I love how invested we get in the things we enjoy. We don’t just listen to an artist anymore, we want to know everything. Who are they dating? What inspired that album? Why did they write that one devastating song at 2 a.m.? And because the internet has given us absolutely no reason to have boundaries, we somehow end up knowing what their favourite cereal is too. We get attached to the music, but we also get attached to the person behind it. We want the stories, the interviews, the little details and the context that makes the art feel even more personal.Â
Which is why I’ve always found the phrase “separate the artist from the art” a little strange. It sounds like the mature, reasonable thing to say, but sometimes it feels suspiciously like something we say when we really love the song and don’t want to think too hard about the person singing it.
Because when we love an artist, we don’t separate them from their art at all. We learn that an album was written after a breakup and suddenly every lyric is about the breakup. We watch interviews to understand what inspired a song. We learn about their childhood, their struggles, and their influences because knowing the person somehow makes the art feel more meaningful.
But the moment the artist does something we don’t like, the case is entirely different.
The situation surrounding D4vd is an extreme example of why this is difficult. His music has been part of people’s playlists and memories, but he is now facing charges in connection with the death of 14-year-old Celeste Rivas Hernandez. He has pleaded not guilty, and the case is still going through the courts. Regardless of what happens, I can understand why someone who once listened to his music casually might now struggle to hear it in exactly the same way. The song hasn’t changed. The listener has.
You don’t even need a situation that serious, though. Look at BTS’ RM and The Pixel Project. RM was previously included on its list of male role models for his public evolution and engagement with issues surrounding misogyny and gender equality. After criticism surrounding his attendance at a Chris Brown concert and a photograph involving Brown, the organisation later suspended him from the list. Whether that decision was fair is another conversation, but what interests me is how quickly something outside an artist’s actual work can change the way people see them.
And we do this constantly. We use an artist’s personality to make their work more interesting when we like them, but suddenly insist that personality has nothing to do with the work when they disappoint us. We can’t have it both ways. That doesn’t mean that bad people make bad art. If it did, we’d have to delete a frightening percentage of our playlists, and I’m not sure I’m emotionally prepared for that.Â
Artistic talent and moral character are completely different things. Someone can make an incredible song and still be a deeply flawed person. Recognising that a piece of art is good doesn’t mean you have to admire the person who created it. But I also don’t think appreciating the art requires us to ignore the artist. We can think a song is brilliant and still decide not to stream it. We can even keep listening while acknowledging that what you know about the artist has changed how the music feels.
Because art is personal, we attach songs to people, places, memories, and entire phases of our lives. The artist becomes part of that experience whether we like it or not. We don’t consume art in a vacuum. Instead, we consume it with everything we know.
Maybe we were never really supposed to separate the artist from the art. Maybe we just like the idea because it makes loving complicated things a little easier. And honestly, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Art can still be brilliant, and the artist can still be flawed. We can hold both truths at once. We just shouldn’t pretend that one disappears because the other makes us uncomfortable.