Birch moved back to the Crescent City in the early 90s after receiving a Guggenheim grant to produce a body of work based on growing up in New Orleans. He bought and gutted a property on N. Villere Street, which eventually became his studio space. The old stomping grounds of Mardi Gras Indian Chief Tootie Montana and jazz legend “Jelly Roll” Morton, Birch couldn’t have felt more at home. He began compiling life-sized color portraits of African Americans, but his work has since evolved into black and white through use of acrylic and charcoal on canvas.

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Dureau, on the other hand, was a people person, not an aesthete like either Mapplethorpe or Weston. His pictures breathe, they pulse, they are hot with the blood and sweat of the sitters who joined him in his apartment on Esplanade Street in the city where he was born, and sometimes posed with props that were part of his personal effects. Edward Lucie-Smith, who wrote a fine introduction to a book of Dureau’s photographs published in the 1980s, compared the artist’s ability to transform these autobiographical encounters into photographically classical pictures with the writing strategies of Baudelaire, most notably in the Tableaux Parisiens of Les Fleurs du Mal.

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Flood’s most recent works are his “lace paintings,” which he’s been at for more than a decade now. Originally conceived as backdrops for his text incitements, the lace paintings took on their own life. Painted in acrylic on canvas, the images are created by using tattered lace pieces—sourced from thrift and fabric shops—as stencils. They are dipped in paint, then spread on the canvas, then painted over, then removed (the timing for removal is evidently key). They are intricate, delicate, technically innovative, and abuzz with color: wholly unlike anything else he’s done. They have certainly become highly sought-after and are largely responsible for the invigoration of his career.

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