His essay, usually translated as "On the Work of Art in the Age of its Mechanical Reproduction," is a case in point. In Benjamin's day, the new technologies of reproduction were things like colored lithographs of paintings, photographs, phonographs, and engravings. He could hardly have imagined the plethora of reproduction that is the Internet, where an image search for "Mona Lisa" produces not only thousands of copies of Da Vinci's painting, but hundreds of thousands of variations, ranging from Lego Mona Lisa to Osama Bin Laden Mona Lisa.
For Benjamin, reproducing an artwork changes it fundamentally: he identifies as the "aura" that ineffable quality of presence that an original work of art possesses, and which -- for him -- is missing in any mere copy. The democratization of art -- the ability of anyone, even the most humble, to own a reproduction of a great work of art -- does not, for Benjamin, entirely compensate for this loss; indeed, by pretending that a copy can supply the meaning of the original, it actually harms and cheapens the experience.
If that's actually so, then images of art would seem to be irreparably cheapened -- and yet large art exhibitions continue to sell tickets, and most museums are thriving. It would seem that the Internet has succeeded in making the question of reproduction moot -- which of many mathematically identical digital images is the "original" anyway? In other areas, such as music and film, the original -- by its very nature -- is lost already. The "actual" voice of Bessie Smith or the guitar solos of George Harrison disappeared the moment they were being recorded, and all that the spinning discs can give us is a captive reproduction. Similarly, in film, the actors' performances vanish into a machine -- for us, the Marx Brothers, Lauren Bacall, and Charlie Chaplin will always be alive -- but that's because, in the form we knew them, they were already copies.
And such copies has an aura of their own, perhaps -- the smell of warm popcorn, the squeak of a theater seat, the beam of light as it cuts through the air over our heads and materializes into magic -- all the attendant joys of going to 'the movies' are all associated with what is, in its essence, a copy.
The idea of the value of art decreasing due to the conception of reproduction is an idea that I find both puzzling and frustrating. There are many reasons that lead to these sentiments, starting with the idea that reproductions lack the originals presence in time and space. The reproduction is meant to be just that, a reproduction. One should not attempt to replace or claim it to be the original. The reproduction is an attempt to share the artwork, building and expanding the audience to create interest and appeal. The reproduction serves in its own time and space, providing the owner or viewer the opportunity to view and interpret the art in a setting that is effective for their art interests. The original will still always exist as the original, and lives in its own time and space, having its own history. Additionally, it is stated in the Benjamin article that the aura of an artwork it diminished by the produced reproductions. This applies to photographs, paintings, and even film. When considering film and photography, who determines what is the original? The original could be a place, event, or even an actor on set. Why could the film or photo not be considered the original of the work of art? Why is this original not the work of art considering it is the source of how it was created. Paintings are reproduced by photographs, however that brings me to the previous point, each medium, even reproductions, are stand alone art works. Each exist in their own space and time, and serve a purpose. Viewers of art will not potentially have the means to see original works, or to be on a movie set to view the actual movements and filming. Reproductions are what is real to the masses, therefore they stand alone and serve a purpose. I respectfully disagree with the idea that reproductions decompose or lessen the value of originals, because again they each have their own place in time and space.
ReplyDeleteThe question of reproductions vs original artwork is one that I have explored before in other classes and is a question that is hard to answer since there are many points of views to consider. Original artwork, music, performances and such do indeed create their own "aura". It gives the viewer not only an experience, but also leaves with them a lasting impression about the artist, piece, subject, or feeling being presented. In this sense, it would benefit the masses to view it in person. However, can the masses all visit the Louvre...no. To some, reproductions of art, music, and film are the only ways some would ever experience these works of art. Although, the experience or "aura" is not the originally intended one by the artists, they are still getting to view and learn about the artwork. So is it better to never have seen the Mona Lisa in any form, or to have seen at least one reproduction of it? In my opinion, reproductions have a value in our current time and space and allow society to not only experience the art, but also increase their knowledge. Reproductions not only provide us with the "aura" of an item, but allow us to increase our artistic vocabulary, understanding, and discussion.
ReplyDeleteTony Ricci 091017 - On Walter Benjamin
ReplyDeleteSize matters. After seeing the Mona Lisa in reproduction for what seems my entire life, I saw a picture of the original with a ruler for size and realized it was really small (compared to what I thought). Water Lilies by Monet, displayed at the MFA, by contrast was absolutely huge, spanning an enormous wall. Also, as DiVinci was a scientist, some of the “magic” of Mona Lisa was in the new kind of pigment he invented for the painting. This pigment is now deteriorating, so what is closer to the original, the failing physical art, or the beautifully photographed version before decay set in? While I like feeling the “aura” of the actual brush strokes of the masters hand, I can see the darned thing better in a photograph. Plus, no Docent is lurking waiting to disembowel me for leaning in too close for the security of the original.
I was recently at the Air and Space Museum in DC standing next to a case containing moon rocks and a space suit worn by an astronaut who stood on the surface of Luna. That had far more impact than any picture. It was like looking at a miracle.
By contrast, the first human taken photo of the earth from space caused a fundamental shift in the psychology of humans across the planet. This seemingly vast world we inhabit is just a fragile speck in eternity and infinity that we are riding together, so let’s be a bit nicer to our fellow passengers, and more respectful to our “vehicle”. The reproduction did the job just fine. That being said, it would be really cool to have a physical print made from the original film. How would I know the difference? I wouldn’t. Perception is reality, I would simply imagine grand mojo in the object.
As for the guitar solos of George Harrison, the recording IS the art! These days, the manipulation of the recordings is the art. These modern sounds and performances never existed in nature. Why discredit one type of artistic experience over another? It seems like elitist BS to me. If art moves you emotionally in some way, it has succeeded.
Now Snapchat, time limited disappearing text and graphics, is an interesting take on all this. Does it feel more important and significant because it will only exist briefly, by design? In many cases I say “good riddance to random clutter being spewed into my consciousness”, in other cases I might like to revisit the Snapchat, but can’t. Once again, if it moves me emotionally, it did it’s job, even if that job is to make me feel small relief at not having to manually delete more digital junk from my overstuffed digital trunk.