Latex, stilettos, red lipstick, the disciplinarian stare. The visual shorthand of domination, polished into a cultural cliché. A Body of Mirrors starts where that caricature falls apart.

Photographed by Hannah Louise and curated by Barbara Kaczmarczyk, A Body of Mirrors moves beyond the dominatrix as a fixed fantasy, presenting her instead as the person who takes desire, bends it to her own will and sends it back transformed.

The photographs are less interested in performing an idea of domination than in the space between the person who desires and the person who knows how to hold that desire. “Pretty is easy. Sexy is easy. What interested us was everything that exceeded those expectations: awkwardness, tenderness, humour, vulnerability, love,” Louise says.

Both Louise and Kaczmarczyk work from inside the community they are depicting, and that proximity changes the terms of the picture. The photographs don't stop to explain, justify, sanitise or translate sex work for an outside gaze. Instead, Louise sees her subjects as “world-builders and storytellers”: “They are transgressive aliens and monsters creating and existing in their own realities, refusing to comply with patriarchal Western conventions around gender roles and beauty standards.”

Presented at Stück, Dalston’s new third space born from consent-led nightlife and body-centred design, the exhibition occupies an industrial, social environment rather than a pristine white cube. Here, the room matters as much as the photographs: a place to gather, look, be looked at and exist without being reduced to an image.

It matters: sex workers are routinely erased from the platforms that freely borrow their visual language. A Body of Mirrors is ultimately about putting authorship back with the people making and living the work.

Now extended until 19 August (due to popular demand), A Body of Mirrors remains on view at Stück, London. GATA caught up with Louise and Kaczmarczyk to talk about who gets to look, who gets to be seen, and who gets to tell the story.

GATA: As the exhibition text puts it, “to photograph a pro-dominatrix is to step into role-play.” And the resulting images are theatrical yet deeply intimate. How did you negotiate your own position, as documentarian and photographer, while shooting?

HANNAH: The models all know that I am a sex worker, too. Existing in the same marginalised community, there is already so much unspoken understanding. I know for myself, from being photographed by men and non-sex workers, that they often just see a “hot woman” and that is enough for them. I have experienced the dysmorphia that comes from seeing myself photographed through the eyes of someone who does not truly see me, someone whose version of beauty and power is completely different. It's a fundamental difference in taste.

GATA: Trust is as important a material as light or composition in this series. What did building that trust look like in practice?

HANNAH: I think being a woman and a sex worker means you get very good at both setting and respecting boundaries. When I was 19, I photographed a series of people posed naked on Polaroids for a university magazine. It was my first time experiencing how removing clothes is like removing armour; there is an intense vulnerability that comes from exposing yourself. Although none of the models in this project is naked, they are stripped of the “costumes” of a normal, social-rule-abiding citizen. We are existing on the fringes together. There is no masking or pretending. Building that trust means putting respect above everything else.

In practice, this looks like: asking for consent before touching, and asking permission to make adjustments to clothing or hair. Asking rather than assuming how the model prefers to be lit or posed. (“Do you have a preferred side?” “Are there body parts you like to be posed in a certain way?”) Asking for pronouns rather than assuming, and cultivating a non-judgmental, safe environment. Constantly checking in, being aware of the physical pressures of certain poses or outfits, and offering water and snack breaks. Giving clear, articulate posing direction so I'm not making models hold strenuous poses while I test lighting. Showing photos as we go, getting feedback, and never taking that feedback personally. Making it clear that the model's comfort and satisfaction are the most important thing, and respecting wishes for specific editing requests.

Ultimately, reading the vibe, being grateful, and never taking trust for granted is key. The photos are a collaboration, but the reality is that the model is more vulnerable, and the photographer is in a position of power.

GATA: These read as much as portraits of desire as of people, and the eroticism stays deliberately ambiguous. Whose desire do you think we’re ultimately seeing, and how conscious were you of keeping that unresolved?

HANNAH: It’s highly collaborative, but ultimately filtered through my gaze and my lens. When I’m photographing, I’m attempting to see the model through the eyes of her ideal submissive, trying to understand her archetype, how she expresses power and eroticism, how she connects with clients, how she carries herself in the world.

My own desire as a photographer is to make the people I shoot look undeniably powerful while showing what makes them uniquely beautiful. Domination doesn’t exist without submission, so what I’m ultimately capturing isn’t one person’s desire–it’s the space between the two, hers and the client’s she’s imagining, collapsed into a single image.

GATA: The exhibition reframes the dominatrix as a site of projection rather than simply a subject, foregrounding the psychological and aesthetic labour of domination. What drew you to that shift in perspective, and how did it shape the way you selected and sequenced the works?

BARBARA: Because Hannah’s photographs anticipate the submissive gaze, the dominatrix herself is never fully available as a subject anyway. What draws me to her figure is what she reveals in the people who seek her out. So much of the work isn’t about imposing desire but about receiving it, interpreting it, and reflecting it back. Thinking of a dominatrix as a site of projection shifts the focus away from her as an object to be decoded and towards the psychological dynamics–fantasies, fears, anxieties–that gather around her. We selected photographs that resisted resolving her into a fixed character and instead sustained ambiguity. Sequencing felt like an act of calibration, allowing certain works to amplify one another, while leaving enough distance between others.

GATA: How do you think this work sits within broader conversations around authorship, visibility and representation in contemporary photography?

BARBARA: I’m actually not a photography curator by training, so this isn’t really my usual territory. I also want to come at this a bit sideways, because talking about representation and visibility mostly just makes me think in clichés; of course we want to be represented on our own terms, of course authorship should stay inside the community, not be extracted from it, and of course we want nuance, not a single story. But have you come across Édouard Glissant’s ‘right to opacity’? His argument was that being understood has historically been the price of being taken seriously. Opacity refuses that price. I think that’s closer to what this show is doing than representation.

GATA: Sex work has historically been photographed and exhibited by people outside of it, with institutions often marginalising or sensationalising those in the images. How did working from within the industry and community change what you were able to see, make, or show?

BARBARA: Working from within the industry meant I didn’t have to begin with an explanatory or defensive curatorial framework. I didn’t have to prove that sex workers are highly skilled professionals, fully equipped to speak for themselves within cultural discourse. That allowed me to begin with something else instead. I could theorise our work rather than spend the energy legitimising it. And because the exhibition emerges from within the community, it doesn’t only speak about sex workers; it speaks back to them too.

HANNAH: I feel I am able to truly see and relate to my models. I am not interested in solely showing them in a sexualised way, or strictly in the styles dominatrixes are traditionally characterised in.

I remember at the dungeon where I trained, the madame explained to me, “A dominatrix wears a pencil skirt, blouse, stilettos, and red lipstick. She is a disciplinarian; that is what the clients expect.” It was either that or PVC. Those were the uniform of a Dominatrix™.

But through two years of working in BDSM, meeting and shooting dozens of pro dommes, it became clear that this is an extremely limited and outdated perspective. It's a caricature.

Through my relationship with Barbara, discussing their research into speculative kink and desire really pushed me. This line of work has encouraged me to completely unpack my preconceived notions and beliefs around beauty. Sex work is profoundly nuanced; we sell desire. We are facilitators for self-discovery, self-actualisation, self-expansion, and healing….

GATA: The exhibition emerged through a deeply collaborative process rather than a traditional artist–subject relationship. What did sharing or relinquishing creative control look like–both during the making of the photographs and in shaping the exhibition?

HANNAH: As a photographer, I very much see myself as being there to facilitate the storytelling of the domme. The model's creative references lead the shoot. I start by asking questions to understand their archetype and how they connect with their submissives….

BARBARA: Every collaboration is an exercise in relinquishing control for me, because I’m a control freak. I’m also Polish and very direct, whereas Hannah communicates more softly. At least to me, [laughs]. We come from very different cultural and educational backgrounds, and this has certainly caused friction throughout our friendship. But over time we understood that those differences are a gift and a collaborative powerhouse. By the time we were planning the exhibition, we no longer needed to negotiate who was leading what. We both knew it already.

GATA: Were there images that didn’t make it into the exhibition because they leaned too easily into familiar fantasies? What conversations did the two of you have about what should–and shouldn’t–be included?

HANNAH: There were definitely images that felt too eager to confirm what people already expected. We kept returning to the question: does this photograph open something up, or does it simply reassure the viewer that they already understand what we do? Pretty is easy. Sexy is easy. What interested us was everything that exceeded those expectations: awkwardness, tenderness, humour, vulnerability, love.

GATA: Latex functions almost like another collaborator in these images, reflecting both the surrounding space and the viewer. What drew you to its visual and symbolic qualities?

BARBARA: Latex as our collaborator! That’s such a generous reading! When Hannah told me she wants to exhibit her portraits of pro-dommes in latex, I started wondering how we could use it as a storytelling medium. One of the things I find most fascinating in being a dominatrix is that people come to you with their fantasies, but it’s up to you what you do with them. You reflect the fantasy back, and in doing that, you can twist it, distort it, or even turn it against the person who brought it to you.

Nobody has put language to this quite like Reba Maybury, saying that a dominatrix's leverage lies in interpretation. She is describing her work as exploring the tension between being an object of transactional fantasy and finding a way, through the actual practice of sex work, to convert that position into something of her own.

I keep coming back to the idea of a distorted mirror. You don’t get your fantasy handed back to you clean. Latex does the same thing visually, reflecting the room and the viewer but never straight.

GATA: Is there one photograph in the exhibition that best encapsulates the central idea of A Body of Mirrors? Why that image

BARBARA: I don’t think the exhibition has a single centre of gravity. Every image engages with a different aspect of the conceptual framework, and together they form something closer to a network than a hierarchy.

HANNAH: Nalini Westwood. She is the central figure, while the submissive exists as part of the narrative, reflected in the background. But she also looks directly at us, commanding the viewer to enter the space. We are almost looking at her from the perspective of the submissive behind her.

The lighting is dark, and the setting is ambiguous–reminiscent of both a dungeon and an apartment. The story behind the setting is core to the series: we are friends, collaborating on a porn shoot, and I used the opportunity to capture a still to accompany the video. Nalini embodies the dominatrix, Caspian is the submissive, and I exist in between. In this image, she is only wearing latex gloves and stockings; they reflect light back into the dark image, cutting through the low light.

GATA: Rather than inviting passive observation, the exhibition implicates the viewer in the act of looking. What do you hope visitors become aware of about themselves as they move through the exhibition?

HANNAH: I want them to understand that a dominatrix is much more than a leather-clad mistress with a whip. There are countless versions of domination and submission. Desire is not narrow, and I hope they leave questioning their own desires.

BARBARA: I come from interactive media, so a passive audience isn’t really a category for me. Even a still image reads to me as an interface. A dominatrix can present herself in infinitely many ways, but those images are designed to be confrontational. Whether it’s a direct gaze, intimidating beauty, or transgression. They demand a response. And honestly, if at least some people catch themselves halfway through an assumption, I’d be very happy!

GATA: At a time when sex workers are increasingly erased from digital platforms while their aesthetic labour is absorbed into mainstream culture, what does it mean to reclaim a physical space for self-representation?

BARBARA: I find the erasure heartbreaking, and I carry so much anger and resentment about it. We’ve clearly made it into mainstream culture, just not as ourselves. Our visual language is widely adopted, but the opportunities, authorship and economic value it generates rarely flow back to us. And this didn’t begin with social media; it’s a much older pattern separating sex workers from the cultural and commercial value they produce. Everyone should check out the website https://sexworkersbuilttheinter.net/

Leaving the censorship aside, online you can rarely control the encounter. A physical space lets us author not only the work, but the circumstances in which it is experienced, and that feels like a much more complete form of self-authorship.

GATA: Stück describes itself as a “third space” between the domestic, the cultural and the social. Why was it the right home for A Body of Mirrors, and what became possible here that a conventional white-cube gallery couldn’t offer?

HANNAH: Stück is run by Hanny Amin, a former dominatrix and sex worker, and the space is designed to welcome kink. The first time I chatted with her at Stück, I told her my sex worker friends were excited to have a coworking space that actually welcomed them–a place where they could edit porn and photos and do admin work that we are usually unable to do from your typical "laptop-friendly" cafes. Hanny expressed immediate excitement and support. I felt so seen and respected. The community that orbits the space is already from this world.

BARBARA: The first thing Stück gave me was trust. I remember writing the concept for the exhibition, completely unfiltered, and worrying I’d be asked to sanitise it. I wasn’t. My reaction was honestly just: “fuck yeah”.

Like many marginalised communities, sex work can be profoundly isolating. Also, did you know it’s actually illegal for sex workers in the UK to form collectives? So this was never just about showing photographs. We wanted a space where our community could gather, be celebrated, and feel proud of who they are and what they do. Having a room for it, and such a beautiful room, matters. A white cube could never achieve that.

GATA: What conversations do you hope continue after visitors leave the exhibition?

HANNAH: I hope it opens up conversations around authorship– specifically, photographs made by people from the spaces where the subjects exist, rooted in access and trust. I want people to see fetish portraits that go deeper than just sexualising a body. I hope visitors discuss these diverse visuals of beauty and desire, and what it looks like to step beyond the male gaze. The subjects in this series are world-builders and storytellers. They are transgressive aliens and monsters creating and existing in their own realities, refusing to comply with patriarchal Western conventions around gender roles and beauty standards.

Ultimately, I want to challenge notions of what a dominatrix looks like and what fetish photography can be, ushering in a new wave of imagery.

I want people to recognise that sex workers don’t need to be spoken for. We can articulate our own realities within cultural discourse.

PHOTOGRAPHER: HANNAH LOUISE

CURATOR: BARBARA KACZMARCZYK

INTERVIEW: NINI BARBAKADZE

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A BODY OF MIRRORS: DEMYSTIFYING THE WORLD OF DOMINATION