With reference to Dr Giuseppe Schembri Bonaci’s letter entitled “Saatchi and Malta, or Tracey Emin and the Maltese Church” (TMIS, 19 June), allow me to express my opinion on the situation of modernist art vis-à-vis the Church and culture in today’s Malta. Although I totally agree with Dr Schembri Bonaci that up to the 1960s the Maltese Church had a tremendous influence on art, providing the main source of living for local artists, and that it presented an almost insurmountable obstacle for the introduction of modernism on the island because of the strong grip it had on the Maltese society, I personally don’t find this argument applicable in today’s situation.

First of all, the Church is definitely no longer the principal work provider for artists, and it is clear that the number of artistic commissions for churches has diminished drastically since the 1970s. Moreover, it is obvious that most artistic projects in churches today do not enjoy the same popularity and social prestige that such works brought to Emvin Cremona in the 60s. In fact, apart from Austin Camilleri’s “Via Sacra” for the Church of the Divine Mercy at San Pawl tat-Targa, most of the new works that crop up in churches from time to time, rarely get any publicity in the mass media and surely get less reviews on newspapers compared to other exhibits organised at the National Museum of Fine Arts, St James Cavalier or any other prominent venue.

Secondly, it is evident that the potent influence the Church had on society up till the first half of the 20th century has slowly diminished from the 1960s onwards. The 1962 election characterised by blackmailing, excommunication, deprival of Holy Communion and absolution, and threats of committing moral sin, ended up with Mintoff being the most voted single candidate and with 33.8 per cent of the Maltese population showing stronger allegiance to their political party rather than to the Church. The Church started to lose control on the people’s private life and political parties slowly began to eat away the importance the Church had for the masses. Weekly Mass attendance has declined from 100 per cent in the 1960s to 50 per cent in 2005. Finally, a few months ago, the majority of voters voted in favour of the introduction of divorce. Moreover, this time round there were no fervent manifestations by some religious communities as seen in the 60s with church bells ringing to disrupt meetings. On the contrary, this time round the Curia tried as much as possible not to fall in the same traps and mistakes of 50 years ago and immediately investigated reports of misdeeds by the clergy.

This less aggressive attitude of the Church, obviously dictated by its diminishing ability to control society, is evident also vis-à-vis the arts. The debates on George Preca’s Crucifixion (1946-47) or Carmelo Mangion’s Virgin Mary with red lipstick and nail polish (Thy Will be Done, 1960s) are very unlikely to happen again today and it is almost impossible that in today’s Malta a work of art would arouse religiously driven protests and acts of violence as those created by the sketch of Mohammed published in a Danish newspaper. In the last couple of years, we saw a variety of art works that had the potential to arouse similar reactions to that achieved by the Jyllands-Posten cartoon illustrations: Pierre Portelli’s ‘Virgin Mary’ made out of chewing gum (Rosa Miastica, 2001), Austin Camilleri’s Statue of the Virgin wrapped in plastic (spiritperkilo, 2001) or his baby-headed rosary beads displayed on a nude model (Zyra Series, 2001), Raphael Vella’s juxtaposition of religious symbols with violent images (Reading Cabinets, 2008) Martin Attard’s cartoonised biblical episodes (+IESUS+, 2010), black-melting crucifixes, a half eaten chocolate in the form of Baby Jesus, clergymen communicating with the devil and various others. None of these examples created any religious outcry whatsoever and surely not because they were less provocative compared to Mohammed’s sketch. As a matter of fact, what caused shock was the statue of Mary covered with a yellow cloth at a voting polling booth in the last referendum on divorce and not Austin’s Spiritperkilo, although not very different in aesthetics, thus revealing that the majority of the people understand that works of art commenting on religious issues should be looked at and understood as art.

On the other hand, in the last couple of years there were various episodes of artistic censorship, which sparked off quite a debate both from the pro and anti-censorship fronts, generally resulting in weeks’ long reportage in local newspapers and ending up in the typical discussion on the usual Friday night talk show. One need only mention the censorship sagas of Raphael Vella’s Pornopolitics exhibition, the play Stitching, the university newspaper ‘Ir-Realta’ and the related court case against the publisher and writer of the short story ‘Li tkisser sewwi’, the banning of two paintings by the Macedonian artist Aleksandar Stankovski from a Gozo Arts Festival exhibition because they were deemed too erotic, as well as the ridiculous case of the undressed mannequins at a Mosta shop that were being displayed to raise awareness on sex trafficking. Moreover, if by any chance, some organisation should have the crazy idea to set up an exhibition with Tracy Emin’s masturbation works, I am pretty sure that it would encounter the same destiny.

Facts reveal that religious institutions had nothing to do with the censorship cases above. Instead, the ban was put into force by government institutions and higher educational institutions and the famous spell word “someone influential reported this” are recurrent in most cases. Not surprising at all since this is Malta’s new establishment and it is always the establishment of the moment which feels threatened by anything that may alter its status. Sexually provocative art is threatening because it challenges the image of correctness and elite-ness that the Maltese establishment wants to portray: these themes are ‘too dirty’, ‘too hamalli’, ‘too anti-establishment’ to be permitted by the present establishment.

However, the article reveals a paradox, as Dr Schembri Bonaci himself states, between the willingness to combat the establishment and the refusal to consider the same art needed in such a mission as art. He refers to the work at the Saatchi exhibition as rubbish anti-art because these lack the process of mystification: “There is no mystery here, only fragmented heaps”. I actually find that it is this lack of mystification and vulgar straightforwardness that make the works exhibited in the Saatchi exhibition contemporary and relevant to society. There is no space for mysticism when the demise of more than 3000 people crushed to death by falling debris (9/11), was aired live on TV, or when almost 14 million perish every year, victims of just one STD. The ‘fragmented heaps’, the ‘rubbish’, Buggenhout’s twisted steel and wood covered by blood, De Bruyckere’s deformed human forms, Altmejd’s rotten erotic forms and Emin’s masturbation and abortion Trauma works, are the result of the failure and delusion of an excessively consumerist and value-less society. Rather than “an art which arrogantly ignores the needs of the masses,” I feel that it is an art that portrays contemporary preoccupations without veils, and self-censorship. Dr Schembri Bonaci has all the valid reasons and justifications to call Tracy Emin’s and works of others as anti-art, but in any case, the works exhibited at Saatchi exhibition are surely the art of a disheartened society, the art of the anti-establishment.

U. Buttigieg

MSIDA