ON SEPARATING ART FROM ARTIST

Note: this post is inspired by certain current events. I haven’t read the Vulture article yet. I plan to, when I have the mental fortitude to get through it. I do know enough from context, and have known about the allegations since last year. At any rate, this post is not about them even though the article and discourse around it is what has inspired me to write this post. And I do not get into detail about exactly what is going on, nor do I even use their names. This is about the idea of separating art from artist, and why I think it’s important even when–especially when–said artist is a shitheel of the highest order.

alternate title: trust your instincts

Several years ago I smothered my instincts because so many of my friends were convinced I was wrong about a cult-famous musician and self-avowed feminist, that she wasn’t actually a bad person and my hate was unfounded. I ended up reading her book and it was like a switch flipped; I went from hating her to loving her. Obviously my instincts had been wrong, people had been overreacting to her behavior.

About 4 or 5 years ago the shine began to wear off. The instincts began to whisper again. I said nothing to anyone because I didn’t want to go down that road again. I didn’t hate her, but I certainly didn’t love her anymore.

Now I’m wondering what kind of narcissism powers she has that she was able to bewitch me with her book.

Or maybe I’m just more vulnerable to female narcissists because of my deep-seated, pathological need to be liked by women. To have female friends that won’t abandon me. Even if I was never going to meet her in person, likely, she had created a song that mattered to me and so something in me wanted her to like me.

When the allegations against her ex-husband the author first broke last year, I was a little surprised–I’d never had any instincts about HIM, but I’d also never liked his books the way I loved one of her songs. Maybe the instincts didn’t need to trigger because nothing he’d ever created had been of soul-deep importance to me as one of her songs was, so there was no need to protect me. I was never going to fangirl over him like I might have over her.

But after the surprise waned, there was another sense, a sense of “Ohhhh, that’s why they paired up. They’re BOTH AWFUL.”

Because part of the reason I smothered those instincts years ago was because they were getting married–and while I HATED her, and felt she was a bad person, I didn’t have any such feelings about him & by most accounts I’d seen he was decent. So there was a definite “does not compute” going on that lead me on my road to smothering those instincts.

But I guess it did compute. I just didn’t realize it.

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We have to learn to separate art from artist. We have to see artists as what they are: flawed human vessels that sometimes channel the numinous.

As a species, we are hardwired for religion.

In this age of nebulous “I’m not religious, I’m spiritual” attitudes, we have ideologies to rule our lives; we have cults of celebrity or artist, and people becoming fans not just of creations but the creators behind them–elevating them to godlike status in our personal pantheons. “This person created something of soul-deep importance to me, so they must be flawless and godlike.”

And then, when the scales come off our eyes, when we see what that person is truly like…then the world ends. Because gods are supposed to be above us, yet this one has proven himself a demon in disguise–can we even trust anything anymore?

The lesson is not the teacher. We must stop conflating the two.

I continued to listen to that one song that meant something to me, even when I hated the artist. Because I realized even then that if she truly was as awful as I felt she was, she still managed to create this thing of beauty that had changed me on a soul-deep level. She was a flawed vessel, channeling something beyond her–something she probably couldn’t even understand herself.

I have been as guilty as others with conflating art and artist, raising creators to godlike status. Of course I have. I’m only human. (Apparently.)

But that’s the problem. If you always throw creation out with creator, pretty soon you’re left with a planet empty of art.

Because we humans do guilt-by-association as well, and soon it becomes not only “We need to throw out this creation because the creator is awful” but also “And we need to throw out the creation of anyone who was ever friends with this creator, or never called them out”–it’s only a matter of time before that happens.

No one is perfect and likely everyone has been friends with a truly awful person and not seen it. Even your heroes. Even you.

Instincts don’t always trigger. Learn to trust them when they do, but understand sometimes they can be wrong.

So separate art from artist. Learn to do it. Sometimes you won’t be able to, sometimes it’ll just be too hard. But try anyway. Because if you don’t, if you let every single piece of art that’s important to you be rendered meaningless by the creator’s shitty beliefs, actions, personality….

Then everything becomes meaningless.

That’s the end result of this equation; all human art is rendered meaningless. And if it’s all meaningless, then life is too.

We are all flawed vessels channeling the numinous. This is true whether we’re writers, painters, musicians, parents.

If your parents are terrible, shitty people, does that render you meaningless? Or can you separate creator from creation?

(I’ve had to learn to separate creator from creation; without my father I wouldn’t have suffered so much abuse, but also without him–I would not exist. Those two facts exist together, held together despite their opposite polarity only through my sheer force of will, my determination that I am not meaningless. That I exist for some purpose, even if one half of my creation was by a supremely flawed being.)

If you can’t separate the two, please try. Because you aren’t meaningless. You are a creation, made by flawed beings that nevertheless channeled something greater than themselves to create you. Your life matters and you have meaning. Because you are. You exist.

And maybe you will also channel the numinous to create something greater than yourself. And thus humanity marches on, attempting to draw itself out of the muck.

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None of this is a defense, by the way, though I’m sure people will see it as such, will call me an apologist of all sorts of terrible things. They always do. They have since I said Mists of Avalon and Darkover were important to me, and that I still recc them.

Yes, MZB was a horrible, terrible person and learning about her actions made me hope there IS a Hell, so that she’s being tormented in it.

But she is not her books. And those books still inspired me–both religiously and as a writer.

Yet according to certain people, liking those books makes me a pedo.

It is the way of things. People lack reading comprehension, and they are quick to pick up torches and pitchforks–perhaps because they know, deep down, how easily those same implements will be turned against them.

Better to be part of the mob than the one targeted by it.

But no, nothing in here is a defense. As I stated in the first part, my instincts were spot on and I should never have smothered them.

Nor am I blaming those who did not have said instincts warning them, who got swept up in being a fan, and then got hurt. It’s easy for predatory people in positions of power to hurt those more vulnerable, and fans are vulnerable to the creators they adore.

The musician of whom I speak is well-known for a complete lack of boundaries with her fans; her behavior is akin to the lovebombing that cults do in order to recruit followers.

Is it any surprise that her legions of fans are so devoted, borderline religious in their love of her? No. Just as it’s no surprise that anyone who had a different experience, who spoke of her red flags or hurtful behavior, was shut down and silenced.

There have been people speaking about her and her red flags for YEARS. Many of their posts were things I had found early on when my instincts guided me there, and were part of the reason I disliked her so much.

But those posts got shouted down. Silenced. All those people were just crazy haters.

It’s especially hard to point out abusive behavior from a woman. You are accused of internalized misogyny, being a pick-me girl, etc etc. And if you’re a man, don’t even try to talk about how your ex-girlfriend abused you; what you get from her supporters and fans will be a thousand times worse.

It is only now, when her abusive behaviour is being shown in the context of how she aided her husband’s abuse, that people are believing it. And even then, I’d warrant a large percentage still see her as a victim, too.

But the pattern was already there. It had been pointed out, numerous times. Some of us saw it. And then told ourselves we were wrong, because our friends said we were wrong and surely…surely our friends were right?

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Group think is a hell of a drug. It’s unavoidable because we’re pack animals. Humans will always be susceptible to it.

When it combines with the toxicity of fandom, which stretches beyond the problems I’ve mentioned in this post, it becomes mob rule.

It won’t be long now where if you say you enjoyed a book by a certain author, or song by a certain artist, and you don’t accompany that statement with a full litany of self-flagellation, how you know you shouldn’t because they’re problematic and so awful and you know you’re a really bad person for liking their work but it remains your fave because of when you encountered it in your life but you would never recommend it, of course, then the mob will come for you.

Because it has happened time and time again. (It happened to me, as I mentioned earlier in this post. An award-nominated SFF author put me on blast on her Twitter account, calling me a pedophile for recc’ing MZB’s books without accompanying novel of self-recrimination.)

And I’m just here, telling you…you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to participate in the mob coming for people who–gasp!!!!–still dare to enjoy works by artists that have now been deemed problematic (whether it is, as in this case, very fucking much deserved, or if it’s a word foisted upon them because mobs famously don’t care about whether accusations are true or not).

You don’t have to stop liking something just because the person who created it was shit.

Seriously. You don’t.

You can if you want to, of course, and I understand if it just hits a button too deep that you need to shuck it all away from you. Personally I’m able to separate art from artist in just about all situations, but even I have my limits. We all do, and it’s up to us to decide where they are.

But that doesn’t mean people who can separate art from artist in this situation are monsters.

And if you don’t want to give up the art that matters to you, if you can separate art from artist and want to be able to do that…then do. You don’t have to make a post about how even though you truly loved this piece of art you are now burning it because you know it’s the right thing to do.

You do not have to pile up all the Objectionable Art in your possession and light a bonfire in the hopes that the smoke will let us all know how virtuous you are.

None of this is required.

Nor is it required to, just as guiltily as you burned your prized collection, seek out unproblematic artists to consume their work instead (as if there is such a thing as an “unproblematic” person on the planet, as that word, problematic, has been used for any possible flaw a human might have), to cleanse your brain and heart of ever having liked the work of demons. To again signal, this time via Goodreads “currently reading” lists, that you are a good and virtuous person who would never even think of liking art from the Wrong People.

Art is subjective. So are our tastes. You should read and watch and listen to what you like.

If you do want to broaden your horizons, do it for curiosity’s sake. If you’re restless exploring the same old art you’ve always explored, and want something new.

Seeking out new artists should never be done out of guilt, or self-flagellation, or needing to prove you are virtuous. And those are the reasons that always drive people in the wake of a revelation like this.

Because here’s the thing: if you do let guilt or self-flagellation or virtue-signalling spur you on to find new artists to enjoy, and you do find them and enjoy their work! Maybe you found a new fave, and they become just as important to you as the previous problematic fave was. And that’s all well and good, but what happens in 10 years when that new fave has their problematic behaviour uncovered for the world to see?

No one is pure. As a species we are very muddy. Very few individuals can be said to be truly free of blemish.

And so we get back to my original point, which is: we need to learn to separate art from artist. We need to learn that artists are flawed vessels of flesh that, nonetheless, somehow tap into the wellspring of creation, the numinous, the creative force of the universe, and channel that into art that has meaning.

It has always been true and it will always be true.

Love the art. Be grateful it exists.

Stay comfortably wary of the artist. Keep them at arm’s length (at least). Then when they fall from grace, it will hurt you less.

-Katje

ps: comments will remain open so long as my mental bandwidth allows for me to handle them.

pps: yes, I do mean keep all artists at a comfortably wary arm’s length from you and I am including myself in that. I truly hope that if my work ever does generate enough fans to create a fandom that it is solely for the work and has nothing to do with me. I am an excessively flawed vessel, with many cracks; that is how the light gets in and then out again. The sacred universe lets me channel her to create art, and I hope it makes people’s lives better. But I am merely broken flesh, mired in the muck with the rest of my species, creating meaning with words as best I can.