Originally published November 12, 1999, in Comics Buyer’s Guide #1356
We know what offends us, don’t we.
We know what public dollars should be made to support, don’t we.
I mean, it’s all so easy. We don’t know art, but we know what we like. And as comic book fans, we all know the importance and impact that artwork can and does have on the world of comic book literature. Oh, and it occasionally has impact on the real world as well.
I’ve spoken a number of times of censorship of comic books, and how we must be ever vigilant in making sure that Those Who Are Protecting Us From Ourselves are thwarted in their attempts to perform their self-appointed work. That we must beware those who support the concept of the First Amendment right up to the point where something is expressed that they find personally upsetting… not realizing that is precisely the type of speech or expression that much be protected the most assiduously.
First up, the Sensation Exhibit. Sensation—selections from the collection of Charles Saatchi, probably one of the most devoted collectors of the works of young British artists—features the work of forty-two artists. The title works on two levels: First, looking at certain pieces gives rise to fundamental sensations, feelings, and emotions. And second, they create something of a stir wherever they go. In England, for example, there was near rioting over a painting called “Myra,” a 396cm x 320cm portrait of 1960s child-killer Myra Hindley.
In the United States, on the other hand, we so value freedom of expression that we built a protection of those rights into the constitution. Granted, it was an amendment, a sort of legal afterthought, but heck, it’s there. So naturally, of all civilized countries, we should be ready, willing and eager to show the mother country just exactly how it’s done.
And oh boy, did we.
Before the exhibit even opened at the Brooklyn Museum, a piece called “The Holy Virgin Mary” by Chris Ofili caught the attention of New York mayor Rudy Giuliani. It didn’t catch his eye, mind you, because he didn’t see it. But he heard about it, and declared that it was a portrait of the Virgin Mary “smeared with elephant feces.” It didn’t matter that his wording was wholly inaccurate; the news media repeated that description in every report of the face-off, so much so that the perception became the reality as much as the belief that 1999 is the end of the century.
Apparently, you see, New York is filled with roving and heavily armed bands of art lovers. They patrol the streets, preying on the weak, the helpless, the young and old, those who are utterly incapable of defending themselves. And these predatory monsters kidnap their victims, put guns to their heads, and force them-despite many cries of protest and pleas for mercy-to go to the Brooklyn Museum and see Sensations. Yes, that’s right… if you don’t go to the exhibit willingly, you will be forced to see it whether you like it or not.
At least, that appears to be the mayor’s major concern. He was outraged, incensed, and stated that Ofili’s painting was an insult to Catholics everywhere. Never mind that Ofili himself is Catholic. Never mind that, for an insult to have any affect, one must actually be present at the insulting. They always ask if a tree falling in the woods makes a sound if no one is around. The answer is, yes, of course it does, don’t be stupid. But an insult, on the other hand, requires an audience. I can reel off a string of epithets about whomever I want in the privacy of my office, but if they’re not around to hear it, there’s no insult. So Catholics would actually have to physically be at the museum and see the piece in order to take offense; to twist the old joke, they would indeed have to come there to be insulted.
Giuliani, for his part, also took umbrage on behalf of taxpayers. Tax money, you see, supports the Brooklyn Museum. Tax money, quoth the mayor, should not have to pay for smut—or, more on point—what noted art expert Giuliani considers to be smut.
I’ve seen much debate about whether tax dollars should support the arts. My problem is that I tend to take a simplistic view of that question, which is actually what I do with most questions. That’s why I always laugh when people seem to think that I’m some sort of deep thinker. I’m not. I generally react purely from gut instinct. The closest I come to thinking is trying to determine why my gut reaction was what it was. In the case of government supporting art, my feeling is, well… government supports destruction. There’s war. There’s the death penalty. Government(s) oversee both. So if the government destroys… then the government is also obligated to create, or at least support creation. The army is the regimentation of thought. Government supported. Art is the elevation of thought. Should also be government supported. Yin and yang. The planting of a tree for every tree that is cut down. There’s sort of a karmic obligation.
Yet Giuliani feels that it’s unfair for those who would object to certain pieces of art to have to support it with their tax dollars. That’s nice. Meantime, over sixty percent of New Yorkers polled felt that the Brooklyn Museum should be allowed to display whatever they wanted to. Giuliani was acting contrary to their desires. His salary comes from tax dollars. So basically, sixty percent of New Yorkers were spending their tax money supporting someone who was acting in a manner contrary to their interests. Why should they have any less say in how their tax dollars were spent than the minority of New Yorkers objecting to artwork that no one was forcing them to see (the roving band of art psychos was a joke, in case you didn’t get that part.)
Me, I decided to see for myself. An art expert I’m not, but being Jewish, I could probably at least view the painting with some degree of dispassion.
I thought it was gorgeous.
The painting gives us an African interpretation of Mary, produced via paper collage, oil paint, glitter, polyester resin, map pins and, yes, dried elephant dung. A symbol of fertility and not uncommon in African artwork, you wouldn’t know what it was if you weren’t told. Two balls of dung serve as support for the canvas, and the third is on one of her breasts. She is surrounded by a collage of what, at first glance, seems to be ethereal winged creatures, but upon closer inspection is seen to be an assortment of buttocks and a few shots of female genitalia, clipped from pørņ magazines.
The thing is, when you view the painting, Mary herself absolutely glows thanks to the paint and glitter. The image of Mary virtually radiates purity. The “obscenity” is all around her, but she seems untouched by it, above it. The immaculate in contrast to the disgusting. It’s as if the artist is saying that, in a world where sexuality and coarseness is everywhere, the Virgin Mary remains an untainted icon. It is, in many ways, as reverent a rendition of the Virgin as anyone has ever seen.
But Giuliani wants it out.
“Myra” is even more breathtaking. A gut-wrenching riff on Pointillism, the huge painting is constructed entirely from children’s handprints, symbols of her victims. Like an outsized Lady Macbeth, she can never wash their stains from her. Some have objected to the size of the painting, saying that it elevates her to some sort of heroic status. They are wrong. First, there’s the logistical question: There’s simply no way to do a Pointillist rendition involving handprints—even kid-sized—without it taking up a chunk of room. And from the symbolic point of view, murderers such as Myra Hindley loom large in our consciousness. The immensity of their crimes fascinate us, are bigger-than-life. A large painting of her doesn’t serve as approval or lauding of what she did; it simply, mutely acknowledges that such crimes are so gargantuan that they cannot be ignored or forgotten.
Then again, art interpretation is a tricky business, especially when amateurs (which I definitely am) are involved. There’s a fine line between art and just yanking the audience’s chain.
For example: Looking at the work of Jake and Dinos Chapman, which depicted mannequins of naked little girls fused together with male and female sex organs in place of noses and mouths, part of me wondered whether the artists were trying to say that in today’s world, children lose their innocence at a young age and literally have sexuality thrust into their faces… or whether the artists were just trying to do some sick stuff to have a giggle, with no purpose other than to make people say “Yuck.”
If the latter was the case, they more than succeeded with “Great Deeds Against the Dead,” a life-sized, 3-D representation of the Francisco Goya piece of the same name depicting naked and mutilated war victims hanging from a tree. Actually, the thing I found most disturbing about that one was that my attention was caught, not by the bodies, but by the tree. And I thought, “Oh my God… it’s the base from my old Aurora Batman model kit, only it’s six feet tall.”
(Which is silly, of course. Blowing a Batman model kit up to giant size wouldn’t be art. Now if you’re Roy Liechtenstein and blow up panel illustration without so much as a by-your-leave to the original penciller, that’s art!)
Although I could see where Damien Hirst was going with his display of animal carcasses, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go there with him. Actually, the piece that I found most riveting was “Dead Dad” by Ron Mueck, a three-foot long silicone and acrylic statue that was a perfect rendering of… well… a naked dead father. As if to say that death makes everyone… small, somehow. Small and helpless and unprotected, no matter how large they may have loomed in life.
Some pieces worked better for me than others, but overall I found it a stunning exhibition… because this is America, and we should be able to make up our own minds about things. In the meantime, Giuliani is so incensed that he is endeavoring to evict the entire Brooklyn Museum. Oh, but I’m sure he’s against censorship.
Just like the nice folks down in Columbia, South Carolina. You’re gonna love this piece off the AP wire…
Parents worried about the influence of the wildly popular Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling have persuaded the state’s Board of Education to review whether the books should be allowed in the classroom.
“The books have a serious tone of death, hate, lack of respect and sheer evil,” said Elizabeth Mounce of Columbia, one of the parents who addressed the board Tuesday.
The state board said it was up to local school boards to decide if the books were appropriate, but agreed to review them. “Censorship is an ugly word, but it is not as ugly as what I’ve heard this morning,” said board member Clarence Dickert.
Now I don’t know about you, but when I read the above sentence, I thought of Young Frankenstein, with Kenneth Mars bellowing in his thick Transylvanian accent, “A riot… is an ugly thing! And I think it’s about time that we had one!” Furthermore, let’s be candid: Someone named Clarence Dickert should not be on the school board. Why? Because you just know that this guy was made miserable as a kid in school. Being named Clarence isn’t bad enough… but Dickert? “Hey, Claaaarence!” those kids’ voices would float across the schoolyard. “Hey Clarence… does your Dickert? Haaahahahahaa!”
So here he is, now in a position of power, probably out to avenge himself on children everywhere by making their school lives miserable. Can’t blame him, really.
Someone buy him a ticket to Sensation. It’ll take his mind off true obscenities… such as Harry Potter.
(Peter David, writer of stuff, can be written to at Second Age, Inc., PO Box 239, Bayport, NY 11705.)
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