Ep 001: Erik Carter
A SHOT: To start, can you describe the photo that you selected?
ERIK CARTER: Sure, yeah, so this is a photo from an event called Jolene, which was a non-binary, trans-inclusive strip night at a strip club called Cheetah’s here in Los Angeles. This is toward the end of the night, and this is one of the performers.
Were you attending? What’s the context of how you were there with your camera?
I had reached out to the person in charge of the event, who basically created the night and had been running it over the past few months. We were talking for a while, and I had expressed interest in documenting the night, only because it seemed so interesting and so important and so singular. She said yes. I was very grateful for that. And then a day after she said yes, it turns out that Vice magazine was gonna do a piece on it and needed a photographer. Everything kind of worked out. So I was there out of my own curiosity, but then I was also there on assignment from Vice.
When you say something like this is important, what do you mean?
She created this night out of the necessity of a lot of things. She was a performer, was a dancer in what are deemed mostly “straight” strip places, and it’s not conducive to trans performers and non-binary performers. They don’t really have a space to be able to perform. She recognized that and created a night that was just for them. So the performers through the night — which was anywhere between 12 to 15 performers — are all non-binary, or trans, or just gender non-conforming. And it’s something that I don’t think had existed in the Los Angeles area. So it was an important night for them.
What’s your setup when you’re taking a photo like this? How do you prepare? Do you research? Do you look at references? What’s your whole process before you’re actually leaving the apartment?
For this in particular, I try to do as much research as I can beforehand. I try not to look at other… not necessarily contemporary work. I try not to look at contemporary work that’s gonna inform what my night is going to be about because that will shape my eye. I, of course, won’t be able to replicate whatever that is, but it’ll be informative nonetheless. So if I dive into any kind of archive to look at what I’m about to shoot, it’s far, far, far away in the past.
Like what kind of things?
Well, I guess we can talk about the photo for instance. So for this, most of my references before I went to go shoot that night were cinema based. Like, late night shoots, anything with a lot of neon light. Hustlers, that movie just came out. I didn’t look at that, but the imagery from that is pretty evocative of what this night was going to be about. So anything in my mind was pulling from that. I’m a pretty big cinephile, I suppose. So I pull from a lot of things I’ve already seen, whether that is, I don’t know, Coyote Ugly or Magic Mike, those kind of colors inform what I should be doing and where I should be standing.
How much do you plan when you go into an assignment like this?
I try to plan as much as I can in so much as, “Oh, I’m going to be here and here,” and I wanna get, not a list of shots, but I wanna make sure that I get far, close and really close. That’s about as specific as I wanna get for something like this. Otherwise, I’m at the disposal of the performers. I’m at the disposal of the energy that is happening onstage. I just capture what they’re giving me. Really, if I go in with a plan, that will not happen within about three minutes after everything starts.
You’re primarily a portrait photographer. How would you say you have to change up your approach when you’re shooting something like this?
I slow it down even more than I usually do. I’m a pretty specific photographer, in that I really like to take my time. But for this, it’s a lot of action that’s going, so I can do the documentary work of what’s happening during the night. I can capture performers onstage and people in the audience and all the interaction that’s happening there. But for this photo, this was an example of the few times of the night that I had to just feel out a performer and say, “Do you mind if I take something that’s a little less candid?” that we have to get a portrait of what’s happening around us. I was fortunate in that just about everyone said yes, so I was able to assess the space and then make the right kind of composition.
So did you know this was the photo you wanted before you shot it?
Actually, yes. It was a long evening. I think it started at 9, and it went till about 2 or 3. So about an hour into it, I saw the bar. The bar was beautiful, just like the glasses and the seating and the way it wrapped around but also gave a full view of what’s happening behind. I knew I wanted to do something there about an hour in, and then the photo that we see here… I don’t know if it’s the last frame, but it’s the last of the 10 frames that I took that night because I knew that I was about to leave, and I was like, “I have to get just this one photo.”
What about this scene made you know that this is what you wanted?
Color and energy. So the performer in the shot, her name is Layla James, and she’s fantastic. I probably could have shot her the entire night. But I wanted to give everyone a spot. But near the bar, it’s like this strange paths of what feels like spotlights of varied color, and the color would change I would say, like, every half a second. I had to shoot rapidly so I could get the right kind of light because if it was just too red or too blue then it washes the performer out. But yeah, there was something about all of this energy of drinks being served and people coming and going and people talking to each other and then directly in the middle of all of that action is just the most important person in the room, the most important thing about the night, which is her.
Why did you pick this photo [to talk about]?
I knew that this night stayed with me a lot because I was fresh in LA, and I was doing some work that I liked and some work that I didn’t like, and then this was a night where I was doing something that I really loved. This brought me back to one of the elements of photography that gets me very excited. I chose this because I thought about it a lot in the moment but didn’t think about it afterward, so I thought if there’s anything to, I don’t know, excavate from this, this would be a nice thing to talk about. That and I think these performers are incredible. I think that trying to make a portrait when something so incredible is happening out of view, that’s an interesting thing to try to do.
So if the most interesting thing in the room might actually be what’s behind you rather than in front of you, how were you able to convey that energy in this photo?
Layla has kind of a natural demure nature to her. When she’s onstage, she is a performer. She really draws the attention of everyone who’s watching her but when she’s offstage, she’s fairly shy, fairly quiet, which was really intriguing to me. I’m pretty sure that’s why I was pulled so close to want to photograph her. So when I approached her, it was at the very end of the night for me. I asked her if I could take a portrait of her near the bar, and she said “Well, I’m not going to sit down in any of the chairs.” And I was like, “I would never, never ask you to sit down on a chair in a bar in a strip club.” Never. While wearing practically nothing. So I knew that something soft would happen there.
Do you think it’s necessary for someone to understand the context of this photo and know what you were documenting that night in order to appreciate it?
No, I think that’s a beautiful thing about it. And that’s a thing that touches on the night of the event of Jolene in general. Jolene, the name of the event, is named after the Dolly Parton song. It’s kind of like an ode to the other woman. And in this case, the secretiveness of, like, a trans-amorous relationship. So these performers are onstage, and they’re beautiful trans women. So you have every kind of person walking in the door. It’s a pretty queer night, but you also have straight men who are there, and there’s a lot of commentary that’s happening as far as, you allow yourself to be enticed, to lust after what you see. So when I look at this photo, I see a beautiful woman. I see a beautiful woman at a bar. If I gave anyone the context of, “Oh, this is a beautiful trans woman,” which is also beautiful and fantastic, I think sometimes — for the audience, for the viewer — an interesting thing might happen where that sways or changes their opinion of what they’re seeing. I think it’s kind of beautiful with and without the context.
It’s almost like, if you give it the context, then someone’s going to look at it and be like, “Oh, my god, look at this important image.”
Right, exactly. It could be look at this important image or in some cases look at this disgusting image or look at this however. There’s a lot of opinion that would come with the context of this photo. But I think as it stands by itself is very much how I see Layla when she walks in the room, which is a beautiful woman who completely owns it.
How important is the concept of frame to this image, both in the sense of the border and the crop of the image and in the sense of how you’ve framed the subject in the scene?
Very. Like, very, very. She’s the focal point. I sat her in the only gap in the bar that existed at the time. Oh, and she was so patient. I was so grateful because she basically had to stand there and just give me face for about a full minute, which feels like forever because people kept coming in and out of frame. A bartender would reach for a glass at the top or something else would happen, so I just had to keep waiting for that moment. She was the focus, and I was just framing everything around her. So the composition of that was very important.
It’s interesting thinking about working slow in a documentary sense. How difficult is that? Do you ever feel like you’re missing something?
I try to go as slow as possible. I feel like I would shoot fairly slow if there were, like, bulls coming at me. I would probably still try to take my time. This also kind of goes back to not having a degree in photography, being self-taught. My degree in theater, especially in directing… An amazing thing can happen when you stop moving. In all the chaos, if you just stop moving, you can then find out the interesting pieces that are happening. One, I always feel like I miss something. It’s inevitable. I feel like if I place myself in the left part of the room for an hour that night, there’s no telling what I could have gotten, but if I find that I’m drifting too much around something that I’m trying to document, I’ll just stop moving. Then the stillness tells me what to shoot.
So much of your portrait work explores body as an element of the portrait. What does body mean to this image?
Body in this sense probably means a lot. She has a beautiful line to her. It’s so clean, and it’s so soft. I kind of like adding a soft touch to almost everything. If I had to photograph the entire starting lineup of the Dallas Cowboys, it would be a pretty soft image for everybody. The body of this is soft but commanding. I try to go with the old truth that the body never lies, so when you put someone in position and you give them any sort of direction or you give them no direction, you’re telling the truth of the moment. You’re telling the truth of the image. So the truth of the image for this moment with her is just something that is undeniably sexy.
So you didn’t have to give any direction to the pose?
Oh, no. One, I didn’t want to, and then two, I didn’t have time. I placed her in a certain position, but then after that, I went around the bar. I’m about, I would say, maybe 10, 15 feet away from her. We’re in a crowded bar, so she can’t hear me at all. So anything that she’s doing… Perhaps, she’d hit something and I was able to stop her with my hand, just as a hand signal, but everything she’s giving me is out of her own will, her own generosity.
One of the things I was thinking about with this that popped into my head as I was jumping into overanalyze mode is I think that there’s a conflict in this photo between visibility and invisibility. You have your subject clearly illuminated in center of the frame — visible, tall, clearly the subject. The image celebrates the subject. Yet no one in the scene notices. No one’s looking over. No one is regarding the subject in any way. Can you talk about the interplay of those themes? I don’t know if I’m stretching here, but once it popped into my head, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
When I looked at it, I thought the same thing, which I really liked, almost as if I placed her in there from another night, from something else. I don’t want to say… The word invisible, the context of that in the context of this might be a little harsh. But the way that no one’s giving her particular attention at that moment… That very well could be because people knew that a photo was taking place and they didn’t want to engage, and that could also be because there was a performance happening onstage at the moment. So everyone’s attention was there. Or they’re trying to get the attention of the bartender. But no, those two things are certainly at play. Visibility and invisibility. I probably could dive deep into it, but I didn’t seek that out. I didn’t try to do that. It was just, for me, a good happenstance.
There’s also the same themes directed upon you as the creator of the image because no one’s paying attention to you either. And I think about times when I’ve shot in bars or tried to do documentary in crowded situations and it’s so difficult to get a frame in which no one’s looking over.
Right. And because this was toward the end of the night, people kind of knew I was there. No one was curious about me anymore, which is great. And also I just try my best to be as out of sight as possible, which is a little difficult because I’m 6’3”. It’s me ducking down as much as I possibly can, putting myself in an uncomfortable position behind a chair or something to be invisible. I don’t think I’ve ever — certainly not one that I’ve published in any way — I don’t think I’ve had a photo where someone’s looking at me. And if that were to happen, it would be very, very intentional.
What does eye contact add to this photo?
Everything. Eye contact first and foremost for this photo is permission, which I think is interesting. I think anyone who’s wearing what she’s wearing and is looking at me, there’s a sense of permission that’s being given. And I think that’s great and I think that’s fairly important in an image like this. If you want to give voice to something, I do my best to let them be the voice and let them tell that story. So this is eye contact or permission, like, “Yes, you can view me in this way. You can take all of this in. Just know that what you’re taking in is fantastic.”
What effect does shooting in a dark scene with limited lighting have on your eye?
I kind of love it. I usually shoot film, like 90 percent of the time. I knew I was coming to this. And because I shoot film on medium format, it was not gonna happen. I was not going to be able to shoot this night like that. So I had to shoot digitally, pretty wide open the entire time. So it’s a lot of just dancing with color. Scoping the place out beforehand, figuring out where the light is coming from. There’s another portrait that I did this night where I just used any available light that was coming from a vending machine. It’s a fun exercise because it really trains your eye into finding the right moments because you can just set yourself up where the light lands. Basically you’re waiting for, I don’t know, the bear to go into the trap. That’s a terrible metaphor to use. But that’s kind of what you’re waiting for. So you’re thinking about composition. You’re thinking about light, but then also you know that most of that is not really up to you. If it were up to you, you would have gotten there five hours ago, and you would have planned out every little thing with every single light that you brought. But because all of these things have been put into place and then because it’s neon and it’s flickering and it changes color every second or two, then you know that you’re dealing with something that is out of your hands, and that’s kind of freeing.
What about this photo feels familiar?
Familiar to me, it just reminds me of… It’s strange to say youth. This photo that’s taken out of a strip club reminds me of youth. But it reminds me of play and freedom, I suppose. Both in the context of what is actually happening and in the context of the stillness of this frame because there’s something inherently theatrical about it. You have a performer. You basically have a stage. And then you have a performance. And you’re capturing that. And then for me that recalls a lot of theater, a lot of acting, a lot of being a performer.
Who’s this photo for? Who’s the audience?
Everyone. If I were to thrust this photo onto someone, I would put it in every straight strip club across the country. That’s what I would do. This photo, I think, is held dearly by the queer community. I’m not saying like, “Oh, this photo is heralded by the queer community,” but if this were something that could be a tangible thing, I think it would be something that would be held tight by the queer community. But I think it’s for anyone who longs for the performer onstage. And I want those people who are longing for it to be the people who don’t usually find themselves in this space.
What about this photo feels like an Erik Carter photo?
I don’t know. I’d like to say I don’t really know what an Erik Carter photo is. That being said I’ve been told that some people can spot my work. I would say tenderness. I think that’s kind of a running theme that I don’t really aim to do, I don’t think, but happens regardless. Yeah. Tenderness. And then technically, lighting, or color. It’s like a muted vibrance.
Is an idea of tenderness… Is that something you discover in the edit of a photo shoot?
Yeah, you mean is it an afterthought, like something that I realize after?
Yeah, like if you have 10 portraits of someone with the same lighting and head changes, expression changes, is tenderness something that you would find then, or would it be something that you kind of have in your head even if it’s not your intention of the photo?
A little bit of both, I think. In my own direction, the way I pose people tends to be fairly soft, for the most part, no matter who it is. But after going and looking at the edit of it, I’m drawn to things that are somewhat soft, somewhat melancholy, somewhat just thoughtful. For this night, I think an easy thing to do… I mean, all of the performers were undeniably sexy performers, so there’s nothing I need to say to make that come though but to have a tenderness to come through… As I went through all of these photos, that’s what I was drawn toward.
What do you think Erik 10 years ago would say about this photo?
Erik 10 year ago would say… What’s that? 2010. Ah, simpler times. He would be shocked, for one, because one thing he thought he was gonna be an actor 10 years ago, and two, he’d be very proud of this photo and this photographer for where he is. I don’t think he would have imagined me being in this kind of space doing this kind of thing. But he’d be pretty proud of his ability to thrust himself in this space and this community and try to capture it. And it would be pretty in line with what he had already been trying to do with his life, which is, in one way or another, give voice or document the communities around him that are important.
How do you think your eye has changed? It doesn’t necessarily have to be since you first started but maybe within the past several years.
I’ve certainly figured out what kind of light that I’m drawn to, like I’m less interested in a darker shadow, I suppose, most of the time. It’s interesting to think about my work now in comparison to as it was like three years ago, four years ago because I’m sure like as many photographers or artists, we always think that we’re constantly growing and learning, which I think is obviously the case for me. But in comparison to my eye three years ago, I don’t really know if a lot of it has changed. I’m certainly still drawn to the softness and tenderness of a moment. But technically I would say I’ve been able to hone in the kind of composition, the kind of light, the kind of color that I’m more interested in. I’ve been able to better replicate a mood, technically.
What have you learn that’s given you the instinct to take this photo specifically?
Patience. I’ve really learned, even more so than what I though I knew before, to give yourself over to a moment and to stop. For me, personally, the work that I’m always the most — I don’t want to say disappointed — but the work that I do and then go back and look at and go, “I wish I had done this. I wish I had done that. Or moved here,” it’s always the result of just moving too quickly. So, patience, and dollying back a few feet. Sometimes when you’re too close to something, you truly can’t compose. Walk back 10 feet or so, and then figure out what the options are. Once you do that, you see all of these other things, all these different, not only facets to the image, but facets to the subject. Even if you’re doing a closeup of someone’s eye, if you walk back a little bit, you can see the possibilities that exist around the perimeter.
How important is it when you’re documenting something to actually experience what you’re documenting? Like, I’ve had assignments where I felt such pressure to get the shot that I don’t know if I was actually able to feel present at the event.
I don’t know if I’ve felt that sensation before. One, I’m always so sweaty because I’m trying to capture as much as I possibly can. I will say that beforehand — this goes along with researching what you’re documenting in the first place — it’s always advantageous to figure out what this event or whatever you’re documenting, what that means to you. And that will kind of inform how you photograph it. So for me, I like to fully immerse myself into something that I’m documenting. I think that makes for much more interesting work, and also makes for much more personal work. Sometimes. I think a lot of the great documentary photographers, you really get a sense of what’s happening because they themselves have immersed themselves in what is happening in that frame. It can be argued both sides of that, like the more you’re away from it, there’s that perspective. But the more you’re in it, that’s where I like to land.
Would you feel the same way, the same kind of level of interest if, say, the subject was, like, bull riding or something like that, or like a rodeo?
Yeah, I mean, not, well… Depending. I’m originally from Texas, so I’ve always wanted to photograph that. That kind of same energy… I think context is everything and the context of what’s happening this night, like I knew that I wanted to highlight and champion all the people that were onstage here. And if I was photographing a rodeo, let’s say, I know that I would want to champion those people, as well. Yeah, that all depends. For the most part, whatever assignment I take on, I’m doing so in service of the people who are there.
How does it feel to review your work in this way?
Odd. It feels odd for a few reasons. One of those reasons is… This year is inescapable, but you can be a photographer, but in my case — and I think in the case of a lot of minority photographers — you are categorized as being a black photographer or a queer photographer or a black-queer photographer or what have you. You’re part of that narrative. Which is great. And I think it’s very important to be a part of that community and then be a part of something that is larger and outside of yourself. But seldom are you asked to be just a photographer. I think that’s really great. So to do it in this way, I really appreciate it because we’re coming at it in a space of someone talking about their eye, their aesthetic, and how they feel about something. Me being black and queer, that informs everything, but we’re talking about being a photographer and just allowing space for that kind of conversation. Not coming at it simply from, “Well, how would a black person shoot this?” So it’s a breath of fresh air to talk about something in this manner.
What’s something unrelated to photography that’s been feeding you creatively lately?
Music. Always. Always, always, always. There’s been some pretty good stuff that’s come out this year. But I often find myself diving back into older stuff. So feeding me creatively is a whole lot of Stevie Wonder, it’s a whole lot of Ella Fitzgerald. I don’t know. I feel like I listen to Jeff Buckley’s Grace in its entirety once every three weeks, and then that will spark something. But yeah, music. One hundred percent.
That’s interesting. We didn’t really mention music when talking about this image. Do you think you can see music in this photo?
I don’t know about music, but I can hear it. I look at the photo, and I can hear it. I hear glasses. I hear talking. I hear something. I think neon implies music sometimes. But this image certainly has a sound.
Interviewed on October 21, 2020.
(This transcript has been edited for brevity.)
Links:
Erik Carter
Vice: “A Look Inside the Sexiest Trans-Inclusive Strip Night in America”