
Nick Haymes, Dancing on the Fault Line23 Images
For many queer people, documentation of our early identity is incomplete, pieced together from deleted posts, buried within tagged photos and grainy screenshots. As adults, it’s easy to want to erase past versions of ourselves, the ones who were shape-shifting, trying on identities until the right one stuck. But for Love Bailey, that experience is different.
For the past 15 years, she has been the muse of photographer Nick Haymes. Her journey, transition and evolution are immortalised in Dancing on the Fault Line, an intimate photobook that captures the heart of queer becoming. Spanning from 2010 to 2024, the book traces Bailey’s life and performance across various cities. From the underground parties of New York to intimate gatherings at a ranch in Temecula, Bailey appears alongside lovers, collaborators, friends and, at times, alone.
The photobook is not just one woman’s transformation but a collective story of survival, kinship and reinvention. “It reminded me that I am a living archive, a body of work in heels. And that becoming doesn’t have an endpoint. I’m still transforming, still shedding skin. I’m not just a woman or a trans woman, I’m a representation of what can happen if you choose yourself instead of succumbing to others’ perception of you,” explained Love.
Documentation of such a personal journey is a rare and beautiful experience, made possible by mutual trust. Photographer Nick Haymes explains, “Bailey opened up her world and life to me. Often, just being present and turning up meant more than the image I had imagined. Without trust, there are no photographs.”
Below, we talk with Love Bailey about her “messy, tragic, ecstatic, erotic, salacious and divine” story, choosing “glamour over despair”, and reflecting on her journey as documented in Dancing on the Faultline.
What does the title Dancing on the Fault Line mean to you?
Love Bailey: To me, it speaks to survival. I’ve always lived on the edge, of gender, of safety, of society’s comfort zones, and yet I never stopped dancing. The fault line is literal: California’s instability, earthquakes, and land that shifts beneath your feet. But it’s also emotional, spiritual and political. Dancing on it means I chose movement over fear, glamour over despair. It means I kept twirling even as the world tried to swallow me whole.
How did your relationship with Nick begin, and how did it evolve into this long-term collaboration?
Love Bailey: Nick found me when I was a young stylist dressing pop stars from LA to London. My transition was just beginning and my identity felt like a question. He had this rare ability to hold space without intrusion. Our collaboration was never forced. It was built on trust, long pauses and deep respect. Over the years, the camera became a mirror, and Nick became family. We witnessed each other grow, artist to artist, human to human.
Dancing [on the faultline] means I chose movement over fear, glamour over despair. It means I kept twirling even as the world tried to swallow me whole – Love Bailey
How did you feel about being photographed over such a long stretch of time? Did your sense of self in front of the lens change?
Love Bailey: Absolutely. In the beginning, I was performing survival, masking pain with costume, using fantasy as armour. But over time, I stopped trying to ‘give’ something to the camera. I let it see me. My femininity grew more rooted, more embodied. I stopped asking for permission. The lens helped me document my escape from dysphoria into a body that feels like home.
What role did place play for you – Los Angeles, Temecula, Las Vegas, New York? Are there certain geographies that hold stronger meaning in your journey?
Love Bailey: Each city is a chapter. LA was where I ran to become someone, first a Hollywood hooker then a fashion stylist. Temecula is where I planted my flag and said, ‘This land is home for the outcasts.’ Vegas was sex and spectacle, void of culture. New York was my club kid and community era, meeting the likes of makeup artist Scott Andrew, Luke Abby, designer Bcalla, Susanne Barstch, Amanda Lepore and others. These places shaped me, but Savage Ranch, that land, is sacred. It’s where I turned trauma into an altar. It’s where I built a sanctuary, not just for me, but for all the dolls like me.
Did making this book change your relationship to your own archive, your own history?
Love Bailey: Yes. Looking back through these pages, I saw with new clarity just how transformative gender-affirming care truly is. In the early images, there’s a deep ache in my eyes, a young queer soul yearning to belong, to be loved, to matter. You can feel the longing. But as the book progresses and my transition unfolds, that ache softens. The desperation fades. What emerges is someone fully present, embodied, and free, no longer chasing validation, just existing, unapologetically, in a body that finally feels like home.
My story is messy, tragic, ecstatic, erotic, salacious and divine – Love Bailey
Your text within the book is very moving. How did writing it affect your understanding of your own story?
Love Bailey: Writing it was like exhaling after holding my breath for years. It forced me to look back with compassion instead of shame. I wasn’t writing from a place of bitterness, but from clarity. My story is messy, tragic, ecstatic, erotic, salacious and divine. I live my life like an open book. The more honest I am about my journey, the less I have to fear about my future. Putting it into words helped me reclaim it from the margins and place it right where it belongs, centre stage.
More widely, what has this project revealed to you about who you are and who you’re becoming?
Love Bailey: It reminded me that I am a living archive, a body of work in heels. And that becoming doesn’t have an endpoint. I’m still transforming, still shedding skin. I’m not just a woman or a trans woman, I’m a representation of what can happen if you choose yourself instead of succumbing to others’ perception of you.
How has your relationship with glamour and costume shaped the way you present and understand your identity, both now and in the past?
Love Bailey: Glamour was my gateway to power. It was how I demanded attention in a world that wanted me erased. But it wasn’t shallow, it was sacred. Dressing up became a ritual. I wasn’t hiding behind sequins; I was building a mythology. Even now, I don’t see costumes as an illusion; I see them as a declaration. I use fashion to shapeshift, to seduce, to heal, to haunt. Every look tells a story my body once couldn’t say out loud.
Glamour was my gateway to power. It was how I demanded attention in a world that wanted me erased. But it wasn’t shallow, it was sacred – Love Bailey
Can you share a specific moment or photograph from the series that holds special significance?
Love Bailey: The moment that means the most to me is one captured with my dear friend Scott Andrew, who appeared in Nan Goldin’s iconic photo with two drag queens in a taxi after the Stonewall riots. One of those queens, Misty, with electric blue hair, was my mentor, lover and guide through the streets of New York. She showed me that fashion could be a protest, that glamour was a weapon. Misty taught me how to survive through style, how to make art out of pain. She’s gone now, and these memories live only in negatives, but I’m so thankful Nick was there to capture them.
My favourite photo from the series is of Misty and me trying on the original BCALLA spike bodysuit, the same one that later inspired Miley Cyrus at the VMAs. For us, it was pure queer play: drama, fantasy, resistance. We were cast out by the world, but in that moment, we were stars. Fashion gave us purpose when the world tried to erase us. That image is more than a look, it’s a love letter to a time, a friendship, and a truth the industry too often ignores.
What do you hope younger queer people or artists take away from this project when they see it for the first time?
Love Bailey: I want them to know their story is sacred, especially the messy parts. Own your freaky, your ugly, your savage, because when you claim it, no one can use it against you. Embrace your past so your future can soar. Your body, your transition, your truth, it’s not something to hide in folders or hard drives. It’s a living archive. Let it be seen, let it be celebrated, so the next generation understands where we come from. Survival isn’t the end of the story, it’s the spark that starts the revolution. It’s showtime, baby!
Dancing on the Fault Line launches 10 July at Dashwood Books in NYC, with a signing. Pre-order here. Love Bailey’s single “Trans Panic” launches on 4 July, 2025.