Posthumous Art and the Ethical Dilemma

Posthumous art is the lifeline of the world of art. Artists and writers are often identified through their works that are made public after their deaths. Their personal artworks, letters, and journals are widely published and circulated all across the world. From Van Gogh to Sylvia Plath, there are abundant examples. But what about the ethical dilemma attached to it? What if the artists would have preferred to keep some of their works in their closets owing to their personal choices? Yet the world continues to delve into the private lives of such charismatic individuals, without their permission, perhaps with a tincture of guilt too.

“I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still.”

– Sylvia Plath

But she is still heard despite being long dead. Reverberation.
But she is more read than she chose to publish. The posthumous art.
But she is known more for her death. Her end.
A mere tragic symbol? And who benefits from the books and illustrations published posthumously in her name?

Sylvia Plath struggled alone throughout her life owing to some psychological impediments. Most of her last creative bloom of works were published by her husband Ted Hughes, who allegedly gave his wife abusive treatment and cheated on her but inherited her written work. It was he and the world who clenched the capital value of Plath’s art. Today when people talk about her, it is her depression and “pitiful” lonely state. Will she ever cease to exist merely as a depressed talented writer and poet who died by suicide? Does the label of confession surpass the truth that her journals are out on sale? Well, many would argue that there is nothing wrong with publishing a dead artist’s works because nobody can attain the permits from the dead. So we choose Lazarus-is artists; we bring the dead to life. The dilemmatic finger is not raised here to study art and scrounge for the not-knowns. But is it a convenient blush of honor to ignore the aspect that several posthumous artists and writers lived a life full of sufferings, in many cases of sheer poverty and pain, only to be resurrected as long-dead brands who can’t file a lawsuit against you for monetizing something they pained for? Isn’t the world paying for these brilliant artists’ scars while their lives brimmed with boorish bruises, solitary confinements, and squillions of nothing?

Van Gogh is making money through an exciting immersive 360° art exhibition all over the world, except for the fact that he died long back, poor and miserable. Emily Dickinson is even more popular after her TV series, except for the fact that she was infamous for being “eccentric” As she chose to live a secluded life and died much before her works were found and published by her family. Franz Kafka is the elitist emblem of realism and is revered for gifting Kafkaesque to the world, except for the fact that most of his works are known to have been published by his friend Max Brod after his death who overlooked Kafka’s request to destroy his manuscripts.

It can be reasoned that these posthumous productions light up the dark brooding cubicles in which the artists survived. They are given much-deserved recognition. They are mourned. They are enlivened. In many cases, the families gain economic benefits given the complicated inheritance aspect. We would not have been blessed with the benevolence of art if these resurrections never took place. Without Anne Frank’s Diary of a Young Girl, the first-hand insights into Jewish struggles in the Nazi Holocaust would have remained unsaid. But can we deny that her diary, an acclaimed classic work of war literature, was published posthumously and the world gets to read it widely? There is always an ethical tremor of “but”.

It is undeniable that such works have been insightful and crucial for humankind. But authors and artists do have discretions to decide what is to out in the world signed under their names. Rapper icon Tupac’s posthumous album R U Still Down? is often considered an abrupt business commodity. In their 1998 article on the Rolling Stone website, Rob Sheffield wrote, “Tupac’s career as a dead icon is just beginning…”. Further, it was added that “The album doesn’t make sense of the Tupac legacy; it’s no map of the emotional complexities and contradictions that he brought to musical life.” It can be argued that this sort of meddling won’t be appreciated by Tupac or any artist perchance. Their skills, techniques, and artistic processes can’t be resurrected because these things are discrete and mortal. It’s definitely beyond any commodified business model.

The pillars of the Lazarus-used business models are usually the commercialized sentimental aspects of the posthumous writers and artists, and their tragedies. Their journeys are reduced to an emotional appeal. The audience is directed to look at their works as decisive confessions, a highly misunderstood way to interact with art. The metaphorical nuances are ignored. Ruland Barthes’s method to acknowledge the death of the author to interact with the concerned work is dismissed by many. He reasoned that writing begins when an author enters his death. The idea of considering that an author is pre-existing in his works is questioned by the French writer. Barthes asserted that the modern writer begins to exist simultaneously with his works. But we are conditioned to bind the producers with their works and limit them to narrow-minded notions to sell stories instead of respecting the artistic process.

Sylvia Plath is often limited to her death. Sappho is hardly beyond lesbianism for many. Van Gogh’s creativity is only sourced to his mental illness. Is art meant to be held in claustrophobic interpretations? What better do they yield other than economic motives that differentiate one posthumous artist from another? We immortalize them but in a fashion that is commercially viable to the ones alive. In this way, are we keeping their art alive? Or are we slowly wiping it away as long as the utility of misguidance prevails and profits? Posthumous art is sentimentally crucial but it is hostile to brand the artists as only tragic symbols thereby vandalising their artistic spirits that are very often theatricalised for economic gains.

Hardika Sachdeva is a student pursuing Human Rights from Jamia Millia Islamia.

Edited by: Sania Parween