Source: Rijksmuseum via Unsplash
by Emma Clinton
Copycat, imitator, wannabe, mimic – these synonymous insults are thrown at those who dare to be derivative. Imitation and replication hold negative connotations, signalling an unimaginative work and an immoral artist. In the 21st century, questions of modern-day imitation – generative artificial intelligence, plagiarism, and intellectual regression are exceedingly relevant. In fact, the moral panic over the decay of the arts and intellect is not contemporary, but cyclical, emerging at the onset of new technologies and advancements. For Charles Baudelaire, a 19th-century essayist and art critic, creatives must “avoid, like death itself, the temptation of borrowing the eyes or the feelings of another man” (Baudelaire 299), for it would be “a pack of lies” (299). Given his staunch view on replication, Baudelaire derides the budding realist art movement and the advent of cameras and photography in his essay The Modern Public and Photography. Specifically, he critiques both art forms for their exact reflection of the world, thereby “smother[ing] the taste for the beautiful” (294) and bypassing what the unique artist “sees and feels” (298).
A century after Baudelaire’s essay, Argentinian writer Jorge Luis Borges challenges the notion of worthless replication within his short story “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote”. Through the fictional author Pierre Menard and his endeavour to recopy the Quixote, Borges explores the nuanced value of the facsimile and the underlying connection between authorship, imitation, reading, and interpretation. His faux article on Menard’s plagiarism reveals literature as a medium rich with infinite reimaginations. Indeed, by putting Borges’ and Baudelaire’s arguments in rhetorical dialogue, their stances on imitation and originality, advancement, and art are diametrically opposed. Despite their debates on antiquated technologies, both authors share valuable knowledge and lessons applicable to our 21st century.
By far, Baudelaire and Borges’ most conflicting stance concerns the value of artistic replication. Throughout The Modern Public and Photography, Baudelaire maintains a through-line of admonishing realism and photography for their vapid reflection of nature and reality. For Baudelaire, the absolute reflection of what already exists denotes crude artlessness and ineptitude. He introduces his essay with a critique of the realist art movement: “In this country, the natural painter, like the natural poet, is almost a monster. Our exclusive taste for the true…oppresses and smothers the taste for the beautiful” (294). Through layering brushstrokes into colours, shadows, and dimensions simulating our lived reality, the beauty and feeling of the piece is lost. While the painter may be technically skilled in composition, the style of “copy[ing] nature; and nature only” (298) is “hostile to art” (298). In fact, the key to valuable art is not technical skill or aesthetic appeal, but that “the artist, the true artist, the true poet, [paints] only in accordance with what he sees and feels.” (298) To imbue the piece with humanity, thereby stimulating the imagination and feelings, is to achieve true art. It is this essential touch of humanity that Baudelaire considers valuable.
Baudelaire applies the same philosophy to the nascent camera and the art (or, in his view, the lack thereof) of photography. To a greater extent, Baudelaire discredits the artistry of photographs based on their apparatical reliance and exact replication of the world. In response to the commonplace argument that “‘[s]ince photography provides us with every desirable guarantee of exactitude’…‘art is photography’”(295), Baudelaire calls it “a form of lunacy” and “extraordinary fanaticism” (295). Given that photography captures reality one-to-one and requires less human intervention, Baudelaire believes it should be exempt from the arts sphere altogether. He writes, “But if once [photography] be allowed to impinge on the sphere of the intangible and the imaginary, on anything that has value solely because man adds something to it from his soul, then woe betide us!” (297) Photography categorically fails to add the artist’s unique feelings and perspective to the piece; therefore, it is artless. Its product, the photograph, is a vacant image, infinitely replicable and entirely valueless. For Baudelaire, photographs at once reflect everything real and true in our world, but say nothing of substance about it. The sole act of reflecting reality renders photography gauche and unskillful, contributing to the intellectual decay of the public. On the opposite side of the debate, Borges argues that there is, in fact, artistry in copying what already exists.
Pierre Menard, Borges’ fictional protagonist, is a 20th-century “symbolist from Nîmes” (Borges 5) who endeavours to re-compose “the Quixote itself” (3), an already existing work penned by the Spanish author Miguel de Cervantes in the 17th century. The French author’s “admirable intention [is] to produce a few pages which would coincide — word for word and line for line — with those of Miguel de Cervantes” (3). Through Menard’s mimetic enterprise, Borges illustrates that new meaning may be derived from reproducing an existing work. He writes, “To be, in the twentieth century, a popular novelist of the seventeenth seemed to him a diminution. To be, in some way, Cervantes and reach the Quixote seemed less arduous to him — and, consequently, less interesting — than to go on being Pierre Menard and reach the Quixote through the experiences of Pierre Menard” (4). When copying the existing text, something new and human is gained through the different perspectives, periods, and contexts provided. An important distinction is that Menard copies the Quixote not as Cervantes, but as Menard, carrying his own identity, experiences, and perspectives alongside him. He breaches from reader into author, imbuing the text with his distinct voice and ideas. This feeling of identity is transmitted throughout his facsimile of The Quixote.
Borges exhibits the countless nuanced facets that Menard brings to the work. The work itself gains significant value, as “…Menard’s fragmentary Quixote is more subtle than Cervantes’. The latter, in a clumsy fashion, opposes to the fictions of chivalry the tawdry provincial reality of his country; Menard selects as his “reality” the land of Carmen during the century of Lepanto and Lope de Vega” (5). From the imitative strokes of Menard, he creates a seemingly identical, though infinitely richer, nuanced, and original manuscript. In the 20th century, his copied words and story bear a completely new meaning. Namely, on the subject of arms and militarization, Borges points out that “Cervantes was a former soldier” (5) of the 16th century. Meanwhile, Menard, a contemporary of World War 1 and 2, writes of war with a delicacy and subtlety previously absent, and does not “fall prey to such nebulous sophistries!” ( 6) as Cervantes does. Accordingly, the original author and historical context is decentered, in favour of the readers and their contemporary interpretations and rewritings. In fact, Borges begins to suggest that all literature should be divorced from its chronological context, to be read ahistorically and reinterpreted in modernity.
In the essay “Borges’ revisioning of reading in ‘Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote’”, author Howard Giskin explores the reading and literary interpretation that Borges outlines. Towards the argument of ahistoric reading, he explains “rather than attempting to recover the “true” contextual circumstances around which a work was created, we should give ourselves free reign to investigate the vast array of connections that can be made by “updating” a work, i.e., rewriting it, figuratively speaking, in each successive age.” To unlock the full potential of Cervantes’ work we need, Borges suggests, to willfully ignore the original context of the work.” (Giskin 6) Essentially, substance and merit are not gleaned from a total transformation of the reader into historic contexts, but by a contemporization of older works into the reader’s present. It is a futile task to immerse ourselves to 16th century Spain, to inhabit Don Quixote and understand the situational minutia of Cervantes’ works. In Giskin’s words, readers should “not waste time with the banal fiction that we can gain a better appreciation of literature by learning everything there is to know about Cervantes’ Spain” (5). Rather, “what is truly interesting (and really the only thing possible) is to try to understand works of literature from our own times” (5), to transpose Don Quixote into contemporaneity instead of the other way around. Therefore, the universal, timeless truths of the novel can be understood, along with newly discovered interpretations. Borges recognizes these timeless truths as “the soul of books”, which “ha[ve] the curious capacity to proliferate in meaning through the passage of time”. (7) By moving these works into modernity, the original intent and messages cannot be lost – they are tethered indubitably to the words. But it is only in contemporaneity that new readers may come to discover the original soul of the book. Evidently, Borges believes in the transformative and valuable nature of both replication and reading, whereas Baudelaire undoubtedly disagrees. Likewise, their opinions surrounding progress and innovation in the arts differ greatly.
Baudelaire, a wealthy aristocrat and artistic elitist fears the invention of photography for its role in creative and intellectual decay. In reference to the public’s love of mechanical replication, he states: “Accordingly let us watch with wonder the rate at which we are moving downwards along the road of progress (and by progress I mean the progressive domination of matter), the wonderful diffusion, occurring daily, of commonplace skill, of the skill that may be acquired simply by patience.” (294) With photography’s reliance on the mechanized apparatus, the manual skill and intentionality of art is lost. Despite the groundbreaking technology of capturing photos, Baudelaire believes the technological advance will deteriorate the arts and public intellect. On the contrary, he states, “photography must, therefore, return to its true duty, which is that of handmaid of the arts and sciences, but their very humble handmaid, like printing and shorthand, which have neither created nor supplemented literature.” (297) He relegates the photograph to serve only the sciences, natural history, and archival work. With no place in creative domains, Baudelaire suppresses the artistic possibilities of the photographic medium. In her essay “Baudelaire Against Photography: An Allegory of Old Age”, Susan Blood further analyses Baudelaire’s relegation of photography. She writes, “Baudelaire’s categorical logic, which will assign photography to a limited domain, first creates distinctions in the area of taste. The opposition between art and industry must therefore be understood as a specific case of the principal opposition between the taste for the Beautiful and the taste for the True.” (Blood 827) Photography represents an excessive taste for the True, at once admired by the french population and admonished by Baudelaire. While “its power to produce a close likeness of its subject, may be hailed as more true and hence as aesthetically superior to painting” (827) by the masses, Baudelaire consigns photography’s exactitude to practical, historical fields. The qualities that simultaneously make photography innovative, provocative, and alluring to the public only deter Baudelaire, a staunch classicist and elite. Indeed, Baudelaire’s antagonism of the common consumer runs deep and broad.
For Baudelaire, the original artist is the sole arbiter of quality and meaning, whereas the consuming masses only sully and pollute the art. By 1859, Baudelaire believed that the vapid tastes of the French public had pushed artists to seek mass acclaim instead of focusing on their craft or on the production of true artistic value. He argues “Now the French public, which, in the manner of mean little souls, is singularly incapable of feeling the joy of dreaming or of admiration, wants to have the thrill of surprise by means that are alien to art, and its obedient artists bow to the public’s taste; they aim to draw its attention, its surprise, stupefy it, by unworthy stratagems, because they know the public is incapable of deriving ecstasy from the natural means of true art” (294). The crude tastes of consumers are a detriment to the arts and the artists that cater to them. By focusing on cheap, garish gimmicks and eye-catching compositions, artists have lost the taste, quality, and original intent of their artwork. They paint what is true and realistic, not what is beautiful and sublime.
This goes not only for traditional art and paintings, but also for the threatening photograph. Baudelaire academic Marrit Grotta explains this technological context, writing in “Reading/Developing Images: Baudelaire, Benjamin, and the Advent of Photography”: “The public seemed no longer able to appreciate great and beautiful art, but preferred petty images. It is against this background that Baudelaire’s attack on photography should be understood. As he saw it, the advent of photography only aggravated the situation, as its aim (allegedly) was to reproduce reality identically.” (Grotta 2-3) Indeed, Baudelaire himself writes “it will not be long before it [photography] has supplanted or corrupted art altogether, thanks to the stupidity of the masses, its natural ally” (297). The public’s stupid love of photography and its one-to-one imitation of the world has only strengthened its popularity and influence. In both fine arts and photography, the attention and consumption of art by the public has defiled and tainted its beauty and taste, not improved it. While Baudelaire places sole ownership on the author and disparages consumers, Borges subverts authorial control and places power in the hands of the reader.
Borges sees Menard’s recomposition as a new means of reinventing literature and strengthening the arts. He writes that Menard’s “technique … of the deliberate anachronism and the erroneous attribution” (8) has in fact “enriched, by means of a new technique, the halting and rudimentary art of reading” (8). Instead of denying this method a place in literature, Borges embraces its progressivity and revival of reading. Further, he believes “This technique fills the most placid works with adventure” (8) and allows us to read antiquated classics with new context and substance. We may read “the Odyssey as if it were posterior to the Aeneid” (8), discovering infinite new meaning upon each fresh glance. Through the reconstitution of old classics, we can bring these stories into the contemporary context and appreciate their merit anew. Unlike Baudelaire, Borges welcomes the technique of replication in the domain of literature and envisions the immense possibilities.
Menard’s defiant recopying of the Quixote and claim to authorship at once undermine the authority and importance of authors in literature. Instead, the consumers (the readers) are key to the interpretation and creation of meaning. With their unique biases, experiences, and beliefs, each reader shapes the text and parses the book for its meaning. This exact concept is outlined in Terry Eagleton’s book Literary Theory: An Introduction under reception theory – wherein “[f]or literature to happen, the reader is quite as vital as the author. (Eagleton 63) Eagleton writes “In the terminology of reception theory, the reader ‘concretizes’ the literary work, which is in itself no more than a chain of organized black marks on a page. Without this continuous active participation on the reader’s part, there would be no literary work at all” (66). Indeed, this process is what Menard does for The Quixote, and what every reader does for any work of literature. The responsibility is no longer in the hands of the author, but it is up to each participating reader to actualize the text. Without their interpretations, the ideas and themes are simply words on pages. Furthermore, Borges’ philosophy follows “that the meaning of a literary work is never exhausted by the intentions of its author; as the work passes from one cultural or historical context to another, new meanings may be culled from it which were perhaps never anticipated by its author or contemporary audience” (61-62) The consumers of art do not pollute the purity of the original, but breathe new life into existing works. Not only this, but readers play an active role in realizing literature – turning a string of words on a page into meaning and value.
Ultimately, Borges and Baudelaire are ideologically opposed regarding facsimiles, advancements in the arts, and the role of artists and consumers. While Baudelaire derides photography and realism for their artless reflection of reality, Borges embraces Pierre Menard’s reconsitution of the Quixote for its transformative quality. Where Baudelaire resents consumers for their vapid taste for the true and control over artists, Borges places readers at the forefront of interpretation and literary value.
At present, photography has become ubiquitously accepted in the arts sphere, and recopying entire novels has not caught on since Pierre Menard’s endeavour. While the technologies and techniques of Borges and Baudelaire’s arguments are dated, there is nonetheless knowledge to be applied to the 21st century. Certainly, the question is not how we may preserve the past, but how we can adapt to a new, technological future. Instead of removing technology from the arts, as Baudelaire wished, we must embrace and adapt to new forms of creative expression. Furthermore, as readers we must continue to study, transpose, reinterpret, and understand works of literature both old and new; to unbind books to reach the timeless truths they contain beneath the page. Generative artificial intelligence and cameras are just a few new media that provide endless possibilities and innovative expression. Let us not fear the advent of modernity, but embrace its untouched creative potential.
Works Cited
Baudelaire, Charles. “The Modern Public and Photography.” The Salon of 1859, Cambridge University Press, 1972, pp. 291–307.
Blood, Susan. “Baudelaire Against Photography: An Allegory of Old Age.” Mln, vol. 101, no. 4, 1986, pp. 817–837, https://doi.org/10.2307/2905650.
Eagleton, Terry. Literary Theory: An Introduction. Blackwell Publishing, 2015.
Giskin, Howard. “Borges’ revisioning of reading in ‘Pierre Menard, author of the quixote’.” Variaciones Borges, vol. 19, Jan. 2005, p. 103. Gale Literature Resource Center, https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A131903962/LitRC?u=ubcolumbia&s id=summon&xid=59811810.
Grotta, Marit. “Reading/Developing Images: Baudelaire, Benjamin, and the Advent of Photography.” Nineteenth-Century French Studies, vol. 41, no. 1/2, 2013, pp. 80–90, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23538443.
Luis Borges, Jorge. “Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote.” Collected Fictions, Penguin Books, 1998.