Art Censorship Now

The life size chocolate nude of a crucified Christ by Cosimo Cavallaro, titled “My Sweet Lord”, was installed at The Lab Gallery of the Roger Smith Hotel, in New York City, a few days before Easter.  Most involved in the arts would have deciphered its intent as witty commentary on the invasion of crass consumer culture and pagan traditions into the world of religious devotion.  Catholic League president Bill Donohue did not arrive at this interpretation.  He instantly went on the attack, demanding the public participate to enforce the censorship of the exhibit, bankrupt anyone involved in it, and went further to declare:  ”All those involved are lucky that angry Christians don't react the way extremist Muslims do when they're offended — otherwise they may have more than their heads cut off.”

If the state of intolerance toward artistic expression can be this strong in arts capital New York City, what about the rest of the country?  What experiences do our own gallery and museum directors have?

KMA director David Butler has worked in museums for 25 years and has been a director for 17.  He pinpoints the big turn toward external intolerance and demands for censorship as emerging in the late 1980s.  Since then, the trend has been for public institutions to “self-censor,” by progressively avoiding provocative or challenging shows.  He feels it is the most troubling methodology of censorship, as its consequences are a major loss for our culture.

Butler’s worst run-in with public outcry involved an exhibit in 2005 during his previous employment at the Edwin A. Ulrich Museum of Art at Wichita State University.  After exhibiting the work of Palestinian artist Emily Jacir, he felt lucky to have kept his job. Jacir’s exhibit was interpreted by some as anti-Israeli, despite the fact that the installation was worked on jointly by both Palestinian and Israeli citizens.  The Jewish Federation of Kansas put extreme pressure on the university and the museum to grant permission to place brochures and a sign in the gallery expressing their views concerning the politics of the Middle East.  The danger this precedent set can be understood by looking at the situation in reverse:  Would it be appropriate for anti-Semites to have the same privileges during an exhibit by an Israeli artist?

Since arriving in Knoxville just last August, Butler’s only experience with repressive behavior involved an exhibit presently hanging in the SubUrban Gallery: Tim Davis’s “Permanent Collection.”  The printing company he first contracted refused to print the exhibition catalog when it discovered there would be a nude included in the content. The fact that the nude was a well-known, widely reproduced work by19th century French master Gustave Courbet was irrelevant to the company.

Sam Yates, director of the UT Ewing Gallery, remembers the controversy over the laughing Jesus painting during his previous employment at the University of Wisconsin.  It created more public hysteria than anything he has encountered since.  Even the 1981 removal of nude prints by world-renowned artist Philip Pearlstein by the UT Chancellor from the University Center just prior to homecoming was not quite as extreme.  Yates is pleased that since the incident, intolerance of provocative art has decreased dramatically.  He is amused that the main complaints issued with him simply ask the question: “Is this even art?”

Leah Estes-Marcum, director of the Oak Ridge Art Center, had a run-in with a woman visiting the gallery.  She had been carefully viewing a photography exhibit in the center’s two large art galleries and was taking notes.  When she approached Estes-Marcum’s desk, the woman handed her a list. She announced that she was bringing in a group of people the next day and wanted three of the pieces in the exhibit to be removed by then.  They were, she declared, “offensive”.  One of the photos was of a topless sunbather.  Another was of a woman in a bathing suit in a lounge chair, her face obscured by the brim of her hat.  The last photo was so blandly mild that its content has been erased from the director’s memory.  Estes-Marcum explained to the woman that when an exhibit is hung, it is not disturbed.  As everyone reads work differently depending on their own experiences, others might not be offended by those images.

It is perhaps inevitable that art featuring strong political or sexual content will become the target of some rancor and protest, and certainly that’s fine since opinions and tastes vary. But censorship from within or without is not the way to deal with differing aesthetic views, certainly in a free and open society.  And it is particularly disheartening and a cause of grave concern when an artist or curator feels the need to self-censor before the work is even exhibited.  That makes the censors’ job that much easier.