Sex Work Is the Least Interesting Thing About Me

Written by: Alice Garnett

Photography: Graham Turner

It’s a Friday night in London. Are you a) sweating the week off with at the sauna, or b) visiting the exhibit Sex Work is the Least Interesting Thing About Me?

You won’t believe me, but both are possible at The Bath House in Hackney Wick right now.

Amused by the sauna-goers sheepishly making their way through the leather-latex-and-mesh-clad crowd, I grabbed a glass of wine and entered the opening night.

“Sex Work is the least interesting thing about me” is a line one of the exhibit’s organisers, Ada, delivers on dates whenever her job becomes a tedious hyperfixation. Ada’s tactful deflection became the title for the exhibit that showcases pieces by artists who also happen to be sex workers.

“A lot of your other personality and skillsets get shoved aside when they find out you’re a sex worker”

Sevvven, the other mastermind behind the exhibit, explains. “People reduce you.” This exhibit serves as an antidote to the reductive view mainstream society has of the industry.

A job is a job; sex work is work. This sentiment pervaded conversations throughout the night. If someone works in law, finance, education – or literally any other industry – you don’t bombard them with questions about their day-to-day. If your date works in, say, marketing, you don’t fixate on their latest campaign. Nor would you expect (or even want) them to go into forensic detail about their work.

“There are so many other questions you can ask me!” Sevvven exclaimed. “We wanted to explore why this particular job eclipses everything else about your identity. Because we find that a lot of our community is good at 10 other things, but those never get showcased.”

Origin of a Queer Whore, Maddie Adore
2025, Polaroid (scan)

My eyes were immediately drawn to a close-up of the artist’s groin. I came for the pop of white lace in the black and white grain, but I stayed for the pubes perfected into a heart. Maddie Adore, the artist and model, informed me that the piece was inspired by Courbet’s provocative ‘L’Origine du monde’ (1866).

Night Terror; Stuck & Holding On by Ruin Klarity

2026, Loom/frame, wool, cotton threads, wood and nails

This piece honours the persistent existence of sex workers, despite efforts to obscure the community – from law enforcement, especially.

“The frame is built from an abandoned chicken house,” Klarity explains. They mused on how this in itself serves as an apt metaphor for sex work; “abandoned and neglected, but nevertheless still work.”

“And I opted for weaving as it is an ancient labour, with knowledge passed down from generation to generation, which reflects the nature of sex work.”

“So the loom, the practice and its materials all reference work and are all a metaphor for sex work as work.”

Iconography, Poppy Pray

2025, C-type Print accompanied by hand-stitched satin, wood, steel.
Made in collaboration with Ace Nova and Mz Cherry

In this image, Ace splays their legs, their identity obscured by a silk scarf. Bible pages, playing cards, and roses are scattered around their Pleaser-adorned feet as the stained-glass window illuminates their body. The surrounding objects reference the moral contradictions of the 12th century, when sex workers were simultaneously relied upon and condemned, described in Church doctrine as “women of evil life.”

“This is about recontextualising memorabilia from sex work environments that has been elevated to a new status through academia, religion, and galleries,” Pray tells me. “Sex work is commonly viewed as low-brow, but through my work I reconnect sex work with those macro influences, unfurling the rich history of our industry. After all, way back in Roman times the brothels in London were all owned by the church…”

Shadow Work, Lola Tarte
2026, Metal, wire, human hair, card

Once again, an artwork forced me to duck and twist my neck, as I viewed the metal figures. Tarte reveals that these forms – though surreal and dreamlike in appearance – are drawn straight from reality.

“The figures themselves could be anyone anywhere, but adorned with remnants of my hair, and small knickers cut from the keycards of hotels I frequent, the figures are grounded in those real exchanges with clients.”

Figures inspired by sketches of clients mid-session.

“Whilst I am aware that my experience does not reflect the industry as a whole, my involvement has given me the ultimate modern luxury; time and agency over my life – something rarely awarded to working class people.”

“It’s become almost impossible to pursue a life in the arts as a working class person. Working in this industry to pursue life as an artist is a small sacrifice when the alternative would be losing the time I have to create.

I couldn’t be anything else in this life other than an artist.”

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Sex Work is the Least Interesting Thing about Me will be on display until 8th March. Admission is free, but they encourage donations. All profits will go towards the English Collective of Prostitutes.