Myths about Malraux's Theory of Art

Malraux's books on art, as one commentator writes, have been 'skimmed a lot but very little read'. As a result, his theory of art is surrounded by a cluster of simplistic and misleading myths which seem to be the result of superficial readings or simply relying on someone else's opinion. I have discussed most of these myths - often propagated by quite eminent figures in the history of art or aesthetics - in my books on Malraux's theory of art. Here are some of the common ones:

Myth 1. Malraux was an art historian.

This is said repeatedly. Malraux was an art theorist. The nature of his theory of art required frequent references to art history (a welcome change, one might say, from so many modern philosophies of art that shy away from providing specific examples) but he was not, and never sought to be, an art historian. Although always careful to ensure that his facts were as accurate as possible, Malraux’s aims were quite different from those of an art historian and he said so quite explicitly on a number of occasions. Much of the pointless hostility of art historians towards him (see below) seems due to their erroneous belief that he was somehow doing what they do. 

The myth dies hard, however. In his book The Adventure of French Philosophy, Alain Badiou describes Malraux’s stance as 'romantic individualism'. Malraux was neither a romantic nor an individualist. To describe as an individualist someone whose early novels placed such a strong emphasis on fraternity, (cf. La Condition Humaine) and whose later works focused so strongly on an evocation of the human (i.e. not simply the individual), is plainly inaccurate and suggests that, once again, Malraux has been skim read. An important aspect of Malraux's thought, as a number of scholars have recognised, is precisely his reaction against individualism.

This myth is formulated in a variety of ways. Witness this comment in a 2011 issue of the New York Observer: 'André Malraux’s adage that an art book is a "museum without walls" displeased those who believed art must be seen in person.' First, Malraux never simply equated the musée imaginaire with images in art books (see Myth 9 above) but more importantly here, he never suggested that it is no longer necesssary to see the originals. Many of his initiatives as Minister for Cultural Affairs were directed precisely at increasing people's opportunities to see works of art.

This claim is advanced in a recent textbook on aesthetics (Stephen Davies et al., eds., A Companion to Aesthetics, (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), 129.) There is not the slightest evidence for it and the proposition runs counter to the very foundations of Malraux's thinking, which ascribes a clear purpose to art. Art, in his well-known statement in The Voices of Silence (which I explain in some detail in my first book) is an 'anti-destiny'.

Davies' book tries to shore up its claim by suggesting that Malraux has a 'contextless approach to art'.This proposition, which recycles the claim in Myth 2 above, is also groundless. As even a cursory reading of The Voices of Silence or The Metamophois of the Gods reveals, context figures very prominently in Malraux’s writings on art – much more prominently, one might add, than in the school of 'analytic' aesthetics to which Davies’ volume belongs, in which, ironically enough, discussion of art is very often - and even as a matter of principle - historically 'contextless'.[2]

Both these claims, once again, suggest a superficial reading of Malraux's books on art. It is a great pity that comments like this find their way into books apparently intended to provide students with reliable accounts of theories of art. 

Myth 14. Malraux's books on art are "unreadable". 

This myth is bandied about from time to time. Malraux's books on art can certainly be challenging, especially if one has only a limited knowledge of art and its history, because he frequently refers to particular works and doesn't limit himself to the European tradition. He assists his readers by providing lots of reproductions but he obviously can't do so for all the works he mentions so one sometimes finds it necessary to fill in the gaps (not difficult these days with the Internet) and if one is unwilling to do that, things can occasionally become a little difficult. (Malraux always chooses important and interesting works so looking them up is never wasted effort.) 

This focus on the concrete facts of art history (even though, as I've said, he is not writing art history per se), means that Malraux's books on art differ markedly from most modern textbooks on aesthetics which rarely demand anything more than a superficial knowledge of the world of art (and, of course, leave their readers in much the same condition at the end). He is extremely knowledgeable about art and writes with great care, so his books repay in spades the extra effort sometimes required. I suspect that those who find him 'unreadable' may simply have been unwilling to make the effort. Malraux is certainly being read and studied more and more in France. (See the long list of articles and books by academic commentators on the website at http://www.malraux.org/).

Myth 15. André Malraux’s theory of art is a “grand narrative”.

'Grand narratives', as we know, are not à la mode – although it’s arguable, I think, that the postmodernist climate of thought that has given them the thumbs down often simply masks grand narratives of another kind - made up of many small narratives. However that may be, the suggestion that Malraux’s theory of art is a 'grand narrative' is misleading. The archetypical 'grand narrative' – such as the Marxist theory of history – offers an integrated account of whatever it is trying to explain – that is, an account involving a beginning, an intelligible direction, and an end-goal. (So, in Marxism, for example, we get the gradual, staged progression to a classless society.) Now as I explain in my books, Malraux has no narrative of this kind. He certainly relates his thinking about art to the history of art, and he certainly offers explanations of major events that have occurred so far (such as the Renaissance), but he has no unified, overarching theory of history (or art history), and quite deliberately refrains from offering one. The history of art, for Malraux, is a certain kind of 'human adventure': one can trace where it has been, and explain to a large extent what it has done, but, like an adventure, its future is always unknown and unpredictable. This narrative, in other words, has chapters but no unifying plot, and no conclusion. Like many superficial readings of Malraux, the claim that his theory of art is a 'grand narrative' (or, more pejoratively, a  'modernist grand narrative') is yet another myth.

While on the subject of myths, it is perhaps worth mentioning the mythology that has grown up around Malraux's life. I have discussed this matter briefly in my Letter to Quadrant on this site. The extracts below from my book (which, however, is principally about Malraux's thought, not his life) are also relevant. In general, the fascination with Malraux's life, understandable though it perhaps is, has had the unfortunate effect of distracting attention from his thought, which is far more important.

Extracts from Art and the Human Adventure: André Malraux’s Theory of Art:

… Although he seems to have seen himself first and foremost as a writer, Malraux’s biography bears little resemblance to the stereotype of the French intellectual whose life is confined mainly to his or her study, or to a Left Bank café. His remarkably eventful life included an ill-starred expedition to Indochina in his early twenties in search of bas-reliefs from lost Khmer temples, active involvement in the anti-Fascist Popular Front in the 1930s and then in the Spanish Civil War, service in the French army at the outbreak of World War II, participation in the French Resistance ending in arrest by the Gestapo, action in a French armoured brigade in the latter stages of the war, and minis­terial posts in de Gaulle’s governments, most importantly as a very active Minister for Cultural Affairs.

    As one might expect, this varied and colourful career has attracted the attention of some writers whose interest in Malraux lies more in what he did than in what he wrote, and biog­raphies have become something of a minor industry... [Moreover] involved as he was in some of the major historical events of his times, Malraux acquired both strong supporters and determined adversaries, and the resultant polarisation of opinion has inevitably coloured much of what has been written about his political commitments and his life generally. As one writer pithily puts it, Malraux can appear, depend­ing on what one reads, as “a Communist, an Existentialist, a neo-Fascist at heart, an aesthete who has turned his back on reality, [or] an unofficial Catholic”[1] – and this list by no means exhausts the des­criptions that have been applied to him. Predictably enough, it has now become quite difficult in many instances to separate fact from speculation – and sometimes from sheer invention – and much of what purports to be accurate biographical information about Malraux is of very doubtful reliability. The principal events of his life, such as those mentioned above, are not in doubt, but there is much that is uncertain, and possibly likely to remain so...

(PS: A good summary - in French - of key events in Malraux's life can be found here.)

A common myth about Malraux's life is that "after the war, he gave up a life of action and devoted himself to writing books about art".

Unfortunately, this conflicts with the facts. Malraux began writing his books on art in the second half of the 1930s, not after the war. And given his energetic and innovative work as France’s first Minister for Cultural Affairs after the war, it hardly seems accurate to suggest that he “gave up a life of action”. Morever, his literary output after the war included his very substantial "antimemoirs". There is more to say, but this is perhaps enough to dispel this hoary old myth.