Can Art Be Separated From A Flawed Creator?

Trigger warning: This post features links to accounts of sexual abuse and rape, though details in the actual post are minimal.

Here in Britain we're currently going through seemingly never ending discoveries of sexual abuse at the hands of people in powerful positions. Rolf Harris, the much loved presenter of Rolf's Cartoon Club and Animal Hospital, was convicted on twelve counts of indecent assault and sentenced to five years and nine months. Prior to that Max Clifford, was sentenced to eight years for a string of indecent assaults and it's common knowledge now what Jimmy Saville was up to, though without a trial his accusations will remain forever unproven.

Gathering less attention, but certainly something that seems fatefully timed, has been the revelations about the science fiction and fantasy writer Marion Zimmer Bradley. There had been conjecture about her, and even certainty that she'd covered up her husband's crimes of rape and abuse of boys.  She admitted as much in her deposition in 1998, with the transcript leaving no room for doubt. But far more shocking, to me at least, is the heart wrenching account from her own daughter, Moira Greyland, revealing that Marion Zimmer Bradley herself was committing sexual assault, among other types of abuse, towards her throughout her childhood. And that there may be others. It isn't easy reading and I felt physically ill reading Greyland's poem, "Mother's Hands", but Greyland's words are incredibly moving and brave and deserve to be read.

So far I've never read any of Bradley's works. Interestingly she was never a writer my mum rated much, and as I experienced Science Fiction and Fantasy through my mum's collection it meant I wasn't really all that aware of her. There was a copy of Mists of Avalon on mum's shelf but I never got round to it. I have it on my wish list but I'm in no hurry to read it. I'm not in favour of blacklisting artwork even if it's created by a monster though. Sometimes even the most evil of people can create something of worth or meaning to others. I can't imagine what these revelations will do to those who loved Bradley's writing, who got started on the writing path because of reading her work or submitting stories to her anthologies. One has pledged to give all of her profits from the stories she got published that way to RAINN, America's largest anti-sexual violence charity. It's a wonderful way to handle the dichotomy of being proud of work you've done, even though it's connected to someone who has done such terrible things.

Australian councils are working to remove all Rolf Harris artwork from their buildings and in the local areas, and the price of his art has plummeted since his conviction. Likewise, I imagine less SF and Fantasy fans will be interested in reading Bradley's works. But I don't think what someone does in their life, no matter how horrendous, means their creations should be destroyed. If that were the case we wouldn't have a lot of the classical music, paintings or stories we have today. Then there's the question of the value you can get from art created by undesirables. My mum's response when I told her about all this was that she'd always felt there was something a bit "off" in Bradley's works, even though she fit the feminist, female, science fiction writer mould that my mum prefers. She couldn't put her finger on it, but said she wasn't entirely surprised by the revelations about Bradley.

It's often claimed that art can reveal far more of the artist than they intend, and for that reason alone I won't write off the chances of me reading a Bradley book one day. My interpretation of her works will be heavily influenced by what I know, just as reading Mein Kampf or looking at one of Hitler's paintings is impossible to separate from what he was responsible for. It's also a lot easier when the perpetrator is deceased; because no matter what you think of their art, at least you know they aren't benefiting from your purchase. At the same time though I can completely understand people never wanting material near them that was created by someone who committed terrible crimes or atrocities. Because even though art can exist on its own merits, it is always, inevitably, entwined with the person who created it.

What Disney's Paperman Taught Me About Story

The Oscars have been and gone, with plenty of worthy winners and notable moments. Jennifer Lawrence has earned a place in many people's hearts after her little trip on the way to the podium (though for me her reaction to meeting Jack Nicholson was the highlight of the night). But rather than run through the films that got nominated and those that won, I want to cover just one: Disney's Paperman, which won the best animated short award.

Busy Little Bee

Sorry for the late posting of this. I've just had one of those weeks when your head feels like it might implode with all the stuff you have to get done. It's not all finished yet either... but I'm definitely on my way there.

The first thing that's been keeping me busy is some major Hen Night planning for a friend of mine. It's wonderful to try to come up with things that I think she'll love, but massively stressful. I'll be a lot happier once the day itself is here and (I hope) she squeals in delight at what I've set up for the activities. So, I'm a tad stressed about that...

Feeling Arty

As promised, this is my work in progress. Based on a scene from Spirited Away - I just love the soot sprites!* Using water colour to colour in, and will finish off with pen later. This is layer 2 - still many more to go.

If by some strange chance you haven't seen Spirited Away, then I highly recommend it - it has a fantastic story, magical characters and a really quirky sense of humour. I only hope my little soots will come close to the original. Painting with water colours is something I've not done for years and I'm remembering why I loved it and hated it - at times you feel like you have no control, and the water just does what it wants to do. A bit like writing characters actually...

*The soots are intelligent - and very cute - little workers who throw the coal into a fire always burning in the bath house. They work non-stop to keep the fire going. These guys need a union. They originally look like this:

Soot sprites with their little star treats. I don't know if they
eat them or not but they definitely love star treats.

Protest, Progress and Da Vinci

Yeah, I had to mention protest. Seems only fitting given today saw the "biggest" protest of public service workers in some time. I put that in inverted commas as I was disappointed that more didn't turn out. I had imagined miles and miles of angry teachers, nurses, firefighters, lecturers, doctors, and dinner ladies descending on parliament and demanding Cameron and Gosbourne's heads. Sadly this didn't come to be (estimates I've seen say around 25,000 were out in the London march, which is tiny compared to the anti-war protests in Blair's day), but good on those that did go out and march (rather than go shopping instead).

It will be a surprise to no one that I support the strike Britain saw today, though I don't believe it will do any good in the long run; the public sector are going to get shafted the way the private one did over a decade ago. It isn't right, but I don't see how it can be avoided. And, being British, we will whinge and complain about it but nothing will actually be done. On the upside we will eventually get over the anger and it will be just another grievance added to the thousands we already have simmering away. But it was right, in my view, for them to go out and express their discontent - if for no other reason than to stop the Con-dems being able to pretend that everyone is okay with their proposals. That, and I'm a sucker for the underdog.

In other, more writing related news, the novel is coming along nicely - the revisions make a hell of a lot more sense than the initial draft, and I'm generally getting through three to five scenes a week. I've started counting my progress in scenes, rather than words, and have discovered I do more work that way, when I sit down to tippity-tap for the evening. Mind games are apparently the key to writing success.

I also was incredibly lucky this week to go to the Leonardo Da Vinci: Painter at the Court of Milan exhibition, at the National Gallery. I only got this opportunity thanks to a friend who had an invite to a "networking" event; there was a lot more looking at paintings, chatting with acquaintances and drinking of champagne than actual networking going on. I kept my feet on the ground by being one of the few with jeans on. Take that you bourgeois fools (she says as she drinks said champagne and chats to thoroughly nice posh people. Hey, I am a good old fashioned socialist after all).

It was wonderful to see the work of such a magnificent artist, and to have so many of his paintings in one place was marvellous (though it shouldn't be so hard to do as he didn't exactly do that many paintings). We walked past impressive works that he never finished, sketches of pieces he never started, and I thought, "that's what I want to avoid - starting and not finishing, because something shiny came along and distracted me." So my zeal for the book has been renewed and I plan to carry on at a steady but do-able rate.

Who knew a renaissance artist, dead for nearly 500 years, could do that. Thanks Da Vinci.

Creativity and Unseasonal Sunshine

As some of you may know the UK has been experiencing some extraordinary weather the last week or so. Here in London at this time of year it's normally all gales, and cold, and falling leaves. But for the last seven days we've had hot sunshine, so it's felt more like July than September/October.

Making the most of it I got out the flat on Saturday and went for a wander around Romford, and ended up outside the church, pad in hand, and did a forty minute sketch of the church tower. I haven't sketched like that in years and it felt wonderful to let my old instincts take over for a while. Even if I did get a few funny looks from people. As anyone who's ever done sketches or paintings in the street knows, you learn to ignore the stares and after a while don't even notice them. So below are some pictures I took of the church, as well as the sketch itself. Enjoy!

This would have been a perfect picture if it hadn't been for
the bald bloke walking into my shot...

I liked the details on the front of the tower so focused on that for the sketch.

The sketch: It's a bit wonky, but I like the window details I got.
I plan to go back and do a better drawing in the future. Weather  permitting.