The debate over separating art from the artist has long been a complex and divisive one. Can a creative work stand on its own, independent of its creator’s personal actions? It’s a question that resurfaces time and time again, with controversies involving public figures coming to light at an increasingly alarming rate. For years before this, it seemed possible to appreciate books, films, and music without considering the personal lives of those who made them – particularly when those artists have long passed away, like Roald Dahl and Michael Jackson. But, in the wake of #MeToo, this stance feels increasingly difficult to maintain.
The recent allegations against Neil Gaiman have reignited this longstanding debate in a deeply unsettling way, with multiple women coming forward to accuse the author of sexual assault. You can read the original article here, but please proceed with caution as it contains graphic details of the allegations. In a statement on his blog, Gaiman wrote that he has “never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone, ever”.
This article, among many others has compelled many, myself included, to reassess our relationship with his literature. Gaiman’s body of work – including Coraline, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, and Good Omens – has long been celebrated for its bravery, resilience, and imagination. Coraline for example, has been a favourite of mine since childhood. His stories have resonated with readers for numerous reasons, inspiring adaptations across multiple mediums and achieving cult status. It’s easy to understand why his work has garnered such widespread adoration, which makes it even harder to consider severance with it.
The #MeToo movement has made it impossible to ignore the widespread abuses of power within the creative industries, many of which had been buried for decades. As more survivors come forward, patterns of exploitation and harm have become glaringly visible, challenging the notion that an artist’s personal life can be separated from their work. Similar discussions have played out in the past with other controversial figures including Woody Allen, Chris Brown, and more recently, JK Rowling.
Neil Gaiman has been accused of sexual misconduct
(Credit: Ståle Grut/NRKbeta)
Rowling’s case exemplifies how a beloved creator can become divisive when their personal beliefs or actions come under scrutiny. Many fans have rationalised enjoying Harry Potter without endorsing Rowling herself but, as more controversies emerge, the divide between art and artist becomes even harder to maintain. Engaging with art contributes to an artist’s cultural influence, legacy, and their financial success. As Harshaall Medhu Naidu puts it: “If a person pays to consume [...] art regardless of whether or not they care for the artist, they’re supporting that artist.” Our consumption of art is far from passive, which makes separating art and artist more complex.
The cancellation of the Coraline musical adaptation, which was set to tour in 2025, serves as a stark reminder of this dilemma. While the project represented the efforts of many talented individuals, it was ultimately scrapped due to the controversy surrounding Gaiman. This decision highlights an undeniable truth: art does not exist in isolation. It is inextricably linked to the people who create it and the impact they have on others. As Kriztin Cruz writes: “One of art’s jobs is to resonate with the deepest pits of the human condition. That alone makes it difficult to separate the art from their craft: a part of the artist lives in the art.” While cancelling the adaptation was likely the right decision given the severity of the scandal, it also impacts the entire creative team involved, whose art must suffer based on the abhorrent acts one individual is alleged to have committed.
There are no easy answers here. Coraline still remains a beloved story for me, but engaging with it now is massively discomforting. It is no longer just about personal enjoyment; it’s about the broader implications of supporting an artist whose actions are under scrutiny. With so much other amazing art by brilliant artists, it’s worth considering whether it is necessary to continue engaging with those that come with moral complications.
Ultimately, the cancellation of Coraline challenges the idea that art and artist can always be viewed separately. Rather than seeking a one-size-fits-all answer, it may be more valuable to approach each case with careful thought, recognising that our choices – what we read, watch, and celebrate – reflect not just our tastes, but our values as well.
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