Thematic Suitability Note:
(… Continued from page 1.)
And so finally, if I'm to make this little essay satisfactory, I'd better finally talk about painting. I'd better wrestle with an artistic mystery that happened during the work and try to drag at least some hint of wisdom out of it to the open:
A) The reaching hand is perhaps the subtlest class of gestures in our human repertoire, for similar gestures of the reaching hand can range in meaning from mystical to courteous to obscene.
B) One of this show's African objects is a performer's mask in which three wooden model arms obscure the mask wearer's face, all three arms reaching out from the mask wearer's face to make a mystifyingly ambiguous gesture of the reaching hand. It might mean
"have no fear"
or
"you are forbidden here"
or something else.
C) My painted canvas features three reaching arms posed like in a formal rhythmic mime or miming dance.
D) I did not even notice the African mask consciously while painting, only afterward when the ArtsWorcester director mentioned it to me.
E) Every time my paint brush touched the gesturing hand of the dying victim, she became more a brave woman of her people and less and less an object to be pitied.
Stylistic Note:
"Drone Strike In North Waziristan" owes a lot to "Guernica" of course. The drawing of the masks here is directly quoted from Picasso's canvas, the architecture here is rearranged from that canvas, and of course the two both treat the theme of aerial bombardment (his revealing a bombarded city street and mine a bombarded person). And of course they are both fine art political propaganda.
But two lesser known Picasso works of the same Surreal Cubist style were also helpful in my effort.
His "Night Fishing At Antibes" appears in my painting's velvet coloring and in its erotic energy that surprised me so.
Then there is Picasso's "Dream And Lie Of Franco". In that propaganda comic book Generalissimo Francisco Franco – the brutal fascist winner of the Spanish Civil War – is depicted as a grinning rectum. I used this profoundly bland insouciance, the vicious cruelty of the mundane, as a starting point for my portrait of a U.S. soldier's smile.
It is true that I was myself a U.S. soldier.
And I am certainly aware that our soldiers who are piloting these bomber robots suffer from traumatic stress. But nonetheless, they are bloody fucking bastards.
But then, how is heroism treated in my picture? Heroism here is glorified in ritual, with quotes from other sources. Indeed, all through the elaboration of the sundered body parts, I seemed to be paraphrasing Frida Kahlo in syllables of devotion spoken in simplicity.
Ritual is the repetition of a pattern. When woven with harmonic rhythms it can lead us to expansion of the mind and even to the glory of the soul come into consciousness. When done in honor of the dead, this makes a funeral proper.
And so, finally, what style is this painting? It is a eulogy.