Is there such a thing as a “good artist”? Or an apolitical artist? (With the word “artist” I include all forms of art). These questions have been popping in and out of my mind for a few years now, especially since I have become more political, or at least made aware more of the political spheres especially in the United States.
Let me begin with politics as related to art. Many have said that all art is political; that you cannot divorce artist’s political leanings from his artistic creation. Or that even if you can, you should not. What’s interesting about this statement is that if we look closely at the politics of artists, they are usually leftist. It’s kind of curious that if one is an artist, one inevitably assumes the guise of someone who subscribes to the leftist agenda. This is immediately seen in an artist’s creation.
But should it be like this?
When one’s political leanings (and at this point, I am indifferent whether they are on the right or on the left) seep into the art form one is trying to create, it is all painfully visible. And in my view, it takes away from the art form itself. If there was any attempt to bring the purity of art to the people, it disappeared through the wind of political musings, or more often, rants. I am always a bit disappointed when I get hit as a reader or a viewer by an artist’s opinion—and they all have an opinion.
Political life, it would seem then, should be kept separate from the aesthetic experience. Ideally, aesthetical creation, and by association experience, comes from the artist’s deep connection to the Divine Mind. This is partly the reason why artists have often been called “mad.” They have had a personal “portal” or a “view” into the unknown, the mysterious.
Once an artist brings politics into art, the mystery is stripped away. The art form becomes its own caricature, an attempt at creation that was cut off from the supply of life and elusive threads that put together the universality, joy and agony of human condition.
What about the “good artist”? If the artist is not political, then we often times hear that he or she is/was not a good person. We may admire his art but through reading the biographies, we find out shocking facts that he was a jerk, a womanizer, a philosophical mess, a drunk, and the list goes on.
One of my all-time favorite authors is Iris Murdoch. It is a well known fact that Murdoch was not the nicest of persons. She instilled a strange sense of fear in her peers, most likely regularly cheated on her husband, and had casual sexual relationships with both men and women. When I found out most of these little facts, I was disappointed. I loved her books so much, which were full of philosophical and human dilemmas that I was convinced that such marvelous works of art must have been written by a good and honorable person. I forgot about the fact that there was a difference between an intellectual virtue and a moral virtue. One may know what morality is but do they know it or do it habitually? And so, in my mind, I had to distinguish between “Iris Murdoch, the writer” and “Iris Murdoch, the person.”
But perhaps the real question here is whether we expect too much of our artists? Do we idealize their being? Do we minimize the weaknesses and maximize the strengths? Do we view them through an unrealistic lens and hold them to be gods, rather than humans made of flesh and blood who sin?
Perhaps we don’t need to be too critical in this case.
I still think that politics should leave the room and let the mysterious and beautiful breathe. But I think it might be far too difficult to find a “good artist.” Not impossible, but difficult. (And we all know a few, which gives a sustained note of hope). Sometimes beautiful things come from the most grotesque and twisted human beings out there.
How should I know whom God will make His instrument to create things of beauty? Sometimes, it is in the unlikeliest of candidates. That in itself is a mysterious thing. And I shall simply continue to be surprised by the joy of art.
Let me begin with politics as related to art. Many have said that all art is political; that you cannot divorce artist’s political leanings from his artistic creation. Or that even if you can, you should not. What’s interesting about this statement is that if we look closely at the politics of artists, they are usually leftist. It’s kind of curious that if one is an artist, one inevitably assumes the guise of someone who subscribes to the leftist agenda. This is immediately seen in an artist’s creation.
But should it be like this?
When one’s political leanings (and at this point, I am indifferent whether they are on the right or on the left) seep into the art form one is trying to create, it is all painfully visible. And in my view, it takes away from the art form itself. If there was any attempt to bring the purity of art to the people, it disappeared through the wind of political musings, or more often, rants. I am always a bit disappointed when I get hit as a reader or a viewer by an artist’s opinion—and they all have an opinion.
Political life, it would seem then, should be kept separate from the aesthetic experience. Ideally, aesthetical creation, and by association experience, comes from the artist’s deep connection to the Divine Mind. This is partly the reason why artists have often been called “mad.” They have had a personal “portal” or a “view” into the unknown, the mysterious.
Once an artist brings politics into art, the mystery is stripped away. The art form becomes its own caricature, an attempt at creation that was cut off from the supply of life and elusive threads that put together the universality, joy and agony of human condition.
What about the “good artist”? If the artist is not political, then we often times hear that he or she is/was not a good person. We may admire his art but through reading the biographies, we find out shocking facts that he was a jerk, a womanizer, a philosophical mess, a drunk, and the list goes on.
One of my all-time favorite authors is Iris Murdoch. It is a well known fact that Murdoch was not the nicest of persons. She instilled a strange sense of fear in her peers, most likely regularly cheated on her husband, and had casual sexual relationships with both men and women. When I found out most of these little facts, I was disappointed. I loved her books so much, which were full of philosophical and human dilemmas that I was convinced that such marvelous works of art must have been written by a good and honorable person. I forgot about the fact that there was a difference between an intellectual virtue and a moral virtue. One may know what morality is but do they know it or do it habitually? And so, in my mind, I had to distinguish between “Iris Murdoch, the writer” and “Iris Murdoch, the person.”
But perhaps the real question here is whether we expect too much of our artists? Do we idealize their being? Do we minimize the weaknesses and maximize the strengths? Do we view them through an unrealistic lens and hold them to be gods, rather than humans made of flesh and blood who sin?
Perhaps we don’t need to be too critical in this case.
I still think that politics should leave the room and let the mysterious and beautiful breathe. But I think it might be far too difficult to find a “good artist.” Not impossible, but difficult. (And we all know a few, which gives a sustained note of hope). Sometimes beautiful things come from the most grotesque and twisted human beings out there.
How should I know whom God will make His instrument to create things of beauty? Sometimes, it is in the unlikeliest of candidates. That in itself is a mysterious thing. And I shall simply continue to be surprised by the joy of art.
2 comments:
Perhaps the reason many "political" artists seem to belong to the Left, is that the Left, by and large, is aligned with Marxism, which denies that there even exists what you or I would call "art"; for Marxism, there is only propaganda, and the purpose of propaganda is to further an ideology. So leftist "artists" are really just propagandists for their own ideology.
This is quite different from the artist who seeks to portray, in some way, something that is true (humanly or transcendentally true, not just politically useful); those who succeed produce works that have a strong appeal even to those who might not share their personal convictions. Irish Murdoch, whatever here personal or artistic shortcomings, has always struck me as a writer who was always trying to use her art to portray the truth about the human condition. I admire her for that reason, even though I strongly disagree with her understanding of Truth and where it is to be found. (I was an admirer of her work for years, even considered doing my doctoral dissertation on her novels, but fell out of love with her after reading The Green Knight, in which she betrays rather too baldly a "truth" which I found deeply erroneous. It seemed to me that she had become ideological, rather than artistic.)
These are such excellent points. You are so right...it is propaganda..I never even thought of it that way.
I never read Green Knight...I must give it a go. Right now, I am re-reading The Time of the Angels. Murdoch has always been for me one of those people that I like but that also leaves me with a tinge of untruth. And that is difficult when you seek truth.
And, thanks for reading the post!
Post a Comment