While they often presented themselves as bodybuilders’ publications, their chuckle-prompting titles — Torso, Adonis, Honcho, Mandate — didn’t lie. Gay men’s magazines of decades past were bought by gay men who wanted to look at the erotic illustrations of well- built male bodies therein. Because any- one known to possess such material in the homophobic 1950s and 1960s could experience serious consequences, men hid the magazines under their mat- tresses. These illustrations have now inspired a traveling exhibition, Stroke: From Under the Mattress to the Museum Wall. Curated by notable erotic artist Robert W. Richards and orig- inating at the Leslie-Lohman Museum of Gay and Lesbian Art, the popular show contains 24 original illustrations that ap- peared in gay magazines from the 1950s to the 1990s. It also looks at how gay men, forced into the closet during those decades, used these pictures to explore their sexuality intimately. It additionally serves as a showcase for the artists in- volved. On view are works by two dozen top artists of the times, including Touko Laaksonen (Tom of Finland), Antonio Lopez (Antonio), and David Martin.More
We don't often go out of our way for restrooms, but in the case of Macy's sixth-floor ladies room (sorry guys: you'll just have to make do with having everything else), all who pass through its doors will understand why it's worth the effort.
I cannot get enough of Summerland. It's a bit embarrassing, actually. I keep finding myself driving around, blasting at top volume what may be the most white-bread music ever -- all girl-group harmonies, softly syncopated percussion, "Dear Diary" lyrics, and a beat copped from a slow dance at my mom's high school prom. Certainly not a badass summer cruising soundtrack. But Nedelle's winsome vocals creep under the skin and set up camp with a vengeance that belies the album's quiet, unassuming vibe. In fact, by the time the carefully plaintive "Care for Me" cascades into an unexpectedly harmonized chorus of multipart "whoa"s, you find yourself wondering who this stupid fellow is who doesn't really care for Nedelle. The album starts to lose steam midway through with a couple of tracks ("You Know" and "Sun in My Eyes") that buckle a little under the weight of their own retro cuteness. But that's only relative to the dense, expert musicality and, yes, downright adorable tunes that pervade the rest of Summerland.