Tag: writing

  • ‘¡Afuera!’: Historical Queer Publications Showcased at LA Art Book Fair

    ‘¡Afuera!’: Historical Queer Publications Showcased at LA Art Book Fair

    The Queerest attended Printed Matter’s exhibition ‘¡Afuera!: Publishing Queer Liberation’ at its 13th annual LA Art Book Fair, which took place from May 7 to 10, 2026, at ArtCenter College of Design in Pasadena, California.

    ¡Afuera! marked the debut L.A. exhibition of several historical publications and print ephemera published in the 1960s and 1970s by members of three radical coalitions: New York’s Gay Liberation Front (GLF) and Third World Gay Revolution (TWGR), and Argentina’s Frente de Liberación Homosexual of Argentina (FLH). The exhibition’s rare posters, flyers, newsletters, and magazines shed light on the organizing and publishing efforts of a network of determined social, political, and cultural activists of the era. 

    ¡Afuera! highlights the work of graphic artist Juan Carlos Vidal and poet-photographer Néstor Latrónico, gay activists who emigrated from Argentina to New York City in 1968 to find a new community. Vidal and  Latrónico collaborated on illustration and graphic design for the GLF’s newspaper, Come Out!, and for the FLH’s publication Afuera and its bulletin Somos. Examples of their publications, including all issues of Somos and a mock-up cover of Come Out!, were on display. 

    Vidal and Latrónico used visually striking, often colorful publications to draw attention to their queer activism and their messages of intersectional liberation, anti-imperialism, and anti-capitalism. The exhibition highlights the role that artist- and community-run printing projects played in sharing resources and information among queer activists in a pre-Internet age.

    Original cover mock-up of Come Out! Issue 8, Winter 1972, published by the Gay Liberation Front of New York. Courtesy Archivos Desviados.

    The exhibition is drawn from the New York-based collection of Archivos Desviados, which was created by Argentinian-born archivist Juan Queiroz in 2019. The ongoing, independent archive preserves thousands of historical documents from queer movements. 

    Learn more at printedmatter.org/afuera, and follow Archivos Desviados on Instagram @archivosdesviados.

  • VFX Artist Calls Out AI Use in RuPaul’s“Stop! That! Train!”

    VFX Artist Calls Out AI Use in RuPaul’s“Stop! That! Train!”

    In the weeks leading up to its theatrical release, RuPaul’s upcoming comedy Stop! That! Train! has been under immense scrutiny for its alleged use of AI-generated special effects. 

    Much of the controversy started when Gloria Cook, a VFX artist and experimental filmmaker, attended the film’s premiere in New York on May 28 and posted a review on Letterboxd shortly after, writing, “It’s one of the most conspicuous uses of AI I’ve seen in a film, with a lot of VFX looking like gen AI… Confirmed in the end credits that Acme AI was the top-billed VFX company on the film.”

    After similar allegations rapidly spread across the internet, Shankman addressed the controversy on June 3, posting an official statement on Instagram, stressing that the movie was “made by human hands.” However, he notably did not address the undeniable collaboration with AI VFX companies.

    Cook, now clapping back at Shankman’s vehement denial, released a video pointing out several discrepancies in the movie, visible even in the film’s trailer.

    The train, for example, appears with a different number of windows in various shots, a suspicious detail since human VFX artists would have reused the same CG model for different shots. There would be no purpose in recreating and intentionally changing the amount and placement of windows.

    Additionally, there is a shot of the train crossing a bridge with one of its support legs completely missing, another highly suspicious detail.

    The IMDb credits list 26 compositing artists but not a single 3D or CG artist. No one is credited with creating the train assets, only with combining assets. While there is a chance that the IMDb credits are incomplete, Cook notes that “it feels like an odd omission, especially when these VFX shots could only be done with CGI… or AI. And AI requires no animators, only compositors to clean up shots and combine elements together.”

    Cook adds that proving these effects were not AI-generated would be fairly easy. “All [Shankman] has to do is post wireframes of these scenes to show off the 3D models.”

    But instead, he released a very carefully worded statement, dancing around the issue:

    Claiming that the movie doesn’t contain any “fully generative AI shots” (emphasis on “fully”) and that not a single shot was “conceived by AI” does not dispute the accusation that AI was used to generate special effects that would have otherwise been created by a human.

    Generative AI is extremely harmful to the environment, with data centers increasing carbon dioxide emissions and pressure on the electric grid, straining municipal water supplies, and disrupting local ecosystems. On top of that, it takes jobs away from actual people. But of course, it is faster and cheaper for a company to use generative AI than to pay a human being. So the only thing we can do to stop it is to make our anger known. Filmmakers must be held accountable for using generative AI; otherwise, its use in the film industry will only grow and become normalized. 

  • L.A. Queer Zine Fest Comes to USC this Sunday

    L.A. Queer Zine Fest Comes to USC this Sunday

    Los Angeles Queer Zine Fest, a one-day celebration of queer and trans zine makers, artists, printmakers, publishers, and performers, is taking place this Sunday at the ONE Archives at the USC Libraries. The event will combine: 

    (1) 45+ queer and trans-identifying vendors;
    (2) live drag performances, music, and poetry; and
    (3) a zine-making workshop. 

    Per the ONE Archives, zines “have long been a tool for queer and trans people to document our lives, share resources, tell our stories, build community, and create outside of traditional publishing.” Building on this tradition, the L.A. Queer Zine Fest intends to “platform queer voices and encourage participation in the preservation and celebration of queer history.”

    During the 2026 Fest, guests are encouraged to visit NEED ME, or, (de)mystifying the myth of the modern primitive, which is billed as “the first ever public exhibition to present the Western history of body piercing and its roots in queer history.” NEED ME will highlight the artwork and ephemera of queer individuals who were essential to modern piercing history, including Catherine Opie, Ron Athey, Bob Flagan & Sheree Rose, Leigh Bowery, Annie Sprinkle, and Efrain Gonzales.

    Founded in 1952, the ONE Archives is the largest repository of LGBTQ+ materials in the world, containing millions of items including art, books, films, videos, audio recordings, and periodicals. The Fest is presented by TRANS•FORM, a growing programming series of workshops, performances, and community events which “creates space in the world for trans people through art, resources, and collective care.” The Fest is free of charge and open to the public. RSVP is not required, but encouraged. The Fest will take place in the ONE Archives parking lot. Public transportation (Metro E Line) is encouraged. Aside from street parking, a paid lot is a 2-minute walk from the Fest.

    May 17, 2026, 11 a.m. to 5 p.m.
    Free
    ONE Archives at the USC Libraries, 909 West Adams Boulevard, L.A., CA 90007

  • For Halloween, I Dressed Up As Myself

    For Halloween, I Dressed Up As Myself

    Growing up, I wanted to dress up as desirable. I wanted to trade in my straight eyelashes for curled ones and change my brown eyes to blue. I wanted to grow four inches in height and lose two around my waist. I yearned for wavy hair that framed my face instead of the stick-straight hair I was given. My eyes were wide enough to see, but not wide enough to be seen. I would have traded them in an instant. When I walked into a room, I wanted people to turn their heads to look at me. I wanted to hear it, the rustling of hair against shirt collars. I wanted the air to shift around me so that the music sounded a little clearer and the drinks tasted a little sweeter. All of this yearning and shapeshifting to be liked by boys. Boys who looked straight through me to get a better glimpse of my friends. Boys who made racist remarks about me as a joke, and friends who let it happen. I knew that the costume I wanted could never be bought online. In a world full of tricks, that was the biggest one of them all. 

    When Halloween rolled around, I was reminded that even on a day where anything was possible, I would never be able to be the one thing I really wanted: an equal. While I didn’t love the holiday, I knew an opportunity when I saw one. Without its quality of childlike wonder, it was a chance to flip expectations on their head. It was the one day a year when the impossible was possible. A nice girl could be a witch and a shy girl could be noticed.

    When I fell in love, things began to change. At last, I had caught the feeling I spent my whole life pursuing. The fog of self-loathing cleared, and I looked around, assessing the damage. I was alive, and other than 22 years of mental turmoil, remained mostly intact. I discovered that what made me undesirable was my environment, not me. And I discovered that the feeling I had when I looked at a pretty girl, the one I had almost convinced myself wasn’t real, was, in fact, the thing I had been wanting all along. With this newfound knowledge, I could start over as someone new, someone who dressed up as the character from their favorite childhood movie, for no reason other than for themselves. How strange and wonderful it was to put me first!

    Now, Halloween has taken on a new meaning. I no longer have to choose between pleasing others and pleasing myself, because the only person I care about is already next to me, holding my hand. Embracing my queerness helped me to accept many things, some more obvious than others, but I never imagined that a holiday that used to symbolize conformity could return to one of storybook characters and laughter.

  • Playing Dress Up

    Playing Dress Up

    I don’t remember a lot from my childhood. There’s no deeper reason like I’m trying to forget certain events or particular people–it’s not that serious; I simply have a bad memory. However, amongst the collection of things I do remember, like my old childhood best friend’s birthday and Greek alphabet song, are the consecutive Halloweens I spent dressing up as Sleeping Beauty. Everything about the holiday besides my costume is a blur and frankly unimportant. In my memory, it was all about the dress.

    Like many six-year-old girls, my favorite color was pink and this dress was my perfect shade. It had stretchy silk-like straps that looked like scrunchies attached to a tulle off-the-shoulder neckline that revealed my childish decolletage. In the middle sat a pendant with Sleeping Beauty herself. The sleeves were full length and ended at my wrists with a piping of gold stitching. The bodice held the most detail, with a v shape joining in the middle made with that same gold stitching, to create shape where there was none. Fleur de lis littered the top and bottom of the dress and shimmered in the light. I adored this dress, getting much more wear out of it than just once a year. I have a picture of me at six years old wearing it to the mall on a random Monday in August. At the time, I’m sure it was the color that lured me to it, but as I reflect now, it’s apparent that there was a part of me who loved it because I could finally be something that everyone else was. I wasn’t the adopted Asian girl with white parents, I was Sleeping Beauty. I had blond hair and fair skin and a prince who would do anything for me. I may have looked different but my dreams were the same. 

    Eventually, I grew up and the dress was passed on to someone else, and I was still chasing that feeling of belonging. Growing up in a small town meant that I was among only a handful of other Asians. As a whole, I was met with kindness, but to exist meant to stick out, and so I did my best to exist quietly. I fell in with the right crowd: friends from well-known families in the community who were popular but kind, and smart but humble. I excelled in school enough to remain in step with my friends but not enough to be noticed. I participated in student government but ran for historian instead of president, and joined the cheer team, choosing the position that faced away from the audience instead of towards it. I didn’t come out as queer until I was 16, though I knew a lot earlier than that. I couldn’t stand being even more different than I already was, so I sacrificed my love for uniformity. This became my new costume, which I wore comfortably and without hesitation. I didn’t stand out at all, and that’s exactly what I wanted. What felt like a persona at the time became synonymous with who I was. Before I knew it I was floating through life content with being 70% happy, so long as on the outside it looked like I was 100%. I didn’t find that last 30% until I was 22 years old. When I first met my now-girlfriend, I couldn’t believe that life was meant to be this good. The way our lives intertwined so seamlessly made me believe that that’s how it should have been all along. As someone who lives their life with bated breath, I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who felt like fresh air.

    The costume I had eagerly worn to survive had become my skin. It was the good things now that felt like make-believe. I would come home from a day of holding hands and writing love notes and look in the mirror and see a stranger. She looked like me, but there was a quality about her that was different. She shimmered, like how heat radiates off of the pavement on a hot day and how the air almost looks like it’s vibrating. Patches of my old self would reappear in moments of vulnerability or anxiety, but as time went on I started to shed my old skin. 

    It took my whole life to get to this point, but it doesn’t feel like I’m playing dress-up anymore. I used to have to pretend to be someone else to feel like enough, but now there’s no one I’d rather be than myself. I still experience all the hard parts of life, like everyone else, but I can find comfort in knowing that trying to suppress who I am is no longer one of them.