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Photographic self portrait in the artist’s interior with deceased father pyjama quilt and Fergus the Scottie, after Jack Thompson’s Cleo centrefold 1972, after Titian’s Venus of Urbino 1534 by Lincoln Austin

Photographic self portrait in the artist's interior with deceased father pyjama quilt and Fergus the Scottie, after Jack Thompson's Cleo centrefold 1972, after Titian's Venus of Urbino 1534

Lincoln Austin

About the artist and artwork

Lincoln Austin is a visual artist living and working in Tulmur/Meanjin. Their practice seeks to draw attention to how we perceive the world, encouraging audiences to experience artworks and themselves from multiple viewpoints.

Working primarily with objects, their continually evolving audience focused practice continues to reach into new fields of inquiry and creativity.

Lincoln identifies as Queer, gender non binary. They view their body as a site for the exploration of identity, politics, pleasure and joy, their gender defined by their psychology not their anatomy.

‘I have been an admirer of Jack Thompson’s 1972 Cleo Centrefold photograph for many years, both for its salacious content and subversive feminist subtext.’

The quilt in the image was hand-stitched and made from Austin’s late father’s clothes. Days before it was scheduled to be delivered to an exhibition, a final photographic opportunity presented itself.

‘The couch, the intimate location, surrounded by artworks by friends and peers (and the gorgeous Fergus) was an opportunity too good to pass up.’

“I took the quilt on adventures, sharing it (and our story) with others and photographing it in various locations."

Behind the scenes

When Darryl Austin, the man who fathered me, passed away on October 12th 2021 I asked Gail, the woman who continues to mother me, to save his clothes.These remnant fabrics were Darryl’s protection and projection in the world. They protected his modesty and concealed his failing body, while affirming his maleness.

In my last moment with Darryl he was incapable of speech or movement, he lay withered, helpless and naked on a mattress on the floor of his nursing home room. I lay by his side, holding his hand, kissing his forehead and offering him my thanks and farewells.

Over the next 10 months I planned, prepared and hand-stitched an intricately patterned quilt from his clothes (mostly pyjamas), mourning, while stitching a fabric artwork, dedicated to us, titled ‘longing for the Vitruvian man’.Once completed I took the quilt on adventures, sharing it (and our story) with others and photographing it in various locations.

I have been an admirer of Jack Thompson’s Cleo Centrefold photograph for many years, both for its silacious content and subversive feminist subtext, applauding the rebellious defiance of Jack and Ita Buttrose in publishing it.

Days before the quilt was scheduled to be delivered to an exhibition I made this last photograph. The couch, the intimate location, surrounded by artworks by friends and peers (and gorgeous Fergus) was an opportunity too good to pass up.

As a creative Queer person, whose identity has developed under the influence of contemporary consumer culture, I am acutely aware of the social/sexual currency of both clothing and flesh. However, I no longer wish for my aging Queer body, or the garments I choose to protect or decorate that body in, to be reduced to mere ‘Capital’. I choose to claim personal ownership of these things, grateful for affirmation, but no longer seeking or requiring the approval of others. This has freed me, allowing me to move closer to whomever I wish to be, and manifest greater joy, silliness and fun in my life.