shifting to another emphasis, the final part, really. Or the middle
the artistic avant-garde fails in its ostensible objectives—such
as to avoid recuperation, to be uncommodifiable, to undermine the
of art, to provoke social change—it succeeds in extending
the kinds of resistances that I've just outlined. It opens
up new possibilities for inventive responses that in turn become
part of our everyday experience.
I'd like to spend the remaining
time discussing the avant-garde's articulation of intimacy
and intoxication as a means of achieving this.
I don't know
how functional a term intimacy is. Perhaps it can serve as a transitional
word, something that takes us on to a more effective formulation.
And again, I'd welcome any thoughts that you have on this. On the
other hand, intimacy signifies a reduction
objects, a reduction of that alienation from things which tends
to increase with the commercial pressure for everything to have
have the function even of meaningfulness.
I see intimacy as determining
a new kind of relation to things, a new orientation towards them
where the unusualness of the perspective brings them closer. In
sense it's not just that it invites the possibility of participation—it
may not at all—but that it is the revolution in our relationship
that formulates a new aspect to things. It also draws out, importantly,
I think, the sensual aspect of the encounter.
In this respect, Felix Gonzales-Torres is
an obvious example
his work addresses relationships, here a piece called Perfect
and the clocks keep time. [slide 14: Perfect Lovers]
And here, a piece called Ross
in LA, [slide
15: Ross in LA] and for those of you that don't know
the logic of these candy spills, Ross was his boyfriend who
died before Felix
Gonzales-Torres, both died of AIDS, and the candies are the weight
of the person whose portrait they stand for. And as a spectator
you can help yourself to them, you can take one and eat them.
So there's obviously a way in which we can think of intimacy and
that aspect of participation and the end of the edible artwork.
And the supply keeps getting replenished.
Gordon Matta-Clark's work in this context for the way in
which it makes the city into a permeable entity—Gordon Matta-Clark
is a 70s artist who cut through buildings. Particularly, I think,
in this work, which is
the delicately humorous Reality Properties: Fake Estates,
from 1978 [slide 16], where he would buy up useless parcels of
land around New York which cost next to nothing but which were,
say, a strip of land that for some reason got isolated between
two buildings or two properties.
relevant here would
be Beom Kim's, Korean artist, Beom Kim's strange
objects. And here is a piece called Electric Noose [slide
17: Electric Noose, 1992], which you can't quite see, there's
a shadow on it, but it's plugged into the wall. [slide 18: Pregnant
Hammer, 1995] A
piece called Pregnant