I torment throughout the day. I’m not depressed, I’m not sad, not angry, but limped into desolation.I am 20 years old and always a boulder on my thoughts. I had imagined an artist, but do not think I could do it. I’m in love and it hurts my love because I recognize its limitations. I can not stand not being able to be as happy as when I was a child. I talk with my girlfriend, she understands me, but can not do anything. I do not miss anything, in fact I seem to have too much. I do not have peace and I do not understand why. A hug.
I have to make my compliments. All children can not wait to grow up. You, on the other hand, you understand perfectly what paradise was the condition of the child. It is not so frequent, believe me. You say that you recognize the limits of your love. I do not know whether to congratulate or ache. Your gaze seems very polished. And the clarity is fierce. I do not know, try to get used to yourself. You are not nothing bad, believe me. A kiss .
Author and advocate Janet Mock breaks down Laverne Cox and Carmen Carrera’s appearance on Katie Couric’s talk show
"Plainly, cisgender folks often take it as their duty to investigate our lives to see if we’re real."
I think this says something about the approach I took to my artwork about Amanda Lear. Regardless of whether or not Ms. Lear is actually trans, I was fascinated by the ways in which her “manufactured” social/celebrity persona reflected what many perceived (and continue to perceive) to be her “manufactured” gender identity. Of course this is complicated by the fact that I myself was deeply interested in knowing what was “real” about Amanda Lear. But who am I to demand her to prove her “realness”? Who is anyone to do this, actually?
Though Dalí and Lear arguably created the trans myth as a publicity stunt, Lear has steadily, slyly refused to succumb to a singular notion of “realness” throughout her life in the public eye. She writes and sings songs about being manufactured, or teasing about being a “boy,” but then poses naked (often) as if to demonstrate the feminine materiality of her body. She distances herself from other trans people, scorning lingering questions about whether or not she herself is trans, but facetiously sidesteps the public’s ongoing fascination with her gender identity, keeping many details about her life shrouded in mystery, even her age.
In short, I know that my own interactions with and thoughts on Ms. Lear are troubled. And my artwork about Ms. Lear acts as a sort of uncovering of or investigation into the problems of my own relationship (as a cisgender man) with her.
The fact that for a long time cubism has not been understood and that even today there are people who cannot see anything in it, means nothing. I do not read English, and an English book is a blank to me. This does not mean that the English language does not exist, and why should I blame anyone but myself if I cannot understand what I know nothing about?