Dean Sameshima Shoots in the Dark

What does it mean to be alone? In Dean Sameshima’s recent body of work – 25 monochrome photographs of queer men in Berlin porn theatres with sumptuous black negative spaces and blinding white cinema screens – ‘alone’ is a complicated term. Each intimately scaled work in the series ‘being alone’ (2022) invites the viewer to step closer and peer into the rooms photographed, offering only small clues about the spaces and people they are observing. 

Velvety matte black occupies large swathes of these pictures. Sometimes, light serves as an interior detail, illuminating drab rooms with fissured tiles, messy plaster repairs, ventilation pipes snaking across the ceiling and rows of seats bolted to the floor. Sameshima redirects the viewer’s attention from the on-screen pornography – the most urgently visible thing as far as his subjects are concerned – to silhouettes of the individuals that populate these tawdry spaces. 

Of the people inside the cinemas, we see little more than the backs of their heads. Sameshima’s figures are nearly always solo, surrounded by empty seats. Occasionally, the bright lights of the cinema screen shine through the thinning hairs on the top of someone’s head (No. 11) or illuminate the edges of metal-rimmed glasses (No.5). These men make themselves at home, with their feet slung casually over the chair in front, or a can of beer propped on the plastic armrest next to them, showing these spaces as places of comfort as well as pleasure. While the personal details of the images are limited, the protagonists have visible physical quirks, such as how a man might lift his hands to his face or lean against a wall.

We, too, take on the role of voyeur as we observe these figures from behind, as though we have become another cinemagoer. The experience makes for uneasy viewing. Are we infringing on these people’s privacy, or would they feel excited to know we’re there? Perhaps our presence creates a sense of safety for them, reassuring them that they are not truly alone. There might be a chance for physical connection in this public/private erotic space, as viewer and subject both gaze upon this blank screen rich with erotic possibility. In being alone (No. 14), a man stands with much of his head and torso covering the display. It takes a while to work out whether he has been photographed from behind or whether he’s walking towards the artist. The long shadow he casts, and the potential for him to see someone looking, evoke a moment of excitement and fear. 

Of course, everything the viewer can see in these images is the result of the photographer’s own placement within the spaces: it is he who brings these private moments into the public realm. While this is a common aspect of documentary photography, there is a palpable vulnerability to these subjects, given the potential ramifications for them of identification. The exhibition text speaks of the ‘anonymous being together’ promised by these spaces. The men are witnessed in their most private moments, but Sameshima goes to great lengths to preserve their anonymity. Even the locations depicted become far removed from their real-life appearance, with negative spaces, both black and white, blurring identifiable details. While this provides protection for the cinemagoers, it also offers an open invitation for the viewer to project onto the subjects their own sexual fantasies. As with Sameshima’s brilliantly clean cinema screens, our minds fill in the blanks. 

Dean Sameshima's ‘being alone’ is on view at Soft Opening, London until 8 June

^{Main image: Dean Sameshima, being alone (No. 2) (detail), 2022, archival inkjet print, 60 × 42 cm. Courtesy: the artist and Soft Opening, London; photograph: Lewis Ronald}