| Somewhere in the world, at any given moment, G.I. Joe is a dyke, Barbie is a tranny and versatile Ken is either a leather man or a member of Queer Eye.
Generations of pink versus blue and dolls versus trucks have passed, and any blurring of kids’ gender boundaries remains relatively marginal. Mrs. Potato Head, created a half-century ago, was instantaneously subjected to marriage – judging from today’s Disney princesses and soon-invading fleet from the film Cars, it’s hard to believe there was a feminist movement in between.
Growing up straight, gay, lesbian, bi or trans, a toy’s gender isn’t as crucial for development as freedom from its societal role. Perhaps that’s why, years later, adults are either reclaiming toys they couldn’t play with as kids, or re-inventing the Hot Wheel.
"I surround myself with toys but I’ve never really analyzed why I do it," observes London, Ontario toy lover Douglas Cottrell. "Jedi Doug," as the Stars Wars’ fan is otherwise known, sands down doll parts as a creative outlet. Constructed from recycled and re-assembled parts, his retooled statues have often re-emerged as Buffy and Angel characters, but things bent a little in 1997 with his creation of Ambiguously Gay Duo’s Ace and Gary.
"I mocked up their packaging," says Cottrell, "which I’ve done with other pieces I’ve made. Essentially, they’re spoofs, but if there were a political or cultural commentary to be made, it’s that no gay role models or icons exist to capture our imaginations."
Cottrell’s a little weary of media and rightfully so. Recently online to discuss his latest sculptures, a U.K.-based media outfit wrote some coverage that led to a frenzied and misunderstood online debate over the nature of his hobby. What had strangers sending Cottrell hate mail and posting daily damnations on a blog? Tinky Winky and SpongeBob, step back – it was a pair of Brokeback Mountain action figures.
OK, even gay men might roll their eyes at the thought, but for Cottrell and others, there are plenty of reasons to redefine the "action" in Jack and Ennis "figures."
"The love story is where I found a connection," says Cottrell. "It’s essentially about homophobia and working class people, and the choices these two characters make amidst that backdrop. I simply got inspired by the movie to have a keepsake."
Cottrell’s recycling process goes beyond gender confusion – both Jack and Ennis have the legs of Pedro from Napoleon Dynamite, torsos from Wesley and Angel in Angel, and the heads of athletes Luc Robataille and Pat Burrell.
"I look at them as artwork," prides Cottrell, "they’re sculptural. And as I create these figures, it’s more about the emotional resonance I have with them."
In Montreal, artist Michael Labelle is taking on toys and then some. A television art director by day, Labelle spends his hero hours constructing Lego into futuristic urbanization projects reminiscent of an eco-friendly Metropolis. For Labelle, Lego is a childhood toy that stuck, and perfect raw material for his utopian ideals.
"I think a lot of gay men let themselves remain a child," Labelle observes, "and I accept that. I look at the Lego I did in the 1970s, and I see this innocence. But I also see the fascination with what it all could look like."
Labelle, whose sketches, drawings and Lego constructions range from entire urban design projects to comic musclemen and big schlongs, has an entire living room full of miniature cities. Somehow, he’s melded professional interests in architecture and urban renewal with a childlike, comic book universe. His website, Belle Iconix, is a decent entry point into Labelle’s cerebral blueprints. The section "Building Utopolis" features cityscapes infused by everything from Art Deco fashion to European engineering, including a floating city with suspended bridges and streets, clear running water and re-usable energy sources. For Labelle, re-inventing playtime is about shifting toy-like esthetic into an adult sensuality.
"I started this in the late ’80s, laying out a whole map of the city at night from a bird’s-eye view," says Labelle. "For me, watching the city below is exciting for the mind, and I love the idea of giant men and these tiny little cities."
That may explain the proportions in Labelle’s more homoerotic artwork. His site’s "Muscle Art" morphs bodybuilding with Labelle’s own Tom of Finland-style, bulging bodies and monster cocks. Its most entertaining material is its "Underwear of Tomorrow," a fashion manifesto for futuristic skivvies like the "Hydraulic Jock" (where air is compressed or decompressed by activation buttons), or the "Chevy Dallas Motorcup I-35," built to plug directly into the engine of a yet-to-be-built automobile that runs on the driver’s sexual energy. Now that’s sex drive.
It all sounds juvenile as hell, of course, but Cottrell and Labelle have decent adult intentions behind them. Their sculptures are original enough to satisfy the most finicky of design reno connoisseurs, and sexy enough to make you rethink your options with your Ken doll. With the right offer, they might eventually sell their originals, providing they can bypass groaners screaming, "What about the children?"
"People get upset by misunderstanding the nature of it," says Cottrell. "If you walk into any comic store, you’ll find many action figures that are not meant to be kid-friendly. I do this for myself, so that I can create my own interpretations."
Cottrell’s Brokeback figures can be viewed at www.geocities.com/brokebackcustoms. Labelle’s Belle Iconix website is online at www.belleiconix.com. |
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