art is supposed to make you feel something

it should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable

Oct 21, 2024

I’ve been thinking a lot about different forms of art and media in our world. Beautiful writings, films, paintings, carvings, music, and any other art move us—they change us. One of the reasons why I love cannibalism as a metaphor for love is because it is disturbing to think about, and I enjoy thinking about disturbing topics in art because it makes me reflect on myself and the world. I like consuming any media and art that the mainstream and other people would deem as “gross” “weird” or “disturbing.” In an article on the National Endowment for the Arts blog, Catherine Brookes, a staff, in response to the question of why art is important said, “The purpose of art is to cause a reaction and with this purpose, it can create a synergy of change; change in attitudes, perceptions and thoughts.” It is supposed to make us feel, it’s not just meant to look nice.

I have so many favourite forms of art and media that I’ve put together to share with you and analyse a bit. If you have a favourite “disturbing” media and art, please share!

get out (film)

Jordan Peele’s Get Out dives deeply into the colonisation of the Black body through a chilling metaphor of appropriation and control. The film uses horror and satire to explore how white supremacy continues to exert power over Black people, even in supposedly liberal, progressive spaces. Get Out offers a disturbing reflection for those who are comfortable in their privilege while providing a cathartic experience for those who have experienced systemic racism, microaggressions and everyday struggles.

The colonisation of the Black body is liberalised in the film through the Coagula procedure, where the consciousness of white people is translated into the bodies of Black people. This process reflects a historical pattern of white supremacy’s desire to exploit and control Black bodies, echoing slavery and scientific racism. The white characters in Get Out fetishise Blackness, treating Black people’s bodies as superior vessels while completely disregarding the humanity, autonomy, and identity of the people inhabiting those bodies. The Armitage family and their friends claim they aren’t racist, yet their actions epitomise a sinister form of racial domination.

Through this allegory, Peele critiques how Black people are often reduced to their physical attributes, admired and appropriated, while their voices and experiences are silenced and erased. In Get Out, the Black body is not only colonised but commodified.

bones and all (film)

The relationship between art and emotion is palpable in Bones and All, directed by Luca Guadagnino. The film takes a genre-bending approach, blending horror, romance and coming-of-age elements to explore the darker aspects of human desire and the struggle for connection. Through its visceral portrayal of cannibalism, the film works to comfort the disturbed—those who feel like outsiders in a world that doesn’t understand them—while disturbing the comfortable by confronting societal taboos.

Cannibalism, in its horror, serves as a metaphor for how love and desire can consume and destroy. The violent act of eating another person challenges viewers to grapple with the boundaries of empathy and sympathy—how far are we willing to extend our compassion when someone’s nature is disturbing or even monstrous? Bones and All asks the audience not to look at these characters as “eaters” but people with profound emotional depth. The film’s beautiful moments of love and connection are tied to the gruesome acts the characters commit, creating cognitive dissonance. The juxtaposition of the gruesomeness of their cannibalism with the tenderness of their relationship is immaculate. Can we sympathise with characters who do terrible things if we see them as human? Can love exist within darkness and still be considered love?

Maren and Lee’s need to consume others isn’t just a compulsion; it’s presented as a fact of their existence. This blurs the lines between right and wrong, and in doing so, questions whether the monsters in the story are the eaters or the society that rejects them. It disturbs our sense of morality, asking us to reconsider what makes someone worthy of love, and whether monstrousness is inherent or shaped by exclusion.

willy wonka makes an oompa loompa (animated short film)

The animated short film on YouTube Willy Wonka Makes an Oompa Loompa touches on themes of slavery and exploitation. This film offers a subversive reinterpretation of Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by framing Willy Wonka’s relationship with the Oompa Loompas as a critique of colonialism and labour exploitation. Its unsettling animation style made me confront historical and ongoing injustices.

In the original story, the Oompa Loompas are described as grateful workers rescued by Wonka from their supposed squalor in Loompaland. This narrative is now seen through a more critical lens. The animated short film takes a benign portrayal and flips it, asking the viewer to question the morality of Wonka’s actions. By framing the creation of an Oompa Loompa as something akin to manufacturing or even birthing a servant, the film confronts viewers with the discomforting reality of how history has treated the labour and humanity of marginalised groups. The exploitation of labour and the erasure of the Oompa Loompas’ identities mirror the way enslaved people were dehumanised and reduced to tools for economic gain. The grotesque nature of the animation accentuates the inhumanity of the process, forcing the viewer to feel repulsed and discomfort as they confront these themes of systemic oppression.

For viewers who feel disturbed by systemic inequities, this short film provides a voice for that discomfort, acknowledging and amplifying the critique of how history is told and sanitised. It deconstructs the sanitised image of benevolent colonisers who “save” their labourers, exposing the paternalistic and exploitative nature of such narratives.

250th anniversary of james cook’s arrival in new zealand (poem)

Tusiata Avia’s poem is a striking and powerful piece of art that disrupts the comfortable narrative surrounding colonial history and offers catharsis for the ongoing trauma of colonisation. Through its unapologetic tone, the poem exemplifies that art should both “comfort the disturbed” and “disturb the comfortable.” Avia’s poem confronts the legacy of James Cook, a figure celebrated by colonial powers while giving voice to the anger and pain of Indigenous communities who still feel the impact of his arrival. In her Substack, Avia said, “Strong injustice demands strong words.”

The poem is unflinching in its condemnation of James Cook, directly challenging the glorification of explorers and colonisers who brought violence, theft, and destruction to their lands. Avia addresses Cook with disdain, referring to him as “you in the white wig” and “big areshole.” The language is confrontational, designed to unsettle those who may have been raised on the sanitised version of Cook’s legacy—one in which he is remembered as a courageous explorer. By calling him a “bitch” and speaking of the violent retribution Cook received, Avia reclaims the narrative, disturbing those who cling to the myth of colonial beneficence.

The poem can offer a sense of validation and empowerment for Indigenous readers and those who have experienced the ongoing effects of colonisation. Avia gives voice to the anger, rage and grief that many feel about the way figures like Cook have violated their lands, cultures and identities. By speaking directly to James Cook in such a raw, unfiltered way, Avia allows for a form of emotional release that comforts the disturbed. This poem does not ask for forgiveness nor attempt to negotiate with colonial history—it asserts righteous anger and demands justice.

“Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” — Cesar A. Cruz