Arts & Entertainment
How queer Baltimore artists are building strong community spaces
Fruit Camp is home to tattoo artists, musicians, herbalist, and more
Fruit Camp, a tattoo and art studio in the Remington neighborhood of Baltimore, opened with a bang in February of 2020. “We had a big opening party. It was really fun. Everybody came,” says Geo Mccandlish, one of the co-founders. “It was the last rager I went to,” they said.
The pandemic shut down their shop—alongside the world—for months, but the shop survived. “We just put our stimulus checks into keeping the rent paid,” says Emi Lynn Holler, the other co-founder.
They had built the space without loans, on a low-budget, do-it-yourself ethos with hands-on help from their community. “The deeply punk shoestring budget background worked really to our advantage,” says Mccandlish.
While it wasn’t ideal, it was fitting. Mccandlish and Holler’s artistic partnership has almost always lived at the crossroads of community, DIY, and extraordinary circumstances. A decade ago they met as residents of the Bell Foundry, an arts co-op and co-living space, where sharing knowledge, making community, and living cheaply were key to getting by.
It was there that Holler gifted Mccandlish their first tattooing machine and taught them how to use it. And it was where the two of them—who also do printmaking, fiber arts, and other creative activities—started imagining co-founding a space of their own. That dream felt more urgent in 2016 when Baltimore condemned the Bell Foundry and evicted the residents, including Mccandlish, during a nationwide crackdown on artist co-ops after the Ghost Ship fire in Oakland.
Holler had by then moved to Massachusetts to pursue formal tattoo education and certifications.
“Living inside that level of precarity,” Mccandlish explains, “made us want to figure out a hybrid,” between the unique, collaborative Bell Foundry and a licensed, commercial space. “We wanted to find a way to create more safety,” says Holler.
But they didn’t just want to create safety for the two of them. When looking at spaces, they opted to lease a bigger studio—a two-story, double-row house with room for tattooing on the first floor and small studios on the second. Mccandlish said the prospect of a larger project felt “tantalizing and precious” because they felt “if you have access to something, you try to make sure that every resource that is a part of it is also shared.”
Today, in addition to tattoos, Fruit Camp holds studios for musicians, fiber artists, an herbalist, a massage therapist, and a doula. “We’re able to incubate and hold nontraditional pathways to different kinds of creative practices,” says Mccandlish.
You can consider Fruit Camp a queer business by several definitions. For one, every member of the studio identifies as queer, in some way. It also looks queer. “It’s campy and it’s pink, and we have a lot of gay art hanging around,” explains Mccandlish.
Holler says sometimes they get asked about losing potential patrons by being openly queer, but that isn’t a worry. “I think it only strengthens us,” they say. “It brings people to us who also want to find each other in that world.” They pause, “I feel like it boils down to we keep us safe and we take care of ourselves.”
Mccandlish emphasizes that “queer is the political meaning” and the “orientation to” which they do their work as a community space and business. Their shop practices are explicitly queer and trans-friendly—in addition to being “anti-racist, anti-sexist, liberation-oriented, and accessible.” For example, the shop requires masking and has consent-forward and trauma-informed practices in place. They also use cost-sharing instead of a traditional profit model with those who work in their space. “The point is not to make as much money as everybody can, the point is to work enough with a low enough cost overhead that everyone can survive without overworking.”
That is a continued goal, not a static place, they explain. “Some of our goals, we haven’t reached yet, like turning into a true worker co-op.”
But they are already making big strides in the community. For example, some patrons tell them that they are the only tattoo studio they feel safe using, due to the universal masking policies. To their knowledge, they are the only shop in Baltimore that has the policy.
Fruit Camp also has a big community name. One day Mccandlish logged onto a community Facebook group and saw an anonymous post asking about queer-friendly tattooers or tattooers who would tattoo someone who has HIV. The post said, “I’ve been turned away from five different shops.”
Immediately Mccandlish went to the comments to write that Fruit Camp would be happy to tattoo them, but instead, they found the comment section full of that recommendation already. It warmed their heart. “That feels like a very minor way that [our work] is so important.”
(This story is part of the Digital Equity Local Voices Fellowship lab through News is Out. The lab initiative is made possible with support from Comcast NBCUniversal.)
Glitterati Productions held the “Studio 69” party at Bunker on Friday, May 8.
(Washington Blade photos by Michael Key)

















Arts & Entertainment
Washington Blade’s Pride on the Pier returns June 13 to kick off D.C. Pride week
Pride on the Pier officially launches Pride Week in D.C.
The Washington Blade’s annual Pride on the Pier celebration returns to The Wharf on Saturday, June 13, 2026 from 4-9 p.m., bringing thousands of LGBTQ community members and allies together for an unforgettable waterfront celebration to kick off Pride week in Washington, D.C.
Now in its eighth year, Washington Blade Pride on the Pier extends the city’s annual celebration of LGBTQ visibility to the bustling Wharf waterfront with an exciting array of activities and entertainment for all ages. The District Pier will offer DJs, dancing, drag, and other entertainment. Alcoholic beverages will be available for purchase for those 21 and older.
“Pride on the Pier has become one of the signature moments of Pride in D.C.,” said Lynne Brown, publisher of the Washington Blade. “There’s nothing like watching our community come together on the waterfront with live music and incredible energy as we kick off Pride week.”
Pride on the Pier is free and open to the public, with VIP tickets available for exclusive pier access to the Dockmaster Building. To purchase VIP tickets visit www.prideonthepierdc.com/vip.
Additional entertainment announcements, sponsor activations, and event details will be released in the coming weeks.
Event Details:
📍 Location: District Pier at The Wharf (101 District Sq SW, Washington, DC)
📅 Dates: Friday, 13, 2026
⏱️ 4-9PM
🎟️ VIP Tickets: www.PrideOnThePierDC.com/VIP

Theater
National tour of ‘Gatsby’ comes to National Theatre
Out actor Edward Staudenmayer talks playing the show’s gangster
‘The Great Gatsby’
May 12-24
The National Theatre
1321 Pennsylvania Ave., N.W.
$59-$196
Thenationaldc.com
Often dubbed “The Great American Novel” for its depiction of ambition and self-invention alongside the reversals of success, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Great Gatsby” says it all in a fast read.
Set against the excesses and energy of the Roaring Twenties, “The Great Gatsby,” novel and now the same-titled hit Broadway musical with a jazz/pop original score by Jason Howland and Nathan Tysen, tells the story of Nick Carraway and his friendship with Jay Gatsby, an enigmatic millionaire intent on reuniting with ex-lover, Daisy Buchanan.
It was during a four-month 2025 run in Seoul, South Korea, that out actor Edward Staudenmayer first played the show’s heavy, Meyer Wolfsheim, a gangster who helped Gatsby make his murkily acquired fortune. As Meyer, Staudenmayer opens the second act with, appropriately enough, “Shady.”
Now three months into a year-long North American tour, the show is poised to enjoy a brief run at Washington’s National Theatre (5/12-5/24).
While putting on his eyeliner prior to a recent Wednesday matinee at Chicago’s Cadillac Palace Theatre, the upstate New York-based actor shared about Gatsby and a life in theater.
WASHINGTON BLADE: Despite your good looks and terrific voice, you’re rarely the leading the man. How is that?
EDWARD STAUDENMAYER: I’m definitely a character man. I’ve been painting lines on my face to play old men since I was in high school. I was the youngest freshman in college playing old Uncle Sorin [in Chekhov’s “The Seagull”].
There have been many villains. Some darker than others. Meyer Wolfsheim is a very bad guy, but he doesn’t haunt me once I’m offstage. I play a lot of pickleball.
BLADE: Is it true that like so many of Fitzgerald’s characters, Wolfsheim is famously based on someone the writer encountered in life.
STAUDENMEYER: That’s true, Wolfsheim is pretty much a direct portrayal of real-life mobster and 1919 World Series fixer [Arnold Rothstein].
BLADE: When did the 1925 novel first surface on your radar?
STAUDENMAYER: Like many of us, I was assigned “The Great Gatsby” in high school. It was short, and filled with sex and illicit activities. I thought it was great. Definitely wasn’t a Judy Blume novel.
Interestingly, the book wasn’t originally a huge a success for Fitzgerald, but because it was about war and having the girl at home, they gave it to GIs leaving for WWII. After returning, a lot of those guys went on the GI Bill and became English teachers. They assigned the book to their students.
BLADE The idea that the book’s first-person narrator, Nick Carraway, is gay and enamored with Jay Gatsby is long discussed among readers and scholars. Does the musical touch on that?
STAUDENMAYER: Yes, there’s conjecture about Jay and Nick, and it’s implied in our show. It’s also implied about Jordan Baker, Jay’s fleeting romantic interest. Ultimately, she’s a confirmed bachelor, and a professional golfer who only wears pants.
Our performers are really good. Josh Grasso who plays Nick is fantastic. I’ve had to stop watching him in his last scene; it’s not good for Meyer Wolfsheim to take his curtain call crying. Our Gatsby, Jake David Smith, is good too. He’s gorgeous like Superman and sings like an angel.
BLADE: Do you ever imagine backstory for your characters whose sexuality is undefined?
STAUDENMAYER: I do, but not with Wolfsheim. I don’t see it. I’m trying to be as butch as possible with this ruthless killer.
BLADE: Have you had to do that in your career?
STAUDENMAYER: For a long time, I wore a mask to hide my gayness. I worked hard on being believable, that I was into the girl or that I was a tough guy.
It’s a different world now, and it’s so refreshing to be around the younger actors today; they’re remarkably open and comfortable.
BLADE: What was your coming of age like?
STAUDENMAYER: I played high school football in Palm Springs [he chuckles, alluding to the arid gay mecca], and I was pretty good too. But much to the chagrin of my parents and coaches, I quit the team to act in our senior year play. My super butch dad played semi-pro football and he was an ex-cop. I’m named after him. While I didn’t become my dad, I’ve played him often on stage. He was a true Gaston [the bumptious rival in “Beauty and the Beast”]. And like Gaston, he used antlers in all his interior decorating.
BLADE: Did he live to see your success in theater?
STAUDENMAYER: He did. Life was challenging growing up but the last 10 years of his life we couldn’t get off the phone with each other [his voice catches with emotion]. He accepted me entirely, and we became very close.
BLADE: Looking ahead, is there a part you’d especially like to play?
STAUDENMAYER: Like all baritones I’d love to play Sondheim’s “Sweeney Todd.” I’ve come close but it hasn’t happened yet. There’s still time.
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