At the outset of Chloe Sherman’s new photography book Renegades, there are three forewords. One by fellow photographer Catherine Opie, one by writer (and former Blatz vocalist) Anna Joy Springer, and one by Tribe 8 vocalist and author Lynn Breedlove. All pay tribute to Sherman’s disarming photographic style and her knack for preserving everyday moments in queer Bay Area history. Breedlove’s words, however, go one step further, viscerally reveling in the memory of what it was to be young, rebellious and queer in 1990s San Francisco.
“We came from around the country and the planet, tired of the crusades to be seen and not killed, from rural places, big cities,” Breedlove writes. “Even NYC and LA looked askance at our out-of-line gender assertions, as we stabbed flags into the dirt, some of us already transitioning, adopting pronouns, audaciously insisting we were gorgeous, terrifying, trifling with normativities, flying in the face of cisterns, tossing dynamite at binaries, then rebuilding ourselves from the bits.”
Breedlove’s searing introduction wholly reflects the 58 pages of photographs in Renegades. But in truth, the book would have had just as much impact — and still succeeded in painting the very same picture that Breedlove does — even if accompanied by no words at all. Sherman’s colorful, intimate, impulsive and affectionate photos speak loudly for the wild, untethered souls in them, as well as the era they were living through.
The queer joy positively beams from these pictures, with a palpable and rollicking sense of newfound freedom and community. Viewing these images all in one sitting is like suddenly being invited into the coolest (and tightest) group of friends you’ve ever had. Those of Sherman’s pals who appear repeatedly — I don’t mind admitting that I grew rather attached to both Harry Dodge and Asia — begin to feel like characters to root for. Each appearance leaves a more detailed impression of their beautiful, unapologetic selves than the last.
