Arts & Entertainment
The skin game
Baltimore-area gay tattoo artist competes on new reality TV show

Nicky Hennerez, a gay Glen Burnie, Md., resident and tattoo artist, is on the new reality competition show ‘Best Ink.’ It debuts Tuesday night on Oxygen. (Blade photo by Michael Key)
Watch any gay porn and you know the, ahem, actors there are pretty inked up. And it’s not hard to find heavily tattooed arms on any given night at Town or the Hippo.
“I think gays like tattoos as much as the straight world,” says Nicky Hennerez. “It’s funny you mention porn because I notice the gay porn stars who have them, the tattoos are usually really bad … they have all these tribal tattoos, which don’t mean anything, and they’re usually just not well done.”
And he should know — the 29-year-old Glen Burnie, Md., resident competed last August and into early September in a California-based reality show the goal of which was to find the country’s most talented tattoo artist. “Best Ink” debuts Tuesday night at 10 on Oxygen. He’s the only gay contestant of the 10 on the show. It runs for eight consecutive weeks and, of course, Hennerez isn’t at liberty to divulge any details except to say the shoot was “just awesome.” The only downside? Being separated from his boyfriend of two years, Josh Crossney.
“They took away our phones and everything,” he says. “I was missing him so much. We only got to talk, like, a couple times and even that was monitored. That part sucked but otherwise, it was a blast.”
Hennerez had tried out for a reality show once before in New York back in 2010 but didn’t make the cut. He saw the “Best Ink” notice for participants on Craigslist and, on a whim, started the process. He’s been tattooing for about four years. He started an apprenticeship in 2006. He was in to get one himself and the shop owner was impressed with his sketchbook and said he should learn the art.
Hennerez, who’s been out since he was 16, says during the shoot he was fine with being out and nobody in the cast or crew made a big deal about it. He says during promotional efforts with the network, it’s become a bit tiresome, though.
“We’re shooting all these commercials and online clips and stuff,” he says. “They keep asking me, ‘How does it feel to be a gay tattoo artist?’ I’m thinking, ‘They’re not asking everyone else how it feels to be a straight tattoo artist.’ So I kinda had to shut it down. But it wasn’t even an issue when we were taping.”
He always wanted tattoos as a teen but his mom forbade it until he was 18. He’s glad now she was adamant about it because he says he would have regretted the tattoos he wanted at the time. But on his 18th birthday, he got his first, a skull and crossbones on his arm. It’s now hard to say how many he has now — could be anywhere from 16 to 20 depending on how you count. Some have been added to and others blend together. He has them on his arms, neck, rib cage, back, thighs, legs, one calf, fingers and part of his hands. None yet on his chest — he says that’s on his “next” list because it “looks kinda bare there.”
“When I was younger, it was totally an image thing,” he says. “I was like a little punk rocker with crazy-colored hair and this crazy image thing. Now I just find it completely therapeutic. It’s such a milestone every time you get one. You get it more for a reason and you end up having these deep conversations with the artist. The more you get them, the more you start to feel good when you get them. I find they don’t hurt now for me. I know that sounds weird, but I really like the experience.”
Crossney lets Hennerez work on him. Crossney has about 10 himself now. They met in Hennerez’s old tattoo shop in Pasadena, Md., but bonded recovering from a car accident they were in together (neither was driving) in Dec. 2009. One of Crossney’s friends ran into a parked snowplow trying to avoid a drunk driver.
Hennerez says the shop in Pasadena (the now-closed Positive Image) was somewhat homophobic and his co-workers would crack anti-gay jokes at his expense. He’s much more comfortable at his current shop, Tattooed Heart in Glen Burnie.
And though he’s nervous about how he’ll come off on the show, he says the experience brought out his competitive side.
“I’m definitely a competitive person but I don’t like to let on that I am,” he says. “I act like I don’t care even if I do, so I internalize a lot of it. But I was definitely striving to win … it was very fun overall. I loved my castmates, they were amazing and it really changed my life. It gave me so much more confidence.”
Arts & Entertainment
In an act of artistic defiance, Baltimore Center Stage stays focused on DEI
‘Maybe it’s a triple-down’
By LESLIE GRAY STREETER | I’m always tickled when people complain about artists “going political.” The inherent nature of art, of creation and free expression, is political. This becomes obvious when entire governments try to threaten it out of existence, like in 2025, when the brand-new presidential administration demanded organizations halt so-called diversity, equity and inclusion (DEI) programming or risk federal funding.
Baltimore Center Stage’s response? A resounding and hearty “Nah.” A year later, they’re still doubling down on diversity.
“Maybe it’s a triple-down,” said Ken-Matt Martin, the theater’s producing director, chuckling.
The rest of this article can be found on the Baltimore Banner’s website.
‘La Lucci’
By Susan Lucci with Laura Morton
c.2026, Blackstone Publishing
$29.99/196 pages
They’re among the world’s greatest love stories.
You know them well: Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Abelard and Heloise. Phoebe and Langley. Cliff and Nina. Jesse and Angie, Opal and Palmer, Palmer and Daisy, Tad and Dixie. Now read “La Lucci” by Susan Lucci, with Laura Morton, and you might also think of Susan and Helmut.

When she was a very small girl, Susan Lucci loved to perform. Also when she was young, she learned that words have power. She vowed to use them for good for the rest of her life.
Her parents, she says, were supportive and her family, loving. Because of her Italian heritage, she was “ethnic looking” but Lucci’s mother was careful to point out dark-haired beauties on TV and elsewhere, giving Lucci a foundation of confidence.
That’s just one of the things for which Lucci says she’s grateful. In fact, she says, “Prayers of gratitude are how I begin and end each day.”
She is particularly grateful for becoming a mother to her two adult children, and to the doctors who saved her son’s life when he was a newborn.
Lucci writes about gratitude for her long career. She was a keystone character on TV’s “All My Children,” and she learned a lot from older actors on the show, and from Agnes Nixon, the creator of it. She says she still keeps in touch with many of her former costars.
She is thankful for her mother’s caretakers, who stepped in when dementia struck. Grateful for more doctors, who did heart-saving work when Lucci had a clogged artery. Grateful for friends, opportunities, life, grandchildren, and a career that continues.
And she’s grateful for the love she shared with her husband, Helmut Huber, who died nearly four years ago. Grateful for the chance to grieve, to heal, and to continue.
And yet, she says of her husband: “He was never timid, but I know he was afraid at the end, and that kills me down to my soul.”
“It’s been 15 years since Erica Kane and I parted ways,” says author Susan Lucci (with Laura Morton), and she says that people still approach her to confirm or deny rumors of the show’s resurrection. There’s still no answer to that here (sorry, fans), but what you’ll find inside “La Lucci” is still exceptionally generous.
If this book were just filled with stories, you’d like it just fine. If it was only about Lucci’s faith and her gratitude – words that happen to appear very frequently here – you’d still like reading it. But Lucci tells her stories of family, children and “All My Children,” while also offering help to couples who’ve endured miscarriage, women who’ve had heart problems, and widow(ers) who are spinning and need the kindness of someone who’s lived loss, too.
These are the other things you’ll find in “La Lucci,” in a voice you’ll hear in your head, if you spent your lunch hours glued to the TV back in the day. It’s a comfortable, fun read for fans. It’s a story you’ll love.
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Theater
Minimal version of ‘Streetcar Named Desire’ heading to Dupont Underground
Director Nick Westrate on this traveling take on Williams’s masterwork
‘A Streetcar Named Desire’
Produced by The Streetcar Project
April 20-May 4
Dupont Underground
19 Dupont Circle, N.W.
Tickets start at $85.
Dupontunderground.org
An aggressively minimal version of Tennessee Williams’s “A Streetcar Named Desire” is poised to run at Dupont Underground (April 20-May 4), the nonprofit cultural space located in a repurposed, abandoned 1949 streetcar station beneath Dupont Circle.
The Streetcar Project’s production performs in site-specific spaces. It’s almost entirely without design elements. There is no steamy, cramped Vieux Carré apartment. You won’t see Blanche’s battered trunk exploding with cheap finery, faded love letters, and demands for back property taxes, or the familiar costumes.
Co-created by Lucy Owen (who stars as Blanche DuBois) and out director Nick Westrate in 2023, this traveling spare take on Williams’s masterwork about a fragile woman on the margins in conflict with her brutish brother-in-law seems a reaction to necessity. It’s also an exploration of whether, like Shakespeare’s “Henry V,” it can subsist on language alone.
With little distractions (even Blanche’s cultivated southern belle accent has been daringly stripped away), the spotlight shines almost solely on text. “This play holds that,” says Westrate, 42. “I remind the actors that the while there is plenty of movement, language is really the only game in town.”
New York-based Westrate, who’s best known as an esteemed actor with New York and regional credits including Prior Walter in János Szász’s production of “Angels in America” at Arena Stage, describes “Streetcar” as “the most perfect play on earth” but not one he thinks of acting in (“I’m not right for Stanley Kowalski or Mitch”) though he agreed to direct.
“These days if you’re not a not a movie star or an established director, you’re not likely to do “Streetcar.” So, for us, we have to be able to do it with almost nothing, on the New York subway if necessary. And that’s kind of how we built it.”
Westrate first experienced Dupont Underground while attending a staged reading. He was so obsessed with the space as a prospective place to take the production, he found it hard to concentrate. He says, “With its long, curved track and tunnel, Dupont Underground is a terrifying, beautiful room that carries so much metaphorical weight, so much possibility for our production.”
WASHINGTON BLADE: Is finding the right space for this “Streetcar” part of the thrill?
NICK WESTRATE: Whenever I enter a weird room or pass by an abandoned CVS, I try to figure out how we might do the show there, especially places that are dilapidated, architecturally odd, or possibly haunted. And each space we use, lends something to the production. The Rachel Comey store in Soho was a very Blanche coded space. And an artist’s workshop on Venice Beach in California with its huge saws and metal hooks lent raw imagery. The scenes between Blanche and Stanley near the end were absolutely terrifying.
BLADE: More recently that same bare bones production has played in more traditional spaces like the Wheeler Opera House in Aspen and San Francisco’s A.C.T. Is it hard to now go to Dupont Underground?
WESTRATE: Each time we do this we have to crack open the play again because the staging is entirely new, but we’re used to performing in unusual spaces and Dupont Underground rather takes us back to form. As a former streetcar station, it’s the most appropriate space we’ve had yet.
The cast will literally act on streetcar tracks and go without dressing rooms but they’re game, and because they have history and authorship over the work, the sacrifice is more meaningful than if they were just some hired guns.
BLADE: Audiences have an expectation, especially with a work they’re likely to know. How do they react seeing such an unadorned take on Williams’s American classic?
WESTRATE: For the first 10 or 15 minutes, they’re unsure. Then, you can pretty much see the audience members’ brains click in and their imaginations turn on. It’s like they’re scratching an itch that they didn’t even know they had.
BLADE: Did you and Lucy foresee gaining this kind of momentum behind your vision?
WESTRATE: Absolutely not. Lucy had a philosophy that we’ll just walk through open doors. Early on, we were given spaces and artists filled the seats, and increasingly we’ve begun to rent some spaces and attract more regular theatergoers.
We basically sell tickets in order to pay a living wage to artists involved. There isn’t some big institution or commercial producer who’s getting a lot of money from this. Audiences of all types seem to respond to this mode of making theater.
BLADE: In presenting “Streetcar” intermittently, usually with the same cast over three years in wildly varying venues, have you learned more about a piece that you already loved?
WESTRATE: Mostly I’ve come to realize that Blanche is the smartest character I’ve ever read in a play. She’s like Hamlet – tormented by dreams and terrified of death. She’s skilled at wordplay and always ahead of everyone else in the room. Also like Hamlet, people think she’s insane and she uses that to her advantage.
Blanche is certainly the Everest of roles for actresses and watching Lucy sort of break it apart in a different way than you’ve ever seen, and knowing that I’ve helped to facilitate this performance has been one of the great joys of my career.
