Reynaldo Rivera’s intimate portrait of queer Latino love
- Text by Miss Rosen
- Photography by Reynaldo Rivera
Propiedad Privada — Growing up during the AIDS pandemic, the photographer entered a world where his love was not only taboo, but dangerous. His new monograph presents inward-looking shots made over four decades, which reclaim the power of desire.
Love, like art, is one of the great mysteries of life. It impels us towards the infinite power of transcendence that forever eludes our grasp. It is the questions that wrap us in their spell, forever promising an answer they refuse to tell. Instead, they demand we be present, simply to let go and allow the experience to wash over our soul.
For photographer Reynaldo Rivera, “Love is a fucking loaded cigar.” It is the promise of pleasure wrapped in an addiction that’s hard to break, especially as we come of age. “When you’re young and in love, you think it’s going to be forever,” he continues. “As soon as you break up, it resets, almost like the last transgressions didn’t leave these deep scars we hear about in songs. You think the next one is going to be the one, and it’s the same thing.”
But despite it all, desire burns brighter than danger and pain – born of wish fulfilment and unmet needs. With the publication of Propiedad Privada (Semiotext(e)/Native Agents), Rivera delves into his archive to create an intimate vignette of friends, lovers, and self-portraits over 40 years. The book forms the perfect counterpoint to his acclaimed 2020 monograph, Notes for a Disappeared City, a wider chronicle of Los Angeles’s legendary underground queer Latino scene during the ’90s.
Coming of age during the AIDS pandemic, Rivera learned from a young age that “love equalled death” as members of the community perished in a pandemic, bolstered by bigotry of the church and state. Sex was a weapon, and romance returned to its original 19th century provenance, the sublime emerging from ruins as the world crumbled to dust. His photographs are filled with love, lust, and longing for that which has been denied, for community, connection, and belonging.
Like his art, Rivera is without pretence, simply telling it like it is. “Love has become such a cliché word,” he says. “It has a standard meaning in the dictionary, but it’s very different from person to person. It’s something you feel from everything you’ve learned throughout your life, and creates this idea of what love is, what it’s supposed to be, and what you are willing to do for it.”
For Rivera, “Hope is the drug. Love is the high” – the dragon we chase until exhaustion subsumes or destroys us. “Hope is the ultimate evil because it keeps us going in circles, doing things you would never do with a rational mind: to keep going in a shitty relationship, a shitty job, you name it,” he says. “You talk yourself into something you want to be true, regardless of whatever the reality is telling you.”
But one day, the illusions of hope come crashing down, and what remains are the scars: the memories, stories, and photographs that preserve our collective histories. And there in the redolent light of truth, we may be born again, older and wiser if we have the courage to face ourselves. Throughout it all, Rivera fearlessly turns the camera on himself, mapping the passage of time across his flesh. “I had a very good dose of body shame. I wanted to be like those skinny British guys in the late ’70s but I had soccer player legs, a big chest, and a big ass,” he says. “Later that stuff worked for me, but at that moment, I couldn’t even look at myself naked in the mirror. It took a long time to turn the camera on myself, but I’m glad that I did because it’s nice to see a body before decay.”
Rivera describes Propiedad Privada as: “an exorcism because it is dealing with all my shame in the guise of love. You can’t talk about love without the sex, violence, regret, and hope. I wanted to show beauty – the idea you can find beauty in the ugliest of places. I don’t believe in God but there is something that ties us all together, and sometimes it’s those moments of love. You can be in a fucked up place and have grace fall upon you.”
Propiedad Privada by Reynaldo Rivera is published by Semiotext(e).
Miss Rosen is a freelance arts and photography writer, follow her on X.
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