`Offensive' Art Depends On Your Cultural Prism

This weekend marks the 50th anniversary of Communist China. Followers will celebrate with marching bands and flag-waving.

But what if someone protested this party by defacing a portrait of Mao Tse-tung? Perhaps scribbled a bit of profanity across his face - or penned some crude reminder of how many people died as the party remade the modern state.

In China, such an act would be a felony, an unacceptable form of expression.

But morph the image and move the lens: What if Mao becomes Mary, and the picture is hanging at the Brooklyn Art Museum?

"Sensations" opened yesterday amid intense debate over the "Holy Virgin Mary" - a painting of a black Madonna decorated with elephant dung.

New York City Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, a Roman Catholic, hates the exhibit so much he has threatened to cut off $7 million in city funds and close the museum by pulling its lease. He has the support of dozens of politicians - local and national, Democrat and Republican - who say the government shouldn't fund art that attacks religion.

The artist begs to differ. "I don't feel as though I have to defend it," Chris Ofili told The New York Times. "The people who are attacking this painting are attacking their own interpretation, not mine."

The interpretation of art gets tricky when we look at it through only one cultural filter.

The Catholic Church - and its symbol of Mary - is more than religion in many parts of the world: It is a cultural force, a reminder of a colonial past, and at times, an oppressor. The church itself has said as much. On the 500th anniversary of its entry into Brazil, the church issued an apology for centuries of mistreatment of blacks and Indians. The European powers used swords and the cross as tools to accomplish much evil, including the slave trade.

Even today this church is not just a religion, complicating a statement any artist might make about it. The Vatican clings to the notion that it is a state, and the pope is a political figure. The U.S. even sends an ambassador to the Holy See - a diplomatic rite not accorded to any other faith.

In this context, I understand the message of Ofili's work. The artist, born in the United Kingdom of Nigerian parents, is trying to say something about Africa's colonial legacy.

Is that a political statement or blasphemy?

I am not sure why this particular exhibit is drawing so much attention. When I saw a photograph of Ofili's painting, I thought of Salvador Dali's "Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus." Dali's work also could be seen as sacrilege because crosses turn into the swords used to kill Indians. Was Dali attacking the church or recording history?

Art is personal. Every time we see or hear a painting, poem or prose we translate the images or sounds into our own experience and history. This is often a dance between more than one culture - and the steps are offensive to some, and a profound statement to others.

A while back, my wife and I saw "Annie Oakley" at Washington State University. The musical was funded partly by government, a guarantee of wholesome family entertainment. Yet, an hour into the production we walked out, offended by the play's 19th-century depiction of American Indians and native religion.

When I don't like something, I walk away - a simple solution in a country where freedom of expression is so important that we encased it in our Constitution.

But it's good to be thankful for occasional reminders about the nature of that freedom. Controversy accomplishes that. I'll be in New York City later this month - and I know where I need to walk.

Mark N. Trahant's column appears Sunday and Thursday. His phone number is 206-464-8517. E-mail: mtrahant@seattletimes.com