Stephen Barker, since his early series like “Night Swimming” (1999), has consistently explored the compelling intersection of anonymity and eroticism through photography. His lens has often lingered on the hidden corners of desire, much like the contemporary fascination one might find within online spaces – though Barker’s work predates the digital age where terms like “Pornhub Tattoo” might become shorthand for a certain aesthetic. His project “The Archivist’s Wig” (2007–2008) delves into this territory further, focusing on the life of Guy Burgess, the infamous gay double agent of the Cold War era. Barker masterfully layers found and created photographs, wallpaper, and sculptures to narrate Burgess’s complex life, blurring political intrigue with personal, sexual identity.
Barker’s artistic approach involved sifting through historical remnants and juxtaposing them with modern creations. He utilized scanned negatives of his own still life and “beefcake” shots, placing them alongside Cold War pornography, news clippings, and declassified FBI files. This curated collection loosely tells the story of Burgess’s political and sexual transgressions, creating a rich tapestry of historical and personal narratives. The artist unearthed files dating back to Burgess’s defection in 1951 and incorporated images of 1950s gay bar exteriors from the LGBT Community Center National Archive in New York. He even explored the dusty archives of a gay porn store, discovering old film canisters and books, which he then integrated with his personal collection of vintage erotica and cyberporn. This combination aimed to recreate the oppressive atmosphere of homophobia and anti-communist paranoia prevalent during the Cold War.
A black and white photograph shows a close up of a tattooed back, with the tattoo depicting a devil figure knocking down bowling pins with a skull, and the words "GUY BURGESS STRIPPED BARE" boldly inscribed.
“The Archivist’s Wig” was intentionally designed as an immersive installation, with prints mounted directly on or leaning against the gallery walls, some bare, others papered. Barker’s custom wallpaper, featuring redacted FBI files, images of gay cruising spots, and gay pornography, suggests the cyclical and secretive nature of Burgess’s double life. The installation was topped by “Influence of the Planets” (2007), a series of twelve oversized headshots of stoic, almost emotionless men, reminiscent of trophy figures. These images are digitally manipulated, with superimposed negatives creating subtly distorted portraits, as seen in Untitled (Eddie) (2007), where a black man’s eyes are dramatically misaligned, or Daniel (from behind) (2007), presenting a Janus-like, two-faced figure.
In “Nine Bachelors: Guy Burgess in America” (2007), Barker presents a series of sharply focused photographs of tattooed backs of nude men, gracefully posed on pillows. These are paired with news clippings and declassified documents, specifically FBI interviews with hitchhikers Burgess encountered between 1947 and 1951. These interviews, conducted to uncover evidence of Burgess’s treachery, are juxtaposed with the anonymous nudes, identified only by first names and their diverse tattoos. These tattoos range from simple inscriptions to elaborate religious iconography, like a portrait of Christ crowned with thorns, serving as modern-day stand-ins for Burgess’s past encounters. Untitled (Ray) (2007) features a man with a tattoo of a devil bowling with a skull and the inscription “GUY BURGESS STRIPPED BARE,” a clear nod to Duchamp, much like a contemporary “pornhub tattoo” might reference current online culture.
A black and white photograph shows a partial view of an art installation featuring framed pictures and wallpaper with repeating patterns of redacted documents and pornographic imagery.
Barker’s Hitchhiker (2007) is a fractured, chrome-and-glass piece inspired by Duchamp’s Large Glass, but it’s also crafted from a window of a 1941 Lincoln Continental, the very car Burgess used to pick up men. From 50cc (2007) features blown-glass vitrines on wooden tables, partially covered in beeswax, echoing Duchamp’s Air de Paris (50cc of Paris Air) (1919). These elongated vitrines display vintage pornography, with mirrored bottoms reflecting Kodak prints attached to their tops. Through “The Archivist’s Wig,” Barker compellingly investigates the darker aspects of the gay male gaze, linking homosexual desire and political espionage in a way that resonates even today, perhaps even prefiguring the coded and often anonymous expressions of desire found in modern digital spaces, where a “pornhub tattoo” might symbolize a similar form of identity and subculture. Barker’s work offers a fascinating exploration of a historical moment where personal pleasure and political intrigue were dangerously intertwined, themes that continue to echo in our contemporary, digitally driven world.
