Neil Daigle Orians

Neil Writes Things

Occasionally, I write things. Some of these are published formally, some of them less-formally, and others are only on here. To commission something, contact me.

ALT-MATRICIES: or How Semantics Makes Printmaking Less Fun

I’ve seen discussions online debating on what does or does not constitute as a print, or what is and is not planographic, or whether or not monotyping counts as a form of printmaking. The more I’ve read about how some others feel, the more I get confused as to what criteria is needed, in their minds at least.

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Neil Orians
How I Became My Own Ex-Gay Therapist (Part 1)

Through prayer, shame, and self-abuse, I became my own ex-gay therapist. The therapy didn’t have a chance to go as far as self-harm, but I hated myself enough to feel like it did. I was terrified. I couldn’t imagine telling anyone about what I was going through. The idea of discussing something so shameful, so sinful, so sexual with anyone involved in the church was mind numbing in how much it scared me. This needed to be a cross I would bear myself.

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So Long, EBK

Eric Ben-Kiki had already locked the door. Upon seeing us outside, he opened the door with a smile, showing us his space and talking to us about what he does. He even offered us the rest of his wine and cheese (if memory serves, a colleague ended up taking an unopened bottle back to our studios). This chance meeting I had with Eric served as the perfect introduction of who he is as a person and curator; kind, open, and accessible.

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Op-EdNeil OriansArt, Hartford
From Hankies to Hashtags

Something that always fascinated me is how directly connected digital cruising is to traditional cruising. There are obvious similarities, such as anonymously searching for sex in public spaces, but on a deeper level, they both fundamentally run on the same idea; coded language in plain site. Traditional cruising is less direct and requires a certain je-ne-sai-quoi. The perfectly placed hand on the groin, a wink, watching him lick his lips from across a room, the head nod as a “follow me.”

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