Culture Watch

And Consider This: Culture After September 11

Since that day we've wrestled with what and when our culture should resume it's normal pace; at what and how can we laugh again, considering the events that have so moved our nation.

Woody Allen, no stranger to controversy and censure himself, was quoted as saying that the terror attacks on New York were "fair game" for any artists with an insight to offer into the tragedy.

Questions about the seemliness of our culture are being asked:

Given recent events, how will masculinity, violence, and government be represented in the near future? What will become of our taste for celebrity and glamour? Has the audience for art changed?

Another voice asks: How will contemporary art change in the aftermath of the disaster? And will old works take on new meanings?

Frivolous, decadent periods can produce brilliant art; serious times can produce pious bunk. If there is to be a profound change in art, however, its early harbinger will be impatience -- even disgust -- with the broad worldview that has sustained art during the past 40 years.

The open letter from the Metropolitan Museum to the community reestablishes the relationship between art and its ability to comfort:

At a time of loss and profound dislocation, art museums offer a powerful antidote to hopelessness: their collections testify to the permanence of creative aspiration and achievement, and offer solace, affirmation, and a spirit of renewal so essential to our recovery.

Coming to terms with a horrific experience through art is exemplified by the Holocaust through Art site. Halina Olomucki drew memories of her imprisonment at a number of concentration camps, Majdanek and Auschwitz-Birkenau among them. Prisoners there asked and at times implored her to draw their portraits or those of their daughters—believing that that this might be their final opportunity to be remembered:

"I never rationally thought that I was going to die, but there was an unbelievable urge to create. I was in the same position as all the people around me, and I realized that they were close to death. But I never thought of myself like that. I was floating. I was outside the reality of existence. My task was simply to portray what was happening. I was a spectator."

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Daughter of an army surgeon, Eileen Frost grew up in libraries on military bases from coast to coast and beyond. A Senate staff member for five years after college, she spent many rewarding hours in the Library of Congress. She then spent a year in Europe, and after an interlude enjoying her small children, Eileen ran a catering business, became a librarian, and has worked at an independent school in North Carolina since 1984. Ms. Frost has two daughters, both avid readers. For questions, comments and suggestions, email Eileen Frost.