Faggots

All American Faggots (Ménis), 2011
All American Faggot (Thémis), 2010
Faggots (Ménis), 2011
Aftermath / dopo l'alluvione (Faggots), 2011
Between Storms / Riposo tra le tempeste (Faggots), Detail, 2011
Faggots (Ménis) Detail, 2011

All American Faggots (Ménis), 2011

Porcelain, earthen pigment, wood, hemp, cinnamon, terra-cotta
Variable dimensions

All American Faggot (Thémis), 2010

Porcelain, earthen pigment, wood, hemp, cinnamon
36 x 8 x 1 in.

Faggots (Ménis), 2011

Porcelain, earthen pigment, wood, hemp, cinnamon
36 x 8 x 9 in.

Aftermath / dopo l'alluvione (Faggots), 2011

Porcelain, earthen pigment, wood, hemp, cinnamon
Variable dimensions

Between Storms / Riposo tra le tempeste (Faggots) (detail), 2011

Porcelain, earthen pigment, wood, hemp, cinnamon

Faggots (Ménis) (detail), 2011

Porcelain, earthen pigment, wood, hemp, cinnamon

faggot ˈfagət [< Latin fasces, a bundle of wooden sticks symbolizing “strength through unity”; a staff of authority and jurisdiction; < Italian fascio, a 19th cent. term for group, union, league or worker’s cooperative; < Middle English, fagot, bundle]

n. 1. an archaic English unit of measure applied to bundles of sticks. 2. a death by burning, metonymically referred to by the faggots which fuel the fire. 3. (sewing) a fine embroidery stitch used to join two pieces of fabric. 4. (16th cent.) an older woman who gathers and sells firewood. 5. (culinary) a bundle of herbs bound and immersed during the cooking of a stew. 6. (metallurgy) a smelting or forging process that strengthens bundles of iron bars. 7. (engineering) bound sticks in long tubes used for erosion control and bio-remediation. 8. (warfare) a Russian anti-tank guided missile. 9. a pejorative term and common slur used chiefly in North America against homosexual males (first printed as slang, 1914)

On Thémis

In order to maintain our sanity and stability, we assume certain things to be real, true and consistent. We assume that gravity will pull an unsupported object to the ground. We assume that the sun will rise in the east every day. We assume that water will become steam or ice at specific temperatures. These are assumptions of the physical world.

As we move from the physical world to the intangibility of human behavior, needs and desires, we naturally expect and require there to be a degree of moral order. These are assumptions of probability. In 1980, for example, a gay San Franciscan in his twenties could expect to live another 50 years. At his age, the most common cause of death would be unintentional injury. He could also expect that, if he were to become ill or get hurt, the institutions of health care would be there to heal him.

The Greeks named this sense of “what’s right” after their goddess of justice, order, law and custom: Thémis. She was the organizer of the communal affairs of humans. The gift of thémis is a mark of civilized existence. It may mean right custom, proper procedure, social order, tradition, folk-ways, mores. Whatever we may call it, it is our collective, communal assumption of what is (or is not) done.

Even the most disenfranchised among us believe they have a place in civil society. We surmise that, in the face of catastrophic events, we are entitled to a general societal response of compassion, support and engagement. Whether we live at the center of the cultural mainstream or within its subcultural margins, we hold these assumptions close to our hearts and minds. We build security and identity from the assumptive world of thémis. Right or wrong, we empower our culture and its leaders to maintain this order for us. If we are pushed to the fringes of society by prejudice, we create subcultures that exist within the gravitational pull of the primary culture.

Trust in thémis—in authority, position and credentials—assumes the impossibility of betrayal. The innocent has never experienced betrayal or evil. Remarkably, gay men in the seventies and eighties were very innocent. We were very familiar with the weight of stigma and prejudice, but we celebrated in the anticipation, the possibility of liberation that gripped the times. “All men are created equal. No matter how hard you try, you can never erase those words,” said Harvey Milk in the mid-seventies. “All young people, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, deserve a safe and supportive environment in which to achieve their full potential.” Like most of our countrymen, we believed in the American Dream. We had yet to encounter death or experienc the evil of societal neglect in the face of catastrophe.

On Mēnis

Sing oh muse, the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus. Among Homeric scholars, there is debate as to the meaning of the Iliad’s first word: mēnis. Though it is variously translated into English as rage, wrath, fury or anger, the literal translation of mēnis includes the prefix indignant. An indignant rage as a response to the loss of dignity. Thus, when Homer conjures up the muse of epic poetry, it is to sing of Achilles’ discontent with a social betrayal, the violation of “what’s right.”

Achilles’ reaction to the ephemerality of his own life sets the story in motion. Incredulous upon learning that his fate is to die young, beautiful and in battle, he directs his anger against the hands of power. He despairs with the futility of fighting a battle knowing that he will be one of its victims. He grieves for all that he knows will be lost. He grieves for the golden life that will no longer be his.

Mēnis, then, is not the anger or rancor of mere mortals. It is a cosmic or divine wrath. It carries the thunder of the immortal that Achilles might have been. It is an emotion forged in the blazing sewage of relentless loss and cooled by a “sorrow beyond endurance.”

In the rage released by the social betrayal at the hands of his king Agamemnon, Achilles grabs the royal scepter of assembly, the fasces. Swearing at and on the failed power of this staff, a symbol of authority, Achilles hurls it to the ground.