Curly Red Hair 1969 Acrylic and sand on canvas 79x55in. (200x140cm) Private Collection Photo: Alain Speltdoorn

By Kiša Lala

The paintings of Domenico Gnoli are drawn with scrupulous. almost clerical detail – and yet they capture a feeling of  wide-eyed wonder and whimsy. In 1970 Gnoli died at the young age of 36, and his legacy lay dormant for four decades –  his works having been secreted away in obscure private collections until this rare retrospective at New York’s Luxembourg & Dayan gallery.

Chemisette Verte by Domenico Gnoli, 1967, from a private collection

'What is a Monster? Ostrich in Car' by Domenico Gnoli, 1967, from Fundación Yannick y Ben Jakober Collection, Malllorca, Spain

'What is a Monster? Snail on Sofa' by Domenico Gnoli, 1967, from Fundación Yannick y Ben Jakober Collection, Malllorca, Spain

Early videos from the 1960s show Gnoli and his wife, artist Yannick Vu, cruising the Riviera and jetting between New York and Majorca, living a charmed life . Vu was present at the opening, pleased to share this large collection of her former husband’s paintings publicly for the first time. She reflected on Gnoli’s whimsical perspective and affinity for children’s fantasies, though they had no children of their own. His drawings from his series “What is a Monster?” are a treat for fans of absurdist children’s book illustrations.

Gnoli’s subjects are quotidian bedspreads, garments and human hair in which he evinces vast patterned landscapes. Often the peaks and valleys in the folds of the fabric drape Botero-like physiques. They are an intimate scrutiny into plaits, pleats and pant creases, a domain exclusively feminine with its attention to domestic detail. They shed loving light on the fastidious rituals of attire, on the neatness of pinstriped collars and pearl buttons, and painted with a mix of sand and pigment, they have a gravelly, tactile feel in imitation of textiles. Gnoli’s headless and faceless subjects remain sartorially prim, and his obsessive eye for aesthetic detail – elevates mundane rituals to an art form.

Braid 1969 Acrylic and sand on canvas 71x59in. (180x150cm) Private Collection Photo: Adam Reich

Red Dress Collar 1969 Acrylic and sand on canvas 59 x 67 in. (150 x 170 cm.) Private Collection Photo: Alessandro Vasari

Striped Shirt Lapel 1969 Acrylic and sand on canvas 57 " x 44 " in. (146 x 113 cm.) Stiftung Museum Kunstpalast, Düsseldorf Stiftung Sammlung Kem

Italian Painter, Illustrator, and Stage Designer Domenico Gnoli with his wife. This photograph was taken in December, 1969, just months before his death.Original photography by Jack Robinson. www.robinsonarchive.com

Domenico Gnoli’s Paintings On View At Luxembourg & Dayan through June 30 in New York
www.luxembourgdayan.com

Gilbert (right) and George (left) photographed by Douglas Friedman 2012

Gilbert and George are back after six years of trawling the dark seas of the human psyche with hot-off-the-press banners announcing various victims of violent demise. The London Pictures are a compilation of the posters, pinched from local newsagents, that daily titillate passersby with lurid slogans of sex and evil, salacious fodder for a bored public. I caught up with the sartorially prim duo at New York’s Lehmann Maupin gallery to explore their fascinations with stabbings, stranglings, rapes and robberies.

“We think it’s extraordinary,” began Gilbert, “We are capable of incredible sins: The headline today is replaced by another tomorrow – to stimulate people, as you say…All our work has a moral dimension – a story to tell. You can like it or dislike it, but it’s not abstract art; we have subjects,” stated Gilbert with gravity, while George interceded, saying, “We even like it when young people say, We don’t know what the fuck to think,” his eye twinkling behind his scholarly-spectacles.

©GILBERT & GEORGE Hanged , 2011 mixed media 118.9 x 100 inches 302 x 254 cm Courtesy the artists and Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York

George (left) and Gilbert (right) photographed by Douglas Friedman 2012

©GILBERT & GEORGE Man Dies 2011 mixed media 88.98 x 150 inches 226 x 381 cm Courtesy the artists and Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York

G&G were distraught by the growing stacks of 3000 posters in their studio. As artists they are disciplined and disturbed at the same time; they sensed the ripples left behind by each tragedy through the victims, neighbours and relatives they affected. “If you have a family member in prison, the shame of it lasts generations. If you’re shopping the next day, what do you tell the shop where you buy milk?”

The media mirrors the anxieties of the masses but also feeds its hunger. In more liberal societies, the stories form moral edicts of what not to do, of what could happen, noisome reminders of our primitive failings. “It’s the price we pay for our freedom,” summarizes George. “It happens elsewhere too, Africa, China, though not as much reported… We are all complicit,” concludes Gilbert. The two are in the habit of finishing each other’s thoughts.

So with all the turmoil and mayhem, what karmic price will our species pay? Are we heading towards a successful balance? George responds without hesitation, “The world has never been a better place, especially the western world.” The youth are better informed; there is an acceptance of diversity with nations better connected around the world.

©GILBERT & GEORGE Fingle-Fangle, 2004 mixed media 111.02 x 198.43 inches 282 x 504 cm Courtesy the artist and Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York

We digressed briefly into non-western tangents: Whorehouses in Bangladesh and the linguistic absences of words relating to sex there. On their visit to India some twenty years ago, they recalled the English names of these ghettos: “In Mumbai it’s called Falkland Road, and in Delhi, it’s UK Road. In some places you walk by and the prostitutes lift their dresses and clearly you can see they are boys who have had their penis removed. It looks like a cat’s bum…”

G&G claim that they are two people but one artist. But, what about thinking outside that box? Like the Chapman Brothers splitting up to inspire different works. Perhaps a game of exquisite corpses?

“We don’t have a problem with that.” They nod in agreement. “We think we’re in the box, we’re in the world, and the surface of the world comes out under our feet. We accept the two together,” says George.

One brain, is it?

“A double-headed monster. We accept the limitations. And the advantages,” Gilbert chimes in.

There is strength in unity – but isn’t it far braver to be alone against the world? Here I am alone facing the two of you, I say.

“We are alone against the world. Well, there are a lot of lonely artists out there, and we don’t have to be part of that. Don’t you think, George?”

We talk about the frenzy the media stirs up with its headlines, the mob mentalities that override individual morals. “Herd instinct. The media controls the herd instinct…with milk,” jests George, “We have a miniature herd instinct of just two.”

©GILBERT & GEORGE Bloody Naked, 1996 mixed media 89 x 200 inches 226.1 x 508 cm Courtesy the artist and Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York

G&G have filled a section of their library with the writings of theosophists. Recently they drew upon the works of Lord Dowding who communicated with dead pilots from WW2 and wrote some fascinating accounts of ‘messages’ he received from his psychic explorations.

Did they believe in an afterlife?

George shakes his head no, “We do believe in the real afterlife. We say my ‘late aunt’ or ‘late uncle’, but nobody says the late Van Gogh, or the late Charles Dickens, because they are not completely dead, and still available to us.”

“We like the spirit of photographs and buildings, of trees,” Gilbert echoed, “The past is there all the time; the brain keeps everything – [We like] a sense of leaving something behind: A living culture. No, we don’t need another life. One’s enough.”

You put yourself in your art, I said. Is that a cult of personality you’ve developed for posterity? Van Gogh didn’t place himself peeking out from his haystacks.

“He did in his own way. His spirit. Every haystack in the country is the same, only his haystack means something,” George clarified.

“It’s his suffering. He was a religious maniac, sexual, twisted in some ways,” Gilbert adds.

But it’s Van Gogh’s hand. And you don’t believe in intervening with your hand, I say. He suffered, but didn’t do it for the public.

“We started out as living sculptures,” Gilbert continued. “It’s us saying that we suffer, we are in love.”

“We are a sex beast, we are leaving ideas behind,” grinned George. “To whatever person you leave a letter to, you always sign your name. These are visual love letters.”

Greek sculptures have no signatures. People might not know the history of your personas two hundred years from now. How will they stand up, I ask.

“[Greek sculptures] are artifacts,” corrected George.

“They will still know how we look like,” said Gilbert optimistically.

They will judge you based on what you look like, I offer with a grin, gesturing at the works around us, their haunting faces peering at us from all sides.

“What a horrible thing to be doing,” said George deadpan.

©GILBERT & GEORGE Brick Lane, 2004 mixed media 99.21 x 147.64 inches 252 x 375 cm Courtesy the artist and Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York

They have changed over their 40 years working together. You have had an impact, I say.

“I am sure we did,” said George. “We have evolved,” concurred the double-headed beast.

Did being queer and English strengthen their bond? George answered, “We are not so keen on the common word gay, which is stolen from Eighteenth century prostitutes in London, the gay ladies – because they had a lot of colours.”

“And homosexual is a quasi-medical term from Hungary, used to put people in prison,” claimed Gilbert.

Though they recognize the need for minority groups seeking a platform to express their views, G&G do not feel a need for that syntax in defining their own work. It’s not for them they say.

“Sex is important,” they readily agree. Then, after a pause, Gilbert archly adds, “Even in the art world, we realized art critics are all closet homophobes.”

“Especially the educated ones,” added George with a hint of mischief.

Have they noticed an evolution in that thinking? “Yes, people won’t throw tea at you in cafes now – yes, we remember that…”

©GILBERT & GEORGE Haram, 2004 mixed media 74.41 x 88.58 inches 189 x 225 cm Courtesy the artist and Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York

For more information:
Gilbert and George ‘London Pictures’ at Lehmann Maupin Gallery, New York

Mike Kelley (1954-2012). The Mobile Homestead in front of the abandoned Detroit Central Train Station, 2010. © Mike Kelley. Photograph by Corine Vermuelen

For this year’s biennial the Whitney Museum is presenting a round-up of the usual suspects, with works by Elaine Reichek, Richard Hawkins, Charles Atlas, peppered with some lesser known emerging artists, and homages to recently dead ones like George Kuchar and Mike Kelley.

The Whitney is also presenting a great array of film and videos, music, ongoing live performances, with films by George Kuchar, Thom Anderson, Wu Tsang, Kelly Reichardt, (Wendy and Lucy), and a specially commissioned film by Werner Herzog. The more interesting departure is a floor dedicated to performance artists, which promises to be at least more moving than the majority of static works on display.

A Georgia Sagri performance at the Whitney Biennial 2012

Of the performances scheduled to take place, is a four-week residency by Modern Dance Club – a dance troupe commissioned by British choreographer Michael Clark. Clark, who radically expanded the role of male dancers from being mere props for pirouetting ballerinas – to exploring gender-defying personas, has famously collaborated on costumes with Leigh Bowery, Vivienne Westwood, BodyMap, and Sarah Lucas. Clark’s W-H-O’S Z-O-O will be performed by both professionals and non-dancers.

Wu Tsang (b. 1982), Production still from WILDNESS, 2012 (in progress). High-definition video, color, sound. © Wu Tsang; courtesy the artist

Sam Lewitt (b. 1981), Untitled (material for Fluid Employment), 2012. Digital photograph, dimensions variable. © Sam Lewitt; courtesy the artist and Miguel Abreu Gallery

The Whitney Museum readying its floor space for performances.

Rendering of the Whitney Museum of American Art’s new building in downtown Manhattan, from the corner of Gansevoort and Washington Streets facing West towards 10th Avenue

In the near future, the Whitney is threatening to unleash its new downtown quarters at the corner of Gansevoort and Washington Streets, a space designed by Renzo Piano, which hopefully will inject fresh impulses into its curatorial choices.

Michael Clark: In Residence March 14 – April 8 – Performances March 29-April 8
2012 Whitney Biennial will be on view from March 1 to May 27, 2012