Based out of every western metropolitan city that gives a damn about fashion, youth, and art, Matt Lambert is giving us a specific point of view that glorifies the grime of rebellious youth. Like James Dean on speed, perhaps literally, Lambert’s subjects exude the kind of “don’t give a fuck” attitude that makes them so endearingly bad.

Part photographer, filmmaker, and visual artist, his work is firmly centered on the life and bodies of young men, but not any young men. He seems to have a penchant for the kind of guy you find smoking cigarettes outside the 7/11, not old enough to buy beer, but old enough to want it, and sly enough to get it.

Akin to Ryan McGinley, Lambert strips down his models (literally) in order to expose the raspy and sickening world of teen boys. Is Lambert’s work just a mirror on this ruckus world, or is it stylized to the utmost degree?

Verging on pornography, Lambert’s photographs leave little to the imagination. After all, what do young people like to do but get naked, drink, smoke, and hang out.

Every boy in Lambert’s work is impossibly good looking, addictingly sinful, and dirty, not just dirty, but grimy in that way that’s oh so sexy. Do these people really exist, or are they, dare I say, the stuff of tumblr dreams?

Either way, Matt Lambert’s films and photographs seem sincere to the kind of feelings that hard-partying youth ostensibly have. Dramatized? Yes. Stylized? Yes. Surrealistic? At times. Lambert’s nightmares and fantasies are rooted in the kind of problems that face or at least tempt many of us.