cat-boy-tits:

vaspider:

cat-boy-tits:

vaspider:

175 pounds of candy on the museum floor: invitation to communion, confectionary dissolution. love disappears like that, Felix said, one mouthful at a time. 175 pounds of institutional neglect, of diminishing returns: we partake together to the last breath. life disappears like that, Felix said, one mouthful at a time. 175 pounds of candy shining in the sun: a scatter of wrappers, rainbow cellophane, detritus in disappearing light. the curator scrubs away Ross's story, his death, our context. we could be just 175 pounds of candy on the steps of the CDC. our stories run like sugar liquefied on the tongue. they take us by greedy mouthfuls but spit out the sour, the lies, our pain, our lonely deaths and pauper's graves, the lost potential for decades of love replenished like a Tuesday delivery of little candies crackling in polypropylene. we are an aperitif, only joy on the tongue, the average weight of the adult male scrubbed of diminishment and death. we disappear like that, I'm sorry to tell you, one syllable at a time.ALT

Context.

Where it’s posted.

this is beautiful and the context is hideous. i hope someone sues on the artist’s behalf. what a disgusting thing to do.

Unfortunately it appears that the people managing his estate might be the ones responsible.

I suppose we’ll find out on Monday when people are back in the office.

oh cool. great. excellent.

for those unaware, this piece was important enough that i learned about it in art school.

we lost so many artists to the AIDS crisis. people who should still be making work today.

i remember going to a Peter Hujar show at a gallery and feeling terribly, painfully haunted. i was supposed to talk about the quality of the work in class, but all i could think about is that all of those portraits were dead. Hujar was dead, his friends and lovers were dead. all dead before their time. murdered by an evil government and an uncaring medical system.

Hujar should have had a long and thriving career. Felix Gonzalez-Torres should have had a long and thriving career, and a life with his partner, Ross. Peter Hujar had a partner too, another artist, David Wojnarowicz. all these men made work about AIDS, as it killed them. they made work as they were dying, to immortalize themselves and the people they were losing and those they had already lost.

none of that work should exist. none of it should have needed to be made. it’s beautiful and painful and haunted and the only reason it exists is because people were dying. people were dying and those who could stop it didn’t care. and if they did care, they wanted them dead.

what else could these men do but create. at least the art would be there, in the future they would not live to see.

and now one of these works of pain and love and memory is being erased. sanitized. they still don’t care about us. they still want us dead.