This body of work explores the traces of queer intimacy in public spaces, particularly those shaped by the practice of cruising. I did not photograph people without consent. Instead, I visited known cruising sites during daylight hours, when they were inactive. Some photographs are quiet observations, discarded objects, disturbed earth, faint trails. Others are collaborative reenactments, created with gay men to evoke gestures and positions familiar to these spaces. Together, these images attempt to build a visual archive that speaks to presence through absence.
Cruising In The West I - XII, 2021 - 2025
Cruising in the West is a photographic project exploring queer presence, intimacy, and erasure across the landscapes of Southern California. My work documents the hidden and often criminalized practice of cruising as both a personal and political act. The project began through research into the migration of queer people from the Los Angeles High Desert region of Southern California. This area became a safe haven for gay men seeking relief from the intense policing, housing discrimination, and surveillance of mid-century urban life. The Palm Springs became a sanctuary as early as the 1930s, when queer individuals, especially those in Hollywood, sought escape from surveillance and the restrictive morals clauses of the studio system. By the 1970s Palm Springs had become one of the most visibly queer cities in the U.S., while the High Desert attracted those seeking more solitude and anonymity.
I chose to photograph in a style reminiscent of the Group f/64 movement, employing deep focus, high-resolution detail, and large-format precision. This approach emphasizes clarity and structure, allowing every texture and trace in the landscape to be seen with equal importance. I use this formal visual language not just to aestheticize these spaces, but to assert their historical significance. The goal is to treat sites of queer intimacy with the same gravity and reverence typically reserved for monuments. In doing so, the desert becomes both subject and witness, holding memory in its stillness.