He Who Is

A cold chill enveloped me as I read the news item.

Early next year when the Gaugin Portrait exhibit opens at the National Gallery in London, an audiotape question will be heard.

“Is it time to stop looking at Gaugin?”

It would be untrue if I said I was a patron of the arts. I enjoy an occasional visit to a museum, but given a choice it is never at the top of my hopes or dreams.

Yet his work is remarkable, and enduring.

I never thought about his sexual life, nor frankly, have I cared. It is no interest to me when I view his colorful works.

I smile at his robust choice of color on the rare occasions I view one of his renowned paintings on a greeting card or reproduction.

Now I learn he, too, has voices calling for his works to be removed from public viewing in museums.

And I cannot help but recall the infamous burning of books in Nazi Germany.

Are we on that perilous path again?

Will history record the self righteousness indictment of artists like Gaugin, Placido Domingo and countless others as a pivotal descent back into earlier evils.

It is a frightening image.

A society deprived of beauty, and music and creativity and perhaps eventually, words, by mysterious and unidentified voices calling out “Shame.”

Will it be a better world without those who are without sin?

And who will examine the lives of the accusers?

Who will be without fear of accusation?

What will be next?

Didn’t we learn a lesson in 1933?