Category Archives: Arts

A Jihad For Love

Jihad_opening_banner_horiz_2 A Jihad for Love opens in San Francisco and Berkeley on August 22nd at the Landmark Lumiere and Shattuck Theaters! Producer Sandi DuBowski (Director of the award-winning, Trembling Before G-d) and Director/Producer Parvez Sharma will lead Q & A after screenings from Friday, August 22nd – Monday, August 25th.

Landmark’s Lumiere Theatre
1572 California St., San Francisco
(415) 267-4893
Fri-Sun at 2:15, 4:45, 7:00, 9:30;
Mon-Thu at 4:45, 7:00, 9:30
Director/Producer Parvez Sharma
& Producer Sandi DuBowski in person
4:45 & 7:00, Fri 8/22, Sun 8/24, & Mon 8/25
Buy Tickets Online

Landmark’s Shattuck Cinemas
2230 Shattuck Ave., Berkeley
(510) 464-5980
Daily at 3:05, 5:15, 7:20, 9:35 (valid 8/22-28)
Director/Producer Parvez Sharma & Producer Sandi DuBowski
in person 5:15 & 7:20, Sat 8/23 at Shattuck-Berk
Buy Tickets Online

After Premieres at the Toronto and Berlin Film Festivals and in over 20 countries, A Jihad for Love has won five international awards and has inspired a media blitz across the world. Tens of thousands of people have participated in a thought-provoking dialogue about Islam that the film has catalyzed.

Producer, Sandi Dubowski, is a member of the Advisory Board of The White Crane Institute

Flights of Angels: A Hatchet Job

This review of Flights of Angels has been censored at the Amazon.com website, now, five times. What is Adrian Brooks/Craig Makler afraid of?

Kreemah_scrumbly_and_hibiscus_lumin The good news is that "Adrian Brooks," formerly Craig Makler of Philadelphia (perhaps one of the more telling aspects of this book is Brooks’ obsession with revealing everyone else’s mundane and assumed names but not his own) had some good edítors, which made Flights of Angels more or less readable. So at least I could get through it. The bad news is that it’s not a very good book.  [And yes…I know the foto the left is of the Cockettes and not the Angels.]


In the final analysis, though, the portrayal of the Angels is at best superficial and somehow (despite the fact that Brooks was in less than half of the 20 shows the troupe produced) all the stories seem to center on Brooks and his "unappreciated brilliance" and supposed centrality to the troupe. As Brooks himself used to say in an aristocratic Russian character he would regularly affect, "It’s so hard to maintain one’s public image when there is no public." Despite his very high opinion of himself and his florid poetry, Brooks lives in literary obscurity in San Francisco. Bitterness and grasping self-promotion has that affect. OK…it’s a memoir. But one is reminded of the "you’re entitled to your own opinions, but not your own facts." Brooks continues to grab for credit where none is due (he recently claimed authorial credit for Paris Sites Under the Bourgeois Sea), and responds with vitriol and personal attacks when it is denied him.

It is in no small way revealing that his Tennessee Williams epigram telegraphs that what follows will have anything to do with reality and reflects nothing more than the author’s own "magical" thinking. It is a further, no doubt unintended, self-exposure that his very first sentence, "It’s impossible to encapsulate the truth about the Angels of Light" is true only insofar as Craig Makler/Adrian Brooks is concerned. Truth does seem to elude him; Flights of Angels has only a passing acquaintance with it.


It is clear that, along with any sense of decency, Adrian Brooks missed the magic. A self-serving opportunist, he missed the glue that kept this seminal troupe of artists together, many of whom are friends to this day. He missed their deep commitment to art and community while affecting his own. One gets no sense of that commitment…it seems to be so much about their selfishness, but really is more about his own.

And that’s really the point: this is a book that is much more about Adrian Brooks than it is about the Angels, who only appear as supporting players in Brooks’ self-absorbed life. One might legitimately suggest that Mr. Brooks is indulging in not a little projection when he accuses others of the sins he finds so distasteful, and is so quick to excuse in himself. In his bitterness about the missed attention of an adoring public he so richly believes he deserved (and would have you believe was denied him by the Angels) he reveals more about himself than anyone or anything else. His attacks on Beaver Bauer are shameful.


Sadly, other people who have true standing are used to lend credibility to this twisted record. Danny Nicoletta’s beautiful photos give a gloss of legitimacy to the book. It’s tempting to understand that Nicoletta wanted a place to show his work, but by now he must know it was a mistake. He isn’t the only one who should question his or her judgment. Everyone who was interviewed by Adrian Brooks had to know that Adrian Brooks was never going to give the Angels their due or be fair. Some people had grievances. Who didn’t? It’s unfortunate anyone chose to air them with him.

So much has happened to the Angels these past years, it is sad that this book is the only chronicle currently available about what was a truly amazing group and time. The Angels were recently properly feted in New York in a series of events tied to the donation of Martin Worman’s archives to the New York Public Library. The celebration at the Theater for the New City, a panel at the LGBT Community Center and other wonderful celebrations shows that this troupe’s influence and importance deserves better. Adrian Brooks’ name never came up.

UPDATE: I’m not alone in my distaste for this book. John Karr in the Bay Area Reporter weighed in this week with "The fact that it’s just about the trashiest read ever, with drugs, sex, promiscuity and dire betrayals riddling nearly every page makes it fun to read — for a short while. Then one becomes aware of the author’s imbalance. Reading this book was not enjoyable. I felt sullied. …irresponsible, distorted, slanderous, and just plain badly written are the first descriptives that come to mind concerning the book[s]…venomous, inaccurate, ludicrous text."

A Loss to Literature

Thomasdisch_2It is sad to report the loss of yet another elder of the community, novelist, poet, librettist…a literary and visionary mind, he was, in fact, a prolific writer in many genres, Thomas Disch.

Disch was an American science fiction author…he preferred "speculative fiction"…and poet. He won the Hugo Award in 1999, and he had two other Hugo nominations and nine Nebula Award nominations to his credit, plus one win of the John W. Campbell Memorial Award, a Rhysling Award and to Seiun Awards, among many others. His latest book, to be published posthumously, The Word of God: Or, Holy Writ Rewritten, is written in the first Dischwordofgod person, voice of God. When asked, he said this device "enabled him to speak nonsense and it would be true."

Disch was born in Des Moines, IA. In the 1960s, his work began appearing in science-fiction magazines. His first novel, The Genocides, appeared in 1965. He soon became known as part of the New Wave, writing for New Worlds and other avant-garde publications. His critically acclaimed novels of that time included Camp Concentration and 334. In the 1980s, he moved from science fiction to horror, with a series of books set in Minneapolis: The Businessman, The M.D. and The Priest.

Brave_little_toaster_1Perhaps his most widely read and affecting work was The Brave Little Toaster: A Bedtime Story for Small Appliances, in which a small toaster, a clock radio and an electric blanket come to life. Written as a children’s book, the New York Times’s Anna Quindlen quite rightly recommended, "By it for your children; read it for yourself." Made into a Hyperion (Disney) film with Jon Lovitz in 1987 it was an instant classic.

In America, Disch’s poetry remained little known until a 1989 mid-career retrospective collection, titled Yes, Let’s. A book of new poetry, Dark Verses & Light, followed in 1991. In 1995 and 2002, Disch published two collections of poetry criticism. He continued to regularly publish poetry in magazines and journals such as Poetry, Light, Paris Review, Partisan Review, Parnassus: Poetry in Review and even Theology Today (perhaps an odd choice for a long-lapsed Catholic). His "How To Behave When Dead" prescribes proper etiquette for the buried.

Near the end of his life he stopped submitting poetry to literary journals unless the journals asked for his contributions. He preferred to publish his poems in his LiveJournal blog account. In an interview just ten days before his death, Disch said, "I write poetry because I think it is the hardest thing I can do well. And so I simply enjoy the doing of it, as an equestrian enjoys spending time on a good horse. Poetry is my good horse." He wrote a series of poems on grammar and antagonized science fiction writers for encouraging people to believe in things like UFOs.

Disch partner of 30 years, poet Charles Naylor died in 2005, and he had recently suffered a crushing series of personal setbacks. He was reported to have been depressed for several years, badly hit by the death of Naylor, as well as fighting attempts to evict him from his rent-controlled apartment, that had, unbelievably, recently burned. His upstate New York home had also been flooded and he suffered from diabetes and sciatica.

Disch, who had proposed a calendar that commemorated famous self-annilators (like Sylvia Plath on February 11) took his own life on July 4th.

How to Behave when Dead

A notorious tease, he may pretend
not to be aware of you.
                        Just wait.
He must speak first. Then
you may begin to praise him.

Remember:
sincerity and naturalness
count for more than wit.
His jokes may strike you as
abstruse.
          Only laugh if he does.

Gifts?
They say he’s mad for art,
but whether in the melting
elegiac mode of, say, this
Vase of Poppies
or, turning the mirror
to his own face, a bronze skull
gorging on a snake —
that is a matter of taste.
In any case, the expense
is what he notices.

What to wear.
              Some authorities
still insist on black.
But really, in this modern age,
your best is all that is required.

       — Tom Disch

Big Bird’s Daddy Passes

Kermit_love It shouldn’t be any surprise to find out that the creator of such classic Big_bird children’s characters as Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch and the Cookie Monster was a Gay man. Even the most cursory study of LGBT history shows, time and again, that same-sex people were typically …archetypically … the culture carriers and, perhaps more to the point, the teacher of children. We were always the ones in the tribe to whom the children were given to make sure they learned how to be "one of us."

Sadly, Kermit Love (now there’s a name to reckon with, eh?) who also played Willy the Hot Dog Man (at the left here) on Sesame Street, and had a whole other career designing for Jerome Robbins, Agnes DeMille and Kurt Weill, died June 21st in Poughkeepsie, New York, at the ripe and delicious age of 91. He is survived by his partner of 50 years, Christopher Lyall.

He began as a puppet designer for the Works Project Administration (WPA) and worked as a designer for Orson Welles’ Mercury Theater.

Love spoke about how he designed Big Bird so that he would subtly shed feathers in the course of normal movement, "Not unlike a tree shedding leaves in the Fall." He believed this made Big Bird appear more natural to young viewers. From this, Love went on to design Mr. Snuffleupagus. Despite the coincidence of names, Love is not the namesake for the most famous of the Henson puppets. He was quoted once as saying,"Nope. No connection. He’s Kermit the Frog and I’m just Kermit the human."

Hail and farewell to another Gay elder.

A Lovely Slideshow for Gay Pride

Affectionate_men_2 I could swear we reviewed this lovely book, but I can’t, for the life of me, find the review anywhere in the archives. Nonetheless, on what will be a hot and sweaty Gay Pride weekend, here’s a lovely slide show that is drawn from the book Affectionate Men: A Photographic History of a Century of Male Couples, 1850-1950 as well as another, Dear Friends: American Photographs of Men Together 1840-1918.

There’s a very nice song, Secretly, that accompanies it, by Jimmie Rodgers. Enjoy.

Heinz Has Two Daddys

As anyone who is familiar with White Crane knows we don’t do advertising. We only run displays for people, goods, products and services that are in keeping with our educational mission. So…the Heinz company (the ones that do ketchup here) sells mayonnaise in Great Britain…and they were running this ad (which, alas, they’ve just pulled…apparently it really upset Bill O’Reilly.) We think it deserves to be seen. And you might write Heinz and let them know how much you like it, too:

After I posted this, Heinz or someone went in and added a "CENSORED" plate just at the point the two men kiss. I managed to find the original, which is now here. Apparently Heinz is saying that the idea isn’t to represent a same-sex couple with children, but that their mayo turns any mother into a "Brooklyn deli man"…whatever.

The story keeps changing: Now, apparently, a few Members of Parliament are demanding that Heinz restore the advert. As they say in Britain: brilliant.

Chris & Don

Chris_and_don I’m excited about this new documentary, Chris & Don: A Love Story that is opening here in New York (and I’m guessing in Los Angeles, for the time being.)

White Crane had a marvelous interview with Don Bachardy not too long ago. And I have the delightful experience of sitting for a series of portraits of myself by Don Bachardy (seen at the right.)Bachardy_day_2_no2_2

What a marvelous film…more love story than documentary. Charming, moving, fascinating. Every Gay person should see this beautiful story of two loving men who were out when out was truly a courageous act, even in Hollywood. Narrated by actor Michael York, this is just a terrific piece.

Chrisanddon_photo07_sm

I think one of the most moving stories the film relates is how, in the last months of Isherwood’s life, as he was dying from prostate cancer, Bachardy diligently, devotedly painted portrait after portrait of his dying lover. Recorded in the breathtaking, beautiful (and rare) book, Last Drawings of Christopher Isherwood (with an appreciation by none other than Stephen Spender), their mutual devotion to his lover was turned into art.

The LAmmys

Broughton_all_cover I loved every minute of the Lammy’s evening of awards. Congratulations to the Lammys, which have moved to Los Angeles (along with Charles Flowers, the real loss for New York). Twenty years is no small accomplishment. May you continue forever.

Alas, White Crane’s ALL: A James Broughton Reader was, inexplicably, not a finalist for the LGBT Arts and Culture category. I have to admit…all sour grapes aside…I don’t understand how this important collection of one of the leading voices of queer writing and film could be so blatantly ignored. Winning would have been gravy. But it should have been a finalist. There…I got that off my chest.

Friend, Kitt Cherry, was nominated for her boook Art That Dares was one of five books chosen in the LGBT Arts and Culture category. Unfortunately it didn’t win, but congratulations Kitt. You do wonderful work and we’re proud to feature your work in White Crane. [2008 Lammy winners]

It was a wonderful evening. It was a delight to be in an auditorium with all the hardworking GLBT authors. I think the Lambda Literary Foundation needs to rethink the process and break down and let the winners know they’ve won. Too many of them opted not to fly cross country (when flying is nothing short of a penance!) only to find out that they hadn’t won. Personally I think we owe it to our own institutions to support them, whether we’re winners or not (or…ahem…finalists!) But practical is practical and if the Lammys really want to be the important award they are, it sort of undercuts that end when the winners aren’t present to receive their beautiful crystal book award. And there’s far too much attention to the big publishers…[and they wonder why Gay publishers are folding left and right?]

I’m not quite sure what our sisters made of all the “penis humor” which was…shall we say…somewhat flaccid? But equal time for bad Lesbian humor was well-represented by a Lesbian comic troupe called "The Gay Mafia" performed a Lesbian science fiction scene that was, at best, sort of obligatory. And why is it that Lesbians get to make penis jokes and if Gay men said anything about women’s genitalia we would lose ours? Let it be duly noted: Lesbians can be as embarrassingly bad as Gay men.

For the most part, this is a graying (if eminent) crowd. Youth was represented, but there was, overall, a nice balance of age. The President of the LLF has been handed off (in another series of penis allusions with a "baton") from the eminent and splendid Terry Decrescenzo to best-selling author (and son of newly-minted Christian, Anne Rice) Christopher Rice in a clear play for the Los Angeles celebrity and youth crowd. I get it. Lambda needs to do this. The whole publishing world needs to get connected with the short-attention span crowd. At least he’s out-Gay. For the Los Angeles Gay scene, this is not always a given (see "Hilton, Paris/Gay Pride 2005").

There was a moving (if somewhat overlong) "In Memoriam" slide show, that had all the authors who had died in the past 20 years — 1988 to 2008, since it was the 20th anniversary of the Lammys. Tears and fond sighs were the order of the day as all our literary heroines’ and heroes’ faces looked out at us from the silver screen. Even Valerie Solanas, the radical feminist who wrote "Scum Manifesto" and who shot Andy Warhol, was up there. The obligatory applause response sort of faded away long before the slide show was over. Maybe some of the authors in the slide show were not well-known to everyone in the audience. But my suspicion was more along the lines that the reaction was “Why are we doing this?” Is it really necessary to parade this dirge-like presentation? I’m all for acknowledgment of our elders and our ancestors, to be sure…but it seems to me it might have been a little more celebratory in tone as opposed to the somber tone it took.

Ann_bannon Mystery pioneer Katherine V. Forrest presented a Pioneer award to Ann Bannon, Beebo who wrote the  Lesbian Beebo Brinker novels in the 1950s, which has recently been staged by our friend Linda Chapman (The Beebo Brinker Chronicles), and whom every Lesbian of a certain age has read and revered. Her character Beebo Brinker is nothing short of legend. Forrest attested, as she struggled not to cry, she that Ann Bannon’s books had saved her life. This is what all this publishing is all about. And we must never forget that. Every day, somewhere, there is some Gay kid looking to find some reflection of himself or herself in the world. Like most people, the only place I ever found it was in the dictionary. Ann Bannon is a lovely woman, whose warm smile lit up the room. Her books saved lives. I had the pleasure of meeting her in New York when The Beebo Brinker Chronicles opened and she couldn’t have been more delightful then, and more deserving of this acknowledgment now. Congratulations to Ms. Bannon.

Malcolm_and_kitt Finally, the other Pioneer awards went to our dear friends Malcolm Boyd, who is Mark going to be 85 years young this very weekend, and his lion-hearted partner, Mark Thompson, both White Crane authors and contributors. They’re both grand old gay men of letters. White Crane has published the essential Malcolm Boyd reader in recognition of his 85th year, A Prophet in His Own Land: A Malcolm Boyd Reader.

In all…a lovely event. On a personal note, Mark and Malcolm hosted me in their beautiful home for a very smart (in every sense of the word!) cocktail party with the literati of Los Angeles in attendance. I must admit it was a real honor to have such an illustrious and accomplished crowd assembled…to say nothing of it being in my honor (and Malcolm’s, too). To return to the City of Angels after 25 years and receive such a welcome was gratifying, humbling and sweet. Thank you M & M!