Dawn Hartman is a full-time Pittsburgh-based photographer and artist known for capturing images from beautiful newborns to romantic, moody boudoirs. Though she’s been taking pics since she was gifted a camera at 14, the series that launched her professional career, The Intimacy Project — a rotating photography exhibition that features photos of LGBTQ couples in intimate settings, to combat homophobia — is still very close to her heart, and something she feels ready to dive back into. I sat down in her beautifully decorated living room, adorned with tastefully framed photographs she’s taken at various points in her career, to talk about where she’s at in her career now, how she got there, and what’s next.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Do you remember the first time you picked up a camera?
When I was 14 years old, my mentor gave me my first camera. I started by taking pictures in her backyard, and it was cool because, though I had pictures in my world, I had never had control of the camera. I was immediately enamored. A couple of years later when I was in foster care, I started doing portraits of the other foster care kids for my foster family because a lot of the kids didn’t have pictures of themselves since they’d been moved around so much. Doing senior pictures for foster kids was my first gig, so to speak.
How did you develop your skills? Being given a camera itself doesn’t make you a photographer.
I’m entirely self-taught. I started with film, which I spent all of my money developing. But how I learned was through trial and error. I would go through the camera, change every single setting, and take the same picture over and over using every single setting until I better understood how the camera worked. At the time, I couldn’t rely on Google or YouTube videos, so I had to teach myself.
Sometimes I look back on my earlier work, though, like The Intimacy Project’s beginning photos, and I recognize that they aren’t photographically great because I didn’t know how to use my camera the way I do now. Yet, because the subject matter and the concepts I was using were so passion-filled, people connected with the images, even though I look at them and cringe at some of the technical aspects.
When was the first time that you thought of yourself as an artist?
The first time I thought of myself as an artist was at the first Intimacy Project exhibition in 2008 — eight years after having been given my first camera. While I had been doing photography the entire time, up until then I’d only thought of my photography as a hobby. I never really tried to make money from it or present it anywhere.
What was the motivation for The Intimacy Project?
When I first came out as gay, I was often bullied by more masculine women for being femme. They would say, “You’re not really gay,” and they would warn my girlfriend that I was just going to leave her for a man. There was a lot of gatekeeping and it frustrated me. I started to think, “What does being a lesbian look like?” I had a girlfriend, and I identified as gay. Didn’t that count?
The fact that I was considered less a part of the LGBTQ community because I was femme-presenting didn't make sense to me, so I decided to look for real couples [at first, lesbian-identified couples], to document their intimacy. The project wasn’t only aimed at changing the narrative of who gay people are for a straight audience, it was also aimed at the LGBTQ community. I wanted queer folks to be able to see imagery of themselves in all their diversity. I hoped that the images would expand the notion of what a gay person looks like and lessen some of the gatekeeping.
How was the reception to your work?
Incredible. I had no idea it was going to be that intense, but it made me so happy because the Pittsburgh LGBTQ community showed up. After all, I was fulfilling a need that nobody else was fulfilling. After the first exhibition, I launched a photography business because people started talking about me, and then people started calling me and asking me if I do weddings and if I do babies, etc. Eventually, I didn't have to have a day job.
What does the collaboration look like between you and The Intimacy Project couples?
I interviewed every couple, specifically asking them what intimacy looked like in their relationships. I not only wanted to change perceptions of who gay people were but also the idea that intimacy has to be sexual. When I asked couples to define intimacy in their relationship, I got varied responses: a couple who walked their dog together, a couple who took communion together, a couple who shared bathroom space. As the project went on, I realized that I was documenting the wide array of what it means to be intimate with your partner.
Were there answers that surprised you?
Yeah, one of the most powerful images I have that is still a favorite of mine is called Comfort and Strength. The couple told me that comforting each other while grieving was such a deep, intimate space for them. The image I captured is of the two men embracing each other in the rain. It was just so perfect and unexpected because, of course, everyone else responded in ways that were more happy, fun, and playful. They reminded us that intimacy exists in so many arenas of emotion.
What do you think the models got from their participation?
I think that I enjoyed the experience because there were people I worked with who wanted to be able to show off their love but felt inhibited by homophobia, so the shoot itself was something that made them feel empowered. I did a shoot with a couple downtown on Fifth Avenue – it's called Fifth Avenue. They walked down a busy downtown street holding hands. While I was doing the shoot we had people yelling homophobic slurs. The couple told me after the shoot that I gave them the strength to be even closer and to ignore those people.
But a powerful example was a picture I captured before the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell, Freedom Isn’t Free. I had a military couple who wanted to be photographed, and they told me that they could be in it, but they didn't want their faces to be shown for obvious reasons. They were very emotional during the experience because they were on active duty and told me that they had to hide who and what they were. The images meant a whole lot to them. They did end up letting me take a photo where they could partially see their faces because they thought it was important. I’m thankful they felt comfortable enough with me to take a risk.
You talk about the fact that you felt like you experienced femmephobia within the LGBTQ community. Did creating all of these different representations of intimacy reshape that for you?
I mean, it most certainly empowered me because the process of doing this project was also a personal journey. Every couple that I interviewed gave me a completely different perspective of their experience as a gay person. I met people who both felt like me and had similar experiences. But I also met other people who were enlightened by the things I shared. I hope that that changed how they then treated femme-presenting people.
Art is such an integral part of re-imagining the world. I often think we need artists to help us see a different future. Were there people who pushed back against your vision?
It's representation; art brings so much representation. I do remember getting criticism from the general community about the fact that there weren’t a lot of bigger bodies in the shows. That critique was so great because even without me being a part of that general conversation, larger people came forward and wanted to represent themselves and the diversity within the community. So the activism was successful in that way.
Do you feel like that criticism made you a better artist?
Absolutely. It also pushed me to communicate the vision of the show better because many models were self-conscious about representations of their bodies or their ages or any number of things. I started to have conversations with models about accepting who they are and being more comfortable with images of themselves as they are. It is only possible to undo ideal and unrealistic beauty standards by countering that imagery with more diverse representation. Having those direct conversations with models impacted their level of boldness in the project.
What is next for you?
I like to say that my career has taken different forms and I’m just coming out of a chapter that was more dedicated to raising my family — I took a break from The Intimacy Project between 2014-2022 — and my photography took that shape too. As my kids have gotten older, I am now at a stage where I’d like to pick The Intimacy Project back up again, from a more mature lens. My perspective has changed, my abilities have grown, and I want to bring that to the project. I want to work more with the trans community, too. Though time has passed, it feels like the project is just as relevant now as it was when I started it. The truth is that while we have made a lot of headway in terms of acceptance in the mainstream, our people are still struggling, especially with all of the legislation regarding drag performers, the trans community, and more. It feels really important to continue now.
If you’re a member of the LGBTQ community and would like to work with Dawn as she updates this project, reach out to her.
You can find Dawn Hartman’s work on her two websites:
Dawnhartmanphotography.com & LGBTIntimacyProject.com
Jessie Sage (she/her) is a Pittsburgh-based sex worker and writer. Her freelance writing has appeared in a variety of publications including The Washington Post, Men’s Health, VICE, The Daily Beast, BuzzFeed, Hustler Magazine, and more. At the beginning of 2024 she launched a new podcast: When We’re Not Hustling: Sex Workers Talking About Everything But.
You can find Jessie on Twitter @sapiotextual & Instagram @curvaceous_sage. You can follow her new podcast on Twitter & Instagram @NotHustlingPod. You can also visit her website jessiesage.com.
You can find Jessie on Twitter @sapiotextual & Instagram @curvaceous_sage. You can follow her new podcast on Twitter & Instagram @NotHustlingPod. You can also visit her website jessiesage.com.
