Of Monsters and Microwaves

No, You Do Not Have to Separate the Artist from the Art

Whenever a high-profile creative makes headlines for the wrong reasons, fans struggle to reconcile their emotional connection to the work with the newfound truth about its creator. The most common counterpoint this dilemma insists that a person's conduct outside that work should have no bearing on our opinion of it:

You have to separate the artist from the art.

Nobody's perfect.

We all make mistakes.

If you judge a work based on an artist's private life, you'll never read/listen to/watch anything ever again.

Maybe it's a good idea to make that separation; no doubt there are plenty of good arguments to do so. But if the artist doesn't separate themselves from their art, you don't have to either.

In a 1976 performance at the Birmingham Odeon in England, Eric Clapton told the immigrants in the audience—and the whole U.K.—exactly what he thought of them (no surprise he was only addressing people of color). At a 2013 show in San Francisco, folk singer Michelle Shocked paused between songs to offer her opinion on gay marriage, which was as hateful as it was puzzling. Other celebrities have used their visibility to sow conspiracy theories (Jenny McCarthy), stump for a candidate (Taylor Swift), or advocate for a cause (America Ferrera). An artist who invests years building an audience is free to use their own platform as they wish; audience members are likewise free to renounce fandom if they disagree (it's only when we disagree with the fans instead of the artist that we call it cancel culture).

Whether a celebrity spews intolerance and hate or takes a moment to preach the gospel, their audience is under zero obligation to do any heavy lifting in discerning art from artist if that artist did so during a performance.

Or within the art itself.

For creators such as comedians, their socio-political opinions—whether progressive, ignorant, or challenging—are the source of what makes them famous. Trying to separate the artist—George Carlin, Lewis Black, Bill Hicks, Andrew Dice Clay— from the art is just dividing by zero.

And for the likes of Bill Cosby or Neil Gaiman (it's a long list so let's just stop there), fame brings enhanced credibility along with the money to insulate themselves from consequences. Their crimes (alleged or proven) took place out of the spotlight, but the lawyers, NDA's, offers, settlements, and general damage control were only possible because of their creative success.

A great many artists' beliefs and behaviors are directly linked to their art, publicly or privately; intentionally from the start or as an opportunity later; as the source of their fame or as the perceived entitlement that followed. And if the artist does not separate themselves from their art, then the audience doesn't have to either.

So, another clown car pileup hits your newsfeed and now you're staring at your bookshelves and playlists. Do you trash everything? Donate it? Only keep the titles most meaningful to you? Do you just not support them in the future? Or does it matter at all, since they already have your money? Can you separate the artist from the art and continue to enjoy them without apology or guilt? Or maybe just a little guilt?

There's no math to explain how one forgotten song evokes a strong memory for one person, but another becomes the virtual anthem for a generation (Smells Like Teen Spirit). A one-size-fits-all quip about splitting artist from art is simply too blunt of an instrument to be useful here. It's also fundamentally flawed, because it assumes we should frame the problem differently for an artist versus, say, an insurance adjuster or long-haul trucker. And giving creative people special status above everybody else is the chief reason we landed here in the first place.

It's just part of their process.

They're used to thinking outside the box.

Okay, they're "toxic," but you can't argue with the results.

Even the most staunch defenders of predatory teachers, coaches and priests have never argued, "Hey, it's just part of his process." And the easiest way to sort through the complexity of an artist's public or private acts tangled with one's relationship to their art is to apply the same standards you'd use for a neighbor, coworker, family member or someone you do business with. If you're thinking, hey, it's not that simple, you're right... which is why the canned response to separate the artist from the art is woefully inadequate.

At best, it's glib and reductive, dismissing all offenses as equal when they aren't ("We all make mistakes... I mean, come on, who here hasn't burned down an orphanage, amirite?"). Someone who routinely slaps their spouse or puts razorblades in Halloween candy is a monster. Someone who microwaves broccoli at work or hands out granola on Halloween is also a monster. But those monsters are in altogether different weight classes.

The argument not only absolves the speaker of critical thinking and empathy, but also exacerbates real pain for someone else. I'm a straight, white, CIS male; I haven't read the Harry Potter books or seen the movies. Never been interested. I could respond to J.K. Rowling's transphobia with "Well, fuck her," without hesitation or a second thought, or I could not care at all. I've got zero skin in that game (for the record, fuck her).

But Rowling has an audience of millions. Harry Potter played a major role in the formative years of some fans, many of whom are the very human beings in Rowling's crosshairs. I won't pretend for a moment to have any insight on navigating the world as non-binary or transgender, so I've got no business saying, "Ignore her, they're just words." But that's effectively what "separate the artist" is suggesting, and saying so is to wipe your feet on a core part of who someone else is.

Just as the transgressions aren't all equal, neither are the connections we have with the people in our lives. Imagine a Nazi flag suddenly appearing in your mechanic's garage one day. Or your neighbor's garage. Or your own. It's all the same literal red flag, but taking your business elsewhere only works in one instance. And telling someone else, "Okay but he's a great mechanic," doesn't help if that mechanic is a blood relative (if it helps anything at all).

Our relationships with books, graphic novels, music and movies are virtually infinite in their variety. Sorting out our feelings about the works we love in light of an ugly truth isn't always easy. Separating the artist from the art, especially when the artist won't, doesn't always apply and perpetuates real damage.

Creative work that makes a lasting impression is very difficult to achieve. But so is making a living, navigating relationships, raising a family, dealing with a crisis. You know, life. Making sense of the betrayal that comes from these headlines starts with dismissing the argument that one should "separate the artist from the art," and by holding artists to the same standards we use for anyone else.