An enormous mural of George Orwell appeared on the pier in Southwold some time last year. Orwell spent a few years living in Southwold and his nom de plume was apparently inspired by the river than runs close by. It was only on this trip to Southwold that I discovered the name of the artist who created the mural, however - Pure Evil, aka Charles Uzzell-Edwards. I realised I'd seen his work featured on TV. Pure Evil creates, among other things, pop art style portraits with strong eye makeup which drips down their faces, creating a sinister clown-like appearance. In a 2013 interview in the Telegraph, he explains, referring to his street art:
I'm not really interested in being subtle. I want to make people look; I welcome the conflict.
He tells the story of his youthful fascination with guns; of borrowing his cousins' shotgun, going out and shooting a rabbit, and then sincerely regretting this act. The graffiti rabbits in the Southwold mural are a recurring motif in his work - in his mind, it's the rabbit's vengeance:
It symbolises retribution, and that you have to pay for your actions.
I've been thinking lately about our human fascination with the darker side of existence. Having finished Homeland, I've been getting into House of Cards, and I've now watched the whole of the first two seasons. (I've been tempted to get a subscription to Netflix just to get access to season 3, but my ever-sensible husband has vetoed this idea). It has got me wondering why I enjoy the show so much, though. Loosely based on a series of novels adapted for British TV in the 1990s, House of Cards transports the action to Washington, D.C. and charts the rise to power of Francis Underwood and his wife, Claire. I'm no psychologist, but Francis (wonderfully portrayed by Kevin Spacey) seems to me to have all the marks of a psychopath; utterly ruthless in achieving his goals and showing no compunction at using the most brutal tactics. He uses people then casts them aside; he lies flawlessly and almost continually; he cleverly manipulates the media, feeding them information which will serve his ends at the right time; when necessary, he even resorts to murder. Francis apparently cares for no one but his wife, but even she seems to matter less than his lust for power. Claire is likewise ruthless, firing large numbers of staff at the charity she heads up in order to fulfil her career goals and showing no mercy. Very occasionally you see glimpses of a conscience; sometimes she briefly shows vulnerability; Francis never does.
Despite their relentless brutality, however, I don't want them to be found out. In some episodes others come close to discovering the extent of Francis and Claire's crimes and revealing them to the world. This always makes me anxious, because I want the Underwoods to prevail. In the final episode of season 2 [SPOILER ALERT], Francis becomes President of the United States of America. He stands in the Oval Office, hands spread on the desk, then looks at the camera with a wicked smile. This sent shivers down my spine - I was delighted at his wickedness. Why? He's a psychopathic murderer with only his own interests at heart. Why do I want him to succeed?
I wonder whether programmes like House of Cards enable us to give vent to the darker side of our human nature - the darker reaches of our subconscious that usually remain firmly hidden. Francis does things that I would never do, and that perhaps is why he is so enjoyable to watch. Characters like Francis Underwood enable us vicariously to express those dark, difficult emotions and angry urges which society quite rightly teaches us not to act on. Perhaps watching House of Cards is a healthy way of dealing with the dark stuff within us.
Of course, the Bible calls this dark stuff 'sin' and teaches us that, not only should we not act on it, but we should allow the Holy Spirit to transform us from within, driving out the dark stuff and filling us up with Christ. But there are still places in the Bible where people give vent to these difficult emotions. Consider these verses from Psalm 59, which I once chose to read at a scripture reading competition, in my pre-Christian days, because I liked its bloodthirstiness:
Rescue me from my enemies, O God. Protect me from those who have come to destroy me... Destroy them in your anger! Wipe them out completely! Then the whole world will know that God reigns in Israel. (Psalms 59:1, 13 NLT)
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