“The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world.”
Allen Ginsburg
from the Main Street Collection
The Fountain Prince
In The Fountain Prince, a teenage boy leans across a soda shop counter, chin resting on folded hands, rapturously gazing upward at the handsome young counter clerk preparing a milkshake. The scene is rendered in the warm, precise language of mid-century illustration—sunlit chrome, crisp uniforms, every gesture tenderly observed. It feels utterly familiar, almost remembered. And yet something has shifted. The admiration between the two boys is unmistakable, innocent, and unashamed.
The work does not invent a new history; it restores one long withheld from view. In doing so, it asks a quiet question: what might American storytelling have looked like—indeed, how many lives might have been saved—if this moment had always been allowed to belong?
from the Main Street Collection
Dresses in the Attic
In a sunlit attic—half storage room, half sanctuary—a boy pauses before a mirror in a borrowed dress, studying not a costume but a question. The moment is private, almost archetypal: trunks of old clothes, slanting rafters, a shaft of afternoon light catching the shimmer of fringe. Such experiments are rarely recorded, though they are nearly universal—small rehearsals of self, undertaken in secrecy and wonder.
Whether fleeting curiosity or the first articulation of something enduring, the gesture is neither spectacle nor scandal. It is a human inheritance. The image restores dignity to these quiet thresholds, suggesting that exploration itself is worthy of light.
from the Wanderlust collection
Fly TWA to Harlem
The Harlem Renaissance has long been an essential part of queer cultural history, but its significance has only recently been recognized. In the vibrant graphic style associated with David Klein’s famous airline poster designs, Harlem shines as both a beacon and a birthplace – adorned with jazz clubs glowing in neon, artists depicted in silhouette, and a skyline full of energy.
Beneath this dazzling spectacle lies a deeper understanding: the Harlem Renaissance thrived not only through literary brilliance and musical innovation but also through the support, artistry, and social networks of Black queer creators. This piece pays tribute to these people and places, restoring their vital presence to the bright lights they helped illuminate.
from the Uptown Collection
A Private Moment
Among the upper classes of the early twentieth century, youth was often granted a narrow corridor of indulgence — a tolerated season of experimentation before marriage, business, and lineage took precedence. Certain indiscretions could be overlooked, provided they were temporary and discreet. Society assumed that inheritance, duty, and ambition would eventually correct whatever strayed from the prescribed path.
But there was an unspoken distinction.
A passing flirtation with a chorus girl or flapper could be dismissed as appetite. A bond formed between young men of the same world — equal in breeding, ambition, and intellect — carried different stakes. It was not spectacle. It was not conquest. It was recognition. And recognition, once experienced, is not so easily extinguished.
The title suggests discretion, but the emotional cost is anything but small. For some, such alliances were expected to fade beneath the weight of expectation. Yet what is suppressed is not always erased.
From the After Hours collection
Femboy Fatale
This spectacular poster is an homage to the 1946 French one-sheet for The Postman Always Rings Twice—its sweeping brushwork, charged diagonals, and fevered embrace reimagined here with a twink and a twist. The visual language is pure mid-century noir: desire as danger, beauty as bait, the shoreline as moral precipice.
Following the rigid enforcement of the Hays Code in the late 1930s, Hollywood policed explicit depictions of sexuality with fervor. Yet film noir—perhaps more than any other genre—persisted in smuggling queerness onto the screen. It did so through implication, stylized menace, ambiguous loyalties, and characters whose coded mannerisms were legible to those who knew how to read them. What could not be spoken became atmosphere.
Even foundational noir texts, including The Maltese Falcon, teem with characters whose sexuality was unmistakably signaled beneath the surface of hardboiled dialogue and shadowed lighting. At the time, these figures were framed as deviant, decadent, or dangerous. Today, the codes feel almost luminous.
Femboy Fatale collapses the subtext into text. It keeps the melodrama, the peril, the operatic intensity—but removes the need for disguise. What noir once suggested in shadow, this poster stages in full light
