903 Forbidden
Digital video* 10’50”
May 22 – June 5, 2020

Sala Abierta, an intangible space that in its first phase will present the work of artists who live and work in Guadalajara.

Video installation adapted for visual displays. It is recommended to watch the video in full-screen mode and with headphones.

903 Forbidden is a video installation that originates from a text created using the patchwriting technique—a type of literary collage that explores themes of identity, body, image, and failure from a queer perspective. The images respond to small pieces that collectively testify to a wandering between tangible and intangible spaces.

1 Queer refers to that which does not fit within socially established norms. Some fundamental aspects of queer theory include the critique of the normative heterosexual regime and the critique of identity.

Selected Bibliographies and Authors

• Gary Hill, Around and About
• Paul Preciado, Testo Junkie
• Diana J. Torres, Coño Potens
• Manuel de Landa, An Interview
• Ulrike Müller, Bulletin
• Sharon Hayes, Revolutionary Love: I Am Your Worst Fear, I Am Your Best Enemy
• Derek Jarman, At Your Own Risk
• Jack Smith, Statements, Ravings and Epigrams
• Roland Barthes, Preface to Renaud Camus, Tricks
• Lorena Peña Brito, Whirlpool
• Harmony Hammond, Class Notes
• K8 Hardy, Amifesto
• Lisa Le Feuvre, Introduction, Failure

Emails, Lin

For the first time, I feel the sensation of making a self-portrait for you. Drawing an image of myself as if I were you. Drag you. Dressing up as you. Bringing you back to life through this image.

We do not operate within the comfort zone. The lines are fuzzy. I didn’t have time to check my reflection in a mirror, and I certainly don’t remember my lines. If I ever had any.

Go to the very limit of what can be recognized of the body, reach the pleasure of the disfigurement of your language. The body is nothing but will made visible.

“Yes, I am…” Ultimately, the attribute is of no importance; what society will not tolerate is that I should be… nothing. Or, to be more exact, that the something that I am should be openly expressed as provisional, revocable, insignificant, inessential—in a word: irrelevant. Just say “I am” and you will be socially saved.

I hide, I watch myself, I censor myself, I restrain myself. There is a huge self-censorship because we are terrified of betraying ourselves. We don’t want people to know. We must acknowledge our differences in order to learn about, support, and work with each other.

Accept that the change happening within me is the mutation of an era. One can never observe all the possibilities and still move on to the next—sometimes one just exits and re-enters. I think I can agree with myself that it is not a matter of choice; that everything is on purpose: ‘a bouquet of mistakes’.

I want to know what we can do for each other now. I want to hear words that cut to the bone. When things get nasty, a sense of urgency prevails, and every day the world outside continues as if nothing had happened. It’s not even that there’s a lot going on—we’re just busy.

Maybe we should take our minds off it and think about something else. Maybe it’s not even worth thinking about at all, but that leads to other things just as problematic. Maybe it should be more complicated, and we’re looking at it too simply.

Where does passivity take you? Don’t hate when you can jump in at any moment. It’s heavy, it’s intense. Don’t take it easy. Happily, we pass the ball(s). Feelings are facts. Thinking is that.

A hundred years from now, and you haven’t seen my face. Habítame, live in me, come, come, please don’t leave me, come back to life, hold on to my sex. Low, down, dirty.

Stay with me. Can you love me anyway? And if so, where can we go? I want to be taken, and I want you to take me home, but I doubt there is an easy way for either of us. I came unprepared. I’m not ready to be complex. I don’t think that’s the answer, though. I don’t think it’s an answer we are looking for.

It’s shocking to laugh. It’s shocking not to take any shit. It’s insane to say no. Everything is not okay. No podría decir que no lo sabía.

You fantasize about how things are going to be, you try to do everything in your power, and then they are total flops. It’s really interesting to examine how you could be so wrong.

Sometimes I get involved, feel alive, and in the middle of it. Other times, I drop out. Then it goes on without me.

It’s not the helium that makes the balloon fly, it’s the knot.

Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

They say: time heals all wounds. But while our bruises are healing, we’re also dying—which is another way of saying living, the halfway of putting it.

What doesn’t exist is important. To be or not to be normal. Thanks for explaining me. Would you hold it against me if I couldn’t stand for this?

We cannot imagine our own death. No matter how often we try, we remain spectators of a scene. We die fast, and we don’t hide.

Pleasure is born where the promise of death never concludes.

To strive to fail is to go against the socially normalized drive toward never-ending success. The embrace of failure can become an act of bravery—of daring to go beyond normal practices and enter a realm of not-knowing.

After all, we’re all queer.

I demand that we stop making promises about the future—ones we have no right to make and that prevent us from, or make us feel guilty about, growing and changing.

We are just at the beginning. Keep this prospectus—you may need to read it again.

The limits exclude—we know. For me to use the word ‘queer’ is a liberation. We fight our insignificance.

Feminist. Basically, we were born to clean up other people’s shit—not to leave puddles in their beds.

That’s a fight. This is a daily agonistic battle with a refusal to hide. We are not bored.

Do not make noise when passing. Do not make noise when eating. Do not make noise.

Do not be controlled by fears of hurting feelings with your beliefs. Aesthetics can be killed over and over and over—that’s it. Don’t give a shit about being an artist. Give a shit about making someone mad—maybe just making.

I know this isn’t free of bullshit. I mean, I’m coming from a self-conscious place.

All you have to seek is variation. Any of those lifelines could have moved in another direction, but they all came directly toward us and intersected right here.

Often, it is worth considering that the deepest failures are, in fact, not failures at all.

Larissa Garza (Monterrey, 1993)

As a multidisciplinary artist, Larissa explores the various ways we build relationships and emotional connections, delving into themes such as inhabiting spaces, operating within and beyond cyberspace, care, and collaboration.

Her practice moves between art and life, driven by keeping alive what makes us who we are—creating spaces for multiple dialogues, exchanges, and experiences where intimacy and individual pleasure become collective.

Her research is rooted in queer theory, feminism, and millennial experiences, primarily through participatory projects, installations, video, self-publications, and cyberspace resources.

She currently lives and works in Guadalajara, Mexico, and oversees programming at PAOS GDL.