Art vs. Artist, Neil Gaiman, and Idolizing Strangers

I have long been a proponent that you need to separate the art from the artist. An artist can do or say things that are repugnant to you, but that shouldn’t necessarily influence you one way or the other when it comes to their art. Woody Allen and Michael Jackson were two examples I liked to turn to, as both have extremely problematic histories, but I still really like both of the works they produced. In my head, there wasn’t much debate to this, and I didn’t think I’d ever really change my mind.

That said, I also realize that one of the reasons I was able to make this distinction was that I wasn’t really certain of the facts of both of their cases, and so there was enough intellectual wiggle room for me to say, “I don’t know what really happened, so I’m not going to worry about that. Instead, I’ll just focus on the thing I can actually know: their art.” Would I have Allen or Jackson babysit my children? Definitely not. I had no real desire to meet either of them, for that matter. All that was important was the relationship I had to their films and music. I respected others’ decisions to avoid those, but for me, that didn’t seem necessary.

End of story.

And then yesterday I read the new allegations against Neil Gaiman in New York Magazine. (Warning. That article is seriously, deeply disturbing, with graphic details of what Gaiman did with multiple women over decades.) And what I read was so upsetting that it threw my art vs. artist argument into the air.

I have been a Gaiman fan. Not to the point that I thought he was the end all be all, but I’ve read and enjoyed many of his works. Good Omens, Stardust, The Graveyard Book, Coraline, Neverwhere, American Gods, Anansi Boys, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. I’ve read and really liked all of them. He was an author I would read new books from, not even caring what they were about. He’s been a poster child for “successful fantasy author,” and there are many (many) people who looked up to him. He was an ardent advocate for progressive issues, widely admired as a forward thinker, in much the same vein as Joss Whedon, actually. People felt like they knew him through his art, and they loved him because of that connection.

And then it comes to light that he has been sexually abusing women for years and years in awful, unspeakable ways.

Many of my previous justifications for the art vs. artist argument still could apply. I recognize I don’t know what actually happened in any of these situations. Allen always denied accusations, as did Jackson. Gaiman has largely retreated behind an army of lawyers, though he has defended himself by saying what was done was consensual. There are text messages between him and some of the victims that would seem to support this, but there’s also the fact that there’s a huge imbalance of power between him and them. And . . . saying “they agreed to it” when it comes to some of the things his accusers are saying is a pretty bad way of trying to justify it. In any case, these allegations have caused me to reevaluate my art vs. artist argument in general.

Maybe it’s the fact that the accusations are so graphically specific. I never took the time to look that closely at other situations, waving it off as not my responsibility. Maybe it’s also due to the fact that I’m a writer as well, and I know other authors who have been involved in things in this vein (though nothing in the same ballpark as bad as this). Some of them have been falsely accused. Some of them have definitely not been. But perhaps I see a connection here to reality that I just didn’t make with Allen or Jackson because I didn’t feel any sort of direct connection.

Maybe it’s also because as time goes on, more and more examples of this pattern come to light. People in power end up abusing that power. Men use positions of prestige to abuse women. It doesn’t seem to matter if they’re politicians or comedians or movie moguls or authors. Not all of them do it, clearly, but some of them most definitely do.

This just further cements my reasons to avoid looking up to anyone I don’t know personally. Whether it’s Bill Cosby or Will Smith or Neil Gaiman: you might feel like you know someone because you’ve seen them on screen or listened to them or read their books, but all we ever really know about them is what they and their publicists choose to show us. Period.

Will I still be able to read Stardust, one of my favorite YA books, and actually enjoy it? I don’t honestly know. Though in a world where there are sooooo many things to read, listen to, or watch, I am definitely beginning to wonder why in the world I should read, listen to, or watch something by someone who’s problematic.

I don’t know. I’m still reeling from what I read. Just sad and discouraged today.

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