The three of us, best friends,
knew Rent backward and forward. “La Vie Bohème,” at sixteen, a stumbled-over love letter from the AIDS epidemic with line after casual line of sometimes hard-for-our- midwestern-mouths to pronounce nouns: huevos rancheros; Sontag; Sondheim. Words that became rungs in our own climb up the slick fire escapes into these queer bodies. And now, at thirty, we hold a knowing more intimate: leather, eating disorders, dildos, masochism and on. We reflect what shined on us. We reflect fire in the cold night, in places fire doesn’t belong. Revolution, no way to make a living, queer inheritance that both binds and buoys. What we’ve always had is each other, and an abiding belief that thriving is an ensemble number. |
a.n.s is a jack-of-all-trades artist type redirecting her energy into writing, bookbinding, and printmaking. In art making, a.n.s values materials with a natural lifespan, such as newsprint and fall leaves. She repurposes the discarded. In writing, a.n.s. leans into the pattern of her experience, highlighting how macro systems play out in micro lives. At parties, she wants to hear your favorite story; at home she gives herself stick-n-poke tattoos under bright neon light.
|