"Crowd Around does evoke emotion," Brandman notes. "I have seen the piece a thousand times, and I am always seeing different nuances."

Despite his experience with controversial art objects, Brandman says he is perplexed by people’s responses to a Philippe Starck–designed piece, one of six limited-edition M16 floor lamps. As a hotel owner, Brandman respects Starck’s work in interior design, as well as the lamp, a gold-plated rifle inscribed with the words "happiness is a hot gun."

"What I thought was very interesting about this piece was the message behind it," Brandman says. "The gold represents money and wealth—and the gun, the idea that someone always loses in conflict, whether it’s conflict in battle or in business. It’s open to interpretations," he adds.

But Brandman did not expect a national newspaper to reject a story pitch about his loft’s design because of the Starck lamp. He thinks poor timing likely played a role, because the suggestion followed a tragic school shooting. But for Brandman, the lamp represents a concept rather than a pro-gun stance. He doesn’t collect firearms. "Sometimes those things bring about sensitivities," he says.

The reaction to Brandman’s lamp is mild compared to that sometimes provoked by artwork depicting graphic sexuality or minority religious sentiment. Last October, vandals videotaped their destruction of Andres Serrano’s "The History of Sex" photographs at the Kulturen Gallery in Lund, Sweden. They left leaflets that read, "Against decadence and for a healthier culture." And in 1999, the Brooklyn Museum became a center of controversy over the exhibit "Sensation," which included an image of the Virgin Mary decorated partly with elephant dung.

"We believe that to share these actual artifacts that were used to restrain, and sometimes kill, truly brings history alive." —Gwen Ragsdale

Museums and collectors must often balance the artistic or historic value of mounting an exhibit with the potential pain it could cause. In January 2007, the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Archives in Washington, D.C., received a rare photo album of images depicting SS officers in Auschwitz-Birkenau relaxing in the summer and fall of 1944. Though Auschwitz is one of the most infamous camps, where more than 1 million Jews were killed, very few photos of it exist, much less of the officers.

"It is so arresting precisely because the photographs are so benign," says Judy Cohen, the director of the museum’s photographic reference collection. "You see very day-to-day activities—eating blueberries, getting together with friends, having a drink—and yet we know from the historic record that this is the time when the crematoriums not only were operating at capacity, but were operating above capacity. It’s the jarring juxtaposition of how these people were relaxed in one moment and committing mass murder in another."

A lieutenant colonel in the U.S. Army, a former member of the Counter Intelligence Corps, found the album in an abandoned Frankfurt apartment shortly after the war’s end. He gave it to the museum anonymously, Cohen says, in the interest of "taking care of unfinished business." The retired officer died later in 2007.

The museum provides the haunting images to publications and has created an online gallery, but so far has no plans for a permanent exhibit. Cohen and her colleagues are still attempting to identify individuals in the photos. Last autumn, the museum received an unexpected tip from a German man who recognized his grandfather in two of the images online and is helping researchers establish the correct chronological order. Cohen feels a sense of urgency to gather information and material while Holocaust survivors and concentration camp liberators are still alive.

STEPHEN BRANDMAN collects items that some people find objectionable, such as a limited-edition, gold-plated M16 lamp designed by Philippe Starck and the video installation Crowd Around by Chinese artist Zhou Xiaohu, which shows disturbing commentaries on current events.

Undeniable Events
Inevitably, controversy dims over time as new generations bring their passions and concerns to the cultural fore. Likewise, historical artifacts and controversial works of art that evoke strong reactions often lose their charge as historically shocking events become the stuff of sentimental legend.

For example, the sinking of the Titanic was, by any definition, a horrific tragedy. Yet today, items recovered by deep-sea expeditions from what is a de facto grave site where the great ship went down are hardly controversial. In the early 1990s, Alan Stewart became fascinated with the Titanic. He explains that he has both an interest in the idea of the unsinkable ship and a professional curiosity about deep-water stories. Stewart scuba dives and owns Aquavisions, based in Merrick, N.Y., which installs large-scale aquariums and refrigerated systems. As a cold-water expert who knows from personal experience the discomfort of prolonged exposure to icy water, he says he cannot imagine the pain the passengers on the Titanic felt in the 28-degree sea.

"To me, this is a piece of history," he says. "It’s a connection to the past."

Stewart bought his first piece, a memoir, from one of the survivors rescued by the Carpathia. The book led to other purchases, including newspapers with advertisements for Titanic voyages prior to its sinking and, later, accounts of the disaster. Now Stewart calls himself "Mr. eBay," and regularly searches for new items related to the disaster online and at auction. More recently, he started focusing on telegrams, or marconigrams, that survivors sent family and friends once aboard the Carpathia.

With all but one known survivor of the Titanic now dead, Stewart and others encounter little opposition, though he acknowledges the families might want the site memorialized.

Not all historical events fade from memory so quickly: Slavery, genocide and other crimes against humanity will always be controversial. Collectors may decide that pieces relating to such events belong in museums for proper care. The Ragsdales recently lent pieces for historical displays, and hope to open their own museum in Philadelphia in the coming year. "Quite frankly, we took a note from the Jewish community and how they teach their children about the Holocaust and how their ancestors died," Gwen Ragsdale says.

The couple also created a traveling exhibit, "Lest We Forget: The Black Holocaust Museum," which includes branding irons and shackles—even one pair for a child—as well as a neck restraint and a whip. Often before a show, or prior to screening an award-winning documentary, which is also called Lest We Forget, the Ragsdales attempt to prepare their audience. "We preface it by saying we know they’re probably going to see and hear things that are difficult," Gwen Ragsdale says. "We explain our documentary and our story in a factual manner. Yes, initially, people are horrified, but you can’t deny that history."

Elizabeth Harris is a staff writer for Worth.

Ethical Considerations

Carefully considering how to acquire, display and eventually dispose of sensitive historical material is critical for owners of controversial pieces. "If you are collecting these things and intend for them to have an educational function, there are certain obligations you have as a collector—preserving the context and accurately displaying that," says Brian Schrag, the executive secretary for the Association for Practical and Professional Ethics at Indiana University in Bloomington.

PROVENANCE As with fine art, avoid stolen or looted material. Schrag points to an example of an Allied soldier who recovered Adolf Hitler’s globe from his Eagle’s Nest headquarters. "At that point, it’s not clear who he was stealing from, but it was also clear it was not his to take."

Consider, too, whether you want the seller to profit from a sale if your ideologies clash, such as a collector of Jim Crow memorabilia buying from a member of the Ku Klux Klan.

CONTEXT Preserve educational value by maintaining context and displaying items as accurately as possible. Resist any urge to sanitize the past. "One thinks simply of acquiring things in a legal matter, but if you then want to display it in some way, be truthful about the context in which you find it," Schrag says.

EXHIBITION Whether at home or at museum exhibitions, Schrag says, weigh how others will view the material and consider the idea of inflicted insight—forcing someone to look.

Collectors of important historical artifacts also sometimes face difficult choices about whether their purchase or display of a piece may unintentionally support an individual or group whose beliefs they oppose. Schrag sees parallels in the ethical issues already debated concerning genetics research conducted by Nazi scientists. The scientific community avoids Nazi research because of its violation of ethical practices, according to Schrag, who also serves as the acting director of the Poynter Center for the Study of Ethics and American Institutions.

"When one is collecting and displaying things to help us understand a part of history, that may outweigh an issue of where they came from," Schrag says.

Without Sanctuary

James Allen first looked at the photograph showing a crowd of people outdoors and did not fully comprehend what he was seeing. Allen, an antiques dealer and an editor of Without Sanctuary: Lynching Photography in America saw the photo after someone called to ask if he would be interested in an oak desk. He declined the offer. But the caller then said that there was something very strange in one of drawers that he might want to see. It was an image of the 1915 lynching of a Jewish businessman, Leo Frank, who had been convicted of murdering an employee based on circumstantial evidence. Allen bought the photograph.

"No one ever identified it as a lynching," Allen says of the photo. "Leo Frank was killed within 30 miles of our house; it really woke me up to the idea that this was a repressed history and set me to wondering just how many images there are."

Allen began calling local historical societies and state archives and asking about their lynching records. More than 4,700 of the crimes were recorded, but many, of course, were not officially documented. Still, in the 19th and early 20th centuries, lynchings were public events unofficially documented by gruesome photography and even postcards. Allen and his partner, John Littlefield, began discovering more and more of these images at flea markets and with other collectors. "We were able to buy the images as they came up," Allen says. "There was a sense of purpose—that we were really making a historic contribution."

Not every potential seller, however, shared that purpose and ideology; members of the Ku Klux Klan—the organization responsible for many lynchings—also collect these photos and postcards. Once Allen felt personally threatened when he and Littlefield made contact with a member of the KKK who offered to sell a rare photo for several thousand dollars. Allen and Littlefield drove across Georgia and finally arrived at a junkyard in Alabama around midnight. When they saw the images in question, though, they weren’t interested.

"He took a noose out," Allen recalls. "By that time, I think he knew we were intimidated and was getting a rush out of it."

Allen and Littlefield had little trouble finding a publisher for their book, which includes 99 images, along with essays from historian Leon F. Litwack and writer Hilton Als, among others. They had hoped to mount a companion exhibit in the South, but could not find a venue initially, and eventually partnered with the New-York Historical Society in New York City.

Finding a permanent home for the collection is proving more difficult. Several years ago, an individual offered Allen and Littlefield $1 million and promised to give the items to a northern university. However, the two rejected the money, wanting the collection to stay in the South where most lynchings occurred. Allen and Littlefield thought they had found a partner in Emory University, but the deal fell through, and they have since started looking again. They find it frustrating at times to deal with institutions that fear backlash from the exhibit. Allen says they have sought to "modify the exhibit and the theme so it did not offend white patrons." He adds, "In this case, I felt that our entire obligation has been to tell the truth."