So one of the things I’ve been doing in the past year that has taken my time away from Cinema de Merde, is I bought a camera and have been making little films. Most of them are little artsy non-narrative documentaries, which I’ll show you eventually, but the ones that have been most consistent and successful is a series I started called Queer Profiles.
The idea of Queer Profiles is to be an LGBTQ oral history series that focuses on regular, ordinary queer people who are not otherwise seeking attention. I’m sick of hearing only from people who have published a book or have a TV show or are otherwise successful, and I’m sick of hearing from the people who have fashioned themselves as commentators or go-to experts on queer experience, and those who create and cultivate public personas to pose as self-appointed exemplars of queer experience. Or, of course, those who are so good-looking or outrageous-looking that they command an amount of attention.
The people I seek for Queer Profiles are not seeking attention. Most of them have some sort of artistic hobby, but they practice it quietly and mostly for their own gratification. All of them talk about their experience being queer and how it has affected their lives. No one is saying they are better than the people who get or seek attention, but it seems that we’ve decided that only successful people are worthy of hearing from, and I’m just saying let’s hear from some everyday ordinary community folks once in a while.
This one features an artist from Toronto who discusses how he came to a crisis in which his life broke down, and discovering his aboriginal Metis heritage helped him reorient himself, and in turn became a theme he continually explores in his art.