This is my first diary here. I've decided to write it after viewing the images in clone12' diary, "
A Norman Rockwell Moment Happened at Bush's Pep Rally... And the Crowd Booed" and the action it prompted me to take.
The juxtaposed images in clone12's diary of Harry Taylor with the Norman Rockwell painting, "Free Speech", called to mind Robert Shetterly's portrait series, "Americans Who Tell the Truth", the most familiar of which to many folks here may be his portrait of Cindy Sheehan. His paintings incorporate both the words and portraits of his subjects and so they speek a dual language of truth (I can't figure out how to post an image in this diary but posted a thumnail of Cindy's portrait w/ my comment at clone12's entry, so you can see it by going there).
More on the flip . . .
After writing my comment I felt the urge to share Harry Taylor's story and clone12's images with Robert Shetterly, so I googled him, found his site and emailed him, and he kindly emailed me back. Among other things, he shared with me an editorial he'd written to the newspaper explaining why he and other activists recently interrupted a lecture given Susan Collins, their senator from Maine.
In my email to Mr. Shetterly I explained that his portraits have often re-inspired me when I start to feel discouraged by the shameful government actions Harry Taylor addressed. Reading diaries here at DKos is another place I turn to for uplift.
You have shared so much useful information, done and passed on so much thorough research, worked so hard to create a space where citizens can become fully informed.
With Robert Shetterly's permission I'm sharing his Letter to the Editor in hopes of passing on a bit of uplift as my way of saying "thank you" . . . (and I hope you'll visit his site and check out when a touring exhibit of his portraits may be coming somewhere near you.)
On Interrupting Susan Collins
Why would a group of normally polite adults choose to interrupt their Senator, Susan Collins, as she delivers a lecture called "The Ethics of Conscience: Continuing the Legacy of Margaret Chase Smith"? I'm sure a few Mainers might be wondering. The solemn setting, introductions by the President of UMO and leaders of the Margaret Chase Smith Center, the bouquets of red and white roses at the foot of the lectern in honor of the memory of Senator Smith, Ms. Collins herself all business in a rust colored suit, conscientious and earnest, speaking of integrity, police all over the place --- who would want to flaunt disrespect in the face of such propriety and high seriousness?
Well, I would, although it goes against everything my good parents taught me. And if I were the speaker in such a setting, I'd be embarrassed to be interrupted.
But sometimes it is the only way.
Let's say a king, who has committed crimes --- terrible, bloody crimes --- dresses himself up in ceremonial splendor, --- ruby be-jeweled crown, ermine robes --- to deliver a pious address in an august cathedral about respect for life. Nay, more than respect for life, about ethical behavior par excellence, modeled on the saints of the past, those saints immortalized as granite statues in niches of the sacristy. And, let's say, he enshrines himself as one of the saints. And, moreover, the populace, the credulous, fearful, celebrity worshiping people, is awed by the spectacle, accepting that there is no distinction between splendor and virtue. If pomp and power decree their goodness, it must be so!
This is beginning to sound like a children's book, isn't it? And we're all assuming that when we turn the page, a little girl in rags with smudges on her cheeks will walk right up to the king in the pulpit towering above her like a ship over a bobbing cork, and the plucky girl will pipe, "Hypocrisy!" in a tiny, shrill voice that echoes all around the church, bouncing off cold stone and shocked faces. We notice the huge, grisly, sneering guards with their double-bladed battle axes leaning forward. A long silence. Now what? Our hearts are filled with trepidation but also gratitude for the girl's chutzpa. Relief, too, that the truth has been spoken.
OK. It wasn't like that. Susan Collins is not the king. Merely an apologist. And the police were friendly. We were in Hauck Auditorium, not Notre Dame. We didn't shout, "Hypocrisy!" We said, "Our country, its ideals, its integrity, its people and its soldiers have been betrayed by an administration that lied about the reasons for the Attack on Iraq.
Senator Collins, we cannot understand how you could make any claim of either ethics or conscience unless you repudiate this administration.
Otherwise, you are complicit in their crimes against humanity.
Margaret Chase Smith would have done so long ago."
Recently, I've been reading a lot about Frederick Douglass, the escaped slave, who made himself into one of America's greatest 19th Century orators and activists for emancipation and women's rights. He knew all about the bloody gap between what America said about equality and justice and what it really did, and he knew what needed to be done to close that gap. Frederick Douglass said, "Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have found the exact measure of injustice and wrong that will be imposed on them."
And, like Martin Luther King, Jr., Douglass so loved the ideals of the country that he wanted it to be the country that it dreamed of being. He knew that promise required militancy and love. The ideals validated his struggle and sacrifice.
The simple reason that we had to have the effrontery to interrupt Senator Collins' speech was because she did not have the effrontery to object when she found out that President Bush lied to her. She quietly submitted. The public servant failed the people. If we are indeed a country of, by and for the people, we the people have to interrupt the proceedings, remove the polite mask of propriety, and refuse to be complicit in actions that bring shame on us all.
Robert Shetterly
Brooksville, Maine