Tom Bianchi, the master of homoeroticism: ‘Gay people of my generation believed that we were going to die sad and alone’

“Before we start, is your surname also Bianchi?” asks photographer Tom Bianchi, 78, on the other end of the phone. The Chicago-born artist, a gay icon, famous for his photographs of male nudes and his fight against homophobia, is surprised by the coincidence.

When the interviewer from EL PAÍS explains that it’s a very common surname in Italy, the photographer is even more surprised. “I didn’t know. An Italian friend told me that the Bianchis (White Guelphs) were the people who fought against the Pope (Boniface VIII) and in favor of the king of France (Philip the Fair). Dante (Alighieri) was a Bianchi,” he continues over the phone, from his home in Palm Springs. The California city has been called the “courtyard of the stars” because of the large number of rich and famous residents.

In 1975 he walked away from a successful career as a lawyer at Columbia Pictures to begin photographing friends, lovers and acquaintances with his Polaroid camera on the wild beaches of Fire Island, just outside of New York. This spot has been an oasis for the LGBTQ+ community since the 1920s. Those images, drenched in sexuality and centering on men in (and without) skimpy Speedos, have become a mainstay of queer culture. Today, some of those polaroids are being exhibited at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, in the Fragile Beauty exhibition, which brings together a selection of pieces from the enormous photography collection of Elton John and his husband, David Furnish.

“I’m HIV positive, so I was never bold enough to think that I would reach this age, or achieve everything I’ve achieved,” Bianchi admits. “Gay men of my generation believed that we were going to die sad and alone. I didn’t know that I would live to be 78 years old, or that I would have a husband as intelligent and attractive as the one I have… and 29 years younger than me!” he adds triumphantly.

Athletic, tan and full of vitality, the artist continues working every day. He’s also writing his autobiography, chronicling his life from the gray Chicago of the 1940s to the sunny California of today, by way of the turbulent New York of the 1970s and the lively beaches of Fire Island in the 1980s. “My mother had me very young, after being raped… a raped woman was considered to be ‘damaged goods.’ She then married a man who never wanted to be my legal father. She came to think that my homosexuality was the result of all that. I’m writing about this now and it’s been cathartic. Reviewing one’s life is cathartic,” he emphasizes.

Question. You arrived in New York in the summer of 1969, shortly after the Stonewall riots. What was life like for the LGBTQ+ community at the time?

Answer. It was a hopeful time, when people were starting to come out without worrying about the consequences. But it was also a time when people were still being arrested for their sexuality. Stonewall didn’t end prejudices: Stonewall helped us present ourselves as real people [who were going to] stop putting up with those prejudices.

Q. Was that when you came out?

A. I came out in law school (he studied at Northwestern University, in Chicago). In high school, I had an affair with the captain of the football team… but he broke my heart. At the time, the mere idea of a boy dating another boy was strange.

Q. Many of us suffered bullying as children for being gay. Did that happen to you?

A. Of course. I remember the feeling of having to hide a part of me. From a very young age, I knew I was gay [and] I believed I had to keep it a secret. When people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I couldn’t even say that I wanted to be an artist. That would have sounded [very gay], so instead, I answered that I dreamed of being an architect