I read the below
article, "Our Woody Allen Problem" a few days ago in "Psychology
Today". It is interesting that others have pondered the cognitive
dissonance we seem to face when we don't agree with the morality of the artist,
but we are a fan of their work. I think a huge amount of latitude needs to be
applied. If I was to go through all the films, novels, plays, songs,
installations, sculptures, paintings, poems etc. etc. and make an assessment of
the key artists involved against my own morals, ethics or even personal
philosophy, there would be no one left.
This has been a problem for me since childhood. Growing up in a culture that it has often been fashionable to persecute, traditional circus, it became all-too-common to discover that some icon or other opposed what my family did for a living. Not only did I have to make a decision to either separate the individual from what they produced, but I was often at war with my tastes when a certain prejudicial or gross insult to my people suddenly appeared in a favourite programme, book or other work.
This has been a problem for me since childhood. Growing up in a culture that it has often been fashionable to persecute, traditional circus, it became all-too-common to discover that some icon or other opposed what my family did for a living. Not only did I have to make a decision to either separate the individual from what they produced, but I was often at war with my tastes when a certain prejudicial or gross insult to my people suddenly appeared in a favourite programme, book or other work.
Looking at the example presented in the Woody
Allen article - and I appreciate this
isn't the entire thrust of the psychological argument - the problem here is that the morality of the
artist's life casts a troublesome shadow over the themes of his work. Indeed, this was the same issue I encountered when a gross distortion was made about my people. It ended up leading me to question the validity of a certain individual's work. Even in the realm of fantasy and fiction were they a farce?
Arguably a far larger problem has occurred with Bill Cosby's
work since his multiple historic sexual assault allegations. The fact that
Cosby has gone on record admitting that he used Quaaludes for sex and even
President Barak Obama felt the need to imply the extent of Cosby's guilt, makes
it seem virtually impossible for anyone but the man's most hard-core fans to look
upon on the man the same way again. The problem here is that whatever the
outcome, the concept of the old school and wholesome Cosby life is shattered
and this illusion was something he brought into just about every medium he
touched. Even his brilliant adult stand-up had a firm grounding in the tales of
his family life, and Cosby's moral lessons - not to mention his ability to
mention sex without vulgarity - were part of the parcel. Cosby always provided
me with a refreshing contrast to the majority of my favourite comics who often
did little to stand on the edges of prudery. Even Groucho Marx, who Cosby
adored and worked hard to keep in front of a changing audience to the extent
that he played the straight man in their onscreen work, used innuendo and made
rakishness part of his persona. I recently saw an internet meme showing two
decades apart photos of Cosby. One was the picture of the jolly 1980s
middle-American Dr Huxtable he created for "The Cosby Show" and the
other was the clearly deeply worried and troubled bald man we have seen
photographed today. One poster responded with knee-jerk pathos - "It's
sad". They were immediately shot down: "It's sad what these women
have been put through for so long!". We are often shamed by such remarks.
We feel selfish to bemoan the thought of losing Cosby's art when we should
really be feeling anger towards yet another example of a celebrity abusing
their position of power and influence.
A diagram of cognitive dissonance theory. Dissonance reduction can be accomplished in various ways, broadly including the addition of more, consonant elements, or else changing the existing elements. (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
However, the likes of Gary Glitter, Jimmy Savile, Rolf
Harris and many others became institutions that made up the fabric of our
childhood culture and their demonization does have some effect on us all.
Managing the paedophilic Glitter was the easiest. He represented glam rock,
which could be marginalized like any other music trend or deviation. I never
liked his image or his music. I know several people who worked with him and few
of them spoke highly of the man before he was first publically accused of his
various crimes. However, something doesn't quite sit right with me when
decisions have been made to completely remove him from works that have been
created to celebrate the history of glam rock. Savile's legacy is a little bit
more difficult. Besides once writing a letter to a show that almost put him in
a Santa Claus demi-god position for children, "Jim'll Fix It",
Saville did not have a particularly large obvious influence over my tastes. However, he is currently recognized with the
paradoxical distinction of being one of the UK’s most prolific charity fundraisers
and prolific sexual predators. It should be noted that the prestige he gained
from being the former aided him to commit the crimes of the latter.
Rolf Harris appeared in many different forms throughout my
childhood. The most memorable of these for my particular generation was
probably “Rolf Harris’s Cartoon Time”. The show was one of those early evening
programmes that became part of many a child’s television watching ritual. We
loved the eccentric way he hummed and chatted to us - a method he had perfected whilst rehearsing to a doorknob! - as the various Warner
Brothers cartoons took shape on his drawing board to the tap and squeak of his
thick felt pens. My love for Looney Tunes long outlasted my interest in Harris’s
cosy little show, but it was still a happy memory of a certain period of my
life and provides a bitter taste in my mouth think of what was occurring in the
lives of Harris’s victims at that time.
Does the passage of time put everything into perspective? I
love the works of Byron and Shelley. I, like many others, was first drawn to
them more by the stories of their outrageous lifestyles and their iconic
influence than by their literary merit. However, these two great romantic
poets, who wrote such beautiful prose about love and friendship, did not have a
great record for the way they treated their lovers. Byron, who popularized the
type of bold hero that now bears his name, ended his days behaving like any
other foppish and privileged celebrity who mistakes his self-righteous ego for
the true spirit of revolution. Shelley, who married the daughter of the mother
of feminism and a strong liberal philosopher, used the concept of "free
love" as a licence to mistreat women. As discussed in two previous posts
on here I have written, Shelley's own selfish interests and drives that helped
create a lot of misery around him are probably the inspiration for his wife's
most famous literary creation: Victor Frankenstein. Both Byron and Shelley's
scandals, which helped build up the rock star blueprint that would ensure the
iconography of many others to follow, stem from the shattered lives of those
who trusted them. At least this is the opinion voiced by the likes of Claire Claremont,
Lady Caroline Lamb and William Polidori. These are just the names of the illustrious
and the literate, and those who were fiery enough to fight back in some
fashion. Similar thoughts could be expressed about the hypocritical libertine, Mozart,
and even Oscar Wilde, who used teenage rent boys who were probably forced into
their profession by the poverty of the time.
On watching a documentary about the rock history's greatest excesses,
I couldn't help but wonder at the double standards we allow and even celebrate
in certain icons. One story that really brought this to mind was the story of a
competition between glam metal Motley Crue founding members, Nikki Sixx and
Tommy Lee. Apparently both were competing to see how long they could go without
washing and still get sex off groupies. In the end, Sixx won the bet when one groupie
who was giving him oral sex was so overwhelmed by the noxious fumes of his body
odour that she threw up on him. It became an amusing anecdote in rock circles
and fellow glam metallers, Guns 'n Roses even named one of their albums after
it. Some might argue that the groupie in question was a consenting adult and
deserved everything that she got for being such a mindless devotee to fame, but
it's always easy to judge. Seeing the huge numbers of groupies that various
celebrities make their way through, one has to stop and ponder the average age
of them all. Furthermore, given the tribal nature in human beings don't those
positions of influence have some degree of responsibility?
Whenever one thinks about the separate way we might think of an art and artist, the subject of Richard Dadd is an obvious example. One of my favourite authors, Angela Carter, even wrote "Come unto these Yellow Sands", a play based on Dadd's life.
Dadd was incarcerated in 1843 in Bethlehem psychiatric hospital, the place most famously dubbed "Bedlam Asylum", and later in Broadmoor Hospital, which has housed a veritable rogues gallery of British killers. Dadd, who was probably a paranoid schizophrenic, had killed his father believing him to be a demon and later took a razor to kill a tourist en route to Paris. His personality had undergone a dramatic and violent change a year previously whilst on an expedition through Europe and into Egypt. However, once Dadd was under care he began producing some of his most famout work. One particular piece, the unfinished masterpiece "The Fairy Feller's Master-Stroke", has gone on to inspire many other artists from the rock band Queen to the fantasy author Terry Pratchett. Dadd accompanied the work with a long poem he wrote one year after the artist stopped working on the piece. Amid the brilliant, incredible and intricate details of the picture, which have to be viewed as extensions of Dadd's complicated psyche, there is the almost hidden figure of an apothecary holding a mortar and pestle. This is a portrait of Dadd's murdered father, Robert. Few would call into question Dadd's insanity and therefore might absolve him from his violent acts. Few would condemn those who encouraged Dadd to continue with his work as a type of therapy whilst he lived out his incarcerated life. However, how do we judge ourselves when we celebrate this beautiful work?
The examples I have provided are varied in their severity. I
am trying hard not to make comparisons or even suggest an argument. Better
writers have discussed how much fame seems to mitigate the crimes of
celebrities in the eyes of the public and how historical context turns
Alexander into a great conquering visionary and Hitler into the personification
of evil. My aim is to ponder the complexity of trying to separate a work from
its creator. I don't think anyone will arrive at an easy compromise.
Our Woody Allen Problem
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