The Dutch
So Robert, Long (long) ago I lived for a spurt in Amsterdam: In a beautiful (five storey) Apartment. Above a lovely canal. And we had a picture window.
From this picture window i could smell the sounds of children tra-la-la-ing down Prinsengracht as they hatefully bliss-skipped out of Anne Frank's house/museum, which was just a short bicycle throw down the street. I lived here with a tremendous man several times my age (at that time). His name was Mr. Peel Esq. and he was frighteningly British. He taught me a great deal. And though we never slept togther, it was a formative time for me.
This got me thinking, whatever happened to the great one-on-one old vs. young 'gay education' mentoring programs of the past? Once upon a time this was quite common I hear, the real bang behind that now-whimpering word 'platonic', but to my queer peers in Australia this experience I had over in Holland was quite Alien.
Is it that my generation has been so marinated in the deanimating juices of Carson, Gaydar, and the Aguilera Monster that we just don't have the nous and/or maturity to wangle in to them? We're ageist i know, but if nothing else we're also incredibly selfish - so surely we can see the benefits of such an education? Or is it a failing of your generation? Have you and yours lost the faith to teach and inspire? Or did you all find it a little to much, like g(r)ay Sisyphus pushing that faggoty rock up the hill?
Which brings me to Cybersissy. Shitty name, i know, but i'll never forget the first time I saw her. It was during one of my formative bumper Dutch B-D Grade Celebrity Fortnights. I was 18 or 19 or 20 or 21, and I had just seen Grace Jones at some 'After' party for the Gay Games. By this stage I had: become accustomed to indigenous Amsterdamers wearing black socks and leather shoes with 'clubbing wear'; been to IT and the Roxy and Paradiso; recently had sex with my first underwear model (who, i kid you not had a square arse [SQUARE!], amazing); discovered Karel Appel; learnt about Muriel Belcher, Bacon, Freud and the Colony Room (of which my mentor was a member); And I had stopped dating women entirely (for a time).
Cybersissy was another mini-maxi-revelation. First of all, she was gigantic drag. She wore some kind of chainmail dress. And she had some kind of Dan Flavinesque light sculpture coming out (or in) her heels. I was intrigued, and later on down the track, was fortunate enough to see her perform once (with a flame thrower of some sort spurting fire from between her legs "where her penis should of been / Where her vagina never was" etc.).
She now builds a lot of work specifically for new media (or has been for years, I think I read an article once about her being an artist of some sort, but i'd need to fact check that). I particularly like her version of Edith Piaf's 'Non, je ne regrette nien'. It reminds me (a little, and you'll see why) of the Peter Hujar footage of Ethyl Eichelberger.
I love that some queens are building pieces 'specifically' for video. The work you can do with 'subtle' facial gestures, as in this work, really grinds my gears. But then again, i'm (apparently) a tranny snifter from way back, so i may just be 'preaking' [don't ask.].
AMK
P.S. You hate it when i post the text under large swathes of text don't you Uncle Robert?
