David: a Show About Mortality

Hello, Goodbye, 2024 10 15 - 03

In April 2024, David Weir was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. Bill Pusztai, a photographer, followed him through diagnosis, treament, and recovery, doing a shoot every few weeks. These images are the result of their collaboration. This show has been accepted by Garner Narrative Gallery for the 2025 Louisville Photo Biennial, September 5 to November 9, 2025.

A preview event will be held at Gallery 881 in Vancouver

Gallery 881, 881 East Hastings, Vancouver, BC V6A 3Y1 (+1-604-789-6984, info@gallery881.com, @gallery881_)

Reception 5 PM - 9 PM, July 25, open for viewing 10 AM - 5 PM, July 26 and 27, 2025

Warning: nudity.

In April 2024, David Weir was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. Bill Pusztai, a photographer, followed him through diagnosis, treament, and recovery, doing a shoot every few weeks. These images are the result of their collaboration. This show has been accepted by Garner Narrative Gallery for the 2025 Louisville Photo Biennial, September 5 to November 9, 2025.

A preview event will be held at Gallery 881 in Vancouver in July:

Gallery 881, 881 East Hastings, Vancouver, BC V6A 3Y1 (+1-604-789-6984, info@gallery881.com, @gallery881_)

Reception July 25, open for viewing 10 AM - 5 PM, July 26 and 27, 2025

Warning: nudity.

Artist’s Statement - Bill Pusztai

[to be posted with “Why nudity?” on a movable wall blocking visibility of the show from the street.]

How does one be a friend to someone with a potentially terminal diagnosis?

As a wise woman once said to me, "the price of any love is that someone leaves first", so the task, with any friendship really, is to make the pain worthwhile. Or if one can't deal with the pain, one leaves in advance. You can only respect that decision, it cannot and should not be argued with, as it may be the most responsible choice for many people. How much worse to be a shitty friend when the remaining time is short?

I think this became clear to me in the 1980s. I worked for a nursing agency caring for people dying of AIDS (that sounds very clinical ... it was my community, my friends and lovers). Families regularly abandoned their children / siblings / parents / partners, and friends often disappeared. In addition to the shame around AIDS, there was also a shame around terminal illness, as if they has somehow failed their loved one, or maybe, they felt a taint by association. And many people have the attitude that if one can't have the expectation of "forever", it's not worth the effort (you see this with romantic relationshps too, of course).

Most of us carry on with this sort of anticipation of "a long time", even if we're not thinking in terms of forever. Until we're forced to, we rarely think about the idea that everything we are or do has a definite termination point. When we're forced, we often think, well, what am I? why am I doing x, y and z? In that way, we have a big part of our identity stripped from us.

You can look at this body of work as me doing my best to be a good friend, whether or not there's a future in it. Be here now, as some guy once said. And a lot of it is informed by what David wanted in the moment - luckily, we are well aligned in those ways.

I frequently work with nude subjects. Very often just the subject, nude, on a plain backdrop. I reject the idea that a nude is either porn or sexless fine art (art without libido? what even is that?). I don't even try to fit into that framing of the issue, it is entirely inadequate to my lived experience. Because of that I also reject the standard ideas about the kinds of bodies that should be represented. We all know the litany - young, thin, white, cis. Ironically those standards all seem to be based around the viewer finding the subject (object) to be desirable - even, or especially, when it's not porn.

So is this porn? I would say, definitively not. To me porn is art mainly about sex. Without erasing David's sexuality, I don't think that's the main theme in these photos - although it can't entirely *not* be there either.

All those ideas came together for me in the "Cut Piece" inspired shoot. "Cut Piece" was performance art, first instantiated by Yoko Ono in 1964, and I had been thinking about it because 2024 was the 60th anniversary. In the original, Yoko sat still and allowed people to snip pieces of her clothing and carry them away. It's a very complex piece, but important to me at the time were ideas about the violence of being stripped by other people, in a context where clothing can be understood as public identity or perhaps protection. Meanwhile I'm thinking about David, who's being stripped of his identity by a potentially-terminal diagnosis. Undressing himself, in an unmistakable and irreversable way.

This show contains nudity, so please do not view it if that is illegal for you or you just don't want to see it.

Why nudity?

Some ideas.

Nudity can be an expression of openness, and through the process of being intently seen, of revelation. It defies the judgemental viewer who insists that it's ugly, or that particular bodies are ugly. The difference between having clothing cut from one's body by other people, as opposed to removing one's own, is the difference between an attack and self-revelation.

In this context, this sort of revelation is an emotional preparation for a process that's going to strip away many of the niceties of polite society. Cancer is not polite, radiation is not polite, chemo is not polite, they are all blunt force and counter-force. There's a stark lesson in the difference between what's truly necessary and what just feels necessary because of social conventions.

Nudity is also a reminder that in almost all human expression, sex - by its presence or absence - is a part of the text or subtext. Sick people and disabled people are routinely desexualised, ostensibly to protect them, but it's pretty clear it doesn't; all it does is give abusers a good cover story. It's a problem that cannot be dealt with without granting people their sexuality and the autonomy to manage it, everywhere, all the time.

When people are sick they often feel betrayed by their body and distanced from it. A lot of people have that feeling about aging as well. One's body being witnessed by another human being can be a piece of bringing sense of self and body back together.


(David’s text in this style; this timeline to be posted near the entrance, then subsequent texts near the images they apply to.)

TIMELINE of 2024

04 April Annual checkup with my family doctor, resulting in a referral to an oncologist

15 April Oncologist appointment and biopsy

18 April Diagnosis of anal cancer

08 May PET Scan

06 June Chemo and radiation begins

19 July Chemo and radiation ends

18 October PET Scan


1 LET’S DISSOCIATE BY MAKING ART (Dandelion, 24 April 2024)

I received my cancer diagnosis in a phone call from a harried oncologist on a Thursday afternoon late in April. The next day I was at my friend Carlyn’s studio to work on a collaborative project. She was the first person I shared the news with. We had a cry, and a hug, and then she said: “Let’s dissociate by making art.”


2 I CAN’T FIND FEAR (Crystal Ball, 01 May 2024)

The time between diagnosis and the start of treatment was fraught. Inventorying my emotional state as the news sank in, I found frustration, sadness, and a bit of anger. But I couldn’t find fear. The nudity in these photos reflects my resolve to remain fearless through this, and to resist the stigma and shame that I encountered in myself and others.


3 CUT PIECE (Self-Administered, 01 June 2024)

Bill suggested we do a take on Yoko Ono’s 1964 Cut Piece. First I had to research the work, and once I had, was enthusiastic.


4 CHOSEN FAMILY (Haircut, 05 June 2024)

At the beginning of chemotherapy and radiation, I asked my friend Mark to trim my hair and beard. For me this was an act of acceptance, of submission to forces greater than myself. Although I am proud of my independence, it was necessary to find the humility to accept the love and support offered by my chosen family. Bill, Carlyn, Mark, and Rosemary each stepped up without hesitation. I am eternally grateful.


5 CHEMO FOG (End of Chemo, 19 July 2024)

Through June and July I had radiation and chemotherapy treatments five days a week for six weeks. At least the daily visits to the clinic lent my days some structure. Chemo fog descended on me, making it impossible to focus on ... anything.


6 PAIN & TEDIUM (Bed Shots, 26 July 2024)

The weeks after treatment were far more challenging than treatment itself. I had been warned, but didn’t get it. There was nothing to do but be patient. I watched everything on Netflix - twice. The day Bill came over to take these photos I was in despair. Pain medications helped somewhat, but an unwelcome side effect was a series of fainting episodes, as my blood pressure had plummeted. This was my lowest point. I truly felt there was no reason for me to be alive.


7 WEAK & HUMOROUS (Hot Daddy, 26 July 2024)

As the project progressed, Bill posted images online. A significant proportion of the comments he received focused on my appearance, on how hot and handsome I looked. I found this delightful and horrifying in equal measure.


8 RESET (Fractured Pieces, 04 September 2024)

I love the energy in these photos. If they had sound, it would be mechanical, like the sound of one of those fans clacking open. To me These photos remind me of animation stills depicting the process of marshalling and regrouping, becoming myself again.


9 PROGNOSIS (Hello, Goodbye, 05 October 2024)

This photo was taken days prior to my first post-treatment PET scan. I don’t yet know the prognosis, but my body tells me that recovery is a distinct possibility.