Category: HIV

Shadow Play: A Pop-Up First Friday Event


Shadow Play – Where bodies and cities meet in light and dark.

This exhibition brings together two queer artists who use shadow as both material and metaphor. Leslie Keith Shaw traces fleeting figures cast on sidewalks and streets, while Todd Fuqua creates digitally projected performances on the body itself. Together, their work transforms shadow into a space of queer joy, resistance, and play – blurring the line between public and intimate, concrete and flesh.

Finding Beauty in Unexpected Places

Art has always been a way to make sense of the world, to capture what might otherwise go unnoticed, and to transform struggle into something meaningful. For both artists featured in Shadow Play, creating images is not just about aesthetics. It is about survival, resilience, and finding joy where others might not think to look.

Leslie Keith Shaw has been making art in Indianapolis for more than two decades. His practice blends photography, scanography, and digital manipulation to transform everyday textures into vibrant, layered compositions. Sidewalk cracks, overlooked objects, and even items placed on a flatbed scanner become portals to hidden beauty. Living with HIV since 1987—a time when long-term survival was rarely imagined—Leslie approaches art as both sanctuary and celebration. Every piece is proof that life continues to hold mystery, meaning, and joy.

Todd Fuqua is a queer, non-binary photographer and visual storyteller based in Indianapolis who is also living with HIV. Their practice lives at the intersection of art and advocacy – what they call artivism. Through projects like #BLOOM, #CelebrateUU, and #ShadoWORK, Todd uses photography to explore identity, resilience, and liberation. Their imagery combines shadows, textures, and layered storytelling, with a strong emphasis on collaboration. Todd’s work challenges stigma, sparks dialogue about U=U and HIV criminalization, and celebrates the fullness of queer and marginalized lives.

What ties their practices together is a shared belief: that beauty and truth are always present, even if hidden at first glance. It could be a patch of sidewalk transformed into radiant abstraction. It could be a portrait layered with resilience and shadow. Both artists invite viewers to see differently. They encourage us to notice, to question, and to feel.

Together, their work affirms that art isn’t only about what is seen. It’s about what is discovered.

Call to Action

Join us for Shadow Play, a one-night pop-up exhibition on First Friday, October 4th, at 862 Virginia Avenue, Indianapolis. Step into an evening of light, shadow, and layered storytelling—an exploration of resilience, identity, and beauty in unexpected places. Don’t just see the art—experience the transformation.

RSVP

Media Kit

Shadow Play Press ReleaseDownload

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Shadow Play: Where Bodies and Cities Meet in Light and Dark
One-Night Pop-Up Exhibition | First Friday, October 3, 2025 | Indianapolis

Indianapolis, IN — This October, two Indianapolis-based queer artists will bring light, shadow, and layered storytelling to life in a one-night-only pop-up exhibition. Shadow Play opens Friday, October 3, 2025, at 862 Virginia Avenue (Mass Ave Knit Shop) in Fountain Square, as part of Indy’s First Friday gallery walk.

Shadow Play brings together the work of Leslie Keith Shaw and Todd Fuqua, two artists who use shadow as both material and metaphor. Shaw traces fleeting figures cast on sidewalks and streets, while Fuqua creates digitally projected performances on the body itself. Together, their practices transform shadow into a space of queer joy, resistance, and play – blurring the line between public and intimate, concrete and flesh.

For Shaw, who has been creating art in Indianapolis for more than two decades, overlooked textures – sidewalk cracks, discarded objects, even items placed on a scanner – become radiant abstractions. Diagnosed with HIV in 1987, Shaw’s practice is both sanctuary and celebration, proof that life continues to hold meaning, mystery, and joy.

Fuqua, a queer non-binary photographer and storyteller also living with HIV, works at the intersection of art and advocacy – what they call artivism. Through community-driven projects such as #BLOOM, #CelebrateUU, and #ShadoWORK, Fuqua layers photography, shadow, and texture to spark dialogue around stigma, resilience, and liberation.

What unites their work is a shared belief: that beauty & truth are always present, even if hidden at first glance. Whether drawn from the cracks of a city sidewalk or from the resilience etched on the human body, Shadow Play invites audiences to see differently—to notice, to question, to feel.


Event Details:

Shadow Play
First Friday, October 3, 2025
6:00 – 9:00 p.m.
Mass Ave Knit Shop: 862 Virginia Avenue, Indianapolis, IN 46203

Admission is free and open to the public.

The artists anticipate returning for November and December First Fridays, making Shadow Play an evolving installation across the fall season.

Press Contact:
C. Todd Fuqua
Email: todd@ctoddcreations.com | 317-847-1945
Event Website: https://bit.ly/ShadowPlayIndy
Media Kit: https://bit.ly/ShadowPlayMediaKit

Understanding the Emotional Impact of an HIV Diagnosis


“It took me nine years to really begin processing my diagnosis.”

When I was first diagnosed with HIV, I didn’t fully grasp how traumatic that moment was. I understood the medical facts, but what I didn’t understand was the grief – the dreams I thought I lost, the fear of stigma, and the quiet loneliness that followed me for years.

It took me nine years to finally begin dealing with my diagnosis. Nine years before I let myself acknowledge the loss, the shame, and the resilience I would need to rebuild my life. Looking back, I can’t help but feel that the system failed me—or at least, it could have done better.

We don’t just need medical care after a diagnosis. We need mental health care too.

Imagine if, six months after someone tests positive, their care coordinator or peer HIV navigator sat down with them for a simple mental health screening. Not a rushed checklist, but a real conversation. A chance to ask: How are you coping? What’s hardest for you right now? Where are you finding strength, and where do you need support?

I recently used a tool that reminded me how powerful those questions can be. It’s a simple worksheet that invites people living with HIV to reflect on different areas of life: identity, health, stigma, relationships, hope, and emotional wellbeing. In a support group, we each scored ourselves, shared our highs and lows, and talked about what mattered most. The therapeutic value was extraordinary – not because of the paper itself, but because of the way it opened space for one person to help another. HT to Robin who helped author this tool.

Hiv Discussion Worksheet (1)Download

That’s why I want to share this tool, not as a solution in itself, but as a conversation starter. It can be used by providers, peer navigators, or anyone supporting people living with HIV. It creates an opening to talk about the emotional journey, not just the lab results.

For me, it shouldn’t take nine years to reach that point. If we build mental health check-ins into HIV care – whether at six months, a year, or whenever someone is ready – we can help people grieve, heal, and find resilience much earlier.

Because living with HIV is not just about managing a virus. It’s about reclaiming hope, rebuilding purpose, and reminding people: you are more than your diagnosis.

Keep tellin’ the story,

Professor Peacock

Note: These are my thoughts and my story. I used AI to make helpful edits to my ramblings and online journaling, including some organization to be more blog-friendly. AI created the featured image used in my blog.

I Don’t Need a Specialist Anymore — And That’s a Good Thing


When I was first diagnosed with HIV in 2012, the idea of seeing anyone other than an infectious disease specialist would have felt reckless, even dangerous. This was before PrEP, before U=U. Specialists were the gatekeepers – the people who knew the ever-changing science, the ones who gave me the sense of being in the safest possible hands. For a long time, they were the difference between life and death.

So when I learned today at my routine HIV lab follow-up that the Damien Center is shifting away from relying on infectious disease doctors, and instead training primary care physicians to handle HIV, my first reaction wasn’t celebration. It was shock. Fear. Even a little sadness. A part of me wanted to feel special, to believe that my care required the highest tier of expertise, that my condition set me apart in a way that demanded more than “just” primary care.

But sitting with that discomfort, I realized something important: this change is a milestone.

It’s not about being less cared for. It’s about HIV care becoming ordinary in the best possible sense. What was once an emergency requiring specialists is now a chronic condition that can be managed alongside everything else. Just like diabetes, high blood pressure, or asthma. And just as most people with diabetes don’t see an endocrinologist every month, most people living with HIV don’t need an infectious disease doctor at their side for every check-up. We need skilled, compassionate primary care providers who are equipped with the right training. That’s exactly what this new model is delivering.

The truth is, the biggest factors in HIV health today aren’t whether you have access to a specialist; they’re whether you can access care at all, whether your doctor treats you with dignity, whether you have support for housing, food, mental health, and transportation. Medicine has advanced so much that the day-to-day fight isn’t with the virus itself – it’s with the systems that surround care. And if we’re honest, it’s with stigma itself. Stigma kills.

When I was first diagnosed, I was in the hospital. A case of misdiagnosed stage-2 syphilis landing me in the ER. Thankfully, my visit to the ER is the reason I was diagnosed so soon after being exposed to the HIV virus. My infectious disease doctor told me they caught my HIV very early – he only saw a handful of cases each year like mine. I was lucky to be in his hands.

Around the time I was diagnosed in 2012, newer medications were available, and the medical advice began to shift towards starting treatment right away. Why? Because the side effects of the latest antiretroviral treatments (ARTs) were much milder, making it smarter to begin medication quickly to lower the viral load. This was all before the idea of U=U was introduced.

So, I’m very thankful for my infectious disease specialist, because he caught me “on the forefront of change.” Looking back, that was huge step forward.

Now, 13 years later, the fact that I don’t “need” one anymore isn’t a downgrade — it’s proof of progress. It means that medications work so reliably, and outcomes are so good, that HIV can finally be seen for what it is: not a death sentence, but a manageable chronic condition.

Of course, specialists still exist for rare or complicated cases – and that’s important. But the default has shifted. HIV no longer requires a small elite circle of experts. Instead, it belongs in the hands of everyday doctors, woven into the fabric of routine healthcare.

That’s not loss. That’s victory.

So yes, there was some grief in letting go of the idea that I needed a specialist. But in the end, this shift means something profound:

I am not defined by HIV. My care is not extraordinary because of this virus.

This disease is not terminal. It’s ordinary.

And that’s extraordinary.

Keep tellin’ the story,

Professor Peacock

Note: These are my thoughts and my story. I used AI to make helpful edits to my ramblings and online journaling, including some organization to be more blog-friendly.