Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Reply to Jerome Langguth
Posted by Robert Kraut on January 2, 2008 at 10:23 AM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
Robert Kraut
Jerome Langguth has posted some initial questions and reactions to my Artworld Metaphysics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). I appreciate his interest in my work; his remarks are precisely to the point. Some of his queries are addressed later in the book; and some merit more compelling response than I have. But here are some preliminary reactions, just to get the conversation going. Hopefully others will be drawn into the discussion.
Jay says
>>My main question concerns the relationship between what aestheticians properly do and the theoretical activities that belong to the artworld. Kraut seems to believe that it is a clear methodological error for a philosopher of art to lapse into art criticism. But where (exactly) are we to draw our methodological line, and, more importantly, why is it so crucial that we do so?<<
This is a fair question, and I am not sure how to answer it, except that it manifests my own sense of what it is to do philosophy as opposed to doing other things--all of which might be important. Disciplinary boundaries are often superficial: I used to hear lesser-trained colleagues complain that certain work "wasn't really philosophy," but was rather linguistics, mathematics or psychology. I offer no formal definition of 'philosophy' that would underwrite my claims in Chapter One, nor do I think such a formal definition is required to legitimize my claim--which purports to be, in part, diagnostic of aesthetic theory's "marginalization". If you agree that it's marginalized, some explanation is required. What I say about losing sight of the boundary between X and the philosophy of X is intended to be part of such an explanation. It isn't intended to be the whole story.
Moreover, it is not my goal (or place) to offer imperialistic edicts about "what aesthetics ought to be". I guess it should be what people want it to be. But I suggest that philosophers working in my own tradition are likely to discern--for example--important differences between substantive moral dispute and "higher-order," meta-ethical reflections on the semantics, epistemology, and metaphysics of moral practice. This contrast is itself controversial: writers like Nagel, Dworkin and McDowell doubt that it can be sustained. But I rather like the contrast, and I seek to apply it to aesthetic theory.
2) Jay says:
>>Why is the claim that music has nothing to do with the emotions, which Kraut endorses, any different from the claim that music is not in any sense a language, which he labels a methodological error? Both might be part of critical discourse, but they are also doing philosophical work. Why is it so bad to find them together? <<
Clive Bell reminds us that "The starting point for all systems of aesthetics must be the personal experience of a peculiar emotion." He might be wrong about the "emotion" part; but he is surely right about where the theorist starts: from his or her own experiences of engagement with the arts--either as producer, consumer, or critic. I experience music as language; I do not experience music as expressive of emotion. As a player, performance and collective improvisation feel precisely like conversation. Yet I do not, for the most part, experience music as expressive of emotion. So that's where I start. This leaves me with two substantive challenges: (1) to determine whether, in the case of emotion, I'm missing something that's there. The metaphysical question is whether music does, in fact, have the touted emotional-expressive properties. Perhaps it does, in which case my failing to discern those properties is analogous to a color blind person's failing to discern the real colors of objects. Or perhaps it doesn't, in which case we theorists need to explain why so many people think otherwise. But there is nothing simple about the problem. Concerning (2)--the music as language paradigm--I devote substantial portions of the book to considering costs and benefits associated with the view.
One thing I've found vexing about (1) is that many writers simply begin with the assumption that music expresses emotions, and then proceed to theorize about how, precisely, this is possible. I see that as analogous to a theorist beginning with the "datum" that numbers and functions are abstract entities and trying to sculpt an epistemology to explain how knowledge of such items is possible. Surely it is fair to go back to the "starting data" and ask whether numbers and functions are indeed abstract, or whether there might be another description of the metaphysics of the situation that doesn't lead to such horrendous epistemological puzzles. If music expresses emotions, whether or not certain people discern it, it should be possible to show that it does. That is the burden of my Chapter 4, wherein I conclude that there is no good reason to think of music as having emotional-expressive properties.
But then I must provide explanations of other people's experiences of music. Analogy: I do not experience the world as inhabited by a Judeo-Christian Deity, but it is incumbent upon me to provide explanations--whether in Freudian terms, or Marxist terms, or whatever--of the prevalence of such beliefs and experiences. I try to provide an explanation of why so many people are drawn to "expressionist" theories of music. My explanation might or might not be adequate. And--to move to the music as language theme that Jay broaches--I try to offer an explanation of why so many working players experience music as a form of linguistic behavior. My explanation might or might not be adequate, but it is an effort to engage the way music presents itself to me.
3) Jay says:
>>Kraut uses the example of a jazz musician during playback to capture the movement in theoretical stance between practitioner and theorist, which is a fascinating metaphor for aesthetic theorizing. But this doesn't seem to work as an image of the kind of theoretical distancing Kraut wants. Isn't the musician during playback still working in the artworld? Granted, the stance taken on the work in this case involves distancing oneself from the performance situation, but such distancing seems to me to be part of what it is to be an artworld practitioner of this specific kind.<<
This is an excellent challenge and I am still thinking about it. Hopefully I'll have something useful to say about it in the near future.
But here is a tentative thought (one nice feature of blogs is that obsessive caution is not mandatory). Jay is surely right that critical listening and editing are part of the musician's practice, not some activity "external" to the practice. Still, there are differences here that make a difference. Consider a linguistic analogue: speaking about language is a use of language; talking about the way one talks is itself an instance of talking. Of course. Still, there is a difference between the "first-order" linguistic practice and the "higher order" reflective practice of exploring the syntax and semantics of one's own speaking. The difference between "mere" participation in linguistic practice, and participation in the specialized, reflective, "higher order" practice of semantic theory seems to me important--though perhaps I do an unconvincing job of relating it to aesthetic theorizing.
I hope to
offer more compelling reactions to Jay's comments. For the present I wish to express my appreciation for his thinking
about my book and taking the time to formulate his concerns.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
"One thing happeneth to them all": On the alleged universality of art
Posted by Robert Kraut on February 25, 2007 at 01:30 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
by Robert Kraut
I appreciate George J. Leonard's recent posting on David
Carrier's quest for "a kind of international pan-aesthetic." Unfortunately I am not familiar with Richard
Kuhns' work, or with much of the other material cited by Leonard; doubtless I
miss key background assumptions. Nevertheless, his posting is provocative and merits a reaction, even if
an uninformed one.
Clive Bell tells us that "It is the mark of great art that its appeal is universal and eternal. Significant form stands charged with the power to provoke aesthetic emotion in anyone capable of feeling it." [Art, p.33] Over the years I've found that most of my introductory aesthetics students reject this claim of "universality": they are more struck by differences than similarities among artworks of different cultures and ages. But the logic of the situation is notoriously complex: with sufficient cleverness, it is always possible to find a set of invariants uniting any given class of data. The question is whether those invariants are non-trivial, and whether they are of importance to someone interested in "the essence" of art. I am no anthropologist; certainly I have not traveled to the extent that George J. has; but any Brooklyn boy transported to the Midwest (for example) quickly discovers that what qualifies as humor in one place often prompts stunned silence in another. As with humor, so with art: just as a substantive, culture-transcendent sphere of "the humorous" is doubtful, so is the sort of "universal aesthetic" envisaged by George J. Moreover: even if there exist artworks with "universal and eternal" appeal, it is not clear (to me) why such features should be valorized as essential to art.
Of course,
there is a context-sensitive psychological story to tell about why
people in different communities find humor where they do: but it isn't clear
that such a story posits any particular bit of narrative that everyone would
find funny. I can't even tell jokes to
my wife's parents; it doesn't work. Playing avant-garde jazz to country-western audiences is no more successful; they don't get it. Where
is the touted "pan aesthetic"?
None of this is surprising, and I'm probably missing George J's point. His claim is that watching children from different cultures at play encourages the idea that a certain "Ur-aesthetic" is present, "out there in those playgrounds." Granted: there is activity in the playgrounds that points toward a human capacity to "dig under" the specifics of cultural convention and local contingent norms. After all, people are people. What is not clear to me is the basis, if any, for assimilating these "trans-cultural" factors to the essence of art, and for seeking to build a "universal aesthetic" upon them.
Comments (18) | TrackBack (0)Friday, February 23, 2007
Carrier's search for a universal aesthetic
Posted by George J. on February 23, 2007 at 04:08 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
David Carrier's Keynote-- the search for the universal aesthetic
“Philosophy’s task,” Arthur Danto has written, “is to say something true and essentially true of artworks as a class, however stylistically they may vary.” David Carrier’s keynote address, describing his own quest for a “world art history,” incorporating a kind of international pan-aesthetic, is in this spirit.
Carrier’s aspirations are so epic they excite me. But are they quixotic? Many doubt that one universal concept of art common to all human cultures could be found.
My own experiences in Beijing suggest there is one. David, however, may find his teacher Richard Kuhns’s work, the Psychoanalytic Theory of Art, offers a shorter path to finding a pan-aesthetic than does his teacher Arthur Danto’s Transfiguration of the Commonplace. I’ll start with an anecdote, and end by suggesting a method David Carrier might himself follow, during his frequent trips to China.
My family spends summers in Beijing with in-laws. When my son was only five, I took a year off and we stayed longer. I wasn’t too concerned that he’d be isolated, because we’d already discovered that Andrew could run downstairs to the courtyard of his grandmother’s building, and play happily with the other Kindergarten kids there.
That had been a surprise, for he speaks no Chinese. They spoke no English. Indeed, they had no experience of Westerners. This was in an unfashionable non-tourist suburb of Beijing comparable to Brooklyn, called Xizhermenwai. How nervous I was, the first time in that courtyard playground he approached some little boys his age.
Continue reading "Carrier's search for a universal aesthetic"
Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)Monday, February 19, 2007
J's Pub (Danto Conference Discussion)
Posted by Jonathan Neufeld on February 19, 2007 at 11:32 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
There were a number of requests to keep the discussion going from the Online Conference. The open-endedness of this weblog provides a perfect place for indefinitely continued discussion. Treat this as you would the bar where you meet after the official proceedings are over. (I'm not sure why I find it so easy to imagine J, "the sullen young artist with egalitarian attitudes" in Transfiguration, running a bar.) The papers and comments are still up on the conference page--feel free to download them if you haven't yet had a chance to take a look.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Danto Conference Schedule
Posted by Jonathan Neufeld on January 9, 2007 at 10:13 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
The schedule to the first Online Conference in Aesthetics, "Arthur Danto's Transfiguration of the Commonplace--25 Years Later," is up. The contributions the organizers have received are excellent, and it is shaping up to be an exciting event. The first papers will be posted on January 22, Professor Danto's concluding remarks will be posted on February 5. Comment threads will be open on all contributions through February 11. We hope to see you there.
Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)Tuesday, September 12, 2006
A Conference in Honour of Kendall Walton
Posted by ameskin on September 12, 2006 at 12:06 PM in calls for papers | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
CALL FOR PAPERS (deadline March 1, 2007)
Mimesis, Metaphysics, and Make-Believe: A Conference in Honour of Kendall Walton
21-23 June 2007
University of Leeds
The Department of Philosophy and the Centre for Metaphysics and Mind are pleased to announce the upcoming Mimesis, Metaphysics and Make-Believe conference to take place June 21-23 at the University of Leeds. Confirmed conference speakers are Kendall Walton (Michigan), Berys Gaut (St. Andrews), Shaun Nichols (Arizona), and Stephen Yablo (MIT).
We welcome submissions of papers on any theme related to the work of Kendall Walton. Papers that actively engage with Professor Walton’s work will be strongly preferred.
Up to two places have been reserved for submitted papers. One place has been reserved for a young researcher (i.e., Ph.D. within the last five years or not yet received). Authors submitting in the ‘young researcher’ category should include a separate note explaining how they qualify.
Papers of no longer than 8,000 words should be prepared for blind review and sent by email in pdf, word or rtf format to Dr. Aaron Meskin, Department of Philosophy, University of Leeds, email: phlaesth@leeds.ac.uk. The closing date for submissions is March 1, 2007. Notification will be made by April 1. For more information, contact Aaron Meskin at phlaesth@leeds.ac.uk.
The conference is sponsored by the British Society of Aesthetics, the University of Leeds Department of Philosophy, the Centre for Metaphysics and Mind, and the Leeds Humanities Research Institute.
Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Call For Papers: Danto Conference. First Online Conference in Aesthetics
Posted by Michal Gal on August 1, 2006 at 12:16 PM in calls for papers | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Teaching Aesthetics
Posted by Brandon Cooke on April 19, 2006 at 10:19 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
Robert thinks that the blog has gone quiet due to spring sloth, but I suspect it's from the late spring teaching slog. So here's a question about teaching. It seems to be the case that philosophy of art courses are often evenly divided between philosophy students and arts students. Typically, the former have little, if any, background in art history or any formal training in an artistic medium. The latter are usually new to philosophy. So here's the problem: how to teach a course in philosophical aesthetics, when many philosophy students don't have the data from the arts to test against the theories under discussion, and when the arts students lack basic philosophical tools and an understanding of why certain problems are important.
Yes (to anticipate one snarky response), I do understand that to a degree it is the instructor's reponsibility to motivate the problems, connect them with philosophical concerns outside aesthetics, and to know enough about art to explain the significance of examples. Too much of this, though, and what could otherwise be a rigorous and rewarding course turns into remedial teaching.
I'd like to know if anyone has hit upon clever solutions to this teaching challenge, maybe even ways of turning it into an asset.
Comments (7) | TrackBack (0)First Annual Conference on Politics, Criticism, and the Arts
Posted by Jonathan Neufeld on April 19, 2006 at 02:14 AM in noteworthy | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
Vanderbilt Philosophy Department will be hosting the first annual Conference on Politics, Criticism, and the Arts. It will be this weekend, April 21-23 in Nashville. The speakers and talks are listed below.
Keynote Addresses
Lydia Goehr, Columbia University
"Der Amerikamüde or the Actuality of American Opera"
Commentary by Joy Calico, Vanderbilt University
Christoph Menke, University of Potsdam
"A Critique of Judgment: Aesthetic Negativity in Tragedy"
Commentary by Barbara Hahn, Vanderbilt University
Plenary Speakers
Matthew Kieran, University of Leeds, "Literature, Politics, and Analytic Aesthetics"
Lawrence Kramer, Fordham University, "The Great American Opera"
Pamela M. Lee, Stanford University, "Death by Media: Warhol's State of Exception"
Miriam Hansen, University of Chicago, "Vernacular Modernism: Tracking Cinema on a Global Scale"
Roundtable: Politics, Art, and the Disciplines
Roundtable participants will also include:
- Stephen Melville, Ohio State University
- Max Pensky, Binghamton University
- Monique Roelofs, Hampshire College
- Fred Rush, Notre Dame University
- Martin Scherzinger, Princeton University
- Lesley Stern, University of California San Diego
- Sara Beardsworth, Southern Illinois University
- Martin Donougho, University of South Carolina
- Jonathan Gilmore, Yale University
- Maria Gough, Stanford University
- Tom Huhn, School of Visual Arts
- Michael Kelly, University of North Carolina
Charlotte
Looks like it is going to be a lot of fun.
Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)Tuesday, April 04, 2006
A Modest Question about Method
Posted by Robert Kraut on April 4, 2006 at 02:12 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
by Robert Kraut
Once again this weblog has taken a turn for the moribund. Perhaps some form of Spring sloth is at work. Here are some questions designed to prompt spirited methodological reflections.
Mathematician/logician Harvey Friedman offers the following observation:
The foundations of mathematics is, at least partly, a scientific study of mathematical practice. So what mathematicians actually do and actually say is of direct interest to the foundations of mathematics. [Foundations of Mathematics weblog at http://www.cs.nyu.edu/pipermail/fom/2006-April/010309.html]
One would think that aesthetic theory is, similarly, a study—perhaps “scientific,” depending upon what we take that to be—of artistic practice. Thus it is incumbent upon the aesthetic theorist to be concerned with what artists (and perhaps art critics) “actually do and actually say.”
But I have discerned, in my readings in the area, that aesthetic theorists are often woefully disinterested in what artists actually do and actually say; theorists frequently pay inadequate attention to the realities of artworld practice. They are quick to theorize; but often their theories are prompted by a narrow range of artistic data and suffer accordingly. If some aspect of artworld practice appears inconsistent with their theory, they tend to dismiss that aspect of artworld practice as irrelevant (example: if some theory of musical expressiveness grounded in late nineteenth century European music is prima facie inconsistent with work by Soundgarden or Tower of Power, the latter are dismissed as not worthy of the theorist’s attention and not relevant to the general inquiry).
If this is right, perhaps it is because academic theorists spend more time listening to classical music and less time listening to Industrial Metal, given the sociocultural realties of various artforms. Nevertheless I offer fellow bloggers (if there are any) some questions:
a) Do aesthetic theorists often pay less attention than they should to the realities of the artworld?
b) If so, how—precisely—has aesthetic theory suffered? Give some examples of aesthetic theories that are implausible in light of artistic data which the theorist has ignored and/or overlooked.
c) In certain intellectual domains theorists are not permitted to lose sight of relevant data: such myopia is met with contempt and rejection. If there is greater tolerance for this sort of infraction in aesthetic theory, why has the discipline evolved this way?
Comments (6) | TrackBack (0)Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Practice and Theory: a Reply to Michael Fahl
Posted by Robert Kraut on February 21, 2006 at 11:54 AM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
by Robert Kraut
Despite customary academic rhetoric about the joys and virtues of “interdisciplinary” studies, anyone with genuinely interdisciplinary interests knows the sense of exasperation and futility attendant upon efforts to reach across disciplinary lines. It is extremely difficult. Frequently it is a waste of time. Even mathematicians with their different specializations, or historians with their different periods and regions of expertise, tend to limit conversation to those in their own areas. As laudable as it might be to seek engagement with those working in other areas, the obstacles are formidable: incommensurable vocabularies, methodologies, and paradigms hamper genuine communication. Anecdotally: twice I have been fortunate to hold fellowships at “Humanities Centers;” in each case I was surrounded by smart, interesting people. But historians talked to historians, poets talked to poets, and before long I was struck by other fellows’ reluctance (and inability) to engage those with substantially different goals, intellectual temperaments, methodological assumptions, vocabularies, etc. Perhaps it’s the human condition: musicians like to jam with those who work within the same musical paradigms.
It is thus no surprise that my efforts to connect both with those working in the arts and those working in “analytic philosophy” generate communication breakdowns. In interdisciplinary settings it is vital to get clear on what others are saying before one undertakes critical assaults. Perhaps analytic philosophers—given their obsessions with logical coherence, consistent argumentation, definitions of terms and analyses of concepts—should keep to themselves; and perhaps creative artists--whatever their medium and genre--should keep to themselves. If so, we should forget about trying to do aesthetic theory. Anyone who has moved in both circles—that’s not very many—knows that artists and academic theorists tend to talk and think differently. One reason aesthetic theory is SO difficult—and, in my opinion (I’m not alone in this) less well developed than areas like philosophy of science, philosophy of mathematics, theory of knowledge, and metaphysics—is that genuine artworld practitioners tend not to wield the formidable technical machinery of theory construction employed by those in the sciences or in analytic philosophy. But of course the reverse deficiency also holds: artists wield other sorts of machinery that theorists lack. It goes both ways. For example, most guitarists in the upper echelons of the music world are unable to comfortably engage in argumentation about the correctness or silliness of theories provided by Bell, Tolstoy, Hanslick, or other reflective theorists. But of course most philosophers in the analytic tradition are so woefully ignorant about the realities of artworld practice that their theories often founder for lack of adequate data.
The first thing to understand about some of my recent postings that drew fire is that I am NOT assaulting members of the artworld (and claiming them to be, in some derisive sense, “less educated” than working theorists), any more than I am assaulting analytic philosophers (though I frequently do the latter). I am only noting a certain important methodological disconnect: one that might explain the current state of aesthetic theory. Of course, other bloggers might not share my views about the current state of aesthetic theory. Fine. And still other bloggers might not discern the same “gap” between artworld participation and theoretical reflection upon such participation. But then I wonder whether they have really tried to connect with both factions.
A case in point for such communication breakdown is provided by Michael Fahl’s recent posting. Much of it is devoted to pointing out that academic aesthetic theorists might be seen as falling short of criteria that might be deployed by working artists. Of course he is right about this: many “analytic” philosophers are poor writers producing tedious text. Apparently Fahl sees this as a reductio on my earlier observations, or thinks I would be motivated to defend the aesthetic theorist’s “privileged” position. Hardly. The aesthetic theorist occupies no privileged position. But she or he does occupy a different position than the working artist, and that is my point. Most academic writing in “analytic aesthetic theory” leaves much to be desired; the majority of theorists working in that area would do well to spend less time compulsing about whether P really follows from Q, and more time thinking about why Jackson Pollock might have felt the limitations of traditional painterly techniques, thereby leading him to push the envelope in extraordinary ways.
The point is that I intended the asymmetry to go both ways (that’s the thing about asymmetries). Most of my artworld friends—painters, musicians, poets, and the rest—devote most of their time to artworld pursuits. That leaves little additional time to become versed in what Bell called “the power to draw correct inferences from true data.” That is hardly a damning observation about working artists: the parallel “deficiency” exists, mutatis mutandis, among working “theorists”, most of whom (at least, those in the “analytic” tradition) are so removed from the realities of artworld practices that they have no business undertaking any projects in “aesthetic theory.” They don’t have enough data.
Fahl says
The doer and the critic of the doer are not in social need of common paradigms. The aesthetic theorist's position does not supersede the paradigmatic position of which/whom aesthetic theories are being made, least within a puffed up ego or attrition of another's faculties.
Fahl apparently takes this to oppose my earlier remarks. It does not. The “doer” (for example, the working heavy metal drummer) and the theorist (not ‘critic’) of the doer (for example, the “analytical aesthetician”) need not have “common paradigms.” Obviously. Let each of them do what they do. But if the goal is to “theorizing about the arts,” that’s another matter: the drummer had better know how to theorize, and the theorist had better know enough about the realities of drumming so that s/he has adequate data on which to base a theory. Of course “the aesthetic theorist’s position does not supersede [my italics] the paradigmatic position of which/whom aesthetic theories are being made.” Fahl seems to think that I am elevating the theorist to a superior position. Hardly. The neurochemist theorizing about athletic performance stress does not “supersede” the position of the athlete. The athlete might not know how to theorize well; the theorist might not know how to throw the ball well. The point is not that “theoretical” perspectives are superior to those of the practitioner. The point, rather, is that anyone who wishes to “theorize about performance stress” should have enough of a foot in EACH camp to facilitate theorizing which is BOTH well-informed and systematically coherent. And so it goes in the artworld.
Personally, I do not believe that “analytical reflection” upon a practice—artworld or otherwise—is any “better” than engagement in the practice. But I do think they are different; perhaps that is the underlying issue here.
Comments (5) | TrackBack (0)
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Reply to Kevin: Theories and Theories
Posted by Robert Kraut on January 31, 2006 at 05:45 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
by Robert Kraut
I appreciate Kevin’s reactions to one of my earlier posts; his observations are precisely to the point. His perspective as a professional composer is extremely valuable. The most I can offer here is clarification—given the differences in perspective and vocabulary, noted by Kevin, between music theorists/composers and we theorists in other areas. Whether Kevin and I have any substantive disagreements remains to be seen.
Kevin says: "First, Dr. Kraut states that, “It is… not a surprise when a practicing artist, endeavoring to reflect philosophically upon the intricacies of the artworld, lacks the methodological resources to do so.” I question what is meant by ‘intricacies.’ Aren’t the ‘intricacies’ the domain of the practitioner?"
There are intricacies and there are intricacies. I do not, qua philosopher, try to tell the music theorist his/her business; I will not argue about the proper theoretical description of the first four measures of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. But Stravinsky often did a poor job of articulating certain sorts of theoretical issues. His notorious denial of musical expressionism, for example, is riddled with confusions. Not a surprise and not a disgrace, given his areas of expertise. But any effort to get a coherent refutation of musical expressionism—the idea that music is a vehicle for the expression of emotion—from Stravinsky’s text is futile. This is the sort of phenomenon I had in mind. A professional athlete might be ill-equipped to formulate plausible explanatory theories about muscle stress and the neurochemical correlates of fatigue; a competent English speaker might do a poor job of articulating a syntactic theory; Tolstoy was a brilliant writer but his aesthetic theory was, nonetheless, woefully inadequate. He was not in the business of theorizing, even about his own literary practices.
Of course, there are theories and there are theories. I don’t want to argue about what constitutes good theory, but surely it has something to do with capacity to explain the relevant data in rich, robust (and coherent) ways. Freud was a brilliant theorist but there is good reason to think that Freudian Psychoanalytic Theory has been empirically disconfirmed (see here the work of Adolf Grunbaum). So when I speak of “theory,” I admittedly have in mind a wide range of adequacy conditions: criteria that differentiate plausible from “crackpot” theories, for example.
Kevin says: "My question would be whether the artist requires another paradigm for discussion than the theorist? As crazy and cuckoo as the ideas of Charles Ives are, they were fundamental to his revolutionary approach to music. He was clearly motivated to engage in a type of speculation, but a ‘rigorous’ theorizing would have possibly inhibited rather than helped his creative work. Artists, motivated to introduce novelty into their work, are probably more often drawn to polemics, manifestos, wide-eyed ideas, and crackpot spiritualisms. Certainly, the sociology of artists is fascinating."
This is extremely important; but the issue (to me) is not whether certain forms of theorizing about music—for example—are conducive to effective composition and/or performance. Perhaps if I knew the “correct theory” of some of my activities I could not coherently continue to engage (in good conscience) in those activities. I agree with Kevin’s rough characterization of the sorts of “theories” to which artists are often attracted. This is a sociological and psychological phenomenon deserving of ongoing study. But if some artist is drawn to “polemics” and “crackpot spiritualisms,” it remains to those better equipped as theorists to make sense of what is really going on when these artists engage in their creative activities.
Finally: Kevin asks whether “the communities within the art world play different rolls in determining the valuation of rigorous theorizing?” Again this is a fascinating question; some of this discussion might rest upon precisely this point. Kevin is (I infer from his remarks) a classical composer; I am a jazz musician, and it is usually impossible to engage other musicians—even the most gifted—in anything that looks even remotely like coherent theoretical reflection.
Kevin says: “I find it interesting that jazz is self evident in its beauty and doesn’t require much in the way of explanation to its audience. Is that one of the reasons that jazz musicians aren’t often writing complex philosophical reflections upon art?” This is a beautiful speculation; I need more time to think about it. I don’t know whether, as Kevin alleges, “a German classical composer today, to be esteemed, must be able to critically deal with Adorno...[and] make philosophical statements about the purpose of the music within society;” I’ll take his word for it. In my sector of the music world, esteemed players are likely to regard Adorno as the part of the club they've got to walk through in order to get to the bandstand.
I hope Kevin continues to participate in this weblog; he raises important issues and brings a perspective and insight that can certainly illuminate these complex problems.
Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)Sunday, December 11, 2005
Systematic Rigor in Aesthetic Theory?
Posted by Robert Kraut on December 11, 2005 at 09:57 AM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
by Robert Kraut
"Art is, and should be, an often surprising and unpredictable thing." So says Jerome Langguth in response to one of my earlier posts.
He grants that these features provide no justification for our "abandon[ing] carefulness or clarity in our thinking and writing," or for "allow[ing] our 'brains to fall out' when we think about art." But he suggests that when theorizing about art we should (perhaps) not "expect the same amount (or the same kind?) of precision as is possible in other philosophical "specialties" (here he cites "brain states" and "language.")
Langguth's sentiment is not uncommon: it is prevalent, for example, in introductory aesthetics classes. Students immersed in the arts come into aesthetics courses with an antecedent distrust of theory. But I think the sentiment is misguided, and involves an incorrect inference from the structure of a domain under study to the structure of a theory that purports to codify and/or explain that domain.
Consider: Langguth cites language as a phenomenon about which rigorous theory is possible: but, of course, natural language is an extraordinarily complicated and creative phenomenon. Nevertheless, theorists provide rigorous accounts of phonology, syntax, semantics, and pragmatics: the glorious surprises and unpredictabilities of language use do not render linguistics impossible. Even a creative, context-sensitive, full-of-surprises phenomenon like conversation falls under a variety of rules: some algorithmic, some heuristic, some enshrined in the folk-wisdom of conversational implicature. Our question--in this context--is whether aesthetic theory can aspire to at least as much rigor as linguistic theory; and, if not, why not.
The artworld is a complicated place: but so are the domains of informal conversation, moral deliberation, empirical theory confirmation, and financial transaction. Nevertheless, the Aristotelian caveat cited by Langguth (about expecting the same kind of precision in theories of different sorts of phenomena) seems not to ring true: theories of language, morality, induction, and economics represent no departure from systematic rigor. Granted, the artworld is a social-institutional system, and theories of such systems do not look like theories of radioactive decay. Perhaps Habermas' contrast between "empirico-analytic" and "historico-hermeneutic" sciences has purchase here. But generative grammars are possible, despite the richness of linguistic phenomena.
So IF we grant the datum that prompted Langguth’s observation (viz., that aesthetic theory is somehow "fluffier" or "less precise" than theories of other domains), I hereby offer another tentative explanation (not likely to win me any friends). Consider: a gifted painter, musician, or sculptor might--given the demands of artistic training--totally avoid those academic tracks requiring precision in argument and other aspects of theory construction. There is no assurance that a skilled dancer, for example, is able to theorize effectively about dance—or about anything else. Not a surprise: a person manifesting artistic skill is often whisked away from differential equations and/or textual exegesis and placed on a trajectory devoted to artistic performance (and, in some cases, the history of the genre). It is, therefore, not a surprise when a practicing artist, endeavoring to reflect philosophically upon the intricacies of the artworld, lacks the methodological resources to do so.
So perhaps we should be reflecting not upon the insusceptibility of the artworld to rigorous theory, but rather upon certain contingent sociological and/or educational factors that render those deeply involved in the arts unable (or unmotivated) to engage in rigorous theorizing.
Readers should not construe me as suggesting that all those knowledgeable about the arts are incapable of systematic theory. Hardly. Many accomplished musicians have strong background in mathematics; many art enthusiasts have solid grounding in art history and the dynamics of interpretive theory construction; many painters have done extensive research into the dynamics of light and color; some dancers majored in chemistry; and so on. But over the years I have found that a substantial number of working painters, dancers, and musicians lack the educational regimen that equips one to theorize clearly.
If this is right, then perhaps it provides a partial explanation of the fact (if it is a fact) that much work in aesthetic theory is "fuzzier" than work in, say, linguistics or psychology. It's not that the world of art is intrinsically fuzzier than (for example) the world of natural language or human behavior; it rather involves differences in background and orientation among those inclined to theorize about these respective domains in the first place.
Comments (4) | TrackBack (0)Friday, November 25, 2005
Aesthetic Theory Marginalized
Posted by Robert Kraut on November 25, 2005 at 11:04 AM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
by Robert Kraut
When I signed on to this blog I hoped it would serve as a venue for frequent and spirited interaction among participants: a forum for collaborative efforts to work through interesting problems. But this blog is relatively inactive (check out the Foundations of Mathematics forum, based at NYU, for a good example of what an exciting and active blog might look like). Perhaps aesthetic theory is less conducive to ongoing dialectic than—for example—the philosophy of mathematics; or—perhaps more likely—not enough engaged and interactive scholars have yet been recruited into the pool of participants.
Just to stir up annoyance and discussion: here is something I recently discovered on the faculty webpage of a philosopher; I don’t know him, nor do I know much about his background and work (so: don’t shoot the messenger). But the remark is potentially of great interest. I wonder whether other Philosophy of Art bloggers find themselves sympathetic to his observation, and—if so—what diagnosis they might offer. Here’s the quote:
Of necessity, you might say, I am always on the lookout for hooey about the arts. Beautyville isn't populated with all that many sober types, unfortunately, and it is too easy to find lots of fluffy types writing in and around it. If you take the arts seriously, you should want sense and not nonsense, serious arguments and not handwaving, and the usual standards of clarity and precision in philosophical writing about the arts. Too many people seem to let their brains fall out when the topic becomes art, even philosophers, who suddenly tolerate babble they would not in other areas of philosophy.
Bloggers: Is this writer correct? Does aesthetic theory attract and tolerate more "fluffy types" than other branches of philosophy? Do otherwise rigorous theorists "let their brains fall out" when the topic is art? If so, what factors might contribute to this sorry situation? Why is there less rigor in the philosophy of art than in the philosophy of science or semantic theory? Surely the artworld is no less complicated a place than the worlds of scientific theorizing or natural language production; so the problem—if it is a problem—is worth thinking about.
Aesthetic theory is a maligned and marginalized field; it would be interesting to see what practitioners have to say in its defense.
Comments (8) | TrackBack (0)Sunday, November 20, 2005
Respect for the Artist: Data and Theory
Posted by Robert Kraut on November 20, 2005 at 12:06 PM | Permalink | TrackBack (0)
by Robert Kraut
Aaron Meskin provides an interesting challenge to my earlier post. He says, in a nutshell, that the best way to learn about the limits of artists’ perceptual capacities is to talk to "vision researchers" (rather than, e.g., painters, musicians, and art critics), and that the best source of evidence of how the artist’s mind actually works is "the science of psychology."
Something has gone methodologically wrong here. My point is not that an engaged artist has incorrigible epistemic access to the workings of his/her perceptual mechanisms. It is rather that the only way a "vision researcher"—for example—can know about the limits of perceptual capacities--and posit mechanisms and processes that explain such limits--is to have information about what perceivers can and cannot actually do. Until the researcher finds subjects who are not susceptible to Mueller-Lyer illusions, the best hypothesis is that everyone is subject to them and thus that an internal constraint (e.g., the modularity of perception) is at work in visual processing. But if subjects are identified who are not themselves subject to the illusion, the psychological theory must accommodate that additional data. Surely subjects’ phenomenologically grounded judgments about the relative length of line segments constitute basic relevant information for the "vision researcher’s" theoretical task. One must first look to the perceiver—that’s the source of the data—not to the "science" of the perceiver, which is simply an effort to codify/unify/explain that data. It would surely be relevant to vision research, for example, that a certain population cannot discriminate red circles surrounded by green squares, and the only way a researcher can learn this is by asking the subject (or by observing other aspects of discriminative behavior).
Similarly: the "language researcher" might offer hypotheses about optimal generative grammars for some language L; but a necessary part of hypothesizing such a grammar is information concerning speakers’ candid judgments about which sentences are well-formed, meaningful, synonymous, ambiguous, analytic, etc. Without such information—provided by speakers’ testimony—the theorist does not have the evidential materials from which to project general hypotheses about how senses of sentences are built up from senses of syntactic constituents. In this case, the data comes from overtly expressed judgments made by speakers about the structure of their language (Quineans are likely to dispute this, but they have been wrong before).
Meskin acknowledges that caution is required when generalizing on the basis of "the self-reporting of artists," but I suspect my point was misconstrued. The caution I had in mind concerns not the disutility of generalizations based upon phenomenological data, but rather generalizations based upon inadequate samplings of such data: e.g. drawing general conclusions—as Tiger Roholt appears to do—about what is "phenomenologically possible" based upon restricted information about what is phenomenologically possible for a chosen few individual theorists. It is an entirely different matter to consult a wide sampling of artists, learn what they can and cannot do, learn—moreover--what they say they can or cannot do, and then treat the resulting information as the data to be explained by one’s theory of the "artist’s mind."
Thus we are back to reflecting upon methodology: this time the methodology of psychology. Meskin wishes to "look to the science of psychology" to help answer questions about the mind and the arts, and somehow bypass the avowals of the artist. He seems to ignore the fact that the science of psychology must begin somewhere: one starting point is a rich and robust set of empirical data concerning what various practitioners in the arts can do, and—moreover—data about how they describe the limits of their capacities. Meskin says that "the science of psychology" is "our best source of evidence of how the mind actually works." This misses the point. A science cannot proceed without data. Suppose, for example, a speaker claims an inability to hear a sentence in his/her own language without syntactically parsing it. That is relevant to a theory about the mental processes involved in linguistic competence: "looking to the language theorist" cannot possibly bypass looking to individual speakers and their linguistic judgments. Similarly: if a substantial number of musicians claim an inability to hear certain chord progressions at a certain metronome speed, that is relevant data. And so on. The data comes from the practitioners themselves, and includes their reflections upon the practice in which they are engaged. Any science that seeks to provide an explanation of the practice—or of the "minds of the practitioners"—must ultimately be grounded in such data. Of course introspection is not infallible—I never claimed otherwise; but data provided by introspective reports are part of the material on which a scientific theory of the artworld must be based.
Thus I am not inclined to revise my earlier observation in light of Meskin’s comment about "the science of vision." It is not that—concerning issues in aesthetic theory—Meskin has greater respect for the science of psychology than I do; it’s rather that he ignores the primacy of the artist’s own testimony in constructing such a science.
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