Ongoing struggles to combat Western hegemony, movements that promote diverse representation, like #OscarsSo White, have appeared in the arts and entertainment sphere. Value has been placed in seeing our physical or definitive identities in art to promote visibility and education. Naturally then, one could understand my excitement and expectations, as a queer woman, to see an exhibit surrounding a queer man’s artwork at the Whitney Museum in New York City.
However, upon surveying this heavily advertised “trendy” and “must see” exhibit for myself, I was underwhelmed by its intended significance. I did not feel wholly represented as a queer person and did not find that the art was that great technically or aesthetically. David Wojnarowicz (1954-1992), a victim of the HIV/AIDS epidemic during the ‘80s, first expressed his anger with the government’s lack of response to the epidemic through his writing. At one point in his written oeuvre he recalls an example of homophobic remarks from the health care official that “if [he or she] had a dollar to spend for healthcare [he or she would] rather spend it on a baby or innocent person with some defect […] not some person with Aids [sic].” However, one of his close friends recommended that he try expressing himself through visual art. Wojnarowicz, mostly self-taught, began experimenting with different mediums. Anti-capitalist and anti-government, he tried to incorporate symbols of America’s world power and greed into his works.
Despite my expectations, his work did not connect with me, even on a political level. Overall, his art did not have a strong impact on the viewer, the way “good” art should. His symbolism was too direct, and too obvious, which made his work come off as shallow and amateur. He used a globe to represent the United States’ dominance of the world. He incorporated US currency when criticizing our capitalist society, as seen in the piece “Untitled (Hujar Dead).”
With overbearing symbolism, Wojnarowicz may have been trying to make his art more accessible, but his work did not put a large emphasis on political aesthetics. I felt that I did not know where to place my eye first on such a busy canvas that lacked artistic value, especially composition and cohesion. Therefore, the political and historical significance of the works outweighed their artistic significance. Without the context of his struggle as a gay man suffering from AIDS, this art would not be praised in the same way. His work wasn’t on display- his identity was.
Even worse, I unexpectedly felt a disconnect with his art- despite our shared gay identity. The emotions of a white gay men during the AIDS crisis is not representative of my experience as a white lesbian in the 21st century. However, we have this idea that by sharing an identity with the creator of a work will constitute a connection and fulfilling sense of being represented. As Bianca Vivion Brooks stated recently in The New York Times, “[representation] cannot be the benchmark against which we measure good art. Good art must do more than reflect our own images back at us. It must move us to a place beyond our obsession with identity, sense of tribalism and fear of others.” Therefore, even though I was one of the targeted audiences as a member of the LGBTQIA community, I did not feel connected to his work. It is not enough to have one shared identity to be able to feel represented in art or even see it as good art. Being a part of a same community, especially one that has so much variation, is not the benchmark for representation. However, I felt that this art museum missed the point of what good art and representative media is supposed to do, which is to make someone’s story feel heard, and to try to educate others on that experience. I just did not feel like Wojnarowicz’s art was the one to do it. It felt off, and perpetuated the standard of white male gay stories representing the face of LGBTQIA history.
As is the standard in museums, those who try to discuss pieces on display must do so quietly because of a museum’s reserved atmosphere. Criticism is perceived as rude for disturbing the peace. What does that teach us about art and art museums as an institution? That we are not supposed to question or discuss what is in the museum? Instead, we politely take in the works that they have given us to look at. We accept and appreciate these works as art because of their status in the museum. Art that isn’t in a museum or on display, then, is not validated by the institution to be appreciated as art.
Increased public awareness and desire for diversity in artistic spheres has prompted museums to exhibit non-western and non-traditional forms of visual art in order to validate them as forms of “fine” art. Wojnarowicz’s work showcased a marginalized identity to “represent” queer people, but it overlooked the actual artistic values or aesthetics that make art impressionable or interesting to look at. This exhibit was among others such as a history of protest in the United States and Latin American indigenous artists now based in the United States. The marginalized identities of the artists are commodified by the Whitney for the sake of boasting a diverse selection of art, potentially drawing in a wider range of museum patrons without lowering the price of admission to truly make the work accessible.
In addition, by placing these works into institutions created to value traditional and Western forms of art like Renaissance portraits, they look out of place on the starch white walls and cannot always be fully expressed through the small amounts of signage provided by the museums themselves. Museums are able to revise the content of their exhibits by displaying exhibits like Wojnarowicz’s, without revising the institution itself. The museum, then, still holds the power over what is considered “fine” art and what is not, and only embraces minority cultures and identities when they exist for our viewing pleasure.
Unimpressed and disconnected from these pieces, I ventured to the gift shop to find a black styrofoam hand in the shape of the black power fist with words along the lines of “resist” or “rebel” being sold for $11. •
