I'm reading the first of the "Priscilla Hutchins" books by Jack McDevitt. In this book, humanity has ventured out into space far enough to find evidence of other sentient life. One of the races are named the "Monument Makers" by humans, because humans have found solitary monuments on otherwise uninhabited worlds, and all of these monuments seem to come from the same race. In one of the recent chapters, an archaeologist asks himself whether he would ever really want to find the Monument Makers. His experience is that artists typically pale when compared to their greatest works.
I understand what he means. In fact, it seems sometimes that people think less of the art once the flaws of the artist are exposed. Mike won't read, and can't enjoy, the books of Orson Scott Card, though his "Ender's Game" is one of the most highly regarded science fiction works. Many people are turned off by Richard Wagner's anti-Semitism, though some of his operatic works are more familiar to people than they would suspect -- especially the so-called "Ride of the Valkyries." Tom Cruise's reputation, bankability, and people's general opinion of his work suffer from his acceptance of Scientology (and his exuberant proclamation of love for his then-girlfriend Katie Holmes.) Myself, I used to be able to enjoy most of "Thriller" and "Bad" but the post-Neverland Ranch Michael Jackson has tainted that music for me. I still listen to it, but not without some underlying queasiness about the artist.
The strange thing is this: I think every significant artist is likely to have some strangeness that would put the majority of us off. They reach their art by stepping beyond the boundaries in which the herd grazes. Sometimes artists (or their biographers) will talk about the "demons" that drove them, and while I don't know that I would ascribe the art to inspiration by supernatural evil, it seems that the struggle with non-conformity often does motivate artists to create what most of us cannot.
For that reason, perhaps its better never to meet the creators of our favorite works of art. Yet, I think not. I think it's far better for us to realize that the art can, and likely will, surpass the creator. When true art is created, its purity is beyond the purity we humans can maintain in our own lives. We should appreciate that purity without expecting any other person to match it. Even, or perhaps especially, the artist who created it.
2 comments:
I try not to think about what wretched human beings James Joyce and (even worse) Ezra Pound were.
john_d, thanks for the comment. One of my "possibly never to be realized" goals is to read "Ulysses." I understand it's a tough read, and ultimately worth it, but like most of the Shakespeare histories, benefits from having it assigned as required reading in a course at school. As I will likely never take such a course, it would require some discipline to put my time into Joyce.
Still, perhaps I will try.
And when I do, I'll avoid the biographical information.
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