Ron Athey revisits the 'Culture Wars'

The brouhaha began over some paper towels. The towels were tinged with human blood, used in a live act by a radical HIV-positive artist in 1994, a time when AIDS hysteria was peaking all over America.

It didn't matter that the $150 of the federal budget that went toward funding the show was an infinitesimal amount. That any federal money was used to support Ron Athey's "Four Scenes in a Harsh Life," presented by Walker Art Center, was enough to outrage conservatives. Sen. Jesse Helms pushed to defund the National Endowment for the Arts and Rush Limbaugh incited listeners to hysteria by claiming that buckets of AIDS-tainted blood had been thrown at audience members who were running for their lives. (In fact, the artist whose blood was on the paper towels was not HIV-positive.)

What became known as "the culture wars" — a heated polarity between supporters of provocative art and conservative leaders who didn't want public money used to fund it — didn't begin in Minneapolis. But Athey's notable performance wound up being one of its primary flash points, and tossed the Walker into the middle of the fire.

The brouhaha will be remembered and discussed at events in Minneapolis this week, including a panel discussion at the Walker featuring Athey, a symposium at the University of Minnesota and two nights of performances by local artists at Patrick's Cabaret.

Athey, described as a body-modification artist, was presented in 1994 by one of the city's largest cultural institutions, the Walker, at one of its smallest, an avant-garde indie space across town called Patrick's Cabaret.

At one point, Athey, who is HIV-positive, cut incisions into the back of another artist, daubed paper towels with his blood and clipped the towels to lines circling above the audiences' heads. The scene was meant to evoke a "human printing press."

The Star Tribune ran a front-page story, which was followed up by news media across the country. Outraged, Helms called Athey a "cockroach" on the Senate floor, citing him as a reason to defund or cut back on the NEA's then $171 million annual budget. Religious leader Pat Robertson denounced the Walker.

A few months after Athey's show, the NEA's budget was cut by 2 percent — a blow, but nowhere near the more drastic cuts its critics had called for. Like controversial artists including Karen Finley and Holly Hughes, Athey became a symbol of the fight — even though he himself had never applied for NEA money.

The culture wars' hailstorm of negative publicity incidentally branded Athey's career. It also made his name and work much more prominently known than they might have been otherwise. He is circumspect about its effect on his legacy, and the current climate toward challenging art.

"I think the world has changed," he said. "The opposition may be loud, but they're not as great in number."

On the other hand, "so much of our lives is represented online now. If I don't self-censor at all, someone erases my Facebook page and I end up in a triple-X Tumblr ghetto.

"Art that addresses issues beyond commerce should be as important as the news of the day. Sometimes art should be about more than art's sake. Do we want to live in a cartoon world where everything is safe for 8-year-olds? That doesn't evolve the culture."

The Culture Wars:  Then & Now

Dialogue with Ron Athey: 7 p.m. Thu., Walker Art Center, 1750 Hennepin Av., Mpls. Free.

The Culture Wars Cabaret: 8-10 p.m. Fri.-Sat. Patrick's Cabaret, 3010 Minnehaha Av. S., Mpls. $15, www.­brown-papertickets.com.