His First Gay Experience

16 juillet 2011

. . . 

Last week, after many students flew up to Paris to celebrate Bastille weekend, one of my good companions here in the summer program, originally from Bahrain, and I made plans to go to Nice to watch Woody Allen's Minuit à Paris. Though we made it to Nice and arrived at the Place de Garibaldi, our chill plan for  movie was derailed by...  a gay pride march. (How nice.)

After wandering in and out of the crowd teeming with smiling faces, rainbow details, and glistening drag queens, a young man with a gentle Australian accent introduced himself to us, admitting that he was want for company and was attracted to my shirt. His name is James Welsby and he is a dancer in Australia, currently traveling Europe on a grant awarded to him for his work. Having spent a spontaneous day with him and my friend, and then another night dancing and sitting by the sea in Menton, I can say with some certainty that we are fond of each other. Much to my displeasure, he could not stay longer, for he had to attend to some circus business in London. I gave him some vanilla tea and a red candle with which he could settle himself his first night there.

So this afternoon I finally emailed a handful of photos to my  Bahraini friend. This was his first gay pride/parade/march/rally/demonstration experience, which was a surprise to me but a very good one. I attached a little quip to the photos, to which he responded. His response touched me very much, prompting me to respond to him dearly and share my perspective on the meaning of "the pride parade".

. . . 

I.

"Remember this fondly and be ye not afraid to support equal rights with a little flare.

live on, "

II.

"Merci beaucoup cher Rossi...

Didn't I support equal rights with indeed a lot of flare?

Honestly, I was hesitant at the beginning (not because I'm against equal rights, but because I felt that I'm not concerned about this issue), but now that I have gay friends I feel concerned and engaged somehow.

However, do you feel a parade is a way to gain equal rights? I feel it's just a celebration... but if you want to get more rights, then you should convince us (politicians and diplomats :p).

Thanks a lot again for the photos, "

III.

"Dearest ,

You are right. Indeed you did celebrate equal rights with the flare that is contagious to the crowd. Well done.

I can sympathize to the feeling of being unconcerned or untouched. I often feel the same way when I am confronted with the decision to be active or passive or indifferent about gay rights issues. Though I have many gay friends and myself identify as gay, I feel that some key issues of gay rights do not yet apply to me (legal rights) and that the issues that do apply to me I espouse personally, in my daily life and interactions (criticizing intolerance, promoting person-to-person understanding).

A parade is not the way to gain equal rights. A parade is merely a legal and public display of the community support for gay/equal rights. You are correct to say that it is a celebration. Rather than a protest, the LGBTQS (lesbian gay bisexual trans queer straight) community, I feel, prefers to make a jovial spectacle, which in my experience is often well received and very engaging for more active activists, individuals, and families alike. Note the child sucking on a pacifier while sitting on his dad's shoulders in the attached photo.

The eccentric display is to demonstrate the overwhelming support for equal rights, which necessarily includes homosexuals and homosexual couples (e.g. our sign "homoparentalité: vite un statut"). As you saw, these demonstrations often include other pertinent messages advocating health and safety like "sortez-couvert" (funny how Yasmina mentioned that yesterday morning).

I am very glad that I was able to be with you for your first gay parade/rally/protest/demonstration/experience. I hope that with and without me you will continue to support them, even if it is walking in silence with the crowd. Your presence is as important as that of the loudest, most garishly dressed drag queen.

all my care and good luck with your paper,"

conversation is key,

rossi

Art Week #2

. . . 

I'm late.
But that's not too important.
Granted, it is only two hours past midnight, so I very much am still in the fingerlaces of Sunday's night.
For all intents and purposes--and intended purposes--I am quite on time.
Sublime.

As far as my art is concerned, this week was slow getting started due to a lot of work. I've never read so much Franco-Algerian history in my life. (Never read any before, actually. Is this a problem with our World History education in America? Who knows, but the answer is clearly yes.) Lately I've had in mind a collection of word scrawling and pen illustrations that sit in a big black book back in Boston. (Nice.) Here is one of them. It is called, "The Alice Tree".

"The Alice Tree"

Here it is sliced up because I used it as the cover of a short story I submitted to a contest at school and mysteriously never heard back from them-- not with with the winner, a thank you, a disappointing remark on the scattered nature (beauty) of my submission, nothing. Thanks Harvard, for being sketchy. Anyway, I figured out how to pick up where I left off with the plot. It involves poor Alice (she is always the unfortunate, she has to be) happening upon three enchanted sisters, named Haze (L'Obscurité), Mist (La Brume), and Gloom (La Mélancolie). 

In class I managed to sketch out a rather tame picture. Here are the Fog Sisters (Les Sœurs du Voile):

Rendition 1

Like I said, pretty tame. I do like the tarot-card centralization of this sketch, though. Something about this length-to-width proportion just makes me giddy. 

So, the week goes on, I'm learning how France dominated Algeria in the 18th and 19th centuries with crazy effectiveness, and, in Google Image searching for inspiration regarding what exactly constitutes "melancholy," I find this guy: Ryohei Hase, digital illustrator based in Tokyo, Japan. Go to his website. I'm very impressed with his very skilled and patient use of the "digital brush" as one of my closer buddies called it. Using a little intuition, you will find his series of eight pieces done with this theme. For fun, guess which piece was my favorite. Hint: there are two. 

Ryohei keeps notes, which I looked through a little bit. In them, I found a technique that I've seen used also by Esao Andrews. I said to myself, "Well, there you have it. If two professional illustrator-artists use it, then you should use it, for at least try it for the benefits." And I did. Or at least I have started:

By the end of this new week, all 18 will be filled. I will be thrilled.

ciaociao,

rossi

Art Week #1

"No Escape"
Rossi Lamont Walter

. . . 

For Esao Andrews, the Monday night art update was his resolution for the new year. He seems to be doing a smashing job. For me, Sunday night art updates are intended to be my promise to myself to do art every week. No more putting it off. No more complaining about putting it off. I spent some hours pouring over his webpage and his blog. Thanks for the inspiration, Esao.

So, I'm in Menton. During the first of what will be eight weeks here, the group was taken on a tour of three villages in the Alps: Gorbio, Roquebrune, and St. Agnès. I remember that in one of them there was a rather modern museum, you know, wood-floor furnished and all. The best part, though, was underneath the museum.  The space was essentially a small cave. Along the walls were framed portraits of detailed faces, often grave and all very French, drawn with pencil. Deeper into the cave were full-length drawings of young ladies at the age of puberty. They were all nude, with rather unspirited facial expressions. Anyway, that was one of the villages. We had lunch in St. Agnès. I had the wild boar and it wasn't bad at all.

After a while, I started wondering who this Saint Agnès (you know, pronounced in the very French way with the 'g' and the 'n' making the nasal sound, not like the American 'Saint agg-nez') woman was, what she was doing these days. I mean obviously she's dead; take any old village named after a saint you just assume that saint is dead, martyred or something maybe. I figured maybe her body was preserved somewhere, or her head. So, I sketched up a kind of classic grim reaper meets homeless crazy woman.

detail: the candle

explanation: friends and I played a little joke on the rest of the group. sitting in a dark common room with our heads covered with long blankets, we waited for them. friend #1 at the piano by the door (note: it was horribly out of tune) and me positioned behind a fake tree with a candle clutched in my palm. was very funny. 

I liked how it was going, but then I couldn't see what this had to do with the village named after this old Saint. I figured she wasn't all that bad, in fact probably pretty pious and pretty benevolent and that, after death, she would become specter guardian, watching over the village with her noble candle. You'll notice the added paper mountain over the original sketch if you hadn't already. Pretty keen job, actually, if I may say so myself. As far as the whole thing, I am pleased. I made a sketch to keep the idea clear. That's the thing about all of these. Some day, I hope to come back and turn these into large or decently sized paintings. I've always regretted not being able to paint. Thanks again to Esao for the inspiration to be diligent with my art. 

. . . 

The second sketch of this week was inspired by some stuff I saw in a window just down the street from the villa. 

That woman looks simply divine! She seems to have not a care in the world and I like that attitude. The grapes, glass chalices, and spectacularly spherical orb of a teapot brought Dionysus the Greek god of wine and festivity. I thought I would spin this into a vivid scene, with three plump young women being the center of it all.

detail: the angry nun and the young man

explanation: " Good Old Fashion Drinkin' "

I can't wait for this one to turn into a painting. It will be a real challenge, but all the better for the braver.

next week is "Alice",

rossi

"CHUNK OF CHANGE"

So, admittedly, I really enjoy the use of the word "blog" now, contrary to what I wrote in the first post since I re-commenced BTG. Part of why is because I have awakened to the usefulness of blogs to get in touch with individuals in what could be one of their purest moments: what they choose to put online to reflect them, what they do, who they are. Despite it being still a funky word, blogs really do bring me enjoyment. The other part is because I've kept the pleasant habit of listening to music to start off my moment. (Here is one of those pure moments that let me reflect who I am to everyone outside of me!)

I'm the kind of guy who thinks that you should listen to the music I am listening to now, as I type, because it will bring you that much closer to me in this moment,  feeling me. 

If you want to try, I am listening to Passion Pit's EP "Chunk of Change" and there is a nice breeze at sunset and the mosquito bite from a few hours ago doesn't itch. Feeling pretty good... 

(Just returned from a petit hiatus: just stormed through la Rue de Pietons with a blindfolded girl with all eyes on the parade. More about that later.)

Sorry, a little inconsistency there. I am not French, but I am in the French riviera, by the way. Specifically, I am in Menton ("chin") a morning's jog away from Monaco, or Italy if you go in the opposite direction. It is a quaint (read: small, as evidenced by the fact that it almost never appears on a map; see below) town-village that is composed rather exactly by all of the casually glamorous photos found with a quick Google Image search. I have become quite fond of it, but I think to me this means looking at it rather that living in it. That's okay. 

. . .

I just recalled that before joining the parade of colleagues--we are here studying i.e. beaching, drinking, generally living--I was looking out over the balcony of my room and on the old-style shingled roof there was a bird fumbling with his feet. Maybe her feet, I don't know. Birds are less obvious than humans to me. S/he was walking down the slope of the roof and kept slipping. It was amusing to watch not because I don't like birds but because this was a formidable looking bird. When I mean formidable, imagine a large hawk with the detailed grey feathers of a forest owl competing with seagulls for food. (I did a quick Google search hoping for just a photo; but good luck with this.) Watching birds look silly is nice. I often look at them and see some sort of majesty, freedom of flight and all that, so seeing the opposite is pretty fun. Makes you wonder what ridiculous human behavior city birds see all day long. Endless humor...

. . . 

Anyway, I have been living here since 4 Juin after spending 1 June traveling from Paris to Nice via TGV (thanks Eurostar!) and indulging in the beautiful Nice for a few days. Stayed in a great hostel i.e. free breakfast and soft bed and water, temperature-indifferent. Sat on the beach objectifying and philosophizing with the Mediterranean. Then, I thought about keeping up with my experiences, typical as they were, perhaps, on the blog, but I had already begun a written journal invested with drawings and doodles. I like what's contained in it-- probably will like it much more in a year or two, provided it doesn't burn away (note: scan page-by-page into computer ...) After being established here for some time now and gaining a reasonable work load for class, I don't write in it as often. Translated, that means that it has transformed into the occasional poem and a handful of ink sketches. This pleases me; it shall continue. 

I will put up two more comprehensive posts for those patient enough and wanting to "put themselves in my shoes". Selling point: my father has issued me a "1000-photo" challenge, as he knows that I am rather bad about documenting with photographs. I now have a reason to carry around my phone, it having been on "airplane mode" pretty much since I got off of the plane. So, you can rest assured that any post concerning France will be as engaging as an illustrated book. 

Random last note, check the website this rather beautiful photo was taken from. LOL.

written by the re-inspired,

rossi