A review by theaurochs
The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction by Walter Benjamin

4.0

It’s frankly difficult to comprehend, sitting here in the closing days of the first quarter of the 21st century, quite how different my relationship with *art* is to the majority of the existence of humanity. At any time I desire, 24 hours a day every day of the year, I have access to a functionally limitless supply of paintings, books, videos, music, animation, photographs; whatever I want. And I have access to this via a device small enough to fit into my hand. The wonder of smartphones is still new enough for most of us that hopefully we don’t take it completely for granted yet, the technology still has a layer of transparency that makes it noticeable to us. But smartphones are the obvious example. I could, for example, buy a carton of milk, which has on it a photograph of some of the oat branches that went into producing it. I can take a picture, and reproduce it as many times as I want, using a printer. This “mass-production” is something that, prior to the 20th century, was completely unthinkable, and has undoubtedly shaped the ways in which we react to and interact with art, in all meanings of the word.

In the titular essay of this short collection, Benjamin takes us through some of their interpretations of the consequences of the mass availability of art, as well as the powers and implications of new art forms such as photography and film. It also explores the intersections with capitalism, in the context of mass-production and commodification. It is incredibly interesting, and asks many questions that I had never even thought to ask. Truly illuminating, and this essay by itself is a clear 5/5.

But, like many of these admittedly gorgeous Penguin Great Ideas editions (I mean, look at that cover and tell me it isn’t genius), there are other essays in here too. And frankly I was not too interested in either of them; one an overview and critical analysis of the themes and in Kafka’s work, and the other a somewhat over-effusive review of the work of Proust. Couldn’t at all find myself caring about either topic, and they drag the collection down overall.