Beyond Bias

In John Fowles story “The Ebony Tower,” a main character– also an artist, deliberately pronounces Picasso’s name in such a way that is quite rude. Mature adult that I am, it always makes me snicker. Picasso is one of those brilliant, impressive artists who has several masterpieces to his credit: “Guernica,” “Les Demoiselles D’Avignon,” and a number of famous portraits. Despite his undisputed genius and importance in the pantheon of art history, I prefer the work of his equally celebrated contemporary Matisse instead. Perhaps it’s the overproduction which causes admiration more for his  unfettered, astonishing prolificacy rather than any real connection to his work. Then again, it could just be bias. Picasso was notorious for his awful treatment of the women in his life. He openly enjoyed goading his mistresses against each other. One of them,  Françoise Gilot, eventually dumped the old fart, went on with her own painting career and remarried. I’m not sure if dislike for Picasso’s sexist behaviour limits my appreciation for his work. What happens though, when one is drawn to an artist’s work but discovers facts about their life that are difficult to ignore? Racism, sexism, fanaticism, etc.– is it possible to overlook these concerns and focus primarily on artistic merit, particularly when the issues affect you personally? 
I once staffed an Information Desk at a university library. One day, campus police arrived to investigate a complaint that someone was seen carrying a flag belonging to a known white supremacist group. Minutes later, I noticed police talking to an individual I presumed reported the incident. He left the building with one officer while another came to inform our Desk of further details. The person escorted out was in fact, the actual flag-bearer, which would not be remarkable... except that he was a man of colour. I thought there was a misunderstanding. Did he accost the Neo-Nazi, who fled and left the flag behind which was then retrieved for evidence? No. Apparently the man of colour was recruiting, proselytizing on behalf of the group. This bizarre event prompted a discussion. We wondered whether mental illness, coercion, or brainwashing was involved. People throughout history have been known to assume all kinds of beliefs– either with or without their consent. Does something similar happen in respect to artists and their work? For example, as an Asian woman, is it a form of tacit acceptance or collusion on my part, if I admire outstanding qualities in the work of an artist known for their bigotry and male chauvinism? Does disappointment of their human behaviour spoil the enjoyment of an artist’s work? Do I miss out as an artist, because I am unable to overcome my own bias towards what I find unacceptable?
One of my early favourite books was “The Alexandria Quartet” by Lawrence Durrell. I found the writing rich and evocative. It captured the spirit of a sun-washed place in contrast to the characters’ lives. Decades later, an article about the author revealed unsavoury details about his relationship with his daughter that may’ve led to her suicide. That certainly tainted the book for me. A few weeks ago, while searching for another title, I came across my copy of the ‘Quartet.’ I flipped through it, began re-reading some passages...and could not stop loving the writing. The experience was unbelievably sad. It was hard to reconcile the person who committed such abuse with the writer of this extraordinary novel– as if I had expected some equation, some logic to exist that would cancel the one from happening if the other occurred. But why would it? Human beings have the potential to be both tragically flawed and wonderful creatures. It’s no secret that sometimes, the best of who we are and what we have to offer– shows up mainly in our work, which holds true for artists as well. This is not to condone, exonerate or downplay reprehensible behaviour or actions. But it does complicate things. I use to consider any artist who was famous and long dead, fair game for scavenging in terms of taking whatever I needed and leaving the rest, including their personal history. An artist like Picasso, whose work I really can either take or leave, causes little reflection on the matter. However, I can no longer think of The Alexandria Quartet without the disturbing facts of the author’s life any more than I can deny my true response to his work. How does one deal with this ambivalence other than telling it like it is? I really don’t know.
In general, it’s easier to reject artwork alone for any reason, because once it is out in the world, an artist has little control over how people will respond to it. There’s enough work out there to choose from, to relate to and appreciate, without extended focus on what causes dismay.  Also, it’s possible to discover creative endeavours in other art disciplines that better represent and address issues of special interest should they be lacking in one field. For instance, the growing visibility of contemporary Chinese artists in the mainstream will usually have my attention and I am heartened by examples of Ang Lee in film, Yo-Yo Ma in music, writers Wayson Choy, Judy Fong Bates, Amy Tan etc.  Being an artist as well, provides built-in resources for dealing with images, stereotypes, and attitudes found objectionable in other works of art. We can use our own skills and training to produce the kind of art that explores personal concerns from our perspective, as an antidote, a countermeasure to what already exists, especially if that selection is meagre, inaccurate or unsatisfactory.  This is not to advocate political ideology as a requisite for artists of creed, colour, feminist principles etc. In some cases, the mere act of being an artist from a ‘disenfranchised’ group is enough of a statement. But the adage “Be the change you want to see” serves artists who present alternatives to what they see, hear or read, by doing what they do best, in addition to, or instead of, boycott or protest.