment of us all. But I can’t help, on occasion, becoming existentially curious, particularly as I create these posts for you.
As a millennial, I have been using Grindr since its beginning in 2009. It has been the place where I most often meet the people I photograph. Over the years I’ve cultivated a growing list of friends, acquaintances and lovers who now populate the near-decade’s worth of hard drives which constitutes my archive. As long as Grindr has existed, there has been a debate about it. There are some who say it is ruining gay culture, turning sex into a transaction and people into commodities — like ordering people the way you order food from restaurants. There are others who say it’s an important communication tool for gay men specifically to meet and form meaningful relationships with each other.
Truthfully, I’ve seen both aspects of these arguments play out in my own life so I cannot take a side in this debate. What’s undeniable, though, is Grindr’s enormous cultural impact. In some ways, it characterizes the gay male millennial generation’s approach to cruising, sex, love and friendship.
And whether I like it or not, I think I’ve always approached making photographs from a perspective that is informed by Grindr’s influence. That is not to say that my life is a constant parade of attractive naked men who shimmy and shake for my camera. But it has fueled my seemingly endless curiosity for human connection. Every person becomes a new possibility for sharing an intimate moment (not just sexually).
I treat my work as a way to stop and capture time because the world seems to move so fast. Photographs, good photographs, linger in our bodies. They help us savor the little moments of connection — that gorgeous feeling of meeting someone for the first time, the peak of a flower’s bloom which, when photographed, will be immortalized in its most impressive state forever. And as I get older I find myself recognizing and appreciating that ability photography has to capture these things.
Now that I am in my mid-30s it is even more striking to me how quickly childhood faded. How fast the bloom of youth disappeared. As medicine improves (even as access to it wanes) people are living longer. Noticing the white hairs sprouting at my temples, it occurs to me that should I live into my 90s, I will spend a great deal more of my life “old” than I will “young.” I find myself evermore grateful for photography’s power to stop or mark time and I have every intention of squeezing every ounce of beautiful life out of this phase of my existence.
As Lance and I sat naked in my set among the bits of torn paper, nurturing this cute moment we had together, I found myself wondering what he would look like running through the woods naked. Luckily, we will all get to see that soon, as Lance and his husband Milo have agreed to come to Vermont with me in June where we will photograph by Rock River, where gay people congregate in the summer months.
And what could be more beautiful than that?
Have a great week,
Matthew