The Getty Museum
March 2003
by Jason Thornberry

I’ve heard so many great things about the J. Paul Getty Museum in Los Angeles, California. I just couldn’t wait to see it. The exhibit I saw was the Orazio Gentileschi exhibit. I spent the majority of my time staring, first in disbelief, then astonishment, and finally in despairing comprehension at the paintings most of my fellow patrons were making ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’ at, and pointing excitedly, so their children would better comprehend what they were meant to be looking at themselves.

The explicit, grotesque portrayals of Jesus Christ, his mother Mary, Saint James, Saint Matthew, Saint Bartholemew, John the Baptist, John the Evangelist, the Adulteress, Joseph, the Holy Family, David, Isaiah, Potiphar’s wife (whoever she was, as I don’t actually remember a Potiphar), the Hermit Saints, and countless other unidentified, miscellaneous sacred types with milky white skin and (usually) blue eyes would lead any five-year-old to assume that these individuals all came from Italy, France, or other countries the Caucasians derive from – none of which are, incidentally, anywhere near the Middle East, where quite a lot of the Biblical legends took place.

It all underwhelmed and sickened me. It’s precisely where this whole notion and/or myth of White Supremacy gets it’s petroleum from. I spent four years in private Christian schools praying to a blue-eyed Jesus. I assumed that because he looked just like me (minus the locks), he must be English too.

Jesus was laughingly referred to as The King of The Jews when the crown of thorns was placed on his head, yet, in nearly every picture, painting, sculpture, and figurine I’ve ever seen he looks more like Ted Nugent to me right after a big concert in the 1970’s, about to go snort some cocaine and screw a groupie. I think Ted’s family is Danish.

Yes, Jesus H. Christ did look quite serious up on that inhospitable holy cross with his red hair and blue eyes in painting after painting after painting after painting after painting. He appeared about as solemn as…oh, say, Willem Dafoe, or any of the other white guys who have been hand-picked by white directors like Martin Scorcese to play the Son of God (copyright, 1988) in ethnically inaccurate treacle like The Last Temptation of Christ, in which Dafoe played a befuddled Christ with very human doubts, feelings of inadequacy and sexual longings for Mary Magdalen, who was also pasty and fair-haired (wasn’t she played by Barbara Hershey?).

Regarding the section devoted to Italian painters, in “Christ Carrying The Cross” he had red hair. “Madonna and Child”: she had the red hair. They must be Scottish, or perhaps of Irish descent this week. Or maybe she just caught a bus ride to Israel a few hundred years ago. “Head of Christ”: blonde hair again. For “Christ Carrying the Cross” it went back to red. His eyes were a steely blue too.

For “The Entombment” by Peter Paul Ruben (about 1612) Mr. Christ’s lifeless red-haired remains are being caressed and fawned over by four Arabic individuals who were apparently absent the day the melanin was distributed.

From there I viewed “The Incredulity of Saint Thomas” (about 1620). This very erroneous picture depicts Jesus as a shirtless member of Led Zeppelin’s road entourage era 1975. Saint Thomas, viewed as a bearded, sweaty Caucasian, looked suspiciously comparable in appearance (minus the tattered bathrobe, of course) to an old fella I saw at Diedrich Coffee reading the Daily Pilot not long ago.

On “Christ Crowned in Thorns” by Gerrit van Honthorst (about 1620) the “King of The Jews” was showing off the latest in Old School S&M headgear. I’m not quite sure about his designation as ruler though. Wouldn’t King of The Crackers be a bit more accurate?

Then I came upon several harmless wall-mounted pieces of art depicting happy Italianos frolicking and laughing in rowboats, at picnics, and then looking pious with their berets and Intellectual Haircuts as they take turns posing, much like Mona Lisa did herself, in front of studious rows of buildings, ornate columns or anything else to make them appear perpetually deep in thought.

El Greco’s “Christ On a Cross” (created about 1600) was the most offensive of all, as J.C. looks to have spent his thirty-three turbulent years wearing S.P.F. 50, even at night.

Then I observed a painting of Pope Clement VII. Very Italian. Maybe that’s where it all started.

There was much talk of a style known as “Roman Mannerism”. I have an idea...why not call it European Escapism? Pass me that plastic wastebasket. I think I’m going to be ill.

(Jason Thornberry is a volunteer staff writer for 2 Walls Webzine)