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