Peter Berlin is not just a name; it’s an identity forged in the fires of sexual liberation and artistic expression. From the 1970s through the late 1980s, Armin Baron Hagen von Hoyningen-Huene, the man behind Peter Berlin, embarked on a life dedicated to the pursuit of sexual satisfaction, shaping his existence and creative output around this core mission. Armed with striking looks, a sharp intellect, and an audacious spirit, he moved to San Francisco in his early 30s, where Armin transformed into PETER BERLIN, his unapologetically sexual alter ego.
Berlin’s life became a performance, a radical exploration of desire and exhibitionism that elevated cruising to an art form. His self-designed, boundary-pushing outfits, simultaneously revealing and concealing, became his signature. Compelled to document his striking image, he amassed thousands of photographs, capturing the attention of artistic giants like Andy Warhol, Robert Mapplethorpe, and Tom of Finland. His foray into erotic filmmaking resulted in two seminal films, Nights in Black Leather (1973) and That Boy (1974), where he starred, directed, and wrote, further cementing his status as a pioneering international gay icon who empowered a generation to embrace their sexuality.
Decades later, the now-reclusive Peter Berlin, in his seventies, welcomed apartamento into his San Francisco home, offering a candid reflection on his extraordinary life. In this exclusive interview, Berlin reveals himself to be as radical and insightful as ever, his core values – anti-capitalist, anti-work, pro-drugs, and fiercely pro-sexual satisfaction – undiminished by time. He shares his philosophies on style, attraction, desire, and the evolution of sexuality in a world increasingly mediated by technology.
Becoming Peter Berlin: Identity and Transformation
When asked if Peter Berlin is still his identity, he matter-of-factly states, “He was done already over 30 years ago.” This prompts the question of identity: Peter or Armin? Berlin’s response is indifferent, “I don’t care if you call me this way or that way,” suggesting a comfortable detachment from the persona he meticulously crafted. This duality hints at a conscious separation between the man and the myth, Armin and Peter Berlin.
His home, filled with plants and boasting a stunning San Francisco view, reflects a life far removed from the frenetic energy of his Peter Berlin days. Having lived in San Francisco since 1970, he’s deeply rooted in the city, a testament to his long-term commitment to personal space and tranquility. The view is so captivating that he jests, “If I had this view, I would never leave either.”
The serene view from Peter Berlin’s San Francisco apartment, a space he’s called home since 1989.
Sentimental Reflections and Personal Connections
Despite his provocative persona, Berlin reveals a sentimental side. He points to colorful geometric patterns framed on his wall, a gift from his friend Bryce, created with coloring books while Bryce was in jail. “When he died in 2005, I cut them out and framed them. I’m very sentimental,” Berlin explains. A photograph of Bryce further emphasizes this emotional depth. He speaks of Bryce with affection, contrasting him with his current partner, Reggie, who struggles with drug addiction. Berlin’s care for Reggie, despite the challenges, reveals a nurturing aspect, “Still I take good care of him. I wash his clothes and cook for us. I have a mother instinct.”
The notion of Peter Berlin, the icon of unrestrained sexuality, engaging in domestic acts like cooking seems incongruous, yet Berlin asserts, “I cook quite well as much as I do everything quite well.” He describes his cooking as efficient and unpretentious, much like his approach to life: “My cooking is done in 30 minutes… It doesn’t have to be perfect. That’s my whole life idea. I describe my approach as a dilettante. ‘I do things well enough.'” This philosophy extends to his photography. He contrasts his approach with that of Robert Mapplethorpe, for whom “the perfect image was so important.” For Berlin, imperfection was acceptable, even embraced, in his art and life.
He then gestures to a painting, also from the 80s, marred with black marks. These marks are remnants of Bryce’s anger, a moment when he covered the painting in black paint. Berlin scraped off the paint from the figure but left the abstract marks, a poignant reminder of a tumultuous relationship. This anecdote reveals layers of complexity beneath the surface of the Peter Berlin image, hinting at personal struggles and emotional depth.
Peter Berlin surrounded by personal art and mementos in his plant-filled San Francisco apartment.
Jochen Labriola: A Pivotal Figure
Berlin speaks of Jochen Labriola with deep reverence. Labriola, who taught him to paint, was instrumental in shaping Berlin’s life trajectory. “Jochen Labriola taught me to paint, He was the man that took me out of Germany before I became Peter Berlin.” Their life together was nomadic, spanning Rome, Paris, and New York. Labriola’s death in 1988 profoundly impacted Berlin, shifting his world “from color to black and white because he was the greatest.”
When asked if Labriola was the love of his life, Berlin uses the German word “comrade” to describe their bond. “There’s a German word: comrade; it covers every different gradations. It can mean acquaintance, friend or lover. Comrade is kinship. It doesn’t really have to do with sex, just great fun, great humor, great understanding. He was always smiling and laughing.” This nuanced term encapsulates a deep connection that transcended conventional labels of friendship or romance, emphasizing shared experiences and profound understanding.
Artistic Recognition and Self-Perception
A photograph in his apartment is identified as a Mapplethorpe, “Yes, The only one that survived. I’m on the boardwalk on Fire Island. I could have shot it myself but it’s a Mapplethorpe.” He recounts how Mapplethorpe included him in an exhibition and even purchased one of his pieces discreetly. “Actually these square frames are from an exhibition that Mapplethorpe curated in New York, he asked me to participate. He bought one behind my back. Meaning, he just paid the full price and never said a word to me. I always found that very telling about him.” This anecdote reveals both Mapplethorpe’s respect for Berlin’s work and Berlin’s somewhat outsider status within the art world.
Despite the recognition from iconic artists, Berlin downplays his artistic identity. “I hardly ever showed it in galleries. My stuff falls through the cracks. It’s not seen as art. I don’t even use these words, art. I never saw myself as a photographer, I saw myself as just chronicling the moments in my life when I felt the best.” He viewed his photography as personal documentation rather than art intended for galleries. “Whenever I took my picture, I felt great. Peter Berlin is the epitome of, ‘I looked in the mirror, I love myself.’ And I say, ‘Okay, let’s have a good time’ But I think what is more intense with me is not the so-called narcissism. It’s the exhibitionism.” His driving force was exhibitionism, the desire to share his self-celebration, more than traditional artistic ambition.
When labeled an artist, Berlin questions the definition. “One day, someone gave me a name tag for some event it said ‘Peter Berlin: Artist.’ I said, ‘what makes one an artist?’ Especially, when you’re not connected to the art world and the business side of it.” He critiques the commercialization of art, noting, “Now rich people see artwork as something to invest their money. In my case, unfortunately, nobody sees the potential.”
He reflects on why his work might not have been readily accepted by the art establishment of his time. “Do you think it’s because in that time period it was tricky to define what you created because even though it was all in service to creating your self image, you were engaged in too many activities: photography, painting, acting, designing clothes, and modeling. Or was it that it was too associated with pornography for the art world to take seriously.” Berlin acknowledges both possibilities: the multifaceted nature of his creative output and its association with pornography. “Both, You hit it right on the head.”
However, he recognizes the changing cultural landscape. “But if you started your project today instead of in the 70s, everyone would say, ‘he’s an artist, of course.'” He believes he was ahead of his time, estimating by about fifty years. “’You know? How many years ahead of my time I am. I figured it out, about fifty. In fifty years my stuff will be expensive but usually, one has to die first. I entertain myself by thinking about this stuff. I’m very bored by people. I’d rather be here with my cat.” This statement encapsulates his sardonic humor and his preference for solitude over social interaction.
Philosophy of Pleasure and Sexuality
Berlin’s films, particularly That Boy (1974), reveal his early philosophies. He recalls a monologue in That Boy where he complains about the boredom of superficial compliments. “That’s always been the case. In your first erotic film That Boy (1974), in your monologue you complain how boring it is when people approach you by telling you that your good looking.” He saw the films as a means to express himself, not as polished artistic products. “I only saw That Boy once when I finished it. I’m not interested in it. I was never happy with any of my films. We made them just to get it off my chest. I don’t look at pornography; it’s too boring for me. The exciting part about erotic feeling and sensation is in one’s head. It’s not that you have some physical contact. It ‘s all about the mental context that surrounds that physical contact. I found this impossible to capture on film.” He emphasizes the mental and emotional dimensions of eroticism over mere physicality, finding traditional pornography unstimulating.
Berlin is critical of dating apps, viewing them as transactional and reductive. “How do you feel dating apps have changed sexuality?” He responds sharply, “They diminished sex to a transaction, like going to a bank. Do you want to have a loan of $1,000 or $2,000. The question these days is always ‘What are you into’ Top? Bottom? Whenever I got that question it’s already over for me. That beautiful, colorful array of possibility is gone.” He laments the loss of nuance and mystery in modern sexual interactions, replaced by a checklist mentality. He contrasts his own life, where sex was a central, encompassing pursuit, with others for whom it’s a scheduled activity. “I realized early on that for many people sex was not as important as it was for me. They do it between 5:30 and 6:00, get it out of the way. ‘Okay, now we go out for dinner’ For me, it was my whole life, my photographs, the films, the daily cruising. At the time it never felt abnormal. I was exactly like all my friends. We all went out night after night looking. I’ve had so much time in my life to think about these things, most people can’t because they are too busy with work and family.”
Insights on Life, Dreams, and Authenticity
Berlin’s life philosophy is starkly different from conventional societal expectations. He recounts asking thousands of men about their dreams and fantasies, and finding a void. “I’ve asked thousands of men, ‘What’s your dream? What’s your fantasy? You no what I immediately realized? People don’t have any. I say, ‘What do want in life?’ They don’t know.” He attributes this lack of imagination to societal conditioning that prioritizes work and achievement over personal fulfillment and pleasure. “We don’t live in a world where your parents tell you ‘Whatever you do in life, just have a great time.’ No. You have to go to grade school and then do well in University. You have to earn a degree and then you have to get a good …’ I said, ‘Oh, fuck.’ This is when people waste their most precious time: their youth.”
Reflecting on aging, Berlin echoes Catherine Hepburn’s sentiment that there’s nothing good about it. “Now I’m old. I agree with Catherine Hepburn there’s nothing good about old age.” He dismisses the notion of wisdom coming with age. “What about wisdom, self-knowledge or a refined philosophy?” “Wisdom is something that is also embedded in young people. Old age doesn’t mean that you get wise. Am I wiser now than when I was Peter Berlin? ‘No.’ Maybe, I have a more definite impression about certain things. You can be stupid as a young person and you can die stupid. Already, you see it in nations. After the Second World War in Europe I said, ‘Okay, it’s over. This will be the last war.’ Boy was I mistaken.” He believes wisdom is not age-dependent and expresses disillusionment with societal progress, referencing ongoing conflicts as evidence of enduring human folly.
Addressing misconceptions about Peter Berlin, he points to the stereotype of beauty equating to stupidity. “What’s the biggest misconception about Peter Berlin?” “That I’m stupid. Our culture looks at young, pretty, blond girls. ‘Look at her, she must be stupid. Same with me ‘ he look’s good, he does pornography. He is stupid.’ Have you heard theexpression, Dumb fucks good?” He flips the judgment, questioning who is truly foolish – the one who pursues pleasure or those who judge them for it. “(laughs) Yes. The judgment is that if you’ve made your life’s work the pursuit of perfecting your own pleasure that you must be stupid because pleasure is supposedly meaningless?” “There you are. I have enjoyed my life. So really who is the stupid one?”
The Art of Cruising and Rejection
Berlin discusses his experiences with admirers and rejection, or rather, the absence of rejection in his life. “When you’re as famous for your looks as you were you must have had to turn down thousands of suitors.” He describes the fickle nature of admiration, “If they want something from me and I don’t give it to them, people change how they feel about you in a split second.”
He offers a unique perspective on rejection, suggesting it’s avoidable by controlling the dynamic of interaction. “Well if their fantasy is rejecting them that could be traumatic.” “It’s not traumatic. Trauma is great, it’s heavy, it’s important.” “But sexual rejection is a significant attack on the ego.” “If your sexually rejected, I would ask you why you put yourself in a position to get rejected? I was never rejected in my life. Why? Not because I’m so cute, because, I never in my life went up to anybody and said, ‘I want you.'” His approach to cruising was about subtle communication and mutual respect, avoiding direct requests that could lead to rejection. “Now, I had a lot of people that I ended up having a good time with. At some point I asked myself ‘Why did I choose that person? Their not really that attractive. Not really this, not really that.’ The first thing that comes to mind: RESPECT. They never put me in the position to reject them. I don’t want to reject anything. But when you push me, I can do it in a split second.”
He elaborates on the “art of cruising,” emphasizing non-verbal communication and mutual attraction. “That is the art of cruising: to communicate your attraction without words” “The art of living in a community where you don’t create something like rejection. There’s hundreds of guys over the years who have seen me, and said, ‘You’re not my type.’ Not everybody wanted me. That’s fine. Although in my case there was a very broad variety that were attracted. It’s something interesting about Peter Berlin. I had a universal look. Not too big, not too small, not too butch, not too fem just right.” He attributes his wide appeal to an androgynous, balanced look. “Your style was well balanced between masculine and feminine energy. Like Bowie or Prince, they were fluid between genders and pulled style ideas from men and women.” “I think the word androgynous fits me.”
He addresses the focus on his physique, particularly his penis, in his image. “But you were also never afraid to show off your enormous cock.” “NO! Oh my god. Go to the internet and look at some black guys. My dick is just proportional. If someone approached me in a bar because they wanted a huge dick that would be the end for me and that person. A big dick for me is no different than if you have a big ear, or if you have a big thumb. It doesn’t matter to me. There is something else to that, you see, Peter Berlin is from head to toe. When you think about my image, you visualize the whole picture. It has to always be harmonious top to bottom.” He stresses the holistic nature of his image, where every element, including his sexuality, was part of a carefully constructed and authentic persona. “You mention Prince and Bowie the main thing with those people was that they were authentic.”
Authenticity and Self-Creation
Berlin defines authenticity as self-assuredness. “How do you define authenticity?” “When you stand on this planet and you’re not insecure. Insecurity is very unsexy. Authenticity means you’re saying, ‘This is me, take me or leave me.'” He acknowledges his self-creation, “I used my body as best as I could. Even at my height, my body was never perfect. My face was not photogenic. Maybe that’s where the art came in. I made myself look good. The dick was a part of it, ‘By the way, I have a dick.’ I don’t hide it. It was part of the legs, the face, the head and the boots. That made me stand out more than many other people. When I was Peter Berlin I never thought is was so special. I now look back and say, ‘Oh my God, it was special.'” He recognizes the unique impact of Peter Berlin only in retrospect.
Even in his later years, Berlin’s creative impulse persists, now directed towards styling his partner, Reggie. “Do you still dress up?” “Not really. I used to dress Reggie when we first met. I think that’s why we remain together. I was like a little girl playing with a doll. (Peter flips through images on his laptop of Reggie in classic Peter Berlin styles) I have hundreds of pictures of him. I’m like a child I’d take you and say “lets stop you from dressing so boring?” He playfully critiques the interviewer’s ordinary attire, reinforcing his commitment to style as a form of self-expression. “You think my outfit is boring?” “Yes of course [laughs]. Ordinary. You’re running around blending into that vast picture of boredom and nothingness.”
When asked if he would dress the interviewer, Berlin links it to intimacy and shared experience. “Ouch! [laughs]. Well would you help me? Would you dress me up tonight?” “Then I would say, ‘I want to get high with you,’ that’s how I did it with Reggie. For me the dressing up thing needs a certain level of intimacy.”
He identifies Marilyn Monroe as a parallel in self-creation and iconic status. “Who inspired your looks? You didn’t really have men to look up to because you were breaking new ground. Was Peter Berlin referencing Marilyn Monroe as a sexual icon prototype?” “She didn’t come into my thought process until 30 years later, when I realized ‘There’s this very iconic thing of Marilyn.’ Then, I thought ‘There is no one but me as the male version.’ I said, ‘My God, she created herself, and I created myself. Nobody told me, ‘Wear this, wear that.’ I knew exactly what I wanted to project. So yes, I’m the male Marilyn Monroe. I wish I could have talked to her, because she would have understood what I was talking about. She couldn’t bear it though. She died that fragile Norma Jean, because she couldn’t separate. They wanted Marilyn, they didn’t want Norma and she broke. Now, in my case, because it is not that man-woman thing, it’s a man-man thing, I realized quickly I had to separate Armin Baron Hagen von Hoyningen-Huenefrom Peter Berlin.” He sees a crucial difference in their fates: Monroe’s inability to separate Norma Jean from Marilyn led to her downfall, while Armin consciously maintained a separation from Peter Berlin, perhaps enabling his longevity. He also notes the common misperception of his personality, “I haven’t met one person who said, ‘Yes, you act exactly how I thought you’d be.’ They always said, ‘You’re soooo different than what I thought. What that tells me: ‘You’re stupid.'”
He understands why his constructed image might overshadow his true self. “But how could anyone imagine Peter Berlin’s real personality when your image is a synthesis of a collective fantasy?” “I made it easy for you to feel sexual, especially gay man. That ‘s fine. That’s beautiful. I did a great job. I have a lot of letters telling me how great I was. Boys, when they were fourteen years old, have seen my picture and got off to it. They write, ‘Peter, thank you so much. It helped me to feel good about my own sexuality.’ I never felt shame about my homosexuality. I loved it from day one. I’ve never had that feeling, ‘Poor me, I’m gay and I’m so discriminated against’” He takes pride in the positive impact he had on young gay men, fostering self-acceptance and sexual confidence.
An iconic photograph of Peter Berlin, embodying his self-created image of sexual confidence and liberation.
Family, Intentions, and the Pursuit of Sensation
Berlin recounts his family’s reaction to his sexuality and persona. “Your parents accepted your sexuality?” “No. My mother was traumatized. How do I feel about that? I was sorry that I I hurt her, but I moved out of the house. Today, I have a good relation with my mother, with my sister, with all three of my nephews who are grown men, all straight as hell, families, babies. They all love me, ‘ There’s Armin. Yes, he was Peter Berlin,’ their intrigued because I’m the only one in the family who did something outside of the norm.” Despite initial familial trauma, he now enjoys good relationships with his family, who are intrigued by his unconventional life.
He reiterates his primary motivation for becoming Peter Berlin was simple and direct. “When I look back, my intent wasn’t to be some iconic symbol the only thing I wanted was to get laid.” He clarifies that his intentions were not artistic, political, or about gay liberation in a grand sense. “It wasn’t to make art, it wasn’t to change politics, or liberate gay men. If your lifestyle had no other intention why did you feel the need to document yourself?” The documentation, the photography, was driven by the intense feeling it generated. “It created a great feeling in me. It couldn’t be topped by a visit to the museum, or a trip to Italy, swimming in the ocean, or jumping from an airplane. I said, ‘ I know this can’t be topped.’ Maintaining that feeling of sexual arousal, staying in that place where your just about to cum but don’t. When you cum it’s over. After you cum you say, ‘leave me alone. I want to go to sleep.’ The climax is like dying. So what did I do? I maintained it.”
This pursuit of sustained arousal explains his famous aversion to intercourse. “Is that why you famously were never into fucking, because it ends the sensation?” “I love the state when the mind and body are in such a great harmony. Some People go to the movies. I was out in the morning at the beach and at the bars into the evening, sexually vibrating. For me the art of cruising is about maintaining the good time for as long as possible.” For Peter Berlin, life was about prolonging the pleasurable anticipation, the heightened state of arousal, rather than seeking release.
Social Media and the Illusion of Connection
Berlin reflects on the contemporary obsession with online fame and social media, contrasting it with his analog era. “You say you were ahead of your time by 50 years, now there’s million’s of people trying to achieve icon status through their style and body on social media. You did it analog. Your pursuit has been made simultaneously much easier because you can reach an audience directly with little effort and much harder because the market is flooded with competition. Perhaps only a rare few have been as original or dedicated as you were but the quest is now on a mass scale via Instagram.” He sees the current social media landscape as creating an illusion of connection and fame.
“This whole thing with Facebook and Instagram, people show pictures and receive comments ‘Awesome. Great.’ Something incredible has happened in my lifetime. Time wise, I was very well-born, after the war in Berlin gay life was incredible and it was all underground. Nobody talked about it. It took place in Speakeasy’s. You’d knock on the door and if you belonged you’d be invited into this fabulous shared reality. But now with the computerization of social life, Instagram and Facebook, the young generation says, “Look, I have 5,000 friends.’ Everyone thinks their Michael Jackson, that millions of people love them. Guess what? Nobody loves you. They live in this illusion of life. There will be something awful coming when these young people grow up. When they are a little bit sensitive they’ll break. They’ll say ‘My God, where are all those friends?’ The friends I had in my life, I met the old fashion way. The people who wrote Peter Berlin fan mail, I had very good sense of what was real and what’s not real. Real for me is when I walk the streets and you pass me, I look at you, you look at me, we pass each other, and then I look back, and you look back, and then you stop. That’s REAL! That will never happen inside a computer.” He values real-world, tangible connections over digital validation, predicting a potential crisis for a generation that mistakes online attention for genuine relationships. For Peter Berlin, true connection lies in the unspoken communication, the mutual glance, and the physical presence – elements lost in the digital realm.
