CHRIS THURMAN: Basking in the aura of uniqueness

Every few years I find myself revisiting German philosopher Walter Benjamin’s 1935 essay, “The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction”. Each time I do the tech curve has been through another cycle of innovation and adoption with new technologies, making Benjamin’s context seem more distant. Yet his observations still hold up.

An unconventional Marxist writing in an age of fascism, Benjamin was crucially concerned with what happens when large groups of citizens have their attention directed away from the economic inequality that disadvantages them towards populist distraction. Expressing fears about the aestheticising of warfare, Benjamin’s essay ends on a portentous note, describing how humankind’s “self-alienation has reached such a degree that it can experience its own destruction as an aesthetic pleasure”.

This seems to capture quite accurately the experience of doomscrolling, or perhaps simply skipping past video footage of the genocide in Gaza and infographics about the climate crisis to find a dopamine hit elsewhere on our social media feeds. But to make his points about mass media and politics — which apply all the more in our digital era — Benjamin goes back to the role of art in pre-industrial societies, when works of art were visited, viewed and consulted in acts of ritual or pilgrimage. They had an aura that was a function of their uniqueness.

Once art works could be mechanically reproduced (the beginnings of mass culture) a rethinking of art’s purpose was required: changes in artists’ intentions — as well as in their audiences’ appetites and expectations — and the opportunities and risks that accompanied these shifts. Plaster-cast statuettes, prints, photographs, vinyl records, film — those are the forms of reproduction Benjamin had in mind. There are hints of snobbishness in his allusions to “popular tastes”, but the questions his essay poses about how we value or appreciate art based on the notion of authenticity apply equally to debates about NFTs and AI-generated images.

I thought again about Benjamin as I stood in front of Pablo Picasso’s Tête (Head), one of the prime lots in Strauss & Co’s international sale. The items on auction were on show at a preview exhibition in Cape Town, with a programme of walkabouts and other events giving prospective bidders and interested observers alike the opportunity to test Benjamin’s claim about artistic auras.

What does seeing a famous artwork in person mean to us in the age of digital reproduction? A related question: can you put a price on its uniqueness? The valuators at Strauss reckon you’ll need between R6m and R8m for the privilege of owning the aura of Picasso’s Head. If you can’t afford that, don’t despair; you can probably acquire a small terracotta Picasso plaque (he made 200 of them) for less than R20,000.

There are numerous other famous artists in Strauss’s list for the auction, including Marc Chagall, Jack Vettriano, Francis Bacon, Damien Hirst and David Hockney, while Shirin Neshat is the highest valued of the contemporary artists. But I kept getting drawn back to Picasso, probably because Benjamin refers specifically to him in a comparison with Charlie Chaplin — Picasso representing difficult and disdained high art, Chaplin easily accessible popular culture.

While that binary construction is less persuasive today, there is something striking about the implied quasi-religious aspects of a viewer’s one-on-one encounter with a physical, irreproducible artwork. Walking around Picasso’s Head — which is strikingly hung in the current Strauss exhibition to reveal its contrasting recto and verso sides, with colourful crayon offset by black ink — may not yield an epiphany, but it does tease the mind and soul with a puzzling, playful, painful riddle.

Likewise, while enjoying an informative tour of the lots by Strauss art specialist Elmarie van Straten, I could not deny what Benjamin would describe as their auras. From biblical scenes painted by anonymous 17th-century artists to a range of modern and contemporary pieces (the bold colouration and brushwork of Taras Loboda, say, or the kinetic art of Yaacov Agam), these works demand sustained attention. And that, in an age of infinite reproducibility, is worth something. 

• Strauss & Co’s International Sale is a live virtual auction on  October 22. Lots can be viewed at Brickfield Canvas, 35 Brickfield Road, Woodstock.

This column originally appeared in Business Day.