The Ordinary — a Pride Month group exhibition at Collective Z Gallery featuring works by participating artists.
“Being queer is ordinary. So is making good work.”
— Collective Z, The Ordinary exhibition statement
When Collective Z announced The Ordinary, I immediately understood why the title mattered.
For many of us, simply living our lives has too often been treated as something unusual, controversial, or in need of explanation. Yet most of life is made up of ordinary things: friendships, work, love, loss, community, and the hope of being seen for who we are.
My piece Marsha P. is included in this exhibition. It began as a reflection on Marsha P. Johnson, but it also became a reminder of the people who came before us and the lives that made our own possible.
Sometimes the most important stories are not extraordinary at all. They are simply human.
I’m happy to share that my piece “Marsha P. (Johnson)” has been accepted into The Ordinary, a Pride Month group exhibition at Collective Z in New York City.
The exhibition opens June 4, 2026 and runs through June 30. Michael and I will leave this Thursday to attend the opening on June 4 and return to the Twin Cities on June 7.
What’s interesting to me is that this isn’t really the beginning of something entirely new. While walking today I found myself remembering another LGBTQ exhibition in New York years ago that accepted one of my postcard works — a shadow image of Frank Stark and me against a wall.
Funny how these threads continue across time, even when we forget them for a while.
And if you’ve followed this blog for a while, you’ve probably seen Marsha appear here before.
“Marsha P. (Johnson)” is a mixed media work on paper inspired by Marsha’s presence, courage, and visibility. Having the work included in a Pride exhibition in New York feels especially meaningful given her history and connection to the city.
While working on the piece, there were moments where it felt as though Marsha herself appeared to greet me through the process — much the way insights or leadings sometimes emerge through meditation.
Image description:
Mixed media artwork on paper honoring Marsha P. Johnson. The piece combines layered textures, expressive marks, and symbolic imagery to evoke presence, resilience, vulnerability, and visibility within LGBTQ history and community.
Today “The Fool on the Hill” popped into my head. When I was a kid, I identified with that song, and honestly, I still do.
What hit me today is that the song really isn’t from the fool’s perspective. It’s from the people watching him. Everybody deciding who he is from the outside.
And maybe that’s why it stayed with me.
Sometimes it’s not just feeling like the fool. It’s feeling seen as the fool.
A little outside things. Watching. Thinking. Maybe noticing things differently than other people do.
The song always felt lonely to me, but not completely sad. More like somebody trying to make peace with being different from the flow around them.
Then starting to move about the page. Finding another opening. Seeing a shift, a row, an arrow, a direction. Then each line takes shape and organizes itself, much like this drawing was created.
That’s how my brain functions.
That’s how I find meaning.
I’ve always seen relationships first — patterns, structures, connections between things.
This drawing feels connected to that.
It’s built on patterns, and the patterns shift from one system to another — repeating, evolving, reorganizing themselves across the page. In some ways, it reminds me of my Words I Cannot Read series on ArtChangesLives(Dot)Com — fragmented letterforms and systems that almost make sense, carrying meaning even before I fully understand them.
Eventually, the structure loosens, and at the top a small figure appears, waving, greeting, almost as if it has emerged from the system itself.
For me, these drawings are not illustrations after thought.
