The Art of Confrontation

What does it mean to be confronted by a piece of art? The term conjures thoughts of action and emotion, perhaps even violence. How could a static image have such an affect on us as viewers? One of the most historically relevant definitions of ‘confrontational’ can be linked to the idea of scandal; an event or action followed by public outcry and dismay. When we view any image, our brains are already working to compare and contrast it with other images in our visual archives. An artwork becomes confrontational when it ruptures the norms and rules that we have established around what art should be, and we wind up scandalized.

This is especially true of artworks that portray subjects who are not generally thought of as suitable or acceptable to be shown in art, whilst simultaneously making formal choices that are uncommon or directly defying convention. When we see a person displayed in a medium or composition that doesn’t line up with how we think that person should be portrayed, we will almost always feel confronted by that work. Social context, ingrained in our archives, creates assumptions about how people should be portrayed, and when those assumptions are upset, we find ourselves scandalized. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, however. In fact, it is incredibly important that we recognize when and why a work is scandalous, and the reasons that it might feel so. Any number of factors can contribute to a piece’s confrontationally, but for the sake of this curation, we’re going to focus on issues of form and content. 

We'll begin experiencing how an artwork creates tension and scandal through decisions of form and content with John Singer Sargent’s Madame X. This image does not appear incredibly confrontational at first, but once we understand the social context of its original creation, it’s clear that the work is scandalous. From there, we’ll examine how other confrontational pieces prick our archives, and why it is important that we as viewers engage with them.

Madame X, John Singer Sargent, 1883-1884, oil on canvas, 82 ⅛ x 43 ¼ inches, Met collection 

Madame X is arguably Sargent’s most well-known work. It portrays Madame Pierre Gautreau, a Parisian lady whose fashion sensibility was widely regarded as exotic and uncouth. The piece was ridiculed and frowned upon at the 1884 Paris Salon, and it practically destroyed Sargent’s reputation as a portrait painter.

Much of the critique leveled at the work concerned its subject matter; Madame Gautreau was not viewed as a conventional high society Parisian, and everyone was shocked that Sargent would paint someone with a public image like hers. Along with that, the composition of the piece and the rendering of skin was mocked by many who viewed Sargent’s use of shape and color as pedestrian or simply unskilled. The piece’s confrontation is found in these two facets; it upsets the painterly sensibilities of its time, and it portrayed a woman who was not supposed to be memorialized in painting.

Olympia, Edouard Manet, 1863, oil on canvas, 51 ⅓  x 74 ⅘ inches, Musee d’Orsay collection

Manet’s Olympia functions within history in a similar way, albeit with an even more confrontational and radical approach. The direct, piercing gaze of the prostitute depicted here increases the confrontation introduced in something like Madame X. This painting is openly attempting to scandalize and draw attention to the transgressive figure portrayed. In suite with Sargent’s piece, Olympia was also mocked and critiqued for its formal decisions and its subject at the Salon. It was not primarily the woman’s nudity that did this (many nude women were depicted at the show) ; rather, it was the way that the nudity became directed at the viewer that caused such a stir. Social context and imposed meaning are vital to understanding this. It is easy to read the image as being controversial simply because it portrays nudity; understanding the position that nudity holds in art, specifically at that time, will alter the way that we view its portrayal here. The idea of a nude woman was not scandalous; rather, Manet’s work was scandalous both in its impressionist styling and in its open, gritty portrayal of a prostitute. Unlike Madame X, Olympia retains some of its confrontationally in the modern day, and may have even gained some scandalousness in the many debates about its meaning and importance. 

The Holy Virgin Mary, Chris Ofili, 1997, acrylic, oil, polyester resin, paper collage, glitter, map pins, and elephant dung on canvas, 96x72 inches, Museum of Modern Art

Ofili’s The Holy Virgin Mary inspired serious adversity when it was first displayed in the Brooklyn museum. It portrays the Virgin Mary, using a multitude of materials, including elephant dung. The painting has been sued against, as well as vandalized. Much of the ire against it relates to Ofili’s combining of profanity and sacredness (one of her breasts is a ball of elephant dung, and the images surrounding the central figure are collages of pornographic imagery). The work was decried as blasphemy, and generally treated with disgust. What is Ofili really getting at here? Reading the work only as transgression takes away from other things that we may find in it. Ofili himself has said that he thinks elephant dung is beautiful, which totally recontextualizes the painting, if we view it from his perspective as the artist. Interpreting this work might look like developing a deeper understanding of the materials that Ofili is working with, in terms of social and cultural context. Along with that, Ofili is also portraying a Black Madonna, which is massively significant in the discussion of scandalous content. Ofili’s piece works through the uncommonness of both form and subject to create a work that makes us question the classical portraits he is referencing, as well as our own assumptions about what that should look like.

Piss Christ, Andre Serrano, 1987, photograph, Cibachrome print, 60x40 inches, collection unknown

Piss Christ, or Immersion, depicts a crucifix submerged in the artist’s own urine. This work, when it was displayed, caused controversy in its assumed irreverence. The work’s use of bodily fluids recontextualizes the familiar image of a crucifix with a visceral and dismaying sense of blasphemy, and forces us to reckon much more closely with the idea of a crucifixion. Serrano (who is a practicing Catholic) states that he was attempting to escape viewing the crucifix as ornamentation or jewelry, or as an image of decadence, instead choosing to emphasize the embodied humanity of death on a cross.

The scandal of this work, in the vein of Madame X, is found in both its formal elements (the use of literal urine) and in its use of a Christ figure as subject matter.  Many religious figures were shocked at the apparent irreverence of the image, as they well should be; a piece of art like this is made to upset and draw attention. What we should really be concerned about is where our attention is being drawn: are we looking at Piss Christ purely for its scandalousness, or are we captured by its raw portrayal of death and humanness? What assumptions about Christ imagery are upset here?

Sensitive Content No. 20, 21, 11 (diptych), Mauro Martinez, 2020, acrylic and acrylic ink on paper, 11x14 inches (20),  acrylic and acrylic ink on cradled panel, 8x10 (21), acrylic and acrylic ink on cradled panel, 8x10 each panel (11), collection unknown 

Martinez explores censorship and the effects of transgression in a series of works entitled Sensitive Content. This references Instagram’s censorship feature that flags and obscures possibly offensive images. No. 20 depicts a nude woman, blurred and overlaid with text. The self-reference of this image is a powerful reminder of the power of social media platforms, and forces us to reckon with digital censorship made concrete in paint and canvas. Understanding a very specific social context is vital to this piece’s interpretation, as well as recognizing the power that censorship can have to both suppress and enliven scandal. The other two images depict violent or socially confrontational scenes, and do so in the same manner. 

The works use a reference to the censoring feature in order to add a second layer of critique to the confrontational imagery used. Formal confrontation is created by the fact that this image has all the visual qualities of an Instagram post, but none of the practical ones (we can’t interact with it). The works also formally draw attention to the idea of framing; Martinez is showing us something confrontational, and doing so in a way that makes it abundantly clear that what we are seeing is an image. How do we as viewers begin to activate a scandalous image when we view it in that way, and when do we see ourselves assuming things about the blurred images?

Untouchable, Bloodworks 1, 4, Wayne Martin Belger, 2003-present, 4x5 inch film camera made from aluminum, titanium, copper, stainless steel, glass, acrylic, and HIV positive blood, photo prints, Artisan Works

 

These images depict people with HIV, through a camera lens that uses their own blood as a color filter. While Belger’s work did not provoke a massive controversy like Olympia, it should absolutely feel confrontational. The images use an unconventional and visceral formal element, as well as portraying subjects who are socially and physically downtrodden. There should be a mini-scandal that takes place when we engage with these images; we should feel grossed out and provoked to some degree. In the same way that something like Piss Christ evokes viscerality and gritty pain with the use of bodily fluids, Belger is evoking the emotion felt by those affected by the disease, as well as their self-perception. In his Bloodworks, these men and women are revealed as they view themselves, and as others view them in relation to the stigma of HIV.

    Understanding each portrait as the revealing of these people, through the emphasis on their humanness (the use of actual blood) should also make us more aware of where we fall in terms of transgression and scandal; we are often ourselves confrontational. Untouchable serves to conceptually place us into a space where we have to begin to view ourselves as vulnerable to the confrontation of art. Scandal cuts to the core of our archives, and that is what makes it so visceral and shocking. Being open to the confrontation of a piece of art helps us to see ourselves in a new light; it illuminates our biases and assumptions and, if done well, helps us to reign them in. It’s important to engage with scandal in art not because scandal in itself is a good thing, but because it can point us to truths about ourselves, and the world. When art scandalizes us, we should allow ourselves to be confronted, and ask ourselves what the art is doing to make us feel that way.