A few weeks ago, I watched the movie, Tar, and found myself again mulling the idea of whether an artist’s likeability affects the public perception of their work. Can we separate the artist from their output? Can we value the genius of an artist’s ouvre if the artist is a jerk? Conversely, if the artist is a genuinely stellar human being but their work is sort of meh, will their art be as memorable and legacy-worthy? I think this question merits real analysis because I think it sheds a lot of light on how art is consumed by the public. It’s always said that people don’t buy art, they’re buying the artist. But why?
Epic Rap Battles of History (ERB) made a fabulously entertaining video pitting a sharply critical Picasso against a wholesomely earnest Bob Ross. The video creators made the rap battle using what information they had about these two artists, asking at the end “Who Won? Who lost? You decide!” Most votes went to Bob Ross and I think this says a lot about how sensitive we are to the personalities of people who do creative work.
(I think it also says a lot about the kind of people we vote into public office. Rampant narcissists may be geniuses but they get no points for connecting with real humans. What does that say about the people who hold narcissists in high regard despite the shitty way these “geniuses” treat the average joe schmo? But I digress….)
In a meta-moment inTar, the Maestro asks a student why he can’t (won’t?) relate to the music of Bach. She asks him the million-dollar question: Should we separate the quality and beauty of the music from the artist whose personality or behavior we may not like? Can we appreciate their art’s cultural value outside of the person? Can we relate to it even if we don’t relate to the artist (or reject them entirely)? At this point in the movie, Tar’s narcissistic but brilliant tendencies show how sticky this wicket is.
I have friends who used to enjoy Woody Allen’s work; for them his work is tainted because they only see him as a child molester.
Recently, comedian CK Lewis came under fire for engaging in behavior best done in private. He warned the people in his room what he was about to do yet they stayed and were shocked just shocked! when he carried it out. Culture cancelled him for a while but now he’s back and his comedy schtick is being enjoyed by the people who can dismiss that kind of thing.
And people looooove Picasso even though he was womanizer and quite abusive.
And why did the art students at the first art school I attended think that Bob Ross was evil incarnate? Someone had actually gone to the trouble to draw his visage in a circle of chalk on the sidewalk at the school entrance —and put a slash through it.
Is it possible that a dead artist’s work is more separable from their life’s behavior? Is it more likely a living artist’s behavior more directly affects how people interact with the art?
There is a tell in the work that reveals the artist’s deeper philosophy of the world and how they are trying to connect with people (or not). Remembering that a work of art can express many things at once and can be interpreted differently by different viewers.
Here’s an exercise: Consider an artist who says he doesn’t care at all about what an audience thinks of his work. We imagine an arrogant but brilliant guy who believes that he shits rose petals. We often encounter this kind of aloofness (“the art speaks for itself!”) in a white-walled gallery, an ivory tower of rareified air, dismissive of the curious people who might want to learn or understand the art-making process. Inaccessible. Difficult. Somewhat anxiety-provoking. People don’t like to be made to feel stupid.
Does your opinion of his work change if he makes a genuine effort to make his difficult work more accessible to you, the audience, by explaining it? Or if he’s an approachable person?
Now imagine another artist. An affable guy in a work shirt who wants to make you feel good about art. He approaches his art-making as a service, an educational gift to demystify the process so you understand it enough to do it yourself. The art he’s making isn’t difficult, in fact, it’s totally digestible. Accessible. You have perhaps seen a million versions of his kind of art already. This artist is making an effort to connect with you, his audience.
Does your opinion of his work change if he’s really just a salesman and knows he can make a quick buck on you by offering you easy art that isn’t challenging?
Which art are you more likely to buy?
Here’s another interesting idea to consider:
In 1943, Jan Mukarovsky wrote an essay called “Intentionality and Unintentionality in a Work of Art” (one of the essays in Structure, Sign and Function, 1978) and there he postulates that a work of art has two modes. The first are the elements in the art that are direct, intentional, and conscious ways the artist conveys the work. A deliberate choice of color, of subject matter, perhaps the composition can drive meaning in the work in the way the artist intends it to be. It’s the surface meaning— the one that speaks first.
And then there’s the un-intentional stuff that’s in the artist’s subconscious. Stuff that adds or conveys meaning the artist isn’t really aware of. These are things an artist takes for granted such as the way she swipes her paint —or makes careful marks. Or random marks. It’s in the way lines can be allowed to be shaky —or applied with a straight edge tool or a fan brush. There are all kinds of decisions made on the fly when one makes a work of art. Choices that might seem deliberate but are actually indicators of a subconscious mind at work. This is the subtext, the underlying message of the work that an artist can’t help but convey whether they like it or not. It’s like a tone of voice that can be heard over the phone. Our nervous system can read it.
It’s in these un-intended things that Mukarovsky says the truth about the art is really understood. It’s where the viewer really gets the meaning. It’s almost as if the artist’s subconscious is better at expressing what’s on their mind.
This is what I mean by the tell. It’s the giveaway, the secret under the surface of the art and you, the audience, can see it and feel it.
If art is what represents culture— the glue that connects us— then perhaps there’s a benefit for the artist to really examine their subconscious mind and know who they really are and what they are trying to convey.