It wasn’t only a generation, but hundreds of families, and an infinity of hearts that were shattered by a single cause. During the eighties there was a wave of panic caused by HIV, and those infected had to the face not only this terrifying disease, but the difficult phone calls informing friends, partners, and family of the reality they would have to face in the near future on their own.
David Kirby was one of many who passed away from AIDS and one of the fortunate few to be surrounded by loved ones during his passing. He phoned his family in California asking for their presence in his last days, and it was in April, 1990 that Kirby took his last breath. Theresa Frare, a volunteer in the hospital and photographer, captured the final movements of David, who had fought long and hard, and his heartbroken family who stood by his bed and comforted him.
Just like this striking and heartfelt photographer, there are others out there reminding us of the HIV generation and the hurtful stigmas they had to carry alongside their illness. These portraits are but a small glimpse of the victims of HIV and the dark world of those that were marginalized and forgotten by society.
Mark Morrisoe was one of the most influential and controversial artists of the time when HIV seemed to spread like a pandemic. His images are both aesthetically striking and heartbreaking. Morrisoe’s photographs embody a desperate plea and a reality that shook the world and that a complete generation had to face in the dark.
No one but Morrisoe could have captured perfectly these nostalgic portraits. From an early childhood, his life was marked by tragedy, but also by an unquestionable talent. Mark’s mother was addicted to drugs, and in his neighborhood whispers abounded surrounding the identity of his father, who was thought to be The Boston Strangler. With such a difficult upbringing, it is no wonder Mark ran away from home at the age of fifteen and became a prostitute, calling himself Mark Dirt. Among the many experiences he witnessed, the one that changed his life forever was when at the age of seventeen he was shot in the back by a client and the bullet lodged near his spinal cord.
This event deeply influenced Morrisoe’s work, and quite often he would incorporate the images of young prostitutes and X-rays of his wounded chest. Mark attended the School of the Museum of Fine Arts and during his time there, he completed several complex projects. Besides his talent in acting, he had an almost uncanny ability to capture the best lighting and composition the moment he took a shot.
In that tumultuous decade where ignorance abounded surrounding HIV and AIDS, artists like Mark were seen as public enemies that went against the social, moral, and even artistic pillars of society. The ferocity with which he captured this story was too much for a society that felt alienated and repulsed by this situation. Morrisoe could be considered the first punk artist of Boston with a completely distinct visual aesthetic.
The images of his lovers, close friends, and precious objects were proudly displayed alongside drooping flowers, cold and empty rooms, and small fragments that conformed his daily life, a sincere and unapologetic reflection of a dramatic and terrifying history.
Unfortunately, Mark was among those who faced a slow death. The stigma and the loneliness he had to endure are forever present in his work. It is thanks to artists like Morrisoe and Theresa Frare that we can honor the victims of this terrible disease and find a slice of forgiveness for the heartlessness of a society that fears the unknown.
Source:
Visual AIDS
TIME
