Back when I worked for the NEH, we used to joke about some of the art funded by our sister organization, the NEA. When I was joking about it, it was more in the sense of the absurdity of what was given money or what was considered art. I don't think I had ever thought about how someone's art could potentially be hurtful--emotionally--to another person. Cathartic, yes. Difficult in the sense that it dredged up huge emotions, yes. But making them profoundly uncomfortable without anything gained from the experience--no, I had never considered that when I was mocking some of the art project funding. And I'm sure some of those projects did.
Please do not click on this link and read this article if you are not in a good emotional space right now. When I tell you that I found it disturbing, I am telling you that my stomach hurts and I feel profoundly uncomfortable in my own skin. That I feel somewhat irresponsible sharing it because I know how much it upset me. And I can't even put why into words right now. I plan on writing about this later when I can collect my thoughts and not respond while crying.
This isn't about being pro-Choice or pro-Life. This is simply about turning what is still the hardest thing I've ever experienced and pretending that it's art.