The -private- photos of Marie Høeg & Bolette Berg

A friend this weekend directed my attention to the this tweet thread by Ann Louise Avery, in which Avery recounts the story of Marie Høeg and Bolette Berg. The two Norwegian photographers worked at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th centuries. I have been unable to stop thinking about theseContinue reading “The -private- photos of Marie Høeg & Bolette Berg”

A year of queer cinema

I’ve been searching for a way to organize 2019 as a year dedicated to queer cinema. It hasn’t been easy to find a pre-existing catalogue of queer film art, other than a one-at-a-time search and find. So, in the spirit of randomness, I’ve decided this list from Time Out London, called The 50 Best Gay Movies:Continue reading “A year of queer cinema”

Speech, Gender, Catcher.

Mary Beard wrote this in her brief, vigorous manifesto Women & Power: “Public speech was a — if not the — defining attribute of maleness. Or, to quote a well known Roman slogan, the elite male citizen could be summed up as vir bonus dicendi peritus, ‘a good man, skilled in speaking.’ A woman speaking in public was, inContinue reading “Speech, Gender, Catcher.”

The Queerious Case of Severus Snape

Albus Dumbledore, J.K. Rowling has told the world, is gay. She didn’t include this information explicitly in her books, but laid some hints here and there, allowing Rowling to reveal, after the books were the biggest book phenomenon of all time blah blah, the true identity of Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore. That Dumbledore isContinue reading “The Queerious Case of Severus Snape”

Andrea Gibson comes to town; I shall die (with squeals).

View this post on Instagram Favorite tour shirt ever. @marylambertsing A post shared by Andrea Gibson (@andrewgibby) on Aug 28, 2018 at 6:49pm PDT Tomorrow, Andrea Gibson, queer poet and object of my distant/lyric adoration, will be in Minneapolis on a release tour for their new book, Lord of the Butterflies. I’m attending this event,Continue reading “Andrea Gibson comes to town; I shall die (with squeals).”