‘I grew up in Normandy, France. I came out when I was eleven without any real problems or conflicts. I was the only queer kid at my school, and I was constantly provoking my teachers and classmates. I was talking about sex all the time and said things no one else dared to say. People were shocked by my behaviour, but they were also amused and intrigued. I loved being this enfant terrible, who was constantly the centre of attention.
I was attracted to the beauty of many of my male classmates, who were all out of reach because they were straight – or said they were. There was no way I could ever seduce them, which was frustrating, but it was also a very safe position. I eluded the risk of being rejected and as such, I did not have to deal with what I saw when I looked in the mirror. However, in the long run, it did not bring me what I really wanted. I was living in a dream world, passively and dramatically, like a heroine in a nineteenth-century novel.
‘Being a sex worker is a way to enter different worlds through the back door’
When I turned eighteen and graduated from school, I moved to Paris to study my big passion, cinema. I loved city life, not only the culture and its opportunities, but also the dirt, and the sense of danger. One night, someone proposed to pay me for sexual acts, and I decided to give it a try. Surprisingly, it was quite pleasant, and more importantly: it was great money. Being a sex worker is a way to enter different worlds through the back door, worlds that are closed to you in any other way. You can do anything with sex, it is magical.
Image: Elvin Boer
Five years ago, when I was twenty-five, I decided to leave Paris for Berlin, where I starred in my first porn movie, Call A Ghost by Noel Alejandro. I play the ghost of a dead ‘70s vintage porn actor who is visiting a lonesome man. I like doing porn, especially when I get to perform in experimental productions. Then it’s not only about fucking, but also about narrative aesthetics. The style of the ‘70s has a strong political component: its playful shapes and colours are all about sexual liberation and defying normativity. My beard and moustache are references to that era, where gay masculinity was simultaneously emulating and ironically undermining fixed notions of manliness.
As an actor, I like the idea of people looking at me and of being an object of desire. The more fantasies I embody, the more diverse audiences I reach. What is even more interesting is that the cinematic gaze is ambiguous, in the sense that it is beyond my control. Some nights you think you look horrible, but that does not mean the crowds in the bars think that too. And some nights you think you look fantastic, and nobody seems to care. You never know, you can never master or predict it.
‘My beard is a reference to to sexual liberation and to defying normativity
I am quite popular on Instagram and many guys write to me, saying that, with my facial features and Latin moustache, I am the most beautiful guy they have ever seen. I know I am not. Admiration is nice, but it will not make me feel more beautiful. At the end of the day, I am alone with my face in the mirror.’
Image: Elvin Boer