Provincetown has hosted legions of queer fêtes since it became a holiday destination for the community in the 1890s. Few have been given a title quite so frank as the one Quil Lemons is throwing this season.

“American Faggot Party” is not a party, per se—it’s a sprawling exhibition in a former schoolhouse, currently the satellite space for local arts nonprofit Twenty Summers, which awarded Lemons a pivotal residency last year. The project, on view through Sept. 28, features works by the photographer and a host of peers and elders (Ryan McGinley, Ocean Vuong, and the late Felix Gonzalez-Torres, to name a few).

The polyphonous exhibition reimagines James Montgomery Flagg’s iconic wartime poster (“I Want YOU for U.S. Army”) as a call to arms for a new generation: “I want YOU for the American Faggot Party.” In a political climate where erasure is the modus operandi, Lemons sees the message as equal parts “yearning and warning”—a love letter to the community, and a caution to those who threaten it. “I had this sinking intuition after the Jan. 6 insurrection that the tides of American fascism could rise again,” Lemons explains. “This show became my response.”

The work on view reminds viewers that American culture is forever indebted to queer culture. The image-maker and his battalion of artists have no intention of letting a society in the midst of historic turmoil forget that.

To kick off what promises to be another wet hot American summer, Lemons assembled a group of the show’s contributing artists for a photo shoot—and CULTURED picked their brains about the reckoning they’re staging together in Provincetown.

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DIEGO VILLARREAL VAGUJHELYI, artist

How did you approach your contribution to the show?

My silk prints are a rallying cry in the most intimate register—not shouted, but whispered between bodies. They celebrate queerness not as spectacle, but as something lush, tactile, and defiantly tender.

How do you hope audiences will react to the show?

I hope they feel seen, or at least interrupted—that something stirs. Whether it’s arousal, discomfort, nostalgia, or delight, I want the work to evoke something bodily.

MYLES LOFTIN, photographer

How do you relate to the idea of endurance?

My artistic journey started as a bright-eyed child who wanted to create beautiful things for a living. Photography completely changed my life. I’ve worked extremely hard to develop a visual language to communicate the ideas in my head, and have carved a path for myself in the industry. The pursuit of artistic greatness is neverending, and that pursuit becomes increasingly difficult when you inhabit multiple marginalized identities. As a Black, gay artist, I am in a constant uphill battle against a culture that was not intended to support people like me. My existence—and participation in this show—is a testament to endurance and creativity.

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SLAVA MOGUTIN, artist

How did you approach your contribution to the show?

My work has always been a form of protest and communion—a rallying cry for the outcasts who don’t conform. It’s a mirror and a megaphone. For this exhibition, I contributed early self-portraits taken in a photo booth in San Francisco in the late ’90s, shortly after I fled Russia. It was a formative time for me. I was discovering my sexuality and creativity at the same time through performative selfies in fetish gear.

What do you think is the impact of this work?

My work holds space for queer bodies and stories that are often silenced or overlooked. It also demands attention: seducing, provoking, disrupting. Art should do both: shelter you and push you out of your comfort zone.

OSCAR YI HOU, painter

How do you relate to the idea of endurance?

My work reflects my life, which engenders creativity, which then engenders more life. More life, always.

What’s one Provincetown memory that stays with you?

Hiking across the breakwater late at night, into the sunrise. We saw a UFO and had many epiphanies.

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OSCAR NÑ, ADAM RHODES, AND MOHAMMED FAYAZ, co-founders of the nightlife collective Papi Juice

How do you hope audiences will react to the show?

Mohammed Fayaz: Queer people will always be here. Whether pushed into the underground or celebrated on the brightest of stages, we’ve learned to adapt from the timeless wisdoms of our predecessors. This country is always figuring out what to do with us, and while they’re distracted, we’re over here having the best time we can with what we got.

Oscar Nñ: I hope that audiences will feel defiant.

Adam Rhodes: I hope that the themes of this show resonate with viewers’ experiences across the spectrum of queerness. And that people dance their asses off.

LYLE ASHTON HARRIS, artist

How do you relate to the idea of endurance?

My work oscillates between protection and provocation. It creates space for interiority and reflection.

Describe the Provincetown scene in three words. 

Sexy, healing, and generative. Exclusive at times. Democratic always.

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RYAN MCGINLEY, photographer

How do you relate to the idea of endurance?

As queer people, our community is always oppressed—especially now. I come back to the mantra, “No pride for some of us without liberation for all of us.” It’s nice to shout this phrase with your comrades before a battle.

How do you hope audiences will react to the show?

Faggots are fantastic!

DRAKE CARR, artist

How do you relate to the idea of endurance? 

Making a living as an artist is a challenge, but what else is there for me.

How do you hope audiences will react to the show?

I hope they will laugh with glee.

Modeling by Quil Lemons, Diego Villarreal Vagujhelyi, Myles Loftin, Slava Mogutin, Mohammed Fayaz, Oscar Nñ, Adam Rhodes, Juan Antonio Olivares, and Ryan McGinley
Production by Cecilia Parker
Set Design by Dan Horowitz
Movement Direction by Ashley Rucker
DP by Brighton Steinberg
Photography Assistance by Matthew Yoscary and Ryan Schostak
Styling Assistance by Maimuna Diallo and Kai Collado
Production Assistance by Dominika Mayerova and Fabiana Castillo
Set Design Assistance by Yoni Zonszein