Fiona Clark: The Fearless Photographer Unveiling New Zealand’s Untold Stories

A Glimpse into Fiona Clark’s Revolutionary Photography

New Zealand photographer Fiona Clark has lived a life as vibrant and captivating as the subjects she captures through her lens. Her work, both controversial and celebrated, has faced censorship and acclaim alike. Now, a new documentary invites us to revisit her powerful images with a fresh perspective.

The Early Days: Capturing the Marginalized

On a sweltering summer night in Auckland, 1972, drag queens strutted their stuff on Karangahape Road, adorned in towering platforms and voluminous wigs. Gay and transgender individuals gazed out from mostly black and white photographs, some beaming with joy, others engaged in animated conversation. These striking images are the work of the iconic Fiona Clark, who has dedicated her career to documenting pivotal moments and subcultures in Aotearoa’s history.

In the 1980s, Fiona’s camera lens focused on the lives—and tragic deaths—of people affected by HIV and AIDS. Later, she turned her attention to New Zealand’s emerging bodybuilding subculture. The common thread in her subjects, according to the 67-year-old photographer, is their social marginalization. They are the “freaks,” the outcasts, and those often overlooked by society.

Fiona Clark: Unafraid – A Documentary Redefining Her Legacy

Fiona’s extraordinary body of work is the centerpiece of the new documentary Fiona Clark: Unafraid, premiering at this year’s New Zealand International Film Festival (NZIFF). The film explores how New Zealand reacted to her groundbreaking photographs of the early gay liberation movement in the 1970s.

“I wasn’t photographing these people because of their sexuality. I was photographing them because they were my friends,” says Fiona, who identifies as a lesbian. “Even if no one got to see the photos, it was a record of who was there and what happened back then. It was a kind of validation, and my friends loved the images.”

Censorship and Controversy

Unfortunately, not everyone appreciated Fiona’s work. Her images were censored and removed from exhibitions, with many gallery owners refusing to collaborate with her. “You have to remember that being gay was illegal in those days,” she recalls. “Some galleries had to put my images in a back office so that people could view them privately.”

In 1976, two of her works were included in an exhibition at the Auckland City Gallery, but the owner was threatened with prosecution and pulled the show. Those images disappeared and have never been found.

A Life Beyond the Lens

Fiona’s life in the countryside is a stark contrast to her days photographing friends in 1970s Auckland. After the controversy, she moved back to Taranaki, where she was born. Around the same time, the former Tikorangi Dairy Factory came up for sale, which she and her artist friend Tertius purchased.

“It was cheaper to live in the country, and as artists, we didn’t have a lot of money,” says Fiona. “We made a garden and had chickens.” Even then, the locals tried to stop “two hippies” from buying the decommissioned factory. “We got around it by telling the council we weren’t hippies, but artists!”

Tragedy and Triumph

In 1977, tragedy struck Fiona’s life when a drunk motorcyclist crashed through the windshield of the car she was driving. She broke every bone in her face, suffered partial sight loss in her right eye, and endured numerous hospital stays. Naturally, she documented her recovery through her camera, calling the series The Other Half.

During one of her hospital stays, Fiona discovered her next subject: bodybuilders. “There was no physio back then, so I would walk around Auckland Domain to stretch my legs. I came across a gym where I watched people bodybuilding, which was new to New Zealand, especially women bodybuilders. I was fascinated with the gestures and posturing and the idea of being in control of your body.”

A Legacy of Courage and Compassion

Fiona’s heartbreaking images of AIDS and HIV patients are a testament to her compassion and courage. “They were my friends, and they were dying. The ’80s were brutal in many ways. They felt like a repetition of the hatred and bigotry of the ’70s.”

There was no single moment that set Fiona on the path to becoming an artist. One of six children born to dairy farming parents, she grew up in Inglewood—not far from where she lives now—and from the age of 14, she knew she was different. “I didn’t fit the norm at Inglewood High School. Acceptance wasn’t part of the wider community for me growing up.”

Escape came in the form of creativity, such as painting, sewing, and hammering objects in her father’s shed. As soon as she finished high school, Fiona boarded a bus to Auckland with two suitcases and a curiosity that her small town couldn’t satisfy.

She enrolled at Elam School of Fine Arts, initially studying sculpture before switching to photography. To help pay her fees, Fiona worked behind the bar of a waterfront café, which turned out to be the headquarters for those she later photographed.

“I was a wide-eyed girl from the provinces, but these people were friendly to me. I wanted to record us hanging out, going to parties and bars,” she recalls.

Fiona Clark’s life and work are a testament to her unwavering commitment to capturing the stories of the marginalized and the misunderstood. Her documentary, Fiona Clark: Unafraid, is a must-see for anyone interested in the power of photography to challenge and inspire.

For more information, visit the New Zealand International Film Festival website.