Scab Forum

Photo by Ash Hayes on Unsplash

Blink and you’ll miss it: tucked into three stanzas of red neon text, the words: “Free Palestine.” At the 2024 Whitney Biennial, Demian DinéYazhi’ has managed to sneak (the letters of the phrase intermittently light up) a political message into their work, “we must stop imaging apocalypse/genocide + we must imagine liberation.” The piece flickers near the top of the Whitney against a giant glass window. Curators claimed to be unaware. Some activists called the moment a coup, but victory has felt fleeting.

Every conversation I have with writers in the art world currently ends with a euphemistic deadpan: “It’s just such a weird time right now.” They are referring to the earthquake caused by the firing of David Velasco, the editor-in-chief of Artforum, after he published an open letter with 8,000 signatories in support of Palestine on the magazine’s homepage in October of last year. As a result, hundreds of writers and artists joined a boycott of the magazine and its owner Penske’s other art media properties (ARTNews, Arts in America, AiA Guide) alleging “interference with the editorial independence.” A barebones December issue of Artforum went out a week late, after six members of the editorial team, including Kate Sutton, Chloe Wyma, and Zack Hatfield, quit in solidarity and dozens of contributors pulled pieces. 

Now, anyone who crosses the Artforum picket line is a scab, staffers and freelancers alike. With fewer and fewer outlets, art writers are being forced to reckon with the place of their work in a world that seems devoid of beauty and full of apocalyptic desolation. While all writers must struggle to make meaning out of futility, lately art writers, in particular, are grappling with their subject’s links to capital and imperialism.

The organizing around Artforum is a small piece of a much larger cultural anti-war effort. The group Writers Against the War On Gaza (WAWOG), has become a leader in this realm, often collaborating with groups like the Palestinian Youth Movement and Students for Justice in Palestine. These groups have held vigils honoring Palestinian artists killed in the war and disrupted countless art and literary events. WAWOG has also helped revitalize PACBI (Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel), a boycott of Israeli cultural institutions that began in 2004, which dozens of new presses, publications, bookstores and venues have signed onto. Boycotts and open letters, as well as direct action, have become a central tactic in the arts’ anti-war movement.

“A weird time” covers a multitude of sins. After Velasco’s firing, I pulled multiple pieces from Artforum, one of the few art publications that pays a decent rate. The art writing world has been shrinking—publications are shuttering left and right (Garage Magazine in 2021, X-TRA in 2024, Atlanta’s Art Papers will end in 2026). Rates are going down, and a reliance on freelancers is growing. It sometimes feels like there is nowhere left to do principled art writing. Certainly, I can no longer imagine getting a staff job, let alone one where I’d be able to write freely.

The Artforum debacle exposed a schism between the art world’s liberals and leftists. The day after the pro-Palestine letter was published, Artforum ran a response from several gallerists condemning the “one-sided” letter for not acknowledging the hostages or Israeli victims. Shortly after, over 6,000 in the “global arts community” circulated another response letter (“United Call from the Art World: Advocating for Humanity”) to what it called Artforum’s “uninformed letter signed by artists who do not represent the artistic community.” In The Nation, art critic Barry Schwabsky wrote he would have refused to sign the Artforum letter because it made “no mention of Hamas or the murders and kidnappings for which it had been responsible on October 7.” ​​Velasco responded to critics in Air Mail: “When we protested the Iraq War, we didn’t start our protests by invoking 9/11. The letter’s authors were focused on asserting that Palestinian lives matter, without condition or apology.” 

Schwabsky and others have argued Velasco was fired not for the letter but for the editorial choices surrounding it, specifically the fact that it appeared the letter was coming directly from Artforum’s staff, versus an outside group of writers. (A disclaimer was added later explaining that the letter reflects the views of its signatories and was not composed by the Artforum staff.) 

“There could be a cease-fire in Gaza before there’s one in the art world,” Schwabsky quipped. An intellectually dishonest line in service of a chilling punchline. But it’s true that the war in Gaza is only the latest political issue that divided the art world’s scions and overlords, and its underclass of working artists and writers. In 2019, Warren Kanders, a Whitney board member whose company sold tear gas to U.S. border patrol, resigned after months of protests.The Met has long faced scrutiny for its displaying looted works and artifacts. Starting in 2017, Nan Goldin led a campaign to force museums to cut ties with the Sackler family. 

The fallout of these conflicts tend to be uneven. Lately, it’s Palestinian artists and their allies who have faced the brunt of the backlash. The Frankfurt Book Fair canceled an awards ceremony for Palestinian author Adaina Shibli and her stunning novel Minor Detail, which tells the true story of the 1949 rape and murder of a Palestinian girl by Israeli soldiers. My alma mater, Indiana University, canceled the great Palestinian artist Samia Halaby’s exhibition at the Eskenazi Museum of Art. (A guerilla version of the exhibition in town sold out). 

The cultural sphere is struggling under the weight of war and the moral imperative to declare Palestinian life valuable, something that seems obvious to many. Tausif Noor, a critic, says the decision to boycott Penske outlets was easy, despite the financial burden. Noor is a graduate student in the Bay Area who depends on freelance writing to make ends meet. Noor has written about the politics of art for both Artforum and Art in America. Recently, he contributed to Track changes: a handbook for art criticism, an anthology critiquing neutrality and exploring how art criticism can challenge structural inequalities. 

“Arts writers have the same responsibilities as any cognizant individual in this moment,” he says. “To take a stand against the normalization of genocide.”

Late last year, two contributors to Contemporary Art Review LA (CARLA), Rachel Jones and Angella d’Avignon helped pen a letter calling on the magazine to publicly support a ceasefire, commit to PACBI, or “ideally, both.” “It’s not about virtue-signaling… it’s about human life,” d’Avignon said. CARLA’s next print issue, released a few months later, called for a ceasefire, criticizing the marginalization of those in the art world who have spoken out about Palestine. “As a quarterly print publication, publishing our reply in print felt important to our core values,” said Lindsay Preston Zappas, CARLA’s editor-in-chief. The publication has not currently committed to PACBI. Some may call this a success but organizers are wary of the publication’s decision not to take a stronger stance. 

d’Avignon, who works with WAWOG’s LA chapter added, “There’s plenty of cynicism and detraction from other writers and outsiders but the solidarity within WAWOG has been nothing short of energizing and enervating. You can stand on the sidelines and moan about ineffective methods but have you tried or applied those methods? We have.” Jones hopes that a new intolerance for silence among writers will allow “new platforms to take hold.” 

Taking a stance comes with a price tag. “Art writing is a field in which a lot of people are not fully supporting themselves through their participation in it,” says Jones. “Theoretically, they should have more freedom to stand up for Palestine even if it means losing income.” But the stakes aren’t the same for everyone: some rely on those few checks. The writer Carina del Valle Schorske pointed this out on X: “What are we prepared to do to build real solidarity among the widest possible range of principled people? i just hope that we can dream up ways to support each other (esp. financially) in the risks we take.” 

As mainstream media continues to waffle, independent outlets like The Baffler, N+1, and Parapraxis have dedicated extensive space to critical war coverage and Palestinian perspectives. The New Inquiry helped lead the charge for PACBI. Some art writers have found ways to respond to the war. For The Baffler, Sarah Aziza combined journal entries with the poetry of Fady Joudah to produce a horrifying but hypnotic text on life in Gaza. In Parapraxis, Adam HajYahia recently wrote a psychoanalytic account of “Zionist time” and the right of return. “Images coming out of Gaza are nightmares, he writes, but “images of return transmit signals that surpass canonical regulations of beauty.”

As tourists snap photos of the Biennial, on view until August, the outlook for Gazans is bleak. The Palestinian death toll is closing in on 40,000, while 1,139 people have been killed in Israel since October 7. More than 8,000 Palestinians are missing and more than 77,000 are injured. Israel has begun an offensive on Rafah, a refuge for over a million displaced civilians. Social media is filled with GoFundMes for those looking to flee. None of this penetrates the hallowed walls of the Whitney, except for that flickering red text. “Everything on view is equally overshadowed by an elephant in the room,” writes Johanna Fateman in 4columns.

I visited the Biennial, curious but skeptical: the event is more of a pageant than a rigorous engagement with contemporary discipline. Wall text claimed the Biennial would focus on trans, queer, Black, and Indigenous art as an exploration of bodily autonomy. Plenty of the art critiqued nationalism and imperialism, from Kiyan Williams’ sinking White House to Ser Serpas’ vicious deconstructed garden on the first floor. Marsha P. Johnson appeared in multiple works including a stunning video by trans artist Tourmaline. Elsewhere, Suzanne Jackson and ektor garcia’s fragile sculptures shimmered, hanging from the ceiling like celestial messengers. Seba Calfuqueo’s beautiful video piece stood out for its oblique themes of water, land, and autonomy. Another trans artist, Pippa Garner covered the entire third floor with sketches of her wacky inventions and pictures of her cats. One of my friends was unimpressed. Another said it wasn’t as bad as the last one. Overall, few seem to be talking about it. 

The question, of course, is: what does any of it matter if bombs are falling on children? Whose bodily autonomy matters and to whom? “Culture doesn’t exist in a vacuum,” Noor said. “It can’t be separated.” In March, Gaza’s last contemporary art space was destroyed by Israel. Still, despair is a distraction. Art writers must resist, both with their labor and with their words: from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.