“The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”

“The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” was written in 1936 by Walter Benjamin, a German Jewish scholar living in exile in Paris. This essay discusses the evolution of mechanical production and its effects on art and cultural consumption in the 20th century.

He does admit that reproduction has always been present in art and craft making. However, as mechanical modes of representation became possible, he makes the distinction between process reproduction (often resulting in forgeries) and mechanized reproduction, an inherent quality of newer technologies like lithography, photography, and film. He criticizes (or relays the general critique) that mechanical reproduction lessens the value of the object that is reproduced, in which the reproduction withers its unique “aura”, the quality that makes it unique in the world.

“During long periods of history, the mode of human sense perception changes with
humanity’s entire mode of existence. The manner in which human sense perception is
organized, the medium in which it is accomplished, is determined not only by nature but
by historical circumstances as well.”

I took issue with this quote at first, but thinking about it a bit more, human cognition and perception must have been greatly affected by inventions like the camera, gramophone, and personal computer. Instead of committing the world to memory, humans rely on recording devices to remember places, sounds, and general facts. These recording devices are usually limited in capturing true human perception and experience, but then again, constructed memories are imperfect as well.

Benjamin is a Marxist, and his socio-political thoughts definitely influence his opinion of mechanized artistic reproduction:

On politics:

“for the first time in world history, mechanical reproduction emancipates the work of art from its parasitical dependence on ritual. To an ever greater degree the work of art reproduced becomes the work of art designed for reproducibility…Instead of being based on ritual, it begins to be based on another practice–politics.” 

On film:

“for the first time–and this is the effect of the film–man has to operate with his whole living person, yet forgoing its aura. For aura is tied to his presence; there can be no replica of it.”

On the difference between painting and film:

Thus, for contemporary man the representation of reality by the film is incomparably more significant than that of the painter, since it offers, precisely because of the thoroughgoing permeation of reality with mechanical equipment, an aspect of reality which is free of all equipment. And that is what one is entitled to ask from a work of art.”

I understand that film is a much more immersive experience than most paintings will ever be, no matter how large or how fantastic. But I find it interesting that Benjamin seems to be saying that film relays a version of reality to an audience that seems devoid of any medium (unlike a painting’s canvas, paint or brush strokes), precisely due to the medium of film itself.

I do agree with his opinion on painting as a medium for public consumption:

“Painting simply is in no position to present an object for simultaneous collective
experience, as it was possible for architecture at all times, for the epic poem in the past,
and for the movie today.”

He brings up another interesting facet of technological progress, where it facilitates the realization of ideas that previously seemed absurd, or “ahead of their time”:

Dadaism attempted to create by pictorial–and literary–means the effects which the public today seeks in the film…What they intended and achieved was a relentless
destruction of the aura of their creations, which they branded as reproductions with the
very means of production.

I also think some of Benjamin’s ideas about film apply to new media as well, if not more:

“The mass is a matrix from which all traditional behavior toward works of art issues today in a new form. Quantity has been transmuted into quality. The greatly increased mass of
participants has produced a change in the mode of participation.”

And, perhaps fittingly since he is writing this essay during the rise of the Third Reich, he ends his discussion of the effects of mechanized production on art, with it on war. Interestingly, he doesn’t address the role of film as propaganda tool in the Third Reich. Due film’s realistic nature (which Benjamin admires), it was an incredibly effective tool in glorifying the Third Reich and its fascist mission.

The Machine (Never) Stops (Until It Does)

E. M. Forster’s prescient short story, published in 1906, foretells of a world where humans have renounced human connection in exchange for constant stimulus and comfort, provided to them by “The Machine.”  Reading this short story, I was struck by Forster’s ability to envision a future where humans had become imprisoned by their blind pursuit of progress, at the expense of nature, connection, and ultimately their humanity.  I worry often that this is the path we are currently traveling down.

A few quotes I found especially relevant:

“He broke off, and she fancied that he looked sad. She could not be sure, for the Machine did not transmit nuances of expression. It only gave a general idea of people – an idea that was good enough for all practical purposes…The imponderable bloom, declared by a discredited philosophy to be the actual essence of intercourse, was rightly ignored by the Machine, just as the imponderable bloom of the grape was ignored by the manufacturers of artificial fruit. Something “good enough” had long since been accepted by our race.”

“But Humanity, in its desire for comfort, had overreached itself. It had exploited the riches of nature too far. Quietly and complacently, it was sinking into decadence, and progress had come to mean the progress of the Machine.”

“Cover the window, please. These mountains give me no ideas.”

The first quote actually predicts the limitations of modern communications, namely text and IM chat, where you read someone’s words, yet are never actually sure of their tone. There are few conventions, like ALL CAPS for angry, or “lol” for being amused, but ultimately we have sacrificed actual conversations in favor of being able to talk to our friends at work or in class. One word of advice, which I’m sure you already know, is to never instigate serious conversations over IM. They usually end badly.

Another thing that always interests me when reading science fiction written in the past, is that authors tend to an amazing job creating an allegorical world, and make predictions about society or technology that actually come to pass.  However, there are always signs of the time that the stories are written, and limitations to the scope of their vision. For instance, in Forster’s story, the main character Vashti clutches at the “Book of the Machine,” a sort of Bible or manual to tell humans what to do when various problems arise.  Perhaps because Forster is an author, and can’t conceive of a world where the book object has become obsolete, she doesn’t invent a different form for this holy manual.  In Brave New World, I seem to remember there being an infinitely large office building, which stored catalog cards with data about every single person. Aldous Huxley was able to envision many things that ended up happening, but the modern computer was not one of them.  And to list one more, in Bladerunner (the movie not the Philip K. Dick short story Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?) the characters all talk using video phones, but this happens in phone booths not hand-held devices or personal computers (ah, 80s scifi).

So, to return to Forster’s story, although “civilization” ends and everyone dependent on “The Machine” dies alone in the dark, it is ultimately hopeful. Apparently all along there had been people cast out from society, who rejected the life of comfort and dependence, and sought to live above ground or outside the control of the Machine, Vashti’s son Kuno one of them.  When the Machine stops, and everyone panics, there are a few waiting above ground to start over. Vashti thinks they will start the machine again. Kuno thinks “humanity has learned its lesson.” In the end they both perish looking at the “untainted sky.”  Forster didn’t predict that humanity’s actual story would lead to a tainted atmosphere in less than 100 years.