Creativity is not a vacuum: The Artist vs. The Person
Or, a strange little Rainy Sunday musing which somehow connects both Taylor Swift and Charles Dickens
It’s an age-old question –whether you can separate the artist from their work. I remember first having this thought in an Art History seminar in college. We were talking about the works of the French Revolution Specifically (Probably Oath
of the Horatii or Death of Marat). I’ve encountered the question time again with important works of literature (hello Hemingway & Fitzgerald) to film and music (the former absolutely solely focused on Last Tango in Paris and the recent revelations about how the studio exploited the young actors in Franco Zeffirelli’s Romeo & Juliet). But while not the same as what I’ve mentioned above, this post was really inspired by – like everyone else right now – listening to Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poets Society. And the supposed idea that most of the songs about a toxic situationship is centered around the 1975’s front man: Matty Healy.
Like I said – not the same at all. But the song Colors by Halsey is supposedly about Healy as well, so clearly there is a pattern here. All that the internet is accusing Healy of is being an insensitive and toxic dick, but yeah. I personally have to take some distance here. Because the 1975’s first album came out in 2013 – the year I graduated college – and that album is pretty much the soundtrack to my immediate post grad years up until my mid 20s. I remember seeing them at the 2014 Gov Ball. I’m listening to “Settle Down” (a personal romantic fave) as I write this. In hindsight, as I listen to the lyrics with a more critical eye – none of these songs are about anything other than toxic situationships, so at least Healy is abiding by that creative maxim to “Write what you know”. The single off their second album, “Somebody Else” and the chorus goes, “I don’t want your body, but I hate to think about you with somebody else.” Or same album, the song “Paris” (which I play every time I’m in Paris, obvy) croons “I’ve got two left feet, and I’m starting to cheat on my girlfriend again”. Ick. And Yet…
I’m not removing any of these songs from my extremely well curated playlists.
It’s not like a read Hemingway with any regularity, but like Kat Straford in 10 Things I hate About you, I also agree that he was “an abusive, alcoholic misogynist who squandered half of his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers.” So there. But I can understand what his art contributed to the genre, to the medium of writing. I’m a writer too, but I have no illusions that I’m going to write the next great American novel. Quite frankly, I don’t think that’s one of my ambitions anyway. And while I won’t be sharing exactly what those are until they come true (hehe) I can say as a creative, all I really want is something I write to matter to someone. To change someone’s perspective on someone or something. To make them feel less alone and understood. The way those books and movies and songs made me feel.
So, this rainy Sunday in May – I’m spending the day thinking about whether you can separate the art from the artist. In today’s climate getting cancelled is almost always about that separation. Bad behavior should not be rewarded by success, and yet, so often it is. But I can tell you as a creative, it’s incredibly hard and incredibly easy to separate myself from what I create.
I’ve probably said this before. But there’s a quote by Ernest Hemingway where he says something to the effect of who he never puts himself into his writing. Which as a writer, I CALL FUCKING BULLSHIT. To say otherwise requires a shocking lack of self reflection, which is a pretty cardinal sin for a writer. As writers we are required to observe the world around, and digest it, polish it, wrap it up in a bow to make it easily palatable and understandable for the rest. I can tell you with my novel it’s been so hard to separate myself, because while my main character is not me – she has sprung from my brain. I’ve given birth to her rather like Zeus did to Athena tbh.
I’ve been thinking about the massive amounts of modern day celebrities this applies to, as well as the previously mentioned historical artists. To be honest, though, I really think you can’t look at art in a vacuum. The reason Charles Dickens is so beloved, even though some of his stories are derivative (don’t come for me) is because his work accurately portrayed the poverty that existed in London during the Industrial Revolution – and humanized them. A lot of his writings directly led to things like child labor laws and workers safety conditions being passed. You know, small, inconsequential things like that.
But again, that compassionate take on those who were mostly dismissed and belittled by the ruling classes, generally means we can regard Charles Dickens as a somewhat decent guy. I haven’t read anything to the contrary. Like, Albert Einstein, is unquestionably a genius, but he was kind of shitty to his wife. So he’s a genius, but not a great person. So no, you can’t take that in a vacuum. You can’t separate the art from the artist, but I think whether it tarnishes their legacy is really up to the society that is judging it.
XOXO,
Casey