“This place was the ‘ART’ that gave form to the feelings of our heartbeats,” Thomas Lanigan-Schmidt wrote, in 1989, in his handwritten broadsheet Mother Stonewall and the Golden Rats, remembering the bar on that historic June night, two decades earlier, when its queer, trans, multiracial, gender-nonconforming, sex-worker, homeless patrons, their dancing interrupted by a raid, fought the police and destroyed everything in sight. When LGBT out-of-towners stop on their walking tours to gaze at its brick façade, when the small park and streets around it fill-as they did with revelers celebrating the Supreme Court same-sex marriage ruling in 2015, and the next year with mourners for the fifty-nine victims of the Orlando Pulse shooting-the mythic emerges from the mundane. There is a holographic quality to the unassuming Stonewall, though a double image from the past is always there if you look.
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With its three-and-a-half-star Yelp rating and window-box cages decorated with little rainbow flags, snuggled next to QQ Nails & Spa on Christopher Street, it’s an unlikely national monument-a designation bestowed by President Obama in a strangely distant time, not three years ago. If you walk by the Stonewall Inn regularly, it can become just another gay bar, notable mostly for its scrappy endurance in the gentrified-beyond-belief West Village. Image courtesy Leslie-Lohman Museum.Īrt after Stonewall, 1969–1989, Grey Art Gallery, New York University, 100 Washington Square East, New York City, through Jand the Leslie-Lohman Museum of Gay and Lesbian Art, 26 Wooster Street, New York City, through July 21, 2019 Art after Stonewall, 1969–1989, installation view at Leslie-Lohman Museum of Gay and Lesbian Art.