Born on the beautiful Caribbean island of Curaçao, Dustin Thierry had a turbulent upbringing that has gone on to shape his practice as a photographic artist. He initially moved to Hilversum in The Netherlands with his mother, but when she was unable to financially provide for the family, he and his brother were sent back to his father. Then, at 14, he returned to The Netherlands alone to attend boarding school, his brother staying behind. He went on to find his path and his work has since been exhibited across the globe from Aperture in New York and Lagos Photo Festival to Rencontres de Bamako and Foam in Amsterdam.

It’s his ongoing series Opulence that has garnered Thierry the most attention, and stems from the suicide of his brother, who was pansexual and unable to live the life he desired. His death had a profound impact on the artist, who began documenting Europe’s ballroom scene – a subculture where queer black people go to be free (and fabulous). The images made the world not only take note of Thierry but his lavish subjects too. It’s seen the talent pick up several prizes including the Portrait of Humanity award 2019, The Berry Koedam Award and the Public Prize at this year’s International Festival of Fashion, Photography and Fashion accessories, Hyères.

With a solo show of Opulence currently on view at the Van Abbemuseum in Eindhoven, we talk to Thierry about how his work is helping him both to heal, and to decolonise art spaces worldwide.

When did you first pick up a camera?

The first memory I have of me photographing was when I about 12 years old. It was the CASIO QV10 that I borrowed from my stepfather; I was just so in love with it. It just sort of happened. In hindsight, I suppose what made me want to press the shutter is because I have always been very intuitive, and experience an inner world while observing and viewing things, which I then want to capture. I believe my first photographs were of porches and waves. My first real camera that I bought however, was a Nikon F3, in 2009.

What’s your process?

For my own personal projects my process is a slow burn; the initial stages are extremely slow, and there is a peak in the middle. At the beginning there is a lot of room for thought and discussing the project I have in my head with a select group of people. This usually follows research and somewhere within that process I will find myself already having begun shooting the project, which I continue for a while until I have a large bulk of images, or more simply put, until I absolutely need a break. From that point, it becomes a slow burn process again; the selection of images and the rhythmic order are things that I take my time for.

Tell us about Opulence.

Opulence first came to fruition in 2013, when I was connected to Amber Vineyard - mother of The House Of Vineyard. She was the one to organise the first ballroom events in The Netherlands. This was the spark that made me realise that I wanted to create a project that would address issues of representation, exoticism, toxic masculinity, the importance of safe spaces and family structures. That specific urgency and depth emerged from the death of my brother, who never experienced such a community, but had a deep yearning for one.

Do you feel like you are living your brother’s dream on his behalf?

No, because he had very specific and personal dreams of his own, as do I. However, what I can say is that this is my homage to the journey that should and could have been his and beyond. I went into the ballroom community with a lot of questions that were connected to him from my own personal point of view, and along the way found peace that this was the place where he would have found a home and, hopefully, would have felt less lonely.

The title, Opulence, is a metaphor for mental state; taking a step back and appreciating all of the beautiful things that are out there. Can you expand on that?

The title came to me from my former partner, who once told me when I was going through a tough time: "You're Opulence honey, you own everything!" referring to Junior LaBeija's infamous quote from Paris is Burning. She was inferring that I own my state of mind. This sentiment felt so invaluable that I chose it as the name of the project. It also sets in stone my feelings for all the experiences within the ballroom and all the encounters with those in the ballroom.

Do you feel lucky to have been given that window into the scene?

Absolutely. It is a privilege to be allowed the time and space to move around in a scene that is all about the safety of the community and there are unspoken rules that come with that. I am very grateful for the grace and kindness of all the individuals I have encountered.

Why do you think this work is so vital right now?

I cannot speak on how others perceive my work and what it does on a larger scale. My hope is that it is of relevance now because it is representative of a group of people who are extremely unacknowledged who I strongly feel should be heard and taken seriously at all times, not just when it’s for entertainment purposes or for general consummation. These are real people, with real lives. They are just as valid as anyone else out there, and they should always be given the space and time to remain in dignity and humanity.

The portraits selected for the Van Abbe exhibition are very elegant and regal. Is this you being protective of your subjects?

I am always very protective of the individuals I have photographed, especially since Opulence and those that are in it, have a very deep and special place in my heart, each and every one of them. They are more than often more than capable of standing up for themselves and protecting themselves, but I do my best for them wherever and whenever I can, in any shape or form.

Tell me about your new project, Dreaming Above The Atlantic?

It is still a work in progress. It is about how moving to The Netherlands from Curaçao made me gradually lose touch with my roots. It was only thanks to a chance encounter in an Amsterdam restaurant that I regained contact with my culture. It was with a man who reminded me of my mother, and I instantly knew I had to take his photograph. This encouraged me to seek out more people from Curaçao and this is how the project got started.

You’ve been compared to Malick Sidibé. Does that put you under a lot of pressure?

Of course, I have an admiration and love for his work and consider it to be a very big compliment. However, I try to remain neutral about these kinds of statements because he had his own ways, as I do mine. We can both exist in the same space even if we do not physically exist in the same time.

You were the first Dutch Caribbean photographer to show at the Bamako biennale in its 25-year history. How did that feel?

It was a very eye-opening and affirming experience for myself on a personal level, which also gave me newer insights on how I want to proceed with my work. To be in the motherland and to see your own people and to have your work there is an experience I will never forget, because to feel your roots that deeply is very healing.

Ultimately, what message do you want your work to convey?

Healing is the essence of my work, next to representation. And in some ways, these two go hand in hand. When you see yourself represented, you can find connection and possibly, community. And it is my belief that within having or finding a community lies healing. Plus, that there should be a more urgent and pressing dialogue on who gets to represent what narrative and to have a critical conversation, which is often a painful one, on which narratives are currently being upheld and how these need to be broken down to create space for new ones.

Dustin Thierry: Opulence is on view at the Van Abbemuseum, Eindhoven until 21 April 2021

Words Miriam Bouteba
Visit Dustin Thierry
Visit Van Abbe Museum

Published on 29/10/2020