Drag has a rich cultural history, spanning cross-dressing performances
and deliberate parodies of fixed roles of gender and sexuality. Men have been
performing on stage as women since the Ancient Greek tragedies, Shakespeare
famously cast men as women, and Baroque operas featured early examples of drag.The term “drag queen” was first used to describe men appearing in women’s
clothing in Polari—a type of British slang that was popularized among gay men
and the theater community in the late 19th and 20th centuries. And while drag
has long maintained a powerful presence in popular culture, more recently, it
has developed a strong foothold in the art world as well.Today, in the wake of the popular television program RuPaul’s Drag Race,
drag queen Conchita Wurst winning the Eurovision Song Contest, and new
drag-themed club nights popping up across London, New York, and L.A., one could
say that drag is in the midst of having a mainstream moment. Riding this wave
of popularity are art galleries and museums. Recently, drag has been identified
as an influence among major art exhibitions, like the Whitney Biennial in New
York, and performance programs, like “Contemporary Drag” at NADA New York this
past March. It also serves as one of the themes in the new show “Queer British
Art” at Tate Britain.
Artists have historically created work that might not be considered or intended to be “drag,” but nonetheless similarly challenge and deconstruct rigid social and sexual archetypes. Take, for example, Marcel Duchamp’s female alter ego Rrose Sélavy, who first appeared in 1920. The character’s name was a pun on “Eros, c’est la vie” (meaning “eros, it is life”) and she appeared in several portraits taken by photographer Man Ray. Sélavy was an expression of Duchamp’s love for subversion and enigma. Similarly, the artist Claude Cahun was the male alter ego of the Surrealist Lucie Schwob, who took self-portraits dressed in male garments.Cahun was a forerunner to contemporary feminist artists like Lynn Hershman Leeson, Ana Mendieta, Cindy Sherman, and Gillian Wearing, among many others, who have played with elements of drag, often to critique the expectations placed on their gender. Hershman Leeson created a fictional character named Roberta Breitmore between 1973 and 1978, who even had her own therapist; Mendieta photographed herself with male facial hair to challenge gender signifiers; Sherman’s conceptual portraits have seen her disguise herself as fictionalized characters; and Wearing has manipulated her self image with masks.Elsewhere in history, major artists have famously documented the practice of drag. Andy Warhol filmed drag queens like Candy Darling and Mario Montez. The video artist Charles Atlas filmed famous London nightlife star Leigh Bowery; photographer Nan Goldin captured drag queens in her hometown of Boston as a teenager, and New York’s drag communities in the 1980s and early ’90s; and later, Mario Montez collaborated with the photographer Conrad Ventur.
Atlas continues to work with drag, evidenced by his recent video, Here She Is…v1 (2015), which was included in MoMA PS1’s “Greater New York” exhibition in 2015. He featured the famous New York drag queen Lady Bunny lip syncing to camera. One could also argue that the colorful characters depicted in Ryan Trecartin’s works of the 2000s had a proto-Drag Race aesthetic about them.Trecartin’s work was included in last year’s Berlin Biennale curated by the team behind DIS Magazine. The Biennale was titled “The Present in Drag,” and the DIS curators intended it to be a space for artists to reflect contemporary culture onto itself, rather than expose it. Also featured was the work of Amalia Ulman whose self-portraiture sees her enact a fake character she has cultivated via social media.
The recent drag programming at NADA New York was focused on more traditional ideas of drag, influenced, in part, by the recent explosion of a new generation of drag queens in Brooklyn. “[We brought them] out of the bars and into the streets—or rather into the art fair,” says Sam Gordon, who co-curated the performance program with Jacob Robichaux (together they run Gordon Robichaux, a curatorial agency seeking to surface under-recognized artists).That same Brooklyn drag scene was given gallery air-time at the end of last year in the show “Coney Island Babies: Visual Artists from the Brooklyn Drag Scene” at Bureau of General Service — Queer Division on West 13th Street in Manhattan. Curated by Director of the Fire Island Artist Residency Program, Chris Bogia, and drag performer and visual artist Montgomery Perry Smith, the show took stock of the vibrant community of contemporary visual artists in New York’s drag scene today. Prominent among the scene are the performance groups Chez Deep and Bushwig.
Meanwhile, across Europe, a renewed interest in drag has seen a slew of young artists incorporating it into their performance work. In the U.K., for example, Victoria Sin uses her drag persona to critique the expectation of feminine labor; and Samuel Douek, a drag performer, filmmaker, and artist who recently graduated from the Royal College of Art, has presented his work in both cabaret venues and galleries, as part of his work around queer spaces.In Berlin, events on the city’s underground scene have recently been hosted by artists like Parker Tilghman, who enacts a drag persona as part of his work.
While emphasizing the contemporary moment, Gordon and Robichaux also
acknowledged the evolving conversation around drag over time. Through a
multigenerational group of drag artists—from the famous Lady Bunny and Tabboo!
to younger performers like Sasha Velour, who has been hosting Nightgowns (a
drag cabaret) in Bushwick for the last few years—they highlighted the deep
history of drag’s presence in gallery spaces.
The main difference when you put drag performance in a gallery, Penney explained, is the crowd. “To be in a gallery setting where nobody is talking and they don’t even know if they should clap because they don’t want to interrupt things, it can be really intense,” he said. And in that sense, drag gets taken seriously by the art world, but Penney believes it’s still somewhat marginalized. “I think a lot of performance art still gets de-legitimized because its drag,” he said.
At this year’s Whitney Biennale though, drag—in some interpretation—has been given credence. Work relating to the practice is present across the show wrote co-curator Christopher Lew in the exhibition catalogue’s introductory essay. Collective Puppies Puppies, for example, presents Liberty (Liberté) (2016), what they’ve described as “a drag performance and sculpture,” where a performer dons a Statue of Liberty costume and stands in public. Lew pointed to works by Porpentine Charity Heartscape and Cauleen Smith, as well as Tommy Hartung’s video The Lesser Key of Solomon (2015), as all dealing with identity and emancipation, and in that sense speaking to the practice of drag. He cited these works as examples of how “in these recent times of escalating strife and partisanship, artists have taken it upon themselves to bridge divides.”
If one thinks about drag as the practice of performing gender, sexuality, or other fixed societal roles, then in a way, we’re all doing drag, all of the time. So long as it deconstructs identity categories, it’s still drag. And according to curators like Lew and Gordon, today, amid an oppressive political climate, it’s a more relevant means of expression and creativity than ever.For example, artist Alexis Blair Penney was inspired to start the drag collective Chez Deep following a performance at MoMA PS1 in 2011 with Cody Critcheloe, Colin Self and Mykki Blanco. “If this is what a drag super-group looks like, I might just have to start one,” he thought. Penney noted that Chez Deep’s performance has run the full gamut of venues, from bars to white cube spaces. In 2014, the artist Spencer Sweeney flew them out to Glasgow to perform at The Modern Institute’s gallery space. Gordon emphasizes that the current moment is just the latest iteration of drag. “Drag moves in cycles,” he says, “but it’s interesting to see how quickly the mainstream is finding the alternative.” If anything, he believes taking drag out of its traditional contexts and into the art world is helping it continue to evolve.
If one thinks about drag as the practice of performing gender, sexuality, or other fixed societal roles, then in a way, we’re all doing drag, all of the time. So long as it deconstructs identity categories, it’s still drag. And according to curators like Lew and Gordon, today, amid an oppressive political climate, it’s a more relevant means of expression and creativity than ever.
Sasha Velour won season nine of
"RuPaul's Drag Race" on VH1 and Logo, and she's unique: Velour, the
stage name of Sasha Steinberg, was a Fulbright scholar and has a master's
degree, and takes an intellectual approach to drag.
On her intellectual approach to drag performance
"The truth is I do take drag really seriously, and I think that there's kind of a place for that — to see it as this political and historical art form, and to want to continue pushing it in new directions. And also honor the old directions as well. So I'm sort of like a drag intellectual/drag queen.""I went to Vassar College for undergraduate and studied literature and queer theory, and all of the above. And then I took a Fulbright scholarship in Russia. And that's really where my direction shifted a little bit, because I became really interested in what kind of work actually helps to change things for queer people. And I became really fascinated with drag because it's such an accessible and joyful art form. I wanted to create beautiful images in drag that would not just inspire queer people who need to see some beauty and need to experience some joy, but also would engage people politically."
On the role of drag in LGBTQ advocacy
"We need to talk about representation for queer people in the media and also in law. And there's a long history of drag queens leading those discussions in marches on the street and even in bars going back to the time of Stonewall and before. Gay bars have always been spaces of getting angry about politics and about legal situations, and we need that now more than ever.""Drag is so much more than gay men dressing up as women. It's about creating space and creating validity for people who want to express gender differently and by their own rules. And drag queens, drag kings, need to be at the forefront of pushing for rights and protections and safe spaces for the entire spectrum of gender non-conforming and trans people."
On how young people can get their start in drag"It's the simplest thing. You just go and you find whatever you can find. If it's a simple pair of heels or if you have to strap some cans of food to the back of your shoes so you have that little lift, if you want to go and get some mascara or if you want to use a little Sharpie on your eye, you can make drag out of absolutely anything. And if that is what inspires you, I say everyone should go out and do it."
Sasha Velour On Why Drag Is A 'Political And
Historical Art Form'. wbur, July 24,
2017
It’s Time To Change The Definition Of “Drag” By Eric Shorey, Nylon, April 4, 2017.
“You're born naked and the rest is drag,” RuPaul has famously quipped for
decades. But the phrase has been so oft-repeated, it's hard to say it aloud
without the nearest drag queen rolling her eyes. Despite the whimsy of the
quote, many people's definition of drag has remained rather stagnant: It's when
a man dresses up as a woman–or something–right?
But as the very concept of gender explodes, perhaps we should reconsider the accepted definitions of the word “drag.” The term originated in Shakespearean times as shorthand for “dressed as a girl,” or so the story goes because back then women were not permitted to be actors. Whether or not that tale has any validity now is beside the point; drag slowly morphed into its own art form over the past few hundred years, and only recently have we begun to rethink the word so completely.
If the post-Tumblr generation of millennials has taught us anything, it's that gender is a social construction; there are never-ending possibilities of gender expression and identity. The idea that "drag" could be defined as “clothing typical of one sex worn by a person of the opposite sex,” which is actually how it's defined in Merriam-Webster, now seems almost laughable to those who spend their lives in gay bars. Isn't the idea of an “opposite sex” itself obsolete? As we reconsider the vast complexities of gender, it's about time we threw out the idea of gender as a spectrum (with male on one end and female of the other) and start doing better with our explanatory metaphors. Gender is closer to (if you can forgive the hippie turn of phrase) a mandala than a spectrum, with maleness and femaleness knotting eternally in interlaced spirals. But gender is more than any 2-D image—gender has a smell, a feel, a taste; it exists in time and space.
If drag has nothing to do with the now-defunct concept of “opposite sex,” then what the hell is it? A semiotics professor of mine once quipped that after Marcel Duchamp, “anything can be art, but not everything is art.” Could the same be said of drag? Has the word become as nebulous and confusing as “art” itself? Post-modern theory aside, a simple visit to a Brooklyn, New York, nightclub would immediately relieve one of their assumptions about drag as an art form of illusion based on binaristic ideas of anatomical difference. Bearded queens have become common, as are fashionable, alien-esque club kids in the tradition of great artists like Leigh Bowery. Plenty of trans women do (and probably always have) performed as queens, with many realizing they were trans as they played with their own expression through art. We reached out to a handful of trans and non-binary drag performers to get their takes on the subject: "For me, [drag] was the beginning of learning to navigate spaces as someone who isn't read as 'boy,'" says Daphne Sumtimez, a Brooklyn-based transgender drag performer. "It’s taught me how much agency we all have in forging our identities."
Drag is one of the world’s greatest forms of escapism because of its
capabilities in transcending identity beyond reality – in this realm, artists
can become whoever they desire to be. With the use of excessive visual markers,
performers break free from the social constructs that oppress them.
Through the works of Ana Mendieta, Robert Mapplethorpe, Victoria Sin, Cindy Sherman, Samuel Fosso, and more, the Hayward’s Drag show reveals that drag resists all social constructs – race, class and sexuality included. “Drag is an act of resistance that emerged from systems of oppression,” explains the Hayward Gallery’s senior curator Vincent Honoré. “Drag performances, as seen in visual arts, resist binary systems and norms, challenge oppressive structures, and echo social changes: in the exhibition, drag and the way it is used reflects on societal debates including feminism, civil rights, gay rights, Aids crisis, anti-consumerism, and post-colonialism.”
Eight artists who use drag as a political tool of rebellion. By Lexi Manatakis, Dazed , August 14, 2018.
Drag, by definition, is ephemeral, transitional and transformative. It’s
the act of temporarily inhabiting a character to break through the gender
binary, challenge the status quo, and perhaps even live out a political truth.
In 2018, drag seems to be going through a kind of global renaissance — not only
in the mainstream, with shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race and Dragula, but in bars,
galleries, cabarets and venues around the world. The misconception of drag as a
Las Vegas stereotype has all but dissipated, and vibrant performers of all
ages, genders and backgrounds are creating a new artistic community.But how would you represent this community?
How could you do all these artists — who are cultural warriors in their own
right — justice within a traditional art institution? These are the questions
that Drag: Self-Portraits and Body Politics, opening at London’s Hayward
Gallery today, tries to answer, with works from over 30 artists exploring drag
through their respective lenses. When we spoke with Drag’s curator, Vincent
Honoré, a week before the show’s unveiling, his vision for the exhibition was
clear. “The concept of the exhibition is to address drag and how drag has been
used as an art form, via the work of visual artists from the ’60s onwards,” he
explained. “We are including emerging artists as well as historical ones, and
looking at how all these artists use drag to address cultural shifts, from many
different angles — from feminism to post-colonialism to civil and gay rights.”
Taking inspiration from their own bodies, alter-egos, identities and
environments, the artists showcased in the display range from heavy-hitters
like Leigh Bowery, Robert Mapplethorpe and David Wojnarowicz, to newer, but
just as important, drag practitioners like Victoria Sin and Samuel Fosso.
“While researching the exhibition I spoke to a lot of drag performers, sociologists, and people from different backgrounds,” says Honoré, speaking to the wide range to experiences represented in the show. “I realised that it was absolutely crucial to offer a diversity of expressions. Actually, I believe about 50% of the artists we have are drag kings, with a lot of feminist artists included, for example Eleanor Antin or VALIE EXPORT. I think it was very important to speak from different cultural perspectives, so looking at Asia, African and South America. South America had so much political drag art in the ’70s, especially in Chile, where it was forbidden to have any personal expressions other than the binary one. Doing drag, or being a crossdresser, was illegal. So there’s this fantastic artist in the exhibition called Francesco Copello who is dancing in drag with a Chilean flag. That was extraordinary for people at the time.”
To preserve an authentic outlook on drag culture, the exhibition purposefully shines a light on more underground and subversive drag scenes. “We are only addressing self-portraiture, therefore I excluded everything that has to do with documentation,” states Honoré. “I really wanted to present something that has to do with self-performativity and the own voice of the artist. We are not showing mainstream culture, apart from a video by Leigh Bowery of a performance from 1988, and a painting by David Hoyle — he usually does these when he does drag cabaret, and they’re rarely exhibited. In terms of the breadth of all the different kinds of drag, we are including drag queens, drag kings, and biodrags, and we are including very different narratives of drag. Drag originated and is mainly rooted in mainstream culture. It’s really coming from that culture, and that’s why it’s so critical because it embraces it — it embraces cabaret, music, fashion, balls, everything.”
10 Radical Self-portraits serving Ultimate Drag Realness. By Cameron Cook. Sleek Magazine, August 22, 2018.
Also of interest :
Drag is an art form. By Emilia Slupecka.
Artefact , March 1, 2018
Who Says Drag Can't Be Fine Art? By Emily Colucci. Vice, October 14 2016
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