The Origins of Aura

By definition, precisely and succinctly describing what aura means is a problematic task. It is a word

that is commonly used to express the qualities of something that we often can not accurately put in

to words. However, if we look back at the words original definition, it is possible to spotlight the very

essence of what the word now seeks to describe. The usage of the term aura can be traced back

to a Greek and Latin origin where the word denoted the act of breathing or a gentle breeze in the air.

Initially, this definition seems to possess no real relation with the modern usage of the word but if

viewed abstractly, there is a very tangible connection. The act of breathing air is something we all

intuitively do, an ongoing cycle we logically accept that everyone is doing around us. However, its

direct visual existence is impossible for us to discern. The same can be applied to the motion of a

breeze. It is something we physically can feel upon on our skin but can not visually see. We can only

discern its existence via its movement through the trees and its feint whisper as it travels past our

ears. In this manner we can translate aura to be the characteristics of an object or subject that we

can wholeheartedly feel but can not necessarily see or prove. In more concise words a subtle

emanation or exhalation from any substance. (Patt, 2001, p.81) The presence of aura can be felt

in any item or article, however its potency is wildly variable and in a constant state of flux. Aura is a

construct of the human condition and is the sole reason for its existence. Therefore, how we perceive

its presence is highly personal and is moulded by the objects context as well as our own.

Like aura, Art is only perceivable through the lens human eye and mind. As a result, each art work

possesses its own air of atmosphere that is unique to this particular field. The distinct feeling of

presence that an art work often possesses is a phenomenon that is hard to succinctly describe or

place. The experience takes place in the midst of the murky middle ground between art and

spectator. It is physical in feeling but metaphysical in source. It has provoked much discussion

throughout art history with Walter Benjamin toying with the term in his earliest essays and with it

becoming permanently tied to art with its use in his 1936 essay, The Work of Art in the Age of

Mechanical Reproduction. He focused on the term as a means to describe the subliminal changes

to the perception of art due to developing methods of replication in the modern age. Benjamin writes
(in what is now considered a seminal piece of text) that genuine aura appears in all things, not just

in certain kinds of things, as people imagine. (Harrison and Wood, 2003, p.521) He feels it important

to note that aura is not purely bound by the institutional walls of art, aura exists upon a spectrum as

a quality that all objects possess with at least the smallest modicum of potency. It is an intangible

value that we subconsciously place upon the object; a value that is unique to each individual and

one which is formed by a conglomeration of differing factors. In the context of a work of art - its

unique existence in the place where it is at the moment (Benjamin and Underwood, 2008, p.5) is

the basal construct of its aura. In other words, an objects aura is primarily formed by its originality

and authenticity. However, this is not a relationship exclusive to the art object.

The Construct of Aura

Each and every objects value is inversely proportional to its availability. It is a rigid form of

perspective that is inherently ingrained in our psychological make up. The developed western world

is becoming increasingly defined by its consumerist culture that has bred a fickle affiliation with

materiality. Its economics relies on creating intangible value by intentionally supplying limited stock

of a desired product. This allows the company to keep demand above a certain threshold whilst

keeping its products monetary value high. A prime example of this is the DeBeers companys

monopoly on diamonds; a naturally made and commonly found mineral that DeBeers has marketed

as rare by controlling the worlds supply and delivering just enough to satisfy demand. (Goldschein,

2011) In doing so, they have manufactured a fake but very potent form of aura that is almost universal

in its reception. It is a phenomenon that has been exploited throughout the history of commerce to

swell a products intangible value and consequently its monetary value. Therefore, it is logical to

assume that in the traditional sense of art production an art work would naturally possess a definite

sense of aura in that a painting or a sculpture would inherently be an exclusive item of originality and

authenticity.

However, there are more elements at play than just the uniqueness of an art object; aura can be

heightened through on objects personal sentiment or through its association with something of even
greater aura. This can be observed in modern tradition of having objects signed by those we admire

or consider to be of a celebrity status. In doing so, the object now has the faintest trace of physical

connection with a person of great subjective aura. The resulting mark is left as a signal of their

fleeting presence. A radical case of this in practice involves artist, Damien Hirst. A leading member

of the YBA movement, Hirsts life both inside and outside of the art gallery is well documented and

critiqued in newspapers and online articles. He is one of the very few artists whos footprint stretches

way beyond the boundaries of the often isolated art world. Hirsts rare celebrity status as an artist

has garnered him a significantly swelled sense of aura. The effects of this were demonstrated in

2010 when Hirst nonchalantly tipped a black cab driver in London with a written message and quick

drawing of a shark for his son; encouraging him not to give up on the art. (BBC, 2010) The

insubstantial doodle later went up for auction and sold for 12,000. (Brown, 2010) It is perhaps a bit

shallow to assume an items monetary value correlates to a heightened sense of aura but it speaks

volumes about our perception of those with significant status; that their proverbial scraps can

become another mans treasure. Andy Warhol was once quoted in saying :

some company recently was interested in buying my aura. They didnt want my product.

They kept saying, We want your aura. I never figured out what they wanted. But they were willing

to pay a lot for it.

(Warhol, 1975, p.77)

Our interpretation of an art object can wildly change once we know who has made it or even by who

it has been associated with. This effect is constructed by the intangible yet palpable feeling of an

artists presence. When standing in front of an artwork we are reminded of the fact that we are in the

place of the artist, this is where they once stood to design, edit, and craft the artwork in front of us.

Again, it is the faintest of connections but is all that is needed to break down the boundary and bridge

the gap between artist and spectator. Like that of a celebrity, it is a cognitive and emotional bond

between two people that have never met. The art work can be seen as a medium to spark

communication between the two sides of a conversation and this metaphysical connection can be

interpreted as aura. This relationship has even become the central concept for a number

contemporary artworks. Amongst his other works at British Art Show 7, Roger Hiorns simply

displayed a stripped down Mercedes engine upon a plinth. Upon reading its accompanying text, the
spectator realises that the Hiorns has had a prayer group bless over the engine to protect it. Nothing

has visually changed about the work; it is still just an engine on top of a plinth. However, our

appreciation of its aura has directly been influenced. Whether we choose to believe in the power of

the spiritual or not, there has been a definite change in our perception of the art object because of

this process. In response to the exhibition, Lisa La Feuvre writes that it is within the uncomfortable

relationship between doubt and belief in our contemporary present that Hiorns sculptures operate,

disrupting what we think we know about power. (Le Feuvre and Morton, 2010, p.86) This work can

be seen to be a representation of the influence that an artist has from their elevated position. We

believe the narratives they present regardless of proof. Our only evidence that the engine had been

blessed or spiritually altered in any way is by the accompanying descriptive plaque on the wall. It is

very possible that Hiorns has not done anything of the sort and has boldly lied in the face of his

audience. Nevertheless, the dispute of the artworks integrity does not change its desired effect. The

mere suggestion of the work being blessed makes it so. This is the influence and integrity that Hiorns

and many others garner from the connotations of being labelled an artist and the aura that this goes

on to create.

However, an overwhelming amount of this influence is created by the context in which we view an

artists work and the architecture of the art institution in which we view it in. Primarily, when we go to

a gallery or a museum, we are the ones who have personally chosen to visit a certain exhibition and

therefore have faith that the artworks on display deserve the publicity they are receiving. We have a

prior desire to see these works which is often dictated by the institutions that are housing them. It is

a common practice to decide on what exhibition to go see based on the gallery exhibiting just as

much as the artist in the exhibit. This is very similar to people deciding to go see a film based off the

director who made it or the actors playing the roles rather than the perceived storyline of the movie.

We develop a trust and curatorial faith in these art establishments, that they will choose to display

artworks of profound interest in the same way that we presume our favourite directors will make films

that we will find particularly enjoyable. For an artist to have their works displayed at a famed art

institution, their works will have been selected by a team of curators from a countless pool of other

established artist. All of the works are exhibited for a specific reason. None of it gets displayed by
chance. This meticulous selection process ensures that the works inside the gallery are of particular

importance. We are aware of this and therefore regard the artworks to possess a swelled sense of

aura before we even view them. This effect is compounded by the architecture of the buildings that

these artworks are then placed in.

A persons frame of mind can be heavily influenced by a building thats sole purpose is for displaying

and exhibiting art. The Polish artist Krysztof Wodiczko writes of public buildings such as galleries in

reference to Walter Benjamins aura:

Standing face to face with the front, pacing along the faade, touring all of the elevations of

its vast structure, we are being transformed into the mediums of a gigantic cultural seance. We are

being drawn into the magnetic field of architectural appeal and symbolic influence.

(Harrison and Wood, 2003, p.1056)

The grand scale and formidable nature of a building has an unquestionable effect over our emotional

state. It draws people in and subconsciously persuades them take on some of the characteristics

that the building symbolises. In the same manner in which a library puts us in a state of focus and

calm for reading and study, a gallery setting puts us in a state of curiosity and open-mindedness

conducive to appreciating art. As soon as we pass through the entrance, we become aware of this

psychological and emotive shift. Due to this, our perception and emotional connection with the

artworks are amplified. The gallery environments are purposely curated in a way to pull focus directly

on the work being displayed. White walls, bare floors and a distilled silence in the air produces an

atmosphere where we become fully aware of the significance and aura of the art object.

The Diminishing of Aura

Although Walter Benjamins name has became synonymous with the term aura, his writings were

a lot more concerned with how it was destroyed rather than how it is created. At the time of Benjamin

writing his essay The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction, mediums such as

photography, film and print were breaking new ground and becoming increasingly prominent.

Through this work he seeks to answer what effect this may have on the art world and how we

perceive it going forward.

 We must be prepared for such profound changes to alter the entire technological aspect of

the arts, influencing invention itself as result, and eventually, it may be, contriving to alter the very

concept of art in the most magical fashion.

(Benjamin and Underwood, 2008, p.1)

Benjamins essay opens with this quotation from the French poet and philosopher, Paul Valry. This

quotation sets the tone for his motivation for writing and clarified some misconceptions that this text

insinuates Benjamin was in large part against the adoption of mechanical reproduction. He

acknowledges that these technological advancements are undeniable but what it is important is to

question how this has and will reshape our perspective on, and interaction with art. The overarching

theme of the text is that through the reproduction of art we, in many ways, lose the authenticity and

aura of the original piece of work.

In principle, the work of art has always been reproducible. What man has made, man has

always been able to make again. Such copying was also done by pupils as an artistic exercise, by

masters in order to give works wider circulation, ultimately by anyone make money. Technological

reproduction of the work of art is something else.

(Benjamin and Underwood, 2008, p.3)

We have always sought to reproduce artworks as a way to distribute them to the masses. This

purpose has not changed in the 80 years since Benjamins essay. However, the manner of ease and

speed in which we do so has completely radicalised how we view and consume art. In 1936,

Benjamins developed world had accepted print as a readily available medium for the masses, film

as a viable form of entertainment, and photography was quickly becoming an affordable hobby for

the consumer hobbyist. Benjamin was particularly interested on our adoption and the use of

photography.

With photography, in the process of pictorial reproduction the hand was for the first time

relieved of the principal artistic responsibilities, which henceforth lay with the eye alone as it peered

into the lens. Since the eye perceives faster than the hand can draw, the process of pictorial

reproduction was so enormously speeded up that it was able to keep pace with speech.

(Benjamin and Underwood, 2008, p.4)

The traditional methods of reproduction before photography were long drawn out processes that

required planning, forethought and tremendous skill. With the implementation of cameras, we could

develop an image that mirrored exactly what we initially saw with the push of a button. The duration

and the cost of the reproduction process had been fractionalised with the advent of photography. It

was obvious that this medium was going to radicalise the manner and ease with which we view art.

However, Benjamin felt that this came at the sacrifice of the aura of the art work itself. In producing

an infinite flow of reproductions to have the work reach a wider audience, this becomes the first and

only scenario in which a large majority of the viewership sees the artwork. In this format there is no

controlled context in which we view the work. Any curatorial refinements to the work and gallery

space are lost within the rectangular boundaries of the image. All the complexities and details that

we pick up on when in front of an art work are summarised and flattened on to paper. However, most

importantly any sense or suggestion of artists presence is completely eradicated in the reproduction

of the work. There is no longer any physical connection between artist and spectator. Each of these

constituents parts are vital to what makes up aura and all of them have been and compromised in

an effort to make the artwork more widely accessible. This is stripping of aura can noticeably change

our impressions and emotional connection with art.

Reproductive technology, we might say in general terms, removes the thing reproduced

from the realm of tradition. In making many copes of the reproduction, it substitutes for its unique

incidence a multiplicity of incidences.

(Benjamin and Underwood, 2008, p.7)

Although Benjamins text alluded to how these technologies will affect us going forward, even he

could not have predicted how digital distribution has reshaped the modern world. In the same way

that film photography had fractionalised the length of time for reproduction, the internet has almost

eradicated it. We can now at any point in time take a photograph and have it distributed the all

corners of the globe in a mere matter of seconds. Benjamin stated that photography had allowed

reproduction to keep up with speech but it seems as though digital communications has rendered

speech almost irrelevant. Visual imagery and photography now dominate the virtual landscape to

the point where it has become its own language and this has naturally had an impact on how we

view art. It is becoming increasingly rare to go to an exhibition or see an artists work without being
made aware of it first through photographic or video reproductions on the internet. The visual

saturation of the modern world has realised the concerns that Walter Benjamin had about

maintaining the aura of the artwork. However, these technological advances have equally liberated

artists with a renewed freedom to make works that are increasingly complex and difficult to fully

reproduce through image or video alone. These works rely on first hand experience and in doing so,

can create an aura that is in some ways purer and more visceral than the one Walter Benjamin had

previously described.