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The skin game

Baltimore-area gay tattoo artist competes on new reality TV show

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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.”

 

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Photos

PHOTOS: Night of Champions

Team DC holds annual awards gala

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Team DC President Miguel Ayala speaks at the 2024 Night of Champions Awards on Saturday. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

Team DC, the umbrella organization for LGBTQ-friendly sports teams and leagues in the D.C. area, held its annual Night of Champions Awards Gala on Saturday, April 20 at the Hilton National Mall. The organization gave out scholarships to area LGBTQ student athletes as well as awards to the Different Drummers, Kelly Laczko of Duplex Diner, Stacy Smith of the Edmund Burke School, Bryan Frank of Triout, JC Adams of DCG Basketball and the DC Gay Flag Football League.

(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)

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PHOTOS: National Cannabis Festival

Annual event draws thousands to RFK

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Growers show their strains at The National Cannabis Festival on Saturday. (Washington Blade photo by Michael Key)

The 2024 National Cannabis Festival was held at the Fields at RFK Stadium on April 19-20.

(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)

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Theater

‘Amm(i)gone’ explores family, queerness, and faith

A ‘fully autobiographical’ work from out artist Adil Mansoor

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Adil Mansoor in ‘Amm(i)gone’ at Woolly Mammoth Theatre. (Photo by Kitoko Chargois)

‘Amm(i)gone’
Thorough May 12
Woolly Mammoth Theatre
641 D St., N.W. 
$60-$70
Woollymammoth.net

“Fully and utterly autobiographical.” That’s how Adil Mansoor describes “Amm(i)gone,” his one-man work currently playing at Woolly Mammoth Theatre. 

Both created and performed by out artist Mansoor, it’s his story about inviting his Pakistani mother to translate Sophocles’s Greek tragedy “Antigone” into Urdu. Throughout the journey, there’s an exploration of family, queerness, and faith,as well as references to teachings from the Quran, and audio conversations with his Muslim mother. 

Mansoor, 38, grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and is now based in Pittsburgh where he’s a busy theater maker. He’s also the founding member of Pittsburgh’s Hatch Arts Collective and the former artistic director of Dreams of Hope, an LGBTQ youth arts organization.

WASHINGTON BLADE: What spurred you to create “Amm(i)gone”? 

ADIL MANSOOR: I was reading a translation of “Antigone” a few years back and found myself emotionally overwhelmed. A Theban princess buries her brother knowing it will cost her, her own life. It’s about a person for whom all aspirations are in the afterlife. And what does that do to the living when all of your hopes and dreams have to be reserved for the afterlife?

I found grant funding to pay my mom to do the translation. I wanted to engage in learning. I wanted to share theater but especially this ancient tragedy. My mother appreciated the characters were struggling between loving one another and their beliefs. 

BLADE: Are you more director than actor?

MANSOOR: I’m primarily a director with an MFA in directing from Carnegie Mellon. I wrote, directed, and performed in this show, and had been working on it for four years. I’ve done different versions including Zoom. Woolly’s is a new production with the same team who’ve been involved since the beginning. 

I love solo performance. I’ve produced and now teach solo performance and believe in its power. And I definitely lean toward “performance” and I haven’t “acted” since I was in college. I feel good on stage. I was a tour guide and do a lot of public speaking. I enjoy the attention. 

BLADE: Describe your mom. 

MANSOOR: My mom is a wonderfully devout Muslim, single mother, social worker who discovered my queerness on Google. And she prays for me. 

She and I are similar, the way we look at things, the way we laugh. But different too. And those are among the questions I ask in this show. Our relationship is both beautiful and complicated.

BLADE: So, you weren’t exactly hiding your sexuality? 

MANSOOR: In my mid-20s, I took time to talk with friends about our being queer with relation to our careers. My sexuality is essential to the work. As the artistic director at Dreams of Hope, part of the work was to model what it means to be public. If I’m in a room with queer and trans teenagers, part of what I’m doing is modeling queer adulthood. The way they see me in the world is part of what I’m putting out there. And I want that to be expansive and full. 

So much of my work involves fundraising and being a face in schools. Being out is about making safe space for queer young folks.

BLADE: Have you encountered much Islamophobia? 

MANSOOR: When 9/11 happened, I was a sophomore in high school, so yes. I faced a lot then and now. I’ve been egged on the street in the last four months. I see it in the classroom. It shows up in all sorts of ways. 

BLADE: What prompted you to lead your creative life in Pittsburgh? 

MANSOOR: I’ve been here for 14 years. I breathe with ease in Pittsburgh. The hills and the valleys and the rust of the city do something to me. It’s beautiful, it’ affordable, and there is support for local artists. There’s a lot of opportunity. 

Still, the plan was to move to New York in September of 2020 but that was cancelled. Then the pandemic showed me that I could live in Pittsburgh and still have a nationally viable career. 

BLADE: What are you trying to achieve with “Amm(i)gone”? 

MANSOOR: What I’m sharing in the show is so very specific but I hear people from other backgrounds say I totally see my mom in that. My partner is Catholic and we share so much in relation to this. 

 I hope the work is embracing the fullness of queerness and how means so many things. And I hope the show makes audiences want to call their parents or squeeze their partners.

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