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Most states permit worshippers to bring guns into churches and others houses of worship. Some require permits for conceal and carry; others do not. Some permit open carry; others do not. Some require pastoral permission; others do not. But the majority of Americans go to church in places where guns are allowed to come to communion.

This is as offensive to the sanctuary of the church as was Sarah Palin’s comparison of water boarding torture to baptism.

But, for today, I want to share some good reasons why it’s a bad idea, practically, to bring a gun to church.

1. Unintentional discharges are far more common than the use of lethal force to repel an attacker.
2. Police miss their targets nearly 90% of the time in high-stress situations. The likelihood that a “good guy with a gun” will hit his target is unlikely.
3. Bullets pass through bodies easily. Even if you hit your target, you may likely hit another person.

All of this means that you are far more likely to kill someone you know and love–a member of your Sunday school class, the teenager being baptized today, the baby girl sitting in the row in front of you–than to kill someone who is a danger to you or others.

Every speck of data scholars have ever collected on this issue makes it very clear: you are in greater danger with a gun on your person than you are without it.

When you choose to bring a gun into a church, you are telling your co-religionists that you are willing to take risks with their lives because you believe that you are superior to the statistics. That’s not a decision you should get to make on their behalf.

Rebecca

The human subject is the most important thing. My work is abstract in the sense of having been designed and composed,but it is not abstract in the sense of having no human content…[I] want to communicate. I want the idea to strike right away.(Jacob Lawrence, as quoted in Wheat, p. 4.)

The Studio, lithograph, 30 x 22.1” 1977
Seattle Art Museum

Why is there no Nobel Prize for art? Is the lingering Romantic perception of the visual artist—as crazy, self-involved, and sometimes even cruel, all in service to the authenticity of the artwork—a fair depiction of this type of professional? Or is it time to hear from artists themselves about the ethical and moral considerations, and level of integrity to their art, required to create meaningful artwork?

In her recent dissertation research (2018), I explore the visual artist as an alternative type of moral exemplar known as the “restored beautiful soul.”

Three ethical constructs make up the “individual factors” of the conceptual framework of the Masi Model of the Artist as Restored Beautiful Soul (MMARBS):

1. the Beautiful, which encompasses various psychological and inherent traits of the individual and is about
2. the Good, “moral exemplar,” which encompasses ethical principles, reflections about creative process, religiosity, influences, and philosophical writings and beliefs and is about doing.
3. and the Communal, which encompasses aspects of moral action and solidarity and is about

One of the six artists from the study, Jacob Lawrence, is explored in this post.

The Artist

Jacob Lawrence was born on September 7, 1917 and spent most of his years in Harlem, New York. His father was a chef for the railroads, and his mother had to place him and his siblings in foster care so she could work. Lawrence demonstrated a keen early interest and aptitude for the arts that were shaped by the Depression and the urban and artistic community of Harlem. He was particularly encouraged by the sculptor Augusta Savage, who introduced him to the hiring board of the Federal Works Project (WPA).

Lawrence exhibited a driving and ambitious work ethic that defined his entire career. Although he never completed high school, he spent hours in the Schomburg library studying African-American history, which contributed to the evolving theme of early  heroes such as Harriet Tubman and John Brown.

 The Library, (1960)
Tempera on fiberboard, 24 x 29 7/8 in. (60.9 x 75.8 cm.)
Smithsonian American Art Museum

Lawrence was greatly influenced by his friendships with Ralph Ellison, Langston Hughes, and Richard Wright. Hughes commissioned Lawrence to illustrate his book One Way Ticket. It was during this period that he developed his unique style, which he described as “dynamic cubism of jagged compositions in bold flat colors” (Schjeldahl, 2015).

The Great Migration One-Way Ticket, Museum of Modern Art, 2000 x 1336

 

In 1941, he reached near overnight success at the age of twenty-four with his exhibition of The Migration Series with themes of homelessness, poverty, joblessness and the challenges faced by the traveling African American migrant from the south to the north. The sixty panels are split between the Phillips Collection in Washington D.C., and the Museum of Modern Art, New York (MOMA).

In 1946, he was invited to teach at Black Mountain College in North Carolina by the director of the College, artist Josef Albers. Through Albers, Lawrence studied the meaning of color, movement, and organic shapes and refined his approach to creating a three-dimensional form on a two-dimensional surface. In a letter he wrote to Albers in 1946, he states,

My belief is that it is most important for an artist to develop an approach and philosophy about life. If he has developed this philosophy he does not put paint on canvas, he puts himself on canvas. (Lawrence, 1946)

Summer Arts Institute Faculty, Black Mountain College, (1946)
Left to right: Leo Amino, Jacob Lawrence, Leo Lionni, Ted Dreier, Nora Lionni, Beaumont Newhall, Gwendolyn Lawrence, Ise Gropius, Jean Varda (in tree), Nancy Newhall (sitting), Walter Gropius, Mary “Molly” Gregory, Josef Albers, Anni Albers.
Courtesy of Western Regional Archives

Lawrence was sometimes criticized by fellow African Americans for not expressing enough outrage and anger at the plight of his people. Having had the mixed blessing of being the “first” to exhibit, become part of, or interviewed by white artists, educators, and writers, he expressed a more positive and nuanced view of his work and personal experience being an African American artist:

I think any experience that evolves because of your ethnic background, and especially pertaining to the Negro, it’s been such a special kind of experience.

And since we as a people have not been integrated (we may never be), I don’t know, because of the physical difference…doesn’t mean that it’ll always be a negative thing but it cannot help but influence …my thinking and then my work and my whole being. (Lawrence 1968, p.19)

Jacob Lawrence’s prominence as one of the greatest American artists is further demonstrated by his election to the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the Black Academy of Arts and Letters; his winning the National Medal of the Arts, as well as the NAACP Spingarn Medal; and his being inducted into the National Academy of Design. His work appears in over two hundred international museums. In 1974, the Whitney Museum of American Art held a retrospective of his work, which later toured throughout the country. He was inducted into the prestigious American Academy of Arts and Letters in 1983 and was Professor Emeritus at the University of Washington, Seattle until his death in 2000. His work appears in many collections in the United States and throughout the world.

The Artist as Restored Beautiful Soul

The following figure identifies the categories from the MMARBS conceptual framework most applicable to Lawrence.  A summary of each of the categories follows.

 

Figure 1: Lawrence Top Five Super-categories from the MMARBS

 

 

1. The Good: Ethics

One of the most compelling and challenging ethical characteristics of the moral exemplar is the ability to make the particular universal (Swearer, 2006). This means that through their action (writings, imagery, speeches, or other forms of communication), they are able to communicate their message to a very broad audience who can relate to the message. This occurs even if the work depicts a singular struggle. Many artists and writers can communicate in an autobiographical manner, voicing views and opinions based on their personal experiences. However, it is a rare individual who can take personal experiences and make them relevant in a universal message. This ability to universalize largely explains why Lawrence is such an acclaimed artist. He was able to take the “Negro struggle” and, through his choice of media, message, and experiences, transcend race and thereby open his viewers’ hearts and minds to a universal human struggle in us all.

1. The Good: Reflection on Creative Process

Lawrence speaks of his belief that simpler the form, the more powerful the message. Due to his semi-abstracted compositions and color palette, his challenging subject matter was more widely accepted, admired, and viewed. Style and color have much to do with his popularity and ability to transcend difficult subject matter.

Lawrence, Jacob, The Great Migration, There were Lynchings (1941)
[Casein tempera on hardboard, 2000 x 1336”]
Phillips Collection, Washington D.C.

It was found that where there had been a lynching, the people were reluctant to leave (Lawrence, in Wheat, p. 287).

2. The Good: Influences

Lawrence had a very early dedication to becoming an artist during a time when there no African Americans prominent in the art world. He speaks of being greatly influenced by his upbringing as well as the artists, writers, and musicians in the Harlem arts community.

 3. The Communal: Moral Action Imagery and Individual

Lawrence always portrayed ethical themes in his art work, which is considered a form of moral action and can best be described as social realist or social commentary. His work was rarely decorative or simply created for pleasure. He believed in art always having a message, and his message was the human struggle.

Lawrence was a committed activist. He devoted his entire life to rendering the African-American struggle in art, and through his decisions about how to present his work, widened not only his audience but also the dialogue between white and black communities.

Lawrence’s use of storytelling and captions offers viewers accessible as well as multi-modal ways (i.e., writing and imagery) to experience very difficult subject matter. Although he worked abstractly, his choice of colors, flattened features, and forms helped to de-personalize the subject, creating some distance from the more horrific nature of the events, so that his message could be understood and experienced by the widest possible range of viewers.

Given his level of success, Lawrence also took the unusual step of dedicating himself to teaching young artists, another characteristic of the ethical exemplar. Many successful artists may do an occasional stint as a visiting artist or conduct workshops; however, Lawrence taught consistently in institutions of higher education, which meant his teaching responsibilities and workload were those of a full-time professor.

Jacob Lawrence was considered the first African American visual artist. He came into prominence at an important point for the black American when various forms of incredible injustice were finally becoming into fuller public awareness. The courage he exhibited was formidable in his efforts to chronicle the “Negro struggle” at an early age  and provided an essential way to bring these injustices to light. Over the decades in which he worked, his commitment to the theme of struggle never wavered.  He began his career interested in conveying the struggle of one group; however, his ability to take this struggle and make it universal defined him as a restored beautiful soul.

References:

Harkin, Ellen Wheat. (1987). Jacob Lawrence. dissertation for the University of Washington, Seattle.

Lawrence, J. (1968). Oral history interview with Jacob Lawrence. Smithsonian, Archives of American Art. (1968).

Nicholas, Xavier. (2013). Interview with Jacob Lawrence. Callaloo, 36  (2) Spring 2013, 260-267. Published by Johns Hopkins University Press.

Schjeldahl, Peter. Telling the Whole Story: Jacob Lawrence’s Migration Series. New Yorker. 4/20/2015

Swearer, D. (2006). Religious belief into moral action. Coursework from Harvard Divinity School, Cambridge, MA. Unpublished manuscript.

About the author:

I am a practicing visual artist and Professor of Art Foundations with the Art Institute of Pittsburgh Online Division where I teach studio and digital art, ethics, and aesthetics courses. This post reflects part of my dissertation research: The Restoration of the Beautiful Soul Ideal in the Lives and Works of Six Visual Artists (Käthe Kollwitz, Wassily Kandinsky, Jacob Lawrence, Mark Rothko, Vincent van Gogh, Remedios Varo), (Masi, 2018: Boston University). Feel free to email me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have a column over at The Week about the one year anniversary of the Parkland school massacre. I reflect on the shabby treatment that has been afforded the survivors. Wherever you find survivors of mass gun violence, it seems, you’ll also find gun rights defenders making the survivors’ lives more miserable.

Some people might argue that by plunging into the gun debate, Hogg and other survivors asked for the treatment they’re getting — our politics are loud and ugly, and if you’re going to take a stance, you’re not going to be treated with kid gloves. Hogg, in particular, seems to give as much as he takes, which might be why he seems to be singled out for extra abuse. That kind of argument, though, suggests that name-calling and conspiracy theorizing should be a normal part of politics. Maybe it’s time to challenge that idea.

This doesn’t mean, of course, that gun advocates have to accept the Parkland survivors’ policy prescriptions. And it doesn’t meant that gun-control advocates don’t have to listen to their opponents — Kasky, for example, has embarked on a project to listen to gun rights advocates. But the Parkland students should have been treated as people worthy of respect, as survivors of a horrific crime. Because that’s what they are.

A lot of white folks really want to defend blackface, it seems.

…conservatives are wondering whether blackface — typically, the act of white people dressing up as black people by using makeup, or, in Northam’s case, shoe polish — is always racist, or whether it can be the product of ignorance, without being inherently racist or reveling in stereotypes. In short, does an action require racist intent to be racist?

Good intentions, road to hell, etc. etc…..

To this day, many white people have bristled at the notion that blackface is inherently racist, arguing that it is a tribute to the person being imitated or, as Robert H. Michel, the Republican from Illinois who served as House minority leader, said in a 1988 interview, “just a part of life” that “was fun.”

In 2008, Mel Kuhn, then the mayor of Arkansas City, Kan., appeared with a darkened face as part of a charity drag show. His character was inspired, he said, by movies like “Big Momma’s House”; The Associated Press reported that the character’s name was “a vulgar reference to female genitalia.”

Mr. Kuhn apologized publicly shortly after the performance after meeting with the N.A.A.C.P., but he sounded a defiant note this week. “There was no insult intended,” he said, adding: “You’ve got to stop this P.C. nonsense, where if I don’t say something perfectly correct, people just get disjointed.”

There’s a lot to unpack here, including what looks like an overwhelming sense of entitlement among people who use blackface. If I want to do a thing, why shouldn’t I? It’s an attitude that suggests we have no obligations of kindness or respect to our neighbors and fellow citizens, that their feelings pale in comparison to those of us who just happen to be white and, in the grand scheme of things, relatively powerful.

Here’s an idea: Why not just listen to black people?

There are a few African Americans, I’m sure, who will defend the rights of white people to wear blackface. But the vast majority seem deeply wounded and offended by it.

Jamelle Bouie:

The most popular form of entertainment in 19th-century America, which continued well into the 20th, blackface minstrelsy was defined by its caricature of and gross hostility toward black Americans. In the minstrel show, blacks — and free blacks in particular — were objects of ridicule, lampooned for seeking equality and respectability. Beyond simple mockery, the pleasure of blackface for white performers and their audiences lay in the vicarious experience of an imagined blackness — a wild, preindustrial “savage” nature that whites attributed to black Americans.

“Painting oneself hearkened back to traditional popular celebrations and to paint oneself as a Black person, given American realities at the time, was to throw reason to the winds,” the historian David Roediger wrote in his 1991 book, “The Wages of Whiteness: Race and the Making of the American Working Class.” He notes later that blackface was a form that “implicitly rested on the idea that Black culture and Black people existed only insofar as they were edifying for whites and that claims to ‘authentic’ blackness could be put on and washed off at will.”

In other words, blackface is so thoroughly associated with the worst of American racism that we should expect immediate condemnation of politicians and public figures who have any association with it, even if it’s a decades-old offense.

So, white folks, try to think empathetically: Even if you think you mean well, even if you are just “paying tribute” to some African-American celebrity, the truth is that blackface will be taken as hurtful by black people. If you know that’s the case, why persist? To restrain yourself in the service of not giving unnecessary offense may be “politically correct” — but it’s also the responsible, adult thing to do.

Funny thing about the blackface scandals that have been erupting in Virginia lately: Gov. Ralph Northam had come under fire from conservatives just days earlier for his support of a bill that removes abortion restrictions in his state.  Once it was revealed that Northam had appeared in blackface during the 1980s, though, many conservatives spoke more sympathetically, about the need to forgive those kinds of mistakes.

And I wondered: Is it the case that conservatives will defend racism more than they hate abortion?

Coincidentally, then, this story appeared on my radar:

In 1971, two years before Roe v. Wade legalized abortion, the biggest white evangelical group in America, the Southern Baptist Convention, supported its legalization. The group continued that support through much of the 1970s. And the late Jerry Falwell, founder of the Moral Majority, did not give his first antiabortion speech until 1978, five years after Roe.

Though opposition to abortion is what many think fueled the powerful conservative white evangelical right, 81 percent of whom voted for Donald Trump, it was really school integration, according to Randall Balmer, chairman of the religion department at Dartmouth.

The late Paul Weyrich, whom Balmer called the organizational genius behind the religious right, had long tried to mobilize evangelical voters around some hot-button issue: feminism, school prayer, pornography, abortion. But nothing lit a fire like the federal government’s threat to all-white schools. Only in 1979, a full six years after Roe, did Weyrich urge evangelical leaders to also crusade against abortion, Balmer said in an interview. That was, after all, a far more palatable, acceptable crusade, one with a seeming high moral purpose, unlike a race-based crusade against black children.

It is worth reading the whole thing.

I don’t want to suggest that anti-abortion crusaders are secret racists. I know many people who genuinely believe abortion is murder. But the history of the issue is interesting, to say the least.

The internet allows us to communicate in more negative ways–and the fact that we’re online so much means that verbal abuse is a constant threat, according to the British report Abusive and Offensive Online Communication: Summary of Scoping Report. 

You might think that when folks aren’t anonymous on the internet, they’d keep quieter about their racism. That’s not quite the case–but the good news is that others use social media to speak up against hate. That is the argument that Irfan Chaudhry and Anatoliy Gruzd make in “Expressing and Challenging Racist Discourse on Facebook: How Social Media Weaken the ‘Spiral of Silence’ Theory,” published in Policy & Internet. 

But the relationship between social media and racist behavior may not be clear, according to Abdallah Alsaad, Abdallah Taamneh, and Mohamad Noor Al-Jedaiah in “Does Social Media Increase Racist Behavior? An Examination of Confirmation Bias Theory,” Technology in Society(2018).