31 years old winged flight
citizen of the United States member of the X-Men
unmarried
Go backIf I hadn't met Warren accidentally, I probably wouldn't have met him at all. He lives, as a rule, in New York City proper rather than with the X-Men in Westchester, and a massive amount of his time is devoted to running his International Industries conglomerate. And yet he would seem among the least capable of existing in ordinary society. Years of practice enable him to fold his wings under his clothing (an act which still seems to defy the laws of physics, though I've seen him do it any number of times), but only very specialized technology can create the illusion of caucasian skin. His skin tone was medically changed (against his will, in a very deliberate and focussed act of violence) to blue about five years ago. Warren is among the most physically altered of those who consented to pose for me, and he agreed only on the conditions that he be allowed to fold his wings back, and that I shoot him in black and white.Bobby Drake, and eventually Scott Summers, provided more insight for me into Warren than I got from the man himself. With them, Jean Grey, and Henry McCoy, who declined to sit for me, Warren is one of the original five X-Men, and this as much as anything seems to be what draws him back to the group. Watchful, sharp-tongued, and extremely competitive, Warren's defensiveness conceals an occasional, wry sense of humour, a formidable memory, and a human insight that rocks those who are confronted with it for the first time.
He is also one of the X-Men most fascinated with his own mutation, and his unguarded moments range from narcissism to radiant, unselfconscious joy. I was struck by his sheer beauty while in flight, and remain extremely disappointed that he refused to let me photograph him that way.
Though engaged once to the late Candace Southern, Warren has never married, and at the time I talked to him did not expect to in the future. His present relationship with fellow X-Man Elizabeth Braddock ("Psylocke") is much like Warren himself: breathtaking, volatile, and imperfect.
Warren: No, I think we were out of our minds. We were kids doing the kind of thing you always want to scream at kids not to do -- putting ourselves in the line of fire. And we were stupid about it. Any time we ran into something that couldn't be stopped by the sheer force of violence we could throw at it, we were in serious trouble.
Sinclair: You all survived, though.
Warren: More or less.
Sinclair: Mmm?
Warren: Never mind. History just gets complicated, sometimes.
Sinclair: Do you think about retiring?
Warren: All the time. But first I'd need to be sure that people would be safe if I did. I've tried to retire a couple of times and things ended up bloody. And when I lost my wings, I stayed on the sidelines. Funded X-Factor, but that's not really the same thing. When I got them back . . . I couldn't keep hiding in New York while other people got hurt doing something I started.
Sinclair: Would you show me the wings if I asked?
Warren: . . . I suppose.
[Warren's wings are worth mentioning, and I'll say again that I wish he'd let me photograph them. They span almost sixteen feet, and their touch is wonderful and unearthly. Once released from their binding harness, they became a third participant in our conversation, signalling moods like the tail of a cat. When he stops wanting to talk, they sweep forward around him and block his face from sight.]
Sinclair: These are wonderful.
Warren: Yes.
Sinclair: How did you live without them?
Warren: Badly. [wingsweep forward]