Trevor by James Lecesne Page B

Gaga was (a) my absolute fave, (b) an icon, and (c) an original who knew how to upend people’s expectations of normalcy. He wasn’t convinced, and announced that he was going to be a superhero for Halloween. He suggested that I join him, or at the very least consider something “less gay.” I informed him that Lady Gaga was certainly not gay.
    â€œYou’re missing the whole point,” he told me.
    Before he could say anything further, I jumped in: “No, Zac, you’re missing the point. Because anyone who knows anything about Lady Gaga knows that she has had to overcome plenty of obstacles to become the artist that she is today. And in order to be myself and achieve my goals, I will have to do the same.”
    He rolled his eyes and said, “Whatever.”
    End of discussion.
    After that I was even more determined than ever to be the most awesome, gender-bending version of Lady Gaga for Halloween. Mom dropped me at the mall, and with my birthday money, I purchased the following items:
    One full-body leotard (black): $14.95
    One wig (blond): $18.45
    One sequined cape (silver): $19.99
    One pair of oversize sunglasses (black): $8.00
    One pair of platform slouch boots (black): $27.99
    2-lb bag of glitter (silver): $10.00
    TOTAL: $99.38

Three
    L ast week in art history class, Mr. Livorgna explained to us how sometimes great art can be both a reaction to the politics of the moment and an enduring statement about the human condition. To prove his point, he pulled up some famous paintings on his laptop. He showed us a mostly black-and-white painting of crudely drawn people and animals—they all seemed to be suffering violently. A horse, a bull, a baby, and a person lying on the ground stretching out his hand for help. To us, it looked like a gruesome mess drawn by a fifth-grader. Mr. Livorgna explained that the artist was, in fact, Picasso and that gruesome was the whole point. Guernica (that’s the name of the painting) was created to show the tragedies of war and the suffering it inflicts upon individuals, particularly innocent civilians. He said the work gained a monumental status right from the start, becoming famous and widely acclaimed when it was displayed around the world. Incidentally, he said, this tour helped bring the Spanish Civil War to the world’s attention. Who knew that Spain even had a Civil War?
    â€œCan you think of any other examples of how artists have brought about change through their work?” he asked us.
    Silence.
    I almost raised my hand to mention how Lady Gaga had famously worn a suit made entirely of meat in order to protest the fact that gays in the military had to keep their sexuality a secret or else be kicked out with a dishonorable discharge. But then I thought better of it. I didn’t want everyone to think that I followed gay news. Besides I couldn’t say for sure whether Lady Gaga’s meat-suit media moment actually brought an end to the policy the army called “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” The fact that this policy existed for seventeen years but was overturned by Congress just a couple of months after she wore the suit wasn’t proof of anything. Some people said that Lady Gaga was just an opportunist who was using the politics of the moment to further her career. Some said she was an activist. I wondered if Picasso had the same trouble with Guernica .
    When no one could come up with any examples, Mr. Livorgna clicked on to the next image, and started to describe a painting entitled La Mort de Marat , which is French for The Death of Marat . The style of this painting was much more realistic and it depicted a man who had been stabbed in his bathtub while writing a letter. It was very dramatic, and the guy was obviously very dead. Little spurts of blood stained some sheets that spilled out of the tub; he was wearing a white turban and held a feather pen in his right hand, which had dropped dramatically to the floor at