How "Sensation" Became a Scandal - censorship of art exhibit

Art in America, Jan, 2000 by Steven C. Dubin

Homo censorious takes a few elements out of context--specific words, titles, part of a design--and treats them as if they embody the entire work of art. From this standpoint, elephant dung incorporated in a painting can only be regarded as filthy and debased, rather than standing as a possible metaphor for some theme such as the cycle of life. In sharp counterpoint to the position of the letter writers cited above, New York City's best-known black newspaper, the Amsterdam News, editorially noted in its Sept. 30-Oct. 6 edition that "Ofili portrays Mary as a rather exciting Black with impressive eyes, a hint of breast upon which a piece of dung has been placed, signifying nourishment, the color of darkness, a broad nose and a sensuousness not generally assumed when one sees the Eurocentric version of Mother Mary.... We believe that his [Giuliani's] sensibilities were shocked by the belief that Mother Mary happened to be some color other than the color that he has accepted for everything that is good and pure and right and white."

But art works of all kinds are more than the sum of their parts, as the struggle to overturn the ban on James Joyce's Ulysses because it contained "dirty words" taught us long ago. Andres Serrano's photograph Piss Christ can evoke awe when you see it; but fury follows for some viewers when they read its label. Likewise with Ofili's work: many viewers would never identify his subject as the Virgin Mary but for the painting's title--which is also inscribed on the dung elements upon which the canvas rests.

Condemning works of art on the basis of isolated components is misleading and unfair. Art cannot be judged by focusing only on a fragment: the full meaning of a disputed piece can only be gleaned by considering the work in its entirety, relating it to the rest of the artist's output and considering the context provided by the work of his or her contemporaries. Nor, as the press coverage of the "Sensation" controversy amply demonstrated, can a work's complexity be conveyed through careless, hazy or improvised verbal descriptions. But in our age of sound-bite journalism and hot-button headlines, this approach is becoming ubiquitous.

Homo censorious assumes a paternalistic attitude toward the public. He is both self-righteous and adamant about what he believes, and assumes that others are incapable of deciding for themselves what is good and bad, right and wrong. He claims to be a populist, yet elevates himself above the masses, whom he suspects of lacking judgment, good sense and self-control. He is keen to awaken concern "for the kids," who cannot be expected to make appropriate decisions for themselves. But he wishes to extend the scope of surveillance to adults as well. So it is with Rudy Giuliani, who becomes less a mayor and more a cranky hall monitor with each new round of scolding and restrictions.

Homo censorious overestimates the power of exposure to different forms of cultural expression and assumes the effects to be immediate and irreversible. He fears that many aspects of contemporary culture can only contaminate pure minds. As a recent article in the Catholic League's publication Catalyst warned, "It is not that our culture risks becoming like pablum, it risks becoming like vomit." Confronted by what he sees as intolerable examples of cultural expression, Homo censorious seeks a magic-bullet solution: eliminate what you believe to be pernicious, and you've performed a momentous deed. In this instance, either oust Ofili's The Holy Virgin Mary or this "Catholic-bashing" painting will stand as socially permissible "hate speech" and thus encourage hate crimes.