Posted by leerainboth
at 06:12 PM on August 26, 2008
At a reception for a recent show of mine, a woman came up to me and said, "I know that you paint images from Africa, but how come you never paint starvation?" She knew that starvation was a big problem in Africa but didn't understand why she didn't see it portrayed in my work. The truth is, I do have some work that is very obviously about starvation, I just didn't happen to have any up at this show. But I tend, especially in my more recent work, to not depict those kinds of images very much. Because everyone already knows that people starve in Africa. In fact, it's the only thing many people know about Africa. So it does no good for me to repeat it in my art. What people don't understand are the more complex reasons that lay behind the starvation as well as the greater global consequences of neglecting such a need. They don't understand that it's much more complicated than just a lack of food. It's a weapon of mass destruction employed in conflicts that have deep political and ethnic roots. It's a result of mismanagement of aid and ineptitude on the part of those offering the aid. But ultimately, it's just one of the many symptoms of the greater ignorance of existence. We may know that people in Africa starve, but we don't know who those people are. So even if we feel sorry for them, such an abstract sympathy cannot accomplish anything.
One of my favorite artistic inspirations is the incomparable photojournalist, James Nachtwey, who has, indeed, depicted starvation as much as anyone. But his photographs are more than just a hungry child or an emaciated man. He shows his subjects in the contexts that have created those situations and exposes the detrimental effects of such tragedies on society as a whole. He refuses to let the viewers off the sympathetic hook too easily with a superficial, "Aww, that's too bad." He fores them to look more seriously at the hidden implications and draws them deeper into reality. And it is that kind of attitude towards his subject matter that I look to for inspiration. Fearlessness and brutal honesty yet sensitivity and a broad understanding of the subject.
It also doesn't do any good to simply point out the problem, or to even try to fix the problem, no matter what it is. There are actually a lot of people in the world that are willing to throw money at poverty, or food at hunger, or medicine at disease, but they never make the effort to understand the real causes. Why not try to create environments where those things never become problems in the first place? There is a Haitian proverb that says, "Don't wait until a person is drowning to teach them how to swim." (And this is where I start to sound like the true neo-hippie that I am) I believe that yes, beauty and tragedy both exist in abundance in places like Haiti, Mali, Uganda, and Sudan, but if we ever truly want the beauty to overcome the tragedy, then we must encourage those affected by the tragedy to search for the beauty in their own lives. And, ulimately, if we promote what is good, and beautiful, and creative, rather than just trying to fix what is horrible, and ugly, and destructive, then those things that are good will prevail. But if we simply continue to only try to fix the tragedies, then there's nothing to prevent them from happening again. Which is why art is such an important component in international and humanitarian aid work and why, it does, have the power to save the world. It all goes back to what Simaga Koulibaly told me while I was mud painting in Nara, Mali, on the edge of the Sahara desert, "Lee, as an artist, you have a power greater than that of any government official, judge, lawmaker, or religious leader to impact the lives of the people." That why I depict what I do, whether it's starvation, or something completely different. It all has the same goal in the bigger picture.
Awesome, Lee. And your art is a voice... not just a voice for a problem, not just a voice for the pain... but a voice for the <i>people</i>.
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<br>Because their story affects our story, if we let it. Because while beauty and tragedy are woven together... the symphony plays on.