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Slaughter of the Innocents

(They Might Be Guilty of Something), 2016

Kara Walker

Cut paper, acrylic, and graphite on canvas

Stark black figures on a white canvas tell a narrative of violence, desperation, life, and death. The side profile style of the piece calls to mind royal Egyptian wall paintings, which depicted mythological events. A child runs away from an ominous, gangly figure, while another child attacks it. Below, a man in a hat lifts a corpse with the end of his sickle, and beside them a woman slashes a baby open, and a child sits beneath it, poised with their mouth open. The woman’s dress to the right shows the cut out silhouette of the child beside it, as a flame burns above her and she cradles a limp baby in her arms. A woman’s womb lies barren, a young girl faces a skull, a man spins plates, and another woman stands defiant and looks away from the narrative. Above all this suffering hang the silhouettes of men and women in pleasure, signalling that life goes on despite the pain. Yet beside them is the disfigured torso of a man on fire. Lastly, the title alludes to the Christian nativity narrative of the slaughter of innocent children in Bethlehem, ordered by King Herod. Afraid of the birth of Jesus, meant to become a greater king than he, Herod unjustly murdered all the male newborns so as not to take chances. In the end, the baby Jesus had already been spirited away to Egypt with his mother and father. The reference to this story implies that the innocents here--black people, unfairly targeted--have been slaughtered for… well, “something,” as the comment in parentheses claims.

There is an air of reverence and reflection in this piece, laying testimony to the grievances and violence that African Americans have faced for decades. The fact that this was created in 2016 shows that the pain experienced by older generations is not forgotten by the younger ones. It branches out and continues to affect them, linking history to the contemporary.

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I wanted to present this piece last because it stood out to me most of all. In person, this work hangs on the wall eighteen feet wide and six feet tall, meeting the viewer as an un-ignorable, uncomfortable truth. This image was taken from the Museum's website because there was no way to take a picture of it. If you get the chance, I recommend finding this and reading the plaque for yourself.

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