Talented but Rotten: Art, Ideology and the Intricacies of Influence

Artists come from diverse backgrounds but we all feed from the same feast of art that has come before us.

Leni Riefenstahl—what a name! She stands as a curious, albeit contentious, figure in the annals of film history. Often dubbed Hitler's favorite director, she created some of the most chillingly effective propaganda films of the Nazi regime, including Triumph of the Will and Olympia. It may seem straightforward to dismiss her as a mere purveyor of evil, but hold your horses! This is a woman whose artistic vision deserves a deeper look, particularly for any serious artist grappling with the intersection of art and ideology. 

Now, don’t get me wrong—Riefenstahl's role in the Nazi regime naturally invites our disgust and condemnation. Yet, it’s precisely this complexity that makes her worthy of contemplation rather than outright dismissal. I'll admit, I recently indulged myself with a short documentary on her life. Picture me, popcorn in hand, watching her deny any accountability for her actions while insisting she was “just doing her job,” much like a 1950s photographer shooting ads for cigarettes (ah, the irony!). 

Her case underscores the long-standing topic of how collaborators enable regimes to commit unspeakable atrocities. But I’m more intrigued by the role that art plays in this treacherous mix. Riefenstahl's aesthetic has been co-opted in various contexts—from selling perfume to sporting events, rock concerts, and political campaigns. Often, the people borrowing elements of her style might not even realize they’re inadvertently walking in her footsteps.

As we dive into our own artistic pursuits, we must confront some pressing questions: Is there such a thing as fascist art? Look at the monuments of the former Soviet Union; a distinct style emerges. The murals from 1930s Italy spring to mind, carrying a certain political flair. But let’s ponder further—is the artistic style influenced by political ideology, or is it merely popular when that ideology takes root? Even scarier, can art actually shape political ideologies? 

Enter Adolf Ziegler, a painter who cozied up to Hitler early on and helped establish the artistic style we (for better or worse) associate with fascism today.

Take a look to the left: there’s a photograph of Hitler’s apartment flaunting Ziegler’s The Four Elements. Subtle? Not so much! The themes are right in sync with Hitler’s worldview, practically hand-in-glove. Yet I can’t help but notice that his paintings—while as basic as a power-point presentation from 1997—lack the finesse of a true master. 

Does Ziegler's work continue to have the power to spread Nazi ideology? Did it ever?

So, should we display art created by figures like Ziegler and Riefenstahl? Big question! Maybe we could simplify it: Should we view art through a political or historical lens? 

I’m not suggesting art exists in a vacuum free from political or ideological influence. Renaissance art teems with religious symbolism, and Ancient Greek statues proudly represent their pantheon of deities. The question at hand is more straightforward: once a piece of art is created, should we continue to interpret it through the lens of its political context?

Consider this: every artist, regardless of their background, feeds off the moveable feast served up by those who came before. When we wander into museum galleries, we’re absorbing countless influences, whether we’re aware of them or not. Each visual experience shapes our artistic endeavors, guiding our every brush stroke and shutter click.

But here’s the existential kicker: can you create art without being influenced by your surroundings? If that influence has a political angle, does that “taint” your work? Do we assign morality to art, much like we’d categorize fruit as “good” or “bad”? Take a look at the collector who proudly owns historical weapons from the Third Reich—does that validate their beliefs? And what about the individual flying a Nazi flag outside their house? Ah, now we’ve entered murky waters, haven’t we? 

Do we try to erase the works of artists who made questionable choices, lest they contaminate young minds? Shall we hold public bonfires to burn their works—oops, isn't that how we end up echoing the very ideology we wish to obliterate? 

Can we acknowledge that a person might be talented yet fundamentally flawed? This dilemma is echoed in my adoration for Edward Weston, whose stunning photographs capture my heart yet distract me with thoughts of his questionable family responsibilities. Upon reading his Daybooks, I found my perspective shifting; the man became separate from the artist in a way that almost felt liberating!

So, is exposure to any art inherently harmful? Before you decide, allow me to draw a parallel to another passion of mine: wine. Wine appreciation is a journey that deepens with experience, much like our artistic pursuits. But if you continuously sip mediocre wine, you risk dulling your palate, losing the ability to appreciate the finer nuances of a truly excellent vintage. Can a similar dilution happen to an artist influenced by politically motivated work?

If our goal is to create compelling art, I argue no. Art is a dynamic, subjective endeavor that should challenge our perspectives and provoke introspection. Sometimes, this art may carry political undertones, potentially influencing societal views. The real risk arises when we attempt to filter or eradicate specific works purely because we disagree with the political backdrop, equating artistic expression with political ideology—and that would diminish both art’s power and its significance in our lives.

Instead, let’s embrace all art, comprehending its historical significance and the attempts to manipulate the viewer. Through this understanding, we cultivate empathy in our lives and work, enriching our artistic journeys.

Consider Rembrandt, who wrestled with similar dilemmas in his lifetime. In the painting to the left, we see Aristotle contemplating whether to sell out to wealthy patrons or stay true to his artistic vision.

​At that moment, Rembrandt grappled with his own commitments—how honest should he remain to his vision amid financial and political pressures?

Can you stay true to your art while adjusting to the realities of the outside world?

Returning to Leni Riefenstahl, she blazed a trail as the first female producer and director in a male-dominated field, harnessing her relationship with her benefactor to forge her artistic path. She was truly ahead of her time in many ways, yet unfortunately, she found herself kissing the wrong hand along the way. Did her work bolster Hitler’s ambitions? Certainly. Did it help make his ideology more palatable? Absolutely. Should we shun her contributions today? No! Instead, let’s study them critically, grappling with the complex issues they present. 

As artists, we should analyze Riefenstahl's work while acknowledging her moral failings. Everything she touched may be tainted, but wouldn’t it be a disservice to ignore the lessons gleaned from both her artistry and her undeniable complicity? Let's engage in constructive discourse rather than simply vilify the past; after all, such contemplation enriches our collective experience and hones our artistic sensitivities for the better.