niv Acosta//Ron Athey//Natalie Clifford Barney//
Roland Barthes//Nayland Blake//Zach Blas//Gregg
Bordowitz//Leigh Bowery//AA Bronson//Kaucyila
Brooke//A.K. Burns//Giuseppe Campuzano//Jean
Cocteau//Ryan Conrad//Tee Corinne//Vaginal Davis//
Barbara DeGenevieve//Dyke Action Machine!//
Elmgreen & Dragset//Rotimi Fani-Kayode//fierce
pussy//Simon Fujiwara//Richard Fung//Malik Gaines//
Jean Genet//Gilbert & George//Felix Gonzalez-Torres//
Gran Fury//Sunil Gupta//Gordon Hall//Harmony
Hammond//K8 Hardy//Sharon Hayes//Hudson//Holly
Hughes//Roberto Jacoby//Derek Jarman//Isaac
Julien//Mahmoud Khaled//Zoe Leonard//Lesbian
Avengers//Ma Liuming//María Llopis//Catherine
Lord//Renate Lorenz//Charles Ludlam//Nithin
Manayath//Allyson Mitchell//Carlos Motta//Carrie
Moyer//Zanele Muholi//Ulrike Müller//Richard Bruce
Nugent//Ocaña//Hélio Oiticica//Henrik Olesen//
Catherine Opie//Hanh Thi Pham//Paul B. Preciado//
Queer Technologies//Karol Radziszewski//Ridykeulous
(Nicole Eisenman & A.L. Steiner)//Marlon T. Riggs//
Emily Roysdon//Prem Sahib//Assotto Saint//Braden
Scott//Alexandro Segade//Tejal Shah//Amy Sillman//
Jack Smith//A.L. Steiner//Susan Stryker//Wolfgang
Tillmans//Toxic Titties//Wu Tsang//Danh Vo//David
Wojnarowicz//Yan Xing//Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis//
Akram Zaatari//Sergio Zevallos
Queer
Whitechapel Gallery
London
The MIT Press
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Edited by David J. Getsy
QU E
E R
Documents of Contemporary Art
Co-published by Whitechapel Gallery
and The MIT Press
First published 2016
© 2016 Whitechapel Gallery Ventures Limited
All texts © the authors or the estates of the authors,
unless otherwise stated
Whitechapel Gallery is the imprint of Whitechapel
Gallery Ventures Limited
All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system
or transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise,
without the written permission of the publisher
ISBN 978-0-85488-242-7 (Whitechapel Gallery)
ISBN 978-0-262-52867-2 (The MIT Press)
A catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Getsy, David, editor.
Title: Queer / edited by David J. Getsy.
Other titles: Queer (M.I.T. Press)
Description: Cambridge, MA : The MIT Press, 2016. |
Series: Whitechapel :
documents of contemporary art |
Includes bibliographical references and
index.
Identiiers: LCCN 2015036952 |
ISBN 9780262528672 (pbk. : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Homosexuality and the arts. |
Artists’ writings.
Classiication: LCC NX180.H6 Q44 2016 |
DDC 700/.453--dc23 LC record available at http://
lccn.loc.gov/2015036952
Series Editor: Iwona Blazwick
Commissioning Editor: Ian Farr
Project Editor: Francesca Vinter
Design by SMITH
Allon Kaye, Claudia Paladini
Printed and bound in China
Cover, Ulrike Müller, Print (Franza) (2014). Courtesy
of the artist and Callicoon Fine Arts, New York.
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MIT Press books may be purchased at special
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Documents of Contemporary Art
In recent decades artists have progressively expanded the boundaries of art as
they have sought to engage with an increasingly pluralistic environment.
Teaching, curating and understanding of art and visual culture are likewise no
longer grounded in traditional aesthetics but centred on signiicant ideas, topics
and themes ranging from the everyday to the uncanny, the psychoanalytical to
the political.
The Documents of Contemporary Art series emerges from this context. Each
volume focuses on a speciic subject or body of writing that has been of key
inluence in contemporary art internationally. Edited and introduced by a scholar,
artist, critic or curator, each of these source books provides access to a plurality
of voices and perspectives deining a signiicant theme or tendency.
For over a century the Whitechapel Gallery has offered a public platform for
art and ideas. In the same spirit, each guest editor represents a distinct yet diverse
approach – rather than one institutional position or school of thought – and has
conceived each volume to address not only a professional audience but all
interested readers.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Series Editor: Iwona Blazwick; Commissioning Editor: Ian Farr; Project Editor: Francesca Vinter;
Editorial Advisory Board: Roger Conover, Sean Cubitt, Neil Cummings, Omar Kholeif, Gabriela Salgado,
Sven Spieker, Gilane Tawadros
The essential
elements of our
movement will be
FEARLESSNESS,
AUDACITY and
REVOLUTION
Toxic Titties, The Mamaist Manifesto, 2006
INTRODUCTION//12
RECOGNIZING BACKWARD//24
PUBLIC RAGE//62
QUEER WORLDING, DEFIANT FLOURISHING//112
AGAINST HOMONORMATIVITY//198
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES//226
BIBLIOGRAPHY//229
INDEX//233
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS//238
RECOGNIZING BACKWARD
Natalie Clifford Barney The Unknown Woman, 1902//26
Jean Cocteau The White Book, 1927//26
Richard Bruce Nugent You See, I Am a Homosexual:
In Conversation with Thomas H. Wirth, 1983//27
Jean Genet Our Lady of the Flowers, 1943//28
Jack Smith Statements, Ravings and Epigrams, n.d.//29
Hélio Oiticica Mario Montez, Tropicamp, 1971//32
Nithin Manayath Meena Kumari and All that Was Lost
with Her, 2013//34
Charles Ludlam Manifesto: Ridiculous Theatre,
Scourge of Human Folly, 1975//37
Ocaña Spontaneity against Integration:
In Conversation with Toni Puig, 1978//38
Roland Barthes Preface to Renaud Camus, Tricks,
1979//41
Harmony Hammond Class Notes, 1977//41
Rotimi Fani-Kayode Traces of Ecstasy, 1988//45
Derek Jarman At Your Own Risk, 1992//48
Gregg Bordowitz The AIDS Crisis is Ridiculous, 1993//50
Isaac Julien Mirror, 2013//53
Amy Sillman AbEx and Disco Balls: In Defence of
Abstract Expressionism, II, 2011//56
PUBLIC RAGE
Hudson Sex Pot, 1986//64
Sergio Zevallos The Obscene Death / Peru: 1982–1988,
1988//65
Las Yeguas del Apocalipsis So that Sex under the
Bridges Doesn’t Die, 1989//68
Marlon T. Riggs Black Macho Revisited: Reflections of
a Snap! Queen, 1991//70
Gregg Bordowitz Picture a Coalition, 1987//75
David Wojnarowicz Close to the Knives, 1989–91//77
Lesbian Avengers The Lesbian Avenger Handbook,
1993//81
Assotto Saint No More Metaphors, 1993//83
Roberto Jacoby I Have AIDS, 1994//84
Felix Gonzalez-Torres Public and Private:
Spheres of Influence, 1993//85
Gran Fury In Conversation with Douglas Crimp,
2003//90
Carrie Moyer and Dyke Action Machine! Do You
Love the Dyke in Your Face?: Lesbian Street
Representation, 1997//95
Hanh Thi Pham Statement, 1996//98
Catherine Lord Their Memory is Playing Tricks on Her:
Notes toward a Calligraphy of Rage, 2007//99
Ridykeulous (Nicole Eisenman & A.L. Steiner)
The Advantages of Being a Lesbian Artist, 2006//104
Zach Blas/Queer Technologies Gay Bombs:
User’s Manual, 2008//105
Zanele Muholi Isilumo siyaluma (Period Pains),
2011/2015//110
QUEER WORLDING, DEFIANT FLOURISHING
Zoe Leonard I Want a Dyke for President, 1992//114
Tee Corinne On Sexual Art, 1993//114
Leigh Bowery Audience: In Conversation with
Richard Torry, 1989//116
Ma Liuming Fen-Ma Liuming, 1995//119
Nayland Blake Curating ‘In a Different Light’, 1995//120
Wolfgang Tillmans In Conversation with
Neville Wakefield, 1995//122
Holly Hughes Breaking the Fourth Wall, 1996//126
Henrik Olesen Mr Knife and Mrs Fork, 2009//127
Tejal Shah There is a spider living between us,
2009//130
Simon Fujiwara Welcome to the Hotel Munber,
2009//132
Toxic Titties The Mamaist Manifesto, 2005//136
María Llopis Guide for a DIY Queer Matriarchy,
2013//138
Gilbert & George In Conversation with Slava Mogutin,
2013//142
Elmgreen & Dragset Performative Constructions:
In Conversation with Hans Ulrich Obrist, 1998//146
Kaucyila Brooke In Conversation with Henrik Olesen,
2005//150
Renate Lorenz Drag – Radical, Transtemporal, Abstract,
2012//153
AA Bronson Documenta Sex, 2003//155
Giuseppe Campuzano Is a Bicentennial Possible
without Sex?, 2010//158
Barbara DeGenevieve Ssspread.com: The Hot Bods
of Queer Porn, 2005//160
A.K. Burns and A.L. Steiner Community Action Center:
In Conversation with Lauren Cornell, 2011//165
K8 Hardy amifesto, 2006//171
Ulrike Müller Bulletin, 2006//173
Sunil Gupta Columns for Today, Delhi, 2006//174
Emily Roysdon Queer Love, 2006//178
Sharon Hayes Revolutionary Love: I Am Your Worst Fear,
I Am Your Best Enemy, 2008//179
Allyson Mitchell Deep Lez, 2009/2015//181
Alexandro Segade On Queer Reenactment, 2013//183
Akram Zaatari The Libidinal Archive: In Conversation
with Chad Elias, 2013//185
Mahmoud Khaled The Non-Located Space:
In Conversation with Omar Kholeif, 2012//188
Yan Xing In Conversation with Travis Jeppesen,
2011//191
Prem Sahib To Make Queer Art Now, 2014//194
Gordon Hall New Space Education and How It Works,
2014//195
Carlos Motta We Who Feel Differently: A Manifesto,
2012//196
AGAINST HOMONORMATIVITY
Susan Stryker Transgender History, Homonormativity
and Disciplinarity, 2008//200
Ron Athey Split Personality, or So Many Men, 1998//204
Catherine Opie In Conversation with Douglas Crimp,
2008//207
niv Acosta Thoughts (on Blues), 2013//209
Wu Tsang In order to fall apart as complex beings,
we need first to be able to live, 2011//211
Karol Radziszewski To push young people in Warsaw
to just do it themselves, 2014//212
Paul B. Preciado Videopenetration, 2005//214
Malik Gaines A Defence of the Marriage Act: Notes
on the Social Performance of Queer Ambivalence,
2013//217
Danh Vo In Conversation with Adam Carr, 2007//218
Ryan Conrad and Braden Scott Does This Bother You?
Well, It Bothers Us … , 2014//220
Vaginal Davis Twee & Sympathy: A Manifesto,
2013//221
fierce pussy Interview, 2009//223
Richard Fung Beyond Domestication, 2013//224
David J. Getsy
Introduction//Queer Intolerability and its Attachments
Outlaw sensibilities, self-made kinships, chosen lineages, utopic futurity, exilic
commitment, and rage at institutions that police the borders of the normal —
these are among the attitudes that make up ‘queer’ in its contemporary usage.
The activist stance of ‘queer’ was developed as a mode of resistance to the
oppression and erasure of sexual minorities. Importantly, however, it was
concurrently posited as a rejection of assimilationism proposed by many in gay
and lesbian communities who aspired to be just ‘normal’. Since its formulation in
the crucible of the AIDS crisis in the 1980s, ‘queer’ has an ongoing political and
cultural currency that continues to prove catalytic to artists and thinkers. It
signals a deiance to the mainstream and an embrace of difference, uniqueness
and self-determination. Still contentious today in LGBTI politics and culture, the
deining trait of ‘queer’ is its rejection of attempts to enforce (or value) normalcy.
Within artistic practice, queer tactics and attitudes have energized artists who
create work that louts ‘common’ sense, that makes the private public and
political, and that brashly embraces disruption as a tactic.
While the appropriation of the term ‘queer’ coalesced in the 1980s, many
had long understood the urgency of such anti-assimilationism before it became
a slogan. It is an attitude of deiance that has arisen again and again in response
to the operations of power that police difference and that exile the otherwise.
My own awareness of this stance emerged before I knew it had a name (or a
coalition). The irst stirrings of my identiication with it were tied up with an
infatuation I had as a teenager with a book by Jean Cocteau. In the days before
internet book stores, there was more of a reliance on chance encounters. I
would travel to the small city near the town where I grew up and spend hours
in one of its few used book stores. My favourite was the Paperback Shack in
Binghamton, New York, with its tiny warren of loor-to-ceiling shelves packed
with pulp iction, random textbooks and discarded literature. One day, I found
a copy of City Lights’ reprint of the infamous White Book, written anonymously
by Cocteau. I’ll have to admit it was his sinewy and lingering line drawings that
led me to bury it in the pile of books I bought that day, but reading it was
transformative. Bound up with conlicted emotions and erotics, the book
nevertheless offered a sense of possibility amidst the neglect, silence and
prejudice that marked mainstream media’s accounts of queer lives in the 1980s.
In particular, it was the inal words that stuck with me and, indeed, became
something of a guiding principle as I turned to queer activism and scholarship in
12//INTRODUCTION
the following years. The main character concludes his tale with the lines ‘But I
will not agree to be tolerated. This damages my love of love and of liberty.’ This,
to me, remains the core of queer deiance. Difference should be dificult. It should
not simply be grudgingly admitted and sidelined, nor should the aim be for it to
disappear in some fantasy of an expanded and more inclusive ‘normal’. To be
intolerable is to demand that the normal, the natural and the common be
challenged. To do this is not to demand inclusion, but rather to refuse to accept
any operations of exclusion and erasure that make up the normal and posit
compulsory sameness. Of course, I included Cocteau’s words in this book. How
could I not?1 But, more importantly, these lines articulate a key theme running
throughout this book and characteristic of the many different artists included in
it. The aim is not to be admitted to the normal but to question its categorical
centrality and the clandestine ways in which it is relentlessly enforced. All the
artists included in this book have been, in different degrees and at different
moments, deemed intolerable for the beliefs they demanded be witnessed.
Perhaps the best way to understand the stance that self-nominates as queer
is to see that it is, fundamentally, adjectival. It does not stand alone. Rather, it
attaches itself to nouns, wilfully perverting that to which it is appended. It is a
tactical modiication – this name ‘queer’ – that invokes relations of power and
propriety in its inversion of them. That is, its utterance brings with it two
operations. First, it appropriates and affects the thing that it now describes (a
queer what?). Second, this attachment of ‘queer’ to a noun necessarily cites the
standards and assumptions against which it is posed (the presumed ‘normal’
that it abandons).
To deploy ‘queer’ as a slur is to activate an apparatus of aspersion. The thing
nominated as ‘queer’ is now looked at awry and with invasive suspicion. As well,
the presumption that there is an already agreed upon ‘normal’ becomes reinvested
as a silent authority through this calling out of its deviation. This speech act is
performative in the strict sense. It inexorably alters the person or thing by
proposing the mere possibility of its difference and divergence.2 This was its
historical power as an allegation throughout the twentieth century, and it was
used to imply abnormality, outsiderness and difference. To nominate something
as suspicious, as unlike or as inauthentic is to produce an effect – regardless of the
facts. That thing or person is, henceforth, actually suspicious, unlike and
inauthentic in the eyes of witnesses to that slur.3 Evidence is sought by others to
conirm their newly stirred doubts. From this point on, that person, thing, text or
image is, indeed, now inspected in detail for the degrees to which it achieves or
fails to achieve the normal. The driving fear is that difference remains invisible
and uncontrolled. This is the reason that, historically, the defences activated by
the targets of this allegation so often turn aggressive or compulsive in their
Getsy//Queer Intolerability and Its Attachments//13
I will not
agree to be
tolerated.
This damages
my love of
love and
of liberty
Jean Cocteau, The White Book, 1927
repudiations. These are responses to the real and powerful semantic violence
enacted upon those branded as (or merely rumoured to be) ‘queer.’
Beginning in the 1980s (in particular, in English-speaking countries such as
the United States and the United Kingdom), the negative speech act was
appropriated by those it had been used to defame. It became the basis of a broadscale cultural and political movement and was embraced as a badge of honour.
The idea of aspiring to be normal (and hence invisible) was rejected, and ‘queer’
became a self-declaration and a political stance. Such an insolent and collective
embrace of queer and anti-assimilationist activist tactics allowed for an address
to power’s workings, highlighting the policing of normalcy through self-exiling
oneself from it. It is no surprise that this strategy emerged at the moment when
‘silence equalled death’. Governments’ inaction over the AIDS crisis and the
wilful suppression of it in the media as something private, not public, demanded
a reaction that was relentless and loud in its declaration of presence and its
refusal to have difference erased.
These activists understood that to declare oneself ‘queer’ is no less of a speech
act. It is a recognition that the fear of the un-normal is also a source of power.
Such a deiant self-nomination disarms those who seek to use it to shame and
silence. The adjectival mechanism of queer is turned outward to focus not on the
covertness of difference but, more politically and polemically, to call out and to
target the camoulaged workings of power and normativity. Similarly, for those
who embrace this stance, the experience of seeing an object, a text or an act as
queer produces not suspicion but affection. Once the performative force of queer
is taken on with pride and insubordination, the veneer of enforced normalcy
cracks. Sites of resistance, resilience, dissent and immoderation appear
everywhere as possibilities for rebellion, for connection and for solidarity. Queer
artists are exemplary of this. They see the experience of difference and dissent as
replete with capacity, and they make visible the otherwise as a means of valuing
it. The ‘otherwise’ is my term for those endless positions of apartness from
which queer stances are posited. It is a term that positively signals alterity as a
site from which to re-view the presumed normal. The ‘otherwise’, that is, is what
queer attitudes and activism seek to defend, proclaim and propagate. Queer
artists’ work is tied up not just with the important work of political deiance and
critique, but also with visualizing and inhabiting otherwise.
While ‘queer’ draws its politics and affective force from the history of nonnormative, gay, lesbian and bisexual communities, it is not equivalent to these
categories nor is it an identity. Rather, it offers a strategic undercutting of the
stability of identity and of the dispensation of power that shadows the assignment
of categories and taxonomies. Indeed, it was developed as a primarily public
stance and a political attitude from which cultural authority could be disputed.
Getsy//Queer Intolerability and Its Attachments//15
As a recognizable queer politics coalesced, aesthetics were central. Because
of the adjectival apparatus and performativity of ‘queer’, it is fundamentally
about appearance, in many senses.4 That is, how does something look and what
are the conditions under which it appears in the cultural ield? Consequently,
when activists began to ight the governmental policies of disinformation and
wilful neglect during the irst years of the AIDS crisis, visual strategies were
central. The ‘politics of visibility’ demanded representation and accountability,
and they opposed the enforcement of normalcy through radically performed
presence. Agitprop, street performance and guerilla art were developed as
counter-tactics to invisibility and silence. It’s also important to remember that,
before the 1980s, such deiant declarations of difference also characterized
earlier movements, but the AIDS crisis demanded, globally, a response that was
visible and collective in higher degrees. In that same decade, the ‘in-your-face’
tactics and the focused rage were further expanded as a means to argue more
broadly and unapologetically for sexual self-determination, for alternate
kinships, and for difference to be a site from which to speak to power and with
power. On the heels of these activist developments, academics began taking the
anti-assimilationist stance of ‘queer’ and its refusal of the stability of categories
as prompts to theorize cultural authority differently. In this manner, a
widespread scholarly movement emerged in the late 1980s and 1990s that, as
well, fed into artistic practice.
Artists who identify their practices as queer today call forth utopian and
dystopian alternatives to the ordinary, adopt outlaw stances, embrace criminality
and opacity, and forge unprecedented kinships, relationships, loves and
communities. Much of the energy of these practices derives from the experience
of oppression and prejudice against those whose sexualities or genders do not
it. In response, strategies for surviving and lourishing have emerged as the
primary character of queer cultural production in the twenty-irst century, and
this unapologetic demand for self-deinition is a reason that queer artistic
practices have re-emerged so forcefully in the past few years.
This book collects a range of artists’ deployment of the adjectival disruption
of ‘queer’. It catalogues how the concept can be used as a site of political and
institutional critique, as a framework to develop new families and histories, as a
spur to action, and as a basis from which to declare inassimilable difference. I
made the decision early on that this volume needed to break in one respect with
the conventions of the ‘Documents of Contemporary Art’ series and focus almost
exclusively on artists’ own voices. With a few small exceptions in the irst section,
this is a collection of those who speak from the perspective of being makers. I
have left to one side the many theoretical texts from the discipline of queer
studies. Were this an anthology on queer scholarship or criticism, many other
16//INTRODUCTION
writers would ind a place here. The theorists and historians have been avoided in
order to give more space to artists’ own formulations of ‘queer’. (However, a
selection of important texts from both these categories can be found in the
bibliography.) Similarly, the many art writers who themselves have queer
practices have not been included in order to make more room for the over
seventy-ive artists whose voices are collected in this book. While there are many
queer artists who have been written about by others eloquently and engagingly, I
have chosen not to make the book a collection of third-person accounts of queer
art, preferring instead irst-person accounts of artistic practice and motivating
ideas. I looked for texts that offered ways into artists’ thinking about queer
practices. I wanted to showcase how artists engaged in dialogue with others
about negotiating difference and collectivity. Ultimately, my hope was to assemble
voices that could prove useful, inspirational or catalytic to others who, themselves,
are working to articulate queer positions. That is, rather than a book of queer
theory for artists, this is a book of artists’ queer tactics and infectious concepts.
This book series is unillustrated, so the words had to operate for themselves.
For this reason, a number of engaging and inspiring artists without their own
writing practices were not included. Similarly, artists who draw on queer
experience as a resource but do not foreground it as central to their art’s message
or mission were also not included in this book that takes confrontational antiassimilationism as an organizing principle. Nevertheless, the literature on
artists’ negotiation of queer politics and theory is rich, and it became clear to me
how varied and useful it could be instead to present a wide range of queer artists
from across the globe who, each in their own way, declared that they were
present, inassimilable, intolerable and committed. This is a book about artists
speaking rather than being spoken for, and I hope readers will take this into
account when considering its range.
A central aim of mine was to provide an expanded account of the global
manifestations of queer artistic practice throughout the historical trajectory
offered in this book. It is my hope that it will introduce new artists to readers
already familiar with the art history of these decades, and some texts are here
translated into English for the irst time. In these endeavours, I have been aided
by many historians and critics from around the world who offered advice and
suggestions, and I am grateful for the generosity of the many who helped this
collection come into focus.
With regard to the geographic range represented in this book, it is important
to remember that the activist anti-assimilationist stance that emerged in the US
and Britain had neither the same currency nor the same horizon of possibilities
in other parts of the world. So, we see very different ways of enacting and
propagating queerness in Latin America and Asia during the 1980s and 90s, for
Getsy//Queer Intolerability and Its Attachments//17
instance. It would be an error to see such practices as less activist or engaged
than their American contemporaries with whom the idea of queer art has often
been singularly associated. In these other political, religious and national
contexts, the articulation of queerness and the declaration of difference operated
in complex and varied ways that only sometimes resembled those of Englishspeaking nations. Artists’ engagements with sexuality and alternate modes of
kinship in Latin America, Asia, Eastern Europe and Africa could not be
disentangled from issues that, in the US, were less present: political revolution,
dictatorial regimes, the interdependence of national identity and religion,
postcolonial attitudes toward the English-speaking world, and class
consciousness. For this reason, the ways that some artists have spoken about
queer stances may, at irst, seem oblique compared to the ‘in your face’ stereotype
of American art of the 1980s and 1990s. It is important to remember, however,
the context of those utterances and the bravery it took to make them.
Another challenge faced in putting this book together was the ways in which
gender nonconformity has operated for many as the sign for queer. The historical
reasons for this are too complex to discuss here, but a consistent and widespread
way of representing and self-representing otherwise sexualities has been to
hybridize or transgress ascribed genders. At base, one explanation for this is that
all non-heterosexual sexual identities trouble gender. It is this fact that many
assimilationist modes of gay and lesbian politics would have us ignore in their
seeking to be ‘just’ normal. Indeed, as Susan Stryker has eloquently written in her
text included in this volume, the adoption of transgender by LGB rights movements
has had the insidious effect of implying that all gender trouble can be located in
the addition of the ‘T’. Not only does this desexualize all transfolk, but it also fuels
the fantasy that the content of the ‘L’, the ‘G’ and the ‘B’ merely involve the
reshufling of intimacies among conventional, binary genders.5 Such efforts by
assimilationist movements seek to manage the much more complex history of
the interrelations between what we now call transgender and queer. Throughout
the twentieth century (and before), the complex history of gender non-conformity
and transformational genders and bodies has been appropriated as gay and
lesbian history – even as gender rebellion has been caricatured and transfolk
erased in that history. It was for these reasons that a distinct transgender politics
emerged in both activism and scholarship as a response to such misappropriations
of trans experience.6 To be blunt: trans does not equal queer, and it is problematic
to subsume the concerns of one into the other. That said, there are many who ind
it generative to identify with both positions.
In collecting the texts for this book, I could neither simply include trans
artists and texts (thus replaying the queer appropriation of trans) nor could I
wholesale exclude artists for whom it was gender, rather than sexuality, that was
18//INTRODUCTION
the primary category of analysis. So, readers will note the presence of some artists
who might be understood to represent queerness through cross-gender
identiication (such as Ma Liuming) as well as those who draw on transgender
politics and experience as resources for opposing normativity with regard to both
sexuality and gender. It was important to the global ambitions of this book to not
exclude such positions. The presence of this range of texts in this book is both
historically appropriate to the multiple and interwoven histories of trans and
queer in different locations and, I hope, contentious in the ways that they disrupt
any misconception of a unitary narrative of queer.
Undoubtedly, there is a different story to be told about trans politics and
experience in contemporary art, and I believe this book should be followed by a
volume on ‘trans’. For this collection, however, I hope that the presence of voices
that engage both with trans and queer positions will remind readers of the
complexities of these histories, the importance of distinguishing between the
politics of gender and of sexuality, and – most of all – the ways in which the force
of critique is enhanced when their politics are understood to be both distinct and
mutually reinforcing.7
With the intention of staging such debates and conluences among the global,
the political and the gendered, I put this book together as my ideal textbook for
a studio seminar for artists. The texts included are meant to offer a diverse and
contentious set of attitudes and politics in order to spark new ideas. By deinition,
there can be no singular ‘queer art’, nor is there only one way to work queerly. I
have sought to encode this proliferative potential in the selection of texts that
make the particularity of the artist’s perspective central. In making the selections
for this book, I had four main aspirations. First, to foreground artists’ voices.
Second, to gesture to the longer history (and current vitality) of antiassimilationist and other queer tactics before and after the production of queer
as an activist and academic category in the 1980s and 1990s. Third, to explore the
variety of more recent twenty-irst century practices that embrace queer stances,
and, fourth, to extend the global conversation about queer practices. As a
consequence of these priorities, there are some ‘usual suspects’ that do not
appear in these pages, and some readers will no doubt generate lists of important
artists who have not been included. At the same time, I believe I have put
together a selection in which there are many new voices in the conversation
from different parts of the globe, showing a wider network of artists that have
not yet had signiicant presences in existing accounts.
The irst section, ‘Recognizing Backward’, seeks to complicate the assumption
that queer tactics simply began in the 1980s. While the usage of the term ‘queer’
and its anti-assimilationist stance became consolidated out of the activism of
that decade, they drew on many years of earlier practices that inform them. For
Getsy//Queer Intolerability and Its Attachments//19
this reason, I have included a very small number of early and mid twentiethcentury texts to indicate this longer history, focusing on often-cited igures such
as Jean Genet, Natalie Clifford Barney, Charles Ludlam or Jack Smith. The activism
of the 1980s and onward has continued to look back to such individual voices in
their formulation of a queer praxis, and I have included these earlier texts to
signal the longer history of deiance that extends beyond the chronological range
of this book. This section also addresses these earlier histories by incorporating
some of the very few writings by non-artists such as Nithin Manayath and Roland
Barthes, the latter concisely articulating the paradoxes of toleration that were
increasingly apparent even before the anti-assimilationist activism of the 1980s.
His observations continue to be relevant today, and could well be applied to
current debates about homonormativity (as in Section IV). Beyond these
forebears and sources, this section also includes texts by artists who have actively
constructed their own lineages as a means to propel their own work, critique and
activism. In addition to examples of artists who engage speciically with these
forebears (Bordowitz on Ludlam, Julien on Hughes, Oiticica on Smith), I have also
included artists who remake earlier traditions as their own (Fani-Kayode on
Yoruba art, Sillman on Abstract Expressionism) and artists who directly engage
with their own histories and art histories. Cumulatively, this section speaks to
the longer running practice in queer culture (stretching back centuries) in which
the past has been scoured for evidence of existence and models for futurity.
The next section, ‘Public Rage’, focuses on the emotionally-charged tactics of
insubordination in which the presumed boundaries between the public and the
private are refused. Not only is anger embraced as a source of strength, but also
its public display is adopted because of its disruptive force. Neutrality and
objectivity become targets of affectual critique as a means of revealing how the
suppression of emotion has been used as a strategy for denying that differences
matter. This section foregrounds the responses to the AIDS crisis in the 1980s and
1990s but also expands out to other tactics of focused anger that constitute queer
practice’s truculent public address.
‘Queer Worlding, Deiant Flourishing’ brings together a heterogeneous
collection of voices of those who seek to establish new ways of living and loving.
These texts embrace utopic futurity, current anti-assimilationist practices,
alternate families, rogue kinships and the production of communities based on
particularity rather than sameness. Emphasizing art since 2000, this section also
seeks to understand the production of queer spaces and queer events. It charts
how the activist ethics and epistemological tactics of ‘queer’ manifest in current
artistic practice. Importantly, this section also demonstrates how queer artistic
stances have a wide range of resources and aims. Queer art is sometimes very
much about sex and desire, and this is relected in clusters of texts about the
20//INTRODUCTION
embrace of unauthorized desires (as with the group of writings on parents by
Hughes, Olesen, Shah, and Fujiwara) or that examine the production of
pornography (DeGenevieve, Community Action Center). Other texts are about
self-made kinships and new familial units (Toxic Titties, Llopís, Gilbert & George,
Elmgreen & Dragset, Mitchell) or the revolutionary importance of love (Roysdon,
Hayes). Living queerly is a political act, and this section examines the different
ways in which doing so has been imagined and realized.
‘Against Homonormativity’ brings together texts that speak against
assimilationist and homogenizing views of LGBTI communities. Importantly,
queer stances are often oppositional within such communities, and their tactics
are directed against the subordination of difference and variability in
mainstream (or, rather, tolerable) accounts of LGBTI politics and life. The same
reliance on the power of normativity – that was once an object of critique –
often re-emerges in mainstream gay rights movements (especially for those
unmarked by other intersectional positions of struggle). That is, a singular
LGBTI politics often proves ignorant to other modes of difference such as race,
region, language, class and genders. Included are texts that speak directly to
these issues, including some by authors that may be more familiar to some
readers as theorists (notably, the ilmmaker and scholar Susan Stryker or Paul
B. Preciado, whose narrative of making a video is included in this book). Also
included are texts by artists who have long set themselves against homogenizing
narratives (Athey, Opie and Davis), and younger artists attacking the suppression
or appropriation of differences by homonormativity (Tsang, Acosta and
Radziszewski). All in all, this inal section makes the case for resisting a singular
understanding of queer and demands that its critical stance be renewed and
re-engaged for future practices.
Deinitionally, there is no one set of politics, way of speaking or mode of
practice that characterizes all of these texts, and the selection has intentionally
posed internal debates and contentious divergences. Due to context, history and
sometimes proclivity of the authors, there is language and terminology within
these covers that some may ind objectionable or counterproductive. In keeping
with the historical debates, I have not excluded texts that contain elements that
I personally ind problematic (such as the sexism that occurs in such texts as Jack
Smith’s or the transphobia that sometimes bubbles beneath the surface of
others). I have only included such conlicted texts when I think the overall
contribution to the volume outweighed such sentiments and when I thought
that the historical context of the text bore out (sadly) that such prejudicial views
were common in the discourse of that time. At the same time, I have balanced
the attitudes of some of these earlier texts with later interventions that take to
task such issues as misogyny, transphobia and racism so that the book, as a
Getsy//Queer Intolerability and Its Attachments//21
whole, represents those historical debates and their progression while at the
same time speaking clearly to the critique of prejudice.
In offering this volume, I realize that I have risked domesticating queer
practices in my efforts to relay them. At every step, I was faced with the dificulty
of doing justice to the radical and glorious particularities of individual queer
practices while nevertheless trying to make sense of them as a whole. Art’s
engagements with politics and with worlding are this book’s themes, and I hope
it leaves the reader with no happily settled sense of what ‘queer’ is. Rather, I
hope it spurs questions, imperatives, urges and aims that hover around the
capacity to make strange, to bracket normalcy, and to demand the ability to
reject, to self-determine and to simply depart from.
Catachresis in Queer Theory and Politics’, Social Semiotics, vol. 9, no. 2 (1999) 213–34; Invisible
Lives: The Erasure of Transsexual and Transgendered People (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
2000); and Jay Prosser, Second Skins: The Body Narratives of Transsexuality (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1998).
7
For more on the wider historical context, historiographic issues and theoretical concerns see
Susan Stryker, Transgender History (Berkeley, California: Seal Press, 2008); J. Jack Halberstam,
Female Masculinity (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press, 1998), In a Queer Time and
Place: Transgender Bodies, Subcultural Lives (New York: New York University Press, 2005), The
Queer Art of Failure (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2011); Gayle Salamon,
Assuming a Body: Transgender and the Rhetorics of Materiality (New York: Columbia University
Press, 2010); and, with regard to the history of art, David J. Getsy, Abstract Bodies: Sixties Sculpture
in the Expanded Field of Gender (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2015).
1
I was further emboldened to do this once I saw that its importance has also been registered in
other compilations of queer themes in art, as with Christopher Reed’s Art and Homosexuality
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011) 139.
2
For further writing on the performativity of queer, see E. Patrick Johnson, ‘“Quare” Studies, or
(Almost) Everything I Know About Queer Studies I Learned from my Grandmother’, in E. Patrick
Johnson and Mae G. Henderson, eds, Black Queer Studies: A Critical Anthology (Durham, North
Carolina: Duke University Press, 2005) 124–57; Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, Tendencies (Durham,
North Carolina: Duke University Press, 1993); and Touching Feeling: Affect, Pedagogy,
Performativity (Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2003).
3
For a methodological primer on the ways in which threats (founded or unfounded) produce
affects and effects, see Brian Massumi, ‘The Future Birth of the Affective Fact: The Political
Ontology of Threat’, in The Affect Theory Reader, ed. Melissa Gregg and Gregory Seigworth
(Durham, North Carolina: Duke University Press, 2010) 52–70.
4
I discuss these issues in more detail in an interview published as David J. Getsy, ‘Appearing
Differently: Abstraction’s Transgender and Queer Capacities’, interview by William J. Simmons,
in Christiane Erharter, Dietmar Schwärzler, Ruby Sircar, Hans Scheirl, eds, Pink Labour on Golden
Streets. Queer Art Practices (Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2015) 38–55.
5
See also Susan Stryker, ‘Why the T in LGBT is Here to Stay’, Salon.com (2007), http://www.salon.
com/2007/10/11/transgender_2/ and ‘Transgender Studies: Queer Theory’s Evil Twin’, GLQ 10,
no. 2 (2004) 212–15.
6
It is important to remember that trans theoretical positions emerged concurrently with queer
ones in the 1980s, most notably in the important 1987 text by Sandy Stone, ‘The Empire Strikes
Back: A Posttranssexual Manifesto’, revised and expanded in Susan Stryker and Stephen Whittle,
eds, The Transgender Studies Reader (New York and London: Routledge, 2006) 221–35. For further
reading on the appropriation of trans by queer theory, see Viviane K. Namaste, ‘Tragic
Misreadings: Queer Theory’s Erasure of Transgender Subjectivity’, in Brett Beemyn and Mickey
Eliason, eds, Queer Studies: A Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Anthology (New York: New
York University Press, 1996) 183–203; ‘The Use and Abuse of Queer Tropes: Metaphor and
22//INTRODUCTION
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