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Got this in a forwarded email today and thought you folks might enjoy reading it.  
 
 
An interview with Corriere della Sera 
 
TomDispatch.com 
http://www.nationinstitute.org/tomdispatch 
 
Art Spiegelman decided to leave the New Yorker, in 
protest to what he calls "the widespread conformism of 
the mass media in the Bush era." "The decision to leave 
was mine alone," the author of Maus, the saga of Jewish 
mice exterminated by Nazi cats that won him the 
Pulitzer Prize (the first given to a comic book), 
explained in an interview with the Corriere della Sera. 
"The director of the New Yorker, David Remnick, was 
shocked when I announced my resignation. He attempted 
to dissuade me. But I told him that the kind of work 
that I'm now interested in doing is not suited to the 
present tone of the New Yorker. And, seeing that we are 
living in extremely dangerous times, I don't feel like 
stooping to compromise." 
 
(Q) Do you also consider yourself a victim of Sept. 11? 
 
"Exactly so. From the time that the Towers fell, it 
seems as if I've been living in internal exile, or like 
a political dissident confined to an island. I no 
longer feel in tune (agreement) with American culture, 
especially now that the entire media has become 
conservative and tremendously timid. Unfortunately, 
even the New Yorker has not escaped this trend: Remnick 
does not feel up (able) to accept the challenge, while, 
on the contrary, I am more and more inclined to 
provocation. 
 
(Q) What kind of provocation? 
 
I am working on the sixth installment of my new strip, 
"In the shadow of no tower," inspired both by memories 
of Sept. 11 -- on that day, I had just left my apt, a 
few steps from the tragedy - and a present in which one 
feels equally threatened by both Bush and Osama. The 
series was commissioned by the German newspaper "Die 
Zeit", but here in the USA, only the Jewish magazine 
"The Forward" has agreed to publish it. 
 
(Q) Did you feel snubbed by the refusal of the New 
Yorker to publish it? 
 
Not at all. I knew from the beginning that the tone and 
content of the strip -- what, at this point in time, is 
of most concern to me -- were not in harmony with those 
of the New Yorker. A wonderful magazine, mind you, with 
delightful and refined covers, but also incredibly 
deferential (obsequious) to the present administration. 
If I were content to draw harmless strips about 
skateboarding and shopping in Manhattan, there would 
have been no problem; but, now, my inner life is 
inflamed with much different issues. 
 
(Q) For what do you reproach the New Yorker? 
 
For marching to the same beat as the New York Times and 
all the other great American media that don't criticize 
the government for fear that the administration will 
take revenge by blocking their access to sources and 
information. Mass media today is in the hands of a 
limited group of extremely wealthy owners whose 
interests don't coincide at all with those of the 
average soul living in a country (USA) where the gap 
between rich and poor is now unbridgeable. In this 
context, all criticism of the administration is 
automatically branded unpatriotic and un-American. Our 
media choose to ignore news that in the rest of the 
world receives wide prominence; if it were not for the 
Internet, even my view of the world would be extremely 
limited. 
 
(Q) Then the Bush revolution has triumphed? 
 
Yes. In Reagan's time, "liberal" was a dirty word and 
to be accused of such an offense was an insult. In the 
Bush jr. era, the radical right so overwhelmingly 
dominates the debate that the Democrats have all had to 
move to the right just to be able to continue the 
conversation. 
 
(Q) Will the New Yorker be the same without Spiegelman? 
 
The New Yorker existed long before I came on board. The 
great majority of the readers who adore the warm and 
relaxing bath of their accustomed New Yorker (probably, 
in English, a contemptuous illusion to the hot tub) 
were very upset by the "shock treatment" of my covers. 
These readers will feel more at ease with the calm and 
subdued (submissive) New Yorker of the tradition which 
from the Twenties mixed intelligence, sophistication, 
snobbery, and complaisance with the status quo. Every 
time that I put pencil to paper, I was flooded with 
letters of protest. 
 
(Q) Which of your works caused the most controversy? 
 
The cover with the atomic bomb issued on the 4th of 
July. The one from last Thanksgiving where turkies fell 
from military aircraft. The only one universally well- 
received was the Sept. 24 cover with the Twin Towers in 
two-toned black. The censorship of my work began as 
soon as I first set foot in the magazine, long before 
the 11th of September. 
 
(Q) What kind of censorship? 
 
Large and small. For the Thanksgiving cover with 
turkies dropped in the place of bombs, I chose the 
title "Operation Enduring Turkey" to mimic "Operation 
Enduring Freedom" then begun by America in Afghanistan. 
But David Remnick forced me to change the title. 
 
(Q) Is it possible that the media is more reactionary 
than their readers? 
 
I don't think so at all, not after reading in the polls 
that George W. Bush is the most admired man in America. 
The world I see is very different from what they see. 
Those who think like me are condemned to the margins 
because the critical alternative press of the Vietnam 
War era no longer exists. The NYT chose to remain 
silent about the enormous protest marches that took 
place during the summer; and the readers of The Nation, 
the only newspaper with any guts, are at most 50 
thousand: nothing in a country as large as ours. 
 
(Q) What does your wife Francoise Mouly, the artistic 
director of the New Yorker, think of all this. 
 
She thinks that I've left her at the New Yorker as a 
hostage, but I don't think she wants to follow my 
example. Sometimes, I think I would like to emigrate to 
Europe; and seeing that in America they won't even let 
me smoke, the temptation is very great. 
 
Q) Your plans after the New Yorker? 
 
In May, at the Nuage Gallery in Milano, there will be 
an exhibition that covers my ten years at the New 
Yorker. Ten is a better number than eleven and, who 
knows, perhaps I left the magazine simply because it 
better suited the book and catalog that accompany the 
exhibition.			 |   
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