Dana Schutz - Open Casket, 2016
In 2017, a painting by Dana Schutz generated an enormous amount of controversy at the Whitney Biennial, with calls, stand-ins, and open letters by protestors advocating for the piece’s destruction. The painting in question was entitled Open Casket, and depicted a portrait of Emmet Till, a black boy who was brutally lynched in 1955. Protesters claimed that Schutz, who is white, did not have the right to depict black suffering, and that any attempt to do so should be considered exploitative. In the words of one protester, Schutz “... has nothing to say to the Black community about Black trauma.”12 The painting ultimately stayed in the exhibition, but when Schutz was asked whether the negative response will change her practice going forward, she responded, “I’m sure it has to.”13
This incident is exemplary of much of the confusion associated with offense that artists face today. Namely, that the assessment of the identity of the artist is in danger of replacing the assessment of the piece, itself. Such an approach arrives at a bizarre and problematic ethic where having an identity that is perceived to fall outside the sociopolitical boundaries of the subject matter of the work is grounds for censorship. But in contemporary art today, not possessing the right identity can result in offense that causes a piece to be rejected outright, regardless of the artist's intention. In the eyes of the protestors, Open Casket caused them to feel offended, and should therefore not exist, and to support its continued existence is synonymous with being at best, insensitive, and at worst, bigoted.
When explaining her intentions with the work, Schutz cited her desire to empathize with a mother who lost a child under tragic circumstances and to draw attention to the recent violence against the black community.14 Given that this was her stated intention, one cannot assume that she wanted to offend. Despite this intention being ignored by protestors, it is not the case that, because Schutz was attempting to express empathy, her work is immune to criticism. Nor is it the case that all the criticism directed toward Schutz centered on her identity. One could take issue with reducing the mangled face of a child who was brutalized before being lynched to an exercise in gesture painting, as many did. Even if Open Casket was an expression of empathy, it could be argued that it was an inept one, and crucially, this argument can be derived entirely from the painting itself, and not Schutz’s race.
However, this was not the criticism offered by Hannah Black, the author of the open letter to the Whitney. Schutz’s intention was wholly rejected by Black, and a new, much more malicious intention of “transmut[ing] black suffering into profit and fun,” was ascribed.15 In the letter advocating for the destruction of the painting, Schultz’s motivation for the piece was never mentioned. To Black, the original intention was irrelevant. We are left with the consequentialist ethic of: this piece is offensive, and therefore should not exist. This ethic puts any attempt of empathy via art at risk of censorship and destruction by those it offends.
Black’s letter, it could be argued, was an emotional reaction to a history of oppression that she perceives herself to be the victim of. But being a member of a victimized demographic does not preclude the possibility of being wrong. It could also be argued that Black’s voice was just one among many, and that she does not represent the entirety of a movement. This may be true, but Black’s voice was given a good amount of public attention, and she is by no means alone in her criticism.
Other qualified voices, such as Jared Sexton, a former chair of African American Studies at the University of California, Irvine, also argue for Schutz’s disqualification on the basis of her identity. In this case, Sexton acknowledges Schutz’s intention of “interracial maternal empathy,” but then overwrites by stating that the piece “...cannot avoid standing nonetheless as an exhibit in the opening arguments of a defense; or, as a gambit in a fated attempt to extricate the artist from a political burden in the register of any personal connection whatsoever.”16 It is doubtful that Schutz ever intended or wanted to extricate herself from the “political burden” of being white and American, but again, that is the motivation that is attributed to her.
Sexton goes on to write that Schutz “... forgets that her interracial maternal empathy for Till-Mobley [the mother of Emmett Till] does not mitigate the fact that she is a white woman depicting a black boy killed, infamously, on the initiative of a white woman.” The latter white woman in this phrase is Carolyn Bryant, whose claim that Till harassed her ultimately lead to his lynching. The implication is that Schutz, who has absolutely no relation to Bryant besides being white, American, and female, is at fault for simply being part of the same demographic. Even if Schutz’s attempt at empathy was less inept, it would not matter on the grounds that her race, gender, and nationality should prohibit her from engaging with the topic in any way that implies some sort of “personal connection.” Moreover, Sexton claims that Open Casket is an attempt by Schutz to escape culpability for the violence black Americans have been subjected to without any supporting evidence besides the painting itself.
Whether or not one believes that all white Americans are inherently culpable for the racial violence in their country, it is immensely problematic that protestors and academics alike are advocating not just for censorship of the piece, but for its destruction (as Sexton also believes the piece should be destroyed). For arguments that illustrate why advocating for the destruction of Open Casket is problematic, we can look to Lisa Whittington, an artist who also painted a portrait of Emmet Till. For those that associate moral and artistic authority with identity, Whittington also happens to be a black woman, though that should arguably be irrelevant when assessing the validity of her statement.
In an interview,17 Whittington acknowledges Schutz’s attempt at an empathetic gesture and does not try to assign any ulterior motives. Instead, Whitington’s criticism is a stylistic one, saying that “The horror fell short in her work… Dana [Schutz] dressed him in a tux, put a flower on him, and she allows the viewer to close the casket and move on.” In this way, her criticism avoids the categorical implications of Black’s and Sexton’s, focusing on the execution of the piece itself without attempting to disqualify Schutz on the basis of her race.
More explicitly, when asked whether she thinks it is wrong for white artists to make art about “black” subjects, she responds: “No. I don’t think it is wrong for a white person to paint Black subject matter. Art is a form of communication. Art gets people talking. Art documents mindsets and thought processes. But it has to be done responsibly, especially in this era of time.” One could argue that Schutz’s painting is irresponsible, especially in an era beset by racial division. Maybe Open Casket never should have been made. Maybe it never should have been exhibited at an institution as prestigious as the Whitney, but it was, and this is important because it “documents the mindsets and thought processes” of its time. The clash of feelings and interpretations of the work function as a specific manifestation of the confusion surrounding race and representation in America today.
This last point is also affirmed by Whittington. When asked if she thinks the painting should be destroyed, she responds: “No no no. Absolutely not. Artwork is evidence. Destroying it will erase the evidence. Evidence of appropriation for those that see appropriation. Evidence of bias and racism in modern museums when looking at statistics and presentation and artist representation data. Evidence that the narratives of Black subject matter still make people uncomfortable. Evidence that Black people—and women are still struggling for representation in the Modern museum and turned on each other while White men still take up most of the wall space.” Schutz’s piece, like any artistic work, is representative of the mentality of its author. The context in which it was displayed is representative of the fact that Schutz’s mentality was shared by the gatekeepers of one of the most prestigious art institutions in the world. To destroy or censor Open Casket and works like it would be to suppress the problematic evidence that Whittington cites. If part of the value of art is to represent the time in which it was made, critical approaches that prohibit offensive work would result in an incomplete representation of the realities of the moment.
Whittington’s interview is a prime explanation of the value of offense. By overstepping a line in a public space, the line becomes clearer to all who witness it. This infringement of social boundaries overlaps with the purpose and value of transgression, but the value of offense extends beyond the infringement. As Whittington states, offensive work sheds light on the mentalities of those that encounter it; the offending artist, the institution where it is exhibited, and the viewers who feel offended. Offense is a barometer for what is socially acceptable, for better or worse.
Of course, this is not to say that those offended do not have a right to protest, which, in this case, they did civilly and peacefully. Nor is it to say that the response from black viewers is monolithic. Given the ongoing history of racial violence in the United States, one could understand how oppressed groups would be wary of how this oppression is represented publicly. As stated, the value of offense is not found solely in the work or intention of the artist, but in the reaction of the public. But advocating for the censorship of work while ignoring the intentions of the artist and the very idea of empathy can create scenarios in which expressions of solidarity and empathy are suppressed. However, neither is it helpful to correct for the purely consequentialist mentality of protests like these with a purely deontological solution.
To claim that intention always matters in determining justified offense fails for the same reasons as a criterion in which it never matters. Both categoricals do not allow for the complexity and nuance involved in contemporary art and the issues it represents. In determining offense, it is essential that an honest effort is made to accurately evaluate the intention of the artist and to weigh this intention against the consequences of the artist’s work. In the absence of this determination, we run the risk of censoring work made in good faith that brings with it an important, if controversial, message. And on the side of the offended, we risk masking legitimate grievance with the attention given to hyperbolic and inarticulate outrage. If such a determination was made in the case of Open Casket, it is feasible to imagine that the incident would have arrived at a more satisfying resolution.