This is not a work of art - on Benjamin's "The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction"

Ceci n'est pas une œuvre d'art

(This is not a work of art)

“In principal a work of art has always been reproducible…Mechanical reproduction of a work of art, however, represents something new.” (p. 35)

Benjamin’s seminal work, ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction’ examines “Art” as it finds itself in an age of mechanical reproduction. An obvious and tautological point, but a point into this difficult text nevertheless. By stating this tautology we may separate works of art in their respective ages of reproducibility, that is, works may be spoken of reproductively in an age of Manual reproduction and Mechanical reproduction. This interpretative entryway also makes it drastically clear that Benjamin regards some works of human effort as ‘artistic’ and indeed that art did not, nor has not, vanished in the age of mechanical reproduction.

Benjamin begins by briefly outlining the historical modes of reproducing a work of art, which he acknowledges, at the offset, has always been possible and been done. The crucial difference in the age of mechanical reproduction lies not in that a work was reproduced, but in how that work might have been, or was, reproduced. When pupils sought to imitate their master, or the master sought to become better known, and both sought to sustain themselves through monetary gain, works of art were reproduced, but however close the replica, the imitation was, it still was on the order of a lack. As Benjamin says, “Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking on one element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence at the place where it happens to be. This unique existence of the work of art determined the history to which it was subject throughout the time of its existence.” (p. 36) Indeed looking to the historical sense of the word ‘replica’ which Benjamin uses to describe reproduced works of art in the manual age shows the force of Benjamin’s argument. ‘Replica’ coming from the latin replicare, meaning ‘to reply, to repeat’ indicates an original to which a “reply” might be offered or given in the first place. One must have something or someone in view in order to copy, to imitate, to replicate. This is why Benjamin writes that, “The presence of the original is the prerequisite to the concept of authenticity…The whole sphere of authenticity is outside technical – and, of course, not only technical – reproducibility.” The original artwork is singular. From its unique presence authenticity is established. Authenticity allows for claims of authority to be made. And from authority an artwork has its ‘aura’. Authority is not simply the artwork’s power to influence, to affect those who behold it (although this is incredibly important), but is also the artwork’s historical testimony. Thus the aura of the artwork lies in a presence that is yet distant – a 3,000 year old Greek statue or a 50 million year old mountain is distant in time, yet may be brought so near that in certain moments you feel as if its’ shadow encroaches upon you, just as if a friend (or enemy) approaches who is close in time to you. To Benjamin, this is not possible in a mechanically reproduced work of art. A copy can never be wholly present to itself, and thus never authentic and never authoritative in these ways. As he says, “aura is tied to presence, there can be no replica of it.” (p. 42)

Yet in Benjamin there appears to be not only two planes to an artwork (cult and exhibition value, p. 39) but two dimensions to a work of art as well. If the ‘cult value’ of art is on its way out according to Benjamin (p. 40), and instead ‘exhibition value’ ever-increases, the focus of the artwork shifts in presence, authenticity, and authority. The artworks ability to affect (in a certain way), to bare-with and transcend time by being permanent and unique (built on ritualized presence) may be on its way out, but as he says, “With Atget, photographs become standard evidence for historical occurrences, and acquire a hidden political significance. They demand a specific kind of approach; free floating contemplation is not appropriate to them.” (p. 40) Thus photos begin to re-speak of authority in works of representation; they move towards a historical ‘truth of fact’, without reference to a kind of authenticity built on a kind of presence that finds itself based on as Benjamin states, “a parasitical dependence on ritual.” (p. 39) In other words, in a courtroom it is crucial to establish that events occurred as the photos show.

It is important to point out that Benjamin states that, “that which withers in the age of mechanical reproduction is the aura of the work of art. This is a symptomatic process whose significance points beyond the realm of art.” In permitting the reproduction to meet the beholder or listener in their own particular situation, it reactivates the object reproduced. These two processes lead to a tremendous shattering of tradition, which is the obverse of the contemporary crisis and renewal of humankind.” (p. 37) With regard to the/(or) an apocalypse, Benjamin’s “The Work of Art” calls us to ask ourselves several questions. As he notes, this symptomatic process pertains to more than just art. When he speaks of statistics (p. 38), or how asking for the ‘authentic’ print makes no sense (p. 39), may we speak of asking for the ‘authentic’ person in an age of mechanically reproduced styles of life? What of the unique human in the era of the stat? Are there singular encounters left to have? Does not the “de-aura-ing” of the world constitute an apocalypse? If we strive to make works of art out of our very lives, what happens when they can be not only imitated, attempted to be replicated, but indeed copied without any distinctions ad infinitum?