The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was working at the Southern Christian Leadership Conference headquarters on Auburn Avenue when photographer Bob Fitch snapped his photograph for the dust jacket of King's 1967 book "Where Do We Go From Here?"

On view in the High Museum of Art exhibit "Road to Freedom," the picture presents a sober King, pen in hand, standing behind a desk covered with pages from a writing tablet and assorted books. His mentor Gandhi looks down from a portrait on the wall behind him.

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"This image catches him in the middle of an intense, thought-filled morning of strategic activities from which he took a moment to accommodate this photographer," recalled Fitch, who was on the SCLC staff.

So how did this benign photo become part of a national dispute?

The photo is the source for the controversial granite portrait sculpture in the $100 million King memorial planned to debut on the National Mall in Washington in 2009.

Roma Design, the San Francisco firm that won the competition to design the memorial, liked the thoughtful expression and felt the reference to King as a writer would highlight the legacy of his words. The competition renderings present the figure in profile, emerging from the Stone of Hope, a reference to King's famed "I Have a Dream" speech.

The working model of the 28-foot sculpture evoked no such associations, however. To some, it presented a dour King, appearing confrontational and even, somehow, totalitarian. Others saw in his expression and pose a serious, self-assured leader, a pillar of strength.

The explanation for the metamorphosis of King the writer/thinker to King the crusader, or worse, the menace, lies in the evolution of the memorial's design and the science of body language.

A significant shift

Roma Design conceived the sculpture as a semi-representational piece. It is almost a bas-relief rather than a three-dimensional figure. The rendering mimics the pensive expression and the tilted head seen in the photo. King gazes to one side and points with the pen to an inscription on the side of the boulder, from his remarks that the freedom in the Declaration of Independence is a "promissory note" to all citizens, black and white. As in the photo, his legs are barely visible.

Roma didn't take the concept beyond its competition illustration. It had no role in its transformation from paper to full-size clay model. It was during this process, overseen by the King memorial foundation, that the alterations occurred.

The figure in the maquette is almost fully three-dimensional and detailed. The body no longer looks to one side; but faces straight ahead. The legs are more defined, spread apart in a stiff stance. And the pensive expression hardens into a vaguely surly one, with furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

Ed Jackson, the foundation's executive architect, has explained that the changes were made, in consultation with sculptor Lei Yixin, because emulating the figure in the original rendering would have necessitated cutting off portions of King's body. Perhaps because realism was the priority, or because those involved didn't understand the symbolism of the memorial, they did not recognize how profound the changes are.

First, they effectively negate key metaphors of the winning design —- the sense of King emerging from the Stone of Hope and the suggestion that he has turned toward the Jefferson Memorial as if to remind Jefferson of the promissory note.

Second, they alter the figure's character. That's because humans are highly attuned to an elaborate system of signals we call body language, which work singly and as reinforcements of each other. As Atlanta sculptor Martin Dawe notes, "The position of a wrist can affect the meaning of a whole sculpture."

Emory University professor Marshall Duke, an expert in nonverbal behavior, attests that details matter. Take folded arms.

"Hands tucked in with fingers hidden is an aggressive signal," he said. "Arms folded with elbows out says, 'I'm busy, and I've stopped to listen' —- not aggressive."

He says that the sculpture's body language is sending ambiguous messages, which helps explain the wide spectrum of responses to the proposed sculpture.

And, remember, all this is happening in a sculpture nearly three stories tall. That scale magnifies body language, diminishes nuance and accentuates the intimidation factor.

Too many subtexts

One could argue that some controversy was inevitable no matter what. Memorial sculptures for King have long been lightning rods for racial resentments, black and white. The importance of this one —- the first representation of an African-American and nonpresident to be so honored on the National Mall —- would make it particularly fraught.

The fact that both the artist and the granite for the sculpture are from China introduced another political dimension. The idea that America would outsource even a national monument was, for some, the ultimate indignity.

Then, too, so many Americans feel possessive of their hero, King. They want to remember him as they see him in their mind's eye. Hence, the criticisms of the likeness and even the cut of the suit as well as the persona.

Consider, too, that Americans are leery about depicting their heroes on a monumental scale, a practice associated with dictators. Except for the presidents at Mount Rushmore, Abraham Lincoln, ensconced in his monument across the Tidal Basin, is one of the few who could look King in the eye, and only if he stood up.

Like its body language, the scale of the King sculpture evoked a variety of reactions. Some viewers, including the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts, found it too confrontational and totalitarian-looking. A number of critics ascribed that response to fear of having the monumental image of an angry black man looming over the mall.

With all these dynamics in play, it's likely that some people were ready to be upset about some aspect of the King memorial before they even saw the model. Viewers will always filter their perceptions through their own biases and expectations. It's unfortunate that ambiguous body language and other questionable artistic decisions gave viewers so much latitude to see what they wanted to see.

As Duke said, "When an expression doesn't have a context, you generate [your own] context."

Online

More about the King memorial and the controversy:

> Site of the Martin Luther King Jr. National Memorial Project Foundation on mlkmemorial.org

> Site of memorial critic Gilbert Young on kingisours.com

> News and photos about the proposal on ajc.com/metro/mlk

MIXED MESSAGES?

Emory University professor Marshall Duke, an expert in nonverbal behavior and the psychology of art, and Atlanta sculptor Martin Dawe analyzed the Martin Luther King Jr. sculpture proposed for the national King memorial for the AJC and found it full of mixed messages.

—- Catherine Fox

Folded arms

Crossed arms can convey a variety of emotions. Here, King's arms are loosely folded, with elbows and fingers visible, which suggests a mild manner, as opposed to hiding one's fingers behind one's arms in a tight body embrace, which is more threatening.

Stance

Standing with weight shifted to one hip is an expression of relaxation. Standing squarely on two legs is a position of strength and readiness. King's straight-legged stance could suggest King as a leader or an aggressor, depending on how you interpret the arms and other signals.

Frontal position

Standing or sitting sideways signals an accommodating, relaxed mode. A frontal position is more forceful, but, as with the stance, it may indicate either strength or confrontation. So it's not surprising that some viewers think King looks menacing, while others see his posture as evidence of his backbone, or even metaphorically standing up to racism.

Art in transition

At the request of the U.S. Commission of Fine Arts, sculptor Lei Yixin altered the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.'s facial expression to make it less severe. The before and after pictures suggest that he opened up the eyes, de-furrowed the brows, relaxed the cheek muscles and massaged the lips in the direction of a vague smile. According to the minutes from the commission's April 17 meeting, members recognized how much the model differed from the original concept, literally and metaphorically, but did not require changes to the figure's torso.