Talent scout
Queer artists find innovative ways to connect with San Diego art lovers
BY JONATHAN YOUNG
Published 19 January 2006

“Are you scared to be called queer?” Jamie asked his neighbor. The question stopped Steve in his tracks. Without even turning around, he asked back, “Aren’t you?”
“Dunno,” Jamie answered honestly. “Maybe.”

This discussion is a pivotal moment between the two characters in Diversionary Theatre’s current production, Beautiful Thing . It’s a hard-hitting yet tender moment that opens the second act as two young men, played by Matt Barrs and Joseph Panwitz, try to define their own identities and develop a budding relationship between friends.

It’s also an appropriate dialogue when compared to San Diego’s queer arts community. Painters like Sam Frazier are establishing their own identity as out artists. Gay actors like Angelo D’Agostino are building relationships with not-so-gay audiences. Lesbian singers like Lauren DeRose are connecting with a growing and diverse crowd. Queer photographers like Andrew Printer are shattering conventional stereotypes with challenging and compelling imagery.

As local GLBT artists continue to define their place in San Diego culture and develop a relationship with both the gay and straight communities, they are answering Jamie’s question. No, they are not afraid to be called queer. They are quite proud of it.

Yet an artist’s pride is not enough to make an out artist successful. Finding ways to express their creativity is any artist’s greatest trial. Even though society is evolving and maturing in its acceptance of our community, expressing an out and proud vision is even more challenging.

San Diego GLBT artists are, however, taking advantage of unique scenes and groundbreaking opportunities to showcase their talents. They are supporting existing underground movements of independent artists, joining growing networks in and outside the community, and even producing their own venues to sing, dance, act, paint, direct, draw, photograph and sculpt their own rainbow.

Casting call

There is strong diversity within the GLBT community for how artists define themselves. Are they queer artists or artistic queers? Some are out to express a robust queer message, making their sexuality a major focus of their work. In contrast, there are artists on the other side of the rainbow who let their product speak for itself, without any gay context. And there is a wide range of entertainers in between each extreme.

“I became more outspoken as far as being a queer voice,” says Stephen J. Remington, a radical activist that uses his art to challenge gay male stereotypes and speak to a younger generation. “I was really feeling this lack of visibility of radical, alternative, sort of punk rock, male role models when I was growing up. I felt like I needed to fill that void with my work.”

As a graduate student at UCSD, Remington specializes in disciplinary art that mixes installation and video art. It’s a hands-on approach to convey not only his creativity, but also his culturally charged messages.

“The work I have done in the past four to five years has evolved around issues of anti-queer assimilation, queer visibility, queer activism, cross-generational relationships, constructs of intimacy as seen in the public sphere, and displacement of sexuality,” he explains. “The most recent work is looking at the way queers have reclaimed public space for intimate encounters and private relations.”

Although not as politically motivated, blues and jazz singer Candye Kane uses her light-hearted songs to lobby for acceptance and tolerance. As a longtime performer, she has never backed away from expressing her bisexuality.

“I use humor in music affectively to make people think about issues,” Kane says. “I also just sing about things that I know. As a large-sized, former teenager welfare mom, bisexual, former plus-size porn star blues singer, I have a well-rounded perspective.”

Her perspective has recently earned her Album of the Year by Queer Radio, and nominations for Artist of the Year and Best Blues Album of the Year at blueswax.com, the Web site for the magazine Blues Review . Kane, who thinks of herself as a black drag queen stuck in a white woman’s body, has attracted an eclectic following because of her openness.

“I’ll use a song like ‘The Lord was a Woman’ to bring up the dialogue of gender questions. I do songs that are considered bisexual or gay songs, like ‘She was My Baby Last Night’ or ‘I’m in Love with a Girl.’ I also have a new song called ‘Masturbation Blues’ where I extol the virtues of masturbation,” Kane says. “I think my music really speaks to people who feel really disenfranchised for whatever reason. That’s why I feel I have had a firm audience for years and years of gay, bisexual and transgender people.”

Still, some artists do not find the need or do not have the opportunity to express their sexuality through art.

“For me, I think I am a little different than most gay artists,” says artist Adam Lewis Smith. “The gay thing is just a part of me. It’s not everything.” Smith creates large-scale kaleidoscope images using individual pieces of photography. The images are mostly from nature. It’s an original concept, he says, where he can use up to 120 different photos to create a bigger picture.

Frazier, who also uses photography in his mixed-media work, is an artist that adds gay elements to his work as a reflection of his own personality.

“I would classify my work as queer themed, because my artwork is about my life experiences and I am gay,” Frazier says. “I would like to think it has a more universal appeal.”

DeRose’s musical work is similar. She jokingly classifies her folk rock tunes as “happy-suicide music,” and says GLBT issues are prevalent in her songs because she’s expressing issues affecting her life.

“I would say about 90 percent of the songs that I write are about relationships I have had with women, or their relationships with other women from an outsider’s point of view. That’s what was present in my life at the time,” DeRose says. “I would like to be known as an artist, as a singer-songwriter, rather than some chick that only does lesbian shows. Right off the bat it brings up a bad stereotype of a whiny woman – especially if I have my acoustic guitar – whining about politics or about how some guy treated her. That’s totally not me.”

Acceptance is a constant message in the music of Skott Freedman, a local bisexual activist that has been using lyrics to express his sexuality.

“I’ve always been an out artist,” Freedman says. “I would rather be true to myself and have a bunch of loyal fans than to put out this camouflaged art. I’m a realist when it comes to my art, so there are not a lot of hidden images and metaphors.”

Still, Freedman won’t compromise his music.

“I won’t try to squeeze it into a song if it doesn’t belong. In that sense, I am not trying to force my message or preaching,” he says.

“The gay community is a big part of my following, yet my art is not necessarily gay at all,” says Sue Palmer, the San Diego queen of boogie-woogie music. “I have a song on my newest album that is called ‘Gertrude and Stein.’ It’s about a fictitious women’s bar that Candye Kane sings. She loves the gay community. I think she feels at home more in the gay community just because she’s such a weirdo. She can be just one of the people.”

In the acting circles, there is a blurred line between who is gay and who is not. Theater is generally regarded as being more accepting than other mediums, and sexuality as not that big of an issue.
“I don’t know that there is a separate gay theater community,” says Tim Irving, an out gay actor and director who is currently the only queer aspect of the Cygnet Theatre’s Biedermann and the Firebug . “There’s the gay community and the theater community and they overlap, but they’re not exclusive of one another.”

Performance space

Regardless of how an artist’s sexuality is expressed in their work, all artists in every genre are faced with the challenge of finding a place to connect with the public. It’s a continual struggle, but there are a few cherished locations where queer art thrives.

“San Diego definitely has a strong independent scene,” Freedman says. “In a lot of cities, you get the feeling you’re not going to do anything unless you are signed with a music company. There are a lot of indie artists who are constantly playing places like Twiggs coffee house. I feel there is a lot of support for people trying to make it on their own without the corporate dollar.”

Twiggs Tea & Coffee on Park Boulevard in University Heights and Lestat’s on Adams Avenue in Normal Heights are top locations to see live performances, as well as at Korova Coffee Bar, which is down the street from Twiggs. Each coffee shop also hosts artist exhibits.

“Lestat’s is probably the number-one place as far as the setup goes,” DeRose says. “There are tables, you can have something to drink there, there is art on the walls and they have phenomenal sound and lights. Any kind of music can play there, especially more singer-songwriters. Plus, Twiggs has the most amazing sound.”

DeRose performs with lesbian rocker Alicia Champion at Twiggs on March 10.

A handful of other coffee shops support queer artists, such as David’s Coffeehouse on Fifth Avenue in Hillcrest and Urban Grind, also in Hillcrest, on Park Boulevard.

Printer curates a photography exhibit at Soup or Salad restaurant in University Heights. Palmer performs her boogie-woogie show on Thursdays at Martinis Above Fourth, and Bourbon Street hosts several live concerts each week.

“Ashley Matte is our strongest performer here,” says Leo Moore, one of Bourbon Street’s managers. An out lesbian, Matte performs an eclectic mix of soothing guitar and rock-solid hits every Sunday night. Bourbon Street also presents other singers on Thursday and Friday nights.
This underground movement of unique performance spaces and galleries has a vast following of loyal fans, mostly from GLBT neighborhoods.

“You’ll see a lot more people that are in our community, a certain amount of the artistic kind, would hang out in a coffee shop to relax,” DeRose says. “I don’t know if you are going to get the straight male wanting to go to a coffee shop to chill out, buy some artwork and read 100 Years of Solitude .”
In addition to the small, cozy venues, San Diego also has several large-scale venues that exclusively spotlight queer artistic expression. Diversionary Theatre, for example, is celebrating two decades of staging exclusively GLBT plays. The mission of the theater is to produce plays with gay, lesbian and bisexual themes that portray characters in their complexity and diversity both historically and contemporarily.

“The mission is still important in this day and age,” says Diversionary executive director Dan Kirsch. “While GLBT people are fitting into the mainstream culture more, there are a lot of our stories to tell. The theater is an excellent vehicle for telling those personal stories.”

“I think that people can and should be exceedingly proud of a theater like Diversionary,” says Tim Irving, who has worked with Diversionary for years. “Not only because of how it services the GLBT community but because of how well respected and highly regarded it is in San Diego’s theatrical community. And yet it’s still very much a communal gathering place.”

Another long-established standard within the community is Pride, the queen of all queer events. More than 40,000 people cruise through the 32-year-old Pride festival to see, dance and listen to nonstop queer performances. Pride’s newly appointed executive director, Ron W. Ortega deHarte, Jr., plans on expanding the live shows this year.

“I think the entertainment lineup is going to be unlike anything we’ve ever seen at Pride,” deHarte says. “The biggest difference is [that] the entertainment component is not substantially or significantly different, there is just going to be a lot more. At least two stages will be added. There will be a lot more performance, from musical, cultural, comedy and dance.

“That creates a lot of opportunity for a lot of local performers to get exposure,” deHarte continues. “We’re not talking about holding auditions for entry-level groups either. We’re talking about professional-level, quality organizations that are going to be participating.”

In addition to the performance spaces, Pride also hosts an art exhibit at the annual festival. Now in its third year, deHarte hopes the exhibit will grow and flourish.

Premiere events

Despite these accepting and generous spaces, artists feel San Diego still lacks adequate support for independent and queer artists. For example, music halls almost exclusively book out-of-town performers backed by big music labels, and art galleries cater to the tourism crowd and shun local artists if they don’t paint decorative images.

The queer community is a resourceful bunch, however, and artists are busy creating ingenious methods to fill the performance-space voids.

“Unfortunately, this is not Los Angeles or New York. We don’t have the artistic background that other communities do. We have to go after things ourselves,” says D’Agostino, an out actor and singer. “You rely on those other people within other networks and especially within our gay and lesbian community to support that. The nice thing is that they do.”

D’Agostino has teamed up with G. Scott Lacy to create a series of cabaret-style shows. Interestingly enough, all of the performance places they have performed at have been traditionally straight venues.
“Every song that I picked was a big blues jazz ballad from the ’30s and ’40s made famous by a female vocalist, that were [written] by men. It’s me as a man singing these huge love songs – all these Judy Garland, Ella Fitzgerald and Nina Simone deep bluesy songs – but singing from my perspective,” he says. “I don’t shirk out or hide that I am a gay man. It’s an opportunity for me to pose a question for people: ‘Does it really matter?’ These songs have the same intentions and the same heartfelt love regardless of your sexuality.”

“Those are the things you have to fabricate,” Palmer adds, talking about her gig at Martinis Above Fourth. “You have to go looking for places where you can perform – making up your places.”
Gay artists Remington, Frazier, Printer and Justin Frizza are pooling their resources together to present a large-scale joint exhibit at Limbo Gallery in Hillcrest. The event, titled “Beyond the Surface,” opens in April and aims to represent a slice of the contemporary gay experience from four different perspectives. These artists create their own queer realities and, more importantly, when necessary, they create their own gay fantasies.

“It started because [myself] and one of the other artists involved in the show, Andrew Printer, were both in the same position because we had both just left mainstream careers and we were trying to get our art out there,” Frazier says of the show. “We thought since we had done one show together, we should try to get more shows together to promote ourselves. Then we expanded upon that and thought we could get some more gay artists.”

Smith has gone one step further and opened his own studio, the Eagle Nest Gallery in Mission Hills.
“The gallery has done fairly well,” he says. “Art sales fluctuate. I sold about $70,000 worth of art last year, but I haven’t sold anything since August.”

MC Flow, a.k.a. Abby Schwartz, has connected with a local network of hip-hop artists to find performance spaces. The Community, as they are called, is not exclusively a GLBT organization, but MC Flow does feel welcome in the group.

The biggest network of queer artists, however, has to be the connections established by Danielle LoPresti and Alicia Champion. The lesbian singers launched the San Diego Indie Music Fest in 2004, and in the last two years have showcased more than 70 independent bands.

“San Diego Indie Music Fest was this dream, this little vision that both Danielle and I had for a very long time, long before we even met each other,” Champion says. “We both envisioned this huge indie celebration that we can orchestrate to educate people on what indie means and the indie culture.”
The event, held in the first week of November, attracts an eclectic crowd, both on stage and off. Champion and LoPresti received more than 500 band submissions just this last year, and attracted a crowd of 2,000 music fans.

“Diversity is key to our festival. There is no discrimination,” Champion says. “The only qualifications a singer has to have to be considered for our festival is they have to be exceptional and they have to be independent. This is truly the first really gay/straight integrated arts event in San Diego.”

She says about half of the performers are queer artists.

“There are so many exceptional gay artists making music in our community today. But a lot of them stay in that only-queer niche,” Champion says. “Both Danielle and I feel there is no reason for them to stay in that niche. A huge part of our goal is to give people that platform.”

Critical acclaim

The GLBT community has always been a source of tremendous support for its own artists. As the queer arts community matures and expands, and shows its pride of being out and free, the audience continues to grow, too. Yet there is still a lot to be done by both artists and audience. There is an underlying call for support, from one artist to another and from artist to fan.

“We are building our little network, but the trouble is finding connections with the others in the queer community that are creating their own communities,” Remington says. “There’s a trick in San Diego to find a way to have dialogue with like-minded radical queers. I’m not sure where that is.”

“There are a lot of opportunities to show your artwork here in San Diego, and I have shown my artwork, but people in San Diego don’t seem to be very interested in buying your artwork,” Frazier says. “I find the local market to be very frustrating.”

“For the young artists, you need people who are going to buy your artwork and allow you to continue to make your work,” Remington says.

The GLBT arts community is a vibrant and innovative community on the rise. It needs continued support and loyal patronage to thrive, grow and prosper so artists can continue their work – and be proud to be out.