I went to see the film Monuments Men this weekend and had
mixed feelings about it. The film is about men who journeyed across Europe
during World War II to protect works of art. It was presented to me as “based
on a true story” although I’m not sure how much of it is true. I generally
detest any kind of heroism or romanticising of a past that makes me ashamed of
being human. At the same time I do not wish to dismiss the courage these men
showed to protect what they love, nor to disregard the loss to the families of
those who died (if that part was rooted in fact). I did not like the fact that
America was portrayed as the saviour in a good guy/bad guy narrative when what
we should be reflecting on is how we got here in the first place and how as
humans we can do it better. I realise that my personal objectives might not
match those of mainstream entertainment or have anything to do with the plot of
the film. However, I’m not sure how relevant the beautiful French woman’s
unsuccessful attempt to seduce an American man with strong family values was
either. I could only attribute it to a viewer’s perceived need to emotionally
relate to stereotypes.
My Dubious Rendering of Renoir's Nude in the Sunlight |
The quest to protect art seems admirable but I can’t help
thinking that it’s because we swallow these kinds of discourses that abuse of
power is enabled. Mainstream media gives us what we are willing to pay for. I
am in no position to dictate what should and should not be shown on the big
screen but I sometimes wish more people would question what is fed to us
through culture and the media. The central question of whether art is worth
dying for gave me some food for thought though. Whilst my answer is an emphatic
“no”, my aversion to glorifying the fight against a malevolent force made me consider
the question of who we would be if we did not have a polarity to define
ourselves against. If there was nothing to achieve, protect or prove, would it
make a difference to what we are currently applying our efforts to?
The concept of “fighting for something” in the face of
oppression reminded me of an article I read as an honours student in psychology
many years ago. I’ll have to rely on memory so I’m speaking under correction,
but the article had a huge impact on me. It was about a series of suicide cases
among previously disadvantaged men in post-apartheid South Africa. They were in
an age group where people typircally pursue careers in a geographic
setting that had formerly been characterised by division between white and
coloured communities. These men have moved beyond their previously
disadvantaged background to become successful. Because of this, they didn’t
quite fit in with their old background any more, but neither could they
integrate with their new peers. Not only have they lost their sense of
community with people who had shared in their struggles, but what had been
expected to be a better future had finally been achieved. Since they no longer
had anyone to fight against, anyone to oppress them or people who could relate
to them in shared troubles, they had to face a new kind of despair which they hadn’t
anticipated while still striving for an ideal of perceived freedom. I’m sure
the study could not accurately capture the complexity of these men’s decision
to end their own lives, but it does point to the danger associated with
believing that emancipation is on the other side of the fence.
When I was in high school, a multiple Olympic gold medallist
visited us as a motivational speaker. She talked of her experience after
winning her first double Olympic gold medal. Again relying on (my) memory, she
said that after the high had worn off, she was faced with a terrible feeling of
emptiness. She mentioned that there are more suicide cases of Olympic gold
medallists than silver or bronze. On her personal journey, she had to find God
to fill the void that was left behind by the striving for a victory finally
achieved. Having resolved the dilemma, she could approach her sporting career
with renewed vigour, which led to her breaking more world records.
Since I believe in a soul purpose beyond my ego self, I have
asked myself what I would be doing if there were no such thing. My answer boils
down to choosing life or death. I can choose to be the living dead, in which
case I give up and accept that everyone else is in charge. In that case I would
avoid any kind of difficulty while I go through the motions until I die.
Alternatively I could choose life, which entails accepting that my life is my
own and I decide what is important to me. If in choosing life even if I didn’t
believe in a soul purpose my answer would be the same as where I’m currently
applying my efforts to, I conclude that I am on the right track.
My Own Painting from a Photo |
Returning to the question of whether or not works of art are
worth dying for. The initial stance in the film was that no work of art is
worth more than any man’s life. At the end the question was asked whether
the men who have died during the quest would have considered it worthwhile if
they knew that others could appreciate the works of art because of them and the
answer was yes. The idea to me seems ridiculous. I doubt whether life would be
worthwhile if the freedom to create and share art had to be taken away. But
dying for any works of art that some great minds from the past have created is
preposterous because new art can always be created.
There is one work of art that each of us will die for,
whether we like it or not. While the canvas of life might not be entirely blank
to begin with, we certainly have an extent of freedom in what we choose to
create. The question I consider most relevant is how to make the one work of
art that I will die for worth the while.
you can put a price tag on a piece of art, but you can't put a price tag on a human soul.
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