By Tala Abou Ali | Staff Writer

         In 1968, French literary critic Roland Barthes published his now infamous essay “The Death of the Author”, in which he subverts the traditional vision of the author as the creator of a text. Barthes criticizes the obsession of the literary world with the concept of the author, and for its search for the meaning of a piece in the person at its origin. Barthes argues that writing annihilates the voice of the author. For him, an artist does not exist temporarily prior to their piece like a parent and their child; rather, both exist in a simultaneous present, as writing is a performance that takes place at the moment of reading, and not a representation of the past.

Barthes denies the originality of a text – that it has a unique source and a unique meaning. For him, a text is an amalgamation of multiple different writings and references. Therefore, the author is not truly a creator, but rather a scripter, transcribing this combination of works into one single place. It follows that the author is not the source of the meaning of a text, as it would limit the process of writing. A text cannot have a singular interpretation; for Barthes, meaning is in a cycle of continual creation and annihilation. He believes that what gives a voice to a text is not its author, but rather its readers, to which he refers for their function, and not as individuals with specific biographies. In other words, the creation of meaning only occurs at the moment of reading, allowing readers to interpret a text freely without accounting for its author.

As we can see, Barthes proposes a quite counterintuitive theory, as the supremacy of the author he criticizes so passionately still reigns in many contemporary circles. Many professors still require their students to memorize the biographies of key artists and thinkers to supposedly deepen their understanding of their pieces, and it is not uncommon for fans to scrutinize the lives of their favorite artists in hopes of finding the key to decipher their work. For that reason, Barthes’s theory raises a multitude of ontological, political, and ethical questions that inevitably influence the way we interact with art today.

On an ontological level, Barthes encourages us to ask ourselves: Fundamentally, what is a piece of art? Is it a hermetic recipient of ideas – is its meaning self-contained? Is it fair to understand an artwork using exterior information, such as its intention or its process of creation? Ultimately, what is the limit between art and the world?

I personally find Barthes’s attempt to extract art from its temporal context quite unrealistic. Art is a product of the world, and cannot be separated from it. By aiming to isolate art from its being in the world, Barthes fails to take into account the physical determinations involved in the process of creation. He argues that a text is not a purely original piece, but that it is the product of many different writings, referring to the author as nothing more than a “scripter”. However, he fails to take into account the social and political factors that influence one’s very access to those various writings in the first place. It is undeniable that one’s spatial and historical context acts as a determination of one’s vision of the world, and thus of their art, which makes it impossible to separate both.

We have seen that we cannot speak of a piece of art without speaking of the geographical and historical context in which it is anchored, but what about the identity of the author? By disregarding it, Barthes ignores how much one’s identity and their place in the social world affects the scope of their experience. It is undeniable that one’s class, race, or even gender plays an important part in the way they perceive the world, as those factors not only influence their opportunities and their access to different types of education, but also the way that others perceive them and interact with them. An individual is not simply a consciousness that absorbs the world without additional processing, but one’s subjectivity itself is politically constructed – an argument that is very well defended by French philosopher Michel Foucault. To ignore the identity of an artist is to ignore the diversity of experiences that exist in the world – to pretend that an author is not a real person with a real background, but an impervious art creating machine. To create an art piece is not simply putting together a puzzle of literary influences, but it is a deeply personal process of expression and argumentation. As an artist, one can only depict the things that they know about, therefore limiting the artwork to a certain scope delimited by the artist’s position in the world.

In sum, I must disagree with Barthes on his concept of the death of the author. To separate art from its artist is to separate art from its position in the world, and it is to ignore the historical and political nature of art. Without its connection to reality, art has no substantial purpose; it becomes an abstract amusement – an intellectual challenge at best – but fails to have a concrete impact on humanity.

Barthes might reply: Sure, the artwork might be determined by physical factors linked to its creation, but that does not mean that its meaning has to be limited to its origin. We can acknowledge the influence of the artist’s life on their piece, while still believing in the readers’ supremacy over the interpretation of the piece.

This raises the question: Can multiple interpretations of an artwork be valid, or is there one unique correct interpretation chosen by the artist? In his essay “The Artworld” (1964), American philosopher and art critic Arthur Danto depicts art as a field that is in constant evolution, as it is constantly discovering new possible artistically relevant properties. For example, abstract forms were once not considered artistic, but eventually found their place in the art world with time. As such, Danto argues that whenever a new property F is discovered, this discovery enriches the interpretation of all existing artworks, as they can now be defined as being non-F, adding a new layer of interpretation. In this sense, Danto delegates the interpretation of artworks to a larger historical advancement, as spectators ulterior to the creation of a piece can understand it with more nuance and complexity than the artist themselves.

The question of interpretation is naturally quite complex, but I personally must agree with Danto in his claim that artworks gain additional significance with time. Art necessarily plays a role in the evolution of society, and it is essential to revisit old myth and classics with a contemporary lens, to remold their interpretations according to the current state of the world. Although art is a product of its time, and its creation is intricately linked with its artist and the context of its creation, its relevance transcends its specific origin, as our collective values and beliefs evolve with time.

Now the question remains: What are the ethics at play in this conversation?

The contemporary world is more than ever concerned with morality and political correctness, and it is not uncommon for the public to adapt their perception of an artwork depending on the behavior of its artist (a popular example being J.K. Rowling, who lost the support of many fans after a series of controversial claims). While it is comprehensible to stop supporting an individual whose actions or political beliefs seem unethical, one has to wonder whether it is reasonable to disinherit an artist from their work, or even to boycott their work altogether.

All of the questions raised in this article are complex, and I do not pretend to have the answer to any of them. However, it is important to remember that individuals are multifaceted, and that it is possible to enjoy someone’s work without supporting their whole persona. I believe that art and literature exist in a gray area between the author as an individual and culture as a whole, and it is unreasonable to look past important works because of the individual actions of its creator. Artworks start in a certain context which must be acknowledged, but they exist beyond it and contribute to humanity in ways that transcend their individual creator. They are both ours and theirs; the artist is both dead and alive.