Is Tyler Matthew Oyer the east side Juergen Teller?
Plus Los Candiles updates, rocket cash, and a pole studio.
Happy hump day, everyone. Everyone’s been asking me what’s happening at Los Candiles. The answer is in today’s letter, as are fun conversations with Tyler Matthew Oyer and Karley Sciortino. Tonight I’m grabbing drinks at El Prado and tomorrow I’m finally seeing The Invite.
In today’s issue: Tyler Matthew Oyer talks photographing Dior (and not being broke), the scoop on what’s happening at Los Candiles, Karley Sciortino on I Want Your Sex, a pole dancing studio opens in Echo Park, “rocket cash” is upending the real estate market, a canine rescue effort involving 26 firefighters, celebrities at Body Dada, Boyle Heights cold-storage drama, the Dodgers’ owner is under investigation, I Love LA is filming in Echo Park, and a $799k house in Highland Park.
TYLER MATTHEW OYER is the east side photographer fashion people can’t get enough of.
If you’re remotely interested in fashion (or you’ve been on social media at all over the past few years) you’ve undoubtedly seen the work of Tyler Matthew Oyer. The Highland Park-based multi-hyphenate — he’s a performance artist, musician, visual artist, and writer, to name but a few of his practices — has emerged as one of fashion’s most in-demand photographers as of late, shooting everything from Dior couture to parties in LA to OnlyFans models to Beyoncé.
His LA solo show, “Portraits 2019-2026,” features 345 photographs — of friends, celebrities, and everyone in between — he’s taken over the past seven years. It opened at Night Gallery (2050 Imperial Street) on 7/18 and runs through 8/15.
Last week, I met Tyler for coffee to talk unconventional career paths, creative process, and the tricky calculus of making your passion a career. Here’s our conversation, lightly edited for clarity and conciseness.
You’re a photographer, but you’re also a lot of other things. How would you describe yourself as an artist?
I started in theater when I was a kid, so it’s always been about performance and a public-facing self. Being on stage at five years old, you’re always thinking about limitation, talking about training, giving something to something. So in my core, there’s a performer that’s always been there. I nurtured that throughout my teenage years. And then I had this passion for photography and fashion. It was a secret thing I did in my own world, looking at fashion magazines. It was W, V Magazine, Interview, Vogue, Harper’s Bazaar, Vanity Fair. It was a release into this fantasy world of production — Steven Meisel, Steven Klein, the photos were crazy. Everything was really hyper-fantastical, which is [its own form of] theater. I’ve only recently realized that it makes sense, what I’m doing.
What did you study?
I wanted to study fashion, but my parents thought that was too much of a pivot from what I had already been doing. So I ended up going to school for musical theater. But I always had a problem with directors, and I realized that I wanted to actually be in charge of things instead of just taking direction. So I left the theater program and studied fine art. I knew that in fine art, I’d be able to be creative, and I’d be able to control what that creativity was. I could build my own world.
I studied sculpture and painting, and then I applied immediately to grad school and got into CalArts. At the beginning I was pretty puritanical about not mixing my history with performance with the art stuff. But by the end, when I did my thesis, I had a three-act, 10-person, multi-genre, mixed-media performance theater piece. And then I just kept performing. In the summer of 2012, I made a one-man show, toured it around Europe, and made a lot of connections. I got gallery representation and had some gallery shows. We did Miami Basel, we did art fairs, I sold paintings and objects.
At what point did your focus shift to photography?
In 2019 I was doing a play as part of a residency in Zurich, and I needed props. So I went to a thrift store and found a basket of analog cameras. I just picked one out. It was like €5 and still had film in it. After the residency I went to Berlin to hang out for a week and maybe take some meetings. I had film in this camera, so I just started taking photos of my friends. That was it. Like, Oh, we’re having coffee right now, let me get your photo. And then I put them on Instagram. At some point a friend was like, You’re really good at this, you should make a book. So I made a book in 2021, and people were really excited about it. It sold out, and I was like, Oh, I guess I’m doing photography now. It was right about that time that I got my first Balenciaga job. I never studied [photography], I never planned it.
Were you ever nervous about your ability to execute when you first started getting those Balenciaga-type jobs? Or were you inherently confident in the work?
I think the compliments of people around me being like, You’re good at this gassed me up a bit. I could just be like, I don’t really know what I’m doing, but everyone thinks it’s great, so let’s keep riding that wave. And even though I didn’t study photography, I have a master’s degree in fine art, so I understand aesthetics. And again, I had this personal education of fashion imagery throughout my teenage years. When I’m at a fashion dinner now, I can discuss every element of fashion culture with editors, with writers, with curators, with designers. I’m finally able to put this vast reservoir of fashion knowledge to use.
What, to you, makes a good photo? Can it even be put into words?
Karl Lagerfeld famously said that anyone can take a good photo. It’s a very democratic thing, right? Not everyone can sing, and not everyone can draw well, but everyone can pick up a camera. But now that I’m in it, I can see when there’s magic happening and when there isn’t. I think what makes a good photo is when my subject feels the most sexy or powerful or confident they’ve ever felt. I want you to say, You took my favorite photo of me.
As a freelancer, how do you balance the pursuit of creativity with the very real need for financial stability?
I was a struggling artist for a very long time. Being a performance artist is amazing in terms of cultural clout — people are like, God, you’re so avant, you’re so radical. But I’m turning 40 in six months, and I was like, I don’t want to be broke when I’m 50. I don’t have a trust fund, unfortunately, and I spent a long time working multiple side jobs. A very good friend of mine, who supported my career from the jump, is a producer, and I asked him once — before I was doing photo stuff — if I could work with him. He was like, Well, you need to bring me something. I was like, I’m creative. And he was like, I don’t need that, I need somebody with a skill. In hindsight, I understand what he meant, because now I’m a photographer, I bring that skill to the table, and he can deploy it however he needs to.
Simone Forti, the dancer and choreographer, said something that has always stuck with me. She said — and I’m paraphrasing — Back in the ‘60s, none of us ever thought we’d make a single penny off of our art, so we all worked dumb jobs to pay the bills. And then we made art because we were free to. I think that’s something we need to get real about right now. Not all art is meant to be commercial. That said, you can make it, as long as you angle yourself towards something that is commercial. You just have to figure out how to make yourself useful.
Do you feel like you’ve made it?
That’s a loaded question. I don’t know about that. I feel very proud of the fact that I just shot Dior couture and I have a solo show of my art at one of the coolest galleries in the city, one that I’ve always wanted to show at. I don’t know if that’s making it, but for me the act of doing is the success. I don’t really care whether five people or 500,000 people [like my work]. It’s more like, Do I feel good about what I’ve made?
Where do you want photography to take you over the next five or ten years?
I think the romantic in me doesn’t really want to know. I feel like I’m on a wave that’s really joyful, and I feel very lucky to be doing something people like, and that I can also get paid for. And I love that the work can involve so many people. I can work for a fashion designer, I can work for a musician, I can work for an OnlyFans porn star. There’s true versatility in this job. Now that I’m deep in it, I want to see how I can challenge myself. I feel like I’ve mastered something, and now I’m like, How can I deploy that on a larger scale, or in a different context?
Is there a person or brand you’re still dying to shoot?
I try not to template the future. It’s more like, if you come to me, let’s find a way to make something cool. I shot something for a lighting company this week, and a friend of mine was like, Oh, it’s a surprise they hired you. And I was like, No it’s not, I take cool photos. I’m not holy, you know? I’ll photograph your lighting company, and I’ll photograph Rachel Sennott for Balenciaga. Warhol’s high/low approach to the world is very much a tether point for me.
Other than developing a specific skill, what’s your advice for young creatives who are trying to make their mark?
Don’t be broke, that’s first. I’m not saying don’t be poor — I’m saying if you have to work a job to make money, do it. Because being broke affects your mental health in a way that will ruin everything else. If you can’t afford your rent, you can’t be creative at all. You’re stressed out, you’re depressed, it’s not a productive headspace. Secondly, don’t try to copy what you see someone else doing. Just be inspired. That’s the distinction between something that’s good and something that’s great — no one remembers a copy. And lastly, just try something. You’ll never know if you like something, or if it speaks to you, until you try.
Finally, your top three spots on the east side are…
My go-to restaurant has always been Speranza on Hyperion. Akbar’s the spot, but now that I’m getting a little older, I’m leaning more Eagle. When my mom and sister were in town for my opening, we went to Saffy’s for dinner and then we all went to Akbar afterwards. We walked in and they immediately saw people they knew. It was the best.
East siders are freaking out over a boarded-up Los Candiles.
Cypress Park’s legendary Los Candiles is, hands down, one of the best places to hang out in LA. It’s a nightclub with personality, it’s wholly original, it has a light-up dance floor, and it somehow hasn’t been overrun by the masses. As such, lots of people got nervous when plywood boards went up on the club’s doors this week. My inbox was flooded with emails asking what the boards meant. Could Los Candiles, a few devastated neighbors asked, actually be closing?
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