1

Saelan Twerdy

Rematerializing the Labouring Body: Carey Young, Kelly Mark, KlaraLiden

As Helen Molesworth wrote in the catalogue for her

groundbreaking 2003 exhibition Work Ethic, “[a]fter World War II, the

basis of the United States economy shifted from manufacturing to

service, transforming traditional definitions of labor. As the

conditions of labor changed for the vast majority of the American

populace, so too did it change for artists.”1 Molesworth argues that

the 1960s turn towards deskilled, immaterial practices reflected a

larger shift in the forms and meaning of work in the developed world:

as manufacturing and the production of material goods moved overseas,

so too were artisanal and craft-based forms of artistic labour

eclipsed by forms drawn from the new worlds of corporate bureaucracy

and the service economy, with the artist increasingly functioning as

a manager or a clerk producing experiences, documents, or activities

in place of traditional artistic objects.

For many artists and thinkers of the 1960s, the

dematerialization of the art object was seen as a way to sidestep the

1 Helen Molesworth, “Work Ethic,” in Work Ethic, ed. Helen Molesworth (Baltimore: Baltimore Museum of Art, 2003), 18.

2

authority and elitism of market and the museum, to democratize art

and experiment with liberating fusions of art and life; by embracing

a generic notion of art beyond medium or materiality, alienated

“work” could become non-alienated “art work.” As the post-Fordist

economy has developed, however, it has become quite clear that non-

material things like experiences can indeed be commodified – in fact,

the commodification of everyday life, leisure, and social relations

has become the motor of the new economy while museums have likewise

taken on new roles as sites of experience and purveyors of services.

The fusion of art, life, work, and leisure proposed by artists

associated with various 1960s avant-gardes has thus been realized in

a distinctly less utopian register.

This paper argues that the persistent focus on the immateriality

of both contemporary economic relations and neo-conceptual art forms

often obscures the very material consequences of the postmodern

regime of work on the physical and emotional well-being and embodied

experience of its subjects. Looking at the work of three artists –

Carey Young, Kelly Mark, and Klara Liden, this paper shows how a

focus on the labouring body can re-materialize some of contemporary

art's concrete imbrications in global capitalism. At the same time,

3

this paper connects these recent practises to early assertions of the

significance of art-as-labour – in particular, Mierle Laderman

Ukeles' “maintenance art” and the activities of the Art Workers

Coalition (1969-71) – in order to show that the rise of conceptual

art not only paralleled a broad shift in the organization of work,

but that the privileging of intellectual labour, in the art world as

in the workplace, has disproportionate consequences for women.

II. Art, Work, and (Im)materiality

Mierle Laderman Ukeles' “Maintenence Art Manifesto” of 1969

opens with a meditation on the Death Instinct and the Life Instinct;

the former she aligns with the avant-garde, the latter with

“maintenance”. The former gets the glamour of progress, dynamism, and

individual creativity while the latter is responsible for maintaining

the creativity of others (“after the revolution, who's going to pick

up the garbage on Monday morning?”).2 These duties, Ukeles notes, are

not fun: they are a “drag”. Moreover, this division of labour is

2 Mierle Laderman Ukeles, “Maintenance Art Manifesto: Proposal for an Exhibition, 'CARE'” in Conceptual Art: A Critical Anthology, eds. Alexander Alberro and Blake Stimson(Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1999), 122-25.

4

gendered and classed: maintenance work earns “lousy status” and

minimum wages. Housewives receive no pay at all. Drawing attention to

a contradiction in the rhetoric of “Conceptual & Process art,” Ukeles

aimed to garner greater legitimacy and status for her own labours as

a domestic worker, mother, and a woman artist, but also to reorient

the priorities of radical art. She wrote, “Conceptual & Process art,

especially, claim pure development and change, yet employ almost

purely maintenance processes.” The implication being that, if

conceptual strategies were indeed geared towards processes rather than

objects, towards intersubjective communication and expression not

mediated by commodities or markets, then it was incumbent upon

conceptual artists to attend to how art activities could participate

in “renewing, supporting, and preserving” life and its necessities.

As Shannon Jackson writes, “Maintenance is a structure that exposed

the disavowed durational activity behind a static object as well as

the materialist activity that supported 'dematerialized' creativity,

a realization that called the bluff of the art experimentation of the

era.”3

The Art Workers Coalition (AWC), founded in 1969 in New York

3 Jackson, title, 88. [second and following citations should include brief title here and following]

5

City and counting Lucy Lippard, Carl Andre, Robert Morris, and Hans

Haacke among its members, was dedicated to agitating for improvement

and change with regard to exactly these supporting infrastructures of

the art establishment. In order to do so, the AWC crucially attempted

to redefine artists as workers. Along with Ukeles, their efforts

constituted one of the principal inquiries into the material bases of

labour in the arts at precisely the moment that the forms of artistic

labour were undergoing significant renovation. As Julia Bryan-Wilson

has written in Art Workers, her study of the AWC, “[t]he status of

artistic work was called into question by the practitioners of

minimalism, process art, feminist criticism, and conceptualism. Their

forms of making (and not making) both highlighted and undermined

conventional artistic labour.”4

The AWC was a short-lived phenomenon, however. “By the end of

1971,” Lucy Lippard wrote, “the AWC had died quietly of exhaustion,

backlash, internal divisions...and neglect by the women, who had

turned to our own interests.”5 Nevertheless, as Julia Bryan-Wilson

notes, the AWC members' almost exclusive focus, in their actual 4 Julia Bryan-Wilson, Art Workers: Radical Practice in the Vietnam War Era (Berkeley and Los

Angeles: University of California Press, 2009), 4.5 Lucy Lippard, Get the Message?: A Decade of Art for Social Change (New York: E.P. Dutton,

1984), 24.

6

activities, on changing museum practices, did bear fruit: the

development of artists' rights contracts and the institution of

museum free days are owed largely to AWC agitation.6 Moreover, the

adoption of art worker as a label validated the inclusion of artists,

critics, curators, and museum workers under a broad umbrella of

shared interests and contributed towards the foundation of unions for

museum staff. As Andrea Fraser has pointed out, however, the

revelation of the need for unionizing within the art world also

reflected the emergent trend towards the professionalization of art.7

Central to this process of professionalization was the dramatic

proliferation of university art programs and the rise of

credentialization in the period. The figure of the educated, MFA-

bearing artist contributed to the growing perception of art as

primarily intellectual work, and of course the highly philosophical

character of the work and writing produced by the first generation of

conceptual artists attests to their immersion in philosophy and

theory, a condition which was novel at the time but has become

general in the intervening decades. In the context of the move

6 Bryan-Wilson, 26.7 Andrea Fraser, “What's Intangible, Transistory, Mediating, Participatory, and

Rendered in the Public Sphere, Part II,” in Museum Highlights: the Writings of Andrea Fraser, ed. Alexander Alberro (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2005), 73.

7

towards post-industrialization in late-sixties, early-seventies

America, the artist presents a paradigmatic example of the

displacement of the labouring body and the elevation of immaterial

work.

In Luc Boltanski and Eve Chiapello's monumental study, The New

Spirit of Capitalism, first published in French in 1999, the two

sociologists present a series of case studies that detail the

emergence of what have come to be called neoliberal economic

practices. To put it in very broad strokes, they argue that, from the

1970s onwards, capitalist relations in the West abandoned or

outsourced hierarchical Fordist structures of work in favour of

network-based organization that ostensibly promoted individual

initiative, autonomy, and creativity. Crucially, the post-Fordist

ideology of labour mobilized the rhetoric of “aesthetic critique”

inherent to the experimental art and culture of the sixties, to

unforeseen ends. As a cure for the alienation of factory labour, new

management gurus touted “flexibility,” freedom, and self-realization

in the workplace. However, along with the decline of assembly-line

production in the first world, the rise of flexibility also

constituted an alibi for the dismantling of the welfare state, the

8

privatization of social services, the deregulation of financial

markets, and an attack on what was presented as the stifling

bureaucracy of organized union labour. The cost of freedom and

individualism in the workplace, then, was a dramatic reduction in

material and psychological security.8

The artists that I will be considering for the remainder of this

paper all draw on traditions of conceptual art that question the

object status of the art work and often involve ephemeral, immaterial

components. Crucially, however, these artists are also in dialogue

with traditions of performance, process, and body art in ways that

explicitly or implicitly engage with the relationship between art,

labour, and the body. Harking back to the maintenance art of Mierle

Laderman Ukeles and the Art Worker's Coalition's efforts to address

inequities in the infrastructures of art, I believe that the work of

these artists can offer productive examples of critical embodiment.

By focusing on the labouring body, such art can re-materialize some

of the negative consequences of the postmodern regime of work and

draw attention to the importance of the material support structures

8 This is of course a very schematic and reductive summary of a deep and rigorous work. See Luc Boltanki and Eve Chiapello, The New Spirit of Capitalism, trans. Gregory Elliott (New York and London: Verso, 2005).

9

that sustain life and make art possible. As Shannon Jackson writes,

“[t]o emphasize the infrastructural politics of performance...is to

join performance's routinized discourse of disruption and de-

materialization to one that also emphasizes sustenance, coordination,

and re-materialization.”9

III. Carey Young: Corporate Entity

Carey Young is a London-based artist whose work inhabits and

explores the operations of corporate and legal culture using

techniques drawn from the history of conceptual art and institutional

critique. In particular, she applies conceptual art's focus on

dematerialization and language to “perform” different aspects of

corporate conduct, either in performances that she enacts herself or

outsources to others. On-camera or in photos, Young always appears

in sharply-tailored suits with cropped hair, a key aspect of her

“merged identity as both artist and business person” that signals the

ambiguity of her work.10 Examples include Positive Buzz (2001), a

9 Shannon Jackson, Social Work: Performing Art, Supporting Publics (London: Routledge, 2011), 29. My focus on maintenance and support in this paper owes a great deal to Jackson's book.

10 Peter Suchin, “Carey Young” Frieze no.64, (January-February 2002):http://www.frieze.com/issue/review/carey_young/

10

selection of peppy wall-texts like ‘Aha!’,‘Good point’ and ‘Seems

like a winner!’ or I Am a Revolutionary (2001), a video in which the

artist stands in an empty office space repeatedly trying to deliver

the titular phrase with adequate gusto while guided by a business-

skills training consultant

While her performances often project a sense of absurdity, they

also seem to suggest that art is as much of a confidence game as

finance, based on personal charisma and blind faith in the value-

bearing power of arbitrary signs and procedures. This is particularly

clear in her Disclaimer series (2004), a set of three documents

prepared with the help of an intellectual property lawyer that each

respectively disavow (at length and in impeccable legalese) that they

are art, that the viewer is guaranteed access to them, and that the

work has any value. While referencing Robert Morris' 1963 “Statement

of Aesthetic Withdrawal,” these pieces suggest that the work of the

artist is not to make things, but to convince or persuade the viewer

of the artist's own worth, possibly against strong evidence to the

contrary. The implication is that contemporary business, obsessed as

it is with branding and marketing, works the same way: not so much

delivering goods as creating feelings.

11

The delegation of affective labour is the primary concern of

Young's various telephonic works, begun with Nothing Ventured in 2001

and continued with The Representative in 2005 and Speech Acts in 2009. In

the first two of these, essentially similar in form, Young hired a

call-centre worker who would be accessible via telephone from the

gallery space, where viewers could take a seat in domestic furniture

and speak with her. Starting from a generic script, visitors were

able to converse freely with the operative, who offered a “portrait”

of her life and experiences, giving a view into the identity and

individuality that is usually suppressed in such interactions. In one

sense, these pieces offer a détournement of a kind of transaction that

is typically alienating for both the worker and the customer, but the

effectiveness of the ameliorative gesture is questionable. The call-

centre worker is still being paid to provide information and a

pleasant “customer experience” for gallery-goers. For the more

ambitious Speech Acts (Fig. 1), Young installed five telephones at an

office-style conference table, with varying interfaces ranging from

live call agents to call waiting, pre-recorded scripts, and automated

menus.

What interests me in all of these telephonic works is the

12

importation of a paradigmatic form of immaterial and affective labour

into the museum environment. Call-centres are a ubiquitous form of

unskilled, globalized labour, often poorly paid and located in “non-

places,” office blocks set within inaccessible suburban [or urban?]

sprawl and lacking any direct connection to the corporation that has

contracted their services. Such workers are employed in order to

smooth out the flow of information and capital, to troubleshoot for

hapless consumers, dispensing information and a positive attitude –

though as everyone knows, navigating the recursive, bureaucratic

labyrinth of a call centre tends to be a Kafkaesque nightmare of

inefficiency, dead ends, and frayed nerves.

Young's transposition of call-centre work into an art context,

however, seems like less of a critique of exploitation and alienation

than an illustration of the harmonization of business and art with

regard to their most “contemporary” tendencies. Even when her own

body is the most present in her work, the frame of corporate

containment seems inescapable. Her Body Techniques (Fig. 2) series is the

most telling in this regard. Produced for the Sharjah Biennial in

2007, this photographic series depicts the artist, business-suited as

always, performing canonical works of body and performance art alone

13

in the futuristic or post-apocalyptic landscape around Dubai. In the

background loom half-constructed corporate headquarters, luxury

hotels, and McMansions, a hyperreal spectacle intended to service

local tycoons and visiting Western executives. The photos show Young

re-performing Bruce Nauman's Dance or Exercise on the Perimeter of a Square,

Valie Export's Lean In, Richard Long's A Line in Ireland, and crucially,

Mierle Laderman Ukeles' Hartford Wash (among other works) while dwarfed

by empty monoliths.

[new para] The material fact of her presence seems invalidated

by the unreality of the setting. The idea of caring for or

“maintaining” an unfinished and unpopulated concrete construction

site, as Young seems to be doing here, courts absurdity – these

spaces neither require nor lend any support to human bodies. The

implication here is that, whatever these works might have meant in

their original context, asserting the fragile, aestheticized body

against the deterritorialized site of global capital is futile. Young

has already been remade in the image of the corporate world, but

these bleak vistas have no place for her in them. If there is a

critique here, it is against the sheer inhumanity of corporately-

coded space, its hostility to human needs and its evacuation of

14

meaning from work. Young's gestures could possibly be seen as heroic

(or pathetic) resistance, but if so, she offers little hope of

success.

IV. Kelly Mark: Hardly Working

“I tend to show up late. I usually leave early. I take long breaks. I have issues with authority. Idon't follow instructions. I don't work well with others. I drink on the job. I complain a lot, but

I'm alwaysworking...”11

A considerably less depressing take on the artist's body at work

can be found in the oeuvre of Canadian Kelly Mark. Mark's unique

brand of conceptualism unites its traditionally dry formalism and no-

nonsense preoccupation with documentation and instructions with a wry

sense of humour and a punk-inflected blue-collar ethos. A neon

sculpture she made (or rather, had someone make for her) in 2009

called Working Hard, Hardly Working encapsulates her signature attitude.

Another work, Smoke Break (2004, Fig. 3), was a durational

performance in front of Saskatoon City Hall that comprised eight

hours of chain smoking with two fifteen minute breaks and one hour

for lunch...in which she didn't smoke. This reversal of “break time”

11 “Kelly Mark: Staff,” web. Accessed April 18, 2013.http://www.kellymark.com/StaffSecurity1.html

15

and “work time” reflects her concern with time generally. For her,

work is time spent working, regardless of the activity – again, not

unlike Bruce Nauman's famous statement that whatever an artist does

in the studio is art.

While Mark clearly objects to having her time administered by

anyone but herself, she nevertheless rejects the pose of the

constantly-mobile, infinitely flexible, global-conceptual artist.

Instead, she comes across as stubborn, workaday regionalist – though

the fact that she's known and shown widely in Canada and not

elsewhere is more likely a matter of oversight and coincidence than

design. What sets her apart most decidedly are the elements of her

practice that focus on wage labour. In and Out, an ongoing performance

that she's been doing since 1997 and plans to continue “to the age of

65 or until I die” consists of her punching in or out of an old-

fashioned steel time clock every time she enters or exists her

studio.12 Of course, she tends not to keep nine-to-five hours but the

identification with industrial work is striking. The fact that the

piece has been acquired by a collector who pays her every year for

her hours logged renders her studio a kind of factory that produces

12 “Kelly Mark: In & Out,” web. Accessed April 18, 2003.http://www.kellymark.com/InAndOut1.html

16

whatever she wants. In a sense, she gets to have it both ways – she

sets her own hours like any precarious knowledge worker, but her

contract never expires. She has the guaranteed income and stability

that used to be provided by a union, but she's acquired this

privilege through a strategic use of conceptual nomination. By

positioning herself as a wage slave, she has, ironically, managed to

get herself an old-fashioned patron.

A similar project, begun in 2008 and repeated at various venues,

is Minimum Wage, in which Mark negotiates a modified contract with

any gallery showing her work. Rather than the usual CARFAC fees, she

asks for minimum wage during the gallery's open hours – which, not

coincidentally, tends to be more than she would have received

otherwise. This arrangement highlights the admittedly well-known fact

that the business of art is a highly speculative endeavour that

involves a great deal of self-exploitation: high risk and no

guaranteed return. By identifying with the lowest-paid workers, Mark

lodges a protest against the art world's complicity in casino

economics. It might be a bit of a stretch to see this as advocacy for

a universal minimum wage, but it certainly offers an opportunity to

reflect on loaded terms like welfare and entitlement. Mark's particular

17

way of conflating art and life invokes the necessity of “making a

living” on one's own terms while also reminding us that, without

workers' solidarity, there wouldn't be any weekends.

V. Klara Liden: Coping Strategies

Klara Liden, the third and final artist that I want to discuss

here, is rarely talked about in terms of work. Rather, her

installations and video-based performances tend to be framed in terms

of architecture and urban space. It's true that the Berlin-and-New-

York-via-Stockholm artist's work often consists of provisional

shelters in dialogue with the city and the street. One of her early

works, House Inc. (2003) was a scrappy bunker made of found materials,

set up next to Berlin's River Spree and open to passing vagrants. In

Heating for Crows (2007), titled after a Swedish phrase implying a waste

of resources, she installed a narrow corridor in New York's Reena

Spaulings Gallery that led to a small room with a sofa, which was

open to the city and became populated by pigeons. In other instances,

she's displaced the entire contents of her apartment into a gallery

space, or used stolen trashcans as found sculpture. This sense of

vulnerability and exposure that runs through her work, her

18

identification with garbage and refuse, and her squat-inspired ethos

of survival in hostile conditions all combine in her short videos,

which document visceral and usual non-verbal performances of bodily

frustration. In Paralysed (2003, Fig. 4), for example, she strips off

her military jacket on a New York subway car, revealing a pink slip

and shorts, and starts to dance manically. She flips over seats and

hangs from metal poles in an unhinged tantrum while the car's few

other occupants look on, intimidated or bemused. Bodies of Society (2006,

Fig. 5) is even more violent; alone in a bare apartment, she spends

just shy of five minutes destroying a bicycle with repeated blows

from a pipe. In an essay for Artforum, Helen Molesworth drew a

parallel between this work and Pipilotti Rist's considerably more

celebratory Ever is All Over (1997), in which a woman strolls down a

street in slow-motion, blithely smashing car windows with a metal

flower. Molesworth writes:

If Rist's video celebrates the 1990s Riot Grrrl's ascendancy, and can retrospectively be seen as part of the latter's ultimate commodification, then Liden's video heralds the muted, nearly autistic sensibility of the postgender, postcritique artist that may be the mien of ourmoment. The romance of crime (or guitar smashing) is not what is on offer, nor is the fantasy of rage turned to glee; no such redemption is imagined. Rather, the artist at

19

work is imaged as silent, sullen, solitary, and quite possibly self-defeating.13

What interests me is the anhedonia of Liden's work, it's anxious

and significantly androgynous embodiment of precarity and austerity's

material and psychological effects. Being an artist, for Liden, seems

less a matter of creative self-realization than a canny strategy for

survival in a world where work is unavailable or impossible. I want

to argue that unhappiness and failure are political feelings in her work,

in which non-participation in an unacceptable regime aligns with the

difficult but resourceful work of self-maintenance. .

These issues become clearer if we look at one of Liden's lesser-

known works, a video from 2010 called Untitled (Trashcan) (Fig. 6). The

video is a static shot of Liden, from the back, sitting at a desk in

a dull white room. While it has the connotations of an office

setting, we notice that there is a striking lack of the typical

apparatuses of work: no computer, no books, no writing implements or

files. The only objects on the desktop are a phone, a mug, and two

small computer speakers playing k.d. Lang's cover of Neil Young's

“Helpless.” As we watch, Liden reaches once for the mug before

13 Molesworth, Helen. "In memory of static: Helen Molesworth on the art of Klara Liden." Artforum v. 49 no.7 (March 2011), 215.

20

burying her head in her hands. After a moment, she gets up, walks

over to the trashcan next to the desk, and carefully crawls in

headfirst. After a brief pause with her legs sticking out of the bin,

she climbs back out, only to get in again, feet first this time, and

disappears from sight. Just before the video concludes, the k.d. Lang

song ends and is followed by the Rolling Stones' “Gimme Shelter.” We

never see Liden emerge from the trashcan.

A number of critics, Molesworth included, tend to frame Liden's

performances as instances of precocious rebellion or individualized

resistance, but borrowing from my colleague Jess Dorrance, I would

prefer to read a work like Untitled (Trashcan) as an example of what

Judith Halberstam has called the “queer art of failure.”14 As

Dorrance has noted of Liden’s work, “[r]ather than seeing her actions

as contained solely in the realm of the isolated, temporary, and

futile, or her sullenness as exclusively self-defeating, we can

connect her works to a larger body of queer political critique.”15

Liden's passivity, inaction, and refusal to work constitute not

only a personal withdrawal from a situation in which it appeared that

14 See Judith Halberstam, The Queer Art of Failure (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011).

15 Jess Dorrance, “Untitled (Queer Visual Methodologies, Trashcans, and Political Unhappiness),” unpublished manuscript.

21

there was no possibility of “productive” action anyway, but a time-

honoured strategy of strike, slowdown, or occupation. As Halberstam

notes, “[f]ailure is something that queers do and have done

exceptionally well.”16 After all, to succeed means to live up to

capitalist and heteronormative ideas of what success constitutes.

Failure is thus an escape from unacceptable norms and an opportunity

to cultivate a different kind of life. Liden's use of “Gimme Shelter”

implies that, unpleasant as it may seem, occupying a trashcan is

still a better contribution to her maintenance and well-being than

submission to the inscrutable norms of work and gender. In stark

contrast to the effervescent corporate language of Carey Young's

“Positive Buzz,” Liden politicizes her unhappiness in order to

challenge an inhospitable reality.

VI. Conclusion: The Gender of Labour

Reading Liden's resistance as specifically queer also brings out

an important point about Kelly Mark and Carey Young as well: both are

androgynous. While neither seems to foreground gender identity in the

way that Liden does, it is hard to ignore that three artists

16 Halberstam, 3.

22

exploring intersections of the body, labour, and (im)materiality are

all women who don't fit neatly into dominant gender norms. That a

regime of labour governed by flexibility has disproportionate

consequences for women is clear. The resistance that Mierle Laderman

Ukeles encountered while trying to be both a mother and an artist

has, regrettably, not gone out of date. The privatization of social

services has placed an increasing burden on those who do the work of

care and maintenance, and the United States is still the only first-

world country without guaranteed paid maternal leave. The Wages for

Housework movement, which was contemporary with the AWC, did not

succeed in realizing greater status and compensation for domestic

work. On the contrary, more and more work has taken on the same

characteristics as housework: affective, service-based, unpaid or

poorly paid, and performed at odd hours. Under these circumstances,

continuing to wax lyrical about the inherently democratic character

of dematerialized, communicative exchange seems frivolous at best.

While the legacy of conceptual art has certainly not exhausted

all of its emancipatory potential, we must be extremely careful not

to buy into neoliberal and technocratic assurances that

dematerialized networks are making us smarter, more efficient, and

23

more creative. If the conceptual body can offer us anything today, it

is a greater awareness of the very material externalities that our

network society produces.

Works Cited

Aranda, Julieta, and Anton Vidokle and Brian Kuan Wood (eds.). E-flux journal: Are You Working Too Much? Post-Fordism, Precarity, and the Labour of Art. Berlin: Sternberg Press, 2011.

Berardi, Franco “Bifo.” The Soul at Work: From Alienation to Autonomy trans. Francesca Cadel and Giuseppina Mecchia. Los Angeles: Semiotexte,2009.

---. The Uprising: On Poetry and Finance. Los Angeles: Semiotexte, 2012.

Berlant, Lauren. Cruel Optimism. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011.

Boltanski, Luc and Eve Chiapello. The New Spirit of Capitalism. Trans.

24

Gregory Elliott. New York: Verso, 2005.

Bourriaud, Nicholas. Postproduction. New York: Lukas and Sternberg, 2002.

Bryan-Wilson, Julia. Art Workers: Radical Practice in the Vietnam War Era. Berkeleyand Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2009.

Burnham, Jack. “Real Time Systems,” Artforum Vol. 8, No. 1 (September 1969): 49-55.

“Carey Young – Body Techniques,” web. Accessed April 18, 2013.http://www.careyyoung.com/past/bodytechniques.html

“Carey Young – Speech Acts,” web. Accessed April 18, 2013.http://www.careyyoung.com/past/speechacts.html

Cvetkovich, Anne. Depression: A Public Feeling. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2012.

Dorrance, Jess. “Untitled (Queer Visual Methodologies, Trashcans, andPolitical Unhappiness),” unpublished manuscript.

Fisher, Mark. Capitalist Realism. London: Zero Books, 2009.

Fraser, Andrea. Museum Highlights: the Writings of Andrea Fraser, ed. Alexander Alberro. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 2005.

Graham, Dan. “Art Workers Coalition Open Hearing Presentation,” in Conceptual Art: A Critical Anthology, eds. Alexander Alberro and Blake Stimson. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1999: 92- 94.

Halberstam, Judith. The Queer Art of Failure. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2011.

Jackson, Shannon. Social Works: Performing Art, Supporting Publics. New York: Routledge, 2011.

“Kelly Mark: In & Out,” web. Accessed April 18, 2003.http://www.kellymark.com/InAndOut1.html

25

“Kelly Mark: Staff,” web. Accessed April 18, 2013.http://www.kellymark.com/StaffSecurity1.html

Kelsey, John. “Next Level Spleen.” Artforum Vol.51 no.1 (September 2012): 412-13.

Lippard, Lucy. Get the Message?: A Decade of Art for Social Change. New York: E.P.Dutton, 1984.

Molesworth, Helen. "In memory of static: Helen Molesworth on the art of Klara Liden." Artforum 49.7 (March 2011): 214-23.

Molesworth, Helen (ed.). Work Ethic. Baltimore: Baltimore Museum of Art, 2003.

Roberts, John. The Intangibilities of Form: Skill and Deskilling in Art After the Readymade. London: Verso, 2007.

Roelstraete, Dieter. “The Business: On the Unbearable Lightness of Art.” e-flux journal no.42 (Feb. 2013).

http://www.e-flux.com/journal/the-business-on-the-unbearable-lightness-of-art/

Suchin, Peter. “Carey Young” Frieze no.64 (January-February 2002).http://www.frieze.com/issue/review/carey_young/

Whitehead, Terri. "Kelly Mark" Art Review (June 2005):108.

Ukeles, Mierle Laderman. “Maintenance Art Manifesto: Proposal for an Exhibition, 'CARE'” in Conceptual Art: A Critical Anthology, eds. Alexander Alberro and Blake Stimson. Cambridge, Mass: MIT Press, 1999: 122-25.