Vito Hannibal Acconci was a "seminal" artist, poet, and architect, renowned for his transgressive Seedbed and his reflections on space and time.

Like Marina Abramović, Judy Chicago, and Leonardo da Vinci, Acconci theorized his works before, after, and during the process of composition, sharing his reflections with the public. His strategy was to draw the public into private spaces and make private enclaves in public spaces, which he describes as "the air space between bodies and information and other bodies...a mix of electric current and sexual magnetism." For many years he resembled John Cazale's character in Dog Day Afternoon, with long, thin hair hanging from a balding head. Acconci's life is a testament to the way in which odd-looking men, the Willem Dafoes and Steve Buscemis of the world, can still become sex symbols.

Acconci enjoyed doing illegal things, like stalking random strangers on the street in Following Piece, and using his slick theoretical vocabulary, poetic skill, and darling art world status to defend the legitimacy of his pursuit of the public enactment of his fetishes. If this interests you, mention it at your next therapy session. In the waiting room, check out Acconci's insightful, unique essay, "Some Notes on Illegality in Art," and learn how you, too, can make the art world your alibi and stay out of trouble. Acconci writes, "Once a putatively illegal art was made available by exhibitors, it could easily be accepted by viewers. The art audience, in order to live up to its role as art audience, was in fact obliged to accept it." Aside from his assuredness of inevitable acceptance by his audience, Acconci was also confident that he is in fact protected by the criminal code of New York State, which stipulates that stalking must have "no legitimate purpose." In a nutshell, if he wasn't stalking you for art purposes, which are of course it would be real stalking. Acconci's articulate essays and aphorisms do make the legitimacy of his work a real debate.

Although a famous essay by Rosalind Krauss uses Acconci's video work to make the argument that "the medium of video is narcissism," and although his Seedbed is, for most people, an abhorrent example of self-indulgent decadence, Acconci seems to have been genuinely interested in the work rather than making the news. In her obituary of Acconci's ex-wife Rosemary Mayer, however, Mayer's sister, Bernadette Mayer, writes that Rosemary "eventually married Vito Acconci...I don't know why." Ouch! Maybe it was that freaky stuff he did in public that endeared him so to his in-laws.

You wouldn't expect an artist best known for sowing his seed in a gallery to be a philosopher, but Acconci's ideas are as relevant as his artworks. In particular, he draws our attention to the ways in which time and space connect with each other. Although some people can see that on a macro level, time and space are one, very few people can explain, in plain language, how this could be possible. In a discussion of public space, Acconci reminds the reader of a time, not too long ago, when clocks were in every store window, and checking the time was a social event. "But then times changed, and time went away. Well, it didn't go away exactly, but it certainly did go out: time went out like a virus and spread through all those bodies walking the streets. Time aimed straight not for the heart but for the arm. It fit around the wrist in the form of a watch." Acconci's work, like that of the best percussionists, keeps time public, and reminds us that it is possible to get away with something crazy behind the shield of art and poetry.