Beautiful Monsters

Navigating Art and Morality

Pablo Picasso wearing a cow’s mask on a beach, 1949

The Summer Solstice and Full Moon coincided. So I’ve adjusted my publishing schedule. Last week, I shared a new Seasonal Travel Guide, and today a belated Full Moon edition – my monthly deep dive into a creative topic with 7 sensory explorations.

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Can you love the art of an immoral artist? 

It’s a question I’ve been pondering for a while, and which we’re collectively increasingly asked to grapple with. 

Creative geniuses who act in monstrous ways is not a new phenomenon. But for a long time that behavior happened behind “closed doors,” or was only known by their inner circles. Now with social media and our endless access to information, all private lives have become public domain. 

It’s no longer possible to be a blissfully ignorant audience, as we witness some of our creative heroes' most disturbing behavior. So what do we do when we find out that our favorite author is a bigot, our revered filmmaker turns out to be a sexual predator, and the musician who rocked our world has created a havoc of pain?

Many would argue that an artwork should be judged objectively, solely based on its creative value. But as Donna Haraway said, objectivity is “a conquering gaze from nowhere”; “an illusion, a god trick.”

As an audience, we all project our collective and individual history, culture, and current state onto an artwork. We can’t separate ourselves from the work, but can only view it through our own human lens. 

That lens can be kaleidoscopic, offering a variety of interpretations. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so is meaning – that’s the power of art. 

But that meaning can take new and unexpected forms when we add context to it. Once we learn about the artist — their history, their flaws, their immoral and sometimes illegal behaviors — a new layer of information needs to be incorporated, which sometimes contradicts everything we loved about their work. 

So how do we move forward? Does engaging with the artwork make us complicit with its maker? 

In capitalistic societies, our consumer choices have become reflections of our identity, and even vehicles for our moral standing. As Claire Dederer remarks: “What you consume is what you are. You are, after all, your fandom.” 

Beyond being markers of our personality, we’re increasingly aware of how our attention and our money have real power. In fact, it’s what drives the success of any artist or company. So naturally, we attempt to use that power to create change, by boycotting the people or products that we feel immoral. 

Occasionally, those efforts can lead to a measure of justice. But rarely do they seem to create long lasting systemic change. Like the multi-headed Hydra, anytime we cut one, another two sprout back up. Our efforts seem in vain, until we strike at the heart of the matter. 

Erich Hatala Matthes, author of ‘Drawing the Line: What to Do with the Work of Immoral Artists,’ notes that our focus may be misdirected. We tend to focalize on the artist, and bypass the institutions that allowed, enabled, or even encouraged those actions. 

Matthes also points to a Boston Review article by Olúfẹ́mi O. Táíwò which examines the problem of “elite capture” – when people in positions of power (though I would say any person) can capitalize on the “veneer of progressivism in order to market themselves in an admirable way, without changing much.” 

As Matthes states, institutions are “not making changes at the level that would prevent these things from happening in the future, instead they offer these particular individual sacrifices." 

The role of art is often to confront our preconceived ideas, and immoral artists tend to push the limits of our binary minds. They’re not just ‘Monsters’ – the title of Dederer’s book – but they’re Beautiful Monsters. Their ability to create can be as great as their propensity to destroy and harm. That is the very core of our dilemma.

To hold both of those opposing forces in our mind can be a challenging task. We tend to either turn away or turn against – when the solution seems to be able to look at the paradox straight in the eye. 

We can use beautiful monsters as our gateway for righteous indignation, or as a mirror to reflect our own inner demons. We may not have committed extreme crimes, but surely we’ve all engaged in misaligned behaviors. That’s where Dederer ultimately lands in her book: on an introspective assessment of her own life. 

For this month’s full moon topic, I wanted to offer you 7 sensory resources to further examine this topic. In many ways, it would have been easier to make a list of “monster-artists” for each category. After all there’s plenty of controversial visual artists, musicians, chefs, etc. But I’m not here to spread the stain further, but rather to examine the underlying forces and structures at play.  

As Claire Dederer wisely notes: “The way you consume art doesn’t make you a bad person, or a good one. You’ll have to find some other way to accomplish that.”

In Joy,

Sabrina 

SEE

Monsters | book by Claire Dederer

Available online *

I’ve been curious about reading this book since last year, and when my friend

Anna Brones

sent me a passage from it, I took it as a sign. I found it to be a very helpful resource in navigating the tricky terrain of artistic morality.

I love that Dederer doesn’t offer simple answers: she’s there in the creative struggle, fighting whether she should still enjoy watching Polanski movies. Her own search, as a writer, critic and art lover, guides the journey into the dilemma of monster-artists. Examining the work and life of Roman Polanski, Woody Allen, Miles Davis, Pablo Picasso, Ernest Hemingway and others, the book attempts to build and deconstruct moral bridges between art and its makers. 

There are few women included in the book, and what makes them “monsters” (according to society) is that they’re considered “The Abandoning Mothers” (title of Dederer’s chapter). She examines the way artists such as Doris Lessing, Joni Mitchell, Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath were cast in that light. 

Our reactions to art-monsters is also questioned: are we driven by ethical thoughts or by feelings? Are we fueled by judgmental righteousness or moral duty?

Photo by Martin Parr of couple wearing Michelin man costumes on a beach, 1970

HEAR

Cancelled: Should Good Artists Pay for Bad Behavior? | The Week in Art podcast episode

Listen online

This interview was recorded in 2020, when art-monster issues were surfacing across various industries. I found the conversation very nuanced and helpful, discussing all sides of the dilemma. The double edge sword of cancel culture is debated with Erich Hatala Matthes, associate professor of philosophy at Wellesley College and author of ‘Drawing the Line: What to Do with the Work of Immoral Artists.’ 

Journalist Tom Seymour and photographer Lewis Nush also discuss the controversies of Magnum photographers Martin Parr and David Alan Harvey. They dive into the importance of transparency and context, the history and risk of exploitative photography, and the legal implications of producing morally-questionable work.

Photo by David Liittschwager for National Geographic

SMELL

Ambergris

You may have never heard of “ambergris” but you may have smelled it. It’s used in classic perfumery, and is one of the most highly priced ingredients – currently sold for “around $10,000 per pound.”

Christopher Kemp, author of ‘Floating Gold: A Natural (and Unnatural) History of Ambergris’ describes it as the “universal cordial,” “the dearest and most valuable commodity in France,” and “the odor of sanctity.”

For thousands of years, its source was unknown, adding to the mysterious allure of this fragrant waxy substance. According to Atlas Obscura, it “washed up on the shores of the world in misshapen gray-amber clumps.” 

It's been used for thousands of years, as early as 700 AD, when the “Arabians used specially trained camels to search for it.” Every monarch, from the Ming Dynasty to Henry V was ravenous for this scented delicacy. 

The speculations on its origins ranged from “dragon spit that had fallen into the ocean and hardened” to “yellow amber, seabird poop, or marine fungus.”

Finally, in 1724, Boston physician Zabdiel Boylston finally solved the mystery: ambergris originates from the bowels of the sperm whale. 

The discovery didn’t deter perfumers and their customers. In fact, the hunt for ambergris became so competitive and its resource unreliable, that a synthetic version was created, “ambrox”, in the late 1940s by Swiss chemist Max Atoll.

TASTE

Foie Gras

When I was younger, one of my favorite foods was “foie gras”, a French delicacy that one typically only eats during the winter holidays. Years later, when I found out how it was made, I was shocked and had to question my consumption. Ultimately, foie gras, which translates to “fatty liver,” is a goose or duck is force-fed in order to unnaturally fattened to up their liver to ten times its normal size.

There are many culinary delicacies that entail a monstrous process: from shark fins, to swiftlet bird nests, to civet feces coffee. They are also some of the most expensive ingredients in the world. 

But the cruel handling of these animals doesn’t limit itself to exotic produce. Some of our everyday meals derived from industrial farming or monoculture, can be linked to its own set of inhumane activities. 

We now have more information than ever when it comes to how our food is grown or treated. That awareness has helped us make healthier and compassionate choices, but it’s also provided a sense of overwhelm. Again, just like art and institutions, the focus often tends to fall on the individual product or company rather than tackling the driving cause of corporate greed.

The Red Studio by Henri Matisse (1911)

TOUCH

Cadmium

Discovered by German chemists in 1817, this rare metal creates vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows. It revolutionized painting, allowing artists to render a range of colors previously unreachable. Another asset is that cadmium-based paints are “lightfast,” so their color doesn’t degrade with exposure to sunlight. 

It was used to create some of the most legendary works by Claude Monet, Paul Gauguin, and Max Ernst, amongst others. Henri Matisse’s painting ‘The Red Studio’ (1911) could have never been made without cadmium. 

However, when used in high quantities, cadmium is very toxic. It’s known to increase the risk for cancer and kidney and liver diseases. Inhaling it can also cause a range of respiratory problems with flu-like symptoms known as the “cadmium blues.”

Bayer & Co heroin bottle, 1898

BALANCE

Cocaine Cola and Radiation Water

Some wellness trends don’t come without risk. What was once considered healthy can turn out to be dangerous or even lethal. 

Many of you have probably heard how Coca-Cola used to contain cocaine. In fact, in the early 20th century, cocaine had become an ingredient in everyday items, from hay fever elixirs and nerve tonics. At the time, cocaine was promoted as a wonder drug, sold as a cure-all and praised by some of the most prominent professionals in medical history, including Sigmund Freud and the pioneering surgeon William Halsted.

When describing the drug in a letter to his wife, Freud writes: "I take very small doses of it regularly against depression and against indigestion and with the most brilliant of success." He even wrote a glowing praise for cocaine in his 70-page report “Uber Cocaine.”

Cocaine wasn’t the only addictive drug to be used in medicine. Heroin was a key ingredient in Bayer Laboratories’s cough syrup, which was developed in 1898.

Bayer discontinued making heroin by 1910 once the addictive properties of the drug became clear. And the US then outlawed the production of heroin in 1924.

Another surprising ingredient that was once deemed a health cure is radioactivity. Radioactive items were sold as pendants for rheumatism, blankets for arthritis, and even anti-aging cosmetics. 

Radioactive water also became particularly popular after radiation was found in well-known hot springs and were thought to have healing properties. After that, radioactive drinks were marketed to the public. The well known industrialist, Eben Byers, proudly claimed to drink three bottles a day. His death inspired the 1932 Wall Street Journal headline "The Radium Water Worked Fine Until His Jaw Came Off".

McJesus by Finnish artist Jani Leinonen (2015)

ENVISION

Museu de l'Art Prohibit

Visit in Barcelona, Spain

I was surprised to learn about this fascinating new museum, which solely exhibits banned artworks. The collection was acquired by Tatxo Benet, a Spanish journalist and business who started collecting banned artwork in 2018. 

Benet was inspired to create this collection after acquiring ‘Presos Políticos en la España Contemporánea (Political Prisoners in Contemporary Spain)’ by artist Santiago Sierra. After its acquisition, the artwork was banned and censored from the art fair. The incident laid the groundwork for Benet to conceive of a censored artwork collection. Some of them were banned due to religious, sexual, or political reasons.

Since then, his collection has grown to include over 200 pieces from artists such as Francisco de Goya, Gustav Klimt, Pablo Picasso, Zoulikha Bouabdellah,  Robert Mapplethorpe, Amina Benbouchta, Charo Corrales, David Wojnarowicz, and Ai Weiwei amongst others. They’ve all been gathered to form the Museu de l'Art Prohibit, which opened in October 2023 in Barcelona (Spain).