No true art is simple
( Xposted from my tumblr)
breewriteswords:
wellthatsclever:
wowww. and I always thought it was so romantic.
I always reblog this because for every one person who understands the true story behind this picture there’s about 50 who don’t.
Y'know what? I don't think I care. The iconic image stands on its own.
Am I submitting to rape culture? Perhaps. Am I condoning what Mendonsa did to Friedman? Absolutely not. People excuse artists like Picasso and Gauguin, Roman Polanski and Alfred Hitchcock for being shits to women all the time, simply due to their artistic genius. I never condone that, nor do I condone the sailor's actions. But you have to admit that the photographer caught a perfect instant that for decades symbolized a nation's exuberant joy at the end of a long and terrible war.
The revealed history of what happened at that instant can only add to the resonance of the photo, not subtract from it. It reminds us that nothing is simple; heroes are just people; and while the war overseas to protect the humanity and autonomy of oppressed peoples had been won, the battle at home went on.
No human joy is pure and undiluted. But isn't it pretty to think so?
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/552317.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.
breewriteswords:
wellthatsclever:
wowww. and I always thought it was so romantic.
I always reblog this because for every one person who understands the true story behind this picture there’s about 50 who don’t.
Y'know what? I don't think I care. The iconic image stands on its own.
Am I submitting to rape culture? Perhaps. Am I condoning what Mendonsa did to Friedman? Absolutely not. People excuse artists like Picasso and Gauguin, Roman Polanski and Alfred Hitchcock for being shits to women all the time, simply due to their artistic genius. I never condone that, nor do I condone the sailor's actions. But you have to admit that the photographer caught a perfect instant that for decades symbolized a nation's exuberant joy at the end of a long and terrible war.
The revealed history of what happened at that instant can only add to the resonance of the photo, not subtract from it. It reminds us that nothing is simple; heroes are just people; and while the war overseas to protect the humanity and autonomy of oppressed peoples had been won, the battle at home went on.
No human joy is pure and undiluted. But isn't it pretty to think so?
This entry was originally posted at http://spiderine.dreamwidth.org/552317.html. There are
comments over there. I've disabled LJ's Facebook and Twitter cross-posting idiocy as much as I can, but if you're especially concerned, feel free to comment there.