SIGNS OF TENDERNESS
signs of tenderness is an exploration into the formation of chosen family within the queer community, and the unique manifestation of relationships amongst those who identify as such. this project, manifested in a mixed-media photobook consisting of short interviews and photographs of the subjects, documents eight individuals within their chosen families as they exist currently, and how these relationships have evolved over the course of these individuals’ lives. all of our languages of love translate differently, but i can now recognize my own as a need for a sense of comfort, or familiarity, or home, in strange and new places. we create homes of our own where we seek comfort from things familiar. no matter the distance, physical or otherwise, we always find each other. albert camus said ‘never stop waiting for signs of tenderness’, and i never have. buy the print version here: https://www.francescatirpak.com/signs-of-tenderness
signs of tenderness is an exploration into the formation of chosen family within the queer community, and the unique manifestation of relationships amongst those who identify as such.
this project, manifested in a mixed-media photobook consisting of short interviews and photographs of the subjects, documents eight individuals within their chosen families as they exist currently, and how these relationships have evolved over the course of these individuals’ lives.
all of our languages of love translate differently, but i can now recognize my own as a need for a sense of comfort, or familiarity, or home, in strange and new places. we create homes of our own where we seek comfort from things familiar. no matter the distance, physical or otherwise, we always find each other.
albert camus said ‘never stop waiting for signs of tenderness’, and i never have.
buy the print version here: https://www.francescatirpak.com/signs-of-tenderness
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We all hold each other up in the face of the world and whatever it throws at us.
I met Abbey on a dating app shortly after my break-up around the winter
holidays during my first year at university. We went on one date before I started
seeing my current partner, and somehow were able to stay in touch and become
closer as friends over the years. We bonded over our similar music tastes and
traveled between our houses often to attend concerts in each other’s cities. She
was the first close friend I made upon moving to the UK, and I am ever grateful
for her taking the time to stick with me over the years. We may not talk all the
time, but I’m always confident she’s there to speak when I need it.
I found a circle similar to the one I built with my own friends with Abbey and her
gals from Scotland. Even from a distance, even from short encounters, she retains
those friends and those relationships. She supports them, and they support her,
with closeness not rivalled by many. They’ve always had to deal with distance,
both physical and in those strange rifts caused by intermingling friendships but
are now concentrated into the circle that works best for them.
Becca was the first very close friend I made during my gap year in New York.
We bonded over my cold hands; at work, I complained once to them, and they
held my hands in theirs to warm them. We continued this ritual until the weather
warmed and grew closer over those months. The platonic intimacy was special
to me, and something I’ll always associated with queer relationships – we can
transcend the heteronormative ideas of what it means to touch and hug and love
your friends. Some people still ask if we’re dating. We’re planning on moving in
together.
TL;DR: Eliana and Tess knew each other from high school -- where I also knew
them from -- and I knew Gaib through friends outside of school; Eliana and
Becca met through me because we all lived in New York at the same time; Becca
met the gals -- Abbey, Eva, and Beth -- during our group trip to Scotland. While
we all experience different levels of closeness with each other, one can see a
web of relationships being built out of a wealth of shared experience and a
desire for human interaction.
In an interlude in Gender Outlaws, Kris Gebhart wrote, “Us queers, we have to
write our own scripts… Take comfort in creating chaos and know that we thank
you.” It’s always been apparent to me that platonic intimacy is maybe not unique
to the queer community, but definitely more widely accepted therein. We’ve
written our own scripts, in a way, changing the way the story is told.
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