In the absence of our love, I am reminded every day of how we once shared the sun.

Last April, I discovered ‘Untitled (Loverboy)’ by the artist Felix Gonzalez-Torres. Originally created in 1989 the piece itself is rather simplistic, composed of sheer baby-blue curtains & nothing else. It has been exhibited in a variety of locations internationally, but more recently has been on display at Dia Beacon since April 5th, 2024. I was there for the first day it debuted, roaming the gallery while holding hands.

What initially drew me to the installation was the beauty of it, a shade of blue reminiscent of the early morning sky. How the curtains gently draped over the large windows & pooled into piles on the floor. However, my favorite characteristic of the piece is how it changes depending on where it is displayed. It is an installation that demands from the space it occupies, transforming it ever so delicately.

How ‘Untitled (Loverboy)’ changes Dia Beacon is no different. The installation itself is expansive, occupying the entirety of the windowed wall of the east gallery. However the first question one might ask when entering the gallery is, “Is that it?”

In comparison to other installations that have been displayed within Dia Beacon’s east gallery throughout the years, the presence of ‘Untitled (Loverboy)’ is a lot more quiet. Inherently, the characteristics of the piece manifest in a way that make it seem almost unintentional. Is this art? Or is this an interior design choice selected by the gallery?

Despite this, I will never forget the first time I had witnessed the piece. During a quiet spring day, I was lucky enough to experience the entirety of the installation with just the other person I came with. Upon entering the gallery the change is subtle, but the installation’s intentionality is revealed as you roam the space. How the lighting within the gallery is slightly altered as it passes through the sheer fabric, tinted with a hue of blue. The slow realization that there is a lack of anything else. The emptiness of the gallery created a tender symphony of sounds, where every moment had a voice. From the echoed shuffling of feet against the wooden floors, to the shushed laughter I shared with [ ].

I returned in November, when the leaves had started to fall. There is a beauty to shared vacancy, and an added sweetness to art consumed amongst love.

‘Untitled (Loverboy)’ has outlasted two of my own. Whenever I imagine a room that holds, I begin with the curtains & how light enters. I imagine the people I might let enter, and how the light illuminates them so.

Growing up, I was skeptical of ever sharing music with any of the people I was romantically involved with. I was too afraid of attaching a person to something I held dear. Afraid of attaching hope to something that could decay. Years later, I look back and realize that there is not one sweet memory without a face attached to it.

Maybe I was too overprotective! I know that when Felix Gonzalez-Torres made these curtains, he had thought all of these things. Felt all of these things! Gave his own art meaning. Yet despite this all, whenever I see ‘Untitled (Loverboy)’ I can only think of how sweet things once were. How good it was to be in love!

Art exists to facilitate love, if not memorialize it. This realization has become a driving force behind my work.

I know that I desire a room that is ultimately transformed by love, even after it has gone. I know that one day they will take down this installation, disassemble the poles & roll up the curtains. I know that one day it will be replaced by another. Maybe something equally beautiful, or something equally tender.

Yet, the scuffs left by us on the wooden floor will remain.

(As of writing this, ‘Untitled (Loverboy)’ is scheduled to leave Dia Beacon in two days on June 16th, 2025. I debated going alone to see it one last time before it departs, but I know going alone would not be the same. I look forward to seeing it again one day, with somebody special by my side!)