Good Fortune
In Tom of Finland’s Kitchen with Stuart Sandford
by Jake Arman
From my car seat, the pale redheaded man looks as tall as the palm trees running parallel along both sides of the street. It’s 80+ degrees out and he’s wearing beige, rolled up shorts, a chrome tank top and strapped sandals. Nothing unusual there. After all, this is Echo Park, hipster central, where the locals all wear funky footwear and brag about the citrus fruit that grows in their backyards year-round.
How he’s dressed, though, isn’t the first thing one notices about Stuart Sandford, the British writer and visual artist residing here at 1421 Laveta Terrace, also known as the Tom of Finland Foundation headquarters. That would be his striking marine-colored eyes, set off today by maroon-framed glasses. His genuinely warm personality would be the second. Even though this is a first encounter, Sandford, unafraid of sweat or other human indecencies, pulls me in for a big, real, two-armed hug. He then proceeds to dance down the old sidewalk where his neighbor’s untamed vines and birds of paradise spill onto the path.
The Tom of Finland Foundation house is where legendary artist and LGBT icon, Tom of Finland, (born Touko Laaksonen in 1920 in, yes, Finland) resided during the last decade of his life before passing in 1991. Now, the two-story, 1910 Edwardian craftsman also serves as a repository for Tom of Finland’s provocative and groundbreaking homoerotic art. It’s just as well maintained as Sandford. Twenty-foot tall hawthorn hedges maintain privacy over the grounds, revealing only glimpses of old matte windows and off-white curtains on the second floor.
Sandford, who hasn’t stopped smiling, skips up the steps to an oversized wooden front door. The yard is adorned in Finland’s signature erotic art — larger-than-life-sized men with overdeveloped muscles. A canvas piece featuring three men, broader than the mahogany door itself, greets visitors at the front. As Tom of Finland would no doubt insist, the vintage home, the decor and the frank art blur the lines of appropriateness.
Banners, cups, and confetti are scattered across the lawn. It looks as if the Tom of Finland house has just finished filming some Great Gatsby-gone-gay scene. “Sorry about the mess; we just threw a party the other night, and the house is still recovering,” says Sandford. “We actually need to get ready for another party this weekend, for my birthday.”
The back of the house is where it really goes down. Party tents overlap and hover above the patio like circus big tops. To the right, there’s a classic 1960’s-style bar with fraying black leather swivel seats and crooked, old wooden chairs. The worn canopy and black tent sheets blocked out most of the light, creating an actual bar-like atmosphere. Sandford jumps behind the counter and asks, “Can I offer you a drink?”
Sandford skips past the seating and pulls back a violet drape, revealing stairs leading down to the garden. The view from the stairs is breathtaking. To the northwest, the Hollywood sign, built 13 years after this house, looms on top of Mount Lee like a rival castle. Down below, the stew of gentrifying bourgeois and struggling working class lives of Hollywood, Silver Lake and Echo Park go about their lives.
The party, however, never stops. Halfway down the stairs is the Sweet Shack. Secluded enough to afford some privacy, the tent crouches against a hillside, standing about five-feet tall, if that. Stage curtains form the entrance, behind which awaits a crystal chandelier dangling over a bed piled on with gypsy-styled blankets and pillows.
It’s the peak of twilight and the garden trees and oranges reflect gold and amber tones in the soft light. Sandford scratches his scalp, messing up his glowing, red hair. “It’s time to shoot.”
Sandford fiddles with his camera, a small 3x2 silver box about the size of his palm. Along with shooting film, now considered a semi-lost art form in itself, Sandford also likes to snap polaroids, which limits the number of shots one can take. When asked why he hasn’t converted to digital, he says, “I studied fine arts, and I was persuaded to go to film… With film, you have to take a good photograph.”
You can see his mastery of the process in these images and the intimate, raw moments taken from both his his subjects’ lives. The majority of the photos are unedited and for the most part haven’t been retouched. The skin, the lines, the shapes, it’s all real and a far cry from the touched-up, idealism rampant in glamor mags and Instagram.
“Why would I do that?” he explains. “I’m not trying to create what they would in the fashion world, I’m trying to show real people.”
Whatever you do, don’t call this queen a photographer. “I love film and photography, but I’m not limited to it,” says Sanford, who has studied theatre, drama, politics, philosophy, visual and fine art and much more. “I actually moved out here for screenwriting, and I am working on a screenplay. I’m also building a statue.”
Sandford spontaneously leans in with his camera and frames a subject’s torso illuminated in the late-afternoon light. He pushes the trigger releasing a harmless snap that sounds like a toy. He chuckles stepping back, and turns the silver box horizontally. “Relax your face, and don’t pose,” he advises, “Just focus on the sunlight.” He snaps the shot. “All I need is one good photo to be successful, and if there’s any more than that, then great!”
Sandford is comfortable in the slipping light and walks airily to a new spot to take another shot. He says the primary objective for his snapshots is to capture authenticity not just in appearance, but in moments. Capturing those real moments, he stresses, are what makes his art beautiful. “That is another reason why I prefer a 35mm camera versus a big rig [typical portrait camera] because it would alter the dynamic between the artist and the model.”
The last sliver of light vanishes with the camera’s final snapshots. “We’re done,” Sandford smiles. A chill comes in with the dark, reminding us that we live in a manicured desert. We go inside. Sandford takes swigs of what must be hours-old coffee. There are at least three dried black rings on the countertop where he’s picked up and put down the cup of black coffee. Looking inside the cup, one wonders if it will ever be white again.
One also wonders how a young, British artist and writer came to be associated with an old-school cultural icon like Tom of Finland. “I’m interested in the quality of Tom of Finland’s Art,” explains Sandford. “Tom’s art was very personal and he drew what he was passionate about. He also always drew with a hard-on, and I admire that.”
He bursts into laughter. “It’s also much more than that of course. Tom’s art is celebrating sexuality,” he continues. “My art is more playful, but it is definitely celebratory… I also think my art is important because of how gay men were depicted back in the day.”
Sandford gulps down last ounce of coffee in his mug while the night pushes up against the kitchen windows. There’s silence as the last statement resonates. Here we are in Tom of Finland’s kitchen, a gay man who lived through five decades of hate and discrimination even before the 80’s. We don’t have to say that we’re fortunate.
