
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"
Our show was £10. £10! It's too much!
You mentioned before that it was the first time that British artists have had a special exhibition at Tate Modern?
It's not allowed.
It's against the Tate's constitution.
Nobody actually knows. But we know, because they told us.
They came to [our home/studio in] Fournier Street and said, "We have not had an exhibition by British artists at the Tate Modern, and we have no plans to."
So how did it come about?
We had the luck of a lifetime. Jan Debbaut, ex-assistant of Rudi Fuchs from Eindhoven, became the head of acquisitions at the Tate, and Nick Serota gave the problem of sorting out our show to Jan Debbaut, thinking that the whole thing would go the other way. But Jan Debbaut was determined that it should happen, and that it should be a whole floor and that it should be Tate Modern.
And it was a very good idea and it was totally successful. They will never have a show of living artists that will be so successful. 100%! It worked because we designed everything: the underground poster, invitation cards, catalogue. All designed by us. A total idea.
Even the swear box we designed, which was an enormous success. An ordinary wooden swear box like you would buy at Torqauy as a souvenir. It has swear words, but with asterisks in the middle so that anyone can buy it. On the front it says, "The Gilbert & George Swear Box," and on the back, "Pay Up. F*** Off!" Everybody, all age groups, just loved it. It's quite extraordinary.
The BBC made a television show to tie in with the exhibition.
They are so mean, the BBC. They did this program, and we worked on it for 20 days. And when did it come out? One day after...
... the show closed. Just to stick a knife in, hmm?
So they would have no effect. Yeah, they didn't want ...
"We are not going to be responsible for promoting you chaps." Amazing, hmm? That wasn't the program makers; that was the artistic director of the BBC, apparently. Somebody had very strong feelings, to do that. It's particularly vicious, one day later.
You call yourselves "living sculptures." Is that the same as being performance artists?
We've never used that word ourselves.
Ever!
We always say that performance art is the art that alienates lower-class people. They think it's mucky. They don't believe in it. Going about making strange noises or something.
Whereas your intention is?
Standing still.
Clean, classical ...
Standing still!
... class-less. It doesn't offend anyone, you see, because it's not mucky.
And it doesn't matter what we do. Direct. We don't have to do anything.
But when you meet people in the street?
When we walk?
And people come up to you?
Oh yes.
Not in an intrusive way; they're always very polite.
But they are completely fascinated by us. By our art, and that's it. Because we seduce individuals in some way. Because our art is very visual and powerful and big so they are taken in by it. And then they start to see all these subjects about sexuality, religion, and politics, and drunkenness and they become part of it. Because everybody's the same, you see. They all have the same feelings. They have problems. They're all drunk and they shouldn't be drunk. Religious that shouldn't be religious. Don't you think? It's all the same. That's why we like it.
But you can't pretend that your work isn't intended to be provocative.
We have to be provocative, otherwise they wouldn't look at it. They wouldn't.
We believe in "de-shocking" as well. Being able to de-shock. To be able to put the shitty naked human world in the gallery and the old ladies totter in and they don't run out.
It's called "de-shocking."
We never wanted to be completely ugly and confrontational, saying, "Accept this. If not you're stupid."
It is amazing, at the Tate Modern all the children were allowed in this extraordinary exhibition with the big cock-sucking images and things like that. That's quite amazing.
There was one of the images, that was graphic, very graphic ...
... and we were naked in it, too ...
And one of the little children was asking, "Can you do that, Mummy?" And she said, "Sometimes, dear." This conversation would never have happened except that we made that picture!