Here are two drawings from the last two live shows I went to before self-isolation.
I don’t usually draw performers when they aren’t performing, but I looked across the dark club and saw Michele’s character and style and beauty shining like a lamp. I hope I have captured that feeling a little bit. I am sorry I didn’t get her partner, amazing hooper Sky, from the front, but her signature long hair is there!
I made this picture of fantastic, majestic performer Bertoulle Beaurebec, The Pain Proof Priestess, before she changed into her costume. The dressing room was VERY SMALL, and VERY CROWDED. It was simply packed with beautiful people climbing in and out of costumes, mostly latex and leather. I was squished on a little vinyl loveseat with a boy who was threading laces into the gauntlets Sylva Hattington of Bubbles and Frown made to go with the spectacular headpieces she created for the main show. Sylva was frantically busy working on getting people dressed and made up!
I don’t usually go into the dressing room or draw performers when they aren’t fully in costume and on-stage or at least in their public personas. This is because I really value the effort that they make to create their stage selves, and want to honor that as a completed vision. However, in this instance, Ms. Beaurebec was clearly in her priestess self. She was so serene and mighty in her giant boots and robe-like gown, I felt like I was drawing an aspect of the priestess.
And I was in the dressing room because I was exhausted and feeling overwhelmed some of the night and there weren’t really any chill spaces at the venue, the gorgeous newly-reopened Metropol. I also drew Fifi Fantôme and Lucille Spielfuchs in the dressing room, and I’ll add that when I finish it 🙂
Meanwhile, I want to share a story about what happened at that Velvet Creepers show at Crack Bellmer.
Crack Bellmer is a gorgeous, marvelous venue in the RAW site in Friechrichshain. It reminds me of beloved Oakland warehouse spaces like The Vulcan. There is a sort of deck to the left of the stage, with a huge black couch on it, and that is where I was set up, with my friend and colleague Daniel Paikov. While I was drawing Michelle, a young woman came up to us.
It was during intermission, and the music was loud. The young woman leaned over and said to me, yelling, “Do you have any speed?” Because I was seated on a raised platform and leaning forward to hear her, the spray of spittle from her mouth went right over my glasses and into my eyes.
I was jolted from the shock, and at the same time, Daniel and I both cracked up because she had asked the single person in the room least likely to have any speed. Do people even do speed anymore? We laughed hysterically at her, but at the same time, my mind was racing, trying to remember everything I knew about saliva transmission of Hep C. Apparently, this girl had been going up to every single person in the club and asking if they had speed. Yelling. Probably at a hundred people, mostly drunk.
I knew about SARS-CoV-2, but I was well aware it wasn’t in Berlin yet. It was Friday, February 21st, three days before Jen Spahns announced coronavirus community spread had begun in Germany.
March 1, the morning I came home from Torture Garden at 4am, the first patient in Berlin was announced. I knew that night it was the last event I’d be going to for a long time. Both Sadie, who was sitting with me at TG, and I got sick after the party, and were sick the first week of March. But just colds. Lucky and blessed. It’s unlikely I will go to a public event without a face shield again, which is an acceptable price to pay.