21 questions with Jack Pierson

Jack Pierson is Americana through and through. Born in Massachusetts in 1960, the photographer fled NYC for Miami in the winter of 1984, landing in a sun-drenched world of thrift stores, drag queens, and art-deco daydreams, where he captured South Beach’s art scene and queer nightlife. His new exhibition, ‘The Miami Years’, at The Bass Museum of Art dives into how those wild days shaped his life and work. The show traces Pierson’s Miami metamorphosis, from a scrappy artist chasing liberation to chronicling beauty, loss and longing. We caught up with Pierson to talk about the city that started it all, and, naturally, about thrifting, clubbing and aliens.

1. How would you describe Miami in three words?
Shoulda been there.

2. What’s the first photograph you remember taking in the city?
My friend Andre having woken up from a nap in our hotel on Collins around 3rd St. It’s on the cover of my book, The Hungry Years (Damiani). In a good light, you can see the imprint of the chenille bedspread on his body.

3. Which song defined 1980s Miami for you?
Well, that’s the year the first Sade album came out, so that was the soundtrack for, I think, the whole world – but it sounded especially good on Miami Beach.

4. How do you start and end your day?
I start and end my days with prayer and an American Spirit.

5. What was your first memory of documenting anything?
Oh, I wonder. I think the first picture I took, which I remember thinking was artsy, was looking straight up the piling of a bridge in Fall River on a Boy Scout field trip to the USS Massachusetts Battleship.

6. What’s one ritual in your practice that’s never changed?
Doubting myself and blaming others.

7. What’s the first piece of art you bought and what does it mean to you now?
Couldn’t tell ya. I’ve bought and continue to buy a lot of art, most recently a Frisco Pete painting.

8. If your camera could talk, how would it describe you?
It would ask, “why did you never learn the zone system?”

9. Golden hour or blue hour?
Do I have to choose? I like them both.

10. Which photographer, living or dead, would you wine and dine?
Vincenzo Galdi.

11. Your work has been described as “autobiographical” but also “half-remembered”. Which is true?
They both are.

12. How would you describe the queer nightlife scene in 1980s Miami?
Well, it wasn’t queer then, it was gay. Gay, gay! We only went to this one leather bar across the causeway on the Miami side. I think it was called the Double R, with a back room. Speaking of songs defining an era, they’d put the lights on and play the FGTH [Frankie Goes To Hollywood] song, The Power of Love, to clear the place. Andre and I were both in love with the hot bartender who offered to pierce our pereniums on the bar. Another missed opportunity I still regret.

13. If you could rescue one artwork in your show at The Bass, what would it be and why?
They’re all already being rescued, that’s theoretically what a museum show is.

14. What was your most bizarre photographic encounter in Miami?
I don’t know if I’ve had any bizarre ones. I do remember visiting Bruce Weber once, and we were singing the praises of Bunny Yeager. A fellow cutting the grass nearby piped up excitedly and told us that she was his aunt! Which we were thrilled by! Imagine: your aunt is Bunny Yeager!

15. How would you describe your “Self-Portrait” series to an alien encountering a human for the first time?
Would I really talk about myself if I met an alien? I like to think not. I’d probably say the same thing I say to earthbound creatures who ask me about them: I’ll ‘splain you later!

16. What’s one guilty pleasure you rarely admit to?
Talking about myself.

17. If you had to eat one meal forever, what would it be?
Greek salad with rusks.

18. What was your greatest thrift-store find?
A wardrobe trunk that belonged to Ed Wynn.

19. If you could own any piece of art, what would it be?
Picasso’s The Boy with the Pipe or Giorgetti’s The Barberini Faun.

20. Which one photo will you never delete from your camera roll?
I’m not deleting any of them.

21. What three feelings do you hope visitors to your exhibition will take home with them?
If they feel any kind of way that I do when I listen to Who Knows Where the Time Goes? by Fairport Convention, I’d be quite satisfied.