Seeking an Aesthetic of Qualification

Recently, public discourses have given way to a disturbing hierarchy of who deserves to be human and who we allow to be subject to violence. Acts of violence against certain populations are justified based on their perceived humanity – an unborn child is deemed more deserving of life than a mother, a refugee is deemed less deserving of life than an immigrant. Tobin Siebers’ study of human disqualification analyzes the mechanics of this process, but it leads me to ask whether we can reverse the entirely. Whether, through the use of art as a medium, we can combat the discourse of disqualification. By studying Martin Schoeller’s photographs of people experiencing homelessness in Los Angeles, I attempt in this essay to query the possibility of an “aesthetics of qualification” as a reaction to the violent processes of disqualification.

Siebers’ “Aesthetics of Human Disqualification” analyzes how art is used as a tool for disqualification. Sieber’s definition of disqualification is “a symbolic process [that] removes individuals from the ranks of quality human beings” (1487). This action is then used to justify and propagate systemic violence, discrimination, and in certain cases, genocide. In Sieber’s argument, disability is the connective tissue throughout all processes of disqualification.

By establishing an aesthetic in which some bodies are seen as disabled and others not, the criteria for disqualification are established and justified. Siebers goes on to explore the potential of art to produce an aesthetic of disability that troubles the “difference” of disabled bodies (1499), and asks whether or not this would disrupt actual perceptions of disability in reality, instead of remaining confined to the aesthetics of art. Ultimately, he narrows it down to the “fine distinction” between “being able to view disabled people as if they were works of art” and “being able to view works of art as representing disability” (1499). The effect, Siebers argues, would “produce a paradigm shift supportive of disabled people without the risk of objectifying them” (1505, footnote 13). Through this process, Siebers is seeking a way to subvert the aesthetics of human disqualification.

I would like to explore a similar subversion: the possibility of an aesthetics of qualification, a process for bringing formerly disqualified human beings back into the folds of “quality human beings.” There are a few issues with this, which I acknowledge. First, such a process risks the implication that bodies require qualification, that our natural state is one of disqualification. This line of thinking leads to the task of determining who deserves to be admitted to the ranks of “quality human beings,” and how. I reject this interpretation. In my analysis, I am seeking a way to reverse the process of disqualification. Indeed, all human beings are “quality” human beings. This is no argument. But how can we convince a population that the people they see as less-than-human are, in fact, human beings?

To accomplish this, I look at the issue of homelessness, a population historically disqualified by means of aesthetics, public discourse, and social experience. Gerrard and Farrugia explain that the aesthetics of homelessness inevitably “other” individuals experiencing homelessness. “There is something particularly powerful about the imagery of homelessness,” they argue, which is the paradox of homelessness. At once, the population is undeniably visible, yet so easily ignored by the vast majority of the population.
Gerrard and Farrugia specifically identify the “visual discourses created in and through the imagery of homelessness,” which contribute to the politics of aesthetic representation in the broader construction of meaning surrounding homelessness and poverty.” These visual discourses are akin to the “degenerate art” of the Nazi party and the series of medical photographs studies by Siebers. They serve to disqualify the homeless population based on their perceived difference or “’disturbance’ of ‘normal’ everyday life on the street: of the commute to work, the shopping trip, the outing to the movies” (Gerrard and Farrugia 2223). If most attempts to depict homelessness only succeed in reinforcing this aesthetic, is it possible to find a depiction that accomplishes the opposite? That is “able to view works of art as representing disability,” or, in this case, homelessness, without reinforcing the perceived difference of its subject?

We might find this aesthetic in a series of portraits taken by photographer Martin Schoeller. In 2015, Schoeller partnered with the Hollywood Food Coalition to take portraits of individuals experiencing homelessness in Downtown Los Angeles. His motivation apparently emerges from the same paradox identified by Gerrard and Farrugia: “We see homeless people or perceive them every day, but we don’t really meet any of them ever in our daily interactions” (Schoeller, Qtd. in De Stefani). Through his portraits, then, Schoeller asks us to meet his subjects at eye-level. One description of describes how, “Designed to emphasize our shared humanity, the portraits are stripped of the individual’s surroundings—of the circumstances of their poverty—so that they are defined only and entirely by their face and their humanity” (Poo and Shafir 7). The viewer is given their name and, in brief statements, the subjects allude to the conditions of their homelessness, which include, among others, eviction, disability, addiction, and past traumas (Schoeller, Homeless). These details, however, are secondary to the photograph, the primary aesthetic quality of Schoeller’s project. If anything, the conversations are a footnote to the aesthetic impression of the photographs. Subjects stare right into the camera, every facial feature rendered in immense detail. The photographs are, above all, indisputably human. The people are, to borrow Siebers’ language, indisputably “quality human beings.”

It is an interesting exercise to contrast Siebers’ series on homelessness with his other photographs. Browsing his website, one can find portraits of Hillary Clinton, Lebron James, Elon Musk, and Bill Murray. Apart from being easily recognizable, there is nothing to distinguish these portraits from the homeless series. In Schoeller’s words, “The unknown and the too- well- known meet on a level platform that enables comparison, where a viewer’s existing notions of celebrity, value, and honesty are challenged” (Schoeller, Close Up).

This is not to say that one cannot pull identifying details or draw conclusions from the photographs. Some markers of identity cannot be erased in the portrait. Race, for one, is potentially more visible in portraiture. A viewer with certain prejudices might make inferences based on tattoos or hairstyle. Even clothing is slightly visible – a shirt collar, a hat, a chain. I argue, though, that this is necessary to the aesthetic quality of Schoeller’s portraits. They are produced in a style that gives no moral weight to these individuating characteristics. The individuating characteristics that make, say Bill Murray or Hillary Clinton’s portraits different from Kimberley or Jason’s do not adhere to the aesthetics of disqualification. They exist on another scale, one that does not equate perceived difference with “quality.”

The mechanics of disqualification can be turned back on itself. According to Siebers, aesthetic disqualification occurs when “the difference ascribed to the artwork relies on the difference of disability” (1499). In the case of homelessness, Gerrard and Farrugia describe a “lamentable aesthetics” (2230) in visual discourse that emphasizes the social difference of homeless subjects. Rather than fetishizing disability or other disqualifying characteristics as art, an aesthetic of qualification should highlight the humanity in disqualified bodies, arguing that they are worthy of compassion, understanding, and, most importantly, consideration.

Used properly, such an aesthetic would be a valuable tool to oppose the forces of disqualification, particularly at a time when volatile public discourse seems increasingly bent on denying humanity to large populations. There is, of course, the risk of such an aesthetic being used selectively, which returns to my concern that such an aesthetic implies the need for qualification. I reiterate the premise that all human beings are quality human beings. An aesthetic of qualification would not be necessary without an aesthetic of disqualification, so perhaps a better term would be an aesthetic of re-qualification. Done properly, the effects of such an aesthetic frame would reach far beyond the medium it emerges from. How might the world look if, instead of seeing markers of difference as a hierarchy, we could see markers of difference as a testament to humanity? To the beautiful, miraculous quality of simply being human.

Works Cited:

National Portrait Gallery. “Feature Photography: Martin Schoeller.” Smithsonian.

https://npg.si.edu/exhibit/feature/schoeller.html. Accessed 8 May 2024.

Martin Schoeller. “Close Up,” Martinschoeller.com. https://martinschoeller.com/Bill-Gates. Accessed 8 May 2024.

Martin Schoeller. “Homeless,” Martinschoeller.com. https://martinschoeller.com/Bill-Gates. Accessed 8 May 2024.

Ai-jen Poo and Eldar Shafir. “Changing the Narrative,” US Partnership on Mobility From Poverty. April 2018. https://ui-mobilitypartnership-static.s3.amazonaws.com/live/file/1219151/ZR_kSAyI.pdf.

Tobin Siebers. “The Aesthetics of Human Disqualification,” Literary Theory: An Anthology. 3^rd ed., edited by Julie Rivkin and Michael Ryan, John Wiley & Sons, 2017, pp 1487-1506.

Jessica Gerrard and David Farrugia. “The ‘Lamentable Sight’ of Homelessness and the Society of the Spectacle,” Urban Studies, vol. 52, no. 12, 2015, pp. 2219-2233. https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/0042098014542135.

Lucia de Stefani. “Meet Los Angeles’ Homeless People,” Time, TIME USA, 22 December 2015. https://time.com/4148757/homeless-martin-schoeller/. Accessed 8 May 2024.