Leigh Bowery at Tate Modern: A Colossal Celebration of Transgression and Transformation

At a time when British society was gripped by homophobia and cultural conservatism, Bowery made his body a site of rebellion. His elaborate, grotesque, and strikingly beautiful costumes - gilded bodysuits, sequinned gimp masks, towering headpieces - confront the viewer with a blend of sci-fi surrealism and fetish-inspired horror-glam. Through exaggerated proportions, obscured features, and hypersexualised or androgynous elements, he challenged conventional ideas of beauty, gender, and propriety. These outfits - dramatically displayed centre stage of the exhibition - evoke the visceral reaction they once provoked in 1980s clubland, where Bowery's mere presence was an act of defiance.

Yet Bowery was not merely a spectacle; he was a disruptor of moral codes. His performances, often blending humour and grotesquery, forced audiences to confront the taboos surrounding the queer body, illness, and eroticism. He revelled in the shocking, sometimes to the point of discomfort, simulating bodily functions onstage or performing half naked in fetish gear. While his work resonated deeply with an era of queer oppression, some of his repertoire was undeniably immoral, from using racial slurs in his clothing collections to a short-lived but inexcusable use of blackface. The exhibition does not shy away from these problematic elements, contextualising them within Bowery’s mission to push every possible boundary while acknowledging the harm caused by his willingness to overstep the mark.

What truly brings Bowery to life in this exhibition is the wealth of photography, film, and personal ephemera that capture his larger-than-life presence. Without these, the garments alone - though extraordinary - would lack the full force of Bowery’s unstoppable personality. The exhibition features striking photographs from Nick Knight, magazine covers from The Face and i-D, and intimate postcards exchanged with friends, including the artist Trojan, whose own work is also featured. These artefacts create a sense of intimacy, pulling the viewer into the inner circle of 1980s and early 90s London’s underground club scene.

But it is the films that breathe most powerfully. Charles Atlas’ Hail the New Puritan (1986) transports us to the anarchic world of the Michael Clark dance company, where Bowery’s costumes transformed ballet into something radical. John Maybury’s Read Only Memory (1989) serves as a time capsule of Bowery’s unstoppable energy, while clips from The Clothes Show remind us of how he infiltrated mainstream media. Rather than feeling overwhelming, the volume of material serves to reinforce the astonishing breadth of Bowery’s influence.

Bowery lived by the ethos that nothing was off-limits, however this tendency towards transgressiveness sometimes resulted in more troubling provocations. Inspired by his neighbourhood in South East London, Bowery frequently appropriated South Asian fashion, which not only misrepresented aspects of different cultures, but was further compounded by his decision to name one of his collections using a racial slur. The exhibition does not gloss over these darker details of Bowery’s career - his Nazi-inspired performances, meant to critique authoritarianism, instead veered uncomfortably into exploitation, and his brief foray into blackface, though later abandoned after criticism from friends, remains an aspect of his legacy that should not be sanitised.

These moments portray the mythos of Bowery as a progressive yet complex figure. Yes, he shattered norms, but he also wielded shock for shock’s sake, at times without considering the harm he might cause. The exhibition frames these controversies within the broader context of 1980s Britain, where racial tensions and anti-immigrant sentiment were rife. This exhibition feels especially important right now, as many of these conservative dialogues around identity, morality, and the policing of self-expression are resurfacing today. Bowery’s work, for all its boundary-breaking brilliance, was not immune to the blind spots of its time.

Leigh Bowery! is a testament to the sheer scale of his influence. From his collaborations with Lucian Freud - who painted Bowery multiple times and cemented his presence in the fine art world - to his work styling the 1990 music video Generations of Love, his impact extended beyond the clubs into music, fashion, and contemporary art. His legendary club, Taboo, was both a creative sanctuary for outsiders and a ruthlessly exclusive space. Its infamous door policy asked, “Would you let yourself in?” - a question echoed in the exhibition, where a large mirror challenges visitors to confront their own image under Bowery’s playfully ruthless gaze.

Bowery’s band, Minty, was another extension of his artistic vision, with performances that included simulated birth scenes, bodily fluids, and slapstick eroticism. These moments, documented in video and archive material shown on a large screen in the exhibition, capture Bowery’s genius for turning life itself into performance. As the exhibition makes clear, his influence can be seen reflected in everything from Alexander McQueen’s runway shows to the aesthetics of RuPaul’s Drag Race.

More than just a retrospective, Leigh Bowery! is a triumphant, chaotic, and occasionally troubling resurrection of a figure who refused to be categorised. The exhibition captures the raw energy, the dark humour, the shock and the splendour of Bowery’s world. It neither sanitises nor sensationalises him, instead offering a full-bodied portrait of an artist who lived by his own extreme rules. Bowery’s work was about transformation - not just of fabric and form, but of identity, perception, and selfhood. This exhibition does what all great retrospectives should: it not only showcases an artist’s work but makes us question our own boundaries, aesthetics, and limitations.