What is the relationship between the works of an artist and the person who created them? Do we need to know the latter in order to appreciate the former? From the 1930s through the 1960s, "The New Criticism" flourished within American academia. The New Critics produced such major tomes as Cleanth Brooks's The Well Wrought Urn (1947) and W. K. Wimsatt, Jr.'s The Verbal Icon (1954). That school, now passé, looked at literature as autonomous constructs and rejected biographical analysis as unnecessary and irrelevant to an appreciation of art. Much of the current discussion and scholarship on Lawrence Durrell follows the old path. Should it? — given the fact that most of what Durrell wrote was highly autobiographical. For example, Durrell writes a lot about incest in his fiction. In her "Journals and Letters" (Granta 37 [1991]), Sappho Jane Durrell, second daughter of Lawrence Durrell, alludes to some kind of incestuous relations with her father. Are Sappho's allusions important to an understanding of Durrell's art and his obsessions with incest? — BR
Addendum. Durrell's situation is not unique. Compare the recent controversy over Woody Allen's alleged incestuous relations with his adopted daughter, Dylan Farrow. Allen is a writer and film director of great repute and distinction. (See Nicholas Kristhof's column, "Dylan Farrow's Story," which appeared in the New York Times on 1 February 2014.) How do we evaluate or judge a famous artist who has a highly dubious past? How do we reconcile the two personae? Or, indeed, should we even bother? — BR
On the relation between art and morality, it seems that there are (at least) two schools of thought there. The current rhubarb over Woody Allen and the allegations raised by his stepdaughter is, as you suggest, a good example. It's interesting that there's nothing new there, even though the police/prosecutors looked at those claims years ago and dismissed them. Dylan seems to come out of the woodwork whenever he's in the news, giving rise to the suspicion that she is looking for a (cash) settlement. To raise such issues gets us into a quagmire of speculation, with each person believing what they "want" to believe, without sufficient information on any side. And it's worth noting that there have been allegations about other public figures that were later shown to be false.
ReplyDeleteA friend of mine observed that he had prostate surgery a few years ago, and that when he did, it didn't occur to him to ask his surgeon if he was being faithful to his wife… I think the same principle applies here: if we start applying moral criteria to artist's private lives to decide whether we should look at works of art, then we're going to have a very small pool of art to look at.
Bottom line: I still greatly admire Frost's poetry -- and there are not a lot of poets I can say that about.
Jim Napier refers to Lawrance R. Thompson's 1970 biography of Robert Frost and to Joyce Carol Oates's short story of the poet ("Lovely, Dark, Deep") appearing in the November 2013 issue of Harper's. Both of which depict Frost as not a very nice man.
ReplyDeleteJim rightly points out that the Allen-Farrow affair is very complicated and can only lead to a "quagmire of speculation." Woody Allen defends himself in an opinion piece in the New York Times: "Woody Allen Speaks Out" (NYT 7 February 2014). In an Associated Press release of 8 February 2014, "Next Step Uncertain in Woody Allen Allegations," some of Allen's statements are "challenged."
We Americans are moralists (perhaps the abject variety) and have trouble separating morality from art and the conduct of public figures. The Europeans, the French in particular (as seen in the reaction to President Hollande's recent problems with multiple amours), don't seem to have such trouble separating the two. Perhaps this is the civilized approach (no irony). Jim's final point, bottom line and all, is well taken. I too admire Robert Frost's poetry and consider him a great poet.
But a couple of other considerations. First, bear in mind that incest in most cultures, present and past, is not a "private affair," as some would have it — it is in fact a crime. There are exceptions, of course, but those are few. Second, women have historically had a very hard time getting their voices heard when it comes to father-daughter incest. Sigmund Freud discounted it, and so did the law professor John Henry Wigmore in his classic treatise on the American Law of Evidence. In the past, the first impulse has often been to deny the charge, to reject that it happened, and to assert that the child or woman is fantasizing or worse. Finally, with respect to Lawrence Durrell, I would suggest that his great obsession with incest in its various forms bears looking into and indicates, to me at least, that his daughter's allusions may have some basis in fact. They should not be dismissed out of hand. Does this affect my appreciation of Durrell the artist? To some extent it does, but I find it more important to understand the man as artist than to judge him. — BR