Gilbert and George are highly regarded today as one of the art world’s most famous living sculptures. George Passmore was born in Devon, England in 1942 and studied art at the Dartington Hall College of Art and the Oxford School of Art. Gilbert Prousch was born San Martin, Italy in 1943 and studied art at the Wolkenstein School of Art, the Hallein School of Art in Austria, along with the Akademie der Kunst in Munich before moving to England. They met in 1967 while studying sculpture at St. Martins School of Art in London. George was the only one who could understand Gilbert's poor spoken English, and, as they explained it, it was “love at first sight.” (Ayers, 2007) The two started exhibiting art together and soon began creating art together. They do not identify themselves as individual artists, but rather as one complete artist.
Gilbert & George have lived together in East London’s Spitalfields area since 1968 where they have absorbed the culture and the imagery of the area and have incorporated it into almost every aspect of their works. According to George, "There is nothing that happens in the world that doesn't happen in the East End," (Higgins, 2005) Although the area’s 18th Century architecture has been restored much since their arrival roughly 40 years ago, much of the seediness remains. "’We still have squatters, robbers, prostitutes, and crows eating dead rats in the middle of the street every morning,’ says George with pride. And how do they feel about that? ‘We're thrilled. It's inspiring!’" (Bombshell, 2007)
While still in school, they established their reputation as artists and as pioneers in the blossoming field of performance art, with The Singing Sculpture in 1969. In this piece, they painted themselves in a gold metallic paint, wore business suits (which is now their trademark attire), stood on a table, and mimed to a recording of Flanagan and Allen's song "Underneath the Arches." The pair was invited to recreate the performance all over the world, with the performance sometimes lasting for up to eight hours. However, they soon realized that they could reach only a handful of people at a time so they “began to create… pictures that could extend the idea of living sculpture without requiring their physical presence.” (Debbaut, Borthwick, 2007)
Before photography, however, they did dabble a bit with drawing, or more specifically charcoal-on-paper sculptures, as they prefer to view it. The imposing size of the sculptures creates the same kind of physical presence as an actual sculpture, while the aged appearance of the artificially discolored paper suggests the aura of an ancient document. Soon after, though, “they decided that the process of making marks on paper by hand was too [individualized], leading viewers to try to guess who had drawn which bit. People also paid too much attention to the medium. ‘They weren’t listening to our messages at all. They were looking at the surface and the technique’, they later said. ‘We stopped making charcoal-on-paper sculptures because people liked them so much.’” (Debbaut, Borthwick, 2007)
With their developing skill in photography, they began to organize their photos in a grid-like fashion, a style which the pair continues to utilize and improve upon to this day. The compositions were usually quite grand in scale, much like their charcoal-on-paper sculptures. Because they were trained as sculptors, their lack of experience with color led them to initially shoot in black and white, only adding red on some of their arrangements for strength or emphasis. In the 1980’s, however, they began to experiment more with color, which made the “pictures [become] bigger, brighter and bolder, using images as a mere starting point for their elaborate compositions.” (Debbaut, Borthwick, 2007)
Much, if not most, of their work throughout their careers is visually scathing and iconoclastic. This is a direct result of their unique perspective as gay men living in the predominately gay-bashing East End of London. “Although they take issue with many aspects of various religions, the issue of homosexuality seems to determine their revulsion.” (Quite, 2006) Another reason is that, as Gilbert put it, "[a]ll religion is superstition, it is no more than a good luck sign," (Quite, 2006) Much of their recent work is filled with iconic religious symbols “from a Jewish candelabra to religious Islamic text to the artists praying like stiff saints on a stained-glass window.” (Higgins, 2005).
The image above is entitled “Naked,” from Gilbert and George’s Shitty Naked Human World exhibit in 1994. This image juxtaposes the beautiful, bushy countryside with the dark, upsetting visuals of feces and nudity. The image can be viewed as two separate, mirror images separated by a phallic fence of feces, in where Gilbert and George switch roles or positions on either side. As one lies on the ground in an almost painful resemblance of a fetal position, the other stands on top of them, removing their underwear. On either side of the fence, Gilbert and George, picking at their underwear, glance at the giant, dirtied heads of their counterparts sticking their respective red tongues out in disgust or defiance. On opposite sides of the image, little pieces of feces poke their way into the frame, disrupting the bright blue sky. In this image, the pair is questioning people’s revulsion of something as real and everyday as nudity and feces. Every creature on earth is born naked and, as the now famous book explains, “everybody poops.”
Since 2003, the pair has begun creating their works exclusively in digital formats. Their painstakingly handmade works of the past have appropriately translated into this new medium. Their successful transition to this newer medium has proven that the team can and has changed with the times while still remaining culturally relevant. In February, 2007, Gilbert and George were featured at the Tate Modern gallery in London. They had roughly 200 images covering the entire first floor of the gallery, the largest exhibition ever devoted to a living artist to date. (Quite, 2006)
Works Cited:
-Ayers, Robert; Gilbert & George Are Workaholics; 2007.
-Higgins, Charlotte; “Gilbert and George unveil new works at Venice Biennale;” The Guardian; 2005.
-“A bombshell from Gilbert & George;” The Telegraph; 2007.
-Debbaut, Jan and Borthwick, Ben (Curators); “Gilbert & George Major Exhibition;” Tate Modern; 2007.
-“Quite cross;” The Telegraph; 2006.
In the essay “The Performativity of Performance Documentation,” Philip Auslander makes distinctions between the authenticity of an artist’s performance in front of a live audience which is documented for further evaluation and an artist’s performance with a lack of a “significant audience” which is documented for initial and future evaluation. In other words, to some critics, a performance in front of a live audience is more real and substantial than a performance in front of a camera. I tend to agree with Auslander’s assessment that, “…the act of documenting an event as performance is what constitutes it as such.” Such could be said of most genres. While the works of filmmakers Aaron Seltzer and Jason Friedberg (Epic Movie, Disaster Movie) are, in my opinion, some of the most un-amusing comedies I have ever seen, but do they cease to be comedies? I argue that they were intended to be comedies; therefore they are categorized as such. 
