Check out some of their work (NSFW-ish, maybe, for those of you toiling unsympathetically in corporate drag.) If by the end of it you’re not reaching for a cum rag and a checkbook, you didn’t come of sexual age on the frigid winter scree of east Kreuzberg like we did.

If Washington D.C. is – to adapt a canard beloved of this city’s famously self-deprecating political class – “Brooklyn for ugly people,” these guys haven’t been told. Christopher Cunetto, Jason Tucker, and Armando Bircann are three members of a swell new gay art collective calling itself Boys Be Good (check the link to see their work) who are setting out this summer to, among other things, “challenge the stereotype of ‘homosexual art’ and seek to explore the impact gay art and culture have on society while encouraging change and creative mutation within these same realms.” They’re words that should prick up queer ears in this town, especially coming from a crew as smart, young, and promising as this one.

I sat down with the Boys at the foot of the James Buchanan memorial in DC’s Meridian Hill Park, the closest thing America has to a monument to powerqueen ineptitude (Old Doughface could have saved us a lot of trouble by hanging every Secesh and Mormon traitor in the country if he hadn’t spent the middle of the 19^th century fretting over doilies in the Red Room.) A fruitfully impious setting, all things considered, for the conversation we ended up having:

***

Andrew Fogle, TheNewGay: You guys have written that a big part of the inspiration for what Boys Be Good will be doing in the coming season was last year’s flap at the Smithsonian. Talk about what that’s meant to you and how it informs your work.

Jason Edward Tucker: As with David Wojnarowicz’s work, we all find it interesting that it tends to be gay art that’s entirely censored in the past 30 years. If you look at Andres Serrano, Robert Mapplethorpe, the Hide and Seek exhibition: it’s a very interesting point that museums tend to take out gay art. Not many other pieces get this sort of publicity, if there’s any censorship at all. When it comes down to it, it feels as though it’s a direct attack, and our work is sort of a – I don’t want to say retaliation in any type of violent way because it’s not, it’s artistic – but it is artistic retaliation when it comes down to it.

Christopher Vincent Cunetto: It’s also an issue of where the public’s money is going. When you start to think about all these kinds of imbroglios, people are always concerned that people who don’t want to support these ideas or explorations end up paying for them, which in my eyes is a symptom that the culture isn’t ready broadly to accept even an exploration of the issues that our shows will come to represent.

Armando López Bircann: Also, for it to be ok to be institutionally repressed because of funding. Something that carries the name of the National Portrait Gallery is supposed to be national. Even if it’s not official, it still means something. So there’s a fear of artists repressing themselves before attempting something, in the fear of not being accepted to the scene.

TNG: In your statement of purpose you talk about the “stereotype of homosexual art.” You have between you an extensive background in art history stuff: can you talk a little bit about what that canon means, and how you expect to be able to push against it, or what needs to be pushed against?

CVC: I think that in gay culture there’s an idea of gay art as hunky, beefcake images that hang in gay bars. Though they might be nicedrawings, it doesn’t exactly engage thought processes or ideas beyond your lusts. In art history, there are a lot of artists who deal smartly and intelligently with the body and issues of sexuality and identity. Mary Coble is an area artist who does this very well – she has done some really powerful work that deals with these themes. So, it’s not there’s a lack of material, or art, in art culture. But there is a lack in gay culture. The perception is that the imagery we surround ourselves with are advertisements of hot men in their underwear that are marketing the latest parties, or drag queens selling us underwear, things like that, but there’s a lot more thoughtful imagery out there that we want people to see.

JET: I totally agree with that. I also have to say that there are so many stereotypes of the gay community that do have a negative feeling to them, and yet a lot of the media that comes out is completely supportive of them, and it’s sort of just reinforcing a bad stereotype. Something in there needs to just be a little bit more conceptual so that we can break ground and stop – I want to say – bad press when it comes down to it. You give anybody the idea of gay art and they think of 80s mustaches, leather, naked men on a playing card, and there’s no seriousness to it.

CVC: We want to bring compelling images into people’s eyes that they don’t get to see, and give them some different ideas to think about.

TNG: The theme of transformation is important in your manifesto. Each of you talk about what it means to be young and gay and doing art in the 21^st century with the different kinds of dislocations and transmogrifications we all have to live now.

JET: We can start with the idea of a timeline. All of our shows, all of our events, are based around – it’s not really sequential – a series of events we feel are crucial in gay life and transformation. Starting with this idea of “coming out”: it’s our beginning, it’s our opening show. Also the idea of transformation and sacrifice: it seems in gay culture nowadays that it’s still kind of hard to come out – even if it’s getting easier, obviously – but it is a transformation when it comes down to it. You may lose friends, you may lose family members over it. I don’t want to say it’s a rebirth, because it sounds kind of silly, but there are sacrifices involved. I was raised with lesbian parents so I didn’t have that background, but we wanted to do a show that reflected that idea.

CVC: It’s also a nicely packaged metaphor for the way of life that you have in an urban environment as a gay man, constantly dealing with flux and transformation and all these different pressures you have to be, and act, and think certain ways at certain times with certain people. So it extends from that first moment when you decide to leave behind parts of your world and personality and start something new, but also touches on the continuation that you’re going to have to stay in a state of flux for the duration of your character.

ALB: Transformation also speaks to growth and it speaks to what want we want to do to people’s perception of us as gay men. For example: an easy way to transform any man regardless of whatever is to put on a pair of stripper boots and they’re gay, right? Straight up. It’s a spectacle, they’re gay, and that’s what we’re recognized for. And then we ask how do we break down that identity we have as gay men, and how we don’t have to conform to that. . . So it’s about transforming within this thing that we’ve been talking about, this cliché of the gay, moving that and opening that up and letting people know we are the same. It’s not, we’re not that separated. We’re the same person.

CVC: “We” being not just gay, but everybody. We all deal with these same needs, being in flux.

TNG: Lines worth quoting in full from the final paragraph of your mission statement:

“If in the eyes of others we are not equal, then we must strive to create a new gaze, a new way of seeing. If in the minds of others we are different, then we must use the tools we know best to insist on a more honest understanding of what it means to be alive.”

If you’ll allow something a little bit more thorny and curmudgeonly: whose gaze is this, that doesn’t understand who we are? Whose mind is it in which we have to invent new ways of seeing and being alive? There’s the (maybe uncomfortable) fact that we’re all here in a metropolitan area, living terrifically modern lives. Maybe our grouphouses are a little bit dirtier than we’d like them to be, but still there’s this embarrassment of privilege that always informs or taints or enriches whatever it is we do culturally. What do you guys have to say about the ethical or political challenges of making art in situations like ours, knowing that not everyone is in them? In some ways, speaking on behalf of or trying to represent the disadvantage of other people who are dealing with problems outside of this city?

JET: When it comes down to it, the idea of a new gaze goes towards, for instance, the kid who called Christopher a “faggot” last week. It goes towards any person that, simply for the fact that we are gay. It’s directed at people who are discriminatory against anything that’s different from themselves. Because we’re not so different when it comes down to it. And we’re using an artistic approach to that.

CVC: But we also do so many things to each other, we have so many expectations of the ways in which we’re supposed to see and perceive and interact with each other’s bodies and minds in really basic day-to-day ways in our own gay community. People are really kind of illiterate in terms of the signifiers that our – if you want to talk about figurative art or “the figure” – bodies give off to one another in terms of how you’re supposed to engage with one another. How you’re supposed to look at a muscle twink or bear or something ridiculous like that. You can use art and images to challenge people’s perceptions of what it means to be a body, pure and simple. Or what to expect from images of bodies. Or what to expect the bodies around you to look like, and to think a little more deeply about how images of the figure inform our social decisions and overall frame of mind.

ALB: And art can work as an educational tool. We’re in a hetero-normative, macho-dominated society in the West, and it’s all of us that live in it. Gender identity issues are not just particular to us: women are still having a hard time, as a gender, completely. By creating experiences that are relatable, as well- I’m speaking more from the performative angle, not necessarily the figurative – there are all these dense ideas about what should be, and shouldn’t be, and why, but there’s easier ways of showing someone who might not be as educated to wrap their head around all this, for example, cyborg feminism stuff that’s out there.

It’s a vehicle to freedom. Art is freedom, and that’s where we find our space.

JET: The idea of the gaze came up – Armando was talking about the heteronormative society idea – and it’s not really eliminating the previous gaze, it’s using our art to change the way that people look at things. I don’t want to say it’s making it less dense, because it’s just as dense, but it’s more visually informative than some text you’re reading. It’s taking that idea and turning it into something that’s visual, and maybe more readily available.

CVC: Feminist artists have been talking about this stuff for decades. How can we as gay men expect to teach society things when, internally, we’re still doing things to each other that straight men do to women? So there’s the idea that we’ve got to sort some things out first before we can really offer some super-meaningful shit to outside culture. And we want to engage both of those goals at the same time.

Your comment about this being like a state of privilege, being able to engage these concerns—

ALB: We totally are, and we need to take advantage of the fact that we are, and have the education. Because other people don’t have the privilege to make art, and we do, and that’s our job, and that’s why we’re artists. So yes, we are children of privilege, and we’re trying to pass that around.

JET: And as much as it is considered a privilege, you go to any event here [in Washington] and say “I’m an artist” and immediately it’s like a social judgment placed on you. And you go, “I’m a gay artist,” and it’s even a further social judgment. The position of privilege is – I wouldn’t say it’s a full privilege.

CVC: We’re not like poor and homeless. I’m not sure that our art is in line with talking as much about “class” in ways that are extremely direct.

TNG: Finally, so long as in we’re in the territory of gazes and projects and so on – and let the record show I’m staring at you with wide-eyed Sartrean intensity as I ask this – what the fuck are you guys doing with your lives?

ALB: Right now, I’m still learning, and always will be. And believing more in art as a tool for social reforms of some sort. I believe more in art as I find out more about it and pursuing it. Trying to bring some magic back into the world. People forget about it, it sounds corny, but I think it’s a mirror.

CVC: There’s this perception of the art world being an entirely academic pursuit. That’s not my goal at least: I want to engage people in really diverse variety of ways. Images are really easy to do that with, because people get sucked in by them.

JET: Art informs itself. When it comes down to it, what we’re creating will reflect upon our next show will reflect upon our next show will we reflect upon any work we create in the future. Experimenting with those ideas, you eventually get them out of yourself, and you’re able to play with them and turn them into something that everyone can share, instead of just being this idea you have stuck in your head.

The idea of art informing itself is key to our collective. There’s six of us working together: we’ve sort of got the same ideas, we don’t work in the same mediums, and all we have our own little niche of what we create. But we’re all sort of collectively creating questions.

***

Boys Be Good have scheduled their first show, THE METASCHEMATIZATIONS, for July 22nd at Morton Fine Art. Check out the event page here.

One of TNG’s omniscient Stasi-like cultural informants tipped us off to this alternaqueer gem, a tumblr aptly titled Gay Men Draw Vaginas. Created, maintained, and (very liberally) edited by shadowy homosexual types whose work requires anonymity (if, indeed, they were given conventional Christian names at all by their loveless underworldly demon-sires ), the site very smartly demonstrates what happens when gay men are asked to represent female genitalia – those yawning and unfathomable voids of existential insecurity, primordial jealousy, and cooties – in cartoon form:

I watched a friend of mine draw a vagina on a dinner table mat and it looked totally wrong. So I asked his boyfriend to draw one and while his drawing had serious flaws it made me wonder what my other male friends who only have sex with men imagined of vaginas. All of a sudden I wanted to see a drawing of a vagina by every one of these men. Aside from it being interesting to see how people interpret the same object, it’s especially curious to see how gay men visually represent the vagina when most of the vag-oriented images we see in pop culture are produced by straight men. So now the tumblr includes a small library of vag drawings by men who have a whole different vag-orientation than the makers of most vag representations — whether artistic, pornographic or medical

Turns out it’s kind of like the things you might expect to see magneted to the refrigerator of Jean Cocteau and Georgia O’Keefe if they’d raised an autistic hipster lovechild. Submit your own fanciful Here Be Dragons imaginings to DRAWVAGINAS@GMAIL.COM, and keep on pretending you’ve never watched straight porn.

Terrence Moss is a short fiction writer and media commentator with articles featured on Associated Content and Suite 101. “Starring Erick Davidson” also appears in the blogosphere section of www.frontiersweb.com. More Erick Davidson stories, performance pieces and other works can be found at www.terrencemoss.blogspot.com.

You can also check out more of Erick Davidson’s adventures on TNG every Wednesday at 12 p.m.

Erick Davidson is an early thirty-something from New Jersey who has lived in Los Angeles for the better part of a decade.

****

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Chris asks as Erick takes a turkey quiche out of the oven and places it on top of the stove.

Erick turns off the oven and examines his culinary effort. “If it’s a bad idea at this point, it’s too late to make it a good one.”

Erick and his ex-boyfriend Mitch reconnected a few weeks ago at Callender’s, Erick and his current boyfriend Chris’s favorite restaurant, where Mitch had just started working as a waiter. In that time, Mitch has found himself tagging along with Erick and Chris to a play, showing up to a movie night at Chris’s apartment and making an evening appearance at a Coffee Bean while the two of them were there reading. Erick found it odd to be spending so much time with both his current boyfriend and his ex-boyfriend, but a recent breakup had left Mitch without a lot of friends. Since Chris and Mitch were getting along so well, Erick didn’t say anything until Chris himself made mention of it.

Erick had recently discovered his office crush, Anthony, performing in a drag show and thought it a good idea for him and Mitch to hang out together so he invited them both to his apartment for brunch.

“I still don’t see why we just can’t tell Mitch that he’s become a bit of a third wheel,” Chris suggests as Erick walks over to table in the dining area to refill his glass of milk.

“Because he’s one of the best waiters at Callender’s and we like going there way too much to piss off anyone who handles our food.”

“Then why don’t we just switch restaurants?”

“I don’t want to have to train another set of managers and waiters. Besides, Mitch would be hurt if we suddenly stopped going. Trust me, this the best way to distract him from us.”

“What if he doesn’t like Anthony?”

“What’s not to like — his arms, his chest, his ass or his smile? Anthony’s perfect.”

“What if Anthony doesn’t like Mitch?”

“What’s not to like — his legs, his thighs, his ass or his eyes? Mitch is perfect. Plus, I told him to wear a pair of shorts,” Erick says as he places the milk back in the refrigerator and takes out an already prepared mixed green salad.

“Do either of them know they are being set-up?”

“No, because this isn’t a set-up,” Erick replies as he walks out of the kitchen and places the salad on the dining area table, which has already been set up for a small gathering of four.

“Then what it this?”

“It’s a chance encounter between two people that’s been orchestrated by an outside party. Besides, they both know the other’s coming.”

“So where does the chance come in?”

“There’s a chance I may or may not have to make the sparks fly.”

A short while later, Erick, Chris, Mitch and Anthony were seated to brunch — with Mitch and Anthony strategically seated next to each other.

“Is anyone interested in seconds?” Erick asks as he stands up and heads into the kitchen to retrieve the glass baking pan housing the remaining servings of his well-received turkey quiche. “Not that it matters because I don’t want leftovers and I’m not throwing this out,” he adds with a chuckle.

“I’ll help you, sweets.” Chris offers as he collects Mitch and Anthony’s plates and follows Erick into the kitchen, leaving the two guests to their lively conversation.

“I think this is going quite well,” Erick observes.

“I think we’ve made a mistake here,” Chris whispers.

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t think Anthony’s gay.”

“He does drag. How could he not be?” Erick surmises as he places another serving of quiche on Anthony’s plate.

“He also talks about sports.”

“So do I.”

“You talk about gymnastics.”

“Gymnastics is a sport.”

“Anthony talks about football and baseball. Those are different kinds of sports.”

Erick places another serving of quiche on Mitch’s plate. “The only difference is that one involves tumbling while the other two involve running and catching, neither of which fall within my skill set and are therefore the same kind of sport to me.”

“Erick, I really think we should abort this mission.”

Mitch excuses himself from the table and walks into the kitchen.

“Abort this mission,” Chris warns Erick as he heads back to the dining area with Mitch and Anthony’s plates.

“Things with you and Anthony seem to be going well,” Erick says with a smile on his face.

“Why are you trying to set me up with a straight guy?” Mitch hisses.

“This is not a set-up. This is a meeting, and just because he talks about sports doesn’t make him straight. I know a lot of gay guys who can more than hold their own with any straight guy when it comes to sports. After all, there’s an entire bar in West Hollywood dedicated to sports.”

“He also talks about women.”

“So do I.”

“Yes, but he does it with an element of lust, not annoyance.”

“He does drag. Even I’m not that gay.”

“Why don’t we just take Chris’s advice and abort Operation Erick Fucks It Up Again,” Mitch concludes as he heads back into the dining area.

Erick follows Mitch back into the dining area with the glass baking pan and places a serving on his and Chris’s plates and heads back into the kitchen without saying a word.

“Erick, you are going to have to give me the recipe for this quiche,” Anthony requests as Erick returns to the dining area.

Erick shoots Chris and Mitch a knowing glance. “It would be my pleasure, Anthony.”

A short silence takes place as the looming question hangs in the air.

“Do you like Mitch’s or Michelle’s?” Mitch blurts to Anthony’s utter discomfort.

“It doesn’t matter,” Erick interjects. “Whether he’s gay or not, you two need to become friends because you can’t spend all your free time with us!”

Another short silence takes place as Mitch realizes why Erick orchestrated this meeting. “Is that what this is about? You really should have just told me. I didn’t need a brunch or to be set-up with one of your co-workers.”

“Just to clarify, this wasn’t a set-up. This was a chance meeting…that I orchestrated,” Erick informs the group.

Anthony starts to laugh. “Erick, you are a piece of work. Mitch, there’s a Lakers/Celtics game on in about an hour. I hear there’s a sports bar in West Hollywood. Do you want to watch it there?”

“Why don’t you guys just watch it here instead?” Erick offers as Chris shakes his head in disbelief.

Terrence Moss is a short fiction writer and media commentator with articles featured on Associated Content and Suite 101. “Starring Erick Davidson” also appears in the blogosphere section of www.frontiersweb.com. More Erick Davidson stories, performance pieces and other works can be found at www.terrencemoss.blogspot.com

Erick Davidson is an early thirty-something from New Jersey who has lived in Los Angeles for the better part of a decade.

*****

“I don’t know how you convinced me to come to a drag show,” Chris says to Erick as they are seated at table toward the left of a circular stage. Kawfee Kayke, a performer that Erick had seen many times when he was living in New York City, is headlining a special benefit in Hollywood for the Make it Better Project.

“I just can’t believe you’ve never been to one before,” Erick replies.

“Believe it or not, no one has ever asked. They just assumed a corn-fed son of a farmer man wouldn’t be interested.”

“You’ll love Kawfee Kake. She sings pop songs operatically. It’s fantastic.”

Chris looks around. “You don’t have to convince me. Once you’ve done it, you have a new appreciation for it.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. It was for a presentation in college. The professor wanted something memorable and creative so I paid homage to the ‘Went with the Wind’ sketch from The Carol Burnett Show — curtain rod and all.”

“I hope you have pictures. If you were as broad then as you are now, that had to be quite a sight.”

“It was. My mother has them. I was surprised by how much she supported the whole idea.”

“Interesting. So in your case, being gay really was your mother’s fault.”

“Basically,” Chris confirms as he once again looks around. “Where’s Mitch?”

Erick and Chris had recently run into Erick’s ex-boyfriend Mitch at Callender’s on Wilshire, where Mitch had just started working as a waiter. Chris and Mitch hit it off right away, having previously been set up on a date by Chris’s friend April — who had more successfully set Chris up with Erick after her boyfriend Grayson caught Erick checking him out on a bus and orchestrated a meeting between he and April, thinking she might be able to find someone for him.

Since then, Mitch has joined them for dinner at Chris’s apartment, movie night at Erick’s apartment, a Runyon Canyon hike and now he was meeting them for the drag show — all these in addition to serving as their preferred waiter at Callender’s.

As Erick considers this, Mitch walks in, spots the couple and sits down in the empty seat at their table across from Chris. “Did Erick ever tell you about the time he did drag?” Mitch asks Chris.

Chris turns to Erick and raises a curious eyebrow. Erick turns to Mitch. “Funny you should ask that now, but it’s a horrible way to start a conversation.”

“With your dentist, perhaps. But we’re at a drag show. I can’t think of anything more appropriate,” Mitch responds.

“What about ‘hey guys’?” Erick suggests.

Mitch ponders this for a moment. “Too cliché.”

“When did you do drag?” Chris asks.

Erick turns back to Chris. “Technically it wasn’t drag. It was cross-dressing. For a play — A Midsummer Night’s Dream. And we were by no means trying to make me look cute. I wore a platinum blonde wig, a lime green sundress with a floral print going down each side and high-top sneakers.”

Chris tries to imagine this in his head. “I hope your mother has a picture of that.”

“She does. She posted it to the Facebook a few months ago. It’s a shame you haven’t joined yet. You may want to. It’s the only way you’ll see it,” Erick says with a smirk. “It’s interesting how the passage of time changes people because she had a fit when I told her my part required me to wear a dress.”

“Here it is,” Mitch says as he hands his Android to Chris.

Chris chuckles. “I’m no fashion plate, but you look absolutely wretched in this monstrosity.”

Erick leans over to Mitch. “I hope your kidneys fail,” he says with a smile.

“You’re so sweet. Thanks for inviting me,” Mitch responds as he rubs Erick’s recently shaved head.

The lights dim and three individually colored spotlights suddenly shine on the circular stage. An announcer introduces the opening act, Miss Clara Voyant. The audience applauds politely for the largely unknown performer. The applause quickly turns to cheers and screams when the familiar opening to the disco classic “Young Hearts Run Free” begins to play through the loudspeakers. Clara, dressed in a slinky silver dress held up with short spaghetti straps that doesn’t quite reach down to her knees, walks out onto the stage in step with the beat of the music and begins singing along to the audio track. Erick’s eyes narrow as he begins to recognize Clara’s strong forearms and muscular upper arms. His eyes open wide and his jaw drops as the top front of the dress strains to contain a pair of expansive pectorals.

Chris, clapping along to the song, leans over to Erick. “Hey, isn’t that Anthony the Temp from your office?”

“He’s full-time now, but yes. And I’m going to have a lot of fun with this.”

Erick Davidson is an early thirtysomething from New Jersey who has lived in Los Angeles for the better part of a decade.

*****

Erick and Chris are being seated at Callender’s restaurant on Wilshire after work. “I love this booth!” Chris says excitedly. “This way we get great views of the waiters walking by us in either direction.”

“We have a new waiter that you two will definitely like. He’ll be right with you. It’s good to see you guys.” Meredith the hostess says as she places two menus on the table and then heads back to the front to seat more incoming customers.

“I wonder if he’s a hot as Bradley,” Chris wonders as a busboy comes by with glasses of water for him and Erick.

Erick watches as the busboy walks away. “I wonder if he’s as hot as that busboy.”

“I’m much hotter than both of them,” says a voice from behind Erick.

Erick suddenly turns around and looks up. “Mitch?”

Erick and Mitch had dated for a couple years during Erick’s early years in LA. The two parted ways several years ago when Mitch was presented the opportunity by a producer friend of his to work in soaps in New York. They hadn’t kept much in touch since then, so it was quite random when the two ran into each other at the movies last August. Since then they’d only exchanged a few emails on the Facebook.

“How are you?” Chris asks as he pulls Erick out of the booth and gives him a hug.

“I’m doing well.”

“You’re looking great, really great.”

“So are you. What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. I just started working here and still acting when I can. What are you up to?

“I still work right across the street for the e-zine, but now I date this guy over here. His name is Chris.” Erick answers as he points to Chris.

“That’s great. Really great.”

Erick and Mitch hold each other in a gaze for a few moments. Chris looks back and forth between the two of them. “Ahem,” Chris chimes in.

“Mitch and I dated a long, long, long time ago. He was going by ‘Mike’ then.” he explains to Chris.

“You’re Barista Mike?”

Mitch looks at Chris incredulously. “Yes, how did you know?”

“Erick’s told me a lot about you.”

Mitch motions for Chris to slide in further into the booth and sits down next to him. “Really? I figured he would have forgotten about me by now.”

“On the contrary, he’s told me what a great actor you are and how you made the best lattes for him.”

“That’s very flattering.”

“I think he still misses you,” Chris says to Mitch in a whisper that Erick can still hear.

Erick throws a glare in Chris’s direction as he sits down across from him and Mitch.

“He hasn’t stopped talking about you since he saw you last year during his birthday week.”

Erick opens his menu. “Isn’t it time to place an order, Chris? Mitch is working after all.”

“It’s okay. I’m slow right now,” Mitch says as he waves at another one of his tables.

Chris feigns a somber tone. “Sometimes I feel like he’s thinking about you during our…’dessert’ time.” Mitch snickers.

“Chris! That’s enough!” Erick hisses.

“Does he still call it ‘dessert’?” Mitch asks. “He’s never been able say the word ‘sex’.”

Erick slams his menu down on the table. “We’ll have a spinach and artichoke dip.”

Mitch pulls a pad and pen out of his apron pocket and places it on the table. “Perhaps you’ll want to start with dessert, Erick. It’s better for the system,” he suggests.

“The way he makes ‘dessert’, you would think he’d be able to say ‘sex’,” Chris continues.

Erick glares at Chris. “This stops now.”

“We should be careful. He may storm off in a huff.” Mitch warns Chris.

“He’s not done that to me, yet. Did he used to do that to you?”

“Erick Davidson is, was, and always will be the King of the Storm-Off in my book.”

Erick stares at the two of them. “This was a mistake. Fortunately, we won’t be eating here again.”

Chris turns to Mitch. “Then we should exchange contact information.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Erick announces. “When I get back, there needs to be a glass of Riesling on this table.”

Chris and Mitch watch as Erick walks off before bursting into laughter. “It’s been awhile for me. How mad is he?” Mitch asks.

“He’ll be fine when I tell him how my friend April tried to set you and I up because that’s how he and I met.”

Terrence Moss is a short fiction writer and media commentator with articles featured on Associated Content and Suite 101. “Starring Erick Davidson” also appears in the blogosphere section of www.frontiersweb.com. More Erick Davidson stories, performance pieces and other works can be found at www.terrencemoss.blogspot.com

*****

“Thanks for agreeing to push back your hike until later in the morning,” Chris says as he and Erick arrive to the Runyon Canyon Trail. Chris palms each side of Erick’s head with his sizable hands like a basketball and plants a kiss on what would be Erick’s hairline…if he had hair.

Erick has been hiking Runyon Canyon every weekend morning for the last year. Having never been much of a late sleeper, he is generally back home from the hike and starting his day before a lot of people even wake up, which is just fine by Erick. A lot of people includes Chris, for whom a couple more hours of sleep weighs more heavily than avoiding the late morning crowds.

As they are walking, a man walking his dog is approaching them from the opposite direction. Erick nonchalantly crosses behind to the other side of Chris. Chris kneels down to pet the dog and exchange pleasantries with the dog’s owner about the age, name and breed of the dog — a three-year-old golden retriever named Weezy. Erick smiles politely and begins a series of stretches to limber up for the climb up the south side of the mountain. Erick is bent over in mid-stretch when Chris’s conversation with Weezy and her owner ends, so Chris smacks him on the ass and walks briskly ahead.

As they make their way up the southern side of the eastern peak, Chris notices Erick shifting from one side of him to the other each time another hiker approaches them with a dog or two.

“What are you doing?” Chris asks.

“Nothing. I’m just avoiding the dogs.”

“Why?”

“Just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case one of them decides to go for themselves.”

“What does that mean?”

“You never know when their animal instincts will kick in and they just start attacking people at random.”

“Most dogs don’t do that.”

“I understand that, but do you really want to see one of the ‘not most’ trotting off with your left arm?”

“Well, I’m right-handed, but that would totally suck for you,” Chris chides.

“Laugh if you will, but I don’t trust them. Especially the ones that aren’t on a leash.”

“You are being silly.”

As they make their way to the top of the eastern peak, which overlooks the city of Los Angeles, Chris sees a dog running slowly toward them happily wagging its tail. Its owner is following closely behind. Chris calls the dog over to him and kneels down to pet it when it comes over. The dog rolls over on its back so Chris can rub its belly.

“She’s friendly,” the owner says as she approaches and notices Erick’s apprehension.

“I’m sure, but I’m fine over here,” Erick replies. “It’s a cute dog though, really cute.”

The owner chuckles to herself. Chris stands back up, walks over to Erick and pulls him by the arm to pet the dog. Erick reluctantly leans down to pet the dog but suddenly the dog starts snarling and barking at Erick. Erick backs away and the dog takes a few steps forward, still barking.

“Emmy! Stop that!” the dog’s owner calls out. Emmy continues barking at Erick.

“I don’t think Emmy’s listening,” Chris observes dryly.

“I don’t know what’s going on. She never does this.”

Emmy lunges at Erick. “CAN YOU COME GET THIS DOG?” he screams as he starts to run. Emmy chases after him.

“EMMY! EMMY! STOP THAT, EMMY!” the owner shouts out repeatedly.

“You’re being kind of useless right now,” Chris asserts as he runs toward Emmy to distract her attention from Erick. Erick sees Chris approaching and runs behind him. Still hearing Emmy’s barking and thinking she’s still coming closer, Erick jumps up and throws his right leg over Chris’s right shoulder. He uses Chris’s back to push the rest of his body up and wraps himself around Chris’s other shoulder with his eyes closed tightly.

Chris struggles to maintain his balance as he tries to keep them both from falling. Emmy barks a few more times at Chris’s feet before her owner comes with a leash. “I’m really sorry. Emmy’s really a good dog, though. I’m sure she was just playing.”

“Well my boyfriend doesn’t know that. So then maybe you’re just a shitty owner,” Chris answers.

“Or maybe your boyfriend is just a pussy — all that fuss over a cocker spaniel,” Emmy’s retorts as she abruptly turns around and starts to walk away.

“You can come down now,” Chris tells Erick, who uncurls and slides down Chris’s backside. Chris turns around and gives Erick a hug.

“I’m sorry for being so dramatic,” Erick says into Chris’s chest.

“No sweets, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were so afraid of dogs.”

“I’m not per se. I just like them…over there. Away from me,” Erick explains.

“Back to early mornings for you,” Chris says as he and Erick resume their hike.

“Good. Thank you.”

Chris starts to rub his right shoulder. “By the way, you have no future as a scarf.”

Terrence Moss is a short fiction writer and media commentator with articles featured on Associated Content and Suite 101. “Starring Erick Davidson” also appears in the blogosphere section of www.frontiersweb.com. More Erick Davidson stories, performance pieces and other works can be found at www.terrencemoss.blogspot.com

***

Photo by Kira

Erick was doing his weekend grocery shopping at the Trader Joe’s down the street from his apartment. While picking out apples from a display in the fruit section, he overhears a conversation between a woman and her young son.

“Mommy, I want this cereal with the colors!” the little boy says as he reaches up and pulls down the box of fruity cereal he wants.

“No. The cereal we are getting is a lot better for you. It’s going to make you big and strong like your father,” the woman tries to explain as she pushes the cart ahead and continues shopping.

“I won’t eat that cereal!” the little boy asserts.

“That’s fine. My job is just to feed you, not make you eat. That’s your choice. Now put it back.”

“No! I want this cereal!” the child says in a much louder voice. Erick turns around to see what’s going on.

The woman walks back to her son, takes the box out of his hand and places it back on the shelf. “We are not getting this cereal,” she says very firmly and very calmy as she pulls him by the arm toward her cart. Erick notices the mother also has a toddler, which is sitting in the cart clapping and laughing with its legs dangling.

The five-year-old yanks his arm away and starts screaming. “I WANT THE COLORY CEREAL!”

Like many other customers, Erick is trying hard not to stare but is wondering how she is going to quiet down the screaming five-year-old. Slightly embarrassed, the woman starts looking around to see who’s watching. For a brief moment, her eyes meet Erick’s.

“Is everything alright over here?” a clerk asks as he walks by.

“Are you kidding me?” The woman replies as she diverts the clerk’s attention to her screaming child, who is now crying and reaching up to once again grab the box of the fruity cereal.

“Is there anything I can do?” the clerk asks.

“Yes, take him home with you.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is that he’s a child and is therefore acting like a child.”

“Why don’t you just give him what he wants?”

“Do you have children?” the woman asks as she puts a hand on her hip.

“I do not.”

The woman stares as the clerk for a moment. “Go away.”

Erick walks over to the screaming child, kneels down on his right knee, bends him over his left knee, smacks him firmly on the behind three times and then places him back on his feet. Confused, the little boy stops crying. He looks at his mother, who folds her arms. The little boy looks back at Erick, who stands up and stares back at the him with his arms folded. Erick high-fives the woman and goes back to the apple display.

The child puts the box down and walks sheepishly in defeat toward his mother.

The words “IT TAKES A VILLAGE” appear on the video screen for ten seconds before fading to black. Erick’s boss Steve chuckles.

“This PSA came out great,” Steve says to Erick in the conference room of the Lefty office.

“It’s quite true to life.”

“Don’t tell me you actually did this.”

“No, but who doesn’t WANT to from time to time?”

“Not that kid’s mother.”

“On the contrary — she applauded me after every take.”

Lincoln Center

I had the pleasure of spending a full week on a culture vacation in New York City this month. While an escape from winter certainly sounded nice, the allure of hiding from the cold in New York’s museums, theaters, and cultural institutions won me over in the end. I can’t recommend highly enough a culture vacation alone or with a companion, and while such a vacation can be done in many cities, if you can do it in New York, you must do it.

Being a big fan of Broadway, typically I hit up as many shows as I can, but this time there was only one show that I just had to see, La Cage Aux Folles. To hell with that Spiderman disaster, I wanted to see some drag. And let me tell you, get yourself to New York and see this fantastic revival of Jerry Herman’s classic musical. I had the opportunity to see Kelsey Grammer as Georges and Douglas Hodge in his Tony-winning performance as Albin/Zaza on their final weekend before Jeffrey Tambor and Harvey Fierstein (who wrote the book for the musical) took over. This scaled-down version of the musical explodes onto the stage with such vibrancy and joy that there is no way that you can leave without a hum in your voice and a smile on your face.

Instead of opting for more Broadway shows, I decided to spend two nights in the magnificent Lincoln Center, one night seeing the New York City Ballet’s production of Swan Lake (beautiful) and the other seeing the Metropolitan Opera’s production of La Bohème (fulfilling my Moonstruck fantasy). Please, I implore you, see something, see anything at Lincoln Center. Just standing in the plaza by the fountain in the middle is an amazing experience.

I originally wanted to hit up as many museums as I could, but ultimately decided to make the most of my time and hit up the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Museum of Modern Art. Believe it that you could spend a whole week at the Met alone with its vast collections spanning thousands of years of civilizations. I battled the crowd at MoMA to take advantage of their free Friday night admission, and it was beyond worth it. To see everything from Picasso to Warhol for free is an experience not to be missed.

I can’t tell you enough how fulfilling and enlightening it was to take a culture vacation. Whether it’s in your own city, one nearby, or one far away, there are countless ways to experience the best in arts and culture. It was a vacation to be remembered.

We get quite a bit of feedback here at TNG HQ. Often, individual posts receive comments and we appreciate (nearly) all of them. Occasionally, we receive personal email messages from readers expressing thanks for or frustrations with our efforts. Never before have we received actual, physical fan mail until today. The above image is the front side of an anonymous postcard we received (on St. Valentine’s Day of all days) that expressed a very heartwarming message:

Guys.

I’m queer & fat &  turning 25 tomorrow. I wanted to say that, better than any other news site/magazine site I’ve seen, TNG works for me. It’s something I can look at & go “yes, that’s me,” & not have to say “But, they’re not talking about fat/qeer/activist/nerdy/romantics (delete as appropriate).” So, well played for that one. You’re doing a good job. (& I think you should include more illustrations & art work!) <3 PS: The New Pornos —- one of my favourite bands! Such good taste!

So, to Anonymous, I have the following to say: Thank you so much! TNG is a labor of love for us.  Often it feels like a thankless job. Anyone can throw together a glib response to one of our posts and hit submit in the comments field. It is so great to receive a hand-drawn postcard filled with complements and thanks. As a thank you, we are obliging your request to include more illustrations by featuring yours. And honestly, receiving this postcard today nearly moved me to tears. Feel free to email us at Submit@Thenewgay.net if you are interested in having more of your art featured on the site.

Zack’s recent post on the Advocate (and subsequent explosion on Jezebel) elicited this email reply from a reader:

I tried to read your article on defense of the gay white male and couldn’t because you used excluding language. I am not queer. I am an older gay male for whom the word queer holds great pain. You generally won’t be told this by older gay males because the community is so excessively ageist; the term queer is not only insensitive, it is self-loathing. In my day that was a word screamed at me while I was getting punched and then kicked in the face. It has the same status as the word nigger. Some in the black community use that word, and they are censored for it because it is a racial slur. Queer is a homophobic slur, and just because some misguided youths think they are cute using it on themselves does not make it OK. If you don’t wish to be so exclusive, perhaps you should stay away from the term. Please. -s.g., via the internet

My reply to this message was the following:

Dear Sir:

Thanks for your email. We appreciate all perspectives, and yours is very powerful. However, I’ll let you know that the word “gay” was used against me as I was getting kicked and punched, by my brother, in the house where I struggled to find any sort of peace. No word is safe from negative connotations.

I wrote a post a few years ago that wasn’t about this topic exactly, but the subsequent conversation in the comments exposes a wide variety of opinions on the topic:

http://thenewgay.net/2008/09/gay-adjectives-vs-lesbian-nouns.html

The site uses the word “queer” because it is the only word that embraces the entire sexual minority community in a succinct five-letter word. Trust me, there is no word we could use that would make everyone happy, so we’ve chosen to use one that at least is easy to spell, pronounce and understand.

Thanks again for your message. I hope we both can learn something from this exchange.

If we continue to get interesting feedback off-blog, we’ll continue to share it with you here. Feel free to send us an email at info@thenewgay.net, or if you’d like to send in some non-digital artwork, please email us at the address above for our mailing address.

Terrence Moss is a short fiction writer and media commentator with articles featured on Associated Content and Suite 101. “Starring Erick Davidson” also appears in the blogosphere section of www.frontiersweb.com. More Erick Davidson stories, performance pieces and other works can be found at www.terrencemoss.blogspot.com

Erick Davidson is a single early thirty-something from New Jersey who has lived in Los Angeles for the better part of a decade.

*******

Erick and his boyfriend Chris are sitting on the couch in Chris’s living room watching The Town on DVD. Chris’s arm is wrapped around Erick’s shoulder with Erick’s head resting comfortably on the side of Chris’s upper chest. The two generally stay over at Erick’s apartment but with his roommate out of town, Chris wanted to play host to Erick while he had the chance.

Erick hears thumping noises from the apartment upstairs and looks up at the ceiling. “What is going on up there?” he asks.

Chris also looks up at the ceiling. “I don’t even pay attention to it anymore.”

“Do they know they are on an upper floor?”

“I’m sure they do. What they don’t know is how much noise they make from that upper floor.”

Erick brings his eyes down from the ceiling and redirects them to Chris. “Why don’t they?”

“Because I haven’t said anything to them.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m usually at your place.”

“And your roommate?”

“He’s usually at his girlfriend’s place.”

“So for all they know, no one lives down here.”

“Basically.”

The upstairs thumping gets louder and Erick notices the ceiling is starting to move. “Why don’t they just use the door?”

“Please don’t go upstairs and ask.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t even live here.”

They hear what sounds like someone falling onto the floor. Chris sighs in defeat. “Let’s go.”

They walk out of Chris’s apartment, up the staircase on the other side of the hall and through the door leading to the third floor apartment above. Chris knocks on the door.

Suddenly there’s silence on the other side followed by rustling, shushing and muffled words. Erick and Chris look at each other. A few more moments of silence follows as Erick steps forward and places his right ear on the door. Erick looks back at Chris as the door unlocks and opens.

“May I help you?” the neighbor asks as he looks quizzically at Erick, who suddenly stands up straight.

“Hi. I’m Chris. I live downstairs.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Phil.”

“Hi. I’m Erick. I live across town.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Is everything alright up here?” Chris asks.

“His ceiling is moving,” Erick adds.

“Everything’s fine. We’re just doing aerobics,” Phil explains.

“That was aerobics? It sounded like a cattle run,” Erick says.

Chris smiles sheepishly at Phil as he pulls Erick behind him and turns around. “I live here,” he whispers.

“I know, but it’s 10:30 on a Sunday night,” Erick whispers back.

Chris turns back around toward Phil. “Don’t mind him, but it IS 10:30 on a Sunday night.

“Ok, got it. Thank you.” Phil assures them as he closes the door.

Erick and Chris walk back across the hall and down the stairs to Chris’s second floor apartment. As they walk in, they notice a large dent in the ceiling.

“I thought for sure they would have fallen right through,” Erick comments.

(courtesy Sir New York)

Still waters ran deep last week at Sir New York’s Fall 2011 Presentation.  New York Fashion Week, not often noted for its stillness or depth, was treated to twelve looks from the line’s dynamic design duo of Auston Bjorkman and Freddy Dico.  Sir New York exhibits the pair’s far-flung inspirations commanded by a singularly focused sense of editing.

The urbane color palette of Sir New York’s fall collection, upon closer examination, bows to a world of startling internal variety.  Bjorkman has previous experience designing leather and latex fetishwear, while Dico draws on a background of biochemistry as it relates to textiles.  The two cite archery and racing aesthetics as influencing this collection, and base the Sir New York line in athleticism flirting with provocation.  Somehow, the team managed to stitch these kaleidoscopic influences into one tight, unified expression.

This expression found form in garments that give an easy, casual lankiness while expressing taste through unique matches of materials and highlighting the male form in silhouettes that drapes just two tweaks away from expected.  In short, Sir New York is a great antidote to citified male attire that tends to drift toward banality as the nights get longer.

For more information about Sir New York visit their website or check out an interview with the designers at their fashion installation for an Original Plumbing Magazine party.

(taken by Topher Burns)

I’ve always been fascinated by the way people get from childhood to adulthood. I’m interested in the influences that spark our passions,  and the relationships that shape who we are, and how those experiences dictate where we are going. Our destiny.

I’d like to begin a series of profiles based on interviews with artists, writers, thinkers, cooks, builders, and doers who are making their mark in life in a ways that matter. I’ll set out each time with a simple premise – to have a conversation about the dream, the journey, and life as it is now.

Last week’s interview with cellist Chad Hammer of the band Lucinda Black Bear, was the first of this series. His decision at the age of 5 to play the cello would prove to be life defining sending him on a trajectory he couldn’t have scripted. We’ve all had them. We can look at a single decision, a single encounter, a single day that opened the door to the life we have now. A game changer.

Today, I bring you Marcelo Gallegos – an artist from New Mexico, studied at The School of The Art Institute of Chicago, and lives on the Lower East Side in New York City. But oh, there’s so much more to Marcelo, and I knew I was in for an intriguing conversation when he opened his apartment door, barefoot, wearing a tie, a smile, and looking like a modern day Oscar Wilde.

Here’s an edited version of our conversation about “assholes”, monsters, grandmothers, Dick Blick on Bond, movies, the nature of fear, and being a fan of Guillermo del Toro. Marcelo made coffee, I brought Dunkin’ Donuts and we sat down at his kitchen table – with Patti Smith, The Beatles (Strawberry Fields Forever) and Chet Baker playing on the stereo.

TNG: When you went to the portfolio review to get in to university, what did it look like?

Marcelo: At that point I was in high school, and it pretty much was  a hodgepodge, all the different assignments I’d done in art class – collages, sculptures, painting and drawings probably comprised the bulk of it – but thing about it, I don’t know how I got in with that, that stuff was terrible. (laughter)

TNG: Knowing your work now, if I were to look at that portfolio, would there be a common thread?

M: There’d be some similarities. One thing that’s always been in my work is monsters. I just love painting and drawing monsters. Its gotten a little better looking now, but yeah, they were around back then for sure.

TNG: Your monsters are beautiful.

M: Yeah, I have a certain sensitivity for them, affection I guess, so when I’m painting them I put a lot of care to make them extra pretty.

TNG: When you were drawing and painting as a kid, was anyone recognizing that this could go some place?

M: I definitely got a lot of encouragement from everyone saying “You should pursue this, seems like you’ve got a talent for it.” Especially my parents who were very supportive.

TNG: Were they artists?

M: No, neither of them. My dad’s an attorney and my mother is a house wife for the most part. They encouraged me to pursue my art. And they encouraged me to skip town. And said, “This maybe isn’t the place for you.”

TNG: Did you have a good art teacher?

M: In high school, I wouldn’t say she was especially skilled, but she was vey encouraging, and open minded. She definitely encouraged me to try new things – and also really weird, which I liked. (laughter) And she always had the strangest things to say.

TNG: Who inspired you back then? Especially being in New Mexico.

M: A lot of the stuff I would look at I would have to find on my own. I was looking at illustrators, comic books, animation, especially Japanese animation and video games were probably the biggest influence in my art work. I was playing them and looking at the instruction booklets to see the conceptual art that had been designed for them, and I’d look up those names and find books on those guys.

TNG: I told Marcelo a story about the time my aunt, who was very religious, came to my house and convinced my mom to make me throw the Patti LaBelle sculpture I had made in the dumpster. Her reasoning was that it looked like an idol. This is Marcelo’s take on religion.

M: I went to Catholic school for 4 years, and I was not raised religious at all, a total secular family. I remember I was a 4th grader and a staunch atheist. And now I’m less so, I don’t really know what is out there. I’m not going to try and guess at it. So I’m less staunch in my atheism. At the time, the other kids were really freaked out by me, and I think the teacher’s lectured me as well.

TNG: Did Georgia O’Keefe loom large in your life?

M: (a guffaw) No, Not at all! She didn’t loom large. (more laughter)

TNG: How did you meet your roommate Topher (who writes on TV/Culture for TNG)?

M: I call him Chris. We’ve known one another since 9th grade. We weren’t terribly close in high school, we were friends with some of the same people and in our first summer back from college – we all started hanging out. But I was out when I was 15. Chris came out that first summer after college, and I was like “Oh finally, a gay dude to hang out with so we hit it off and became pretty close after that.

TNG: How’d that go at 15?

M: It wasn’t that bad. My parents were like “Yeah, we kind of figured.”

TNG: Who are these great parents who are open like this?

M: Weirdos. (laughter) My dad’s an old hippie, a Vietnam vet, and my mom, I don’t know how to explain her, she’s really kooky. The first person i came out to was my mom and she was like “Well, I’m glad you told me.” And she gave me a hug and that’s about it. Life went on.

TNG: No nightmare high school stories?

M: There were a few assholes, sure! But most of my friends were like “That’s awesome!” Everyone was super chill, and interested in hearing more about it. There was one guy on the basket ball team and he would always yell obscenities at me, but other than that, everybody was pretty nice.

TNG: There’s always one asshole.

M: Always. One of my best friends Mike, the second person I came out to – just lives a couple blocks away (here in New York City) and we’re really good friends.

TNG: My grandmother was a huge influence in my life. When I came out to her, she looked at me and said “No you’re not!” I assured her I was. Later that night she came into the kitchen and said, “Maybe we can find you a sporty girl.”

M: My grandma was a huge influence on me too. A big personality. She was great. We spent a lot of time together. I was 18 when she died. But I never did tell her I was gay. It just never really seemed to come up. I think she had a pretty good idea of it. Before she passed away she gave me some of her mink stoles. (laughter) She knew. She said something like “I think you’ll appreciate these more than anyone else.”

TNG: That was an acknowledgment. She was saying in her own way – “I know you.” Did your grandmother teach you how to cook?

M: I did learn a lot of cooking techniques from her, yeah. She’s a Southern lady. So she’d make fried chicken, collard greens, all that sort of stuff. Chicken and dumplings.

TNG: On Patti Smith, have you read the memoir – Just Kids?

M: I love stories like that, from New York back then. Interesting time period. I have this great friend Dave, who I met here, who moved here back in ’75, and he has all the best stories from the East Village. He use to live with Nan Goldin. He’s in some of her pictures but says he was never wild enough for her to really show the pictures of him, but his girlfriend at the time Greer Lankton is in a lot of Nan’s pictures. She was an artist. She made dolls, sculptures, puppets. She was known as the muse of the East Village. She was born a man and was one of the first people to have a sex change. Her parents were ministers and they thought he was a girl actually, so we better pay for this surgery. They had the church raise money to pay for her surgery. Had her sex change operation and moved to New York. She was close with Nan and Dave, and hung out with Keith Haring and Joey Arias and all those people.

TNG: How did you meet Dave?

M: I do some mural work and we were working together on a project. Hit it off and good friends every since. He was one of the first people I met when I moved here.

TNG: Are you able to make a living with your art?

M: Yes. I don’t have a day job. I’m not saying it’s easy, but…Yeah its not a bad life. New York has definitely been kind to me.

TNG: Why do you have so many lemons. (A large bowl of lemons sits on counter near front door)

M: My friend Mike, the one I mentioned who lives a couple blocks down, from high school, his mom has a Meyer lemon tree and so every year, she sends a giant box of lemons.

TNG: What are you going to do with them?

M: Well, I cook a lot so I do find a lot of reasons to use them – I put the zest in a lot of things, make lemon chicken with them, lemon tart, and I make lemon aide in the evenings. (laughter) This year I’m going to try and make Moroccan preserve lemons, which is something I’m excited about. (Find Marcelo’s recipe for Roasted Lemon Chicken at end of interview)

TNG: Where are you getting your recipe?

M: David Lebovitz has a blog and has a cool recipe I’m going to try.

TNG: Where do you do your art?

M: I do a lot of it at this very table. Sometimes on my bed if it’s a bigger piece. Got to be creative when you have a small apartment.

TNG: I’d love to see some of your work.

M: I’ll show you the smaller stuff first. (Marcelo shows me a tree first with a face)

TNG:  You know what you’ve done? You’ve shown me my favorite piece first! What was the inspiration to begin with a tree?

M: I don’t know. I’ve always drawn trees with faces. It’s a recurring theme in my work. I like to put faces on lots of things that shouldn’t have faces. Fruit, rocks, and trees.

TNG: (As I’m looking at old sketch books)

M: A lot of these sketches were taken from the period when I use to go to The Field Museum in Chicago, every day, and draw all the taxidermy specimens for hours, which is what filled up this sketch book. I would take them home and add things. I did that for several years.

TNG: Why did you turn them in to machines or robots?

M: I’m very interested in the intersection between the natural world and the man made. Very interested in how the world adapts to us, and how we adapt to the world. A sort of fear I have of technology, I guess. I love it and I embrace it but at the same time it’s a little scary sometimes.

TNG: Where do you get your paints? Are you strict about the materials you use?

M: I like to go to New York Central for paper and brushes – they have a primo paper selection. For paint I go to Dick Blick and I only use a Japanese paint by this company Holbein.

TNG: (Chet Baker is crooning in the background) Were you impressed with Avatar?

M: It was an allured visual experience. The world was so immersive. Every detail had been thought out. I love that sort of thing where you think how this being works in this world.

TNG: I would imagine that you’d like to see your creatures come to life?

M: I’d love that. I would love to do concept design for a movie or a game. I think that would be incredible to work with filmmakers. Some of my favorite artists do that. I love collaborating with other artists. That would be the ultimate collaboration.  Guillermo de Toro is doing some really cool stuff, collaborating with a lot of talented artists. He’s working on a video game with H.P. Lovecraft, and I love his stuff. And it’s very cool that he’s defending video games as a legitimate art form and doing this great author’s work. Guillermo de Toro, if you watch interviews with him – he’s really obsessed with monsters, and I identify with him in that, the nature of fear, and how he likes to explore it I think is really cool.

TNG: How do people see your work?

M: On my website Niceghost. As a hobby, I do daily postings on my blog, Monsterism.tumblr.com. Typically I put paintings of monsters but if it’s really pretty I’ll make an exception. I try and post 5 or 6 images a day on there. Sometimes it’s 3 but sometimes it’s 15. There’s so many artists out there making really great stuff. But I really like it. I love finding new monsters, new paintings. I keep “my fans” happy that way. (laugher)

TNG: Thank you so much

M: Thank you. Glad you came by.

(Interview conducted, condensed, and edited by Troy Chatterton)

How to find Marcello Gallegos:

http://niceghost.com

http://twitter.com/marcy_gee

http://monsterism.tumblr.com

Marcelo’s Roasted Meyer Lemon Chicken

Preheat oven to 400 degrees

1      4/5 lb chicken

1      stick of butter (room temp/soft)

Fresh tarragon (chop) roughly 1/4 cup

Fresh mint  (chop) roughly 1/4 cup

1      T ground coriander

S+P generous

2      Meyer lemons *zest both, and poke holes in lemons before placing inside the cavity of chicken. Use Meyer if possible for intense lemon flavor.

-  Mix together with hands, put in piping bag (or ziploc w/ corner cut)

-  Separate skin from top of chicken breast, then pipe butter mixture under the skin

-  Use remaining butter mixture to rub down the surface of the chicken

Bake for an hour, depending on size. Use rack. Breast side down for the first half hour, then flip breast side up for crispy brown skin. Baste often!

Garnish with lemon wedges.

Photo of lemons and artwork by Marcelo Gallegos.

The video was pulled by Smithsonian secretary G. Wayne Clough after attacks by Rep. John Boehner and the Catholic League called the exhibit, well pretty much all the things you’d imagine groups like the Catholic League and Rep. Boehner would call a groundbreaking art exhibit on LGBT themes. Local groups have protested the blatant censorship using some creative means, and most recently several funders of the Smithsonian have expressed their discontent with the video’s axing—including the Warhol Foundation.

In a press release from Monday, the Warhol Foundation states “Although we have enjoyed our growing relationship during the past three years, and have given more than $375,000 to fund several exhibitions at various Smithsonian institutions, we cannot stand by and watch the Smithsonian bow to the demands of bigots who have attacked the exhibition out of ignorance, hatred and fear.” Nice language, but it is not altogether surprising, given the supposed sexuality of the Foundation’s namesake.

But, here’s where this story gets -really- interesting.

The release continues, “After careful consideration, the Board voted unanimously to demand that you restore the censored work immediately, or the Warhol Foundation will cease funding future exhibitions at all Smithsonian institutions.”

What’s this? Someone beside the Right showing some backbone? Color me surprised. The Smithsonian has responded that they don’t plan on bringing the video back, despite the Warhol Foundation’s ultimatum. The Warhol Foundation has not yet responded, but did tell me that they were sending funding to “Jonathan [Katz's] latest exhibition at the Tacoma Museum as well as to UCLA for an art and AIDS exhibition in Africa” when I asked them what other LGBT-themed exhibits they planned on funding.

The Warhol Foundation incorrectly identified the exhibition as Jonathan Katzen’s. We have updated this to reflect the artist’s correct name: Jonathan Katz.

Check out this interview DCist did with Iacovone. In the interview, it highlights things such as what kind of exhibit they’re trying to set up and how they feel about being permanently banned from all Smithsonian buildings.

This summer, I was doing research in the George Fisher papers at Cornell University.  Fisher was an airline steward who, as a side job, ran a massive gay mail-order bookselling operation, Elysian Fields, from 1972 until near the time of his death from AIDS in 1990.

In the course of working my way through boxes of letters, catalogs, and flyers from Fisher’s business, one of them caught my attention.  It advertised the autumn 1984 reading series at the New York City outlet of the bookstore A Different Light.  Every week for 15 weeks between September 11^th and December 18^th, A Different Light hosted a free reading by a different gay or lesbian literary figure.  What was amazing was the sheer quality of this assemblage of talent.  I highly doubt that any similar reading series could be launched in one city in the U.S. in 2010 – not one with such frequency and consistency of talent.

Let’s return to the fall of 1984.  Each week, we’ll look at that week’s novelist, poet, playwright, and critic.  What had they done by 1984?  What have they done since?

Week 13:  David Roche

Of the 15 writers and activists who presented work at A Different Light, David Roche was the only one I had never heard of before.  Even after researching him, I still don’t know so much, except that he was a Canadian performance artist from Toronto who doubled as a house-cleaner.  He was well-enough known on the performance art scene that a friend, the young filmmaker Jeremy Podeswa (later a director for episodes of The L Word and Six Feet Under), created a short film from his act, David Roche Talks to You About Love (1983), which won the Audience Award at the 1985 San Francisco International Lesbian & Gay Film Festival.

Roche served as a volunteer and occasional writer for the Toronto-based gay newspaper The Body Politic (TBP) from 1976 to 1981.  He was described as “a sparkling young fag about town” by renowned Canadian playwright Sky Gilbert, about whom Roche wrote a profile for TBP.  In fact, Roche’s sparkling performances were his claim to fame.  An early 1980s extended monologue, Dirt is My Profession, found Roche presenting himself in an old-school gown and focusing on his career cleaning people’s houses.

The Podeswa documentary was not the last time Roche would appear on film.  Two years later, in 1985, Roche participated in the documentary No Sad Songs, a production of the AIDS Committee of Toronto that combined real-life stories of those with AIDS and performances by Canadian actors and musicians.  He would appear in two other gay-themed films, the musical Zero Patience (1993) and Uncut (1997).  Roche also continued with one-man shows, appearing as recently as 2006 in his autobiographical play 1969 & 1975, in which he discussed an intergenerational relationship he was in as a late teenager and his work as part of the gay liberation movement in Toronto.

Recommended reading: I’ve not read a word nor seen a frame of Roche in action.  No recommendations here!

Lay Of The Land by Tim Miller

All too recently I had an embarrassing, hyper aware moment. It happened with friends. Well, I’ll just tell you when and how it happened.

I’m in a book club that is made up of gay men, ranging from 24 to 50 years old.  The book we’d chosen was Michael Cunningham’s new novel ‘By Nightfall.’ The general feeling was that everyone loved Michael’s style of writing, and the way he captures modern life in New York City.  We agreed the story felt like a prelude and we wanted more. In the end, the novel becomes its most dramatic. We were split as to what happens to the central couple. Does truth bring them closer or split them forever? We agreed that that’s what made the novel most interesting.

Then I started talking. Talking about how disappointed I was in Michael for not writing about male gay couples.

“Isn’t Michael in a relationship?”

“Why isn’t he writing about what he knows?”

“We need more novels exploring the relationships of gay men.”

“Why isn’t Michael doing it, doesn’t he feel a responsibility?!”

All of a sudden I realized what I was doing.  I was unreasonably expecting Michael Cunningham to write the kind of novel I wanted to read. And more to the point, I wanted Michael to do the hard work of exploring, and living those themes, so that I would know what it was like — instead of doing and living them myself.  It’s like reading a travelogue and getting angry that the writer doesn’t visit the places you want to see. Hello?! Then go on your own trip! Have your own experience!

In that hyper aware moment, I felt as if my friends at that table could see me for the coward I really was. I had to steady myself and felt I might come apart at the hinges. In a few minutes the feeling passed, and we moved on, but it happened and the realization made perfectly clear that I had been foolish.

The same day as book club I went to a performance in the East Village by Tim Miller.

I wasn’t sure what I was walking in to. I had read an interview in the Gay City News and expected an autobiographical performance on life and politics.  That’s what I got, but it was also what I needed to hear after the incident at my book club.

Tim Miller is feverish in his passion for telling the personal story. He writes in the introduction of his book ‘Body Blows,’ “The story from life can also hone, expose, reveal, connect, and dig up something from inside me that I can use to build a future.” So you see, when we truly attempt to reckon with what is going on inside ourselves, and its relationship to what’s happening in the world around us – we can actually grow and advance.

I was reminded of something very important – that great works of literature or art can be revelatory, but they never take the place of real life experience – the “doing” of life.  How could Michael Cunningham’s novel come close to meeting my expectations? I was wrong for having expectations. Only I will be able to land on the answers that I need for my life. Tim Miller made this abundantly clear with his big hearted commitment to engaging the world around him, and taking action to make it in to the world he needs it to be.

I walked out of Performance Space 122 emboldened and committed to a new personal bravery towards living.

The artwork in question was David Wojnarowicz’s “A Fire in My Belly,” which includes 11 seconds of ants crawling on a crucifix. The piece was part of a larger exhibit titled “Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture.”

The removal came after the NPG received pressure from Rep John Boehner, who read an article published by a Catholic news organization about the exhibit. The article, which mentions the crucifix, also condemns the exhibit for its portrayal of LGBT-themed artwork. In fact, the gallery’s theme is on the “sexual difference in the making of modern American portraiture,” according to their website.

“I regret that some reports about the exhibit have created an impression that the video is intentionally sacreligious,” National Portrait Gallery Director Martin Sullivan said in a press release. “In fact, the artist’s intention was to depict the suffering of an AIDS victim. It was not the mueum’s intention to offend.”

The removal of Wojnarowicz’s work did not come without backlash, even from our own readers and contributors. The topic of censorship and Congress’ priorities come to mind for most commentaries.

An email to the NPG and the Smithsonian Institute elicited no personal responses on the ordeal.

The Rainbow History project issued the following press release on Dec. 2, in support of the Hide/Seek exhibition:

Since its founding in 2000, the Rainbow History Project has been committed to preserving the stories and memories—personal, geographical, and cultural—of the GLBT community in the greater Washington D.C. area and nationally.  Those stories and memories are now under attack in the form of the Smithsonian Institution’s removal, at the behest of the Catholic League and other conservative groups, of David Wojnarowicz’s video A Fire in My Belly from the National Portrait Gallery exhibit Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture.

That the art and activism of David Wojnarowicz, whose commitment to presenting the lived experience of those with HIV/AIDS inspired so many both before and after his death from AIDS in 1992, should be censored on World AIDS Day is doubly disturbing.  The Rainbow History Project Board calls on the Smithsonian Institution to restore A Fire in My Belly to its place in the Hide/Seek exhibition and to issue an apology for its censorious actions to the Estate of David Wojnarowicz; to Jonathan D. Katz, David C. Ward, and Jenn Sichel, the curators of Hide/Seek; and to its patrons.

We must not allow artistic expression or GLBT lives and experiences to be censored in the face of political pressure.

Symbols are tricky, constantly shifting things whose meaning is, by and large, dependent on their context. Take, for example, dogs in art: the famous art historian Ernst Gombrich once wrote that dogs can, at times, be symbols of fidelity and devotion, and, at others, symbols of lust. Gombrich’s aim was to discredit the idea of attributing one fixed meaning to anything that we see represented in a work of art. In light of the current firestorm surrounding Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture, it might be sensible to revisit this concept of shifting meaning.

As I understand it, the conflict surrounding this exhibition began when an agent of The Catholic League, a conservative and religiously-affiliated interest group, issued a statement to the National Portrait Gallery expressing its displeasure at an 11-second clip from artist David Wojnarowicz’s A Fire in My Belly. In this particular instant of celluloid, part of a longer 30 minute video made by the artist to examine and express his feelings of grief at losing his lover and collaborator to AIDS, ants are shown crawling on a crucifix. The Catholic League believes this to be “designed to insult and inflict injury and assault the sensibilities of Christians,” calling it “hate speech.” Leaving aside the fraught issues brought up by Blake Gopnik of The Washington Post regarding the comparison of this tiny instant of film with the static sculptural depictions of Christian figures recently shown to great acclaim by Catholic groups at the National Gallery of Art and the slippery slope of how an organization with “Catholic” in its name seems to speak for all Christian denominations (iconic and aniconic alike), the very question of what’s being shown should be traced back to its roots.

Representations of Christ on the cross begin in Christian iconography sometime in the fifth century. One of the earliest known is a carved panel on a set of wooden doors in an early Christian church in Rome, dated around 422. The careful and curious Christian might ask himself, “Where are the crucified Christs from before, during those intervening five centuries?” The answer he’d be given is that there are none that have come down to us, and likely none were made, because, rather than being viewed as a transcendent symbol of suffering that eventually leads to triumph and hope, the image of Christ on the cross evoked only the ignominious and criminal circumstances of his execution for early Christians, who preferred to symbolize him as a fish rather than a man gruesomely put to death. It was only when Christianity had become firmly entrenched in society and the practice of crucifixion had fallen away, with the dissolution of the Roman Empire, that the symbol of Christ on the cross began, slowly, to come into the visual vocabulary of his followers. Those followers abandoned the old associations of crime, shame, and death in favor of reflections on suffering, salvation, and sacrifice, in order to take the tools of their oppressors and repurpose them for their own ends.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

For me, as a gay Catholic and an aspiring art historian, I find it singularly ironic that there should be this outcry. It smacks of the kind of ignorance of a group’s own history that makes it susceptible to criticism by outsiders who know the tradition better and to the repetition of mistakes that characterized its oppressors rather than its adherents. Worse still, it’s as though Wojnarowicz’s appropriation of the crucifix as part of a meditation on his own grief isn’t okay, which is a direct contradiction of Christianity’s repurposing of the symbol and an odd affirmation that they are the only ones who could engender such a transformation. It’s not as though the crucifix is their intellectual property – they owe the Romans that one. What they lay claim to is its contextual comprehension by Christians as that symbol of hope, triumph, and salvation. Those symbolic meanings are what Catholics like me have been told to cling to in the face of death, especially when it comes before we might expect to those who are young and full of promise.

Maybe it’s the ants that The Catholic League finds objectionable. I suppose they do make the crucifix in A Fire in My Belly seem discarded, fallen to the ground, and forsaken. Taken as a symbol embraced by all Christians, the central one of the faith (I’d argue it was the cross without Christ, but that’s just me), I suppose it would read to them as though Wojnarowicz had abandoned the comforts of Christianity in the face of tragic death, leaving them for insects to explore. I don’t think anything could be further from the truth, to be honest. If Wojnarowicz really found no comfort in the tenets of his faith, why would he even bother introducing the crucifix as an element in his meditation? Why bring it up, just to repudiate it? Who would do such a thing? Let me think…As for the ants, they’re no different than dogs, in a malleable, symbolic context. Are they a legion of troubles that spoil the idyll of a spring picnic and leave what was fresh to spoil in their wake, or are they intrepid survivors who might be forced to go it alone hopefully after everything they know has been trampled by bullies bigger than they are? Aren’t they both? Isn’t that the point?

In the end, as many before me have said, this is becoming another opportunity for oppression. Washington still remembers The Perfect Moment at the Corcoran, the exhibition that demonized Robert Mapplethorpe’s photography and the temporal locus, as the curators for Hide/Seek have written in their exhibition catalogue, for eliding the terms “artist” and “homosexual” with “AIDS” and “un-American” in the American political and social consciousness. Just as that controversy erupted in the frightening days when AIDS was an even more unwieldy juggernaut than it has become, when it was politically expedient to find someone to symbolize everything that was wrong, this controversy is now being fueled, on World AIDS Day, by Republicans who are about to take office, but not before Congress must consider the ramifications of the Pentagon’s findings that repealing Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell will not have a negative impact on our military. If we’re not a threat in the foxholes and battlefields by virtue of one stereotype, we remain a threat to religion in national institutions of culture by virtue of myriad others. Stereotypes, too, are symbols. The entire argument rests on the fulcrum of symbols, a tiny apical point with heavy weights positioned to its left and its right. Rather than seeking to exert one ponderous viewpoint or another on that board, it might be worthwhile for its detractors to recognize that Hide/Seek itself is about inspecting the balance point, and for the Smithsonian to turn this instance of criticism into a symbol of its own.

DC resident Catherine Dawson has written the below letter to address the fact that DC’s National Portrait Gallery has bowed to pressure from the Catholic Church and censored a video piece by gay artist, and AIDS casualty, David Wojnarowicz. An 11-second portion of the video shows ants crawling on a cross and today that video has been removed from the exhibit. Art has always existed as an individuals personal expression and to censor it based on vague concepts of decency, especially in the Smithsonian’s first queer art retrospective, shows absolute cowardice and undermines the point of having a queer art show in the first place.

I hope you take a second to read Catherine’s letter and write the museum one of your own.

***
To whom it may concern:

In the most basic of terms, I am appalled by the censorship on any level of Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture at the National Portrait Gallery. This exhibition is a unified piece, curated as one whole entity, and deserves to be acknowledged in its entirety. That the exhibition is being censored due to a particular focus on an image extricated from a video made by artist David Wojnarowicz is of particular note: throughout his career Wojnarowicz articulated “rage” at the silencing of queer subjects and the complacency of individual artists and politicized figures in the reinscription of silenced or coded lives on queer subjects in art. It is of interest to me, then, that this “rage,” characterized by Hide/Seek curator Jonathan D. Katz as “public and cathartic” is being dismantled, distributed across the internet piecemeal, and reappropriated by those who seek to cut Hide/Seek down.

I find myself saddened that we, the citizenry of the United States, still count among us intolerant individual whose values – if they can be called that – include deification of Nazi symbols and symbolism. Greater still is my outrage that the torch carried by these individuals is further ignited by conservative members of our governing bodies. In the same breath, however, I can turn to others whose social and political leanings are a far cry from anything that could be associated with liberal or Democratic politics – individuals whose leanings could casually be referred to as conservative, and find in them kindred spirits of tolerance, understanding, and compassion. In these same people I also find those who, like me, have proudly funded Hide/Seek out of their own pockets.

As a donor to Hide/Seek and the National Portrait Gallery, and as a socially conscious human being, I am appalled to find voices that cry out against the existence of Hide/Seek, because I do not have in me the hatred that these people must, to be able to say things like this, feel towards their fellow man. Expressions of ill will towards this show, the artists or subjects featured therein, the curators or institutions that brought it to life, or those to or of whom this show speaks, is a regressive form of overt censorship, the lived and potential implications of which chill me to the bone.

I recognize and respect the place of the National Portrait Gallery’s exhibition Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture as first and foremost a masterpiece show of the major 20th century artists of the American canon. Simultaneously, however, I have survived a hate crime and continue to endure hate speech, and every day I am proud to be out as a queer woman in the United States in the 21st century. I think that my being visible as a queer person – and the visibility of canonical shows such as Hide/Seek – is what can help to move society on the whole to a place where fewer youths kill themselves for fear of being killed by others for being [perceived as being] gay. I can only hope that my money, by way of tax dollars or through intentional donations, can continue to fund exhibitions like Hide/Seek and other entities that seek to break the silence and end the hate and intolerance that Wojnarowicz sought to render visible and, in time, hopefully eradicate completely. I hope that you can help to keep this from becoming a regrettable situation that echoes eerily the Washington of 1989.

Sincerely,

Catherine V. Dawson

I have no idea why I began collecting owls. It started as a fling – a spontaneous compulsion necessary to segue out of a dark period of my life.  At the thrift store down the street from my apartment I found solace and refuge. With oldies blasting from their cheap sound system I browsed their shelves for hours lost inside my own head.

In 2006 after I brought the net back into my home I continued collecting owls. I returned to the net armed with a newfound power.  But I was not ready to let go of my owl collecting.  I saw so much of myself in these creatures. I was drawn to their wisom. I am nocturnal.

Collecting owls helped me work through a very dark and sad space inside of myself that has now healed. As of November 17, 2010 I no longer collect owls. I have 602 owls that took five years to collect and six hours to photograph.  I hope you enjoy their beauty. To view my owl collection click here.

Its mission statement is as follows:

“The Perverts of Color anthology is a collection of voices from people of color (POCs) who participate in alternative sexual and relationship practices which include but are not limited to: S&M, D/s, leather, kink, fetishism, polyamory, and swinging. “Pervert” is a term that society projects onto our bodies and our desires. We use “pervert” both to acknowledge the rejection and stereotyping we face, and to redefine the word on our own terms.

Our Intent:

a) celebrate the experiences of US racial/ethnic minorities navigating alternative sexualities;
b) recover hidden histories and recognize the contributions of POCs to alternative sexuality rights and culture;
c) share stories about ways POCs have resisted dominant narratives about their sexuality; and
d) create possibilities for coalition and resistance for kinky POCs.”

As a person of color myself, I know I will be submitting something for this endeavor. You should too.And what’s more, if you can’t think of what to write about, here’s an entire section of writing prompts for you to use.

Paul Bunyan, Beavers, and Bears... Oh my!

Ever since I spent the cold winter between college and graduate school hiding out in a basement in Bemidji, MN, I’ve been unable to escape its small-town sideshow allure. Now and then, news of some quaint and quirky happening will pop up on my Facebook news feed and I’ll be transported back to this town-that-time-forgot full of aged hippies unaware that tie-dye went out of fashion in the 1960′s.

The latest thing to take Bemidji by storm is a doozy. The town has a longstanding “art walk” in their charming downtown, and this year the community initiative dispensed blank beaver statues to local artists and asked them to decorate them. Unsurprisingly, one of these artists took the beaver reference to a literal place. Some members of the town got all hot-and-bothered, causing the Bemidji City Council to call a special meeting after one city staffer removed the statue from public (yes, that “L” is supposed to be there) display. Debate ensued, a Facebook page was started (that’s how youth activism happens today, folks), and the artist spoke out in defense of her work, saying the contentious image was meant to be hands folded for prayer not, you know, a vulva. Fortunately for us all, the beaver is back on the streets for public consumption.

The news of this ker-muff-le didn’t even make me flinch – Bemidji is one of the few places on earth weird enough that such a thing would be headline news – and so I chuckled and went on my way. But over the weekend I noticed it had captured national attention via Gawker, who used their report as an opportunity to sarcastically dismiss the town: “Before it was famous for a sculpture of a beaver with labia the length of its torso, Bemidji was famous for an 18-foot shrine to Paul Bunyan. Bemidji: Where tacky goes to get supersized.”

As a man who spent six months there and loved it enough to get said Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox statues tattooed on his right bicep, I’d like to offer my thoughts. Don’t be fooled, readers: the controversial beaver isn’t all Bemidji has to offer. In fact, it’s just the Be-midji-ginning.

When I shared the story with my friend Heidi, a feminist / skeptic blogger, she jokingly suggested we capitalize on this controversy and market it as a lesbian travel opportunity. Which got me thinking: Bemidji is actually kind of an ideal destination for the creative queer tourist.

Life partners.

For starters, there is the homage to lifelong bachelor Paul Bunyan in the form of giant sculptures of him and his companion, Babe the Blue Ox. A friend recently informed me that a Paul Bunyan theme park in Minnesota once featured Paul answering visitors’ questions, including this suggestive gem in response to an inquiry about his single status: “There aren’t any 50 foot women around here. That’s why I have Babe.” Sadly (for Paul), the Babe statue by his side does not have any genitalia; rumor has it that they were removed from the statue by order of Bemidji City Council a number of years ago. For that matter, Babe’s always been androgynous – I’ve heard Babe referred to as a female as often as (s)he is a male. On top of all of that, Paul Bunyan spends all of his time in front of a live feed webcam. Doesn’t get much gayer than that.

Then there’s Lobo, the “vampire wolf” of Bemidji. Lobo sits in a plexiglass case outside of a local gift shop, which sells printed copies of his story for five cents. I of course purchased one (along with a Lobo postcard) and was enthralled by the tale of a giant wolf that was hunted for years but managed to escape time after time to terrorize the town. He was eventually caught and stuffed for display. They planned to get rid of him at one point, but it turned out they couldn’t remove him from his case since they used asbestos when preserving him. That’s right – even in death, Lobo is a threat to the community. Awesome, right? Besides having a badass backstory, my heart went out to Lobo. The poor thing was stuck in a glass case and made into a sideshow; if that’s not a metaphor for queer Americans, I’m not sure what is. The guy’s an anti-hero and, apparently, indestructible. Every queer could learn something from Lobo’s story.

Bemidji also happens to be the first city on the Mississippi, America’s great river. Just a short drive from the headwaters (again, no crass puns, please), Bemidji sits on Lake Bemidji, which happens to be the shape of Paul Bunyan’s footprint. The woman working in the Bemidji Visitor’s Center once told me that the waters of Lake Bemidji are regarded as healing by the Ojibwe, who also deemed people who blurred gender lines as holy “two spirit” people. So if you’re still feeling burned over that other north-woods state’s vote against queer equality, hop in those waters and get cleansed. (Warning: the water is covered in ice 80% of the year so, you know, look before you leap.)

One of these things is not like the other...

Finally, there’s the fact that Bemidji is a natural habitat for bears, otters, and boasts more flannel than Williamsburg.

My queer heart will always belong, in part, to the oddball town just a short drive from the Canadian border. As the beaver brouhaha demonstrates, it’s truly a “queer” place.

If you decide to make the trip, two of my best friends, a lesbian couple, hail from Bemidji. I’m sure they’d be happy to be your home(o)town tour guides. So next time you’re planning a queer excursion, think about Bemidji’s Beaver, Bunyan, Babe, Bears and (Lo)bo. How could you say no?

Chris Stedman misses blogging for TNG. If you miss reading him, he continues to blog on religion and atheism at NonProphet Status.