Regarding the Pain of Others
 
“Wherever people feel safe (...) they will be indifferent.” - Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others
 
Nancy Spero, G.L.O.R.Y., 1967.
Gouache and Ink on Paper

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maman 2
A smaller version of Maman was bought in 2006 for $4 million, another in 2008 for $4.5 million, and a third for $10.7 million. In 2015 a version was sold for $28,165,000.
Nonetheless, work by women artists remains quite inexpensive when compared to that of male artists.
In a 2015 Art Sy study on the value of works bought at auction, only two women artist's names appear on the list of 100 most expensive works of art!!
Louise Bourgeois, Maman at National Gallery of Canada, 2005.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frances Benjamin Johnston photo of Louis Firetail (Sioux, Crow Creek), wearing tribal clothing, in American history class, Hampton Institute, Hampton, Virginia, 1899.
 

The disconnect between last Tuesday's monstrous dose of reality and the self-righteous drivel and outright deceptions being peddled by public figures and TV commentators is startling, depressing. The voices licensed to follow the event seem to have joined together in a campaign to infantilize the public. Where is the acknowledgement that this was not a "cowardly" attack on "civilization" or "liberty" or "humanity" or "the free world" but an attack on the world's self-proclaimed super-power, undertaken as a consequence of specific American alliances and actions? How many citizens are aware of the ongoing American bombing of Iraq? And if the word "cowardly" is to be used, it might be more aptly applied to those who kill from beyond the range of retaliation, high in the sky, than to those willing to die themselves in order to kill others. In the matter of courage (a morally neutral virtue): whatever may be said of the perpetrators of Tuesday's slaughter, they were not cowards.

Our leaders are bent on convincing us that everything is O.K. America is not afraid. Our spirit is unbroken, although this was a day that will live in infamy and America is now at war. But everything is not O.K. And this was not Pearl Harbor. We have a robotic president who assures us that America stands tall. A wide spectrum of public figures, in and out of office, who are strongly opposed to the policies being pursued abroad by this Administration apparently feel free to say nothing more than that they stand united behind President Bush. A lot of thinking needs to be done, and perhaps is being done in Washington and elsewhere, about the ineptitude of American intelligence and counter-intelligence, about options available to American foreign policy, particularly in the Middle East, and about what constitutes a smart program of military defense. But the public is not being asked to bear much of the burden of reality. The unanimously applauded, self-congratulatory bromides of a Soviet Party Congress seemed contemptible. The unanimity of the sanctimonious, reality-concealing rhetoric spouted by American officials and media commentators in recent days seems, well, unworthy of a mature democracy.

Those in public office have let us know that they consider their task to be a manipulative one: confidence-building and grief management. Politics, the politics of a democracy--which entails disagreement, which promotes candor--has been replaced by psychotherapy. Let's by all means grieve together. But let's not be stupid together. A few shreds of historical awareness might help us to understand what has just happened, and what may continue to happen. "Our country is strong", we are told again and again. I for one don't find this entirely consoling. Who doubts that America is strong? But that's not all America has to be.

Susan Sontag, The New Yorker, September 24, 2001

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris Burden, Reason for the Neutron Bomb, 1979.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chris Burden, Extreme Measures, 2013.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Susan Sontag described this image as the "opposite of a document." "We don’t get it. We truly can’t imagine what it was like. We can’t imagine how dreadful, how terrifying war is; and how normal it becomes."
- Susan Sontag in Regarding the Pain of Others
Jeff Wall, Dead Troops Talk (A Vision After An Ambush of a Red Army Patrol, Near Moqor, Afghanistan, Winter 1986), 1991 - 1992.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can't understand, can't imagine. That's what every soldier, and every journalist and aid worker and independent observer who has put in time under fire, and had the luck to elude the death that struck down others nearby, stubbornly feels. And they are right.” — Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others
Conflict Café

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dana Schutz, Open Casket, 2016.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Curators' response to the controversy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alfredo Jaar, The Eyes of Gutete Emerita, 1996.
 
"'[Alfredo Jaar's Rwanda Project] address[es] a crisis of the image, and in our relation to images, that Paul Virilio has called "a sort of pathology of immediate perception that owes everything, or very nearly everything, to the recent proliferation of photo-cinematographic and video-infographic seeing machines; machines that by mediatizing ordinary everyday representations end up destroying their credibility.' As we become increasingly subject to images, the subject of any image becomes less and less available to us. Must we turn away from images entirely in order to begin again? ... We live in a time when information, in the form of words and images, is being transmitted in vast quantities and at increasingly high speeds, and this mass and velocity determine its effects. Human beings cannot act on information transmitted in this way, but only attmept to retrieve, sort, and process it." - David Levi Strauss

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“That we are not totally transformed, that we can turn away, turn the page, switch the channel, does not impugn the ethical value of an assault by images. It is not a defect that we are not seared, that we do not suffer enough, when we see these images. Neither is the photograph supposed to repair our ignorance about the history and causes of the suffering it picks out and frames. Such images cannot be more than an invitation to pay attention, to reflect, to learn, to examine the rationalizations for mass suffering offered by established powers. Who caused what the picture shows? Who is responsible? Is it excusable? Was it inevitable? Is there some state of affairs which we have accepted up to now that ought to be challenged? All this, with the understanding that moral indignation, like compassion, cannot dictate a course of action.” — Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alfredo Jaar, The Silence of Nduwayezu, 1997.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Having applied a mixture of honey and oil on his body, within minutes Zhang Huan was covered with insects crawling over his naked body. Sitting still, the artist showed neither reaction to the smell, nor any sign of irritability at the moving insects on his skin.

Like 12M2, numerous performances link to the artist's personal experience. The public toilet did indeed exist, and was only one aspect of the poor neighbourhood in Beijing's east village. For Zhang Huan, performing in situations he encountered earlier, living through them again, but in even worse conditions, seems to have had a purifying effect. Performance becomes therapy, enabling him to transcend the extreme conditions to which he exposes his body." - Olivia Sand

Zhang Huan, 12 M2, 1994.
Performance, detail showing artist covered in honey, fish oil, and flies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Compassion is an unstable emotion. It needs to be translated into action, or it withers. The question of what to do with the feelings that have been aroused, the knowledge that has been communicated. If one feels that there is nothing 'we' can do -- but who is that 'we'? -- and nothing 'they' can do either -- and who are 'they' -- then one starts to get bored, cynical, apathetic.” — Susan Sontag, Regarding the Pain of Others
Alfredo Jaar, The Sound of Silence (detail), 1995.