Exhibition Review: Ajamu X, The Patron Saint of Darkrooms by Ama Will
Celebrating Black queer liberation and pleasure as activism. Ama Will shares her visit to Ajamu X's latest exhibition hosted at Autograph.
A review of Ajamu X, The Patron Saint of Darkrooms. An exhibition featuring work from an extensive body of work from 1994 - 2023 by Ajamu X.
By Ama Will
Previously at Autograph Gallery in Hackney, Ajamu X’s The Patron Saint of Darkrooms was a photography exhibition celebrating black queer liberation and pleasure as activism. An archivist and activist, Ajamu’s carefully crafted works demand a radical reinterpretation of the juncture of politics and play. The exhibition features work from multiple series including Black Bodyscapes (1994) focused on the private sexual realities of black gay men[1] Black Circus Master (1997) a frivolous fraternise with black kink and Ecce Homo (2023) portraits of black trans men.
I planned to visit the exhibition and seek answers to questions which had entered my psyche as vividly as Ajamu’s portrait Power Drill Heels (2021). How does pleasure become activism? What is a Patron Saint of Darkrooms? Following my initial curiosity, I discovered Autograph was hosting an event alongside the exhibition in which the sisters of Perpetual Indulgence would reaffirm Ajamu X as, The Patron Saint of Darkrooms. The Sisters are a worldwide order of secular queer and trans nuns who, alongside promoting universal sparkle and joy,[2] are serious political activists supporting LGBTQIA+ causes. Enticed by an evening of the erotic and the opportunity to hear a queer pioneer from my hometown Huddersfield in conversation, I sauntered down the backstreets of Old Street expecting the unexpected.
The Canonisation
Ajamu chose the former Gemini club in Huddersfield as the location for his initial canonisation as The Patron Saint of Darkrooms. Described as a “cesspit of filth” the gay club became an icon of resistance against homophobic targeting, with the London Pride March notably relocating there to prevent its closure in 1981[3]. I would find radical intentionality a distinct theme in Ajamu’s work.
As attendees of the Autograph ceremony, we were adorned with pink inflatable kinky flamingos and participated in incantations of “Love and lubrication to you!”. Following this, two Sisters from the Trans Pennine Travelling order, re-sainted Ajamu in celebration of the exhibition and his profound career documenting queer lived experience. I spoke with Sister Polly Amarosa about immortalising him in this way: “We chose to canonise Ajamu X primarily for his commitment to celebrating black gay and trans men…representing them as sensual, beautiful, strong, gentle and with agency”.
“Black queer and trans men exist and quite plainly ‘like to fuck’.”
During the artist talk, Ajamu explained the role of pleasure in activism. According to Ajamu, we live in a society where pleasure is feared. Black queer and trans men exist and quite plainly "like to fuck". Under a white sociological framework, however, there is an obsession with content which limits the black queer experience to visibility and identity politics. Frustrated with consistent erasure, Ajamu begins with images he needs to see. The viewer is invited to look behind the camera lens and understand his work through process, beauty, and aesthetics.
The Exhibition
Greeted by the “this exhibition contains latex” allergy warning, I proceeded. The exhibition begins with Ajamu’s ode to the darkroom preparing the viewer for an encounter with images that are alive. I accepted the invitation.
The Patron Saint of Darkrooms exhibits work spanning 30 years and I was struck by the portraits’ uniformity in form. Monochrome and high contrast the subjects appear unequivocal – they demand attention. In Aura, 1992 the steely stare of the anonymous wearer of the gimp mask is offset by the vulnerable and relaxed touch of their sexual partner. This layered approach to pleasure continues throughout Ajamu's work. In Reluctant Voyeurs (2021) Ajamu captures his sitters during the moments of orgasm. An alternative to over-exaggerated representations of climax shown in modern media, Ajamu offers a more intimate examination. The tender loss of control in the body juxtaposes Ajamu taking control of “white hijacking” of pleasure, where orgasm is either an overwhelmingly overt performance or falls victim to British sexlessness and silence. It’s a bold reframing of black queer pleasure outside of the status quo and it is done well.
In Ecce Homo [Behold the Man] Portraits of Black Trans Men, Ajamu positioned the sitters similarly to royalty in historical portraiture. His artistic choice resonates well, capturing self-assuredness and confidence. I spoke with Abel Holsborough, one of the sitters in the series about Ajamu’s ability to create trust when shooting. “Ajamu constantly weaves references into conversation…plus just making you laugh, I felt comfortable in front of his lens.”
“Ajamu intends to stimulate viewers beyond the visual, whether through scent, arousal or memory[5].”
I savoured Ajamu's latex-lined darkroom to view last. As a centrepiece, the space recreates both a photographer's darkroom wherein images are developed and a sexual darkroom which one may find in a gay bar or club where people can ‘cruise’ and seek sex[4]. Ajamu intends to stimulate viewers beyond the visual, whether through scent, arousal or memory[5]. Stepping into the darkroom was like being enveloped by a salacious lover from the past, the longer I stayed the more comfortable I became in its erotic hold. At first, portraits appeared distorted within the red-tinged darkness. I moved closer. With my eyes adjusted, intimacy with the images was unavoidable with my face a few centimetres away from the shared phallic touch in Hands and the nude self-portraits of Ajamu in his series Laughing (1997). I was once again struck by Ajamu's intentionality. The sensuality of men relating in sexual intimacy, alongside more explicit depictions of kink and play, alongside his unfiltered joy. The most impressive part of Darkrooms is the ease with which Ajamu presents the nuanced reality of pleasure that is specifically black, queer and masculine.
I'm unsure whether every viewer will engage with the exhibition beyond Ajamu's anathema; his work being limited to its content. To step beyond society's straitjacket of sensibilities and embarrassment around sex and desire is a large ask, to step into black queer lived experience larger still. What The Patron Saint of Darkrooms does achieve, is Ajamu's unapologetic celebration of the spectrum of black queer and genderqueer experience. For Ajamu, storytelling through the darkroom is indeed holy and this is reflected in the level of craftsmanship found in an exhibition which stimulates the senses and permeates our preconceptions of pleasure.