The Work of Felix Gonzales-Torres (1957-1996) as Discursive Critique

Untitled (Perfect Lovers) 1991

           In his revisionist history of homosexuality in America in the 1970s, Beyond Shame:  Reclaiming the Abandoned History of Radical Gay Sexuality, Patrick Moore deals with the legacy of that period’s greater visibility for homosexuality as it ripples through the social, artistic, and political institutions of the 1980s, 1990s, and today.  In the book, Moore details what he sees as a systematic posthumous erasure of the sexuality of gay artists in the ever-developing art-historical and art-critical discourse.  Citing Felix Gonzalez-Torres (1957-1996) as one example of a deceased gay artist whose oeuvre is currently undergoing such erasure, Moore blames the artist for not being vocal enough about his sexuality during his life and thus creating a market-oriented legacy that increasingly hides the artist’s sexual identity.  He implies that Gonzalez-Torres was not open in interviews about having AIDS or having a partner who died of AIDS because of shame and fear.[1]  This criticism of Felix Gonzalez-Torres and his work is very short-sighted in that it does not fully take into account the nature of the work and the aims of Gonzalez-Torres’ project of discursive and institutional critique.

Gonzalez-Torres engaged in a kind of subterfuge, creating visually-pleasing works that appropriated form and technique from several traditions, including Duchampian readymade, Minimalism, and Conceptual Art, to express subjects and sentiments firmly rooted in the artist’s sexual identity.  Whereas artists like Robert Mapplethorpe created confrontational images that explicitly pushed gay sexuality out from behind closed bedroom doors into the public eye, Gonzalez-Torres wanted to “trick” the art world into accepting such sexuality unbeknownst to most.  A larger art-going public will more readily accept “beautiful,” non-controversial objects into the museum or gallery institution setting based solely on their superficial aesthetic level; meanwhile, the gay artist “sneaks in” his accompanying social and political agenda, like a Trojan horse, embodied in often-idyllic, even saccharine forms.  Some critics, like Moore, might argue that this is just making excuses for the artist and his at-times closeted public persona, trying to inject sexual identity where it was not intended by the artist but should have been.  However, Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ own words reveal his agenda:

I want to be like a virus that belongs to the institution.  All the ideological apparatuses are… replicating themselves, because that’s the way culture works.  So if I function as a virus, an imposter, an infiltrator, I will always replicate myself together with those institutions.

- Felix Gonzalez-Torres[2]

Patrick Moore need only have looked closely at the artist’s own words, such as those excerpted above, and a small but significant body of literature dealing with his project of discursive critique to understand Gonzalez-Torres’ approach to dealing with sexual identity in his art-making.

Untitled 1991

            For example, while still an M.A. candidate in Art History at Washington University in St. Louis, Elliott Zooey Martin published an essay on Gonzalez-Torres’ investigation of the public and private spheres in his work.  In “Felix Gonzalez-Torres and the Interrogation of the Public Sphere,” Martin restates the artist’s questioning of a clear division, as has been often institutionally imposed, between “public” and “private” and details his utilization of Minimalist techniques to expose the inconsistencies within that discourse.[3]   Gonzalez-Torres appropriated forms of public address, such as advertising billboards or even the public art museum, in order to “broadcast” images of an intimate nature, showing the arbitrary line between the two.  His billboards depicting a bed and two pillows with near-identical indentations where heads once rested reiterate the very public nature (through legislation discriminating against homosexual activities or same-sex marriages, for example) of a once-assumed private realm:  the bedroom.

            Similarly, Suzanne Perling Hudson tackles Gonzalez-Torres’ critique of the complex interrelationship between art and criticism in her essay, “Beauty and the Status of Contemporary Criticism,” which was published in October while she was still a doctoral student at Princeton University.  Hudson identifies a certain tendency in artistic production of the past couple of decades, along with its attendant counterpart in criticism—a “return of the aesthetic,” as she phrases it:

Beauty, that most conciliatory of philosophical rubrics and justifications, is back with a vengeance, while beautiful writing about beautiful objects and their beautiful makers additionally denotes the triumph of academic philosophy as well as the democratization of the no-longer autonomous and privileged realm of the aesthetic.[4]

Hudson argues that Gonzalez-Torres was able to subvert a critical and moral backlash against his AIDS-activist art by cloaking his work in beauty during a period of art discourse when work was being valued for its aesthetic merits, rather than its meaning.  Continually making reference in the essay to the inextricable relationship between the artist’s sexual consciousness and his art regardless of the surface appearance of that art, Hudson disproves Moore’s claim of erasure of Gonzalez-Torres’ sexual identity from art-historical discourse.

            It is clear in the article that Hudson recognizes Felix Gonzalez-Torres as strategically working within systems of institutionalized power, such as the museum, commercial printing, or mainstream advertising billboards, in order to appropriate them for his own purposes.  This process reflects the artist’s knowledge of the writings of Michel Foucault (1926-1984), one of the originators of contemporary discursive critique.  For Foucault, power is not something exerted from an external source in order to oppress, but a complex interrelated web of relationships that require manipulation from within.  Many of Foucault’s writings chronicle the development of social and political institutions such as medical clinics and prisons, reveal how those institutions dominate the flow of discourse, and uncover the relationships of power inherent in each.  Gonzalez-Torres read Foucault, a fellow homosexual intellectual who died from an AIDS-related illness, passionately and the French philosopher’s theories can be found at the heart of the later, Cuban-born artist’s project.

Untitled (America) 1994

            In general, though, writings of a more art-critical nature eschew discussion of the theoretical underpinnings of Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ work in favor of surveys of formal consideration and technique, with only casual mention of the artist’s sexuality, if at all.  For example, Robert Storr’s article “Setting Traps for the Mind and Heart,” published in Art in America around the time of the artist’s death, never refers to “institutional analysis” or “discursive analysis.”  It is not clear in his writing if Storr even recognizes the artist as having engaged in such an approach with his work.  Rather, Storr attempts to anchor the artist within established artistic traditions, most notably Minimalism, in order to authenticate and legitimize the work.[5] 

Jan Avgikos’ article “This is My Body,” published in Artforum in 1991 relies on a similar survey strategy tying Gonzalez-Torres to the Minimalist lineage, and yet is very forthright about the artist’s sexual orientation.  She, in fact, sees the artist and others of his generation working in the legacy of Minimalism as veering significantly from “first-generation” Minimalists of the late 1960s and 1970s such as Donald Judd and Richard Serra by “fetishizing the ‘body’ of the Minimalist object as gendered and erotic.”[6]  Avgikos, like Hudson, disproves Moore’s claims of erasure of sexual orientation in the discourse surrounding Gonzalez-Torres by viewing his art as inseparable from his sexual consciousness.  Thus even less academic writing, published through more popular channels like Art in America and Artforum, deals directly with homosexual identity as central to the work of Felix Gonzalez-Torres.

            To attack the artist for allegedly hiding his gay sexual identity, such as Patrick Moore does, is not only futile but possibly ethically questionable, as the artist is no longer alive to defend himself.  An ever-growing monument to the artist, the sexual component of his work, and his project of discursive critique, the art-historical and art-critical writings published concerning Gonzalez-Torres stand alone as defense against such misperceptions.  From survey pieces focused on the form and technique of the work, like those of Jan Avgikos and Robert Storr, to more theoretically-charged works like those of Elliott Zooey Martin and Suzanne Perling Hudson, all writing about the artist ultimately serves his own purposes of enmeshing himself and his work deep within the institution of art discourse, where he can posthumously dismantle and rework it from within.

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[1] Patrick Moore, Beyond Shame: Reclaiming the Abandoned History of Radical Gay Sexuality (Boston, Massachusetts: Beacon Press, 2004), 168.

[2] Felix Gonzalez-Torres in Ad Reinhardt, Joseph Kosuth, and Feliz Gonzalez-Torres. Symptoms of Interference, Conditions of Possibility (London, United Kingdom: Camden Arts Centre, 1994), 76.

[3] Elliott Zooey Martin, “Felix Gonzalez-Torres and the Interrogation of the Public Sphere,” Chicago Art Journal 15, (2005): 18.

[4] Suzanne Perling Hudson, “Beauty and the Status of Contemporary Criticism,” October no. 104 (Spring, 2003): 117.

[5] Robert Storr, “Setting Traps for the Mind and Heart,” Art in America 84, no. 1 (Jan., 1996): 76.

[6] Jan Avgikos, “This is My Body,” Artforum 29, no. 6 (Feb., 1991): 81.

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Selected Bibliography

Ault, Julie, ed.  Felix Gonzalez-Torres.  Göttingen, Germany:  Steidl, 2006.

Avgikos, Jan.  “This is My Body.”  Artforum 29, no. 6 (Feb., 1991):  79-83.

Clearwater, Bonnie.  Defining the Nineties:  Consensus-making in New York, Miami, and Los   Angeles.  Miami, Florida:  Museum of Contemporary Art, 1996.

Elger, Dietmar.  Catalogue Raisonné.  Ostfildern, Germany:  Cantz, 1997. 

Felix Gonzalez-Torres.  Felix Gonzalez-Torres:  America.  New York, New York:  Guggenheim Museum Publications, 2007.

Ho, Christopher.  “Within and Beyond:  Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s ‘Crowd.’”  Performing Arts Journal 23, no. 1 (Jan., 2001):  1-17.

Horn, Roni, ed.  Felix Gonzalez-Torres.  Munich, Germany:  Sammlung Goetz, 1995.

Hudson, Suzanne Perling.  “Beauty and the Status of Contemporary Criticism.”  October no. 104 (Spring, 2003):  115-130.

Martin, Elliott Zooey.  “Felix Gonzalez-Torres and the Interrogation of the Public Sphere.”  Chicago Art Journal 15, (2005):  16-29.

Moore, Patrick.  Beyond Shame:  Reclaiming the Abandoned History of Radical Gay Sexuality.  Boston, Massachusetts:  Beacon Press, 2004.

Reinhardt, Ad, Joseph Kosuth, and Feliz Gonzalez-Torres.  Symptoms of Interference, Conditions of Possibility.  London, United Kingdom:  Camden Arts Centre, 1994.

Robinson, Deborah.  “in memoriam.”  In in memoriam:  22 November 2000 – 21 January 2001.  Walsall, United Kingdom:  The New Art Gallery Walsall, 2000.

Spector, Nancy.  Felix Gonzalez-Torres.  New York, New York:  Guggenheim Museum Publications, 1995.

Storr, Robert.  “Setting Traps for the Mind and Heart.”  Art in America 84, no. 1 (Jan., 1996):  70-77.

Woo, Janice.  “Indexing:  At Play in the Fields of Postmodernism.”  Visual Resources 10, no. 3 (1994):  283-293.

“Untitled” (Portrait of the Cincinnati Art Museum), 1994, Felix Gonzalez-Torres

As originally installed in the Cincinnati Art Museum, Cincinnati, Ohio, USA

As exhibited in November 2000 at The New Art Gallery Walsall, Walsall, UK.

Provenance

Currently:  Front Lobby, Cincinnati Art Museum, Cincinnati, Ohio, USA

Installed:  Tuesday, 14 March – Friday, 17 March 1994 in the Barnhorn / Alice and Harris Weston Gallery (303) of the Cincinnati Art Museum, Cincinnati, Ohio, USA

Represented by:  Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York, New York, USA

Literature

Elger, Dietmar.  Catalogue Raisonné.  Ostfildern bei Stuttgart, Germany:  Cantz, 1997.  131.

Gonzalez-Torres, Felix and Robert Storr.  “Interview mit Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Teil II – 13. December 1994.”  In Felix Gonzalez-Torres.  Ed.  Roni Horn.  Munich, Germany:  Sammlung Goetz, 1995.  24.

Kwon, Miwon.  “The Becoming of a Work of Art:  FGT and a Possibility of Renewal, a Chance to Share, a Fragile Truce.”  In Felix Gonzalez-Torres.  Ed.  Julie Ault.  Göttingen, Germany:  Steidl, 2006.  314.

Robinson, Deborah.  “in memoriam.”  In in memoriam:  22 November 2000 – 21 January 2001.  Walsall, UK:  The New Art Gallery Walsall, 2000.  13.

Spector, Nancy.  “Travel as Metaphor.”  In Felix Gonzalez-Torres.  Ed.  Julie Ault.  Göttingen, Germany:  Steidl, 2006.  267.

Exhibitions

in memoriam.  The New Art Gallery Walsall, Walsall, UK.  22 November 2000 – 21 January 2001.

Description

From the Certificate of Authenticity/Ownership:

A portrait consisting of words and numbers (events and their dates)… Ideal installation:  this text is to be painted directly on a wall(s) just below the point where the wall meets the ceiling, in metallic silver paint on a background color to the owner’s liking, in Trump Medieval Bold Italic typeface.  If necessary, the size of the text may be altered to fit the available wall space each time this work is re-installed.

The current installation of the work in the front lobby has the list of events and dates arranged in two rows of text that completely circle the lobby in a band just below the ceiling and just above a decorative molding near the top of the walls.

Although the certificate of ownership stipulates that dates can be added and removed as the museum sees fit, the current installation matches the original list faxed by the artist to the museum during the commissioning process.  That list is as follows:

Though this list presents the possibility of a “correct order” in which the dates should be read, the installation forms a continuous circle with no clear beginning point and no clear end.  As the dates are not in chronological order (or, indeed, any apparent order), the assumption is that the viewer may begin reading at any point.

Biographical Sketch

            Felix Gonzalez-Torres was born 26 November 1957 in Güaimaro, Cuba but moved to Puerto Rico at age 13.  He studied art at the Universidad de Puerto Rico, where he won a fellowship to study at the Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York in 1979.  After receiving a B.F.A. from the Pratt Institute in 1983, he attended the Whitney Museum Independent Study Program.  It was also this year that the artist met Ross Laycock, who would become his partner and an influential figure in his work.  Gonzalez-Torres began collaborating with a collective of artists called Group Material in 1987, the same year he received his M.F.A. from the International Center for Photography at New York University.  Receiving fellowships from the National Endowment of the Arts in 1989 and 1993, his work appeared in several high-profile exhibitions during his brief career, including those at Andrea Rosen Gallery in 1990 (which continues to represent his work), the Whitney Biennial (1991), the Museum of Modern Art, New York (1992), and the Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles (1994).  Ross Laycock died of AIDS in Toronto, Ontario, Canada in 1991, a tragedy that would fuel much of Gonzalez-Torres’ work after this period.  In 1995, a retrospective of his ouvre was mounted at the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum in New York.  On 9 January 1996, Felix Gonzalez-Torres died of AIDS in Miami, Florida.

Essay

            “Untitled” (Portrait of the Cincinnati Art Museum), commissioned in 1995 by the museum upon the recommendation of then-curator Jean Feinberg, is typical of the artist’s other word portrait or dateline pieces, and yet remains a singular work of conceptual art.  Like the others, this work consists of a series of dates and events arranged in no apparent order; however, this list is unique to the museum and to the artist.  Born of a collaborative process between the two, the list combines suggestions specifically made by and related to the museum with dates chosen by the artist.  The result is a mixture of events that places the history of the Cincinnati Art Museum within a larger cultural milieu.  Also intersected here is the life of Gonzalez-Torres, as well as the lives of museum-goers as they read the events and recognize those of significance to them personally.  What appears as a simple list of words and numbers is truly a complex conceptual piece that subtly interacts with the museum visitor.

            The current physical presentation of the list is largely arbitrary; the paint on the walls of the museum is not the “art” of the work.  In fact, the artist was not present during the installation of the piece and only made provision for an “ideal situation” as to how the work should be installed in his contract with the museum.  A commercial sign company, Brushworks, was commissioned by the museum to install the piece originally in one of the contemporary galleries.  As text, the list of events could be endlessly reproduced in any setting, thus negating the idea of the piece as unique, valuable art object.  As stated in the Certificate of Ownership/Authenticity accompanying the work in the museum’s curatorial files, it may be exhibited off-site while simultaneously installed in its “authentic” museum setting.  “Untitled” (Portrait of the Cincinnati Art Museum) was exhibited as such in November 2000 by The New Art Gallery Walsall in Walsall, England.  Here, the list of dates was reproduced using vinyl lettering on a wall in the gallery, ranged in a single register of text.  This second concurrent copy of the text did nothing to diminish the uniqueness of the Cincinnati Art Museum’s “original.”  The ownership of the concept, transferred from the artist to the institution, constitutes the “original work.”

            In effect, though, we are all owners of this piece.  While we read through the list of dates, certainly many will have little or no meaning for us; however, most can identify with some of the pop culture references or political references which serve to stitch us collectively as a culture into the work.  Our individual memories and collective history become necessary operational devices in the functioning of the word portrait.  It does not come to life until it is read and filtered through a viewer’s rational processes.  Therefore, although we are confronted with the physical presence of the arrangement of letters and numbers painted on a wall, they are arbitrary in and of themselves.  It is not until they are decoded and recognized as significant in some way by an individual that the art truly exists.  The list is not simply a portrait of the museum, as the parenthetical title denotes, but a portrait of everyone who takes the time to read through its dates and events.  As long as museum-goers continue to do so, it will remain an engaging and significant piece in the collection of the Cincinnati Art Museum.

Signature

This is the artist’s signature as it appears on the Certificate of Authenticity/Ownership. 
His signature does not actually appear with the installation itself.