Galerie Eva Presenhuber curated by Anthony Huberman and Krist Gruijthuijsen
„God Complex“

Giorno Poetry Systems (GPS) is a New York-based nonprofit organization that supports artists, poets, and musicians, founded in 1965 by artist John Giorno (1936 – 2019). An influential artist, activist, and poet, Giorno was recognized for creating new spaces for poetry, pushing it off the page and into the visual, musical, political, and social spheres. GPS’s director Anthony Huberman invited Krist Gruijthuijsen to co-curate the exhibition. Huberman comes to GPS after a decade directing the CCA Wattis Institute for Contemporary Arts, in San Francisco, and brings a wealth of experience to give GPS a renewed sense of purpose, with a commitment to supporting a new generation of artists, poets, and musicians. Headquartered in downtown Manhattan at 222 Bowery, in an iconic landmarked building that once provided a home or studio to Mark Rothko, Lynda Benglis, John Giorno, and William Burroughs, GPS programs include artist-curated programming, a record label with music and spoken word, a grant program supporting the LGBTQ+ community, and an expanding series of phone numbers that extend the reach of Giorno's iconic Dial-A-Poem. At the core of GPS is the artist's perspective: artists, poets, and musicians curate the events, they select tracks for the record label, they jury the grants, and their voices are heard on each of the Dial-A-Poem phone lines. Its founding principle is peer-to-peer support, where a diverse range of artists show up for each other, support each other, learn from each other, and collaborate with each other—and where an audience can see the world from an artist’s point of view. Gruijthuijsen’s former tenure at KW Institute for Contemporary Art in Berlin has been marked by visionary curation and international collaboration, positioning the institute at the forefront of contemporary discourse. His extensive network and curatorial expertise solidified KW's status as a hub for artistic expression. As two of the most prominent figures in contemporary art leadership and poised to shape the trajectory of their respective institutions, Huberman and Gruijthuijsen exemplify a commitment to fostering dialogue and collaboration within the artistic community.

Galerie Eva Presenhuber is pleased to present God Complex, the gallery's second solo exhibition with the late US-American artist and poet John Giorno (1936-2019). The exhibition is organized by Giorno Poetry Systems (GPS) and curated by Krist Gruijthuijsen and Anthony Huberman. GPS is a New York-based nonprofit organization that supports artists, poets, and musicians, founded in 1965 by Giorno, who was known for creating new spaces for poetry, pushing it off the page and into the visual, musical, political, and social spheres. Huberman, the director of GPS, invited Gruijthuijsen to co-curate the exhibition, and in lieu of a press release, both curators wrote a letter to John.

 

Berlin, May 22, 2024

 

Dear John,

 

Blame it on Anthony! He wanted me to curate a show of your work. And what did I come up with? Right, a show about the big E-G-O. I titled it God Complex, paradoxically given your life-long devotion to Buddhism. However, the show does embody the spirit of Buddhism by presenting the joys & doubts of life and our micro-macro relationship to materiality and immateriality, whatever that means. But before I dive into the supposed meaning of this show, I have some confessions to make.

 

Unfortunately, we never met in person, John, but every morning I wake up and see your work, I want to cum in your heart. It was 2018 and I fell desperately in love with a man. For a brief moment, that love was reciprocated, only to be reconsidered seconds later. Have you ever heard of ghosting? Basically, it's an easy way out to avoid any form of confrontation. Slide to the left and move on, so to speak. I was devastated, heartbroken, and wept for weeks. Why in God's (yes, God's) name did this hit me so hard? The week after I was invited to participate in a panel on "cancel culture" (pun intended, I guess), I dragged myself out of bed and attended. During the rather uninspiring event (just cancel panel discussions as a format, period), I kept staring at your piece hanging on one of the gallery walls. It was the perfect embodiment of my feelings at the time, and maybe even of me as an emotionally and sexually driven person. I went to the gallerist and bought it.

 

Did I mention that I used to be an artist? When I read hurricane in a drop of cum, I thought of one of the pieces I presented in my graduation show at the sculpture department of the Maastricht Art Academy, which was simply a dirty towel titled Millions of Lives Lost. When I told the committee that the towel contained me and my lover’s semen from the past year, their faces cringed. See how self-absorbed I am?

 

I went to the infamous 222 Bowery. Anthony showed me around and we even happened to see the space that used to be Rothko's studio. The place reeks of history! We visited your apartment, which felt very peaceful and very you, at least the you I imagined. We went to the Bunker and visited Burroughs' bedroom, which, not surprisingly, was a dark experience. I had no idea the man was so obsessed with guns! I laughed when I read your memoir describing the sexual encounter you had with Burroughs. God knows (yes, God is man-made, according to you) you fucked around, John! But William Burroughs? That is where I would draw the line. Physically, I have always mixed-up Burroughs with Marcel Duchamp. I have no idea why. But if I had to choose, I would definitely sleep with Duchamp, even though their minds feel alike.

 

Anyway, I am babbling. Let's get back to the show. I chose works that literally deal with scale, in every sense of the word. Things that are both tangible and abstract. It is concrete poetry in the most sculptural sense, but it begs the mind to wonder. I've included Dial-A-Poem in two versions – the original one you made, and the one Ugo made with Austrian poems when he did his show at the Secession in 2015. There's a very early print from 1968 called Black Cock that I'm excited to share with the audience. Typically, the show ends with one of your last pieces, Big Ego, which is presented in the dark basement space with a selection of your sound poems. I hope the show captures your spirit well. It has certainly become a very personal endeavor for me, hence the decision to write you a letter.

 

With much love and respect,

 

Krist

 

New York, June 3, 2024

 

Dear John,

 

To say that I think and talk about you every single day is weirdly not an overstatement. I promise it’s not creepy, either. I see your handwriting scrawled on countless pieces of paper in the archive, I hear your voice coming from the record player, and your words, painted on canvas, hang behind my desk as I write this—Carnations Gloriously Self-Serving—in bright orange and yellow. Most of all, what I see is your spirit of generosity in all of its many forms.

Big Ego. No city has a bigger ego than New York City, the city you called home for pretty much your entire life. This place has a huge God Complex—borderline pathological. It’s obsessed with itself. I mean…the Empire State? On St. Marks Street, tourists buy T-shirts that say New York Fucking City or, more to the point, Fuck you, you fucking fuck. It’s a my-way-or-the-highway kind of town.

 

What I find so remarkable about your life in this incredible and impossible city is that despite all of its aggressions, you managed to tap into its more compassionate flipside. You found ways to replace the bravado with a vulnerability that comes with letting go. You believed in solidarity and mutual aid. In what comes with being-in-the-trenches-together. Tragically, it was far from a level playing field, since racism, sexism, homophobia, and other systemic forms of violence inevitably tip the scales, benefiting some at the expense of others—much of which you encountered yourself.

 

And so you invented systems of support. The Giorno Poetry Systems. For decades, GPS provided a glimpse into a New York where peers show up for each other. Beyond just being a friend, lover, or collaborator with other artists, you wanted to know what they needed in order to make the art, the poetry, or the music they wanted to make. As a result, GPS put the voices of hundreds of poets on a phone line, it put hundreds of songs on its record label, it gave out hundreds of thousands of dollars in small grants to artists with AIDS.

 

To me, GPS is not a what, it’s closer to a how— an attitude, a way of relating to others, perhaps even a tone of voice. It’s like the way a home-cooked meal is more than just food. Or the way a spoken word contains a thickness, a weight in the room, that a written word sometimes doesn't have. To know the difference doesn’t come from having certain pieces of information, but from witnessing the unpredictable ways it gets entangled into people's lives.

Krist says that this show deals with scale in every sense of the word, and mixed into all those Big Egos are hurricanes of cum—endless acts of giving a bit of yourself to others.

 

With much love in return,

Anthony