Felix Gonzalez-Torres

Galleria Massimo de Carlo, Milan
Andrea Rosen Gallery, New York
Acquired by the present owner from the above

Spoleto, Ospitale di San Matteo, Arte Domani: 1990 Punto di Vista, May - September 1990
Milan, Galleria Massimo de Carlo, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, September - October 1991

Dietmar Elger ed., Felix Gonzalez-Torres Catalogue Raisonné, Ostfildern-Ruit, 1997, cat. no. 85, p. 62, illustrated in color
Julie Ault, ed., Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Göttingen, 2006, p. 246

A new set of sheets has been printed for this exhibition. According to the certificate and the instructions from the Felix Gonzalez-Torres Foundation, the sheets should be replenished and reprinted every time the work is exhibited. The ideal height of this work is 28 inches high.
In response to your inquiry, we are pleased to provide you with a general report of the condition of the property described above. Since we are not professional conservators or restorers, we urge you to consult with a restorer or conservator of your choice who will be better able to provide a detailed, professional report. Prospective buyers should inspect each lot to satisfy themselves as to condition and must understand that any statement made by Sotheby's is merely a subjective qualified opinion.
NOTWITHSTANDING THIS REPORT OR ANY DISCUSSIONS CONCERNING CONDITION OF A LOT, ALL LOTS ARE OFFERED AND SOLD "AS IS" IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE CONDITIONS OF SALE PRINTED IN THE CATALOGUE.

"[The paper stacks] will always exist because they don't really exist or because they don't have to exist all the time. They are usually fabricated for exhibition purposes and sometimes they are fabricated in different places at the same time.  After all, there is no original, only one original certificate of authenticity." – Felix Gonzalez-Torres, 1993

 

Felix Gonzalez-Torres’s quietly graceful “Untitled” (Blue Mirror) from his series of paper stacks, is an endless supply of blue paper printed with a white border, stacked in a pile, ideally 28 inches high, on the floor. Per the artist’s instruction, any passer-by can take a sheet with them, introducing a participatory spirit by encouraging the viewer to engage with and relate to the work. Though the sheets of paper are certainly part of the work, they are transitory in nature, and their readiness for consumption ultimately executes the intention of this work.

When the stack diminishes in size, the sheets may be reprinted, restoring the work to its ideal dimensions and creating a peacefully elegant ebb and flow of absence and presence. Indeed, after the work is exhibited for a period of time and crowds of visitors have taken sheets away, the receded stack calls our attention to absence and loss, an almost ghostly reminder of what existed previously. Ephemeral sheets of paper here recall the ephemeral nature of life – a topic that Gonzalez-Torres continually returned to in reaction to his boyfriend Ross Laycock’s struggle with AIDS and untimely death in 1991. After a stack of papers – or a pile of candies – slowly diminishes, there is only a faint memory of the physical work, mirroring the memory of those who leave impressions on our lives. Yet in these works, there is the possibility of regeneration, putting the work in a constant state of flux.

The light blue background and lighter border of the present work does in some ways resemble a blank mirror, without a reflection, suggesting a ghostly void. Perhaps this void is meant to reflect the spectator who picks up a sheet. In a conversation with Robert Nickas in 1991, Gonzalez-Torres muses, “I think at times my only public has been my boyfriend, Ross. The stacks came from an idea of establishing a closer relationship with the public and allowing the work to be recontextualized many times. Every time someone takes a piece of paper, it takes on a completely different meaning and context…it’s portable yet immovable.” Here, Gonzalez-Torres emphasizes the individual nature of this work, that each viewer creates his own meaning, dependent on their own gender, race, sexual orientation and personal identity. Indeed then, these paper stacks in general, and “Untitled” (Blue Mirror) most literally, are mirrors reflecting on each person who engages them.