ES: What about composition?

HW: I feel like I’m very classic when it comes to composition. I like it dead centre. I use range finders sometimes to stop myself being too anal about the composition.

ES: Is there something that you really want to photograph? 

HW: Hundreds of things and thoughts. Un-photographable things. 

ES: Tell me about your photographic series entitled “Men at Work”. 

HW: Some time ago I went to Japan and saw the “host” culture – men who work as “boyfriends”. I was really interested because, in the West, you can’t just walk into a bar and find male escorts—especially not in the UK. And I was fascinated by the idea of being able to do what men have done with women for years—to go into a bar and buy a man’s attention. I wanted to discover why that was so rare.  Following that trip, I started researching different places in the world for straight male sex workers, masseuses and male healers. The majority of the men I located were sex workers who catered to women, which is still hard to find. However, in Japan, it’s really easy to hire ‘boyfriends’. You can hire a friend, you can hire sex, you can hire pretty much anything. It was a great place to start.

“When I started photography, I mostly photographed men. It was very much about female desire and trying to re-imagine what mine would have been like if I hadn’t been indoctrinated into the patriarchy of every book I ever read being written by a man, every film directed by a man, every porno directed by a man. But it is too deep to remove from the psyche.”

ES: What has surprised you the most shooting this project? 

HW: I was mostly surprised by just how lovely everyone who works in the industry is. They’re really giving and selfless. They want to make someone happy and please them, and I thought that was quite beautiful.

ES: By documenting these subjects, do you perceive yourself as a strong woman playing with male roles? 

HW: It was interesting, during the interview with one of the male escorts, when I asked  “What do women ask of you?” and he replied, “They don’t ask me to do anything. I tell them.” 

This moment crystallised the kind of question I was trying to explore. When I began working in photography, I mostly photographed men, and the work was very much about female desire, about trying to imagine my own sense of desire might have been if it hadn’t been shaped so heavily by the male gaze. Lots has changed, but those frameworks can be deeply internalised and difficult to untangle. It may be true that many women hesitate to articulate what they want because they’re so used to being told what they want. Social patterns have historically encouraged people of all genders to conform to certain roles and expectations. The dynamics around desire are so complex.

ES: Is that what you’re trying to document? 

HW: Yes, definitely. I’m interested in what women desire. Being a woman, you’re sexualised constantly. You can’t help but let it be a part of your framework. But then there still aren’t hundreds of porn sites for women. There doesn’t seem to be the market there. There don’t seem to be many women who see male sex workers  And, obviously, we like to imagine we’re not that different. I don’t think there is any straight answer to it, really, but it’s a fun exploration.

At the same time, it is also an opportunity to learn about myself, you know, where do I fit in in all this? And what do I really want? I haven’t had any answers from the sex workers in telling a different story so far. They all say the same thing—that the women don’t know what they want. I tried to get in contact with the customers, but they’re hard to find.

ES: You are pretty much an iconic fashion photographer, although you have said that you never really wanted to be a fashion photographer. 

HW: I guess I never set out to do that. I went to art school. ‘Vice’ gave me my first job and I was just so astounded that someone might pay me for something creative. I didn’t really think art was an option back then. Maybe things have changed and it’s a bit more lucrative now, but this was before Instagram as well, so art felt like something that wasn’t very accessible. I’ve always loved fashion—as in, I always loved clothes as an artwork. I used to collect Jean Paul Gaultier, bits and bobs from Camden that I would find on eBay, and Issey Miyake. Especially Jean Paul Gaultier, I always thought his things were really artworks. 

ES: I’m curious, how does it feel working for brands? What are your takeaways? Do you enjoy it? 

HW: I love the creative part and I love the collaboration. I’ve grown to enjoy the stressful nature of it as well, because it’s very high paced and quite risky and there’s a lot on your shoulders. It’s definitely good for an ADHD mind. I know it’s bad to self-diagnose, but I pretty much think that everyone in the fashion industry has ADHD, and it’s a good coping mechanism because you never have a dull moment for your brain to spin out. You’ve got five minutes to do something and you have to do 59 of those things in those five minutes and then do a film on the side. There’s a lot of adrenaline. 

“It may be true that many women hesitate to articulate what they want because they’re so used to being told what they want.”

ES: Besides fashion, you shoot a lot of personal projects. How do you feel about selling work?

HW: There is a distinction with fashion, where someone hires you to be creative, instead of you making something and thinking that’s now going to be sold. The idea of me making something from my imagination and for someone to buy it, I find a little bizarre. It might be a self-confidence thing from university. I like the idea of being asked to do something that has a very specific purpose. That’s why I enjoy ceramics—making something useful.  

More often, I’ve been trying to make things that don’t have a function. Let’s see how that feels, but it’s hard work for me to subvert something that is meant to be functional into a non-functional thing.

ES: Speaking of self-confidence, I wanted to ask you about your self-portraits. 

HW: When I was very young, I did a lot of ‘selfies’. They were very frowned upon and, in fact, I received hate mail about it at the time. I went 10 or 15 years without taking one selfie and then about three years ago I realised I was soon going to be quite old and it would be nice to have some memories of how I looked. There’s a fair amount of vanity in it, but also I hadn’t done it for so long. It was actually hard to do at first. It felt kind of gross and a bit dirty. Now I feel quite comfortable with it.

ES: Did you take any while staying at Mona?

HW:Yes! I took a picture of myself every morning with a large format camera and a really ugly flash. I’m excited to see how that looks. I’m allergic to waking up, so this was me trying to be real, but let’s see. Might be too real even.

ES: You play with various disguises in your self-portraits, a style that at times reminds me of Cindy Sherman… 

HW: I love Cindy Sherman. When I was a kid, I loved dressing up. It was one of my favourite things. For a very long time I wanted to be an actress. My friend had a video camera and we used to make loads of films. We did all sorts of different characters. Playing men, playing old ladies, playing children.

ES: Has it been challenging to separate your authentic self from the expectations placed on women about how they should look or behave?

HW: I think it’s very hard not to fall into the trope of the ‘sexy woman’. It’s difficult to dissociate from when your whole life you’ve been brainwashed in to thinking that’s what you need to be. There’s definitely that element still there that I’m constantly fighting against.

ES: The use of make-up plays a specific role, right?

HW: Make-up’s a very peculiar thing. In one sense, it’s so silly. I think of when I was younger and would sleep at someone’s house and have make-up all over the pillows. It’s disgusting. But then there’s also something in it which is interesting. 

Wearing make-up is a signal for certain things. Like sex. If you go out with a full face of make-up, the way people treat you is certainly different. It’s like a signal. Like high heels. I like going out with no make-up at all and that’s a nice signal to be like, don’t look at me. I’m invisible. Some people can’t look invisible because they’re too startling. For most people, you can blend away. 

ES: What about your self-portraits? There is an image (Fig 1) you made where you look like a Barbie doll in her box.

HW: That is me being a Sindy Doll.

I grew up with dolls everywhere. My mum used to work for Sindy dolls. She would mock up the new dolls to be made for boardroom meetings. She would make their little outfits and paint their little eyes. She had stacks of neon pink fabric which I used to open and sniff because it was this really toxic, plasticky smell. Doll-making is definitely deep in the veins. It’s not a surprise that I ended up here.

“The idea of me making something from my imagination and for someone to buy it, I find a little bizarre. It might be a self-confidence thing from university. I like the idea of being asked to do something that has a very specific purpose. That’s why I enjoy ceramics—making something purposeful. ”