“Is the Nightmare Black or Are the Windows Painted…”
I created this video eleven and a half years ago. Much like this morning, I sat down with a cup of coffee. Like I have mentioned a few times before, I like my quiet mornings. On that morning, the quiet was disrupted by a program I was watching. That program was “Sunday Morning” on CBS.
On that day, the discussion was about Otto Dix. That was my introduction to Otto Dix, an artist and World War I veteran. That morning, I recall being transfixed by the disturbing images. Generally, I am not a fan of disturbing art or film, but this came with explanation about the artist himself. He fought in WWI, and was disturbed by images that he had witnessed. He was also disturbed by the bizarre nature of German culture between the wars. The society suffered from many ills, and the disturbing images communicated an important aspect of the experience of the times.
This morning at 5am, I feel fortunate to still have quiet outside of my house. As I sat down with my coffee, and turned on the news, I saw bizarre images of people furtively seeking shelter from Russian rockets in Lviv, Ukraine. It was noon in Lviv when it was 5am in my town, so it was a bright, clear day. Probably half of the people in the video were streaming into a public bomb shelter. The other half were going about their business of the day. It seemed relatively ordinary, but with a couple of scoops of anxiety added. Their walking paces were just slightly faster than normal, while not running. The older people could only manage their regular pace. One old man and woman walked along with a Labrador retriever on a leash. The anxiety of the people on the street was palpable. And, while this was going on, there was a middle aged woman in the middle of the square doing what the reported described as “dancing”. She was doing a childlike demonstration of an airplane with her arms straight out to her sides, and swirling and circling, in some sort of mindless play, as if to deny that the city was under attack from the air. The stark contrast made me think of the Otto Dix collection of images which showed the fraying, crumbling psychology of people under stress.
02/25/2022 @ 11:06 am
This is my introduction to Otto Dix and it is deeply disturbing.
We seem now to be in the midst of “the fraying, crumbling psychology of people under stress.”
I am here today because my grandfather in a siege of prescience grabbed his wife and fled to the USA in 1908. My father was born two years later in Wisconsin and learned English in 1915 when he began school.
I became embarrassed to be German when I learned of the holocaust as a child. It was a quiet embarrassment. Yet, at age 12 I found myself physically defending a young girl in my school who had arrived from Germany. She had been surrounded on the playground by four of my “friends” who were shoving her back and forth, taunting her with names, the grandest insult being “Nazi”.
It was preposterous, mean spirited and incomprehensible to me. None of them, to the best of my knowledge knew what they were saying but the damage they were inflicting was not tied to reality. I knew it was tied to their perceptions, imaginations and self-designated righteousness.
It was too much to watch.
I stepped in and began punching and flailing at my “friends” to stop them. Playground teachers ran to us, blowing whistles and pulled us apart. I received a good few punches while throwing as many as I could. We were all assigned to detention and ordered to write apologies about the incident and to each other. I refused and never relented.
My father, upon hearing my confession after school to him that I got in trouble, listened and then asked about my apology. When he learned I would not give one, he gave me a strange look and then told me that I had to maintain that position, in his 1960’s dad fashion and not give in. “Then you need to stick to your guns.” He said apologies were meaningless if not sincere. “If you don’t mean it, then don’t say it.”
I knew it was an order.
A hand on the shoulder led me to the dinner table. It was never discussed again.
03/12/2022 @ 4:36 pm
Courageous intervention, Art. I pray the delicate victim does not endure night terror. Scars that won’t heal and all that.
03/13/2022 @ 8:29 pm
Thanks JPH,
If I stand outside the story and look in, it does seem somewhat courageous for a 12 year old boy, but can tell you that from what I had been taught, that it was not a moment with any choice attached.
03/13/2022 @ 8:30 pm
Thanks JPH,
If I stand outside the story and look in, it does seem somewhat courageous for a 12 year old boy, but can tell you that from what I had been taught, that it was not a moment with any choice attached.