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At the main exhibition hall a public debate was organised. A professor of
art spoke: ‘The mosaics are exquisite works of art and for that reason alone
should be supported, even if they make us uncomfortable. Where I draw the
line is at the boeremusiek. I have not heard anything as void of beauty. I
cannot work when I am in that part of the country. It hits me where I live.
They should stop it right away.’
To this someone in the audience responded: ‘You rich university people
think you can tell me what I should like and not like. I may be uneducated
but let me tell you the only part of the whole thing that I like is the
boeremusiek. I hope someone will have the guts to paint over all these other
monstrosities.’
Someone else ventured her view: ‘I would not mind it if these things
were displayed somewhere in a museum where those who wanted to go and
see it could do so, or if the music was played in a hall, but why don’t we have
any choice in the matter?’ ‘Yes’, said her neighbour, ‘the dead animals will
hopefully disappear, and the bands will grow tired of what they are playing,
but are we going to face the mosaic on the buildings and the frieze for the
rest of our lives? I feel sick by the time I get to work.’
‘You’re a bunch of fascists’, said a law student. ‘We had censorship for
many years in our country under the previous ruler, now you want to bring it
back? If you object against this art, whatever you want to say may be
censored as well. What became of the free speech we are famous for?’. ’Yes,
cool, anything goes’ said his friend.
‘You’ve got it all wrong, this is simply a new form of censorship’, yelled
another. ‘We are back where we were. They used to tell us what not to think;
now with this “art” that they are ramming into our ears and eyes they are
telling us what to think. Big brother is taking the decisions for us.’
‘Hear, hear! We were never consulted. What about our rights to speak
up and be heard about what we want to see and hear in our public places?
What about our freedom of speech?’, shouted someone from a rowdy bunch
at the back.
A man in a long black coat, with Goth makeup and a black cap, stood
near the door, listening intently to all the arguments. His companion, a
stocky man with alert eyes, raised his hand and asked: ‘If everyone has a veto
over the art in the city, we will have the most boring city in the world.
Someone has to take the decisions. We elected our ruler, shouldn’t he be the
one to do so?’
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