I’m all for pushing the boundaries of what’s acceptable in art. Especially when it offends, but doesn’t necessarily hurt, anyone, I have few qualms about contentious installations. Andres Serrano’s crucifix of Jesus submerged in urine (Piss Christ), for example, doesn’t fit my definition of “master works”; nevertheless, if a gallery wants post it and some collector wants to buy it, be my guest. But for my taste, what follows is completely over the line.
Costa Rican artist Guillermo Vargas Habacuc decided it would be acceptable– further, artistic– to take a stray dog from the streets, give it the ironic name “Natividad,” and string it to a wire in the corner of a gallery– in fact, the gallery space within Costa Rica’s National Center for Culture. His artistic decision, for this presentation, was to deprive the dog of food and water, causing the diseased animal to slowly starve to death under the eyes of gallery patrons. Let me take the sugar-coating off that for you: this dude tied a dog to a wall so people could watch it die.
And they did.
Yes, a few people stopped to protest. But the vast majority continued through the exhibit, obliviously or uncomfortably ignoring the incredible suffering before their eyes. In my sentimental view, there is a special level of wrongness in mistreating an animal; beyond the fundamental wrong in abusing any living thing, there’s the extra layer that the animal cannot rationalize why, or even that, it is being tortured. It’s an especially sick form of abuse.
Habacuc claims that the dog would have died without his intervention, and further says the purpose of the exhibit was to highlight human suffering (indeed, the point of all art?). Some gallery patrons justified this torture for its artistic message. And some critics enjoyed it so much that Habacuc has been invited to re-create the exhibit in Honduras.
Obviously, I don’t consider this exhibit to be anything more than a sick trick aimed at shock factor. The knee-jerk reaction of disgust, compounded by some high-minded ideals about artistic expression and the historic persecution of visionary artists, are my best guesses as to what mindset led others to label this exhibit art. But the exhibit does bring two distinct topics worth probing: How do we define art, and mob mentality, or what will we walk right past?
Much great art depicts or deals with suffering. As a society, we don’t shrink away from images of emaciated children, abused animals, or neglected neighborhoods. We find these images instructive and emotion-inducing, and they serve to teach us about the recognition of suffering. There are moments, however, when artists take this pursuit so far that their actions cease to be art. I can only hope that Habacuc is misguided and genuinely believes his work is a visionary example of suffering, because otherwise he is a flat-out psychopath and abuser of animals. To passively allow that dog to continue suffering in the streets, to photograph its suffering without intervention, or to allow myriad stray animals to remain wild are all deemed generally socially acceptable behaviors. Confining the dog and consciously deciding to allow it to suffer is something different. Let me be clear about this: Because a work generates outrage and demands self-reflection does not deem something art, or else genocide and FGM would be considered art.
Further, those who chose to walk past the exhibit without attempting to free the animal (and worse, those who wish to re-create the exhibit) display an interesting example of mob mentality. In a big enough group, something that assaults the conscience of the individual becomes “someone else’s problem.” A classic example: You’re more likely to assist a person who has tripped on a deserted sidewalk and dropped a sheaf of papers than you are to assist a Metro passenger who’s spilled their briefcase at the height of pedestrian rush hour. I’d like to think I’d be overcome by emotion if I saw such an exhibit, that I would immediately begin working to free the dog or that I’d ask a curator if the dog had only been given the appearance of suffering. But I can’t promise how I would react; after all, hundreds saw the exhibit and the dog still died.
Finally, consider the Joshua Bell example. He’s a lauded violinist (responsible for the soundtrack to The Red Violin) who gave a concert in a DC Metro station, for free. On a Stradivarius. As an experiment. The question: Who will acknowledge this musician, and why? The result: Less than 50 people out of a thousand paid him the time of day. I suspect that the passengers who hurried by, not making eye contact, were experiencing a bit of desensitization mixed with some of that same mob mentality. Just as something beautiful doesn’t always register, so something awful doesn’t always register with a single face in the crowd.
But forcing people to acknowledge everyday horror can be done by something other than killing a dog for show. When it comes to defining trash disguised as art, I’ll appropriate the words of Justice Potter Stewart on pornography: “I know it when I see it.” And that’s all I see in this exhibit.
Update: In another bizarre twist, a Yale art student claims to have performed repeated abortions on herself in order to “inspire some sort of discourse.” If you’re going to do this, at least make damn sure you have an articulate statement on the purpose… Well, at least she’ll probably never be able to reproduce.
