Gut Feelings: David Wojnarowicz

As a lesbian living in New York’s East Village in the early-ish 21st century, it was an inevitability that I lived shoulder to shoulder with the ghosts of the AIDS epidemic. I read, watched, and saw a lot created by those who lived and, far too often, died during the ’80s and ’90s. People who walked those same streets, created and loved in those same buildings during a veritable plague. The public at large, the medical establishment, and surely their own government ignored them for a deadly long time. I wanted to know their names.

One such name, David Wojnarowicz, popped up a lot. An obviously prolific, impactful artist in the New York scene and then in activist circles, his name was, for me, on the periphery, often mentioned by other artists and his beautiful, strong face glimpsed in exhibits and books now and again. But I hadn’t really met him.

That changed last weekend in Glasgow. some day this will all be crumbling ruins (showing at The Modern Institute until 28 Aug) features photography, sculpture, prints, moving image, and paintings by Wojnarowicz. Walking through the space, reminiscent of the warehouses of his life, it was on loop in my brain that he died of AIDS at 37. I’ll be 37 in September. In a span of time that feels like a blink to me, he fought battles I have trouble fathoming. His work is diverse, sometimes startling, painfully beautiful, and so very brave.

On the top floor of the exhibition is a trio of images Wojnarowicz took of his dear friend and one-time lover Peter Hujar on his deathbed. It was difficult to look, but he intended for people to look. So, I looked, and I remembered.

David Wojnarowicz was a gift to the world, and I’m glad I finally met him.

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David Wojnarowicz: some day this will all be crumbling ruins, Modern Institute, Glasgow, until 28 Aug