Art in America

In her review of “Theater of Operations: The Gulf Wars 1991–2011,” a remarkably timely exhibition on view at MoMA PS1 in Queens through March 1, Rahel Aima discusses how artists in the US, Europe, and the Middle East responded to two decades of intermittent warfare in Iraq. As a new stage in this protracted conflict unfolds, artistic patrimony itself has become a target. When we were finishing work on the February issue last month, Donald Trump was doubling down on tweeted threats to destroy cultural sites in Iran should that country retaliate for the brazen killing of one of its top military leaders in Baghdad.

The work of contemporary artists responding to conflict at MoMA PS1 offers a poignant reminder that culture is more than a collection of artifacts that require protection; it’s a living force, created by living people who are under threat—or part of the society doing the threatening.

I’m struck by how militaristic imagery weaves its way throughout the February issue, often appearing in unexpected places. Photographer Judy Linn, the subject of an interview by Steel Stillman, is best known for chronicling New York’s bohemia in the ‘70s. But among her most affecting works is a shot of soldiers in full combat gear who look overjoyed teaching a young boy how to handle a rifle. Various depictions of militarized borders appear in a trio of recent exhibitions on the subject of migration, reviewed in this issue by Greg Afinogenov, who argues that the shows actually downplay the policy decisions that cause violence against migrants.

War has saturated the culture. Artists register the effects of conflict, even when not making direct reference to it. Art provides an immediate outlet for reflection and serves as a lasting record that just might provide some guidance (or solace) for the future. The 1995 painting by Susan Crile that appears on the cover, part of a series that includes work shown in “Theater of Operations,” accomplishes a bit of both. Crile’s depiction of a Kuwaiti oil field aflame, based on firsthand observation, is a primary document of a catastrophe nearly three decades past. It is also, I fear, a searing image of the present.

—William S. Smith