Separating the art from the artist - a moral dilemma
In an era of cancel culture and artist controversies, how do we reconcile our love for art with the actions of its creators?
I was eight years old when I heard my favourite rapper for the first time. In that same year, their face was plastered across everything from tabloid magazines to national news after they critiqued then-president of the United States, George W. Bush, for his mishandling of the Hurricane Katrina disaster during a live national telethon fundraiser for victims.
When I was 11, my favourite rapper’s face was again plastered across pages and screens. This time, it was for interrupting the acceptance speech of a 19-year-old pop star at the
2009 MTV Video Music Award show, believing she didn’t deserve the award.
I was 20 when my favourite rapper was criticized for saying slavery was a choice in a TMZ interview shortly after seeking mental health treatment for bipolar disorder.
When I was 25, they began publicly platforming numerous white supremacists and went on a media tour with the central theme being potent, hateful, and inexcusable antisemitism.
In the post-#MeToo era, the concept of separating the art from the artist has become more relevant than ever. Whether you believe in cancel culture or not, it is undeniable that powerful people are being held accountable by the public to an extent we haven’t previously seen.
Many of these powerful people are artists – musicians, actors, content creators – people who connect with their audiences in very deep and personal ways. This leaves fans, those who have formed emotional bonds with the works of these people, wondering, ‘Is it morally okay to continue consuming the art of people who have done terrible things?’
Yes, of course it is. You are not a bad person for privately consuming and engaging with a piece of art that you love. You are not transphobic if you read Harry Potter. You are not antisemitic if your favourite rapper is Kanye West. But, even if that is my opinion, the decision is one that is largely personal and immensely complicated.
The reality remains that once a work of art is created, it takes on a life of its own in the hearts and minds of those who consume it. It becomes the soundtrack to a memory, a mantra to get you through the day, an annoying earworm you wish you could get rid of. You don’t need to know the opinions of an artist to derive something positive from their work.
In this era of algorithmic consumption, that separation is further than it’s ever been. Your favourite song may be one the algorithm recommended to you, which you added to your liked songs with a simple tap. You know nothing else about that artist, and be content with that ignorance. To you, and those like you, the art exists, but the artist does not. The work has become completely autonomous.
However, it would be naïve to ignore the fact that success has a way of turning artists into icons. The unfortunate truth is by consuming art ethically, you are either directly or indirectly contributing to that artist’s success and platform. The more deeply you engage, the more the artist becomes part of the equation as the “fandom” develops. How does one continue to engage on this level while remaining morally uncompromised?
The answer, in my experience, has been to translate an artist’s negative actions into positive ones of your own. If you are concerned about being a Kanye West fan while he’s spewing racial vitriol toward Jewish people, maybe you offset that by speaking out against white supremacy in your social circles and starting conversations that highlight the problematic nature of his statements.
The act of feeling bad about privately consuming art is a waste of good art and your own good will. However, translating those negative emotions into positive actions could be a way to prompt genuine, tangible actions that make a difference.
So, keep watching, reading, listening, and keep trying to do better. The art you enjoy does not define you, your actions do.