Arts & Entertainment
Gay-themed exhibit in Baltimore
Black Male Identity Project presents ‘Travelin’ Shoes.’
In affiliation with the Black Male Identity Project, the Fleckenstein Gallery (3316 Keswick Rd.) in Baltimore has a new exhibit, “Travelin’ Shoes” opening Wednesday with an artist reception from 5 to 9 p.m.
The exhibit features works by Kylis Winborne, Schroeder Cherry, and gay artist, Rams BrisueƱo, who portrays male and female figures in his work. Some are shown asexual and some with gender-bending qualities.
The gallery is open Tuesday through Friday from 11 a.m. to 7 p.m. and Saturdays from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. The exhibit will be on display through Nov. 5.
Photos
PHOTOS: Winchester Pride
Annual LGBTQ celebration held at the Museum of the Shenandoah Valley
The 2026 Winchester Pride Festival was held at the Museum of the Shenandoah Valley in Winchester, Va. on Saturday, Oct. 3.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)


















Theater
āMerrilyā is for Sondheim super fans, the uninitiated, and anyone in between
Experience it in an intimate setting with beautiful design, incredible cast
āMerrily We Roll Alongā
Through Nov. 1
Signature Theatre
4200 Campbell Ave., Arlington, Va.
Tickets start at $47
Sigtheatre.org
Unfaithful. Compromised. A sellout. Just a few descriptors that might fit Frank Shepard, the talented composer in the Stephen Sondheim musical āMerrily We Roll Along.ā
āPersonally, I think he gets a bad rap,ā says Jason Gotay, the gay actor whoās currently playing womanizing Frank at Signature Theatre in Arlington. āAt his core he wants to be loved. Heās concerned with making those around him happy and heās a people pleaser. Thatās my window into Frank.ā
Whatever your thoughts, by showās end, we know Frank started out as a nice guy. āMerrilyā famously moves in a reverse chronological order. We meet Frank and friends, lyricist Charley Kringas (Jake Loewenthal) and writer Mary Flynn (Melanie Field), disillusioned in a New York penthouse in 1976. Ensuing scenes filled with disappointments and broken relationships move toward more hopeful times, eventually leaving the trio on a rooftop in 1957, young and full of promise searching the night sky for a happy future.
āMoving backward makes it difficult to build on the prior scene,ā explains Gotay. 37. āYou live heightened moments followed by 30-second costume changes, and youāre meant to forget everything you just did. To be honest, itās a bit of a mind fuck.ā
A marvelous but humble tenor, he begrudgingly acknowledges his artistic versatility. At New York City Center he sang Che in āEvitaā (contemporary almost operatic), and he was solemn Henrik in Lincoln Centerās āA Little Night Music,ā (classical Sondheim). On Broadway, he played Homer, the loyal brother in āFloyd Collinsā (folksy bluegrass), and heās sung the sweeping songs of a few Disney princes.
āIām asked to do a lot of things because vocally I sing in many styles; itās something I can do and I love doing it.ā
Growing up in residential Dyker Heights, Brooklyn, Gotay was immersed in school plays and community theater. For high school, he attended the Professional Performing Arts School in midtown Manhattan with a focus on musical theater.
He continued on the same track for a year at Emerson College in Boston followed by Marymount Manhattan before graduating in 201l. A year later, he made his Broadway debut as Randall in Lin-Manuel Mirandaās hip-hop inspired āBring It On: The Musical.ā
Along the way, Gotay became a huge Sondheim fan. As a musical theater kid, he was introduced to the composerās enduring classics all written before Gotay was born: āInto the Woods,ā āSweeney Todd,ā and the actorās forever favorite āSunday in the Park with George.ā
To many theatergoersā surprise, āMerrilyā flopped badly when it premiered on Broadway in 1981. But over many years of tweaks, reimaginings and revivals, the show became a major Broadway hit in 2023, with Jonathan Groff winning a Tony Award for playing Frank.
While he was aware of āMerrily,ā Gotay didnāt make a deep dive into its wild provenance until he was asked to audition for the Broadway revival. (Briefly it looked like Groff, long attached to the show, might come up against some film conflicts.) It was during this short time that Gotay fell in love with Frank.
The experience left him further determined to sink his teeth into the complex character along with Sondheimās lush melodic score with songs like āNot a Day Goes By,ā āOld Friends,ā and āOur Time.ā So, when Gotay learned that Signature was slated to do āMerrilyā this season, he reached out to Matthew Gardiner, the companyās artistic director as well as the productionās director/choreographer, asking how the role of Frank might be his. Long story short, he sought it, got it, and is ecstatically happy that it has worked out.
Several years ago, when Audible (Audible.com) came calling with an invitation to record a cabaret entirely of his own creation, he was thrilled.
āItās probably the most personal thing Iāve ever done. My own story is a love letter to the women ā my mother, friends, mentors, Broadway icons ā who helped to shape my life; itās about self-acceptance and what it is to grow up queer.ā
He titled the solo show āWhere Youāll Find Me,ā a nod to his first love Dorothy Gale from āThe Wizard of Oz.ā
Often described as āa television heartthrobā (something the once chubby 12-year-old sometimes finds hard to process), Gotay is not unfamiliar with screens large and small. Heās remembered for various screen roles including his turn as Rafa Caparros, a prep school classics teacher who becomes entangled with a male student in HBO Maxās reboot of āGossip Girl.ā
Gotay recommends Signatureās āMerrilyā for Sondheim superfans, the uninitiated, and anyone in between. He says, āItās a great opportunity to learn about this once niche now increasingly mainstream musical. And if you have seen it before, this is a chance to experience it in an intimate setting with beautiful design and an incredible cast that truly brings the show to life.ā
Television
Engrossing āTip Toeā delivers tension and an ominous warning
A chilling reminder that violent homophobia is on the rise
Whenever a new project comes from queer Welsh screenwriter and producer Russell T Davies ā who created the original āQueer As Folkā in 1999 before spearheading the revival of the classic BBC sci-fi series āDr. Whoā as head writer and showrunner in the mid-2000s ā it generally leaps to the top of every queer āmust watchā list, and with good reason.
A genuinely versatile creative force who can move easily between genres without losing the core of humanity that keeps us engaged, heās particularly known for his unequivocal, unsentimental, and always fearlessly candid narratives about queer life, set within a social context thatās barely tolerant, at best. He has a knack for capturing both the transient beauty and persistent hardships that seem to define our beleaguered community. His most recent such endeavor, 2021ās āItās a Sin,ā took us back to the harrowing years of the AIDS epidemic, following a group of gay young Londoners as the disease ā and the societal homophobia that surrounded it ā wreaked its merciless havoc, even as they began to break free from their closets and embrace their queer identities; and while it may have broken our hearts, it was also somehow empowering, a tale that reminded us not just of what we lost, but of what we have survived.
His latest miniseries, however, takes place in the here and now, and it offers a markedly bleaker assessment of the state of things.
āTip Toe,ā which appeared on the UKās Channel 4 last summer, debuts on U.S. screens via the Starz streaming service on Oct. 2, and it lets us know from its first few minutes that things are not going to end well; thatās not a spoiler ā itās a warning, because if youāre looking for a happy ending, youāre not going to find it here.
A tale of resurgent and emboldened homophobia in a modern-day Britain where open hate for the queer community has surged at an alarming rate, itās the story of two men whose intertwining destinies feel almost like a tragic accident of fate. Leo (Alan Cumming) is a Gen-X AIDS survivor who has become a beloved figure in Manchesterās queer community, the owner of a popular gay bar that has always been a safe space for the queer, trans, and questioning souls who are struggling toward self-acceptance; his next-door neighbor, Clive (David Morrissey), is a working-class electrician with a floundering marriage and two sons who live secret lives he knows nothing about. Heās an old-school āmacho manā whose ingrained misogyny and homophobia have grown increasingly unfiltered with the rise of online āculture warā rhetoric; and while thereās a kind of forced āneighborlyā friendship between himself and Leo, thereās also a clear-cut line of judgement ā on both sides ā that gives their interactions a sense of barely concealed hostility.
When Leo is locked out of his apartment after a messy hook-up gone wrong, Clive comes to his rescue, but uses the opportunity to impose himself on Leoās privacy. He levies the situation into an opportunity for work ā an electrical revamp of Leoās bar, where he makes no secret of his disdain for the queer ālifestyleā ā and the tension between them continues to build despite Leoās best efforts at being polite. The escalation reaches a boiling point when the secrets and lies in his own household lead Clive to suspect Leo of being a sexual predator, turning their precarious relationship into a minefield of hostility and inevitably pushing both men into a confrontation that will end in a shocking act of violence.
It might go without saying that āTip Toeā is not the kind of show most of us would watch āfor fun.ā Russellās script starts the relationship between its two antagonists at the threshold between a simmer and a boil, and shows us the outcome before either of them has even said a word, so itās mostly impossible to avoid the sense of dread that hangs over everything that comes after. This is not a weakness; instead, aided by Peter Hoarās masterful direction, it gives the showās five episodes a slow build of tension that keeps us watching with morbid fascination, like the scene of a horrible road accident weāre forced to drive past in slow motion. Weāre allowed to feel some hope along the way ā after all, weāve only had a glimpse of what is to happen, and there are other characters with storylines in which we can become invested along the way ā but itās a kind of grim hope, and it perfectly captures the fearful cultural zeitgeist-of-the-moment that the series is ultimately about.
The characters, too, are richly drawn and layered enough to avoid a simplistic āgood guy/bad guyā dynamic. Clive is a brute ā arrogant, uncivil, and forcefully antagonistic with a hair trigger that responds to anything or anyone that doesnāt meet his approval ā but thereās enough broken humanity underneath all that to allow us to see a glimmer of potential for redemption. Likewise, Leo is mostly good-natured and likable, but he has an arrogance of his own, as well as some bitter resentments (most of them related to his ex-husband Curtis played by Charlie Condou), who left him for a woman), which ā more than occasionally ā surface to provide him with some ugly moments.
There are others, too; Melba (Paul Rhys), Leoās gender-bending longtime bestie, who sees the growing danger in the world around them and voices it with the resigned stoicism of a reluctant Cassandra; Steph (Elizabeth Barrington), Leoās straight friend who is not afraid to let him know when heās too full of himself; Saul (Joseph Evans), Cliveās 20-something son who has evolved a more tolerant and easy-going outlook than his father, and teenaged George (Jackson Connor), Cliveās other son, whose struggles with his own identity take him on a roller-coaster ride of conflicted emotions; Marie (Pookie Quesnel), the wife who despises Clive but is unable to escape her unhappy existence with him; and Zee (Iz Hekseth), Leoās employee who is trying to choose a name for herself after coming out as trans ā along with a variety of other young, queer supporting players who have found refuge at the bar. All of them are written with depth and nuance, even those who remain more or less in the background, and brought to life through excellent, measured performances.
It is, however, Cumming and Morrissey who give the show its irresistible pull, their complex, bristling characters endowed with a palpable authenticity that makes us forget they are merely actors playing roles. They fully inhabit these two thorny men, creating a dynamic between them that feels like a force of nature, and itās they who provide the terrible power that keeps us from looking away, no matter how much we might occasionally want to.
Thatās a good thing, because āTip Toeā is less a television event than it is a grim reminder that being āoutā may no longer be as safe as we were finally beginning to think it was ā and just because the alarm bell is coming from the UK, that doesnāt mean we shouldnāt heed its warning on our side of the Atlantic, too.
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