Time to Retire the Auteur Theory?

A provocation: Michelangelo was not an artist.

It sounds like heresy to say that about the man who gave us the Sistine Chapel, the David, and the Pietà. But I think it’s the truth. Michelangelo didn’t wake up one morning, get hit by a bolt of lightning, and decide to paint a ceiling. Rather, he was a professional, a contractor, a meticulously skilled worker fulfilling high-stakes commissions.

Today, we use the word “Artist” to describe everyone from actors to novelists to people who sell a banana taped to a wall for $6 million. In other words, the word is so broad that it has lost all meaning.

The problem, I think, is that we conflate two very different things:

And when we identify primarily as artists, we tether our self-worth to the subjective reception of our work. If the world doesn’t “get” our art, we feel like a failure. But if we instead identify as Artisans, the value of our value lies in objective skills—skills that can be cultivated and exchanged for a paycheck.

How did we get here? For a long time, the film industry was a “Studio System.” It was an assembly line. Directors weren’t seen as “artists.” Rather, they were seen as craftspeople—artisans—hired to execute a producer or a studio’s vision.

In the late 1950s, the French New Wave critics (people like Jean Luc Godard and Francois Truffaut) introduced The Auteur Theory. They argued that a film belongs to the director—that a film is a personal creative expression.

In other words, they elevated the director from Artisan to Artist.

But here is the detail that gets “conveniently” lost: The French New Wave filmmakers didn’t hate the old studio directors. They idolized them. So they weren’t arguing that a director isn’t—or shouldn’t be considered—an artisan; they were arguing that by being dedicated artisans, those directors had managed to create art.

Most successful artists don’t actually think of themselves as artists. They think of themselves as artisans. They focus on the objective mechanics of the craft: structure, rhythm, pacing, and architecture.

If you ever feel like an “artist without a muse”—someone with the desire to create but no clarity on what to create—try on the word Artisan. There is enormous freedom in this shift. When you are an artisan, your work is no longer a judgment of you as a person; it is a reflection of your current level of skill. You stop being a dreamer waiting for a lightning strike and start being a professional with a toolbox.

Michelangelo was a cold-blooded exchanger of labor for money. He was an artisan first. And because he was a master of his craft, he happened to create some of the most exquisite art in human history.

The takeaway? Stop waiting for the muse. Start sharpening your tools.

**This post is adapted from a video I made some time ago.