As far as legal precedent for GDOT to control what art is, or is not, painted on walls that they own, I don’t think there is much room for debate.

Correctly placing the artwork — and what is presumed to be a somehow community-wide response — within the context of the city’s legal mechanics, zoning, and property history — does situate it very much helpfully in the encircling contexts of Atlanta, Georgia, South, property, aggression, and U.S.

An anecdote. In the course of recent research, I’ve had occasion to thumb through a few volumes of a 41-odd volume oral history, a WPA project called The American Slave: A Composite Autobiography.

As it turns out, this was a project distorted and redacted _by its editors_ in Texas and Mississippi, and _by its contributors_ in Georgia, to thumbnail that historical discussion very rapidly.

This erasure, seems to me not quite named here in what I have read, although Cinque did a fantastic job of elucidating its spectres and modes.

Crucially, it is within this obliterating politics and context — a formalized and legal context — actions both above and below ground — within this that the work exists, is erased, and seeks attention.

A plaudit for precision then, @thomshepard:disqus .

Both groups painted the wall illegally. How could GDOT press charges against one group and not the other? It will also be hard to argue that they defaced a work of art when GDOT itself painted over the mural.

By Monica’s account published on the LW fb page, she had already been told by city officials LW should paint over the mural due to permit issues before it was buffed the first time. It is likely this was also known in the community. By her statement, Monica refused to paint over the wall and LW started a social media campaign to save art work, this is when it was buffed the first time. I am not sure at what point the city or LW discovered that GDOT owned the wall.

However, whether it was owned by the private property owner or GDOT, that group had no right to paint over it. In resorting to vigilante actions they took the discussion out of the hands of many much more reasonable leaders in the community. Since that point the neighborhood has been identified in articles and discussions mostly by those actions, which is a shame because there is a whole lot more to the community of Pittsburgh.

My question to dionysus is what kind of roller would you use next time you painted a wall in the hood?

I believe Roti gave Pittsburgh something more than any tool in the hands of community leaders. The fact is the arts contribute more to stabilization and gentrification of neighborhoods. I do agree with you about the stadium. The pathetic thing here too is that technically 1.5% funds for the stadium should be Percent for Art dedicated.

On a another technical note to Thom Shepard- who did the organized citizens that whitewashed the mural assumed owned the property? Living Walls may have been mistaken who owned the property but these people were organized vandals. . I believe guidelines for a civil society would have them arrested and it is shameful they were not prosecuted.

Roti’s work was removed because Living Walls did not have legal permission to paint it to begin with. They wrongly assumed the wall belonged to the adjoining property owner, not the GDOT which interestingly built interstate 85/75 thru the SE corner of the Pittsburgh community, and later the interchange expansion that prompted the building of this wall. GDOT rules are explicit and dictate that murals that cause a controversy like this must be removed. Thus because of the poor and illegal placement of this mural even a small minority of people could easily have had it removed.

The Hyuro mural on Sawtell was on private property. It was painted over by Living Walls because the property owner did not like the controversy. The community had no legal authority to have it painted over unless the city deemed it a traffic hazard, which they had not.

Similarly the Decatur mural of 2011 that caused such a public controversy (largely because of it’s intimidating size at a prominent gateway on an old historic hotel) remained because it was on private property and their was no law contrary to its painting. Similar to Chosewood Park/Lakewood Heights and Pittsburgh, some residents liked the mural and respected the artists work, but were disappointed they had no input, did not understand how the art work related to their community, or felt the massing was wrong.

So clearly, legally, the Roti mural should not have been painted in this location without proper approval, which likely would have required public input. While it is sad their was no public debate for the community before it was painted over, it likely would have made no difference.

Thanks for this. I’ve tried to take some time to think about your excellent question.

Firstly, for me, witch-burning and destroying art because someone thinks it’s demonic aren’t two distantly removed, incomparable extremes. Rather, they fall into the “too close for comfort” category! (And there are still instances where superstitious mobs enact violence against scapegoated individuals: it is not just in history). The other example I gave in that long list of parallels was not of the Holocaust, but of Holocaust denial, which, sadly, is not a historical extreme at all. It’s a present extreme which, like religious fundamentalism, one might conceivably be confronted with at any time.

When someone burns a witch, when someone denies the Holocaust, when someone destroys art because they think it’s demonic, the productive starting point is a recognition among reasonable people that this is unacceptable behavior. One should also realize that such actions as those listed above are not the precursors which set the table for democratic dialogue. One should not feel obliged to sit down with extremists and ask: What might I have done differently so that your angry mob wouldn’t have burned my mother as a witch? What can I do differently next time so that my painting won’t be mistaken for harboring demons? How can I sit down and meet the Holocaust-deniers halfway? These are not questions that the open-minded, democratic citizen asks: They’re questions that the citizen who is caving under anti-democratic extremism asks.

This was an arrogant, destructive, art-obliterating, anti-democratic, superstitious act by a tiny handful of self-righteous hucksters who in no way represented their community, its legitimate claims, or its best interests, and it deserves to be called out as such. Wagging one’s finger at those who placed the mural–who showed themselves at every possible turn as more than willing to sit down and have a dialogue with anyone and everyone at any time–seems a step in the wrong direction. Accepting these few extremists as legitimately representing an entire neighborhood’s concerns seems a step in the wrong direction. Imagining that this tiny handful of fundamentalist individuals can now be inserted into a democratic dialogue–and that this is the only way forward–is a step in the wrong direction.

Sometimes you just have to recognize that a few bad people have hurled some muck. Telling the person who’s been hit that they now have to sit down and meet with the muck-flingers is not the best template for a way forward.

The way forward looks like this: You help the muck-covered person up, you take them home, you help them wash off, you give them a nice hot cup of tea, and then you encourage them to carry on. You do this in a very simple way: You encourage them to carry on exactly as they did before, but now with the tough, smart (but hopefully never self-censoring) recognition that muck-flingers are out there.

This is the general template I propose: We should all get together and fix Living Walls a nice hot cup of tea. We should encourage them to carry on–tougher, wiser, stronger, warier, always open to the legitimate claims of those who will meet them in a fair-minded, reasonable way, more guarded perhaps, but otherwise exactly as they did before. We should always be prepared to fix the victims of political extremism and religious fundamentalism a nice hot cup of tea.

And I would argue that the template you propose where everyone comes to the table in a spirit of openness and self-examining doubt is the society we already live in, or the one we’d hoped we lived in. It’s the template Living Walls had attempted to enact from the beginning, middle and end of this debacle: it’s the one they believed they were operating in. One side simply didn’t avail themselves of that reasonable template, which is the problem of returning to it as if it alone might be the solution. It saddens me to think of Living Walls beginning next summer by sitting down with art-obliterators and asking: “Now, what sort of painting can we make that you won’t find demonic?”

In the end, it may be possible that you and I will never agree on a conceptual template that provides a model for the best way forward. But either way, I’m sure we both agree that Living Walls deserves all great things in a wonderfully productive creative future, however it might choose to proceed.

I imagine there were a thousand opinions on the vandalism of “54 Columns” just as there are about Roti. I’ve heard a wide range of opinions on the Roti debacle. I imagine it ran the gamut in both cases, though 2005 was before I covered arts in Atl, so I didn’t really have my ‘ear to the ground’ about it. On-line opinion, or even an ‘ear to the ground,’ often still doesn’t capture the diversity of opinions out there.

But I do actually think the particulars of each case are different enough to perhaps explain different reactions from others.

The vandalism of “54 Columns” was an unorganized surreptitious activity, the type of anonymous “tagging” which public art can be victim to. Roti’s work was defaced by an organized group with a particular political position. If the “54 Columns” tagger had organized a group and rushed in front of the cameras–or insisted that a government agency come bulldoze it–perhaps it might have evoked different reactions from observers. If the Roti mural had been tagged in the nighttime, it seems like it might have inspired sad shoulder shrugs, but not impassioned dialogue. If there had been an organized “Let’s destroy 54 Columns” group, I imagine the response from the artistic community would have been unequivocal and mobilized in firm opposition.

“54 Columns” was a work placed and maintained by city officials, commissioned by private individuals, created by an artist whom most Atlantans didn’t get the opportunity to meet or see at work. Living Walls is a grassroots organization, one featuring the contributions and participation of many people in the community with fun, community-building activities and events throughout the year and during an annual conference, with the visiting artist here in residency. The level of personal investment and involvement for many was much higher (and the experience was fresher) with Living Walls’ commission.

The Columns incident took place in 2005, Living Walls was 2012. The city, particularly in the realm of attitudes about public art, has changed enormously in that time, and the public simply might not have been as engaged about these issues. Different reactions might actually be evidence of a very positive change in public attitudes about public art. Roti also took place just weeks after another LW mural was painted over, so the feelings were still fresh, and the concerned public was organized, alert, and aware of how a non-proactive stance could lead to the total loss of a work. Also, social media, which wasn’t as widespread in 2005, allowed people to communicate quickly about the Roti mural.

In Roti’s case, it was discovered that the rolled on paint could wash off, and it became clear that this would have to happen quickly and with the fast assistance of a lot of people if the mural was to be saved. You can look at the 54 Columns vandalism and realize that it would take the city a $5 bucket of paint to fix the problem, and that this could happen at any time, without any assistance from anyone. The level of urgency in saving the art was not the same.

And they are, in the end, two different works of art. Some people just might like Roti better than LeWitt. And the fact that the Roti work was totally and finally destroyed doesn’t seem like something that can be easily parsed out when comparing the two different sets of reactions.

Some observers might imagine the different reactions have to do with cultural politics and that any difference in reaction is likely evidence of some nefarious bias on the part of those who reacted differently to the two events, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the case.

Speaking for myself, when I allude to two possible options for this mural with regard to the life of a democracy, the two options I refer to are not (a) destroying the mural vs. (b) keeping the mural. The two options are (a) having a productive dialogue about it vs. (b) not having a productive dialogue about it.

A productive dialogue could have gone like this: The mural would have stayed up. It would have been discussed, as evan alludes to below. It may have turned out that enough voices in the Pittsburgh community, given a chance to understand it, would have voiced support in keeping it. Or it may have turned out that Living Walls would have come to a new understanding of how people within the community read the symbols on display and voluntarily offered to amend or remove the mural as a bad fit for the community it’s in. Or a dozen other possible outcomes. It’s too late now for any of them. For either to have happened, EVERYONE involved would have had to come to the table with at least the possibility that there might be more to the story than first appeared. EVERYONE would have to meet each other from positions of doubt, not certainty. There was a time in our society when such a thing would have been more possible. Instead what we got was digging in of heels, illegal whitewashing, and some pretty incendiary language.

The argument I’ve been trying to make is about how discourse should operate in the future, not about any particular outcome for this case, which has already been settled through force.

What kind of social architecture would be the opposite of unproductive conflict that would work as a general and generalizable template? For me it should not be one based on the extremes of history (e.g., burning witches, the Holocaust), which are always exceptions to the rules. It would be one based on the real, common circumstances we confront every day, which are full of gray areas. Circumstances such as public art.

Speaking for myself, when I allude to two possible options for this mural with regard to the life of a democracy, the two options I refer to are not (a) destroying the mural vs. (b) keeping the mural. The two options are (a) having a productive dialogue about it vs. (b) not having a productive dialogue about it.

A productive dialogue could have gone like this: The mural would have stayed up. It would have been discussed, as evan alludes to below. It may have turned out that enough voices in the Pittsburgh community, given a chance to understand it, would have voiced support in keeping it. Or it may have turned out that Living Walls would have come to a new understanding of how people within the community read the symbols on display and voluntarily offered to amend or remove the mural as a bad fit for the community it’s in. Or a dozen other possible outcomes. It’s too late now for any of them. For either to have happened, EVERYONE involved would have had to come to the table with at least the possibility that there might be more to the story than first appeared. EVERYONE would have to meet each other from positions of doubt, not certainty. There was a time in our society when such a thing would have been more possible. Instead what we got was digging in of heels, illegal whitewashing, and some pretty incendiary language.

The argument I’ve been trying to make is about how discourse should operate in the future, not about any particular outcome for this case, which has already been settled through force.

What kind of social architecture would be the opposite of unproductive conflict that would work as a general and generalizable template? For me it should not be one based on the extremes of history (e.g., burning witches, the Holocaust), which are always exceptions to the rules. It would be one based on the real, common circumstances we confront every day, which are full of gray areas. Circumstances such as public art.

Both art works were seen as inconsistent with community ideals. Both were assaulted in ways that nullified the original work. Both art works were then resuscitated by washing off the paint. So the initial incidents were not identical, but quite similar nonetheless. Is it legitimate to ask why one was met with outrage by many in the art community, whereas the other was met with bemusement bordering on glee? If we consider the destruction of public art works reprehensible, why wasn’t there a spontaneous demonstration of outraged art lovers mobilized to wash off “54 Columns”? I’m honestly asking your opinion. I think it’s a legitimate question, which if you’re open to helping me puzzle it out, might yield some useful insights.

The stories diverge where a few loud Pittsburgh voices dominated the debate and GDOT snapped to remove the mural–permanently, as you point out. That’s an excellent example of what I point out in paragraph 5 of my article; the way in which a few extreme voices end up disenfranchising wider swaths of the public.

The two aren’t really parallel since the LeWitt sculpture is still there. Its possible uses and all its potentialities are still alive, as so beautifully demonstrated by performances there by gloATL the past couple summers.

“54 Columns” was temporarily degraded not destroyed, so pointing out the more vocal discussions around the Living Walls case doesn’t really highlight any sort of hypocrisy or inconsistency. There seemed little to discuss in the case of LeWitt: One said, “Vandalism is bad” or perhaps some said, “This was thought-provoking,” or some such, but then the new paint was covered over, and the art was restored to how it should have been. If it had been entirely destroyed by vandals–and if there were critics arguing, even obliquely, that such obliterative vandalism was a statement somehow in parity with its installation–I would be quite vocal about it.

It is still there, but the mural isn’t.