Who is your biggest creative inspiration? 

My biggest creative inspirations are Prince, Love, my quest for self-actualization, and individualism. I’ve taken eight months from social hangs and media. I needed to turn inward. I had given so much of myself to others that by the end of 2022, I felt emotionally spent. I love to hold space for others. It feels good to do so. Sometimes, it can take a toll and knocks me off balance. 

Last summer was the best time of my life. I got to spend time with new and old friends. I also saw recording artist, Peaches, in concert. It was fantastic! An awesome friend, who was DJing the show offered me a free ticket. The show was a revelatory moment for me. It was the best show since I last saw Prince in the 90s. It was one of many amazing things that led me to where I am now.

In these eight months, I discovered who I am meant to be and what I am meant to do: Be apologetically myself. To have no expectations of others but myself. To love myself and my scars so deeply and become my own alchemist. To fulfill my destiny on my terms and not what others need me to be. 

I don’t mind being an inspiration for others, I’m flattered by that sentiment, though, it is important to remember that just because someone loves you today, that love can be taken away for the slightest infraction based on where that person is, if the love is conditional. Sometimes, you find out the hard way that it was indeed conditional and that can bring shame if there was emotional attachment. Non-attachment to outcomes and non-resistance to what will be has been my investment these last eight months, particularly these last six weeks. 

Because I’ve learned about conditional love at an early age, which led to codependency, in these last eight months, I learned that I can continue to love unconditionally and still walk away. This can inspire creativity. Joni Mitchell said that love is touching souls. It’s also breaking away. Love never dies. It’s the energy; a sentient being two people co-create. Love is creativity. Creativity is love. Real Love is unconditional. These last several weeks, as I come out of my deep freeze, I have awakened to something more powerful and meaningful: Letting go to receive. I’ll be releasing a blog Friday that goes into more detail about this journey with some video clips. Readers can subscribe to my website, www.beautifulboi.com to sign up for my newsletters.

Your work, and specifically your film “Ordinary,” has been selected at several film festivals. After all your hard work, how does this make you feel?

I’ve made two earlier films that were blessed with becoming Official Selections around the world. My short, Little Men is a multi-award winning film. It’s been to the Walker Art Center, Bucharest, London, Seattle, and Houston - winning one of four awards there. 

I found out on Instagram that Ordinary won Best International Documentary Film at the Out and Loud Pune Queer International Film Festival in Pune, Maharashtra, India! I left a teary, heartfelt comment on the post.

Ordinary has been blessed with the same fate. I knew when I finished Ordinary that it would catapult me into the stratosphere, and I was prepared for this avalanche of abundance from all around the world. It’s been streamed all over the globe through Genderful, a gender diverse talkshow I co-host, and on the Twitch channel, Gender Federation for Trans Day of Remembrance and for a fundraising event for me. Both are founded by my dear friend, Gender Meowster. There’s an episode where I’m interviewed by them. I dressed up as a Phoenix. I also had covid that day.

I still feel a sense of ecstatic pride and sheer humility when I get the good news about a film festival choosing my films and even more so when I am awarded. I am gracious and graceful about my successes, knowing that more is to come as I continue to stay true to myself and honor this new, untamed pathway with reverence.

You’ve described your film “Beautiful Boi” as, “A visual personal essay about my transition and my relationship with my mental health for nearly 40 years.” What is it like to bare your soul on film like that? 

It could be called,”bearing my soul,” but it’s what I’m called to do. We live dependent on technology and teeny, tiny bit-size pieces of each other’s highlight reels while forever wondering if we are enough and will anybody ever see just how much pain we’re in. Does anybody really like us? Is it okay to ask for help? What if I can’t reciprocate right away? Will anybody ever realize that our smiles are masks? Some of us were masking long before covid. And for some, during the pandemic, it simply broke them. It almost happened to me four weeks after lockdown.

I’ve been through many challenges, so it is my birthright and responsibility to reflect what is inside on the outside, as within, so without. A survivor of nine suicide attempts from the ages of 13-49 (in 2020), I feel there is something in my vast experience across lifetimes that could be of use to others. One person’s story can be a survival guide to another.

“Bearing my soul,” is just another beautiful aspect of what makes me, me. Everyone has the power to do the same, but with inner child wounds buried behind the masks of our smiles and the lack of energy for true solitude, it makes it difficult. Ultimately, personal power, can feel unattainable, at times. 

So I speak and maybe you listen - when you’re ready. Maybe you feel seen, understood, and oddly accounted for in my work. And maybe that’s enough. The need to feel seen is palpable, laying deeply imbedded in the cells in our body. It’s like the air we breath. The need to feel seen is at it’s height during Pride Month. It makes me think of the song by Postal Service, “Such Great Heights.” We want to be loved for who and what we are in hopes to make the world a better place for all.

After a film is released, it’s up for the audience’s interpretation. Do you have any favorite audience interpretations of your work? 

I do. My resident coordinator brought her husband and two sons to see the film early Saturday morning, in late October, at the Riverview Theater in 2019. Her husband saw his life in my film and desperately wanted to talk to me. I was unable to as others had wanted to talk to me first and eventually, Venus and her family left to get breakfast. 

Little Men has an open ending, a cliffhanger, intentionally designed for the audience to confront their inner child and adult demons based on their judgements or grace of the two boys in the film. 

As they had breakfast, her family talked about the film in-depth. Then she asked her sons to go outside on the street corner to try to come up with the ending. They came up with a positive ending and not a cliché. I was so proud of these teens, young Black men, themselves. I trust my audience to do their own work. Film is therapy.

Another funny thing that often tickles me pink, is that people want to know when the sequel is coming out. I say there isn’t one, but I’ve been known to change my mind.

One of your projects is a hip-hop music video, shot on frozen Lake Osseo. What was that shoot like?

Creating, “This One,” by late recording artist, rapper, Brown Child, was an amazing experience. I hired a crew and director of photography. I had a tiny budget and a crystalized vision. I wanted to blend the lighting and compositions in Richard Avedon’s portraits with Kid and Play’s, “House Party”; something futuristic, otherworldly, and earthy all at the same time. 

Intrigued by icehouses and the hobby of ice fishing, I thought, what could be more Minnesotan than ice fishing juxtaposed with Hip Hop? Another avenue for the idea were in pictures I saw that said, “How many people can you fit in a VW Bug?” Those photos were funny and joyful. The thought came to me, “How many people can you fit into a tiny icehouse complete with a DJ and SoulTrain line. I had so much fun coming up with the idea and co-creating with my cast and crew.

It was super cold on Lake Osseo that January day. I had never walked on ice before, but was determined to make this video so I jumped over my fear and had the most fun. The shoot was from 6am to 6pm.

We also shot two days in the big studio at SPNN at its former location. An extra asked if he could literally brush his teeth since this is line in the lyrics. I said sure, and it’s hilarious. Part of my creative process is following the instincts of the actors. Their creativity is channeled too, and it makes for good art. My friend, Erin Erskine, did an amazing job with the art direction. She also did the set dressing for Little Men in 2018.

It’s still one of my favorite pieces of work. In 2003, twenty years ago last month, it won a Silver REMI Award from Worldfest Houston International Film Festival. It was my first solo award and that feeling is still fresh whenever I look at it and whenever I win a new award from them. This feeling is always priceless and affirming.

Is there a Q&A session question that sticks out to you as one you’ll never forget?

Oh, yes. The morning of my premiere for Little Men was a hot mess. I had a few things happening that caused great sorrow days before and then a few moments before the premiere. I didn’t have another film idea, and thought to myself, “What are you going to do now? You’ll probably fail. No one will come to this on a Saturday at 10 am! This was all for nothing.”

In the bathroom, moments after my best friend took my phone and left me to dress, I realized the I wanted to be life partners with them. I felt awful and ashamed of those feelings on this day of all days. When they took my phone, they said that this was my wedding day and nobody calls the bride on their wedding day. I thought, “Thank you for saving me. And how ironic.” If this happened in a queer movie, I wouldn't believe it.

When I walked out of the bathroom, I went to be near them because I was terrified, and their beautiful energy was so soothing. They smiled at me excited. They eagerly pointed their finger at the huge lobby windows, “Look!” It was like Christmas in the 1935 version of The Scrooge. There was a line wrapped around the block. People were standing on the red carpet, that this friend taped down with bare fingers on that incredibly cold morning.  We had to start the film 35 minutes late. I was worried we wouldn’t get out on time.

Valerie Deus moderated my Q&A. She asked me some amazing questions concluding with the question, “So what’s next on the horizon for you? What are you working on?” A deep breath and a deliberate scan of the theater, willful, I said, “This is my last film. It’s too hard to make films, and I’m poor. I don’t have any money. I can’t do this anymore.” Several people gasped out loud. There was deep silence for a moment. Then someone shouted, “Yeah! Right!” The spell was broken and people laughed. But I was serious. 

I told my best friend that I was going to say it. They asked if I was sure, but I was tired and frustrated. I had been advertising for weeks and doing interviews and no one seemed to pay any attention to the trailers that I spent from 6am to 8am every morning for four weeks creating to generate interest. I thought maybe twenty people would show up, and that would probably be cast and crew with family. Even though I was clearly wrong, I couldn’t celebrate it. Shame is a demon best left unabsorbed.

Like I said, I’ve been known to change my mind. And I’m grateful I allowed myself to feel those feelings when I did. I am joyful that I changed my mind. So are others who have been supportive since 1999.

What can audiences expect from your screening at Little Theatre Auditorium in New London, MN on June 10? 

The art director of Little Theater Auditorium, Bethany Lacktorin, a friend I’ve known for twenty years now, reached out to me a few months ago. She asked me to do a screening of my work. Her concern was that the LGBTQ+ rural community of New London needed affirming role models and to engage with someone like them. She thought I would be a good choice. It was a humbling experience to be asked to come there. I am so excited about this screening. There’s a bar in the theater and they are making a special Phoenix drink that they will light on fire!

I’ll be showing Little Men, Do I Qualify for Love?, and Ordinary for Pride month there. I will also do a Q&A after the screening. 

We’re also coordinating a coffee break on Sunday morning where folx can meet and greet and ask me anything. As far as expectations, leave those behind. 

Honestly, it’s possible you’ll be moved and liberated. Art is subjective. Film is therapy.