“Art, very fortunately, has never once told us the truth”
Oscar Wilde’s first and only novel The Picture of Dorian Gray has long been one of my favourite books. Epitomising fin de siècle literature, it is at once strangely eye-opening and hauntingly beautiful, brimming with Wilde’s witty nature and borderline genius philosophies.
The Picture of Dorian Gray was controversial from its inception; scandalous for its insinuations of Wilde’s own sexual orientation, it was used as evidence against his sexuality, leading to his imprisonment. It also caused outrage through urging a new use and meaning of art, popularising the notion of “Art for Art’s Sake”. Typically art in Wilde’s era was created with a didactic purpose in mind, yet Wilde was a pioneer in the sense that he condemned this symbolic intention, instead promoting a fun, more whimsical and light-hearted way of seeing and making art.
Despite the words “Art for Art’s Sake” never being mentioned, The Picture of Dorian Gray is noted for its strong opinions on Aestheticism and the necessity and function of art. The origins of Aestheticism were derived by Immanuel Kant in the eighteenth century, although it was Wilde who integrated the fundamentals of the concept into British society. Kant emphasised the beauty of art over pre-specified functions, whether moral teachings or a political message, concentrating more on the appreciation of art with no surrounding reasoning or justification. It stripped away what was traditionally seen as the “morality” of art.
Occasionally, it is good to realign on the significance of Aestheticism; art shouldn’t have to instruct or teach to be classed as “good” art. With the ease and accessibility of both seeing and creating art, maybe we should, as the saying goes, focus on the journey rather than the destination, and re-centre on the creation of beauty, instead of looking to create or encapsulate a bigger meaning into a piece.
Saying this though, art is powerful in its ability to be used as a political or moral message, or force for change. It can be reductive to focus only on the aesthetics or the look of an artwork, especially in contemporary art. Banksy’s work, for instance, is eye-catching, relevant and, most importantly, necessary. His work equates him to a political activist and its codification into pop culture is crucial for each piece to attain its intended purpose. Banksy’s most recent projects - a yacht sent to rescue refugees trying to reach Europe, and his graffiting of a London tube train to encourage adherence to social distancing and mask-wearing - highlight the importance of the arts in society. Maybe we need the aesthetics, to get the ethics across.
Much like literature, art can depict and raise awareness for experiences we otherwise might not receive exposure to. Through its elaborate, flowery “purple prose”, The Picture of Dorian Gray balances the issues of beliefs and aesthetics beautifully. Wilde says there isn’t (or at least shouldn’t be) a grand, universal meaning to every piece of art, but almost paradoxically, also notes “The fact is that we look back on the ages entirely through the medium of art, and art, very fortunately, has never once told us the truth”. The resurgence towards telling a story in art, in Wilde’s eyes, stripped art of its beauty - he preferred a point-blank refusal of reality, expressed in Dorian’s fear of aging.
In terms of Aestheticism’s relevance today, lockdown springs to mind; art has become prominent once more as a way of escaping and rejecting reality for many. Wilde’s musings are fascinating and his philosophies are so intriguing, but such an emphasis on Aestheticism and “art for art’s sake” is sometimes dismissive. It is a tricky balance. On the one hand, art shouldn’t be inextricably tied to morals and didacticism as it once was pre-Wilde. But equally, whilst disassociating from the meaning and instead focusing solely on the piece (whether art or literature) can be relieving and liberating, it can also be reductive and dangerous, if we refuse to see the subtext and the intention of the artist. Art, after all, is not merely surface-level.
Written by Cara Lee