Monday, January 26, 2009


As those of you who know me and who have read my blog posts over the years know, I do not stray into politics.

I write about man to man relationships, safer sex, and other topics of interest.

But I feel that I have to venture into the political arena concerning the cries for the resignation of Sam Adams.

We Gay Men are not perfect. Gay men are imperfect sexual creatures. Admit it or not, more times than not, we think with our cock before our brain cells shift into action mode.

Sam indeed, acted irrationally. But he is still a great leader. Why have him thrown to the wolves when the voters and others can forgive him, as he humbly asks us to do.

We live in an imperfect world. Gay leaders, I fear, have their heads so entrenched into the gay marriage issue, that any thing or anyone's action that promotes something negative on this issue, is hung "by his balls", for the sake of the cause.

I, for one, am willing to give Sam Adams a second chance. Hell, I guess, any one with the name of Beau Breedlove can be darn seductive. Beau seems to be the heartbreaker. Sam was vulnerable, and this public humility is his "scarlet letter".

But enough is enough. Let Sam Adams continue what the voters of Portland elected him to do, lead a great city through some difficult economic times.

Sam, you have my Mega Hairy Muscle Hugs of support.

Supporters urge Adams not to resign

Portland Business Journal

A phalanx of supporters — including Commissioner Dan Saltzman — urged Mayor Sam Adams not to resign during a Friday gathering inside City Hall.

They lauded Adams’ leadership ability, while pleading for him to ride out the wave of criticism that rocked his administration this week following his admission to lying about a sexual relationship with 18-year-old Beau Breedlove.

“This city, this country, are in very tough times. We have to work hard to do our own efforts to get our economy going,” said Saltzman, speaking publicly on the issue for the first time.

“Frankly, we need Mayor Sam Adams to be leading this City Council.”

Supporters also criticized the Portland media for calling for Adams’ resignation and uncovering his transgressions in the first place.

Willamette Week first broke the story of Adams’ admission Monday evening. Subsequently, four publications — The Oregonian, the Portland Tribune, the Portland Business Journal, and local gay newspaper Just Out — published editorials urging Adams to resign.

“The fact that the media have the right to publish the truth doesn’t mean they should exercise the truth in every circumstance,” Charlie Hinkle, a local attorney at Stoel Rives LLP who specializes in First Amendment issues, said at the rally. “The media spend much too much time in probing the private lives of public officials.”

The news conference was organized by Thomas Lauderdale, a friend of Adams and frontman for the local band Pink Martini. Among the other speakers were prominent business officials such as commercial developer John Russell, and leaders in the arts community, including local singer Storm Large.

Acclaimed director Gus Van Sant, who this week was nominated for an Oscar for his work directing the film “Milk,” issued a statement, read by a proxy at the news conference.

“Portland didn’t elect Sam to dismiss him at the first sign of controversy,” Van Sant wrote.
Supporters are scheduled to host a larger rally at 5:30 p.m. Friday outside City Hall.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Happy New Year. What's Old is New Again.

I recently discovered the works of Marsden Hartley. His art captures the male form as few artists of the 20th century have achieved. His masterpieces are timeless. These models could have lived today.

Below is an exerpt of Mardsen's life and his talent from a press release announcing a special exhibit of his work at the Bates College Museum of Art in Maine.

Born in Lewiston, Maine in 1877 to immigrant parents, Marsden Hartley achieved recognition as a painter and poet late in life.

In a letter dated December 20, 1942, Hartley wrote to his favorite niece Norma Berger, "When I am no longer here my name will register forever in the history of American art." Evidence of the artist’s efforts to establish his name and to fix himself in the collective memory of the public, his friends, and family, can be found throughout the Bates College Museum of Art’s collection.

Hartley’s personal archive not only provides a wealth of information about the artist’s life, relationships, and interests, but demonstrates his attempt to construct both a personal history and a public identity.

Hartley was fascinated with autobiography from the early stages of his career. Through self-portraiture and prolific writing, he chronicled his life partly in an effort to prove to himself that it had been worthwhile. Friends and acquaintances often described the artist as lonely, anxious, frustrated, gloomy, and bitter – yet lighthearted and affectionate "when he thought he was being liked or loved."

In a life largely spent unsettled, collecting photographs of others, and sharing images of himself was a way to maintain relationships and initiate new ones. Hartley’s ongoing struggle to find his place – geographically, philosophically, artistically, and as a gay man – is documented in his writing, reflected in his work, and revealed through a study of his archive.

Along with 99 drawings, the Marsden Hartley Memorial Collection contains a large number of photographs, including personal snapshots, formal portraits, and studio reference materials. As part of the Museum’s collection of Hartley ephemera, these images function as important documents of his life, interests, and studio practices.

Hartley recognized the power of the photographic image and believed in the "honesty" of the medium and its ability to communicate, which he attempted to control. Photography allowed the artist to portray himself in any image he desired: New York modernist, European aesthete, native Mainer.
In honor of this great contemporary American artist, celebrate his works by giving Mega Hairy Muscle Hugs in abundance as we celebrate a new chapter in American history.