As a writer, the debate that Michael Rock hashes out is an extremely interesting and thought-provoking one. Going in to many different directions to make one solid point, this essay serves as a look into the mind of a wild fascination with ownership and what it means to art. Art, the way he describes it, comes in many different mediums, from mathematics to gospel, but always includes, and perhaps synonymous with, creation. The author does not create the word but he creates the picture. The picture of the idea/philosophy or story/experience. This way of thinking sparked curiosity in me, as a writer then I think, “then created the word? Is he an author too?”.
He follows my train of thought and continues to explain that my curiosity proves his point that ownership is a fascination, maybe even obsession, that we have. For good reason, I believe that it is only natural and necessary that we as humans question everything from the very words we say to the way that we live. This would explain the quote “Ownership of the text, and the authority granted to authors at the expense of the creative reader, fueled much of the 20th century's obsession with authorship.” Truly an interesting line, paying attention to the placement of the word creative. He’s not referring to the author, the very person who createdthe presumably creative text, but the reader, the precipitant of the word. Their creativity comes from their wonderment of then knowing the producer of the text but also creating their own assumptions and overall character of the producer in an outlandish, or creative, way. The readers wonderment to understand the writer after understanding their text is a trait that comes from a long history of curiosity, Rock explains.
During the Renaissance, science was the newest thing that everyone was curious about so naturally scientific texts “demanded an authors name as validation” (P7) so as no regular person would be able to create unfounded scientific theory. With the rise of the scientific method, these theories became far from objective. Science and mathematical findings became proof or fact. These were “discovered truths” not “authored ideas” and hence did not need authorship.
“The scientist and the mathematician could claim to have been first to discover a paradigm, and lend their name to the phenomenon, but could never claim authorship over it. (The astronomer who discovers a new star may name it but does not conjure it.) Facts were universal and thus eternally preexisiting.”
“By the '70s, design began to discard some of the scientistic approach that held sway for several decades.”
It was now that the idea became more synonymous with creation. If you were creating something, rather than proving something, your work was revered. Humans went from lapping up writing of scientific proof to becoming obsessed with learning of knowledge and knowing. The act of knowing and learning became so trendy that if something was good that author gained popularity. The hottest thing you could do was be a good writer. People wanted to know who you are and would subconsciously fill in the blanks as to who writer was from their text. This created a sort of celebrity amongst not just writers but creators of many kinds. Similarly, around this time that architecture became it’s own playing field that we really started to dive into. The 70’s were known as the “era of architecture” because it became less about a certain style like the Post Modern Era, but creating more unique structures. This became an art, and like Rook is saying, artists were loved. This explains why certain architects are remembered so fondly and adored, because they made art that was unique to the individual and therefore prized and loved.
This is still true. When one reads a captivating and amazing essay in The New York Times or a particularly agreeable and relatable op-ed it is natural to be curious of whom has created such a story or who relates so well to them. Who is responsible for this incredible piece of writing? Or likewise, who is to blame for this awful text. Whether our reaction is good or bad, if it has any effect on us whatsoever our curiosity becomes peaked and we want to know who claims this thing we just spent our precious time on committing to reading? (In contrast, we don’t ask who created everything because there are many authored things that we don’t care about and simply do not affect us, hence not warranting any curiosity.) Like any field of which you enjoy, if something impresses you, you naturally want to know, well who did it? Is that fanaticism? You simply love it so much you want to thank the person who let you enjoy it. Or is it jealousy? You need to know more about this person who produced something you wish you were capable of producing and why you didn’t do it first.
“The parallel to design practice is useful. Like the film director, the art director or designer is often assigned his or her material and often works collaboratively in a role directing the activity of a number of other creative people. In addition, the designer works on a number of diverse projects over the course of a career, many of which have widely varying levels of creative potential; any inner meaning must come through the aesthetic treatment as much as from the content.”
Anyways, Rook does an amazing job of these explanations all to prove that graphic designers, like every other creator, do deserve “auteur” status. (As do writers, film creators, architects, painters, musicians, and more.)
“If we apply the auteur criteria to graphic designers we find a body of work that may be elevated to auteur status.”
