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Public Planet Books
Whose Art Is It?
Whose Art Is It? is the story of sculptor John Ahearn, a white artist in a black and Hispanic neighborhood of the South Bronx, and of the people he cast for a series of public sculptures commissioned for an intersection outside a police station. Jane Kramer, telling this story, raises one of the most urgent questions of our How do we live in a society we share with people who are, often by their own definitions, "different?" Ahearn’s subjects were "not the best of the neighborhood." They were a junkie, a hustler, and a street kid. Their images sparked a controversy throughout the community—and New York itself—over issues of white representations of people of color and the appropriateness of particular images as civic art. The sculptures, cast in bronze and painted, were up for only five days before Ahearn removed them.
This compelling narrative raises questions about community and public art policies, about stereotypes and multiculturalism. With wit, drama, sympathy, and circumspection, Kramer draws the reader into the multicultural debate, challenging our assumptions about art, image, and their relation to community. Her portrait of the South Bronx takes the argument to its grass roots—provocative, surprising in its contradictions and complexities and not at all easy to resolve.
Accompanied by an introduction by Catharine R. Stimpson exploring the issues of artistic freedom, "political correctness," and multiculturalism, Whose Art Is It? is a lively and accessible introduction to the ongoing debate on representation and private expression in the public sphere.
This compelling narrative raises questions about community and public art policies, about stereotypes and multiculturalism. With wit, drama, sympathy, and circumspection, Kramer draws the reader into the multicultural debate, challenging our assumptions about art, image, and their relation to community. Her portrait of the South Bronx takes the argument to its grass roots—provocative, surprising in its contradictions and complexities and not at all easy to resolve.
Accompanied by an introduction by Catharine R. Stimpson exploring the issues of artistic freedom, "political correctness," and multiculturalism, Whose Art Is It? is a lively and accessible introduction to the ongoing debate on representation and private expression in the public sphere.
- GenresArtNonfiction
132 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1994
About the author
Jane Kramer
34 books16 followers Jane Kramer has been a staff writer at The New Yorker since 1964 and has written the Letter from Europe since 1981.
Before joining the magazine, Kramer was a staff writer for the Village Voice; her first book, “Off Washington Square,” is a collection of her articles from that paper. She has published two collections of essays from The New Yorker, “Allen Ginsberg in America,” (1969) and “Honor to the Bride,” (1970), which was based on her experiences in Morocco in the late nineteen-sixties.
Since 1970, most of Kramer’s work for the magazine has covered various aspects of European culture, politics, and social history. Many of these articles have been collected in three books: “Unsettling Europe,” (1980); “Europeans,” (1988), which won the Prix Européen de l’Essai “Charles Veillon” and was nominated for the National Book Critics Circle award for nonfiction; and “The Politics of Memory: Looking for Germany in the New Germany,” (1996).
A notable exception to Kramer’s European reporting was her 1977 Profile of the pseudonymous Texan Henry Blanton. It was later published as a book, “The Last Cowboy,” (1977), which won the American Book Award for nonfiction. Parts of her book “Lone Patriot,” (2002), on the right-wing American militia leader John Pitner, also first appeared in the magazine. Her article on multiculturalism and political correctness, “Whose Art Is It?,” won the 1993 National Magazine Award for feature writing and was published as a book in 1994.
Jane Kramer lives in Paris, New York, and Umbria, Italy.
Before joining the magazine, Kramer was a staff writer for the Village Voice; her first book, “Off Washington Square,” is a collection of her articles from that paper. She has published two collections of essays from The New Yorker, “Allen Ginsberg in America,” (1969) and “Honor to the Bride,” (1970), which was based on her experiences in Morocco in the late nineteen-sixties.
Since 1970, most of Kramer’s work for the magazine has covered various aspects of European culture, politics, and social history. Many of these articles have been collected in three books: “Unsettling Europe,” (1980); “Europeans,” (1988), which won the Prix Européen de l’Essai “Charles Veillon” and was nominated for the National Book Critics Circle award for nonfiction; and “The Politics of Memory: Looking for Germany in the New Germany,” (1996).
A notable exception to Kramer’s European reporting was her 1977 Profile of the pseudonymous Texan Henry Blanton. It was later published as a book, “The Last Cowboy,” (1977), which won the American Book Award for nonfiction. Parts of her book “Lone Patriot,” (2002), on the right-wing American militia leader John Pitner, also first appeared in the magazine. Her article on multiculturalism and political correctness, “Whose Art Is It?,” won the 1993 National Magazine Award for feature writing and was published as a book in 1994.
Jane Kramer lives in Paris, New York, and Umbria, Italy.
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
October 1, 2026
I should not be that surprised by what books I find in my local neighbourhood libraries after a few years but I have to admit that this one has. Why would a 132-page book, published by Duke University Press, as part of something called The Public Planet Books series, in 1994 be in with a bunch of commercial crime novels and chick lit? And in a Brisbane suburb? I of course could not resist this and have knocked it off in 24 hours.
This event was apparently a local issue about art in the South Bronx so this is as niche as it gets for a suburban reader with a curious mind from Brisbane, Qld, Australia, a long way from New York.
In a nutshell in 1986, the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs commissioned a Bronx sculptor of some repute, John Ahearn, to create a public art installation outside the 44th Police Precinct station house in the South Bronx. Ahearn, a white artist who lived and worked in the neighbourhood and had done for over a decade, He liked to make collaborative casts of local residents in plaster, painting them, and then firing them in bronze. For the station house, Ahearn selected three local figures, Raymond with his pit bull Toby, Corey and a young girl Takiya.
When the three bronze statues were installed in 1991, there was immediate backlash with community activists argued that the statues reinforced damaging, racialised stereotypes of low-income Black and Latino youth, presenting a bleak vision and to make matters worse right outside a police station. Recognising the criticism as valid, Ahearn voluntarily removed the sculptures at his own expense just five days after the unveiling.
Author Jane Kramers approaches this controversy with little moral judgement, letting the story tell itself. She tells of the tensions between Ahearn’s sincere, empathetic intentions and the community’s protective response to how they were represented in civic space.
In hindsight the Introduction should have been an Afterword. I think the story may have been better served. Be that as it may it is a very thought-provoking intro by someone called Catharine R. Stimpson. She provides critical theory drawing on many other literary theorists and frames the event not as a simple failure of public art or a case of "censorship," but as a kind of breakdown in understanding the value of art. She says that artist value is never intrinsic or permanent, it is constantly re-evaluated across changing social, economic, and institutional conditions. This is where I found what she had to say interesting because this is still a debate to this day as to the value of art in the local community.
I found Stimpson’s observations that modern society relies on a shared "common language" hence as historical and civic literacy wanes, commercial culture, mass media, sports, and consumer icons become the default vocabulary that unites fragmented communities. When art enters the public square without this easy-to-understand group language, it can trigger defensive tribalism. We are a tribalistic species so this made sense to me as even something as abstract as art that is unfamiliar or confronting, communities naturally retreat into a defensive position against perceived outside judgement.
Though this is about a niche social history in 1990s New York, the read, to me at least, illustrated how no matter how well-meaning an artist's intentions may be, artistic expression can clash with perceived community dignity, how public space was actually then fragile and still remains that way and how even with representation in negotiation with many in the community use of this space for art or anything else for that matter can be fraught with people offended.
If I can use an example in Brisbane the brutalist architecture at the South Bank precinct. Designed by Robin Gibson, this received huge criticism and the buildings were dismissed as cold, windowless concrete. Nowadays, I come across no one who makes negative comment about its design. Its now green and shady and can give shelter from the baking Brisbane summer sun. The precinct is regularly packed with families, bike riders, and picnickers, as well as those seeking art, culture, and time at the state museum and library, and all this has received heritage recognition.
As an outsider looking in from far away, this was a surprisingly compelling read. It made me think that we will never please everyone when it comes to civic arts, designs etc. That it is far better to open a thoughtful dialogue about these matters rather than resorting to emotive language over what are, at their core, subjective aesthetic opinions.
This event was apparently a local issue about art in the South Bronx so this is as niche as it gets for a suburban reader with a curious mind from Brisbane, Qld, Australia, a long way from New York.
In a nutshell in 1986, the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs commissioned a Bronx sculptor of some repute, John Ahearn, to create a public art installation outside the 44th Police Precinct station house in the South Bronx. Ahearn, a white artist who lived and worked in the neighbourhood and had done for over a decade, He liked to make collaborative casts of local residents in plaster, painting them, and then firing them in bronze. For the station house, Ahearn selected three local figures, Raymond with his pit bull Toby, Corey and a young girl Takiya.
When the three bronze statues were installed in 1991, there was immediate backlash with community activists argued that the statues reinforced damaging, racialised stereotypes of low-income Black and Latino youth, presenting a bleak vision and to make matters worse right outside a police station. Recognising the criticism as valid, Ahearn voluntarily removed the sculptures at his own expense just five days after the unveiling.
Author Jane Kramers approaches this controversy with little moral judgement, letting the story tell itself. She tells of the tensions between Ahearn’s sincere, empathetic intentions and the community’s protective response to how they were represented in civic space.
In hindsight the Introduction should have been an Afterword. I think the story may have been better served. Be that as it may it is a very thought-provoking intro by someone called Catharine R. Stimpson. She provides critical theory drawing on many other literary theorists and frames the event not as a simple failure of public art or a case of "censorship," but as a kind of breakdown in understanding the value of art. She says that artist value is never intrinsic or permanent, it is constantly re-evaluated across changing social, economic, and institutional conditions. This is where I found what she had to say interesting because this is still a debate to this day as to the value of art in the local community.
I found Stimpson’s observations that modern society relies on a shared "common language" hence as historical and civic literacy wanes, commercial culture, mass media, sports, and consumer icons become the default vocabulary that unites fragmented communities. When art enters the public square without this easy-to-understand group language, it can trigger defensive tribalism. We are a tribalistic species so this made sense to me as even something as abstract as art that is unfamiliar or confronting, communities naturally retreat into a defensive position against perceived outside judgement.
Though this is about a niche social history in 1990s New York, the read, to me at least, illustrated how no matter how well-meaning an artist's intentions may be, artistic expression can clash with perceived community dignity, how public space was actually then fragile and still remains that way and how even with representation in negotiation with many in the community use of this space for art or anything else for that matter can be fraught with people offended.
If I can use an example in Brisbane the brutalist architecture at the South Bank precinct. Designed by Robin Gibson, this received huge criticism and the buildings were dismissed as cold, windowless concrete. Nowadays, I come across no one who makes negative comment about its design. Its now green and shady and can give shelter from the baking Brisbane summer sun. The precinct is regularly packed with families, bike riders, and picnickers, as well as those seeking art, culture, and time at the state museum and library, and all this has received heritage recognition.
As an outsider looking in from far away, this was a surprisingly compelling read. It made me think that we will never please everyone when it comes to civic arts, designs etc. That it is far better to open a thoughtful dialogue about these matters rather than resorting to emotive language over what are, at their core, subjective aesthetic opinions.
October 13, 2013
Whose Art Is It? started out interesting, and slowly became tedious. I guess I didn't realize I was in for an excruciatingly detailed account of the whole John Ahearn bronzes "scandal" (if you can call it that...). I also got annoyed because I felt like the author, Jane Kramer, was quite apologetic to John. It seems John was innocent because he didn't think people would be angry and it wasn't his intent to create negative and stereotypical monuments. Not that she discounted why people might have been offended by the bronzes, but it felt clear to me that she didn't sympathize with them much.
Kramer raises (or her writing raised in me) some excellent questions though, such as: who is the "community"? Is "political correctness" a type of censorship? Who can be an advocate for who? Does it matter the context and intent from which an artist produces a work? Should art be colorblind or raceless? (Toni Morrison has something to say about that on page 46...) What problems arise out of artistic partnerships? Should an artist ever compromise his or her vision to make others “happy”? Where does an artist’s creative freedom end, or does it? What needs to be done to create multicultural art, is it possible, or is it desirable?
The overall conclusion of the book was that John wasn’t “wrong” to represent his neighbors, or to think he had the right to try. Sure, of course not, but I do think Kramer does a nice job to complicate this conclusion by bringing up issues about works being “site specific” (125) and the value of prior consultation of involved parties (116).
Definitely recommend for a reader interested in race and censorship issues
Kramer raises (or her writing raised in me) some excellent questions though, such as: who is the "community"? Is "political correctness" a type of censorship? Who can be an advocate for who? Does it matter the context and intent from which an artist produces a work? Should art be colorblind or raceless? (Toni Morrison has something to say about that on page 46...) What problems arise out of artistic partnerships? Should an artist ever compromise his or her vision to make others “happy”? Where does an artist’s creative freedom end, or does it? What needs to be done to create multicultural art, is it possible, or is it desirable?
The overall conclusion of the book was that John wasn’t “wrong” to represent his neighbors, or to think he had the right to try. Sure, of course not, but I do think Kramer does a nice job to complicate this conclusion by bringing up issues about works being “site specific” (125) and the value of prior consultation of involved parties (116).
Definitely recommend for a reader interested in race and censorship issues
November 15, 2010
This is exactly the kind of piece/book I want to write. Compelling, subtle yet meaty, and stylistically great.
December 10, 2007
This is an awesome book. But, I would recommend skipping the introductory essay. It's very dense and academic. Get right to the juicy meat of the Kramer's fascinating story. THEN, go back and masticate on the tougher flesh of the intro.
Kramer serves up a case study of public art being installed in the Bronx, and then being taken down in a few days by the artist's request. Who has the right to determine what art goes where? The points-of-view of the artist, a Bronx neighborhood activist, the subjects of the sculpture, and city bureaucrats are all represented. It's a quick read, and you will walk away with an opinion. Hopefully, you'll look at your home's public art in a different way...if you've been noticing it at all.
Kramer serves up a case study of public art being installed in the Bronx, and then being taken down in a few days by the artist's request. Who has the right to determine what art goes where? The points-of-view of the artist, a Bronx neighborhood activist, the subjects of the sculpture, and city bureaucrats are all represented. It's a quick read, and you will walk away with an opinion. Hopefully, you'll look at your home's public art in a different way...if you've been noticing it at all.
Did Not Finish
May 17, 2015Not written in a style that interests me - seems like a New Yorker article made into a miniature book-length prose piece. Nonetheless, topic seems interesting and continually relevant.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews