Monarchs & Butterflies
A photography project capturing the queens, kings, things, creatures, monsters, aliens, and Miss Piggies of Wellington
Words and Photography by Ethan Duck (he/him)
It’s always awkward when I meet a drag artist for the first time. As I sit down in Raglan Roast, holding my iced oat latte and Pinterest board-filled laptop tight, I’m forced to figure out what they look like out of drag. I’ve seen enough people named Brian out of drag to know that it truly could be anyone. It’s not until an always fashionably late amount of time passes that I sense a shift in the cafe: the presence of a celebrity.
This presence formed the basis of my project Monarchs and Butterflies. Through photography, I wanted to capture a drag artist's powerful allure through an artist-led approach that let them dictate their own visual and narrative style.
Like many closeted teenagers, I was once pirating RuPaul’s Drag Race to avoid the family Netflix account. Drag’s perfect combination of identity art, performance, and pop culture worked like a drug on me. It was a fantasy of what it could mean to redefine myself outside of society’s boring gender conventions.
While RuPaul has done a lot for the community, arguably taking drag into the mainstream, they’ve also promoted a very sanitised version of drag that notably lacks trans artists and drag kings. Gateway content like RuPaul’s Drag Race often becomes problematic as it must sacrifice so much to gain mainstream appeal. It's almost like how Harry Potter got many of us into reading, it was good, but it isn’t hard to spot its numerous flaws — looking at you, Miss Rowling.
Drag doesn’t have to conform to producers’ beauty and body standards. The Wellington drag scene certainly doesn’t. If you’ve ever peeked inside, you’ll find a collection of queens, kings, things, creatures, monsters, aliens, and Miss Piggies. It’s a strong community of artists pushing the boundaries of gender, costume design, and stage performance.
Meeting with a total of six artists — Amoeba Geezer, Diana Whoreable Car Crash, Danny Baitman, Judas Kiss, Trudy Madly Deeply, and Rocky Rhodes — I quickly learned how tight-knit the community is. Doing anything in the tiny backroom of local gay bar, Ivy, will naturally create a close community. Everyone truly knows everyone. Drag children and drag siblings are instinctively formed. Outfits are cyclical and work their way around the scene. Crowds at drag shows are often filled with other drag performers.
I’ve also learned that each artist’s connection to drag is distinctive and diverse. For some, it acts as an extension of themselves. For others, it’s an entirely different person. The manifestation of the persona is unique to each person’s connection to their body. Many of the kings that I’ve spoken to say their persona doesn’t activate until they paint their moustaches on.
As I began to photograph, however, I became nervous.
Being the catalyst for translating their persona into a photograph meant that I had to get it right. These aren’t just costumes, they’re identities. I needed to reject mainstream drag’s attempts at diluted mass appeal while also navigating the inherent biases a photographer naturally carries. I felt privileged to be this close to their art, watching them get their makeup and outfits on, photographing them for an intense three hours while they effortlessly slipped in and out of their personas. Always listening to a consistent pool of Lady Gaga, Kate Bush, and Charli XCX.
The final selection of photographs seek to capture each artist's bold and dynamic nature. Each one draws the viewer in with their intense poses and gazes, possessive and captivating, all while balancing it with the impossible intimacy that mainstream drag lacks.
At the end of the project, I was left wondering what kind of a person I would be in drag.
I think back to that fantasy of reinventing myself and breaking free from the constraints, constructs, and ideals forced on me by society. A unique exploration into personal identity that elevates you to this platform of royalty — truly kings and queens of the stage — is unlike anything else.
Drag doesn’t just exist, it demands.