Capturing Queer Joy in Montrose, One Polaroid at a Time

On any given night—maybe at Pearl Bar, Barcode, or maybe out back on Ripcord’s patio—you might run into Jack Urban (he/him) with a vintage Polaroid camera slung casually at his side, catching candid moments of queer life in Houston’s most iconic gayborhood. Urban is the eye behind @montrosepolaroids, an Instagram project turned community ritual, where each square frame tells a story—raw, real, and bursting with life. With over 2,200 followers, Urban’s feed reads like a visual love letter to a neighborhood that refuses to fade.

“Capturing the way we are, one square at a time,” his bio reads. And that’s exactly what he does.

“In the last couple of years,” Urban says, “I’ve been burdened by the feeling that a lot of LGBTQ media carries sad undertones—or is, at best, bittersweet.” The familiar narrative of trauma, rejection, and loss is one we know all too well. “I wanted to create something that reminded us of our capacity for joy, for meaningful relationships, for chosen families. Something tangible.”

That “something” became Montrose Polaroids—a retro-rooted project inspired in part by Keith Haring’s radical embrace of public art. “Haring believed art should be available to everyone, not just those who could afford a gallery ticket,” Urban explains. True to that spirit, the people he photographs get to keep the Polaroid. A slice of joy, stuck to a fridge or tucked into a wallet, becomes its own form of resistance.

“Montrose Polaroids exists in hundreds of small snapshots,” he says. “It lives on bookshelves, inside phone cases, in people’s homes. It’s theirs.”

The project isn’t about chasing curated perfection or glossy visibility. It’s about moments—real, unfiltered, unposed. Sometimes, the impact of those moments hits long after the shutter clicks. “People will find me days later and share what the photo meant. A last night out before a move. A first time bringing a newly out family member to Montrose. A picture that became the favorite in a friend group that feels like the family they always wanted.”

As for where the magic happens? “Thursday night on the Ripcord patio,” Urban says without hesitation. “As oddly specific as that sounds.”

Urban doesn’t stalk big events or press releases for content. His lens is drawn to everyday life—people catching up, celebrating, being wholly themselves. “I always ask for consent,” he adds, “and I’m happy to take a Polaroid for anyone who wants one. Just ask.”

His inspirations? Not celebrities, but the bartenders and staff who make Montrose’s queer spaces feel like home. “They’re the ones keeping these spaces safe and welcoming. And my close friends—my chosen family—help make this project possible,” says Urban.

When asked about the role art plays in queer history, Urban gets thoughtful. “Art and photography don’t just document us—they testify, resist, affirm. From the roughest sketch on a bathroom stall to the most elaborate drag show, it speaks our community into existence.”

As for what’s next, Urban hopes to compile the project into a book. His aging camera might be slowing, but his vision is only getting sharper. “If your readers have ideas,” he adds with a grin, “I’d love to hear them.”

So if you see Jack Urban out there, camera in hand, smile. You might just become a part of Montrose history, one Polaroid at a time.

Keep up with Montrose Polaroids on Instagram @montrosepolaroids.