I’ve had Tipping the Velvet on my nightstand for the past year just to really seal the deal on this whole dyke thing.
Catherine Opie, Self Portrait, 1993, Chromogenic print, 40 x 30 in., The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, Gift of Michael A. Mehring
One of my fucking favorites. Please allow me to tell my Catherine Opie story (I have had an individual boxed wine which claimed to contain three glasses, so bear with me): I was at my eldest step-cousin’s Bat Mitzvah in Santa Rosa. I must have been nine or ten, or so. We were at their house for one of the many associated parties that come along with B’nai Mitzvahs (God, I miss those days), and Catherine Opie, her partner, and their young baby happened to be amongst the invited guests. Obviously, I had no idea who she was, but I did know that she was a lesbian because I remember that she was holding the baby, and that she said to a female nearby her, “Honey, can you hand me the bottle?” And I asked my mom, “Mom, are they gay?” And my mom said, “Yes. That lady is also a famous photographer.” And if only I had known then what I know now, although I guess it would be weird for a nine or ten year old to have this knowledge and these feelings. But anyways, finding her art at a later age and then figuring out that earlier “connection” is always strange to me. But I do enjoy that little story.