Starry Night(s): “The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.”

How the mechanical reproduction of art led to World War II


We must expect great innovations to transform the entire technique of the arts, thereby affecting artistic invention itself and perhaps even bringing about an amazing change in our very notion of art. – Paul Valery

Vincent Van Gogh’s “Starry Nights” at the MoMa (2023) photo by me

From Cult Value to Exhibition Value



I took the photo above at the MoMa because it’s a perfect analogy for Walter Benjamin’s essay The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. Benjamins’ work is interested in how art changed amidst the Industrial Revolution, specifically in art’s transition from its perceived “cult value” to its newfound “exhibition value”. What gave a piece of art its “cult” status was its aura and magic. Previously, if one wanted to experience Van Gogh’s Starry Night they must be in a unique time and place. Today, all one has to do is look it up online and order a reprint. Any semblance of cult value in a work of art has diminished drastically. As evident in the photo above, the audience is more interested in reproducing the piece of art as a photo than experiencing it as a unique phenomenon of history.


That’s not to say the cult value of art should take precedence over its exhibition value. In fact, the mechanical reproduction of art liberated it because by having its value in the cult, it was dependent on ritual. Historically, a work of art was only as valuable as society deemed it. Today, one can value a work of art for any reason they see fit.


However, art’s inevitable liberation brought on unforeseen repercussions in how it’s consumed. Exhibition value first displaced cult value with the invention of photography. Photographs are not just works of art but are historical testimonies that hold political significance. The added political weight to a work of art makes it harder for the audience to differentiate between criticism and enjoyment because it builds an intimate and sympathetic, or in Benjamin’s words, a progressive reaction. The ritual-based relationship cult-valued art used to have has merely been replaced by a political-based relationship with exhibition-value art.


The Progressive Reaction of Exhibition-based Art


Mechanical reproduction of art changes the reaction of the masses towards art… The reactionary attitude toward a Picasso painting changes into the progressive reaction toward a Chaplin movie.

– Walter Benjamin (The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, pg.235)


Progressive reactions mean “the conventional is uncritically enjoyed, and the truly new is criticized with aversion” (pg.236). This is because an individual’s perception of art is influenced by the mass audience’s reaction. For example, the public loves the Avengers movies because they know what to expect but critiques Ari Asters Beau is Afraid because it caught them off guard. Moreover, quantity has surpassed quality. The Avengers is a more important film because it has sold x-more tickets.


Reproducing art to such an extent has made us accustomed to its presence. Historically, seeing a painting of a skull would permit all sorts of emotions, dread, fear, and paranoia of a bad omen. Today, we see skulls on clothes, in ads, in emojis, likely multiple times a day. So much art no longer produces a reactionary sense of concentration, but only a progressive sense of distraction.


The mass reproduction of art has raised the audience’s tolerance to it like a drug addict chasing their next high. Not only that, it’s also dulled our senses, making us vulnerable to ideologies infringing on aesthetics. Today ideology and aesthetics are inseparable. An art-house film of purely abstract images will still provoke ideology, even if that ideology is a rejection of all others. This is dangerous because the audience is led to believe this is of their own volition, however, as Theodor Adorno first argued, our reactions are merely mimetic impulses orchestrated by the powers that be, like a game of operation.




The consumers are made to remain what they are: consumers. That is why the culture industry is not the art of the consumer but rather the projection of the will of those in control onto their victims. The automatic self-reproduction of the status quo in its established forms is itself an expression of domination.

– Theodor Adorno (Transparencies on Film, pg.185)


What happens when the powers that be don’t have the consumer’s best interests at heart? History has shown us what happens when perverse ideologies are integrated into mass-produced aesthetics.


The Mechanical Reproduction of Fascism


In principle, a work of art has always been reproducible. However, the mass scale of mechanically reproduced aesthetics brought on by the Industrial Revolution and the invention of photography around the 1900s is something else entirely. For the first time, art is no longer limited by time and space, meaning ideologies can spread like wildfire. Combine that with the mindless progressive reactions produced by consuming art, it is easy to see how manipulative ideologies underlying aesthetics can be.


Fascist poet and founder of the Futurist art movement Filippo Marinetti is one of the first to discover how the mechanical reproduction of art led to its politicizing. His futurist movement weaponized aesthetics as a means to manipulate the masses. Facists discovered the progressive reactions of mass-produced art can create an inorganic catharsis. The futurist art movement took advantage of this, using art to argue the necessity of war and violence for people to express themselves. This is what provoked thousands of individuals to join various fascist political parties across Europe.


“A man who concentrates before a work of art is absorbed by it. In contrast, the distracted mass absorbs the work of art”. 

– Walter Benjamin (pg. 240)


Ironically, the fascist’s strategy to weaponize aesthetics comes straight out of Marx’s idea of “history being a class struggle,”. This all but proves the inevitability of this aesthetic evolution. How the Industrial Revolution emancipated art is undeniable. No longer is art limited to time, space, or its cult values. However, this liberation also opened up the floodgates for a progressive reaction, and a resulting political-based relationship took its place. Until art transcends this relationship, ideologies will continue to plague aesthetics. Yet being aware of this formula is the first step to rising above it.


References


Adorno, Theodor W., and J. M. Bernstein. “Transparencies on film.” The Culture Industry, 2020, pp. 178–186, https://doi.org/10.4324/9781003071297-8. 

Benjamin, Walter. (1969). The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction.. In Arendt, Hannah (Eds.), Illuminations: Essays and Reflections (pp. 217-251). Schocken Books

Bergman, Ingmar. Films Incorporated. (1957). The Seventh seal. Chicago.

Bowler, A. Politics as art. Theor Soc 20, 763–794 (1991). https://doi-org.ezproxy.lib.torontomu.ca/10.1007/BF00678096

Caravaggio, David with the Head of Goliath (1609)

Hirst, Damien. For the Love of God (2007)

Marx, Karl, and Friedrich Engels. The Communist Manifesto. Monthly Review Press, (1998) (republication) (original publication 1846).

Francis Bacon’s “Painting (1946)”

I finally got to see my favorite painting ever, Francis Bacon’s “Painting 1946” at the MoMa.


Earlier in the year I saw some works of the renowned artist & personal inspiration, Francis Bacon, at the MoMa. But to say I merely saw them is an understatement. 31 years after his death, Bacon’s paintings sent me on a surrealist trip only the likes of Hunter S. Thompson could aptly describe. There is something in Bacon’s haunting and violent brushstrokes that confronts human nature at its core. Bacon’s paintings presuppose the idea that art should provoke complex and intense emotional responses buried in the psyche, oftentimes coinciding with the darker aspects of the human equation.



“Painting (1946)” famously captures Bacon’s aesthetic, depicting a terrifying scene where an anonymous individual oversees the butchery of meat that looks vaguely human. Though Bacon denies this, as he denies imprinting any such narratives onto his art, many people believe the half-faced individual is former UK prime minister Nevile Chamberlain, who took office directly after Churchill amid WW2. Chamberlain is infamous for his “Appeasement policy”, which gave Nazi Germany certain parts of Eastern Europe in return for the UK’s freedom. Whether or not the figure is Chamberlain the conversation remains. This painting confronts life post-WW2 by mirroring the trauma and existential dread festering Europe at the time. The cage-like structure surrounding the individual, the microphones off to either side of him, and the umbrella masking his face, evoke anxiety trademarked by the time. 


Painting (1946) is a testament to Francis Bacon’s ability to convey profound emotions and present human nature like none other. His visceral paintings transcend the art form itself by assaulting the audience with the truth of their existence. In doing so, Bacon pushes the boundaries of what it means to express oneself, leaving an imperishable impression on the art world.

The Godfather Part II & American Gothic

An example of Francis Ford Coppola’s brilliance.


Francis Ford Coppola’s 4 movie run is among the most impressive artistic feats in history. Within that run is 1974’s epic, “The Godfather Part II”, starring De Niro, Pacino, Duvall, Diane Keaton,  and much more.


The Godfather series is very Shakespearean. While the first tells the tragedy of Michael Corleone’s downward spiral by reluctantly following his father’s footsteps, Part II fleshes out Michael’s fall decades later. However, the real genius of Part II isn’t in Michael’s dealings with Hyman Roth, it is in the flashbacks of Michael’s father, how Don Vito came to be and his rise to glory.


A scene from “The Godfather part II” directed by Francis Ford Coppola (1974)

In the scene above, we see Vito cradling baby Michael with blood on his hands. This shot is moments after Vito assassinated the mobster oppressing his family. Yet, there is still a wave of pessimism in the air. The pessimism arises from Vito’s reality, he’s merely traded one form of oppression for another. Sure, he’s no longer under the mob’s thumb, but now he’s subject to the American capitalist spirit, the culture that permits you to take what’s yours in the name of freedom. The shot is eerily reminiscent of the famous painting “American Gothic” by Grant Wood, which depicts the steadfast, emotionless American spirit the rest of the world has become subject to.



Here, Vito tells Michael everything he’s done, is for him. This line captures the theme of the series; duty to family versus country. Vito, raised in the old country was taught family takes precedence.  Michael on the other hand, rejecting the sins of his father, saw the fight for freedom as the virtuous path, hence why he fought in WWII (against Italy). Vito didn’t want his son fighting for his country, nor did he want him to follow after him.  Ultimately though, Vito’s sins spill onto Michael, just like the blood on his hands. In the end, he’s left with a country fighting against him, and no family around to console him.


This mere frame captures the essence of The Godfather and is an example of why Coppola’s aesthetic eye rivals anyone in history.