Arts & Entertainment
Setting the stage
Gay theater designer says less is more in his field

Local theater set designer Tony Cisek whose long career in Washington has garnered him four Helen Hayes Awards. (Blade photo by Michael Key)
A playwright sets the scene with words, but it’s up to the scenic designer to bring it to life visually.
As one of D.C.’s top set designers, Tony Cisek is a master at transporting audiences to places both foreign and familiar. In this year’s season alone, he’s taken us to an exotic Cypriot encampment, a steamy Florida cigar factory, an airport terminal and with his most recent work — “The Taming of the Shrew” currently running at the Folger Theatre — the Wild West.
Cisek (pronounced Chis-eck) explains that while sets can range anywhere from totally abstract to highly realistic, his typically lie someplace in between. For Ford’s Theatre fall production of “Parade” (the musical account of the 1913 murder of teenage factory work Mary Phagan in Atlanta in 1913 and the subsequent lynching of her accused murderer Leo Frank two years later), Cisek’s design was serviceable yet haunting: he imagined a newly industrialized red brick Atlanta with two towering columns, each in unchecked stages of decay, standing as fading remnants of a more glorious South.
“The ‘Parade’ set was the result of over 20 sketches,” he says. “My favorite way to design is to distill and distill, to edit down until you have just what you need. I’m not good at decorating or excessive dressing.”
“I’m not interested in a purely naturalistic representation of something that leaves nothing to the imagination,” says Cisek, who’s gay. “I feel the audiences come to theater because they’re interested in doing a little work, in having to lean forward and fill in, and they have the capacity to do this. I like using elements that evoke certain feelings, times and places by using textures and forms.”
Growing up in Queens, New York, Cisek was introduced to set design while working stage crew on high school plays, but it was as a pre-med major at Georgetown University that he began to get serious about it. “A friend dragged me to a Masque and Bauble production [Georgetown University’s student-run theater group],” he says. “And I was blown away that people my age could do something with such artistry. I got involved and learned a lot. If you had the aptitude and the inclination you could do almost anything.”
Soon, Sunday evening phone calls home focused on shows and sets rather than organic chemistry. By Cisek’s senior year it was obvious to both him and his parents that a future in medicine was out and a career as a professional set designer was taking shape. He went on to study scenic design at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts. After receiving his master’s in 1994, he planned to stay on in Manhattan, but things worked out differently. Offers from the Washington theater scene came fast and frequently (and have continued uninterrupted), so he and his longtime partner, a scientist, make D.C. their home.
For the four-time Helen Hayes Award winner, inspiration comes in many ways.
“I like to say I never know when the muse will descend,” says Cisek, 47. “Sometimes it’s in the not-fully awake early hours when your brain is figuring things out without you or when you’re fiddling with the white model [a preliminary small scale model] or Skyping across country with a director. Often the indispensable lighting and costume designers will have a great suggestion.”
But Cisek’s favorite path to inspiration is brainstorming with the director in the theater. In the case of Folger Theatre’s “Othello” that ran earlier this season, he and director Robert Richmond did just that, spending several hours chasing down ideas and scribbling on napkins. In time, sketches and models were rendered and the technical director oversaw the execution of the design. Ultimately, the result was a dazzling set that morphed from a towering canopy bed elaborately crowned in carved wood to magistrate’s office to billowing ship sails to a fabulously appointed Bedouin-style tent.
Like many designers, Cisek enjoys working with simpatico directors. This season he collaborated with gay director José Carrasquillo three times: WSC Avant Bard’s “Happy Days” (memorably encasing actor Delia Taylor in a gigantic dress); GALA Theatre’s “Ana en el Tropico”; and Arthur Miller’s “After the Fall” at Theatre J, all well-received productions.
José Carrasquillo says, “Tony is fearless in expressing his feelings and opinions, but most importantly he enjoys making theater. It’s a gift to have a designer that despite the hard work that goes into doing a show, would not be anyplace else in the world, but right next to the director and the other team members inside a theater making a story three dimensional.”
Just as humans have always had meals, queer humans, too, have enjoyed meals. Yet what is it that makes “queer food” distinct?
At the beginning of May in Montreal, the Queer Food Conference 2026 sought not to answer that question, but to further interrogate it. The conference united scholars, activists, artists, journalists, farmers, chefs, and other food industry professionals for three days of panels, workshops, discussions, and, yes, meals, in an inclusive, thoughtful, contemplative-yet-whimsical environment, taking a comprehensive view of the landscape of queer food.
The two organizers – Professor Alex Ketchum, at the Institute for Gender, Sexuality, and Feminist Studies of McGill University in Montreal, and Professor Megan Elias, Director of Food Studies & Gastronomy at Boston University – met in 2022 when Elias acted as a peer reviewer for Ketchum’s second book, “Ingredients for a Revolution,” a wide-ranging history of more than 230 feminist and lesbian-feminist restaurants, cafes, and coffeehouses from 1972 to the present in the US.
Elias, taken by the book and its exploration, invited Ketchum to speak at one of Elias’s courses, at which pastries were served and feminist bread making was baked into conversation. Elias floated the idea of co-organizing a queer food conference – and a hot 24 hours later, Ketchum said yes, with plans sketched out, from grants to topics to speakers. In parallel, the duo started to conceptualize “Queers at the Table,” a book based on their work (published last year).
The conference, the book, the research: their work is, in part, grounded in the question: What is queer food? True to queer theory, each has her own nuanced response as drivers of their research, challenging the traditional and looking beyond norms of food studies. Ketchum’s view is that it is grounded on food by and for the queer community, in specific histories, and especially in the labor behind the food. Elias posits that queer food is at the intersection of queerness and culinary studies, beyond gender norms and binaries, back to the societal basics of queer food as part of queer humans always having meals. “Queer food destabilizes assumptions about food, gender and sexuality, making space for a wider range of relationships to food,” she says.
The academics’ professed enthusiasm, however, rarely reached beyond small circles.
“I regularly attended big food studies conferences, but almost never saw presentations about gender identity beyond women’s roles,” says Elias about her prior work, and when her students would ask for additional literature about sexuality and food, results had been sparse. Ketchum echoed this gap: When she was in graduate studies, she received hesitation from leadership about her chosen field of study. By 2024, however, queer food as an area of study and practice had grown, whether in popular culture or well as in publishing, setting the stage for the first Queer Food Conference in 2024 in Boston. Their aim at that even was to launch the subfield of queer food studies into the mainstream, so that fellow academics, students, and those interested in the space could convene, “creating space for others to build,” says Ketchum. “People were enthusiastic.”
Once Ketchum and Elias published “Queers at the Table” in 2025 (notably, gay author John Birdsall also published a book examining queer identity through food last year, “What Is Queer Food?”), they laid the foundation for the 2026 conference in Montreal. This edition was an “embodied” conference, inclusive of various ontologies in queer food studies: theory, labor, art, taste, an interdisciplinary, expansive grounding.
Topics ranged from cookbooks and influencers to farming and land movements, bars and cafes, brewing and baking, history and sociology, writing and printmaking, healthcare and community, and centering marginalized – especially trans – voices.
Naturally, food was centered. The conference’s keynotes were not academics, but the chefs themselves who created the food with their own hands that attendees ate over the three days. “Not to disregard a pure academic space,” says Ketchum, “but to not have food in a room when we talk about food would be wild.”
Jackson Tucker, a Distinguished Graduate Fellow at the University of Delaware, said that “What I found [at the conference] was a genuinely diverse gathering: scholars who did grounded social research but also practitioners, organizers, and people who had never thought about an academic conference in their lives and didn’t need to. That mix is the soul of this whole project for me. Without the people who are out in the world doing queer food, the conference wouldn’t exist.”
Ketchum – her home being Montreal – also worked to fold in community-driven events so that attendees could get a taste of queer food in the city outside of classroom walls; for example, attendees participated in a collaborative evening pizza-making class at a queer-owned pizzeria.
The interdisciplinary nature of the conference led to sharing of research, thoughts, activities, and planning. There was a “value of bringing people together of different backgrounds, which leads to richer discussion,” she says.
Elias picked up on this theme: “I saw people bonding and connecting and believing in Queer Food Studies,” – one of the central goals that Ketchum noted, further legitimizing a nascent field. As both professors continue their research and leadership, they envision a continued layering of centering the queer experience and community through the shared value and study of food.
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Gay Men’s Chorus celebrates 45 years at annual gala
‘Sapphire & Sparkle’ Spring Affair held at the Ritz Carlton
The Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington held the annual Spring Affair gala at the Ritz Carlton Washington, D.C. on Saturday. The theme for this year’s fete was “Sapphire & Sparkle.” The chorus celebrated 45 years in D.C. with musical performances, food, entertainment, and an awards ceremony.
Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington Executive Director Justin Fyala and Artistic Director Thea Kano gave welcoming speeches. Opening remarks were delivered by Spring Affair co-chairs Tracy Barlow and Tomeika Bowden. Uproariously funny comedian Murray Hill performed a stand-up set and served as the emcee.
There were performances by Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington groups Potomac Fever, 17th Street Dance, the Rock Creek Singers, Seasons of Love, and the GenOUT Youth Chorus.

Anjali Murthy, a member of the chorus and a graduate of the GenOUT Youth Chorus, addressed the attendees of the gala.
“The LGBTQ+ community isn’t bound by blood ties: we are brought together by shared experience,” Murthy said. “Being Gen Z, I grew up with Ellen [DeGeneres] telling me through the TV screen that it gets better: that one day, it’ll all be okay. The sentiment isn’t wrong, but it’s passive. What I’ve learned from GMCW is that our future is something we practice together. It exists because people like you continue to show up for it, to believe in the possibilities of what we’re still becoming”
The event concluded with the presentation of the annual Harmony Awards. This year’s awardees included local drag artist and activist Tara Hoot, the human rights organization Rainbow Railroad as well as Rocky Mountain Arts Association Executive Director, Dr. Chipper Dean.
(Washington Blade photos and videos by Michael Key)































Equality Prince William Pride was held at the Harris Pavilion in Manassas, Va. on Saturday, May 16.
(Washington Blade photos by Landon Shackelford)















