Censorship of student art in Capitol spells trouble for democracy … – St. Louis American

Leonardo Da Vinci said, Where the spirit does not work with the hand, there is no art. With that in mind, American civilization is at risk.

Every year in the 435 congressional districts across the United States, the local representative holds an art contest for high school students. The prize for the students is having their painting exhibited in the halls of Congress for a year. It is a wonderful honor to young, fledgling art students across the country and typically does not cause a murmur.

Last spring, U.S. Rep. Wm. Lacy Clay (D-St. Louis) of Missouris 1st Congressional District held this contest in conjunction with Webster University's fine arts department. The unanimous winner was David Pulphus, a quiet, gentle, unassuming student from Cardinal Ritter College Preparatory High School, a Catholic high school in St. Louis.

After winning the competition, Pulphus, along with his mother, flew to Washington, D.C. for a ceremony celebrating all of the competition winners. The winners art works were ceremoniously placed for their yearlong residence in the Capitol building. Pulphus painting, along with those of his fellow artists, hanged for six months in peace.

In December 2016, Pulphus painting became a source of controversy and discomfort for law enforcement officers on Capitol Hill, as well as Republican politicians and conservative media.

Images in the piece portrayed the young African American artist's view and interpretation of police and community relations as he saw it during the Ferguson crisis. The painting featured anthropomorphism by portraying law enforcement officers with boar heads and human bodies (the artist chose to paint boars instead of pigs because of the advanced level of savagery in the behavior of boars in contrast to pigs). Only the officers who had drawn their firearms had boar heads; the other officers in the painting did not.

Among other depictions, there was also religious imagery in the form of an African-American male being crucified in his cap and gown.

Right-wing media expressed outrage upon "discovery" of the picture. Police groups (acting as art critics) across the country expressed immediate vocal opposition to the painting. On January 6, in the penultimate expression of privilege, disrespect and suppression of free speech, white Republican Congressman Duncan Hunter of California's 50th District removed the painting.

Four days later, the Congressional Black Caucus held a re-installation ceremony of the painting. That same day, white Republican Congressman Doug Lamborn of Colorado boldly removed the painting again, stating, "I could not, in good conscience, continue to walk by a painting that so flagrantly disrespected the brave police officers that protect us here in the Capitol and in our communities across the country."

In essence, he, his colleagues and the police were offended by the painting. Good for them.

The actions of the police and representatives in this matter threaten civilization and challenge the essence of democracy. Additionally, they highlight the privilege that white people in positions of power wield: immunity. It is unimaginable that a young black citizen could enter the Capitol building and without permission remove the image of staunch slavery advocate John C. Calhoun without being accosted and likely arrested. The police and representatives are demonstrating that rules and laws only apply to certain kinds of citizens that must not include white members of Congress.

The misplaced and faux anger of the authorities fails to address critical issues pertinent to conditions in African-American communities, police community relations, and constitutional rights.

Art imitates life, but none of the police officers or elected Republican officials have asked the fundamental question that the painting begs: Why would a young student with hope, promise, and purpose perceive his community and the police in such a manner?

The officials did not take into account the role that the militarization of policing has played in African-American communities (including Ferguson and St. Louis) or the way that stop and frisk and pretext stops invade the privacy, not to mention constitutional rights, of African-American citizens. Then, of course, there are the police-involved shootings of unarmed and legally armed African Americans that have not apparently pricked the consciousness of the newly fashioned art critics.

The relationship between police and the African-American community depicted in the painting is implicitly understood among African American citizens but less so in the white community. A 2015 national Pew Research Group poll found that 71 percent of white people expressed a great deal or fair amount of confidence in local police to treat black and white people equally; just 36 percent of black respondents agreed. The stark chasm between these two perspectives is caused by a long history of brutality and oppression. The painting meticulously illustrates that chasm of understanding.

Pulphus artistic expression is not the serene setting that one might observe in a Monet painting. There are no sunscapes and lily-pads, but rather an accurate portrayal of this young achieving Americans experiences and interaction with police. The artistic expression of protest, in this way, is a form of protest itself. Minimally, his work is a constitutionally protected expression of free speech.

On a larger scale, the recent incidents send a message to African-American youth to not bother with finishing school and pursuing excellence because, even if their work is recognized, it will be removed by those who cannot understand it and who see themselves as the exclusive arbiters of Americanism. This is sad, because history has proven that the mark of a declining civilization is the persecution of intellectualism and art.

When Duncan Hunter, Doug Lamborn and their colleagues removed Pulphus award-winning painting, they illegally and dangerously silenced a citizens speech for their own comfort. The elected officials should be arrested by the same police whom the painting offended. Furthermore, Congress should censure the uncivilized representatives for their un-American acts in the Capitol building. They privileged their feeling above that what makes America great: the freedom of expression.

At this moment in the United States, certain groups have achieved untouchable status with regard to criticism. Citizens may not suggest that policing needs reform without their love of country being questioned. Rather than protecting constitutional freedoms, which the police and member of Congress pledged to do, the white Republican congressmen have chosen to shield the police from critique.

There has been a public shift from constructively analyzing the actions of the police to shaming anyone who dares to share ones human experience. That indicates that America is in danger.

The behavior of the white elected officials regarding the artwork is a clear display of privilege. Americans, but especially African Americans, get the message: freedom of expression is only for police-worshipping privileged citizens. The white members of Congress will likely not be punished for touching that which did not belong to them because it appears that, in this instance, law enforcement and elected officials have far more restraint for white protestors than for black resisters.

In case the Capitol Hill police and the members of Congress wanted to know why Pulphus depicted the authorities in such a manner, the artists only comment is, The art speaks for itself. It has spoken loudly. Now, who will protect American civilization?

Etefia A.E Umana is chairman of Board of Directors at Better Family Life Inc. Etefia M. Umana is a freelance writer.

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Censorship of student art in Capitol spells trouble for democracy ... - St. Louis American

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