Boston unveils a tribute to Dr. Martin Luther King.
A grandson, Martin Luther King III, said he thought "the artist did a great job. I'm satisfied."
A cousin called it "an atrocity," "a joke," and a "masturbatory metal homage."
They are talking about a sculpture by the artist Hank Willis Thomas. It was unveiled on Boston Common last Friday in time for the Martin Luther King holiday. It is intended to be a tribute to Dr. King, who met his wife in Boston. The artist said he was inspired by a photograph of the two of them embracing. The massive bronze sculpture drew more criticism than praise. One sees arms and hands, but no heads. Depending on the angle, one gets a sense of embracing thighs, not arms.
Of course, the correct, fair-minded thing for me to do is to resist commenting on a piece of art I haven't seen. That is especially true since I am influenced by comments of other people who also haven't seen it, and they are influenced by yet others who haven't seen it. It is ignorant opinion-mongering to the third power.
Yet this is the nature of public art. Public art is both an object and a participatory performance by its audience. The comments, mine included, are part of the public art. Rudolf Giuliani made a fuss in 1999 criticizing 'The Holy Virgin Mary," a painting that mixed paints and elephant dung. Outrage over a public museum's display of Robert Mapplethope's photographs of the New York S&M scene caused a ruckus about obscenity. The art object doesn't stand alone. It has context.
So I will play along, and share my slap-dash first-impression opinion of "The Embrace." The sculpture looks weird to me. The headless arms are confusing. I suppose I expected to feel awe of some kind. Instead, I feel "What??" The installation seems oddly inappropriate when considered as a tribute to Martin Luther King. He was all about justice, not sensuous love.
The sculpture set off my political alarm bell. It cost $10 million. Someone will catch hell for wasting public money, I thought. It was paid for by a non-profit group, The Boston Foundation. Whew. A bullet dodged.
I know I need to temper my knee-jerk reactions to new public art. I remember my very first thoughts when seeing the design of the Vietnam Memorial. The design won a competition. It was a black wall set into side of a berm, with names inscribed on it. That's it? I had spent a decade of my life in turmoil and protest over the war. I remember thinking it was minimalist to a fault. Then I visited the Memorial. Then I understood. I felt the power of it as a somber reminder of that era. It is the most visited memorial on the National Mall. Opinions change. We can grow into the art when it quits being new. Then sometimes we see what the artist saw.
Boston has courage in its public art. Boston City Hall is more than an office building. It is a sculpture. It makes a statement. I first saw it at age 17, a new college freshman making a five-stop subway adventure into Boston. I was awestruck. The building is massive from every angle. The walls are sheer. Every surface is hard and unadorned. It erupts from a giant plane of bricks. The building bullies people. I did not know the architectural term "brutalism" then, but I immediately felt the brutality. I heard its message: Don't screw with us or we will smash you flat.
Now, after sixty years, I realize I had misunderstood it. The building is optimistic, not brutal. It is an expression of can-do civic pride and strength over adversity. It is like the Helen Reddy song I love: "If I have to I can face anything. I am strong. I am invincible. I am woman."
"The Embrace" was built to last for generations. Opinions will evolve. I have already come to appreciate its sensuous curves. It is a counterpoint to the City Hall. It tells a more complete story of the city. Boston is tough and strong. It is loving, too. It contains multitudes. I will know more when I see it in person.
Thank you for your comments, including about the Vietnam Wall. It's about the cost rather than the glory. (A former Army Captain who didn't have to go because his service was completed.) This brought a tear to my eye.