The most exciting, most boring, most scary, calming, daunting, inviting part of the process.
I’m annoyed by the sentiment that “pride is not a celebration, it’s a protest.” That’s true. But what also is true is that celebrating queerness IS protest. And protest IS a celebration. A vendiagram with a majority overlap. What’s so wrong with celebrating? After a year of massive struggle, hell yeah I’ll take an opportunity to throw myself a party.
One does want a hint of color.
More thoughts on Pride….
This year pride month had a heavier weight in the art world than ever before. At least from my view. Never have I seen so much dedication given to the queer art community, theory, and history, and never has it been this eloquent, intimately familiar, comfortable. There’s no longer simply a shoutout, but a thoughtful and interesting dialogue.
I’m glad. I suppose, until now, I have always ran from making “queer art.” You’d never know it though – didn’t work. I feared the label of queer artist, or worse, queer political artist. Gross. Lame. Inaccurate.
From an old sketchbook, an old idea: “When that’s what you are, that’s all you are. People tend to talk about your work in those terms and those terms only. Queerness is a small sliver of even my most overtly flamboyantly gay creations. I would have liked for people to see more, explore as deeply you would anything else. And more importantly, I don’t care to talk to anyone about my rudimentary queer experience. I spend enough time living it, it’s boring.”
I don’t feel that way anymore. As I see things like Swann Gallery’s Pride Sale, read things like this spring’s issue of ART-news, or listen to Hyperallergic’s interview with Nayland Blake and Cristina Pitter, I’m seeing room to wear that title and give up on running away.
Wu Tsang, featured in ARTnews, was the first trans artist I ever came across that I felt relation to.
Super late to the party with this one, but I gifted myself the ‘obsessions’ issue of Wacky Wacko Magazine this week. Check out Seth Bogart aka wacky wacko aka my studly savory long lost love.
Sign painting is making a resurgence in my life in a big way. Very exciting! This is my imaginary strip club’s window slapped with a neon sign that I’m willing to bet does not exist anywhere else. It’s long past time for grungy clubs like this to exist. There’s nothing wrong with a little downstairs mix up.