Auguries of Innocence is a new documentary-style book of multifaceted creative Tyler Udall’s life during a period of tumultuous life-transitioning.

It sparks a conversation – and adds to the much-needed narrative – aimed at our perceptions of gender. The Canada-based photographer, stylist and art director’s approach unconsciously puts a focus on patriarchal propriety, the kind that’s riddled society with overbearing, nonsensical practices and perceptions, shackling men and women alike to inorganic behaviours.

Attitudes towards female nudity – thanks to centuries of public exposure in the form of art, primarily – have become diluted and desensitised, resulting in tame reciprocations, while permutations of masculinity are expected to exude particular attributes: that of probity, strength, and power. Any flicker of male vulnerability: rejection.

And that’s where Udall’s work comes in. He projects a conflicting insight into the modern-day, male condition through a candid collection of imagery. Representations of men – and women, too – are far from contrived, enabling themselves to represent an honest class of masculinity that surpasses the antiquated clichés of either gender.

Lewis Firth: How did the book come about?
Tyler Udall: I think my background in publishing plays into this desire to “package things”.  When I was making magazines, I loved the entire process. Getting to have these incredibly inspiring, creative conversations; the endless amounts of research; the physical and mental collaboration; and ultimately having a bound piece of evidence that all this growth had happened – was so wonderful.  One of the most appealing parts of this process was that once that magazine was on the shelf, the slate was wiped clean. You got to start with brand new ideas. And that was such a satisfying feeling. Once I stared making art, I think my brain was intuitively drawn towards a published destination. In any event, that’s the package theses images found themselves in.

“It wasn’t until I started shooting men in bathhouses that I began to find my self-confidence as an artist.  The anonymity of those environments paired with the raw authenticity of the people who frequent them was the perfect laboratory for me to find my voice.”

LF: What was the process like?
TU: Curiously, I didn’t start taking pictures of my friends for that first year I was making art. Occasionally, when I was feeling incredibly comfortable or brave, a friend and I would lock ourselves up with a couple bottles of wine for an evening and play around. Most of the time I was taking pictures of environments, landscapes and the occasional unsuspecting stranger. I was quite voyeuristic, actually.  I had just moved to Vancouver, and to be honest I still felt the sometimes-brutal glare of the fashion-magazine magnifying glass. I was petrified to let anyone see how naive I really was. It wasn’t until I started shooting men in bathhouses that I began to find my self-confidence as an artist.  The anonymity of those environments paired with the raw authenticity of the people who frequent them was the perfect laboratory for me to find my voice.

LF: Can you describe a little more about the ‘transition’ that has directed your narrative for Auguries of Innocence?
TU: In a really basic way, it’s just about getting older and the growing pains that go along with that. When I started to take pictures, I was battling some pretty heady mental and physical issues. Over night I had left a career and life, that on the surface was going extremely well, but was actually tearing me apart. I was in my late-twenties and knew that some pretty turbulent times were in my immediate future. To put it mildly, my brain wasn’t working well.  I thought that if I could document my surroundings, as well as myself trying to navigate them, I could hopefully put all the pieces together when I was feeling better. Ultimately the narrative for Auguries of Innocence is about confronting demons in tumultuous times, as well as the beautiful moments, and people that play a huge part in getting us through them.

“The general public isn’t used to seeing male vulnerability. A really interesting and very needed shift is happening within gender and sexual stereotypes. Men need to feel vulnerable, too.”

LF: Male subjects are intimately photographed. Your eye naturally wants to explore further – through a lack of desensitisation to such a style. Why do you think the sexualisation of male subjects still feels abnormal, yet simultaneously cathartic?
TU: I know my images of men get more attention than the photographs of women, still-life or landscapes. As disparate as those subjects are, I think all of these images share a common thread of intimacy. The general public isn’t used to seeing male vulnerability. A really interesting and very needed shift is happening within gender and sexual stereotypes. Men need to feel vulnerable, too. People are vulnerable. I think the more we can show that this is a normal part of human nature, we might be able to start tipping the gender and sexual imbalances in a more harmonious direction.

That being said, I think everyone has a certain curiosity about what other people look like naked… especially men. I say that only because we so rarely see a nude man in a setting that is designed to be stared at and digested without stigmatisation. Women have been shown in various states of undress (mainly for men) for so, so, so long that the thrill is minimal in comparison. Like, it’s funny how women still can’t show nipples on Instagram, isn’t it? So backwards.

LF: Do you see your images as liberating the male body from patriarchal, visual stereotypes? If so, why?
TU: Not intentionally… but on a micro level I can definitely see a change happening within the men I shoot. Not that it’s all that relevant, but the bulk of the guys in my pictures, especially the nudes, identify as  heterosexual. Being in a scenario where you are naked in front of someone who is really looking at you, with no intentions beyond seeing you for who you are, can be an intense and rare experience. Our society traditionally bullies men away from intimacy and forces women to hunt for intimacy with those same men who have been bullied away from it. It’s a real problem. I can see the guys in my life growing out of this kind of conditioning. Witnessing it is really nice.

“Seeing a partially nude man anywhere, even in a fine-art context, is still so confrontational to most. I think people don’t recognise the blatant sexism, and in many cases homophobia, that is at the heart of this issue.”

LF: Female nudity feels ‘normal’ – no shock factor. Male nudity, however, seems to have the opposite affect, showing the disparity between reciprocating reactions to such gender-based themes. How do you think this has changed over recent years?
TU: I don’t think it has changed all that much to be honest. Sad, but true. Seeing a naked, teenage girl in a mainstream fashion-magazine is something we have been looking at for decades. Seeing a partially nude man anywhere, even in a fine-art context, is still so confrontational to most. I think people don’t recognise the blatant sexism, and in many cases homophobia, that is at the heart of this issue. My last show Boys with The Little Black Gallery that opened in conjunction with Auguries of Innocence, stirred a lot of debate, mainly because of the show’s title. If the show was called “girls” I don’t think anyone would have had an issue. To further that point, if I were a female photographer presenting the same body of work with the same title, I doubt there would be much controversy either.

LF: Why do you think your style of photographing men isn’t as common compared to those photographing women in a similar fashion?
TU: I’m not really sure, but if I had to guess, I think people are scared. They are scared to put themselves in those environments, and scared to have the conversations that would stem from this kind of formula. I think its changing though – thankfully.

LF: Your images have a lot of character, with no contriver. How do you approach such an organic method of recording your subjects?
TU: I think coming full-circle to the point about making magazines might have a lot to do with it.  I love the creative capriciousness of collaboration. When I was making a magazine story, there were so many brilliant people all contributing their own piece to this really lovely puzzle. You kind of knew what you were getting. But until you saw the final images, you never really knew what was up. When I take pictures, I like to think that some spirit is there. I never quite know what the end results will be. Even though it’s just me and the subject, there is an interesting, energetic conversation happening that I hope I am documenting. If it doesn’t feel real to me in the moment, then the end result will look it.

Tyler Udall’s Auguries of Innocence is out now and available to purchase here.