The Washington Post: Clueless about Courage

What exactly is “courage” in the context of art?

I spent the 4th of July weekend the same way many others did. I watched a TV special on the Revolution; my Fiancé made a raspberry pie in the shape of an American Flag; I went to see our hometown AAA baseball team get shellacked (Indy Indians lost 6-0 to the Louisville Bats); and I spent a few moments in reflection on all the things that make our country great, especially the men and women that our US Army allowed me the pleasure of serving with.



Mmmmmmm, pie!

I also caught up on all the news on the Internet that I could between bouts of studying for the bar exam, and it was one article in particular that had me seeing red. It was an article by Blake Gopnik for The Washington Post.

This Fourth of July, let’s celebrate courage. It took courage to split from England, courage to risk democracy and still more courage to dream up a constitution to preserve it.

Good start, hard to argue there.

Courage has been the signature virtue of almost every great American: Emily Dickinson was brave to warp grammar, Louis Armstrong was brave to blow jazz and Jackson Pollock was brave to paint splats.

Well, this is already off the rails, or, perhaps my definition of “courage” and “brave[ry]” is different from that of Blake’s.

Norman Rockwell is often championed as the great painter of American virtues. Yet the one virtue most nearly absent from his work is courage. He doesn’t challenge any of us, or himself, to think new thoughts or try new acts or look with fresh eyes. From the docile realism of his style to the received ideas of his subjects, Rockwell reliably keeps us right in the middle of our comfort zone.

Let me try to sum up my expertise in Art as succinctly as I can.

I have none.

My apartment has pictures of Civil War generals, old maps, and a poster of Gerard Depardieu as Cyrano de Bergerac. I also have a large map of the World of Warcraft above my desk in case I get lost running around the cyber-continents of Azeroth. I might be able to tell the difference between Boris Vallejo, M.C. Escher and Grant Wood, but for the life of me I couldn’t tell you based on their paintings alone who is the “most brave.”

So why am I writing this at all when I have no knowledge of art? Because I grew up in a small town just south of where Norman Rockwell lived, in fact, when I graduated from High School (the Eagles of Mt. Everett Regional High School) I did so at Tanglewood, which is a scant few miles down the road from Norman Rockwell’s museum in Stockbridge, Massachusetts. I’ve been to the museum a few times, each time against my will. I remember a visit from my Grandmother and my Aunt one time where my brother and I were forced to walk around the museum looking at the pictures on the promise of some ice cream when we were done. To be honest, the ice cream had a larger impact on me. But you could have walked me around the Louvre and it would have been the same.

But there is one thing I know about Mr. Rockwell that always attested to his bravery with me. I hate to use Wiki as a source on this, but I couldn’t find a better source:

During the First World War, he tried to enlist into the U.S. Navy but was refused entry because, at 6 feet (1.83 m) tall and 140 pounds (64 kg), he was eight pounds underweight. To compensate, he spent one night gorging himself on bananas, liquids and doughnuts, and weighed enough to enlist the next day. However, he was given the role of a military artist and did not see any action during his tour of duty.

Somewhat ironically, in High School I wrestled at 140lbs, and was 6 feet tall. By the time I enlisted though, I had no problems making weight. Nonetheless, picture this man gorging himself on bananas (??!?) and donuts, all in an effort to GET INTO A WAR. That’s not courage?

Frankly from reading the WaPo piece, I am challenged to figure out what “courage” is in the context of a painter. As near as I can tell, it is the ability to paint something that has no commercial value. The scorn for those of us that believe in America isn’t even covered in a veneer of understanding that many of us value those things:

There’s the small-town runaway, and the cop who takes him out for a malt before returning him home. Aw, shucks.

There are the three old biddies gossiping, imagined as so ancient and gnarled that Rockwell had to use a man in drag to model them. What a hoot!

There’s the remote blonde in her convertible being joshed by a couple of truckers. Jeez, lady, wontcha give those guys a wink? […]

Rockwell’s vision of “Freedom of Speech,” included in the Smithsonian’s show, doesn’t invoke a communist printing his pamphlets or an atheist on a soapbox. It gives us a town hall meeting of almost interchangeable New Englanders, no doubt agreeing to disagree about something as divisive as the rates for those new parking meters. For this, the Founders risked powder and ball?

The Founders risked “powder and ball” so a painter could espouse the virtues of a communist printing pamphlets? I thought that a town hall meeting was exactly what this country was predicated on; being able to espouse whatever view you wanted in a public forum in an effort to advocate to our elected representatives?

I wonder if Blake would view Serrano’s “Piss Christ” which features a crucifix in a jar of urine as “courageous.” Or perhaps that mighty brave Robert Mapplethorpe who heroically published a picture of a bullwhip inserted into his anus? Which is more brave and courageous to you: a whip hanging out of a guy’s fourth point of contact, or a man who gorged himself on bananas and donuts just for the opportunity to serve his country?

As usual when something angers me, I took to the 21st century Town Hall forum of my Facebook page. And many other folks seem to agree with me. Take for instance my friend Kanani Fong of “The Kitchen Dispatch”:

I actually (fine arts graduate here) know quite a bit about the career of Norman Rockwell. He never set out to be a “serious” painter, rather –he was an illustrator who ended up tackling serious subject matter. Military service aside, Mark, she’s wrong in even an art history context. Who can forget his illustration of the little black girl being escorted to school, a smashed tomato on the wall, the “N” word partly hidden? Who can forget the montage of individuals of different races rendered together – this during a very fractious time in our nation’s history where race relations were being changed? Courageous – yes, I think he was. That writer can be refuted at every turn.

My friend Carla of “Some Soldier’s Mom” felt the same as I did:

not to mention that she completely misses that Rockwell’s images illustrated treasured VALUES — not idealized life but life’s ideals… family, compassion… each just a PART of American life. sigh. another college education wasted on a tunnel-visioned twit

So, I wonder if perhaps I am missing something? If I am, apparently Kanani and Carla are as well. I don’t know what “courage” in the context of paintings means. But I do know that Mr. Rockwell was courageous, at least as I define it. As I have grown older, I have learned to respect Americana to a greater degree. At the baseball game last night when they sang the National Anthem, the entire ballpark came to a screeching halt. The guys selling the Guinness stood at attention, as did those standing in line waiting for their frothy goodness. I saw a man in a wheelchair lift himself up to lean against the rail. I watched young and old, of all colors, come together to honor our country. I always though that this is exactly what Mr. Rockwell did with his paintings.

Is that courage? Perhaps not, but it certainly doesn’t betray a lack of courage. I suppose one might say it would have been courageous to take the flag down and defecate on it. It would also be insulting, asinine, and inappropriate. Is courage doing something different that everyone else, whether that act is morally and socially appropriate? I would hate to think it was.