Look After Each Other:
Intimacy and Community

HIV/AIDS is a medical condition that has lasting social consequences on the afflicted and their communities. Since the epidemic began in the 1980s, some folks with HIV/AIDS have reported feeling socially segregated. In response, activists have worked to build community, increase visibility and awareness, and promote solidarity and empowerment. Look After Each Other: Intimacy and Community presents work by artists and designers who demonstrate that life with the disease is bigger than someone’s medical diagnosis: it includes intimacy, care, friendship, and more. Intimacy is a political act. The intimacy and love, both romantic and platonic, highlighted in this exhibition extends from bedrooms to community centers to ephemeral objects that bring people together even when physically distanced.
All works in the exhibition are by HIV-positive artists, depict HIV-positive individuals, or were created for HIV/AIDS fundraising and awareness. They include portraits, posters, magazines, and activist-oriented art, like Scott Treleaven’s 2013 contribution to PosterVirus, an AIDS ACTION NOW! project, the work from which the exhibition title derives. Together, these works depict feelings of joy, friendship, community, and intimacy and celebrate the individuality and humanity of those living with and affected by HIV/AIDS.
Exhibition Name
Look After Each Other:
Intimacy and Community
Exhibition Type
Student Curated
Group Exhibitions
Winter Gallery Online
Aug 7, 2021 - Dec 5, 2021
Look After Each Other: Intimacy and Community is curated by Nathan Bloom, the 2020–21 Eleanor Linder Winter ’43 Endowed Intern.
Mary Berridge, Feliciano Centurión, Jess T. Dugan, FASTWÜRMS, Robert Giard, Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Alexander Hernandez, Don Herron, River Huston, Clifford Prince King, Reverend Joyce McDonald, Donald Moffett, National AIDS Memorial, Hunter Reynolds, Teddy Sandoval, Robert Sherer, Nelson Sullivan, Scott Treleaven
Student Staff
A light skinned man with dark hair stands smiles at the camera. Trees and greenery are visible in the background.
Nathan Bloom
2020-21 Eleanor Linder Winter Endowed Intern, Student Advisory Council, past: Design Assistant, Summer Volunteer
Anchor name: Performance


Maricon is a Spanish gay slur that translates to “big Mary,” a variation of “faggot.” Joey Terrill reclaimed the word by plastering it and the lesbian counterpart Malflora on T-shirts. Teddy Sandoval photographed Terrill for a mail art project—a practice for artists from marginalized backgrounds to publicly distribute their work without institutional approvals or gallery wall space. Their artworks celebrated the Chicano gay community in Los Angeles and later, served to grieve for lost brethren in the fight against HIV/AIDS. These photographs were created prior to the HIV epidemic, but within two decades, both Terrill and photographer Teddy Sandoval would be diagnosed as HIV-positive.
Harsh words like Maricon can incite emotion regardless of one’s personal experience with them. For gay activists, public discomfort via such provocation is productive: when social issues become hard to ignore, the viewer is pushed to address them. Terrill’s cheeky smile encapsulates, perhaps, the joy of a skilled provocateur recognizing his effects. These images smile and rest in the face of injustice and reclaim a so-called marginalized identity as a source of empowerment.
Hunter Reynolds created his alter ego, Patina DuPrey, to explore gender and to investigate how gay men react to people outside the gender binary. When DuPrey, the alter ego, entered the art world via Andrea Rosen Gallery’s 1990 exhibition Stendhal Syndrome: The Cure, Reynolds’s goals grew to become an HIV advocacy tool. Stendhal is a psychosomatic illness that occurs when an object is so beautiful it causes dizzy spells, rapid heartbeat, hallucinations, and even fainting. These photographs are part of a performance in which DuPrey “cured” gallery-goers of the syndrome.
Reynolds, diagnosed as HIV-positive in 1989, realized early on that he couldn’t sit around waiting for a cure; healing had to come from within. It is “distinct from the cure not just in the degree of wellness attained,” he has said. “Healing is extant wherever cellular regeneration is achieved and sustained in coexistence with the marauding, if now constrained, invading organism.” Many appearances of the alter ego were intended for community engagement. While there is no actual cure for Stendhal, nor is there one for HIV, Patina DuPrey became a tool for Reynolds to encourage the HIV-positive community to reflect on their trauma together and find solace.
Video still from Nelson Sullivan's *Love Ball, Susanne Bartsch at Roseland*, 1989, video 8mm, 55 minutes, 12 seconds, Nelson Sullivan Video Collection, Fales Library and Special Collections at New York University Library, media ID 357.0309
Video still from Nelson Sullivan’s Love Ball, Susanne Bartsch at Roseland, 1989, video 8mm, 55 minutes, 12 seconds, Nelson Sullivan Video Collection, Fales Library and Special Collections at New York University Library, media ID 357.0309

Susanne Bartsch, a boutique owner and event planner, presented the 1989 Love Ball to New York elite at the Roseland Ballroom after a series of friends’ deaths, raising approximately $400,000 for Design Industries Foundation for AIDS, an organization dedicated to providing grants and raising awareness. Throughout the 1980s, celebrity guests and corporate funders of HIV care and research were instrumental in changing public acceptability.

Holding out his 8mm camera, Nelson Sullivan documented 1980s downtown New York, providing behind-the-scenes live narration as he bounced between interviews of club kids, drag queens, and fashion designers. Sullivan was friends with Bartsch and documented the Love Ball, filming his friends, guests, and performances.

The event included a roster of queer-friendly celebrities like Iman and Madonna. Bartsch’s ball was a pivotal moment, introducing Black drag ballroom culture to the mainstream. In hindsight, for many 1980s queens, it was a source of performance-craft appropriation. At the event, House of Xtravaganza, House of Ebony, House of Magnifique, and others competed for trophies designed by artists like Keith Haring. Young Black queens delighted attendees as they demonstrated proper vogue techniques. Celebrity-filled events like the Love Ball shifted the public conversation about those afflicted from a place of questioning people’s morality to one of compassion. The event was held again in 1991 and in 2019. Of HIV/AIDS, Bartsch has said, “It’s the most important fight I ever fought. While much progress has been made since then, the disease continues to disproportionately affect underserved communities. The fight continues.”
Anchor name: Livelihood


Don Herron, John Kelly - Performance Artist, NYC Sept 30, 1993, 1993, gelatin silver print, 10 x 8 inches, The Jack Shear Collection of Photography at the Tang Teaching Museum, 2018.38.6
Don Herron’s photographs of nightlife icons in their bathtubs offered art enthusiasts an inside look at the bohemian wonderland of New York’s East Village in the 1970s–1990s. Herron worked with artists to create their own scenes, utilizing posing and props to build narrative. In this photograph of performance artist John Kelly—who uses dance to discuss social and the political issues, including HIV/AIDS—he is seen lounging sensually in the tub, inviting you to mirror his comfort. Some of Herron’s subjects chose to cover their genitalia with bath bubbles and props, while others left themselves fully exposed. Herron’s hand over Kelly’s penis initiates a much more intimate interaction than the other bathtub photographs. People were scared of even touching the skin of anyone HIV-positive in the 1980s. Misunderstandings of the disease lead to HIV-positive people being sidelined from narratives of sexual intimacy. Artists like Herron who brought sex into visual storytelling helped to dispel fear and share that physical connection can be safe.
Two shirtless Black men are on a bed, one laying, helping the other smoke, while the other is upright braiding the hair of another shirtless, Black man seated on the floor.
Clifford Prince King, Safe Space, 2020, archival inkjet print on Photo Rag Baryta, 48 x 32 inches, collection of the artist

Clifford Prince King photographs portraits of young Black queer men. His use of warm lighting, delicate posing, and objects signifying Black and queer identity create immersive narratives. The artist, who received his diagnosis in 2017, refers to these beautification practices as self-care, emphasizing their necessity, particularly for people who routinely experience discrimination.

This scene demonstrates the subtle joys of being able to depend on others. Safe spaces, where people can trust they won’t be discriminated against, are acts of resistance, and for HIV-positive folks, they can be a health measure: some studies have found connections between loneliness and increased symptoms and pain from HIV.

Safe Space depicts a room where three men break from rigid expectations of masculinity. While tasks like braiding hair could be performed alone, it is often a service from one to another—and one that requires trust. As the man sitting on the floor gets his hair braided, he reads James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room (1956), a novel about David, an engaged, straight-presenting man who rediscovers his bisexuality because he sleeps with Giovanni, a gay bartender in a windowless Parisian bedroom. The hair product has made the stylist’s hands messy, so the third subject, laying on the bed, assists him in smoking. When facing hardships, masculinity sometimes pushes men to be “brave” on their own, but everyone, including those with HIV, deserve someone(s) to help look after them.

Excerpt from the portfolio To Survive on this Shore: Photographs and Interviews with Transgender and Gender Nonconforming Older Adults:

I’d go [to] the clinic for my HIV, I would do stuff. I’d push patients, walk them to the car, sing church songs. I was just having a ball while I was waiting for my appointment. And a guy saw me one day that had an agency, and he said, “Miss Dee Dee, you work down here?” I said, “No.” He said, “I got a job for you.” And that was God just setting me in right there in that clinic with my own desk and I was my own boss. I could go to work as myself.

The first day I got on the train with my little briefcase and my little suit on with the other people that were going to work. And when I got to the front door of the clinic, the Spirit stopped me and said, “Look across the street.” I said, “Look across the street?” So I looked. Then I saw flashes of me jumping in and out of cars on that corner, and I remembered I used to run girls off that corner. That was my corner. He said, “Now look how long it took for you to cross the street.” I could have lapsed right there on that sidewalk. This had come full circle now.

— Dee Dee Ngozi, as told to Jess T. Dugan and Vanessa Fabbre

Mary Berridge, Sugar, from the book A Positive Life: Portraits of Women Living with HIV, 1993, chromogenic print, 20 x 24 inches, collection of the artist

Excerpt from the book A Positive Life: Portraits of Women with HIV:

“I tested positive in 1991. When I worked the streets, I always used a condom. I wouldn’t go out on a date if people wouldn’t use it. It wasn’t about HIV as much as syphilis and gonorrhea.

When I used to get ready to go out, I would smoke angel dust. I would look in the mirror and say, ‘If you’re HIV, you can take care, you can live a long time.’ When I went to get the results, they asked, ‘How you gonna take it if you’re positive?’ but I knew I got it already, just from intuition. When she told me, I just wanted to take care of myself better. It didn’t really bother me then and don’t bother me now.

I take medication every day. I don’t think about it. Thinking too hard will kill you faster. All I do is thank God for another day of living.

I have been really healthy. I haven’t worked the streets for four to five years. I haven’t done drugs for two years because I want to live. My lover has custody of his two kids. Jessica is four and Joselyn is three. They call me mommy. I stopped because of these children. I want to be able to take care of them. My lover is positive. We both just happen to be HIV positive. If he was and I wasn’t, I would still be with him.”

— Sugar, as told to River Huston

Robert Giard, Larry Kramer, 1989, gelatin silver print, 14 x 14 inches image size, 20 x 16 inches paper size, The Jack Shear Collection of Photography at the Tang Teaching Museum, 2020.31.65

Activist and playwright Larry Kramer is sometimes remembered for ballistic confrontations and explicit vocabulary against the “despondent” institutions that watched a plague devour the world. He started and left both the Gay Men’s Health Crisis (GMHC; founded in 1982, left the following year) and ACT UP (founded in 1987, left in 1990). He received his own HIV diagnosis in 1988.

Kramer created the organizations because he saw power in numbers. His public berating of politicians made it nearly impossible to ignore the HIV-positive community. In this portrait, one of more than 600 Robert Giard made of gay and lesbian writers, Kramer’s sweatshirt features ACT UP’s provocative slogan “SILENCE=DEATH,“ complete with the pink triangle, a reference to the badges Nazi concentration camps forced gay men to wear.

Both GMHC and ACT UP are still active. ACT UP is a direct-action group aimed at combating an alleged indifference toward AIDS by other activists, the public, and the government. Their heavy-handed approach—which included demonstrations at Wall Street and shutting down the FDA for a day—was successful: ACT UP is credited with lowering drug costs and changing public perception and health policies in the United States.

Anchor name: Memory


Robert Sherer, *Sweet William*, 2004, HIV-positive and HIV-negative blood on paper, 25 x 19 inches, collection of Kenneth E. Ross
Robert Sherer, Sweet William, 2004, HIV-positive and HIV-negative blood on paper, 25 x 19 inches, collection of Kenneth E. Ross
Sweet William is a depiction of an event from Robert Sherer’s young adult life. During the US height of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, Sherer returned to his hometown to see his grandmother. As he prepared a bouquet of sweet Williams at his grandmother’s request, she called out “now Robert remember, cut down the most beautiful ones first.” He looked at the flowers not just as sweet Williams but as the “Williams, Bills, Wills, and Willys” he had lost to HIV/AIDS. This image is rendered with the blood from a man named William, the only friend of the artist to survive the epidemic. The disembodied hand takes the flowers away, removing the most beautiful parts of the garden, leaving stems and empty space.
Sherer created a way to preserve blood and the color so he could use it for drawings. His intricate botanical illustrations use HIV-positive and -negative blood to draw flora that represents genitalia and sex. Blood’s social connotations transform the Victorian-style drawings into discussions of peer and familial connections. Even though HIV-positive and -negative blood appear visually identical in and out of the body, the positive blood carries the negative social association of HIV. The usage redefines the works to inspect the limitations of connections HIV-positive people experience.
A wall-mounted circular lightbox with the image of a white rose on a dark background and the word "MERCY" in the center.
Donald Moffett, Mercy, 1991, translucent photograph mounted on light box, 13 5/8 x 13 5/8 x 3 7/8 inches, Tang Teaching Museum collection, gift of the Hort Family Collection, 2009.7.8

Mercy uses a small, all-caps, light-serif font on top of a white rose to beg for attention, help, and for the world to have mercy on people dying of HIV/AIDS. White roses have historically represented purity in Western culture: they are used in weddings to symbolize new beginnings and in funerals to indicate respect for the dead. Mercy uses a white rose to show the innocence of those lost to HIV/AIDS.

Moffett is a founding member of Gran Fury, a visual artist subgroup of ACT UP (founded by Larry Kramer) and has spent his life advocating to promote information about HIV and incite anger against a neglectful government. Moffett lost a devastating portion of his community to HIV/AIDS. The work was first displayed in the 1991 New Museum exhibition The Interrupted Life, where 100 editions of the light box were hung in a tight grid—each representing 1,000 deaths in the United States from HIV/AIDS. By the start of 1993, the death count would double.

Mounted in a Plexiglass box is a photo of two plastic toys tucked into a white bed.
Felix Gonzalez-Torres, Untitled, 1994, chromogenic print in Plexiglas box with cardboard supports, 4 x 6 x 1 ½ inches, Tang Teaching Museum collection, gift of Peter Norton, 2014.7.30

Felix Gonzalez-Torres asks the viewer to create their own narratives with his series of Untitled works. In this work, two toys—Snoopy (from Charlie Brown) and Bamm-Bamm Rubble (from the Flintstones)—lie together in a white bed, at first glance seemingly innocent. Gonzalez-Torres is an artist who often discusses loss, grief, and political violence, and the white bed becomes a signifier the viewer is left to decode.

After Gonzalez-Torres’s partner, Ross Laycock, died from complications of HIV/AIDS, the artist started to collect discarded small rubber and plastic toys from flea markets. Grief over a loved one can feel like an insatiable void begging to be filled. The artist spoke about the collection in a 1994 issue of Artforum: “I thought, Well, if I get more, perhaps I’ll get happier. Then they became an obsession. Last time I counted I had 1,500.” Is this work a portrait depicting the artist’s grief through rigid plastic that is unable to respond to the world, or is it a portrait of two lovers in bed, happily together and cozy?

The AIDS Memorial Quilt (formerly The NAMES Project) was begun in 1985 by Cleve Jones during a memorial for Harvey Milk. As San Franciscans displayed names of people who had passed from HIV/AIDS on a wall of a former federal building, Jones and collaborators saw the paper patchwork quilt forming before them. The AIDS Memorial Quilt formed as a publicly sourced art project that invites people who have lost loved ones and community members to AIDS to create a 3-by-6-foot textile memorial panel. Each panel represents the size of a grave or coffin, and eight are stitched together to make a 12-by-12-foot block.
At times when the size of the epidemic became a looming yet anonymous number, the quilt helps remind us that each panel is someone who was loved and cared for. Creating quilt squares are often done at community events to help people grieve together. Local displays of quilt sections have become educational opportunities for people to better understand the epidemic and its size. In 1987, the quilt was displayed with 1,920 panels and covered the whole National Mall—an already monumental and shocking size. Today the AIDS Memorial Quilt is the largest community art project ever made. There are around 50,000 panels, recognizing over 105,000 deaths. If displayed in full, it would cover 1.2 million square feet and weigh an estimated 54 tons. The blocks displayed here are stewarded by the Albany Damien Center and include panels dedicated to Capital Region locals and panels created by area organizations.
Anchor name: Outreach


Scott Treleaven, *Look After Each Other*, 2013, digital print from oil stick and gouache on paper, and FASTWÜRMS, *L0V3_15_TH3_L4W*, 2016, digital print from enamel paint on magnetic card and steel pegboard, each 18 x 12 inches, courtesy of PosterVirus (AIDS ACTION NOW!)
Scott Treleaven, Look After Each Other, 2013, digital print from oil stick and gouache on paper, and FASTWÜRMS, L0V315TH3_L4W, 2016, digital print from enamel paint on magnetic card and steel pegboard, each 18 x 12 inches, courtesy of PosterVirus (AIDS ACTION NOW!)

Wheat-pasting posters, a relatively inexpensive and fast process, has long been a consciousness-raising and education method of activist artists. Since the 1980s, AIDS activists have staged poster bombings to share their messages en masse. Posters were displayed on walls and scaffolding in places the public could not easily ignore.

The tone of AIDS awareness posters has shifted since the 1980s, when visibility in spite of government disregard, was vital. Posters no longer prioritize words like “death” and “murder.” Today, while many still reflect on mortality, AIDS awareness posters contain messages of emotional support or offer information on access to medication. One may wonder: does this shift reflect progress in healthcare and prevention or a political shortcoming and acceptance of AIDS?

PosterVirus continues the practice of wheat-pasting with its series of posters curated by Jessica Whitbread and Alexander McClelland. Originally displayed around Toronto, the posters discuss new medications, passing of loved ones, and emotional support. The artists shown here, Scott Treleaven and the witch collective FASTWÜRMS, used their posters to promote support structures for people who are HIV-positive. Their work reminds us that HIV is ongoing and everyone, regardless of HIV status, deserves love and care.
A poster that says "Love is for EVERYONE" with a Black man in a clergy robe smiling alongside two other Black men, below are informative texts about an AIDS project.
Minority AIDS Project, Love Is For EVERYONE, 1989, materials to be confirmed, 11 x 17 inches, University of Rochester, River Campus Libraries Rare Books and Special Collections, AIDS Education Posters Collection

Systemic class and racial marginalization exacerbates health problems, and HIV has always affected Black Americans at higher rates than any other racial group. In some areas, Black churches have recognized the role as community centers and providers of community health programs. Advocates like Archbishop Carl Bean (center in clergy robes) led some Black churches to have HIV prevention, intervention, and service programming.

After a successful Motown career with 1977 chart topper “I Was Born this Way,” Bean founded the Unity Fellowship Church Movement, a liberal Protestant denomination affirming and welcoming Black LGBTQ persons. In 1985, he continued his advocacy with the Minority AIDS Project (MAP), the first community-based HIV/AIDS organization managed by and for people of color in the United States. Serving south and central Los Angeles, MAP focuses its outreach on African American and Latinx populations.

POZ Magazine cover with a headshot of a smiling Native American man dressed in his traditional garments with the headline “Native Tongue.”
POZ, March 2008, cover photograph by Chris Corrie, edited by Regan Hofmann, published by Smart + Strong, color-printed magazine, 7 7/8 x 10 ½ inches, 40 pages, courtesy of POZ
Poz april may 2012
POZ, April/May 2012, cover photograph by Bill Wadman, edited by Regan Hofmann, published by Smart + Strong, color-printed magazine, 7 7/8 x 10 ½ inches, 44 pages, courtesy of POZ
POZ Magazine cover with a young Black woman smiling wearing a plaid magenta jacket and pale yellow floral print stands against a blue wall, the headline says “Carry On.”
POZ, January/February 2020, cover photograph by Lisboeta Italiano, edited by Oriol R. Gutierrez Jr., published by Smart + Strong, color-printed magazine, 7 7/8 x 10 ½ inches, 48 pages, courtesy of POZ

POZ has been a resource for learning about HIV-positivity, health, politics, and as a space for people to openly discuss their infections. The magazine, started by Sean Strub, an art activist and member of ACT UP, was intended as a platform for self-empowerment in the HIV-positive community. He saw the void of agency that HIV-positive people had over their media narratives and recognized the need for accurate news, including on how contemporary political decisions could affect them and their peers. Writers like River Huston and Mark Leydorf provide columns to help people understand their own illnesses. This sharing of information helps to create unity and encourages readers to recognize common goals.

Unlike the magazines that addressed HIV/AIDS as a part of counterculture, POZ announced itself as part of the mainstream. Celebrity and activist portraiture covers remind the general population that anyone could be HIV-positive, and that the HIV-positive community is not just those who live with infections, but also includes those fighting for their friends and family.

Displayed here are Kory Montoya, Eileen Mitzman, and Mykki Blanco. Montoya was an Apache man from New Mexico. He traveled to share his story and sat on councils for Native Americans with HIV. Montoya was gay and diagnosed with HIV in the early 1990s and passed away from complications in 2010. After Mitzman’s daughter was diagnosed with HIV in the late 1980s, she joined Concerned Parents for AIDS Research and continued to advocate long after Marni’s death in 1991. Mitzman passed away from COVID-19 in 2020. Blanco is a rapper and performance artist whose lyrical conviction has trailblazed queer rap. The influential transgender artist has been HIV-positive since 2011 and has used their platform to challenge stigma.

Strub, the founder, himself is an activist: he participated in putting a giant condom over representative Jesse Helms’s home and was one of the first openly poz candidates to run for public office. He is currently the mayor of his hometown, Milford, Pennsylvania. In a world where being HIV-positive can feel lonely, POZ magazine keeps people connected and aware.

Anchor name: Joy


Reverend Joyce McDonald, has said that the V in HIV references spiritual victory. McDonald was ordained in 2009 after leading her church’s AIDS ministry for nine years. McDonald was diagnosed with HIV in 1985 shortly after her daughters helped her enter recovery for a serious heroin addiction. Her church minister helped her get tested and was an emotional and spiritual guide when she received her diagnosis. Support from her church community showed that for her, religion and HIV advocacy are intertwined; she believes that her advocacy is by God’s choosing. She has provided endless HIV support to people from her lifelong home, a north Brooklyn housing project, the Farragut Houses, and her advocacy has extended across the city.
Covered with Love depicts a classical Madonna and Child scene. The Reverend’s depiction of the delicate moment in glistening brown clay is tender. Many of the artist’s clay works center on religion, family, and love—staples to her healing and survival. When encountering health problems, the artist’s family has provided physical support while art making provides relief in the midst of pain. McDonald, who now cares for her mother and is active in her large family, credits them, her pastor, and Jesus for her ability to march onward.
Feliciano Centurión, Estoy Vivo, 1994, embroidery with inclusion on blanket, 20 ½ x 16 ½ inches, Estrellita B. Brodsky Collection

Feliciano Centurión was born in Paraguay under the Stroessner dictatorship. After moving to Buenos Aires (a way to expand artistic opportunities), Centurión joined El Rojas, a revolutionary group of artists who centered self-expression and kitsch. In El Rojas, Centurión could be openly queer, and his works integrated his needlework skills—a traditionally feminine technique—to emphasize queer aesthetics. His designs featured painted imagery of flora and fauna and short phrases or single words embroidered on pillowcases, aprons, and patterned blankets purchased at inexpensive markets.

As he faced HIV complications, the artist’s works became smaller, and he used phrases that emphasized his declining health. Estoy Vivo (Spanish for “I am alive”) was created two years before Centurión’s death. Who is he speaking to? Is he pleading for his existence as an HIV-positive person to be recognized? Or is he proudly declaring that, as someone who is dying from a disease, he is living and still creating?

In his Stayin’ Positive series, Alexander Hernandez creates collage portraits of Latinx HIV-positive icons using found and printed textiles. Hernandez has said that he wants “to demonstrate that poz folks could live healthy and long lives.” The artist uses collage to reflect how social identity is comprised of a person’s most poignant experiences layered onto one another. The mixing of certain social identifiers can lead to tensions, but, like the portrait, without them all, the subject would be incomplete.
Each torso-length portrait extends into a mythical creature—suggesting the icons are legendary, magical, and rare. For Mondo Guerra, Project Runway season 8 runner-up and Project Runway All Stars season 1 winner, that creature is a vibrant, sequined mermaid. Guerra wears a pattern used in the pants he created for the Project Runway episode when he revealed publicly that he is HIV-positive. The look was celebrated as sharp and honest. During the episode, he said, “I wasn’t planning on saying anything. I’ve been holding onto this for such a long time, and you know what? I just felt like that was the moment that I could just tell everybody, and maybe help someone else that’s in the same situation.”
Anchor name: In Memoriam
Black rectangle banner
In Memoriam

Since 1981, over 700,000 Americans have died from complications with HIV/AIDS. Globally, upward of 36 million have died. Today, many people have access to treatment options but over the last ten years, between 690,000 and more than 1 million people continue to die each year from AIDS and AIDS-related complications. HIV/AIDS is a leading cause of death worldwide. In America, HIV/AIDS continues to affect Black and Latino people at drastically higher rates than white people with a disproportionate affect on people who are transgender. Advocates are constantly working on prevention and awareness that this epidemic is far from over. Many artists and participants in this exhibition have passed away from HIV/AIDS complications since the works were produced. Their profound impact on art, activism, their communities, and new generations, is celebrated and remembered.

We Remember:
Larry Kramer (1935–2020)
Felix Gonzalez-Torres (1957–1996)
Feliciano Centurión (1962–1996)
Teddy Sandoval (1949–1995)
Kory Montoya (1965–2010)

Many subjects of Nelson Sullivan’s Love Ball, Susanne Bartsch at Roseland video have also since passed away.

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