STRIFE IN THE FAST LANE.

Santa Monica's Highways Performance Space has a reputation for green-lighting controversial gay and lesbian theater

In 1995, Santa Monica, Calif.'s, Highways Performance Space founded six years earlier by Tim Miller and writer Linda Frye Burnham, made headlines from Alaska to Arkansas. Vocal Christian conservative Donald Wildmon was so disgusted by fliers promoting the arts center's queer-happy Ecce Lesbo/Ecco Homo festival-fliers that happened to depict a naked African-American man holding a Bible and wearing a cross--he practically papered Capitol Hill with them. Result: The National Endowment for the Arts revoked all of Highways' funding.

"We were used as a scapegoat because in the United States the arts is not a viable commodity," huffs artistic codirector Danielle Brazell, 33. "But in a way it's great publicity. That our little Highways brochure got passed around the Senate floor--it's like, `Well, thank you!'"

Highways now must rely on ticket sales and revenue from the occasional fund-raiser, like a Tupperware party held in January. Such an event might sound oddly conservative for an avant-garde performance space--except the shindig was hosted by lesbian folksinger Phranc. "Phranc loves Tupperware and having a good time," Brazell says. "It's all about creative marketing."

Indeed, Highways seems to thrive on its fighting underdog mentality. In presenting about 250 events and 24 art shows in its two galleries a year, its spotlight shines on marginalized groups: people of color, women, the physically challenged, abuse victims, and people with HIV. The work of notorious artists with a talent for the outrageous, such as Annie Sprinkle, Quentin Crisp, Holly Hughes, Karen Finley, Marga Gomez, and John Fleck, are thrown into that mix. "What Tim [Miller] did was create a place where people could come and be validated," Brazell says. "A place where you didn't need to be an opera singer to get up onstage."

Highways also aims to be a performance lab for artists with works in progress. Marcus Kuiland-Nazario, 35, founded the Pop Tarts program at Highways specifically to have a place "to go and fail," he says. "We're all so concerned about going somewhere and doing our best work. But I feel that you can't do your best work until you do your absolute worst work. Surprisingly, though, a lot of people haven't failed."

Still, controversy continues to pave Highways. Activist groups like the Los Angeles chapter of ACT UP have held meetings at the center, establishing it as not just an artistic gathering place but a political one--a reputation that hasn't helped fill its coffers. To keep Highways (and freedom of expression) alive, many of its curators and performers have also found themselves constructing sets, selling tickets, and cleaning toilets. "We've built everything," Kuiland-Nazario says. "Not just physically but emotionally, aesthetically, and spiritually."

Maynard writes for Details and the online magazine M. Showbiz.