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Letter From MOMA

 A nice thing about marriage is that I'm reminded to go to MOMA; on my own, I would overlook this museum. Only the fifth floor calls out to me--but it really, really calls. Loudly. (It's my spouse who schedules the MOMA trips.)


The country seems so crazy. People are murdered for having loathsome opinions. Then others get confused; they think that the murder cancels out the fact that the victim held loathsome opinions. Still others tiptoe very close to a scary line--almost implying that a person *deserves* to be murdered for having loathsome opinions. In my neighborhood, people have "NO ICE" lawn signs--because there is a widespread, justified fear that various neighbors will be abducted by the government, thrown into vans, and deported.

MOMA is helpful because it takes "the long view." Specifically, Jacob Lawrence's "Great Migration" series shows people trapped in an insane situation; then, the series shows people bravely *responding* to their circumstances. The subjects of this series endure persecution in court, antagonism from "the boll weevil," economic hardship as an outgrowth of dried and spoiled crops. They move North. This isn't easy; many don't realize they are being recruited to act as strikebreakers. Soon, a housing shortage develops in the North; some Black migrants find their new homes in ruins, because of acts of firebombing. "Established" Black families are sometimes snooty toward "new" Black families. Tuberculosis becomes an issue; the death rate rises.

What makes all of this extraordinary is Lawrence's ambivalence. He isn't saying that there is an easy solution to the problem that is human life. He is just saying, "Look at how people struggle and adapt--in an unusual situation."

These are my favorite images at MOMA, because of the artist's sense of clarity and his wisdom. I'd like to go back.










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