Gilbert & George

Photo courtesy Gilbert & George/Aperture Foundation

Gilbert & George, "Four Knights" (1980)

Photo courtesy Gilbert & George/Aperture Foundation

Gilbert & George, "Life" (1984). From "Death Hope Life Fear"

Gilbert and George Venice Diary To Bling or Not to Bling? Holy Inspiration: Religion and Spirituality in Modern Art TEFAF Opens With Old Master Optimism East Is East “The Conversation Series” £125M National Art Collection to Tour the U.K.

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It started quite naively at the beginning. As a kind of slogan in '69.

But it became more and more true.

It was very funny because I don't know if we believed it or not [at first]. We did believe it in some ways, but we didn't realize how far that we could take it.

We knew that we didn't want weird modern art: just a broom hanging from the gallery ceiling. That's not going to speak to anyone.

What is this?

What the hell is this trying to tell me?

Do you feel that people understand your work?

Based on our mailbag, there is an extraordinary breadth of understanding. We had a wonderful letter just after the show opened at the Tate Modern, saying, "I've never written to an artist before, but I always go to exhibitions. I particularly liked your exhibition at the Serpentine ['The Dirty Words Pictures'] and I also saw the White Cube exhibition [the 'Sonofagod Pictures']. Now I've seen the Tate exhibition, which is very good. I love the way you challenge all of our thoughts and feelings about social and political issues. Speaking as a priest in the Church of England, I find this so refreshing!" Extraordinarily sweet! He must have agonized, I think. Don't you think? Charming.

I love the idea of ordinary people writing to you at your home.

Yes. We're quite open.

It's very good, because we walk in London three times a day, to keep fit. It's quite extraordinary. People know us, and they all come up to us and shake our hands. Extraordinary. And that's quite interesting for us, because other artists, they don't know them; they don't know the artwork, so they don't know who the artists are. We are part of the artwork, so they know us. That's it.

That's what people mean when they call you "iconic."

It's very simple. Strange people! There are two [of us]. So we are immediately recognized.

You seem to have had particularly difficult relationships with some members of the media. Brian Sewell, the art critic of the London Evening Standard, for example. I recently read a particularly vicious attack that he wrote about the Tate Modern show. What provokes a response like that?

He's against every artist!

And he used all of the images that he thought would discredit us.

Abusive in every single way! He did it for 30 years, every time we had a show. It's not new, it's just more intense. Because the show was bigger, he had to be more vitriolic. It started years ago in the Sunday Times: always anti! anti! anti! In the end he couldn't even write about it he was so mad about it!

Strangely, in some ways he brought London to the center of the world. He made London the artistic capital, with these constant attacks.

We believe they are closet homophobes.

Ah, that we know. The moment they say, "curiously besuited," they would love to say, "filthy queers!"

That was why we did the poster [to promote the Tate Modern exhibition.] We did it in an edition of 250.

We did an Evening Standard poster using the same lettering. It said "PERV DUO DESECRATE TATE MODERN: PICTURES"

And it was only funny because we did it.

If the Evening Standard did it, it wouldn't be funny.

It's ironic of course, because you've used Evening Standard headline posters in a lot of your work. And apparently you steal them?

That's how we got them for The Bomb Pictures.

One of us goes into the shop and buys something ...

And the other one?

Nicks the poster!

But they are finished anyway the next day. They don't mean anything.

We made those six Bomb Pictures using just those Evening Standard posters. It was extraordinary. A young man wrote to us as a survivor of the Aldgate bombing saying how much he loved those pictures. It's amazing to think ... Such a damaged person.

The show that has just closed at Tate Modern was enormous. It occupied the whole of the fourth floor there.

Not only that, but the cafeteria ...

... and the concourse ...

So visitors saw quite a lot of work without paying to get into the show?

We fought for more than a year to get reduced or free admission, but we lost. It doesn't work like that. It's a pity. Visitors get a free look at the stuff that's always going to be there, but the stuff that's leaving in one month costs them.