By Mike Sain't Louis ·
Louvre: pink wings over the glass pyramid
Imagine walking into one of the most solemn museums in the world with pink wings on your back and turning its galleries into a dance floor. That fantasy is the heart of «Louvre».
Here the Louvre works more as a symbol than a building. It stands for what is eternal and untouchable in art, but also for what is fragile, human and, for me, deeply queer. Those galleries are full of naked bodies, ambiguous loves and male beauty painted by people who couldn't always live their desire freely. It seems only fair that someone goes in there to dance.
The idea that matters most to me is rewriting the places we were never invited into. It's what different people have always done: turning solemnity into movement, silence into rhythm and other people's gaze into our own freedom. In my GAYFOLK universe art doesn't stay behind a security rope. It's danced, cried over, broken and shared.
The cover puts it into an image. A guy with big pink wings flies over the glass pyramid and the palace roofs at sunset, the sky ablaze in peach tones. The title letters, pink and diagonal, look spray-painted over a tourist postcard. I like that clash between the classical monument and fanzine aesthetics.
It's also a declaration of love for art. And a reminder that queerness has been here much longer than any trend, looking at the world with more colour and more truth.
It's dedicated to anyone who's felt out of place in a museum, an office or a black-tie dinner. And to whoever went in anyway.
Try it walking through any museum with your headphones on, in front of your favourite painting. See if the painting doesn't start dancing with you.