Cycles of Healing
Facing Local Opposition, the AIDS-Inspired Artwork of Alex Alferov Has Been Pulled from a Public Monument\But the Creative Process Goes On
by Annie Buckley
Los Angeles artist Alex Alferov has responded to the AIDS epidemic through his art since the mid-eighties. His raw and evocative portraits commemorate friends who have since been lost to AIDS, and his earliest icons were given as gifts to friends who were suffering. It was an appropriate honor when Alferov was chosen as one of six artists to participate in The Wall/Las Memorias, the first public monument to AIDS in the United States [A&U, October 2003]. His design, a larger version of the Madonnas he painted for friends, fuses Byzantine iconography from his childhood in Belgrade with the expressive influence of Mexican murals. But, as Alferov worked on the mural, turmoil grew around the monument. Alferovfs image was inspired by family and friends; neighbors in Lincoln Heights relate his mural to Guadalupe, protector of refugees, but opposition to the image claims it as the Virgin Mary, and abhor its association with AIDS or with homosexuality. It came as a blow last fall when The Wallfs executive director, Richard Zaldivar, called to inform Alferov that his piece would not be included because of the contentious atmosphere. So while Alferov continues to work\allowing the conflict to push his painting in new directions\his largest icon to date, the seven-by-nine foot steel and enamel mural, sits in storage in San Diego awaiting its fate.
Annie Buckley: Tell me more about your early inspiration for this project?
Alex Alferov: It was inspired by being confronted by friends who were diagnosed with AIDS. They were very young and [of course] had a whole lifetime in front of them and I felt like a new plague was taking them away. Until you actually hear the words, gI am positive,h from someone that you love, itfs just a headline. The minute therefs a name and a face connected to it, you realize that this isnft somebody elsefs dilemma; it becomes a personal issue.
Tell me about how the icons entered into this?
As a child, we had a Madonna that my mother brought with her when she fled Russia. It hung in the corner and, each time I felt anxious, I would stare at this beautiful, sad, yet loving and accepting face and things would start to feel better. It was a form of meditation, but I didnft know it at the time. When I saw my friends getting sick, I began to think about this face. I wanted to recreate it to give them something, to say, gWhen it gets so bad and nothing else works, just stare at this.h I donft know if it helped them, but I know that a lot of those icons are now in the hands of their mothers or lovers, so they are scattered all over the United States.
Your original proposal for the mural says that you hoped to design a place for reflection. Did you feel that this image would provide that opportunity for people?
Yes, I thought that the way I designed the image would give solace to people, and also would be accessible to those who might otherwise be angry at the project. I thought that mine would be the one to unite people and calm them down, just the way I tried to help my friends to calm down.
Thatfs ironic in relation to whatfs happening. When did you hear about the exclusion of your mural?
I had already heard that there was opposition from a law firm, who are now the ones against the gay marriages, when Richard called and said, gAre you sitting down?h He explained that my mural would be pulled from the park because they couldnft afford to fight for it. At first I couldnft understand it because I was so tied in with the whole thing of having a chance to go beyond my studio. I went through this process of fear and of anger, which I realize in talking 
to you now, is interesting in that it is the same kind of process a person goes through in death or in any life-changing situation. Eventually, I accepted it and thought that whatever happens is meant to happen. I think people who are diagnosed with AIDS or are facing their last months or hours have to do the same thing. They have to go beyond the anger, beyond the hurt, and go into a state of acceptance. And this inspires me.
What an interesting circle. And what is the fate of the mural now?
It will not be included in the monument. Richard told me that he supports my mural and is not prepared to just bury it in a warehouse. He hopes to travel with my mural to give exposure to the monument once it is built so that people drive to Lincoln Heights and walk through it.
So how do you think this experience has affected your work?
Throughout the process, when I realized how angry and hateful the opposition was, I thought about potential vandalism. That idea of layering hate on top of something sacred intrigued me. I thought, what might they say? And I thought of gAIDS kills queers.h So I added, gAIDS kills everyone.h gIgnorance kills.h And I layered these words onto the face. If you look at it long enough, you are not going to see a spiritual thing, you will see the opposite, the hatred, but the image of the face is so strong that it comes through. And it will neutralize the anger.
Annie Buckley is an artist, writer, and teacher who lives and works in Los Angeles. She has been published by Chronicle Books, and has written for Yoga Journal and Children of the New Earth. Visit the writerfs Web site by logging on
to www.anniebuckley.com.
May 2004
ALL PICTURES, AND CREDITS
Graffiti Madonna 1, 2004, acrylic and spray paint on canvas, 40 by 60 inches
Spirituality and AIDS, 2003, porcelain enamel on steel panel, 7 by 9 feet
Gabriel, 1989, acrylic on canvas, 30 by 20 inches
Graffiti Madonna 2, 2004, acrylic and spray paint on canvas, 40 by 60 inches
Madonna Study, 1993, acrylic on paper, 20 by 36 inches
Daniel, 1984, acrylic on canvas, 30 by 37 inches
Graffiti Madonna 5, 2004, acrylic and spray paint on canvas, 40 by 60 inches
