What exactly is censorship at the time of viral web? What is the authority that controls communication or other forms of freedom? How free are the new public communication platforms?
These are the questions that months ago have made the tour of social networks to the news of the photo censored by Facebook of the Russian photographer Anastasia Chernyavsky. A self-portrait in the mirror of a naked mother with her children.
All you need to do is take a quick tour of the web to find information, sometimes brief, on companies of moderation hired by Facebook, censorship categories, censorship services sold to third-party companies, with labour located in emerging economies or in the third world. It all seems very smoky, not very controlled, perhaps not even the result of a new bigotry, but more of a short circuit, incapacity or fear of daring.
This Facebook image removed it as potentially offensive. The web for rebellion then multiplied it endlessly in the name of freedom of expression and vision, amplifying it and bringing it in front of twice as many users who would have seen it, reversing censorship, as an antibody. Automatic digital repression and democracy.
We limit ourselves to a silent reflection, showing you that elsewhere it is always possible to tell the world without fear, showing art without too many questions on the borderline between eroticism and pornography. Between rebellion and violence. Between madness and fear.
These are the sensual and confidential shots of the Russian photographer, moments stolen from her Rolleiflex, small declarations of love to family life.
Each of us has our own critical spirit, our own ability to read a work and our own artistic level. In reality, art is nothing more than the ability to convey a state of mind, an intimate exercise that is too difficult to catalogue.
Each of us is a censor of our own gaze.