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Walter Benjamin (1892-1940)
The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical
Reproduction
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II
Even the most perfect reproduction of a work
of art is lacking in 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. This includes the changes which it may have
suffered in physical condition over the years as well as the various changes
in its ownership. The traces of the first can be revealed only by chemical
or physical analyses which it is impossible to perform on a reproduction;
changes of ownership are subject to a tradition which must be traced from
the situation of the original.
The presence of the original is the prerequisite
to the concept of authenticity. Chemical analyses of the patina of a bronze
can help to establish this, as does the proof that a given manuscript of
the Middle Ages stems from an archive of the fifteenth century. The whole
sphere of authenticity is outside technical - and, of course, not only
technical - reproducibility. Confronted with its manual reproduction, which
was usually branded as a forgery, the original preserved all its authority;
not so vis à vis technical reproduction. The reason is twofold.
First, process reproduction is more independent of the original than manual
reproduction. For example, in photography, process reproduction can bring
out those aspects of the original that are unattainable to the naked eye
yet accessible to the lens, which is adjustable and chooses its angle at
will. And photographic reproduction, with the aid of certain processes,
such as enlargement or slow motion, can capture images which escape natural
vision. Secondly, technical reproduction can put the copy of the original
into situations which would be out of reach for the original itself. Above
all, it enables the original to meet the beholder halfway, be it in the
form of a photograph or a phonograph record. The cathedral leaves its locale
to be received in the studio of a lover of art; the choral production,
performed in an auditorium or in the open air, resounds in the drawing
room.
The situations into which the product of mechanical
reproduction can be brought may not touch the actual work of art, yet the
quality of its presence is always depreciated. This holds not only for
the art work but also, for instance, for a landscape which passes in review
before the spectator in a movie. In the case of the art object, a most
sensitive nucleus - namely, its authenticity - is interfered with whereas
no natural object is vulnerable on that score. The authenticity of a thing
is the essence of all that is transmissible from its beginning, ranging
from its substantive duration to its testimony to the history which it
has experienced. Since the historical testimony rests on the authenticity,
the former, too, is jeopardized by reproduction when substantive duration
ceases to matter. And what is really jeopardized when the historical testimony
is affected is the authority of the object.
One might subsume the eliminated element in
the term 'aura' and go on to say: 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. One might generalize
by saying: the technique of reproduction detaches the reproduced object
from the domain of tradition. By making many reproductions it substitutes
a plurality of copies for a unique existence. And in permitting the reproduction
to meet the beholder or listener in his 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 mankind. Both processes are intimately connected with the contemporary
mass movements. Their most powerful agent is the film. Its social significance,
particularly in its most positive form, is inconceivable without its destructive,
cathartic aspect, that is, the liquidation of the traditional value of
the cultural heritage. This phenomenon is most palpable in the great historical
films. It extends to ever new positions. In 1927 Abel Gance exclaimed enthusiastically:
Shakespeare, Rembrandt, Beethoven will make
films... all legends, all mythologies and all myths, all founders of religion,
and the very religions... await their exposed resurrection, and the heroes
crowd each other at the gate.
Presumably without intending it, he issued
an invitation to a far-reaching liquidation. |