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Wynne Neilly

KEY WORDS

thinking, space, practice, realize, artist, feel, relationship, talking, art, identity, portraits, conversation, speak, photographer, compromise, commercial, photography, work, creative, experience

Wynne Neilly is a Canadian, queer and trans identified, visual artist and award winning photographer who is currently working out of Toronto. He is most known for his monumental cover of TIME Magazine featuring Elliot Page in 2021 along with receiving recognition for winning Scotia Bank's New Generation Photography Award in 2023.

His artistic practice, most often, is an investigation into engaging with the queer and trans identity, both on an individual level and relationally within the community. Wynne’s work aims to open up a conversation around how we read and interpret intimacy between queer and trans bodies, both in the subject matter itself and from his gaze as the image maker. The content of his work seeks to reveal and support the notion of individuality and non-normative presentations of gender identity as political liberation and personal healing.

This conversation took place in March 2023.

Let's start with what your practice is looking like these days.

I feel like I'm figuring out, I don't know, a reincarnation of what my practice is looking like. I felt pulled away from my personal art practice for the last two years. The start of the pandemic also pulled me away from my art practice. As a portrait photographer, as soon as the pandemic hit, contact felt scary; being with people in small spaces felt scary. I wasn't shooting portraiture for a while and distanced myself from my practice. I'm in a place right now where I'm trying to reevaluate what my goals are and rethink what my intention is behind my work, being a bit slower in the development stage instead of feeling this urge to execute the first thing I think about. I'm allowing that concept to grow internally. Before I write it down, I let it return as internal thoughts and see what blossoms. Yeah, spending more time in the development phase of my creative practice.

That's super interesting. I've been talking to a lot of people about the process and how it's so invisible in the end product.

And very abstract, at least for me. That was the first time I've said that out loud, what I just described to you. I just made myself aware that I was doing that. We don't speak about the internal process a lot.

Yeah. It is so intangible and abstract. To look at somebody's work and be like, I want to do that; it's just so much more than snapping a picture or setting up a set or whatever it is.

“Small talk is impossible now.”

– KT

Yeah, that's just the tip of the iceberg. It's making me think, isn't that my intention behind my work? To hope that when someone looks at it, that weird abstract internal process somehow communicates? Yeah. Weird. Interview done. *laughs* Did we arrive at where we were trying to go?

*laughs*

I feel like that speaks to the challenges in commercial work; timelines, deadlines and getting something out in a specific format with very specific parameters. This applies to many disciplines, but photography is both a skill set and an art for so many people. It's interesting to think about switching it into a skill set to fuel your art, whether it's wedding photos, headshots or the more business-centred things you have to do. How do you switch between the two?

It feels very complicated. I'm spending more time with the internal process because I'm also going through a lot of grieving in my expectations of what the commercial space would look like. I have felt so heartbroken. My expectations not being met or surpassed have been kind of crushing. But I'm allowing that grieving process to inform and set me up better for returning to my fine art, creative practice.

Yeah, that speaks to you straddling both, and maybe what you have to compromise in yourself.

This is making me think about people who have realized school didn't work for them and how that type of institution isn't meant for everybody. I feel like I'm having my version of that moment, being like, "Oh, I thought that I was supposed to do that." And I went into it, and not saying I am not still interested in participating in that space, but I think I'm removing the pressures that I have to participate or have to participate consistently. I'm having a bit of a moment of being like, "Oh, my god, university is not for me." Dealing with that as an artist has been a really deep grieving process in a way that I wasn't expecting. It's so built into my identity too.

We're not just talking about me being a photographer and the commercial industry not working in my favour. I'm bringing my trans and queer identity into this and the complexities of that. Straddling that line in the commercial space of, yes, I want to be the trans photographer that shoots portraits of other trans people, I think it's so important for that dynamic to happen in that setting for obvious reasons; the ability to story tell and connect is on a different level. So straddling, yes, I want to do that work, but when it's the only work I'm getting, I feel like I'm ticking a diversity box for people. It's not a pointed feeling at any one magazine or a company that asks me to do that. But when it starts to build up, I'm just like, whoa, is that all I'm seen for in this space? I'm a lot more than that. And while that work is really important, I also want to be validated and acknowledge that I am just a skilled photographer, period. A lot of the grieving process is within having hopes that I'd be able to step into this space and change it or carve out my own path. And that hope is still ongoing, but I'm having a bit of a checkpoint where I need to step back and be like, that was an experience. What did I learn from that? Like, what is this teaching me? How do I move forward from this?

This makes me think of the few places where people can show up as their whole selves. And even though institutions have widened their equity and inclusion initiatives, quote, unquote, blah, blah, blah, they’re like, we're allowing you because you identify with this label that we've given you. You're checking a certain box, but we're still going to ask you to play the same game that we're playing that asks everyone to shut off huge parts of themselves. And if you're cool with that, then we'll pay you. But if you're not-

We'll pay you less than what you should get.

Yeah. The things that, especially marginalized artists, have to compromise to just be in the same arena.

And we've already been compromised, you know? So stepping into that space as a queer and trans creative and being asked to compromise more is exhausting.

Yeah, it's so sad because, ultimately, it doesn't represent the world we're living in.

No, it doesn't.

“It's taught me a lesson in patience. Because how could I have come to this place sitting here explaining this to you without the persistence of 10-plus years of dedication to that same thing?”

– Wynne Neilly

It doesn't translate the range of emotions we all have. It ultimately makes the end project less; it just holds everyone back. I can only imagine how complicated that inner conversation is. And then the inner exercise of asking what am I willing to know is not right, fair, or equitable but accept to be able to pay my rent, and maybe it's better than working this retail job or, like, whatever? So many compromises constantly. And that inner dialogue. It's hard because it's the world we live in. Yeah, I don't know what to do with that sometimes.

Yeah, that's perfectly said and where my headspace is right now. Then you add on the layer of still being in a level of the pandemic that we're not all understanding where we're at. We're all just kind of existing within this anxiety around that. All of the other layers of life become so loud.

Yeah, lately, I've also been thinking about this huge generational divide. And how it's not just age that's separating us anymore and how that's making things so complicated. Like, say I'm working for a Boomer who is not even thinking about self-reflection the way we do, the intricacies and complexities of what we're talking about now compared to a Millennial. Or, a Gen Z, who has so much more language than even what we grew up with. We all share the same spaces and are on different planes of comprehension and basic knowledge. It just involves so many hoops to jump through to communicate a simple thing. Even something as simple as talking about the internet, let alone the complexities, spectrum and span of identity, sexuality, and what people think of gender. Small talk is impossible now.

Yes, yeah, I mean, name one time that you and I have hung out and not had like a two-hour conversation that has no breaks in it. You know? That's also partly due to having been in a pandemic and just having so much bottled up.

“A lot of the grieving process is within having hopes that I'd be able to step into this space and change it or carve out my own path. And that hope is still ongoing, but I'm having a bit of a checkpoint where I need to step back and be like, that was an experience. What did I learn from that? Like, what is this teaching me? How do I move forward from this?”

– Wynne Neilly

Yeah, and those conversations are something I was obviously drawn to and appreciated so much about you. For reader context, we met through the cafe I used to work at, Synonym. We finally exchanged contact information and immediately went into a lockdown, but we still hung out over Zoom. It just felt so comfortable and open right from the get-go.

Well, we had mirrored experiences as well. We met each other at a time when we were really hungry for personal growth, self-understanding and self-awareness. It felt easy to connect because we were both seeking that in one another at the same time.

Yeah, I'm thinking about how that mirroring continued.

And continued and continued and continued.

It's so wild when relationships evolve in those ways, and I can only attribute it to the universe.

Right? More so, lately, I'm noticing that and I'm aware of the possibilities of that mirroring happening in my daily life, in a way, if that makes any sense.

Totally. I was reflecting on just how much happens around us, and the choice of being present to it all and thinking about it further is so optional.

Yes.

“The reason I started taking portraits and fell in love with it was because I was seeking to understand myself.”

– Wynne Neilly

And being more aware brings a bit more work. It makes life a little more complicated, maybe?

Because once you are aware, and you become aware of something, you can no longer deny it. Once you've jumped in with both feet to understand life and understand yourself, repair yourself, and work through your shit, you realize something and then have to do something about it. And you owe it to yourself to do that. Being present is one of those things, where once you become aware of what presence can offer you, you can't deny attempting that in daily life.

Part of ongoing research I'm doing is looking at presence and specifically what brings us into presence. Something that I find a bit mind-blowing is that there are certain things that some researchers claim you need to be able to perceive outside of yourself, which are presence and creative thinking. They say that creative thinking is seeing something that you've always seen one way, pulling it apart, rearranging the connections, and seeing options where you otherwise didn't, where previously you only saw one option and one way forward. I find both of those things interesting that, in the combination of presence and creative thinking, you're able to perceive outside of yourself, think about the future, and maybe connect better with somebody else and acknowledge that their reality is different than yours, and those two things can exist at the same time.

Yeah, getting to "both and" and having respect within that.

Yeah. And that it's so much more than just being told to be present. But really like,

practising it.

Yeah, so much practice, so much work.

Yeah, the practice to be in the here and now. And if you're always thinking forward, when are you ever processing now?

Yeah. We get so afraid of the future.

I am definitely not exempt from that.

“Right now, I'm so fascinated by the relational aspect of portrait making; that's a larger component than I had originally thought. As I've aged and grown as a person and artist and learned more about my style and work, the relational component of my practice is being uncovered for me. It's probably the most important, but least paid attention to.”

– Wynne Neilly

Yeah, same. Yes. And that's the thing, too, in being present or being open to thinking about all these things, it's also coming face to face with our shadow selves and all the contradictions within us. I feel like in art practice, as well as creative groups, there's so much pressure to talk about mental health but ultimately still show up in a very clean, beautiful, neat box. I'm curious how that shows up in your work, if it does?

A less obvious way it shows up is the reason I am a portrait photographer. I started portrait photography because I needed support. I needed support because I experienced so much emotional neglect and little support around my identity. The reason I started taking portraits and fell in love with it was because I was seeking to understand myself. This is really interesting to me because what I'm working on in therapy is learning to experience my own emotional states. So, seeking to learn about myself through other people through portraiture matches my internal trauma experience.

That's huge.

Totally.

I just had a moment a few weeks ago with my dad, actually. He called me up, and he asked me to teach him a dance that he just kept seeing on YouTube. He sounded super vulnerable in asking. I think he felt a little embarrassed because he's this 50-something-year-old man, and we've historically not been close; we didn't have a good relationship, but we are now repairing that. So he asked if I would be open to teaching him this shuffle. He was like, I know that you love dance so much, and I think about all the dances that I missed of yours growing up, and this could be a really good opportunity to be close. He said he thought of asking because of CEREMONY and how it relates to this project. I had this moment of being like-

You're like, am I understood by my own parents? That's foreign.

Yeah, it was like I had a whole new perspective on why I was even doing this. I was like, maybe that was the whole point all along.

As you're saying this, I'm rethinking what I was just talking about. I kind of explained my purpose in my art. There was a side of my brain that was firing off all of these different ideas of what could be really cool to explore within that. When something like that gets brought up and unlocked, you're kind of like, whoa.

Yeah, and what's so amazing is that we don't even know we're doing it. I guess the work in therapy is to open your eyes to all these things that you do subconsciously.

Yes.

It's cool to think portraiture is what you've turned to and have created this beautiful catalogue of work with. And then, realizing at this point the deeper work you're doing through it all.

It's taught me a lesson in patience. Because how could I have come to this place sitting here explaining this to you without the persistence of 10-plus years of dedication to that same thing?

Yeah, that's so beautiful.

Over and over, through rejection through success through rejection, you know? How else do you get there?

Yeah, 100%. And all the rejections, if there's no other option, someone accepting the work or not, is beside the point.

Yeah, because I have to do this.

Yeah, exactly. It's like, well, I'm still on this journey.

You're reminding me of something I was listening to this morning. She's a translator, writer and poet, and she was saying how other writers influenced her so much. But, she resisted calling herself a writer for a long time because she was like, what does a writer mean? Does it mean you've published a book, whatever?

I've been thinking about that lately, thinking about yourself and your identity as an artist and also ebbing and flowing through a commercial, like the business side, and then a personal art practice.

You're pulling out exactly what I'm trying to say. When you accept your identity as an artist because you realize you have to do it.

Yeah, it doesn't matter if it's in a gallery or in your home; it's a practice and it's who you are.

Exactly. Yeah. And I think "artist" is so confused lately as "artist equals consumable product," "artists equal brand," and "artist equals like..," the language around it is confusing. I'm trying to think about it in a separate pocket from that.

I'm thinking about how when you scale "art" down to something like an everyday practice, like walking, breathing, eating, or making our cup of coffee every day, whatever brings you joy and makes you feel like you in those moments, it suddenly doesn't have to be monetized to mean something.

Yeah, it's capitalism that comes in and confuses the identity of the artist. Historically, artists made art to make art for art. This monetization around it has complicated it so much.

Totally. This comes back to the start of CEREMONY. My book-making started at zine fairs. I felt like an imposter being like, oh, yeah, I made this book with a friend. She's an artist because she went to art school, but I'm just along for the ride; this is just fun for me. But, so many people that we talked to, we'd ask, do you make art? And they'd say, no, no, no. And then later in the conversation, they'd share; I do write, take photos, play music, or whatever it is. Because they weren't monetizing it, they just were so afraid of sharing it and identifying that art was a practice in their life. I'm thinking of a classmate right now who's an engineer. But as I've gotten to know her, she makes jewellery, knits, bakes and makes these beautiful designs. And she's so modest and says those are just things she does, but she's not an artist.

For the longest time, I thought that about myself too. I was like, well, I like working in a kitchen at this restaurant, but I am a photographer. Once you put monetization on it, it complicates the relationship. That's what put me in this position of feeling complicated about my practice. I wasn't specifically seeking to participate in the commercial photography world. It just happened. I decided to ride the wave and see where it took me, and somewhere along the way, I set my expectations too high and got disappointed. This is what I mentioned earlier about reevaluating, coming back to what I want to do, what I have to do, what my identity as an artist is, and what my purpose is.

“I think ‘artist’ is so confused lately as ‘artist equals consumable product,’ ‘artists equal brand,’ and ‘artist equals like..,’ the language around it is confusing. I'm trying to think about it in a separate pocket from that.”

– Wynne Neilly

Yeah, I had a conversation with this woman from Finland not long ago, and she said that asking, "What do you do?" is so specific to North America. She was like, back in Finland, we start talking to someone, and if they bring up their job or, you know, their nine-to-five or whatever it is, then so be it.

They'll bring up what's important to them.

Exactly. And it also got me thinking of how if we approached conversations like that more here, people probably wouldn't mention their job because most of us are doing things we have to do versus what's a part of us. But it got me thinking about how enriching those conversations would be because we would be talking more about what's important to us instead of somebody asking what you do and then categorizing you from there. It feels limiting. It feels so limiting, and our value feels so attached to that categorization.

Yeah. There's a lot there.

Yeah. When you shared your expectations in commercial photography, I'm curious about how you said it's less about your expectations being too high, but realizing that you didn't want to lower them, so thinking about it not being a good fit versus staying and adjusting your expectations etc.

Yeah, when I say my expectations are too high, I don't believe that. But, based on my experience, they were clearly too high. I need space from it, too. It's interesting. At this moment, I'm teaching myself a lesson about space, space from a relationship to anything. I realize that everything has a relationship to everything, and every relationship requires space. Space is uncomfortable to me as an anxiously attached person. I don't do well with space. I'm just so deep in the work of undoing a lot of that. I'm giving that space to my art practice and photography so I can return to it with fresh eyes and a new way of thinking. Perseverance and patience is so built into that as well.

I heard this sentiment around having expectations and what it means to ask for those expectations to be met. It was a Dan Savage interview, and he was saying in healthy relationships with anything, jobs or partners, friends, or otherwise, showing up with your needs is part of showing up in the relationship. To ask for those needs to be met also means being willing to lose what you have because whoever you're asking might say no or not be able to meet them. I can sometimes be anxious too, and in the past, I would so rather quiet my needs and take care of them myself than risk losing-

Yes. The relationship.

Yeah, risk losing this seeming stability. I'd rather compromise myself than risk losing this. So I think about how healthy and natural it is to give yourself space from those industries that could quickly become toxic relationships.

Totally. You can easily slip into feeling chewed up and spit out.

Yeah. And sensitive, more anxious, vulnerable people, especially those in marginalized bodies, are constantly asked to become less sensitive, less yourself. At least in myself, sometimes the dialogue is like, I just have to be more confident, it's me that's the problem, and I should put on some more armour and not care as much. But it's so exhausting.

And it doesn't feel genuine.

Yeah, and for what?

Exactly. That really lands with me.

So interesting what we chase, and then you get there and have a perception shift.

Yeah. That brings up the topic of feeling the need to be in control. Not everything can be exactly what you want it to be or how you picture it to be. Surrendering to that lack of control is excruciating, you know?

Yeah, exactly. You've talked about this a little bit, but I'm curious if you want to expand on it at all; who, or what do you bring forward with you in your work?

Yeah, I'm thinking about all the things we just brought up and all the like points that were made connecting personal growth, experience, identity as an artist and trauma and how all of that is all the same thing connected. All of that is also affecting my approach to portraiture and my understanding of what I'm interested in while I'm shooting, like what parts of the process and practice are things that I can sort of investigate further, expand upon, and learn more about within myself. Right now, I'm so fascinated by the relational aspect of portrait making; that's a larger component than I had originally thought. As I've aged and grown as a person and artist and learned more about my style and work, the relational component of my practice is being uncovered for me. It's probably the most important, but least paid attention to. That's something I'm trying to rework and rethink as I start new work.

Yeah, as you're saying that, I was thinking about the difference between taking a photo of someone versus being in a relationship with them.

Yeah, collaborating, creating portraiture.

“For a long time, I was under the impression that I was to leave behind proof of representation. And now we're in a place where we're less focused on art for representation sake. So I'm reevaluating that in myself.”

– Wynne Neilly

I'm curious about how challenging it is in portraiture to have never met someone or know them and then be asked to take their portrait.

Yeah, I mean, it's hard. Sometimes I'm bad at it. Just because I am a skilled photographer does not mean that every photo I take is good. I definitely have to say that. It's like saying everyone you meet in the world could be your friend, right? Sometimes the relationship doesn't work, and it is a relationship. Even if it's brief, even if it's one hour, it is a relationship that you are building. That's the part that's a little out of my control. Sometimes I'm open, and the other person isn't open in the ways I'm looking for, but I think that's the magic of chance as well.

It's cool to think about it in that relational way of give and take. Like any relationship, it gets complicated when it's all one person giving and the other taking. In hiring a photographer, maybe people sometimes don't expect to do any giving back. It's like, I'm hiring you to do the work, so you give it to me, right?

Yeah, you give me this service.

Yeah, and your approach really rebalances that and is like, I need you to show up too.

That's why the commercial space has felt really challenging to me because I don't have the ability to nurture that environment from the beginning. I am not in control of that. More and more, I realize how important relationships are to me. To me, there are three components: creative intention, technical skill and, for me, the relational part. Yes, you can create beautiful, successful portraits if you take that third part away; there's still good work. But I think the relational part brings a level of unspeakable connection forward in observing images that ultimately have a stronger impact. I know when I've hit those three spots in my work, and I feel it, that is where the fire builds to create. The commercial space really challenges that in me. Starting in a fine art, personal art practice, and then entering the commercial space isn't everyone's path. I think some people maybe go to school or don't go to school, or they're self-taught, and they immediately go into a business approach, like wedding photography, commercial, and they funnel in that way. When you are really heavily focused on a personal art practice, and then go into this heavily monetized environment on your work, it's so challenging to be like, how do I bring all of that with me? Is it possible, and am I able to live without it? Those are the questions I'm living with right now. I'm like, I need to take a step back from this because I don't feel like I'm able to bring my whole creative self forward in that space.

Huge.

Are we having a therapy session? *laughs* But how can we have a conversation about art without having a conversation about all these other things? Within the photography space, I started to realize it was important to figure out my voice and what voice I was portraying. I started to ask, can I have one voice for both strains of my work? And it just kept proving to me that I had to sacrifice one for the other and that I had to create a similar voice but a lessened voice. It started to feel so exhausting. And you're not honouring yourself.

It makes me think if there were just more spaces where you could have conversations and relationships like these, where you could be your whole self and not have to monetize everything you do because the cost of living is so high, spaces you don't have to compromise so much of our emotional selves, and mental health, to exist every day, I mean what role would therapy play if that were the case?

This kinda of leads into the next question around what you leave behind in your work for the archeologists of the future?

Yeah, that's a really good question. I'm sure my answers are also a work in progress because that is the question I'm living with right now. For a long time, I was under the impression that I was to leave behind proof of representation. And now we're in a place where we're less focused on art for representation sake. So I'm reevaluating that in myself.

I think I'm gonna pass the torch to you to hear, and I'll have thoughts on that.

Well, building off what you shared, when I looked at this question, what came to mind from what you're sharing is about the responsibility of what we're leaving behind and what the impact of you silencing or quieting your voice is for anyone finding your work in the future. I'm thinking about the moment of freedom a person feels when they hear something someone else says that they've been feeling and realize they're not alone. So if we're constantly silencing ourselves in certain ways, what does that do-

- to the work that we leave behind? Yeah, how do you create art at full potential?

Yeah, the work you feel intuitively is more encompassing of your whole self; that's the place that really like has the power to move us forward. If everyone could do that, that's the world I would want to be living in in the future.

That's a deep one. That one is gonna live in my little brain for a while.

Yeah, me too. We're often not challenged to think about being accountable to the future or see the present as part of a full cycle. In design right now, people are finally asking, what's the lifecycle of this object? When will it fall apart? And when it does, what does that look like? And what's the impact of that? We're not taught to think that way.

Yeah, and I mean the commercial photography space participates in capitalism, spending money shopping and things that are not sustainable. Not only those things, of course; I'm speaking very broadly.

Yeah, but it's like the fuel, though, the machine.

Exactly. Yeah. It raises questions about ethics and how much I want to step into that space. When I think about what I want to leave behind, do I want to leave a portfolio of work that lived in that space? Or work that I'm making for the sake of making it? That's what comes up when I think about refocusing on my art practice.

This relates to relationships as well. This designer speaking the other night was from Italy, and he emphasized the need to love every object around you. He asked us how we would make decisions if love were what led us to purchase anything.

And that's so not the driver behind most; consumption models are not based around that.

Yeah. I want to say those models translate over to our human-to-human relationships. You know, capitalism has sometimes driven many relationship models to unintentional, unaccountable connections. Especially artist relations with agencies, corporations or jobs and galleries, artist cuts, who takes what. What if in work we saw those relationships as ones that we-

Nurture fully? Yeah.

Yeah, how that would change the world it exists in.

Yes. I've definitely experienced some of those which feel encouraging. But if it's only 10% of the people you work with, it's only making a small amount of change.

Totally. So moving on, is there an area you're dying to collaborate in or make other things?

Sometimes I feel interested in exploring painting or something like that. It would be more of a private practice, like just an exploration. I just love photography. I love that medium. I often can't imagine much outside of that. I've dabbled with multimedia elements of exhibitions, and I like blending textural items, sculptural pieces, and audio with photography. I like what it can lend. But I'm not dying to dip my toes into or collaborate on anything solely outside of photography.

And lastly, is there a song, movie, phrase, or anything on repeat right now? Anything you've watched or listened to that you want to share?

This feels like the hardest question out of all of them. A phrase that always runs through my head is, "If you know better, you do better."

That's a good one.

Simply put, just like that. It is on repeat in my head often.

That relates to everything we've talked about, giving yourself space to learn, to know more, and being curious to know more because we can always know more.

We sure can.

Okay, cool. Any last thoughts?

No, I feel like I just poured my entire brain and soul out, so I don't know what else there is to say.

“Because once you are aware, and you become aware of something, you can no longer deny it. Once you've jumped in with both feet to understand life and understand yourself, repair yourself, and work through your shit, you realize something and then have to do something about it. And you owe it to yourself to do that.”

– Wynne Neilly

WYNNE NEILLY

Wynne Neilly is a Canadian, queer and trans identified, visual artist and award winning photographer who is currently working out of Toronto. He is most known for his monumental cover of TIME Magazine featuring Elliot Page in 2021 along with receiving recognition for winning Scotia Bank's New Generation Photography Award in 2023.

His artistic practice, most often, is an investigation into engaging with the queer and trans identity, both on an individual level and relationally within the community. Wynne’s work aims to open up a conversation around how we read and interpret intimacy between queer and trans bodies, both in the subject matter itself and from his gaze as the image maker. The content of his work seeks to reveal and support the notion of individuality and non-normative presentations of gender identity as political liberation and personal healing.