Somehow as I sit here alone, watching the sun set in the backyard with a slight drizzle of rain hitting the skylights above me, Kitty sitting on the table in front of the windows in front of me, both of us watching the peaceful color change. Tonight I identify with the satisfaction Kitty has always known. The room is filled with the scent of Stargazer lilies from a most extraordinary bouquet of exotic flowers sent to me by my friend Bill. I realize in this moment that I have obtained the bliss I have always dreamed. I have reached a remarkable moment of perfection in my existence. I am listening to the songs of Michael Bauble, Frank Sinatra and Ray Charles on Pandora.
Today I jumped from a plane at 9,000 feet above the earth, above the clouds, where the sun was bight, as if from ancient ruins of Olympus. Then to freefell though a beautiful mist, to emerge from the clouds floating with grace and dignity to the earth as if suspended in a breath of time. As if I were in a remarkable ballet. My heart racing and adrenalin pumping, as I have not felt in years. To skid to a stop on the seat of my bum across a grassy knoll my body overwhelmed with an uncontrollable laughter. Today I have kissed the face of god and survived an amazing adventure.
This evening I see how extraordinary I have lived my life, with which beauty I have created and surrounded my existence. As Kitty knows, from sitting for days on end, perched on that table, in that window, staring into that back yard; that this has become our paradise. From the hill up the back yard to the mountains beyond; our yard containing an interesting contortion of texture of the natural willows and mountain ash trees and stone walls filling with a lush bed of ferns, liguleria, hostas and astilbies, settling into a meandering creek bed at it’s base. The ruminants of a celebration of my gala turning 50 lingers; still strewn with borrowed furniture, gas lamps and ornamentation. The balloons deflating and fading in the damp coldness as evening and darkness settles in. What a remarkable place I have come to and such a distance I have come; this is the journey of myself. I can say I have honestly lived my life fully and if I were to pass tomorrow this would be my bliss. Today was perfection!!!! Somehow my soul feels peaceful tonight; as I sit alone, I know I am at home, and become engulfed in the days shift into darkness, knowing the twilight of my faded youth will only become better with each passing day.
I suddenly hear Dinah Washington singing “What A Difference A Day Makes”, this is the cherry of the icing of my day.
What a difference a day made
Twenty-four little hours
Brought the sun and the flowers
Where there used to be rain
My yesterday was blue, dear
Today I’m part of you, dear
My lonely nights are through, dear
Since you said you were mine
What a difference a day makes
There’s a rainbow before me
Skies above can’t be stormy
Since that moment of bliss, that thrilling kiss
By Maria Grever and Stanley Adams
Ok, today is the day. Well, officially I am counting this as my 50th birthday, because today is the big event. The forecast called for rain all day but I woke up this morning and the sky is beautiful, the lovely sun in bursting into the windows and making the place glow. My brother Mack and his wife Pam arrived last night and it was such an utter joy to see the two of them. I am so glad they are here this morning. I feel excitement like I haven’t felt in decades. I have got most of the studio and grounds cleaned up but, my nephew Brendon is coming at 1030 to finish it all off. I got so many calls last night of people offering to help, it felt good to have so much support. I think there are going to be a lot of people showing up. There are moments in our lives when everything seems to align and you can look back to see the span of all the remarkable things we have accomplished. Today is that day. I have this last moment, alone, to reflect, before the rest of the house comes alive with a flurry of activity. The fear, the anxiety, and all the complexity of feelings leading to the moment have vanished. Suddenly it feels great to know I have reached a half a century in my existence.
Tomorrow is the big party and I have been working so hard all week that I have decided to take today off and just catch up with myself. Glenn has been gone for the week and I have been enjoying the solitude. It feels like the one commodity that is a rarity in my life anymore. I know I tend to overwork, it feels like every waking hour of my day is devoted to some kind of project. Last night I really began to think about how much I seem to achieve, maintain and stay on top of everything. It feels like it’s been an especially hard push this spring. It feels like I am trying to wrap my entire life into one single year. Perhaps it’s this project. Perhaps it’s turning 50 in the next couple of days. In many ways I have become a hermit, hidden in a cave. This year is has opened more than ever because of this project. But this project is easy I just put my thoughts out there and don’t really have much interaction beyond that. In a sense this really isn’t for anyone in particular but, more so for myself. I write about the things that are important to me in this moment of my existence. I am getting excited for the party tomorrow, because there will be so many people I have not seen in a long time. I feel like I have a big heart and connect strongly with people in the moment but often times it’s not sustainable in the long term. A life in the theater teaches you this way of life, you produce a burst of energy with a production, a new company, technicians. Coming together with your heart and soul to create one thing, then when it’s all over you move onto the next one and often forget the strong connections and ties you made with the last. I know I am terrible for not keeping in touch but sometimes it is the joy of those moments, lived fully and deeply within that brief encounter is enough. The party is open this weekend. If you are a follower of my life’s passions, please feel free to stop by. I would love to see or even meet you if I have not already. Saturday May 21, 6:00pm 2218 Wylie Ave.
It was a rainy day in late May last year that I first join a site called Man Art. My friend Bryan Spellman, who is also a photographer here in Missoula, and whom I have known for decades and was one of original founders of the Out In Montana organization in the 80’s, encouraged me to join the site. Up to this point I had never shown any of my male art images to anyone, except the models I was working with of course. My partner Glenn had not seen many of the images. It was mostly a passion that I kept to myself and created mostly out of the love for the art and my connection to others. Finding subjects was near impossible, but occasionally someone would want to explore the possibilities and I would get to create. I have been doing photography for about 14 years now and I have been dabbling in this style since the beginning. I was beginning to amass quite a collection of images, that I wasn’t quite sure what to do with. I certainly couldn’t show them anywhere in Missoula. So I had been donating them to various charity auctions around the country for fund-raising auctions and they seem to be quite popular. I have never really had much of a web presence or been able to market them to people who might be interested. It may be hard to believe but I am a fairly private person. The urge kept welling up within me to do something with them, but I was really too busy to explore the possibilities, besides that I just didn’t know how to approach it. So Bryan finally talked me into joining this Man Art sitewhich was an international collective of men who created art for men along a sexual theme. I created a profile and posted my first images ever. The response was astonishing. I got some amazing feedback from all these other artists from around the world. I had suddenly found a place I could call home amongst like minded creative individuals. I began chatting up all kinds of different people and began to realize there was an entire world of artists like myself trying to express themselves and struggling with the same issues I was. One person in particular, John Douglas from Sydney Australia, took me under his wing and we began an intense dialogue about the process and creativity, and I began to see what I was doing was valid and had some sort of value. I have to say John is one of the most prolific artists I have ever encountered. He seems to be completely immersed in the world of gay art. He is a photographer, a painter, a sketch artist, a writer, and a composer just to name a few. He shattered my world. Suddenly I had a focus and what I was creating became better and seemed to have more meaning and context. My group of friends quickly grew and soon I was in communication with so many different people I could hardly keep up with them. Summer came and I got busy and had to let go for a while, but in the fall when things slowed down my creative process exploded. I looked for new subjects and called old ones. It felt like my passion was on fire to create a new style of male art. So here it is one year later. I have had an amazing year of growth and inspiration. I am now connected to a large number of people around the world. Man Art was closed several months back, and I look back at it with fond memory. There is talk of reviving it on a Canadian server where it cannot be censored, but they need finances or technical web tech service to make it happen. So if anyone wants or has the resources or talents to support such an endeavor, it would be well worth the commitment. Today I dedicate my creative heart and soul to John Douglas for seeing the extraordinary. I could not see in my own images, for being a constant mate from across the ocean who has helped me find meaning in my existence.
I have a young kid coming into the studio this afternoon who I am really looking forward to working with. I met with him last week and did my regular interview kind of screening process. He is 19 years old and I was completely blown away by his comfort level and openness. He seems to have an amazing boyfriend whom he totally adores and whom I met briefly and is as adorable. I totally related to this kid instantly and I felt a strong bond after the first meeting. It’s got me thinking this morning how much the world has changed since my early days of being gay and entry into this sort of lifestyle. It amazes me how easy it has become to connect to this younger generation. Most of the barriers that once divided us are now open. Back when I was first coming out you didn’t dare talk to older people, and people of my current age were referred to as trolls, often to be avoided. Viewed as lonely old men who lead desperate lives of isolation, becoming lecherous old men who only wanted to seduce you and use you for sex. I really don’t know if that is true or not, because I never gave it the opportunity. But, being of that age myself now doesn’t seem true at all as I am the exact opposite. Perhaps just an old gay urban myth, perhaps based in somewhat in truth. I pretty much stuck with, dated and had sex with people my own age and looking back now that was pretty lecherous in and of itself. You see, I was coming out in the early eighties when it seemed American culture was just coming into its sexual revolution. Sex was in many ways our liberation. Hook-ups were common and bars, even straight ones for straight people in Montana were known as meat markets. We really didn’t have to communicate with others, it was all about exploring a deeper connection that transcended language. It seemed to become about feeling and satisfaction and comfort and pushing the boundaries. It kind of felt like everyone was willing to explore some side of themselves just for the openness of the experience. Gaydar ruled supreme and you could connect with any one at any time in super market checkout stands, bookstores and public parks. There was an instant attraction to others, all recognizable in a fleeting glance. It seems it was a period of extreme impulse and openness, our own homophobias were more internalized because we had been hidden for so long and didn’t really remember any discrimination from others who were not gay. It was like an era when the world was accepting of each other and we were maturing as a culture. Perhaps this was only in Missoula, because Missoula was the liberal Mecca of Montana. Once I began to meet friends, they become a regular group of guys I could hang with and we were very social. There was one particular house in Missoula that we all could hang and just be ourselves and our bonds were so strong. We didn’t really do drugs so it wasn’t the binding factor like today. There was just solidarity and comfort in hanging with like minded people. We planned all sorts of events, picnics in the park, outdoor events, opened an office in Missoula in the Wilma under an organizational name of “Out in Montana”. It was an amazing time for being young and open about who you where. It was a time to fall in love for the first time and I followed my passion, which took me to central Illinois and then to Dallas, had my heart ripped out, and returned to Montana a couple of years later. When I had returned things had changed. Much of that older crowd was suddenly gone. The beautiful bubble had burst as AIDS was beginning to devastate and swallow up the entire community: lost, disjointed, fractured. Of course at that time we didn’t even know what it was, people just began to disappear never to be heard of again, the silent epidemic creeping at the fringe.
