Terrorist

by Emma Sartwell

In 1990, the Baltimore Museum of Art (BMA) acquired an 8-by-5 foot slab of white aluminum.
In three rows of clean black letters, the word "terrorist" constituted the positive space.
After September 11, 2001, viewers began breaking down in tears in front of the piece, Christopher Wool's "Untitled." On September 15, 2001, the BMA removed the painting, citing its "disturbing" quality.
Soon after, "Untitled" was reinstalled, with a plaque offering the BMA's interpretation. The plaque reads, in part, "Our understanding of art depends on its context and can change with time. After the tragic events of September 11th, 2001, the word terrorist and the images it calls to mind, are no longer vague. They are horribly concrete, and evoke anxiety, fear, discomfort, anger and grief."
In removing Wool's painting, the BMA displayed hypocrisy, cowardice, and an utter disregard for artistic value. Rehanging "Untitled" with a plaque of justification and condescension and apology is no atonement.
Justifying the plaque, Anne Mannix, BMA spokeswoman, told The Baltimore Sun, "People can experience the work on their own, or the museum can demystify it."
Well, I choose the former, but the museum is no longer allowing me that option.
Why not demystify the entire collection? "Our understanding of food can change with time. After lunch, representations of food are no longer vague; they have horribly concrete connotations, and may evoke feelings of nostalgia and even renewed hunger."
Why is the BMA so blatantly disputing the validity of the negative? Movies aren't taken out of theaters because someone cries. Songs aren't taken out of circulation because they're sad. Whether museum-goers break down in tears or smile and keep walking is the ultimate indicator of whether they've been affected by Wool's work. The BMA should be pleased, not apologetic.
Art is about provoking a reaction: thought, emotion, awe. Good art on September 10 is good art on September 12. However, if after September 11, "Untitled" solicits an even stronger reaction, its quality has, if anything, increased.
By displaying the work until terrorism landed on our doorstep, we are exhibiting the exact egocentric qualities that evoke anti-American sentiment. Were terrorists more moral before September? Why was it okay to see the word terrorist when the victims were at a bus stop in the Middle East?
I, for one, congratulate and envy Wool for creating such a simple object with the power to inspire tears. It's hard enough to get people to react. At least allow them their fleeting emotions, allow them to consider what they're feeling rather than ushering them into your comfortable reasoning. Maybe art will regain significance. Maybe it can return from being something big and flat that matches your loveseat into the world where people stood in awe before a thoughtful sculpture or sobbed as they painted a mother and child.

This piece was published, in a slightly different format, in The Baltimore Sun in March, 2002.