What happens when art outlives an artist?
Singer Liam Payne’s life came to an end on October 16th, 2024 and across every major social media platform was a blitz of photos, videos, and frantic text posts discussing and disseminating this loss. Fans worldwide expressed their grief tinged with teenage nostalgia by driving One Direction’s five albums back into the Billboard 200 and increasing Payne’s solo streams by 472 percent within hours of his demise.
But as tributes poured in, so did reminders of Payne's darker controversies. Recent allegations, including claims of violent behaviour by his ex-fiancé Maya Henry and accusations of inappropriate conduct with minors resurfaced, sparking a contentious debate: can we truly separate an artist’s work in death from the person they were in life? And if so, at what cost?
The life and afterlife of Liam Payne encourages us to look closer at how we define the death of an artist in the context of their art. There are two sharply divided views on this separation, with one view arguing that art can and should stand apart from the artist. From this perspective, the value of a creative work is in its impact and message, not in the life of the creator. Roland Barthes echoes this in his essay, Death of the Author where he emphasises that the reader (here, one who chooses to engage with art of any kind) is only ‘born’ as the author (artist) dies. His is a metaphorical death, of course, but death in the most physical sense begets the same separation that this view is in favour of. It is this separation that allows us to consume art as a product in itself, letting it outlive its creator and take on an identity independent of the artist. In navigating this boundary between art’s seeming timelessness and the artist’s mortality, we begin to uncover what legacy truly demands of us, the audience.
A legacy is traditionally understood as a body of work that the artist leaves behind, and some argue that it is a body so far removed from an artist’s own corporeality that the debate of separating the art from the artist becomes more of a philosophical ponderance than a question of practicality. Supporters of this view believe that once an artist has passed away, engagement with their work is harmless, as it no longer supports them monetarily. This financial justification that many use to support living artists while questioning controversial figures does not quite address the ethical complexities surrounding the continued celebration of a dead artist’s work. The simplification that people utilise turns a deeply personal question of balancing aesthetic value and moral ideals into a transactional decision, effectively ignoring the greater issue of how our choices shape cultural narratives and the legacies of those we consume.
Specifically in a digital culture where streams and views continue to grow long after an artist has passed, their influence and cultural standing are still very much alive. This brings up the reality that digital platforms often see a spike in streams and sales posthumously. The tragedy of Payne’s death caused his music - and One Direction’s - to soar via digital platforms, creating an unintended financial impact. It is clear that death doesn’t limit an artist’s presence in the cultural sphere; it often amplifies it. Keeping their work alive in popular consciousness arguably affects their legacy as much as any monetary value could. By choosing to engage, revisit, or celebrate, we contribute to the culture that remembers them and, in some ways, forgive them.
The opposing belief within this debate is that separating art from the artist overlooks the ethical implications of our engagement with their legacy. This view insists that every stream, tribute, or playlist that revives an artist’s work reinforces their influence, regardless of their actions. To engage with Payne’s music, some argue, is to overlook or condone allegations that taint his legacy. It is prioritising the ‘inanimate’ art over the real, lived experiences of the victims that have suffered at the hands of the same artist, and it is those hands which have also shaped the art.
They claim the connection between the two to be irrefutable. In the age of constant connectivity, every aspect of an artist’s life, from achievements to controversies, remains at our fingertips. We are constantly plagued by the Instagram photo dumps and get-ready-with-me’s and ‘close friends stories’ that allow for endless interaction with the artist themselves. The democratisation of information sharing on the internet which allows for this sense of connection is what can bring forth a disconnect, as allegations about the artist’s personal actions come to light, they are broadcast and reshared as uncontrollably. This complicates this idea of a pure legacy and our place in creating it by holding us accountable for the ways we consume and share an artist’s work, effectively supporting all aspects of who they were.
Art and the emotions it elicits do not exist in a singularity. When the art outlives the artist, it becomes part of a legacy: one we have an obligation of shaping as a living, breathing thing. If we view art as an inheritance, then we also inherit the responsibility of understanding the lives that shaped it. Art may outlive the artist, but its meaning and impact are written in the lives of those who engage with it, and that, perhaps, is both the burden and the beauty of legacy.
(Edited by Noor Sabharwal and Srijana Siri)
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