a&e features
William Shatner’s message for LGBTQ fans: ‘Keep on queerin’
World’s largest Star Trek convention features cosplay, queer stars
LAS VEGAS — STLV, the annual Star Trek Las Vegas convention — hosted by Creation Entertainment — this month brought together fans of all ages, abilities, and affections for the many incarnations of the 59-year-old science fiction franchise, from the original TV series to new streaming shows and online games.
Boldly going among them were dozens, if not hundreds, of LGBTQ Trekkies and Trekkers alike, living the ideal that predates DEI by more than 50 years: An anagram that Trek creator Gene Roddenberry devised as the basis of Vulcan philosophy (as well as an early merchandising opportunity).
I.D.I.C.
“‘Infinite Diversity In Infinite Combinations,’” TrekCulture podcaster Seán Ferrick told the Los Angeles Blade. “This is the type of community that is tailor-made for embracing,” said Ferrick, who identifies as pansexual. “The truth is a lot of the world doesn’t do that.”
Ferrick traveled from Wexford County, Ireland, to attend what he called “the biggest Star Trek convention of the year on the planet,” and to judge a cosplay competition.
“They might be wearing Vulcan ears or they might have Ferengi teeth or something, but this is a tailor-made community about spreading love and joy,” he said. “So, when I walk into something like this, what I see is, for a large part, the world as it should be. There is hope out there. I stand at something like this and I see nothing but hope.”
This was the first Star Trek convention this reporter has attended since 1978, and some things have not changed. There was a huge amount of Trek-related merchandise for sale, from tribbles to jewelry and model spaceships. Actor and first-time author Nana Visitor of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine sold out copies of her groundbreaking book about the women in front of the camera and behind the scenes of the franchise, Open a Channel: A Woman’s Trek. And the only people who stood out in the crowd of thousands were the ones not wearing a costume. Three fans put together amazing Vulcan outfits that will appear in an episode that has not even streamed yet, just based on what they saw in a trailer. Some folks even dressed up their dogs.
David’s homemade Starfleet uniform resembles a miniskirt but is called a skant. Male actors as well as women wore them on Star Trek: The Next Generation, and he was hardly the only man wearing one at STLV.
“There is nowhere else I would probably walk around in a dress,” he said. “I came last year for the first time and this was the most comfortable I’ve felt.” That was especially true, given that on this day, the temperature reached a high of 109 degrees in Las Vegas.
David is a gay man from Sheffield in Northern England who said he used to call Los Angeles home. He described his skant as “Pride for Star Trek” and was gratified by the reception of other convention-goers to his cosplay.
“There’s just no judgment. No matter whether someone’s costume looks really homemade, whether it’s really professional, everyone still appreciates that you’re part of the fandom.”
Peeved at Paramount
Judgment, however, was on the minds of some stars who identify as LGBTQ. They talked with the Los Angeles Blade about their fears that Skydance’s purchase of Paramount, the company that produces Star Trek, would change the franchise’s legendary embrace of diversity, to further appease the Trump administration as it works to eliminate DEI.
“We only have to look at the parent network of this series alone, where Star Trek lives now, where they have bent the knee in order to sell this studio to a right-wing, Trump-loving owner,” said out gay actor Wilson Cruz, who played one of the first out gay characters in the franchise in Star Trek: Discovery and was a trailblazer when he played Rickie Vasquez on My So-Called Life. Cruz was blunt in his criticism of the Paramount sale to Skydance.
“Shari Redstone had no problem selling out the entire company and everyone who works there, and all of the people who have been on screen representing people of color, the LGBTQ community,” said Cruz. “She has completely turned her back in order to keep her family richer than they ever need to be.”
Cruz is also worried for queer representation in the current era, and not just on Trek.
“I think in this moment in history, it means a lot more to me now than it even meant eight months ago, which it meant a lot to me then, but given the fact that we’re going to start seeing less and less of us on TV, we’re being erased,” he said. “And because we are being erased, because we are being shamed again, it’s really important to celebrate the success of the representation that we have had, to remind people why it’s important for people to be able to see themselves, to have their lives mirrored back at them, to inspire them through our stories, that that kind of storytelling has value and relevance and has even more relevance today.”
In between signing autographs, Cruz voiced gratitude for the fans who say his portrayals reflected their lived experiences.
“I’m incredibly moved every time somebody comes by, whether they’re talking about Rickie Vasquez or Hugh Culber, that I’ve been able to give people a voice and a story that they can identify with that makes them feel like they belong, in a moment where there’s so little of that.”
“I’m very fortunate to be part of two major things,” said Cruz’s Discovery costar, out gay actor Anthony Rapp. “Rent and Star Trek have these profound communities of fans around them. I say ‘fan.’ I mean, it’s not a word that I have any animosity toward. But it doesn’t quite speak to the level of connection to these pieces of art.”
As for the deal Cruz railed against, Rapp said it was “too upsetting to engage too much.”
“I’m on a little bit of a media brown-out because of having two toddlers. I’m certainly aware that Colbert was canceled, which is very upsetting. I heard Wilson mention something about Trump getting them to agree on a certain kind of media coverage,” he said, referring to the installation of an ombudsman, “who will receive and evaluate any complaints of bias or other concerns” at CBS News, according to The Hollywood Reporter. “I mean, that’s insane.”
Out actors Cruz and Rapp, who appeared on Star Trek: Discovery from 2017 until 2024, were among the more than 100 actors and creative types on hand who gained fame thanks to Trek and other sci-fi projects. They joined iconic fan favorites William Shatner, Scott Bakula, Kate Mulgrew, Jeri Ryan and Edward James Olmos — all of whom played captains of various fictional starships — in meeting their fans, face to face, for a price.
Those fans, dressed in every conceivable and even inconceivable cosplay creations, stood for hours in long lines for a signed autograph and to pose for photos with their heroes. They packed ballrooms to hear behind-the-scenes stories at a wide variety of panel discussions and presentations. The best seats cost $1,400, with photos and autographs costing anywhere from $25 to $300 apiece.
Meeting the Captain
This reporter was next in line to ask Shatner a question at his one and only appearance on stage, as he rhapsodized at length about nature, the planet, and beyond.
“We all belong to each other, and all of us belong to the rest of existence, the world, the universe,” said Shatner. “We are linked chemically and electronically with the word ‘quantum’ attached to it. ‘Quantum’ is the study of the small particles called atoms. We should all never forget the awesomeness, the incredible forces that we have no idea about that work everywhere in the universe. It also suggests that we are caretakers of our earth and we must, without question, care for the water, the air, the earth.”
It was at that point that the 94-year-old actor decided to end his hour-long talk, 10 minutes early. So, unable to ask him a question, I joined a queue with hundreds of attendees, who paid to have a moment with the original Captain James T. Kirk. There he was, seated on a chair at the end of the queue, as a fast-moving assembly line of fans stood by him for a very quickly posed photograph, and swiftly moved along.
I had literally just enough time to utter one sentence, and so I asked him, “What message do you have for queer Trek fans?”
“Keep on queerin’!” said Shatner, with a smile captured in a photograph.
That was a welcome message for two groups that celebrated their marginalized status in society: The Lambda Quadrant and the SyFy Sistas.
Tamia, the SyFy Sistas podcast host, spoke at their panel about how in the past, there was backlash directed at Black fans, at “people that look like us and didn’t want us in the room,” she said. “That’s not what Star Trek is about. But I think it’s changing.”
“Many, many people come up to us at the table and say that historically they have not felt comfortable expressing their full and true selves, even here in the fandom,” said Ursa Wright of the Lambda Quadrant, a group dedicated to promoting queer representation in fandom. “We are the one table in the whole place with big rainbows everywhere. So, people, for a long time, they come up and they tell us they did not actually feel safe. Like, they can wear their Star Trek outfit, but nothing overtly expresses that they would be gay, or whatever it is, because they still didn’t feel comfortable, because no one else was in the space doing the thing. Which, in our year of the Lord, how are we still there, where people feel that?”
Boldly LGBTQ
The Blade asked queer fans what Star Trek means to them.
“Accepting everyone,” said Sarah from Southern California. “Everybody is who they are.”
“Being free,” said Rachel from Nebraska. “To express anything and everything.”
“Togetherness,” added David who hails from Nova Scotia.
Boyfriends Anthony and Ryan said “acceptance” and “tolerance.”
“Star Trek is what this world needs to strive for,” said Tom Noe of Pleasanton, Calif., a straight ally whose partner is pansexual. “Acceptance of all races, sexualities, regardless of what they are.”
“It is a different way of looking at the world, and I appreciate that,” said Jess from Upstate New York. She was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with a rainbow and the face of an omnisexual alien character from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and the words, “Friend of Garak.” When asked why she chose to wear that top, Jess said, “Because I’m gay.”
“Sounds Gay, I’m In,” was the message on a shirt worn by a gay fan from New Jersey who asked to be identified as Sandra. “Because here is the only place I feel safe to be out. I’m not out with my family or my co-workers,” she said. “Star Trek makes me feel like there is hope that eventually I can live free. But I don’t know how it’s going to happen in the next couple of years.”
“Let’s just say I have not been able to go to the entire convention without seeing a Trump hat,” said Kyla, an out transgender nonbinary fan who was visiting Las Vegas from just outside Sacramento. They said didn’t feel comfortable using the casino hotel’s strictly binary restrooms without an escort. “But I have felt more safe here than I have on the strip,” she conceded.
“We have nonbinary characters. We have same-sex characters and relationships, and we need more of that,” said a pansexual fan who goes by the nickname Hoops. “As the kids would say, Star Trek is very woke. Like, it just means you have a heart and, like, compassion,” she said.
“There’s so much hate and so much bigotry and homophobia and transphobia. All of that,” said Hoops. “We’re just here to care about other people. And we just want to love other people. And why do you care who someone’s in love with or who someone takes care of? Or how they identify? What they’re wearing? If they’re wearing a skirt or pants? Does it really matter what path they’re taking? And in Star Trek, nobody cares about any of that.”
TrekTech
STLV also offered fans a chance to explore strange new immersive tech that allows them to virtually tour the Starship Enterprise, created by OTOY and The Roddenberry Archive.
“We think about this stuff a lot,” said OTOY CEO Jules Urbach about LGBTQ+ representation in his digital exploration of the franchise, which started with the first film in 1979 and only grew after he became childhood friends with Roddenberry’s son, Rod, 40 years ago. “It’s really part of representing everything. And that’s a big part of Star Trek.”
OTOY’s latest short film reunites two iconic characters using “digital masks:” Kirk visits Spock’s deathbed in “765874: Unification,” with actors Sam Witwer and Lawrence Selleck in the roles originated by William Shatner and the late Leonard Nimoy, respectively.
“This is pretty magical,” Urbach told the Blade. “We’re really happy with how it turned out and how people interpreted it.”
At star-studded panels, fans watched that short film and also learned of new shows in the pipeline and potential new movies. Next month, Paramount debuts a new audio drama podcast that tells the untold story of arch villain Khan Noonien Singh’s life in exile, featuring the voices of Naveen Andrews, best known for his role in Lost, and of gay icon George Takei, among others.
“It’s never far from the minds of the people creating these shows that how important representation is, how vital it is,” Kirsten Beyer, executive producer of Star Trek: Khan and a nine-year veteran Trek producer and writer, told the Los Angeles Blade in a phone interview following the convention. “And never, ever more so than now.”
Queer Stars, Allies
During a panel discussion with her out queer costar Jess Bush, Celia Rose Gooding of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds told the Blade she’s hoping to see more LGBTQ representation in the show, now in its third season streaming on Paramount+.
“As a queer person, I would love to see more of it,” said Gooding, who plays Uhura and is preparing to film the fifth and final season starting next month. “I can neither confirm nor deny what we’re going to get because we haven’t seen a single script yet. But I think for so many reasons, it’s important for marginalized group to see themselves in the future.”
“I’m a Greenwich Villager, so the LGBTQ world is my world, and it’s our world,” said Michelle Hurd, who played Raffi on Star Trek: Picard. In the series finale, written and directed by showrunner and LGBTQ ally Terry Matalas, Raffi is portrayed as the bisexual first officer who had a relationship with her bisexual captain, Seven of Nine, played by actress Jeri Ryan. “We’ve been here, we haven’t gone, we’re not going anywhere, and we’re going to be here until the end of time. And art is the way that we can convey those sort of stories. I hope that we continue to tell those stories more and I hope that this world continues to open its eyes, its arms, its hearts to the fact that love is love is love is love.”
Out gay actor and author Jonathan Del Arco — who played a Borg who became an individual named Hugh in both Picard and originally on The Next Generation — chose the convention to launch his children’s book about the search for belonging, identity and acceptance, Freddy the Alien. He told the Blade it was inspired by both his own childhood and his Trek career, and about the timing as immigration raids are in the news.
“It’s a really important time to make kids feel included, and it’s tough,” said Del Arco, who attended the convention with his husband, Kyle Fritz. “We live in Los Angeles, and you can’t help but be surrounded by the immigrant experience, so you don’t even need the book to have that conversation. It’s happening all around,” he said.
In a panel discussion, Del Arco revealed that although nothing was written about Hugh’s orientation, he chose to play him as having fallen in love with Evan Evagora’s character, Elnor,
“I decided when I found out I was getting killed, and I had this young man on the ship, I figured it would be kind of cool if Hugh had found love for the first time, only to die. And he did.”
Andrew Robinson played a Cardassian named Garak on Deep Space Nine and confirmed to the Blade he “always” considered his character was something other than heterosexual, such as an omnisexual, even though his orientation was never revealed in the series. However, in 2024, he played Garak once more, in an episode of the animated series Star Trek: Lower Decks, created by LGBTQ+ ally Mike McMahan. This time his character was in a same-sex relationship with Dr. Julian Bashir, played by Alexander Siddig.
“I’ve never played an alien before,” said Robinson. “And one of the things that occurred to me was, there are certain hang-ups that they don’t have that we have. And one of them was the whole thing about sexual identity.”
Terry Farrell, who played Jadzia Dax on Deep Space Nine, spoke about a 1995 episode, “Rejoined,” in which her character had a romantic relationship with another woman. Some Southern TV stations, primarily in the so-called “Bible Belt,” refused to air that episode. Many transgender fans have embraced Dax as someone who shares their experience of living in more than one gender, and “Rejoined” featured the first same-sex kiss in Trek.
“What I was most proud of was, in that episode, nobody talked about the fact that we were both women,” said Farrell. “I have goosebumps right now. Love is love. It doesn’t matter what package you come in. If that’s your one life, enjoy it, be you. It’s such a struggle in our culture to just be yourself. And clearly it can be dangerous to be yourself. And that’s horrifying to me.”
For the most part, this was an inclusive and entertaining event for one and all, especially for the many attendees who used wheelchairs and scooters to travel around the incredibly large convention space, which was located a considerable distance from the main casino hotel. But it’s only fair to point out that there were some issues, such as the lack of all-gender bathrooms.
Observers also noted that although this 23rd convention organized by Creation Entertainment was expanded to five days for the first time, it was not as well attended as 2024’s event. That’s in line with a trend that reports say has hit Las Vegas hard this summer, with tourism down 11 percent from a year ago. A spokesperson for Creation did not respond to an email request for comment on attendance.
The Blade also asked for comment on what were described later as “inadvertent” slights to the one and only Black woman to appear on a panel of Star Trek writers at the convention on the evening of Saturday, Aug. 9.
Once the four men and two men were introduced, the host — “Inglorious Treksperts” podcaster Mark A. Altman — had to be reminded that he had not invited Star Trek: Strange New Worlds story editor and episode writer Onitra Johnson to join them; she was still backstage, waiting. After finally being introduced, she was seated at the end of the stage next to legendary out gay screenwriter and author David Gerrold, who three times answered questions intended for Johnson. The third time, members of the audience interrupted him, shouting, “Let her speak!” which prompted Altman to blame “bad acoustics” in the ballroom.
While fellow Treksperts podcaster Daren Dochterman called these repeated slights “inadvertent” in a face to face conversation with the Blade on Aug. 10, neither he nor Altman, nor Creation, officially responded to messages from the Blade seeking comment.
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Lupercio Media turns influencing into advocacy
Founder Carlo Lupercio speaks about helping marginalized creators today
In a digital landscape where social media reigns supreme, few industries are as profitable — or as risky — as the influencer economy.
Becoming an influencer has transformed from a side hobby into a legitimate profession, one that generates millions every year. And that’s putting it lightly; low estimates of profit derived from influencers in 2025 currently sit at 30 million dollars. Whether it be corporations making online celebrities a major part of their marketing or certain users getting paid thousands of dollars for a single post, it’s undeniable that influencers hold power within our often unstable economy.
Which is why the industry’s bias against marginalized creators is so deeply unfortunate.
The bigoted rhetoric that fills many parts of modern society has always (sadly) infected our digital world. It’s an issue that has only grown in recent years, with a combination of hateful users and predatory algorithms making it insurmountably harder for diverse influencers to find their audience online. It’s a harmful trend that continues to stifle the queer voices so many people need to hear right now, and it’s something that Carlo Lupercio fights against through his agency, Lupercio Management.
“We represent specifically Latin as well as LGBTQIA+ creators — creators that are not traditionally represented to the full capacity,” explained Lupercio when he sat down to speak with the Los Angeles Blade. “I serve as their partner but also as their manager, and really am just amplifying and helping them achieve the goals that they want to achieve as creators.” Carlo brings a personal passion to this work; before founding this agency, he worked in influencer marketing for many well-known brands. And it was through these experiences that he learned the term that companies use to keep our communities out of the spotlight: ‘brand safe.’
“There is this stigma of some brands where what is okay for a White gay creator may not be okay for a Brown or Black creator,” Carlo explained. “As a creator, you want to be authentic. You want to show your [truest] self to the internet, because that’s the way that people will follow you…but oftentimes, a brand does not see that as ‘brand safe.’” He detailed the many times he saw this term used against queer and POC influencers, with executives using it as a method of catering to the potential anger of the hateful parts of their audiences.
Carlo got a firsthand look at this phenomenon and how it left many talented people without the opportunities they needed in this cutthroat industry. It made him passionate about fighting against these discriminations to create a way for influencers of any identity to have an equal shot at success — and so, Lupercio Media was born.
Lupercio Media serves as a comprehensive resource for its clients, with each one belonging to a marginalized community (identities that would make many other agencies ignore them completely). Carlo outlined how he works daily with these creatives to understand their dreams and develop plans on how to attain them, helping them in countless ways, ranging from establishing their image to securing brand deals. But beyond these professional duties, Lupercio stressed that he also serves as a personal cheerleader for each of these diverse clients, saying, “There’s obviously the job component — but I am also their partner. I find out who they are as a person outside of [being an influencer]…when you’re working with talent, they’re still people at the end of the day. So really getting to know them personally is a huge role of mine as a manager.”
“I think it’s important for [influencers] to create content that shows who they are…because it’ll only inspire the next person,” emphasized Carlo. “It’ll open up more opportunities, and it will show brands that this is a large demographic in society that they just cannot ignore — despite everything that is going on in the world. Because LGBTQIA+ people are here. They’re present. And they are not going anywhere.”
And that is at the heart of Lupercio Media: the knowledge that managing these people not only helps their careers but also the LGBTQ+ community as a whole. Because social media is growing every single day! And queer users, especially young ones, are constantly searching for people with their identities who show them that they can succeed as their most authentic selves — even if there are many people today telling them they can’t.
Because of the influencer industry’s discriminatory practices, many of these folks searching for inspiration have been historically left wanting. But through Lupercio Media, Carlo works hard to not only give marginalized creatives a platform but also to make sure that everyone has someone they can look up to online.
It may sound laughable to the many folks who still write off influencers and the power they hold. But Lupercio Media recognizes the strength of these individuals and how they can serve as true models of success for countless underserved communities today. Carlo Lupercio works tirelessly to ensure that any creator, no matter their identity, has what they need to offer their followers the representation they need — and all while securing some pretty sweet brand deals along the way.
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The Queer Film Collective makes your favorite movies possible
This LA-based nonprofit unveils its brand new panel series and talks all things film industry.
If we want queer artists to succeed, then there need to be systems that support them.
Unfortunately, providing free resources to aspiring artists hasn’t always been America’s priority. This is even more blatant for marginalized creators; while the U.S. has rarely offered artistic programs the funding they deserve, recent years have seen countless conservative attacks against most kinds of LGBTQ+ creativity. But despite these institutional and social roadblocks, queer creatives have always persisted! No matter what era of film and television we’re in, it’s heartening to watch so many creators fighting to not only make their own projects but also make it easier for other marginalized artists to do the same.
In a city as vibrant as Los Angeles, there are luckily dozens of groups helping to platform underserved filmmakers today. These organizations fight to create a film industry where truly anyone can thrive, and nowhere is that work more visible than within the Queer Film Collective.
Growing from a small networking group into a thriving nonprofit, the Queer Film Collective (QFC) serves as a resource hub for LGBTQ+ directors, actors, and all film and TV professionals in Los Angeles. The LA Blade spoke with QFC’s founder, Ray Taylor, about how important the group’s work is today, emphasizing how it’s more important than ever that we support the people making inclusive media possible. He spoke about the impact of this representation, the experience of trying to create LGBTQ+ films in our current political environment, and, when discussing QFC’s exciting new Summer Panel Series, how he’s excited to foster an LA film industry that gives queer filmmakers the respect they deserve.
“We’re doing everything we can to make it so filmmakers can make their films,” explained Taylor, as he described the whirlwind process his past year with QFC has been. “The Queer Film Collective is a nonprofit that provides resources, opportunities, and education. We focus on four pillars: connect, collaborate, create, celebrate, and our main focus is making it easier for films to be made.” It’s an important mission for not only queer filmmakers but creators in general! The past few decades have seen big studios grow more reluctant to give new creatives a chance (or offer livable wages to the many workers who make their projects possible). And while recent years have shown that not only original ideas but also small creators are essential to improving the film industry, it’s been extremely disheartening to see that this hasn’t changed today.
Ray, an accomplished film director, spoke about how the QFC was created in opposition to this unfortunate phenomenon. He organized the group’s first official meet-up — a small get-together of only a few dozen people — as a space for folks to share advice about navigating this tenuous profession while queer. “The more I talked to people, the more I realized they wanted resources, they wanted opportunities, they wanted to get on sets,” he reminisced. “So I threw together a pitch deck, and I said, ‘All right, here’s my five-year plan. We’re going to become a nonprofit.’ And in January of this year, we got our official 501c3 status, and that five-year plan is now thrown out the window — because everything that was on it has already happened in the first six months of our being alive.”
The Queer Film Collective couldn’t have arrived at a better time because, as Taylor is quick to remind anyone who will listen, inclusive media has always been key in the fight for LGBTQ+ rights. The man stressed, “It’s really important to focus on telling these stories that allow queer people to just be seen as people — they’re just everyday people! They experience joy; they experience heartbreak…I think that it’s really important to normalize seeing queer people in media, because the more normal that you see queer people in media, the more normal you will see queer people in life.” And while we’ve been lucky to see allies create inclusive media, Taylor emphasized that it’s only by uplifting queer filmmakers that we ensure this industry continues to make media that our communities can find themselves within.
Whether it be community meet-ups, their constantly evolving job board, or the organization’s constant spotlights on queer projects and individuals, every aspect of the QFC helps create the onscreen representation that so many people need to see. And while each of these facets is integral to the group’s work, Ray has never been more excited for the upcoming resource they’ll be providing LGBTQ+ filmmakers: The QFC Summer Panel Series.
“I wanted an event that we get to do every year, and whatever that is, I wanted it to be impactful,” raved Taylor, as he excitedly described how he and other QFC leadership initially thought of the series. He spoke at length about the many industry professionals they’re honored to have join these panels and, in a shocking rarity for educational opportunities in film, how all of the conversations will eventually be uploaded completely free online. “The conversations that we chose this year we felt were really important because we’re starting our panel series with a whole conversation about queer joy and telling stories beyond trauma, and we’re ending our panel series on a on a panel that’s talking about how to create art in today’s political climate…all of these are hot topics right now, and I think that they need to be told. And I think not only do queer filmmakers need to hear this, but everyone needs to hear.”
As the interview came to an end, it was obvious how ecstatic Ray was to talk about the Summer Panel Series and invite everyone reading to attend. Not just because of what an accomplishment it was — though he proudly listed off the many amazing discussions this series had in store — but what it represented for QFC as a whole. This organization was founded to empower LGBTQ+ filmmakers and help create an industry where not only can inclusive media be easily made, but the people who want to make it actually have the chance to. This panel series caps off an astounding first year of doing just that, with Taylor teasing even more to come in the next few months.
And as a final pitch to encourage folks to come, Ray summarized why this panel series — and all of the Queer Film Collective — is so vital: “I think that queer stories are so important to tell…and not just the ones focused on trauma or coming out! In my opinion, the most important queer stories right now are the ones focused on joy and succeeding in life, because we need to show the world — and not just the world, but also young LGBTQ+ people — that queer people are here. We’re going to survive. We’re going to keep pushing, and nothing’s going to bring us down. And so I think that queer filmmakers need to have those opportunities to tell these stories, because I think that they are so important.”
Summer Panel Series: Thu, Jul 9, 202610:59 AM Thu, Aug 27, 2026 1:00 PM
Join the Queer Film Collective for an 8 week panel series bringing together working filmmakers, writers, and creatives for honest, practical conversations about the realities of the industry today.
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Disney Animator Andreas Wessel-Therhorn talks being queer in animation and preserving the hand-drawn technique for the future
From ‘Tarzan’ to ‘Hercules,’ Wessel-Therhorn has worked on dozens of the animated movies we grew up watching
Andreas Wessel-Therhorn has gotten a rare front-row seat to the endless changes in the animation industry.
From breaking onto the scene in the ’90s through films like The Thief and the Cobbler and A Goofy Movie, to working on rare contemporary films with hand-drawn animation like Mary Poppins Returns and Space Jam: A New Legacy, Wessel-Therhorn has seen work dry up for the artists he grew up dreaming of working alongside.
“It’s a real shame that knowledge is getting lost,” he tells The Blade. “We’re all at the point where we’re either close to retirement or are in retirement already, or people move to other fields. I wonder where this knowledge is going to go.”
With Disney continuing to pump out sequels like Toy Story 5, and the uncertain road ahead with the emergence of AI, Wessel-Therhorn spoke with The Blade about his decades working in entertainment, how he has been able to pivot and continue finding work over the years, and his thoughts on Pixar cutting queer storylines in films like Elio. This interview has been edited and condensed.
What drew you to working in animation, and what are some of your most prominent projects?
As a kid, I was always a big fan of the Disney classics – and by that, I mean the really old ones like Bambi and Cinderella! I always wanted to be a part of that. It was sort of a childhood dream that eventually became a reality, and for some years was quite thrilling. Now, I wasn’t a big natural talent at drawing; it was really something I had to learn. I was lucky that when I was ready, there was a big demand for people who wanted to do hand-drawn animation. I started on a movie called The Thief and the Cobbler in London, then A Goofy Movie in Paris. Then there was a general shift to go to America, as most companies were relocating. Eventually, I got an interview with Disney in London and was offered a job. I came over here for Hercules in 1996, and I worked on Tarzan, Fantasia 2000 and The Emperor’s Groove. Then I moved over to Disneytoon Studios, where I supervised animation on Tarzan II and The Little Mermaid: Ariel’s Beginning. Apart from Disney, I went outside and worked on Looney Tunes: Back in Action, both Space Jam movies, Tom and Jerry movies, and a bunch of commercials.
I grew up watching many of those, so it’s really cool to hear your credits. You were one of the last ink and paper illustrators and got to see the transition to 3D animation and digital. How did that impact the work you were doing? Were you able to pivot?
This is just my impression — when the studio pivoted to CGI, they did not do a great job of preparing or training us as they did at DreamWorks. It was pretty much learn on your own time, if you have any. I got into this because of hand-drawn animation, and it took me long enough to learn how to draw, so I want to stick with that. That’s my love. For a long time afterward, there was still enough work for me because while there was not as much work around, there was also a smaller pool of people. For quite a few years, I was doing quite well with independent stuff, working on union and non-union stuff, whatever came along. It’s only really in the last two to three years that it has dried up completely. 2D work is usually sent out to either Canada or Europe. Suddenly, a lot of us who were hanging on by our fingernails are suddenly faced with the reality that there’s not enough work around. I pivoted a little bit to book illustrations and did quite a few of those. Thankfully, I’m not at the start of my career but sort of at the tail end. Now I want to concentrate on mentoring and doing my own short films.
It’s a shame because character animation of the kind Disney, DreamWorks and other smaller studios did is the one true American art form. Animation is done all over the world, but that kind of character animation was absolutely unique to the United States. It’s a real shame that knowledge is getting lost. We’re all at the point where we’re either close to retirement or are in retirement already, or people move to other fields. I wonder where this knowledge is going to go.
I saw the director of Hoppers post some of the early hand-drawn footage, and it looked really beautiful. People were commenting online, wondering why the movie wasn’t done in 2D.
Even some of the main supervising animators at Disney who were kept on were basically doing experimental or guide animation for the CG animators — their actual drawings never saw the light of day. For a while, it was good for them because they kept their paycheck. Artistically, it must have been utterly depressing to do stuff that no one is ever going to see.
For 2018’s Mary Poppins Returns, which you worked on, Disney had to bring back many hand-drawn artists for the animated sequence. What was that experience like?
A lot of friends from the industry, we were suddenly back in one room. There’s the sound of people flipping paper all day. The director, Rob Marshall, insisted that the piece of animation would be hand-drawn to match the original. We had a young character designer with an updated, modern version of the characters.
Were you surprised when you got the call and heard they were asking for hand-drawn animation after all these years?
Pleasantly surprised, I would say. I’m sure someone suggested going the CGI route. It has a different kind of charm to CGI. It’s a great sequence in the movie. I was a bit skeptical at first, thinking “how can you follow up Mary Poppins?”
What has your experience been navigating the animation space as a queer person?
I always had a pretty good time, I have to say. I hardly ever ran into problems, certainly not with management, because there were a lot of queer people in management, especially at Disney. I heard it was quite different in the ’80s, but not in the ’90s; [when I started], it was a very open and welcoming situation there. It’s a very odd mix of people who get drawn into animation. Most gay guys I know worked in production, but not in animation itself. We have a few exceptions, of course, but there was this weird mix of very liberal and religious people.
What I’m missing, unfortunately, is a lot more gay-themed animation. You may have seen that piece from the boss [Pete Docter] at Pixar, which was a ridiculous statement, to be honest, because the kid in Elio would have had a few certain traits from which you may infer he’s gay later. To put that out there and say “we cut the storyline” is ridiculous. I did two short films based on a German gay comic artist, and they did quite well in animation festivals. But even then, they often only did well in gay festivals. It still seems to be put into a certain corner. A few years ago, there was this really sweet CGI short by two young people called In a Heartbeat, which I loved! It not only should have had a nomination; in my book, it would have won, and it didn’t get nominated.
What did you think of the Oscar-nominated animated shorts this year and the winner, The Girl Who Cried Pearls?
Well, it wasn’t my winner. All five had merit and, in the end, it comes down to personal taste and what people like the best — of the people who actually watch them. Especially with features, so many people ask their kids what they would vote for, which explains some of the choices.
As we’ve been talking about your career and you look back on films you’ve been part of, what work are you most proud of?
I loved working on Tarzan because I worked on the mom character. Many mother characters in Disney movies are usually dead already! I was able to use personal experience from things my mom used to do. Sometimes the movie doesn’t turn out to be a big hit, but it was great fun working on Looney Tunes: Back in Action. The live-action was so poor, though, that it didn’t do very well.
You mentioned wanting to mentor younger animators. What are you hoping to teach, and why are you focused on mentorship at this point in your career?
There’s knowledge I got from other people that I want to impart so it doesn’t go away. There are people interested! Studying animation, or anything, is so expensive in this country. If I can help someone for free and they get something out of it, it’s [for the] better. I never understood the college system here, as opposed to what was in Germany. When I finished school and went to study design, that’s all I was doing 100% of the time. Apart from art history, that was it; everything was practical. Whereas here, students spend at least 50% of their time redoing the stuff they’re supposed to know already. They’re taking English and geography again, which is ridiculous, and then they hardly have any time to learn what they’re there to learn. Sometimes I look over student portfolios; they’re in their final year, and I have a hard time finding anything that qualifies them for working in the industry.
There’s so much information now available on the internet. It’s just there — tutorials, all kinds of helpful things to reference, all the stuff you used to have to go to the library for. There’s really no need to spend tens of thousands of dollars going to college. You can do it yourself if that’s what you want to do.
I don’t work in animation, but I can vouch for the mentors who have helped shape me as a writer. I’m sure people would be lucky to learn from you and all your experience, so it’s great you want to pass down that knowledge.
When I started out, I had a graphic design mentor who later became a production designer on Mulan and other Disney movies. He was really brutal with his comments on my first portfolio. I mean, I almost gave up the whole thing! But it was so important for me to hear that. From your friends and your parents, “Oh, that looks great! You’re really good,” until a professor tells you, “Start again; none of this is usable.” That’s the crux — when you continue at that point and work through it.
As we wrap up, is there anything else you want to say, or anything on your mind about the current state of animation?
Going back to movies that were actually good, did you see Nimona?
I need to see that!
That was a feature with a very queer storyline that didn’t get much attention, especially from the right-wingers, because it wasn’t Disney. If it’s Disney, they jump on it — the slightest whiff of something queer, and they go crazy. The two main guys in Nimona are a couple, which makes story sense because at one point they become adversaries; since they also share a love, it makes it that much more poignant and makes the stakes higher.
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Yona Speidel and the future of trans television
The ‘Pose’ and ‘The Boroughs’ writer on what she hopes for the future of queer media.
Thousands of queer viewers are huge fans of Yona Speidel — they may just not know it yet.
This is due largely to the fact that, up until a few months ago, Speidel went by a different name professionally: Lady J. It’s Lady J who’s credited as a producer and writer on Transparent, one of the first mainstream TV series to center a transgender woman as its protagonist. And when the series Pose began in 2018, it was Lady J who served as a member of the program’s central creative team, writing and producing nearly every episode to develop the onscreen refuge that thousands of fans still see the show as today.
It can’t be understated how much of an impact Lady J had on modern television. But just recently, fans were shocked to hear that she’d be retiring…her name, that is. The artist assured everyone that she still planned to create programs that completely shift how certain identities are portrayed in the media. She will continue the vital work she’d already been doing for years, only now, she’s ready to do it under her true name: Yona Speidel.
“Lady J is a showgirl name, and I’m not really doing that anymore,” laughed Speidel, as she spoke with the LA Blade about the decision to change her professional moniker. “At one point, I did wear sparkly sequin bras and perform in drag clubs — but I’ve aged out of that a little bit. And as a writer, director, and producer in Hollywood, I thought it was time to retire ‘Lady J’ and just go with my day-to-day name.”
And though she’s only been working for around a year with this ‘new’ name, Yona already has some impressive credits under her belt; she currently works as a writer and executive producer on the acclaimed Netflix series, The Boroughs, which has been applauded for its mixture of sci-fi horror and biting social critique. This is all in addition to the ample work she did as Lady J, with Speidel reminding fans that she is still the ingenious creative they knew and loved before. That dynamic artistry has always been a part of the woman, with Yona saying, “I always had ‘the flair,’ and it stood out from a very young age…I learned to hide it for survival.”
“I grew up in Amish country, Pennsylvania, and my family came from an old order of Mennonites, though they left many generations ago,” Speidel explained. “It was hard in the 1980s growing up with AIDS in the headlines, and all the homophobia that was happening in the world to blame gay people for this disease. [That] manifested in school, so there was a lot of bullying…the ‘flair’ was just something that I learned to temper down, and I had to be careful where I showed it. And then as the world progressed…I let it out.”
She described using music as an escape from her harsh community, avoiding chores on her family’s farm by spending hours each day practicing the piano. It was a talent that took Yona abroad for college and, eventually, to New York City, where she spent years as a professional musician while finally living as the proud trans woman she is today.
It was during her time in New York that Speidel began to write and direct, becoming a part of the city’s vibrant theater scene and helping put on numerous productions. It was just as she had begun to explore what being a producer could look like that she was asked to join the team of Transparent, a new show that promised to ‘completely change how trans people were portrayed on television.’ Excited at this possibility — and ready to ensure the series was actually accurate — Yona joined the program.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Whether it be the plight of queer people of color during the AIDS epidemic in Pose or how society mistreats the elderly in The Boroughs, Yona’s career is defined by amplifying the voices too many overlook today. This is in addition to serving as a trailblazer every day as an out trans woman in the entertainment industry, with the producer emphasizing, “It’s up to us to really test the waters. [We have to ask,] ‘Is it safe for me to be out at work? Is it safe for me to be all of me?’” She explained that at the beginning of her career, it wasn’t, and that’s why so much of her early work is focused more on introducing the general concept of LGBTQ+ identity through straightforward storytelling.
But she reminds everyone reading that it was a long time ago. Through her current work, she hopes to create an entertainment industry where underserved narratives are given center stage, where they’re allowed to challenge what general audiences are taught about their communities. It’s why she continues to create TV shows that center marginalized folks — because she knows that by introducing these voices today, it will be so much easier for them to take the spotlight again tomorrow.
Yona’s is a vital kind of advocacy that, as we see more attacks against all kinds of LGBTQ+ voices (especially trans folks), we need more than ever. She emphasized that she understands how scary it can feel being a queer creative right now, but that is exactly why artists need to continue introducing these stories that nobody else could have ever thought of! As someone who’s spent a majority of her life navigating this tenuous industry, Yona advised her fellow artists, “Shut out the negativity as much as you can. That’s a luxury if you can do that, but if you can take the luxury, do it. Be present with your friends and with your family, and with the people who love you. Feel that love, be embraced by that love. And don’t neglect that love in favor of anxiety and what-ifs.”
It’s advice that Lady J followed, allowing her to create such monumental pieces of television — and it’s what she’ll continue to live by as she does even more for her queer community today as Yona Speidel.
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Television loses a legend and longtime ‘Will & Grace’ director James Burrows
Iconic hitmaker leaves behind a legacy of telling LGBTQ stories
You don’t have to be a pretentious film major to name 10 movie directors. But naming television directors is not that simple. They’re the unsung heroes of your favorite shows, and the late James Burrows was the television director. He passed on June 19, 2026, but his DNA runs through television history.
He directed over 1200 episodes of television and over 50 pilots. He co-created Cheers and directed many episodes of long-running series like Friends, Taxi, Frasier, The Big Bang Theory, and Two and a Half Men. You also may remember him from playing a heightened version of himself on the Lisa Kudrow comedy The Comeback.
He has left an indelible mark on the LGBTQ community. As recently as last year, he directed the series run of Mid-Century Modern starring Nathan Lane, Matt Bomer, and Linda Lavin. He was also a longtime director of Will & Grace and directed every episode of the series revival. He even directed the unaired Absolutely Fabulous pilot with Kathryn Hahn, Kristen Johnston, and Zosia Mamet.
Not to mention he’s worked with queer icons throughout history, including Betty White and Stockard Channing on their single-season series, and Jennifer Coolidge in 2 Broke Girls.
He started his career on shows like The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Rhoda, Laverne & Shirley, and the first four seasons of Taxi.
He continued to work steadily and directed successful pilots that went to series for Roc, 3rd Rock From the Sun, Dharma & Greg, and Wings. He directed multiple episodes of Friends, Caroline in the City, and Frasier.
This magic continued into the 2000s with him directing the pilots for Two and a Half Men, The Big Bang Theory, and multiple episodes of Mike & Molly, and the entire return series of Will & Grace.
What was the secret to his success? He’d enact the “fun clause” in his contract. In his words, “Life is too short to deal with obnoxious leads,” He shared. “So as long as the writing is good and the cast is fun, I’m going to enjoy the experience.”
He had the magic touch, having multiple pilots turned into long-running series. He was nominated for an Emmy 24 times in 26 years and worked consistently until a year before his death.
The secret was the way he brought the cast together. He describes, “it was my job to mold them into an ensemble, and they did round into a group of people who loved each other.”
This earned him 11 Emmy Awards and 5 Directors Guild of America Awards, including being awarded the inaugural DGA’s Lifetime Achievement Award for Television Direction.
In a 2003 interview by the Television Academy, he was asked how he wants to be remembered, and he said, “That every night forever you can tune in somewhere, and there’ll be a show I did.”
He’s survived by his wife, Debbie, four daughters, seven grandchildren, and the countless people whose careers he launched and the countless viewers he inspired with his television legacy.
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ChiChi brings drag, history, and advocacy to LA Pride’s main stage
The Los Angeles drag performer, commissioner, and housing advocate honors Pride’s roots while uplifting the community beyond the parade
When ChiChi Charlas steps onto the main stage at the 56th Annual LA Pride Parade on June 14, the moment will carry more weight than a typical hosting role.
For the Los Angeles drag performer, policy advocate and commissioner, moderating the main stage is an opportunity to honor what Pride has always been about: celebration, protest, and community.
“The origin of Pride has its roots in uprisings and protests, oftentimes led by Black and brown trans women,” ChiChi told the Blade. “From Christopher Street to Cooper Do-nuts to the fight against Rule No. 9 here in Los Angeles, trans and gender expansive people have resisted criminalization and have demanded the right to live freely.”
That history, ChiChi explains, is the foundation of how they understand Pride. After hosting LA Pride’s Latine Stage last year, being invited to host the main stage this year feels like a profound accomplishment.
“I am showing up as a first-generation Mexican-American, queer, trans, gender-expansive Angeleno,” ChiChi confidently told the Blade, “But also as a commissioner, a community and policy advocate, and an educator.”
Many view hosting events as simply introducing performers. However, for ChiChi, this opportunity to host is about creating a space where people feel welcome and connected to something larger than a single day of celebration.
“It is about creating a space where our history, our joy, and our collective experiences and power can all be uplifted and celebrated,” ChiChi said. “I want people to leave with an instilled sense of hope, empowerment, and knowledge on how to get involved in the community.”
As a drag performer who accentuates their facial hair, ChiChi said their work does not fit neatly into traditional drag queen or drag king aesthetics. “I feel that this kind of visibility matters now more than ever when drag and trans people are being hyper-targeted for their gender and gender expression,” ChiChi stated. It is evident that ChiChi’s drag challenges gender expectations directly and seeks to make the LGBTQ+ community more open to diverse forms of expression.
That visibility is personally meaningful to ChiChi as a Latine performer. They said they want other Latine community members to feel seen when they are on stage – including families who may still be learning how to support LGBTQ+ loved ones.
“Homophobia, transphobia, and machismo are very much alive within many Latine communities,” ChiChi said. “I know that we will have many parents present who are learning and unlearning. I hope to provide them with a message of kindness and gratitude for all their work.”
Beyond performance, ChiChi’s advocacy has focused heavily on housing policy for trans and gender expansive people. Before shifting fully into LGBTQ+ advocacy, ChiChi spent nearly ten years in the housing nonprofit sector. In that work, they saw how homophobia, transphobia, racism, and structural inequities place LGBTQ+ people – especially Black and brown trans and gender expansive people – at greater risk of housing instability.
ChiChi told the Blade that their policy work is “grounded in the belief that when trans and gender expansive people have stable housing, our entire community becomes safer and stronger.”
For ChiChi, supporting trans people beyond Pride means moving from individual celebrations to sustained action. That includes “supporting trans-led organizations, protecting trans youth, and challenging anti-trans rhetoric in the spaces we move through.”
As thousands gather for LA Pride, ChiChi hopes people remember that Pride was made possible by those who resisted criminalization and state violence – and that the work is not over when the parade ends and the curtain falls.
ChiChi leads the readers with a final and important question:
“If we are not visible, if we are not supported, if our struggles are not taken into account in spaces such as Pride,” ChiChi said, “then how can we expect non-LGBTQ+ people to even look our way?”
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From ‘XO, Kitty’ to Marvel: The multi-talented Regan Aliyah is only getting started
Actor, rapper, and activist Regan Aliyah shares how she balances blockbuster opportunities with a deep commitment to community and authenticity..
We seldom get to see a rising star moving through Hollywood with the same fearlessness and versatility as Regan Aliyah. Whether she’s navigating the heartfelt chaos of a beloved YA dramedy, stepping into the expansive mythology of Marvel, or plunging audiences into the emotional intensity of a psychological thriller, Aliyah approaches every role with curiosity, preparation, and a very real commitment to authenticity. Actor, rapper, dancer, and creative force, Aliyah’s building a career defined not by depth, all while bringing nuance and humanity to every character that she steps into.
Off-screen, Aliyah is equally, if not more, compelling. As a proud queer Black artist, outspoken advocate, and lifelong Angeleno, she speaks with refreshing candor about identity, representation, and the responsibility that comes with visibility. In our conversation, Aliyah opens up about the emotional challenges of her most recent projects, the evolution of queer storytelling in Hollywood, the lessons she’s learned from staying true to herself, and why the younger version of Regan would be proud of exactly who she is today.
From YA dramedy to Marvel to psychological thriller, how do you approach building a character in such different worlds?
I think it’s about feeling comfortable in the words that are written and really understanding who the specific character is, as well as what they’re going through in this piece of media. Understanding how they’re affected by their surroundings, other characters, and even themselves. There’s also the element of research; like for Marvel, I was lucky enough to have so many comics that I could read and see how my character interacted with this mystical world. It was a very different process from Juliana, in XO, Kitty, where I watched the To All The Boys I Loved Before films, and I learned more about the tone of the space she would be a part of. So, it can look very different for each role that you get, but the preparation and research will always get you where you need to be.
You’re currently starring as Juliana in XO, Kitty. What aspects of yourself do you see reflected in her? And on the flip side, what are some Juliana-isms that would never fly with Regan?
I think Juliana and I are a lot alike. We lead with our heart, we’re both very artistic, and if I do say so myself…we’ve got great fashion sense. Oh, and we’re both gay. That’s definitely my favorite thing we share in common. I think Juliana is a lot more muted than me. She’s a lot quieter and a little less confrontational, but she has definitely learned to be more upfront in the later seasons. She’s absolutely someone I would be friends with in real life. I don’t know, I think she’s just such a cool girl.
Your work in Please Don’t Feed the Children explores a much darker, survivalist tone. What challenged you most about that role? What did you find most rewarding?
I think when you’re in a horror or a thriller, it’s just such a different space than anything else. It took a second for me to get used to hearing the word “action“ and knowing it meant my body had to stay in a state of panic and despair. I think by like, page 10, we’re already in this trapped situation, so finding ways to sit with this continued emotion while making it feel layered on screen was really important to me. I also had to cry on camera for the first time, which I thought would be more taxing on my mental because I was getting so much advice about pulling on personal trauma or to think about some terrible situation to produce tears. When I actually got to that scene, I felt so comfortable with this character that it was actually easy for me to find that emotion and those tears through her and not myself. That was a very rewarding moment.
Belated congrats on coming out publicly just a few years ago. How has that moment shaped the way you move through your career and your visibility?
First off, thank you so much! That moment wasn’t because of my career or any type of external pressure; it was genuinely me just wanting to live an honest life with everyone who interacts with me — whether that’s in person or online. I want you to know me for me. That honesty is very freeing. So, I don’t think I pay attention to if it’s negatively affecting my career…if you don’t want to work with me for being my authentic self, then that opportunity was just not meant for me. On the flip side, it has brought me joy, love, community, and business relationships that are all founded on, “you are who you are, and we support who you are.”
How do you think queer representation is evolving in the kinds of projects you’re getting to be part of?
I think we’ve made a lot of progress. I think we’re seeing a lot more queer characters on screen as a whole. I’m interested in going past the representation and diving deeper into the actual stories that are being portrayed. I think a lot of media still needs to get better at nuance and depth for the queer characters they have in their stories. But I always feel really blessed to be a queer actor playing queer roles; it’s the most fulfilling thing to me. So, every opportunity I get to do that, I am beyond happy.
What does it mean to you to be a young, queer Black artist working in mainstream Hollywood right now?
It means learning how to run before ever getting the chance to walk. It means pushing open doors that have multiple signs of no entry. It means making a name for yourself that holds weight for multiple communities. It means joy, nuance, and beauty that deserve airtime. It means so much, but to me, it’s just who I am, and I hope Hollywood can love, respect, and share more from all individuals who have this same intersectional identity.
You’re outspoken about issues like racial justice, food access, and homelessness (as more people should be). How do you decide when and how to use your platform?
I don’t decide, I just do. It’s that simple. There’s no 12-step program or 40-person team that I need to ask. It’s about humanity. We’re all connected, and we’re all meant to fight for one another. Sometimes that’s through my social media, sometimes that’s on Skid Row feeding our houseless community, sometimes that’s mutual aid, or sometimes that’s performing at a benefit show. There are so many ways to show up, and I believe everyone needs to be doing that in their own way.
Growing up in Los Angeles, how did your environment shape your artistry? Your worldview?
I like to call myself a “county kid.” I grew up in schools in the Valley; my family is in Inglewood, Baldwin Hills, Carson, and all the way up to Palmdale. My friends are in South Central and Leimert Park. I love and see LA for what it truly is. We’re dealing with the housing crisis, are being priced out of our own neighborhoods we built, witness the brutalization of the police, and see so much more. But we are also a place where dreams come true, where the sun attracts anyone who dares to think outside the box, and plan block parties with some of the best musicians in the world. Our culture runs deeper than the valleys of the land. The people of this city, the natives, shaped me to be who I am. I love this place so much…I mean, it’s my hometown. Every day, I think of the ways I can contribute to it, protect it, and preserve it for what it truly is.
When you think about the roles you want to take on in the future, what kinds of stories are you hoping to tell or be part of?
I want to be in stories that push the needle, ones that reflect the times, or ones that challenge the brain. I would also love to do something otherworldly. I always say that I want to play a role that would have me in the makeup chair for like 12 hours. Something where I could fully transform. That would be so cool and something I’ve never done yet.
We could all benefit from a bit of grounding and decompression. Can you share with us two things you do to decompress during your downtime?
Oof, I’ll let you know when I figure that out myself. I’ve been in work, work, work mode, but I do love cartoons, animation, and stop motion. So I’ll throw on one of those when times get stressful.
What is one invigorating phrase or mantra that your mind recites when the stress of work, and life in general, is getting a little too loud?
Recently, I’ve been reminding myself of how proud the younger version of me would be of who I am today. I think that will always center me and humble me, but light a fire in me like no other.
If you could go back and give your younger self one piece of advice before entering this industry, what would it be?
Nothing really. Younger me was THAT girl. She had some strong boundaries and one goal on her mind…I love her for that. Now, she would have some advice for older me, but she’s definitely very proud.
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EROS LA is starting a queerotic art movement in KTown
Local artists activate gay-owned Earl Gallery, bridging queer art history
Erotic art in the gay community? Groundbreaking. The Devil Wears Prada references aside, with both the arts and the LGBTQIA community under attack, erotic art has much more of a political sheen these days. After all, if our private lives can be the subject of political action and public outrage, why can’t they also be artistic? Enter: EROS LA.
Beyond the debates of arts, decency, and what is porn vs. erotica? There is a collective need for community and safe spaces for queer men that don’t center on drinking at a bar or doing drugs at a warehouse party. Why not hang out with other creative, curious queer men to look at art, wear fun outfits, pose for photos, and more?
EROS LA is curating the vibe to engage with all of this. The, for lack of a better word, movement celebrated its 7th installment this past Saturday, May 9th, and Sunday, May 10th. What started as an art show to showcase local queer erotic artists has expanded to include drawing classes, speed dating, networking, and even a film collective.
As Casey Kringlen, the mind behind EROS LA, puts it, “There’s a heat that creatives generate when they’re operating beyond fear, connected to their primal sensibilities and willing to follow creative instincts that don’t always fit neatly into polished cultural spaces. ‘Erotic’ is the word that gets closest to that feeling.”
EROS LA, which happens every month, began simply as an art show. It curates a flirty, creative vibe that invites hotties of all ages, shapes, and sizes to converse, consume art, and feel a little frisky. Over its last 7 iterations, it’s expanded into a whole weekend of events.
Kringlen adds, “Each show includes curated programming alongside the exhibition: speed dating activations, live movement and dance performances, and a VIP Drawing Lounge where guests can draw live figure models, mingle, or simply watch. The art is the anchor, but the night has a full arc.”
This past Saturday, a group of artists ranging from painters and photographers to dancers and adult performers gathered to share their wares at the Earl Gallery in Koreatown. Kringlen continues, “The Earl is perfect for EROS: raw energy, a maze-like layout, high ceilings, brick walls, original elements from the early 1900s, room for art, conversation, performance, and mischief. This is not a white cube or a WeHo bar.”
EROS was born through the collaboration between Kringlen and gallery owner Michael Monk. Kringlen explains, “Michael has run The Earl in Koreatown for over 20 years. Michael has deep roots in queer publishing and culture. He co-founded Monk Magazine and wrote Pink Highways, and brings a lived sense of history and perspective that have grounded EROS from the beginning. He didn’t just offer a space; he offered a partnership.”
Kringlen met Monk while exhibiting his own nude photography. Kringlen shares, “I had shown work in a series of group exhibitions there, and during one of them, he asked what other queer erotic art events were happening in LA and whether we could bring that energy into his space.”
The rest is history. In Kringlen’s words, ” EROS has been built by a community that showed up on its own. Artists, regulars, and passionate people who found us and fell in love with what we were doing.” It cannot be understated that Kringlen and Monk have cultivated an environment that invites artistic appreciation, conversation, and community.
As the show’s resident in-house photographer, Alexander Chadryan puts it: “There is a real hunger for human-to-human connection right now. People want to be seen, not just evaluated. They want sensuality, but also warmth. They want desire, but not only the transactional logic of the hookup market.”
Chadryan continues, “A lot of gay nightlife, especially in LA, can be shaped by status, body hierarchy, self-protection, and performance. It can create this notorious ‘fake people’ feeling — everyone looking perfect, everyone acting unavailable, everyone trying not to seem vulnerable. EROS feels different from that.”
EROS is creating an amazing space for emerging artists. Diego De León, who creates art nouveau-inspired watercolors, shares, “EROS creates a space where erotic art can be celebrated openly, while still allowing artists to approach it from very different perspectives and styles. They show a lot of artists that don’t have big followings; it’s really about the art.” He adds, “Art is one of the highest forms of human evolution. To create it and to receive it is something no other creature that has ever existed is able to do. To take what we see in our mind and bring it into the physical world.”
Ricardo Villanueva, who was sharing his art for the first time at EROS, adds, “It’s a great way for artists with a specific focus to come together in one place. I also think it’s a really good opportunity to network and connect with other creatives.” He continues, “EROS creates a space where erotic art can be celebrated openly, while still allowing artists to approach it from very different perspectives and styles.” Villanueva paints sexy shirtless versions of characters like GhostFace, Jason, and other figures from horror and pop culture. He also sells colorfully painted statues of cartoon bears.
Another first-time exhibitor, Walker Paulsen, who was sharing digital portraits he made using a program called Heavy Paint, observed, “The Earl Gallery provides a unique space for everyone’s work, and the community is so uplifting and feels like a tight-knit group of artists.” About his art, Paulsen shares, “My work is directly related to the ethereal emotions that are felt in our experiences battling depression in the gay community and the dating woes.”
Regardless of the type of erotic art, anyone is welcome. Kringlen adds, “We apply the broadest possible definition of ‘erotic.’ If an artist says their work is erotic, that counts. It could be an explicit photograph or a painting of two rain clouds talking about love. We don’t jury. We don’t filter. We trust the artists, and we trust the audience.”
EROS is not just a show; it’s a weekend it is expanding into Sunday programming. Kringlen adds, “We now have a figure drawing workshop with live models, no experience necessary, and we just launched EROS Film Club, a recurring queer film night at The Earl curated in collaboration with Kurt Osenlund and Maksym Varenyk.” In addition to the film screening, there was also a networking event for entertainment professionals to mix and mingle.
Kringlen shares, “Art processes what ordinary language can’t. Queer people frequently move through experiences that lead to self-examination, and creative expression can become a powerful way to process and understand those experiences. Through art, people recognize themselves and each other more honestly, and that recognition can become the foundation for real community.”
The Next EROS weekend is Saturday, June 13, with the art class and film screening on Sunday, June 14. EROS is also entering the female art space with a show called SAPPHO on Saturday, June 27. You can stay up-to-date by following their Instagram and RSVP to events at EROS on Partiful.
a&e features
Andrew Max Modlin returns with FIELDWORK
At Jarrow & Goodman, the West Hollywood resident turns his travels into immersive landscapes of belonging
With FIELDWORK, his new exhibition at Jarrow & Goodman, Modlin turns toward colorful forests, rice terraces, tea plantations, canopies, trees, and luscious green worlds. The show is on view at 8825 Beverly Blvd. in Los Angeles, through June 10, 2026. The exhibition catalog includes works such as Green Lung, Rice Terrace, Tea Plantation, and Looking Across Waimea.
For the West Hollywood resident, the exhibition marks a continuation of community-centered practice. In a previous conversation with the Blade, Modlin spoke about the importance of “starting things within our own community.” As an openly queer artist, that means sharing work with members of the community.
“I’m honored to be showing at Jarrow & Goodman, a gallery within this community,” Modlin explains, “Being able to bring these works here first, and to show them to the people I live among, means a great deal to me.”
For Modlin, showing up as an artist is not only about the public moment, such as the gallery opening, the conversations, the wine, or the viewers sharing stories about the places they’ve traveled. It also happens in solitude, in the private space before the work is ever shown. His paintings come from an intense attention to detail, from sitting with a place long enough to feel responsible for how it appears on the canvas.
“For these locations to work, I have to genuinely care about them. I have to feel a responsibility to do them justice and put forward an honest point of view.”
The series took more than six months to produce, beginning with the first watercolor study and continuing through the finished canvases. “I couldn’t sustain that kind of attention without a real connection to the places,” Modlin tells the Blade.
That connection is immediately found upon setting eyes upon the vast landscapes within the gallery. The paintings are immersive and dense with color, texture, and motion. The canvas becomes fertile ground for the landscapes Modlin carries back with him. They do not present nature as a distant view, but as a space the viewer can feel present.
For Modlin, that immersive quality has changed over the course of his artistic career. “Three years ago, when I first started painting immersive landscapes, they were very much an escape for me,” he tells the Blade. “Now they’ve become something more. This series grew out of watercolors made directly in the field and from photographs; those studies were then composited into larger visual representations of each place.”
By working from watercolors made directly in the field, Modlin narrows the distance between landscape and image. The paintings do not simply depict nature from afar; they carry the process of being there into the finished work. That is why Modlin describes this series as more “process-driven.” The result is a body of work that feels open and immersive, but never detached from how it was made.
For an LGBTQ audience, that process-driven approach carries a particular resonance. Queer community has often been built through chosen spaces: bars, galleries, neighborhoods, homes, and rooms where people can gather, see one another, and feel less alone. Modlin’s paintings offer a version of that refuge on canvas.
At a time when LGBTQ communities continue to face political hostility, Modlin’s commitment to joy feels less like avoidance than insistence.
“We’re living through a genuinely dark moment,” he states. “My work is about joy and beauty, that’s always been its center. I hope people can stand in front of these paintings and simply feel good. That feels more important right now than it ever has.”In FIELDWORK, the gallery becomes its own kind of canvas. The paintings bring the landscapes back, but the community completes them — moving through the room, gathering around them, and finding itself inside the world Modlin has made.
Jarrow & Goodman Present FIELDWORK by Andrew Max Modlin, 8825 Beverly Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90048
a&e features
The club that built community: C. Fitz on the Black queer sanctuary that changed Los Angeles forever
Filmmaker C. Fitz discusses the appropriately timed re-release of JEWEL’S CATCH ONE, reflecting on the ongoing legacy of Jewel Thais-Williams, the cultural impact of Catch One, and why preserving Black queer history is needed now more than ever
Award-winning filmmaker C. Fitz has never been interested in entertaining the stories history books share. With the upcoming re-release of JEWEL’S CATCH ONE, Fitz once again shines a spotlight on the legendary Jewel Thais-Williams, the first out Black lesbian to own a nightclub in Los Angeles and the legendary force behind Catch One, the iconic nightclub that became a sanctuary and cultural hub for generations of Black and LGBTQ+ Angelenos far and wide. Sometimes inaccurately referred to as the “West Coast Studio 54,” Catch One was much more revolutionary than it was trendy. Sure, it was a place to dance and vibe out to. But more importantly, it served the community as a place to organize, to celebrate, to connect with one another, and to belong.
In our deeply moving conversation, Fitz reflects on the six-year journey of making the critically acclaimed documentary, the political urgency of preserving Black queer history, and why spaces like Catch One still matter in an age of social media and cultural turmoil. With wit, honesty, and a palpable admiration for Jewel’s unapologetic drive, Fitz talks not just as a filmmaker but as an usher of a legacy too powerful to fade quietly into the shadows. As Pride Month and Juneteenth converge against an increasingly polarized American backdrop, JEWEL’S CATCH ONE arrives as both a celebration and a much-needed and appropriately timed call to action.
A resounding congratulations on the upcoming re-release of JEWEL’S CATCH ONE! What first drew you to the story of Jewel Thais-Williams and Catch One?
My initial inspiration came when I met Jewel in 2010 while directing a short piece on her community work. The moment I stepped into her world, I realized how much of her story had gone undocumented. As a filmmaker, that immediately felt like something I needed to change.
What stayed with me was not just who she was as a pioneering entrepreneur and activist, but the scale of what she built and how many lives her community touched. There was very little written about her, and I made a conscious decision to commit to capturing that history before it was lost. That led to six years of making the film, followed by two years on the festival circuit, where I focused on building momentum to get the film distributed so this history could reach a much wider audience.
From a storytelling perspective, it was important for me to go beyond a single narrative and trace the broader cultural impact. The film connects Jewel’s story to the evolution of Black and LGBTQ+ life, as well as music, fashion, pop culture, and politics. I wanted to reveal her not just as a local figure, but as a hidden hero whose influence reached far beyond what most people realize.
Catch One has often been called the “West Coast Studio 54,” but your film reveals something much more. How would you describe what the club truly represented for Black LGBTQ+ communities?
I wanted to capture a time when community wasn’t optional, but it was survival. I approached the film with that urgency in mind, to make the audience feel, through visuals, the intimacy, resilience, and joy that existed inside those walls.
Catch One was more than a club. It was a safe haven for Black and LGBTQ+ communities at a time when that kind of space meant the difference between isolation and belonging. It was home to many who had lost theirs. In shaping the film, I focused on blending archival material with a cinematic language captured in the present day that brings those decades and community milestones to life.
Why do you think stories like Jewel’s have historically been overlooked in mainstream LGBTQ+ history?
It has always been a struggle for POC LGBTQ+ stories to be properly recognized and canonized, both now and in Jewel’s time. Jewel was inspired to start the club not only because of the racism her community faced in local neighborhood bars, but also because of the discrimination she and her friends experienced in trendy West Hollywood nightclubs.
When I began making the film in 2010, the industry wasn’t supporting these stories or this history. I had a VERY hard time getting support, including grants from mainstream resources. I had to chip away at it, which also makes this story so powerful, as I filmed for six years while gathering decades of exclusive archival material from the community. I didn’t have the funds to jump into a full production or edit of the movie. I do feel that more resources for films and stories like this emerged over time; however, today it feels like those resources are being stripped back again.
My film is proof that audiences want to see these stories. They shouldn’t be passed over or overlooked. These fabulous pieces of history, stories of how we got to where we are today, should be celebrated and supported by everyone who supports filmmaking: studios, producers, grant organizations, and even cities preserving their own history. So are these stories overlooked, or are they just really hard to make?
And I do want to shine a light on the people who made this possible. I had incredible support from my closest film colleagues who helped me bring this story to life. Without this amazing crew, especially Pat Branch, who was with me since Day 1 as a writer, producer, and all-around crew person; producers Tim Vermeulen and Carmen Quiros; the fabulous DP Abe Martinez (Hunting Wives, The Lincoln Lawyer); and the immensely talented Kelly Boesch, I don’t know if I could have made the film I wanted. It was a labor of love, and I had some great help bringing it to life.
As both Pride Month and Juneteenth approach, this re-release feels especially timely. What conversations do you hope the film ignites in our community today?
Real change comes from within. Like Jewel, one incredible woman ignited her friends, community, and city to help create change. I hope the film sparks conversations around the need to be active in our communities and with our neighbors in order to fight racism and discrimination in all its forms. Jewel’s life and the injustices her community faced still resonate with our current political climate. I hope the tenacity within this storytelling inspires action and helps people work toward a brighter future.
Jewel Thais-Williams was the first out Black lesbian to own a nightclub in Los Angeles, which is a groundbreaking achievement in itself. What struck you most about her courage and leadership?
What struck me most about Jewel was her sheer tenacity in pursuing her goals. Her people needed a safe space, and she kept those doors open. She stood in the doorway when the cops came, even buying time for patrons to flee or hide. She stood up again and again. Somehow, this one woman had the energy of ten, and always with a sense of humor.
The film also captures how nightlife can become not only political but even spiritual. Why are queer gathering spaces so essential, especially during periods of social backlash?
Safe spaces are always essential, especially for the LGBTQ+ community, where family support is often jeopardized. The space becomes home, a place to be whoever you are in peace and to find love and support. Often like church, but usually open to everyone.
During the AIDS crisis, Catch One became a hub for activism, fundraising, and care. What did you learn about community resilience while researching this chapter of the story?
In the face of patrons, friends, and loved ones dying all around her, Jewel and the community came together. Instead of saving what little she had and closing the club, she turned the parking lot into a soup kitchen for sick patrons and worked even harder to help them. Against all odds, with minimal financial and political support, Jewel and the community poured more love and hard work into helping those who needed it most. That’s what real community is and does. This story shows audiences the true meaning of community.
Do younger generations fully comprehend what spaces like Catch One meant before social media and mainstream acceptance?
No, and how could they, when so many have never had the opportunity to experience spaces like these? Some haven’t needed a safe space, and in this social media age, they don’t crave one in the same way. Online spaces can feel “safe,” in a sense. I hope a film like Jewel’s Catch One encourages people to step outside those digital walls, feel the music, experience the people dancing, and discover a “Catch One” in their own backyard. There’s nothing like it, and they’re missing out if they never experience it.
With the film also capturing the music and fashion of the era, how important was it for you to preserve not just the politics of the era, but its joy and glamour as well?
HUGE! The world of Catch One and spaces like it is where fashion is born and thrives. I wish I had a mini-series so I could show everything I witnessed in the photos and ball culture footage from our archival collection. It was incredible, and incredibly important, to celebrate the fabulous fashions of the ’70s, ’80s, ’90s, and early 2000s. It was a blast, and I only wish I’d had more time to show the world even more of the incredible trend-setting imagery.
What surprised you most while exploring the history of Catch One and the communities built around it?
The desperation to meet love. The community protects each other and fights so hard together. These were times when one wrong move could cost you everything, your job, family, or home. People were fearless, and Jewel was a leader in that fight.
The film arrives at a moment when LGBTQ+ rights and Black history are increasingly politicized in the United States. Did revisiting this story feel different now than it did during the original release?
I’m so thrilled to be partnering with Freestyle for the re-release. The original release was about celebrating the story and preserving this history on film forever. I never imagined we’d need to be shining a light on it again just a few years later because of today’s polarized climate.
This is one of the biggest reasons I made the film. I wanted Jewel’s inspirational story to encourage people to become heroes in their own communities. I didn’t know at the time that all of America would one day feel like a single backyard in need of inspiration, but here we are.
How did Jewel herself respond to seeing her life and legacy reflected back through the documentary?
When I first approached Jewel on the day we met, I told her how incredibly impressed I was by everything she had created and was doing: running the club, running the nonprofit health clinic, and, at the time, also running a vegan restaurant, an entire chapter I filmed and interviewed people about that ultimately had to be cut. I told her we needed to make a full documentary about her. She humbly shrugged and said, “Sure.”
Years later, when we were attending film festivals, and I would bring her onstage, she would receive standing ovations. For Jewel to receive her flowers not only at Los Angeles film festivals, where so many patrons and club workers had lived, but from audiences all over the world, was incredibly moving. It deeply touched her. And I felt very blessed to witness it and help shine a light on a true hero in our community.
As a filmmaker, how do you balance documenting trauma and discrimination while still honoring celebration and joy?
It was a challenge, and my first rough cut was over 10 hours long! I think you have to understand the purpose of showing trauma and discrimination in order to fully tell the story of how Jewel and her community overcame it, rose above it, and created real change. That’s where the inspiration lives.
There were moments, I’m not going to lie, when I struggled with letting go of certain stories. But the goal was to inspire change through the film’s storytelling, just as Jewel’s life inspired change. That balancing act was painful at times, but it felt worth it when audiences told us the film made them want to look at their own communities and ask what they could do to help make a difference. That made all the time and sweat that my editors and I poured into it worthwhile.
July 2026 will mark one year since Jewel Thais-Williams’ passing. How has her absence changed the emotional meaning of this re-release for you?
I’m very sad that Jewel isn’t here to witness the documentary’s next chapter and new audiences discovering her work, tenacity, and legacy. We traveled the world with this film, and, as I mentioned, seeing audiences everywhere discover her work and celebrate her was the best part of making it.
In today’s climate, I know she would be happy to contribute to the resilience needed to reclaim what we’ve lost and continue fighting for equality, just as she did through Catch One and her foundation.
If Jewel were here today watching the current cultural and political climate surrounding LGBTQ+ rights, what do you think she would want communities to remember about resilience and resistance?
Jewel was a doer. She didn’t wait for someone else to open the door, rather, she opened it herself and then held it open for everyone behind her. I think she would want communities to remember that real change doesn’t come from watching it happen; it comes from showing up again and again, even when the odds are against you.
She did it with minimal resources, in a climate that was often hostile, and she never stopped. I think she would say: look at what we built, look at what we survived, and know that we can do it again.
Her life is proof that one person with enough tenacity and love can change everything. That is ultimately why this re-release matters so much to me. Jewel’s story is not just history. It is a roadmap.
The film will be re-released on June 16, 2026, across major streaming platforms throughout North America, including Apple TV, Amazon, Kanopy, cable VOD, and additional digital outlets. Check out the pre-order link on AppleTV.
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