In his most recent paintings and smaller oil sketches, Hugh Steers chronicles contemporary urban life haunted by the presence of AIDS. Rendered in an increasingly sophisticated, painterly realism, which at once recalls the compositional drama of Caravaggio, the restless color of Pierre Bonnard, and the melancholy economy of Edward Hopper, Steers’ tableaux explore the complexities of living with the fear and reality of AIDS.
A number of Steers’ smaller works reveal his penchant for the sketchy brushwork and inviting “slice of life” scenes of French Impressionism. These include the poignant Paper Cut, 1991, in which one young man tenderly cares for another’s bleeding finger, as well as the gently comical Warts, 1992, in which another young man stands in front of a full-length mirror, horrified at the sight of his own, symbolically bandaged, genitalia. Yet these works take on greater significance in the context of the dramatic, large-scale Throat, 1991, in which a seated man, wearing only underwear and pumps, holds up a mirror to examine his throat for evidence of disease. For Steers the mirror is a trope for gay identity, an identity that is not only fluid, under construction, but also threatened. The question his protagonists pose to their reflections is no longer “Who am I?” but, rather, “Am I still here?”
