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Lot Essay
Untitled (March 5th) #2” is a poignant meditation on love, mortality, grief – tempered by the potential of renewal – made in the wake of the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s and early 1990s. Two exposed household lightbulbs in porcelain sockets dangle from long white electrical cords, loosely hooked on a nail to a wall. Coupled closely together, their cords entwined, they cast a gentle pool of light on their surroundings. The first of an acclaimed series of works by the artist involving strings of standard lightbulbs, other works from this edition are held in no less than eight major museum collections globally, including the Tate in London, The Nelson Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City and the Artist Institute Chicago.
Felix Gonzalez-Torres, a Cuban-born American artist, conceived of “Untitled” (March 5th) in 1991, not long after his partner Ross Laycock died of AIDS-related illnesses; the date in parentheses is Laycock’s birthday. “When I first made those two light bulbs,” Gonzalez-Torres said, “I was in a total state of fear about losing my dialogue with Ross, of being just one” (F. Gonzalez-Torres, quoted in N. Spector, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, exh. cat., Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, 1995, p. 183). The lightbulbs have their own individual lifespans, echoing the nature of all human relationships. In this work, however, the bulbs are to be replaced promptly upon burning out, meaning that they can shine on, together, indefinitely (the work can also be exhibited with both bulbs off). The work achieves even greater poignancy with the knowledge that Gonzalez-Torres himself would also die of complications from AIDS, five years after this work was made.
This relinquishing of complete aesthetic control is a radical gesture that speaks to Gonzalez-Torres’ preoccupation with the increasing fluidity between public and private spaces. This is reflected in the titles he gave his works, which are nearly all “Untitled”, yet often with evocative words following in parenthesis. Asked why this was, Gonzalez-Torres explained: “Things are suggested or alluded to discreetly. The work is untitled because ‘meaning’ is always shifting in time and place. Also, this isn’t really my language, but the language I learned. So I’m reluctant to give something a name imposed on me. You have to deal with who your public is. Who are you making these days for? Who are you trying to establish a dialogue with?” (F. Gonzalez-Torres, quoted in R. Nickas, “Felix Gonzalez-Torres”, Flash Art International No. 161, November-December 1991) This conceptual thoughtfulness is typical of the ingenuity that lies behind his work, which is at once intimate and universal, and continues to resonate over the decades.
Felix Gonzalez-Torres, a Cuban-born American artist, conceived of “Untitled” (March 5th) in 1991, not long after his partner Ross Laycock died of AIDS-related illnesses; the date in parentheses is Laycock’s birthday. “When I first made those two light bulbs,” Gonzalez-Torres said, “I was in a total state of fear about losing my dialogue with Ross, of being just one” (F. Gonzalez-Torres, quoted in N. Spector, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, exh. cat., Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, New York, 1995, p. 183). The lightbulbs have their own individual lifespans, echoing the nature of all human relationships. In this work, however, the bulbs are to be replaced promptly upon burning out, meaning that they can shine on, together, indefinitely (the work can also be exhibited with both bulbs off). The work achieves even greater poignancy with the knowledge that Gonzalez-Torres himself would also die of complications from AIDS, five years after this work was made.
This relinquishing of complete aesthetic control is a radical gesture that speaks to Gonzalez-Torres’ preoccupation with the increasing fluidity between public and private spaces. This is reflected in the titles he gave his works, which are nearly all “Untitled”, yet often with evocative words following in parenthesis. Asked why this was, Gonzalez-Torres explained: “Things are suggested or alluded to discreetly. The work is untitled because ‘meaning’ is always shifting in time and place. Also, this isn’t really my language, but the language I learned. So I’m reluctant to give something a name imposed on me. You have to deal with who your public is. Who are you making these days for? Who are you trying to establish a dialogue with?” (F. Gonzalez-Torres, quoted in R. Nickas, “Felix Gonzalez-Torres”, Flash Art International No. 161, November-December 1991) This conceptual thoughtfulness is typical of the ingenuity that lies behind his work, which is at once intimate and universal, and continues to resonate over the decades.