PART I
It takes a pretty special guy to get me into a Speedo, much more-so to get me out of it. But when Paul Richmond proposed the idea, I jumped at the chance to do it. After painting the skin-baring wardrobe malfunctions of such gay luminaries as Mike Ruiz, Perez Hilton, Alec Mapa, and Ari Gold, Richmond had come to my attention with his “Cheesecake Boys” series – a group of gleefully gratuitous guys inadvertently baring their bodies.
According to Richmond, “The idea came from classic pin-up girl art, with one obvious update – boys! I never understood why Cheesecake Girls from the 40’s and 50’s had such a hard time keeping their clothes on while their male pin-up counterparts only seemed to disrobe by choice. Guys shouldn’t be immune to all of those hazards! I believe that stray nails, curious pups, and gravity can just as easily conspire to rob a hunky fellow of his pants, and thus the Cheesecake Boys were born. I love the expression of mock embarrassment that was the hallmark of classic pin-up girl art, and it always cracks me up to depict men making those some faces as they accidentally expose their unmentionables. I’ve even had some celebrities get in on the fun.”
“Mike Ruiz, Perez Hilton, Jack Mackenroth, Jesse Archer, Darryl Stephens, and other gaylebs have all been Cheesecake Boy models. They collaborated with me to brainstorm their wardrobe malfunction scenarios, posed for hilariously compromising reference photos, and offered input throughout the process. For example, Jesse Archer asked “Do I really have to be wearing underwear?” and Ari Gold recommended I add a little more bling to his belt. And of course the best is yet to come, because my next Cheesecake Boy subject is none other than Alan Ilagan himself! Get ready guys, because this one’s going to be extra “cheeky!””
More on that collaboration when Richmond completes the piece. (For now I will just say it was an honor, nay, a thrill, to drop trou for such a talented artist.) While some artists struggle and strive with elaborate ways to tastefully present male nudity, Richmond tries a different tactic, using everyday settings and humor for much of his work.
“The ideas for my paintings come from many different places – my own personal experiences, song lyrics, conversations, movies. One of my Cheesecake Boy paintings was actually inspired by a trip to the grocery store where I witnessed an unlucky fellow stumbling to his car with both arms full of grocery bags and his pants plummeting dangerously low to the ground. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to know that moment was immortalized on canvas! I also get inspired by looking at the work of other artists, either by scouring the internet or looking through art/illustration/design annuals at the bookstore. I like the boldness of advertising, the narrative qualities in children’s book illustration, and the incredible diversity of contemporary fine artists. I’m sure all of these influences affect the decisions I make in my own work, and hopefully help me tell my story with a fresh, relatable voice.”
Like many artists whose best-known work is lively, humorous, and exuberant, Richmond has a serious, darker alter-ego that produces more somber pieces – partly a result of his Catholic childhood. Catholicism has reared its guilt-ridden head in a number of histories, and it certainly played a role in Richmond’s upbringing. As a former altar boy, I know exactly what Richmond is talking about when he recalls his childhood in a strict Catholic home. It’s the sort of shame that one never really grows out of – it’s always there, like some impossible-to-eradicate stain. It fades, and is sometimes forgotten, but it never goes completely away.
“I grew up in a small community called Grove City, just south of Columbus, Ohio,” Richmond begins. “It’s a pretty conservative area, and I was raised Catholic and attended Catholic schools. My dad took an early retirement from his job as a railroad engineer when I was very young so he could stay home and take care of my sister, Laura, and me while Mom worked as the president of a mortgage company. Just as my parents swapped the traditional gender roles of the time, Laura was all too happy to let me play with her Barbies and “girly” toys in exchange for my superhero action figures and racecars. My parents loved us very much, but I know they struggled with their desire for us to be a “normal” family. Me prancing around the house in a homemade Snow White costume singing “Someday My Prince Will Come” probably didn’t help matters. But my parents were always very supportive of my artwork, and I am grateful I had a creative outlet during the difficult years ahead. In middle school and high school, my effeminate nature blossomed, and even though I was too repressed to consider the term “gay” in relation to myself, my classmates picked up on it quickly and made my life pretty miserable. At home, gay people were often referred to by my Rush Limbaugh-idolizing father as scapegoats for all of the world’s problems, a concept that was echoed in my religion classes at school. Thus, I wouldn’t allow myself to even consider the possibility of being a homosexual, despite the secret attraction I felt for other guys — and my rapidly multiplying collection of cassette tapes by my favorite divas. That doesn’t mean I didn’t know. I couldn’t admit it on a conscious level, but deep down, I was aware that there was something about me that would deeply disappoint my parents, whom I wanted nothing more than to please. So I channeled my energy into excelling in other ways – I did really well in school, was active in my community and at church, and of course I took great pride in being seen as a talented artist. Despite the challenge of growing up gay in a conservative environment, I believe that the nurturing relationship I had with my parents helped shape the person I am today. I’ve always felt loved, and therefore, it was worth the extra effort to help educate my parents about homosexuality, dispelling the myths that had filled them with fear. Prejudice is a lot easier when you’re talking about an abstract concept or “those people,” as opposed to someone in your own family. Over time and with a lot of work by everyone involved, my parents grew to completely accept their gay son – mostly by realizing that I’m still just their son after all.”
Watching one’s son prance around in princess garb singing ‘Someday My Prince Will Come’ is not what most parents envision as ideal – it is a testament to Richmond’s own that they supported and loved him, and grew with him over the years. Still, those early days cannot have been easy for the boy, who sought out his own evolution through his art.
“Usually an idea for a painting, especially some of my more serious, introspective work, stems from something I go through myself or witness that moves me in a strong way. Art is how I attempt to make sense of my experiences and emotions. When I graduated from college and finally came out of the closet, I began a series of paintings about that process. At the time, I still wasn’t out to my family and I had no intentions of ever showing those paintings to anyone. But my friend Melissa Forman saw them and encouraged me to submit them to some local juried shows and I began to realize that even though the subject matter came from a really personal place, other people could relate to what I had painted. They saw their own lives on the canvasses, and that motivated me to continue bringing personal narrative into my work and sharing it with others.”
[To Be Continued…]
