The Macclesfield Psalter in the age of mechanical reproduction

In 1936 the Marxist critic Walter Benjamin published his celebrated essay 'The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction'. It remains one of the most incisive and thought-provoking analyses of the way appreciation of the uniqueness of a work of art was transformed by the invention of new processes of reproduction, in particular photography and film. For Benjamin, such inventions had political consequences: art was thereby liberated for the enjoyment of the masses and freed from the possession of elites.

Nearly seventy years on, one central argument of Benjamin's essay seems dated. He believed that what he called the 'aura' possessed by a unique work of art would inevitably be diminished by the ease with which such works could be reproduced and that media where there was no true 'original', such as photography, would displace those where there was, such as painting.

It is possible to argue that entirely the reverse has happened, and that Benjamin failed to foresee that the very accessibility of mass-produced images would produce a craving for the unique. Seventy years on, painting remains the most highly valued of all art forms, and there is a near-universal recognition that although photography is indeed an art, it is a minor one. Benjamin believed that the new mass media would liberate art from its traditional function, the service of religion or hierarchical elites. Two developments in particular undermined that prognosis. One that Benjamin could not have foreseen was the rise of art history as a discipline that has bestowed immense prestige on unique works of art. It is odd, however, that he says nothing about the second development--the growth of the art market.

Here Benjamin was perhaps naive. He believed that one photograph or lithograph was exactly the same as another, and was oblivious to such aspects as provenance, condition, date and the crucial question of whether a print or photograph was produced under an artist's direct supervision. Moreover, the steep rise in the price of works of art over the past generation is convincing evidence of how uniqueness continues to be important if only because it has major commercial implications.

Such thoughts might help explain why great works of art are stolen. This puzzling question is addressed by Martin Bailey in his article on pages 44-49, in the light of the theft in August of two paintings, The scream and Madonna, from the Munch Museum, Oslo. Criminals seems to have no difficulty understanding the importance and durability of the 'aura' of a work of art, especially if we accept the explanation that such works are stolen to earn kudos in the underworld. Benjamin's arguments are also an issue in the latest 'heritage' struggle in the United Kingdom, on which we report on page 38, the attempt by the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge to secure the fourteenth-century Macclesfield Psalter, purchased at auction by the J. Paul Getty Museum in June.

There is widespread dismay that the Heritage Lottery Fund has refused to support the Museum's bid because its application 'failed to meet two of our key requirements for access and education'. It is curious that a free museum located in the heart of one of the world's great universities should fail on such grounds, but the HLF has made it clear that it does not believe that its requirement for public access can be met by the museum simply displaying the psalter in a glass case. The Fitzwilliam has suggested to us in response to the HLF'S statement that it is prepared to produce a facsimile of the psalter, and make it available in electronic form either on-line or as a CD-Rom.

Even if the HLF is swayed by such proposals to think again, it is approaching the issue in the wrong way and with the wrong priorities. What matters above all is the quality and significance of the psalter itself, and that should form the basis for the success or otherwise of the museum's application for funds. Access is a secondary issue. If the HLF is going to give such priority to the psalter being made available in reproduction, it is possible to argue that there is no need for it to be purchased for the United Kingdom at all. The HLF seems happy to follow Benjamin's outdated belief that the public will be satisfied with a reproduction, in which case the original could as well be in the Getty Museum as in the Fitzwilliam. If that argument is accepted, why doesn't the HLF simply admit that it no longer wants to help buy works of art?

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