March 21, 2008
In 1857, Leopold II, the Mexican-born, Grand Duke of Tuscany unexpectedly presented Queen Victoria with a full-size plaster cast of Michelangelo’s David. A rather wieldy goodwill gesture measuring over 19 feet, the gift was immediately routed by the Foreign Office to South Kensington’s new museum (now the Victoria & Albert or V&A). Upon seeing the work for the first time, the 38-year old Victoria was shocked to encounter David in all his glory. She immediately commissioned a detachable fig leaf to protect the modesty of women and children of the Royal Household. Each time she visited, the fig leaf was quickly positioned with hooks—a practice that continued for female members of the Royal Family until 1953. Today, the fig leaf, an exiled veteran of Victorian social mores is now displayed at the V&A behind the plinth supporting the cast of David. In case you were wondering, it measures about a foot and a half.
The use of the fig leaf as a sort of decorative censoring device can be traced back for centuries and the works of Michelangelo were certainly no strangers to it. A month after the artist’s death in 1564, the Pope hired a lesser artist to paint loincloths and fig leaves over figures in the Sistine Chapel’s Last Judgment. Recent conservation at the Vatican attempting to remove these additions found that sections of the frescos had been gouged out and completely replastered, in what had been a not so subtle lesson for 16th-century artists working within the watchful eye of Rome.
Both examples illustrate the most common form of artistic censorship, in which the public is shielded from an artist’s work that has been deemed immoral, dangerous, inflammatory or just inappropriate. Fig leaves are added, funding is pulled, protests are mounted and editorials flourish. But who decides from what ideas and images should be protected? If even Michelangelo wasn’t safe, what hope do other artists have?
The realm of public art is no stranger to such controversy. One of the most contentious artistic spheres, public art is the result of committee decisions, impassioned vision and often many, many diplomatic concessions. In the end though, all of this is important, insuring that as many voices are heard as possible. After all, public art occupies our space. As such it requires us to respond without a museum or gallery framing its context for us. Responses can range from the ho-hum to the red-hot -- just ask Don Juan de Equestrian.
A few months ago, calls were raised to effectively censor the work of local artist Francisco Delgado, currently on view at the Richard Burges Branch of the El Paso Public Library. Raised in the Segundo Barrio and with an MFA from the Yale School of Art, Delgado’s works are often challenging. The work in question, Aguila o Sol (Flip of the Coin) is part of the Public Art Program’s popular Art & Sol Project which engaged local artists to reinterpret a sculptural sun. In the work, a donkey acts as stand-in for the artist, split between a Mexican and American side of the sphere. Animals, images of Juarez Policeman, Border Patrol Agents and piñatas all swirl across the work. What has caused the most controversy is the inclusion of images of drug paraphernalia.
Like all of the artist’s works, Aguila o Sol (Flip of the Coin) navigates the complexity, turbulence, beauty and danger of life on the US-Mexico Border. The work is not an endorsement of drug use, but rather a frank examination of a problem that plagues numerous communities with harsh economic conditions and marginalized populations.
The Library has bravely kept the work on view, asserting that more than any other institution a library’s role is not to censor but to actively promote the exchange of ideas and to facilitate dialogue. Art, like literature, is a potent prompt in that dialogue. In regards to Aguila o Sol, patrons are free to self-censor and walk past or stop and think. As the great Russian playwright Anton Chekhov said, “The purpose of art is not to provide answers, but to help us frame the question.”
Controversy aside, the City of El Paso’s Public Art Program is finally sprinting. Within the next few weeks, the first project to be vetted through the open process will be completed, providing a monumental, modern mural that celebrates the idea of healing and will provide local artist Mitsu Overstreet a permanent place in El Paso’s rich mural tradition. The work’s bold design and mostly its abstracted forms have already elicited strong reactions, both positive and negative. While it’s unlikely that there will be calls to paint any fig leaves, it’s exciting to be part of the dialogue.
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Ben Fyffe is Arts and Education Programs Specialist with the city of El Paso Museums and Cultural Affairs Department