Christopher Cumingham is selective. In an age characterized by self-promotion, self-fashioning, and self-commodification (and the pursuant, inevitable self-destruction) the media-shy artist has built a name on the back of his work, its merit, and its primal magnetism rather than a flimsy cult of personality. Those who know, know. Those who don't, should.
Cumingham, a long-time Miami resident, makes work that is first and foremost psychologically driven. In a symbiotic relationship with the artist's extensive engagement with avant-garde transportation, his work takes a viewer to the edge of desire and back, mining urges that exist simultaneously as mere blips on the subconscious' radar and as undeniable, unmistakable needs.
His films take hold of instincts, subvert them, and hold them up to a mirror. They invite us to redefine the preconceived — 'porn' becomes highly perceptive erotica, 'arousal' becomes personal exploration, and 'fixations' become nu fetish. Boundaries are brought into question, and exclusivity is deconstructed. His work sensitively probes notions of the explicit, problematizing established standards of censorship and monolithic control, creating an overarching universality that transcends simple categorization.
Text by Stuart Dillinger