Flipping the Narrative
Snuggled up on the couch with my family, we turn on the TV for family movie night, a long standing tradition in my household. My dad suggests Midnight in Paris, a movie where a Marine, two lawyers, and a film student are somehow all able to love. Yet, my mom hesitates. She diverts to the sexual assault allegations against Woody Allen, director and writer of Midnight in Paris. We are all suddenly not sure if we should watch the movie—is it right to consume art made by an artist with dishonorable character?
Currently, millions of Americans debate whether or not art can be separated from its artist. Allen is just one of countless Hollywood stars to be accused of sexual assault and misconduct. Mercurial men reign the entertainment industry. Their behavior appears to the public as unpredictable—a horrifying change from the admirable men they appeared to be. Every month it seems, a praised artist’s immoral actions come to light, and the media is set into a frenzy, trying to comprehend that icons, like all people, can be unethical. Consumers of entertainment are then unsure of what to do with these artists' catalogues. I side with the victim, and denounce the artwork in most cases. This is not blindly accepting, but appreciating how hard it is for a victim to come forward and how little there is to gain from speaking up. It is important to support those who have been deemed voiceless and to not side with the powerful, beloved artist because it is the “easier” route. We must be aware of their injustices and wrongdoings.
As dozens of reports on the misconduct of powerful artists emerge, fueled debates are constructed around who to believe and what is too accusatory of a mindset, but people rarely focus on what actions need to be taken. How does the public and the industry destroy an artist’s legacy? Particularly, how are legacies destroyed when art is typically credited to more than one individual? An art piece is often made by dozens of artists, but advertised as the work of only a few. For example, the Weinstein Company has produced countless movies within the past several decades that have shaped American entertainment like Good Will Hunting, Pulp Fiction, Silver Linings Playbook, and Halloween. Harvey Weinstein, the founder of this company, built his empire exploiting his privilege as a white man by silencing, threatening, and sexually assaulting women. There is no question that his legacy shall be destroyed and his reputation as a genius torn down by his wicked actions, yet these movies are not his alone. Good Will Hunting was written by Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, who both starred in the film as well. This movie is their art, their project of passion, not Weinstein’s. The same goes for every other movie Weinstein produced; the work of art is the director’s, writer’s, and editor’s vision, not only the man who supplied the money for the art to exist. Yet some believe the majority of credit for the art must be given to the producer, as a film might not reach its prestige and success without a talented one. Even the Academy Awards, the highest celebration of film, credits the producer in its most reputable category, the Best Picture award.
It is not up for interpretation that Weinstein’s character is now tarnished, but it is unclear what legacy there is to be left behind. If artists like Weinstein are condemned, and if consumers shall denounce their work, what defines an artist’s legacy? How must the public collectively denounce a legacy, if the artwork is shared? Should all artwork in relation to a convicted sex offender be castigated, or preserved by giving more credit to the other artists involved?
In the article, “Can I Enjoy the Art but Denounce the Artist?” Roxanne Gay insists that “we can no longer worship at the altar of creative genius while ignoring the price all too often paid for that genius.” I agree that we should not “worship” artists that have silenced or demeaned individuals, but can one still appreciate the feeling they associate with an art piece? As Midnight In Paris is a film my family and I adored, it was also one of the first movies that inspired me to pursue my dream as a screenwriter. Can I hold onto the feeling the art gave me, or do I have to entirely disregard both the feeling and the art piece? Is a feeling a part of an artist’s legacy, or just the art itself? Gay discusses her feelings, but does not address if her feelings are part of an artist’s catalogue.
Emma Sulkowicz, on the other hand, created art in response to sexual abuse, flipping the narrative. Sulkowicz was able to express their pain through a medium that was infiltrated by convicted sex offenders—an ironic way to take the power back. Sulkowicz dragged a mattress from class to class at Columbia University for a year, protesting the injustice they faced when reporting their rape. Just as Gay’s words were bold, Sulkowicz’s performace was bold: thus, the power of art and its abundant forms. Sulkowicz’s “Mattress Performance” and Gay’s essay both make striking remarks, but in diverging forms of expression. Sulkowicz creates art for people to interperate and consume, rather than Gay who interperates how to consume art: an artist’s and a critic’s response to how sexual violence effects American culture and what Americans can to do to change that.
Both Sulkowicz and Gay illustrate the baggage victims of sexual assault carry with them throughout their lives. Gay discusses how those silenced by powerful men in the entertainment industry are “trapped by the gilded cage of [the perpatrator’s] fame.” The victims are forced to hold onto suffering without any form of release. Contrastingly, Sulkowicz was not silent, and literally carried their baggage. They displayed how the safety of their mattress, supposedly the epitome of comfort, was taken away from them. And entertainment, produced for the public’s enjoyment, is tainted with the fingerprints of corrupt men. When pain is so apparent, how is it we still look away? Why is it that we have such doubt in victim’s truths?
Gay explains that when she first learned of the sexual assault allegations against Bill Cosby, she wanted to look away. She had the choice to blindly ignore the allegations. However, in the case of Sulkowicz, Columbia faculty could not look away. Sulkowicz’s mattress was a statement piece, large enough that it caused Sulkowicz to trudge among the hallways. They were unmissable. Yet, those in authority ignored their suffering. Often, we collectively and almost subconsciously silence others' pain to help pretend it does not exist. In a time of moral evolution, will this last? Or, will we remain stagnant at the cusp of change?
It is necessary to determine how to be moral consumers of art to implement any sort of change. In the article, “Should We Watch The Hundreds Of Films Produced By Harvey Weinstein?”, female film critics and members of the film industry explain how they consume art while still upholding their morals. Kate Erbland, a film editor, insists that it is okay to support art produced by Harvery Weinstein because it is not his artwork alone, “the key, however, is to watch and remember with respect and care.” However, we should stop supporting other artists involved if they choose to partner up with figures like Weinstein post-allegations. If they are aware of what a perpetrator did, they are purposely affiliating their talent with a malicious figure. Rachel Simon, a movie editor, confesses, “I do know that when it comes to any new work made by these men, I’m going to think twice before giving them my money or attention.” However, I’m not even going to think twice: I just won’t see it.
It is art like Sulkowicz’s that conveys the trauma of a sexual assault. Although their perpetrator was not a figure in the entertainment industry, it carries similar baggage. We must not discredit pain like the faculty members of Columbia University did, but instill a set of morality into media consumption while preserving the art of respectful creators. We must not give sexual predators the power to taint every art they’ve greedily claimed as their own. Most importantly, we must flip the narrative as Sulkwicz did, and create art that further denounces their work by using the platform they once possessed to demolish their legacy.
The article “Sexual Assault Survivor's Art Stresses Importance of Healing” expresses this empowerment. Within the article, Julia Scorese reports on Monica Nagle’s poem, “If You Had Heard My Voice,” about how vital the healing process is after experiencing something as trauamtic as sexual assault. This poem is an expression of healing for the public, as well as a personal form of reformation for Nagle to heal from her own sexual assault. Furthermore, artist Stephen C. Shaw then created art from Nagle’s poem as a way to expand the healing and educational process. Shaw created a series of paintings, paired with each line of Nagle’s poem. Art is an everlasting and reoccurring embodiment; it can inspire in unexpected ways. Where Nagle created her art as a form of therapy, Shaw created his art to represent the damage sexual assault brings to communties. With their art, Nagle and Shaw were able to flip the narrative.
Shaw and Nagle’s painting-poem piece was showcased at the University of New Hampshire, contrasting with Sulkowicz’s experience with sexual assault at Columbia University. Sulkwoicz’s voice was overlooked at Columbia, while Nagle’s words were literally on display to illustrate the detrimental harm sexual assault causes. The University of New Hampshire also has a program called SHARPP, or the Sexual Harassment and Rape Prevention Program, that provides outreach, education, and training to both victims and allies. Nagle professes, “[The poem] honors the strength and capacity to heal, moving beyond pain and survival into the freedom of forgiveness, love and compassion.” While some artists in the industry abuse their power wrongfully, other artists, like Nagle and Sulkowicz, create art that is expository of abusive behavior and therapeutic in its process—how paradoxical.
Art is perceived by each individual differently. To some, a movie related to Harvey Weinstien is unwatchable because his malicious actions overshadow the talents of the respectful geniuses on and behind the screen. To others, a movie produced by Weinstein can inspire them, and that feeling transcends evil. Art is a form of expression. Yes, an artist's legacy must be condemned if the artist is immoral; but, what can be even more gratifying, is attributing that art to the upstanding artists who helped create it, who might have at first been overlooked by the ominous shadow of a power hungry, abusive figure. Let the artist’s legacy die, but not the art itself. There is power in taking credit away from those we condemn but not condemning their art with it. Instead, we should allott it to another artist involved who is representative of morality, of inspiration, and of the healing art can offer. We should make art like Suckowicz, Nagle, and Shaw, that expresses pain and sorrow, and in turn, heal. Let us empower respectful geniuses, empower the victims of sexual assault, and flip the narrative.
Works Referenced:
Allen, Woody, director. Midnight in Paris. Sony Pictures Classics, 2011.
Gay, Roxane. “Can I Enjoy the Art but Denounce the Artist?” Marie Claire, Marie Claire, 8 May 2018, www.marieclaire.com/culture/a16105931/roxane-gay-on-predator-legacies/.
“Sexual Assault Survivor's Art Stresses Importance of Healing.” Nashuatelegraph.com, 2019, www.nashuatelegraph.com/news/granite-state/2019/10/16/sexual-assault-survivors-art-stresses-importance-of-healing/.
Sheffield, Rob. “All 129 of Taylor Swift's Songs, Ranked by Rob Sheffield.” Rolling Stone, Rolling Stone, 25 Nov. 2020, www.rollingstone.com/music/music-lists/taylor-swift-songs-ranked-rob-sheffield-201800/mirrorball-2020-1093988/.
Stahler, Kelsea. “Should We Watch The Hundreds Of Films Produced By Harvey Weinstein? Female Film Critics Weigh In.” Bustle, Bustle, 12 Oct. 2017, www.bustle.com/p/should-we-watch-the-hundreds-of-films-produced-by-harvey-weinstein-female-film-critics-weigh-in-2894326.
Sulkowicz, Emma. “Mattress Performance (Carry That Weight).”
Cover Photo by Art in America. Edited by Katrina Kwok.