I have been taking photographs for sixty years. It’s a blur. During that time, some of the people I have taken pictures of have died. Car crashes. Suicide. AIDS. Cancer. Covid. Cardiac arrest. The list goes on.

Some of the photographs of these people were taken while they were children. Some of these photographs were taken when they were adolescent. Some of these photographs feature adults.

I am often contacted by interviewers. Art critics. Photography curators. There are a whole pack of these people.

They ask the same question.

Homoeroticism.

I explain that I do not understand what they mean. These people will attempt to explain it to me, but I have no clue as to what they are talking about.

I think their issue is sex.

I simply tell them that I do not have sex with the people I photograph. I tell them I am impotent. I roll it out there that this part of my life is over. I do not feel any of that in ways I used to in the past.

I get that this is way too much information. These people – mostly institutionalists – always run. I am goof with that. I do not know the first thing about art theory, and I do not know who Annie Goldman is.

Usually, this is the end of the interview. Art is art. All art is political. All art has a voice even if you have to work at finding it. I am pretty sure I am telling this intimate stuff to people whose job has to do with art, not sex. I don’t know how you can make art without touching upon sexuality. I tell the people all wrapped up in art theory that while I am working, shooting film, I am not thinking sex, I am attempting to find ways to tell a story.

About who this person in front of the camera is.

I specifically do not explain – why – a person is whatever. That would be patently absurd and beneath contempt.

People mistake sexuality for sex quite commonly. People mistake sensuality for desire. As the photographer, I get to rationalize that this conflict is not my problem. The audience can deal with it or not. Pleasing the audience with something they can box and explain is not my job. My job is to take the photograph. Period.

I do not tell anyone what to do. In fact, I rarely talk while I am working on photographs.

Many of these people dismiss my work because “you use too many cameras.”

I use different cameras in different settings. I steal cameras from camera shops, too.

Fuck me.

When my subjects die, I sift through their photographs. I have hundreds of thousands of photographs. I need three clouds to store them.

The dialogue in my head has me asking the dead what they need from me. Somewhere in the photographs of the dead, there will be an answer.

They’re watching the stars at night. They’re running. They’re at the beach. They’re reading a book. They’re having sex. They’re eating breakfast. They’re smoking weed. They’re on the phone. They’re going downstairs. They’re driving. They’re painting. They’re laughing. They’re deeply depressed. They’re sick. They’re lost in thought. They’re angry. They’re clenching fists. They’re tending to their children. They’re playing soccer. They’re trying to make a point.

Photography is invasive, and there it is. This will not change.

I have a turbulent relationship with the audience.

But I think my job is to tell the story whether the audience is there or not. Asleep or not. Acutely aware or not. Judgemental or not. Sensual or not. Turned on or not. Confused or not. Pissed off at what they see or not. Uncomortable or not. My job has very little to do with the audience.

My job is to show (not tell) you a fleeting moment in a life because that is all any of us have.

https://ello.co/timbarrus