“We have Rick Owens drinking fake piss, someone fisting themselves in Michèle Lamy’s hammam in her house, and Christeene, and all the while we’re at this premiere in Paris, and people from French Vogue are going, ‘J’adore!’,” recalls Matt Lambert of his Butt Muscle video, giggling at the ridiculousness of what he’s saying. “In no other reality could I have drills with dildos attached to them, and people celebrating it. But it’s in that context of bringing it outside of the porn space.”
For the Berlin-based filmmaker and photographer, traversing the worlds of art and porn is nothing new. As a renowned visual artist, whose work confronts ideas of love, intimacy, sex, and identity, Lambert boasts collaborations with the likes of Gucci, Mykki Blanco, Calvin Klein, and Ludovic de Saint Sernin. As an X-rated director – for want of a better word – Lambert has created beautiful, candid films for sites like Men.com, and released a zine of his porn film Pleasure Park.
As much as Lambert’s work is about centring queer stories, it is, as he says, about platforming “stories about humanity, intimacy, love, and sex (which) transcend the cast that appears in them”. The filmmaker offers an endearing, unflinching glimpse into infinite, everyday expressions of sexuality: whether that’s a tender relationship between a dom and their sub, a euphoric celebration of masturbation, or, simply, indulging in your desires.
“I’m interested in being subversive in putting sexuality in spaces where you don’t necessarily expect it,” Lambert says of his more commercial work. “Also to show how much a part of life it is. If you release stuff with traditional porn studios, you’re acknowledging that it’s porn, which is kind of a dirty word, right?”
With this in mind, Lambert and his husband, Jannis Birsner, recently launched a studio called Vitium, which elevates projects that blur the intersections of porn and art. For Lambert, a key aim of the studio is to provide a safe, utopian space for filmmakers and photographers to explore their creativity in the X-rated realm – a helping hand, of sorts.
Though his work is unapologetically explicit, Lambert says he was once reluctant to put his name to more ‘risqué’ content, fearing that it would jeopardise his ability to work commercially. In recent years, however, the filmmaker has watched as brands pivot to LGBTQ+ storytelling, and power shifts from the domineering hands of porn studios to the living rooms of autonomous, entrepreneurial cam performers.
No clearer has the latter been than during the pandemic, which has seen an unprecedented influx of creators joining sites like OnlyFans and Just For Fans. “It’s a beautiful thing,” Lambert says of the recent rise of camming, “(to see) this democratisation of how content can be created.”
The director’s own work has been immeasurably altered by the crisis, forcing him to adapt to new ways of working, both virtually and with on-set restrictions. Here, as he continues to innovate during never-ending lockdowns, Lambert speaks to Dazed about finding intimacy in online sanctuaries, the changing landscape of the sex industry, and his guest appearance on the Cock Destroyers’ reality TV series, Slag Wars.
Hi Matt, how’s it going?
Matt Lambert: Good! My husband just dropped a box of blueberries on the kitchen floor, so we’ve just been cleaning up.
The joys of working from home!
Matt Lambert: Yeah, it’s as much action as goes on here now.
How’ve you been finding lockdown?
Matt Lambert: We’re still going along. They opened up shops yesterday, so we’ll see how that plays out. I’m skeptical, it seems there’s going to be another one (lockdown). I mean, realistically, it’s cold and there’s nothing to do anyway. Although I have been shooting a lot recently; a lot of commercial stuff.
That’s great! How have you managed to adapt your work during the pandemic?
Matt Lambert: We’ve worked on stuff virtually, which has been interesting. Last year, I directed the global Pride campaign for Nike – athletes were sent cameras to their houses, then we Zoomed and they shot themselves, then we did a lot of post-production. (In terms of in-person shooting), we get people PCR tested a couple of days before, then we have a nurse on set to do rapid tests. Wearing a mask is a bit more challenging because when you’re working in intimacy, all the nuances of communication – a little smile or a nod of acknowledgement – are super important.
“The digital space is no longer just an alternative form of communication, it’s seamlessly integrated into the ways in which we function – you can feel just as much disappointment, love, or corniness via a WhatsApp conversation as you can in real life” – Matt Lambert
How has your idea of intimacy changed over the past year?
Matt Lambert: For me, intimacy in the digital space is still a very valid form of intimacy. And I don’t necessarily mean sending nudes, but writing on WhatsApp or sending voice memos. It’s no longer just an alternative form of communication, it’s seamlessly integrated into the ways in which we function – you can feel just as much disappointment, love, or corniness via a WhatsApp conversation as you can in real life. I want to think of intimacy as being something that becomes a little more borderless, a little less about proximity, and a little less about seeing people. I also think the beauty of digital spaces is that it provides you with an opportunity to try on (a personality) in your own space before you take it to the real world.
Right! And marginalised communities have been finding online sanctuaries for years – so in that sense virtual intimacy isn’t new, it’s just that more people are exploring it.
Matt Lambert: Exactly. One of my books called Home – we did it as a collaboration with Grindr – was a series of short stories talking to young men about the beauty of digital spaces as a way of them finding solidarity, or finding ways to come out. And not just about hooking up, but feeling connected to a larger community and understanding your place in the world a bit more through that communication. You have all these amazing stories, like about a kid in Oklahoma who thought he was completely alone, then he logged onto Grindr – not even for the purpose of meeting people, but being like, ‘Oh fuck, there’s people existing in the world around me who are like me’. Now, you can be a teenager in a small town and already be looking forward to what life could be like.
You previously said that people are afraid to be honest about what they’re sexually into because they’re afraid to be vulnerable – in what ways might this change in a post-pandemic world?
Matt Lambert: I think people are more vulnerable now. Even in conversations now where we talk to friends and sometimes they’re just like, ‘I have to admit, I’m so depressed’. Like, yeah, we’re all fucking depressed! (Laughs). This normalisation of mental health is (vital in preventing) people from feeling like they’re completely alone. And mental health, sexual health, and intimacy are completely intertwined. I definitely see (an increase in the attitude of), ‘What the fuck do we have to lose?’ You start to realise the fragility of what your life is, and part of that means being a little bit more vulnerable, honest, and transparent. A lot of my friends are sex workers, and are addressing these conversations in tandem with their experiences of presenting themselves and their vulnerability in different ways online.
A lot of sex workers have adapted to camming during the pandemic, which has been a lifeline for many. In recent years, it’s also increased competition and turned amateurs into professionals. How has this changed the industry from your perspective?
Matt Lambert: Obviously, porn studios haven’t been able to shoot at all. So what you have is sites like OnlyFans becoming the number one resource for people to continue making money during the pandemic. Now these massive studios are going back to shooting again, but a lot of their talent have this complete autonomy and independence, and are able to make way more money than they could shooting traditional scenes. And it’s a beautiful thing, this democratisation of how content can be created. So, studios are now realising, ‘Fuck, if anybody can go ahead and log on and see a more authentic, intimate version of what we were selling, it’s time for us to dramatically innovate’.
The adult film space attracted amazing directors and performers, but it became a commodified fast food version of explicit content. I hope and believe that there’s going to be a revolution, and the studios will remain viable to make work that’s special again, that actually has a point of view.
“Studios are going back to shooting again, but a lot of their talent have this complete autonomy and independence. And it’s a beautiful thing, this democratisation of how content can be created” – Matt Lambert
Without relying on studios or management, do you think there’ll be more freedom for performers to create less constricted work?
Matt Lambert: For the longest time, studios were the gatekeepers to DVD production and distribution, theatrical exhibition, all of those things. Then they became the gatekeepers to massive servers with webmasters that can host content that has guaranteed traffic. But now there’s OnlyFans and Just For Fans. I don’t think you’re going to see a complete dissolving of studios, but (these sites will) put pressure on them to offer filmmaking, craft, fantasy, and beauty.
I’m curious to see which studios step up and do things differently, both in terms of the content they create and how they value their talent. For a long time, (performers) were just shelved within this system… I mean, even Twitter was a massive revolution – you could actually go and engage with the performers you saw on magazines and DVD covers. That was a massive shedding of a double wall of an industry that was so intensely secretive.
Right, it feels like people want more authenticity.
Matt Lambert: Yeah, people want authenticity. People also want joy, escapism, they want to have fun. The amount of people consuming explicit content now is wild, but also the amount of people who put themselves on the line is wild – like, someone’s Twitter feed might pop up and it’s politics, politics, then all of a sudden, ‘Oh cool, you’re masturbating’. It’s crazy how the line became so blurry. It’s an amazing thing to see. I hope we don’t have a generation that will regret putting their buttholes on the internet (laughs), but at the end of the day, it’s really beautiful that people feel free and safe to express (their sexuality).
If you look at the 60s and 70s, adult film was a kind of countercultural rebellion – something you did to say, ‘Fuck the system’, but also to celebrate your sexuality and your presence. I wonder if there’s a similar scenario going on with people who are aware of the political situations in the world. Having sex on camera is political whether you’re aware of politics or not, but I wonder if (the current political climate) has motivated people to say, ‘Fuck it’.
When you engage in sex work online, your identity itself becomes political, in the sense that you’re censored for just existing. How does sexual censorship impact your work?
Matt Lambert: I remember having a conversation with Bruce LaBruce when I started off (as a filmmaker), and he was like, ‘Don’t ever shoot anal penetration. If you do, you’ll never work commercially’. Speaking about himself, he was like, ‘I’ll probably never direct any commercial projects because I’ve gone down the dark road’. Pun intended, right? (Laughs). Then the first explicit project I did, maybe 13 years ago, was with Bruce LaBruce and an artist called Gio Black Peter. We did this X-rated music video – I was doing camera operating or something – and I remember saying, ‘Don’t put my name on it… what are people going to think?’ There was an intense fear of people finding that work and that jeopardising my bank account or my ability to work commercially in the world.
Even later down the line, I really got reduced to being an LGBTQ+ filmmaker. Yes, I prefer to focus on those stories because it’s a matter of underrepresentation, but ultimately stories about humanity, intimacy, love, and sex should be able to transcend the cast that appears in them. I was pigeon holed by clients, but would also have agencies approach me, and then a week later that project went away. And you knew every time that a client had Googled something. So then it’s bittersweet that in the last few years there’s been such a massive rise of brands wanting to participate in queer storytelling. It’s like, ‘Thank you’, but also ‘Fuck you’ a bit too. It’s a very weird thing to have had your work so politicised, and to have been so afraid and rejected, and then for brands to come to me like, ‘We love what you’re doing’.
“It’s a very weird thing to have had your work so politicised, and to have been so afraid and rejected, and then for brands to come to me like, ‘We love what you’re doing’” – Matt Lambert
Recently, you’ve been doing some intimacy consulting and coordinating. What’s that like?
Matt Lambert: It was interesting! A lot of it is about trust and communication, and creating spaces that are completely safe and comfortable – just having a candid conversation one-to-one, to see where people’s limits are, what they love, what they hate. It was also about choreographing sex scenes, which is a very collaborative thing with performers. It’s dance coordination, in some ways, because you’re figuring out how to get two bodies through a door and onto a bed in a way that looks genuine. Sex is stupid, sex is funny, and gay sex is messy and awkward – when you’re filming those scenes, you should address things with (the same) reverence and playfulness (that you have in your own life). People very quickly become less self-conscious if they can laugh at a situation and realise, ‘I don’t care’.
Your feature as a guest on Slag Wars is a great example of that, showing the contestants’ exuberant attitudes to filming ‘sexy’ scenes. What was that experience like for you?
Matt Lambert: It was amazing. Rebecca and Sophie are the real fucking deal. They’re incredibly smart and charismatic. Having experienced watching Slag Wars and being there on set, (it’s amazing to see the) normalisation of sexuality, sexual organs… not normalisation, fuck that, the celebration of (these things). And yes it was a competition, but it felt like a sisterhood. It’s playful, it’s stupid, it’s irreverent; but also, a subtle conversation about consent just comes and goes, like a little aside. For the average person who’s clued in, that’s a normal conversation to have, but if you’re a teenage gay in a small town, maybe you haven’t been exposed to these conversations, which are really important to have.
You realise that it’s possible for individuals to create a reality; not an alternate reality, but a world in which you can be exactly who you are. That was really nice about Slag Wars because every single person was from that community. Rick Owens is a wonderful example of that, of someone who has created a global utopian version of the world that’s adjacent to the real world – just their friends, collaborators, and weirdos. I want that with Vitium, for it to be a space for filmmakers and photographers who maybe don’t dare to delve into the explicit, to say, ‘We can help you navigate it. Let’s make something together’. I guess that’s our attempt at making a utopian filmmaker enclave.