Queer Erasure and Moral Rights in ‘Felix Gonzalez-Torres: Always to Return’

Rachel Neufeld, 2L

March 25, 2025

Installation and performance art is often not without ridicule, and a glance, long-held complaints of ‘its so simple, my toddler could do it’ may ring through museum rooms and galleries when patrons first experience a work by the late Gonzalez-Torres. However, these remarks are often quietened after reading the label of “Untitled” (Portrait of Ross in L.A.), one of the artist's most notable works:

"This is González-Torres's unconventional portrait of his partner, Ross Laycock, who died of an AIDS-related illness in 1991. The candies' combined weight, 175 pounds, corresponds to Laycock's ideal weight before he got ill. Visitors are invited to sample the sweets. As the candy disappears, the pile shrinks in mass and weight, reenacting the debilitating effects of Laycock's illness."

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, “Untitled” (Portrait of Ross in L.A.), 1991

The portrait represents Ross in perpetuity, as the museum continues to replenish the pile during the works tenure. When the Smithsonian opened its exhibit "Felix Gonzalez-Torres: Always to Return," in October 2024, critics were quick to identify critical context which was missing from “Untitled” (Portrait of Ross in L.A.). The label, which properly contextualizes this particular work, was not on display (erasing the relevant context to those unknowing patrons who may go on to question the works validity) and removes Ross from the discussion, altering the title to “Untitled” (L.A.) 1991 and rather, the label simply referred to “175 lbs, the ideal weight’ completely omitting Ross and his lifelong battle with AIDS from the context of the work itself. This ‘if you know, you know’ game raised by the Smithsonian sparked outrage in Ignacio Darnaude, art scholar, lecturer, and producer focusing on queer art history, who argues that the Smithsonian's decisions in how it displays the work has severed the “allegorical and emotional impact” of the work.

Responding to Dardaude’s critique, the Smithsonian stated that Gonzalez-Torres’ works have been displayed in conversation with the museum’s collection, and that references to Ross and Gonzalez-Torres’ lives are woven throughout the show. Previously on display at the Smithsonian’s National Portrait Gallery in 2010, then curator, Jonathan Katz deliberately acknowledged that much of Gonzalez-Torres’ works including “Untitled” (Portrait of Ross in L.A.) were ways for the artists work to be displayed in galleries, to indirectly discuss the AIDS crisis while by-passing censorship and homophobic resistance (OUT, 2025) . However, there is a stark contrast between explicit labelling, and requiring a participatory audience to make inferences.

While Gonzalez-Torres passed in 1996 from AIDS-related illness, his legacy in art, and for the Queer community is long lasting. The Smithsonian is not alone in this misstep, with the Art Institute of Chicago facing similar critique. Dardaude identifies in his critique, that this erasure only began to take place after the artists’ estate fell under the management of David Zwirner and Andrea Rosen Gallery in 2017. This new representation has been accused of erasing HIV/AIDS from the artist's legacy in favour of reaching a larger audience with multiple interpretations for the works.

Michael Snow, Flight Stop, 1979

This misrepresentation raises the legal issue of  moral rights, both against the galleries responsible, and the custodians of the estate. In 1982, Snow v Eaton Centre Ltd. advanced the issue of an artists moral rights, claiming that the decorative bows tied around the necks of the geese installed in the Eaton Centre violated the artists moral rights as an artist. The Court held that while the Eaton Centre held commercial rights to the sculpture, Snow still held moral rights, and the ribbons were prejudicial to his honour and reputation as an artist, contrary to §14.1 and 14.2 of the Copyright Act.

The Canadian test to show a violation of moral rights requires a subjective element, and an objective element. Snow’s frustration with the issue satisfied the subjective element of the test, while colleagues and experts agreed that altering Flight Stop was prejudicial to Snow’s reputation as an artist, satisfying the objective element.

Felix Gonzalez-Torres, “Untitled” (Perfect Lovers), 1991

It is my view that the queer erasure in the Smithsonian's exhibit could manifest as a moral rights violation against the artist and his estate. The context and means of displaying the work is integral and woven through many of the artist’s key works, including “Untitled” (Perfect Lovers), 1991, “Untitled” (Placebo), 1991, and “Untitled” (Toronto), 1992. 

Much of the artist's life and works were impacted and directly influenced by the ongoing trauma and stigma of the HIV/AIDS crisis. To remove this context from his legacy in curation alienates the artist's lifelong resistance against harmful stigma. His reputation and legacy are manifestations, influenced by his devotion to his partner.

While the Smithsonian’s complicity in this erasure is palpable, more challenging is the direction taken by the estate managers responsible for the management of the Felix Gonzalez-Torres Foundation and the deliberate separation from artist and his life context. In my view, the responsible party, the estate managers, ought to maintain the legacy created by the artist, and intentionally honour the source of inspiration in a meaningful way. There’s the rub: raising a moral rights complaint would require the estate to act in accordance with Gonzalez-Torres’ actions in life, or a qualified and emboldened family member would need to challenge the estate managers in their actions. 

In a Canadian context, only the author, and their estate, can raise a moral rights concern, and despite the likely success in this application, it is unlikely to happen given that the estate is participating in the alleged queer erasure. The ongoing failure to present Gonzalez-Torres’ work appropriately, in my view, alters the artist’s reputation in memoriam, and is dismissive to the very real and ongoing challenges that queer communities and minorities face, particularly right now in the United States.

I cannot compel the Felix Gonzalez-Torres Foundation to rethink their position respecting future curations, however, in light of current events and the intentional erasure of DEI positions in the United States, estates and gallerists have a responsibility to highlight identity and challenge divisive commentary as much as possible. The failure to do so in the current political climate pales the legacy of an artist emboldened by prejudice in search of  inclusion, and love.