What, If Any, Responsibility Does An Artist Have? Teshale

KATURIAN: [...] A great man once said "The first duty of a storyteller is to tell a story," and I believe in that wholeheartedly, "The first duty of a storyteller is to tell a story." Or was it, "The only duty of a storyteller is to tell a story"? Yeah, it might have been "The only duty of a storyteller is to tell a story." I can't remember, but anyway, that's what I do, I tell stories.


That excerpt is from a play called The Pillowman, which I read the other day and found absolutely stunning. It is, on the surface, a murder mystery; a man (the Katurian mentioned) who writes gruesome fairy tales in which children are maimed or killed is questioned by totalitarian police regarding recent murders that bear a resemblance to his stories. But it's about a lot of other things besides that-- about what makes a good story, about what makes a storyteller, about censorship, and other stuff besides. It might be the kind of play that is only interesting to people who think about that kind of thing, like me, but I still thought it was a remarkable play and I suggest you read it; the less you know about it, the better.

The distinction made in the quote is a very significant one; I suggest there is no such thing, really, as a story or a piece of art that has no point. There is no such thing as a story that is only a story. Art is a method of expressing oneself, of expressing one's feelings in some way; the point of any kind of art is to, at the very least, communicate how the artist feels at the time. And to express something, you need someone to express it to. Otherwise, there's no point of creating the art in the first place. That's not to say that art is always created specificially for other people, but rather to say that the creation of a piece of art automatically implies the existence of an audience it's for, even if that audience is "myself."

Various people-- who, I don't really remember, but it's not important, probably some professors or something-- have claimed that we're now living in an age of post-modernism and meaninglessness. (I think this is a short-sighted way of looking at it, and that the Lost Generation would probably be more justified in claiming that life is meaningless, but that's unrelated.) There's a lot of satire out and about today, but then again there has been for thousands of years. South Park's an easy one to talk about, and though it's probably a little less high profile than it used to be, it's still got things to say. It is a good illustration of the issue, I think, because it concerns offensiveness, and the purpose of that offensiveness.

People have bitched about South Park being offensive for 10 years, although I think more than anything it just doesn't pull its punches. But people will pretty much get offended by anything. I, for instance, am only really offended by Ethiopian jokes*. Someone who's gay, however, might not care that much about Ethiopian jokes but get annoyed when a gay relationship is played for laughs in a television show. Someone who's got an autistic sibling would probably get angry at the ease with which young people throw around the word "retard." The argument I've heard is that you're always going to offend somebody, so you can't spend all your time trying to be flawlessly Politically Correct. The best satire is often the kind that makes you a bit uncomfortable, right?

But I think a question that people rarely pause to stop and ask themselves why the people are getting offended over these jokes. I can't speak for others, but I can say the reason I get angry at any sort of Ethiopian joke is not because I think the person actually believes it. It's because it seems like nobody ever seems to actually know more about Ethiopia past the stereotype of starving people in a desert with huge eyes and matchstick limbs, and more precisely nobody seems to care enough to find out anything more, and I'm sick and tired of it. (This, by the way, seems to be part of a general ignorance most people display towards Africa; I find a lot of people who have seen Coming to America, for instance, don't realize that the scene where Eddie Murphy goes for a walk, and giraffes and elephants are randomly wandering around in his backyard, is not a scene merely designed to show how opulent Murphy's character is, but a scene making fun of what people think Africa is actually like.)

I'll use a South Park analogy. A couple of years ago there was a very Swiftian episode about "The Gingers", i.e. red-headed people; how Cartman believed they're a danger to society, shouldn't be allowed to marry, were destroying America's foundation, etc., etc. I think most everybody understood that Cartman was simply spouting ludicrous bigotry, as he usually does, and the humor came from the level of vitriol aimed towards an innocuous genetic trait. What I don't think as many people know is that in in the UK at least it's something of a stigma to have red hair, at least if you're a kid, because of an old belief that a red-headed person is devilish or unlucky in the same way that being left-handed is supposed to be unlucky. Nobody really believes that if you've got red hair you're a demon, or that gingers have no soul. But it seems it's more of a thing that gets you mocked there than it is here in the US. I think the South Park creators were aware of this belief, because "gingers" is a very British thing to say; maybe they thought it was so ridiculous that they'd put it in.

Anyway, this episode is simply a way of poking fun at prejudices, by showing how ridiculous it is that red hair (or black skin, or sexual orientation) suddenly = bad in someone's eyes. It's like that brown eyes/blue eyes video you might've watched in elementary school. But the issue that concerns me here is not of European traditions, but of audience. Despite whatever V-Chip the parent has installed, you inevitably have an 7th grader or whatever watching a South Park episode because it's the "cool" thing to do. He sees this episode, and he thinks it's funny, but he has no idea why. He just thinks it's funny to say "gingers have no soul, they can't be pirates" for instance, and the next day at school he makes fun of his friend by saying the same thing to him, or picking on him and giving a reason he knows sounds absurd (you're a ginger), to telegraph to his friend: It's A Joke, I'm Not Being Serious. Because, as we all know, if someone is making a joke, you have to laugh, that's what people do when they hear jokes, isn't it, stop being so serious. Now I doubt very much that this kid will develop a prejudice towards red-haired kids. But it's very easy to use the excuse of "it's a joke" as an excuse to justify saying (or doing) unpleasant things you feel like saying (or doing), instead of using unpleasant things to try and make a significant point.

I don't advocate censorship, because there are always going to be people who aren't really into that whole "thought" thing. I'm not saying that if something could possibly be misunderstood, such as morbid stories or ridiculous statements about redheads, then it should be censored For The Children, because then obviously everything would be censored. Plus, it seems more often than not anything that is censored is censored because it makes the censor uncomfortable, not out of any particular concern for others. I'm just proposing that an artist should take into account who he or she is trying to reach with their work, consider the consequences of what's being made and most importantly not be surprised if those consequences surface.

The purpose of satire, especially really uncomfortable, cutting satire, is generally to throw stones at those who are more powerful, to cut them down to size, and to make people think. The purpose of art, I would say, is to challenge someone's way of thinking about the world, too, even if that someone is yourself. If that is true, then, I propose that the artist does have a responsibility when creating art. But it's just one. That responsibility is to know his or her audience, and proceed while keeping that in mind. Nothing is created in a vacuum, and it's foolish and short-sighted to think that because you never considered something could be taken a certain way, that someone else is wrong for pointing out the interpretation. if you read The Pillowman (and again, I strongly suggest you do, though it's very dark)-- you'll see that the storyteller claims he only ever intended to tell a story, no more no less, but he accidentally did a lot more than that.

That seems like a pretty simple responsibility on the outset, but it is, I think, a very challenging one. Artists should of course stay true to what they wanted to convey with their art. But they should at the same time realize that they have a very powerful tool at their disposal, one that can be used to monstrous effect or great effect.






*note that the South Park episode concerning this was not really a "lol, starving people are SO funny" episode so much as one making fun of the Bob Geldofs and Angelina Jolies of the world, and of people who do just think of third world countries as full of indistinguishably wide-eyed, shoeless children. Ironically, that seems to be most people.