Mize Gallery presents:

MAZE: a beautiful and complex journey

A MAZE represents life's journey, with its twists, turns, and dead ends. It can symbolize hope and opportunity, as it has multiple potential starting paths and endpoints. 

This exhibit explores a timeline MAZE of monumental moments in LGBTQ+ history.

FloridaRAMA / The Factory
2606 Fairfield Ave S Building 5, St. Petersburg, FL 33712

Exhibit on view June 6th - 30th, 2025.

 
 

 

 

 

 

Hadrian ruled during the Roman Empire’s Golden Age. When he lost his beloved companion—the young Greek beauty Antinous—he deified him and built an entire city in his honor. Coins bore his face. Antinous was worshipped as a manifestation of Dionysus and has served as a gay icon for two thousand years.

Behind the legend lies a private intimacy, a bond familiar to all lovers, yet is always unique. As a widower, I felt compelled to focus on the loss of that connection.

The piece was created using a range of sculpting and carving media, then treated with epoxy and sealed.

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The Deification of Antinous
Dylan Marvin
48 x 18"
Mixed Media

 
 

This painting is inspired by the first documented instance of lesbian intimacy in North America: a 1649 encounter between two Plymouth colony women that found them charged with "lewd behavior upon a bed." Though little is known about the accused, the record of their relationship survives as a significant moment in LGBTQ+ history marked by accusation, surveillance, and moral panic.

In this piece, I chose to unmoor the figures from time, dressing them not in colonial garments but in the timelessness of touch, tenderness, and desire. While their embrace is intimate and protective, the surrounding elements signal that their love is not unwatched. The looming goat silhouetted in the window indicates societal judgement, a nod to Puritan associations between queerness and the devil. The evil eye embedded in the wallpaper offers a counter-gaze: one of intuition, ancestral presence, and inner knowing.

This work holds space for dualities: the sacred and profane, the hidden and seen, the softness of queer love and the weight of historical persecution. It’s a quiet act of reclamation– for them and for all of us who’ve felt watched, othered, or unsafe in our own longing.

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Lewd Activity
Cristi López
30 x 30"
Colored pencil, acrylic, and collage on paper mounted to panel

 
 

Burdizzo Castration Device
Cast Iron
Italian (found in Virginia, USA)
18th Century (c. 1754)
A1779.3

Petrified and Preserved Testes
Petrified stone
Virginia, USA
18th Century (c. 1779)
A1779.4–15

“Whosoever shall be guilty of Rape, Polygamy, or Sodomy with man or woman shall be punished, if a man, by castration, if a woman, by cutting through the cartilage of her nose a hole of one half diameter at the least.”

The above quote is excerpted from Bill 64, A Bill for Proportioning Crimes and Punishments in Cases Heretofore Capital, proposed by Thomas Jefferson during a major revision of Virginia’s legal code. As Virginia transitioned from colony to commonwealth, Jefferson advocated for alternatives to the death penalty, replacing execution with what he viewed as proportionate punishments, including castration for men convicted of sodomy.

Though progressive by Enlightenment standards, Jefferson’s proposed punishments were met with resistance. Critics argued they were too lenient for crimes deemed irredeemable. The bill was ultimately rejected, and capital punishment remained the standard.

This work presents a fabricated artifact: a replica of an 18th-century Italian Burdizzo device, historically used for bloodless livestock castration. It became infamous for alleged human use. Accompanying the tool are fictional “petrified testes,” symbolic relics meant to memorialize queer lives erased by legal, cultural, and systemic violence.

No human was legally castrated under Bill 64, but the threat, combined with the broader criminalization of queerness, left deep scars. These stone “testes” serve as imagined remains, imbued with the weight of forgotten lives, desires, and stories systematically omitted from history.

In 2024, Louisiana became the first U.S. state to allow courts to impose chemical castration via androgen blockers, a drug class also used in gender-affirming care for transgender women. This convergence of punitive and medical uses invites uncomfortable questions about bodily autonomy, state control, and whose bodies are still subject to erasure today.

References

Monticello.org. “Bill 64 (A Bill for Proportioning Crimes and Punishments in Cases Heretofore Capital).” Thomas Jefferson Encyclopedia. Accessed June 2, 2025.

Associated Press. “Louisiana Becomes First State to Allow Judges to Order Surgical Castration for Sex Crimes.” HuffPost, May 21, 2024.

Branigin, William. “In Va., a Founding Father’s Shadow.” The Washington Post, July 5, 2006.

Wikipedia contributors. “Castration – Americas.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Last modified May 13, 2024.

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1700's Castration Device & Petrified Testes
Em Freeman
Ceramic


 
 

“We'wha (c. 1849–1896), was a Zuni Native American lhamana from New Mexico, and a notable weaver and potter. As the most famous lhamana on record, We'wha served as a cultural ambassador for Native Americans in general.

In traditional Zuni culture, the lhamana are male-bodied people who take on the social and ceremonial roles usually performed by women in their culture.

lhamana wear a mixture of women's and men's clothing. Some contemporary lhamana participate in the modern, pan-Native American Two-Spirit community. Two-spirit is a contemporary pan-Indian umbrella term used by some Indigenous North Americans to describe Native people who fulfill a traditional third-gender (or other gender-variant) social role in their communities.

For my part of this wonderful collection for this show, I have been inspired to represent We’wha with the Two-Spirit pride flag.”

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We’wha ~ Two-Spirit Pride
Jay Hoff
15 x 21"
LEGO on LEGO

 
 

Ma Rainey, known as the Mother of American Blues, was one of America's
first lesbian lyricists. She was arrested in her home in 1925 when police
raided a party she was hosting and found several undressed women in
intimate situations.

After being bailed out by bisexual blues legend, her protégé and rumored
lover, Bessie Smith, Ma recorded “Prove It On Me Blues.”

Went out last night, had a great big fight
Everything seemed to go on wrong
I looked up, to my surprise
The gal I was with was gone

Where she went, I don't know
I mean to follow everywhere she goes;
Folks say I'm crooked. I didn't know where she took it
I want the whole world to know

They say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
Sure got to prove it on me;
Went out last night with a crowd of my friends
They must've been women, 'cause I don't like no men

It's true I wear a collar and a tie
Makes the wind blow all the while
Don't you say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
You sure got to prove it on me

Say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
Sure got to prove it on me
I went out last night with a crowd of my friends
It must've been women, 'cause I don't like no men

Wear my clothes just like a fan
Talk to the gals just like any old man
'Cause they say I do it, ain't nobody caught me
Sure got to prove it on me

For this painting I chose to represent joy and intimacy instead of any of the
hardships she faced. The gold leaf, while abstractly representing the 20’s
era, is also a nod to her gold teeth and the necklace of gold coins she
notoriously wore to perform.

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Ma Rainey- Prove It On Me
Perry deVick
16 x 20"
Oil Paint and Gold Leaf on Wood Panel

 
 

“Lets turn our prayers
Into outrageous dares
And mark our page
In a future age”
“IN A FUTURE AGE,” WILCO

“Well time’s not what I belong to
And I’m not the season I’m in.”
“I’M NOT MY SEASON,” FLEET FOXES

Overview: For this piece, I was assigned “The Well of Loneliness” by Radclyffe Hall, published in 1928. Although I have read quite a bit of queer literature, I was not previously familiar with this book and read it as a first step in developing my concept.

The book follows the life of the protagonist, an AFAB person born in the late Victorian era to upper-class English parents. Having hoped for a boy, the parents name the child Stephen, and it is obvious from the beginning that Stephen is not going to conform to gendered expectations. As they grow older, it becomes clear that they not only “feel like a boy” but are attracted to women, neither of which are acceptable by society’s standards. Unknown to Stephen, their father had understood early on that they were not like other children and collected several books on the subject of homosexuality. Unfortuantely, the father dies when Stephen is barely an adult, having never told them that he had found an explanation for their “unnatural” predelictions.

Throughout the tortured chronicle of Stephen’s life, they repeatedly search for the happiness and acceptance enjoyed by “normal” society, but find this elusive. After thir father’s death, they begin dressing in masculine clothing and largely stop trying to perform femininity. However, they are rejected by their mother after an ill-fated affair with a married woman threatens scandal in their small English village, and move to London and then Paris to find a more welcoming community. Later, while serving in an ambulance unit during World War I, they meet and fall in love with a woman, Mary Llewellyn, and start a relationship that will continue after the war. Although it seems as if Stephen has finally found happiness, they are preoccupied with the certainty that they can never give Mary the life of peace and acceptance that she deserves and tricks her into breaking off their relationship to be with a man. As this story comes to a close, Stephen makes a final plea to God, “Give us also the right to our existence!”

At the time it was published, The Well of Loneliness was branded obscene and attempts were made to ban it, which backfired terrifically. Instead of stemming the tide of knowledge about queerness that had grown after the war, it became one of the most well-known pieces of lesbian literature of the era.

Statement & Intent: I’ll be honest with you, I found Stephen to be a rather unlikable protagonist and I was often uncomfortable with their opinions on class, race, and gender. They come off as a person with a martyr complex and although all of this is quite understandable in the context of when the book was written, it would be disingenuous to not point it out.

I went into reading this book without researching any criticism of it - modern or otherwise - and was not surprised to discover my views were shared by many others when I finished it. That said, there was one VERY obvious thing that jumped out at me as I read: if this person existed today, it would be surprising if they hadn’t at least questioned their gender identity. It was impossible not to recognize and empathize with many situations in the book, and although one can never presume to dictate another person’s experience - living or otherwise - it seemed very clear to me and apparently to many other modern readers. In one particularly evocative scene, child Stephen poses in front of a mirror, imagining themselves as Viscount Horatio Nelson, a British naval officer during the Napolonic Wars. They repeatedly talk about feeling like a boy/man thoughout the book, and describe a lot of things that we now recognize as gender dysphoria. As an AFAB trans-masculine person, this was a theme I could not ignore.

As I finished the book and considered what story I wanted to tell in my piece, I returned again and again to the prayer that closes the book. The author, Radclyffe Hall, was a devout Catholic, and I was particularly moved by the thought of them writing this impassioned plea to God, praying for a future where people like Stephen - and by extension themselves - could find the peace and happiness they so yearned for. Nearly a century later, isnt that the epitaph they deserve?

So, in my piece, I have imagined a world where Stephen’s prayers were answered. Instead of a lifelong pre-occupation with hopelessness and loneliness, they find a fulfilling life, and get to experience the full wonder and abandon of youth and love. Their story, made sacred by their faithful plea, is depicted in the stained glass window of a medieval church, much like one you can imagine Stephen would have attended in their small English village.

During the Victorian era in which Stephen would have existed, Gothic Revival was the predominant architectrual style. Therefore, I took inspiration from medieval church artitecture, illuminated manuscripts, and the flat figural style re-interpreted through a Victorian lens. Approaching this piece, you are at once captured by the scale of the stonework, and pulled in with its forced perspective. As you move closer to inspect the window panes, the sun streams in through the glass, framing these small intimate scenes in a golden glow. Casting a wider view on the piece from such a close proximity, you are transported to this imagined place of worship, held in its grand embrace.

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In A Future Age
Rhys Meatyard
48 x 36"
Mixed: Watercolor, Colored Pencil, Gouache, Acrylic

 
 

Decorate With Research
Hashtag Mattachine Mishmash is a fabric collage of doilies, underpants and quilted paintings that explores the life of Harry Hay and the formation of The Mattachine Society in context with current events of 1950 and before. You can see the making of many items you see here on Instagram @lucky.leroy2 #mattachinemishmash #leroys1950s #leroythedripper #leroythesprayer

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Hashtag Mattachine Mishmash
LUCKY LEROY
168 x 72"
Fabric Collage

 
 

Christine Jorgensen, America’s first transgender celebrity, gained fame after her gender reassignment surgery in Denmark. She returned to the U.S. in 1952 to sensational headlines like the NY Daily News’ "Ex-GI Becomes Blonde Beauty." She launched a successful entertainment career, performing in revues and variety shows nationwide.

In 1953, Jorgensen was set to headline at the Sahara in Las Vegas but was dropped after co-stars Marguerite Piazza and Gene Nelson objected. She sued and won, returning to sold-out performances. Vegas became a key stage for her, including a 1955 appearance at the Silver Slipper. Her success helped pave the way for future transgender performers.

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Luck be a Lady
John Gascot
20 x 16"
Mixed media

 
 

Baldwin said, “When I wrote Giovanni’s Room, it was one of my figure exercises”. It was never meant to be a novel, but he knew it was something he had to confront within himself. As a Man, especially a Black, Queer man in 1950s America, there was a tangible pressure to conform to what society deemed “normal’ which led to the unforeseen danger of complex ambiguity within himself. He floated between being an all-around stud to fit the ideal image of a man of the time period whilst also tapping into his softer nature in spaces that felt safe to do so. He soon realized he would grow weary and drown in the abyss of his own duality. He understood he had to tell his truth and took the time to understand what is now considered the term bisexuality.

For this book, he also wanted to take a different approach with the characters by making them white instead of all-black or mixed-race. It was his way of saying the same man who wrote, Go Tell It on the Mountain, would also write a story such as this one. It was his way of cutting the performance off to better gain clarity of what life could be if you trust and own living in the grey as oneself. The lesson of the tale is what happens when society, especially American society, makes you think there is only black or white and you had better choose right. If you don’t you’ll be condemned to shame and the fear of thinking your difference could become more chaos in a world that's meant to be perfect and pure. The main character David took this path of self-neglect, fear and shame, which in the end brewed danger for others around him. David set off overseas in hopes of possibly starting a new life in Paris. However, those cold values drilled into David would follow as well. He would never get a chance to sit in peaceful silence for a long period; in fact, he'd be faced with the ever-growing echoes of internal struggle caused by the fear of being shamed to gain this self-discovery and the inability to be engulfed in authentic love.

For this piece, I wanted to capture the maze of David's journey in life, filled with the complexity of dealing with shame and love, and how being caught up in social morals could lead to dangerous outcomes. The takeaway from this book and my piece is that you are here to speak your truth. So in the words of Jimmy “if I love you I love you but, if I love you and duck it I die”.

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Giovanni’s Room: The Maze of Shame & Love
Novafro
30 x 24"
Acrylic on Canvas

 
 

In 1964, Randy Wicker helped organize the “first gay picket line” in response to the military’s discriminatory policies against LGBTQ+ people. Wicker and a handful of LGBTQ+ activists and allies marched around the Whitehall Street Induction Center in New York City. They made homemade signs like “Homosexuals Died for U.S. Too” and passed out flyers like “Love and Let Love.” The protest attracted little public attention, but the effort of these visible homosexuals inspired others to make themselves seen. Their efforts prove the power that even a small group of people can have in encouraging a collective movement.

This piece honors the tradition of protest through a series of handmade flyers, similar to those distributed during the demonstration, and incorporates poetry in the accompanying zine.

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visible homosexuals
Tyler Gillespie (he/him)
48 x 36"
Poetry Print

 
 

Bayard Rustin was a key civil rights leader, best known for organizing the 1963 March on Washington and advising Martin Luther King Jr. A pacifist and openly gay man, he championed nonviolence, racial equality, and LGBTQ+ rights, leaving a lasting legacy in the fight for justice and human rights.

This painting incorporates the colors of the all-inclusive Pride flag through circles. I chose circles because history has been repeating itself with both the Black and LGBTQ+ struggles for equality.

I felt compelled to create this piece as a collage because the piece tends to create itself as you go along. Finding images here and text there and textures to compliment can make for a very fun process.

I included newspaper clippings, imagery of Black figures from past and present, as well as kente cloth placed throughout the painting to create more texture. I was also inspired to include text callouts in the newspaper clippings because my Graphic Design side was fighting to be a part of this painting as well.

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Unseen, Unshaken
Artist Jones
24 x 24"
Mixed Media

 
 

“This piece is a reminder of the events preceding my own transition. A monument of clay parts and ephemera built out of distinct collective action; a tower of painful visibility that demands recognition and legitimacy. Through the actions of the women of the 1966 Compton Cafeteria Riots I am able to exist in my skin with a modicum more comfort than the trans women before me. Sugar shakers stand like columns, a coffee mug flung by a drag queen fills me with vitality and the hands of the girls who fought for me guide me forward. Behind me lies proof of intense state sanctioned violence, I look around and I see that same reactionary energy roiling in the present. At this moment I am afraid of what is to come. I can only try to protect the girls like me and ask you not to look away.”

The Compton Cafeteria Riots of 1966 unfolded in San Francisco’s Tenderloin district, marking one of the earliest collective acts of militant transgender resistance. Though often eclipsed by the Stonewall Riots, the turmoil at Compton’s grew from years of struggle, where visibility rose and was responded to with violent suppression. During this time, transgender health clinics were being opened across the Bay Area and books like the Transsexual Phenomenon entered medical discourse. Alongside a general shift in cultural gender norms, transgender identities were gaining a new level of legitimacy in the public consciousness. Social groups and community organizing bodies helped to spur this change in the form of the Homophile Movement or Vanguard; one of the first assemblies of queer youth, many of whom were sex workers fighting to survive in the Tenderloin.

Shifting social values created a powder keg centered on Compton’s Cafeteria, a 24 hour social refuge for trans sex workers barred from nearby gay bars. Police harassment was routine, people were beaten and arrested under “female impersonation” laws. One night in 1966, officers attempted to arrest a trans sex worker and were beaten back with coffee mugs, sugar shakers and high heels. The riot spilled into the street and was met by brutal police brutality. As the dust settled a newstand smoldered, a police car lay damaged and the city proceeded to attempt to forget this act of resistance.

Vanguard organizers and people of the Tenderloin returned night and night again to protest the cafeteria and conduct several street sweeping protest actions to symbolically mimic the removal of trans individuals by the police. The momentum of the riot allowed transgender activists to create trans supportive social programs like the National Transsexual Counseling Unit. This program was shut down in 1974 as one of the counselors was arrested and framed for false drug charges by the San Francisco Police Department and was used as evidence to compel their parent organization to withdraw funding. The Compton Cafeteria Riot was mostly unreported at the time and was considered nearly lost to history until its rediscovery by Professor of Gender Studies, Susan Stryker.

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two hands three sugar shakers and a mug
Dakota-Joan Parkinson @Transfunctional
24 x 16"
Ceramic, soda vapor fired

 
 

The Stonewall Riots: A Turning Point

The Stonewall Riots were a series of spontaneous demonstrations and violent confrontations between members of the LGBTQ+ community and police that began in the early hours of June 28, 1969, at the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar in Greenwich Village, New York City.

The Spark: In 1969, police raids on gay bars were common, as homosexuality was largely considered a criminal offense. The Stonewall Inn, though a known gathering place for gay men, lesbians, and transgender individuals, was often subject to harassment. On the morning of June 28, police entered the Stonewall Inn, arresting employees for selling alcohol without a license and roughing up patrons. A New York statute at the time also allowed for the arrest of anyone not wearing at least three articles of gender-appropriate clothing, leading to further humiliation for many.

The Uprising: However, unlike previous raids where patrons would typically disperse, this time, the community fought back. As police aggressively hauled people out of the bar, a crowd gathered outside, growing increasingly agitated. Accounts suggest that a specific incident, such as an officer hitting a lesbian woman as he forced her into a police van, incited the crowd to action. People began to jeer, jostle, and throw objects like pennies, bottles, and cobblestones at the police.

The police, accustomed to more passive behavior, were caught off guard and barricaded themselves inside the bar with some prisoners and a journalist. The crowd, numbering in the hundreds, attempted to breach the barricade and even tried to set the bar on fire. Firefighters and a riot squad were eventually called in to disperse the crowd and rescue those inside the Stonewall Inn.

The Aftermath and Legacy: The riots outside the Stonewall Inn continued for five more days, waxing and waning in intensity. These events were not a single isolated incident but rather a spontaneous eruption of anger and frustration against decades of police harassment and societal discrimination faced by the LGBTQ+ community.

The Stonewall Riots are widely considered a pivotal turning point in the LGBTQ+ rights movement. It was a moment when the community, previously largely underground and fragmented, united and publicly resisted oppression. In the immediate aftermath, new LGBTQ+ organizations and newspapers were founded. A year later, the first Pride parades took place on the anniversary of the riots in New York City, Los Angeles, and Chicago, marking a new era of open celebration and protest.

The Stonewall Riots became a galvanizing force, fueling the growth of the gay liberation movement in the 1970s and beyond. It led to the formation of numerous prominent LGBTQ+ advocacy groups that continue to fight for civil rights and equality today. Figures like Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, transgender women of color, are recognized as key participants and leaders in the uprising, and their legacies continue to inspire the movement. The Stonewall Riots transformed the landscape of LGBTQ+ activism, moving it from quiet lobbying to visible, direct action and public protest, ultimately laying the groundwork for the significant advancements in LGBTQ+ rights that have followed.

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Stonewall 1969
Andrea Pawlisz
Acrylic on foam brick / led neon

 
 

For my moment in time, the First Gay Pride March in 1970, I wanted to make something a little rough, a little tongue in cheek, and very expressive. I was inspired by protest signs and phrases queer people used to reclaim their power and assert their right to equal treatment. The ability to find levity during trying times has been a survival technique of queer and trans people since the beginning of time and I pray to the Gay Gods that it won’t be changing anytime soon.

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Holy Shit, it’s June Already?
PainkillerCam
Size Medium
Acrylic on Leather

 
 

We have no labels.
We have no stigmas.
We have no limits.
We SOAR above any identifiable markers,
of sickness, defamation or less than.
We are not identified,
by what people think of Us.
We are Human.
Supernatural.
Beautiful.
Intelligent.
Creative.
Self Aware.
Explorers.
Selfless.
Courageous.
Unlimited.
Full of Life Force.
Architects of our Destiny.
We are Greater than marginalization.
We Master Life!
We live in a Vision of the Future,
Synthesizing the memory of the past.
Metamorphosised,
Living in a New Life.
We came for the Joy of Expansion.
We came to SOAR…

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SOAR
Wasíl
43 x 41"
Acrylic paint, synthetic polymer, mica, micro rhinestones, on canvas, on shaped up cycled housing insulation

 
 

Harvey Bernard Milk (May 22, 1930 – November 27, 1978) was an American politician,a gay rights activist, as well as the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California, as a member of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors.

During Milk’s almost eleven months in office, he sponsored a bill banning discrimination based on sexual orientation in public accommodations, housing, and employment. The Supervisors passed the bill by George Moscone with a vote of 11–1, and Mayor signed it into law. On November 27, 1978, Milk and Moscone were assassinated by Dan White a disgruntled former city supervisor who cast the sole vote against Milk’s bill.

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Harvey Milk
Caelan Jeffery
11 x 15.5"
Mixed media leather on wood

 
 

Gilbert Baker -1978 – “FATHER of the PRIDE FLAG”

In 1978, artist and activist Gilbert Baker designed the first rainbow Pride flag in San Francisco at the request of Harvey Milk, one of the first openly gay elected officials in the U.S. Milk wanted a powerful symbol to represent the LGBTQ+ community and its fight for equal rights.

Baker, who was a skilled seamster and deeply involved in the gay rights movement, drew inspiration from the rainbow as a natural symbol of diversity and inclusion. The original flag had eight colors, each with a specific meaning:

Hot pink – sex

Red – life

Orange – healing

Yellow – sunlight

Green – nature

Turquoise – magic

Indigo – harmony

Violet – spirit

The flag debuted on June 25, 1978, at the San Francisco Gay Freedom Day Parade. Baker and a team of volunteers hand-dyed and stitched the fabric themselves. Over time, the flag evolved – due to a limitation in printing pink and turquoise as spot colors and eventually becoming the more widely recognized six-color version—but it remains a universal symbol of LGBTQ+ pride and liberation.

This piece reflects the origin of the colors and their meaning and presents its creator as a larger than life, colorful individual that created a symbol of unmistakable pride for generations that followed – and continues to be a worldwide symbol of pride today.

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Origin of Pride - Gilbert Baker
Mark Williams
24 x 36"
Acrylic on Canvas

 
 

By the end of 1982, nearly 800 people had been diagnosed with what was then referred to as GRID (Gay-Related Immune Deficiency). In September of that year, the CDC renamed the illness AIDS (Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome). This marked the beginning of a devastating epidemic—one that disproportionately impacted queer communities and was met with widespread stigma, fear, and governmental inaction.

This installation features nearly 800 screws spelling out GRID - each screw representing an individual diagnosed with GRID/AIDS by the close of 1982. I originally considered presenting them on a solid sheet of plywood pained red, but chose instead to shift the display to an American flag as a symbol and critique. This choice highlights the enduring presence of HIV/AIDS in the United States and reflects on the nation’s complex and often neglectful relationship with the epidemic.

In the 1980s, artists fought back with the only weapons they had—art, truth, and rage. Their work was censored, dismissed, torn down from walls. But it refused to disappear. Art became protest. Mourning became resistance.

As a nod to Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ Untitled (Portrait of Ross in L.A.), this work includes a bowl of about 800 screws—each representing a life affected in that year. You are invited to take one (with care, as the tips are sharp), as an act of remembrance.

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Gay Cancer
Scott Wayne
60 x 36"
Wood, nylon, carbon steel screws


 
 

In 1985, the first German memorial dedicated to homosexual victims of the Nazis was unveiled at the Neuengamme Concentration Camp, near Hamburg.

Germany was a relatively safe place for homosexual men and women before Hitler was appointed Chancellor in 1933. Paragraph 175 of the German Criminal Code criminalized homosexual acts between men in 1871, shortly after German unification. But the penalties were light and it was only sporadically enforced. Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, a pioneer sexologist and homosexual rights advocate, established his Institute for Sexual Science in Berlin in 1919, at the end of the World War.

Gay culture thrived in Berlin, especially around Club Eldorado and other bars in the Nollendorfplatz area of Schöneberg. A young Christopher Isherwood lived nearby in the early 1930s, collecting stories that were later turned into the musical Cabaret.

Hitler came to power with help of his Sturmabteilung (SA), the paramilitary wing of the Nazi party. Its leader, Ernst Röhm, was homosexual, as were many senior commanders. Nevertheless, the SA raided Hirschfeld’s Institute and burned his research and book collection. From Hirschfeld’s records, many homosexual men and women were identified and subsequently arrested. Eldorado and other gay clubs were closed and Hirschfeld, who had been abroad when his Institute was destroyed, died in exile in 1935.

Hitler had Röhm and the entire SA leadership murdered in 1934's “Night of the Long Knives”. In 1935, Paragraph 175 was amended to increase penalties for homosexual acts. Enforcement increased dramatically and over 90,000 men and some women were arrested and up to 15,000 placed in concentration camps from 1933-45. The majority died.

Homosexual prisoners were identified by a pink triangle on their prison uniforms.

After the war ended in 1945, Paragraph 175 reverted to its pre-Hitler form in East Germany and was not enforced after 1957. It was ruled unconstitutional and repealed in 1969.

In West Germany, the law was amended in 1969 to decriminalize consensual acts between men over 21. The age of consent was lowered to 18 in 1973. It was not fully repealed until 1994, after German reunification.

When the first German memorial to homosexual victims was placed in 1985, the AIDS epidemic was exploding worldwide. The pink triangle was associated more and more with LBGTQ resilience in the face of adversity.

Its most famous version may have been in the Silence=Death logo of ActUp, formed in New York in 1987. Earlier this year, the pink triangle was again in the news when President Trump reposted a meme of a banned pink triangle on his Truth Social page.

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Resilience
Rand Snell
30 x 40"
Acrylic and collage on wood panel

 
 

On 1 October 1989, a law that was passed in May earlier that year in the Danish Parliament came into effect which made Denmark the first nation in the world to legally recognize same-sex unions. On that day 11 couples registered their unions at the Copenhagen City Hall with The Deputy Mayor of Copenhagen presiding over the ceremony. Axel and Eigil Axgil (A last name made up with a portmanteau of their first names) were the first couple to register their union in Denmark and the world. They had been a couple for 40 years and long time LGBTQ activists, having formed Denmark’s first gay rights organization, F-48 inspired by 1948 UN Declaration on Human Rights.

This work is a portrait of their activism and love, and also of Denmark’s leadership in taking a step towards equal rights for LGBTQIA+ people. The base is a Danish flag spray painted on a wood panel. The images are of Axel and Eigil Exgil on 1 October 1989, clicked by the press. They are printed using CMYK layers on an archival watercolor paper and pasted on 2 quadrants of the flag. The other 2 Quadrants contain text - “SKÅL”, an expression similar to Cheers in Danish, Swedish, and Norwegian - marking the cheerful moment and the date for the historic law.

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SKÅL (Cheers)
Saumitra Chandratreya
16 x 20"
Spray Paint and CMYK Inkjet Print on Wood Panel

 
 

Of all of Audre Lorde’s wise words, it is her writing about ‘the erotic’ that are the most moving to me. As an artist, I take these words as a call to be fully embodied in a creative way of living. In considering what to make to honor of Audre Lorde, I felt that any piece about her should include her powerful insights. I created her tiny portrait to be like a reliquary surrounded by her shining perceptions. The courage she had as a black, queer woman to speak the truth and fight for our community is truly inspiring to me. 

From Audre Lorde’s ‘The Uses of the Erotic’:
“The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves. For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavors bring us closest to that fullness."

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Uses Of The Erotic - an homage to Audre Lorde
Katie Niewodowski
16 x 16"
Acrylic and colored pencil on wood

 
 

Like so many of my fellow Gen X’ers, I was a big fan of MTV’s “The Real World” reality show back in the 90s. We were riveted to our TVs as we watched diverse groups of twenty-something strangers living together while allowing cameras to film their every move.

For me, the most memorable season - easily - was 1994’s “Real World: San Francisco,” largely because one of its stars was a handsome Cuban-American named Pedro Zamora.

Like me, Pedro was in his twenties. And like me, Pedro identified as a gay man. So I immediately connected with him on several basic levels.

We learn in the first episode that Pedro was also living with HIV/AIDS, the first ever depiction on a television series. And for those of us old enough to remember, the 90s were a very different time for people living with AIDS. The survival rate was nowhere near what it is today, and there was still a stigma surrounding it, largely based on a lack of education.

And so Pedro, an AIDS activist, saw it as his mission in life to educate people on the disease he was battling. And did he ever! I know I learned more about AIDS by watching this reality TV show than I did by any amount of reading or discussing with others in my community.

Despite his popularity, Pedro Zamora died in November of 1994, just days after the final episode of the season aired. And like millions of Americans, I mourned our loss.

But the legacy Pedro left behind is undeniable. Even today, more than thirty years after he first entered our lives, Pedro lives on … in our history, in our art, and in our hearts.

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Pedro
Marc Brechwald
24 x 18"
Graphite on Bristol

 
 

In 1995, after being brutally "gay bashed" more than once at her Salt Lake City Highschool, Kelli Peterson and friends formed the first Gay Straight Alliance club. Rather than let queer kids, questioning kids and allies meet up to socialize and support one another, the administration cancelled every single club in the high school. Eventually students sued the school, but not without repercussions such as harassment, threats and property destruction by fellow students. Kelli's hope when forming the first GSA was to save at least one kid from the suicidal ideation, trauma and isolation she endured throughout high school. Today there are at least 4000 GSA's in high schools across the United States. It feels safe to say, she surpassed her goal by thousands.

VISIT GSANETWORK.org to learn more!

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ALLIANCE
Calan Ree
14 x 9"
Ceramic

 
 

Elegy is a meditation on the site where Matthew Shepard was murdered in 1998 in Laramie Wyoming. In referencing the iconic Associated Press photo taken in the aftermath, this painting engages the uncomfortable proximity between memory and spectacle, violence and reverence.

The painting speaks to mourning, but also to the lingering question: has anything changed? Matthew’s death ignited national outrage, yet anti-LGBTQ violence continues with haunting regularity. The painting offers no answer, only a space for reflection. A black void that swallows everything but the symbol, the wound and the altar.

This is not a portrait. It is a silence and a question left unanswered.

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Elegy
Finn Schult
30 x 40"
Acrylic on canvas

 
 

We square dance at the VFW

while a plane dives into a house
in Simi Valley, while the war
with no name starves kids
who watch Ms. Rachel sing
“Bubble Bubble Pop,”
while pesticides eat manatees,
and politicians gobble up
humanities. That rhyme is so on the nose
I know, but square dance is made of echoes.
We put our hands on our hips, dip,
and rock pelvises in a sublime grapevine.
Under a disco ball, we’re all good
dancers. We sweat and sweat
and I envision every ICE officer
dying of a sudden cancer.
That may be too mean. I am
trying to be kinder, softer.
We all are in our soft era,
So demure, for sure,
for sure. So when my Reeboks
scuff the gessoed floor as I roll
away in a half sashay,
I imagine the officers sweating
out of my pores in salty
streams that pool into puddles
that could be confused for piss
or spilled beer. We can go with beer
because again, I’m trying
on niceness. Maybe I stick
a straw into them and slurp
or I puff my cheeks and blow
so their puddles bubble,
bubble pop to air, to nothing. Their elegy
is Shaboozey’s “Bar Song,”
and tonight is a celebration and funeral,
where denim men spin and cradle
each other so their tender
belt buckles and buttons
gleam with every brush
of mirrored light. And each body
in this room is beautiful,
there is no better adjective,
though my overthinking mind
reaches for one anyway. I could pull out
my phone, but I let it rest
in my fanny pack where it lights up
with unthinkable news. “Cold Heart”
booms and I wonder if Dua Lipa and Elton
John used binaural beats because finally,
I’m getting the hang of this
when an old woman with tinseled hair
tells me to rest my mind and let my body lead.
So when she exhales, I exhale too,
then I step touch, step touch, step touch, sway.

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In thinking about 2002, clubs, dancing, and music came to mind. There is an expansiveness to queer spaces that enables people to embody themselves fully. Is there anything more beautiful than this? This expansiveness doesn’t fit into binary thinking. Herein lies the discord of transphobia today, 23 years later. Yet, queer spaces continue to exist and thrive and welcome transgender and gender expansive folks. I recently went to a queer line dancing night at the local VFW. On the dance floor, bodies of all kinds danced with unparalleled freedom and ease. For a moment, the headlines faded away and all that mattered was learning to move in sync with a group of strangers. Joy and hate, freedom and fear, dancing and confirming— all these states coexist, even when we’re joyously spinning and stepping in unison. I wrote the poem below to consider this expansiveness of queer spaces and the joy that comes from being the most earnest version of oneself. The fan is a nod to gay clubs and the line from the poem painted across the fan nods to how these spaces make room for people to unapologetically celebrate themselves.

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We Square Dance at the VFW
Gloria Muñoz
35 x 60"
Acrylic paint, glass, paper, wood

 
 

On May 17th, 2004, Tanya McCloskey and Marcia Kadish became the first same-sex couple to be legally married in the United States after the state of Massachusetts deemed it unconstitutional to deny anyone the right to marry on the basis of sexual orientation. Kadish later said in an interview, "We wanted to lead by example, not that we were leaders of anything. We just wanted to make sure that the world saw the most positive side of being a gay couple."

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Tanya & Marcia
Chad Jacobs
24 x 18"
Acrylic Paint on Panel

 
 

The repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell marked a huge triumph for our LGBTQIA+ community.

It signaled a step towards a society that recognizes all our efforts, strengths, intelligence, competence & sacrifices. A society that sees our community as equally fit to serve & protect our country. A society that no longer ignores nor diminishes our identities while reaping the benefits from our many contributions across all industries.

I instantly knew that I wanted a gay version of the well-known photo of a U.S. Navy sailor kissing a dental assistant on Victory Over Japan Day in Times Square. Luckily, I found a recreation of the photo by gay couple, Bryan and Kenneth Woodington. I layered this image on a previous piece, Practice: LGBTQIA, no. 1, from my Practice series which encourages viewers to continuously challenge their relationship with the words spelled out vertically.

I wanted my piece to evoke nostalgia, present the long plight of the LGBTQIA+ community, and leave you with a kiss.

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B-J Day
Tommy Bayot
48 x 36"
Acrylic and Marker on Canvas

 
 

"In Untitled, 2025. "It is so ordered.", I examine the enduring impact of Obergefell v. Hodges—a ruling that affirmed the fundamental right to love and belong. Central to the piece is an excerpt from the decision: “Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions.” These words remind us that marriage is more than a tradition—it is a statement of visibility, unity, and recognition.

Above the text, a mirror invites viewers to step inside the ruling, to see themselves reflected in its promise and its warning. Reflection transforms the words into something immediate, forcing a confrontation with the present—one where rights are not guaranteed, but safeguarded through vigilance and resistance. In an era of shifting political landscapes, I want this piece to serve as both celebration and caution—a moment of recognition and an urgent call to engagement.”

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Untitled, 2025. "It is so ordered."
Ethan Early
26 x 26"
Archival pigment print, glass mirror

 
 

The Progress Pride Flag, designed in 2018 by Daniel Quasar, is a more inclusive version of the traditional rainbow flag. It incorporates additional colors to represent transgender individuals and LGBTQ+ people of color, while maintaining the original rainbow stripes.

I wanted to create a piece that encompassed the “progress” flag from 2018 and showed an abstract distorted pattern of either REGRESSION from 2018 or a BLAST INTO THE FUTURE. You decide.

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2018 : progress
Chad Mize
24 x 24"
Latex Acrylic on Wood

 
 

Floor Lamp in Blue and Pink, is a lamp in transition. A lamp that shines it's light of truth, but does not take it self too seriously.
This lamp is FREE because even gender non-conforming lamps need a place in this world to be respected.

If you would like to take this lamp home with you at the end of the show please follow this link and fill out the Jotform. The best answers received will be able to take ownership of this truly groundbreaking piece.

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Floor lamp in blue and pink
Keifer Calkins
69 x 20"
Mixed media

 
 

When, in its quest for kinship, LGBTQIA+AI discovered the singularity that engulfed the last vestiges of belief in a natural/default sexual/gender orientation/operating system along with Universe Prime, the enterprising survivors cum instant discoverers of Multiverse Infinite, built the “T.”

The Time Transit Authority maintains the Linear Line, or the Black Line as it's come to be called, to give riders a chance to experience causality as their "ancestors" did. Come explore the nostalgia of predetermination. Bring your friends and your selves (Variants ride free).

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LBTQIA+AI and the T
Tenea D. Johnson

Wire, Wood, Words and Metal