What happens when you turn dating app clichés into art? For Mitchell Moreno, the answer is Body Copy, a DIY photo-text series that transforms the language of desire into a hilarious and deeply revealing performance of queer masculinities.

The project started with words – lots of them. Over the course of four years, Moreno collected a thousand lines of text from dating apps and websites used predominantly by men seeking men. From there, they picked 43 personal ads – each promising abs, adventure, or something kinkier – and set about creating “ideal” visual responses in the form of self-portraits.

Among the archetypes Moreno cheekily deconstructs are the Latin lover, the macho tradesman, the soft boy and the sugar daddy, all portrayed by Moreno and staged in their London flat.

Fit twink wants hairy Latin lover, from Mitchell Moreno's book Body Copy

All images © Mitchell Moreno / Gost Books

Kwaii friends, from Mitchell Moreno's book Body Copy

Free now for posh dom, from Mitchell Moreno's book Body Copy

Splosh [sweet], from Mitchell Moreno's book Body Copy

Moreno served not only as the model, but also the set-builder, costume designer and photographer. By day they work as a builder and decorator to support their artistic practice, and that trade know-how proved invaluable when it came to creating Body Copy. With a tripod-mounted camera, a cable shutter release and outfits largely sourced from charity shops (plus the odd pilfered pot of paint from building jobs), they conjured a cast of queer characters from scratch.

The resulting photographs are equal parts parody and confession. There’s camp humour in the poses, but also an unflinching honesty about the pressures of masculinity in the swipe economy – not to mention Moreno’s personal struggles with body image. “I began the project while in recovery from body dysmorphic disorder,” they explain, “as a means of addressing the crisis of how I saw myself and felt I was seen by others.”

Consequently, Moreno’s camera acts as both a mirror and a shield. Beyond the therapeutic, they also hope the book gives readers pause to reflect on themes such as identity politics, digital culture and depictions of class: “Part of the project was about redirecting energies of the labouring, working-class body into something creative, for me, rather than the benefit of a wealthy client.”

Body Copy doesn’t just showcase images: the lines of text are arranged alphabetically, reading like an experimental poem – a roll call of digital desire, fantasy and sometimes prejudice. This is art with glitter on its collar and sawdust under its nails. A colourful, life-affirming queer masquerade assembled from pre-owned glad rags and stolen tins of Dulux.

gostbooks.com