A Portrait of Ross
the benefits of being unguarded
![[017.jpg]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F9e69e882-2d5a-43b8-ada6-7e22203fbe0a_500x667.jpeg "[017.jpg]")
This is A Portrait of Ross, by Felix Gonzalez-Torres. At first glance it would appear to many to be the perfect parody of contemporary art. “Why, it's only a pile of candy!” (To be clear, it is an actual pile of candy, not a photograph of such.) Those more inclined to actually interrogate it as a work of art might be more charitable. They might interpret the color, the texture, and recognize that whoever Ross was, he shone brightly. They might realize how the haphazard nature of the candy's piling makes its final form mutable. And if they were bold enough, they might take a piece of the candy and eat it and enjoy it, and realize that this work of art gave the viewer some sort of tactile reaction and sense manipulation that a Monet or Martini or Mondrian couldn't.
If they really took the time, they might even read the placard on the wall. If they did, they would learn that Ross was Gonzalez-Torres's lover, and that Ross died of AIDS. When Ross was first diagnosed, his doctor told him his ideal weight was 155 pounds. Every day, the candy is weighed and 155 pounds is placed out. Visitors to the museum or gallery where it’s being showcased are encouraged to take a piece. So it's a giving, generous work of art, but with a dark edge, for as the candy gradually diminishes it symbolizes Ross's weight loss due to AIDS. But every morning, the candy is weighed out again, restored to its previous weight, so art (unlike life) is eternal. And we might note with regret that Gonzalez-Torres, like Ross, did not enjoy the immortality of art, and himself died of AIDS in 1996. His legacy lives on in the sights and tastes of all those who pass before his work.
I won’t lie to you: I find this beautiful and heartening. This piece reminds me of what it is to be alive. It’s also something that very many would banish from the designation “art.” It's easy to parody and mock, and many have. When I lived in Chicago 15 years ago this piece was at the Art Institute of Chicago, where I had a membership. I would go at least once a week. And there were a couple different reactions that I tended to notice. A common reaction was a kind of quizzical skepticism, but one tempered by curiosity. I would always walk up to the pile and take a piece of candy in front of a group of onlookers, and they would laugh and I would smile, and do my best to invite them into the work. Often, my taking a piece gave them permission to do so as well, and they’d grab one for themselves and stand around grinning as they sucked on the candy. But there were others who were impervious to its charms; they tended to walk in, see it, snort, and move on, wondering aloud how anyone could see that as art. And of course neither they nor you are under any obligation to take this piece of art, its artist, or its broad category seriously, if it is your inclination not to.
But I think you should think it over. For something of this potential, this groaning with meaning, I think you should at least eat a piece of the candy and then decide.
I am and have always been an advocate for difficult art, experimental art, the avant garde. There are a lot of reasons for this, most importantly being raised to believe that art had many functions, that all of them were legitimate, and that helping us to understand the darkest and hardest parts of life is as important a function of art as entertainment. I will, no doubt, write at length about these ideas in time. But for now I just want to say: I am glad that I am, and was, the kind of person who can walk into a gallery in an art museum, grab a piece of candy, and enjoy it, without wondering if it’s pretentious, or ridiculous, or if someone’s making a fool of me. It’s hard to like weird art right now, when poptimism is our socially and economically enforced ideology about music and so much more. Someone sent me an email about my post on Boris - musicians who for the past 18 years have given me the purest kind of joy I’ve ever gotten from art - and said, casually, that I only pretended to like that kind of music to look cool. But the beauty is that the music sounds just as good to me no matter what he says, and he’ll never get to enjoy it because he’s too afraid of wanting to look cool. I’d rather have the chance to get to like things, even weird things, even hard things.
And nothing ever tasted as good to me as that first piece of candy.
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I've softened my own anti-'modern'-art feelings a lot. I can't remember the name of the painting – it's in some museum in NYC – but it's a grid of mostly monochrome colors; black and gray (I think). I was very indirectly familiar with it before I saw it, or at least aware of similar works, but I found the actual painting, at least when I was standing in front of it, much more interesting – there's all kinds of details to be noticed that close! It reminds me of John Cage's 4'33 in that way – a neat conceptual stunt.
I've also noticed that 'hate' towards modern/conceptual art is pretty welcome! A lot of the artists that produce this kind of work seem to _want_ it. I can imagine that 'the hate of the bourgeois' (or something) is _validating_ in a way that dishonest fawning isn't. I also imagine that these artists most fear _indifference_ from their audience.
And the whole 'meta-process' is interesting too: announce that the work (which, in your example, would include the whole setup and maintenance of the work when it's on exhibition) is a metaphor for something and BAM – you're done; 'Discuss!'. I like analyzing art logic so it's a bit of nerd-sniping! It reminds me of mathematics too (the stuff that mathematicians do): construct some mapping (metaphor) from your imagination, and then just follow its own logic as far as it remains interesting.
But I don't think pre-modern art can be accurately described as NOT "helping us to understand the darkest and hardest parts of life". People having been making art to do that forever! I'm not sure 'modern' art is really any better at that either; not for most people anyways. But life isn't _just_ 'dark' and 'hard' – it's also bright and energizing (or can be). It's not some anti-art or anti-intellectual sentiment that compels people to resist what they perceive to be a _lop-sided_ obsession with representing only the bad and evil and sad. People enjoy art for many many reasons!
And yet still – any particular work, particularly new or recent ones, is likely to be 'crap'. Sturgeon's Law applies to all creative endeavors pretty equally.
(I'd probably be critical of the piece you're highlighting here – but then that's part of the fun!)
I am happy to see someone who is not a modern/ contemporary visual artist defending contemporary visual arts. The trick with an Ellsworth Kelly or a piece such as this is exactly what you said - let go of the fear of being pretentious and just be with the piece. Be human. Don't try to assign it a value as in, this is worth being in this space or it is not. Don't think, I could do that! Just listen to your body, your mind, dare I say your heart, and experience how it makes you feel. If you think you could paint the same blue rectangle that is on the wall that is great but unimportant. Let the blue rectangle consume you and then get back to me. A Portrait of Ross sounds like a beautiful experience. I hope to see it some day.