John Sullivan/Eastside Staff

“Rather than artwork erasure, actual change can occur by acknowledging and remembering the actions of their creators without diminishing the art that stands alone from them,” said Claire Ding (’26).

Michael Jackson and Voldemort were my first and greatest phobias.
After setting my eyes upon Michael’s uncanny, skeletal face in the “Thriller” music video and that icy, reptilian-like creature in “Harry Potter,” second-grade me was rocked, to say the least. So whenever I heard a “hee hee” or even just saw a turtle, shivers trickled down my little spine.
In the years following, however, I grew to appreciate both of these works. Jackson’s music transformed the pop genre forever and his legacy – shattering racial barriers in the industry – should not be forgotten; simultaneously, “Harry Potter,” being the most successful book series of all time, basically raised a generation.
But after uncovering allegations of pedophilia against Michael Jackson and transphobic tweets by J. K. Rowling, I question if my little-kid brain was sending me warnings. Was I right to have avoided this art? Should we disregard their quality and everlasting influences due to the controversy surrounding their creators? What should we do if disgusting people design beautiful things?
And, essentially, should we sacrifice our morals for entertainment?
A common answer to this dilemma – a debate encompassing many previously beloved musicians, actors, directors, animators, and artists – is that we cannot separate art from the artist. This viewpoint, though, fails to recognize the intrinsic purpose of art itself.
Appreciating artwork made by a problematic artist does not inherently mean sacrificing your ethics. The innate quality – the objective value and enjoyability of the work – does not waver when public perception of its composer does. For example, Kanye West is rightfully one of the most controversial and widely hated musicians in the industry due to his history of antisemitism and misogyny. Still, it’s not as if his acclaimed albums – such as “Late Registration,” which comments on issues such as institutional racism, higher education, and healthcare in America – promote his problematic beliefs. Despite West’s atrocities as a person, the musical value of and themes explored by his work stand alone from him, and should thus be judged as such, even if fans can choose to not financially support his music career.
A core argument against separating art from its creator is that continuing to give attention to or purchase songs, merchandise, etc. feeds money into the pockets of bad people. However, it’s unrealistic to eliminate certain works from the mainstream, as, like “Harry Potter,” they pose profound impacts on their fans; it seems absurd to advise all transgender kids and allies to dispose of their favorite books. The art itself creates positive effects on viewers and should thus be preserved, even if the artist themself does not. Also, consumption in today’s world is impersonal; it’s hypocritical to pick and choose when moral judgment must come into play. You can refuse to stream a Kanye song, but are you still buying from Nike? How about Kit-Kats or Kraft cheese? All of these brands have faced scrutiny for child labor practices, yet we still buy from them because we want the products themselves. And although people boycott these companies, there are infinitely more people who continue purchasing from them regardless. Moreover, refusing to buy from certain enterprises can push executives to change their manufacturing processes, but “canceling” – the act of (publicly) ceasing support and de-platforming – a person doesn’t undo anything. If someone is forced to change their problematic beliefs to salvage their career, they likely aren’t actually evolving at all. Most Americans turn a blind eye to the Kraft logo similar to how listeners may breeze over Kanye West’s name when shuffling through playlists. They are not consciously supporting malicious behavior or debating the ethicality of their decisions; under the condition that they don’t condone the heinous actions of the creator themself, we should allow people to freely enjoy their creations without deeming them unprincipled because of it. That’s what most entertainment is for, anyway: enjoyment. If I buy a Mickey Mouse stuffed animal, I’m not deliberately funding the sweatshop that it was created in or supporting Walt Disney’s racism. Immorality is all around us; if we apply the logic of anti-art-separatists to other products, we’ll be left with very few things to enjoy.
Now, while it’s important to acknowledge the faults of celebrities and be wary of who receives our glorification, we can nevertheless recognize their contributions to their respective mediums. Choosing to not stream music or boycott merchandise is completely reasonable, but absolute cancellation of everything associated with a person is not. Banning Harry Potter will not make J. K. Rowling say “JK” to her bigotry and change her beliefs, nor will it undo the harm she has brought to the LGBTQ+ community. Reading and enjoying her book series does not lessen one’s morality because her ideologies are not propagated through it. So, rather than artwork erasure, actual change can occur by acknowledging and remembering the actions of their creators without diminishing the art that stands alone from them.
“It’s like saying, ‘I agree with [my student] on this, but I don’t agree with [her] on that, so I can’t listen to [her] play the flute.’ I think that’s just a dead-end direction. Where does it stop?” Mr. Keleher, an AP Music Theory teacher and conductor of several instrumental ensembles at East, says.
Pablo Picasso and Dr. Seuss’s abuses of their wives do not take away from the unique expertise of his paintings or the whimsy of his children’s books respectively.
Bach’s concertos can be considered some of the greatest ever composed while we condemn him for being a deplorable, anti-semitic human being.
And, although my fears of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” or Voldemort’s noseless nostrils linger, I shouldn’t have to fear sacrificing my morals to appreciate their artistic merits.