“Butch” Wagner and Edgar Sandifer in a photo booth, ca. 1950–53
Frederick Douglass said in his essay “Pictures and Progress” that “the process by which man is able to posit his own subjective nature outside of himself, giving it form, color, space, and all the attributes of distinct personality… is at the bottom of all effort and the germinating principles of all reform and all progress.” This, he puts forth, is true for picture-making art in general, but the photograph is special: “making our subjective nature objective… it will either lift us to the highest heaven or sink us to the lowest depths.” He then delves into the ways in which the nature of photography has aided the abolitionist movement, and how the person holding up a truthful mirror to the world—commonly known as the camera—also holds immense power. This is important to consider in light of another fight for progress, that of the LGBTQ+ community, and photography today in a world of constant self-portraiture as a social practice.
“Butch” Wagner and Edgar Sandifer, an image of two gay men in the early 1950s from the ONE National Gay and Lesbian archives, was not likely taken with any higher meaning in mind. Its accompanying caption establishes that it was snapped in a photo booth. Yet the pair have, knowingly or not, contributed to the same trends Douglass discussed nearly a century prior. By having their own photograph taken, together as gay men, they have made their subjective truth—their human condition, yes, but most importantly their sexuality—objective. Like photographs of those trapped in the brutal machine of slavery (not to directly compare the two; both groups have faced their own distinct, uniquely horrific ordeals), this image was totally taboo in its era. It made their existence wholly real, an uncomfortable truth for a society that perhaps wished to keep them unseen. Still, Wagner and Sandifer not only smile but look genuinely happy together. That speaks to the power held in that fraction of a second within which they are forever immortalized. For even just a moment, they have total control over the way they are seen, if not by the human eye but a mechanical one. Hopefully, images like this will continue to be a part of lifting our society towards Douglass’s highest heaven—even as the lowest depths continue to beckon.
“Butch” Wagner and Edgar Sandifer, an image of two gay men in the early 1950s from the ONE National Gay and Lesbian archives, was not likely taken with any higher meaning in mind. Its accompanying caption establishes that it was snapped in a photo booth. Yet the pair have, knowingly or not, contributed to the same trends Douglass discussed nearly a century prior. By having their own photograph taken, together as gay men, they have made their subjective truth—their human condition, yes, but most importantly their sexuality—objective. Like photographs of those trapped in the brutal machine of slavery (not to directly compare the two; both groups have faced their own distinct, uniquely horrific ordeals), this image was totally taboo in its era. It made their existence wholly real, an uncomfortable truth for a society that perhaps wished to keep them unseen. Still, Wagner and Sandifer not only smile but look genuinely happy together. That speaks to the power held in that fraction of a second within which they are forever immortalized. For even just a moment, they have total control over the way they are seen, if not by the human eye but a mechanical one. Hopefully, images like this will continue to be a part of lifting our society towards Douglass’s highest heaven—even as the lowest depths continue to beckon.