295: Blog Post Three

12 July at The Tate Britain. On this day we were freed into the mansion-esque halls of the museum to peruse the compendium of works from a man whose painting (Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead & Dying) inspired the twenty-five verses of David Dabydeen’s Turner. On this day I walked to the middle of the exhibit and into one of the rooms to browse the main d’oeuvre of a man who Dabydeen openly questions, whose intentions and intensity are raised as problematic; in the preface to the book, Dabydeen says that “the intensity of Turner’s painting is such that I believe the artist in private must have savoured the sadism he publicly denounced… Turner’s well-chronicled love of children is seen in another light, as is his extreme prudence with money.” And so, on this day, I went in search of that intensity.

To frame: I don’t think it’s fair to immediately assume that because Turner painted the fiery scene, he derived pleasure from it. In our discussion, I was battling between differing perspectives: Turner revealing, Turner capitalizing. I’ve always thought of the acknowledging of past wrongs as an important work, especially coming from the people whose ancestors committed those wrongs. This is why Germany has banned the Nazi salute, why I’m allowed to claim my German citizenship now (insert: my grandfather fled the country as a child because his family foresaw the massacre, so now I have the option of becoming a dual citizen because, had Hitler not come to power, the granddaughter of my fled grandfather would have quite likely been German). On the other hand, I understand the issue inherent in selling and profiting from a history that isn’t yours to tell, isn’t yours to paint, isn’t yours to put forth into the world and be paid for. 

What should Turner have done instead? If he’d painted the scene and donated the money, would we be less likely to critique him for being a white man and doing so? If he’d painted ‘S.S. S O R R Y’ across the body of the ship, would we think he meant it? Yet is it his to mean at all?

GET OFF MY PAINTING, WHITEY?  

I struggle to answer these questions. Obviously, I benefit from white privilege (not to say that my experiences with prejudice aren’t valid, but that my experiences with prejudice aren’t based off of my skin color), so maybe I'm not even inherently able to answer these questions. But still I wonder how much of a person we can boil down to race.

We are manifestations of every trait we harbor, every piece of something we gather and call self. This is why I can’t say whether or not Turner was actively sadist or that his love for children was a front for pedophilia, or that his greed is something devilish (as Dabydeen implies). I don't have the authority to look at the work of the white man and denounce it as immediately morally wrong.

This is why I searched his paintings, instead, for intensity.

Of the paintings that made me feel something, that felt intense on their own, the one that most closely relates to Slavers Throwing Overboard the Dead & Dying is A Disaster at Sea ?c.1835, oil paint on canvas.

The plaque beside it reads:

“This painting was not exhibited in Turner’s lifetime and is probably unfinished, but it remains one of his most powerful statements on the theme of maritime disaster. It was probably inspired by the wreck of the Amphitrite off Boulogne in 1833. The ship’s captain abandoned his cargo of 108 female convicts, who drowned along with 12 children, claiming that he was only authorized to land them in New South Wales. Turner depicts the tragic consequences.”

(Disregarding the comment that the painting is likely unfinished, which I regard as speculation because how do you look at a painting like that and tell it that it still has something else to be? But instead skipping to) “…his most powerful statements on the theme of maritime disaster” is beyond intriguing in the realm of our class discussion, as Dabydeen’s chosen Turner painting is far more violent and objectively revelatory of a more widespread tragedy than this one. Though tragedy is not a competition, and a convict’s drowning is not less than that of a slave (especially given that each were considered "cargo"), I was interested to find the museum’s description of this painting as lightly praiseworthy.

What would Dabydeen have said when faced with this painting? Like the one he describes in his preface, is this one proof that Turner “savoured the sadism” of a tragic event? I find this immensely hard to believe; just because he paints a scene of women and children dying doesn’t mean that he sees himself as the captain who abandons them. Just because he shades in the tumultuous waters consuming their bodies doesn’t mean that he wishes he were the waters himself. It is unfair to assume, without being ourselves Turner, that this is the case.

I (who am not the captain, who am not Turner, who am not anything but me) feel something when I look at this painting. The truth of the subject matter is painful to know, but I never would have known about it had Turner not painted the scene. (Alas, I do not actively spend my time researching the great maritime disasters of the nineteenth century.) In this act, Turner is an educator. In this act, Turner’s work is valuable.

(Insert: Would Turner’s contemporaries have felt similarly? Would they have been able to look upon the original painting in question, Slave Ship, and marvel at a scene they’d never pictured – or actively ignored thinking about – on their own? If anything, they would have learned something, right? Even if they didn’t believe it to be as awful as it appears in splotches of red and flailing limbs?)

These paintings are intense because their subject matter is intense. It is far from criminal to depict "the tragic consequences" of something just because you yourself are not a victim of these consequences. The world certainly doesn't need fewer reminders of humanity's wrongs (as, if we forget the past, we are doomed to repeat it*) and therefore I am a full supporter of these paintings' circulation. 

Even if Dabydeen is right and Turner was a hypocrite, was a lover of what he publicly denounced, it almost doesn't matter to me. We will still denounce it. 

With what he gave us, with what he made, we will still denounce it. 

*The Life of Reason: The Phases of Human Progress, George Santayana