Curators Statement:
Explosions are an unfortunate part of our visual vernacular. For many, after 2001 every explosion–real or Hollywood–was a raw,fresh, anxious sorrow.
While some of those explosions became as iconic as mushroom clouds. Others were televised so often that they faded from horror to banality. We cease to see them. Art lets us see them again and although they are processed and seen from a distance, we truly look.
Yet while explosions are devastating unto themselves there is a perverse beauty to the visual experience. We watch the flash and the smoke rising and billowing. If separated from tragedy, it is mesmerizing.
As a culture we celebrate that fascination every Fourth of July when fireworks offer us a bloodless, joyful reminder of freedom earned.
It comes as no surprise that politics and religion try to exploit or explain our seemingly inherent fascination. Burnt offerings carry sacrifices to heaven in smoke and the story of the profit Elijah who called for God to send fire and accept his sacrifice is shared by Jews, Muslims and Christians. Censers burn in cathedrals and in Jewish, Buddhist and Taoist temples, where the rising smoke is symbolic of prayers rising to heaven.
Where there’s smoke you’ll find our greatest yearnings and our worst actions.