John Beale, Post-Gazette Jennifer Pierson, a University of Pittsburgh student who works at The Andy Warhol Museum, views images of Iraqi prisoners from Abu Ghraib prison on display at the Warhol. Click photo for larger image.

Reaction to the mere idea of The Andy Warhol Museum's latest exhibition was as swift and vociferous as the rain that forced the North Side museum to close within hours of the exhibition's opening Friday.

The museum reopens today, with "Inconvenient Evidence: Iraqi Prison Photographs from Abu Ghraib" occupying one corner of the largest room on the second floor.

The heavy e-mail reaction that anticipated the show drew sides as polarized as those of the current political climate. Some praised the Warhol for its courage and took aim at the Bush administration for being in Iraq; others wrote expressing fury at what they interpreted as an anti-patriotic and even subversive decision.

The photos, some of which most Americans have seen, line part of one wall, and a collection of international front pages reporting war news and atrocities by both sides hang nearby as part of the same exhibition.

Perhaps the most widely known photo is of the tented, hooded man standing on a box with his arms splayed, wires hanging from his fingers. One can try to imagine his terror of falling off the box and being electrocuted. Harder to imagine is how Sabrina Harman, who looks like the sweetest girl you'd ever want to meet, with a toothpaste-ad smile, could have willingly posed thumbs-up just inches above the gray body of a man packed in ice with his mouth hanging open and a horrible contusion on his face.

"I can't relate to her in that photo, but I can relate to that happy smile, the happy feeling and that kind of look on her face," said Jennifer Pierson, a gallery attendant at The Warhol and a student at the University of Pittsburgh. "It's shocking what's triggering her happiness. I think regardless of how you're going to vote in November, these images should have some meaning to you, and you have to wrestle inside yourself. It isn't just about happy-camper rallies."

In one photo, an orange-suited Iraqi with his hands behind his back is squashed into a corner in fear as a dog bares its fangs just inches from him. Another photo shows Iraqi soldiers, hoods on their heads, engaged in fellatio. (The photo does not show the presumed force behind the acts.)

As a collection, the photos pack more power than when seen individually.

Among those who gave The Warhol a pat on the back, the Pittsburgh chapter of Veterans for Peace Inc. wrote a letter that stated, in part, "The government and media woefully fail to adequately relate to the American people the full and true horror of war. Instead, we are led to be fans of war, as if it were a sporting event," and the Americans who may be so ready to support war may be so because "the horrors of war are abstract to them."

On the other hand, several patrons canceled or threatened to cancel their memberships in the Carnegie Museums.

One e-mail reads: "Dear Dummies, If you want to show war, why haven't you shown pictures of the thousands of dead in Iraq from Saddam Husseein's [sic] dictatorship. You are disgusting." Another pleads that the prisoners not be revictimized and states, "These photos may be real and they may be history but they are not art."

The question of artistic merit is compelling but not necessarily relevant. Andy Warhol himself stirred the it's-not-art contention among Americans, and his work continues to confound many.

Thomas Sokolowski, The Warhol's director, does not claim these photos are art but says the link between documentary expression and art has been made long before this exhibition.

"I would bet you that with the Carnegie International [next month], there's not going to be a few people out of those 22 artists who are not dealing with some nexus between documentary photography and so-called art," he said.

Art in the second half of the 20th century began to deal with issues of social concern, including poverty, AIDS and war, he said. The media, and even their roles, increasingly have rubbed up against pop culture, as Warhol's work predicted.

"As an institution in [Warhol's] spirit, we see it as our role to continue to challenge, take risks and explore the relevant issues and expressions of our time," said Sokolowski. "It's The Warhol's mission to be a vital forum for dialogue around contemporary issues such as this."

Sokolowski said these photos encourage discussion and re-examinations about our self-image and our image in the world. Can we believe we are a more noble nation at war than other nations? And, what can be instructive in contemplating the behavior of the wholesome-looking Sabrina Harman? As the My Lai massacre did in 1968, once exposed, the Abu Ghraib incidents forced this nation to consider the effects of war on people who might not otherwise, as Sokolowski puts it, "pull the tails off puppy dogs."

Horrifying experiences change the way people behave, and war is notorious for absolving otherwise appalling behaviors: A majority of Americans believed Lt. William Calley should be freed after his 1970 court-martial for the murders of at least 22 unarmed Vietnamese civilians.

Sokolowski said that of the Vietnam War, the strongest images include the photo of the man grimacing just as his head is being blown off by his executioner, and of the naked child running down the street with her arms out. Sokolowski said, "I have a feeling these images [from Abu Ghraib] are the ones we will remember about Iraq."

You aren't really talking about war, he said, "if you don't capture the smell of it. I think this exhibit does that."

The exhibit runs concurrently at the International Center of Photography in New York City, both through Nov. 28.