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AIDS & ART

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<strong>AIDS</strong> &<br />

<strong>ART</strong><br />

Blue Fraser, Lia MacKinnon, Caitlin Rabb, Toulouse Ren, Margot Thorseth


All the downtrodden, tired, fed up, broken hearted angels<br />

circling over our heads<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> & art: a retrospective (1983-now)


Page<br />

Date Due<br />

04-05 John Greyson: Groundwork (1983)<br />

06-07 Marc Lida’s <strong>AIDS</strong> #5 (1983)<br />

08-09 Fuck You Faggot Fucker (1987)<br />

10-11 John Greyson: Beginnings (1987)<br />

12-15 <strong>AIDS</strong> by General Idea (1987)<br />

16-17 John Greyson: Pop-a-Boner (1993)<br />

18-21 Blood, Politics, and Performance (1993)<br />

Art: Ron Athey’s Four Scenes in<br />

a Harsh Life<br />

22-23 AA Bronson’s Felix Partz (1994)<br />

24-25 John Greyson: (2003)<br />

A Hybrid Docu-Fiction<br />

Musical Multi-Channel<br />

Installation Video Opera!?<br />

26-29 The Body as Spectacle: (2013)<br />

Ron Athey’s Incorruptible<br />

Flesh and the shifting<br />

discourse of the ‘post-<strong>AIDS</strong>’ body<br />

30-33 Kia LaBeija (2014)<br />

34-37 The Bethesda Brotherhood (2014-2016)<br />

38-39 John Greyson: <strong>AIDS</strong> Video: (2022-)<br />

Past, Present, and Future


1983<br />

John Greyson<br />

Groundwork<br />

Since the very beginning,<br />

cinema has been used<br />

not only as a vehicle<br />

for entertainment but<br />

as a means to push<br />

narratives. However, early cinema<br />

was expensive and difficult<br />

to produce. This all changed<br />

with the advent of affordable<br />

and easy-to-use analog video<br />

technologies like the VHS and the<br />

camcorder entering the consumer<br />

market in the late 1960s to the<br />

early 80’s. As cinema entered a<br />

new era in tandem with global<br />

avant-garde, postmodern and<br />

new-wave movements, through<br />

the relative ubiquity of personal<br />

video recording, there was a huge<br />

boom of both experimental and<br />

accessible video art.<br />

With the newfound<br />

availablity and affordability of<br />

video technology, marginalized<br />

populations, more than ever, were<br />

able to have their voices heard<br />

and acknowledged on their own<br />

terms.<br />

And then came <strong>AIDS</strong>.<br />

The 1980s saw a new boom in<br />

queer activism, largely centered<br />

around the <strong>AIDS</strong> epidemic. By<br />

the end of the decade, “urgency<br />

and rage began to collapse into<br />

despair and frustration for the<br />

ACT UP generation.” However, a<br />

“renaissance of film and video<br />

arrived, just when the passionate<br />

energy that had characterized<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> activism was flagging;”<br />

this ‘New Queer Cinema’ was a<br />

“fiercy serious cinema,” with aims<br />

to completely overhaul past,<br />

present, and future, laying the<br />

groundwork for “whatever and<br />

whomever” came next.<br />

In this four-part series<br />

interspersed throughout our zine<br />

centered around generations of<br />

queer and <strong>AIDS</strong>-focused art from


5<br />

the 1980s to our present time<br />

(2022), we will be exploring <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

activist film and video art, honing<br />

in on John Greyson’s career which<br />

spans over four decades. Keeping<br />

in mind the explosion of New Queer<br />

cinema, and the multiplicity of<br />

artists encircling this genre, for<br />

brevity, this series is focusing<br />

on John Greyson through personal<br />

interviews at his Toronto queer<br />

district home.<br />

John Greyson, ‘art school<br />

dropout,’ moved to Toronto in 1980<br />

from London, Ontario to write for<br />

The Body Politic, and to pursue<br />

a life grounded in queer art and<br />

activism. Spanning four decades,<br />

Greyson has directed more than<br />

sixty films, created several<br />

performances and installation<br />

pieces, and published a plethora<br />

of articles in both academic<br />

journals and popular press.<br />

Throughout his career he has been<br />

deeply imbedded in grassroots<br />

activist movements around the<br />

world, and has been instrumental<br />

to multiple collaborative video<br />

projects and programs. He has<br />

served as a full-time professor<br />

at York University’s Film<br />

Department since 2005.<br />

Lia MacKinnon


1983<br />

MARC LIDA’S<br />

“<strong>AIDS</strong> #5”<br />

In 1981, a now historic<br />

article was released by<br />

the CDC reporting that<br />

between the period of<br />

October 1980 to May 1981,<br />

five young, sexually active gay<br />

men were experiencing symptoms<br />

of an unusual diesease. They<br />

described an unlikely lung<br />

infection in previously<br />

healthy young men. At the<br />

same time, a New York doctor<br />

reports a rare and aggressive<br />

form of cancer being seen<br />

specifically in gay men. Within<br />

days, the CDC released reports<br />

of opportunistic infections<br />

appearing in homosexuals.<br />

Very little was clear about<br />

the virus, but one thing was<br />

obvious, it was ripping through<br />

the gay community. Originally<br />

referred to as GRID or ‘Gay<br />

Related Immunodeficiency,’ by<br />

the autumn of 1982, the CDC<br />

began using <strong>AIDS</strong>, ‘AutoImmune<br />

Deficiency Syndrome, to describe<br />

the disease.<br />

When Marc Lida created<br />

his piece “<strong>AIDS</strong> #5” in 1983, very<br />

little was known about the <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

virus. The only certainty at that<br />

time was that <strong>AIDS</strong> was a death<br />

sentence. The language used in<br />

reference to <strong>AIDS</strong> was rarely<br />

hopeful, making motifs of death<br />

typical of the time.<br />

Lida’s “<strong>AIDS</strong> #5,” depicts<br />

two men having sex while death<br />

looms over them in the form of<br />

a skeleton hovering in the sky<br />

overhead. The men, central to<br />

the image and narrative, painted<br />

in an expressionist style, evoke<br />

of feelings of loss in the viewer.<br />

More importantly, the feeling of<br />

love despite loss. Indicitive of<br />

the fear circulating at the time,<br />

“<strong>AIDS</strong> #5” encapsulates the fear<br />

of homosexuality causing death.<br />

At the time of its painting<br />

in 1983, there was a prominent<br />

fear that the existence of gay<br />

men was being threatened. The<br />

distorted imagery and frantic<br />

brush strokes are representative<br />

of Lida’s emotional reaction to<br />

the <strong>AIDS</strong> crisis. However, the<br />

men continue to have intercourse<br />

despite the possibility and<br />

imminence of death.<br />

Unfortunately, Lida<br />

himself succumbed to <strong>AIDS</strong> in<br />

1992. This work represents the<br />

bleakness of an HIV diagnosis at<br />

the beginning of the pandemic.<br />

There was very little to be done<br />

for those who were HIV positive,<br />

and death seemed inevitable.<br />

Marc Lida’s “<strong>AIDS</strong> #5” serves as a<br />

poignant marker of this time.<br />

Caitlin Rabb


<strong>AIDS</strong> #5 (1983)<br />

Marc Lida


This artwork is one of<br />

Wojnarowicz’s more<br />

well-known creations. It<br />

recently came back into<br />

the public eye when Dan<br />

Levy (widely known for acting in<br />

Schitt’s Creek) wore a piece of<br />

fashion inspired by Wojnarowicz’s<br />

piece at the 2021 Met Gala.<br />

Wojnarowicz was born in<br />

New Jersey in 1954. He has been<br />

quoted as stating he was “eight or<br />

nine” years old when he started<br />

doing sex work in Times Square.<br />

Over the years, he became known<br />

for his other work, gaining<br />

notoriety as an <strong>AIDS</strong> activist<br />

and as an artist. He continued<br />

creating work that centred around<br />

his own experience as a man with<br />

Fuck You Faggot Fucker (1984)<br />

David Wojnarowicz<br />

1984<br />

DAVID WOJNAROWICZ<br />

FUCK YOU FAGGOT FUCKER<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong>, and around his activism,<br />

until he passed away in 1992 at<br />

the age of thirty-eight.<br />

I chose to respond to<br />

this piece with one singular<br />

photo that I felt best described<br />

my reaction to seeing this for<br />

the first time: pride. I am proud<br />

of my community and all that we<br />

have been through. I am proud of<br />

all those who have come before<br />

me. I am humbled by the great<br />

sacrifices many were forced to<br />

make. I am saddened by the loss of<br />

so much history, so much culture,<br />

so many beautiful souls. But I am<br />

proud to be a gay trans man. The<br />

intersection of my identities puts<br />

me at great risk for contracting<br />

HIV/<strong>AIDS</strong> in my lifetime. As a gay<br />

man, I am at risk of contracting<br />

it within the community (I am not<br />

implying that gay men are the only<br />

demographic affected). As a trans<br />

man, I am not taken seriously<br />

by medical professionals when<br />

I present with symptoms of any<br />

kind (I also was directly told<br />

by my doctor that PrEP “would<br />

not be necessary” because I am<br />

“effectively a straight woman”).<br />

As a gay trans man, I face unique<br />

odds of contracting and suffering<br />

from this virus. HIV/<strong>AIDS</strong> has<br />

always been personal to me, and I<br />

wanted to show that in my photo.<br />

Photo prints, acrylic, collage, on composition board


For this project,<br />

I gathered one of several<br />

silicone phalluses I use to have<br />

penetrative sex with other men,<br />

my vegan leather harness, some<br />

of my condoms, and a lube packet.<br />

I packed them into a tote bag<br />

emblazoned with the logo for<br />

a sex toy company (I figured it<br />

was appropriate), and I hopped<br />

on the metro. I walked from the<br />

metro to my close friend’s front<br />

door, entered their apartment,<br />

and there, in the somewhatdimly-lit<br />

kitchen, on the floor,<br />

I photographed some of my most<br />

personal, private items in front<br />

of a backdrop I had printed out<br />

earlier that day, simply stating,<br />

“I am a proud faggot fucker.”<br />

This project is me exposing some<br />

of the most private parts of my<br />

life, in an effort to help viewers<br />

reflect on what people with HIV/<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> went through, and continue<br />

to go through. Their most private<br />

lives are put on public display.<br />

They are dehumanised, demonised,<br />

and humiliated. For me, the effect<br />

of an untold amount of strangers<br />

seeing my personal items is<br />

intense exposure. Vulnerability.<br />

I am thoroughly humbled by the<br />

vulnerability experienced by<br />

those who came before me, and so<br />

I push myself to experience this<br />

feeling in an attempt to honour<br />

them.<br />

Toulouse Ren


1987<br />

John Greyson’s first<br />

foray into <strong>AIDS</strong> video<br />

was his 1987 music<br />

video spoof The ADS<br />

Epidemic (short for<br />

Acquired Dread of Sex), created<br />

in collaboration with composer<br />

Glenn Schellenberg. The film<br />

draws influence from ‘80s queer<br />

new wave and synthpop, and Rosa<br />

von Praunheim’s pioneering<br />

German <strong>AIDS</strong> musical comedy A<br />

Virus Knows No Morals (Ein Virus<br />

kennt keine Moral, 1986). Greyson<br />

also pastiches Luchino Visconti’s<br />

1971 adaptation of Death in<br />

Venice , transplanting its main<br />

character Gustav von Aschenbach<br />

into modern-day Toronto. Greyson<br />

and Schellenberg adopt a musical<br />

modality to lampoon the <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

public health messaging at<br />

the time. As art historian and<br />

activist Douglas Crimp puts it,<br />

Greyson’s glitzy, tongue-incheek,<br />

sex positive, MTV take on<br />

the <strong>AIDS</strong> PSA directly challenges<br />

the prudish norms of early <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

messaging with lines like, “you<br />

can get ADS from the Toronto<br />

Sun, you can get ADS from Ronald<br />

Reagan, stop the ADS plague,<br />

safe sex is fun.” Also released<br />

in 1987 was UK-based video artist<br />

Isaac Julien’s classic This is Not<br />

an <strong>AIDS</strong> Advertisement, a more<br />

abstract but still decidedly<br />

satirical take on the <strong>AIDS</strong> PSA.<br />

The sensual montage of cheesy<br />

imagery was incidentally shot<br />

partially in Venice.<br />

Lia MacKinnon<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> education campaigns<br />

devised by marketing<br />

agencies contracted by<br />

governments [failed to]<br />

take into account any<br />

aspect of psychic life but<br />

fear. An industry that has<br />

used sexual desire to sell<br />

everything from cars to<br />

detergents suddenly finds<br />

itself at a loss for how to<br />

sell a condom.


John Greyson<br />

Part I:<br />

Beginnings


1987<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> (1987)<br />

General Idea<br />

Acrylic on Canvas


<strong>AIDS</strong> BY<br />

GENERAL<br />

IDEA<br />

General Idea,<br />

composed of<br />

three artists<br />

- Jorge Zontal,<br />

AA Bronson, and<br />

Felix Partz created this piece<br />

in response to an invitation<br />

to exhibit from the American<br />

Foundations for <strong>AIDS</strong> Research<br />

(amfAR). Titled <strong>AIDS</strong>, the first in<br />

General Idea’s Imagevirus series,<br />

aims to explore multiple aspects<br />

of <strong>AIDS</strong> through media.<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> directly mimicks<br />

Robert Indiana’s 1966, LOVE,<br />

a very popular and highly<br />

commercialized piece (circulated<br />

through postage stamps, holiday<br />

cards, keychains, et cetera),<br />

which spread worldwide and<br />

scribed in the cultural canon<br />

of the 1960s. <strong>AIDS</strong>, in using the<br />

exact layout and color scheme but<br />

replacing the word ‘LOVE’ with<br />

‘<strong>AIDS</strong>,’ features three bright<br />

hues - red, green, and blue. The<br />

vivid colour palette instantly<br />

attracts the eye of the viewer. The<br />

cheerful hues, existing in stark<br />

contrast with the updated text,<br />

boldly transform the original<br />

artwork into one which denotes a<br />

dark and taboo topic of the time<br />

- <strong>AIDS</strong>.<br />

Through their appropriation<br />

of Indiana’s infamous piece<br />

traditionally speaking on love,<br />

a generally relateable theme,<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> inspires the viewer to see<br />

that <strong>AIDS</strong> is just as ubiquitous as<br />

love - both present and relatable<br />

to everyone whether or not we<br />

care to realize. In swapping<br />

out “LOVE” for “<strong>AIDS</strong>,” the piece<br />

establishes a connection between<br />

two words and through their<br />

interchangeability implies a<br />

connection between love and <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

- <strong>AIDS</strong> is LOVE and LOVE is <strong>AIDS</strong>.<br />

Noting the universal<br />

recognition of Indiana’s work, the<br />

group aimed for the same amount<br />

of widespread use for their<br />

image as well. General Idea’s<br />

decision to parody Indiana’s<br />

LOVE, a cultural phenomenon of<br />

the 60’s, aims to boldly signal<br />

the presence of a new cultural<br />

phenomenon - the HIV/<strong>AIDS</strong><br />

pandemic. In the widespread<br />

promotion of <strong>AIDS</strong>, General Idea<br />

aims to mirror the spread of the<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> virus - “infecting” spaces<br />

with <strong>AIDS</strong> imagery to create <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

visibility cross-culturally.<br />

They accomplished this through<br />

multiple iterations of their work<br />

- transforming <strong>AIDS</strong> to sculpture,<br />

wallpapers, posters, prints, and<br />

a variety of other functional<br />

pieces (plates, jewelry, et cetera).<br />

In the following year after its<br />

creation, the group made twelve<br />

more paintings featuring the<br />

same imagery in different colour<br />

palettes.<br />

General Idea started<br />

poster campaigns to display<br />

their “<strong>AIDS</strong>” imagery in major<br />

cities across the globe, ranging


1987<br />

from Toronto to Berlin,<br />

even displaying “<strong>AIDS</strong>” on a<br />

billboard in Times Square.<br />

While the original painting<br />

was initially well-received by<br />

the public, when the posters<br />

were released General Idea<br />

was deeply criticized from<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> activists because of<br />

the lack of information on<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> in the posters. As much<br />

of the activism surrounding<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> was focused on both<br />

providing information and<br />

correcting misinformation<br />

on <strong>AIDS</strong>, <strong>AIDS</strong> activists took<br />

issue with the posters’ lack<br />

of information on HIV/<strong>AIDS</strong>.<br />

However, AA Bronson, one of<br />

the members of General Idea,<br />

spoke on the issue during an<br />

interview stating the lack<br />

of information was somewhat<br />

intentional. Creating a piece<br />

in poor taste is what inspired<br />

the work to begin with.<br />

The lack of information<br />

given from a single image,<br />

“<strong>AIDS</strong>,” serves as a powerful<br />

commentary on the lack of<br />

resources provided for those<br />

faced with an <strong>AIDS</strong> diagnosis.<br />

Using the elements of parody<br />

to their advantage, General<br />

Idea combines the taboo<br />

subject of <strong>AIDS</strong> with the<br />

fame of the original piece to<br />

confront the stigma associated<br />

with <strong>AIDS</strong> head on. General<br />

Idea was widely successful<br />

in providing visibility for<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> through their work<br />

appropriating, reworking,<br />

and widely distributing their<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> artwork. Continuing to<br />

use appropriation of other<br />

modalities throughout the<br />

1980s with projects like<br />

‘FILE,’ a parody of the popular<br />

magazine ‘LIFE,’ which at face<br />

value appears identical to<br />

‘LIFE,’ yet is “riddled with<br />

layers of fact and fiction;”<br />

a fitting phrase for General<br />

Idea’s entire body of work.<br />

Shortly after it’s<br />

production, the piece takes<br />

on a whole new meaning when<br />

when two of the three members<br />

of General Idea are diagnosed<br />

as HIV positive between 1989-<br />

1990. Their diagnoses create<br />

a newfound urgency behind<br />

the work <strong>AIDS</strong>, with Zontal<br />

publicly announcing his<br />

status in an interview with<br />

CBC Radio. Zontag’s public<br />

announcement of his status as<br />

HIV positive was incredibly<br />

controversial as <strong>AIDS</strong>-related<br />

stigma kept many HIV+ people<br />

from ever speaking about their<br />

diagnoses.<br />

Both Jorge Zontal and Felix<br />

Partz died of <strong>AIDS</strong>-related<br />

causes in 1994. AA Bronson<br />

carries the legacy of General<br />

Idea through his continued<br />

art career.<br />

General Idea’s works continue<br />

to increase in demand and are<br />

still gaining international<br />

recognition decades after<br />

their creation.<br />

Blue Fraser


<strong>AIDS</strong> (1987)<br />

General Idea<br />

Acrylic on Canvas Screen Print on Wallpaper


1993<br />

John Greyson<br />

Part 2:<br />

Pop-a-Boner<br />

(1993)<br />

One of Greyson’s bestknown<br />

films is his 1993<br />

feature Zero Patience<br />

- and for good reason.<br />

This irreverant and<br />

glamorous movie musical tackles<br />

the myth of <strong>AIDS</strong> Patient Zero<br />

with wit and style, and a healthy<br />

serving of irony. The film imagines<br />

a washed-up Sir Richard Francis<br />

Burton - known for his English<br />

translations of the Kama Sutra<br />

and a rendition of the Arabian<br />

Nights infamous for its emphasis<br />

on sexual imagery, as well as his<br />

quest to measure all the dicks.<br />

Burton, after an “unfortunate<br />

encounter” with the fountain of<br />

youth finds himself working for<br />

the Toronto Museum of Natural<br />

History. Here, he meets Zero, a<br />

fictionalized version of Gaetan<br />

Dugas, the Québecois flight<br />

attendant accused of bringing<br />

HIV to North America, and the<br />

two form a reluctant partnership<br />

that, of course, ends in sex.<br />

The fabulously depraved<br />

musical numbers - choreographed<br />

by Susan McKenzie and composed,<br />

once again, by Glenn Schellenberg<br />

- are befitting of a supremely<br />

twisted Busby Berkeley film.<br />

Numbers include, “Pop-a-Boner,”<br />

wherein three towel-clad men<br />

explain the rules of bathhouse<br />

etiquette, and “The Butthole<br />

Duet,” featuring Richard’s and<br />

Zero’s anuses singing to each<br />

other under the sheets. Suffice it<br />

to say, Zero Patience is a far cry<br />

from the largely melodramatic<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> features it precedes.<br />

Comparisons to von Praunheim’s A<br />

Virus Knows No Morals is easy to<br />

spot, clearly influential to<br />

Greyson’s style. However, Zero<br />

Patience is a wholly unique


film that could only have been<br />

conceived during the lawless<br />

zeitgeist of the New Queer<br />

Cinema, and could only have been<br />

executed this well by Greyson<br />

and Schellenberg.<br />

An HBO film adaptation of<br />

And the Band Played On, the 1987<br />

book which popularized the myth<br />

of Patient Zero, also happened<br />

to premiere in 1993. In stark<br />

contrast with Zero Patience, And<br />

the Band Played On took at face<br />

value Gaetan Dugas as scapegoat.<br />

On top of that, And the Band Played<br />

On is a very dry and melodramatic<br />

docudrama with a sprawling<br />

2h20 runtime. Speaking of dry<br />

melodramas, Jonathan Demme’s<br />

sorely closeted, conservative,<br />

and, arguably, homophobic<br />

Oscar-winning <strong>AIDS</strong> feature<br />

Philadelphia was released to<br />

US theatres on the same weekend<br />

as Zero Patience. Greyson cites<br />

Derek Jarman’s experimental<br />

soundscape Blue and Cynthia<br />

Roberts’ 1994 real-time docufiction<br />

hybrid as superior works<br />

dealing with <strong>AIDS</strong>.<br />

Lia MacKinnon


1993


BLOOD, POLITICS, AND<br />

PERFORMANCE <strong>ART</strong>:<br />

RON ATHEY’S FOUR<br />

SCENES IN A HARSH LIFE<br />

(1993-1996)<br />

In a trucker hat and<br />

machinist’s uniform,<br />

performance artist Ron<br />

Athey sits on a chair<br />

drinking scotch as drag<br />

queen Divinity P. Fudge, covered<br />

in balloons, dances onto a small<br />

stage in front of a crowd of people<br />

shrouded in darkness - so begins<br />

the first of four scenes in Athey’s<br />

Four Scenes in a Harsh Life.<br />

As Athey takes a lit cigar and<br />

begins aggressively popping the<br />

balloons, industrial music blares<br />

over the speakers. Divinity, now<br />

stripped from drag, crouches<br />

below Athey while he begins to<br />

slice a series of ritualisticstyled<br />

patterns into their back.<br />

Athey blots the blood with paper<br />

towels as two people in butcher<br />

uniforms string the bloodied<br />

paper towels on a clothesline<br />

dancing above the audience. Thus<br />

ends the first scene. i<br />

This scene totals around<br />

ten minutes. However, unknown<br />

to Athey at the time of his<br />

performance, these ten minutes<br />

sparked a string of controversies<br />

surrounding HIV, art, and<br />

blood in what Athey now refers<br />

to as the ‘Polemic of Blood’. i<br />

Four Scenes in a Harsh Life,<br />

performed at Patrick’s Cabaret<br />

and presented by the Walker<br />

Art Center during Minneapolis’<br />

fifth LGBT Film Festival, was<br />

met with fear, disgust, reproach<br />

and confusion by mainstream and<br />

right-wing media with Ron Athey,<br />

the HIV+ performance artist at<br />

center stage. The controversy<br />

surrounding Athey’s performance,<br />

and subsequent fallout centered<br />

around an HIV+ artist using blood<br />

in their act, contributed to the<br />

ever-growing complicity between<br />

the art world and public funding.<br />

Athey, although never directly<br />

applying for funding through the<br />

NEA (National Endowment for the<br />

Arts), was used to criticize the<br />

NEA and bolstered (along with<br />

the NEA Four) the censoring of<br />

artists’ work through withholding<br />

funding to certain subject matter/<br />

mediums.<br />

However, Athey’s works<br />

were not funded publicly outside<br />

of a $150 stipend from the NEA,<br />

distributed through the Walker<br />

Center, for his performance. Nor<br />

has he ever requested funding<br />

through the NEA or any such art<br />

endowments. As powerful as Athey’s<br />

Four Scenes in a Harsh Life is,<br />

the response by mainstream media<br />

pundits to the performance itself<br />

was exaggerated - painting Athey<br />

as a morbid artist, paid for by tax<br />

dollars to spew “buckets of HIVtainted<br />

blood” at the audience.<br />

Controversy surrounding his<br />

performance, lying at the<br />

intersection of art and politics,<br />

points to how art existing, even<br />

within a subculture, is never<br />

outside culture and political<br />

tension.<br />

i. “The belief that all blood is HIV-positive, that, against science, it could be airborne.”<br />

Ron Athey, in Polemic of Blood,” Walker Art, https://walkerart.org/magazine/ron-athey-blood-polemic-post-aids-body.


1993<br />

Four Scenes in a Harsh<br />

Life, the second part of Athey’s<br />

‘holy torture trinity,’ centers<br />

blood and ritual sacrifice as a<br />

meditation on the inner turmoil<br />

in the rejection of Christianity<br />

within his early adolescence,<br />

centering each performance as<br />

parts a whole biblical story,<br />

with HIV and martyrdom at the<br />

center. i For Athey, “death has<br />

been a constant companion,”<br />

showing up in many of his works.<br />

Growing up in a Pentecostal and<br />

profoundly religious home, Athey<br />

uses subversion of familiar<br />

ritualistic and religious imagery<br />

to grapple with his status as HIV<br />

positive, his sexuality, gender,<br />

and struggles with addiction and<br />

suicide.<br />

Performance art in and<br />

of itself is already a highly<br />

politicized form of art because it<br />

deals directly with the body of the<br />

artist. The body becomes the art,<br />

the expression and the ‘painting.’<br />

Front and center, the body of<br />

the artist is the foreground of<br />

art. One cannot skirt or avoid<br />

direct confrontation between the<br />

viewer and the artist. In its best<br />

form, performance art subverts<br />

- allowing for an exploration<br />

of the often highly politicized<br />

body. Athey’s performance<br />

style, influenced by Jean Genet<br />

and William S. Burroughs,<br />

modification and scarification,<br />

showing in-vivo the late ‘80s and<br />

early ‘90s discourse surrounding<br />

HIV as tying sexuality with<br />

disease.<br />

Through Athey’s literal marking<br />

of his body, he attacks and<br />

subverts the dominant discourse<br />

surrounding the queer body<br />

through physical performance.<br />

Four Scenes in a Harsh<br />

Life, performed from 1993 to<br />

1996, marks a time during the HIV<br />

epidemic where the imact of HIV<br />

on the art world - particularly<br />

within queer subcultures -<br />

reconfigured how art was not only<br />

thought about but produced. Ron<br />

Athey, through grief and loss of<br />

many of his idols in the postpunk/pre-goth<br />

scene, works to<br />

reconfigure and recapitulate this<br />

loss - inviting his audiences to<br />

see the physical mainfestations<br />

of his grief.<br />

Margot Thorseth<br />

often employs turture, body<br />

2 “Athey developed what he calls the ‘holy torture trinity’ of works: Martyrs & Saints, 4<br />

Scenes in a Harsh Life, and Deliverance. All three pieces combine elements of religious imagery, medical<br />

treatment, sexual fetishes, and an inevitable progression through injury towards death.” Alison<br />

Young, Judging the Image: Art, value, law, (New York:Routledge, 2005), 108.


“Because the <strong>AIDS</strong> body was still present. Brassy,<br />

because defiant, because still here, because a<br />

survivor, because of <strong>AIDS</strong>. So I just owned another<br />

way of looking at my work, that my identity and<br />

my experience is written on the body, whether or<br />

not the piece is “about” that. My mother. Addiction.<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong>. Faggotry. And, in whatever costume, the<br />

queer body.”<br />

Ron Athey


1994<br />

AA<br />

BRONSON’S<br />

FELIX P<strong>ART</strong>Z<br />

Felix Partz died of<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong>-related causes<br />

on the fifth of June,<br />

1994. Hard to hold, yet<br />

even harder to break is<br />

Felix’s unflinching gaze in this<br />

posthumous portrait. This is<br />

what death looks like. In 1999, five<br />

years after Felix Partz’s death,<br />

AA Bronson sold the image of his<br />

friend and former collaborative<br />

partner to the National Gallery<br />

of Canada. In doing this, he lets<br />

Felix go into the world of the<br />

object, reminding the viewer<br />

that, we too, are mortal. He<br />

allows the dead to walk among us.<br />

It was not unfamiliar for queer<br />

communities during this time to<br />

see their loved ones ravaged by<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong>. In 1994, <strong>AIDS</strong> became the<br />

leading cause of death among<br />

Americans ages 25-44. Felix<br />

Partz in this image is himself,<br />

but he is also<br />

a representation of many people<br />

who died at home, helpless to<br />

the fatality of <strong>AIDS</strong> before<br />

the availability of any sort of<br />

treatment. This is how Felix<br />

presented himself to people in<br />

the last few weeks of his life,<br />

surrounded by his favourite<br />

things and adorned in pattern<br />

and colour.<br />

Felix, pictured here<br />

three hours after his death with<br />

his body so emaciated there is<br />

not enough skin even to close<br />

his eyes. Formally, the image<br />

draws on multiple art movements,<br />

reminding the viewer that HIV<br />

can touch anything. There is a<br />

surrealist gaze of his hollow eye<br />

sockets that make you question<br />

your own subconscious. His<br />

mortality is staring directly at<br />

you. The flatness of space and<br />

mix of pattern is reminiscent<br />

of Japonism. The juxtaposition<br />

of brightly coloured bedding<br />

and eclectic patterns versus the<br />

emaciated figure is startling<br />

- creating an evident tension<br />

between life and death.


We need to remember, that the diseased, the<br />

disabled, and, yes, even the dead walk among us.<br />

They are part of our community, our history, our<br />

continuity.<br />

AA Bronson<br />

(1999)<br />

This photo creates an<br />

important conversation for<br />

viewers around HIV/<strong>AIDS</strong>, life,<br />

and death. While the image is<br />

hard to look at as it confronts<br />

directly our own mortality, it is<br />

necessary to do so. By allowing<br />

the viewer access to Felix Partz<br />

in his death, we are given the<br />

space to reflect on and mourn a<br />

generation lost to HIV - and face<br />

the fear of our own mortality.<br />

Caitlin Rabb


2003<br />

John Greyson<br />

Part 3:<br />

A Hybrid Docu-<br />

Fiction multi-<br />

channel Video<br />

opera?!


Yes, you heard that right!<br />

Perhaps Greyson’s<br />

most ambitious project<br />

to date, Fig Trees<br />

(2003) combines these<br />

seemingly incompatible genres<br />

and modalities in a rich tapestry<br />

of “frothy absurd nonsense.”<br />

Reminiscent of, yet wholly<br />

different from, Gertrude Stein<br />

and Virgil Thomson’s 1934 opera<br />

Four Saints in Three Acts, Fig<br />

Trees - to top it off - is narrated<br />

by an albino squirrel. The piece<br />

tells the story of prominent<br />

South African <strong>AIDS</strong> activist<br />

Zackie Achmat through the<br />

anachronistic eyes of Stein and<br />

Thomson, who, within Greyson<br />

and Wall’s opera, are imagined to<br />

be writing their own opera about<br />

him. This meta-fictitious tale is<br />

interspersed with real interviews<br />

of living <strong>AIDS</strong> activists, most<br />

notably Toronto <strong>AIDS</strong> activist,<br />

Tim McCaskell.<br />

Conceived and co-created<br />

with composer David Wall, the<br />

piece was unveiled in 2003 as<br />

a series of eight installations<br />

at the Oakville Galleries in<br />

Oakville, a suburb of Toronto.<br />

Further iterations followed at<br />

various locations across Canada<br />

in subsequent years. In 2007,<br />

a single-channel feature film<br />

version was filmed with the same<br />

cast and additional scenes. The<br />

feature version premiered in<br />

2009 at the Berlin International<br />

Film Festival.<br />

Lia MacKinnon


2013<br />

THE BODY AS SPECTACLE:<br />

RON ATHEY’S<br />

INCORRUPTIBLE FLESH<br />

AND THE SHIFTING DISCOURSE OF THE<br />

‘POST-<strong>AIDS</strong> BODY’<br />

In the 2015 anthology Art<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> America, Jonathan<br />

Katz notes a shift in<br />

discourse surrounding<br />

HIV/<strong>AIDS</strong> as promoting<br />

the <strong>AIDS</strong> crisis in the past<br />

tense. I would argue that the<br />

commodification of subversion<br />

and the collapsing of the <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

crisis into the folds of history<br />

has reframed queer performance<br />

art outside of the political,<br />

iconclastic imaginary. Aligned<br />

more with sideshow attraction<br />

and voyeuristic curiosity, this<br />

‘shifting of <strong>AIDS</strong> into the past’<br />

has affected the spectatorship of<br />

the queer artist and the impact<br />

of, as Ron Athey himself puts, the<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> body. Now, seen as a “tragic<br />

tangent in American history,”<br />

the impending threat of <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

and, by extension, the <strong>AIDS</strong> body<br />

has been removed and replaced<br />

with general detachment and<br />

indifference within our current<br />

cultural climate. i With <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

“safely sequestered in the<br />

past,” voyeuristic consumption<br />

of the queer body resumes its<br />

pace , dramatically impacting<br />

the affective quality of queer<br />

performance art. For the purposes<br />

of this article, I will be focusing<br />

on Megan Hoetger’s recapitulation<br />

of audience reaction from<br />

Ron Athey’s 2014 performance,<br />

Incorruptible Flesh: Messianic<br />

Remains, at Stanford University’s<br />

Pigott theatre. Emblematic of<br />

the castrated threat of the <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

crisis, the shifting of the <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

body into mere abject curiosity<br />

marks the body as art politic<br />

merging irreconcilably with the<br />

body as spectacle.<br />

Athey’s series, Incorruptible<br />

Flesh began in 1996 as a<br />

collaboration with Lawrence<br />

Steger, who later passed from<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> complications in 1999. Athey<br />

has since revisited Incorruptible<br />

Flesh with [Dissociative Sparkle]<br />

(2006), Perpetual Wound (2007)<br />

and, most recently, Messianic<br />

Remains (2013). Messianic<br />

Remains, the fourth instalment<br />

of Incorruptible Flesh, inspired<br />

by Jean Genet’s Our Lady of the<br />

Flowers and iconic drag queen<br />

Divine’s less than divine death,<br />

is a meditation on death, (im)<br />

mortality, iconoclasm, and the<br />

spectacle of life.<br />

However, the rise in<br />

homonationalism and discourse<br />

surrounding <strong>AIDS</strong> and ‘the gay<br />

body’ is reflected in audience<br />

reaction to Athey’s 2013<br />

performance. Compared to his<br />

previous performances in the<br />

1990s, audience participation,<br />

Hoetger stresses, is marked with<br />

detached analysis, curiosity,<br />

and collective anxiety over the<br />

experience they are “supposed”<br />

to have.<br />

With a show “structured by [the]<br />

collective disire to have ‘an Athey<br />

i Of which theorizing or diving into the root of Western society’s detachment and indifference is beyond<br />

the scope of this paper. There are innumerable possible explanations for this phenomenon, and most<br />

likely the combinatory effect of a multiplicity of dialogues of which, for brevity’s sake, I will not go<br />

into detail.


experience’ and anxiety over<br />

what exactly that should look<br />

and feel like,” - gawking at the<br />

instruments and lewd comments on<br />

the position of his body, with one<br />

spectator describing to another<br />

a brief history of the American<br />

freak show - the preoccupied<br />

and detached spectatorship of<br />

the audience, at least to Hoetger,<br />

seems trite and disinterested.<br />

Messianic Remains, while<br />

well aligned with Athey’s oeuvre,<br />

shows a shift in the affective<br />

control his performances have<br />

over his audience. I would argue<br />

that this shift demarcates a<br />

shift in the affective control of<br />

the queer body - the ‘<strong>AIDS</strong> body’<br />

the ‘perverse body’ - and ties<br />

in with the popular discourse<br />

surrounding <strong>AIDS</strong> as a ‘problem’<br />

that has been ‘solved.’ Now,<br />

no longer seen as a threat to<br />

public health, the <strong>AIDS</strong> body<br />

takes its place among the freak<br />

show circuit - ideologically depoliticized,<br />

abject, and no longer<br />

a thing to be feared but prodded<br />

at and examined.<br />

Pavlina Radia, in<br />

their article on Baudrillard’s<br />

postmodern Transaesthetics


2013<br />

and spectacle, argues that<br />

postmodernity and performance<br />

art, in its attempts to use art as<br />

a form of subversion to confront<br />

commodification<br />

through<br />

spectacle, “inevitably objectifies<br />

the other wtihin as a mirror<br />

image of (their) (im)mortality,”<br />

leaving them “equally caught up<br />

in the iconoclastic strategies<br />

they strive to reject in the first<br />

place.” Athey’s Incorruptible<br />

Flesh performances, ranging from<br />

2006 to 2019, center the queer body<br />

in this iconoclastic spectacle.<br />

However, space, place, and time<br />

are indispensable tools within<br />

cultural analysis. Temporality<br />

dictates how a performance may<br />

be received or, more accurately,<br />

how it may be seen yet not<br />

witnessed. As Hoetger suggests,<br />

it is in the audience wanting an<br />

‘Athey experience’ that decenters<br />

the work from the performer.<br />

No longer subjective, Athey’s<br />

message can easily be lost, fading<br />

into the background of the ‘freak<br />

show’ that is the <strong>AIDS</strong> body, that<br />

is the performance artist, that<br />

is the mutliated, incorruptible<br />

flesh of Ron Athey. It is hard not<br />

to draw parallels with the shift<br />

in <strong>AIDS</strong> discourse over a similar<br />

period of Athey’s performances.<br />

The <strong>AIDS</strong> body - Ron Athey’s body -<br />

is no longer subjective. Rather, it<br />

is decentered from yet subsumed<br />

within the queer body politic.<br />

The commodification of<br />

the <strong>AIDS</strong> body, more pernicious<br />

than just a United Colours of<br />

Benneton ad, dictates art’s very<br />

production. Commodification<br />

affects what is produced, how<br />

it is produced, by whom, and<br />

how it is (or is not) received.<br />

Baudrillard would disagree that<br />

any artist could effectively<br />

subvert their own iconoclasm.<br />

It would seem as though Athey<br />

is no exception. However, the<br />

question remains if it is possible<br />

within the commodification of<br />

subversion, for the artist to<br />

emancipate their body from the<br />

spectatorial freak show and, if<br />

it proves to be impossible, what<br />

we are witnessing is, perhaps,<br />

a post-Barthean ‘death of the<br />

artist.’<br />

For Hoetger, the<br />

transduction from visual to<br />

auditory in Athey’s performance<br />

is what captivates her. Has the<br />

visual lost meaning? Overinundated<br />

with the spectator’s<br />

gaze, sublimated through<br />

indifference and detachment from<br />

the visual, has the queer body -<br />

the <strong>AIDS</strong> body, the artist body -<br />

no longer coded as threat, lost its<br />

significance? Perhaps the space<br />

of the performance, sterile and<br />

academic, creates a spectatorship<br />

driven by having “the experience<br />

they were supposed to have, (to)<br />

linger long enough to have spent<br />

an appropriate time with the<br />

work.”


“Divine Divinity”: Photo Catherine Opie<br />

Maybe the stage, so far<br />

from the audience. Or, perhaps,<br />

the body, the incorruptible<br />

body, the <strong>AIDS</strong> body, losing its<br />

popular relevancy, has, yet<br />

again, changed meaning.<br />

Margot Thorseth


KIA<br />

LABEIJA’S<br />

MOURNING<br />

SICKNESS<br />

(2014)<br />

Kia LaBeija is a fine<br />

artist and dancer, but<br />

first she is a queer<br />

black woman living<br />

with HIV. Her work<br />

intends on making space for<br />

those she says are forgotten.<br />

She represents an everpresent<br />

minority - children living with<br />

HIV. Born in 1990, her life is in<br />

and of itself a miracle. She has<br />

lived far past what was assumed<br />

for anyone living with HIV, let<br />

alone children. LaBeija, along<br />

with her mother, was diagnosed<br />

with HIV in 1992. In 1993, just<br />

a year after Kia’s diagnosis,<br />

the mean age of survival for<br />

children living with HIV through<br />

perinatal transmission was just<br />

under nine years. Kia, through<br />

her life experience as HIV+,<br />

gives meaning to “the power of<br />

representation,” she “wants<br />

to make sure that the lives of<br />

children born with HIV are not<br />

be reduced to one sentence in a<br />

reports about ‘mother-to-child’<br />

transmission.”<br />

2014<br />

Kia’s mother advocated<br />

for the rights of Asian Americans<br />

living with HIV until her death<br />

in 2004. Kia’s art, following in<br />

her mother’s legacy, uses her<br />

own positionality to advocate for<br />

those who are not being heard.<br />

Kia LaBeija, house mother of<br />

iconic House of LaBeija in it’s<br />

50th year, credits the ballroom<br />

community as being foundational<br />

to her sense of identity and<br />

belonging.<br />

The series ‘24’ recreates<br />

mementos, drawing on loss and her<br />

own experience as a young queer<br />

person living with HIV. Using<br />

photographs to capture recreated<br />

moments, LaBeija incorporates<br />

elements of fantasy within her<br />

reality. The series is indicative<br />

of milestones encompassed with<br />

grief.<br />

In her work ‘Eleven,’<br />

LaBeija is seen in her prom dress<br />

at the doctor’s office having her<br />

blood drawn. The assumption<br />

behind this work is that Kia was<br />

never expected to live to see this<br />

day. The series was first presented<br />

ten years after the death of her<br />

mother. Kia herself is centered<br />

in the photos throughout the<br />

series.


Breaking the fourth wall,<br />

LaBeija’s eyes connect with<br />

the viewer and forces them<br />

to experience these intimate<br />

moments with her. The filters<br />

and lighting used gives off an<br />

element of fantastical realism<br />

to her complicated and difficult<br />

memories.<br />

“Mourning Sickness,”<br />

captures the feeling of the<br />

isolation felt within<br />

grief. A snapshot<br />

of multifaceted<br />

and tangible loss,<br />

“Mourning Sickness”<br />

tells the tale,<br />

through LaBeija’s<br />

perspective, of<br />

the loss of her<br />

own experiences<br />

and opportunities<br />

in growing as a<br />

child with HIV. Her<br />

presence, centered<br />

in the image, is as<br />

striking as it is<br />

intense. LaBeija, in centering<br />

heself, reclaims the narrative<br />

overshadowed by the physical<br />

ramifications of the<br />

presence of HIV in<br />

her life.<br />

The title plays<br />

on<br />

‘morning<br />

sickness,’ inspired<br />

by memories of<br />

her mother and<br />

of Kia spending<br />

many mornings<br />

before school<br />

being sick from the<br />

medications keeping<br />

her alive. She also<br />

says it “evokes<br />

locking myself in<br />

the bathroom and<br />

grieving for my<br />

mother’s passing.<br />

I still deal with these feelings,<br />

and probably always will.” The<br />

medium of the photo is relevant<br />

to the content, as the photo itself<br />

immortalizes these moments<br />

both for the viewer, and LaBeija<br />

herself. The tangibility of her<br />

grief is something she will carry<br />

on forever.<br />

In “Kia and Mommy,”<br />

LaBeija is lying on the floor of<br />

her childhood bedroom clutching<br />

a photo of her mother.


2014<br />

As her photography practice<br />

progressed, her mother had<br />

already passed and she was<br />

unable to take a portrait with<br />

her. This portrait represents<br />

that grief. Here, she represents<br />

many children who have lost their<br />

primary carers to HIV-related<br />

illness. She is dressed up in this<br />

image, presenting a glamourized<br />

version of herself. She has said<br />

that this is so other HIV+ people<br />

may see themselves through her<br />

as being beautiful.<br />

Kia’s art is made to create<br />

a space for HIV positive people<br />

who see themselves in her work.<br />

Kia LaBeija creates to ensure<br />

that forgotten people have a<br />

voice and community. Her work<br />

is the amalgamation of her life<br />

experience as a queer, HIV+ woman.<br />

Drawing on her own experiences,<br />

she makes herself vulnerable in<br />

sharing her own experience and<br />

creating community in her work<br />

for those who have seldom seen<br />

themselves represented. LaBeija<br />

integrates the intersections<br />

of politics and illness, while<br />

delivering beautifully-crafted<br />

mementos representative of an<br />

entire generation living with<br />

HIV.<br />

Caitlin Rabb


Dove (2016)<br />

Music: Pillar Point; Directed by Jacob Krupnick<br />

Featuring Kia LaBeija<br />

Music Video


JONATHAN<br />

MOLINA’S<br />

BETHESDA<br />

BROTHERHOOD<br />

2014<br />

Between 2014 and 2016,<br />

Jonathan Molina-<br />

Garcia created a<br />

multimedia series of<br />

his works entitled<br />

The Bethesda Brotherhood.<br />

This series features a variety<br />

of contemporary works in<br />

different mediums including<br />

photo, video, collage, and<br />

needlepoint. The multiple<br />

mediums Garcia works with<br />

reflect his intersecting<br />

identities as queer, HIV<br />

positive, and a Salvadorian<br />

immigrant. The Bethesda<br />

Brotherhood series, inspired<br />

by the relationships formed by<br />

Garcia with older HIV positive<br />

men (who he met over the<br />

internet,) captures intimate<br />

exchanges between himself<br />

and his lovers. Through these<br />

exchanges, Garcia explores<br />

themes of visibility, identity,<br />

and intergenerational<br />

relationships. The use of<br />

himself and his lovers as main<br />

subjects in his art challenges<br />

notions of undetectability by<br />

making their lives, identities,<br />

and experiences outwardly<br />

visible through the work. This<br />

series is representative of its<br />

time, highlighting the ways<br />

we are now able to meet people<br />

through the internet and form<br />

real, meaningful connections<br />

with them.<br />

The pool of Bethesda<br />

is referred to in religious<br />

literature as the place where<br />

Jesus Christ bathed a paralyzed<br />

man, completely curing him of<br />

his ailments. This site holds a<br />

double meaning: one of healing<br />

and grace, and one of shame<br />

and degradation of those who<br />

are ailing. This resonates<br />

with Garcia as his identity<br />

also links him with multiple<br />

meanings: as an immigrant<br />

having both a Salvadorian and<br />

American identity, as queer,<br />

and as HIV positive. His status<br />

as an immigrant both frees<br />

and oppresses him, and his<br />

HIV status being recognized<br />

both negatively links him to<br />

the government, yet gives him<br />

access to medication. The pool<br />

of Bethesda is a metaphor<br />

for the current reality of<br />

HIV - there are medications<br />

now available to help control<br />

the virus and heal the sick,<br />

however, accessing this<br />

lifesaving medications means<br />

you are forced to exist within<br />

many social stigmas and<br />

barriers.<br />

“Gerry” (2014), (featured<br />

on the right) is a diptych<br />

Garcia took of one of his<br />

lovers. This work challenges<br />

notions of<br />

visibility - both of HIV+,<br />

queer men and of being


‘undetectable.’ This is shown in<br />

many ways, one being through the<br />

interspersing sections of shadow<br />

and light cast on Gerry’s nude<br />

body. Gerry is both facing the<br />

camera and has his back turned<br />

within the two images, giving<br />

us a view of his entire body -<br />

save for the parts concealed<br />

by the shadows. Gerry’s naked<br />

body outstretched in energetic<br />

stances is both vulnerable and<br />

empowering.<br />

Included in this series is a<br />

short video of Gerry with the song<br />

“Forever Young” (2014) playing in<br />

the background as he brushes his<br />

hair in a mirror. The song adds<br />

multiple meanings. Originally<br />

recorded in 1973, the iconic<br />

‘Forever Young’ has transgressed<br />

multiple decades through<br />

remixes and reworking into new<br />

versions throughout the years.<br />

Blurring the line between public<br />

and private, this video shows the<br />

world an intimate moment that<br />

would otherwise have gone unseen<br />

outside of Gerry’s and Jonathan’s<br />

worlds. Gerry stands naked as he<br />

and Garcia, behind the camera,<br />

go back and forth - exchanging<br />

words and giggles that turn into<br />

joyous belly laughs when Gerry<br />

notes the lack of hair he has to<br />

brush. ‘Forever Young,’ (shown on<br />

the next page) demonstrates the<br />

joy and care that can exist within<br />

intergenerational relationships<br />

between queer, HIV positive men.<br />

“Stitch, Pop-Pop, Stitch<br />

(2014)” is a short video that shows<br />

one of Garcia’s lovers, Allan,


2014<br />

Forever Young<br />

Jonathan Molina-<br />

Garcia<br />

2014<br />

Embed Forever Young here<br />

link in endnotes<br />

teaching him how to stitch. They<br />

are sitting naked in a white room<br />

on a white bed, their dark bodies<br />

and bright patchwork contrasting<br />

the sterile environment. Allan<br />

and Garcia sit side by side, Allan<br />

first explaining and showing<br />

how a particular stitch is made,<br />

then passing over the patchwork<br />

for Garcia to try, guiding him<br />

through the process.<br />

This piece highlights the<br />

intergenerational exchange<br />

of knowledge that happens<br />

between Garcia and his lover - an


embed stitch pop-pop stitch here<br />

(link in endnotes)<br />

exchange of knowledge that has<br />

been happening between queer<br />

HIV positive men for decades.<br />

Allan is strict with his teaching<br />

strategy and Garcia continuously<br />

laughs in response. This exchange<br />

demonstrates the conflict between<br />

their generational influences on<br />

communication and how they work<br />

together to overcome in order to<br />

learn and share a space together.<br />

The intergenerational exchange<br />

of knowledge has been vital to<br />

queer men throughout the timeline<br />

of HIV, passing knowledge and<br />

caring for one another has been<br />

a key factor in survival. Garcia<br />

shows this exchange happening<br />

in the modern day, reminding<br />

viewers of how it has shaped our<br />

history and demonstrates the<br />

ways it manifests in the age of<br />

technology.<br />

Blue Fraser


2022<br />

John<br />

Greyson<br />

Part 4:<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> vid-<br />

eo: Past,<br />

Present,<br />

and<br />

Future.<br />

To conclude this piece, we<br />

will be taking a sneak<br />

peak at John Greyson’s<br />

upcoming collaborative<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> video project,<br />

Viral Interventions, and the<br />

threads that connect it back to<br />

his earlier works, especially<br />

his collaborative cable access<br />

programme Toronto Living with<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> (TLWA, 1989-1991). The<br />

TLWA programme consisted of 13<br />

commissioned half-hour <strong>AIDS</strong><br />

videos destined for distribution<br />

on the public-access networks<br />

of Rogers and MacLean-Hunter,<br />

produced by Greyson and Michael<br />

Balser. This was not the first of<br />

Greyson’s curatorial endeavours<br />

– he previously curated the Angry<br />

Initiatives, Different Strategies<br />

tape (1988) and co-curated Video<br />

Against <strong>AIDS</strong> (1989) – but it was<br />

the most widely distributed of<br />

the three, being co-funded by<br />

various public health agencies.<br />

Greyson directed two pilots<br />

for the programme in 1989, The<br />

Great AZT Debate, about the<br />

controversial antiretroviral<br />

drug, and The World is Sick (sic),<br />

which documented the 1989 World<br />

<strong>AIDS</strong> Conference in Montreal,<br />

as narrated by a snarky drag<br />

queen. Though Greyson and Balser<br />

managed to produce 13 videos<br />

for the series, they were unable<br />

to secure funding for a second<br />

series, as the station manager at<br />

Rogers Cable refused to continue<br />

airing the programme due to<br />

scenes of “men French kissing and<br />

the caressing of thighs” in one of<br />

the videos.


Greyson’s upcoming<br />

project “Viral Interventions is<br />

a direct response to” the TLWA<br />

series. Greyson and Sara Flicker<br />

are leading the project with<br />

support from Alison Duke, Darien<br />

Taylor, Richard Fung, and Ryan<br />

Conrad. The project consists of<br />

three series of six 10-minute<br />

commissioned <strong>AIDS</strong> videos by a<br />

diverse group of both new and<br />

established artists. In addition<br />

to the video programmes, the<br />

last of which has locked picture,<br />

Greyson and his collaborators<br />

are planning<br />

a conference, exhibition, print<br />

publication, screening series,<br />

and an interactive documentary<br />

about the project itself. Though<br />

the official launch date is not<br />

until 2024, Greyson has kindly<br />

informed us to keep our eyes on<br />

the Cinema Politica schedule for<br />

this summer (2022) for more news<br />

about the project.<br />

]<br />

Lia MacKinnon


<strong>AIDS</strong> &<br />

<strong>ART</strong><br />

Blue Fraser, Lia MacKinnon, Caitlin Rabb, Toulouse Ren, Margot Thorseth

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