Definitions and descriptions of humans are human rights issues: a review of The Evolving Gaze, IHRAM Press

The Evolving Gaze

Quarter One 2025

IHRAM Press

International Human Rights Art Movement

Curated and edited by Lisa Zammit

First Literary Magazine Edition

Publishing Arm

"Africa to Sweden"

The Evolving Gaze

Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema by Laura Mulvey

The Evolving Gaze is the first quarterly publication of a literary magazine of the International Human Rights Art Movement (IHRAM), published by IHRAM Press, IHRAM’s literary arm. IHRAM was founded by artist/activist Tom Block as a "model to use art and creativity to inspire the struggle for human rights and social justice" and the movement works with artists around the world. This edition of The Evolving Gaze is likewise international, featuring works in English from artists far and wide, "sharing their first-hand experiences." A redefining or re-describing of masculinity according to men’s shared lived experience, wants, needs, and desires, is embraced in this candid, evocative, and stunning collection of poems, stories, essays, paintings, and collages in the first issue of the Evolving Gaze, a vibrant and thoughtful curation by editor Lisa Zammit.

In her introduction to the issue, Zammit says, “These hopeful voices act as a call to action to embrace a healthier well-being, letting go of societal pressures and expectations, and striving for a true representation around male emotion, sexuality, identity, and consequences of trauma—to speak out when necessary."

Vitally, The Evolving Gaze reminds us that definitions and descriptions of humans are human rights issues—definitions can be used as weapons or shields, to silence or to evoke speech, to commodify or … to create harmony, to gain understanding, to spark change, or so many things. The issue feels very personal, as each work is accompanied by reflections from the artist describing the inspiration for their works, and a separate section containing author bios is included at the end of the magazine.

The journal’s title The Evolving Gaze alludes to Laura Mulvey’s highly influential 1975 classic feminist essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” (in the lineage of psychoanalysts Lacan and Freud and Marxist theory) where she coined the term “the male gaze,” in exploring the pleasure humans get in viewing and being viewed (on screen) and how in the movies this was, at the time, she contend(ed), ordered by the patriarchy, for male pleasure, such as in slasher flicks, where the female body is/was displayed as a sex object but often denied pleasure or agency herself.

My description is [1] [2] a massive oversimplification of the piece and the influence of its body politics, and Mulvey’s contribution to feminism, literature, and to present day cinema—which involves the proliferation of moviemaking technology in the digital age, and the fact that most humans have access to view and create moving pictures with our own personal, portable devices and screens (even where clean water and food might be lacking)—but I only hope to provide some background for anyone not already familiar with the essay, as many of the pieces speak to the issues she raised.

The surreal collages “Screen” and “Strive” By Amanda Yskamp | United States speak to the evolution of this gaze and of evolving visions of masculinity and male sexuality and identity, as does the poem “Sun Is Positively Charged“ by Rene Mullen | United States.

In his reflective piece following the poem, Mullen says, “After decades of rightly redefining femininity away from language like ‘weak,’ we, as a society, have yet to heal enough to redefine masculinity. This poem tries to quietly attempt a definition.”

Mullen, and the volume as a whole, scrutinizes words and uses them with care. For instance, Mullen explains, “I hesitate to use the word ‘pride,’ as it has been co-opted by the unhealthy masculinity of hateful and hurtful people for ages.” Works in the issue delve into relationship trauma, childhood sexual abuse, and other deeply sensitive, controversial topics (and some are equipped with warning labels). They do so sensitively without hindering accessibility to a broad range of readers, including, with caution in selection, young adults of a certain age, and are for the most part secular, though spirituality and religion are not absent.

Notably, the line between fiction and non-fiction is often blurry in these pieces. “Should You Trust A Fish?” by Wyley Fröhlich Jungerman | United States is one such piece, a fictional/autobiographical-epistolary story featuring the letters of the aptly named Michael Hartmann, written to his ex-girlfriend Olive as Hartmann makes his way through college over a number of years. It is well-crafted, playful, poignant, and hopeful, reminiscent of the stories I read in men’s magazines such as Playboy and Esquire in the pre-digital era in hopes of understanding men better; had I read The Evolving Gaze back then, I might have understood that it’s not so complicated.

Men want what we all want, to love and to be touched, and to be treated with respect physically and mentally, and with kindness, fairness, and understanding by those around them—lovers, family, friends, the law, discourse, etc., and to be able to talk about such experiences, in a safe space. "Fish" was born in part from the author’s therapy sessions.

In the letters, Hartmann holds steady, calling his ex-girlfriend out on her manipulations and telling the story of their relationship. He talks about not wanting to be touched in certain ways, ways that make him feel like a commodity, or to be spoken to as a lesser being:

"I’ve been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days. I remember early on in our relationship we had a conversation about love languages, and you came to the conclusion that I didn’t have any. I didn’t have a response to that at the time, because in a way I agreed, but I've realized now that that isn’t true—my love language is caregiving. When I love someone, I share that love the only way I know how to, which is to set myself aside and give whatever they want from me."

Those themes are echoed in other narratives in the issue, and there is a thematic cohesiveness that gives it an intimate feeling. Many such narratives are based on a conglomeration of people’s experiences. In “Hercules” by Isabelle Pandora Byrne | United Kingdom, who works in National Health Services, and whose "work focuses on ruined identities, mental health, and recovery," reveals that her poem "focuses on the themes we are witnessing within the crisis of masculinity, whether it is mental illness, health inequality, race and/or class.

Similarly, the unforgettable “Kelly Has A Plan” by Doug Jacquier | South-Australia, "is built on [the author’s] own personal experience and of other men [he] has known." The story is a finely-honed, nuanced piece of prose, casting a certain spell with words, in the line of Ernest Hemingway’s “Hills Like White Elephants,” with a lot going on beneath the surface (as well as on it). In “Kelly,” we see the narrator toyed with by women, used for his sperm and then cast aside, the fate of his unborn children wholly out of his control, leaving him blinking, immobilized, and waiting for the future.

In the excruciating “Cry” by Pacella Chukwuma-Eke | Nigeria minces no words in this story/essay/poem about male childhood sexual abuse that is, she says, a "compilation of [men’s] stories and a chance to share their experiences with the world, despite their deep-rooted fear to rebel. Therefore, it is a call to rebel, to bury the stereotype, show the world a man’s scars, and feel true empathy."

Chukwuma-Eke writes that she "has been drawn to writing that advocates for underrepresented people. Though this exercise, [she came] across several boys who were too scared to share their stories of sexual abuse to the world because their country considered this a taboo." This is a graphic piece and comes with a clear warning that it contains references to childhood sexual abuse. Watch out for this stunning poet, who is not yet twenty.

The captivating body politics continues in “Armored Corps Collection: Reluctance” by Vincenzo Cohen | Italy, a stunning collection of paintings.

In an evocative essay accompanying the art, Cohen says, “The artworks laid out in this magazine come from the painting collection, ‘Armored Corps.’ It is a military term that identifies the American ‘armed troops’ that fought against the Germans during the Second World War. The title underlines the combative nature of the subjects represented within this production.”

In these paintings, which each feature a close up of a nude male figure in a protective, autonomous pose against a color field, the male figure takes up or even stretches beyond the field—such as in “Introspection”—in a dialogical play between vulnerability and strength.

“Introspection” is said to describe “the subjectivity of the individual, emphasizing the extreme emotional fragility considered as something to be ashamed of for ‘man,’ but here exhibited as a claim to his own inner strength."

All of these painting are masterful, with my favorite at the moment, in terms of color palette and theme, being “The Rock Man.” At the same time, I acknowledge that especially given the gaze discourse, I feel a degree of uncomfortableness in looking at these works and appreciating their visual appeal, especially as some relate to the physical pain of another. Perhaps the size of each figure and its domination of the field contributes to this response. In this way, Cohen contributes provocatively and pointedly to the discourse on defining masculinity in prose and pictures.

Although I could go on and on as the Evolving Gaze is truly engaging and evocative and has a trove of discussion-provoking pieces on masculinity, I don’t want to spoil too much, and so will leave you with a word on a piece that had me at the title, “In Blue Immobility” by Arvida Svenske | Sweden. Without giving away the central moving image described, I’ll leak that it centers around a prolonged moment in a movie theater. This essay ruminates on "touch starvation" in the context of definitions of masculinity. With that, I urge you to check out The Evolving Gaze.

Review by Lora Herrera