Tony Matelli: New Gravity at Wellesley College

Matelli says “Sleepwalker,” a lifelike rendering of a flabby, middle-aged, white male, eyes closed, arms outstretched before him, and clad only in briefs, was intended to evoke “empathy” for someone “lost and out of place.”

Well, he succeeded with the out of place part, for two students have disseminated a petition online calling for the piece’s relocation behind closed doors, due to its being “a source of apprehension, fear, and triggering [sic] thoughts regarding sexual assault for some members of our campus community.” The petition did not specify how many students had these thoughts or experienced these triggers, or how long they persisted, or what their effects were, but in three days, the New York Times reported, the petition had garnered over 500 signatures. (Wellesley’s enrollment exceeds 2,400, but the Times failed to indicate how many of the signatories were students there.)

The director of the campus museum, which is hosting a one-man show by Matelli, reported being shocked by the reaction but viewed it as “a teachable moment.” The college president welcomed the opportunity to debate “freedom of expression and the significance of safe spaces.” This led one offended student to say she felt her peers’ feelings were “being pushed aside in favor of having a discussion about art.” And Matelli said anyone distressed by his sculpture needed “help.” He, the museum director, and the drafters of the petition were scheduled to meet.

Whose views?

It is easy for a post-middle-age, near-First Amendment absolutist male to be amused. But with a modicum of effort toward attaining fair-minded, see-the-other’s point of view, even he may recognize that, when discussing art intended for public viewing rather than a private consumer’s dining room or an entry-by-choice museum’s halls, complicating questions may arise. These questions include whether it is appropriate for the public artist to pursue his vision to its fullest rather than temper it by consideration for the feelings of the community which will view it. And if those feelings are to be considered, how is that “community” to be defined? For instance, is the Wellesley community limited to its students, or does it extend to include faculty, administrators, clerical staff, groundskeepers, cafeteria help, and janitors? Once this is determined, how much influence should this community have, and who is to speak for it?

Okay, I have considered them, and I am still smiling.

Having observed photographs of “Sleepwalker,” it seem to me that, once the initial surprise — okay, “shock” — of “Hey, this guy’s in his underwear!” has registered, it would quickly fade, as one’s startled take on, say, a Duane Hanson tourist is replaced by a sheepish “Sure fooled me” and a wonder at the magic and craftsmanship involved. And if one’s sense of discomfort lingers, it might be valuable for that person to explore from where this disturbance arises.

I mean, “Sleepwalker” is only epoxy, fiberglass and paint. He is “asleep,” for God’s sake. He is hardly a threat. So what about him exactly pulls these triggers? If he wore a T-shirt, would alarms have rung? If he had been in Bermuda shorts, would petitions have launched? One can’t help wondering if some women at Wellesley may have objected to any statue of any male no matter how formally attired. After all, for 500 years, Florentines have tolerated Michelangelo’s “David” in their midst, without even a fig leaf covering his works. Would “Sleepwalker” have escaped the censor if he had been more classically proportioned — or 17 feet tall? (Does size really matter?) Would he have offended fewer, a psychotherapist I know wonders, if he had been younger and reminded students less of their fathers? And a sociologist could inquire if the presence of a “Sleepwalker” of a darker pigmentation and covered by a hoodie, would have been tolerated at all. I see more than a single teachable moment here.

It may also be appropriate to question Matelli’s decision to place this particular figure on this particular campus. He had previously done a sleepwalking woman, after all, which he did not present. (His other outdoor offering, an equally lifelike “Stray Dog,” seems not to have disturbed any cat lovers.) His explanation of his choice, which boils down to “Yo! Half the world is male. Get over it,” seems rather disingenuous. He might benefit from some internal exploration himself.

Nothing new

As Philadelphians well know, public art has had a “rocky” road for decades. Richard Serra’s “Tilted Arc” was removed from New York City’s Foley Plaza, after several years of litigation, following officeworkers’ complaints of its disruptive effect. Soccer fans in England had a statue of Michael Jackson carted from the grounds of their home team’s stadium due to his unsuitability as a sporting role model. A statue of the Confederate general — and Ku Klux Klan Grand Wizard — Nathan Bedford Forrest, outside Nashville, has withstood gunshots, attempts to saw off its legs, and two efforts to have it pulled down by a train. John Ahearn’s voluntary removal of three of his bronzes from the South Bronx following community outcry, despite all three memorializing residents of the community, has been marvelously explored in Jane Kramer’s “Whose Art Is It?” (A book was published in 1994; New Yorker subscribers can access Kramer’s 1992 article here.)

Me, I am fine with them all. Let a thousand statues bloom! But it is a good idea to keep refreshing one’s understanding of what the First Amendment is about. After all, if someone stuck a petition under my nose to topple a tribute to a certain ex-mayor, who got his start raiding Center City coffeehouses in the ‘50s to bust gays and interracial couples, I’d be tempted.

To read Kile Smith's thoughts on the role of provocation in art, click here.