Lissa Doty: So, tell me about your event on Thursday.

Amos Mac: It’s the first Trans Male Cabaret! There will be performance art, film, visual slide shows, readings, hip hop…Rocco and I really wanted to showcase a wide variety of artistic talents within the FTM community from across the country. Although most of the performers are Bay Area based, we were excited to get some guys from other parts of the US as well (NYC, PDX).

LD: It’s a great idea, and given the relatively large trans community here in SF, it’s kind of astonishing that it hasn’t happened before now.

AM: After working on Original Plumbing magazine this past year, it seems like a very natural step to take (to produce shows highlighting trans artists)…

LD: Ha! I was just getting ready to ask you about that…because OP is pretty groundbreaking, and your events are a wonderful addition to queer culture. And while I don’t identify as trans, just genderqueer, it’s great to see people who look like me and you coming out in droves to your events.

AM: It’s really incredible!

LD: It’s like all the people I would see once a year at the Trans March finally have a place to go.

AM: I am always pleasantly surprised when we throw an event, especially in cities outside of San Francisco. We just had a reading in Philadelphia, a photo exhibit/magazine launch party in LA, a party in Brooklyn…the community really comes out to these events. Some people drive hours!

LD: Your New York events have been a lot of fun – the launch party for issue #2 was packed and the Mr. Transman Contest was inspiring. And it seems like you’re constantly coming up with new ideas.

AM: It’s true! So Rocco and I started Original Plumbing Productions as a way to funnel our ideas into something that goes beyond the print magazine.

LD: When you started the zine last year, did you have any idea that you’d be expanding into event producing? Or did the idea of the zine and the events come hand-in-hand?

AM: I didn’t personally think of anything other than producing the magazine for a long time. When the release parties were immediately huge, we knew that there was an audience and that people would probably appreciate things other than regular club events…

LD: Yes!

AM: Since Rocco and I are both artists, we are always talking to each other about our own individual projects outside of OP magazine. It felt very natural for us to create a space for other trans artists and [to create] events catering to people who appreciate queer art.

LD: What are you working on right now?

AM: I’m working on a video project short: it’s a chapter from Michelle Tea’s book Valencia, which is being made into a feature. (A different artist shoots each chapter with a different cast). And I’m also making a limited edition mini photo zine called Transsexual Trampoline, for Darin Klein’s “Box of Books” zine project.

LD: Love it!

AM: Have you voted for Original Plumbing for Best of the Bay Readers Poll yet? : )  “Best Local Zine” http://www.sfbg.com/bestofthebay2010

LD: When’s the last day of voting?

AM: June 23.

LD: How different is it working on the Valencia project, which involves moving pictures (i.e. video) and a storyline?

AM: Ask me next month when I’ve started it! I’ve just done a rough outline of the script and cast the lead character at this point. I have so much work to do on it in a very short period of time.

LD: Among the many thing that I love about the OP empire, is the humor that infuses your zine and your events.

AM: Thanks!

LD: And I also love that it’s so post-coming out.

AM: Well, yes, we like to interview people about their current lives, way beyond coming out stories. There are plenty of websites out there that have covered those bases for everyone.

LD: OP has generated a lot of press in both gay and straight media – some articles have been awesome (the Autostraddle interview comes to mind), and others have been borderline clueless. Have you changed in how you deal with the media (and with being interviewed) over the past year?

AM: I haven’t dealt with press any differently. You never know what to expect with an interview, and I think it’s important to talk to press about these projects. When a major publication wants to interview you about your work, it’s hard to say no to that, you know? You can only hope they’ve done some sort of homework on trans stuff before the interview and know what is disrespectful or rude to ask beforehand. If questions get too rude, I’m not afraid to tell the interviewer that. And I’ve always been very aware about speaking from my own experience only and not trying to be the mouthpiece for any community.

LD: I always hope that these mainstream articles and interviews end up reaching queers who might not know about OP, and that even if the pieces aren’t ideal in their representation, they’ll still have a positive impact…And speaking of reaching queers, is there some way people can contact you if they want to have an OP event in their town?

AM: Of course! They can email us at plumbers@originalplumbing.com

More of Amos Mac’s work can be found here. And for more extra special good times and hot queers, check out the Original Plumbing party, Unofficial, after the Trans March on Friday June 25th.

It’s spring, it’s Friday night, you’re all dressed up, and maybe you’d like to pick up a hottie before heading out to Flourish to dance your little buns off. Tonight’s your lucky night because Courtney Trouble is screening her latest campy porn flick Bordello at ATA and all sorts of queers, including the film’s stars, will be in attendance. I know, I know, you’re thinking, “But what about the plot?”. Murder mystery, and I’m pretty sure that the creative approach to handling suspected murder weapons wouldn’t pass muster even on CSI Miami.

For those of  you who like their entertainment live, and not just virtual, two of the film’s stars will be giving a bonus performance before the screening. And for an even more interactive evening, flirtation, note-passing and asking out the hot queer sitting next to you will be encouraged by the film’s promoters.

Courtney Trouble will be giving away fun stuff all night, and liquid courage in both alcoholic and non-alcoholic forms will be available.

Check out the very NSFW website for Bordello here.

ATA (992 Valencia at 21st St, SF CA 94110) hosts video screenings and performances by emerging and established artists.

This whole show is full of fabulous queers. Todd Almond wrote the musical, which was inspired by Matthew Sweet’s 1991 album Girlfriend. He’s got some serious gayboy street cred, which you can see by his mashup of Bach and Dolly Parton here. Todd also recently released a cd of his own work, Mexico City, which you can buy online or at the show.

Berkeley Rep is also a great place to see live theater. Good sightlines, and an intimate feel without being claustrophobic. They have special discount tickets for the under 30 crowd. Food and alcohol, including, yes, hard liquor (!), are available in the lobby. And in stroke of genius, you can preorder your gustatory delights before the show starts, and have them waiting for you at intermission. Check out their trailer for Girlfriend:

Who’s who

Todd Almond, Book, Vocal Arrangements and Additional Orchestrations
Matthew Sweet, Music and Lyrics
Joe Goode, Choreographer
Les Waters, Director
David Zinn, Scenic and Costume Design
Japhy Weideman, Lighting Design
Jake Rodriguez, Sound Design
Julie Wolf, Music Director
Michael Suenkel *, Stage Manager
Mina Morita, Assistant Director

Cast (in order of appearance)

Ryder Bach, Will
Jason Hite, Mike
Tyler Costin, Understudy (for Mr. Bach and Mr. Hite)

Musicians

Julie Wolf, Rhythm Guitar / Keyboards / Backing Vocals
Shelley Doty, Lead Guitar / Backing Vocals
Jean DuSablon, Bass
ieela Grant, Drums

World Premiere: April 9-May 16, 2010, with a possible extension to May 23.

Berkeley Repertory Theater: 2025 Addison St, Berkeley, CA 94704

The skinny: Nefarious plastic surgeon plans to take over the world with his army of femmebot Stepford Wives.

Why it’s fabulous: Drag queens and Bunraku puppeteering.

Just the facts, Ma’am: Brava Theater San Francisco, CA, thru April 17, 2010, $20-35.

From the sharply executed choreography of the opening number to the witty lines of the final scenes, the energy of the Scalpel! cast is unflagging and infectious. And considering that injuries resulted in a considerable reworking of the cast since opening night, it’s all the more impressive. Leanne Borghesi in particular does a standout job as the maid Martha (she was originally cast as the reporter Kitty Kelly Brown). But the secret star of the show is Emily McGowan as the ancient, tottering Fritzy. With deadpan delivery and epic comic timing, McGowan owns the stage with her brilliantly feeble stiffness.

In the second act, the Bunraku comes into full play, with puppeteers assisting in the wonderfully choreographed fight scenes. No details here;  you’ll have to see it – and enjoy it – for yourself. But the puppeteers make possible some of the best (of the many) pop culture references in the show.

Designers: Scenic Designer – Matt McAdon; Costume Designer – Abra Berman; Choreographer – Tina Banchero; Fight Choreographer – Dave Maier; Light Designer – Cathie Anderson; Sound Designer – Sound Productions.

Cast members: David Bicha, Leanne Borghesi, Laurie Bushman, Deena Davenport, Juan De La Rosa, Mike Finn, Marilynn Fowler, Arturo Galster, Cindy Goldfield, Jordan L’Moore, Emily McGowan, Sarah Moore and Katie Rubin.

Band members: Peter Fogel, Peggy L’eggs, Christian Matthews, Jeff Mitchell and Tim Perdue.

Puppeteers: Joe Cassserly, Karla Hargrave, Thomas John, Todd Young and Phillip Sebastian.

Stay Gold is San Francisco’s gayest, sparkliest, dirtiest dance party east of the Castro. On the last Wednesday of the month, queers of every stripe line up at the door of the Make-Out Room and hand over “3 gay dollars” to get their grind on. This March 31st, it will be four years running that DJ’s Pink Lightning and Rapid Fire have been dropping their signature “hella gay dance jamz.” In honor of their four year anniversary, The Queerist decided to get down on all fours with Stay Gold’s DJ’s. Here’s what they had to say about it:

4 things that make Stay Gold golden:

◊ Major Grinding. Like, for real. Also, lap dancing and other seriously sexy dancing that usually involves someone’s feet being above or behind their head.

◊ It’s such a family vibe up in here! We really love the Stay Gold crew and all our guest DJ’s are friends and fans of the party. Amos Mac brings his fine-ass photography to the mix, and we’ve had the same mega-foxy door girl for years – Caitlin Sweet.

◊ The fact that after four years it is still only 3 gay dollars to get in – that’s pretty uncommon at this point in San Francisco.

◊ Make-Out Room being such a cute-ass venue! It’s like “70’s Disco Prom” meets “rustic Tahoe cabin” chic. The Make-Out Room staff loves Stay Gold and repeatedly tell us that’s it’s one of their favorite nights to work. And, let’s get real, most importantly the marquee outside says it all: “PDA ENCOURAGED.”

4 favorite hella gay dance jamz:

◊ Last Night A DJ Saved My Life – Indeep

◊ Finally – CeCe Peniston

◊ Show Me Love – Robin S

◊ Freedom – George Michael

4 most memorable Stay Gold moments:

◊ Our friend Tucker used to throw a party at the Make-Out Room with Pink Lightning called PYT. She was killed in a hit and run bike accident, and the first Stay Gold was a memorial for her. Droves of people came out to the Make-Out Room that night. The feeling was pretty indescribable. People worked it out on the dance floor and danced through their tears. There were large posters of her displayed around the club. It was really an unforgettable night. We definitely keep it going in honor of her.

◊ For our 2 year anniversary we had almost every one of our favorite DJ’s play music with us. This party feels like such a community event that it was important for us to have everyone there with us.

◊ Halloween 2007. We always do a Halloween party, but that year it was right on October 31st. It was the first time there was a line down the block for the whole night. People were decked out in insane costumes. Mind-blowing.

◊ Pride. Full Stop. Every year has been so off the wall! We’ve got no words for it. We’re done.

4 things that have changed since you started this party:

◊ How much more mixed of a queer party this has become. It’s a Mission hot spot and seems to represent the community in that sense. This has been something we really wanted to see happen!

◊ Ummm, to be perfectly honest, we have gotten older. And man, things look way different now then they did when we were 24! But our love for this party never ceases to grow.

◊ The music that we play has changed too. When we started we were playing whatever the hell we felt like. More obscure stuff, more disco, more Motown and soul. Now, folks want to hear more of the hits, so we tend to play more. More hip-hop, new electro-disco, pop music, etc. That having been said, we also stay true to our roots and play some of our favorite jams and the crowd usually freaks out and loves it.

◊ The number of people that come through the doors every month! When Stay Gold started it felt like a basement house party, super DIY and underground. Now it’s like a basement house party with hundreds of people! We’re constantly amazed at how many people love Stay Gold and turn it out month after month, year after year. This party has just taken on a life of its own, and all the gays and queers who want to grind and make out on the dance floor have really made it what it is.

DJ Pink Lightning is a seriously gay DJ who loves getting her nails done, hot pink and sex on the beach.

DJ Rapid Fire makes you get freaky at the Make-Out Room and all over this city. She’ll be spinning at Double Dip at The Catclub (4/23) and Blood, Sweat & Queers at LiPo Lounge (5/8). DJ Rapid Fire also loves karaoke, dressin’ hella fly and drinking bubbly water in the sun.

Photos by Amos Mac and Lily Lysle.

This month at Stay Gold:

Libby received her MFA from the California College of Art in 2001, and has had a number of solo shows in San Francisco and Los Angeles, along with group exhibitions that span the globe. After a brief stint in her home state of Texas, Libby and her partner and their 4-year old moved back to the Bay about a year and a half ago. We sat down on a lovely Sunday morning to chat about her upcoming show at Marx & Zavattero, Be Here Now.

Courtney: How would you describe your work?

Libby: My simple description is that I make high-end luxury goods out of paper, hot glue, and paint.

Now, since the economy has gone down, the luxury items that I make have shifted a bit. Living in Berkeley, people spend their money on different things, and I was becoming more aware of that while preparing for this show. There are still the designer logos around, but they’re kind of repressed or different. Maybe they are bumper stickers or recycling logos, but people have a lot to say. I have strong beliefs but have never been a big protester, in the same ways that Berkeley (as an idea or its identity) stands for, but I like Berkeley.

This show is really different, in terms of putting a twist on my typical work. I made a self-portrait, where I am Janis Joplin. I normally don’t have myself quite so present in the shows that I do, but this one is about the place where I live, it’s more honed-in. I feel really good about it, it feels right for where I’m at and for where the world is…everything made sense to me.

C: It seems like you’re fascinated with these objects but also have some kind of critical distance…

L: All of this work is close to that idea: that I do want this bag, and have that desire, so I’m going to satisfy that desire by making it, and then I don’t really have to have it. Part of that desire is that I was always taught that if you look good, then you are good, so having these kinds of accessories elevates you a little bit.

Goyard Recyclable, 2009, courtesy of Marx & Zavattero

C: I love that Goyard tote painting!

L: I know! Why would you put dirty, wet produce in a $1300 bag? That piece was the funny one for me: someone does that! Someone can do that, and good for them. I made that piece, and it was an anchor for the show. The Goyard ABC piece, too, was important to shaping the show; I was teaching my kid the ABC’s and found that; it’s what you’d pick to monogram that bag, but also has this other layer to it, that I like. In this show, I’m talking about Berkeley, but at the same time I’m critical: there’s a certain look. It’s the same in the Mission: you have a one-speed bike…We all fit into these stereotypes. I’m not exactly judging people, but at the same time, I am.

C: There are both drawings/paintings and sculptures in this show; what do each of those kinds of objects allow you to do?

L: I get really bored when I make work. And a lot of the ads that I look at make sense that they were 2D: they aren’t accessible to walk around, or to see my body in relation to the scenes. But they exist, the magazine ads, in this flat form that you can’t touch or be a part of; you can just be seduced by them. It makes sense to me that sometimes I’d make a sculpture: for the show, I made a surfboard, for example. And I have done both, but each is particular. A pencil drawing can have a more narrative, dark, emotional quality which when you put it next to the colorful, playful seductiveness of the sculpture, they have a nice pairing. I think about how the pieces can interact with each other. A lot of the drawings are figurative, and I would probably never make a sculptural figure…

C: Do you enjoy the process of figuring out how things are made?

L: Yeah, when I make something, I get kind of excited! I have a feeling like, “Wow, I made this, and it actually works and stands up!” and it’s kind of like a little kid thing, delight. But sometimes I’ll make something and it’s just so bad that it never gets out of the house, and that’s frustrating.

You come up with an idea, and then you have to make it. It’s work after that. If you’re doing a drawing, the work doesn’t take that long; if you’re doing a big sculpture, its coats and coats of paint, and I’m losing interest right away, so I try to make something and make it until it’s done. I don’t ever have something laying around in my studio for a year that I’m working on. I finish it, and if it’s good, it’s good, and if it’s bad, it’s bad. If I stop, then it just doesn’t have a life, it just fizzles out.

C: There is some connection there with consumer desire, I think. You want something and then once you have it, the object changes. With your work, there is a twist: I am seduced by the objects from afar, and then when I come closer there is a flattening that happens. It shifts to a fascination with detail or construction, the ways that the object is not like the ‘real’ one.

Prada Surfboard, 2010, courtesy of Marx & Zavattero

L: Making these objects out of paper, I measure things, but they become a little wonky. I’m not trying to make them crafty—in fact, my craft has gotten a lot better through the years—but I like that imperfection. When I started making these things years ago, I was thinking about the fact that the paper could fall apart (the sculptures don’t actually fall apart, but they allude to that), they are not a sturdy thing. It is important to me that my hand is visible. It’s an intentional choice: I could go and get a manufactured surfboard, have one made with all of the bumper-stickers and things that I’ve put on the one that I made out of paper and paint. The tactile quality is more important to me, the idea of the object, rather than an actual manufactured, luxury item.

C: It has a different resonance. Chus Martinez, a curator who was visiting San Francisco recently said that the reason that she’s interested in re-making things (like art works from the 60s and 70s, for example, a hugely popular practice right now) is that they make visible the distance from the first time that they were made, in their re-making. They show that you can’t go back, allow you to recognize the distance.

L: I like that idea, the space between.

C: That is what your work does: points out the tensions between the ‘real’ and your version, which makes the work have a different resonance, a productive distance from the product. Perhaps in that vein, how do you relate to the idea of counterfeits?

Louis Vuitton Store, 2003

L:  I made a Louis Vuitton store (Manolo Garcia Gallery, 2003). I felt like I had gone out on a limb; it was a really different piece for me. It was about experiencing the store and the history of the brand, not really about making a fake store. Louis Vuitton called me down to their offices 3 weeks after the show went up and said that I needed to shut it down, that it was confusing to their customers. I thought, well, then your customers are idiots, then! These are not functional bags; it’s a parody, there is a difference.The store was about creating a space that I would like to go into, because I don’t feel comfortable going into the real store, and showing the history of the patterns of Louis Vuitton.

C: How do you feel about the actual objects, though, the luxury goods that you re-make?

L:When someone buys me something nice, I’m afraid to use it. I’ll often put it on a shelf to look at it. They always remain sculpture for me. These are kind of the same thing: I want a beautiful bag, so I make it, and then I live with it.

C: Looking at the Vuitton piece reminded me of how similar those stores are to galleries: there is only one of each thing on display (even though there are multiples in the back), carefully presented and maniacally dusted, fetishized as the ‘unique’ object, like art often is.

L: I like going into stores and seeing their displays. The displays elevate the objects, and then you have to deal with the people who are working there. I feel really exposed when I go into these kinds of luxury stores…

C: Probably the same ways that most people feel when they go into art galleries! Was there a person inside, who was the shopkeeper?

L: During the opening there were some sales ladies, but for the run of the show it was just the normal gallery sitter. There were no obvious signs that it was a regular gallery, though, no desk. If you bought a piece, you didn’t take it away with you that night or anything. We had a fake security guard, a guy in a suit…

C: There is an element of pretend: where paper pretends to be leather, or a gallery pretends to be a store, for example. And those objects stand in for the idea of something else, or reference something else…Your new work seems to be related to metaphor and masquerade more strongly than before.

L: For me, it relates back to the idea of fitting in. It’s like playing the part of something but not fully committing. People always want me to love or hate the objects that I’m making, or the culture that loves or hates them…but for me, it’s not either-or. People want me to have a clear stance, be hyper-political about the fashion world, and I both am and am not. I don’t feel like I need to pick sides.

C: I think that is what gives your work life, that distance or dissonance; they feel both appealing and appalling. That tension is important, the absurdity of the objects is important…carefully silly, but still seriously made.

L: It is goofy, you can’t get away from that. I like to be serious about it, and the drawings make the sculptures more serious. They’re darker and more emotional. When I’m looking through a magazine, I’m drawn to the emotion of the image, not the fact that she’s wearing some brand of shoes.

Picnic Set, 2005

I did this show called Caught Up in the Moment (Heather Marx Gallery, 2005), where I made a picnic set for the perfect picnic. There was lobster and caviar and it was really over the top. When you looked at the drawings, though, it was a Burberry ad with someone on a horse, with a plaid scarf and the guy has this hood on but it’s reminiscent of the Ku Klux Klan somehow, and it’s creepy. I like this other potential narrative: what happened at this creepy picnic?

Be Here Now runs from March 20-April 24, 2010 at Marx & Zavattero, 77 Geary Street, Second floor, San Francisco, CA.  www.marxzav.com

“Gay Hindu Hip Hop – these three things make me, however, they don’t allow for one another. This is my attempt at fusing these elements of my being (and my imaginary friends) onto the stage.” In small, delicate strokes, transgender performer D’Lo reflects upon what it means to be a person of color, to be gay and to be from an immigrant minority. In his critically acclaimed work Ramble-Ations, opening Wednesday March 17th, 2010 at Brava Theater, D’Lo also raises a much larger question about what it means to live in America, where one’s national, ethnic and cultural lineage is constantly challenged by assimilation and normalization.

The charismatic and charming D’Lo plays all the roles in this nuanced multi-character piece, including his befuddled and bemused mother (see video above for D’Lo’s transition from son to mother). Written by D’Lo and directed by Adelina Anthony, Ramble-Ations runs thru Saturday April 3rd – see www.brava.org for complete details.

In a world of flash-in-the-pan acts and pop music saturation, it’s a joy to discover Sabrina Chap, a deeply talented musician who’s well grounded in songwriting and grand performanceship . When her songwriting career collided with a discovery of ragtime years ago, it launched her in a new direction, creating jazzy-heavy tunes with vintage, hearty vocals. Clever lyrics and a penchant for cabaret only amped up the appeal. And as if queering up ragtime wasn’t enough, she’s also the editor/curator of the acclaimed collection Live Through This: On Creativity and Self-Destruction, an anthology that collects the writings and art of Eileen Myles, Kate Bornstein, Nan Goldin, and more. Gearing up for the release of her new album, ‘Oompa!’ Sabrina recently hit the road to create a one-woman three-ring circus–singing, modeling as a nude artist, performing burlesque, and giving talks on Live Through This. Wildly articulate, witty and passionate, Sabrina Chap is an artist to look out for.

Courtney Gillette: How was your tour?

Sabrina Chap: A-mazing. Really. I thought I was an idiot booking a tour through the East Coast in February—which still was probably not the brightest idea, but I just got back and I’m still sort of in shock from the incredible response I received. I’ve played in a burlesque show only a few times before, and wasn’t sure how people at the Cheeky Monkey Sideshow or Dutch Oven Burlesque would like me. I mean, they’ve got people walking on glass and driving nails up their nose—or extremely sexy ladies taking off their clothes in hilarious sketches—so I was pretty nervous about holding my own. Luckily, I just put on some fishnets and a halter top and sang my dirtiest and bawdiest songs. After I came off stage, one of the burlesque ladies turned to me and said, “This is your home”, which made me feel great.

The lectures on the book also went incredibly well. It was a bit hard to make the switch from coming home at four in the morning, to getting on a train the next day, dusting the glitter off and immediately lecturing about women, art and self-destruction. It was a bit hard to switch hats like that, but talking on this subject is always good because the audience is almost always one that has a real vested and personal interest in the topic.

CG: Does burlesque play a role in your music?

SC: Sometimes. It’s weird. I wrote the song ‘Idiom’ years ago and just got really entranced with the whole ragtime feel. It’s impossible to be sad when you’re playing ragtime because you’re forced to dance. Your left hand is doing the basic “oom-pa oom-pa” back and forth, and your right hand syncopates. It’s just fun to play. So once I got entranced with ragtime, I started writing in that style. But a lot of my stuff is super tongue-in-cheek (or tongue-in-somewhere-else…) and it’s a fun way to be witty and sexy and put on a character at the same time. The burlesque songs sort of write themselves. ‘Never Been a Bad Girl’ just spilled out. The entire album is a mix of Americana styles. I’ve got a bluegrass tune, a Dixieland tune, and your basic heartbroken ballads. I also just bought an electric guitar and want to do a PJ Harvey-ish collection of songs. All my songs beforehand are folk songs, and I come from a classical background. This burlesque gig just fits right now.

CG: You seem to have many different creative outlets. How do you juggle being such a jack of all trades?

SC: I don’t. I’m a mess. In fact, I’m crying right now.

Just kidding. About the crying. Not about the fact that I’m a mess and am not good at juggling all my artistic endeavors. I’ve done a million things in the past. Toured as a spoken word artist, put up plays, edited collections of interviews with women writers ( for my zine, ‘Cliterature’). My signature move is to focus on a project with intense abandon until it’s done and I have some sort of awesome breakdown. Usually it lasts about six months and I don’t want to talk to anyone and I sit in my room and watch episodes of Top Chef. And then I’m like, “I should put out a book,” and I put Top Chef on pause and I’m up and going again.

I’m really excited about ‘Oompa!’ because as soon as I was done [making the album], I was already planning how to do the next one. That never happened before. After I edited the book, I turned to all of my friends and said, “Don’t ever let me do that again. If I say I’m going to edit a book again, hit me in the face with a fish.” I was just exhausted. But putting this album out is the first time I’ve been energized by a project. Hopefully I’ll just learn to start saying no to the projects that exhaust me, and yes to the ones that make me energized and excited.

CG: Is there a queer sensibility to your music/your performances? How would you describe it?

SC: Well, all of the songs off the album are about ex’s, which have been women, so in that sense, yes, there is a queer sensibility there. Although it sort of surprised me that some people haven’t gotten that [my songs are queer.]. I play with one particular band quite a bit—they open up for me and I open up for them. The main singer knows I’m queer, and finally he was like, “But you don’t say that in your songs”.

Now, there are songs where I straight up am talking about a woman— I mean, I couldn’t get more specific in ‘Idiom’. But then there are songs like ‘Little White House,’ where I have the lyric:

‘A kid on the way

due sometime in May

we’ll dance in the kitchen while the radio plays

You’ll bring home the bacon

I’ll try a new recipe

In our little white house with a key’

I was like, “Oh. . .I guess I could see why you were confused. . .but I was still talking about a girl there. I just like butch girls. And I like to cook.” He was like, “Oh.”

I was surprised he even had to ask. I spend so much time in the queer scene, but often forget that people are still confused by me. I have long hair. I have big boobs. Sometimes I wear a tie, and sometimes I assume a more gender neutral stance in my songs. But sometimes I write straight up femme-y songs. I just have all of these sides to me, and they all seem pretty natural to me. I know I’m supposed to make some grand public statement about all this, but the fact is, I just want to keep on singing, and I get my greatest strength from the queer community.

CG: Best experience you’ve ever had performing?

SC: Geez. That’s a hard one.

This tour was specifically amazing. The burlesque nights were bawdy and rowdy as hell, and there is something just fantabulous about getting a massively packed room silent and expectant and just. . .listening. I love that. I love when sweaty, excited people just get silent and are really listening to your lyrics. There are some moments performing where I can just feel it—the room sort of crystallizes, and I know that the slightest word or movement is going to affect the entire mood of the room. Something else great this tour was when I was singing for Dr. Sketchy’s and some people were trying to draw me, but had to stop because they were laughing so hard. That made me super happy.

It’s really hard to boil it down to one best experience. I’m just always having the time of my life up there, and whenever I feel that someone’s truly listening, or I’m truly connecting with them—that’s the best. I’ve had funny shit happen, incredible moments, and really terrible moments—all of which I hold equally dear in my memory—but it’s those simple moments of someone listening that are what make me smile the most.

You can catch Sabrina Chap live this March at various venues in New York and New Jersey. For more info and other tour dates visit SabrinaChap.com

Ann Bannon in 1955 as she was writing Odd Girl Out

An Interview with lesbian pulp author Ann Bannon

by Jennifer Worley

Jennifer Worley: Brava Theater is about to premier a play – The Beebo Brinker Chronicles — based on your novels.  This play seems to be part of a queer resurgence of interest in the 50s and in the pulps as a genre, seen also in “neo-pulp” novels like Monica Nolan’s Lois Lenz, Lesbian Secretary.  Why do you think people are interested in this genre now?

Ann Bannon: Well, it’s been long enough so we can have fun with it.  Younger authors, who didn’t live through this time, can look back and take inspiration instead of rejecting this time as the dark ages.  Twenty years afterwards, the 1950s looked so bad, but now, younger people have gained perspective on the heavy lifting we were doing.  Under heavy fire, we were preparing a foundation for the movements that followed.

And perhaps in an age with so many liberties, we have become fascinated by an age that had so few.  We also see this in the larger popular culture, in TV shows like Madmen, which reflect the way we were living our lives, and are a real eye-opener for younger viewers.

JW: Your first lesbian-themed pulp novel was Odd Girl Out. What motivated you to write the book?

AB: Well, in college I had done a lot of writing, including some creative writing on my own, but I would get distracted by life and schoolwork.   I had just graduated and was newly married and coming to the realization that I could have taken, well, a better path.  This was the mid 50s, and my husband was firm about his wife not working.  This meant I had the time, and my husband had an old typewriter, so when he went to work, I sat down and started writing.   At the same time, I was picking up pulps in drugstores, science fiction, westerns, detective novels, and lesbian novels.  I found a paperback reprint of The Well of Loneliness, and a copy of Spring Fire, the first original lesbian pulp paperback, by Vin Packer (pen name of Marijane Meaker), a lesbian novel about college girls.  I thought, “I lived this, and I can write about this!”

While living in Philadelphia, I wrote to Marijane Meaker in New York for advice and guidance. I knew her only as her pen name, Vin Packer—a name ambiguous enough to leave me in doubt as to whether the author was male or female. As the correspondence between us blossomed, she invited me to New York with a promise to introduce me to her editor-in-chief. Once Marijane had shown my novel – a story about my college years and the goings on in my sorority house — to her editor, Dick Carroll, he was interested.  He asked me to rewrite it, focusing on the affair between two of the girls in the sorority house.  Well, I did rewrite it, and I gave it to him, and he finished it the next day and said he wanted to publish it.  I assumed there would be galleys and proofs and such, but no!  They published it just as it was.

JW: In your later novel, Journey to a Woman, you depict a brief affair between the housewife Beth and the lesbian author Nina Spicer.  Was your relationship with Marijane similar to this one?

AB: Yes, it got a bit romantic, but only very briefly. Marijane had just met Patricia Highsmith, and the rest is history.

JW: A number of other lesbian authors wrote pulp novels – often under pseudonyms.  Did you ever meet any of the others?

AB: Oh, I wish I had! There were, maybe, 15-18 women authors of lesbian pulps. Me, Marijane, Patricia Highsmith, Valerie Taylor, Paula Christian, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Sarah Aldrich.  There were men, too, but they were writing much more trashy stuff – just going from one sex scene to the next – but the women were writing real characters and plots. Marijane and I are still in touch. We are the only two survivors.

JW: Why do you think this market appealed to so many talented writers?

AB: The lesbian pulp market was able to attract so many excellent writers then because royalties were so good compared to hardcovers.  For hardcovers, you got 8% royalties on a $2-5 book.  For paperbacks, you got 15%, and although that was sometimes 15% of two bits, paperback sold more.  If a hardcover sold 5000 copies it was considered a hit. A successful paperback sold 30,000 copies, at least.  My books got up into the hundred thousands. At 15% of the cover, that was a 10-12K year salary, which in 1960 was worth almost ten times what it would be now.  So if your books sold well, it could be very renumerative.

My husband told me years later that he never read my books, because when he saw the cover blurbs and realized what they were about, he didn’t want to read any more. But he loved the money they brought in!

JW: When you were writing in the 1950s and early 60s, what sort of restrictions did publishers place upon your work?

AB: Well, pulp novels were distributed through the networks used for magazines, and these networks relied upon the postal service, who answered to a conservative Congress.  So the postal inspectors read all the books and censored them for two things: vocabulary – the seven specific “obscene” words — and for homosexual plots with happy endings, because they thought that just reading a book portraying homosexuality without punishment could turn a straight teenager gay.  So you had to end the books with suicide or death of some kind, or one woman leaving for a man.

JW: Your most disturbing novel, Women in the Shadows, depicts an abusive relationship between the butch Beebo and the femme Laura, in which Beebo kills her own dog in an effort to get Laura to stay with her.  This seems to go even beyond the mandate against happy endings.  Why was this novel so very dark?

AB: Well, I had just written I Am a Woman, which is a much lighter, happier book. But spending more time in Greenwich Village, I was able to see the dark side that resulted from the world dictating how this nascent community had to live in shame. Political, medical, educational establishments, work, family, friends – there was not a smiling face in the bunch.  For a gay person, there was not one single person saying “you’re okay the way you are.” And if you were really different so you couldn’t pass, couldn’t hide – like Beebo — you could be broken down, and I was trying to show that in this novel.  Beebo had a total breakdown in this book, in part because I felt like I was heading for a breakdown myself, so I made her have it for me.  I wish sometimes I hadn’t written that one, because it was a hurtful book, and people needed, at the time, to see something more hopeful.  But it did give a glimpse of what people could be brought to in desperation.

JW: Was there a sense, during the repressive, homophobic period of the 1950s, that things would ever change, or did it seem like things would just stay this way and you would have to survive it?

AB: Nobody foresaw the civil rights movement, or the gay liberation movement, but we did feel that somehow, it would change. One thing about this oppressive environment: it tightened the community – an injury to one was an injury to all – and it brought out a really wry humor.  We did have fun and people were hilarious!  The oppression really forced us to find the good things, the funny stuff, as a way to survive.

JW: The Ladder [published by the lesbian organization Daughters of Bilitis between 1957 and 1972] was the only publication that reviewed lesbian pulps, evaluating them primarily on whether they portrayed lesbians in a positive or a negative light. Were you aware of these reviews at the time you were writing?  How did they influence you?

AB: Yes, I was aware of them.  I subscribed to The Ladder for a while, and when we moved to California in 1957, I attended DOB meetings in LA, and I spoke at Mattachine Society meetings.   Barbara Grier wrote those reviews [under the pen name Gene Damon].  I did see some of Barbara’s reviews.  In fact, she thought Ann Bannon was another pen name of the person writing as Ann Aldrich, who had written two books very critical of the New York City lesbian scene: We Walk Alone and We Too, Must Love. The Ladder was unhappy with these books, and because Barbara was convinced my books were by the same person, she attacked some of my work.  In one issue of The Ladder, she even wrote, “Ann Bannon I’m onto you!”  In reality, Ann Aldrich was yet another pen name of Marijane Meaker, the lesbian pulp writer who helped me so much as I was getting started!  The other irony of this is that much later, in the 1980s, when she was running Naiad Press, Barbara reissued my books, beginning the revival of interest in my work.

JW: Your novel “Journey to a Woman” depicts a woman desperately struggling to free herself from marriage, motherhood and the nuclear family, and it represents the gay life as freedom from these institutions.  Today, the gay rights movement seems to be turning back to, even valorizing those institutions (I’m thinking in particular of the gay marriage movement).  What do you think about this shift?

AB: I, of course, support gay marriage, but my reason has more to do with complete recognition of all rights citizenship.  There are many who are getting along without it, but marriage is one of the last ways to deny full humanity to the gay community.  If you want to be married, you ought to be able to.  Having been through [a marriage], though, I’m terribly glad to be out of it and I’m not even slightly tempted!  But if I were younger and just starting out, I think I would want to have that option.

The implications of this issue stretch so far beyond what we imagine right now. This could be part of the reason why religious communities have fought so hard – they don’t want to lose control over people’s lives, and control over sexuality is the most intimate form of control over people.  By making us feel that we are in the wrong, leaving us haunted by a feeling of not quite doing right, religions exercise tremendous control over all facets of our lives.  If they can control your sexuality, they’ve got you by the short hairs.

JW: Which of your characters are your favorites?

AB: The characters for whom I have the most affection are Beebo and Jack Mann. Jack is based in part on a real-life friend. He had all the qualities of kindness and self-deprecating humor that endear our most valued friends to us, and a drive to protect and support young LGBT newcomers to the community — a wonderful aspect of his personality. He was generous and funny.

Beebo, of course, is — or was at the time — sui generis. I had a lot of fun with her, and only wish now that I’d shown more of her humorous side. She had strength and courage, and when she finally settled down and grew up, she showed a talent for real love and sly wit. And she was gorgeous.

JW: Where did Beebo’s name come from, by the way?

AB: In the hope she will never know of this, I will say I had a childhood friend, Beverly B., who is still living in the town where I grew up.  She struggled to pronounce her name as a little girl – and ended up called herself Beebo.  When I was coming up with this wonderful superbutch character, my old friend came back to my mind and I though, “That’s it! It’s perfect!”

JW: And it’s become so iconic – people name their dogs after her now . . .

AB: Oh yes!  I’ve met several charming canine Beebos.

JW: Did the writers of the play “Beebo Brinker Chronicles” consult with you?

AB: Yes, the gals who wrote it got in touch with me and said they wanted to take three of my books — Journey to a Woman, I am a Woman and Women in the Shadows – and dramatize them.  [Playwrights] Kate Moira Ryan and Linda S. Chapman have worked miracles, as has Raelle Myrick-Hodges, the artistic director. I really feel the play laughs with the novels, not at them.  They saved so much of the original dialogue – and created such a respectful, affectionate, campy version.

The West Coast premier of The Beebo Brinker Chronicles opens Friday, February 26, 2010 and runs through March 13 at Brava Theater, 2781 24^th Street.  Special receptions with Ann Bannon Friday, February 26, 6:30–7:30 pm; Sunday, February 28, 1:00–2:30 pm and Thursday, March 11, 6:30–7:30 pm. Tickets for performances and receptions available at brava.org or 415-641-7657.

Jennifer Worley teaches English, LGBT Studies and Women’s Studies at City College of San Francisco.  She is the author of “The Mid-century Pulp Novel and the Imagining of Lesbian Community.” (in Invisible Suburbs, Josh Lukin, ed.) and “’Street Power’: San Francisco’s Vanguard Youth Group and Pre-Stonewall Queer Radicalism (in Captive Genders, Nat Smith and Eric Stanley, ed.s).  She is currently working on a documentary film: “Sex on Wheels: A Secret History of San Francisco’s Sex Workers.”

In honor of Mardi Gras, this week’s video features the New Orleans drag troupe Crescent City Kings performing at IDKEXI. This was their second time performing in the Saturday night Showcase that’s the centerpiece of the International Drag King Extravaganza weekend. In this piece, the CCK explores the dichotomy between the sacred and the profane in a stylized multi-media choreographed buffet for the senses.

Interested in performing at the next IDKE? Get all the details here.