Texte : Carl Bergamini / Images : Jason Hendrickson
(Traduction en français du texte plus bas)

&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<h2>On Camp Grounds</h2>
&nbsp;

While temporary shelters have long been associated with military operations and human migration, the practice of camping as a recreational activity is relatively new. It became popular in the late 1800s as North American cities grew exponentially and the frontier landscapes were conquered and inhabited.

&nbsp;

Historically, temporary frontier settlements and military encampments were places where men developed bonds with other men, whether by choice or out of necessity. With few women present, campsites blurred gendered roles and responsibilities, becoming places for male intimacy and sometimes sexual encounters. In an essay on the Civilian Conservation Corps (1933–42), Colin Johnson observes that the camp experience also fostered a “camp” aesthetic. All-male work camps created an artificial setting for young men to come of age free from the norms and societal pressures of their hometowns. The camp life chronicled in CCC newsletters featured drag performances, all-male beauty contests, athletic performances, and womanless weddings—opportunities to explore and perform gender expression.

&nbsp;

Campgrounds geared explicitly towards the LGBTQ communities are a recent phenomenon. The earliest intentional communities in Tennessee and Oregon date back to the mid- to late 1970s; these retreats were locations that challenged patriarchy, upending constraints associated with the dominant heterosexual culture. The gay campground in its contemporary form emerged around 1980. The clothing-optional venues typically provide rustic accommodations and recreational features such as swimming pools and social halls for dances and performances. Almost every one of these resorts has a dedicated area or structure for gay sex or cruising. Domaine la Fierté, located in the Lanaudière region of Québec, is one such campground.

&nbsp;

By recovering narratives otherwise targeted for erasure, queer spaces derive their poignancy and power by what happens in them—whether that means reclaiming the streets or creating venues for bodies to enjoy each other. Campgrounds clear space for something to happen, and camp life is activated by occupying them and performing. This opening provides a safe outlet, set apart from the outside world, where experiences grow, and new stories flourish.

&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre>




</pre>
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7952" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/01_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7954" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/02_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7956" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/03_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7958" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/04_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7960" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/05_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7962" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/06_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson-2.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7964" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/07_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7966" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/08_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7968" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/09_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

&nbsp;
<pre><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-7970" src="https://vuphoto.org/workspace/uploads/10_Eclaireurs_Hendrickson.jpg" alt="" /></pre>
<pre></pre>
&nbsp;

<em>Cité de Marie</em>. The city of the virgin mother, yes, but also one of the most generic names around, given in some configuration to most girls born in Québec up until the 1990s. In some sense, we are all Maries, and this is our rightful place, in Laurence Hervieux-Gosselin’s world of easy dreams and family holidays.

&nbsp;

This series presents us with a marriage between light and material decay that here takes the form of a spectre: that of capitalism, that of Catholicism, too. North America is a land of possibility, possibility that carries within itself multifaceted obsolescence. Jury-rigged, patched together with clapboard, a mix of cheap materials and ingenuity make for an environment that I, personally, find somehow reassuring—doubtless because it is the sort of environment I’ve always known, one containing an entire culture and era, indeed the one into which we Maries were born. Photographs of rural life bring me feelings of peace and reassurance; modest houses filled with people, warmth, holiday cheer; decrepit signboards, local events, and simple advertisements, totally devoid of flashiness.

&nbsp;

A series like <em>Cité de Marie</em> might seem to focus on the banal, but it is just this so-called banality that piques my interest, and indeed makes me more aware of my immediate surroundings. These seemingly ordinary subjects deepen my poetic sensibility and perspective on reality. We often travel far afield in order to understand the world, to find beauty, and yet it’s right here, just around the corner, dilapidated, luminous, and—most of all—true to itself.

&nbsp;

&nbsp;

&nbsp;

Marie-Andrée Gill est Pekuakamishkueu (Ilnue du Lac-St-Jean, communauté de <a href="http://www.cultureilnu.ca/">Mashteuiatsh</a>,). Autrice, poète, animatrice de balados décolonisants ( <a href="https://ici.radio-canada.ca/premiere/balados/7628/autochtones-traditions-communautes-langue-territoire?gclid=CjwKCAiA9bmABhBbEiwASb35V9ziJIL2VBPzTU2RqBNvcG-laXRPsjAS2ShtDUNngBPiDEpT-KwGbRoCcMsQAvD_BwE"><em>Laisser nous raconter : l’histoire crochie</em></a><em>, </em><a href="https://socam.net/tipatshimun#podcasts"><em>Les mots de Joséphine</em></a><em> )</em>, elle est aussi étudiante au doctorat en lettres à l’Université du Québec à Chicoutimi. Elle a terminé un <a href="https://constellation.uqac.ca/5249/">mémoire de maitrise</a> portant sur la décolonisation par l’écriture de l’intime et le rapport au territoire ancestral.  Son travail et sa posture artistique lui ont valu le titre de <a href="https://www.calq.gouv.qc.ca/actualites-et-publications/marie-andree-gill-prix-calq-artiste-saguenay/">l’artiste de l’année au Saguenay</a> Lac-St-Jean en 2020.  Elle travaille actuellement à faire des résidences d'artistes innus et québécois dans la toundra et aussi dans un ancien presbytère pour continuer sa démarche de décolonisation et de réappropriation.

&nbsp;

Laurence Hervieux-Gosselin (1991) est une photographe basée à Montréal. Elle a un étudié en scénarisation, en communication et en photographie, et détient un MFA en Art Photography de Syracuse University. Récemment, son travail a été exposé à La Castiglione (Montréal), à Uqbar (Berlin) et au China Millenium Monument (Beijing).