Dean Esmay asks the simple question to which there really is no simple answer: “Just how much can we, or should we, separate the art from the artist?”

His discussion of the merits of Leni’s work is simply that: a discussion of the merits, a discussion of her craftsmanship.

Should art even be dissected that much? Too many times we try and look for what is being told to us by a work of art: we look for a message, meaning, in the work. We do this and then we forget that what we must be listening for is what we feel. We must listen to how we hear and see things.

Zeitgeist: The Big Picture. It is unique for each of us, and I think that trying to explain our zeitgeist of a person’s work, is an effort to explain to someone else the difference between our perceptions.

Art need not go through that. It doesn’t need to be processed, packaged and compartmentalized.

Her message doesn’t matter. What matters is what the message coming from you is. You reaction is what gives art value.

I have not seen Triumph of the Will, and I probably won’t have a chance to do so. Let us assume that the imagery (as shown in the still photos at Dean’s entry) speaks of her belief in the supremacy of the Nazi regime at the time. Does it really? Do we know that much? What do the stills tell you? Not about her, for the moment, rather, what do the stills tell you? Grandeur? Delusion? Deception? How do you feel when you see these images?

You do not need to tell me, because in the end, separating the art from the artist would be up to you.

Do you feel guilt at appreciating the art of a Nazi supporter? Yes, or no, my judgment does not matter.

This also applies to poetry: long or short, literary or sophomoric, obscure or popular.

Consider this thirty-second, two-line “picture-poem” that I wrote off the top of my head:

Homeless
A homeless man rattles his beggar’s cup
As I keep on walking by.

If you think such poetry has no value, we can turn it into prose, as part of a situation: “A homeless man rattles his beggar’s cup as I keep on walking by…”

Either way, do you judge whatever artistry there is in that line (or two) on the merits of the grammar and spelling? If it is iambic? If the meter is correct? Do you judge the artistic value of that line (or two) on how it is written? Or do you judge it on what you feel when you read it? You do not need to tell me, because my message does not matter. How does that line make you feel? After that, ask yourself if what you think of me matters too, and if that line (or two) changes what you think of me. Do you think of me as callous, jaded? Do you think I do not care? Does that make me a Republican? Or a Democrat? Does it make me an populist? An elitist?

Perception is yours.

We close this circle and start rewriting it, with Leni’s art, post-Nazi regime. How do you rationalize it? Do you think she’s doing it to get redemption for her early work? Do you think she’s “making an effort” to “make up” for it? Do you think it is the product of guilt? Do you think that she’s merely carrying on with what she’s been doing all along? Do you think she’s a propagandist? Do you think that she honestly sees beauty in her work?

What makes you proud to appreciate Leni’s work? Admiration of a person’s ability to capture beauty, wherever she goes? (And I do not speak of her “craft” as Dean does.)

What makes you so afraid to appreciate Leni’s work? Is it the fear that the air around you will be chilled forty degrees? Afraid to be called an anti-Semite and a Nazi supporter?

How cheap, these efforts by others. All these efforts to brand her as something that she may be, or have been, or may not be, are efforts to substitute someone else’thinking, someone else’s perception for yours. It is a trap I do not fall into.

I could tell you how beautiful her photography (and stills from her films) is. I could tell you how amazing those images were, in the grand, and the small, but if all you see is the work of a Nazi propagandist making up for a life’s work of “evil,” I have no time to waste on you. Maybe the reverse works too. If you think that I am so shortsighted as to not see her efforts, then you would have no time to waste on me too.

Your judgment, as is mine, does not matter. In the end it’s you and the art. Tune everything out, and ask yourself the questions that you feel need to be asked.