COLLIER  SCHORR    
Personal  Best  
 
From   a   distance   it's   safe   to   think   of   Collier   Schorr's   athletes   and   soldiers   as  
abstracted  icons  of  masculinity.  Up  close,  however,  their  bodies  are  marked  by  as  
many   ambiguities   as   Schorr's   work   itself.   By   catching   these   young   men   in  
unscripted   moments   -­‐-­‐   not   their   victories   but   their   moments   of   rest,   their  
practices,   and   sometimes   their   defeats   -­‐-­‐   Schorr   emphasizes   the   performative  
nature   of   their   enterprise.   Her   feminist   critique   exhibits   a   different   nuance   than,  
say,   Cindy   Sherman's   film   stills   did   two   decades   ago,   but   it   revels   in   the   same  
ambiguity,   indicting   viewers   in   its   desirous   gaze   at   the   same   time   it   lines   up   a  
series   of   gender   stereotypes   to   dismantle.   That   her   source   material   is   not   an  
oppressed   group   but   the   potent   heirs   of   privilege   only   testifies   to   her   virtuosity   as  
an   artist.   That   each   image   radiates   a   personal,   at   times   tender,   respect   for   its  
subject  only  testifies  to  her  skill  as  a  photographer.  
 
January  signals  the  opening  of  two  solo  exhibitions  for  Schorr,  one  at  New  York's  
303   Gallery,   the   other   at   Modern   Art   in   London.   Her   most   recent   suite   of  
photographs   marks   a   return   to   the   subject   of   American   high   school   wrestling   after  
a   detour   to   Germany,   where   Schorr   spends   most   of   her   summers.   Her   photos   of  
German  boys  playing  soldier  (and  of  real  soldiers  looking  like  boys  playing  soldier)  
were  her  attempt  to  come  to  terms  with  German  history,  as  a  Jew  and  an  American,  
via  a  quality  she  found  largely  absent  from  German  photography.  As  always  Schorr  
manages   an   interrogation   of   her   own   place   in   society   by   focusing   intently,   if   not  
obsessively,   on   subject   matter   alien   to   her   own   experience   -­‐-­‐   in   this   case,   an   all-­‐
male  wrestling  team  in  New  Jersey  and  its  visual  parallels  to  medieval  depictions  
of  martyrdom.  
 
Craig   Garrett:   Earlier   you   asked   me   whether   I   thought   your   photos   looked   "too  
gay."   Having   always   focused   on   the   feminist   angle   of   your   work   -­‐-­‐   and,   specifically,  
how  decoding  masculine  poses  might  be  relevant  for  a  lesbian  -­‐-­‐  I  confess  I'd  never  
really  perceived  them  that  way.  Your  images  are  extremely  popular  with  gay  men,  
though   -­‐-­‐   not   just   collectors   but   critics   and   curators   as   well.   And   you   seem  
conflicted  about  this  side  of  their  popularity.  I  don't  remember  your  exact  wording,  
but  you  said  that  a  lot  of  male  critics  had  taken  your  work  to  speak  for  their  own  
desire.   Most   of   them   surely   appreciate   its   ambiguity,   knowing   full   well   that   your  
are   not   a   gay   man   yourself.   But   what   do   you   think   this   phenomenon   says   about  
what  kinds  of  dialogues  are  (and  are  not)  encouraged  in  the  art  world  today?    
 
Collier  Schorr:  Objectification  has  usually  been  a  male  mainstay.  Homosociality  is,  
without   a   doubt,   present   in   any   project   that   involves   itself   in   a   male   dominated  
arena,  such  as  sports  or  the  military.  However,  it  may  be  that  some  gay  male  critics  
have  become  too  comfortable  in  the  idea  that  male  sexuality,  or  men  being  caught  
in  the  gaze,  is  the  property  of  male  homosexuality.  That  type  of  "ownership"  allows  
that   women   don't   look   at   men   and   that   when   men   appear   a   certain   way   it   is   a  
performance   for   other   men.   It's   just   another   way   that   women's   desire   is  
undermined.  This  does  give  me  pause,  not  in  image  making  as  much  in  the  editing  
process  afterwards.  The  struggle  is  how  to  represent  men  in  a  more  fully  defined  
way   -­‐-­‐   i.e.,   tenderness,   vulnerability,   physicality   -­‐-­‐   without   falling   into   the   trap   of  
an   assumed   gay   male   gaze.   In   a   way   you   have   to   search   for   varieties   of   ugliness,   to  
almost   de-­‐aesthetify   the   image,   to   try   and   divest   it   of   iconic   perfections,   all   the  
while  making  pictures  where  the  camera  seems  to  fall  in  love.  
 
CG:  What  do  you  think  these  boys  thought  about  being  looked  at  in  this  way?    
 
CS:   You   know,   when   you're   being   photographed   and   you're   busy   doing   something,  
you   don't   think   about   what   you   look   like.   And   you   don't   think   about   what   the  
person  with  the  camera  is  thinking.  You're  just  doing  what  you're  doing.  And  that's  
why   it's   a   great   place   for   me   to   photograph.   I'm   sort   of   inside   someone's   very  
physical,  very  violent,  very  vulnerable  world,  and  they  don't  really  notice  I'm  there.  
And   there's   very   little   distraction.   There's   no   other   people   coming   in,   there's   no  
traffic,   there's   no   noise.   There's   only   that   world.   So   in   many   ways   it's   very   much  
like  a  monastery.  
 
CG:  A  lot  of  artists  choose  to  depict  what  they  know.  But  it  seems  you've  spent  your  
career   looking   into   things   that   are   foreign   to   you,   very   outside   of   your   own  
experience.  
 
CS:  I  think  part  of  that  is  photography.  Photography  really  gives  you  the  option  to  
travel.   I'm   less   interested   in   taking   pictures   of   myself   and   where   I'm   from   and  
more  interested  in  taking  pictures  of  the  places  I  knew  existed  but  never  went  in.  It  
is   very   similar   to   being   in   Germany   and   taking   pictures   of   Nazis   and   seeing  
depictions  of  Christ  and  figuring  out  a  way  to  represent  not  his  physicality  but  the  
fanaticism  that  he  grew  in  others,  this  abandon,  this  idea  of  someone  giving  himself  
over.  In  southern  Germany,  where  I  go  each  summer,  it's  really  Catholic.  There's  a  
lot   of   farmland,   and   everywhere   you   drive   are   crucifixes   with   little   sculptures   of  
Jesus  on  them.  You  can't  not  see  Jesus  there.  The  form  became  familiar  to  me  in  a  
different  way  because  I  was  outside  of  a  church  and  outside  of  art  history.  It's  such  
a   strange   thing   to   see   outside   because   it   seems   so   naked.   And   it   seems   so   much  
closer  to  what  it  must  have  really  looked  like.  
 
CG:  How  long  ago  did  you  begin  photographing  wrestlers?  
 
CS:  I  guess  I  started  maybe  four  years  ago.  And  then  I  took  a  year  break.  I  think  I  
needed   to   take   the   break   to   then   go   back   and   have   it   be   something   other   than  
wrestling.  
 
CG:   Both   of   my   older   brothers   were   wrestlers   in   high   school,   and   one   thing   that  
always   fascinated   me   was   the   way   they   had   to   control   their   weight   so   that   they  
could   wrestle   in   lower   weight   divisions.   At   15   years   old   they   were   more   obsessive  
about   food   than   any   of   the   girls   I   knew.   There   was   a   sense   that   they   were   trying   to  
control  their  bodies  in  every  way.  
 
CS:   Yes,   it's   very   intense,   and   especially   on   the   level   where   your   team   is   the  
number   one   team   in   the   country,   which   is   the   case   at   the   school   where   I  
photograph.   I   saw   their   last   match   and   then   went   back   a   week   later   to   photograph  
a   small   practice,   and   they   had   all   grown.   Within   a   week   they   grew   what   they  
should  have  grown  in  a  whole  year.  In  a  sense  it  is  total  self-­‐torture.  Withholding,  
fasting,   suffering   -­‐-­‐   all   those   things   associated   with   saints,   priests,   monks   and  
sometimes   knights.   Certainly   my   work   is   Romantic,   but   I   think   it's   Romantic   in   a  
restrained,  Romanesque  way.  In  the  work  there's  very  little  ornamentation.  It's  not  
really   baroque.   It's   more   middle   ages.   I   was   interested   in   Cistercian   monasteries  
and  the  way  they  deal  with  the  figure  in  art,  and  I  wanted  to  make  these  pictures  as  
spare  as  possible.  That's  why  they're  lit  in  a  way  to  black  out  the  background.  
 
CG:  You  used  a  flash  mounted  on  the  camera?  
 
CS:  Yeah.  Technically  this  gym  a  really  difficult  place  to  take  pictures  because  it's  so  
dark   and   there's   so   many   bodies   in   the   room.   It   really   feels   like   a   coliseum   filled  
with   gladiators.   You're   in   physical   danger   when   you're   moving   around   them  
because   they're   not   really   watching   you.   They're   in   this   zone   where   they   don't  
even   know   you're   there.   So   in   order   to   shoot   in   there   you   have   to   be   quick   and  
move   around.   It's   not   about   setting   up   or   anything   like   that.   It's   simply   about  
learning   to   balance   the   space   so   that   your   body   is   in   one   place   and   their   body   is   in  
another  place,  and  you  have  the  right  amount  of  distance  to  take  a  picture.  
 
CG:   Do   you   think   they   would   have   reacted   differently   if   you   were   a   man   taking  
these  pictures?  
 
CS:  Completely.  I  think  that  they  had  a  freedom  to  be  sexy.  They  had  a  freedom  to  
be  open.  And  i  think  that  if  i  was  a  man  it  would  be  different  because  I  don't  think  
they  would  be  as  comfortable  being  vulnerable  and  also  exhibiting  themselves.  
 
CG:  How  do  you  think  your  own  sexuality  shaped  that?  
 
CS:   I   guess   the   only   way   I   can   answer   is   that   they   aren't   pictures   taken   by   a   gay  
man.   I'm   not   interested   in   taking   the   pictures   of   winning,   necessarily.   I'm  
interested  in  taking  the  pictures  of  struggling  towards  something.  So  I  don't  share  
the   same   goal   as   the   men   in   the   photos.   I'm   looking   to   capture   something   they  
don't   know   I'm   looking   for   -­‐-­‐   even   though   they're   acting   it   out,   even   though   I   think  
they're  aware  of  the  similarities  between  their  lifestyle  in  that  room  and  a  history  
of  violence,  of  sweating  and  fighting  for  something.  
 
CG:  What  I  find  fascinating  about  both  the  wrestler  project  and  the  soldier  project  
is  that  you've  managed  to  say  so  much  about  the  constructedness  of  gender  while  
focusing  on  a  very  hetero-­‐normative  adolescent  experience.  These  photos  speak  to  
the  performative  nature  of  masculinity  -­‐-­‐  and,  by  extension,  femininity  -­‐-­‐  without  
relying  on  subversively-­‐gendered  subjects  such  as,  say,  transsexuals.  What  makes  
your  work  powerful  is  that  its  subjects  are  so,  for  lack  of  a  better  word,  "normal,"  
and   their   flawed   specificity,   which   inevitably   deviates   from   the   "normal"   of  
Marlboro   ads   and   men's   wear   catalogs,   therefore   makes   them   much   more  
subversive  models  to  demonstrate  the  rehearsals  of  masculinity.  
 
CS:  You  know,  people  say,  "How  come  you  don't  take  pictures  of  girls?"  And  I  say,  
""Well   I   do,   I   just   use   boys   to   do   them."   I   think   that   for   me   these   guys   are   just   a  
kind  of  a  raw  physical  material  to  use,  and  the  brilliant  thing  about  the  project  was  
that   I   didn't   have   to   direct   anything.   It   is   an   ongoing   documentary   project   from  
which,  in  the  editing  process,  I  may  pull  out  separate  and  self-­‐contained  series.  The  
heightened  sense  of  physicality  experienced  by  the  men  I  photograph  transforms  
them.  Viewers  either  see  that  or  they  don't.  I  am  merely  taking  frames  out  of  their  
performances,  and  the  performance  is  as  much  masculinity  or  war  as  it  is  dance  or  
spiritual  ritual.  They  actually  transform  themselves.  I  think  the  biggest  challenge  is  
not   whether   or   not   it   offends   someone's   Christian   sensibility   but   whether   or   not  
people   can   remove   their   initial   reaction   to   it,   that   they   can   take   away   the   idea   that  
they're  about  adolescence  or  sexuality,  because  really  they're  only  about  sexuality  
inasmuch   as   a   crucifixion   is   sexual.   And   it   is   of   course.   But   it's   not   first   and  
foremost  sexual.  
 
CG:  So  how  do  you  avoid  producing  kitsch  celebrations  of  masculinity?    
 
CS:   They   aren't   kitsch   because   I   care   too   much   about   the   men   in   them   to   make  
these   photos   so   one-­‐dimensional.   You   know,   I   don't   know   another   way   to   make  
stuff  except  to  get  so  emotionally  involved.  Not  to  the  point  of  wanting  to  intrude  
on  someone's  privacy  or  world,  but  to  a  feeling  of  affection.  I'm  so  attached  to  the  
figures.  I  don't  know  how  they're  going  to  feel  about  the  pictures,  but...  
 
CG:  Do  you  think  any  of  them  are  going  to  come  and  see  the  show?    
 
CS:   Hopefully!   They'll   all   be   there   in   their   little   ties   and   blazers   and   khaki   pants.  
Probably.  I'll  ask  when  I  go  to  the  next  practice.  
 
by  Craig  Garrett