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Two side-by-side portraits. On the left, a person with glasses and a black sweater sits in a bright room. On the right, a person with curly red hair and a black T-shirt holds a blonde wig over a red object.

Photographer Heather Glazzard highlights the importance of queer self-representation

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Date
12 July 2019

London-based photographer Heather Glazzard is inspired, they tell us, by “my friends, things that make me angry, and a lot of historical queer history”. Their ongoing project, Queer Letters, conducts conversations between queer people and their younger selves via portraits accompanied by hand-written letters, giving the subjects of Heather’s images the autonomy of representation and ownership of identity that young queer people are often denied.

Heather tells us: “I started the project in 2018, a year after founding Moist Collective in Manchester. Moist Collective was a space for queer artists. I founded this for the pure lack of representation for queer identities. I outgrew Moist – and organising a team while trying to take photographs and work became hectic. These portraits stemmed from the same reasons as Moist, but it became my own project in which the subject could represent themselves. The concept behind it comes from seeing a lack of identities in the media when I was growing up; I wanted to create a space of wholesomeness and reliability for visual representation.”

There is a huge amount of trust and openness required of the participants in such a project. Heather is endlessly sensitive to this in their approach, which is never exploitative and always collaborative, leaving much of the creative direction up to the person being photographed. Speaking of the photographer-subject relationship they aim to cultivate, Heather says: “Most subjects are friends, Instagram cast, or friends of friends. I ask the subjects about where they feel most comfortable and we aim to take a portrait together. The subjects have to be open to sharing their stories because it’s so visible on the internet, especially since the project started to gain attention.”

A person stands in a grassy field against a backdrop of bare winter trees. They wear a white and red short-sleeved shirt, burgundy trousers with a side stripe, and white sneakers.
Above
Left

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Weimin

Right

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Val

A person stands in a grassy garden with their arms folded, looking directly at the camera. They wear a white T-shirt, dark trousers, a green beaded necklace and patterned sneakers.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Val

For Heather, conveying the specific quality and tone of their encounter with each individual takes precedence over a homogeneity of style. As they state: “My photographic style is probably more about emotion and intimacy; it’s about a relationship I have with the person Iʼm photographing.” The photographs themselves are tender, the subjects simultaneously vulnerable and unapologetic. Heather does not fetishise queerness, nor do they push for any agenda which seeks to define queerness in narrow, fixed or exclusive terms. Rather, their images acknowledge the broad spectrum of queer experience and, in dialogue with the letters, they take into account how issues of queerness intersect with other issues of class and race – particularly addressing the lack of visual representation that exists for young queer people of colour.

By giving representational autonomy to the participants, Queer Letters becomes a space in which the people photographed can define and express their relationships with their identities on their own terms. Without glossing over the difficulties of growing up queer in a heteronormative society, the messages in the letters are overwhelmingly affirming. There is a lot of care and compassion felt towards the younger selves, and a sense in which the people writing have, themselves, become the kind of role models they wish they had growing up. “I think it’s evolved into a more intimate project, as the letters are so personal,” Heather reflects. “After receiving Arts Council funding as well, it means queer people get paid for just being themselves – I think that’s a great way to evolve. The comments Iʼve received also allow it to keep developing constantly. People see it and feel brave to be who they are.”

In creating a platform that is both public and personal for those who identify as queer to lay claim to their own narratives, Heather is promoting the empathetic recognition of and engagement with queer experience as essentially human experience. “I think the more people that see this,” Heather says, “especially heteronormative people, the more chance we have at people understanding that, at the baseline, we are just like everyone else.”

Queer Letters works against the tendency to see queer people as other. As writer, theorist and philosopher Maggie Nelson writes: “It’s the binary of normative/transgressive that’s unsustainable, along with the demand that anyone live a life that’s all one thing.” Nelson’s is a sentiment that is echoed throughout Heather’s series. It is not a transgression that Heather photographs; it is simply being. And what the photographs and letters ultimately say is that it’s OK, in the words of Alex to their younger self, “to just live as a possibility rather than something fixed”.

A person with long blonde hair and freckles looks directly at the camera with a neutral expression. They wear a white lace-trimmed camisole and sit against a plain, light-coloured wall.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Cara

A person with curly hair looks directly at the camera, their face partially shaded by a strong shadow. They wear a colourful beaded necklace and a dress with a green and yellow botanical print.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Ella

A person with curly hair and round glasses looks directly at the camera. They wear a black jacket over a black top, accessorised with a sparkling necklace and a long, dangling earring.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Daniel

A person looks directly at the camera against a bright blue sky. They wear a spiked black collar and a prosthetic orange jaw piece that curves around their face.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Jack

A person stands in a garden, looking directly at the camera. They wear a light grey long-sleeved polo shirt and dark trousers, with green foliage and trees behind them.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Chang

A person in a pink gingham dress sits against a plain white fabric backdrop. They look directly at the camera, with bright sunlight hitting one side of their face and shoulder.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Nora

A person wearing a wide-brimmed black hat and a black choker looks directly at the camera. They wear a shimmering blue sequined top with gold embellishments, posed against a brick building.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Lorenzo

A person with bright orange hair and red lipstick looks at the camera. They wear a cream-coloured garment with the words “TRANS INCL” printed in bold black letters.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Lucia

A person wearing a tan hoodie sits on a dark grey sofa, looking directly at the camera. They have short, dark hair styled with a side part.
Above

Heather Glazzard: Queer Letters, Jay

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About the Author

Rowe Irvin

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Rowe joined It’s Nice That in the summer of 2019 as an editorial assistant. She wrote many fantastic stories for us, mainly on hugely talented artists and photographers.

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