Archive for July, 2010
This is my friend and fellow political activist, Alice, who was sucker punched on Monday by one of the National Organization for Marriage’s supposedly “peaceful” supporters.
I just can’t believe that these people claim to be behaving “peacefully” and they’re going around whining about how mean the LGBT supporters gays are to them, but at the same time their supporters are hitting women and carrying signs condoning the execution of gays and lesbians.
Jay and I took out some of the frustrations today by screaming at bigots who want to write discrimination into law and make sure that the “all men are created equal” part of the U.S. Constitution never really comes to fruition.
The National Organization for Marriage and their public face, Maggie Gallagher — who looks in person like the love child of the Barefoot Contessa and Jabba the Hut — were in Indianapolis today.
The counter protest, organized by PFLAG, Indiana Stonewall Democrats, and other groups, outnumbered NOM by three-to-one. I think it’s safe to say we drowned out their speech givers.
It was great to see so many college students and young people there. It was even more great to hear a lot of them saying that we should do more of this. I have hope that our current generation of young people are ready to be heard, and they’re going to make a difference.
More photos after the jump.
Sometimes, there’s a particular form of malaise that’s only defeated by canceling the day’s photo shoots, disappointing four good models, and spending a whole day in the kitchen.
First, I made lunch, which was something too trailer-trash to really talk about — I’ll just say it’s something that both Jay and I secretly enjoy. Then, I made banana-and-butterscotch muffins, from scratch. They are so terrible that Jay and I decided we couldn’t possibly share them with anyone, and so we sacrificed ourselves and pledged to eat them all.
And for dinner, I made homemade ragu.
This has, among other things, pancetta, ground sirloin, Marsala, and lentils. The recipe suggested eating it with cheddar and stew-style in bowls. But Jay and I served it on linguine. Despite her disdain for tomatoes, even the dog begged for it.
Jay and I had dinner with Sam’s partner, Greg, a couple of months ago when he was in town on business. When we got on the subject of Sam, Greg said something like this:
“I didn’t think anyone could love me as intensely as Sam does.”
What a beautiful thing.
Sam, please rest in peace, you lovely boy. You had so much more to give us.
Sam Storicks, September 10, 1979 – July 23, 2010
1. I take some offense at the way the writer describes Frances Bean Cobain and her art here. First, she’s a 15 year old girl, we all know the kind of thoughts they all have. And second, what do people expect from the child of Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love? The shock would have been if she’d painted like Thomas Kinkaide.
2. This political analyst says that Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg may have just set the precedent that will eventually legalize same sex marriage.
3. Nigella’s recipes have never disappointed me, and she’s uses the English language better than perhaps anyone I could name. As my friend Jeff Ricker said, “I love any recipe in which the writer describes red onions as ‘glowingly puce.’”
4. You probably already know that I get irritated when people take offense at any form of candid public photography. (News flash: if you’re in public, you’re fair game. Another news flash: You’re already being photographed by security cameras everywhere.). But finally, a photo blogger takes on the “homeland security” myth.
My most recent photos of Mike. More in the Models: Men section of my site.
Mike is, by the way, becoming one of my favorites.
Pavel is from a small town in Russia. How he came to live in Indiana for grad school. Here, he’s posed for my Drifters series, and I think this is my favorite set from the series so far.
Our friend Chris had a life-changing experience a couple of years ago and gave up a high paying job in pharmaceuticals to become a special ed. teacher. In May, he took that a step farther and (despite being about my age) left for Armenia with the Peace Corps.
I found this photo today on Chris’s Facebook page of his 80-year-old Armenian host grandmother, harvesting garlic.
This is one of the best portraits that I’ve seen in months. From one photo, you know this woman, thanks to her smile, her clothing, the landscape, and the ax. I want to BE there, and even though I know I don’t have the temperament anymore to give up my life and move to a third world country, it makes me envious of Chris. I wish I was with him when he lived this moment.
And it should go without saying that I love it also because it shows me that my friend is safe and happy.
As a side note, from what I remember Chris’ camera is a basic digital point and shoot, which speaks to an opinion I’ve always had — you don’t need fancy equipment to capture exceptional photography.
Photo in this post copyright, Chris Sherwood.
One of the highlights on our trip to New York last month was having dinner with Micheal Alago.
Michael, if you’re not familiar, is the photographer behind the Rough Gods series of books. Prior to his jumping into photography, Michael had a very successful career in the music industry, working with artists from Nina Simone to Metallica. He’s also, of my measly collection of works by only four photographers other than myself, the most famous artist on our walls at home.
The above portrait was taken in Michael’s living room, which is the antithesis of my photography collection — his home is a small photography museum in itself. He owns original works by Robert Mapplethorpe and Bruce Weber and Annie Leibovitz. He owns an original portrait of Judy Garland. He owns autographed portraits of Metalica, Patti Smith, and Cindy Lauper. I could go on an on. I could have spent a week in that apartment and not seen everything there is to see; and I could live another two lifetimes and not collect so much amazing artwork, myself. Then there were the books — the shelves below his collection are so full of books about photography that they could fill an art school library.
In person, I wasn’t sure what to expect from Michael. Prior to this dinner date, we had only exchanged emails and talked on the phone. His energy level, to put in mildly, makes me seem like I’m on life support. On the phone, he talks at light speed, jumping from point to point, and then says “I’ve got to go” and before you can react, he’s gone, like a phantom. In person, Michael’s energy is more inspiring than exhausting or intimidating. He is one of those gifted people that lifts the mood of a room when he walks in, he raises the spirits of the people around him.
He is also candid, direct, honest, and kind in a way that I found refreshing. In the Midwest, people who are blunt are often just abrasive, but Michael is forthright while still polite, and I appreciate him for it. He’s a good man and a very good mentor.
After dinner, Michael took Jay and I on a “gay history” tour of New York’s Meatpacking District, when the neighborhood was nothing but prostitutes and thugs and gay men and when the gay bars were unmarked and you entered them from the warehouse door off the back alley. He was there when the original Village People and Mapplethorpe and Truman Capote were. He was there pre-AIDS. I wanted to ask how he lived through it. But I thought that would be rude and too personal (although I’m sure Michael would have answered me).
I should be so lucky as to be surrounded by people with so much creative energy.
Photo credits for this post, copyright Paul Specht and copyright unknown.