In the case of memorial day there is no such thing as anti-war propaganda. And yes the sexualized grief of this picture was both beautiful and shocking. I did notice it, but that is all the more reason to question our own emotions.
I extended my thoughts on this picture at my own weblog, and perhaps I am being churlish....
But truly, would the New York Times have published this picture if the woman in this position did not look beautiful? Doesn't the very fact that this picture circumscribes the grief in such a sexualized way, at all make you feel manipulated? Whether it is manipulated for the purpose of worship for the glorious dead in the great battles of the Republic, or for the purpose of all of our sorrows of war, isn't this kind of manipulation intrusive, a violation of a kind of grief that should be communal and face-to-face?
And again and again I ask; What would our reaction to this picture had been if it was a big fat man with bare feet instead of a slender young woman? Isn't this also a way to manipulate our empathy, because in truth the grief of the big fat man lying face down on his son's grave is not going to be "sexualized", it may even be looked at as grotesque. But our empathy for grief is not meant to dwell on the "grotesque". And this too is another form of manipulation of our own communal emotions. Because in truth, much grief I have witnessed is grotesque in this way, and not wasp-ish silent grief, but wailing, climbing into the coffin, or hugging the grave-stone grief of people we would judge as ugly.... and the New York Times is too decorous to "insult" us with the truth of grief. So yes, my first reaction to this picture was the same as yours and the same as Carl's. But then I thought of the dead I've seen, of the funerals and memorials I've seen to dead in other wars, and I felt manipulated and a little disgusted. I was disgusted not because of the grief of this young woman, but for the lies of the New York Times, because they would never shoe the other realties of grief on such a decorous day. One visceral reaction led to another.
Jerry