Sandow Birk: Remembering Stonewall
Words by Ella Gauci
How can you paint liberation? The Stonewall Riots of 1969 are often cited as a watershed moment in queer history: it was the biggest (and the most well remembered) example of queer people fighting back against oppression. The riots, which were prompted following a police raid of The Stonewall Inn, would later be memorialised as the galvanisation of the gay civil rights movement.
But when we look collectively at the legacy of Stonewall in the arts, there is a distinct lack of works that memorialise this event in American - but also global - gay history. However, American artist Sandow Birk’s 1999 Stonewall 1969 collection acts as an artefact of not only the bravery but the revolutionary nature of the event itself.
Birk’s works raise the important question of documentation when it comes to these pivotal historical moments. The legacy of the Stonewall riots is like a domino chain of events, and to capture that in a painting is nearly impossible. Instead, Birk elevates the riots into the same realm as the glorified scenes of war that filled 18th and 19th century artists’ imaginations, such as French artist Charles Philippe Lariviere.
As seen in the more famous painting from the collection “The Battle of Stonewall - 1969”, Birk uses the exaggerated nature of the bodies surrounding the police officers to encapsulate a sense of glory in warfare. The vast swaths of trampled bodies under the policemen’s hooves mimic other great scenes of battle seen in works such as Anne-Louis Girodet’s Revolt of Cairo (1810). By elevating the revolt at Stonewall to the level of iconography the public generally associate with the great battles of history, Birk provides a degree of gravitas to those that rioted in response to police brutality.
Birk also uses colour as a testament to the events of Stonewall in his collection. As seen in works such as “June 29, 1969 (Stonewall)”, colour is used to signify and spotlight the rioters against the backdrop of the violence ensuing. From the rainbow coloured flag to modes of expression such as drag, in the queer community colour has always been a vital part of their visibility even before Stonewall. Despite the obvious darkness that shrouds the violence and backdates centuries of oppression, Birk’s figures in blazing colour represent an unwillingness to remain silent.
One of the more striking paintings from this collection is that of Sylvia Ray Riveira, who was a transgender rights activist on the frontlines of the Stonewall riots alongside other notable individuals such as Marsha P. Johnson. Despite her pivotal work at the original Stonewall riots, Sylvia Ray Riveira was shunned by a majority of the queer community at the time for being both a person of colour and transgender. Thus, Birk’s framing of her strength in this image as she holds a cocktail glass is vital in remembering those that were often silenced in the gay liberation movement of the 1970s that followed.
Retelling such a monumental moment of history in artwork is never going to capture the essence of the event itself fully. Birk’s paintings miss the upturned cars, marches, and cacophony of cries for gay rights and liberation. But this collection pays tribute to the historical potency that the Stonewall riots hold in gay (and general) history. Raising the riots to the same level as pivotal battle scenes, Birk’s collection pays homage to the bravery of those on the frontlines of liberation.