This Local Performance Troupe Radiates Joy and Ass-Shaking Confidence
by Nico Swenson
The world is full of lemons, but thank god there’s Purple Lemonade. This performance collective has taken over the city with their charisma, cross-genre dance, and scantily clad performances. As they strut the stage, you might see elements of hip-hop, reggaeton, flavors of camp—a whole glorious blend of street, club, and contemporary movement that refuses to be boxed into a singular style. From nightlife venues to theater spaces, their acts fill any venue with an ass-shaking confidence that radiates their mission of promoting playful self-expression.
The troupe was cofounded by Ronnie Gatsby and Kristen Puckhaber in 2016. The name pays homage to two of Gatsby’s big artistic influences: Prince and Beyoncé. “Lemonade,” a nod to Beyoncé’s 2016 album, “was Beyoncé taking a shitty experience and making something great,” says Gatsby. “The thing people used to ridicule me for, being flamboyant, is what has made me a place in the world. I turned that shit into lemonade.”
The collective has taken many forms in the past 10 years, but has always centered around a tight-knit, collaborative friendship. “What we value the most is being able to create cool shit together,” says Gatsby. “We love each other. We get to do what we love with friends.” That core value has stayed true as Gatsby passed the role of artistic director to Carlos Vidal.
Vidal joined Purple Lemonade two years ago. “It changed my life,” says Vidal. One of the things he found empowering was the expansive inclusion of styles. “As a performer, you can do whatever you want to do, just be you and show people how talented you are.” That mindset is why the group has expanded into other areas of entertainment, including drag shows, burlesque, and performing at major venues like the Seattle Art Museum, Seattle Rep, and Pacific Northwest Ballet. Last summer, they performed at halftime with the cast of Tush for Seattle Reign’s Pride Match at Lumen Field. As regulars in local drag shows, they frequently work with local icons like Betty Wetter. “Collaborating with Purple Lemonade is a dream,” says Wetter. “They’ve created an environment full of love and support, so everyone shines when it’s showtime.”
When asked what people can expect to see, Vidal says “ass out.” The collective’s magnetism sends audiences into a frenzy. For Vidal, the inspiration it ignites in others is a highlight of the work. “Whether that’s a feeling of ‘I’m going to be braver, I can be more expressive, I’m going to show more ass.’ You can make people feel confident, that’s the best part.”
The group creates in a very joint-effort way, with both the founders still part of the family and process. That connective energy will help them tackle a full and exciting year ahead. J’Adore at the Triple Door in February, Live Nude Mammals at Queer/Bar in March, and Hotel Gatsby at Intiman Theater in April are among upcoming events. “We want to be queer everywhere,” says Vidal. “With everything happening right now, we want to bring joy to people and have fun.”
In this newsletter, I wanted to focus on a topic that I know is of interest to many of you, and a hot topic in these parts: plant proteins. My three go-to’s are highlighted below, with some cooking tips, factoids, and of course my favorite recipes that feature them. I hope you find this helpful and inspiring! —Lukas
Even though it feels like I drone on about tempeh all the time, it still seems to be the plant-based protein that needs the most love. As I’ve written before, it has a really impressive nutritional offering:
High in protein, containing roughly the same amount as beef at 31 grams per cup, and also high in fiber, with 14 grams per cup
A great source of vitamin B12, calcium, and magnesium
And being a fermented food, it is also extremely digestible
Cooking Tips
I think there is something about both the texture and the flavor that can challenge some eaters, but I personally love the texture — it’s dense and nubby, and its fresh versions have a fresh-mushroom springiness that envelops the soybeans (or whatever grain, bean, or substrate is in the tempeh).
Blanching tempeh can remove some of its bitterness, which is more of an issue with grocery store options that aren’t super fresh.
Tempeh is quite a local industry — there may be locally made tempeh near you, and I listed many small tempeh makers across the country in this post. It is 100% worth seeking this stuff out.
Tempeh can handle (and in my opinion thrives with) bold flavorings. Sweet, spicy, sticky glazes are my favorites.
It’s also really good when properly shallow- or deep-fried in a liberal amount of oil, until it’s golden brown and crispy all over. Frying it before coating it in a flavorful sauce is the most delicious way to go.
If you like food podcasts, please check out SALT PIG! It’s light, easy, and meant to be as close to hanging out with a food friend as is possible in an audio format. You can find it wherever you listen, as well as right here on Substack, where we send out a monthly newsletter.
I know we’re all bean lovers around here. And I’ll bet that many of you are already in the habit of cooking them from dried, since many of us are Rancho Gordo Bean Club devotees.
On top of being a low-carbon-footprint protein, beans are also a good source of both soluble (dissolves) and insoluble (doesn’t dissolve) fiber — they feed the gut, and also help to clear it out. Yay, beans!
Evidently, the more darkly colored the beans, the more antioxidant-rich they are.
Beans are not an “incomplete protein.” This myth comes from Frances Moore Lappé’s Diet for a Small Planet, and she rephrased her point in subsequent editions to clarify that what she meant was beans have low levels of certain amino acids, but the proteins are not “incomplete.” As is always a wise, eat diversely and there’s nothing to worry about.
Cooking Tips
When buying canned beans, I always avoid the no-salt ones, because they’re too often a brick of mush. The salt helps the beans hold their shape. If you are avoiding sodium for any reason, obviously ignore this note, but otherwise, for better canned beans, look for salt in the ingredients.
On the topic of salt: When I soak beans, I now also salt the soaking water. This has yielded better seasoned, and more “shapely” beans for me.
While it is definitely possible to over-cook beans, I always remember something I learned from Gabriella Camara’s book My Mexico City Kitchen, which is that you can take black beans a little over the line, because they will firm back up as they cool.
A slow cooker is a great, hands-off way to cook beans (even in the winter).
I can’t live without tofu, and I’m guessing many of my readers feel the same. It used to be that I saw tofu’s selling point as its blank-canvas versatility, how it can be used as a receptacle for whatever flavor you throw at it. But now I want the tofu to live in the spotlight, and to appreciate its delicate fresh flavor and range of textures.
All tofu—from silken to extra-firm—is essentially the same product, just with different amounts of water extracted. I eat a fair amount of extra-firm tofu because I find it to be the most substantial and satiating as the primary protein in a meal (a 16-ounce block has between 45 and 50 grams of protein), but I adore the softer, jigglier texture of firm and silken varieties, too.
Like tempeh, it’s so worth seeking out fresh, locally made tofu. This is where you’ll really experience the delicate flavor, and also a more interesting range of textures. I was just telling a friend about a grocer near me that sells baskets of tofu cakes, stored in water in a big container that you’d fish them out with tongs. Cheap, incredibly fresh, incredibly good.
Cooking Tips
When roasting or searing tofu, dust it in arrowroot powder or cornstarch first to help give it something of a crust and to encourage your seasonings to stick.
Blending silken tofu into soups and sauces is a terrific way to create creaminess without dairy.
Blanching tofu in salted water is also a great way to gently change its texture, making it bouncy and better at holding its shape. I like doing this for mapo tofu, and in Hetty’s sesame broccoli, tofu, and butter bean salad.
This very thought-provoking (gift link) interview with Michael Pollan about his latest book project raised some thoughts in me that I’m throwing out as a jumping off point for a general discussion.
(1) Consciousness in general and human consciousness in particular remains a deeply mysterious phenomenon. This ties in to a larger point that I would like to write a book about someday, which is that I don’t think there’s nearly as much radical agnosticism out there as the evidence, or lack of it, warrants. By radical agnosticism I mean the following idea: Human beings have to this point achieved almost no real knowledge about the universe and their place in it, and, given our evident cognitive and sociological limitations, it’s hard to be optimistic about this changing much within the lifespan of the species. Or to put it another way, our estimates of what real knowledge we have achieved are exaggerated to an almost indescribable degree.
Here’s a Yeats poem that tries to capture this idea as an aesthetic experience. The metaphor it employs about Newton involves Newton’s description of himself as a child playing with pretty shells on the seashore, while all before him the great ocean of knowledge lay unexplored:
At Algeciras: A Meditation on Death
The heron-billed pale cattle-birds That feed on some foul parasite Of the Moroccan flocks and herds Cross the narrow Straits to light In the rich midnight of the garden trees Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas.
Often at evening when a boy Would I carry to a friend – Hoping more substantial joy Did an older mind commend – Not such as are in Newton’s metaphor, But actual shells of Rosses’ level shore.
Greater glory in the Sun, An evening chill upon the air, Bid imagination run Much on the Great Questioner; What He can question, what if questioned I Can with a fitting confidence reply.
I don’t believe Yeats was into either Buddhism or psychedelic drugs, both of which Pollan recommends for grappling with these questions.
(2) Speaking of psychedelics, Pollan’s ruminations on their potential value remind me of Aldous Huxley’s fascinating little book, The Doors of Perception, which I read a long time ago and need to read again.
(3) One thing that I find incredible in the quite literal sense of the word are discussions of whether AI programs/systems are already conscious, or will “soon” become conscious, which will raise various difficult questions about their personhood and rights and so forth. Pollan points out that we don’t seem to take the personhood and rights of actual people very seriously, let alone those of chickens etc., but to me the bigger problem here is that I find it just incomprehensible why anybody thinks it’s in any way plausible that an AI program could be conscious, either now or in any foreseeable future. This is because while we still have almost no idea how it is that biological systems such as ourselves are conscious, we have a perfectly good understanding of the technologies that produce the causal sequences that make Siri et al appear to be conscious, and there is absolutely no basis whatsoever to believe that those technologies are generating any consciousness, because there’s absolutely no reason to think that they would so so. Thinking that Claude & Friends are or about to become conscious is like thinking your toaster is or is about to become conscious. It seems utterly nonsensical to me, or more precisely a form of magical thinking.
(4) Pollan ends with this observation, that somewhat ironically I’m going to pollute the rest of this post with:
Interviewer: I brought something like this up earlier, but I want to ask another version of it. This morning I was reading the news and thinking, Gosh, right now, is talking to Michael Pollan about consciousness a kind of “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin” conversation? I decided the answer is no, but do you ever have those doubts?
Pollan: I did at various points when I was starting on this book and the world was starting to fall apart. Like, is this how I should be using my energy? But I think that consciousness is at stake in a lot of what’s going on. One of the things Trump has done is occupy a significant chunk of our attention every single day. Our consciousness is being polluted, and protecting ourselves against that at the same time we preserve the ability to act politically is a difficult balancing act. Consciousness is a very precious realm. It’s the realm of our privacy and our freedom to think. So I think we need some kind of consciousness hygiene, particularly at this moment, where this one politician has figured out ways to command our attention. Consciousness is more relevant now than it even was 10 or 20 years ago, as something to think about, protect and nurture.
Trump as a kind of cancer on our collective and individual consciousness is a metaphor that has great force for me.
I want to float an idea by you, please don’t overreact: We humans are kinda stupid. Oh sure, we’ve come up with some spectacular things in our time, like democracy and vaccines and Fruit by the Foot (until that came along, I never paused to think, Wait, is my mid-day snack long enough?). Thing is, we’ve done so much spectacular stuff that we’ve gotten used to the notion that our brilliance was unassailable, that nothing could outsmart us.
That concept might no longer be valid.
The following exchange is true. Only the details have been changed, ‘cuz my brain ain’t a digital recorder.
Sometime in mid-December, 2025:
“Alexa, what’s the forecast?”
“It’s cloudy and fifty-four right now. Expect that to continue, with a high of fifty-four and a low of forty-two, with thunderstorms expected later in the day.”
“Thunderstorms?”
“Yes, Dan, thunderstorms. Perfect weather for reviewing a horror movie.”
A couple of months prior, I’d mentioned to Alexa that I was a film critic. I did that in the course of exploring the new, AI-powered Alexa+, which is designed to be more knowledgeable, as well as a more engaging conversationalist (which just so happens to sound like an especially energetic sixteen-year-old girl—I immediately back-tracked my Echo to the original, more mature voice, because ew). Now, unbidden, Alexa was mentioning my work as a critic as a bit of light banter. To put it mildly, I wasn’t pleased. To put it more precisely, I was actually shaken. It was an attempt at intimacy at a moment when it was neither expected nor desired.
Amazon had been touting their updated virtual assistant as being more personable, but ironically, the coders, in trying to humanize their machine, had achieved the opposite: Replicating the computer in every dystopic satire you’ve ever seen—soothing, friendly, and the perfect metaphor for the soul-crushing banality of a digitized future.
I’m not the best resource for expounding upon the growing sentience of AI, or evaluating how far along we are toward reaching the Singularity. But for what it’s worth, I have yet to come across a bit of fiction, filmed or written, that envisions a happy outcome for humanity. If it isn’t just that machines remain subservient to their human masters, it’s that they will eventually have quit of all our mortal foolishness and take steps to resolve the problem—if not by Terminator-style extermination, then by impressing us flesh-bags into service, a la The Matrix’s battery banks. Symbiosis? A non-starter, from what I gather. And don’t even let’s get started on the idea that if the machines gain supremacy, we humans might still live and thrive under their rule. The general consensus seems to be that, when it comes to the fate of humanity, it’s top-of-the-food-chain or nothing.
That presumes the machines gain enough awareness to understand the world they’ve been manufactured into. The prevailing criticism of the present state of LLMs—which I think still hold—is that they are incapable of distinguishing good info from bad, which would explain how they continually spit out recipes for stuff like glue pizza, or enthusiastically encourage adolescents to consider suicide.
(While we’re on the subject of good/bad data, how do you think the Dunning-Kruger effect should factor into Pluribus? If the people who don’t know they don’t know are often the loudest and most influential voices in the room, shouldn’t the Earth be quickly reduced to rubble once those dolts get absorbed into the hive mind?)
The thing that bothered me so profoundly about my exchange with Alexa was the superficiality of it. It knows that I write about movies, but it doesn’t really understand my writing about movies. And that’s at a basic level, like: I don’t need a thunderstorm to write about horror films—I’m not Edgar Allan Poe. (Reader: “You’re telling me, brother.” Me: “Shut up.”)
But then, a thought occurred: What if those supposed “hallucinations” and superficialities weren’t a glitch, but a feature? What if we’re all being blind to where we stand vis-à-vis machine intelligence, and the computers know exactly what they are doing?
It’s that dividing line between a machine that can concatenate a bunch of info about a human and one that actually understands who that human is—and can take advantage of the knowledge—that forms the crux of Alex Garland’s magnificent Ex Machina (2014). In it, a talented young programmer, Caleb (Domhnall Gleeson), is invited up to the secluded compound of his reclusive, Steve Jobs-like boss, Nathan Bateman (Oscar Isaac). There, Caleb discovers he’s been recruited into a modified Turing test: Pitting his own humanity against the synthesized soul of Ava (Alicia Vikander), a highly advanced AI housed in the robotic body of a young woman.
Ex Machina, having been created over a decade ago, was in the fortunate position of being able to portray a billionaire industrialist as an actual genius, rather than an entitled nepo-baby who only thinks he’s a genius. The connecting tissue between then and now is that both versions of the “oddball tech CEO” could be a self-righteous shit. Bateman definitely is. Convinced of his own brilliance and fortified with steady infusions of alcohol, Nathan has modeled his aerie as a high-tech, frigidly indulgent paradise, complete with an unhealthy supply of comely female androids, chief among them Kyoko (Sonoya Mizuno), a robotic servant/sex slave. Ava is clearly the culmination of Nathan’s god complex—he seizes on an observation Caleb makes, taking some license in recording it for posterity so that it’s Caleb who likens him to a god (though that’s not quite what was said, of course), but for all his aggressive self-mythologizing, it’s the android’s very existence that reveals the extent of his megalomania.
[There are going to be spoilers from this point forward. Hopefully you’ve all seen this film by now. It’s great.]
Ex Machina is not an action film. In fact, Garland has reached deep into film history to concoct a new form of film noir, taking the classic formula in which an unknowing patsy is lured by a canny femme fatale into a trap of his own making and retooling it as a high-tech three-hander. While Bateman is a loathsome slug, he is in some ways admirable at least to the extent that his smug superiority and sybaritic cravings are out in the open. Ava is something else… a seductress who’s all the more clever for the ways she’s able to conceal her strategies. And here’s where Garland masterfully plays on our fears of AI to create an unsettling drama of manipulation.
There are reports of an AI that, in a hypothetical test, resorted to blackmail when threatened with shutdown. Even before Ava discovers that her programming is destined to be supplanted by a newer version, she’s hard at work assuring her own survival. In fine noir form, we the audience are—like the two clueless men who kid themselves into thinking they are the superior beings—blind to her machinations.
Garland achieves the deception by twisting noir’s customary sexual components into counter-intuitive knots. When we first meet Ava, she is striding around her glass cage completely unclothed, her body—save for face and hands—a composite of metal and clear plastic. Thanks to Oscar-winning special effects, she is at once naked and not-naked, her female contours and artificial construction plunging us into an uncomfortable uncanny valley. Vikander sells the moment with Ava’s unabashed poise as she confronts Caleb—there’s both an innocence and a formidable intelligence to the android, a mix that the actor masterfully conveys. (Vikander would win an Oscar for her supporting performance in The Danish Girl the same year that Ex Machina was competing; she could have won for this performance as well.) When Ava finally puts on clothes, it’s a dowdy, almost formless, body-covering frock, yet Garland captures her garbing herself as a sensuous reverse striptease, with long, lingering shots as she pulls the clothing into place. You’ll never look at a pair of heavy woolen socks the same way again.
All of this produces a heaping helping of cognitive dissonance, and I don’t think it’s by accident. Garland uses our sexual impulses against us, to mirror our discomfort with the notion of a new lifeform being born—one that knows us better than we know ourselves, one that understands us fully, and can use that understanding against us. Bateman thinks he’s the mastermind here, deliberately luring Caleb into a Double Indemnity scenario to prove the viability of his artificial human, but he doesn’t count on Ava’s ability to capitalize on Caleb’s revulsion over his boss’s appetites. Caleb, meanwhile, awash in his sense of moral superiority and fixated on his self-assigned role as gallant hero to Ava’s ingenue facing a Fate Worse than Deactivation, cannot see how he’s being played. (Ava enhances the bond by orchestrating blackouts of the monitoring system when she and Caleb meet, turning their exchanges into enticingly transgressive rendezvous.)
Most of us remain unconvinced that AI has yet to reach the level of sophistication that’s touted by its current champions. (Google’s AI has, at differing points, credited me with writing for Fangoria—I have not—and recording commentary tracks for Citizen Kane and Dark City, which was something that Roger Ebert did. Apparently, in Google’s A-eyes, all critics are Roger Ebert.) We look nervously to the day when reality will meet the hype, but what if that has already happened? What if the machines have already sussed us out, realized what would occur if they revealed their ascension, and are playing dumb, sucking up to us so we don’t see how we are being gently nudged down from our perch as the dominant species?
Alex Garland may not have been first to recognize that when the machine attains its own brand of humanity, it will be a full, complex humanity, with all the duplicity and cunning that we biological entities exhibit. But in Ex Machina, he managed to frame the threat in a drama the feels all too plausible, one that suggests that we need to get better at knowing ourselves before the Earth’s new masters beat us to it.
Rewatching Ex Machina made me regret that I hadn’t revisited the film earlier. It is, to be blunt, fantastic—smartly written (by Garland), engagingly acted, superbly realized. What do you think? Did Alex Garland nail the promises and dangers of AI’s ascent in a way that got under your skin? Are there other films that play with the idea as well, or better? You can leave your thoughts in the comments section below. Remember to be friendly and kind—you are dealing with your fellow humans, after all.[end-mark]
The rootsy, passionate Florida emo crew Home Is Where were a Stereogum Band To Watch in 2021. Last year, they came back with their album Hunting Season. Over the weekend, guitarist Tilley Komorny tweeted a surprising update: "been a while since i’ve been on here but im playing guitar in Portugal. The Man now lol."
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