Dickie attempts to counter Weitz's argument of Art as indefinable by providing a list of necessary and sufficient conditions for art. He provides two: artifactuality, and conferred status. Artifactuality is obvious. But who confers the status of artwork? Why, the artworld, of course.
So what the heck is the "artworld," and who are it's members? Dickie gives us a comprehensive list: "artists, producers, museum directors, museum-goers, theater-goers, reporters for newspapers, critics for publications of all sorts, art historians, art theorists, philosophers of art, and others." Wow. Quite the list there.
The better question might be "who ISN'T in the artworld?" Dickie's definition seems to be so ridiculously inclusive that we can ALL be members of the artworld merely by saying that we are thus. Given such a broad definition, whose definition can we possibly trust?
Well, we need not trust any. For the artworld does not confer the status of "Art," but merely "CANDIDATE for appreciation." Dickie goes on to say that "much great art goes unappreciated."
SO WHAT THE HECK DOESN'T QUALIFY AS ART?!?!? Under this definition, a person could take a trash can, overturn it, call it "Art," and that would not only make it a candidate for Art, but to actually BE Art, regardless of whether or not it is appreciated or has any aesthetic value whatsoever. This is not flexibility and openness while giving a closed definition. This is just ridiculous. Thank you, Mr. Weitz (uh... Dickie), for giving us a definition of Art that doesn't define anything at all.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
On the Artifactuality of Humanity
While perhaps not directly related to art, I feel a need to explore this question: are humans artifacts?
A quick look in the dictionary will yield several definitions of the term "artifact," but all have a common theme: the idea of being "made by humans." How can humans, therefore, be artifacts?
In some part, humans are made by other humans in that it requires two humans to have sexual relations to create a new human. However, nature is also a large player in this process, and the humans who participated in the sexual act have very little influence on the being that is created (except possibly in the option of aborting the fetus).
For the spiritual, there would certainly be the argument that humans, and indeed all life, are the artifacts of the divine, be it one god or many gods, or merely a guiding divine force.
For the less spiritual, such an idea may well be absurd. Perhaps nature, then, is the creator, and we humans the artifacts of nature? That would, of course, require some anthropomorphisation of nature. But where is the harm in that? Worse metaphors have been spoken.
Could humans be artifacts in some other sense? Or is it absurd to think that something as complex as life could possibly be an artifact?
A quick look in the dictionary will yield several definitions of the term "artifact," but all have a common theme: the idea of being "made by humans." How can humans, therefore, be artifacts?
In some part, humans are made by other humans in that it requires two humans to have sexual relations to create a new human. However, nature is also a large player in this process, and the humans who participated in the sexual act have very little influence on the being that is created (except possibly in the option of aborting the fetus).
For the spiritual, there would certainly be the argument that humans, and indeed all life, are the artifacts of the divine, be it one god or many gods, or merely a guiding divine force.
For the less spiritual, such an idea may well be absurd. Perhaps nature, then, is the creator, and we humans the artifacts of nature? That would, of course, require some anthropomorphisation of nature. But where is the harm in that? Worse metaphors have been spoken.
Could humans be artifacts in some other sense? Or is it absurd to think that something as complex as life could possibly be an artifact?
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Whose Theory Is It, Anyway?
Danto appears to argue that Art only exists if there is a theory behind it. A person who lacks a theory of art will never look upon Art. However, he leaves one crucial question unanswered: whose theory of Art do we take?
My own thoughts would be thus: each individual should choose that theory of Art that seems correct to them, that theory which agrees with their own knowledge and reasoning. Absent any other indication by Danto, can we assume otherwise?
Of course, a theory need not be set in stone. Danto does point out towards the end of the article that the definition of Art can expand, that is, there can be applied a new predicate to what follows Art. "X is Art because F," or G, or H. And the abilty to add new letters to that, new identifiers of Art (and, by extension, the opposite of such, that is, F and Not F, G and Not G) is what allows the creation of new Art quite unlike anything that has been seen before. This would logically lead to a constantly expanding, evolving theory of Art. But, of course, we are still left with the question of what theory is the proper one.
What say you, my friends? Should we choose that definition, that theory of Art, that most makes sense to us? Or should it be something else, something Danto did not tell us, but may have believed in?
My own thoughts would be thus: each individual should choose that theory of Art that seems correct to them, that theory which agrees with their own knowledge and reasoning. Absent any other indication by Danto, can we assume otherwise?
Of course, a theory need not be set in stone. Danto does point out towards the end of the article that the definition of Art can expand, that is, there can be applied a new predicate to what follows Art. "X is Art because F," or G, or H. And the abilty to add new letters to that, new identifiers of Art (and, by extension, the opposite of such, that is, F and Not F, G and Not G) is what allows the creation of new Art quite unlike anything that has been seen before. This would logically lead to a constantly expanding, evolving theory of Art. But, of course, we are still left with the question of what theory is the proper one.
What say you, my friends? Should we choose that definition, that theory of Art, that most makes sense to us? Or should it be something else, something Danto did not tell us, but may have believed in?
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Perceptually Indistinguishable Counterparts
Danto confronts the problem of Perceptually Indistinguishable Counterparts. The strongest example of such, I think, was his reference to the "artwork" Rauschenberg's Bed, a work of art which is, quite literally, a bed spattered with paint.
At first glance, the work appears to merely be a bed that was mutilated in a tragic paint accident. But someone in the artworld, whatever that may be, identified it as a work of art. (Having viewed it myself, I cannot consider it a work of art; but that is another debate. For now, I shall operate under the assumption that it is, indeed, a work of "art.")
How are we to distinguish an average bed from Rauschenberg's Bed? Simply put: it is in the theory of art. Under some working definition of what "Art" is, Rauschenberg's Bed is included in the category of Art, separate and distinct from the general category of "beds."
In other words, these Perceptually Indistinguishable Counterparts are NOT CONCEPTUALLY Indistinguishable Counterparts. It is in the CONCEPTION or THEORY of Art that Art is separated from not Art.
I must admit: this concept makes sense. Having a conception or theory of art that distinguishes Art works from things that are not Art. So the question then becomes: What concept or theory of art should we use? Or must be grapple with that question on our own?
At first glance, the work appears to merely be a bed that was mutilated in a tragic paint accident. But someone in the artworld, whatever that may be, identified it as a work of art. (Having viewed it myself, I cannot consider it a work of art; but that is another debate. For now, I shall operate under the assumption that it is, indeed, a work of "art.")
How are we to distinguish an average bed from Rauschenberg's Bed? Simply put: it is in the theory of art. Under some working definition of what "Art" is, Rauschenberg's Bed is included in the category of Art, separate and distinct from the general category of "beds."
In other words, these Perceptually Indistinguishable Counterparts are NOT CONCEPTUALLY Indistinguishable Counterparts. It is in the CONCEPTION or THEORY of Art that Art is separated from not Art.
I must admit: this concept makes sense. Having a conception or theory of art that distinguishes Art works from things that are not Art. So the question then becomes: What concept or theory of art should we use? Or must be grapple with that question on our own?
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Art And Symbolism
In his essay "When Is Art?" Nelson Goodman provides a definitive treatise against the formalist ideal - that of Art without symbolism, Art merely a reflection of itself. In place of this theory, he offers up his theory of exemplification: that all Art is symbolic of something, that it always represents something beyond itself, providing an example of something extrinsic to the work.
As I reflected on this idea, I recalled a poem my class had read in AP English. My classmates and I analysed the given poem looking for some deeper meaning, some symbolism in the poem. After twenty minutes of putting forth theories, our teacher said, "You're all wrong. The point of this poem is this: the author saw a pretty horse and wrote about how it made him feel - what he saw and what he felt."
It made me realize something: not all Art needs to be representative of some larger truth. It can be simply representative merely of thoughts and feelings experienced from seeing a horse on the side of the road, or as complex as a sweeping commentary on the state of society.
And this brings me to the question of symbolism in modern "Art." Can this modern "Art," that tries so hard not to represent anything, really represent nothing? And if it has no representation... can it still be considered "Art?" I think I know how to answer this question... but I will save my own thoughts for a later post. For now, my dear readers, I invite you to provide your own insights on this conundrum.
As I reflected on this idea, I recalled a poem my class had read in AP English. My classmates and I analysed the given poem looking for some deeper meaning, some symbolism in the poem. After twenty minutes of putting forth theories, our teacher said, "You're all wrong. The point of this poem is this: the author saw a pretty horse and wrote about how it made him feel - what he saw and what he felt."
It made me realize something: not all Art needs to be representative of some larger truth. It can be simply representative merely of thoughts and feelings experienced from seeing a horse on the side of the road, or as complex as a sweeping commentary on the state of society.
And this brings me to the question of symbolism in modern "Art." Can this modern "Art," that tries so hard not to represent anything, really represent nothing? And if it has no representation... can it still be considered "Art?" I think I know how to answer this question... but I will save my own thoughts for a later post. For now, my dear readers, I invite you to provide your own insights on this conundrum.
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