I've been thinking about the Jance photoshoot and oof do I have Thoughts but -- okay, an attempt to explain why this photoshoot really speaks to me.
I've seen a bunch of different takes float across my dash, but to me the core of this photoshoot is the portrayal of a very deep bond between two men without fully specifying what kind of bond it is. The message I get from their pictures, from Jan looking into the camera (almost?) defiantly while Nace looks serious to the two of them looking at each other and only each other, is "This is us. This is our relationship. What kind? Well, none of your business, but we're not hiding it and we won't help you put us into a definitive drawer."
Since this got long, more thoughts under the cut
And, like -- there's so many layers to this shoot? So many ways to read this as an utter fucking power move, and I'm just. Really touched.
So. Layer one is kind of what I pulled from the art earlier, saying, "you may get to see us be intimate and close, barely hidden behind a glass door (= lack of privacy), but at the end of the day, we decide how much we share. And even if you get these intimate glimpses, you do not get all of me (= him half-hidden behind his hair and/or Nace)"
So what do we glimpse? Well, that's where it gets delicious imo. Because it could be read as non-sexual and non-romantic, so just platonic. Non-sexual intimacy is still pretty rarely portrayed, especially between men, and that goes double for non-romantic intimacy. And so as someone on the aroace-spectrum, that speaks to me so so much.
it's also such a fuck you against Toxic Masculinity -- that they can be this vulnerable together, that they don't mind showing -- that they're actually showing off to -- the world that they're this vulnerable with each other. Just. Intimacy and trust and closeness; laughing together and seeing each other and presenting a united front against the world (= the viewer).
I've long-since wondered if Nace is Jan's emotional support bassist -- if they're each other's comfort people, which would track with them doing this shoot together, presenting themselves in front of the camera together. "I'm doing this, putting myself out there, because with you by my side it feels doable."
And just. The fact that it can be read as queer and they clearly don't mind is also stunning regardless of if they are actually queer and/or actually in a relationship. They know what the fandom thinks. They know what this will look like. And yet -- no "no homo", no "bradders"; just unabashed joy in each other's presence and standing together -- and it's not escaped my notice that it's Jan having Nace's back, fixing the camera with a look of, if you touch him, I'll end you.
And if it is an affirmation that they're queer/together? Then holy shit, what a power move.
Just. I think this is a piece of art that's really resonating because I can see myself in so many of these layers and that's just so powerful. Damon is a pretty good photographer, from what I've picked up, and so I think this is not an accident; I think this series of photos confirms exactly as much and as little as he wants it to. And in the gaps in between, which I understand is something art does, we have space to see ourselves and engage with the artwork in our own ways.
Because at the end of the day, as raw and as candid as these shots look, this isn't an unfiltered version of them. It is them, at least in part, but it's art. It's a performance. It's something we can construct narratives out of (which, probably surprising no one, is something I really enjoy), but we're still engaging with the performance, not the real people underneath. But it still takes guts to give yourself over to that performance, and that is what might move me the most, gorgeous and stunning pictures and all.
The fact that they stepped forward and said, "This is us. Make of it what you will."
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"Theatre critic circles are in desperate need of diverse voices, and these old white men cannot be the only arbiters of good and bad in the industry," and "it's not the feminist take you think it is to dismiss a show's negative reviews just because it's men who are raising the valid critiques you yourself see but can and will overlook because you're attached to a show you say is 'written for the girls, gays, etc." are two viewpoints that can coexist.
It might be easy to dismiss a male critic's pan of a show because it's meant for women. That's not feminism. That's gender essentialism. The show may be written for a queer female audience, but should queer women not also demand quality and cohesion in a show's book and score, or must we always be satisfied by the crumbs we are given? We should not be arguing that just because a show is geared towards a female audience, it must be above critique, or that the real and present flaws in the book and score are only important to men, and all women will like it anyway.
As a queer woman of color, had I been a critic, my review would have been mixed to negative just like all those men you dismissed because the problems do not change from a gendered perspective. The book is weak. The score disjointed. The protagonist watered-down. It's like the writers set out to say "it's a queer love story," but didn't do the work to delve any deeper, and hoped to carry the show on that alone. Queer stories deserve to be held to the same high standard as any other show, and boiling it down to "it's queer so you have to like it and critics are homophobic" is a ridiculous, immature, reductive statement.
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okay but AJR'S new song "Yes I'm A Mess" is one of their coolest concepts to date cause like, AJR has been hyping up the chorus for a long while now and from the frequently tiktoked verses "I could hate my guts when the sun comes up but I like myself like this" and the overall tune of the chorus, the most common impression on the song is that it's a song about the brothers "blowing up their lives" through partying and all that because they "like themselves like this". Basically it's your "wooo let's fucking party song" but in the perspective of them using it as a means of escape in a way. This impression is confirmed with the release of the full song whose lyrics include them wanting to quit their jobs and start over ("I'm in it now, I'm in it now, could I start again somehow?)
And of course, the theme of wanting to escae start over and becoming what you like yourself to be even if you make yourself into a mess is something quite relatable especially for young adults right? So that concept is good in it of itself but what makes this song so much fucking different IS HOW AJR FLIPS IT BY THE BRIDGE. By the time Jack sings "I could hate my guts when the sun comes up but I guess that's what this is. I like myself like this", there is a layer of acknowledged resignation that them blowing up their lives and escaping in the interest of starting over and "liking themselves" is something that's not that all good AND THAT POINT IS ESTABLISHED WITH HOW THE SONG ENDS - WITH THE OUTRO BEING ALL SLOWED DOWN AND REVERBED AS IF THE PARTY IS STOPPING AND YOU'RE COMING DOWN FROM YOUR EUPHORIC PARTY HIGHS.
This part especially took a lot of people off guard because they simply weren't expecting this shift of tempo to happen in a song marketed as a partying fun song and holy shit that's the whole point! The constant escape for a new and clean slate through indulging yourself into becoming someone you like to the point of self sabotage won't ever end up well - cause sooner or later, the tempo will turn slow, verses will be slurred, and the fun beat and whistles will stop. And for a band who prides upon having their songs be fun to dance to while being relatable in its woes of having to grow up and wanting to escape that, holy fuck is that an amazing point to make.
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