State of the Art: We shouldn’t separate the art from the asshole artist

“Women are machines for suffering. For me, there are only two kinds of women: goddesses and doormats.” 

While this quote reads like the harsh words of a serial misogynist, it was said by a man worth $500 million at the time of his death and who enjoys a status of nearly unparalleled veneration in our culture. Pablo Picasso — an artist whose influence was undoubtedly profound and far-reaching — was among a striking number of great creatives who were also destructive egoists. 

His own granddaughter, Marina Picasso, documented his appalling sexual misconduct and tendencies to objectify women in her memoir: “He submitted them to his animal sexuality, tamed them, bewitched them, ingested them and crushed them onto his canvas. After he had spent many nights extracting their essence, once they were bled dry, he would dispose of them.” 

Yikes. 

His body of work demonstrated a history of mythologizing himself as a Minotaur raping  women while they were asleep; his tumultuous personal relationships drove several of his lovers to suicide; he was an adulterer and abuser. Yet, he is still saluted by institutions and critics as a master of some of the most important artistic movements of the 20th century, and his name is synonymous with the standard for high art. 

In the #MeToo era, such egregious displays of toxic masculinity are condemned in every industry and at every level. At long last, male figures of power and distinction are being outed for their predation, and the ubiquity of their misbehavior is not only being laid bare but being taken to court. The likes of  producer Harvey Weinstein and director Roman Polanski are all but blacklisted, actor Kevin Spacey will never be cast again and singer R. Kelly will never sell another record. 

But in 2019 alone, Picasso is slated to be featured in monumental retrospectives on nearly every continent. Carl Andre, dubbed the art world’s O.J. Simpson for allegedly murdering his wife and fellow artist Ana Mendieta, has also enjoyed solo exhibitions at countless major museums. So how did the art world slip through the cracks in holding its prominent men accountable? 

One possible explanation is that nobody cares about a well-behaved artist, so immorality works to one’s advantage in the art world. Dereliction plays a commanding role in culture, and a chaotic mind is key to selling the artist as great. We are drawn to wildmen, to outlaws and rebels and scandal-makers, to assholes who are screwed up enough to enact fantasies we are too timid to probe ourselves — we relish them with a touch of admiration and a shiver of unease. 

What’s more, in art, the personality of the maker is inextricably intertwined with the work itself. The art world is littered with anti-Semites, womanizers and pedophiles, but one interpretation claims stifling these traits would fundamentally alter artists’ abilities to create the works they are acclaimed for.

This is a weak excuse for refusing to re-evaluate how we judge greatness. That the quality and profitability of the art market would be harmed is not enough to justify ignoring the malpractice of the art world’s key figures. In continuing to elevate works by people like Andre and Picasso, we are conveniently choosing to separate the artist from the art. But if #MeToo has taught us anything, it’s that inclusion means embracing more complex historical narratives and taking steps to right past wrongs. 

The question is not whether we can separate the art from the artist but whether we should. I believe unequivocally that we should. No one looks at a Picasso in a museum and immediately dismisses it because he was a deplorable human being. On the contrary, his art’s very placement in a museum setting legitimizes it as an invaluable part of art history. And as long as museums fail to acknowledge who he really was, he will never be seen as anything other than a genius. It’s therefore up to curators, critics and institutions to lead the charge in introducing evolved narratives and to demonstrate the fluidity of the art world. Picasso’s legacy can never be erased, but it can be rewritten to relate his misogyny to his work and to give visibility to the women who were his muses. 

Maybe one day the art world will stop romanticizing artists in spite of their terrible behavior. A girl can only dream. 

Catherine Yang is a senior writing about art and visual culture. She is also the digital managing editor of the Daily Trojan. Her column, “State of the Art,” runs every other Wednesday.