Rejected by Museums Around the World, This New Art Exhibition Explores the Historical Roots of the Term 'Homosexual'
Rejected by Museums Around the World, This New Art Exhibition Explores the Historical Roots of the Term ‘Homosexual’
“The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869-1939” is a sprawling collection of more than 300 works at Chicago’s Wrightwood 659 gallery
An 1890 photo by Alice Austen titled The Darned Club
Collection of Historic Richmond Town / Wrightwood 659
In 1868, the Hungarian writer and activist Karl Maria Kertbeny coined the terms “homosexual” and “heterosexual” in a letter to his friend, the pioneering sexologist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs.
Kertbeny was arguing against a German anti-sodomy law that made sexual contact between members of the same gender punishable by up to four years in prison. He reasoned that humans had innate desires—some homosexual, some heterosexual—that could not be regulated by the state.
Although Kertbeny had just used the terms for what scholars believe is the first time, the language was already charged with the same imprecision that exists today. An expansive label like “homosexual” could describe actions; desires; and, crucially, an entire identity.
The artistic and social “sea change” that accompanied the birth of the term “homosexual” is the subject of “The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869-1939,” a sprawling, ambitious exhibition at the Wrightwood 659 gallery in Chicago’s Lincoln Park neighborhood. It is on view until July 26.The scale and scope of the exhibition is staggering. It gathers more than 300 works by 125-plus artists from 40 countries, on loan from private collections and major institutions like the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Musée d’Orsay.
“It is the kind of exhibition that a massive institution like the Met regularly pulls off,” curator Jonathan D. Katz, an art historian at the University of Pennsylvania, tells the Chicago Sun-Times’ Courtney Kueppers. “But for a small, fairly new institution like Wrightwood 659 to pull off,is kind of extraordinary.”
“Before the Binary,” the first of eight sections in the exhibition, begins decades before Kertbeny’s letter. Its focus is on longstanding cultural, sexual and romantic practices that modern language occludes.
Dance to the Berdash is an 1835-1837 oil painting by George Catlin, a 19th-century artist known for his paintings of Indigenous life and the American frontier. It depicts a real feast Catlin witnessed in which members of the Sac and Fox tribe paid tribute to a Two-Spirit leader, a person who was born male but who dressed, performed and lived as a woman. Non-Indigenous observers applied the term “berdache,” now considered derogatory, to identities and practices they considered foreign. Catlin’s painting depicts what language could not capture.
Dance to the Berdash, George Catlin, 1835-1837
Smithsonian American Art Museum
“Art can tell this story uniquely well,” Katz says in a statement. “While written narratives must necessarily use specialized words to describe ideas, visual imagery is more elastic, allowing for coincident layers of meaning.”
More modern works by well-known artists like Jean Cocteau, the Lumière Brothers, Gustave Moreau, John Singer Sargent, Egon Schiele and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec also convey those nuances with tact across the seven other sections of the exhibition.
In “Portraits,” Katz and associate curator Johnny Willis assemble a 1907 portrait of Gertrude Stein, the only full-size portrait of Oscar Wilde painted in his lifetime and Thomas Eakins’ celebrated oil portrait of Walt Whitman.
Some portraits explore sexuality more overtly than others, but all can be read in the spirit of the exhibition. Where do actions become identity? Do modern audiences have the right to retroactively apply labels to celebrated past figures who may have never embraced them?
Another section of the show explores relationships through the photography of Alice Austen, a Victorian-era photographer in New York City who trained her lens on women’s lives. Still others examine how nude portraits have shifted with changing understandings of sexuality and how same-sex desire converged with colonialism and resistance.
Gertrude Stein, Félix Vallotton, 1907
The Baltimore Museum of Art / Mitro Hood / Wrightwood 569
Wrightwood 659’s ability to land an exhibition like “The First Homosexuals” is in part due to its controversial subject matter. “Queer art is the third rail of the art realm,” Katz tells Block Club Chicago’s Web Behrens. “One very highly placed museum director told me, ‘This is exactly the exhibition I want to show, and therefore exactly the exhibition I can’t.’”
Katz estimates that between 80 and 90 percent of the museums and art collectors he asked to contribute art to the exhibition rejected his requests, per Fast Company’s Grace Snelling. Later, nearly all of the museums Katz approached to host the multimillion dollar exhibition declined, even when he offered it to them for free, the Sun-Times reports. Besides Wrightwood 659, the only museum to express interest was the Kunstmuseum Basel in Switzerland, which is in talks to bring part of the show to Art Basel 2026.
Despite enduring prejudice toward queer art, the exhibition at Wrightwood 659 has been a roaring success, with the gallery selling more advance tickets to it than any other show in its seven-year history.
The final piece in the exhibition is an archway full of photographs of the Nazis burning thousands of books at Berlin’s Institute for Sexual Science, the first sexology research center in the world, in 1933.
“The idea that everything that flowers over the course of the exhibition can so quickly be destroyed, is, of course, a metaphor for where we are now,” Katz tells Fast Company.
While Kertbeny’s terms became twisted into means of isolating “homosexuals” from the rest of the population, as the persecution and mass murder of queer people during World War II exemplifies on a horrific scale, the exhibition strikes a unified note about belonging, even in the midst of confusion and fear.
“We wanted to show how art offered numerous positions along that spectrum, positions that literally had no words to describe them,” Katz tells Block Club. “Art could figure what language could not.”
“The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869-1939” is on view at the Wrightwood 659 in Chicago through July 26.
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#rejected #museums #around #world #this
Rejected by Museums Around the World, This New Art Exhibition Explores the Historical Roots of the Term 'Homosexual'
Rejected by Museums Around the World, This New Art Exhibition Explores the Historical Roots of the Term ‘Homosexual’
“The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869-1939” is a sprawling collection of more than 300 works at Chicago’s Wrightwood 659 gallery
An 1890 photo by Alice Austen titled The Darned Club
Collection of Historic Richmond Town / Wrightwood 659
In 1868, the Hungarian writer and activist Karl Maria Kertbeny coined the terms “homosexual” and “heterosexual” in a letter to his friend, the pioneering sexologist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs.
Kertbeny was arguing against a German anti-sodomy law that made sexual contact between members of the same gender punishable by up to four years in prison. He reasoned that humans had innate desires—some homosexual, some heterosexual—that could not be regulated by the state.
Although Kertbeny had just used the terms for what scholars believe is the first time, the language was already charged with the same imprecision that exists today. An expansive label like “homosexual” could describe actions; desires; and, crucially, an entire identity.
The artistic and social “sea change” that accompanied the birth of the term “homosexual” is the subject of “The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869-1939,” a sprawling, ambitious exhibition at the Wrightwood 659 gallery in Chicago’s Lincoln Park neighborhood. It is on view until July 26.The scale and scope of the exhibition is staggering. It gathers more than 300 works by 125-plus artists from 40 countries, on loan from private collections and major institutions like the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Musée d’Orsay.
“It is the kind of exhibition that a massive institution like the Met regularly pulls off,” curator Jonathan D. Katz, an art historian at the University of Pennsylvania, tells the Chicago Sun-Times’ Courtney Kueppers. “But for a small, fairly new institution like Wrightwood 659 to pull off,is kind of extraordinary.”
“Before the Binary,” the first of eight sections in the exhibition, begins decades before Kertbeny’s letter. Its focus is on longstanding cultural, sexual and romantic practices that modern language occludes.
Dance to the Berdash is an 1835-1837 oil painting by George Catlin, a 19th-century artist known for his paintings of Indigenous life and the American frontier. It depicts a real feast Catlin witnessed in which members of the Sac and Fox tribe paid tribute to a Two-Spirit leader, a person who was born male but who dressed, performed and lived as a woman. Non-Indigenous observers applied the term “berdache,” now considered derogatory, to identities and practices they considered foreign. Catlin’s painting depicts what language could not capture.
Dance to the Berdash, George Catlin, 1835-1837
Smithsonian American Art Museum
“Art can tell this story uniquely well,” Katz says in a statement. “While written narratives must necessarily use specialized words to describe ideas, visual imagery is more elastic, allowing for coincident layers of meaning.”
More modern works by well-known artists like Jean Cocteau, the Lumière Brothers, Gustave Moreau, John Singer Sargent, Egon Schiele and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec also convey those nuances with tact across the seven other sections of the exhibition.
In “Portraits,” Katz and associate curator Johnny Willis assemble a 1907 portrait of Gertrude Stein, the only full-size portrait of Oscar Wilde painted in his lifetime and Thomas Eakins’ celebrated oil portrait of Walt Whitman.
Some portraits explore sexuality more overtly than others, but all can be read in the spirit of the exhibition. Where do actions become identity? Do modern audiences have the right to retroactively apply labels to celebrated past figures who may have never embraced them?
Another section of the show explores relationships through the photography of Alice Austen, a Victorian-era photographer in New York City who trained her lens on women’s lives. Still others examine how nude portraits have shifted with changing understandings of sexuality and how same-sex desire converged with colonialism and resistance.
Gertrude Stein, Félix Vallotton, 1907
The Baltimore Museum of Art / Mitro Hood / Wrightwood 569
Wrightwood 659’s ability to land an exhibition like “The First Homosexuals” is in part due to its controversial subject matter. “Queer art is the third rail of the art realm,” Katz tells Block Club Chicago’s Web Behrens. “One very highly placed museum director told me, ‘This is exactly the exhibition I want to show, and therefore exactly the exhibition I can’t.’”
Katz estimates that between 80 and 90 percent of the museums and art collectors he asked to contribute art to the exhibition rejected his requests, per Fast Company’s Grace Snelling. Later, nearly all of the museums Katz approached to host the multimillion dollar exhibition declined, even when he offered it to them for free, the Sun-Times reports. Besides Wrightwood 659, the only museum to express interest was the Kunstmuseum Basel in Switzerland, which is in talks to bring part of the show to Art Basel 2026.
Despite enduring prejudice toward queer art, the exhibition at Wrightwood 659 has been a roaring success, with the gallery selling more advance tickets to it than any other show in its seven-year history.
The final piece in the exhibition is an archway full of photographs of the Nazis burning thousands of books at Berlin’s Institute for Sexual Science, the first sexology research center in the world, in 1933.
“The idea that everything that flowers over the course of the exhibition can so quickly be destroyed, is, of course, a metaphor for where we are now,” Katz tells Fast Company.
While Kertbeny’s terms became twisted into means of isolating “homosexuals” from the rest of the population, as the persecution and mass murder of queer people during World War II exemplifies on a horrific scale, the exhibition strikes a unified note about belonging, even in the midst of confusion and fear.
“We wanted to show how art offered numerous positions along that spectrum, positions that literally had no words to describe them,” Katz tells Block Club. “Art could figure what language could not.”
“The First Homosexuals: The Birth of a New Identity, 1869-1939” is on view at the Wrightwood 659 in Chicago through July 26.
Get the latest stories in your inbox every weekday.
#rejected #museums #around #world #this
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