Falling back on free speech to defend one's art from political attack is tantamount to saying that art transcends politics. The only thing high art transcends is the debate the rest of us who express ideas accept as part of public discussion. It's probably not fair to say that artists shy away from debate. Rather, it's their allegedly liberal defenders at the helms of museums and editorial boards who bristle at the suggestion that art be subjected to something so banal as, say, democracy, in which any old rube can cast a vote. That attitude explains the fact that many art museum visitors feel like they've just had some kind of official experience in which they've been not participants in a dialogue, but witnesses to the work of their betters.
Art is divine, they say, and requires a priesthood to protect it.
In response to the Giuliani's charge that her work is anti-Catholic and thus shouldn't be supported by government money, Cox recently pointed out that she's Catholic herself. Artists who merely pose as critics of power, much less as messianic saviors, look a lot less holy when you realize they're hanging out in houses built by robber barons and that their angelic robes are government-issue. Art, like religion, exists in this world, even if it dreams of another. Instead, Cox takes the easy way out, dismissing Giuliani as a Philistine who ought to keep quiet, and keep forking over funds. Imagine if the Christ Cox depicts had done the same thing, disclaiming his controversial ideas by writing them off as personal expression.