Dear ones: this might be the most important event I organize this year. Apologies for the short notice, but if you are free tomorrow afternoon, Dan Fishback and I are co-hosting an intergenerational storytelling afternoon where you can learn about some sparkling individuals who died in the AIDS crisis, including my cousin Ira. Jack Waters, Kate Huh and Hana Malia are all part of the stellar line-up of storytellers. I expect this to be an incredibly moving, connection-forging event. If there is anyone you would like to share with us, the space will be available for you to speak as well. ♥  If you can’t make it tomorrow, there are two more events that I expect will be equally powerful – see the Visual AIDS blog for more details.  Event series organized by me, LJ Roberts and Ted Kerr, supported by Visual AIDS and Queerocracy, as part of this year’s grass-roots radical-queer fiesta of amazingment and shared skills, Quorum Forum.


 

It’s really unsettling to write this while the International Day of Resistance is unfolding on Wall Street.

Three nights ago, some real-life evil stepfathers dismantled the public space of love and resistance that was Occupy Wall Street.  Within the same day, some real-life art faeries and I began an occupation of our own, at a gallery less than a mile north of Zuccotti Park.

I’m having a lot of conflicting thoughts about facilitating a gallery experience during this moment of urgent street action.  What’s more important – creating a small utopia, or fighting for better realness?  Are they actually interconnected versions of the same thing?

Sometimes, in a climate of scarcity and disillusion, the universe hands you an art gallery and asks you to fill it with magic.

I got the call two weeks ago from comrades at the MIX Experimental Queer Film Festival (which is running right now in all its spectacular glory and intergalactic pink and blackness — I highly recommend landing at a screening or two): the La Mama Galleria, a gorgeous space on E.1st off Bowery, had been donated to MIX for 3 weeks to do with as they wish, and maybe the Department of Transformation wanted to play?  We answered the call and decided to turn the gallery into a sanctuary for our community of queer artists.  This time around, I get to play the role of Curator and Installation Artist and Host.

My vision for curating the space was to invite some of my favorite artists – who also happen to be some of the most talented community-builders I know – to spend a week working together as an installation/idea lab, then open it up to performing artists as a low-key and friendly theater.  The folks responsible for creating Le Petit Versailles, Hey Queen!, Judy, Heels on Wheels, MIX, The Homewreckers, and the Department of Transformation, among others, would get to play along.

Our gallery has already begun its transformation into a warm and welcoming space for healing and connection, anger and enlightenment.  It’s rapidly becoming a cozy nest for making tiny treasures and grand installations, for reflection and storytelling and yes, sometimes we even dance there.  We also serve tea and cookies.  (I’m working on a recipe for apple cinnamon oatmeal cookies and you’re welcome to weigh in on the test batches.)  We may also start hosting queer caucus meetings for #OWS — stay tuned for more info on that.  And sometimes – like on this day of resistance – we may leave the bubble completely and lose our voices screaming about what’s happening in the imperfect world outside.

As we support each other in our artistic process, and stay connected to the world outside, we model a collective, anti-capitalist way of working.  One that is more emotional than intellectual, that values community building and using art to process the wounds of hard urban living — alienation, trauma, HIV, heartbreak — and transforms that pain into beauty and connection.

We open up our sanctuary to you, too.

Tuesday, 11/22. Opening from 6-8 pm. Storytelling event from 8-10.  La Mama Galleria, 6 E.1st St btwn Bowery/2nd Ave. F to 2nd Ave. More info below and on the DoT web site on programming.


hey mcqueen!

09Nov11

images images images ~ click on one to go through to the facebook album


Coming out of hibernation on Saturday the 8th, hours after breaking Yom Kippur fast, to photograph the next Hey Queen at Public Assembly in Williamsburg.

It’s a bit of a personal milestone.

When PTSD first struck me this winter, my hands trembled so badly I could no longer reliably hold a camera.  I had been shooting my community of friends for over a year without pause.  Yet I needed their hugs and physical reassurance to stay grounded, rather than the distance a camera could put between us.

I had to put my camera down.

Being a photographer is not a faucet you can easily turn on and off.  I am still constantly aware of what the light is doing.  I find myself stepping back to consider the big picture of the room.  I am instinctively drawn to the emotional center of a scene, and hunt for intimate gestures.  I’ve been noticing color more – particularly the shades of color in black.  I feel extremely sensitive about the visual order of a room.

It’s been almost nine months since I’ve been living with PTSD.  I still can’t put into words what it feels like to live through this experience — though I do plan to write about it someday.      I’m strong like all survivors but am definitely weary from the battle.

But at least my hands have grown steadier.  And I think they will remember what to do with a camera in them next week.

Earlier this year, in a grounding exercise in my treatment for PTSD, I was instructed to imagine the safest space I could think of.  To my therapist’s amusement, the very first place that came to my mind was the Hey Queen dance floor at 3 am, surrounded by friends.  Sometimes, when a violent flashback would hit me, I would propel myself back to Sugarland.  A gay anthem like “Under Pressure” would be playing, we would throw our arms around each other, and queens of all genders and sizes and colors would holler to Mercury and back.

I can’t think of a better place to re-emerge, then, than next week’s party.  Especially since my  travel companion Blaise is the Queen of Honor (he’s designing new looks for the go-go dancers) and Avory Agony and Sarah Jenny, my dear friends and the party hosts, have given me free license to shoot in my style, as I wish.

So…. look out for the images, coming soon.  And let’s hope for the best.


Once upon a time there was a secret garden in the Lower East Side.  Although it was located on a very busy street, the gate wasn’t visible until you knew to look for it.

Inside the garden were climbing plants and fireflies surrounding a tiny stage, and every Saturday night in July the most fabulous performances would appear on it.  Tales of stardust and luminescent shopping carts, Southern gothic dramas with cameos by Ava Gardner, emo crooning like balm on an open wound, wild ponies dancing as if in a sweltering dream.

Hippie punks and radical faeries and drag queens in street clothes huddled close on wooden benches under the stars.  Cardboard set pieces were illuminated by clip lights and taped-down electrical cords.  Bug spray and watermelon juice made sweaty tattooed limbs even stickier.  The only way to truly get clean was to pile into the Trojan Pony, an unmarked van with 17 secret saddles, and gallop down to the Rockaways for a moonlight swim.

This summer I have been living in a fairy tale.  Every Tuesday night, the collective of artists and dreamers known as the Department of Transformation gathers on the wraparound porch of my rented queer mansion in Flatbush, and together we plan the next installment of Fame and Shame in the Lower East Side, the performance series we are producing this summer.

On Thursdays and Fridays we perform in a lovely theater with proper seats and a delightfully painted proscenium, and Saturday nights we move to the garden’s stage.  Three nights of decadent performances by some of Brooklyn’s most talented queer artists, supported by a stellar team of technical advisors, production designers, and some of the sweetest volunteers you’ve ever met.  I’ve been in the role of producer, helping secure the venues and pull together the resources (financial and human) to make these shows happen.  It’s some of the most fulfilling work I’ve done, frankly, and I’m hoping to continue finding outlets for these talented friends to continue bringing their gifts to audiences.

I hope you can join us for the last two weeks of the series, which will feature three of my closest friends and collaborators.  Ariel Speedwagon (with whom I once shared an artist residency in an abandoned scrapyard) is featured this week in an elaborate, hilarious movement/clowning/professor shtick about the end of the world.  Next week will feature a fairy tale song cycle by Princess Tiny & the Meats (who composed the score for my film earlier this month), and a collection of sacred battle drag looks by Blaise (who I traveled cross-country with earlier this year, and collaborated with on Into the Neon).

All of this work is very fresh, very queer, and absolutely enchanting.  I do hope you can join us for it. Please RSVP for the Saturday night garden performances – they have been selling out.  Though: the Thursday/Friday theater shows are also quite lovely, and we usually go to the beach afterwards!

A lot more info is on the posters below, and in here:  http://www.departmentoftransformation.org/home/


look at all these fantastic shows i’m producing this month with the department of transformation! gorgeous posters by the one and only cristy road.


film poster for The Dream of Wild Ponies Dancing by Cristy Road

QUITO ZIEGLER & FRIENDS

an evening of film, music and dance

~featuring new work from the collaborators on the film~

the rough cut of THE DREAM OF WILD PONIES DANCING, a new super-8 film by Quito Ziegler with original score by Princess Tiny & the Meats

an acoustic set by CRISTY ROAD of the Homewreckers (Thursday & Friday only)

a new dance piece by LITTLE WINGS/Zachary Wager Scholl (Friday & Saturday only)

a new 16mm film by MEGAN HESSENTHALER

an acoustic set by PRINCESS TINY & THE MEATS

dual slideshows of photographs by NOGGA SCHWARTZ and QUITO ZIEGLER

The Dream of Wild Ponies Dancing documents the wild ponies of the night in their natural habitat. In the quiet deep green of a sandy midnight forest, four wild ponies recognize each other as kin and develop a sense of connection and family. Half human, all beast, the ponies run free on a mystical adventure through the dunes, arriving to a deserted beach as gray dawn breaks. The movement is captured silently in super-grainy black and white super-8 film, presented with original score by Princess Tiny & the Meats.

June 30 – July 1, 8pm: Clemente Soto Velez Cultural & Educational Center, 107 Suffolk Street at Rivington

July 2, 8pm: Le Petit Versailles, Houston & Ave. C


I made my first movie last weekend.  Ten of us piled into a van and drove to a secluded beach on the east end of Long Island in the middle of the night.  Four of us ran around in handmade cardboard-and-string pony outfits at dawn, the rest of us helped capture this experience for your future viewing pleasure.

The whole experience was ridiculously gorgeous, romantically misty, and unfortunately plagued by mosquitos.  Also a deer died on the way home, but the rest of us lived and for that I am grateful.

Here are a few of my images from the shoot.  I’d post more except I don’t want to spoil the movie!

Here is the official announcement for the screening:

THE DREAM OF WILD PONIES DANCING (2011)

a new film by Quito Ziegler, debuting at the Clemente Soto Velez Cultural & Educational Center (107 Suffolk Street on the Lower East Side) on June 30-July 1 at 8pm

The Dream of Wild Ponies Dancing documents the wild ponies of the night in their natural habitat. In the quiet deep green of a sandy midnight forest, four wild ponies recognize each other as kin and develop a sense of connection and family. Half human, all beast, the ponies run free on a mystical adventure through the dunes, arriving to a deserted beach as gray dawn breaks. The movement is captured silently in super-grainy black and white super-8 film, presented with original score by Princess Tiny & the Meats.

starring:

Little Wings (Zachary Wager Scholl)

Tobi Haberstroh

Ian Kowaleski

Melanie Levy Rainbow

Director & Producer: Quito Ziegler

Original Score: Princess Tiny & the Meats

Director of Photography & Editing: Megan Hessenthaler

Lighting & Logistics: Nogga Schwartz

Sound & Logistics: Turtle Garaufis

Costume Production: Nicole Ayla Myles

Costume Advisors: Blaise & Daniel Lang/Levitsky

Movement & Choreography Advisor: Ariel “Speedwagon” Federow

Poster Design: Cristy Road


2011 has been a year of dramatic transition for me, coming so rapidly that it’s been hard for me to keep up with communications, let alone this blog.

Hi everyone.  I’m back now.  It’s really good to see you again.

I wish I could sit down with every one of you and share a pot of tea and tell you lots of stories and hear lots of stories back.  But instead, lately it feels like I’m just catching up, catching up, talk-talk-talking when really I just want to listen to what’s been up with YOU.

In lieu of writing a billion backed-up blog posts or lengthy emails, and in the hopes of answering the same questions in conversation a few less times, I’m posting some frequently asked questions and am happy to continue the dialogue in person.

I hear you’re identifying as transgender these days. What’s the deal with that?

It’s true: about six months ago, I came out to myself as transgender and started sharing that knowledge with the people in my life.

At the time, I felt like I had been trying to “be a girl” my whole life and was admitting to myself that it had never really felt totally natural.  I was tired of trying to fit myself in that box and was ready for change, though my experiments with masculinity had not felt quite right either.  I wanted to be even more intentional about these experiments and honor the experiences I was having, so calling myself transgender felt like a very authentic shift.

It has been really confusing and challenging to admit and accept this part of me, and simultaneously one of the most exciting – and somehow, deeply relaxing – things I’ve ever done.

Androgynous” has felt like a good place to land for now ~ a creature in between genders, neither masculine nor feminine.  Just: a person.  Me.  Quito.  That’s all.

Should we start using “he” instead of “she” to address you?

I’m still using female gender pronouns and don’t expect to make physical or hormonal changes anytime soon.  I need to think about it for a long, long time and consider all of the implications before I make permanent changes to my body…. though I am actively considering those kinds of choices, and IF they happen, will make them based on my own reflections and decisions and not the opinions or desires of others.

Then why bother calling yourself transgender?

Some trans folks have a clear sense of being one gender born with an incorrect sex assignment, and that’s a much easier narrative to understand than the journey I’m on.  My experience is a lot less clear, which puts me at a different place on the transgender spectrum.

But being trans IS a journey that I’m actively pursuing, and something I spend a lot of time thinking about and experimenting with and playing around with because when it’s not being the most confusing thing EVER (which is a lot of the time) or extremely stressful (like when people have strong opinions about things I’m not ready to address yet, like physical changes) it’s honestly kind of fun, and thought-provoking, and extremely genuine in getting a deeper understanding of who I am and how I want to be seen in this world.

To me, this kind of behavior feels authentic and natural to my true self.  I’m shifting my understanding of what it means to be a girl, and learning more about what it means to be a boy, and seeing what parts of both of those things fit with the real me while embracing my own fluidity between them and trying to figure out what that space in between genders actually LOOKS like.

So I’m calling it transgender, because that feels accurate.  And I don’t know why I like “androgynous” better than “genderqueer”, but either term works perfectly fine.

In some ways it’s also a political move.  I think it’s really important to honor these experiments and open up space for discussion about the social constructions of gender, in all of its possible expressions.  I’m also in a position of privilege where I’m not risking much by carrying out my trans adventures in public, which is not the same for a lot of trans folks.  I’m extremely blessed to have a lot of support and stability in my life.  So I’m genuinely hoping that by being open about the process I’m going through, it will open up dialogue and create space for others who have a LOT more at stake.

Moving on from gender.  Are you still working at OSI? 

No, and that’s really sad!

I went on leave from OSI in February quite suddenly, when I began experiencing some health issues that came on rapidly and required immediate, full-time attention.  I’m EXTREMELY lucky (and forever grateful) that OSI had amazing health insurance, a paid medical leave policy that applied to my condition, and unquestionably supportive, generous colleagues who granted me leave without hesitation and picked up the work I had to let drop.

The health issues also came at a time when my out-of-OSI work as a photographer and curator/producer were gaining a lot of momentum, especially after the Into the Neon exhibition.  All of that went on hold for a while too – including a break from taking pictures that lasted until this past week.

Putting your entire life on hold, even if you have no choice about it, is a REALLY intense process.  (So is picking it back up again, I’m discovering.)  If not for the support and understanding and kindness of an entire community of friends, family, colleagues, and health providers… I can’t even finish this sentence with anything but gratitude and love and relief.

As I moved from health crisis to recovery, I was able to take some space to reflect on what was most important to me.  I knew I couldn’t pick up everything that I had dropped.  As much as I loved my work and my colleagues at OSI and the talented and amazing photographers we served, I felt that it was time to make a go of it in my own career as an artist and producer, and decided to attempt it full time.

But wait, how is your health?  What happened?  Are you OK?

I’m OK now.  For a while I wasn’t.  But I’m definitely better now.  It’s been a really intense year but here is the deal.

In late January, I started experiencing vicious flashbacks to childhood trauma that had been repressed for 25 years.  I immediately sought help from experienced professionals and was diagnosed with PTSD, and for about six weeks needed to deal with it pretty intensively while the memories reasserted themselves.  It was maybe the most confusing and terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced, and I still feel terrible about the strain it put on the caring people closest to me – and extremely grateful that I connected with healers who were able to help me work through it, and had a supportive community to fall back on.

I won’t go into more detail on the internet, but I’m mentioning it here because – not unlike the trans stuff – I think it’s really important to be open about mental health issues. And it’s calculated bravery – I know that I have enough support in my life that I can afford to be somewhat open about it.

Trauma affects millions of people worldwide and its impact can be absolutely devastating.  There is a shroud of secrecy around abuse, particularly sexual abuse, that does not serve the purposes of healing and prevention.  As I’ve been telling my story to people in my life, I’ve been hearing some devastating stories in return.  As I continue to regain my strength and stability, I will probably focus more attention on work in this area.

I’m happy to discuss these issues more openly in person, so don’t feel weird about bringing them up if there are things you’d like to know or share.

What’s this road trip you went on?

Related to the story above, I needed to take some space from New York and reconnect with myself, as a part of the recovery process.

I also wanted to spend time in radical faerie space, as it felt like that was becoming a more central part of my identity and an important part of my trans journey.

I also had an idea about connecting the creative work coming out of the queer community in Brooklyn with our counterparts nationally, and wanted to start building a network of artists who might think together about supporting each other’s work.

My dear co-conspirator Blaise had overlapping goals and ideas so we decided to become travel companions and hit the road together.  We were invited to do an artist residency at a fantastic new queer art space in Minneapolis called Madame.  We spent two weeks there, decompressing from New York, making giant installation art and connecting with the local community.  It was pretty much awesome and a really good antidote to the struggles of the prior couple months.

We then bought a van, named her the Trojan Pony, padded her with a futon and a green shag rug and started driving west, towards Wolf Creek in southern Oregon.  After a transformational week with the faeries, we drove up and down the Pacific Northwest coast from Seattle to Portland to Eureka to San Francisco, then onwards towards home through the Grand Canyon, lightning storms in Oklahoma and Arkansas, a brief adventure at Short Mountain, visits to friends in Asheville and Richmond, and then back to New York City – where the Pony was promptly towed from outside a party in the meat-packing district.  Many gorgeous adventures occurred over these seven weeks on the road, we made some truly amazing new friends, heard lots of stories, made great headway on our community organizing goals, wore out our entire music collections but never once fought with each other, and saw some of the most beautiful landscapes we’d ever laid eyes on.

Also I fell in love with the cutest person ever.  They’re amazing.  You’ll meet them soon.  :)

Anything else you’d like to add?

No.  I think this all the important stuff.  There are more exciting and glamorous reports about the art that I’m making and the series of performances I’m producing this summer and the artist collective that is taking shape around it, but those posts will be coming soon so look out for em.

BLAH BLAH BLAH.  Sorry this is the longest post ever!  Thank you for listening.  ♥


SO excited to be in Minneapolis for a couple weeks, working on an art show opening FRIDAY April 15!!

My co-conspirator Blaise and I have taken up residency at Madame, a new queer art space at 3401 Chicago in Minneapolis, and are spinning webs and growing trees and making all sorts of gallery magic this week.

My installation will include images set into a radiating queer altar.  It’s a work in progress that involves string, afghan blankets and a golden glowing buddha.  At least… that’s what I think right now!  We’ll see what unfolds over the next few days.

The show is called RADIANCE and features twelve local artists curated by Daniel Luedtke, along with work from a show I produced in New York this January called Into the Neon.  Dan made a rad poster for the show, see above.  It’s the first art exhibition at Madame, which is a brand new space run by a collective of queerz.

PLEASE JOIN US FOR THE OPENING THIS FRIDAY!  I would totally love to see you.  Also, there will be dancing, and lord knows if it gets late enough I might need to DJ.

ARTISTS:
Quito Ziegler
Elliot Jobe
Blaise
Ryan Kaster
Anne Erickson
Marc Debauch
Kelly Brazil
Daniel Luedtke
Lizxnn Disaster
Jes Seamans
Sinem Sinan Goknur
Andrew Boos
Jeff Hnilicka
Jesse Siegel
Buzz Slutsky
JoAnn Blohowiak
-zine rack curated by A. Agony




Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.