DAVID WOJNAROWICZ: PRIDE MONTH REMEMBRANCE
hey, you! remember this picture? yeah, me too! it’s actually a pretty semi-famous work of art! neat, right. know who made it? probably not. well, i do, and in the spirit of pride month, i’m here to teach you about one of the most amazing gay photographers and artists to ever grace our world: david wojnarowicz.
david wojnarowicz was born in 1954 in new jersey, but lived most of his life in nyc. his mother and father split, then left him, leaving him bouncing between foster homes, homelessness, and abusive relationships until he graduated from the highschool of music and art.
around 1970, he became a quickly-rising star in the mixed-media community, being credited as a director, writer, photographer, videographer, painter, and general artist all at once in his later years, but starting as a simple gay artist who graffitied stencils of houses on fire on the side of buildings in the east village. goals, right?
later in life, he made a series of super-8 films, including heroin and beautiful people. he also began a photographic series known as arthur rimbaud in new york, on occasion depicting the famous poet in situations with a gay lover.
he became a critically acclaimed author of numerous successful books, almost all of which discussed his relationship to the troubled politics of the 1980s gay movement, in particular the AIDS crisis, and sometimes his troubled childhood.
on july 22, 1992, david wojnarowicz died in his home from AIDS, confirmed by his lover.
his critically acclaimed work, however, continues to serve as a rallying call for the lgbtpn youth of today, most notably his film a fire in my belly, a silent movie with shots about religion, poverty, and generally suffering.
in his memoir, close to the knives, he stated he wondered “what it would be like if, each time a lover, friend or stranger died of this disease, their friends, lovers or neighbors would take the dead body and drive with it in a car a hundred miles an hour to Washington DC and blast through the gates of the White House and come to a screeching halt before the entrance and dump their lifeless form on the front steps.
in 1996, david wojnarowicz’ ashes were scattered on the white house lawn, serving as a timeless reminder and memorial to one of the most influential photographers, artists, and writers of his time, and the system that failed him and thousands like him.
