The Forgotten Art of Discourse
In October of 2014, the Metropolitan Opera in New York City staged, The Death of Klinghoffer, a 1991 opera based on the murder of Leon Klinghoffer, a Jewish passenger killed during the hijacking of the cruise ship Achille Lauro in 1985. Sick and confined to a wheelchair, Klinghoffer was shot in the head and thrown overboard by members of the Palestine Liberation Front. The critically acclaimed opera had been staged globally to little controversy. Yet in one of the most culturally sophisticated cities in the world –– the sh*t hit the fan.
Protesters wanted the opera canceled. According to the New York Times, one protester labeled the baritone a fascist and another called for the set to be burned to the ground. Peter Gelb, the Mets general manager, received death threats. Abraham Foxman, director of the Anti-Defamation League, a prominent Jewish organization, praised the Met and said the opera was not anti-Semitic. He received vitriolic emails, one labeling him a “kapo,” an insult referring to a Jewish inmate who oversaw fellow Jews in concentration camps. Protests occurred opening night. Most of the protesters had not even seen the opera.
The histrionics around the Met affair reminded me of the furor over LEGO Concentration Camp, a 1996 work by Polish artist, Zbigniew Libera. The seven-piece set was exhibited in 2002 by the Jewish Museum of New York City in a show entitled, Mirroring Evil: Nazi Imagery/Recent Art. The exhibition received a great deal of press and was viewed as highly controversial. The LEGO Group, troubled by the controversy, urged Libera to withdraw the work from public view, but eventually backed down. The artist was pressured by Polish officials to decline an invitation to exhibit at the Venice Biennale. "This is censorship all over again," Libera told the Los Angeles Times in 1997. "I created this work to inspire discussion, not to suppress it.” LEGO Concentration Camp continued to be shown internationally. Some people loved it. Many hated it, screamed bloody hell about it, and nobody died. There was heated debate, just as Libera had intended, and then it was over.
I believe that LEGO Concentration Camp is an exciting and compelling work. Libera pushed one of the most sacred and taboo subjects, the Holocaust, into a realm that was inconceivable: Toys and play. And some 30 years later, Libera’s radical masterpiece continues to provoke discourse. It now resides in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art, Warsaw, Poland.
The purpose of art is not to identify right or wrong. Art turns the tables on despair by lampooning it. The world is a gloriously horrific mess. We can’t change it, but art challenges each and every one of us to change ourselves for the better, in spite of the cultural operating systems promoting apathy, prejudice, and hate.
The drama surrounding the opera and Libera’s art reflects society’s inability to tolerate differing points-of-view and unorthodox ideas. The “agree to disagree” method of civil discourse has perished. Individuals remain silent for fear of offending someone. Cancel culture is rampant, bullies use social media to shame and humiliate people, and censorship has become the norm –– though few seem to notice.
When a work of art is deemed offensive, it does not mean it lacks value, and I'm not talking about money. Art helps us to make meaning of why we exist. Someone once told me that we must turn toward our fears and lean into discomfort in order to break free. Perhaps then we can create new perspectives and engage in more meaningful dialogues which embrace intolerance and suffering, as well as, acceptance and healing. The only way to find out is to be courageous enough to talk and listen to one another. We need art to help us with our journey along the path of the human condition because it provides a means from which to speak our deepest truths. Art is the doorway to the singular component vital to our very existence—freedom.