Queer Street Art: A Search for Equality

My friends and I were waiting to cross the rainbow road in New York’s Gayborhood; I saw a fire-hydrant, covered in stickers. Admiring the colors, creativity, and social awareness of each tag, I felt like something was missing. Circling the hydrant, I wondered how an L.G.B.T.Q. tag might look. If they exist, I thought, this would be the place to find it. The light changed and my friends beckoned me to walk with them. It occurred to me: there weren’t any modern pieces that came to my mind when thinking about queer street art.

Determined to prove otherwise, I took it on as a duty to invest time in finding my new favorite LGBT piece. We have always lived in a world surrounded by hetero-normative love and activities. Imagine a world where your favorite movies, television series, and art shared stories of straight, gay, trans, non-binary and queer people. Our community strives towards this every year. Although many see how far we’ve come, the percentage of queer life in art is incomparable to heterosexual media.

To create accountability behind my new goal, I decided to journal; to turn thought into a quest for queer street art. Initially, my study would be exclusively in New York City, and for urgency, within a two-month span. The time stretched for the writing and editing process, but also out of interest. Deciding against research, my goal was to merely stumble upon it; as anyone else would. I looked to the Lower East side for inspiration.

My first day was fun, but I went home unsuccessful; in turn, I lost a bit of faith in humanity. Unsure of where to start, I wondered whether I wasn’t looking hard enough in the right direction. Perhaps the murals are being taken down. Are they being created at all? Are queer artists sharing their art? I pondered.

After 4 hours on my feet, scouring between the center city streets; I was tired and ready to call it a day. I discovered plenty of incredible designs, even stumbling on captivating work from famous artists like Obey and Mr. Brainwash. To my disdain, nothing got my gaydar going. I started to question whether or not I would find anything. Is street art dead? I went home with my head down in frustration, vowing to try the following day.

The next morning, I got an earlier start and traveled towards Greenwich Village. An hour in, I discovered my first find: a sticker of Bert, from Sesame Street, revealing a breast under his shirt. I later found that the artist’s name is Jim Tozzi. I took a photo and smiled at what I saw as a trans-positive post. It was the best first representation of queer street art that I could have found; it gave me a lot of hope for what was to come.

After finding Bert, nothing else seemed radically queer. My findings including a half-torn sticker who’s only visible words were “Queer Jews”, which, as a queer Jew, was pretty cool. Other that that, I kept seeing two stickers, one of a rainbow heart and another sticker, coated rainbow, advertising a marijuana dealer. I still hadn’t discovered any murals or larger pieces.

During the second week, it seemed that finding visible and untouched queer art was going to be challenging than expected. Without social media, even in a city as diverse and large as New York; attempting to ascertain artifacts of an LGBT lifestyle wasn’t as accessible as I had anticipated. Clearly, it was a struggle to find a trend that I had assumed existed citywide. My eyes primarily scanned for rainbow stickers, so is it possible that I overlooked pieces. Art, sexuality and gender can take shape in ways that aren’t always visible, while also subjective; being created in one’s own narrative. 

The first few weeks were challenging, not only mentally, but physically. After standing at work all day, the extra hours of walking were painful. A few days in, my legs became so sore, I was forced to stay off them for an entire weekend. I was averaging about 10 miles a day, according to the Health App on my iPhone. I wasn’t upset about it, the timing was perfect. I was trying to get in shape; grabbing photos was giving me real motivation to get in those extra miles.

On the 15^th day of the first month, When Brooklyn Was Queer caught my eye in a bookstore window in Soho. I took it as a sign and went inside. There wasn’t a queer section, so I danced through the art, poetry, photography, and travel aisles. Attempting to relieve myself, I found bathroom that required a quarter to enter. I scratched my head and thought about how expensive New York had become. Has that ever impacted queer street art, I paid to wonder?

When the door popped open, I was amazed to find the coolest bathroom I had ever seen. Mirrors covered every open wall of this oddly shaped space. Quotes from famous poets and writers were detailed in the mirrors. There was even a book-on-tape playing. I remember thinking the moment felt epic. I looked down at the trashcan which was covered in stickers. My eyes widened, as the sign I had wandered to find for weeks appeared on a sticker that said, “yes homo.” Cue the chorus of “hallelujah”!

My adrenaline got a boost and my legs started doing the work on their own. I dashed out of the book store and decided, today I am walking away with more than one win. I walked for about a mile until I found the next two pieces. 60% of my success came from days I had made up my mind that resiliency and results weren’t optional.

Before the first month’s field research was over, I reached out to some friends and art lovers in New York. Only one out of the ten friends could help me with direction for my project. Steffan sent me a picture in a park near Houston Street. There were copious amounts of intricate and thought-provoking murals on the way. It took me a while to find the piece my friend remembered. After looking through dozens of layers of justice, I finally found the piece to add to my collection.

Although this is a Women’s empowerment mural, there was an unmistakable air of acceptance and equality. It was an added bonus to discover a piece with women of all shapes, sizes, races and sexualities. At the top right-hand corner, you can see a nod to the L.G.B.T.Q. community with a “Gay Empire” action figure. Although the toy is neither a part of the original piece nor considered street art: it added an extra bit of queerity among the other voices of activism.

Month two, my eyes became familiarized; scanning: trashcans, walls, fire hydrants, scaffolding, and any other place art could be hidden in plain sight. Most of my catches were colorful stickers, which made glimpses of potential more graspable.

I found myself feeling like I was trying to make up for lost time. The first month went by so quickly; I knew I had to move faster. I decided not to walk down the same street twice, and to take a picture of everything; regardless of it’s visibility. The only thing holding me back from finding more was myself, my endurance, and my patience.

I turned to social media to find more gay graffiti. Instagram proved to give me the highest advantage, mostly because people tag the photo’s location. The same friend, who had sent me the mural tip, suggested artists to follow on Instagram, which led me to my next chapter.

I discovered Instagram feeds from across the globe devoted to this niche. I was elated to find an Instagram page titled, Queer Street Art, (@Queerstreetart.) The photographer’s name is Daniel “Dusty” Albanese, (@dustyrebel). I messaged Dusty to tell him about my project, and to show my gratitude for his existence. He seemed happy to speak with me and shared a piece of his story. He said:

 “I’ve been researching queer street art for years and have been working on a book and documentary film since 2017. So far, I have filmed in over 7 countries, and [we’re] about to bring production to the West Coast.”

Daniel “Dusty” Albanese

I’m excited to see what he does and how it promotes, influences and changes queer street art as we know it. I started following Dusty’s trails, trying to find the owners of the John Does’ of my collection. Many street artist remain anonymous; one of the only downfalls of the underground movement. Luckily, I was able to locate some of the artists through @QueerStreetArt’s Instagram.

During and after Pride, certain artists were claiming the streets; now I was taking note of all of them. One of these artists is Diva Dog, known as Instagram handle, @DivaDogLA. This artist has become one of my favorites; who doesn’t like dogs painted rainbow declaring, “I’m Queer”? I asked them about where they get their inspiration, and they were happy to indulge me with a beautiful answer:

“My inspiration is my childhood dog growing up. He was a Beagle named Baron. He was my fiercest protector, loyal friend and loving brother. We got him when I was a teen. He was a constant source of love and support during those tough teenage years – being gay and in the closet (and going to an all boys catholic high school…) So I always wanted to do something to honor him. I came upon the idea, to do street art, almost two years ago…using his image and likeness. And then maybe he would make someone smile as they pass by. Or maybe someone queer would recognize the colors and see themselves represented on the street. Or maybe he would just be a colorful dog… protecting the streets or providing comfort, like he did with me.”

-Diva Dog

Diva Dog has been a huge inspiration to me, and is indeed a comfort. My partner even points out their work when he sees it now. When I see their work, it tells me I’m on the right track, and to keep going. The first Diva Dog I discovered, I remember feeling elated. Smiling from ear to ear, I thought of my own family dog; the love and trust we shared.

Diva Dog gave us a discount code for their products, 20% off at checkout using the code: queery (https://www.divadogla.com/).

Jeremy Novy is the creator for one of my favorite stencils, a brick with the word, “Pride”, in bold, rainbow font. This spoke strongly to the most important aspect of what pride represents to me; the riot that shined a spotlight on discrimination against the LGBTQ community. I saw it confidently pasted next to Stonewall.

Leslie-Lohman Museum of Gay and Lesbian Art seemed like an appropriate place for research. The second phase would be more rewarding; allowing me to give my utmost appreciation and attention. I knew I had arrived when I read what would normally be perceived as blasphemy on the windows rounding the corner to the entrance. I couldn’t help but smile; This museum was calling homophobes and transphobes out right there in the center of Soho. For the first time, reading those words: I felt empowered.

The museum gave me a better understanding of why we have certain cultural norms. One example of this was a diagram depicting signs of what men looked for while cruising in the 1960’s and 70’s; placing keys or a handkerchief on a specific side of the pants specified that person’s sexual preference. This was ironic to me: I remember a lot of individuals used to clip key-chains to their hips in my hometown, as a trend.

I don’t want to ruin anything, after all, it is a small space. If you’re looking for art, LGBTQ history, or even just some queerness in your life: put this on your bucket list. The Leslie-Lohman is a safe space; it helped me to discover more historic symbols of queer life, while being in a comfortable, sober LGBTQ hangout. My eyes watered in under ten minutes, humbled. Imagine being throw back in time, fighting for a future, fighting for us. The museum flooded me with gratitude for the prior generation’s battle for freedom.

Newly refueled by the many decades of art I had just witnessed; I was ready to continue, in modern time. I was equally ready to fill the void, destroyed or compromised, by unaccepting hands.

After being inspired, I jumped back in, enthusiastically, with a new motto: If you can’t find it, create it. I started considering designing my own street art. My biggest question was: What message did I want to send the world and others like me? I kept this question in the back of my mind for the duration of this exploration.

Assuming Wall Street and the Financial district would have less to offer, I initially avoided it. Walking towards the World Trade Centre, I noticed a new hotel was covered in art. I slowly started circling the site; like a queery bloodhound on a mission. On the rear side of the building, a rainbow mural had taken over. Frank Ape’s piece reads, “Everyone’s Different and Everyone’s the Same” Although it was the only “Queer” piece, it felt like a huge win, because it was an iconic mural; not another sticker.

The spectators would lift their head toward the colors; routinely double taking this sign. Watching those people look around to find likeness in their neighbor, was the highlight. There was a mutual understanding that once you acknowledged the words, you needed to smile at a stranger. I guarantee if you go there tomorrow, you will find the same affect on those who witness it and cross your path.

Christopher Street Piers is an irreplaceable landmark of LGBTQ history. Pier 49 is known for housing LGBTQ homeless youth, for many decades. Many young folx have been known to sleep and hangout on the pier. Down towards the end of the pier, I made a friend who asked for a lighter. He wasn’t aware of any queer street art, but said he would keep a lookout for me. I didn’t feel like I was walking away empty handed because I got a reminder of what so many LGBTQ kids experience regularly; we still have a long way to go for equality. On my walk back to Christopher Street and 7^th avenue, I discovered a new sticker that read, Bad design is homophobic.

The last week, I felt spread too thin to genuinely focus; due to work commitments. I thought I hadn’t acquired what felt like enough visibility. I decided to take the week to contemplate my experience. Searching my subconscious, I considered something that continuously and quietly crossed my mind. My intrigue came from a place of creation.

I wasn’t just looking for art, but a movement to join; whether to be an admirer, creator or both. I inertly began this search to discover a new passion in the underground movement. Queer art is a necessity, becoming more popular to seek out and invent. After centuries of oppression, and seeing the long-lasting effects of shame and ostracism; understand the opportunity for visibility and equality is imperative. Art tells a story with just a picture. Art can normalize and humanize the narrative.

At first, I thought, I didn’t find enough. Yet, look how many incredible artists I discovered. All the artwork that made me feel; I was gifted a new, deep appreciation for this craft. I imagined myself as a child; admiring the rainbows of freedom, acceptance and choice. It made me think, maybe I would have felt more comfortable to come out sooner, had I seen queer art more regularly.

The trial was over, but my own experience was just getting started. The following week I was launching Queery Traveler. Stickers seemed promising for low-budget marketing to the website. Attempting to draw and design my own ideas proved to be a bust. Unhappy with the results with little time to spare; I knew I needed to experiment later and ask for help now.

A good friend, and talented designer, Lakeya White, was the first person on my mind. Throughout many years of working together, I’ve watched her create epic designs. From the perfect business card, to t-shirts, to creating designs for charities; Lakeya is the best. I asked her to help me with my idea for the logo that would speak to my mission. My first design had an under-saturated, plum background with leaf green font and a grey rainbow. The poor thing was screaming for color, allure and pizzazz. We went through a few trials; the third was, indeed, the charm. She perfected the bold and complimentary version that brands Queery Traveler today.

Seeing queer art kept me on an express hunt. Passing by something and not admiring it was no longer a part of my nature. Facing the water at South Street Seaport, a giant mural stood out. As I ran under the purple bridge, my heart skipped a beat at the rainbow love-nest I had been presented. The faces of trans advocates painted this long construction wall. Funny enough, UltraViolet Blue Rose’s face was smiling at me. She is a friend of mine; it was the cherry-on-top of a beautiful day.

I found more details about this post on Others Built New York website:

This Others Built New York mural is inspired by the New Yorkers who have been othered because they are different. Our great city is a better and more interesting place because others have resisted unfair discrimination. This project was created by four artists, produced by the Black Gotham Experience to celebrate World Pride and the 50th Anniversary of the Stonewall riots in 1969, and commissioned by The Howard Hughes Corporation.

Black Gotham Experience

Non-binary and trans work has been much harder to catch. It felt like I found more in Philadelphia on a weekend trip. Purposefully placed around the city, I was finding something on every block. In New York, the stickers I did find, I cherished.

Often stealth, it can be hard to distinguish between cis and trans art. Trans people are just people, like anyone else. Some people want to stay stealth for safety, privacy and comfort. That aspect of self-preservation has been displayed in some of the art, too.

A few months later, I received a box holding 1,000 Queery Traveler stickers. That morning, it was raining. Stubbornly, I took the subway to Soho and found scaffolding. The day after putting up my first stickers, I got a text from a friend saying he had found the 3rd sticker posted. Hearing from friends who’ve seen my logo excites me; if they see it, so will the friends I have yet to meet.

One realization: the further from LGBTQ hubs I wandered, the less likely I was to find anything. Considering this a lesson, I learned that placing my work in small towns may be more productive. Thinking back to my moments of struggling– trying to find queer street art in New York City– gave me an idea for new questions and answers in suburban parts of the country.

After tagging 6 East Coast cities, I’ve recently started drawing again, using inspiration from my search. It feels really good to know people are seeing my logo and responding. Countless queer folxs have emailed me, as a result of the stickers. Even friends and family ask and tell me about the stickers they find. It’s given me a new passion, a new outlook on street art, and a yearning to share my discoveries.

The message I longed to send became clear from my learnings. I wanted to say “you are loved, supported and accepted here” in colored silence. I wanted to tell others they weren’t alone.

This experience taught me that art is the soul’s language. I’m not an incredible artist; I’ve never even had decent handwriting. I believe in the power of visibility and support; which requires bravery. Having experienced my own rush of gratitude and tears, I know that whatever is created for and by the community, will be celebrated in the future.