...and all the post-mortal commotion, part 2.
"The Perfect Moment"; or: shouting at a dead man from the US Senate floor.
There were two large retrospectives of Mapplethorpe's art planned for 1988: 1) the retrospective at the Whitney Museum of American Art;
2)
Robert Mapplethorpe, the Perfect Moment, which was the more comprehensive of the two and planned to go on tour to a number of US museums, beginning at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Philadelphia (December 1988-January 1989) and then travelling to the Museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago.
So far so good - the critical response was enthusiastic and the attendance robust. The problems and brawls began when Christina Orr-Cahall, director of the Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington D.C., on June 12, 1989, decided to cancel the exhibition in her venue just a few weeks before its announced opening. Mapplethorpe had been dead for three months and US society was moving into the epoch of "the cultural wars" where conservative politicians became the sworn enemy of avant-garde art. (The projection on the walls of the Corcoran [above] was part of a public protest against Orr-Cahall's decision to cancel the exhibition.)
It's easy to forget that the situation had been quite different less than 10 years earlier: Andy Warhol had been invited by president Reagan (together with Warhol's secretary Bob Colacello) to the state dinner for Ferdinand and Imelda Marcos at the White House, and this happened just a few years after Andy had completed a painting series using urine and another series of same-sex acts and male torsos.
In December 1981 Nancy Reagan was on the cover of
Interview, the magazine founded and published by Warhol, and this particular issue featured photos of Mapplethorpe out on the town, homoerotic pictures by George Platt-Lynes and Herbert List, and on top of it all was an illustrated interview with popsinger Prince, provocatively posed almost naked.
So the cultural landscape had changed profoundly from 1981 to 1989 - what the fuck was going on? Why did it happen? The first eruption of what would become known as "the culture wars" didn't focus on Mapplethorpe at all - it was about Andres Serrano's 1987 artwork
Piss Christ denounced in April 1989 by Donald Wildmon (founder of the American Family Association) as a vicious piece of anti-christian bigotry and Wildmon's sentiment was echoed in the Senate by Republican Alfonse D'Amato of New York.
Andres Serrano: Piss Christ
It has its own interest to note, that Serrano shook his head at the accusations, declaring that he had no intention to be blasphemous and offensive: "I've been a Catholic all my life, so I am a follower of Christ."
The guy to fully forge that evil equation in political rhetoric Art=Gay=AIDS was - however - the Republican Senator from North Carolina Jesse Helms (1921-2008), the Joe McCarthy of the late 20th century. But the emerging big quarrel wasn't really about art at all - it was all about homosexuality, and what made the argument so explosive was - of course - AIDS.
Think about the global political situation in 1989-90: the Berlin wall had fallen, the Warshaw Pact was in total demise and the US had lost its bitter enemy since 1945. So what do you do when you've bitterly lost your enemy? The obvious - you construct a new one, an evil internal enemy! The new enemy - AIDS and homosexuality.
But the bridgehead from which Helms and the other conservatives could launch their attac was the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA), the only federal-level funding body in the US. The helmsians were all brimstone and fire over any NEA support for art in any way thematizing sexuality in general and homosexuality in particular, arguing - with pretty much success - for new amendments making such support impossible in the future.
My analysis of the violent arguments over Mapplethorpe's art after his death and the following culture wars mainly follows Jonathan D. Katz essay " 'The Senators Were Revolted': Homophobia and the Culture Wars.", published in
A Companion to Contemporary Art since 1945. Ed. Amelia Jones, 2006.
What I cannot follow is Katz' strong tendency to reduce Mapplethorpe's art to a sign with Gay Identity as its single signified, and this for mainly two reasons:First because of the tendency to misuse the concept of identity (which is a concept of reflection always presupposing difference) by reifying the concept, making it into a thing we can put on the table.
My second reason is that we easily find works of art utterly impossible to reduce to signs of Gay Identity. The following two pictures are both among his very late work and among the most emotionally moving pictures I know.
The first (below) could possibly be the very last photo Robert ever made before being hospitalized and soon thereafter passed away. It's a photo of the head of a mid 19th century neo-classicist sculpture of the Greek god Hermes, son of Zeus, brother of Apollo and Dionysos. Hermes was the great trickster and transgressor in Greek mythology, and an example of him as transgressor was his function to lead the souls of the recently dead down to the underworld, to Hades. As such he was given the name
Hermes Psychopompos, "Hermes who leads the procession of the recently dead souls".
Mapplethorpe knew full well that he would soon, very soon, meet Hermes Psychopompos. He had the courage to look death in the eyes. This is a picture that makes me cry every time I look at it.
I'll end this chapter with an image of our common end - The End for all us humans...
All further discussion of identity - gay or not - doesn't really matter, it's utter futility. Shakespeare got it right: "So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men..."
* * * * * * *
In my posts next week I'll start moving on to Mapplethorpe's contemporaries. The first will be Georges Dureau.