COUNTERPUNCH

After nearly two decades of art in response to HIV and AIDS, there is no known cure, proving Christopher Knight’s assertion that art does not heal (“What Exactly Can Art Heal?,” Nov. 4). Yet I refuse to believe that the artistic outpourings surrounding this plague are without healing powers.

First, one must define art. Since we all possess our own notions of what constitutes art, Knight’s idea of art may not be yours or mine. A response to art--whether it’s Van Gogh or “Gone With the Wind”--is utterly subjective.

One assumes that art is created with as much purpose as passion. Is art intended to entertain or challenge? Soothe or stimulate? Is there a correlation between art’s merit and its emotional content? Is something deemed beautiful because it intensifies our feelings? Does the value of art have anything to do with its cathartic component? Or is art only art if it’s a masterpiece?

These are questions that Knight, in his slightly superior thesis, fails to address. His pronouncement--art is without healing powers--is delivered with authority but little analysis.

In 1985 I created an organization, Artists Confronting AIDS, with a mission to create art that would provide an outlet for unexpressed feelings of grief, rage, sadness and despair that accompanied a disease often cloaked in secrecy and shame. Our first theatrical production, “AIDS/US,” presented 13 individuals affected by the disease, sharing their first-person stories with an audience. They were not trained actors. They were often not great writers. Only a couple of them possessed charisma.

Yet the energy that bounced back and forth from the stage into the audience was undeniably powerful, often enriching the lives of the participants. While one might aptly describe the communication as a “religious experience,” does that necessarily make it art? And if it isn’t art, what is it? Community theater? Social services? Group therapy? If we believe that unresolved and unexpressed emotions can be physiologically debilitating, is the unleashing of one’s feelings a healthy thing to do? Healing, in fact? Was “AIDS/US” art or not?

Art addressing AIDS abounded, especially in the early days of the disease’s unraveling. Perhaps the AIDS Memorial Quilt is the best example of an artistic response of monumental proportions. A piece of decorated fabric that summons the intricacies and intimacies of an entire life--is that not art? While each panel is executed with distinction, from effulgently evocative to downright tacky, as a whole it is a landmark artistic triumph. Raw and elegant, complex yet ordinary, it is a shimmering display of humanity. But is it art? Is it healing? Who has the right to say that it isn’t?

Knight dismisses the theory that art has the therapeutic force to heal in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks. Healing is a process, often propelled by the voices of artists. No one is suggesting that art can provide an instantaneous miracle cure, but it can surely enhance the process of healing.

While I agree with Knight that the “failure of politics” is often “at the root” of tragedies like the nightmare of Sept. 11 (and the AIDS crisis), I do not agree that arts institutions in search of funding are guilty of cashing in on a national crisis. Perhaps this is a case where art can ultimately impact the failure of politics. If one believes that creating change is part of art’s purposefulness, that is.

Knight, determinedly cynical, concludes that art is “amoral” and that its “essential ‘goodness’ is political fiction.” I would suggest that perhaps art is essentially neither good nor bad, and no matter how much its impact can be debated, it deserves to be funded. One could also argue that the critical de-funding of arts in America, based largely on a presumption of art’s essential badness, is indeed political fiction.

My HIV-positive status was confirmed in 1989. I would attribute my ongoing good health to science (thank you, protease inhibitors) but also to the life-changing effects of art. While the virus remains in my body, I’ve been able to thrive--as an observer and creator of art. Even in the presence of death, art has proven to be a healing phenomenon--in my world, anyway.