Philosophy

"Extremely valuable as an example of the still largely unappreciated

relevance of Wittgenstein's work to traditional philosophical issues .
. . . This book, as a more or less encyclopedic critique of aesthetic
theories from a Wittgensteinian perspective, will be enlightening to
aesthetic theorists who want to know, not what Wittgenstein said
.about art, but what the relevance of his work is to their use of lan-
guage as a point of reference for interpreting artU- Choice
"In a series of acute arguments, Hagberg dismantles the' region of
grand aesthetic theory that defines art in the terms philosophy has
traditionally used to define language ... . Written with excellence in
argumentation, judiciousness, and a capacious knowledge of
Wittgenstein."-Daniel Herwitz, Common Knowledge
II A clear and intelligent book. Hagberg's strategy is to show the con-
sequences of holding a Wittgensteinian view of language and mind
for aesthetic theories which are either based on, or analogous to, other
non-Wittgensteinian positions about language and mind. This is an
important project."-Stanley Bates, Middlebury College
G. L. Hagberg is Professor of Philosophy at Bard College, where he is
also Chair of the Division of Social Studies and Director of the Pro-
gram in Philosophy and the Arts. He is the author of Meaning and
Interpretation: Wittgenstein, Henry Tames, and Literary Knowledge,
also from Cornell.
Cover illustration: Michelangelo Buonarroti. Lqrenzo de' Medici, detail of
head. Medici Chapel, S. Lorenzo, Florence, Italy. .
Cornell Paperbacks C Cornell University Press
ISBN 0 - 8014 - 8531 - 2
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Copyright C 1995by Cowell Uni versil)'
All rightsreserved_ Except forbriefquotalions iD aleview, Ihis book,or
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[
Acknowledgments ix
Introduction
An and t he Unsayable 8
Langer's Tractarian Aesthetics 9
1 0 FEB. 2004
The Mirroring of Emotion 17
Feeling in Form 1.'1
2 Art as Thought 3 [
Collingwood and Aesthetic Perception 32
"Yes, This Pen Is l u n t ~ 36
Tile Innel Conflicts 0/ Aestbetic Idealism 40
3 The Language of Feeling so
Ducasse and the Lockeian Conception of
1
Artistic Meaning 5I
Art and IdenExdtation 58
Experiencing Meaning in Words and Works 66
viii
Conten ts
4
Artistic Intention and Mentallmage
75
The Alleged Intentional Object 75
Dualistic Criticism 80
Music and Imagination 91
S
Against Creation as Translation
99
The Translation Model 100
The Transitive-Intransitive Cont/olion 103
On Finding the Rigbt Expression 109
6 The Silence of Aesthetic Solipsism ,, 8
The Paradox 0/ Expression 11 9
and the Diary Argument us
The lnconcejvability of Art as a Private Language 130
7
The Aesthetics of Indiscernibles 136
DanlO and Aesthetic Atomism 137
Perception in Description 148
Dic1<.ie, Status-Conferral,
and the Limits of Aesthetic Doubt 150
8 Art and Cultural Emergence 161-
Margolis and Aesthetic Dualism 161
PerceivuJg Artworks and Seeing Persons ,69
Artworks and Human Beings 180
Index 191
' I
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
j
I
I
Many parts of this work have benefited iTOm publication in JOUI-
nals or collections and many parts have benefited by presentation
to various audiences. I am very grateful to what is at this point a
rather large number of editors, readers, conference and colloquium
organizers, commentators, respondents and participants, and other
omewhat less classifiable philosophes for bringi ng about this
pleasantly diversified state of alfairs. ] regret that it is impoSsible to
name them all here. Al l the parts have been revised, some strenu
ously, some slightly. Details of publication and presentation are
given below; ] thank the editors and publi.shers for permission to
repri nt and even more so for their willingness to ex.pose some of
this work initially in their pages.
Chapter I saw light initially in The British Journai of AesthetiCS
j,4, no. 4 )2.5-40, Oxford University Press, ed. T. J. Diffey.
Chapter:1 was published in Philosophical Investigations 9, no. 4
(1986]: :157- 73, Blackwell, Oxford, ed. O. Z. Phillips. Chapter 3
appeared in The loutea} of Comparative Literalute and Aesthetics,
Orissa, India, ed. A. C.Sukla. Anearly version was presented to the
Eastern Division meeting of the American Society for Aesthetics,
where William Grimes cootributed an incisive commentary. Chap
ter 4 was published inThe loumal of Aesthetic Education 1:1, no. 3
(1988): 63-15, University o( Illinois Press, cd. Ralph Smith. An
early version was presented to the Graduate Aesthetics Seminar at
the Ulliversity of Oregon, where Robert Herbert helped withfinely
focused questions; Catherine Wilson very generously contributed
. t""", =
I
1
x xi Acknowledgments
to its revisions and reionnularions. The final part of this chapter
was published in Philosophy 61 (19861: 513-17. Cambridge Univer-
SitY Press, ed. RenJord Bambrough, and was presented to the Tenth
International Congress in Aesthetics in Montreal. Chapter 5 S3W
print in The loul naI o{ Aesthetics and Art Criticism 46, no. J,
/1 987j: ed. John Fisher, and was presented t o t he Pacific
Division meetings of the Ameri can Society for Aesthetics; here
both Roger Shiner and Jay Bachrach were most helpful. Chapter 6
was present ed to II meeting of Cambridge aestheti cians at Darwin
College; it is published here for the firs t time. The fir st parts of
Chapter 7 were published in Visual Theory: PainLing and
tation, ed. Norman Bryson, Mi chael Ann HoUy, and Keith Mcxey
(New York: HarperCollins, 199 1 I, pp. 2.21- 30. This pi ece has its
roots in a 1987 NEH Institute on Theory and Interpretation in the
Visual Arts; many participants aided this work, but I am indebted
particularl y to Arthur Danto for conversation then that greatly
helped shape the positi on I take in this chapter, as well as for his
kind encouragement since that time. An early versi on was pre-
seored to the Graduate Philosophy Seminar at Cambridge Univer-
s it y, where an extensive di scussion of it with Robert Stern was very
helpful. The final part of this chapter was presented to the Seminar
on Wittgenstern: Reason and Disagreement, held at Cambridge,
where di scussion with Renford Bambrough on the rationality of
doubt proved most fruitful ; it is published here lor the first time_
An earlier version of Chapter 8 was presented t o the Cambridge
Moral Sciences Club, where Hugh Mellor generous ly provided
acute and constructive comments as well as chairing the session; it
too appears in print here for the fi rst time.
My debts extend well beyond the already wide range I have indi-
cated. Owing the initial drafting some time ago of the (jtSt parts of
this book I was belped in further ways by William Davie, Robert
Herbert, Roger Shiner, and particularly Catherine Wilson. More
recently, 1have benefited a great deal from the support and a.dvice
of John Gilmour, Peter l{jvy, Michael Krausz, Alex Neill, Richard
Shusterman, and, particul arly with regard to the final chapters,
Renlord Bambrough. And it is a pleasure to be able to acknowledge
a great debt of long standing to Henry Alexander, whose philosoph-
, .
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Acknowledgments
ieal example and encouragement have meant much more over the
years than can be expressed in this context. An anonymous reader
for the Press provi ded a full , careful, and, indeed, charitable set of
comments on the penultimate version; 1profit ed much from the
scruti ny, and I send my heartfelt thanks to this mysterious pres-
ence. Also, Terence McKiernan-White'S meticulous copyediting
invariably tightened t he connection between what was said and
what was meant, and I am grateful for his Hne work and discern-
j
ment _Last, Roger Haydon at CorneU University Press has done his
usual superb job of seeing this work along its way from idea to
1
object; those who bave enjoyed the benefit of his editorship will
know what I mean.
Because the work brought together here spans a decade, l owe a
good deal to vari ous institutions as well: The National Endowment
for the Humanities, The Pennsylvania State University Capital
College Research Council, tbe Office of the Dean for Research and
Graduate Studi es and the Humanities Division at Penn State Har-
ri sburg, and Bard College, which provided an Asher B_Edelman Fel-
lowshi p in support of this project as well as a most stimul:i. t ing
environment for work in aesthetics. Carol Brener lto whom I am
also indebted for numerous s tylistic s uggesti onsl, RenEe Horl ey,
Kathleen Jacob, Marie Ratchford, and Jan Russ graciously prepared
numerous manuscripts and I remain extremel y grateiul to them.
GAltRY HAC BERC
Anll ondoie-onHudson, New YOlk
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Introduction
This book attempts to assess the significance of one particular kind
oC work in the philosophy of 13.nguage, specifically that of Ludwig
Wittgenstein, both for some widely influential systematic aesthetic
theories and for some less formalized but nevertheless powerfully

influential ways of thinking about artistic meaning.
I
I begin with chapters on three pre-Wittgensteinian theorists:
Susanne Langer, I R. C. Collingwood, and Curt Duell-sse, now less
discussed but nevertheless the perfect exemplar of a familiar type of
linguistically based aesthetic theory. Many of the questions we now
face throughout the larger field of analytical aesthetics
1
were given
shape by these authors in the first half of the century. A theoretical
retrospective will highlight those questions in their fundamental
formulations, which have shaped our expectations concerning the
answers to aesthetic questions and thus our sense of what does and
does not constitute aesthetic progress. Indeed, in the postWittgen-
I
I steinian climate, it is now widely understood that any particular
conception of linguistic to which one subscribes can shape
one's beliefs in related fields of philosophy such as the philosophy
I
I
T. A. we the deKrlption dcxs IIOt ILt 1.M\&eT whb
wmpiete accuracy] her ae5tbctlc theory wu bull t OD tbe atomistic found"tions of
Wittgenslein's nUC'''' U$" Log/c:o.Philosop/Ucus. n.U$ what ill intellded hue, to be pre-
cise, is
1. The Iar". licld of MlI.Iytic.1,"umel;" i,"try lalle indeed; inttrprt t.:ui v( ques-
lions posscuing the lime 101m U IhQ5( within ICchnieal philosophy 2rise in visu,l
aTts c ritici sm IDd theory, mUloic alnci$lJ'O and JIlusiroiogy, architectural tbeory, film
.. esthetics, afl, Iit crlU')' theory, and to forth.
.4
",
,
,
,
Art as Langu.age
of mind, metaphysics and the philosophy of perception, and of
course aesthetics.
To take a preliminary exa mple of this shaping power; if one con-
ceives of language in mentalistic tcrrns, whereby meaning is ;1
mental phenomenon only contingently associated with a panicuiu
physical sign or specific utterance, one is then led, through the fun-
damentally inlluential analogy between langu.age and an, to a num-
ber of further assumptions concerning artistic meaning. One such
assumption would define the meaning of an artwork as an entity
originating in the mind of [he artist, 3 mental object whose exis-
tence we infer through the physical work itself. Another assump-
tion, proceeding from the behavioristic conception of language
which gives priority to the m2teriai Over the mental, results in a
competing conception of artistic meaning: the artist discovers the
work's meaning in t he materials of the medium rather than by
infusing the materials with signilicance through the embodiment
of an artistic intention. Such views hold immediate signi1icance for
criticism as well. On the laHer view criticism would seem to lunc
tion best in isolation from any imputed or stated intention of the
artist, as was the case with New Criticism, whereas on the former
view criticism would be elucidated in terms of intentional
retrieval . Again, this is only a preliminary example; in what follows
I try to explore a large number of such relations between aesthetic
conception and linguistic preconception.
The firSt chapter, "Art and the Unsayable," considers a theory of
art that is constructed explicitly on linguistic foundations, specifi
cally Wittgenstein's early atomistic philosophy of language. The
particular problems discussed include whether artistic meaning
lies beyond the sayable and thus cannot be captured in language,
and how form in an functions as a determinant of its emotional or
expressive content beyond the reach of language. Chapter 2 , "Art as
Thought, " examines the problem of the nature and identity of the
work of art, and in particular how the idealist conception of the
work of art-that is, as an object created in the irnagination-
explicitly rests on a theory 01 linguistic expression. This discussion
leads to an assessment of the aesthetic Significance of Wiltgen-
stein's criticism of that linguistic theory. The third chapter, "The
l
Introduction ,
Language of Feeling," examines critically the view that, whereas
language functions to communicate cognitive meaning, art func.
tions to communicate emoti ve meaning. I discuss the Lockeian
conception ollinguistic meani ng t hat underlies this way of can
Struing aesthetic experience, and examine Wittgenstei n's critique
of that conception. Returning from the linguistic to the aesthetic,
the chapter closes with a discussion of some of the ways in which
artworks can in fact exci te ideas and stimulate emotions and the
ways in wbich meaning is in fact experienced.
Wherus the first chapters of the book cent er on theories of artis-
tic expression and their linguistically shaped foundations, Chaptess
4, S, and 6 center on the nature and significance of artistic inten
tion, again employing the method of looking into the analogous
issues of the nalure of linguistic intention and its significance for
the understanding of speech. Chapter 4, "Artistic Intention and
Mentallm3ge," attempts to unearth some unquestioned assump-
tions housed within the historical debates over the critical rele-
va nce of intention. A prevalent, but, as I argue, tOO narrow and
overly simple conception of intention holds that the material work
of art is an embodiment of a prior immaterial mental image, and
that the proper function of criticism is to come to an understanding
of the artist's initial envisagement through a critical examination
of the later material work, or to see behind the work or text for its
signifi cance.
3
The linguistic parallel to this aesthetic position
requires an investigation into the seemingly obvious but ulti
mately indefensible suggestion that verbal intention equals silent
soliloquy. A subWlit of this chapter, " Music and Imagination," con
tinues this jnvestigation with specialrcference to music, the art
that mOOt li'ilurally invites the aesthetic variant of linguistic men
talism. Specifically, some theorists have concluded that, as a musi
cal work cannot be identical with any particular performance of
that work, it must be in essence an imaginary object or a mental
l . U thit view were no lor.ger prevalent, I could havc di scun ed the cnvisage
mcnt-c:mbodinlcm dichotomy in aesthet ic intcnt ion as of the Ihc:orcliu l rcu o
I pcetivc mCnl iot1cd .bove. This conceptual tcmpblc Is lI iIl in wide currcncy,
ho.wever. in archi.tcclllTal where t he V.SI majority of work remains
unbuilt, o.r indeed, enmaged but di.!.embodied.
1 0 FEB.

4

AIl as LAnguage
ideal toward which particular performances aspire. The musical
work, on this view, assumes the sutus of a general type rather than
a specific instance, or token, of that type, and the general type is
regarded as a fully articulated mental or imaginary object. An
examination of detailed cases in music, however, shows that the
concept of imagination cannot intelligibly occupy the theoretical
position assigned it by the aesthetic idealist.
In Chapter 5, entitled " Against Creation as Translation," I dis
cuss the conceptual paraUels and dissimilarities between the prob
lems of artistic creation and linguistic translation. Here I argue thal
the art language analogy can be powerfully misleading. It implies
that the creative act in art can be elucidated using a conceprual
model derived from the li nguistic where it is alleged that a
translation from one language to retains the same mental
content but changes the outward sign to which the inner meaning
is 3t1ached. More generally, this chapter investigates the founda-
tions of the belief that the meaning of an artwork can be captured
in another genre, for example, that the content of a poem can be
expressed in music or in painting. final of this chapter
looks into the experience of searching, in writing, to find the right
expression, which seenis-but only seems-to suppOrt a transla-
tion model or mental-cootent-into-physical-ernbodiment model of
intentional meaning.
,
The linguistic core of the aesthetic vi ews examined in the laSt
section of Chapter s-that the meaning of an utterance is detach-
able from its particular outward expression-is investigated in
Chapter 6, "The Silence of Aesthetic Solipsism, " which ventures
into what are often regarded as the darkest recesses of Wittgen-
stein's philosophy of language, specifically the issue of linguistic
privacy. Here, after drawing out explicitl y the parallel between the
foregoing expressionist and intentionalist conceptions of artistic
meaning (where words are allegedly imbued with meaning through
inner mental associations between pure thought and outward signs
or symbols!, the clarifying and demystifying results from Wittgen-
stein's labors deep within the philosophy of language are brought
back to the understanding of the expressive quaiities of art. Artistic
expression is widely held to be a material embodiment of a prior
Introduction
s
emotional sute, and to be the direct artistic analogue to lin-
guistic meaning. In Cha.pter 6 I argue that this view is itself vul-
nerable to the private language argument-a relation between
linguistic and aesthetic philosophy that is often vaguely sensed but
too rarely, I think, art iculated. Throughout these middle three
chapters, many of the pointS of intersection between Wittgenst'ein's
philosophy of mind and his philosophy of language are located on
the larget terrain of aesthetics.
The way in which aesthetic questions are powerfully shaped by
underlying conceptions in menw and linguistic philosophy is also
an important theme of my pnal two clupters, where t reconsider
three of the most prominent views developed in post-Wittgenstein-
ian years, which together constitute a strong return to aesthetic
In each case I identify both the benefits offered by these
theoretica l construals of aesthetic experience and the construa1s of
the aesthetic objects with which we en..gage in that experience. I
also identify the issues in Wittgenstein's philosophy which these
theories have overl ooked and which might prove helpful. In Chap-
ter 7, "The Aesthetics of lndif>cemibles," I examine Arthur Damo's
method of indist inguishable counterparts, wherein diHerence
between art and non-art is elucidated in terms, to put it platoni-
call y, of that which is ava ilable to the intellect but not to the
senses. This examination progresses into some proximate issues
raised by Wiugenstein on the interrelations between description
and perception. There follows a reconsideration of the related, or
indeed engendered, institutional tbeory developed by George
Dickie. Of greatest interest here is nOt the explicit content of the
theory itself but, rather, the presuppositi ons embedded within that
aestbetic movement 's conceptual foundations. In this context
some of Wittgenstein's remarks on the nature of cenainty, and on
the limits of doubt and the refusal of doubt to submit to the will,
become directly relevant to a critical reexamination of the ques-
tions faced by institutional theorists.
4 For, superb overview of Ihe ullithcon:tkal , unce Ibat immedialely preceded
lhi! rell.lfl\ i ee Mary Mothersill, &DUly RUIOIl)d (OIio,d: Oxiord UnivcrSll)' Preu.
19S,.I, pp. H - 7}
I
6
7
Art as
InChapter8, " ArtandCultural Ireconsider the
ontologicalquestionsinartthatTosephMargolisasksandanswers,
leadingto anexaminationoftheineradicable dualism implicitin
certainconceptionsofaestheticentitiesand,beyondthis, toapre-
liminaryconsiderationofthesimilaritieshothbetweenOUt per-
ceptionofartworksandpersonsandbetweenartworksandhuman
beingsthemselves.
In this Introduction,I havesummarizedthechaptersin awaythat
bringsouttheiraffinities:thefirst threechaptersconcerntheper
ceptionofartisticmeaningbytheviewer,listener,orreader; thesec
andthreechaptersconcern[hemindofthecreatoroftheobject
whosemeaningisperceived;and thefinal twochaptersconcernthe
n3tureofthatobjectin andofitseU. Ihopeitisalsoclear&001 the
summariesthatthechapterssharemanycommonconcernsthatcut
acrossanygeneralorganization.Apartiallistoftheissuestreatedin
thefoHowingstudywouldinclude: thereflectionofan emotional
statein an<lIt objectandtherelationof form tofeehn&.: theargu-
mentsforandagainstaestheticidealism; thedualisticconceptionof
artisticmeaningandtheexcitationofideasby anobject; therel e-
vanceofarticulatedimaginativeobjects forourunderstandingof
artisticintentionand,in musicalcases,thecomplicatedrelationsof
soundtothought}theconceptionsofmeaning:generatedbyapplymg
amodeloflinguistictranslationtoaestheticcreationandbysearch
ing for;)nuancedverbal expressionwe,somewhatoddl y, knowwe
havenotyet found; theattempttoconceiveofartas aprivatelan-
guage and theimplications for meaning thatsuch aconception
wouldcarry;tl}erelationsbetweenperceptionanddescriptionand
theshapingiiil'iuenceofearlierphilosophyoflanguageonrecentaes-
thetictheory;thedoubtconcerningartistic.definitionthatisprereq-
uisitetotheinstitutionaltheoryyetunavailabletoitingenuine,
contextuallyrooted form; the mind-matterdualisminherentin
recent aesthetic ontology; and the parallels between perceiving
worksofartandseeinghumanbeings.Theseissuesobviouslyare
interrelatedin coWltlessandconceptuallyhelpfulways, intersecting
inunpredictableplacesonthelargeraesthetielandscape.
Clearly [hereare in thefollowingpagesmanyformulati onsand
reformulationsofdualisticconceptionsofaestheticexperience, of
Introduction
I
artworks, ofartisticcreation, andofinterpretation.Ibelievethat
mind:matterdualism hasbeen and, morecont roversially,contin_
ues to be the most powerful shaping influence on aesthetic
thought,andthatitsphilosophicaJ unravellingrequiresattention
todetail;thechapters thusengagethisfundamentalissueinvari-
ousways. Ihavetriedin whatfollowstoremainmindfulofthefact
that Wittgenstein's famousremarkconcerneda constant battle
against thebewitchmentofourintelligence. Theworkincluded
I
here is primarilyofacritical-analytical nature.There isobviously
muchmore tobesaidaboutWittgenstein'spositiveconceptionof
linguistiCmeaninganditssignificance forart.
5
Thefundamental
objectivehuehas beentoconsiderthesources01 OUI problems,to
I
reconsiderwhattheseproblemsin theirformulationsmdstructur-
ingspresume,andto investigatethesignificanceofWiugenstein's
philosophyfortheseproblemsandpresumptions .Itis truethatthe
theoreticalanswers to theseaestheticproblems haveenormously
increasedinsubtlet yand sophisti cation,buttheformulationsand
structw-ingsof theproblemsthemselveshavestillnot,tomymind,
receivedtheattentionthey need.
Idonotfindgeneralassertionsorargumentsclaimingthatartis
or is not a language compelling or even minimall y satisfying.
Assertions3reobjectionableforobviousreasons!orlack thereof);
arguments,whenthey are statedin aphrase, becausetheysuggest
thattheconnections, parallels, analogies,structuraldisanalogies,
asymmetries,andsoforth, arefundamentally simple, implying
thatageneral pronouncementonewayortheotherwillsuffice.I
tendtowardthebelief,consistentwithWittgenstein'slaterphilos-
ophy, thattheseissuesareirreduciblycomplex,and thatartistic
meaningcannomorebesuccinctlyencapsulatedorreducedtodef-
initional formulasthancan linguisticmeaning.Of course, com-
plexity does not preclude conceptual clarity; on the contrary,
complexit ypromotesit. My philosophicalaspiration inthisbook
hasbeent oafford, atleast occasionally,somethingapproximating
aclearviewofthatcomplexity.
s. 1bavepursued thissubjecfinMeaning andImerpretation: WillgensruIJ.Henry
/ arnu, lindLiferary Knowledge IhhJca:Cornell University/'Ten,1994)

I
9
Art and the Unsayable I
Perhaps the very last conviction about art we would be willing to
give up is that art possesses meaning. Yet when called on to say any-
thing concerning the precise nature of this meaning, one is very
often prone to fall mute, not only because of the threat of impend-
ing conceptual confusion, but also because of a sense that meaning
in an somehow lies beyond the sayable. Standing transfixed before
Ciorgione's Tempest or Rathko's Green and Maroon, or on bearing:
Stravinsky's Rite of Spring, we find our conviction tbat art has
meaning deepened. Yet at the same time, with a little reflection, one
begins to feel the presence of 30 impenetrable barrier between aes-
thetic seeing and saying. In this chapter, in the interest of clarifying
and understanding this doctrine of unsayability which en joys a sort
of perennial popularity, I reconsider Susanne Langer's theory of art.
It is my hope that this will yield a deeper understanding of a very
general conception of artistic meaning by which we are led to look
behind or through the work of art for its meaning; this view is by no
means limited to those who explicitly endorse Langer's conclusions.
Lo the first section I consider what it means to say, "Art is the
creation of forms symbolic of human feeling."
l
ln the second part I
will tum to a discussion of the perception of artistic form, for to
perceive this is, on this theory, to see the unsayable. In these sec-
{ tions my interest is primarily in the exposition and clarification of
a theory that, in spite of its ultimate shortcomings, is not always
t . SUW\Ile.l.an&cr, Feeling ond Form {London: R.oulltdte & Ktgll.ll Paul, 19S3l p. 49.
Art and the Unsayable
appreciated for itc\ richness and complexity. In the final section I .
turn t o what I take to be rather serious problems that appear
through the attempt to clarify the crucial relationship between the
feeling expressed in a work and the form it exhibits.
LANCf.II. 'S T:RACTARIAN A"STHl!.nCS
Langer claims that art picks up where language leaves off. This
would seem at a glance to suggest a radical disanalogy between art
and language. In fact, however, it is a claim that stems directly
from the thoroughgoing assimilation of art to language, or rather an
assimilation to a panicular view of language. This view is the Pic-
ture Theory of meaning developed in Wittgenstein's TtaClOtUS,2.
and it is Langer's adoption of this model of language aramodel for
art, along with the other components of her theory derived from
this adoption, rhat I want presently to explore.
Traditional theories of expression are unsatisfactory for Langer
because she finds them confused about the particular role the emo
tions play in the experience of art. Rudolf Carnap, for example,
committed this error in an encapsulated form when he said, "The
aim of a. lyrical poem in which occur the words 'sunshine' and
'clouds,' is not t o inIorm us of certain meteorological facts, but to
express certain feelings of the poet and to excite similar feelings in
us. ,, 3 La.nger characterizes this error as a failure to distinguish
.1.. Ludwig:Wittgenstein, Troetow! U>gico-PbilosophieusI19llj, trans. D. f . PeJtI
Jnd B. F. McGuinlleM Highlands: Humanities Pun, 19741. The influence of
the TraeUlws u; central to Jll of Lulger'a work ,nd I.s implicit on almost every page.
One plaee, however, wheu!. it is made explicit j! in the following quotation: "The log-
iClilltheory on which this wbole IiNdy of symbols is bued i8 euentiJlly that which
was set funh by Wingenstein, some twenty yean 'ItO, in his n llctllru3 Logiro.Philo-
sophicus: 'One name itomo:!s lOT one thin,g. and another foe IDOthe.r thing, Ind they are
connected t ogether. ;.nd so the whole, Uke pi<:t llJe, preseots the ,!nmie f.et. '
14.031 11' AI the firSt gbfoee tbe proposilioo_'y as it I UlIQs PJinted on p;aper-don
not Kern 10 be a pielure of the teallt)' of which II lrU. But neither does the mllf,ieai
score Ippu r It fi lsi sighl to be I pienile of I mut ical pie"; nor docs OUI pbonetle
spcUiIlJ!: Ileti ers] Kem to be. picture of OUI spoken language. .. .' 14.0 1 J].'" SuSinne
LangeI, Philosophy irr 0 New Key ICambrtdge: HarvJld University PIes&, 19781, p. 79.
3. QUOIed in langeI, PIU/osopby in 0 New Key, p. 84.
I
w
Artas Language
ArtandtheUnsayabJe ..
between sell-exprEssion and an expressive actin the "logical"
sense.
4
A percussionistin arage maystrikeoutatalltheinstru-
mentsand,inthemidstoftheclatter,smashthelargestmalletinto
thebassdrum.Thisis the sortofexpressive actthatisperformed
with" innermomentarycompulsion"andisthusnotanexpressive
actintheartisticsense.Iithissamepercussioniststrikes thesame
i
druminexactlythesamewayin,say, the18t .2 Overture, anartis-
;
ticacthasbeenperformed withoutinnermomentarycompulsion,
i
1
andso"itisnolongerself-expressive;itisexpressiveinthelogical
sense"(I52).ThebeatingofthedrumisnolongerwhatLangercalls
asignofaninnereventsuch as angeror frustrat ion)itis nowa
symbolofaninnerexperience.Theartisticall yexpressive drum-
beatinghasbeenimproperly understoodasagestureperformedin
ordernotonlytoventbutalsotoexciteanemotion, whereason
Langer's theoryitis moreproperl yunderstoodas3 gest ure that
denotesanemotionor innerexperience.To putherwordsbackin
shesays: "Butassoonas an express iveactis performed
withoutinnermomentarycompulsion itis nolongersell-expres
sive;itisexpressiveinthelogicalsense.Itis notasignoftheemo-
tion it conveys, but a symbol of it; instead of completingthe
naturalhistoryofafeeun& itdenotes thefeeling, andmaymerely
bringittomind, evenfor theactor.Whenanactionacquiressucha
,\
meaningitbecomes a gesture" (rS 1). Thesegestures, then, are
"expressiveforms, truesymbols.Theiraspectbecomesfixed, they
canbedeliberatelyused tocommunicatetheideaofthefeelings
J
L
thatbegottheirprototype,"(1511.ThushomthisperspectiveCar-
nap'sclaim,likethoseoftheexpression theoristsLangerisdissat-
isfiedwith,appearsfalse.Aphysicalgesturein danceoradrumbeat
inmusicisnotself-expressivefor Langer, butlogicallyexpressive;
notperformedfor excitation, butfor denotation, not-inshort-a
sign,butasymbol.Adancegestureoradrumbeatcancarrymean-
1 ingonitsback,andthismeaningsheidentifiesastheideaofafeel-
Philosophy In II Ntw Xt y, p. IS2. .SeeAlsop.8):"Accordingtoourlogi
cians,IhosestJUcNraretoben eatI'dIS 'expressions'in adifferent$Cnse, as
'expressioDs'o(emotioru,lee.lings, desiles.Theyn e notsymbohfor thought, but
symptomsofthemnerlife, likeuars,nd\.;!ughtel. crooning.orproianiry. H Seealsopp.
1 111-10.
ing.Artisticactivityisessentially,shesays,symbolicaCtivity. 5Let
uslookmorecloselyathernotionofasymbol.
IntheTractatus Wittgensteinbegan withthefamous statement
thattheworldis allthatisthecase, andwhatis thecaseamounts
tothesumtotal ofparticularstates of affairs.
6
Thesestates of
affairs,intheexternalworld,aretheobjects, togetherwiththelog-
icalrelationsthatholdbetweenthoseobjects, thataremirroredin
language.Itisinvirtueof thismirroringaT picturingofthefacts
thatlanguagepossessesmeaning,butLangerconsidersitofspecial
importancethatthesepicturesofstatesof affairsintheform of
propositionsarenotpicturesinasimplephotographicsensebut
ratherpicturesina logicalsense.In Tractatus 2.2 Wittgenstein
said, "Apicturehaslogico-pictoriaiform in commonwithwhatit
depicts. " Similarly, Langer claims that theartsymbol bearsits
resemblancetotheinnerfeeling through a morphological similar-
ity.Wittgensteingaveanaccountofthemeaningofpropositionsin
tennsoftheirlogicalpicturing.orformalsimilaritytoobjectsand
relations in theexternalworld/ whereas Langer isoffering an
5. Onee:umpleofgestules{)).at carry .. i' agameof inwhich
playertries10 totheallmenccanideaof$Ornef li ng.Whenthe player
succeeds,IheguessercriesOUt, "'I' vegolit!ii's;wlousy!" Hcre,ofto\Iuc,theguesser
hastheidea,andru.sacquiredit through.the ofses{uru.Thisene,bowever,
goesmuchrunheT infollowinga pic01adviceof thanit doesingiv.
ingconleOI lheory.AhhooghIcer{ainlydonotwamhereto.ccuseunger
of"talkingbmh, '" thecompariSOIl betweenanimaginableeaseiIIpraelicc:l nd ung<:r's
theoryisimere!lling.WittgcO$telnadvi8e$,"Usomeonetal k$ bosh, imagineacasein
whichitisnotbo$h. momentyou lmagineit, youseealonceitifnotlikel halin
ourcase.'" LudwigWittgen$lein,LecturesDndCOnvuS4uonson Ae.Slhelics. Psychol
ogy, andReligiousBellef, cd.Cyril8amll!Oilfuld:Ras il Blaekwell, 19661, p.34.
6. Iamnot,ofcoune,hel t tryingt o provideanythingapproximuint:a lullexege
sisofWittgen5lein'satomistictheoryof me.a.nin&lll is myinlell tion, rat bu,to brillg
outthe<:elltf:tl ofthatview uponwhichLangerconstruCtsber lheory01
meaningandcommunicationInarl .
7. Wittgensteinwasunabletosaywhat relat ion heldbetweUltheatom
istic ofthe pfoposlti01'l and thestateofa.U:tiu mirrored bythaIproposi
tion.Aswillbeseenbelow, Langer,findinghetselfunabletoanswerthis,claims
thepointissoobviousthatweneednotta ke accountofit. Sec P. M.S.
Hacker, Insight andIllu$ion (Oxford: OxfordUnlvcrSity Prcss, 1971.), p.48; Ludwig
Wittgcnstein, Norebooh, f9!4-!9: 6ed. G. H.vonWrightandC.E..M. Anstombc,
uans.C.E. M.Anscombc(Oxford:BasilBlackwell, 1961), pp.1:19-30; andLanger,Pbj
losopbyinaNewKey, p. 8:1..
,
--
U II
account ofmeaningin artintermsofformalsimihrity totheinter-
nalworld, theworld of innerfeeling. This, then, is the precise
senseinwhichart all egedly takesup wherelanguageleavesoff .
Wittgensteinended theTractatuswiththeequallyfamousand
even morecrypticremarkthatwhereofwecannotspeak,there
mustwepass overin silence.Langer,however,beginsheraccount
ofthemeaningof artat thispoint, thepointjustbeyondthe reach
oflanguage.Whereofwecannotspeak, therewemustcompose,
paint,write,sculpt,andsoforth.
ThisbringsustoOlrrcentralquestion:How, havingemployedthe
theory ofmeaningin theTractatu$ as themodelofmeaninginart,
canLangerproceedwithmeanings,if notofwords, thenofworks,
beyondthesayableintotheunsayable? Heresheintroducesthedis-
tinctionbetween"discursive"andnondiscursiveor"presentational"
symbols(pp.79-101.). Itwas, shesuggests, thefailrue todistinguish
betweenthesetwO typesofsymbolsthatled Wittgenstei n to the
errorenshrinedin theconcludingstatementofthelIactarus .
A discursive symbol is simply a word with a meaning; it is
throughthesesymbolsthatweareabletocommunicatewitheach
other in everyday discourse. Thus she says that in "language,
whichisthemostamazingsymbolsyst emhumanityhasinvented,
separatewordsareassignedtoseparatelyconceiveditems in expe-
ri enceonabasisofsimple,one-to-onecorrelatiOn." Laterin that
discussionsheadds, "Awordormarkusedarbitrarilytodenoteor
connOtesomethingmaybecalledan associativesymbol, forits
meaningdependsentirelyonassociation.uS
TheearlyWittgensteinianinfluence onLanger'sthoughtis fur-
thermanifested inherhistoricalaCCOunt oftheevolutionoflan-
guage.\) Understandabl yoverlookingthe stage-settinginvolved, lO
8. Langer,FulingandForm, p. 30.
9. Ishouldnotethat,in additiontothestrictlyWlttgensteinianmodel,L.1ngcralso
depends onaLockeian componentinher of language.In successfulCOOUIlU-
nicatlontheSpeakeI,byutteringtheword,fUel! in themindof alisteIle[thelamelep-
resenlationOJ pictureof agivenstateofaffairs tlutis preSentin thespeaker'.mind.
Seelohni.oeke, An E6S0YCooc;lll11ing Humo.a UlJderSIO.ading 11 i!i90, reprb)!, New
YOlk:Dovel, 19591, bl<.. 3,eh. P.2., $eC.8,p. 13.
10. LudwigWiugenstein, Pbilosophicolltl vest igofitlus, Jd ed., u. nt .G.E.M.
AnKombelNewYork: Macmillan, 19581, sec.1p.

,
"
Artas Langupge
tlrflt1ifJifJrflfJfJrfJtJtftftllJrlIrH
Art andtheUnsayable lJ
sheclaims theearlyphaseoflanguage,simplesoundswere
given meaning by the "clearprominenceinthe(speaker's)mind"
oftheobjectorreferent. A listener "graspsaconceptionofit\the
thing referred to) bymeansofa sound.,,11 Fromthisrelatively
primitive stage of atomi stic words with referents, language
proceeded to an inclusion of relational symbols. The stateof
affairsintheworldincludes,say,acatandamat, whichstandin a
certainrelationtoeachother.Thisrelationisthencapturedbythe
symbol "Oil,"and thestate ofaffairs is logically picturedinthe
sentence.
l 1
Thematerialfurnitureoftheworlditselfencourages,
inawaythatfeelings donot, thiskindofrepresentationinlan-
guage; thephysicalobjects t o whichthesesymbolsrefer, andthe
relationsinwhichtheystandtoeachother,mirroredbyrelational
symbols, providethesolidrawmaterialuponwhichtobuilda
symbol sys tem-the system that, Langert eJls us, wecall"lan-
guage. " Thesesymbols, by virtueoftheirexternal referents,are
discursive.
Now, whatofthe nondi scursive, orpresentationalsymbol s?
AccordingtoLanger,Wittgenstein,likeRussellandCamapbefore
him,hadfailedtogivetheinnerlifeoffeelingaproperplaceinhis
ontology, andtmsfailure hadledtothewholesaleexclusionofthe
innerlifeinhisaccountoC meaning.It isamistake,sheclaims,to
passovertheinnerrealmofpossiblereferentsjustbecauseoftheir
ineffabl e nature.Thevaguenessoffeltlifein comparisonwith
hardexternalobjectshasled tothebelief"thatfeelingisa form-
less affair ...withnostructureofitsown. Yet subjectiveexperi-
encehas astructure;itis notonlymetfrom momenttomoment,
butcanbeconceptuallyknown, reflectedon, imaginedandsym-
bolicallyexpressedindetailandtoagreatdepth....(ArtJworksare
expressiveforms, andwhattheyexpressis thenatureofhuman
feeling.,,13 Presentationalsymbols, then, haveno discursiverefer-
ent;theydonotmirrorastateofaffairsintheexternalworld.But
theydo somehowsymbolizeinnerstatesofaffairs; theymirror
II. LangCJ, Phi!osopbyinaNewKey,p. l 34.
u . Ibid., p. I}S.
I J. Langer, Probl'lfIlJ 01Au (NewYork: Scribner's &IDs, 19S71,
PP7-8.
1
I
'4 Art as Language
inner objects of the privat': world of feeling. Thus nondiscursive
symbols have
.a different office, to uticulate knowledge that cannot be
rendered discursively because it concerns experiences that are
not formally amenable to the discursive projection. Such experi
ences are the rhythms of We, organi c, emotional, and menul ... ,
which are not simply periodic, but end1essly complex, and sensi
tive to every sOrt of influence. All together they compose the
dynamic pattern . .. that only nODdiscursive symbolic forms can
present, and that is the point and purpose of artistic construc-
tion.l'
To comprehend better this aspect of Langer's theory, we might
rure the inner life being connected to a delicately tuned instrument
that functions as an emotional seismograph, inscribing the move-
mentS of the inner life on a paper roll. The presentational symbol,
the work of art, symbolizes that movement by possessing a form
like that of the line; the work reflects the inner state of affairs
through a formal correspondence. But again, the discursive symbol,
we are told, is a logical picture of a state of alfairs, and it is through
the logicalAormal similarity of relations, with the external objects
referred to by association, that it can operate as a symbol. The pre-
sent ational symbol is similarly a symbol of an episode of emotional
experience in virtue of a lOgical-formal parallel.
The tonal suuctures we caU" music" bear a close logical similar-
ity to the forms of bwnan feel.i.ng-forms 01 growth and of atten
u3tion, flowing aDd Stowing. conflict and resolution, speed,
urest, terrific excitement, calm, or subtle activation and dreamy
lapses-not joy and sonow perhaps, but tbe poignancy of either
and both-the greatness and brevity and eternal passing of every-
tbing vitaUy felt . Such is the pattern, or logical form, oJ sen.
tience; and the pattern of music is that same form worked out in
pure, measured sound and silence. Music is a tonal analogue of
emotive life.
14. Ung<! I, Feeling ond /101m, pp. UG-4i .
- "
Art and the Unsayable
's
Sucb formal analogy, or congruence of logical structures, is the
prime requisite for tbe relation between a symbol and whatever
it is to mean. The symbol and the object symbolized must bave
some common logical form.IS
Expressive meaning in art, then, is given an explanation which
implici tly resides within the traditional dualistic categories of the
outward symbolization of inward feeling. ArtiSts, or at least the
successful ones, all sbare a common functi on: They "give the sub-
jective events an objective symbol "j of their work, Langer adds,
" the reason that it can symbolize things of the inner life is that it
has the same ki nds of relations and elements.,, 16 Eiements and
their relations-atomistic part iculars in a given state of affairs-
provided the material out of which meaning was made in Wittgen-
stein's early analysis of language, and they are, as we have seen, the
materials in terms of which Langer gives an account of meaning in
"her analysis of art. We are now in a position, however, to see as well
the crucial difference between these analytical programs. Langer
Claims that discursive symbols- sentences- are constructed out of
analyzable particulars-words-which assemble in various ways to
mirror the particular structure or state of affairs in the world. By
contrast, the inner life, she insists somewhat confusingly, affords
no similar division into atomistic paniculars, and thus the presen
tational symbols of art are whole indivisible units. There is a cor-
respondence between the st ructural form of t he feeling and the

structural form of the created aItwork, but these forms are not,
Langer insists, amenable to analysis or reduction. This puts the
general distinction between present ational and discursive sym bois
into cJea rer focus, and shows as well the surface disanalogy
between art and language essential to Langer's theory; that is, it
shows why, despite their fundamentalllkeness, art and language do
not collapse into each other to become identicaL The line of
demarcation between the tWO thus corresponds to the limit of the
sayable.
rs (bid., p. l7
16. Problems of AIl, p. 9.
,
I
,
,6 Art as Language
Webeganwiththesuggestionthatarttakes upwbere language
leaves off. This claim is verydifferent from those of theother
expressiontheorists,suchasCollingwoodandDucasse,whoclaim,
foradmirably detailedreasons,thatartis alanguage.HLangersays
that"musicisnotalanguage,becauseithasnovocabulary/illsyet
thatitisfundamentallysimilartolanguagethroughitssymbollcor
referentialfunction.In fact, shesuggests, inthegeneral develop-
mentofhersymboltheoryofartin Feeling and Form , thatwe
replacetalkofthe " meaning" of musicwith talkof" the vital
import" ofmusic.19Thisarticleoflinguistic:legislationisdesi.gned
topreservethesearchforthethingto whichtheworkofartrefers
asasymbolbutatthesametimeto preventusfrom makingthe
mistakeof searchingfor theliteralmeaningofit-oftrying, in
short,toarticulatethe unsayable.RogerFry andClive Bell found
themselvesunable todefine"significant form"andyetwerequite
certainthatthisdidinfact constitutetheessenceof an.1O Langer
says that, ratherthanseeingthisasashortcoming, theyshould
haverevelledinthisfact.The meaningorvitalimportc.annot be
translatedintoliterallinguisticform; therealsubjectmatterofart,
theitmerfeltH1e, doesnotsotranslate.Onecanseeherethedeeper
reasonsfor heragreementwithBellthatthesubiect matter or the
programofaworkisirrelevanttoitsrealmeaningorvital import.
Hertheoryofartisticmeaningthusexcludesany references to
objectsorplaces, e.g., bowlsoffruitorthelightof Venice, inthe
analysisofartisticmeaning.
Thiserroroflookingforthemeaninginliteralordiscursivetenus
is, ac.cordingtoLanger,illustratedbythecaseofEduardHanslick's
claimthatinmusic, form andcontentareone, and thatthe mean
ingofaphraseis thepuremusicalmaterialandnothingmore. llThe
17. R. .C.Collingwood, PriDciplu of Arl IOxford:Oxford UniversityPress,
1938hC., .DuUSK,1116 I'hilosophyof Art (NewYork: 1966).
:
18. Ungcr, Fee1WgandForm,p.31 .
19 Ibid.,p.
)0. SeeCliveBell,All !New YOlk:Capricorn, clap. r_
r ) 1. l..aJI&cr this inPhilosophy in /I New Ke. y, pp.137-45.Secpa:rticulady
ber discU$Sionollhe sheqUUIQ bornt-bnslick: UTheIhcmeolamUlicaicom-
poIIition is iI. essennalcomem"{p.1}7Ii.ndUlnthe11<1 ofmll5i cIhelt isnoconlenl
opposed10lonn, mus ic. hasnoformovcra:ldaboveIIscontem
H
(p.) 31,n.67).
Art and the Ullsayable , 7
meAningis illfactsomethingelse,Langersays,butwhatitis,echo.
ing the7ractatus inthisrespectaswell,cannotbesaidbutrather
onlyshown.Thussheclaimsthatthe"analogybetweenmusicand
languagebreaksdownif wecarryitbeyondthemeresemanticfunc
tioningeneral. fillItisinpreciselythiswaythatartandlanguageare
for Langeratthedeepest levelalikebutinalessfundamentalway
dlsanalogous. "Musicarticulatesforms whichlanguagecannotset
forth."Z3 For Langer, artisthe language of theunsayable.I will
returntothequestionofwhetheritispossibleintelligiblyto lessen
thetensionofthisparadOxicalphrase,oreventoresolveit.
THE MIRRORING Of EMOTION
Logicalatomismandformalisma.re not theonlyinfluenceson
Langer's theory ofalt.Whenweconsiderwhatshesaysaboutthe
aestheticexperience, itbecomesclea.rthatshereliesuponaversion
ofthe theoryofdisinterestedaestheticperception.Theneedtoadd
thiscomponenttohergeneraltheoryis feltassoonasweaskhow
thesymbolsoffeelingareperceivedorrecognizedbytheapprecia
torofanartwork.
Wehaveaheadyseenthatitisthepresenceofvirtualform which
determinesaestheticmeritfor Langer,andthisfeatureaccountsas
wellfor theessentialistuniformityoftheconceptofart. Virtual
form, sheclaims,is thep.ropertythatallartworksshare;indeed,
onlyth.roughthepresenceofvirtualforma.re theyworksofart(i. e.,
thisqualityisdefinitionallyas wellas expressivelysignificant).
Notsurprisingly, then, aspecial modeofperceptionisrequiredto
seethisvalue-ladenanddefiningfeature, a modeteferred to 3S,
"presentationalperception."Thismodecanbecha.racterizedmost
succinctlyasaformofabstraction.Theworkisdivorced"fromits
usualcausal andpractieal surroundings," anditis thisdivorce
whichaccountsforwhatLangercallsthe"urueality"ofart.lA What
isofinterest ina workofart is, in thewayitwasfor Kantand
n . Ibid.,p.1}1.
:1. 3. Ibid., p.133.
14. Lanter,Feeling and Form,pp.$<Hi).
,8 Au as Language
Schopenhauer,outofthisworld: itliesbeyondthephysical.11ms
itis onlythrough thisspecialperceptualchannelthatthevirtual
form isvisible.Theartworkhasbeendefined as asymbol, and "a
symbol," shesays, "isanydevicewherebyweareenabledtomake
anabstraction. "1.5 LetusconsiderwhatLangeroffersbywayof
assistanceintheattempttogivecontenttothenotionofaesthetic
abstraction.
A circus, we3It: told, is nota workofart, preciselybecauseit
lacksvirtualform) itlacks"aconceptionoffeeling, somethingt o
express.,,26 Similarly,food cannotattainthestatusofart, because
its appreciation must remain at the level of sensory pleasure,
whichisalessrarefiedformofperceptionthatviItuallormeludes.
..
Theimplicationisthatanyappreciationofaworkofartforits sen-
suousqualitiesalone,excludingtheabstractionofthevirtualform,
isnotaesthetic appreciationatall.Thesearecases inwhichwhat
we want to understand-theperceptual act of abstraction-is
absent. What, then, are some cases in which itis present' "A
shell,"saysLanger, "cannotbecomposed of concaveandconvex;
litcanJonly!beldescribed thatwayafterthefact."
17
1bisdescrip-
I
I
tion presupposesformal Theshellis indispensably'
presentbuttheformthatitembodiescanbeseeninthemind'seye,
independentlyfrom theideaofashell, asageometricshapechar-
acterizedbyconvexityandconcavity.Shealsoofferstheexamples
oflampshades,hands, andwaterfalls. Lampshadesexhibitparticu
larforms, which we abstractintheinstantweseethem.Thisper-
,
I
.
ceptualact, sheexplains, underwrites ourabilitytoaskfor the
i
sameshadeinasmallersizeordifferentcolor. Sheremindsus that
..
,
wedonotmean,inasking[orasmallershade,theverysameshade
butratherthesamefonn inanotherinstantiation.We employthe
samespecialperceptualmodewhenwe recognize thatourtwo
hands, althoughpresentedt ouswithasymmetricalreversed-plan
design, arethesame. Theideaofthevirtualform isperhapsmade
clearerbyLanger's illustrationofthewaterfall, whichseemsto
hangsuspendedinair.Infact, ofcowse, theoverallshapemadeby
lS. Ibid., Preface, p. xi .
.l6. Ibid.,p. )6/j .
17 }bid., p.369.
Art and the Unsayable
'9
the movingwaterremains constant, while the content of that
form, thewater, rushesdownward. Uwe'weretoconcentrateonly
on thewateritself, sheseemstobesuggesting..therebyexcluding
theaestheticmodeofperceptionandpreventingtheabstractionof
theoverallshapeorform, we wouldseeonly...what? Raging
waterfollowingno predictablepath? Slmilarly, wewouldseeonly
theseashell, andnotits convexandconcave10rms, andunlike
G.E. Moore,wewouldsay,"Hereisonehand,andhereis...some-
thingelse. " AlthoughI willturntothesequestionsagain, clearly
theperceptualadditionandsubtractiononewouldexpect,lrom
Langer' s account, tobe able to carryOUt are noteasilyaccom-
plished.
Langerholdsaswellthatmapsandgraphsfunctioninessentially
thesamewayasworksof art,andthatwerecognizetheirmeaning
inthesamewayas wedo inart.Both are "articulateforms," and
their "characteristicsymbolicfunction islogical expression:,18
Mapsandgraphsgiveusaviewataglanceof, say,thelocationsand
geographicalshapesofcountriesorthecourseovertimeof amon-
etary exchange rate. "Creat ed Gestalten"-by this she means
unanalyzablesymbolssimilartomapsandgraphs-"thatgiveus
logicalinsightintofeeling,vitality,andemotionalliie,areworksof
art. ,,'l9
Now, weknow whattherelationisbetweengeographicoreco-
nomicfactsandthemapsandgraphsthatpresentthem.Theques-
tion we want to ask within aesthetics, however, concerns the
relationbetween themeaningoftheartworkanditsabstractable
essence:what, inshort, is theexact relation betweenfeelingand
form? As weshallseemoreclearJy,langer's answer,althoughper-
haps less than one wouldhopefor, is all that onecouldreally
expect,giventhelimitations inherentinhernotionofpresenta-
tionalsymbolsand, inlact,inheracquiredmodeloflanguageitself.
Whatsortofpositiveaccountdoeshertheoryafford?
Music, for example,"isnotsellexpression,butformulation and
representation of emotions,moods, mentaltensions andresoIu-
Ibid.,p.31.
Ibid.,p.Ill'.
.:-
<1' fJ '" rtf (f " II Lt tr rrgII D D' UU,UIl UlJ Ill!IlllfJ ,1 PPPIi "
,
'0
Art as Language
tions-a' logicalpicture'ofsentient, responsivelife."j()Langerrec-
ognizesthatformusict ofunctionasasymbol,itmusthaveformal
characteristicsin commonwiththethingsymbolized.Thesymbol
mustexhibitthesame"logicalformas thatpossessedbytheobject
symboliz.ed."J'So, evenif theidea oflogicalformremainsabit
puzzling, weknowthatthesimilaritybetweensymbol andobject
is morphologicalWoUgangKOhler,anothercentrali.nfluence on
Langer,developedatheoryaroundwhathetooktobeafundamen-
tal similarity between the dynami.cs of the inner life and the
dynamics of music; words like "crescendo." "diminuendo,"
"accelerando,"and "ritardando"cao beaptl yapplied toeach.S2
LangernOtesthatthesetennsapplyas wellto " thedescriptionof
overtbehavior, Iwhich is)thereflection ofinnerIHeinpbysical
attitudesandgesture9."Shealsonotes thatthe"expressivegestic-
ulationsof theconductor"(:1l6) reflect theexpressivefonnof the
music. Toreview,then,wearegiven(I) formalpropertiesin physi.
calbehaviorormovementthatsymbolizethroughacommonality
ofform,fl,) feelings of theinnerlife, and[3) arealmof theformal
propertiesofart-"viulforms" (l17l-whichlikephysicalbehav-
iorhave:l formal resemblancetotheeventsorentitiesoftheinner
life, andalsotherebysymbolizethem.Allofthese-behavior,feel-
ings,andart-mayexhibit"patternsofmotionandrest, oftension
and release,ofagreement anddi sagreement, preparation,fulfill
ment,excitation,suddenchange, etc,"(22. 81, Anyparticularpattern
willhavethesameexpressivemeaningin eachofthethreerealms:
melancholywill take thesameformphysically,emotional1y, or
graphicaJly.AtonepointLangerconcludes thatthe" requirement
ofaconnotativerel at ionshipbetweenmusicandsubjectiveexperi
ence, a.,.similarityoflogical (orm,iscertainl ysatisfied" InS).
Weare, however,told- andthisiswherethedisappointmentmen
tion.edaboveisfelt-thatoneshouldnot tryt osayanythingabout
theexactnatureofthisformalsimilarity.Oneshouldnottryt o
explainitbecause, herereturningtothellactatusinfluence,ooe
cannotexplain it. Theartworkisasymbol of theinnerlifewhose
)0. LInger, phJlO$()ph"ill aNewKey,p.Ul,
)1. Ibid.,p.
p.. Ibid.,pp. ll6-,7forLanger'S ofthu.
ArtandtheUnsoyable
"
verynaturedefiesthelinguisticprojectionthatlanguageisthought
to involveI:HI. Thusatthisjunctureadefenderofthedoctrineof
unsayability mustplead seUevidence: "Once tbe workisseen
purelyasaform,itssymboliccharaCtCl- itslogicalrcsemblanceto
thedynamicformsoflife-isseUevident.We need noteventake
discursiveaccount of it.,,33
Atthispointonemaybegint osuspeCtthattheunsayabilitydoc-
trinehasgoneoutofcontrol.Thesuspicion derivesfromthisfa'<t:
It isooethingtobelimitedin whatwecansayabout theexpres
siveoremotional contentofparticularworksofart,anditisquite
another thingtobelimited inwhatwecansa.y toexplainthethe
ory designedtoshow howthoseworkspossessmeaning.Wha.t can
bediscursivelycapturedmayhavelimits, butthisfact- ifitisa
fact- in no wayiustiliestheultimatelyobscurantistandverydif
ferentclai mthatthe"Iogicalresemblance"betweenworkandfeel-
ing.aresemblancethatmustbeunderstoodifthetheoryistoprove
illuminating, neednotitseUbe explained.OntheTractatusmodel
oflanguage, wedeterminethe truthofapropositionby holdi ng it
upagainSt thefactsitreflectsjinshort,wecomparewordswiththe
world.
34
In thenextsectionIexaminethe parallel relationinart;
.holdingthe externalworkofart up to theinnerworldof emotion,
orinotherwords,comparingtheformandthefeeling.
H. ProblemsofAIt,p. p .
34. Itshouldbe stated,however, thatthewordto worldcomparisonin the'fracfI! '
las thatLangeremploY' a.aconc:eptwl lllodell.snotbyanym<:oUIs itltlf transparent
or thustbe: problem in YllJCl'Stheoryatdu.stageunbe:;cenall the
aesthet ic rolnU<:st. tion01 early linCUinicproblema.If, indeed, II
Wiugensteincametosc:<: in hi scriticismofhb ownearly"WOrk, OOthingcanbemun-
ingfuUy&aId.bouttherelati onshipbetweeobn.gu..;lgeand theworld, orabouttheiso-
morph.i$m betweenpropositionI ndfa ct , thenthe propos.hi onsofthe1hICt<ltu& that
t haii$Omorphlc rdation mustthemselvesbe muningless,litcanbe ugued
thatWit tgeNtriDKn5Cdthit problem beforebeinvutiptedandcWiliedit;the
veryimage01theladderwhichmust beclimbedandthen kie kedawayanticipates
metaphorict Uywhathewu b tertoelucidat efulIy.1Wittgenstein',recogni tion01the
incoherenceol thepositionthat, uchrelationscanbe .ho,,",'Obut notlIid(Le.,tluot
Theoryofmeanin31fcorrectcanntxbe meaningfull y,tated,andmUll thatit
!lotoolyisnotbutin factcouldDOt betrucLledIilinultimatelytoabandonthisCTlt U-e
word.worldconstructionoftheveryproblemofmeaning, L:ln:ger,! tayingwithintbi'
conl t!uelionoftheproblemin guIse, i.e.,form fee UI\i relations,i s t hu!
understandablyledinto,aswe. hall secbelow,Uuupt"biediffieuluu.
Art as Language
"
FEELINC I N fORM
From the preceding discussion we know that there is, in Langer's
view, j special perceptual mode which, if not identical with aes-
thetic experience, is at least necessary for that experience. We also
know that, in some still rather ill-defined way of seeing or hearin&
thiS perceptual mode involves disinterestedness and abstrac tion,
and furthermore that it is this mode which gives us access to the
unsayable.
Given that the direct and positive characterization of this variety
of perception is a troublesome enterprise, it would seem a reason
able strategy to look for cases where it initiaUy is not present and
,
then try to sec what difference would be made by its addition. At
this point, however, we already want to know how, to t:lke one case,
the perception of a waterfal l could be described while totallyexclud-
Lng considerations of form. By form it becomes clear that Langer
means, of course, the shape or coOtour of a thing. Because the water
fall is composed of rushing water, so are we to concl ude, as she
seems to suggest, that rushing water is in fact present or given in
and that the form or shape made by the cascading water
is what she calls a virtual image, a sort of perceptw. l illusion? We
could with propriety speak of such an illusion if the content were
intelligibl y separabl e from the form, but here it is nOt at all dear
that this is the case, precisely because it is not clear how to describe
\
the simple perception of content alone. We cannOl suppose that the
perception of rushing water, with no determinate direction or shape
j
or contour, would be the simple perception on which the virtual
image (the arched constant form of the waterfall ) would rest,
because we do, elsewhere, in mutually excl usi ve circumstances,
hl'l ve just such a pe.rceplion. This is what we see when a dam breaks
and water rushes wildly in all directions . Obviously this is not a
component in what one (on trus perceptual model) would conceive
of as the "complete" Iform-with-content) perception of a waterfall.
I
A dam breaking and a waterfall are simpl y and obviously different
J"
things; they do not share a simple perceptual ingredient.
Perhaps this argument is unfair to Langer, in that it insists on t OO
rigid a distinction between form and content and restricts the per-
I
Art alld the Unsayable
'3
ception of form excl usively to this speciaJ abstracting mode of per-
ception. Given her'general view of perception, however, it is hard to
see how this defense could be sustained. Behind her specific theory
of aesthetic perception lies the familiar general view that we perceive
known objects rather than unrecognizable sense-data in aU specific
instances of seeing and recognizing because we have, early in our per-
ceptual histOries, abstracted the forms of things and retained these as
concepts of those things. With this mental catalogue, our new or cur-
rent perceptions fall into the forms abstracted from our previous
experiences. At first we abstract the form unconsciously, she says,
and later use it to bring order to otherwise chaotic sensory experi-
ences by assembling those experiences under ooncepts.
3S
It is then far
from unfair to search for an understanding of the pre-formal or pre-
abstracted experience. It is in fact precisely this, and only this, which
would demonstrate the importance of this mode of perception.
A waterfall is not, however, composed of forml ess rushing water
upon which an illusion of form- a virtual image-is built. Nor
does a seashell seem to be a mass of variously colored, hard, pbs-
terHke material, whose concave and convex sides we "see" above
the mere mass or COntent. We might, at an imitation-seashell fac-
tory, see long flat rolls of this hard, colored, plasterlike subst ance
rolling off a machine, and ask what it is . We might hear the fore-
man at that moment say happily, "There they arej twenty new
shells!" We may then marvel that the flat sheet will soon, insi de
another machine, be Cut up and formed into shells like those we
saw in the front display case. But it takes no argument to show that
our perception of a seashell on the beach contains nothing of this
story. Our seeing of one is not transformed intO the seeing of the
other through an act of abstract ion.
Langer says, however, that the disinterested state is an essential
condition for the abstraction, whatever it is, to take place. This dis-
interested state is achieved by lifting the aesthetic object out of its
ordinary practical sunoundings and divorcing it from its usual con-
notations in life. Let us see how thi s could operate.
'"
35 Sec Lancers in 0 New Key. pp. 89'"90 .tnd p. 146, for her di&cuu ion
ol thJ & issue.
,
24
", "-11 11 11 Jl IJ Jl f1 "
An as Language.
An object of pc tential aesthetic interest, say a coffee cup. can be
elevated out of its functional role-that is, one may cease to see it
as the container of coffee, the object that must he carried back into
the kitchen and washed-and see it as pure form. This disinter-
ested view of the cup allows its aesthetically significant features to
emerge. Whatever else abstraction may be. i.t is the mental act that
permitS the emergence of the aesthetic features . There does seem
to be something undeniable here, for if we want to appreciate the
cup for its particubr shape or form, then we should suspend all
purely practical considerations. It has become a common practice
at this juncture, however, to exclude as well matters of content,
where this is opposed to pure form, and thi s is to conilate the dis-
tinction between form and function with that between form and
content. When the practical interest of the cup-its function-is
ruled out on grounds of aesthetic irrelevance, one feels fairly confi- ,
dent that a reasonable move is being made in the attempt to shed
light on the special way we see objects of art. It is, however, a much
larger and very different point to declare content irrelevant to the
question of meaning. In this way the letter and spirit of the rather
simple point regarding the cup is first distorted and then inflated,
the former through the conflation of content and functi on, and the
latter by elevating it to the status of a first principle of aesthetic
perception. Let me give an example.
In the Tomb of Lorenzo de Medici in Florence, Michelangelo
des igned with great care the formal organization of elements.
Above the sarcopbagus on one side of the room we find <1 statue of
a robust, active Medici. On the opposite wall, above the other sar-
cophagus, is a res tful, contemplative Medici . Upon each of the sar
cophagi are t wo reclining statues, representing morning and
evening. and day and night. Distinctions and contrasts are balanced
within the room, and opposing or contrasting forces are placed so as
to counteract each other. Any individual subsection of the overall
work (for instance, either wall taken separately), remains unbal
anced, but the whole form is perfectly balanced and, once one sees
the formal organization, restfully resolved. The perception of this
form-the "abs traction" of the formal design of the room-is
dependent, however, upon its allegedly irrelevant content or sub-
Art and the Unsayable
2
5
jeet matter. We must refer to the content of the design iJ we are to
see its balanced conuasts: active and contemplative, morning and
evening.. waking and sleeping. and so on. Were we to lift the sculp-
twe in this room above its subject matter, we would at the same
time lose access to the form. This, in fact, is perhaps to say too
much: it is not that the form depends on the subj ect matter for its
existence) rather, it is not in this case clear how to distinguish one
from the other.
The form is the aspeCt or dimension of the work that we are to
abstract; it is this which allegedly carries aes thetic meaning.
Langer, on this point, acknowledges a debt to Fry and Bell and
thinks it clear why aesthetically relevant form lies beyond descrip-
tion. Indeed, on her view, all matters of content must be excluded,
because that which is amenable to discursi ve projection is thereby
aesthet icall y irrelevant, and content is clearly in that category. It
appears, however, that in order to see what is of central importance
to the theory we must rely on the very thing the theory prohibits.
To take another case, a disinterested and formally abstracted per-
ception of Picasso's Guernica would not yield an uncluttered,
undisforted, and immediate recognition of lhe aesthetic meaning
the work possesses. It would yield rather a conIusing array of dis
connected images and an utter failure to comprehend and to feel
the force of the work. There is, however, a clear formal organiza-
tion in the painting, :l three-panel scheme derived from medleval
altarpieces. But it is nOt clear what role this compositional form
would play in Langer's account of artistiC meaning. With this we
arrive at a question parallel toone in the theory of language. Just as
that theory inquires into the relation beTWeen the proposition and
its meaning, we must ask whether the form of the work, e.g. ,
sonata-allegro, rondo, tri partite altarpiece, theme and va.riations,
Sophoclean tragedy, and so forth, is significant in Langer's account.
We know that the form holds the key t o the unsayable, and yet it
appears that one IUUSt answer both "absolutely" and "absolutely
not" to our question. Wby is
Taking the latter answer first, it is clear that, given her concep-
tion of language acquired from the early Wittgenstein, we should
not be able to take discursive account of, or explain, any particular

I. t ' .
" ;t",:
,
..
t
.
\ ,I
"
,
t'
I
,6 Art as Language
case of artistic meaning. From this Langer concludes that there is
nothing we can say inanswer to this questi on. Agai n, this does not
in itself imply that there is also notbing that can be said regarding
the connection between the particular feeling captured in a work
and the Iorm of the work, because the relationship in theory
between feeling and form is not itself among those nondiscursive
feelings. Ii,however, we pass over this problem as Langer does, and
recaU first tbat the inner life of feeling cannot be fitt ed properly by
language, and second that the significant form of the artwork, like
the inner feeling itsymbolizes, is nondi SCUISive (because presenta-
tional forms are unsayable), we will arrive at the negative conclu-
sion. The form of the work, to the extent that it is verbally
specifiable, cannot itself constitute the "virtual form" of the theory.
There is a direct parallel here to the linguistic theory. Wittgenstein
had said that the connection between the form of a proposition and
cile form of the world which itpictures is irrelevant to philosophy-
that it is a question for empirical psychology. The relation between
feeling and form also remai ns ultimate ly unexplained. This is
Langer's official position, to which she holds when she has the par-
allel limitalions of the Tractarian account of language clearly in
mind, but at other times she seems to suggest otherwise. Perhaps
when a work of art rather tban a theory of language is foremost in
the mind, she seems to rely on the specific formal structure of a
work, e.g., sonata allegro form, as that which gives content to the
idea of a symbol of feeli ng. This clearly leads to ow other and far
less mystifying answer above-"absolutcly."
Langer says that a musical perfonnance will be good "ifa virtu-
oso is free of confusing emotions (and is able toJ think in musical
forms only and (ofl their import."u It would appear from this that
it is the musical form itself, such as tbe theme-and-variations
structure, that carries the aesthetic significance or meaning. Inthis
connection Langer cites the case of Schubert, who told his students
that the meaning of the piece cannot be grasped until the form is
seen clearly, but' at this point the first in a sequence of similar prob.
lems arises.
}6. Lanter, Pulillg and P()lm, p. ' 46.
'7
Art and the UnsayabJe
It may well be that sound musical performance depends on musi -
cal form, but this fact, when integrated into Langer's general
account of artistic meaning. does more harm than good. The level
of analysis at which "form" is to be understood remains inques-
ti on, but ifthe overall structural form is meant, insuperable prob-
lems appear. All pieces written in theme- and-variati ons form
would have the same meaning, since they would necessaril y, in
virtue of that form, symbolize the same feeling. So the Goldberg
Variations would have the same meaning, or at least the same
"vital import," as, say, Fernando Sor's Variations on a Theme of
Mozart. Any theory that produces this result has fail ed, as a quick
listening to those twOworks in succession will make obvious.
There are, however, worse aspectS of the same problem. For exam-
ple, the form of one part of Shakespeare's Timon of Athens is
clearly a theme and variations. Timon has faUen into irreparable
finanCial ruin, and his previous courtly acquaintances come to visit
him in sequence, having heard that he has yet a little more gold.
Now, ifa particular feel ing is symbolized by the structural form,
and ifthe Goldberg Variations were poured intO that same fonn,
then that part of Timon and the Goldberg Variations must have the
same meaning because they refer to or symbolize the same feeling.
This conclusion can only operate as a reductio; it is prima facie
clear that Timon has nothing t o do with the Goldberg Variar.ions.
With the possibility of a role for large-scale form looking increas,
ingly hopeless, perhaps we should turn to a consideration of small-
scale formal significance. It may be objected, in Langer's defense,
that the large form is not the proper unit of meani ng, and that in
music itis the phrase, or at least the smallerscale formal analysis
of phrase structure, which will reveal the connection between form
and feeling .
.As might bepredicted, however, the problem of the sameness of
meaning still appears, although at a lower level. II the phrase stmc-
tore of the exposition of one orchestral work insonata-allegro form
rums out to be identical to that of another, then here again there is
no way for Langer to claim consistently that the two different
works do not symboliu the same feeling and thus carry the same
artistic meaning. U we find, say, a first theme in the tonic key, wi th
,
I
28
Art as Language
antecedent-consequent phrase structure, foll owed by a transition
figure t o the second t heme on the dominant wit h similar phrase
struc ture in the first work, and find thi s again and again in other
works, then wi thin the confines of thi s analytical scheme we are
committed to much m OTe than we otherwise would be-which is
simply that the works have the same form and the same phrase
structure. We would be committed to the far Stronger claim that
they have, as was the case with the larger forms, the same mean.
ing. If this is the proper level of analysis on which to make OUt the
feeling-form connection, then there must be one specific feeling
whose felt form corresponds to, or is mirrored by, antecedent-
consequent phrase Structure. At this point we descend to the next
,
lower level of analysis.
Here it might be claimed that it is the particul3..t intervallic struc-
ture and contour of the phrase that is the proper unit of meaning.

Thus the symbol would operate, rather than at the level of
antecedent-consequent structure, at the level of a descending major
third, followed by an ascending second, followed by a descending
minor third. Here again, however, this particular intervallic form is
not unique to the opening bars. of Beethoven's Pifth Symphony. This
sequence of intervals occurs in many other passages in music, and it
frequently occurs in improvised music. We must then ask whether
the opening section of the Fifth Symphony and the improviser's solo
line have the same meaning, and it is abwlCiantly clear that they do
not. The same problem pursues us t o any level of formal analysis,
and thus sends us back empty-handed to the ques tion: What does
form, as we know it in works of art, have to do with the feeling-fonn
connection in Langer's We must return to the previOUS
answer, and reply: nothing. This is just to $3.y tbat within this t he-
ory the word "form" is being employed in some unreCognizable or
systematically elusive way. We should also recognize that in mak.
ing all works of art essentially works of form, many aesthetically
crucial distinctions that we do in fact make between works are
d blurred or obliterated. Mendelssohn's Midsummer Night's Dream,
which follows a perfectly predictable path, and t hrough.composed
pieces, which unfold in thc absence of any formal design that pre-
dates the content of the composition, are aU seen as the embodi.
Art and the Unsayable
2,
of form. Renaissance portraiture and the late.-period Thrner
aze similarly nul together. A Bach fugue, a bel canto aria, and Gre-
gorian Chant are homogenized into a mixture of works that share
"vital form ," There are issues of great interest concerning the dif-
ferences of forms in these cases but, first, such diHerences are lost to
the generality of the theory, and second, it is in the end impossible
to clarify the significance of the form for the meaning of the work.
The doctrine of unsayability, at least when given this theoretical for-
mulation, conceals at its core an element of impenetrable unclarity.
FORM, in its abstraction and in its morphological mirroring of emo
tion, is cent ral to Langer's explanation of art, yet a clear under-
standing of the role played by either abstraction or form in the
cIeation or appreciation of art remains a mystery. The paradoxical
tension we discovered earlier, that art is the language of the
uns3yable, cannot be resolved. Langer's explanation of the expres-
sive power of art rests on the assimilation of art to the n-actatus
theory of language, which has in twn generat ed the presumption
that if art is to have meaning or Significance, it must acquire this
meaning by mirroring or symbolizing some other thing-a state of
affairs that in the case of alt would be internal. Thus the work of
an itseU, on this conception of meaning. is in 3 sense relegated to a
position of secondary importance; the meaning behind the work, or
what the work symbolizes, is of central aesthetic interest. The
word, taken on the atomistic theory to be a mere dead sign, must
get its life by reaching out to another t hing, its meaning. And the
work of art, it is thought, must operate in the same way in getting
its lile and expressive power.
Indeed, the last thing I want to deny is that art possesses expres-
sive power and meaning, but it can be denied that this particular
attempt to explain that power and meaning is adequate to the task.
Wiugenslein came LO see his early view of language as deeply mis-
Jeadin& and fundamentally ill-{onnulated in terms of the sign and
its life.
37
The above considerati ons sugge5t t hat such a model
31. Su, lor insu oc:e, the e.lI rly partS of Ll.ldwia WitlJcR$lci n, The Blue and BLOwn
8>kJ IOx..iord; Bui! Blackwell, 195BL pp. 5- 11.
u.
,0
Art as
appliedtoartaboultimatelyobscwesmorethanitcanilluminate,
andthattheconception ofartisticmeaninghousedinthis theory
mustnotmerelybealteredbutexchanged for another.Thatalter-
native conception CQuid be as radically different as the late
Wittgensceinianconception of meaningisfrom theearlyone,a
conceptionthatescapesthedualisticcategoriesofinnerfeelingand
out er symboP8 Another theorist of artis tic expression, R. G.
Collingwood, builehisaesthetictheoryonsomewhatdifferentlin-
guisticfoundations;itis his view towhichweturnnext.
38. Thisalternativeconceptionofmc.a nlng[nutof (AU,forhsowndiKUS'
sion, whichIwilltakeupinfoUowing CmptCfS; L have.lslldiKuucdtbis at greater
ItllgthinmyMuwing aDd Inrtrprttarfon: Hcnry!amtJ, ilnd L;IUtlIy
Know/edge (Ithaca: COtrn!UUnive.Nlty Press, 1994).
,
2 Artas Thought
,,,
Thebeliefthat3rtisa language,orthat itisina deepsenseanalo-
,
gous tolanguage, is amongthe mostpervasiveofassumptionsin
the theory ofart.[n this chapter[reconsider, bothfor intrinsic
interestand3Sanexemplarycaseofa moregeneral theoreticaland
criticaldirection,R. G. Collingwood'smergeroflanguage andart, \,
specificallythenotionthatanandlanguageareessentiall yalikein
J
servingas physicalexpressionsofpreexistentmentalorimaginary
objects.
Afterafresh examinationofCollingwood'sactualreasoning-
whichwill itseUshedlightononeofthemanyfrequentl y pre
sumedbutrarel yclarifiedanalogiesbetweenlanguageandart-l
willdiscuss thisallegeddualisticcorrespondence, first in lan-
guage, in connectionwithsomeremarksof Wittgensteinon the
linkbetweenthinkingandsaying, andsecondinart,byconsid-
eringparticularcases thatseemt o holdpromiseas illustrations
oftheanalogouscorrespondencebetweenthoughtsandworks.
My strategyis again basedontheconvictionthatthenatureof
artisticmeaningcanbeilluminatedbyreferencetolinguistic
meaningonlyifwefirst clarifywithconsiderableprecisionthe
particulartheoryoflanguageemployedfor theanalogy. Careis
necessaryhere becausetheanalogywechoosewillshape, per-
haps toa greaterextentthanisoftenrealized, ourconsequent
conceptionsofthecommunicative, expressive, andmeaningful
dimensionsofart.
p Art asLaJJgJlage
COLLINGWOOD AND AESTHETI C PEP.CEPTION
In The Principlt:.S 01 Art Collingwoodreachestheconclusion that
artmustbe/11 imaginative,and(2)expressive.In those respects, art
isnotmerelyanalogousbutinfact identicaltolanguage.I "What
kindofthingmustartbe, if itistohavethetwocharacteristi csof
beingexpressiveandimaginative? Theansweris: Artmust be lan-
guage. "l ThatCollingwoodsaidthisiswidelyknown;preciselywhy
hemadethisclaim,however, issomewhatlessgenerallyappreci-
ated. EssentialtoCoUingwood'sview ofthemindisthedistinction
betweenthe"psychica1" leveland the" imaginative" levelofexpe-
rience,adistinctionderivedfrom Hume'scontrastbetweenimpres-
sions andideas.At thepsychicallevelwearepassive receptorsof
senseimpressions, whichareas yet unrefinedbyformulati on into
animaginaryobject.Throughanimaginativeact,thoseunsophisti-
cated impressionsarethen transformedintoan "idea."Thatidea,
whichexistsonlyattheimaginati velevelofexperience,is, in keep-
ing with the empiriCist strain in Collingwood's thought, can
structedoutofthecrude, unprocessedsense impressions, andit is
thatimaginativeconstructionwhichmaythengoontobeexternal-
izedorexpressed.Thus experience, atthepsychical level, consists
onlyofrawmaterial.HereonedoesnOt recognizefamiliatpeople,
things, orplaces, but only patches of color and light, auditory
impressions,oUacloryimpressions,andsoon,all stilldissociated.It
is theideas, again inaccordance withthetraditionalempiricist
view, that render this chaos coherent. Associations are made
betweenparticularimpressions,andexpectationsareestablished;
things,people, andplacesarecreatedoutofthesensorychaosand
becomefamiliarandrecognizable,waughthementallycreati veact
ofsynthesisachievedatthe imaginativelevel
Up tothispointthisis a veryfamiliarphilosophicalstory, and
onemightaskwhatpreciselyithastodowit h theassimilationof
art to language.Theanswer isthatthe assimilation is effected
through theintroductionofbothacommonelementandacom-
I . R.c _Collintwood, The Principles 01 Ar IIOdo,d:OxfordUoi vu&il yp ~ s s
19)81p.1.1].
2. (bid.
!l!1 !1 P}J !l !l (lr!l
33 Art as Thought
man process, and it is at t hatpoint that Coll ingwood's theory
departsfrom thefamiliar.
Each raw sensum, he claims, is infused with an emotional
charge.Thus,forCollingwood,if wearcperceiving:itfollowsthat
wearefeelingaswell:cagitO, ergosentio.Atthepsychicallevelof
experience, thosecharges, like the impressions towhich theyare
conjoined,arealsocrudeandasyet unrelinedorunspecified.Thus
the perceiver, ifhe wereabletospeakatthis prclinguisticlevel,
wouldutter, "Ifeel,Iknownotwhat. "l Jtisonl ywhen thecrude
emotionisprocessedbyimagination andthusbroughttothelevel
ofimaginativeexperience thatitis specified.Thiswayofcasting
the matter is,however, ina wayslightl yuntrue toCollingwood's
somewhatelusive, andperhaps theoreticallyoscillatingaccount.
Theemotion isnotonlyspecifiedorbroughtintOclearerfocus;it
is-heinsists-inpartcreatedbythe imagination.Onlytheemo-
tionalcharge, asortofgeneralizedperceptualcurrent,isoriginall y
present,anditis this whichissculptedin theimagi nationintoa
particularemotion. Thus he says, " Atthelevel of imaginative
experience, t hecrudeemotionofthe psychical levelistranslated
intoidealizedemotion,orthesocalledaestheticemotion,whichis
t hus not an emotion preexistingtotheexpressionofit, butthe
emotionalchargeon theexperienceofexpressingagivenemotion,
fel t as a new coloring which that emotion receives in being
expressed." Thisprocessaccountsforthetransitionfrom "Ifeel, I
knownotwhat" to, for instance, "WhenIseethatoldwhitecov-
eredbridge[feelavaguelongingforeatlierdays,whenwe...."In
thiscase,directingourattentiontowardt heoldbridgeproducesthe
rawimpressions:whitepatches,darkareas, the.soundsmadeby
whatwecannotyetdescribeasthebabblingbrookunderneath,and
soon.Allofthoseimpressionscomewith-arawemotional charge,
but, as withthebridgeandbrook, theyhavenotyetachievedthe
statusofspecifiableideasoftheimagination.Whentheexperience
iselevatedtothe imaginative level, however,wedorecognizeall
thosethings, andwealsorecognizethespecificemotionalcharac-
1. lbid.
" . (bid.,p.1.74.
1
34
Art as Language
tec that only the idea possesses.
s
Here it becomes clearer why, for
Collingwood, perceiving is E.very sensation an emo
tional coloring in the same way Ithas, say, a shape; and lUSt as, .at
the imaginative leveJ we see the shape as a bridge, we feel [he emo-
tional coloring as, fOf example, longing. It is also becoming clearer
why art and language are for Collingwood not analogous, but rather
tWO instances of essentially the same phenomenon. The white
patches, dark areas, and so forth, constitute the impressions, with
their crude emotional charge attached! the imagination assembles
the impressions and charge into a coherent idea. That idea, now
assembled, in [urn gives rise to a particular emotion, and a result
ensues. This result, whether it be language or art, is the expression
or extemalization of the inner object of the imagination. Just after
the passage quoted, Collingwood says, "Similarly, the psychophys-
ical activity on which the given emotion was a charge is convened
into a controlled actiVity of the organism, dominated by the con
sciousness which controls it, and this activity is language or art. ,,6
The active role played by the imagination here cannot be overem-
phasized; the initial cause which leads to the twin effects of Ian
guage or art is an object created in the imagination out of the raw
material of sensory impressions and emotional charges. Thus the
imaginary object occupies the same place in the explanawry
schema for art and for language; this location of the imaginary
object within the explanatory schema is-and here is the concep-
tual core of Collingwood's COlUleclion between an and language-
the element they hold in common:
It {this activity which islanguage or anI is an imaginative experi
ence as distinct from a merely psychophysical one, not in the
sense that it involves DOthing psychophysical, (or it always and
s. There u a remOl e conl e:u in which lhis I.Jnguage bn ru.dy application. Ifwe
wne taken to the bridge drut:8ed, II finl we would see only while dark areas,
and noises. Then, u the drug wears off, we begin to make 0\11 Ihe bridge and the
b,bbling water. With this, let us suppose, comes.l vigue longing. But tnu linguistic
crilicism is perhaps prema\urc; l am inter"!ed here in merely showing the progression
from CoUingwood's metapb.y,ics or experief)ce to his philosoph)' of I;wguage, and bow
it culminates inhia aesthetic theory.
6. Collingwood, P,iJleiples 01 A.fI, p. 17".
Art as Thought 3l
necessarily involve such but in the sense thal
of survive in their crude state; they ate all
into ideas and incorporated into an experi ence which
as a whole, as generated and presided o .....er by consciousness, is an
imaginative e.xperience.
7
It is through Ihis analysis of perceptual experience that Colling
wood' s initial conclusion is reached. Art, like language, is in its
essence both imaginative and expressive. The element shared by
language and art-that wnich can move outward to one or the
other-is the of imagination. The conunon process that both
undergo is the process of expression: from raw to refined experi
ence, impressions to ideas, from patches and undifferentiated emo
ti onal charges to imaginary objects. The result is an external
representation in the form of an utterance or a work of art. It is
important to bear in mind for the following discussion of the ideal
ist definition of the nature of artworks that expression, for Colling
wood, is a two fold process. First-this is the imaginative act- the
imaginary object which is still to be expressed is Cleated in the
imagination out of the raw sensory particulars. Second, that imag-
inary object- and here is the expressive act-finds, contingently,
its outward manifestation.
Inwhat follows 1 want to focus on what we may now identify as
tbe crucial component essential and peculiar to idealist theories of
an. Having followed Collingwood's argument we have arrived at
the not ion of an invariable one toone correspondence between an
imaginary object or a particular mental state and its outward man
ifestation in language or art. Collingwood's theory thus implies
that for every utterance in language there isa mental experience or
event-the imaginary object--of which the utterance is, presuming
the work is successful, the perfect outward expression. Hi s theory
also implies, of course, that the imaginary object temporally as well
as logically precedes the expression. Similarly, for every physical
object which we designate an artwork there is a determinate state
of mind-the imaginary object-for which the physical work
7. Ibid., P174
'.
,
t

.'
1
tJ tl ilJrII tI H " U-
]6
Art as Lan,-uQge
servesasanoutwardmirror.In short, just 3Sthinkingis believedto
stand behindspeaking, so thinkingis presumedto standbehinda
workofart, inaoneta-onerelationshipwithit.
"YE.S, THIS PEN I S BLUNT"
ThispassagefromWittgensteinprovides thematerialsfor an
investigationintothedualisticcorrespondencebetweenthought
andword:
IsthinkingakindofspeakingrOnewouldUke tosayitiswhat
j distinguishesspeech withthoughtfrom talkingwithoutthink-
soit seems to be 3D accompanimentofs peech. A
process, whichmayaccompanysomethingelse,orcangoonby
ii
itseU.
Say:"Yes,thispeo isblunt.Ohwen,it'lldo."First,thinking it;
!
then without thought; tben justthink the thoughtwithouttbe
words.-Well,whiledoingsomeWIitingImighttestthepointof
J
mypen, make :1 face- and thengoonwith3 gestureofresig-
03tio o.-1might also act insuch away whiletakingvarious
measurements that an onl ooker would say I had-without
words-thought:If tWOmagnitudes areequaltoathird, theyare
equaltooneanotber.- Butwhatconstitutesthoughthereis Dot
someprocess whichhas to3ccompanythewordsif theyare Dot
tobespokenwithoutthought.
s
Bearinginmind thatlinguisticcorrespondenceservesas thegen
eralconceptual model foraestheti c idealismandthatwordand
workareeachbelievedto bear thesamerelationshiptothought,1
willconsidersomeparticularcasessuggested by this passagein
detailandexamine itsphilosophicalforce.
First,imagineskinuningnewsp:\perheadlineslookingfor aspe
1
cificarticle.Withthis kindofhaste, fly over thelines, "Yes, this
pen is blunt.Ob,well, it' ll do."Second, imagineyourselfaboutto
"J
8. Wiutennein.PhlJO&ophico11nvutigauon" 3d cd., G.E.M.Anscombe
!NewYOTk:MocDlilJ..an, 19S8),sec.BO.
U U B Uf U U U U U U U 11 U l..f fill " J1 JT'V
Art as Thought n
makeyourstagedebutwiththisoneHne.You' reseatedatthedesk
onthestage, andthecurtainsareaboutto go up.You runoverth;
line slowly and deliberately, " hearing" yourselfsay itin your
mind's earagainandagain.Finally, curtainup,yousayit,preCisely
asthedirectorwanteditsaid.Third,imagineatyrannicalexecutive
addressinga personalsecretarywhobas brought himsomedoeu
ments tosign."Thi spen is blunt !" theexecutive roars,andthen
murmurs,"Ohwell, it' ll do,"andsignsthepapers.Fourth,imagine
justhavinggonetothedepartmentoffi cetogetanewpenandfind
ing thatthenew one isno betterthanthe old.Thesecretarysees
youget thepen, andlatercomesto youroUi cetogetyoursigna-
ture.The pen doesn' t work well, and so the secretary says, "1
thoughtyougotanewone- whydon'tyouuseit insteadr " Atthat
momentthesecretaryseestheoldonediscardedandsays, "Oh,is
that it?""Yes,"youreply, "this penisblunt.Ohwell,it'lldo,"and
yougo onwiththesignatures. Fifth, imagineamuchabusedoffice
workerreplyingtowhathet akest obe astupidquestion,"Yes,this
pen isblunt,"seethingaU thewhile. Forgoodmeasure, theoffice
worker mocks thesupervisor'sfavori tephrase,adding, "Ohwell,
it11 do,"and,grumbling, returnstothe task.
Thosefive cases, if weare to locat eallcaseswithin the cate-
gori esof" thinkingit " Or"sayingitwit houtthought/'whichare
the firsttwoofthethreecategoriesWittgensteinhasestablished,
must be identified as" thinkingit ."This list could becontinued
indefinitely,butwithoutfurthercommentatthispoint,letustum
tothesecondcategory, thatofspeaking" withoutthought. " What
sortofcasemightillustrate thatcategory?Thefollowingexample
holds atleastpreliminarypromise.
Aspyweapon-a" pen"-hasbeeninvented thatejectsapoison
needle.One spyobse.rveshisabsent minded colleaguescratching
outamemowiththisinstrument. Thefirstspyasks, "Isn'tthatpen
perhapsabitblunt?"for thebluntnessoftheweaponistheonly
way todistinguishit fromitsnormalstandard-issue counterpart.
Furiouslyscribbling, obviously ina grea t hurry, thesecondspy
replies,withoutlookingupandwithoutstoppingwriting,"Yes,this
penis blunt.Oh well, it'lldo."Suddenly, a momentlater, with a
start,numbertwoshouts, "Oh!Blunt! "anddropstheweapon.This
Art as Language
3'
is decidedly acaseofathoughtl esslyspokenline, hutwhetheritis
3 caseofsayingit"withoutthought " in the requisitesenseisless
clear,becauseit is0 0[ obvious thatagivenmentalprocessthatis
n ormallypresenthasbeen subtracted.It isra therthat thespecial
significanceof"blunt,"asignificancethatarisesOUt ofthedetailsof
thisassuredlyrathercuriousease,hasbeennotsubtractedbutsim-
plyforgotten.Thusevenaratherextrc=meandobviouslytai lor-made
casefajls toiI1ustrateproperlythesecondcategory, thatofspeaking
"withoutthought. "Thoughtandspeechseemnot tobedetachable
in thewayimpliedbyt heidealistcorrespondencetheory.
Topressthepointfurther,letussupposethatinordertorevealt o
theaudiencethatasecrelletter isbeingwritten feverishlybyathe-
atri calcharacter, astage director has theletterwriteronstagesay
thoselinesveryblandlyandthoug)1tl essly, withafalsesounding
" Ohwell,"toindicatethatthecharacterisentirelypreoccupiedby
thethoughtofgettingtheletteroff. Now, theletterwriterdoessay
thet11nethoughtlesslyanddoesnotreall ylist entotheofferofanew
pen.The writer iswholl yabsorbed inscribblingtheletter.Thi s
case, however,wouldnotbeaccuratelydescribedasone mental
entityorstate,the"I've-got-to-get -the-letter-off" state,occupying
thespaceof, and therebyeliminating, the"Yes-this-pen_is_blunt"
state.Theexplanationofthecaseis t husnotthattheconceptual
room for thementalenti ty-whatweareregardingonthisviewas
the meaning-of" Yes, thispen is blunt "was alreadytaken bythe
" Ietter- off "meaning.Hence,andhereisthesignificancefortbeide-
alist conceptionanditsimplicitpresumptionofthe of
thoughtfromword,itcouldnotbeadequatelyexplainedasacasein
which the words are present without theirnormally conjoined
thoughts.Al thoughitinitiallyseemstoprovideaclearcaseof"talk-
ingwithoutt hinking." on closerinspect ion t hecasefailstogive
contenttothesecategories. Hereagain thinkingandsayingdonot,
underinvestigation,conformtothesimplelawsofadditionandsub-
t raction.
1
Wiugenstein's thirdCategory, ofparticul ar interest for theart-
languageanalogy asitapplies toartisticconception,isthatofjust
thinkingthethoughtwithoutthewords. Thisisillustratedbythe
writerwhomakesaface,shrugshisshoulders, andgoeson. If heis
AIl as Thought 39
asked, "Didyou justnowt hinkthatthepenwasblunt, but thatil
would do!"the answer is probabl y affirmati ve. Butwe mustfur-
theraskif whateverwentthrough the mindof the writer inthis
casealso accompaniedt he thought inall cases above inthe (i rst
section, those placed (wi th reservations) into t he cat egory of
speaking " with thought ." It is obvious tbat there wasno such
commonelementindisputablypresentin all cases,amental
enti tywhich ledoutward toitsphysical expression in theformof
thosewords.Andthisisprecisel yWitrgenstein'spointin thenext
example, wherean onlookergivesanaccountofwhatsomeone
wieldingatapemeasurethoughtwhilemeasuring.If themeasurer
is askedwhetheror nothe thoughtofthefonnula "Ii two magni-
"".!.
tudes areequal toathird, theyare equal tooneanother,1/ he may
"
wellanswer in theaffirmative.Thismay,however, amounttono

more than his using theformula,whichhehas doneinbuilding
countlesstimesadayl or years. The thought he has inmeasuring

isnotthecomplexthougli tthattheyoungstudent tries toassem-
bl e, piecebypiece, upon first hearingthisformulahavingto do
i'
witht wolengthsequallinga thirdandsoon.Thus Wittgenstein
concl udes, "Butwhatconstitutesthoughthereisnotsomeprocess
whi ch hastoaccompany the wordsif theyare not to bespoken
wit houtthought_"
If thetwokindsofentities,themental meaninganditsoutward
expression,areconnectedbytheone-to-onecorrespondencewhich
wearrivedatabove, weshouldbeable toproceed unproblemati-
callythrough thethreecategories:thinkingwhilesaying, thensay-
ing without thought , and lastl y thinking alone. We discover,
however, that this is theverythingwecannot in factdo. Thein.i-
tiallypromisingcasesfailin theend,becausewhatgoesthroughor
whatisinthemindwhenthevariouseventsdescribedoccuris not
the specific mentalphenomenon that is necessarily presentin
casesin whichwespeak" withthought."lbeillusionofsenseres-
identwithintheseclearlycutcategoriesofspeakingwiththought,
talki ngwithoutthinking, andthinkingwithoutwordsisnourished
bythesimpleintelligibilityofthenotionofspeakingthoughtfLlll y,
butthat is not equi valentto thepresentphilosophicalnotionof
speaking"withtbought ." Moreover, theconnection between an
-
i
4
0 Artas Language
"imaginaryobject"andthelinespokenisprimafaciequestionable:
imagesofdislikedsupervisors, orofasea offaces intheaudience,
orof thepersonwhodelivers themailand aclockface, orof the
printednewspaperheadlinesoughtalter,orof thetyrant-exceu-
tive'sfavorite restauranttowhichhewillreturnaftersigningthe
papers, ora hundredotherthings, mayhavebeen inthemindsof
thespeakers. It is even possible that in thecase of the person
explainingthebadpento thedep3lt1Tlcntsecretary,nothingoflitis
imaginarysortwasinthemindatall.Allofthepresentsectionis
inasensepreliminary,asitisconcernednotwiththetheoryofart
itself,butwiththeconceptionoflanguageuponwhichthetheory
ofartismodeled.Itis, however,enoughtorenderdeeplysuspicious
thedoctrineofthecorrespondencebetweenan expressioninthe
formoflanguageandtheindependentobject , process, orstatein
-
J
themindwhichledtoit.Theattempttotracebackfrom theout-
wardexpressiontoitsinnersourceseemstoleadnottoanisolable
imaginaryobject, but rathertoa rangeof contextualcomplexities
which theidealisttheorycannot hope toaccommodate.Indeed,
suchcomplexi tiesarenotdreamedofwithinthelimitSimposedby
therigorouscategoriesofthoughtandword.The attemptdoes,
however, makeclearerWittgenstein'sremarkinthesection just
precedi.ngtheonewehavebeenconsidering:"whenJthinkinlan-
gu.tge, therearen't' meanings'goingthroughmymindin addition
to the verbal expressions: the language is itself the vehicle of
thought.,,9
THE INNEll CONfLICTS OF
AE.STHETIC IDEALi SM
The object oftheprevioussectionwastomakeoutthecorre
spondencebetweentheutteranceandthementalobjectbyisolat

ingtheelementsandtracingbttcktothementalfrom thephysical,

from theoutereffecttotheinnerC<luse.Thecorrespondencewas
not, however,successfullyelucidated.Theattemptto isolate the
9. Thill ,sec. 319.
p
Artas Thought
4T
distinctcomponentsofe.-.:pressionandimaginaryobject,roughlyof
wordsandmeanings, proved tobe asystematicaJlyunclearenter.
prise. Theanalogybetween language andart, whenitisdeveloped
alongidealistlines,appearsthusirreparablyunclear,andwillprove
a misleading analogy to the extent that the correspondence
betweenmentalmean.ingandverbalexpressionisunquestioningly
presumed.
InthissectionIbypasstheproblematiccorrespondenceofimago
inaryobjectandlanguage,withitS disquietingimplicationsfor the
analogybetweenlanguageandall,andIfocus insteadonthe link
betweentheimaginaryobjectandtheartwork.Perhapsthissecond
ofCollingwood'stwineffectswilJ yieldabetterresult.
Oneplaceinwhichit is quitenatural tospeakwithinthe cate.
gories of the conCeption_whether.equivalentto theimaginary
objectornot-andthefinishedworkisnotwhereoneistheperfect
expressionoftheother,butwhere theydiffer. Inthelowerchapel
inAssisi,behindOneoftheSimoneMartini frescoes, therewas
found acartoon,aWorkingsketch,thathadthearchitecturalback.
groundontheoppositeside{Tom theactualpainting.Itdidnotbal.
anCe wi.th theadjacentpainting. andso Martinihadexchanged
sidesfreehand-Withoutanothercartoonfromwhichtowork. Here
thereisroomtospeakoftheoriginalideaandthefinal work. First,
however, theideaisitselfadrawing-acartoon-andnOt amental
image; second, the Change was made after the actual physical
processofexecutionhadbegun;and, third, thereisnoevidence
that Martini was WOrking from a first image-a mental one-
whichservedasthe model priorto theexecutionofthecartOOD.
Thusthe issuea!ideaandexecutiongoesbackonlytothecanOOD,
itdoesnotleadoffintotherealmoftheimmaterial.
ThereisasetofHolbeindrawingsthatfor theartistweremerely
sketchesinwhichtoworkoutplans,problems,anddetailsfor the
lateroils that, atleast insomecases,followed. Somequestions
arisehere. First, itwashere-atthesketchingstage-thatHolbeia
workedouttheproblemsanddetails thathe knewwouldarise in
thepainting.Likemanyartists,however,heusedthismethodpre
ciselybecausehedidnot knowexactlywhathewoulddoinoil,or
exactly whatproblems hewouldface inexecution.Itwouldbe
-- -
I
i
I
"

.'
Arfas Language
ludicrous to suggest on these grounds that Holbein suffered from::t
menul weakness that was, given his occupation, particularly
unfortunatei the existence of these sketches cannot in any case be
attributed to a weak imagination. Second, we must ask why, ifthe
idealist view is correct, these works, the sketches. although greatly
treasllled, are accorded a secondc1ass position in relation to the oil
portraits that followed. These works arc, after 311, in3 sort of artis-
tic halfway house between mind and matter, and are thus that
much closer to the imaginary object, which on the idealist view is
the object of real aesthetic interest. The idealist might now insist
that his tbeory,has been done an injustice because the sketch is,
and was for Holbein, just that and nothing moce: it is the finished
oil that matches, at least to a much greater extent, the original
object in the mind of Holbein. That laSt claim, however, begs the
question. By what criteria are we to determine that the final oil
bears a greater resemt,>l ance to the imaginary object r Perhaps the
full articulations of the oil-the detail, the carc, the COIOf, the
slight alterations in placement, and so forth-are alll)othing more
than distortions of the original, added after the fact, after the more
true-to-mind sketch.
At this point one might raise a more philosophically sobering
objection: It is not merely that the idealist theory fail s to tell us
which work to t reasure, but that it asks us to determine the rela-
tive values of (wo artworks by assessing their proximity to the
mind of Holbein-a procedure that is patently absurd.
The precise nature of this embedded absurdi ty should be more
delicatel y unearthed. Let us suppose there i5 a scholarl y debate
regarding the performance of a piece of early music. Musica !icta
is, roughly, the practice of adding accidentals that allow a depar.
ture by a scale step from the six-note mode or scale in which a
given piece isotherwise contained. Some performers and scholars
question whether this is, in a number of particular casts, authen-
tic practice-that is, whether the original music was actually per.
formed with those added accidentals, or whether they are a later
editorial fict ion. Tbe i ssue is usually an unproblematic one, but
seen tbrough the eyes of the idealist, it generales sonle curious dil.
ficulties. First, why are the musicologists looking for shreds of evi.
Anas Thought 41
dence concerning performance practice? The idealist would say it
is at least a place to start: the music as it was performed was the
external expression of the imaginary object, and that obiect is our
ultimate aesthetic concern. The musicologists, however, regard
conclusive evidence of performance as t he place to end, whereas
the idealist does not, or if he is to follow consistently the dictates
of his own theory, should not.
Assume that a confusion regarding musica ficta occurred at the
earliest possible point, between the composition of the first motet
and the first performance of that motet. The composer is looking
over her just finished manuscript, which is to be performed that
evening. Regrettably, she is struck down at that moment, quill in
hand, and happens to make a mark just above the highest of the six
tones of the mode as she falls to the ground. Inthe confusion of the
sad event her new manuscript is shelved. Later, the new chOirmas
ter and resident composer come in, get Out the manuscript, and
"discover" the " new device, II which allows an escape from the six
tones. Seeing it as a daring and ingenious step forward, they imme
diately put it into practice, and the new composer henceforth uti
lizes the device to its fullest. The course of music history is, in this
imaginary case, altered by an accidental mark. The piece is per-
formed, from its firs t performance, with the accidental, and
becomes well known and much performed throughout the cen
turies. For the musicologist, these facts, although they expose a
scandaJ ous, or at least curious, ongin of the new compositional
device, are easily accommodated as an unusual story behind a par
ticular seminal piece. The idealist, however, i s committed t o a
number of rather more shocking conclusions. The actual piece has
in fact never been performed, and it cannot be the case that another
piece was performed, since that piece originated in the mind of no
one. Whatever it is that people have been singing for hund..reds of
years, it cannot attain the stat us of a piece of music, because it is
not the expression of a mental object . The idealis t must, then,
embrace the claim that the "piece" performed was not a piece at
all, but rather a purely physical tonal-accident. Indeed, on idealist
grounds this "piece," as it stalks through the Mtworld without a
prior mental counterpart, must accept the statuS of an aesthetic
44
Art as Language
zombie. This consequence is both inevitable and absurd; the motet
was quite evidently a piece of music, albeit with a curious prove-
nance, and it was performed. The idealist must also claim that, as
the piece has never been performed, a fortiori none of the particu-
lar performances were especially beautiful, and in fact all critical
comments made about the " piece" must evaporate intO a cloud of
nonsense; they must wander as adjectives in search of a subject.
Yet, let us further suppose, we do in fact know of a choir which per-
forms the work to perfection. Ii practices have grown up 3!ound the
piece- monastic, musical, h is torical, and so forth- that entire
world should, on strict idealist grounds, collapse into the empty
space erroneously thought to be occupied by the piece.]I) Yet the
i
I special kinds of repercussions that the idealist must predict are
never felt; the work of art at the core of t hese is not vapor-
ized merel y because it fails to correspond to composer's imagina-
tion. We may indeed see the work differently, but it is certainly not
true that we cease seeing it at all.
A number of conceptual confli Cts arise once the position of the
idealist is taken up. First, there is the problem concerning the speci-
ficity of imaginary objects. II In accompanying a vocalist, the expe-
rienced performer will watch and listen for the breath intake and
movements of the head of the vocalist in order to synchronize the
entrances perfectly. Singers, howe::ver, most assuredly vary in their
entrances from one performance to the next. If pianist Gerald
Moore could have heard recordings of Schubert songs performed by
Schubert himse::U, would it have been a better thing foc Moore to
place the pie::ce exactly, to the mi11isecoo.d, as Schubert played it,
10. There is anothcr ultimalely leu plausible posi lion tbe idealist can take hen:.
The idealist can-and sometimes will-.uy th.t Uthere Is .:anything we take .:I5;11 work,
then there .... ill exist, de .ctO,. menu.! cre.alorol mat work. howevo:: r dotcly the phys-
ical embodiment lollows the mental enviugemem. Fox eumpie, the new ehoumu-
tel was the ereno. of the work, In jn:z: improvisation or in c.denzas, Ihe
1
1
pc/orma the crenor, ereatinS immediately prior to the performance. Th.l.a aesthetic
01 linguistic mentalism r will take up explicitly in Chgpteq 4. S, :md
below; for the PleKllt I will ilote thai the only luI pouiid lOT postulat WI such ideal
entities in cases Uke these is tlutthe ideali l t's tbcory requires them.
II. Thi s question is ra,ised by Richard Wollheim In Aft ",nd Its Objects, :ld ed,
Cambridge Unjveuhy '9a.o), sec. ll.
An as Thought
"
regardless of Fischer-Dieskau's entrance? The cdterion of excel-
lence is correspondence between physical realization and mental
ideal, so it should be simply an unfonunate aspect of the physical
world if the singer is left stranded 00. a note: the actual work
allegedly proves itself impervious to the abuses of performance.
This certainly is nonsense. Moore and Pischer-Dieskau could not
have made the music they did if they had proceeded in any such
fasbion. Could it be suggested that they are not really artists and
that they do not in t ruth know the real work?'" Again, of course,
this serves as a reductio. JJ those two musicians are not artists and
do not know Schubert, no one does-a fact that the idealist would
surely admit. 11lis admission, however, strikes a damaging blow to
the theory of the imaginary work of an. rf there are various and
equally good, but different, interpretations of the imaginary object,
then the idealist must also I t) admit that the work- the real one in
the mind-is a hazy, variabl e, unclear work, or (2.) take back the cri-
terion of excellence, that of the correspondence between the out -
ward expression and its imaginary predecessor. Neither admission
is possible. If the:: idealist opts for the fir st choice, the physical
object is given priority over the imaginary object, which amounts to
nothing short of a total capitulation. With the second choice, the
idealist sacrifices the significance:: of the imaginary object, leaving it
as a lever attached to nothing.
The theoretical urgency of this problem concerning imaginative
specificity can be more clearly revealed through detailed particular
cases. Suppose that two musicians are performing a jazz composi-
tion that includes improvisational sections. In Jehearsal Smith had
discovered that over a particular dominant chord an ascending line
works OUt nicely in her improvisation. Now, in performance, as she
embarks on this passage, she hears that Jones has spontaneously
altered his dominant chord by adding a raised ninth. Smith recog-
nizes upon hearing it that the alteration has impli cations for her
ascending melody. Rather tban the major third she will have to
playa minor third, the pitch one baH step lower than the note she
12.. Collingwood is in fatl driven at one point to just such e;o;uCtnU, whtn he ' 1.11-
ge.lits lbat musiei.nt lI.fe mele ntinlls who mgke See his discussion ollhe
nature of the musical work, Prtnc/ple, of Art, pp. IJ9-4I.
46
47
Art as Language
planned. The raised ninth of Jones equals the mir.or third of Smith,
and if Smith does not make the change she will cause a severe dis-
sonance-a clash of a half st ep between the competing major and
minor thirds-whi ch she most certainly does not want. The line
she intended has a sweet melodic character, and she wants to pre-
serve that. Sbe thus makes the adjustment in mid-performance,
plays the altered ascending line, achieves her purpose, and in a
flash is 00 to the next phrase. Now what will, and must, the ideal-
ist Does Smith's performance possess the virtue of fideUty to
the imaginary object ! There are twO answers t o this questi on,
depending on our conception of the mental work.
If we regard the particular notes of the piece 3S part of the imagi-
nary ohject, then Smith has damaged the music by blurring the cor-
respondence. If, on the other hand, we decide that she has in fact
saved the performance, then other more serious problems arise.
For, from this case, it must follow that the particular notes do not
matte r, and the question of correspondence is thus diffused and
banished to the rather nebulous realm of aesthetic descriptions like
"sweet melodic charaCter." Here the idealist faces a dilemma. It is
an obvious truth that Smith has given a better performance by
adjusting the note to sui t the chord; not doing so would have
resulted in a clearly audible mistake, marring the performance. For
the idealist, however, this implies that the given notes of a compo-
sition are strangely irrelevant to the authentic work; the genius of
Bach's counterpoint, for instance, would be relegated to a posit ion
of secondary importance, being replaced by " the sense of necessary
forward motion" or some similar description. 1.1 Idealism, at this
juncture, compels us to carry out the aesthetic equivalent of trying
to retain the shadow while disposing of the object that casts it.
This position, however, marks the point of entry into a deeper
problem, an inherent tension in the idea of the work of art as imag-
13. Many further c.:uea could bring out Iim.Ll.ar confusions concerning the identifi-
Clition of a necessarily nonspecUic object with the work of 3rt. For inst.mcc, In what
way doca tbe c.adem:a ill' plano concen o iit into tbe wOlk! In the raga, are the scales
which ,ere u the basil oi Ibe improviution the leal im. ginary objectilt is, after all,
only these which Irc rigidly determi ned In countless similar questioru
" ris in lecent vuual art .
Art as Thought
mary object . U we construe the imaginary object as a mental enti ty
essentiall y Like tbe physical work, then we picture the object as
being conceived by the artist in the materials or medium in which
it is t o be realized. Here we view the mental construction of the
imaginary object as analogous to OUI conception of the birch in the
back yard, or the aroma of freshly ground coffee, or the bark of a
dog. Clearly, in these cases, the tree, the and the dog come
first . It is not only false, but indeed sensel ess, to suppose that the
thought of t hem comes belore the experience: it is senseless to sup
pose that the imagination creates a space for them, whi.ch is later
filled by the actual sensory experiences. With such cases of imagi-
nation in mind, one naturally tries to understand the imaginati ve
act centra] t o aesthetic idealism in the same t erms. It would
appear, then, that the artist knows his materials and is a master of
his medium before he begins the mental creation of the art object;
it is thus a particular assemblage of those materials which he envi
sioos as the work. To take one example, Collingwood says, " If 3
man has made up a tune but has not written it down or sung it or
played it or done anything which could make it public property, we
say that the tune exists onl y in his mind, or only in his head, or is
an imaginary t\lne."L4 Knowledge of the materials of music clearly
precedes the imagi nary work.
A more strict adherence to the letter of the theory, however, will
show that the materials cannot in faCt enjoy that psychological
priority. If the object is imagined in terms of its medium or real
ization, then, to put it simply, we know t oo much too soon. We
5.1.W that the imaginary object is a result of the refinement of a raw
emotional charge that comes in conjunction with its raw sensory
data. Such data and that charge are pre imaginative and are preex
pressive: they have not yet taken one of the twin channels of
expression, language or art. The process of refinement, common to
both language and art, gives to the emoti on a specificity it other-
wise lacks; it is this that constitutes the imaginary object, and
only so constituted can the object be expressed. Indeed, this is
Collingwood's meaning in the statement, " Expressing an emotion
14. Collingwood, Princ.iplu of Ar!, pp. 131-P
48

Att as Language
,
is the same thing as becoming conscious of it. il l S The incompati-
bility is evident . If Collingwood assimilates art to his model of
language, then the imaginary object could not be a thing envi
sioned in terms of its expressive medium, because the expression
allegedly proceeds from the inside outward. So there may be imag-
ined works of art for which the materials of the genre provide both
mental and physical components, but they could not be the imag-
inary objects which constitute the real works of art and which are
identical to utterances in language. U this is the: case, tben we ulti-
mately have no idea how to understand such an ohject . Any
descripti on of it in terms of material, e.g., ascending passages, blue
or rose colors, marble or granite, oils or watercolors, violin or
I
oboe, and so forth, mUSt be ruled out. How, without such distinc-
tions and qualities, can a work of art be describedr Collingwood
does oscillate between a view of tbe imaginary object as conceived
in terms of ideas, and one in whicb their emotional charges are the
essential element, but neither option does the job. We may here
state the simple truism- which in this context assumes consider-
able argumentative power- that without the speci.fic notes of a
Bach fugue we simply are not tbinking of that fugue. The imagi-
nary object, as the real work of 3rt, can only be conceived in the
wrong terms.
What moral can be extracted from the previous considerationsl
We saw initially how Collingwood reached his conclusion that art
is both imaginative and expressive and that, through common
ingredients and a similar process or genesis, art is not merely like
language, it is a language. These conclusions depended, however,
on the existence of one-to-one relationships both between speaking
and thinking and between art and thought. Art and language,
Collingwood claimed, are alike by virtue of those relationships.
Every word or sentence traces back to the thought it serves to
express, and every artwork traces back to a specific state of mind-
an imagi nary object-which it expresses. By following out the
implic.ations of a passage of Wittgenstein on mean.ing in language,
and by tracing the artwork back to its inuginative predecessor, we
lJ. Ibid... pp. 18.)-3} .
Art as Thought
49
found the theoretica. ll y crucial relationships between thought and
expression to be conspicuousl y a.bsent.
THERE are many helpful and illuminating ways in which to draw
analogies between art and language. When an analogy is spelled out,
however, in dualistic terms and a correspondence between the inner
work and the outer physical realization is thought to stand parallel
to the meaning in the mind behind the acoustical utterance, this
analogy is ultimately more misl eading than illuminating.
16
It only
generates ao untenable model of art out of an untenable and con-
ceptually mischievous model of language. Initially idealism prom-
ises much in the explanation of art, but it is a promise made under
the illusion that there exist simple and direct correspondences, in
language, between thinking and saying. and in art, between think-
ing and creating;. We saw above why Wittgenstein said that "the lan-
guage is itself the vehicle of thought ." To employ the analogy
between art and language in another way, we might say, against the
central t enet of aesthetic idealism, that the materials are them-
selves the vehicles of art.
Art has also frequently been construed as a vehicle for feeling.. or
as a system of external signs that carry emotional significance from
an artist to a perceiver. c. ,. Ducasse was one of those who both
built his theolY, although not always explicitly, on a philosophy of
language and who gave clear expression to this way of construing
artistic mewng. It is to his view that we twn in the next chapter.
16. The analogy is midcadlng bcca\lK it entO\l r' ges an UCCnt 10 tbeotetital gencr
alitie$ rather than & descenl 10 t ritkal P-Inltulariliu. For euGl pie, the dislinttions we
make in .ct ual contexts of musical tomposition between fon\li lous wmpositioul
developments arrived at by th3nte or sudden inlighl and ,e.n\li.ne compositional
id!'.4tion or pre-&Onit reflection ,re 1011110 the larger ciainu of idealism,. yet it is pre-
t isefy these si tuated and J'I.I n lellw that ensure the iDteIligi.bwry of COlI-
cepulike
" II 11 n n U rn _ - 1T'

.
I:
.'

!
II II II
The Language of Feeling
3
Art, to the minds of many, is the language of the emotions. Like
many prevalent views in aes thetic theory, this one initially
appears to be both obviously true and conceptually harmless, but
like most sweeping claims, it simultaneously houses trutb and
falsehood. Beneath the apparentl y unobjectionable claim lies a
powerfully influential analogy between art and language, or, more
specifically, between art and a certain conception of htnguage. In
this chapter I first identify most common conception of lan -
guage employed in this particular variant of the anal ogy and make
explicit its implications for the understanding of'art. I then tum to
a consideration of some cases of aesthetic experience which pro
vide a testing ground for that theory, and finally I come back
around to examine the very idea of the experi ence of m eaning in
language upon which the art-language analogy, in this formula -
tion, ultimately depends.
The particular conception of language Iinvestigate is perhaps
best expressed by Locke; its implications are most directly and
unhesitatingly explored by Ducasse in his stillinfluential Philoso-
phy of Art; the experiential subtleties that surround li.n.guistic com -
prehensi on and unders tanding were examined with the greatest .
precision by Wittgenstein. The first question, then, i s how "lan-
guage," when it appears inthe assertion "Art is the language of the
emotions, " is meant.
,..... .. oW - - = _.
The Language. of Feeling p
DUCASSE AND THE LOCKEIAN CONCEPTIO N Of
ARTI STIC MEANING
Locke's description of the nature and functi on of language best
articulates the conception of linguistic m eaning that is here funda-
mental; for this reason itis worth quoting at length:
Man, though he have great variety of thoughts, and such from
which others as well as himself might receive profit and delight;
yet they are all within his own breast, invisible and hidden from
others, nor can of themselves be made to appear. The comfort and
advantage of society not being to behad without communication
of thoughts, it was necesSary that man should find out some
external sensible signs, wbereof those invisible ideas, which his
thoughts are made up of, might be made known to others. For this
p UJpOSe nothin.g was so fit, either for plenty or quickness, as those
articulate sounds, withwltich so much ease and variety he found
himseJJ able to make. Thus we may conceive how words, which
were by nature so well adapted to that purpose, came to bema.de
use of by m,en as the signs of their ideas; for then there would be
but one language amongst allmen, but by a voluntary imposition,
whereby such a word is made arbitrarily the mark of such an idea.
The use, then. of words, is to be sensible marks of ideas; and the
ideas they stand for are their proper and immediate signification.
The use men have of these marks being either to record theiI
own thoughts, for the assistance of their own memoryj or, as it
were, to bring out their ideas, and lay them beCore the view of
others; words, in their primary or immedi.a.te Signification, stand
for nothing but the ideas inthe mind of him tbat uses them . . .
and let me add, that unless a man's words excit e the same ideas
inthe hearer which he makes them stand for inspeaking. he does
not speak intelUgibly.l
What are the components of this view? Among the conclusions
we might extract from the foregoi ng passage are: (I) thoughts are, at
:. fohn Locke, A.n &say Conc:eming Hl.Iffllln UDderstanding (,6901 reprint, New
York: Dovel, bk. 3, 8, 8, pp. 8:..." 1).
.<
UTU u ., 'ii' .,1 III ur U II 11 11 II II IJ U
5' Art as Language
leastinthefi rstinstance,"hiddenfromothers"in thattheyarepri
vatementaloccurrencesI"withinhisownbreast ") thatasyethave
nolinguisticform("cannotof themselves by madetoappear"li {21
"sensiblesigns" were inventedto st andlorthosethought s (the
" invisibleideas")inthephysical world;(31 articulatesounds-
words-arethosesigns, which thespeakerutters; and141thecon-
nectionbetweenthetwO entities,onemental(the idea)andODe
physical(thesignl. isarbitrary, madeby "voluntaryimposition."
Thesefourcomponentsputusin a position to understandLocke's
generalconclusionthatthesignificanceofawordistheidea thatit
standsforinthemindofthespeaker, andthatsuccessful conunu-
nication i s the result of exciting the same ideas in the hearer

through theemploymentofthematerialsofwords.
Ourfirst taskis toseehowthe cl3im thatartis thelanguageof
theemotionsrelates toLocke'sconception oflanguage.The rela-
I
!
tion consists in theirsharedmodel of idea-excitationwhichis
thoughttooperate,inbothl.anguage:md aIt, as atypeofmeaning-
mechanism.Although theaestheti cvariantofthetheoryisdirectly
expressedbyDucasse, thewell-known remarksofWilliamJames
regardingtheemotionallyevocativecharacteristicofwordsprovide
anill uminatingintermediatepointbetweenLocke'stheoryoflan-
guageandthecorrespondingtheoryofart.
James tetlsus that "wefeell a word's lmeaningasitpasses,"and
that"thereisnotaconjunctionorpreposition,andhardlyanadver-
bialphrase, syntacticform, orinflecti onofvoice, inhumanspeech,
thatdoesnotexpresssomeshadingorotherofrelationwhichweat
some moment actuall yfeel toexist between the largerobjectsof
OUI thought ....We ought tosayafeelingofand, andfeelingofiI,
afeelingof but andafeelingofby, quiteas readilyaswesayafeel-
ingofblue orafeelingofcold. ,,2
:I. . William.,ames, PltncJples of Psychology, vol. I ILondon, 1890),p.181 afld pp.
14j- 46,quot edin P.fl.Lewis,"WittgensteioonWordaandMusic,"flrttilllTournai of
Au thetia 17 (19771: I II-Ill .JamiDdebtedt oLewU'sworkhC1t botb....valuabk
SOUrceofreferenceson topicstreatedinIhischapterandfor sugestin,furtherdirec
tion. lo u ke ininvcstlptingthe puallelsbet weenart isticandlinguist ic meaning.
'amea'.poi nt isdisl:uased byWiUgeD51ei n inThe BIlle ond BlOwn Books (Oxford:
flull 19S8), p.78.
U U if if if if if t1 U U U t1 fl fl 11
The Language 0/Feeling 53
Thethesisisabundantlyclear:aspecificideaorfeelingisexcited
in themiodofthehearerby theotherwiselifelesssign3thatserves
asitS signifier.Thisisstrikinglyreminiscentofa well-knownpas-
sageofDucasse: "Artisthecriticallycontrolledpurposiveactivity
whichaimstocreateanobjecthavingthecapacitytoreflectt oits
creator, when hecontemplatesi t withint erest in itsemotional
import, thefeeling-images thathaddi ctated thespecificform and
contenthegavetheobject.,,4
Thisparticularanalogybetweenlanguageandartisthusgaining
in specificity:theworkofartstandsparalleltothewordwithinthe
sharedidea-excitationmodelofmeaning.s The "feeling-image"of
theartist occupies precisel y the same place in the explan:ltory
schemaasLocke's"idea"in themiodof thespeaker.Onthisview,
whenaspeaker communicatest ous, heexcit es ideas in ourminds
which,ifcommunicationsucceeds,arethesameasthosebehindhis
words. Similarly, whenan3Itistsuccessfullycommunicatestohis
audience, it is also through the excitation ofideas or "feeling-
images" justasJamesdescribedthisfuncti onin language.Thedeep-
est andmost fundamental similaritybetween LockeandDucasse
canbes t be broughtintofocus t hrough anexamination ofwhat
DucassestatesdirectlyabOUllanguage.It is nocoincidencethat,in
thecourseofexpoundinghistheoryofart,beturnsalmostimmedi
at e.lytothequestion"Whatessentiallyislanguage?"Heanswers
thatitisthe "intentionalexpression ofan innerstate"andiofur
therexplainingthatremarkmakesreference to" theantecedent
presenceofaninnerstate,"andthe"antecedentinnerstatewhich
eventuatesitsovertutterance."Heclaimsthat"theantecedent
innerstalemeantisapsychicalone. Andtheevidenceforasserting
itsexistenceisthatofinuospection.,,4Here,likeLockebeforehim,
,. Thi swayat puttingthematter,Le., U II qUe81ion oJ li.nIUlst ic'ign<Uld itsllie,
derivein omWittgenstein, Thll Blue oInl BroWll Boolu, pp. 5- 7.
4. CurtDucuse,N Artand the ungwgeof theEmotions, 1ourn",1 of
ond ArlCridcism :l) 109- 11, rcpriDiedin At$theliC$ ond lheArts, ed.Lee A.
laoobu.(NewYOlk;MeCraw-HilJ, 19681,pp.47- St lQuoUtionhomp.St.
s. Thi.nlbnceonlang\llgeasa modelloraesthet ie Ihl'Ol'}' Ucommonamong
exptt8sion theoruts and, IS we sullICC in following chaptCTS, is by no mtan,
restrictedtopieWiUteDSle:inian thcorul .
6. DUC355e, PbilOliopby of All (J 919/ reprirot,NewYork,Dovel , 19661, p.J:I..
54
Arl as umguage
Ducasse is persuaded that linguisti c meaning isofanessentially
inner and purely menta)nature, and thus thatthe meaningofa
wordisprior toandseparablefrom itsexpression.Onthisview,the
outwardexpression is oa tIinecessary pan oflanguagejonewayto
expressthiswouldbetosaythatawhollyunexternalizedlanguage,
comprehensi bleonl y to thespeaker,shouldbe readilyintelligihle.7
Oftheexamination he is conducting intothe natureoflanguage,
DucassestaUs:
Whatitreveals ist hat(developed)lao.gu:.ageis anlintuitionalJ
external expression 0/an inner psychical stare. EXpressionof
one's meaning in words may be undertaken withthefurther
intentionofconveyingthatmeaningtosomeoneelse,andpossi-
blyofaffectinghisbeh2vi orthrough tltis.But itmayfail toeffect
thisconveyanceofmeanin& and yet it remainsspeech.More-
over, expression ofone's meaninginwordsmaybeundertaken
withoutanyint enti onofconveyingthemeaning, thenoreven-
tually, toanother, evensupposing thatother t o beone's own
futuresell(aswhen One nota letter,butamemorandum
orrecordforone'sownuse).8
Indeed, Locke cl ai medinthepassage quotedearli erthattheuse
people "have of these marks [is] either t o record their own
thoughts,fortheassistanceoft heirOwnme.tning. or,asitwere,t o
1
bringout theirideas, andlay t.hem before theviewofothers ." For
i
bothauthorstbe ext ernalsign,or theexpression, is conceivedin
thesame way,i.e., asanOutwardobjectwhichcanbecontingently
at tached to itsinnersignificanceandwhich may be anisolated
11
II
object itselfsubj ect tocomparison.Havingwritten asentence, or
havingassembled agroupofsigns, Ducasseaskshimself, "Isthis
themeaning that Iwas tryingtoexpress! And, inasmuchas, upon
comparison,Ijudgethat itis,Ilet thesentencestandas
7. fur"helpful ditcul$ionofthi siu ue, , pecliic.illywithinthephil osophyofun-
seeB. Armstrong. " WiU&enudnOn Pri vate LI.,ng\II&e:ItTakes toTalk, "
Pbilo.wpbicalluv&lfgudonl 7h984t. 46-6:1.
8. Ducasse,PbilO$ophy o{ Arl, PP.14-H.
9 Ibid., p. B .lustbclOre thi, quo"tlon, hewrit et dill! "there W15 IlIlt ccedemly
prCSCDtinmyconsciousoen I thought,whichIt myproblemtoupressin
,
'.
TheLanguage 0/Peeling
"
Itisd earthat, as aconceptual necessity,fora compari sont o take
placetheremustbeatleasttwOobjectspresentwhi charemutuall y
distinguishable. 10Itisalsod earwhythefeeHng-imagesoccupythe
centralpositioninDucasse'stheoryofan,asanaloguestotheideas
inthemindsofthespeakers inthe correspondingtheoryoflan-
guage.Thushisviewofanisinthisfundamentalwayidenticalto
hisviewoflanguage:theexternalmanifestationofthespeakerand
ofthe artist, whichinthe formercasearewordsand inthe latter
caseworks,areproductsofapriorinnerment"31 origin.Theyarethe
physicaleffectsofmentalcauses. Theartisticfeeling-image, li ke
thelinguisticidea, neednotforceitswayourwardintothetangibl e
formofanart work-itmay, like the speaker's idea, conceivabl y
remainforever unexpressed, becauseitis fundamentall ypriorto
landthusseparablefrom) itsexpression,andunlikeitinkind.II
Oneimplicationofthis viewis tbat, ifthe perceiverofthe art-
workcanbesaid tounderstand the work inthe way we allegedly
understand words, then thefeeling imagesoftheartist andofthe
10. DuussealsoIoayttb." " words....ereIfound10 be)extraordinaril yusefulas! i&
nals, is10 !laYasmet llS01communicationoft en. ininnerSII IU,vb.,me.ni.n,p"
(ibid. l.ThetOpic ofroetl ta.l pbysiu lcomparisons. odtheircOlUltetionwit haestbetit
pc:cepdonVld.e$theLic uu tivitywi Ube mo,e full ydiscussed inOIaplu 4.Onthe
philofophlcalruotl vuiOtl 10 ,doptthis mislu din&linJUiSl ic dualism,Ice L\ldwig
Wiugen5teill,Pbi losopbiCll I fnvu u,ll lions, 3ded., nans.C. E.M.AnKOrube INew
York:MAcmill. n, 33 4:.. '50you ' eall ywanted touy. ...- We UteIhis
phrase inordertolead t omeone hom oneform ofn pfes,,jon to another.One is
tempted\ 0 usethefollowinCpit tu,e:whathcfu ll y' wVl tcd touy.'wh,1I be' meant'
w'"alreadyprurm w roewbt're inhismindbeIo,ewe pveItCIfJI ' CS$ion."
I I . There15,however, altbe" roe t imea dliferenc:e bet ween Ducute'aviewsof
l1ngw.ceandofan,01, 'ccunteiy, partialdiHeleoc:e.ThediHuenc:econu rns
Ihe.tbitraz1nusoftbesign. Intheeaseof language iliJd earthatDuw se,UkeLocke,
takuthesigns-\hewords-ollhelatIgUllge tobe connected inan utt erlyalhi trllty
w.ywiththeIdealtheylUVe toexpress illthemind.Lockespuktofthe"volunt uy
that.ccountedfOTtheconnectionbetweenidea andsign,andDucuse
speaksofthe Njnveoted"'lIDs. inthecaseofut,however,Dueassedocs rde.r 10"the
icclm,; ' lnugcsthatbaddi ctat edthespeclfic andcontentbe[theartist Ip ve the
Here itsounds ISifthele isanartlnieparallelto the"natUIalennMed on"
Lockesa.i dtbelc notbeinlanguageh<ecawewedo notspeakone univeruiIan
guage.f ortbcpreseot ,however, weroayproceed,havingestablishedthllt Dueauc's
theory ofutisconstructedaroundthecent,. 1ideaofanextctn. lanworkfiringin the
minJofthebeholder110 innerfeeling-image,andIbninthisitis perfectlylI0tlOgDU8
Locke's Iheory of1ancuagewbereoutW81dsignsforro In \hemindsoftbehuters
inward ideas.
.-
ififIf" II Irnll.1 IfII U UrI! U 11 11 .,11 U I'.,IF 11 ,or ",r f1 if oJ'
,6
ArtasLanguaglJ
perceivermustmatch, justas, for Locke,"unlessaman'swords
excitethesameideasinthehearerwhichhe makesthemstandfor
inspeaking.hedoesnotspeakintelligibly."Indeed, cementingthe
analogy,Ducasseasserts that"theconclusionsreachedabovecon-
cerning the language 01 meaning, and theconsiderations upon
which theywerebased, applyequally to thelanguageoffeeling,
thatistosay, art.,,12
Thistheory oflanguagehas, of course, beensubjectedto2 great
dealofinvestigation,particularlybyWittgenstein.13 We willreturn
tohisworkonthisviewoflinguistic meaninginChapter6; it is
sufficientforpresentpurposestoshowwhatthetheoryoflanguage
is towhichartisbeingheldupforcomparisonandtoshowhow
thatimplicitlyheldtheoryoflanguageitselfdeterminesthesubse.
quentconceptionofartisticmeaning.Itis,however,worthnoting
in passingthatthetheoryisbynomeansobviouslytruein theway
l
itrna)' initiallyseem.It is true,indeed,thatwordsmayfireideasin
I
thehearer's mind, buttbosefired ideasarerarely associatedwith
themeaningof tbe word. For example, upon hearingthe word
"indubitably"onemayberemindedof, nottheimageofcertainty,
but the imageof anacquaintancewho oftenused theword, an
imageof thewell-knownportraitof Descartes, a handof C. E.
Moore, orcountlessotherthings.Similarly,afeelingmaybe fired
in usuponthehearingofaword, butthatfeeling,as inthecaseof
hearingthenameofanobjectdistinctlyrelatedinourexperienceto
someonelosttous, isby nomeansequivalentto themeaningof
theword. Directlystated, theclaim,"EverytimeIhearX'feelY"
isperfectlyintelligibleanddefensibleitheclaim,"Themeaningof
XismyfeelingofY"isfarlessso.Totakeoneillustration,aprison
wardenmayaskaninmate,"Whatdothewords'operationtunnel'
mean to y o u ~ What the words do in fact mean to the hearer
depend on the contextual circumstances, which in this case
includethefact thatthisindividualandhisfellow inmateshave
I
beenworkingformonthsatdiggingtheirwayout.Whattheinmate
iscausedtofeel by thisquestion.i.e.,simultaneousalarm,fear,and
11. DuUe,Philosopby ofAll, p.16.
Il See, fore:umpic,Wittsenuein,TheBlueand BrownBoob.
The Language of Feeling S7
disappointment, have nothing to do with the meanings of the
WOlds "operation" and"tunnel,"justas thewarden's thoughtsof
hiscertaintyof theinmate's guilt,orhisdoubtabout theinmate's
guilt,orhisfeelingofuncenaintyduetohisdecisiontoproceedon
thebasisofan anonymousandunreliabletip, orhis reflections on
hissuccessinthiscase, oranyothersimilarthoughtsorsenti
mentsarenotconstituentsof thestrictdefinitionsofthesewords.
In asecondexample, athoughthighlyspecifictoaperson'slegal
troublesmaybefiredbythelegalphrase"partyofthefirstpart";
herethespecificthoughtis inonesensepartofthemeaningofthe
pluase,andinanothersense-sinceitisathoughtspecifictothat
person-notpart of themeaning. And in thiscasea feeling of
gloomandafeelingofvulnerability tofinancialcatastrophe may
overcomethehearerofthepluase, alongwiththespecificthought
attachedtothephrase,soboth thoughtandfeeli.ngs arefiredhere.
in ways makingitunclearwhethertocounttheseas partsof the
meaningofthephraseornot.Butin anyevent,thespecificthought
andthefeelings ofgloomandvulnerabilityarenotinanystandard
senseconstituentsofthemeaningof thephrase"partyofthefirst
pan."Asathirdexample, aperson maybe tooquicktojudge,and
learn thatfirst impressionsofpeoplecan beinaccurateiherethe
nameofaperson,say "John,"initiallymisjudged, canservelater
notmerelyas thenameof thatpersonbutas areminder,in rather
specificcircumstances,ofthedangerof renderingjudgmentstoO
quickly.In thisC3se,afriend mayutterthename "John,"first,in
referencetoJohn,second, as areminderof theinitialmisleading
impression, third,as awarningnottojudgetooquicklyanother
person nowpresent,andso forth. Forthe hearer, theutterance
"John" mayfire thesethree thoughtsaswellasmemoriesof the
settingoftheirfirstmeeting,otherpersonspresentatthatmeeting.
andanyofcountlessotherthoughtsorfeelingsassociatedwiththat
initialencounter.11 we ask thespeakerofthename"John"if she
m eant anyor all of these things, wewill of course get unpre
dictablymixedanSwers. Andofparticularinteresttothelinguistic
theorypresentlyunderconsideration,wemaywellget theanswer
"Well,yes, [supposeIdidmean that,although [had notexactly
thoughtof thematterinthoseterms,"whichmakescleartbatthe
,8
Anas
psychological constitution of the speaker does not---contrary to the
dictates of this theory-circumscribe the possible meanings of the
utterance.
Moreover, as a more general point against the theory, in these
cases commWlicatlon should, ifthe theory of language is accurate,
break down, as the idea fired in the perceiver is different from that
ori ginating in the mind of the speaker. It most definitely does not;
linguistic comprehension is not precluded by mismatched cogni -
tive or emotional responses.
Although chese few examples and crit ical remarks are intended
to suggest that the internal coherence of the conception of language
to which art is being conjoined caonat itself be relied upon to pro-
vide a stable conceptual foundation, the primary exploration here
must concern itsel1 with3rt. lndeed, a staunch defender of this for-
mulat ion of the art-language analogy might claimthat the model of
artistic communication it engenders is enlightening quite apart
from its accuracy or applicability as a theory of language. To pursue
this point we must tum to some sample locutions in the language
of an.
ART AND IDEA-EXCITATI ON
As examples of emotional states given rise by works of art, con-
sider the following cases:
1. Paintings of the French Baroque Court may leave more than a
shade of anger in a political activist wandering through a gallery.
She may admire the paintings, and let us further suppose that she
has invested considerable labor in familiarizing herself with the
criticism surrounding these works. She finds, however, that she
cannot help but be reminded of the dismal lives of the masses upon
which this delicate courtl y existence rested. This unexpected feel -
ing has struck her lor the first time in the presence of the paintings,
I
and she tries to drive the feeling from her mind and concentrate on
1
the paintings, but as soon as she turns to another painting glorify
ing the Sun King, the same feeling overcomes her. She proceeds to
the paintings of the residences but, unhappil y, finds herself pos-
The Language of Feeling '9
sessed by the feeling again. She finally that she simpl y can
not see the paintings through the feeling. and so goes to a room in
which she is at home, the room containing The Raft of the Medusa,
in which the poor souls clinging to the raft in the turbulent sea are
passed by a large, secure, undamaged ship.
:1. At a concert tWO students of musical analysis are seated
together. One has finished his work incounterpoint for early the fol-
lowing moming. the other has not. Midway through the Bach piece,
the second whispers to the first that he has to leave the concerti he
cannot enjoy the music. The music only Selves as a reminder of his
unfinished work, and even tbe soothing effect of music proves
unequal to his nerves. Leaving the concert hall, he goes to a practice
studio, taking his music notebook. and his worry, with hi m. He had
honestly tried t o listen, but every time he heard two independent
..
..

"
melodic lines moving contrapuntally his anxi ety only worsened.
3. A student of architectura l history travels to Rome for a few
days and isdevoting one day to each style period, i.e., Monday she
sees the ancient buildings, Thesday the Romanesque, Thursday the
"

,
Renaissa nce, and so forth . when she finally gets to the modern
period, her chosen field of specialization, s he finds that she now
feel s vaguely saddened inthe presence of those works; she ca.nnot
overcome a feeling, arising out of the works, of loss. She tri es to
force herself free of the feeling and spends a few days attempting to
recapture her initial enthusiasm lor the modern style, but having
seen all that came before, she finds s he cannot . Unable to see any
recent building without thi s unexpected and irrepressible sense of
aesthetic absence, she travels north and becomes instead a scholar
of Florentine Re02issance architecture.
4. A traveler goes into a gallery exhibiting Dutch stilllHes and
town scenes and is overcome by a feeling that he missed his era,
that he was born much too late. He is especiaUy taken by one pal-
ticular work and stands before it, utterly absorbed, for some time.
He finally leaves it, but with an odd feeling of longing for the past.
He is gripped by an emotion resembling nostalgia, a paradoxical
feeling of desire to return to a time he was never in.
5. A violinist attends a reigning maestro's recital and notices on
the program a little that she studied very briefly years earlier.
1QFEB. 2004 '
60
n II U (If If. 'If 11 U 11 U II U II U U UnU U II tJ U II U U II U U II U U "
ArtasLal'}gtJage
"
She had always thought it to be a purely technical exercise con
trived for the development of a certain technique, and she is more
than surprised to see it on the program, but when the piece is per-
formed, the violinist is stunned. The master performer has revealed
the inner coherence and beauty of the miniature t lude and elevated
it to 3. position o( musical :mthority she presumed it could never, in
the hands of anyone, achieve. As each successive phrase flows out
of the instrument, the listener's desire once again w play this
piece-or, rather, to perform it for the first time-strengthens. She
tries to listen attentively to the rest of the program withthe same
degree of interest and care, but the feeling Out she must return to
the again and the mental activity stimulated by the feeling,.

i.e., the repeated "hearing" of it inher mind's ear, substantially blur
her perception of the lest of the recital.
i
6. On a solitary stroll through Venice, a man is jolted out of his
reflections upon turning a corner and suddenly overhearins a piece
of music which is, in his mind, distinctly aSsociated with a person
he once knew. His mind is instantly flooded with powerful images.
Now, what can be said of these six examples as illustrations of
the theory that art is the language of emotion? Although feelings
arefired by the works of art, one might be inclined initially to
claim that the examples are quite clearly not illustrations. Most
involve feelings that are irrelevant to the work or works of an being
seen or heard; we certainly would not argue that a perceiver under-
stood a particular work ifhe came away from it uttering the sons
of things we might imagine the charact ers in these cases to say.
The matter is not, however, and as we shall see could not be, SO eas-
ily dismissed.
We know that the analogy with language implies that the works
serve as vehicles for the communication of feelln,gs whose origins
are in the inner life of the artist. We also know that the analogy car-
ries with it a corresponding conception of ani.stic understanding.
The artwork has been understood- Le., the content, or, ifwe are to
preserve the integrity of the analogy with language, what must be
called the meaning of the work, has been derived from it-when
the feeling isexcited in the mind of the beholder. What then is to
be said of tbe prerevolutionary French paintings? The viewer was
6.
71Je Language of Peeling
undoubtedly left with a certain feeling from viewing them, a feel-
ing so strong that she lost the ability to do the very thing she came
to do-to see, and to derive enjoyment from, the paintings. The
theory here legislates as follows: This viewer does not understand
the paintings, because she has been struck by a feeling other than
that which originated inthe mind of the artist; the communication
process inart has here resulted inthe variety of unintelligibility of
which Locke wrote. Simply put, the wires are crossed. But are we
entitled to reach this conclusion so Let us suppose, ex
hypothesi, that this viewer has studied the paintings in depth.
There is not a question about them to which she does not know the
answer, nor is a question asked that does not itseU provoke a dis-
cussion of many related concerns about the paintings and their
provenance. Thus there may well be a number of things to say
about this viewer, but the claim that she does not understand the
works is not among them. She understands them well; her problem
lies in being unable to see them through the filter of her feeling.
What must in this case be identified as her understanding of the
work is, against the prediction of the theory, unrelated to the feel-
ing fired by the work.
There are, at this jWlCtUre, more difficult questions to face. What
is to be said, ifthis way of construing the analogy is maintained, of
a history teacher who takes students to see the paintings in order to
show the students what life inthe French court was like? A theo-
rist speaking in defense oj the analogy might here object on the
grounds that the paintings are expressive works of art; they were
not painted inthe lowly interest of mere historical documentation.
That objection, however, invites more trouble. Do we now uncover
another unargued assumption that follows from the analogy? The
theory seems also to bring in its wake a reductive and unitary
account of why works of art are created: as a corollary of the theory
we are driven to the conclusion that works of art are created to
store and transmit feelings. Inthis way we are also led to a funda-
mental concern with the contents of the mind of the artist: but for
what purpose, we must then ask, was a portrait of Louis XIV com-
missioned? Ifour critical interests gravitat.e toward the minds of
the painters, a good deal of caution is needed in any wholesale
..

I
I
,
I
II
6, Art as LaQguage
exclusionofapparentlynonaestheticconsiderations!luchashistor-
ical documentation,becauseitis verylikelythattbis infaCt was
preciselywhatLouishadinmindwhenhecommissionedthepor-
trai t .Oncetheartistaccepted the commissionunderthosecondi-
tions,how wouldhe thendescribehis Uanisdefinedon the
modeloflinguisti cexpression, tben themererecordingofhistOri
calappearanceoughtobviouslytobeirrelevant;aspeakerintheact
of speakingisnotequivalenttoahistorianintheactofdocumen-
tation,Inthis case,however,weseethat deliberatehistori caldoc-
umentation does in fact have to be considered after all, as a
consequenceofthetheorywhichwouldinitiallyprohibitan inclu-
sionofsuchnonaestheticmotivesongroundsofirrelevance.
The second case, in which the counterpoint assignment has
remainedundone,presentsaproblemofadifferentvariety.Thestu
dentisat theconcert, listening tothedistinct melodiclinesofthe
music.Accordingtothetheory, heishearingthesignsthecomposer
hasusedtocommunicatefeeling.Helistenstothetopvoiceagainst
thelowervoice,andhearsthatuppervoicestartingonahighpitch,
descendingtowardameetingwiththelowervoicewhichismoving
upwardtowarditincontrarymotion.Thehighvoiceturnsupward,
andnowmovesawayfromthelowervoice,butthestudent 'S mood
doesnot liftwith themelodicline.14 Hisfeeling is now movingin
contrarymotionto thetopvoice; thesinkingfeelingofunfinished
workoverwhelms him.Whatdoes theanalogy theoristsaynowof
thiscase? Hewillwanttosay,keepingasafedistance, that thestu
dentcannotlisten,becausehe is, quiteunproblematicall y, tooner-
vous. Butthatanswercannotsuffice.The studenthearsthemusic,
andis infactat tendingtoitveryclosely.Itthuscannotbeclaimed
thatheisnothearingthemusic.Hedoeshearit,andwithpainstak-
ing, and in thiscasepain-evoking.. attentiont omelodicdetail.So
thefirst,andsomewhatdismissive,explanationfails.Thelistener's
problemisnotWthecannotlisten,if"listen"heremeanstohear
t4. th.vti,nventedthisconnectioDbetweenrilin,andfallinG lion .ndrisingand
fallingfeelli!pfortheputp05Cofthisexample,buttvtnthi ssimple. nddirect"olTe
'pondcncebetween,ignand beyondthttheoryit$cll,wbic.b nevcrmakes
cleatprec;lselywhatthetonnt ctionisbetWeenfedingimat;e$I ndthemaleri"lsofan
Inquest ion.
The Language of Feeling
"
andcomprehendcompositionalstructure. Thetheoristmigl:ltnext
saythat thestudentis hearing.orperhapsmoreaccurately, over-
hearingthesigns-the materials thecomposerusedtocommuni-
catethefeeling- butthathere, too, themechanism hasmisfired.
Thisanswermayseemanattractivewaytosalvagethehypothesis,
butitcannot withstandtheslightestscrutiny.Theinsurmountable
problemisthatthestudentdoes hearwhatwe, againthrough the
analogy, areencouragedto refertoas themeaningofthework.This
becomesclearifwetrace theproblemback to itsparentage inthe
linguisticcase.Toaccomplishthiswemusttakethisstudentoutof
theconcerthallandpiacehiminarestaurant,whereheoverhearsa
conversation inJapanese, not one wordofwhich he understands.
Accordingtothetheory, hehears thesignsbutcannotsimultane-
ousl ydecodethemeaningsarbitrarilyattached to them. Ifwenow
askwhethertbe casesin theconcerthalland therestaurantare
exactlyparallel, astheyshouldbeaccordingtotheforegoingexpla-
nation, theanswerisclearly thattheyarenot.Thestudentatthe
concerthearsmusicallinesmovingahead,eachonewitha strong
melodicidentityandstandinginvariousrelations tothe others; he
doesnot bearameaning1essorincoherentsuccessionofpitchesthat
aredevoidofdirection,propulsion,andcadence,orwithoutateleo
logical aspect .He hears all thosemusicalqualities, andwhathe
hearsmakesperfectsensetohim.Whateverhisproblemis,itisnot
aproblempattilleltothatwhichhe(acedinoverhearingtheconver-
sationinJapanese.Intherestauranthisauralexperienceislinguis-
ticall y unintelligible, whereas his experience at the concert is
musicall ycoherent.Thus,asthecasesinartandlanguagearenot
parall el, theirexplanations,whichaccordingtotrusparticularcon-
strualoflanguageproceedintermsofsigns detachedfr om mean-
ings,willnotbe identical.
Inthethirdenmplewemightsayofthearchitecturalhistorian,in
explainingherchangeoffield,thatshehasarrivedagainstherwil lat
anewwayofseeingworksinthemodemstyle.Shehasalsocometo
seeinanewway the Renaissanceworks thathad inphotographs
fail ed togripher.Thereis nothingconceptuallytroublesomeinthe
latterpointfortheLockeiananalogytheorist,butwhatcanbesaidof
the former! The problemisthis: thestudentnowseessomething
"

II n II UU(I II U II ",,"- il II "
64
Art as LaI)guage
aboutthemodembuildingsstrongenoughtomotivatehertochange
herfi eld,andwhatshenowseesisundeniablyonecomponentofher
aestheticexperience.Yet onthemodelsuppliedbyaLockeianvari
antofthelanguageanalogy,wecannotacknowledgethestudent's
newperceptionasonepartoftheexperience,becausewhatshe now
sees is somethingthatthebuildings,in contraStwith theirRenais-
sanceforerunners,lack. 15 Thedistinctivefeelinggivenriseby these
works is nOtoccasionedby anutteranceinthelanguageofart. Itis
occasioned, againstthetheory, bynoartisticutteranceatall. The
feeli.ngofdisillusionmentwithmodernism couldnotinfactarise
withinthestrictconfinesoftheanalogytheory; rat herthan signs
withoutmeaningswewouldherehavethe impossiblearchitectural
equi valentof meaningswithoutsigns. WhataUofthisbrings tothe
surfaceisthatwearegiven,alongwiththelanguage analogy,a uni-
tary definitionofthe aestheticexperienceasa processofdecoding
thesignsofwhichtheworkconsists andtheexperienceof thefeel-
ing resultingflOm thatdecodingorreading.The presentcasepre-
sentsto thetheoryanindisputabl epartoftheaestheticexperi ence

forwhich theorysimplyhasnoplaceand00 explanation.
Theforegoingpointisamplifiedinthefourth example,inwhich
thet ravelerfinds himselfvaguelylongingfor a bygoneperiodof
Hollandwhichheneverinfact witnessed.Herewhattheviewer
deriveshomthepaintingsisindeedafeeling oranimageofwhat
lifeinAmsterdamwaslikeatthattime.Theconditi onsofthethe-
ory, then,seemtobefulfilled.Theartist,letussuppose,wastrying
tocaptureoncanvasthespiritoftheage. JudgedbyLocke'scondi-
tionsfor successfulcommunication,theartisthas succeeded: the
viewerispossessedbythatfeeling. Theviewer'sfeelings, however,
cannotbe describedwithoutmentioninghis longingforthepast;
indeed, itistheparadoxicallongingalongwithhisnewlyacquired
senseofthespiritoftheagewhichsoaffects him.Sohowcanwe,
aga inwithinthe boundariesofthe analogy theory, explain this
Tosaythat thefeelingofnostalgiclongingmust havebeen
partofthe painter's initialfeelingis patentl yabsurd:he wasnot
I s Theobjecliona nnmbe m..dethat this purel yon.. nlalle,ed)error01
Criticism,[}utofcritici.!:.ingsomethifl8forwhJt it is beca...setbi sis in anyClseI
pan01IbeSl udeJII' sexperienceof thesebuildings whichmustbegivenafull KCOunt.
II II U {J If U UU U Ill' n
The Language of Feeling 6,
longingfor thosetimes, hewas inthem.Yet thatfeeling, inspired
intheviewerbutnotoriginatingintheartist, is againthedimen-
sionofthisviewer'saestheticexperiencewhichmustbeacknowl-
edgedbyany successful theory of artistic communicationand
whichcouldnotbeacknowledgedby thisone.
'!hefifthexamplebringsanotherkindofdifficultytolight.Atfirst
glance,wemightwellwanttosay,alongwiththeanalogytheorist,
thatthedesireof theviolinisttoreconsiderandperformanewthe
unappreciatedetudecannotbe includedas panofthemusicalcom-
municationtakingplace;onthecontrary, thedesireisinfactgetting
inthewayofandthuspreventingthecommunicationwhichwould
otherwiseoccur.Butcan theaccusationofaestheticirrelevancebe
madewi thanyconvictionfromthevantagepointoftheanalogythe-
ory? Weherearriveatafamiliarskepticalproblemofintention:How
canweascenainwhetherornOtthecomposerintendedtowritepre-
cisel ysuchanetude,onethatdevelopscertain techniquesandyet
alsoinspirestluoughitscharmanoverwhebningdesiretobe
Theurgentproblem is that the theory providesnocri.teria with
whichtodeterminetheinclusionorexclusionofpossibleintentions.
Howareboundariestobedrawnbetweenwhatistobeincludedas
partoftheartist'sfeeling-image, andhenceanessentialpartofthe
experienceofthemeaningofthe work, andwhatisnot?It istrue
thatthiscasedoesfill thegeneralrequirementsofthetheolY,insofar
as thelistenerhearstheworkandistakenoverbyacertainfeeling.
Atfirstglance, thefeelinggenerated inthehearerappearsplainly
irrelevant to aesthetic experience, while on second thoughtit
appearstobeperhapsthebestillustrationoftheanalogytheoryyet
considered.Butthetheorycannottelluswhich, becauseitdoesnot
demarcatetheboundariesofaest het icallysignificantintentions.
Withinthisconceptionof thelanguage ofartweareunabletodis-
tinguishmeaningfulasserti onsfromirrelevantinterruptions.
In thelastexample, inwhichimagesarebrought tothemindof
thestrollerin Venicebythemusic, theemphasisshifts from feel-
ings to imagesas theendsofartisticcommunication.Here, one
finds anindisputablecaseofimageevocationresoltingfromthe
bearingofmusic,whileatthesamet imethecriticalirrelevanceof
suchintenselypersonalimagestoa true appreciationofthework
66
ArtasLanguage
isobvious. The images arecaused by thework, so themeaning-
mechanismseemstobeinoperation,buttheimagesare notin
fact theresultof communication.Tbeyare,contrarytothe Lock-
eiaorequirementsof intelligiblecommunication,privatetothe
mindofthehearer, attachedbypersonalassociationorprojection.
A Wagnerian leitmotif,for example, maycall tomindspecific
imagesthrougheJCuamusicalassociationand,astheassociationwas
intendedbyWagnerandissharedbythelistener,theanalogytheory
canhappilyaccommodatethecase. Inourlastexample, however,
themusicalphrasesseemtohaveacquiredmeaning-theemotion-
allysignificantremembrance-intheabsenceofwhatLockecalled
a"voluntaryimposition"onthepartofthecomposer.Itistruethat
thepersonalmeaningwhichthemusichasacquiredmaybeofbio-
graphical interest, butithasnocriticalrelevancetotheworkThe
factremains, however, thatitisonewayinwhichmusiccan as-
sumesignificance, a kindof significancewhichisperhapsmore
commonthantheoristsandcriticswanttoacknowledge_ Although
theanalogytheorist,due to thesurprisingcombinationofsignsand
meaningwithoutintentions,mustproclaimthisvarietyofartistic
meaningimpossible, itmostassuredlyis not.
Someonemightinterjectatthispointthattheparticularanalogy
betweenartandlanguagepresentlyunderconsiderationisbeing
askedto bearlOa muchweight.Ln spiteoftheforegoing detailed
objections,suchadefendermightclaimthattheanalogy,quitegen-
erally,stillholds.AU thatisnecessaryistothinkofpeopletalking
toeachother.Simplythinkwhathappenswhenpeopleunderstand
aword:thesamethinghappenswhentheyunderstanda work.Itis
withtrusratherpUzzlingobjectioninmindthatwemustnowtum
tosomecommentsWittgens teinmakesaboutexperiencingthe
meaningofaword.
I:'.XPEIUENCINC MEANING IN WORDS AND WORRS
'I.

Itis undeniabl e that the analogy between language and art
enforcesthebeliefthatweexperiencethemeaningofaworkofart
justasweexpetiencethemeaningofaword.Itis truethatthe
,
J
TheLanguageofPeeling 6,
phrase"experiencingthe meaningofa word"doesnothaveappli.
cationsthatspringreadilytomind,butitisclear,giventheLocke-
janpresumptionsinthephilosophyof language upon whichthis
typeofanalogytheorist relies, thatanyanswertoaquestioncon
cemingmeaninginlanguagewillnecessarilyinvolvereferencesto
mentalexperiences.Onthatview, afterall, a meaningisamental
experience,soifartistopossessmeaningthenit,tOO, mustinduce
mentalexperiences.
Theanalogytheorist,whoobjectedtothemoredetailedpuzzling
overthean-languageanalogyabove, Wants toexplainartinpre
ciselythisway. Itisperfectlyobvious: welookatorlisten tothe
workofartanddetivefromitwhatitmeans, just aswehearthe
wotdspoken andexperienceitsmeaning. Nothingcouldbemore
simple. Butisitorcoulditbesosimple!Herethesalientfeatureof
the theoryis thatourexperieneeofthewordor oftheartwork
occursaboveandbeyondtheacousticalwordorthematerialwork.
We knowthat,fortheanalogytheorist,understandingawordis an
innerprocessor eventthataccompaniesthe hearingofit,JUSt as
theaestheticexperienceisaparallelinnerprocess thataccompa
niesseeing, hearing,orreadingofanywork.Thusthequestionnow
facing the analogy theorist is: Howarewe to characterize that
experienceandhowmight itbeisolatedandidentifiedinorderto
renderitfuUycomprehensible.
Letuslookatafewcasesinwhichournotionsofawordandits
meaningseemtohavesomeapplicationtothisdifficultquestion.
First,thereisasenseinwhichawordcanbefeltto"fit"itsmean
ing.Wiugenstein, indiscussingtheexperienceofunderstandingin
language, gives theexampleof someonesaying, "Ifeel asifthe
name'Schubert' fittedSchubert' s worksandSchubert'sface.''' 6
Canoneprogressfrom thispOint,atwhichthere isaglimmerof
sensetothenotionofexperiencingthemeaningoftheword"Schu-
bert,"tothefullunderstandingweareinsearchof? Givenonlythe
onecrypticUneconcerningthesenseoffittingnessofa name toa
face anda. bodyofmusicalworks, theanalogytheoristmightseize
16. ludwigWmgeustein, PhilosOphiCQllnllesti8Qt ions, 3ded., trans. G.E.~
AnIcombe(NewYorl.:: MacrnilLm, I!i'S8),p.11, .HereIloliowthedirectionauggtued
inLt:wb'sPlpcI" WingtnsleinonWords andMusic.'"
"
I
u u
~
1
f
~
~
U 'II Ilf " " " U IfU If II fl'1T U,-
68 Art as Language
theexampleandemployitinsupport of the Locke-Ducasseview.
Indeed, sucha theoristmay claimthatitdemonstratesexactly
whatis wanted, i.e., thattheexperienceoftheword-themean-
ing-hasbeenassociatedinmanypastinstanceswith itssign,
"Schubert,"andthatnowweare, asintelligiblespeakersandcom-
prehendinghearers,inapositiontoexperiencechatfit.If,however,
Wittgenstein'sremarkismorefullyinvestigatedandconsideredin
thelightofsomeothet'relatedpassages,deeperconfusionsimplicit
inthisconceptionofmeaningcanbeunearthed.Inwhatcontext,
wemustask,wouldthename"Schubert"possesssuchasenseof
fittingness?
Supposethatata musicologicalconferenceweattenda paper
entitled"BeethovenandSchubert."When weget tothe lecture
room,thereisadelay.Finallysomeonecomesrushingintotheroom
carryingapaper,andwesettlebacktohearit.Itturnsout,however,
thattheauthorcouldnotcome,andthatthepaperisgoingtobe
readbytheauthor'sresearchassistantwho, thoughagood speaker,
knowsnothingaboutBeethovenandSchubert.Heapologizes,say-
ingthathejustfinishedtypingthepaperwtinstant,havinghada
handwrittencopyofthemanuscriptpassedon to himfrom acol-
leagueof theauthoronlythatmorning.Unknowntohim, thecol-
league,infamousforpractical~ k e s reversedthecomposers'names
throughoutthepaper, leavingthemcorrectonlyintheclosingline.
Theassistantbegins: "TheyoungBeethovengreatlyadmiredthe
grandmasterofmusicinVienna,andwasinfactveryintimidated
byhim.WhenBeethovenwrote, forinstance,'TheTrout,'he...#
Everyone intheroomsulfers a jarringsensationand, recovering
from theshock,realizeswhathashappened.Thelistenerspolitely
resolve,withnolittleamountofrustling,shuffling. andwhispering,
simplytohear"Schubert"as"Beethoven,"andviceversa.Excerpts
knownandlovedas theessentialSchubertareplayedoncuebyan
assistantanddiscussedwithcriticalandanalyticalacuitybutunder
thenameofBeethoven.Finally, attheconclusionofthepaper, the
names<lIefinall yheardintherightplaces.Astheresearchassistant
reads, ,. And, inconclusion, itmayhe saidthatSchuberc's' Trout'
has...,'.hevaguelywonderswhythereissuesforthfromtheentire
audience3 suddensighofreli ef.
U U IIII II ilIll 1I1 1I1 1I1 n In,i'I" ill
TheLanguage 0/ Feeling
6,
Now. is thi s acaseofexperiencingthemeaningoj a wordin
whichsignandmeat;ling"lit"!Theanalogy theorist willanswer
intheaffirmative,havingheardthecollectivesighofreliefasthe
outwardevidenceoftheinnerexperience.Can thesound from
theaudiencesupportsuchanint erpretation?Firstamongthe
manyproblemswiththeexampleisthatitissurelyanextremely
unusual, ifnotwildlyimplausible, case. Itisseenandunde r-
stood only in marked contrast to the normal case in which
"Schubert " meansSchubert,andtheanalogy issupposed torest
uponthenormalcase. Dowe, then,experienceinthesameway
the meaningsofall theotherwordsinthepapersatthemusico-
logicalconferencewherethenamesareinorder? Nocorrespond-
ingexperiences occurthere; itissimplyphenomenologically
obvious thatthereisnotacontinuoussenseorexperi enceoflin-
guisti cfittingness. Asecond andmore importantobjectionis
that, in theinterestofgivingcontenttotheanalogy, thecas e
oughtto beidentifiableas one ofexperiencingthemeaning ofa
word.Itisnot, for thereason thattheexplanation whichinfact
arisesoutof thiscase, i.e., "SomehowthenamesgOt mixedup,"
isnotbyanymeansprimafacieequivalentto"Heexchangedthe
meaningsofthewords. " ItwouLd thus takeaseparateandfur-
therargumenttoshow thatweareheretalkingaboutmeanings,
where meaningisunderstoodas a mentalentity.Thi sleadsinto
thethirdproblem,whichconcernsthevery distinctionbetween
awordanditsmeaning.Is if clearthatwehaveseparableentities
ofdifferentontological natures ?Is itclearthatwecanadd and
subtract, orarbitrarilymixandmatch, using words andmean-
ings asisolatedparticulars? Ifthefundamentalissueisnotclear,
thenthepowerofthisparticularanalogybetweenlanguageand
art isconsiderablyweakened.
Wittgensteinwrites:
"newordfalls, "oneistemptedtoexplain,"intoamouldofmy
mindlong preparedfor it. " ButasIdon'tperceiveboththeword
and themould, themetaphoroftheword'sfittingamouldcan't
allude to anexperienceofcomparingthehollowandthesolid
shapebefore theyarefitted together, butrathertoanexperience
'
70
11/ .. II II II .. ..
....
Art as Language
of seeing the solid shape accentuated by a particular back-
ground.
11
What is the significance of this cryptic remark lor our problem of
the experience of meaning! First, the "mould" must correspond
to the multitude of thoughts concerning Schubert, but indepen-
dently of the name "Schubert." That is, not only a lace, but an
entire constellation of thoughts, without a name: atl we know,
think, and feel about Schubert . Second, the "solid" corresponds to
the name or the mere sign "Schubert," or, more accurately, "5-c-
hu-b-er-t," considered in isolation from any and all of thase
thoughts of Schubert. Wittgenstein's conclusion is that the sepa-
ration cannot in fact be intelligibly drawn; the temptation we feel
c
is towards incoherence, it being impossible to "perceive both the
!

word and the mould" in isolation from each other. How could the
analogy theorist get us to call Schubert to mind without ever say
ing "Schubert"? Itmight be done in a musicological version of a
charade game, but of course here the theorist is still operating
with signs. To make the distinction good, the theorist has to be
able to thi nk of Schubert (the mould) wit hout thinking "Schu.
bert" (the solidi. This conceptual subtraction cannot be effected.
When we think of the man and his name, " the solid shape is
accentuated by a particular background"-words that initially
suggest the possibility of a separation which funher investigation
reveals to be impossible. Thus the present direction in our pursuit
of the experience of a word's meaning has not helped us under
stand the meaning of a work of art, but has rather exposed a fur
ther confusion in the view of language upon which such:1 version
of the art -language analogy rests. We, quite simply, do not yet
have an experience in language to which the experience of mean
ing inart can be compared.
Ifconceptual subtraction is impoSSible, perhaps addition, where
sign and mental experience are both present, will fare better. Itis
j
clear that necessary conditions for "signhood" have been estab
'1
>
" lished by the theory of language under consideration. Signs must be
17 WingcllStein. The Blut and Browv Books, p. 170.
"-
-
The umguage of Feeling
"
arbitrary, possessing in and of themselves no intrinsic meaning.
Alone, they are merely senseless blasts of sound" and it is only
through the addition of 01 connection t o the mental component
that they acquire meaning. Tbe analogy theorist might insist that
at least these minimal conditions for signhood have been met and
18. See, foc eumple. Searl e'l devel opment of this theory In Speech Ac/si Cam-
bridge: Cambridge Univ"",siry Press, 19691. sccC$peci.aUy pp. loS-4 l, Of
mlrk on piece 01 paper" Isan instance of linguistic commlluiealion is dis!>n.
guished from nonlinguiltic by itl bavin, been with certain
kindsol intentions" ip. l oSl. On Ihe nut tecolwe aUeged :ubhllrlnes.s 01 the con
sider Witt!:tnnein'5 case of repealin!: a word over IIId avel fOlhat one leds llul the
" word 1051 ita muniD,J; Ind became a were sound'" tPhilosophJCJlllllvwi&au01U, p.
1141. Upon rwenry or dti.rty fast rqoeddons of"' beagle," fat cxample, the word cornu
10 sound like a p.iliof 1I0nsense syUables) it, indeed, beeomu mete sound. ln Icsponse
to tbe question Is your f....oche dog', howeveJ, It seems to back into
place, its Ilorutnsiul air vanisilJ.n,Kl on the second hurin,g 01 the word inconte::.:t we
can no longel hear iu DOnKnsieal 5()und. Does litis eumple levulwe CS$ent ial
trariness of the l igo! proponeM 01 the tbeol'/ undel review hele will !plerna
rurelyl answe, yes. Throuth ItpClition, it will be claimed, I wedge was dri ven belween
the sign and Its meaninL pulog Ihe meaning oIfthe back of the sigl, and the recon
ttxtu;ili:r.nion of the word brought the t wO demcnl$ back loget ber. Aod of COlll$e
works of art and thei r meanl.ngs will oorrespO:lDdinpy be construed ., deUichable. ln
lact, it is only Keming,ly obvious that the twO components, arbitrary sign and mun
ing, bave been Jejoincd .IIthe moment ofus.age.. Ifthe sign Is ddi.oed as li feless and
intrinsically meanin&ieu, andifthe We is given by the associated !I'Iunin!. then pre
cisely sl:ch aWeless acousdcal blut must be pttSent as half of t.be whole when the
Whole-the rombinatlon of sign and meaning-luppuu incontU.t. Bul it is plccisely
the nonsensical of that has and along with il Ihe identifying
nun. of (he ami{ury ii.!;:n" pltaence. AI long as the word i.II defined as a compolite
including Ihe ,"biuat)' ,ign as the physial beller of the meDt,u illUDing. and as long
as the Drbjtwry i8 conspicuously absent in the actual employment 01 the word,
then the conception of langulI&t bere serving 33 IUl analogic.l base for artistic meanin!:
eludes comprehension. To put it brieily, ifwe havc Ihe word that we understand tn
eantat, we donol haw. tbe iign {the noise or acouSlial blu tl, IUld vioe veru.li we are
unable 10 articulate what was sllbalcted by repetition, or what was added by lceon
then we luve ult imltely very little Inthe wly of an anlloglcal founda
tion for an I.LI1demUldin,ol a.tistic weaning.
Although tIDSi$not the place 10 pursue the Olalla II leneth, I note in paUL'll; Ibat
tbese nutten in panicular (as weU u Wittt;enltiWI's latel won on the ntidorrnulalion
of t be problem oflinguiStic munin!: in term, of the sign lod ilS lifel significantly
tedllce the oplanat.ory v,ull!: of.emiotic aest hetics. For tbe lIug\l i5l lc foundation of
thi) dilcction, S SemioLic:.s: An Introductory Anthology, ed. Raben E. Inni!IBloom
i.ogtou: lndiaru Univel5iry Pres., 198s1, especially pp. 14-17, where Fculinllld de SailS'
l ure's ehim wat the wOld, the " linguinic sign, uniles "Cot a thingand a but a
concept and a sound.image" iiidieclissed, along with his belief in the
union of the two mtponenn."
..
73
II II 'U 'If flI U If H If IJ .. IJ U U
"
Art as
thus that this theory of communication does at .Ieast in this sense
have application.
A banker named A. E. Kell og meets with a familiar loan appli-
cant and agrees to lend some money. The grateful borrower says,
"Well, A. E., lowe you. " Later that day in a singing lesson, the
teacher asks which vowel sounds the borrower will practice, and
our friend replies, "Well, A.E.I. O.V" The case is of interest to the
theorist because it does indeed seem to show that the signs are arbi-
trarily associated with meanings. This man, he will claim, said the
same trung in both cases but meant different things, Le., he
employed the same int.rinsically meaningless signs but, as an inten-
tional contingency, attached them to different ideas. This claim,
however, is in fact indefensible i1 not hostile to the point tbe anal-
ogy theorist wants to make. In order t o give content t o the additive
model of signs and meanings, we would need to preserve the sense
of arbillariness as a component added to the possessor of signiii-
cance, the attached mental meaning. There is, of course, no sense
in which what tbe borrower said in either case is arbiuary or fun
damentally meaningless. It appears that when we have people
speaking in contexts we have a rather conspicuous absence of lin-
guistic signs; the necessary condition of arbitrariness of signhood
has thus by no means been met.
Nevertheless, the theorist mi ght argue that, regardless of the
state of arbitrariness of the signs, we are in b ct in search of t he
experience of meaning, and that this is ShOWll by the fact that we
can take a word one way or another: this, finally, is enough to place
the art-language analogy on a firm foundation. The theorist might
remind us of a remark of Wittgenstein's: "You can say the word
' March' t o yourself and mean it at one time as an imperative at
another as the name of a month.,, 19
JUSt after this passage, however, Wittgens tei n adds, "And now
say ' March!'-and then ' March no /urther!'-Doe.s the same expe-
rie;nce accompany the word both times-are you sure?"l0 Here we
arrive at the final problem wit h the idea of the experience of mean-
1)1 . Wiugell.stein, PbilwopbiC41 IIlVe3ff&atkms, p. ::us.
10. Ibid.
II U " U .1 lr U tJ U UUlTlf7T1T
The Language of Feeling
ing which lies at the heart of this analogy. It is clear that "March"
means the same in both cases; there is no confusion here betWeen
a military command and the name of a month. Yet the experiences
which accompany the hearing of t hese different cases are obviously
correspondingly different. Here what must on the theory be identi-
fi ed as the same sign, with the same meanin&r gives rise to different
experiences. This of course implies that the experience of the word,
however that is to be described, and the word's meaning, are not
identical, Yet it is, after all, the very meanings which are allegedly
experi enced. Thus even if we do locate an experience att ached to
words, we still have not necessaril y locat ed the experi ence of

Elsewhere Wittgenstein writes, "Ask yourself: ' When I said
"Give me an apple and a pear, and leave the room," had I the same
feeling when I pronounced the two words ' and'?' ,,21 As intelligible
speakers on the Lockeian model we ought, of course, to have had
the same feeling associated in each case to the sign "and," which
would be followed by a decoding of the feeling by the hearer. If,
however, we agai n consult experience, it is clear that this theoreti-
cal prediction is not fulfilled in linguistic practice.
To make the point clearer, suppose we are charged with caring for
a group of children who have made their craving for ice cream very
clear. With their special interest in mind they inquire into the
schedule for the afternoon. They are answered, "We' ll go to town,
... and Sl Op by the playground, ... and go to the park, ... and then
get some ice cream." "And get ice cream! " they all ex.citedl y repeat
to each other. Ea ch of these "and's" obviously differs. There is
something very much like a crescendo, or a building of t ension,
through the progression of them. Moreover, the "and's" the chil-
dren repeat are aU unlike those forming the crescendo. This would
be simply impossible within the strict confines of the theory under
consideration. The theorist here cannot accommodate these kinds
01 cases without saying that since the experience of each " and" is
different, each of these is in fact, against the appearances, a differ-
ent word with a different meaning. This conclusion is clearly
l l . Win&enstcin, The B/ueDnd BlOwn Boob, P?9
iaJ ;. H n .1 l,..--:t..- '
74 Art as Language
absurd;forall theirdifferences,theyarenotdifferentwords.As for
theirmeanings,onedoesnotknowquitewhattosay, because LO
this pointnothing thatcould definitelyanswerto thename" the
meaning"hasbeenlocated;itmostassuredlyisnottiedtotheonly
varietyofexperiencewehavebeenabletospecify.
WE 3refinallyinapositiontoreach aconclusionconcerningthis
panicularvariantoftheart-languageanalogy. Onthisconstrualof
language,nothingisitselfclearlyspecifiableastheobject,allegedly
transportedinlinguistiCcommunicationviathemeaning mecha-
nismwehavediscussed:wehaveDOt beenabletofind alinguistic
meaningtowhichthemeaningofaworkofartisbelievedtoexist
asananalogue. Theelusivetarget of muchaesthetictheoryand
criticism is, when construed on Lockeiangrounds, a mythical
entityborn of a misleadinganalogy. The question what is the
meaningof aworkofart, where "meaning"carriesanimplicit
analogywi thlanguageandwhereinturnlanguageimpliesafunda-
mentalsep3Iabilityofmeaninglrommaterials, isaquestion that
oughttobe treatedwithextremecaution.Uanentityof3 suspi
ciouslyilldefinedmetaphysical natureispresumedtoexistas the
meaningofawork,aestheticdiscussionwiUnOtproceedalongfun
damentallines:insteadofasking: whatwemeanbyartistic"Il).ean-
ing. " we merelyask what critical approach best captures that
meaning.rt is,andought tobe,anundeniabletrutbtbatartpos
sessesmea ning, and itissimilarlyundeniable thatartexhibitsan
expressiveaspect, but theassertion thatanis thelanguage ofthe
emotions, wherelanguageiselucidatedinthetermsconsidered
here,concealsdelicatefalscllOods withinunassailabletruths.Inthe
mostgeneralsense, however,language iscert ainlyaD. intentional
activity,andinthis respectitresemblesan. Thuswetumtointen
tional considerationsin thenextthreechapters.
4 ArtisticIntention
andMentalImage
At one point in the Philosophical Investigati ons, Wittgenstein
remarksthat"itisclearthatonecanwanttospeak withoutspeaking.
JUStasonecanwanttodancewithoutdancing.And whenwethink
aboutthis,wegraspattheimage ofdancing,speaking,etc." IIfwe
continueWittgenstein'squotation byadding"painting.composing,
sculpting, writing, designing," andso on, weplaceourselvesatstill
anotherproblematical, butpotentiallyilluminating,pointofinter
sectionbetweenthephilosophy.oflanguageandaesthetictheory.
THE ALLECED INTENTIONAL OBJECT
Whenwethinkaboutartisticint entionand creationitseems
almostinevitable-asin theparallellinguisticcase-toinvokeat
somepaintimagesofal readyexistentworks.Whyshouldthis be
thecase! Webegin,perhaps,bythinkingofaparticularworkofart,
suchas Picasso'sLes Demoiselles d'Avignon. Nextwereflectthat,
inorderforthework toexist ,theartistmusthavewanted topaint
thatparticularwork.Wearetbenin3 position toduplicatemen
tallythephysicalworldof artworksbyattributingtothemindsof
theircreatorsmentalworkswhichexistedprior to, andwhichina
sensecaused! theirphysical realization.Whatassumptionsunder-
1. 3ded., traM. G, E. M.Anscomb(;(New Yotk:
Macmillan, 19581, RoC. }l8.
76
'{flIT'! lU n If U IJ n II [I U UTI} {J U 'J U II 1111 II II II II U U Zf tJ
Art as Language
lie this progression of thought and make it seem, from this partic-
ular perspecti ve, inevitable!
This question can be answered, I think, by elucidating what is
involved in t he very idea of wanting, for example, to paint a picture.
Wanting, in connection with the creation of artworks, does seem to
entail some reference to a prior image, because this image serves as
the object of the want: it is the image that renders the want intelli-
gible. We cannot comprehend "I want, and yet there is nothing I
want," or "I want, but what I want is nothing." These are specimens
of nonsense precisely because the want reaches out, not to some-
thing as yet unknown, which would be understandable, but rather
to nothing at all. Stated directly. wanting has a necessary conceptual
connection with its object. Why, however, should the object of the
want be conceived, perhaps unwittingly, in the simplest possible
way, which is as a mental represent3tion or image of the completed
painting itself? One explanation for this is that the concept of want-
ing is uken to be unitary, so that all Cases, even the exceedingly
complex ones such as wanting or intending in art, are modeled on
the very simple C35eS, such 3S, for instance, wanting a peach. If the
idea of wanting is reduced and unified in this way, the view that art
images precede art objects becomes more plausible the more one
reflects upon it. When we see peaches at the market and find our-
selves wanting one, the want is clearly directed toward an already
existent object. The artist's case, however, is in a striking way
unlike thi s; the artist is the creator of the object. The work of art
does not erist before the want as the peach exists before we see it.
Yet both are undeniably cases of wanting and ii, again, the possibil-
ity of an object is necessary to the intelligi bility of the want, then
the work must, in some sense, exist-If the work does not exist phys-
ically, as it most assuredly does not in cases of wanting or intending
to create, then, this line of reasoning concludes, the work must exist
in the only way it can, which is, of course, mentally.l
1. There is a polent ially instrueLive ambiguity here concerning Ibe exampl e of
want in8 a peach. We mighl indeed wane the pankulac peach before us in l be market
now, and thus wanl a preexisting panicular, 01 we migln, away from any
want 3 ripe;tnd sweet peach. In ease, ofcouue, it docs nOl loUow IMI there
exists a peach litting lhis description from the meTe psychologiul t ruth Ihat we want
Artistic Intention and Mental Image 77
This view has not had to struggle along in relati ve obscuri ty
without distinguished exponents. In the development of bis
famous argument Anselm says, "When a painter considers before-
hand what he is going to paint, he has it in his understanding.")
Alberti refers to "the painter ... {whoJ can represent with his hand
what he has conceived with his mind. "4 An early instance of the
intention-as-image view in both art and language can be found in
the Pythagorean philosopher Archytas, who thought, as A. C.
Crombie reports, " that man had first to conceive in his mind both
what he wanted to explain, and what he wanted to make or do."s In
Vitruvius's De architectura we read of artists who want to "put
into practice through a burning desire to produce in sensible works
with their own hands that which they have thought out with the
mind.,,6 Oilier claimed that "a good painter is inwardly full of fig-
ures,,,1 and we al so know of Leonardo's repeated assertions that
II art must begin in the mind before it can issue through the
one, nor does it follow Ihat there eXlsts a fully articulated and detailed imaglnuy
peach. All thai foUow$ is what the want already implies-that we want a peach 01 that
descri ption. Now suppose that an artist wmts to paint a portr.tit of Janes in oils. This
description "'a ponrail of Jones in oils" dna imply II good deal, i.e., it invokes 8 repre-
senlalional genrt': of ponuit ure, II specific mediulD for t hat representation, and so
forth. So lbe arlist un wanl 10 palill a IJOI u ait of Jones in . waydircctl y 3IUJDgQU& to
lhat of wanlins a peach s;llisfying the dest':riplion " ri pe and swt':Ct;" i .e., thea.rtisl may
assemble paint, bru&bes, unvu, sitler, arrallie li&hlillt;.. and $0 a D, bUi wilhout Ibe
psychological trutb of the ptesence of. thu "artislic Want" implying lbe existenu of MI
imaginary eount erpart of tbe complet ed portrail In the mind of t he artist . Simply
stat ed, the psycholOgical fact of wanting does nOI itself a.rgue in favor of aesthetic ide-
. hsm. Moce<)ver, even I cursory investigation intO Ihe concept of wanting shows that
it is not a unitary phenomenon, and so nonartistic wanting itself is nat a single, iden
tiliable experience that COuld serve as a dear and stable model for artistic warning. To
put Ihe mailer lingui sdcaJly, "'wanting" is II word thai geu its meaning through
reference to a sintle meDu l phenomenon.
3. Anselm, Pros/aglon, chap. " lI,: primed in The Exisl ence 0/ God, ed. John Hick
(New YOt:k: Macm1llan, 1964), p. :16.
4. Leon Battista Alberti, On Painting and S<:u/pWte, ed. and trans. Ceeil Craywn
(London: Press, 197:1), p. 58, qUOted in A. C. Crombie, "'Science and lhe Arts
in the RenaissanCl:: The Search for Truth and Cert ainty, Old and New," HUlary 0/ Sci
Me.: 18 (1980): :1H- 46, this quotation p. :133.
.I. See Crombi e, "Sc.ience and the Arts," p, 137.
6. Ibid.
7. Erwin Panofsky, The Li/e and Art 0/ Albrec.bt Diiret jPrinceton: Princelon Uni-
versity Press, 19HL pp. 'pooH.
,8
Art as Language
hands.'" Nor should one think this idea di ed young. Andrt Breton
claimed that "the plastic work of art . .. will either refer to a purely
interior model or cease t o exist.'" The belief that visual artworks
are the outward manifestations DC mental images can as well be
found quite readily in art criticism; indeed, one can see it plainly
enough behind the critical tHeM "brilliantly conceived and exe
cuted," where these two terms are thought to beDo t merely tempo-
rally but also ontologically distinct phenomena, the one involving
mental envisagement and the other physical embodiment.
The image view in language is characterized succinctly by
Wittgenstein's interlocutor in the section just preceding the one
quoted above: "But didn't I already intend the whole construction
of the sentence (for example) at its beginningr So surely it already
existed in my mind before I said it out ioud! "'O It is, then, precisely
this view of intention, in its aest hetic fonn, and the accompanying
sense that matters could not be otherwise, which should be exam
ined now,
Let us consider a Case in which the question of the relation
between intention and the completed work seems to be naturally
invited. The architect of the Tower of Pisa possesses an unusual son
of fame . His work is admired; yet we would not know of bim or of
his work were it nOt for an aspect of the tower that is wholly unin
tentional. As things stand, his fame rests on his mistake; he is the
recipient of a sort of aesthetic luck. We may suppose that the tower
e. Leonardo d.a Vinci, 'n'eatist on PatlUing. Codu Urbi.llas La/inus ta7a, trans.
A. P. McM.,ahoo iPrinceran: Prinoeum Uni vel"5ity r,s'L p. H . quoted inCrom
bie, "Science and the Arts, p. 1 JlI.
9. Andrt B.cron, Wbat Is Sur,ulism/, tr"ns. David GI$(:(JfIlC llondon: F"ber "nd
Faber, 19361. reprinted inTheDrieJ 0/ Modem Art, ed. Hem:belB. Chlpp IBc:rkeley;
University of Calliomil .Pt"" .,'81, p. 406. I hIve here only very bliefly cit ed .a few
notable instances ofthis cener .. 1viewl one source of m.aD7 fullcrc.asc. it Pano/
sky, Idea: A Ccncepf in An Thoory / 1914L trans. Joseph J. S. Pe..ke (New York: Harper
and Row, 1968). To take one cump1c, Cicero, undet the iolIuencc ofIbe Pl.uonic Doc
trine oi Forms, daims that Phidill5, "when he produced hi5 Zeus or hi! Athena, did noc
look at a human being whom he could imitate, but in hi, ownmind there lived a
lime not ion of this he beheld, on this he fixed bit atlenrion. and according. to
lIS likeneGl he din:cled hi ....t and hand." Encapsuillintl; Cicero's conceprion ofartis.
tic creativity, Panofsk.y I t. tes that in rh an b t 's "own mind rhen dwells a glorious
prototype of beauty upon which he, as, Clutor, m.y e<lst hisinner eye" !pp. 11-' })'
1 0. Wittgensl ein, Philosophical Inv&tisaUOM, scc. H 7/ see also tee. 114.
Artistic Int ention and Mental Image 79
fulfill s his intentions with regard to the particular variety and place-
ment of the columns and capitals, the number of stories, and so on,
but it is of course the way in which the tower stands that is of inter
est, and this was clearly not part of his intentional scheme or design.
This work of architecture appears to provide a case inwhich we
can coherentl y discuss the artist's creation within the rather clear.
cut categories of mind and matter, specifically II) his intentions, of
which he is ultimately the sole possessor, and (1) the publicly
observable work, which mayor may nOt fulfill or embody the
intentions. We could determine in this case, ifwe were to assemble
an exhaustive list of the features of the work, e.g., the choice of
stone, its particular appearance, a.nd so forth, in which cat egory
each of these particular featwes belongs. It is the leaning, of cowse, .1-::

the most salient aspect of the work, which is not intentional.

This dualisti c int entionintowork conception of artistic creation
projects itself, however, aU too easily over numerous further exam
pies. We may, for instance, go to hear an improvising pianist and
come away amazed at his ability, as one would say under the influ
ence of the intentionalist conceptual template, to play anything he
thinks, spontaneously a.nd flawlessly, without mediation. Here we
see the player and his instrument as the vehicle for the external.
ization of tbe musical ideas that the playerasintender has quite
literall y preconceived. Similarly, in watching a composer engaged
in the skills of his craft, we may find owselves amazed at what we
see as his masterful ability to commit immediately to manuscript
paper anything at all that comes to mind; he can instantly noute
anything he thinks, instandy rendering the mental in material
form. We may encounter an allusion to an anist's intentions in a
critical passage that states that the Sistine Chapd ceiling is a pro
found visual realization of an intricate theological program. Inall of
these cases it is natural enough to posit an image of the work, or, as
in the Sistine ceiling case, a compJex set of images, when we think
about the creation of the work. It is, however, as will become clear
below, one thing to say that the Sistine Chapel ceiling was painted
according to 3 theological program, and quite another to suggest
that a full y articulated conception in the mind of Michel.tngelo was
the mental predecessor of the work.
"
U U II(JIIJ( 1I U if0 U U U U U U
80
An as lAnguage
There is still another, and perhaps more simple, motivation for
using the intentionalist template: a work docs indeed come out in
one way rather thananother, although the other way isperfectly con-
ceivable and within the capabilities of the artist. With this observa-
tion inmind, it is very easy to think that from all the possible works
the artist has conceived, he lus chosen to externalize the one stand-
ing before us. InWittgenstein's characterization of the position, the
sentence must have existed complete inthe mind prior to its utter-
ance because the speaker must, after all, have intended the whole
construction. Ina similar fashion we can easily assume that prior to
its fabri cation the artist must bave had the intention that cone
sponds to the work. If we accept this notion of intentionas-image, it
is then a short step to the uncritically held belief that a question of
intention is invariably appropriate inconnection with any existing
work of art. This entire direction of thought brings us, willingly or
otherwise, face to face withthe general questi on entirely familiar to
aesthetic theory, " What is the relevance of the artist' s intention to
the understanding or appreciation of a work of art r""
DUALISTI C CRITICISM
Among the most widely known answers t o this question was
that of Beardsley and Wimsatt
ll
and the N ew Critics, who
ass umed the ready intelligibilit y of the notions of " the artist's
II . See, lor example, Henry David Ai ken, "The Aesthetic Relevaoce of Arti$II '
InI(lltionS," /oUlnai of Phildsophy Jl 741.-J3, reprintcd inArt and
ed. W. E. Kennie): (New York: St. Martin's, 19741. pp. 40)- 4 III Redpath,
"'llle Meanin& of I Potm," in Probleras in Au thellcs, ed.. MorN We.it% (New Yor)::
Macmil Lan, 1970), pp. 360-71; funk. Cioffi, "Intenti on ,nd Inl eq)l tution In Criti
cism," Proceeding, of the Aristorelian 64 1196}- 64): &5- 106; Mlhony Savlk,
Place of Inlenl ion in Ihe Concept of Art," In Harold Ae.J! bel lcs
(Oxford: Oxford Unlver. i l y PrC5S, 1911), pp. I 51anlty Cavell, "A Matt er of
Mean1n& [I," inhJt MUSI We Mean Whol Soyl (CalObridst: Cambrld&e Univel$iry
Prus, 1976), pp:. I t 3- 11l ikrcl Lang,"'The [mentioNI Fallacy Revisited," Brillsb lour.
JlOll of f4 (1914): 306-}14) IIId Muk RoskHl, "On the ' Intt nl ion' and
' Mu.ninl' 01 Wow of An," British /ournalO/ AuUJedc:.s 11 h9nt. 99-110.
I l . W. K. and. Monroe C. &ardsley, "The Int(lltl ond FallllC)'" inThe Vn
bal fccn: Sludiu in !be Meanin, of Poetry{Lo:xi.ngton: Un.ivenity ot Kenmeky Preu,
' 954), PP. }- l lt
-

ArtiSfic Int ention and Mental Image 8r
intention" and, in opposition to this, the " work of art," and con
fidentl y asserted that information regarding the artist's intentions
is aesthetically irrelevant and indeed pernicious. We should nOt
look t o features external to the work for help in coming t o an
understanding of the work. It i s, however, precisely this drasti -
cally simplified and misleading dualistic conceptual scheme, rest-
ing beneath the ques ti on t o which New Criticism was one
answer, that leads us to fee l that the general question of the rele
vance of intention is both critically crucial and theoretically
inevitable; inthis sense too this dualistic conceptual scheme per-
fectly parallels the position of Wittgenstein's interlocutor, who
employs the duali.sti.c scheme in thinking about bnguage. If,how-
ever, there is no uniform and exhaustive collection of descrip.
tions of a mental image which could be regarded as an artistic
intention, .a.nd no work' itself which is the direct result of the
artist' s intention and which answers to those descri ptions, then
there would be simpl y no pOint in tryi ng t o answer the general
question concerni.ng the criti cal relevance of intention. Lacking
such descriptions we, quit e li terall y, would not know what we
were talking about in asking the question.
It infact takes surprisingly little attention to detail to disturb the
equilibrium of the twoentit}' scheme. The jazz pianist BW Evans
states:
There is a Japanese visual art in whi ch the artist is forced to be
spontaneous. He must paint on a thin stretched parchment with
:) special brush and black water paint in such a way dut an
unnatu13( or interrupted st roke will des troy t he line or break
through the parchment. Erasures or changes are impossible.
These artists must practice a particular discipUne, that of allow
ing the idea to express itself incommunication with their hands
insuch a direct way that deliberation cannot interfere .... This
conviction that direct deed is the most meaningful refl ection, I
believe, has prompted the evolution of the exueme1y severe and
unique disciplines of the jazz or improvising musician. 13
IJ. Bill Evans, "lmprovu,uion In )uz, " Untr notes for Miles O' vls, Kind of Blue
(CoruI1lbiaLP PC Sr6},
8, Arl as Language
"Forced to be spontaneous," "interrupted strokes will destroy the
line," "erasures are impossible, " " in such a way that deliberation
cannot interfere"-all of these phrases can rather forcibly alter our
initial conception of what the musician (as well as the Japanese
painter) is doing. They describe a medium whi ch itself precludes
even the possibility of working within the two-entity scheme. Put
simply, the rigors of spontaneity prohibit it.
It is truc, however, that one could here argue that these
phrases alC forceful , bu t in the opposite direction, reinforcing
rather t han refuting the initial independence and eventual corre
spondence between image and work. If the artist has t hought
very carefully about the specific image he wants to create, and if
he has that image very clearly in mind before he picks up the
brush, then he can proceed to paint without erasure or change
precisely because these deliberati ons were made, with specific
alterations being adopted or discarded, prior t o the act of paint-
ing. The work thus embodies the artist 'S intention wit hout need
for erasure, deliberation in execution, interrupted strokes, Or
change. In response to this it must be pointed out that it is an
improvising musician here drawi ng the parallel with a form of
visual art, and that, even if the visual analogue of improvisation
can be redescribed in duali stic terms, the improvisation itself
never could be. Indeed, part of the challenge to the improviser is
t o invent musicaUy coherent melodic lines over changing
harmonic structures which, in their specific realization, often
cannot be anticipat ed; the similarly unpredictable rhythmic
di mension also enforces spontaneity. In the musical case, then,
erasures are impossible and an interrupted stroke will destroy
the (melodic) line, in a setting where tbe line is itself, very often,
shaped as it proceeds. What Evans says of his own work does dif-
fer considerably from the speech we would have inclined to
attribute to him under the influence of the two entit y scheme
which is the aesthetic form of the intentionalist template in the
philosophy of language.
The musician's response to our astonishment that he can play
exactly what he thinks might resemble the puzzlement of an ora-
tor if someone were to exclaim after her speech, "It was unbeliev-
Artistic Intention and MemaIlmClge 8,
able! You were able to follow pedectly the rules of grammar, word
order, sentence construction, and so on while going along at a phe-
nomenal rate-your mastery of the art is so complete that we ""'ere
altogether unaware of your effort!" The orator might well honestly
and correctly respond, with no small degree of puzzlement, that
the rules of grammar were the farthest thing from her mind as she
spoke and that her effort most certainly should remain unde.
tected, because it waS nOt there. Yet, on the disputed view of
intention, we would sureLy have included the following of rules as
one of the descriptions which gives coment to the image of the
work in the mind of the creator, and necess.arily so. Alter all, the
work does in fact exhibit the panicular characteristic of following
grammatical rules, and the work is only the physical counterpart
of the artist's inte nti on, so, inferring mental fa cts from physical
evidence, the intention must have had the following of the rules of
grammar among its constituents. To say that this was not part of
the inner, intentional work would be to say, on the image model,
that the physical work was unsuccessful to the extent that charac-
te ristics were present and observable which were not part of the
intention, just as unintended features are prominent in the Tower
of PiSa case. Instead of constituting one admirable aspect of the
speech, confonnity to a rule would then have to counted as an
accidental or inadvert ent result of some distortion, some mi s-
match, between intent ion and work. The improvising musician
and the composer, who follow the rules of harmony, provide par-
allel cases.I.Io
Evans's testimony is ohen echoed in the notes and biographies of
conductors, composers, painters, poets, and sculptors. The conduc-
tor Herben von Karajan tells of his surprise at discovering, against
his initial plans, that the tempos had to be changed in one of his
recordi ngs of symphonies, and Stravinsky refers to
himself as the " vessel" through which the Rite of Spring passed,
which, in conjunction with the image model, seems a curiously pas
14 See Roben E. &reta, ,. A Paradigm of An, " lourcnl of the ThllOry i1nd Criticism
0/ the VislJlll Arts I 11 9Sl): 7-1 9, and especially pp. 10-17, tot. of the ways
in which artistll 01 a liven style or ac:hool stand pnalJel, as follow"-,, of int,,-m.olited
M ea, to native of a
,"fit U U U U II II II " lJ
84
Art as
"
sivewaytoputthe rr.auer,IS Sculptureis perhapstheartinwhich
the intentionalist view has the greatest intuitive plausibility,
becausehereweare qui tesurethat theartistdoesn't chisel
awayandseewhathappens,butratherthat,belorehammeringthe
chisella rignitln$thet orch),theartistmustknow exactly whathe
wants.Indeed,nndertheinfluenceofPlotinus,Michelangelospoke
of"releasing"thesculpturefromtheblockofstone.Consider,how.
ever, thestatementofDavidSmith:"1cannotconceiveaworkand
buymaterialforit....RarelytheGrandConception,butapreoccu-
pationwith parts.Istartwithonepart, thenaunitofparts,unti la
wholeappears ...Theorderofthewholecanbeperceivedbutnot
planned.'d6Fromthisglanceatafewcasesitbeginstoappearthat

theartistneednothaveanyintentionalwork,understoodinterms
! ofan imagewhichcanbe completelycapturedby3 collectionof
!
descriptions,inmindatalLIndeed,whenartistsdohaveideasofthe
waytheworkwillbecarriedoutinmind,theverycharacterofthese
,
ideasoftenfails toconform totheintentionalisttemplate. illpaint.

ingUs Demoiselles d'Avignon Picassomaywell havehadasuong
visualimageinmind,butitmighthavebeenaprimitivefacemask,
ratherthananimageofthecompletedwork.
l7
Picassoalsodescri bes
r 5. Thecounties.leierencest oartisticOfereauvediscoveriesinthewritinp,$tne
menta,andjouTna\.i; ofmist.,wherethediscoveryinquestion reversesOf revisuan
initialplmofartisticexecution,collectivelyconstitute.m.ssiveempiricalltfutation
oftheintentionaltheory under considerationhere: iftills template,theoryweretrue,
00 such discovery wouldeverbemadebecsuset.b.e given mat.t.ri.alsof theartinques
tionwouldneyer theinitialintention.Fort.b.eSuavinlkyexample, leeRobert
C, aitand IgorStr:tvinaky,EJ.-POJ{r{ons and Developmencs (London:Faberandhber,
r961.I,pp. 147- 4S.PorthevonKaraj anexample,.ee"KataianT.lks.boutMUlIic with
IrvingKolodkin,1/ publislledwithvonKaraj an'a recordingofBcet lloyen'. NineSym
phonies withtheBertinPhilhannonic{Polydorlo(.Cmational,CmbH:no. 79S'
801, 191711 tee particubtly his remark, speck, if(may, of the metronomh;
indlution.We havetriedtofollowitveryclosely.Sometimesi tjl,Mt doesn' tgo.(thlnk
all-oywill beshocltedbythelirstmovementoftbe' ['aica'-itis teallyf.m:'
16. DavidSmith,"NotesonMyWork, - Alts}4 44, reprintedinTbeoriuoj
ModUllAI/. ed.Chipp,pp.S76-n.
t7. FOI.detaileddiswssionofacueinwhicht.b.e inf pirationforaworku ka lhe
fonnof frompreviousWOfk01 otheTartists,speeilicaLly,thecombinedinIIuence
!.

d de'Batbari',ApotJoand DUmtJandtheApollo &lvtdue,on DU.tCl '$AdtJm tJJJd Eve,s
RobutE.&rWandJosepllE. YOUO& "DetpaJldSuriac:eSUUCtulCS m AlbrechtDUru's
Adam and Eve Enpavin&andLru$C;l Fe.iwson'$ 1968Umitltd AcryUe /OW.
H lJlIloIlb... Thwf'ytJnd Critici.uttoj 1MVisual t\tuI{19hl:1 1-.]8,especially14-1.7.
UUirUUlJlJUUUUUUlIlJ
Artistic Intention and Mental [mage 8,
hispaintingFriendship as involvingalongandagonizingworking
out of technical problems bequeathed to him by Cezanne and
Braque.Hegavethe workits titlelongafteritscompletion,andit
wouldsurely be wrongtosupposethathis intentioninthis work
couldbeadequatelyrepresented byreferencetoamentalimage.His
intentionwas toconquerthe probl ems passedonto himand to
assimilatetheirsolutionsintohis style, whichquiteevidentlyhas
nothingtodo withanarticulatedimaginaryobject;indeed,thevery
ideaofworkingthingsoutinall is incompatiblewiththeinten
tionalistpicture.te Inthesame waYj thefact thatartistsoftenlearn
thingsabouttheirownworksaftercompletingthemdeepensthe
suspiciousnessoftheviewthatartisticcreationshouldbeviewedas
aprocessofmakingchoicesoneverymatterthatcouldserveas the
subjectofdeliberation.This isstrikinglyillustratedbythecaseof
T. S. Eliot, whoreadily admittedthathe couldbe taughtmany
thingsabouttbecontent ofhisOwnwork.I?
Itwouldbewrongto taketheseremarksandquotationsasdefi
nitelyprovingone ag.ai ns t another, forartists maybecon-
fusedordeludedabout theirbeliefs andpr.1ctices,andquotations
andanecdotescould nodoubt be broughtforwa.rd tosupportthe
intentionalist modelas weU.They.are assembledherefor thepar
ticularpwposeofshOWingthatthe twoentityviewofintentions
andworksisinfact far from inevitable;onecaneasilycharacterize
18. Theil'. :tie, ofcourse,Illodl'.bofmlemionotberthan tbeone underreviewbere
whicbareDotincomp;uibk withaproceasofWOl kiogthingsout111 CltCCution;see,for
eu.mple, BaJeLa, "AParadipnofArt,"pp. 13-14,and "'1111'. Visual Artsaslangwge,'"
j OUIoaJof thl'. TbI'.Qly and Cri rid,m of tbl'. Vi sllal hIS I lI ght;14<}-67,especially
160-64,inwhicbuti$lie pcrfo,mltives,moslofwhichdoDOI involvementalinliIg<:5,
dell':rminl'. thl'. ut iSl'$iml'. nlioo.I'muample,Wllhol',inll'.nt iOfl tocriticizcaoimplicit
lIestbetiCdit iJm isnotitulf.n imageof"soup-can,lIJld theintCitiontode6oe,$lyle
incontrast toab&tractupICQionislIlisnOIiUdf amultipleinugeofMarilynMoruoe.
19 InIIddillon 10 lheI'.:I;lIl1I.pie oftbeweli .knownworkonthednJu ofthe WasUl
LtJDd with&.i. Pound, Eliot'.l em2rlt. onhlaownmtl'.rpretationof1b:wysoo:"It
h3ppenaDOWUK!t bl'.fl that. poet by50ItleItrant... I-ccidl'.cteJ<PfC$lC$ themoodof bi!.
gwel'lltion,.t t belime timt that beis woodofhis ownwhichi, q...it e
reDlOll'. frommalofhl.,enl'.l'at ion. . .1letaveryIlUferent impressiooromfllMem0-
riam fromt hat which contemporariesseelU tohavegot.'"[nSelecud Pros.e
of T. S.Eliot,ed.Fr. nk Kt rrnode{New'York: Ha'CQurt BraceJovanovich, '97i l, pp.
1.43- 44SeeaJ50 Kermooe'.reRlll k:..U. ... hedisavowed the alltbor'sintentional
COI\lIol"!p.6, n. 'sl.
.. II t iDDnu u
"
Art as Language
numerousaspectsoftheprocessof. artisticcreationwithoutrelying
onitand, moreover, whenitis broughtintoplay,othercrucial
detailsconcerningintentions3rcobscured.

Afewsectionsaftertheonewithwhichwebegan, Wittgenstein
remuks: " Onecannotguesshowawordfunctions. Onehastolook
at itsuseandlearnfromthat."wWhat, then, aresomeoftheways
inwhichwecanask questions concerninganartist'sintentionsin
particularcasesandreceivesatisfactoryanswers? Thisis, ofcourse,
byno meansintendedtobeanexhaustivecatalogue,butrather
merelyafewcasesinwhichspecificproblemsofintentioncanarise.
First oJ all, we aresometimesinterestedinassessingthesuccess
oftheartist inworkingtowardtechnicalgoalsof overcomingtech-
nicaldiffi culti es.1n asking,"Didyou intendtoplaythatB-flatinthe
Bachpiece, ordidyoumeant oplaya B-naturaH" itisclearwhat
answerisbeingsought.Thesa me is trueofthequestion"Didyou
intendt opauseaiterthatphrasd"Heretheanswer may be "No, I
ranout of breath,"or"Yes, rfelt thephrasecalledfora division at
thatpoint."In neithercaseis thereany temptation topushmatters

furtherthanthistodi scoversomethingabouttherelation between
thepiecc, ortheinterpretationof it, and theintentionormental
imagethoughttostandbehindit,andifsuchaquestion wereasked
itwouldnotbeatallclearhowtoproceedinansweringit.
Second, aquestionaboutthe intentionofanartist mayariseon
accountofthes trangenessorunusualcharacterofthepiece.Aper-
sonmightaskforanopinion onwhatJohnCageintends byhis4:33
(thelengthoftimeforwhichtheperformersits, silently, att he
pianolAgain,ascuriousaudiencemembersweknowexactlywhat
kindofanswer to expect,suchas, "Cagemeanstochallengetradi-
tionalper!ormer-audi encerelationshi ps,"or"Cage isdetetmined
to awaken us to themusicofthe naturalsonicenvironment ";
debilitatings tagefright, orrathersevere t echnical incompetence,
are plainlyruled out, asare anyother answers that proceed in
termsofanimageoftheactualperformance.
I"
Third,a question ofintentionmayari sewher eawork ofartis
,;!
assumed tobeconveyingapolitical, moral, orreligiousmessage.
w . WiUge>Ulein,Philru<)phica/ Investigations, sec.140.
,
Artistic Intention and Mental Image
"
Mil tOninParadise Lost issaidbysometohavemeantthatManwas
appreciablybetteroffafter the Fallthanbefore.In The Raft. of the
Medusa Gericaultmayhaveintended tocaptureinasinglecanvas
theabuseofthelowerclassesbytheself-interestedupper classes.
Heretheissueiswhethertheartistwasconcernedwitha specific
doctrineorideaandputitintothework.Again, itisclearwhatisto
betakenasananswer( 0 thiskindofquestionaboutintention.Once
again,however, theanswers donotrelyoncomparisonsinvolving
Milton' sorGericault'spreexistentmentalimages.
Finally, therearecasessuchastheMasoni csymboUsm inMozart's
musicandtheallusionst oFreudiantheoryinNabokov. Although
theseparticularcasesareperhapsratherclear,onecaneasilyimagine
aquestionarisingwhethertheauthorwasexplicitlyportrayingina
specificpassagean instanceoflibidinalsublimationornot.Insuch
casesimagesmayplaycentral roles .Again, thisquestion is hardly
suffi Cient to prompt any question concerning the relationship
between an image and a physical object, or of the connection
betweentwoentitiesthatoccupydistinctontologic.a1 categories.
Atthispointweshouldaskwhetherthereis anythingconceptu-
allySignificantwhichall ofthesecasesofintention(the intention
toplayaB-flat, theintentiontoalterperformer-audiencerelation-
ships, theintentionto registera protest againstpoliticaloppres-
sion, and the intentional r eference t o Freudian or Masonic
doctrines)haveincommon. Ifnot-anditis notinany wayd ear
theydo-itisdifficult toseehow tbe generalquestion oftherele-
vanceofintention atwhichwearrived attheendofthepreceding
sectioncouldbemadeauthenticallycomprehensible. MoreovCl, we
arenowinapositiontoseethatevenifthereweresuchacommon
elementitwouldsurelynottake fOlm as anarticulatedmental
image,whichineachcaseisindispensabletothefOlmingofan
intention.:U
11. nusisnot,h()wevet,intendedtoeffectasweepingbehavioristicexclusionofall
mentalalipects ofallisticcreativit)'; thereareways01 )H'eservingl be menulwithout
s imllhaneousl y relyingODthemental image. TheartisI'sint ention,forexample,
mightweU includecomplexselsofune:umined aboul Ihearlworld
alongwithsel5ofspeciJi ccommunicativeartiSlicgutures, nODe ofwhichrequiru
IIny referencetoan imageforafuUelucidationoflhem.

88
U {II (U U U If U U II II U II U U1U U II II 'f II IFll 'f If IT II II II fill
Art DS Language
Someone sympathetic in perhaps a more refined way with the
central tenet of New Criticism (a tenet by no means isolated to that
phase of critical history) might reply that we need not suppose the
existence of this rather suspicious metaphysical entity "The
Artist's Intention" which is conceived of as an image of the com
pleted work. The point to be taken to heart, this critic might insist,
is that none of the specific artist's intentions, whether they are
images of tbe work or intentions of some other kind, should be
taken into account in an attempt to understand the work at to
assign it a value. The missed note, Cage's silence, The Raft of the
Medusa, and DespoiI must stand on their own; the New Critic will
say that these works are not to be accorded greater value in virtue
of details we may know about what the mist explicitly intended or
meant in the work. The piece was not better performed because B-
natural was intended. Cage's piece is not rendered a greater work by
our adopting the view that musical relationships need changing.
and to painting we ne't: d know nothing of
French political history; such knowledge, the critic might claim,
may actually inhibit a genuinely aesthetic response to the work.
l1
Similarly, reading Nabokov's Despair in Freudian terms may dis-
tract our attention from the real work thought to constitute the
core of hard literary fact around which layers of subjective inter-
pretation revolve.
The difficulty with this line of argument is that it rests on the
doubtful and equall y problematic assumption that we can distin.
gwsh between external evidence (that which concerns the artist's
intentions or alleged intentionsl and internal evidence {that which
concerns the work itself! in any clear and consistent fashion. Here,
in .additi.on to the problems encountered with the mental half of
this distinction, we are presented as well with tbe problem of
understanding what is me.ant by the other of the two aesthetic enti
ties-the work itself. Here we must ask what would be required for
1.1. This claim ill in fact aften made ill (;()fUlectiOD with the theory of the aeubetic
utltude and nonCOfOitlve or dlsinluuted aesthetic pclceptioDI see, for example,
Jerome Stolni l2., Jl u !huies a"d the Philorophy 0/ Arl (New Yol"k; Houg/uoo M.il0in,
1960), pp. reprinted in inuoduClory ReadingJ in ed. lohn Ho_pen
(New York: Free Preu, 19691, pp. 11- 17.
89 Artistic llltention and Mental Image
us to be able to see a work in strictly formal terms, or as standing
independently of all extratextual consider.ations. An appreciator
able to perform this perceptu.al feat would, for example, have to
read a text without experiencing any association between, among
other things, words or phrases and past experiences. No senti
ments, feelings, thoughts, places, events, relationships, satisfac-
tions, or disappointments could be allowed to emer into the
appreciation of the work. The reader would have to have a vocabu
lary that contained no favored words or particuLlIly meaningful
phrases and could possess no predisposition to PUt things in certain
ways. Otherwise-, the reader's affin.ity for a particular writer might
depend on the merely coincidental fact that the writer shared these
particular linguistic or expressive idiosyncr.asies. Of course, it was
recognized by New Crit ics that we cannOt prevent ourselves from
experiencing these kinds of .associations. My claim, closer to the
philosophy of language than to literary eriticism, is simply that the
notion of a neutral description 01 the work which would be read by
a re.ader who had also managed to discount external evidence is an
unattainable ideal. Moreover, if any such description were attain
able it would prove ultimately undesirable anyway. I. A. Richards
described ways in which the values and idiosyncrasies of his stu
dents got in the way of their understanding poetry,2J but he did not
attempt to give a description of an isolated aesthetic object, the
work itself. Similarly, he did not attempt to describe the reader
who perceived exclusively that which is internal to a work. One
might ask what :3 description of the work itself, for example, of
Bernini's Ecstasy 0/ St. Teresa, would include. The moral to be
drawn from a case such as this is that it is not clear where the
boundary is to be drawn between evidence and external
evidence, and it is not cle.ar by wh.at criteria we should make these
decisions . One can see how difficult this probJem becomes when
we ask what parts of the religious, cultural, social, and art-histori-
cal backgrounds of Bernini's work must be present to the mind of
the who cao truly be said to understand the expressions
on the faces of the two ligures portrayed io this work. For instance,
LA. Riduuds, Praclical CrilkUm ILoodon: Kqan Paul. 19:J.91.
" $2 A2 as is W, . Ii II Ii h 'i 'i 6
,0
Art as Lanpage

ii l' r ft ' "
it is fairly clear th3t we need.(.onsiderably more than that con-
tained by the descripti on "a little fell ow with wings stabbing an
ecstatic woman in the heart with an arrow." When we now go on
to ask what more, precisely, is needed, we begin to suspect rather
strongl y that the answer is not in any case going t o involve criti-
cally relevant facts that are clearly i.nternal, just as descriptions of
an elaborated intentional object of Bernini's are not relevant either.
Whatever background is necessary fa! the critical illumination of
this work, it is not going to be enti rel y captured or explained in
these terms.
Perhaps one reason that it has often been tacitly assumed that
art can be exhaustively described in some altogether neutral set
of t erms is that any other view is felt to threaten the possibility
of obiective critical judgment . The extreme claim in this direc-
tion would hold t hat if objective description is possible, then a
picture can in fact and in itself be no more than a collection of
patches of color on canvas and a musical composition nothing
more than a combination of sounds of various timbres and
pitches, both of which are the external Counterparts of the prior
intentional creation. This fear is, once brought into the light of
day, obviously irrational and the view obviously absurd. The
kinds of corrections of another person's reading of a work of art
with which we are famili ar do not presuppose the existence of
any such neutral and abstract entity. The musicologist may reply
to the student who is puzzled by a reference to dea th in an oth-
erwise jolly Elizabethan lute song, 'I [ n that lusty age, this rder-
ence is anyt hing but what it might seeml in this context ' death'
has a sexual meaning." Someone who read George Eliot as rec-
ommendi ng a passive resignation to Fate would requhe cOllec-
tion, as would someone who found Stravinsky'S Ri te of Spring
rather dat ed, conSidering it was composed last year. It does nOt
follow, however, from the mere possibility of correction that the
work of art is exhaustively captured by some finite set of true
factual statements about it which in turn describe an intentional
object.
Few will dispute that a poem, a novel, a painting, or a composi-
tion may mean a good deal more to a person of forty than to that
,tI \ti- \I; \IJ \Ii
Artistic Intention and Mental Image
,.
same petson at twenty, but how can such a fact be explained on the
supposition that the work itself lies under the critical and interpre-
tive accretions and dist onions superimposed on it! We may indeed
come to understand the language of a poet, but this need not mean
that we comprehend an overall intention, particularly where inten-
tion is given the definition we have disc.ussed above- a definition
that unfolds according to what Wittgenstein calls a "misleading
picture." 1n spite of one's desires for theoretical concision, the
question whether documentary evidence of the artist's intentions
or the kind of evidence provided by the art hist orian can contribute
to an understanding of the work will have different answers in dif-
ferent cases.
Yet music still seems diifexent, in that it appears to require an
elaborated intentional object in order to provide the identity of the
musical work and to illuminate the nature of the compositional
process itself. Whether or not it is different is the topic of the next
section.
MUS1C AND I MAGI NATI O N
When we inquired intO t.he nature of works of art in Chapter l. we
saw that there is a good deal of evidence against aesthetic idealism,
the view that artworks are, in the final analysis, imaginary objects
in the minds oC their creators. To reset the stage, we know that the
National Callery not only contingently but in some sense neces-
sarily weighs more than mere1y the sum of the empty building, the
people in it, and the assorted fixtures. This sum must also include
the weight of canvases, the oils on them, carved stone and marble,
and so on, all of which add up to substantially more than nothing,
which is at least the approximate weight of imaginary things. We
know that it takes considerably more than a verbal utterance or
acoust ical blast to transport an artwork, and we also know that a
visit t o the gallery is not going to amount to an afternoon spent
with wax fi gures of unicorns, flying horses, present and bald k i ~ s
of France or, for that matter, talking teapots. Against the idealist
theory intuition strongly protests that if works of art are imaginary
9> Art as LCl.I!guage
objects, they cannOt be the things we go to see in the gallery; and if
they are imaginary objects then, like a waxen Peter Pan, they are
surely not art . Mellon and Meinong simply have different kinds of
collections.
Ii
When we inquire specifically into the nature of musical works,
however, aesthetic idealism seems to possess iii much greater
intuitive plausibility. Bacb' s meticulous contrapuntal calcula-
ti on, Bartok's problem-solving quartets, Schonberg's twelve-tone
designs, and Wagner's carefully premeditAted placement of leit-
motifs all seem to emphasize the mental over the material; cal-
culating, problem solving, designing.. and premeditatin& simply
do not fall into a natural category along with things that take
It place in the physical world such as earthquakes and eclipses. In
I, fact, a melody can be transported via the acoustical bias!. Reflec-
; !
tions s uch as these propel one quite rapidl y towards the view
that, behind the perhaps misleading and certainly multifarious
world of musical performance there lies a more pure world of
musical thought, populated with the imaginary objectS of an
ideal reality to which all the aural flux impossibly, and in many
performances recklessly, aspires. Indeed, does not the very possi-
bility of poor performances or misinterpretations imply the exis-
tence of these immaterial standards of excellence, ultimately
private to the mind of the composer? What we have arrived at
here is an aesthetic correspondence theory, or the idea, examined
above with arts other than music, that there exist one-lo-one
dualistic relationships between that which is heard and that
which IS thought. Let me follow Wiltgenstein's recommendation
to "look and see, II and investigate this musical theory by consid-
ering some examples in which thought and imagination do in
fact operate.
l 4
1. Someone is trying to recall the opening theme of Beethoven's
Pifth Symphony; it seems to be on the tip of her tongue, but she
cannot quite remember it. She knows it begins with a note repeated
II
II
14 See in lb.il eonneetioD Wingen$l ein's admonition 10 look ond ,ec whether
(here is .nYlhin, commOD to oi tb.e muitifar!oul proeeedin,. Ih.t we cd l
',ames' " in Philosopbiall Investigations, sec. 66, and the subtequenl 01
"family in &(c. 67.
tI-tI {I tI tI {I II tr tI tr ill fir if tI
.,
Artistic Intention and Mental Image
three times and decides to work through the intervals systemati-
cally in her mind's ear until she hits on it. Her first effort-three
notes.followed by an ascent of a hali step-immediately strikes her
not only as wrong. but as moving in the wrong dllection. She tries
again, this time with 3 descent of a hali step, which is sti.ll wrong,
but closer, she feels. At last she tries wi.th a descent of a third. It
cli cks into place and the rest of the theme returnS to her; she
knows how to go on.
Now, in this case, the woman searching for the passage uses her
imagination; she thinks in pitches to find the passage. She is shuf-
fling pitches around, like a person with a forgotten name on the
tip of the tongue running through the alphabet in search of the
first letter, bUt she is thinking in pitches onl y 80 long as she is try-
ing to find something she has not yet gotten. Does she, in the
same way, think in pitches when the rest of the passage instanta-
neously comes to One may feel some diffidence at saying
anything here, but it is at least clear that she does not trunk or
imagine the pitch configuration in the same way as she does with
her search method. lndeed, one may say, in a manner reminiscent
of Gilbert Ryle, that with regard to the latter notes in the phrase
that come back suddenly she did not have w think in pitches,
because she did not have to think at al1.15 In any case, the notion
that (here is one kind of thinking or imagining of, or in, music
that is suitable for the correspondence theory is already cast into
doubt.
2.. A group of music students are thinking of their upcoming
examination in Baroque music, and one asks another if he knows
the melody to Bach's Cant ata 147. The answer is yes-the other
sings it straight off. We may be inclined to suppose that he also
thought of the melody in pitches. But in this case, unlike the pre-
vious one, he did not imagine the melody at all; he simply sang it
without imagining or thinking it; our understanding of his singing
it does not necessarily depend for its cogency on our conceiving of
rum as thinking or imagining.
1). See Gilbert Rylc, TM COnet pl 0/ MiDd (New York: Barna .nd Noble, (94-91,
!'.Specially pp. 31-60.
95
94
Artas Language
To be sure thereare casesinwhichwehearsingingwithout
imagination,'oratleast unimaginativesinging.. and there arecases
io which wehaveperformanceswithoutthought,orthoughtless
performances, butthissnldent'ssingingof thecantatamelody is
notsuchacase.
)". Hereis acaseinwhichthoughtundeniablyplaysapart:on
twosuccessiveeveningswehearrecitalsinwhichthesamepiece,
athemeandvariations,isperformed.Onthefirsteveningtheper-
formersimply runsthroughthenotes. Thepiece amountstoan
unimpressivehomogeneous stringof undifferentiated,undistin
guishedpitches.Ouronlycluethatthepieceisathemeandvaria-
tions isthetitleontheprogram.Thefollowingevening, another
, perfor mertransformsthepieceforus. Dynamicshadings, varia-
~
tionsin tempo,clearphrasin& and manyothersubtletiesofinter-
I pretationgive thethemeandeach of itsvariationsa uniqueand
i
recognizablecharacter.
Thefirstperformancewasameredemonstrationoftedulique,if
that.Thefirstperfonnerrevealedwhathesawinthework- asuc-

cessionof notesi hisplayingwas,for thisreason,thoughtlessand
unimaginative.Thesecondperformer,bycontrast,gaveathought-
ful andimaginativeperformance,revealingthestructural coher-
ence thatsheperceivedinthepiece. Now,inthesecases, thought
doesnotenterintoconsiderationas theidealistwouldpredictit.
Even thoughasacriticalremarkwemaysaythatthepiecewasnot
reall yperformedonthefirst night,thesimpleindisputablefact
remainsthatthepiece is presentonbothnights. Directlystated,
thoughtandtheworkarenotinseparable.
j
4. In thiscase,imaginationplaysanotherkindofpart:apieceis
beingcomposedcollectivelyby agroupofcomposers.Theformin
whichthecomposersarewritingrequiresamodulation toanew
key forthemiddlesection,andit issuggestedthattheyquicklyand
efficientlyaccomplishthisbysimplystatingthedominantchordof
I
thenewkeyjustattheendofthefirstsection,thussettingup the
resolution to thenewtonicattheprescribedplace.Allexceptone
agree. She,aft eramoment'sreflection,suggestsamochsmoother
modulationemploying3 pivotcbord-achordcommontoboththe
oldandnewkeys-priortot ~ newdominant .All immediately
Artistic Intention and MeIHai Image
.agree,congratulateheron hergood idea,and thcunimagi native
modulation isreplacedbythenewone.
Inthiscaseitisclearthatthepiececouldhavebeenwrittenin
theunimaginativeway, without thepivotchord,yetitwould
stillhavebeeninadefinitionalsensethesamecomposition,just
as an3.rrangementofapiece, althoughit may incorporatealter-
ations, isstillanarrangementofthat piece. Inthepresentexam-
ple, with the addition of the pivot chord, the piece has an
imaginative passageit otherwise would not have had. When
askedaboutthedifference-aquestion specifically concerning
theimagination-thecomposersintheworkshopwill pointnot
totheentirepiece,which ishardlyanansweratall, but to that
particularpassage.
s. A criticmay object toan orchestral pieceontheground
thatitis"meretexture."Itma ybeentirelycomposedofvarying
orches tralcolorsbutdevoidofanystrictlymusicaldevelopment
ormusicallogic.Thepiecemayindeedhavesimplyno thought
atall init, butaga.in, thepieceenjoysacerta.insovereigntywith
regardtothought,anditistbissovereigntythati.sincompatible
with the idealistview. Conversely, acriticmaycriticizethe
piece(orhaving,likeacwvaswith onlyabrightyellowsquare,
too much thought behind it, i.e.,she may object to itsbeing
bornpurelyof art theory. Here als o, ofcourse, the connection
between art and thought is not at aU wbat the idealist view
wouldimply. Sound and thoughthereh:tvea far morecompli.
cated relationship thanasimplemutual reliancebetweencan
ceptionandexecution.
6. Acomposerin thegroupmentionedabovemaybevaguely
dissatisfied withacertaincadence.Heobjectstoit, sayingthatthe
individual voices do not lead from one to the next smoothly
enough.Hesays,"Ithink,althoughIdon'tknowwhatitisyet,that
thereisanotherway todoit."Now,alreadyheisbeyondadoubt
giving thoughttothework, andyet there is not yet 3 work, in
termsof theidealist'sviewof thatentit y, towhichheisgiving
thought. Hethinksthereisanotherway,buthedoes notyetsee
whatthiscouldbe. to thepreviouscaseswehaveseenbothworks
withoutthoughtorimaginationand workswith akindofthought

96
Art as L.ar!guage
or imagination not accounted for by the theory. Here, however,
thought is undeniably present, and it is thought about the work or
any part of the work, as it is thought about doing the cadence some
other way, a way not yet i dentified. The correspondence breaks
down in both directi ons, i.e., both from sound inward to thought
and from thought outward to sound.
7. Now the composer suddenly sees what he has been looking
for: cather than the dominant chord in the cadence he was going to
use unsatisfactoril y, he can substitute a dominant chord one half
step above the tonic to which the domiMnt resolves. He sees that
both dominant chords contain the same internal interval of a tri o
tone, and it is this that generates the dominant function of the
I'
chords. He makes the substitution, the cadence is much smoother,
\,
and the work is completed. Now, however, this thought-every.

thing about the tritone and the dominant function- has been nec-
I
essary to the completion of this particular work. The thought, we
may say, has "gone into" the work. On the idealist view, is trus-
the thought involving the principle of the chord substitution- to
be a permanent part of the workr Apparently the idealist is com-
mitted to saying that it i s, and yet when performers perform the
piece, and when audiences hear it, in order to understand that final
1
cadence, i.e., hear it as a cadence, do they need to hear it also as a
substitute chord, bolding in mind t he original dominant cbord JUSt
"behind" it, so that the two internal nOles common to both chords
oved apl This was the thought, or at least one way to represent the
musical thought, tbat was essential to the composing of the work,
but no such imaginary overlapping of chords, or thinking of one
chord as a substitution of its predecessor, is essential to hearing
that thi s is a final cadence. Thus, hearing and understanding the
work is not, contrary to the conception of criticism as tbe recre-
ation of the artist's intention. identical with a reconstruction of the
thought that went into it.
What conclusions can be drawn from the foregoing detailed Cases
with regard to our general problem of int ention and the musical
variant of aesthetic imentionalism suggesting that musical works
are intentional or imaginative entities? We have seen cases io
which thought and imagination do enter into creati.ng, performing,
U U 1I1l11lf U U 0 U U U II U It DthOIJ U D If 111111 11 U 111111 JIll Jt
97 Artistic intention and Mentol 1mage
hearing, and understanding pieces of music. None of these cases,
however, served to illustrate the theory of the correspondence
between mental envisagement and t onlll embodiment. Thought
and imagination do enter into the creation and criticism of music
in a multitude of ways but, as it now a.ppears, in ways either incom-
patible with the correspondence theory or at least not explained by
that theory. In Olany cases the Strict application of the theory to the
case could onl y result in obliterating the distinctions we actually
do make regarding thought and imagination, and these di stinc-
tions, as seen in the examples, are themselves essential to our
understanding of those cases as involving imagination and thought
in the first place. Not all musical works or their performances are
thoughtful and imaginative, and although many are, those are not
thoughtful and imaginative in a uniform way tbat appears in every
case.
Ryle has discussed the compulsion t o make the case of thinking
analogous to that of fence-meoding, singing, and testimonial writ-
ing: no fence mending without hammering; no singing without
sound-making; no testimonial writing without marks on paper; no
thinking wi thout ___.26 The craving to fill this blank goes, of
course, by the name of essentialism. As a result of the same kind of
craving the aesthet ic intentionali st of the particular variety under
consideration here feels that, if we mean anything at all by
"music." there must be something to fill the space in " No music
wi thout _ __." His next response is to fill in this blank with
"imagination." As our glance at a few cases has suggest ed, how-
ever, this concept is far too ill-behaved to sit peaceably in such a
position.
THE crucial point in the preceding discussion is the one that stands
parallel to Wittgenstein's remark about intention in language: "But
here we au. constructing a misleading picture of 'intending', that is,
of the use of this word. An intention is embedded in its situation,
26. Ryle, "A Puzzling Element in the NotiOn of Thinking. in SwdieJ in we Phi
losophy of Though/lind Action, ed. P. F. StuW$On lOxford: Oxiord University Press.
1968), pp_7-1}.
I
,8
Art as Language
inhumailcustomsandinstitutions.,,27Specificall y, intelligibledis-
cussionsofthe artist'sintentionswill notconcerntherelations
betweenanimageof theworkitselfin themindoft heartistanda
physicalobjectpurported tobethema terial embodimentofthat
image. Foritisnotclearthatsuch animage needplayany role in
thecreationofart;noris itclearwhatthisimage wouldbe orhow
to describeitif itdidplaysucharole; lastlyitis notdearthatthe
accompanyingphilosophicalnotionof"the work"is anylessofa
mythicalproductofconceptualvertigoproducedbyanindifference
toactual casesofartisticcreat ionand criticism.In thesamedis-
cussionWittgensteinalsoremarks that I/ .aD unsuitable typeof
expressionisa8wemeansofremaininginastateofconfusion.It as
itwerebars thewayout."ulamsuggestingthatthe phrase" the
artist'sintention,"whenviewedasanembodiedimageratherthan
anembeddedcuStom, canveryeaSilybecomesuchanexpression.
Thenextquestion,however, is whatsignificanceWittgenstein's
philosophyof languageholds, notfor theunderstandingorcritical
analys isofa workofan,butfor theprocessofanisticcreativity
itself.
:17. PhilosophiCtl i /J)vesogatiOlJI,.K1;.. 331.Theculturally
natureof:tIUsticintentionis naturallybestshownthroughI dct.wcdtotISlikt:.ticm.of
the ways intentioD TitherthanIhroughanattempt10 ducribethisembed-
dcdnessgenerally.To wke.few briefexamples:O;t.!i'. delibe.r,lIeintl':Tltion 100Mus
Cltcmeanin&tall,once".spedu artisticU1tention,cUTUy muni1l,a;.Miro'li intention
togettheviewertoseethewOTk asa freel yas$(lCUtedcollect ion01im.getcanreveal
tbedistinctivecoherence01 the wodeBeckman'sswtedspecificImennonscanprove
t holOugblyhelpful i n;) conu::uwhe.u: the largerintention is to .1I0w pUleform to
communicateemotio-nwithout themediuionoftheart ist'.tbought,consistentwith
an exprsion.istprogram.Pl'opositionaUyenu.psulatedwtentiomcant1ansfonn the
unintelligible InIO lheeompreben'iblcin eontextsof conceptwlan, insofuasthese
aS$CnwintentiONl enderthelim 01 thepointoftheobject vi5ibJe.Mondrian'sanis-
tic plat on ism, as ID. intentional progTal!3, scrvC"l as I cont rn t to, andthusmake.
ulienldistinctivefutwr-iof,Moundi 'sverydilfe.rentvarietyof intention.a! platon
Ism, bothofwhichpl ovideacriticallysignificantb.ackpoundlor thecomprebension
of Zuccari'stxm:meDl anntTiam,itnlftheresultofst ill llllothcrv.netyofputonism.
Ibid.,see. 139.
5
AgainstCreation
asTranslation
Agooddealofdiscussionoftbeproblemofcreativityinaesthetics
haspresupposedthefamiliarphilosophicaldistinctionbetweenthe
phenomenologicall y privat e and the physically publiCI in this
respectit ol coursemirrorsagooddealofworkinthephilosophyof
language.Thecreativeprocessin arthasoftenbeen viewedasa
sequenceofeventsthrougbwhichaninneremit y,aparticularfeel-
ingoremotion, isgivenexternalrealization.Thiswayofconstru-
ing artistic creation also nourishes a familiar, and from this
theoreticalvantagepoint,seeminglyintractableproblem- howcan
aprivatefeelingbeinstilledintoaninan..imatephysicalobiect!
Theacceptabilityand, indeed, theintelligibilityof thedualistic
categoriesrestingbeneaththisconceptionofartisticcreationhave
been, ofcourse,calledintoquestionbyWittgenstein withinthe
domainsofthephilosophyoflanguageandthephilosophyofmind.
Thepreciseconsequencesofhisremarksforaesthetictheory,how-
ever,andparticularlylorourunderstandingofthecreativeprocess,
areoftenleftunspecified.In thischapter,then,I considersomepas-
sages fromWittgensteinconcemingexpression2Jld imentionin
languageandclarifytheirsignificanceforphilosopbicaldiscussions
ofcreativity.I willshowthatitis misguided,I althoughmisguided
in instructiveways, toseecreativi ty as a matterof theartist's
I. This conclusioninIIC$lhttlC$ standspat<llle1 to theeollclusioninthephiloso-
phyoflanguageth<lt the doesnotgetIts"life"b orn somepriorpnvltemenul
content . Wittge.mei n'.discussioninThe Blue and Brown Boob (O;dord: Basil
Blnkwcll,J9581, pp.4- 11 .
10 FEii
UUilLV
'00
Art as LAnguage.
clothing a preexisting feeling in a material shell or of reproducing
an inner object of any ontological variety in outer (orm. A careful
dismantling of the elements that make this approach seem plausi-
ble will itself point to a better way of undersunding creativity.
Wittgenstein's remarks provide as well the grounds for a reappraisal
of the role of the medium in artistic creation.
THE TRANSLATI ON MO DEL
Although the view of the creative process I want t o di scuss,
which I shall call "the translation model," can be found, expli citly
or implicitly, in the utterances of many theorists, critics, and
,
artists/ J will use one of the most concise formulati ons of this
,
model, the famous passage of T. S. Eliot, as a point of departure:
"The only way of expressing an emotion in the form of art is by
i
finding an 'objective correlative'; in other words, a set of objects, a
1. This dualiltie I'*l1ern of thought W.lS pahap$ most dearly articulated by the
theori sts of the Symbolist movement . During this period thi s model of crutivity
became fOI these theorist li nOI merely ont aspect of artisllc let lvi t y, but t he vel")'
e$5eDCe of art itself, and since that time the model ha.s retained its power 3S. cc.ntl.l i
lniluwcc on thought about art . for cn mple., the painter and theorist Denis
WIDte: have suh.uicuted fof the idea oi ' nature scCllthJOu&b ItnrlpcrameDt,' tbe
t heory of equivalence or of the symbol; we asserttd that the emotionl or spiritual
ltatCli caused by any . pcctacle bril'4lto the imaDnatiOIl oi the lIrtut lyrnboJa or plu tic
equlvalems. ThClie arc capable 01 reproducing emotions Of_l tales oi the . pmt without
It being occus.ary to provide the copy of the initi.a.l spcc:taci e/ thUII Ear e.ach state of OUf
acnsibiJity there mUSI be a eorrespondi.nsobjcctive hlIrmony capable of eXpra.sing II."
"De CauguiJI el de Van Cosh. u Clusic.isme," l.'Occlderu IPari s, "'by 19091, reprinted
" "Subjecti ve and Objective in Theories of Modem Nt, cd. and trln5.
Herlchd B. Chipp IBullelty: Uni veI$it y of Calilomu. Press, 19&8 1. pp. 10S--' . The
t l'1l rt 51111011 model also appears h:npUcitly in the critic C.Albut Aurie!'. manifesto
"Symboli sm in PaW Cauguin. " In thit I:&say 2 number of ch.,acttrist ia of
the new lUI are lUted; arDOn, other things works oi rIIt must be " ldwl, for ilS unique
idu l will be the el1pteuicm oi Idea, ... Symbolist, for it will thiJ l1ie3 by
meanl oi forms," and "SlIblccuvt, for the obj .-et will never be coDai dertd I.lI an obi"1
but .. the . ign olin idea paceived by the luhjet:t." Symbolilme t n peintun:) Pnu
Gauguin." Mucw e de Fr.:lnct 2 (paris, 18911, uans.lL R. Rookm..kel alld Htnchel B.
l.
Chipp, and reprinled in Theonu of Modern Art, ed. Chipp, p. 9:1.. To understand fully

what Auricr by "idea- cne would have [0 review Lhe Ncopiatonic luain in hi!
tbought; nevennclts& it is 'ppafem that the tran&i.ttion model is at work-tbe mateI'
ial objl Is lubscrvicnt 10 and follows tbe prior subjective content. Earlier. Cauguin
'0 ,
Against Creation as Translation
situation, a chain of events which shaH be the formula of that par-
ticular emotion.,,3
On this view the artist, perhaps a sculptor, faces the task of shap-
ing his stone after the model- say Balzac-presently sitting in his
studio. But he also h:ls t o pay heed to another model, the inner one
that allegedly serves as the model for the emotional content or
impact of the work. He has :I particular outer subject, Balzac, and
he has as well an inner subject, a "particular emoti on," which is
recollected in tranquility or held before his inner gaze in some sim-
ilar fashion and which is to become the expressive content of the
work, the feeling captured by the physical object. Thus, on the
translation mood of artistic creation. the given artistic medium in
which an anist is working is assigned a subordinate role; indeed,
the materials now playa supporting role to the panicular emotion.
We are thus directed by this model to look, not at what is on the
painter's canvas, or the sculptor's pedestal, or composer's score, hut
rather in a sense through or behind these things, to the emotive sig-
nlficance of which the materials are the supporting outward corre-
late. As a way of t.llcapsuladng the implications of the translation
model we might say that the physical materials are now merely
evidence for the inner aesthetic meaning or emotional content
which lies behind, and that ow interpretive task is to read between
[he physical lines or behind the physical materials in search of the
particular emotive content. As we shall see, this inferential con-
ception of critici sm is the result of a prior conception of private
meaning, and as such is yet another meeting point within aesthet-
ics of the philosophy of mind and the philosophy of language. We
will return to these matters explicitly in Chapter 6; for the present
we should ask the following question. Do artistic materials, and
bimstli revealed in a letter tbe extent to which his tOOu&ht conformed 10 Lhis theo-
retical template; AbOVt :all don't sweat over .l canvas; a r;re.1 emouon can be tHll5-
lattd instantly, dream about it and leek for it the e.implul {orm. " lcl1er 10 Emile
Schuffenecul, Copenhagen,. 14 J-nuuy 181S. in l.uuu de Cauguin IJ S4/emme tr lJ
su .:Intis, cd. Maurice IPIris, Cl aet, 1949L pp. 44-47, replinted as " Fu liog
and Thought" in Tbeoriu 0/ Modern N t, cd. Chiw, p. 59
) . Selected Plcse 0/ T. S. Eliot, cd. Frank Kermode INew York: H.:m:ourt Brace
Jovanovich, 19151. P 48.
Art as LtWgJloge
'0'
does the an medium, deserve to be made subservient in the way
this translation model Ate the materials-the painter's
colors, the composer's pitches, and the poet's words-nothing more
than elements so arranged as to constitute the formula of a given
emotion! Are they within this context onl y the bearers of, and in
no part the makers of, artistic meaning in their own right!
One can, of course, easily be led to believe that the translation
model for the creation of works of art must be the only one able to
do justice to the faCts. Indeed, the very fact8 called to mi.nd when
considering the process of artistic creation seem naturally to invite,
and in fact almost to demand, an explanation which proceeds along
the lines of this model. Imagine a defender of the translation model
inviting us to consider in tum three well known works of art, a
"
I Durer engraving, a Beethoven symphony, and a Michelangelo
I
1
sculpture. Durer's Melancholia, we are told, is uncontroversially
expressive of a particular deep melancholy, a kind of entrapment in
an unpleasant present and an utter inability to t ake action now
wi th a view to a future greater good. Had Outer not known in
I
I
advance what it was he wanted t o express, the defender might
argue, he eQuId not have executed the work in the way he in fact
did. Durer did not , after all, JUSt execute the work, and then ask
himseU or his coUeagues what it looked like, finally settling on the
title it now bears. Any such Story as this would obviously faU to do
justice to both the skills and the intentions of artists. Beethoven's
Ninth Symphony, in turn, contains an unmistakable sense at its
conclusion of final triumph-surely Beethoven must have intended
to capture precisely this feeling of exaltation in tbe work. Again, it
is ludicrous to say, in direct opposition to the translation model,
that Beethoven simply worked out the pitches and found the qual-
ity of the work there after the faCt. Finally, the translation theonst
may point to Michelangelo's David and insist that the gesture indi-
cates not merely a piece of carved stone, but the physical counter-
part of the emotional intent behind the work. The particular
nobility of spirit con/oined to a sense of autonomous power, he will
'L
say, was precisely what Michelangelo intended to Capture and put
on display and which served, during the process of creation, as his
inner model.
I
Against Creation as Tran slation 10J
These cases apparently provide a set of facts which call for the
translation model; in each of them it appears that a specific inner
feeling is translated into material fonn. Indeed, it appears that a
dualistiC explanation of creation is incontrovertible, precisely
be(:ause each work is materially embodied and carries an emotional
impact . As we shall see, however, these facts do indeed induce
translation-model theorizing, but they are far from establishing its
truth. This can be seen through an exploration of a significant con-
fu sion first identified in Wittgenstein's The Blue and Brown
Books.' In the foUowing J would li ke to show the remarkable power
this confusion has in connection with the problem of creation and
then appl y the distinction Wittgenstein enunciated in diffusing its
power to mislead. S
THe TRANSITIVE-I NTRANSITIVE CONPLATION
Wittgenstein distinguishes between what he calls the " transi -
tive" and "intransitive" uses of the WOlds "peculiar" and "particu-
lar." He says: " Now the use of the word ' particular ' is apt to
produce a kind of delusion and roughly speaking this delusion is
produced by the double usage of this word. On the one hand, we
may say, it is used preliminary to a specification, description, com-
parison; on the other hand, as what one might describe as an
emphasis. The first usage I shall call the transitive one, the second
the intransitive one."
6
Wittgenstein illustrates this difference by
asking us to contrast twO sortS of remarks. [n the first case one
might say, " I have noticed the way in which A enters the room."
The important thing here is that upon request the speaker can go
on to provide a description of A to which he is calling attention.
There is room for thiS further description- UHe always sticks his
head into the room before coming in"_implicit in the ori ginal
4. WillpSleln, The BJue ond Brown Books, pp. I s8-65.
s. I am he'e 1IIuc. b Indebled 10 Richa,d Wollbe.itn'. brief bl.lt illuminating dl!cu,-
sion of thi s distinction of Wittgenstcin's and its Id:a.tion 10 " '1;11 An <lnd 11$ 01>;:(.$,
ld ed. ICambridte Uuiversity Press, I9110), pp. 93-96, li nd IIo-Il .
6. Win,enslein, The Blue and BwW71 Books, p. J S8. .uJ:-'I. 'J

1l:k
....

"

..
r.1S



au
[ 0 4
Art as Langtl.age
remark. By contrast, consider the remark: "I've now been observing
the way A sits and smokes./I Here, Wittgenst etn tell s us, the
speaker need not be prepared to provide a further descripti on of Ns
particular way of sitting and smoking independently of A. One way
of explaining the remark is simply to say that it means nothing
more than "I've been observing A as he sat and smoked," which, by
contrast with the first case, is to provide no further description.
The pOint is that although we do in fact speak of the particular way
in which A does X, " 'the way' can't in this case be separated from
him [the person who sat and smoked].'"
To return to the analogous artistic case, suppose then that a critic
says, ''This Ower expresses so perfectly and forcefully that partic
ular feeling of deep melancholy." If the question is now asked
" What feeling?" one might quite nanuaIly reply, pointing again to
the engraving with a shrug of the shoulders, "Well ... , that feel-
ing." This is a way of replying which is in fact intransit ive, and
indeed this intransitivity accounts for the naturalness of the
response, i. e. its lack of art-theoretical significance. The translat ion
theorist, if present, might artificially, or through a distinctivel y
theoretical motivation, insist tl?-at the question "What feeling!" in
fact deploys a transitive use (where the question is taken to mean
"What particular feeling?") and through this insistence on the trart -
sitive use of "particular," the theorist forces philosophical signifi-
cance into the otherwise innocent, 01 theoretically noncommittal,
lines. Having thus forced the issue through insisting on transitiv-
ity, the translation theorist can then return to those initial intu-
itions regarding the necessity of the translation model in the D11rer,
Beethoven, and Michelangelo cases with renewed confidence.
Although I have made this process sound deliberate, these concep-
tual sleights of hand might well be carried out unwittingly; indeed,
this process constitutes an exemplary instance of being misled by
grammatical appearance or, as Wittgenstein refers to it, by the sur
I
face grammar of our expressions. Operating a philosophical appara-
( tus while under the influence of a misleading fonn of words, the
theorist believed that two entities were being pointed out: the per
7 A1llhe bridqllot.ations in this pa:ragraph li re from ibid., p. l 6o.
>0,
Against Creation as Translation
feed}' tangible carved stone and the less tangible but equally pres-
ent nobility of spirit with autonomous power. Let us further inves-
tigate the source of this grammatical-optical illusion. In reference
to the smoker and his parti cular way of smoking, Wittgenstein
says:
We are inclined to answer the question "What way do you
mean?" by "This way", instead of answering: "I didn't refer to
any particular featwe; Jwas just cont emplating rus position". My
expression made it appear as though I was pOinting out some-
thing about rus way of sitting. ... whereas what makes me use
the word "particular" here is that by my attitude towards the
phenomenon I am laying an emphasis on it: I am concentrating
on it, or retracing it in my mind, or drawing it, etc.
s
The crux of the distinction, then, lies in our ability in the transi-
tive case to provide further explanations and descriptions of the
"particular feature" i in the intransit ive case there exist no such fur-
ther identifying descri ptions. There is, in the intransitive case,
nothing apart from the phenomenon under consideration to be cap-
tured by a further description. In order to clarify this distinction
Wittgenstein invites us to consider the sentence, "By 'kilogram' I
mean the weight of one litre of water." This kind of explanation is
of the general type: "By 'A' I mean 'B', where B is an explanation of
A." The contrasting remark, similar in form or grammatical sur-
face structure but different in content, is, "I said that I was sick of
it and meant it./I Now, we may well be inclined to go on and ask,
following this remark, "What did you m e a n ~ The answerWittgen-
stein suggests one might give to this question again reveals the
curious power of the cowusion between the transitive and intran-
sitive cases. He observes that the answer "by what I said I meant
what J said" is a way of answering within the general form, " By
saYlng ' A' I mean ' B'." We are reminded, however, that in fact we
use expressions such 3S "1 mean what I mean" to teU someone that
there is no further explanati on, that there remains no further
8. Ibid.
! 06
Art as Language Against Creation as Ttans1ation
'"7
explanatory room in which to move. The point is that 25 a result of
this confusion we are trying in the artisti c case to ask a questi on
Strikingly similar to that notable-and senseless-linguistic curios-
ity, "What sentence is formed by this sequence of wordst " It is
indeed precisely a question of this type we would be asking if, alter
hearing the Beethoven symphony, we asked: What feeling of tri-
Yet if the translation model were correct, this would surely
be the essential question in the criticism and understanding of a
work of art, one we should be able to ask intelligibly and answer
coherently. 9
We can now see that it was at least in part this confusion be-
tween transitive and intransiti ve uses that generated the apparent
0;
need for the translation model in the above initial reflections of the

translation theorist. Again, the theorist points to the three works
>f,
and claims, quite rightl y, that the works capture these particular
feelings. There remains, however, one further specific bdief of the
translation theorist that must be directly addressed, namely that
the particular feeling or emotive content of a work must be identi-
fiable independently of the work itself. To pursue thi s side of the
matter, Wit tgenstein draws a slyly smiling face and observes that
i

Ii
we may "feel inclined to say: 'Surely I don' t see mere dashes. I see
a face with a particular expression.''' Again, this is in fact not said
as a prelude to further descriptions or details; it rather draws atten-
tion within this conversational context to the face. To construe
t his case, however, as a transitive use makes one think that there
remains a latent further descriptio", and that this further descrip-
tion would in fact be a description of a separate entity independent
from the face i tself. We are led to think, Wittgenstein argues, that,
in trying to explain what we mean by "This lace has a particular
expression," we could point to something other than the face.
"But," he adds, "if I had to point to anything in this place it would
have to be the drawing l am looking at." This illicit act of aesthetic
reification is encouraged by the fact that we speak of the face as
having an expression, suggesti ng that there is an entity separable
from the face to which we could point in giving the meaning of the
9. AU.he di rtct quotuions in thit :011: from ibid., pp. ,60-61.

to
words "a particular expression." Comparing the phrase "This face
has a panicular express ion" with the phrase "This is a peculiar
face" helps to disentangle this element of confusion; there is not
the urge to posit an independent expressive entity in the latter case,
because "is" denotes identity or one thing. whereas "has" suggests
one thing possessi ng something else, which in the present case
would amount to a physical artifact possessing a separately identi-
fiable emotional expression. Thus Wittgenstein says, reminding us
of the larger philosophical power of a sm31ler exchange of words,
"What a thing is, we mean, is bound up with it; what it has can be
separated from it./110
The translation theori.st, then, pointS to the Durer engraving, the
Beethoven symphony, and the Michelangelo sculpture and thinks
that the gesture indicates two ontologicaJly distinct entities in
each case-the materials of the given medium and the particular
feeling of melancholy, triumph, and nobility of spirit. Moreover,
the theOrist believes that these indisputable facts of the case, which
can only be adequately accounted for on the translation model, nat-
urally give rise to the theory. Indeed, the theorist may think these
conclusions so obvious that the use of the word " theory" seems
unnecessary. Nevertheless, the facts the theoris t assembles and
reli es upon, i.e., these duee works of art which indisputably cap-
ture particular feelings, do not themselves demand a dualistic
expLmatioD, because it is far from an indisputable fact at this point
that two separable and distinct entities are being pointed out in
each case. Two entities of contrasting ontological natures are not
mentally compared or held together in the perception of the Durer,
the Michelangelo, or the Beethoven works, any mort: than they are
in the perception of Wittgenstein's cartoon face. We do not identify
the particular feelings of melancholy, triumph, and nobility by
comparing what we see physically of the artwork wit h what we
"see" emot ionally in the mind's eye- although we can be led to
believe that we do this w ough an implicit insistence on the tran-
sitive meaning of "particular feeling" and the resultant conception
of correlated inward feelings and outward objects. As we have seen,
10. All qUOUI tionJ in this are from ibid., p. 161.
"

.
'08 Art as Language
this perhaps unwitting insistence, itseH motivated by gramm;;tical
confusion, underwrites the entire conception of artistic creation ,as
translation. Wittgenstein observes in this connection: "And in let-
ting the face impress itself on me and contempJatins its ' particular
impression', no two things of the multiplicity of a face are com-
pared with each other; there is only one which is laden with
emphasis. Absorbing its expression, I don't find a prototype of this
expression in my mind; rather, I, as it were, cut a seal from the
impression.,, 11
Ta summarize this section, the transitive-intransitive conflation
result.s in a picture of (a) an original entity, the mind's emotive pro-
totype, and (b) a second entity, the physical artwork, which serves
i as the former entity's outward correlate. Both of these categorica1Jy
i
distinct entities initially appear necessary but in fa ct do not play
,
the part envisioned for them in our percepti on of works of art .
Although this picture of artistic creation implies that we should be
able to ask the crucial question "What feeling? " in response to a
I
,
phrase such as "Look how DUrer has captured that particular feel.
ing of melancholy," we have seen that this question demands
logico-linguistic room for its asking that the circumstances do not
allow, i.e., it is a question that asks about the precise nature and
function of a none.xistent entity. The translation theorist will here
say, " But surely the Beethoven says something- and simply listen-
ing to the piece proves that. " This is, of course, COrrectl it does.
Extreme caution is needed, however, to avoid going beyond what
the intransitive use itself dictates; part of the difficultY, indeed, is-
as Wittgenstein characterized problems in philosophy generally-
saying what we know and no more. Wittgenstein marks this
boundary by saying that " that same illusion possesses us even
more strongly ii repeating a tune to ourselves and letting it make
its full impression on us, we say 'This tune says something', and it
is as though I had to find what it says.,, 11 The illusion is not that
the tune says something.. but that what it says is independent of the
specific materials in which it is said and thus that the specific tune
II . Ihid., p.
11. Ibid., p . 66.

Against Creadon as Translation' '"9
before us is itself only one instantiation, or indeed translation, of
that prior emotive content.
ON FINDING THE RIGHT EXP&2SSI0N
I now turn to some questions Wittgenstein asks in the Philo-
sophical Investigations and discuss the relevance of those ques
tions for the validity of the translation model in artistic creativity.
Wittgenstein asks, "What happens when we make an effort-say in
writing a letter- t o find the right expression for our
This search for the right expression is a fanliliar experience and as
such is another kind of case which lends intuitive plausibility to
the translat ion model. Wittgenslein remarks that " this phrase
compares the process t o one of translating or describing: the
thought s are already there (perhaps were there in advance) and we
merely look for their expression." This stands as the perfect lin-
guistic analogue to the artistic model because it is \mplied, in the
formulation of the question itself, that the letter writer possesses
the inner content, which is only awaiting the creation of its exter
nal count erpart for its expression. " This picture," Wittgenstein
continues, "is more or less appropriate in different cases. lIt) This,
as far as it goes, seems undeniable; in cases in which actual trans-
lation or something very much like translation is in fact being car-
ried out, the char3cterization of the process in terms of "finding the
right expression for the thought" is philosophically harmless. As
one example, one might discover, upon having written an invita-
tion and having read it over, that the tone is not quite right, or one
might hnd that a particular tum of phrase used in a letter does not
quite capture the intended sentiment; such cases ale philosophi-
cally harmless because they do not themselves require the positing
of the independent prior feeling as distinct from the actual written
language. In these cases, in order to recognize that one has got the
phrase wrong one does nOt compare feeling with writing; rather:
' J . Quoutionli fcom Ludwill PhilOlopl1it;.(J/ /Dvt.SUgationJ, 3d til.,
II'mS. G. E. M. AnKOmbc (New York: 19S8). Ke.13S
no
Art as Language
oneseesthat theparticul:uf!motional toneoft he writingitself is
notwhatonewanted.Notallcasesofwritingorofartisticcreation
arefundamentallyliketunsiation, however, and tocharacterize
artisticworkintermsoftheinitial thoughtandthefinding ofits
externalcorrelateissurely nOlphilosophicallyinert.Tocastthe
veryquestionconcerningsuchcasesof"findingthe rightexpres-
sion"withinthecategoriesof thethoughtor thefeeling andits
externalexpressioninthesubordinatedmedium isalreadytoprej-
udice thecasestrong1yinfavorofthetranslationmodel.Thusto
askthequestioninartparallel toWittgenstein'squestion,namely,
"Whathappens when we makeaneffort- say in composing-to
find the rightexpressionforourthoughts!"is to begthequestion,
inthattheformulationof thequestion itseHpresumestheexis-
tenceoftwoentities.Theconceptualprejudiceimposedbythefor-
mulationofthequestion isexposed whenWittgensteinnextasks,
" But can' taUsortsofthingshappenhere1,,)4Withvariousanswers
to thisquestioncomethedetailsthatdisturbthisgeneralpictureof
creativity.
Consideringoneof thethings thatcan happen, Wittgenstein
says," Isurrendertoamoodandtheexpressioncomes!IlSThisphe-
nomenonis commonenough, both inletterwritingandinartistic
creation, yet itclearly does not fit the translation model. For
instance, acomposercanstruggleforsometimewithaharmonic
problemofmodulation.Suddenly, " for noreason,"as itmaybe
described, shemayseethatthewayfrom oneharmonicarea to
anothertowhichshewantstoprogressisthrougha diminished
chord. Apoetmayhavethesameexperiencewithaproblematic
passageinvolvingacomplexrhymescheme. Anovelistmay"sur-
rendertothemood"andletacharacter"saywhathewants,"per-
mittinghimseUtowrit"ewithafree rein. In allofthesecases, the
workcomestotheartistinawayneitherpredictedbynorallowed
foronthetranslationmodel, becauseit is theunleashedmaterials
themselves whichleadtheartistto thedesiredcontent,whichon
thetranslationmodelmustofconceptualnecessitycomefirst.
14. Ibid.
IS. Ibid.
Against Creation as Translation lJ>
Indeed, onthemodelitselfthesecasescanmakenomoresense
thantheideaofproducinganEIl8li.sh translationofapoemwhich
doesnOl yetexistinItalian.
Thereremains,however, anothercommoncriticalpractice that
lendsfurtherintuitivesupporttothetranslationmodel,andthisis
our tendencytoaccord thearti.staspecialpositioninthecritical
examinationofhisownwork..In arestriCtedsensethisisperfectly
justifiable; theartistis, afteraU, thepersonwhocreatedthework
inquestion.Thisspecialpositionis, however, oftengivento the
auistformore metaphysicalreasons, i.e., becauseofthesupposed
privilegedaccess thatanartistuniquelyenjoysinrelationtothe
emotivemeaningof thework.Theartist is believedtobe ina
unique positiontospeakfor themeaningoftheworkbecauseof
somespecialaccess to theinner,Donpublicmodel. Thisstandsas
theperfectaestheticparalleltothemetaphysicalproblemofother
minds;heretheartististheonlyonewhoknows whatthecontent
isbehind theappearances, andfor allothersitis amatterofedu-
catedguesswork.Thusthecritic'staskisthoughttobein allessen-
tials like that of the "other": as the other is thought by some
theoris ts to inferthepresence of mental states onthebasis of
observable physical movements, thecriticmakesinferencescon-
cerningtheemotionalcontentoftheworkonthebasisofthephys-
ical evidence, e.g., brushstrokes, colors, pitches,andsoforth.But
as Wittgensteinasks,can' t all sortsofthingshappenhere?
There are manyvari etiesofcasesinwhichtheartistis inthe
worstpossiblepositiontospeakforhisownwork.Forexample,she
mayhaveahugelyinflatedviewofthesigniIicanceofherwork;she
maybe blindtoitsdefects;shemaynothavetheperspectivetosee
thatit is notstrikinglyoriginal;andsoon.Orshe maybe exces-
sivelymodest, believim;herworktobeinsignificant, flawed, and
derivativewheninfactit isnot.Anartistcancometochangeher
mindaboutwhatagivenworkmeans.Ortheartistcancometosee
t he workin a newlight, e.g., as influencedby othersinwaysnot
previouslyrealized.Shemaybecomedisillusionedwithaworkand
claimthatitisworthlessand meansnothing.(Shemay be rightor
WTong about this; itdoesn'tmatterwhich, as theimportantfact is
thatherviewcan change.)Critics mayexpandherappreciationof

lJ U lJI U U U 0 0 U uno n n a-In a II lUlU IUlt"trVV IT
Nt as Language Against Creation as Translation
'"
"3
her own work, or her psychoanalyst (2gain rightly or wrongly) may
bring her to believe that her work actually concerns past struggles
in her life in ways she had not previously considered. The artist
may come, with the years, to lose this alleged privileged status; she
may view her early work as that of another person, and be unable to
remember how she carried out the work in question. Simply put, it
is remarkably easy to assemble numerous reminders of actual cases
discordant with the privileged critical status the artist is granted
under the translation model. More strongly, these cases would in
fact be impossible if the translation model were accurate, and they
thus operate collectively as a reductio.
Still another aspect of artistic creativity for which the translation
model would hold direct implications is the relationship between
the artist and his materials. Here too, however, disruptive cases
incompatible with the model are readily available, and it is thus
not difficult to identify and isolate the discordance between theory
and fact within this region of artistic practice.
On the translation model the medium must be regarded as a life-
less collection of materials that are almost magically imbued with
life by the artist. Now, there is certainly some truth here, just as
there is some truth to the theory of privileged status.
16
Any com-
petent artist does in some sense "breathe life" into his materials,
but this truth can be captured and given an explanation without
recourse to the translation model, and there exists a ready cluster
of examples here as well. A minimalist painter may paint a yellow
square on the canvas and "let the materials speak for themselves."
Here the artist might describe his activity as presenting the life of
the materials themselves rather than communicating through
them. A composer can "discover" where a harmonic progression
"wants to ga" and find how the piece wants to be assembled; he
can find something very much like the trajectory of a melody and
follow it; he may see how a phrase or theme calls for extension; and
I
so on. He may be able to look at a theme and see the variations in
it that the theme itself affords. A sculptor or painter may discover
L
16. See Mark Roskill, "On the Artist's Privileged Status," Philosophy 54 (I979J:
187-98.
,
!
k
in the course of the work, and not before it, how a particular feature
can be modeled.
l7
In music, the cases of experimentation with
unresolved dominant seventh chords, dangling leading tones, par-
allel fifths in the harmonization of a chorale melody, the mistreat-
ment of augmented sixth chords, poor voice-leading away from
diminished seventh chords, phrasing imbalances, and the letting of
one voice "die" in four-part counterpoint will all serve to illustrate
the life possessed by the materials themselves. The last case is
especially instructive. A suddenly dropped voice in counterpoint
will be recognized as a line that died, regardless of the amount of
melodic life in the other lines. The life of the line, if it has to be
located somewhere, exists in the materials rather than in a less tan-
gible realm. Here one wants to say, substituting one picture of cre-
ativity for another, that the composer discovers rather than creates
the life of the melodic lines; this exchange, however, can be of
philosophically therapeutic value in showing that the translation
model is far from inevitable. Indeed, a discovery of the expressive
power and character of an artistic gesture or specific set of materi-
als implies that we do not inject these gestures or materials with
expressive life.
We left the discussion of how we find the right expression for our
thoughts with Wittgenstein's question, "But can't all sorts of things
happen here?" It appears certain that they can, and none of the ele-
ments in our two catalogues either supports or requires the trans-
lation model. First, those who have what could only be called
underprivileged access are often in fact in the best position to judge
the significance of a work, or they are at least in a far better posi-
tion than one would expect from the theory. Secondly, the relations
between the artist and his medium do not at all conform to the dic-
17 Actual cases of unanticipated discoveries are common, and in such cases it is
abundantly cleaI that the materials possess a life, but very much a life of their own and
not one endowed by the artist; any Coase of an anist realizing that an alteration has to
be made illustrates the point. It is of interest to note here that we naturally expect
these kinds of midstream discoveries in the work of: the novelist, yet philosophers and
critics who offer explanations in accordance with the translation model often exclude
novelists from consideration, focusing instead on painters, sculptors, and composers-
perhaps because WTiting is a far more familiar activity and is hence less plausibly
explained On the translation model

. , a 52 a .. .sa " w w a a " " - W it111 H B U U D U Ui \Ii " q; \ ,tJ 1ii " UJ
,
"4
Art as Language
tates of the theory. But let us return to the nell;t s t ~ p of Wittgen
stein', discussion.
" Now if it were asked: ' Do you have the thought before finding
the expression?' what would ODe have to reply!"u What kinds of
answers could this question be givenr The minimalist may answer
that he wanted to discover the eHect of the yellow square on the
white canvas. The composer may answer that he knew the pro-
gression did seem to want to go somewhere harmonically, and that
it ended up in the subdomin"ant . Or he may say that he could
indeed see the vari:it"ions promised by the theme, but that he had to
work them out ODe by one. He may answer that he did Do t have
"the thought " at all before " finding the expression," and that he
had to puJJ each reluctant variation out of the theme, note by note.
Or he may say that he finally, alter maay sketches, worked out the
melody. He may add that he had the general idea of the melodic
contoUr desired, but that numerous specitic problems concerning
the melody's rebtion to the harmony had to be solved one note at
a time. The novelist may say that she finally discovered in the final
chapter why a detail was set down in the first chapter. The painter
may answer that while in progress her canvas gave her the vague
impression that something was missing, but that it t ook another
artist to show her precisely what it was that she needed. Another
composer may say that she was painfully aw:ue that it was a four-
part fugue she was writing, and that she wanted to resolve in the
key of Eminor, but that she had not even a hint of the exact reso-
lution until each individual voice resolved itself_
AU of these detailed answers, however, do aot provide an answer
t o the general question Wittgenstein is consideri ng: "Do you have
the thought before finding the expressi on! " As answers they are in
fact far too specifici they answer specific questions within specific
contexts. This in tum reveals how mystifying the general question
reall y is. One does know what form specific answers to specific
questions take, but nOt what fann an answer t o the general question
would take. h ~ t question-and this is Wittgenstein's point-which
is phrased in terms of "the thought" and li the (corresponding)
18. WillgW$lcin, Philosophical Irwesli,,,dDns, scc. HS
Against Creation as Tcans]arion
'"
expression," is constructed out of nothing more than artificial lin .
guistic categories deri ved from metaphysical dualism. That this is
precisely Wittgenstein's point is clear from the next line: "And what
Iwould one have t o reply), to the question: 'What did the thought
consist in, as it existed before its expression?'" There is, of course,
no answer t o this question, other than to point to the expression
itself-the exact linguistic analogue of point ing t o the Durer,
Michelangelo, or Beethoven in answer to the quest.ion "What par-
ti cular feelingr" Thus it appears that in language the thought and
the expression are no more separable than the feeling and its expres-
sion in art.
I sugges ted above that the translation model is, if nOt born of
confusion, at least supported by it. It now appears that bolh the
translation model and, more fundamentall y, the very ques tion that
the model tries to answer stand in the way of conceptual clarity.
This is one of many negative conclusions in Wittgensteinian pM
Losophy that is at the same time-but of course in a different
sense-a positive conclusion; it removes an obstacle that would
otherwise prevent us from achieving a clear view 01 the richl y
diverse aesthetic practi ces that lie before us.
IN this chapter we have seen the consequences of failing to distin-
guish between the transitive and intransitive uses of "particular."
This confusion allows us to believe that our aesthelie experi ence is
a translation between two entities: the physical work on the one
hand, and on the other a particular, determinate feeling with an
identi ty independent from the work itself. We have also seen the
way in which the translation picture is itself misleading by virtue
of its dual categories of " expression" and " thought "; by looking at
individual cases, I have endeavored to show the distance that sepa-
rates these categories from actual aesthetic practice and the impos
sibility of applying one to the other.
There remains, however, one final question. Why should we,
apart from the need to remove theoretical obstructions to clear
vision, take such great care over such specific points as the tran-
sitive-intransitive confusion and the translation model in our
lhinking about artistic creativit y! The answer is, I think, simple
U U 11 II fTU U U U U U U 0 U D Dr u u 111111 It tI U-qU lrlf It! It! If"
I I 6 Art as Loqguoge ,
enough: many excesses of criticism spring directly from .confu-
sions such as these.
The language used by some critics in certain sectors of the ans is
in serious Countless artists speak about theil own
works in ways that are anything but illuminating, and often in
ways that would, if taken at face value, actuall y demean their
work. Often the words of artists and critics possess merely a COD-
tingent connection to the art they describe: the work and the words
do not organically connect, and one is left wondering if the words
might not h.ave been attached with equal plausibility to any of a
hundred other works. Perhaps by subscribing. explicitly or other-
wise, to an outmoded if DOt incoherent view of the creative process,
artists and critics are compelled to speak the language prescribed
by the translation model, and try to say "what the thought con-
sisted in before its expression," or to say "what the tune says. "
Moreover, that the dual-model conception is outmoded seems
I'
beyond any doubt, quite apart from the question of its internal

coherence. There is much experimentation, innovation, and impro-

visation in recent an, and these new practices simply will nOt set-
tle comfortably into old the<?ries.
The longing for this kind of organizing explanation in art is of
coulse understandable, and one cannot help but feel sympathetic
with any attempt to see behind or into an enigmatic work of an. U,
however, the criticism resulting from this attempt itseU fails the
test- if it lacks the power to uansform aesthetic experience by
altering what it is we see, hear, or comprehend-we should ask
whether or Dot that criticism is a product whose sole function is to
occupy a place reserved for it by a misleading and ultimately inap-
plicable conceptual model.
In summary, the particular feeling that a given work captures
should not, first of all, be understood as a separate preexistent
entity which is later embodied in the physical work. Second, the
translation model of creativity in art is inadequate; to the extent
that contemporary discussions unwittingly presuppose the cate-
",.'
19 Sec, for CUII'lpie. Roger Scruton's revealin: wscw.sioa 01. number d "chitec-
luullheori!" and crilics in hls The Aesthetics of Azchittc:tutr: (Prineelon: PriDceton
Uniycnity Pren, 19791. PP.17- 10.
Against Creation as Ttanslation It 7
gories brought along by this model, these discussions Cannot fur-
ther our understanding of art and its creation. Third, intentional
criticism about a work which seems to rack the virtue of being nec-
essarily cOnnected to the particular work in question should be
held in suspicion, for it may in fact amount to nothing more than
an attempt to describe a phantom preexistent entity; it may consti -
tute an ill-fated attempt to translate back into an original that
never existed. There may well be an experience, or more likely a
complex pattern of experienccs, refen ed to by the phrase "the cre-
ative process." As I have tried to show in this chapter, however, to
attempt to characterize this experience within the terms and cate-
gOries of the translation model can onl y further mystify what is
already something of a wonder. Before progres5ing to the final chap-
ters of this study, where we turn to a discussion of recent aesthetic
theory, there remains the issue of linguistic privacy and the coIle-
lated conception of artistic meaning; it is thus to this issue that we
turn in Chapter 6.
6 The Silence of
Aesthetic Solipsism
Inthe criticism of art and its .attendant search lor meaning, many
are inclined to attribute a distinctively metaphysical priority to the
artist, a priority that quickly engages us with implicit theories of
the ontological natwe of artworks, the nature of artistic meaning
itself, and the proper function of criticism. The progression of
thought is as follows . Beginning with a criticaHy problematic or
conceptUaHy troubl esome artwork, we look for the meaning behind
the work and ask, "What did Kandillsky, Pollock, foyce, Cage, or
Stockhausen, mean by that! " The metaphysical assumptions
implied by this question 3re, of course, that III the anwork is one
thing-a physical artifact-and (21 its meaning-a mental object or
conceptual entity- is 311other, and that 131 because of our aesthetic
puzzlement we need criticism that will lead us from the enigmatic
outward object back to the clarifying- but hidden-signiHcance.
This metaphysical priority granted the utiSt is a natural analogue to
the priority we grant within language, the primary residence of
meaning. Ifsomeone utters a phrast we do not initially understand
or which in various ways puzzles us, for example, "What we cannot
speak about we must pass over insilence,"1 we often ask, inthe lin
guisticcase, for an explication of verbal meaning that stands exactly
I
parallel to the criticism we invite in the above artistic case. Thus
we stand here at yet another point of intersection between the
I
t. Ludwig Wittgenstein, 1I'actalUl LogicoPhilosophlcllS !191::1), trans. D. F. l'elQ
lOll B. F. McCuinnen !Humanitiea Pre...197.), p. 7.
The Silence of Aesthetic Solipsism
"9
philosophies of art and of language, where a conception of meaning
inart is given shape by a prior, ifimplicitly held, conception of lin
guistic meaning. To summarize the themes intersecting here: the
word stands parallel to the work; the linguistic meaning inthe mind
of the speaker stands paralJel to the artistic meaning inthe mind of
the artist; and the critic in art stands parallel to the translator or
expositor inlanguage.
1
Itis true, of course, that this entire metaphysical construction in
the art world, built on the now shaky conceptual foundations of a
Canesian dualism sep.uating mind and matter, is shrouded insus
picion, and it is widely understood that the pall was cast over this
construction of art and its criticism in some indirect way by
Wittgenstein. It is not clear, however, that his argumem/ carried
out not in aesthetics but in the philosophy of language, has been
assimilated by the wider an theoretical community. Indeed, one
often encounters the conviction that Wittgenstei n certainly did
something of the first importance for our conception of meaning in
the arts, and that inthe postmodern critical and theoretical atmo-
sphere, with its emphasis on artistic languages, a grasp of this con
tribution is essential to theoretical progress, but along with this
conviction comes an uncomfortable feeling of uncert ainty-of
knowing that the old concepti.ons of meaning are unacceptable but
still not quite knowing why. To clarify Wiugenstein's contribution
we must briefly return to the fundamental problem 01 twentieth
century aesthetic theory already familiar from the first three chap
ters above, the problem of expression.
THE PARADOX OF EXPR.ESSION
The problem of expression inart can be succinctly described as
something of a paradox; the shroud of mystery covering the word
"expression" in the philosophy of art comes from the following
conceptual collision:
Within the l arger geognphi eal metaphor for philosophiell we
couLd uy Ibl t this islhe imersectiOJl between Irl Jangulge dis<;;ussed inCh.:iPIeJ'
S. but Ihal Itis here apprOliehed born aJJ()mer dirCClioD..
''0 Art as Langvoge
L Emotions areprivate,phenomenologicallyinternal objects
thatarelogicallybeyondtbereach of others; theyarenota
partofthepublic, observable physicalworldtowhich others
haveaccess. They are, inasense, secretsinviolably kept by
ontology.
:1. Artworksarephysicalobjects(albeitofacuri oussort),objects
locatedinthepublic, observable, externalworld.Theirexis-
tence, we might say, is physical rather than phenomen-
ological, and their existence does not depend- unlike
emotions-onthemindthatperceivesthem.
3. Artisticexpressionis nothingshortoftheapparently impos-
sibleprocessofmerging(IIand(2.).ExpressiveartworksC4Ul-
not,asontologicalimpossibilities, exist- andyet theymost
asswedly,as theempiricalfactofthecase,doexist.
Theproblemis afunction,ofcowse,oftheobviousmetaphysi
calincompatibilityofinwardemotionsandoutwardobjects.We
believeontheonehand t hat theremustbean insurmountable
ontologicalbaIrierseparatingthetwo,andyetweknowontheevi
denceof actual expressiveworksofartthatsuch abarrier, ifit
exists,hasinfactbeencrossed.Everyphilosopher(includingthose
wediscussedabove) who has espousedaversionof theexpression
theory,i.e., thattheessentialunityoftheartscomesfrom thefact
thatthey serveas outwardexpressivevehiclesforinneremotional
states, haspuzzledoverthisparadoxicalsituationof thinkingthat
it mustbeoneway and seeing thatitis infact the other.This
incompatibility,thissenseoftheoreticalimpossibilityintheface
ofmuseumsandconcertballsfullofevidencetothecontrary,has
providedtheuniversalpointofdepartureforthe"classical "expres
sion theorists of philosophical aesthetics. Bernard Bosanquet
writes, "Howcanthefeelingbegot intotheobject !,,3Similarl y,
LouisArnaudReidasks,"Howdoesabody,aooomentalobject,
I
cometo'embody'or' express,'forouraestheticimagination,values
\ which itdoesnotliterally Whyshouldcolorsandshapes
i
and soundsandharmoniesandrhythms,cometomean so
}. Be",.rdbanquet, Tluu LteuJfu OD Autooic8ILondon:M1ocmUlan, 19151.
))1). 8-10.
111 The Silence of Aesthetic Solipsism
.very much morethantheyare!'" Thismysteriousmovefrom the
private co thepublicisalsowhat EugeneVeronhasin mindwhen
hesays that"artis the maniJestationofemotion,obtainingexter-
nal interpretation.lIS Santayana, propelled bythesameconceptual
tenSion, refers to the "two terms," of " privateand public." He
writes, "Inallexpression we maythusdistinguish two terms: the
first is the objectactu311y presented, theword, the image, the
expressive thing; thesecondistheobj ectsuggested, thefurther
thought,emotion,orimageevoked, thethingexpressed. ,,6
Tolstoystatesthatin theaestheticexperiencepeople"experi-
ence...amentalcondition,"whichisproduced"bymeansofcer-
tainexternal signs. '" Beardsley, inreferenceto thestatement,
"ThisMoori.shinteriorbyMatisseischeerful,"writesthatwhat
thespeakermustmeanis, "Itmakesmecheerful " because"only
people can becheerful,strictl yspeaking.'" Beardsleyisherebeing
suictabout thekinds ofthingsthatcan, andthekindsofthings
thatcannot,experienceemotions.
Thustheontologicalproblem itseU,as theparadox.ical sourceof
philosophical mysterysurroundingartisticexpression and asthe
governingquestionbeneathexpressiontheoriesofart,isclear,asis
anunderlyingdependenceuponthemetaphysicaldualismdividing
mindandmatter.Tobegin t oassessthedamage'to thiswayof
4. Louis ArnauldReid.A Sludy in AI!l. .uOl!llics, INewYork: MacllliUan, 19HI.pp.
61- ),
S. EugeneVeron,Ae.s thetic.s, tran.W.H. CbapmanandHaU,
187al, qllot edinH.GeneBlocker, PhilOJophy 01 ArtlNewYork: CharluScribner's
SOnJ, 19791,p. 98, inthe cont extof. helpfuldi$Cuuionofar tisticuprusiODthat
i.ocorporlltesmorefullyanwnbe,oft hetheoristsI:1mcitingherel$(:epp. 95 -[41.1
6. Ceorge Tht 01 Beauty ICambridge:MITPress, '9S8!, p. u3.
7. LeoTolstoy, Wbat 1$ Att! tran,.Aylmer Maude(Oxford: O,uordUniversity
Press, J9301, p. fa3.
8. MonroeBurdsley,AMtbttlCIIIlNewYOZJc HatcounBrace:Jovanovieh, p.)6.
9. 5thecrit:i<;a.l diKuuion ofpfO(;JUl it, eulrurewidedt finhlon IS tbeeon
$auctionof theoreticalrd.ilicelinthewrewoldtoLudwi.r:WittgcnStein,PhiJOJoplUr:.al
RtUlIub. cd.RllSh Rhees,tranl.RaymondHarpu\'csand RogctWhite10xf0rd:Ebsil
Blackwell. l!IInl,anditsdr aftlD LudwigWin,enstein, Cultureand Value, ed. G. H.
vonWriyuandHei\::kiNyI'lUD,tr:lfU. Wmeh(Oxford:Bull!l.ckwell.19801.pp.
6-7.AlsoICC thedOlliIDgpnlIlIJ'ph01 Fani.Pa.JUl's API'rSOIUi Memoir'"inRerollte
uonsO/Wjtt,gem:uin, d .RUlib IOxftJrd:0xJ0cdUniversityPle&5,J98".inwb.iel!
'ntipub, 10W".:ItheconstrueUonoftheoriesonanarduteerural
isrenectcd,. pe.!hapi unwiningly: & lorme, lookingbad:,I himbulldoz.in& year
inyearOUI,duringawaytherubbleth..n couldonlycontinueto
112 Art as Language
thinkingcarried out by Wi u genstei n inhis work on r rivacy or " pri-
vate language," we must two to rus diary-keeping genius who
invents lor, rather, does not inventl a private laI\8Uage. First, how-
ever, we must move one step closer to clarity about the connection
between that work in the philosophy of mind and language and our
initial intuitions concerning the artist'S priority and its art-theoret-
ical corollaries.
IO
Picasso's Guernica provides a class ic case t hat directl y COD-
tradicts our theoretica l prohibition: itindisputabl y expresses
Pica.sso's rage at, and the horror of, Franco's inhuman experiment
in saturation bombing. The form of explanation, despite its appar-
ently paradoxical content, is quite simply II A expresses X, " where
A is a public physical object-the painting-and X is a private
emotion-rage. Thus the more general puzzlement of the expres-
sion theorist is here refined into a particular problem concerning
the cre.1tive process: How did Picasso put the emotion into the
object ? A crude explanation, swdy ranking among the most the-
ory-driven conclusions imaginable in aesthetics, stat es that
Picasso felt rage at the moment of execution, and that it was
through the presence of t hi s powerful emotion that he was
enabled, in some way still unspecified, to paint Cuernica.
u
This
view, of course, stands as the aesthetic analogue to the concep-
tion of natural linguisti c expressivity, wherein cries, shrieks, and
howls are naturally occurring outward expressions of inner states
and other slightly more relined linguistic performances are para-
sitic on these. 1:1
But can this suggestion, in aesthetic form, be taken seriously?
Can we imagine that Picasso remai ned full of rage through all the
preliminary sketches, all the intermediate designing, and the final
lO. Much of the remunder of this sec;tion ItHea on Ludwig WittgenMein, Philo-
Investig"tions, 3d ed., . G. E.. M. Anseombe INew YOlk: Macmillan,
195&j. sec. 156-8j.
II . FOIlbe musical pantle( 10 Ih15 piclUJe of arili!lcexptenion see J. w. N. Sulli-
I. VIUl, BeEthoven; His SpirilU'" Development INew York: Knopf, 19171; ice e'pecially
pp. 38-511 and 116-1.8.
n. See Wittgenstein, PhilO$opD1cf11 Inllcstigadons, sec. 144, Ihe fCma:rk:
is one possibility: words are connected whh the the n.ttutal, expres-
s.ions of the sensuion and u$Cd inthtir puce."
The Silence of Aesthetic Solipsism <2,
detailing! Did not feel a momentary delight at a certain stroke,
or frustration at a technical limitation, or elation at the progress of
the work-cr anguish in the course of producing id Any and all of
these are possible. The problem may be brought into clearer focus
by returning to the linguistic analogue: ifthe troglodyte is howling
at the moon with the wolves but inwardly is optimis tically con-
templating evolutionary theory, then the outward expression-the
howling- is nOt natural and immediate, but rather mediate and
deliberate. Thus this erootion-to-utterance causal chain isbroken,
and the frustrat ion that an art theorist feels upon realizing that any
realistic scenario disturbs the rage into-paint picture quickJy gen-
erates a 'partial refinement of the theory; Picasso was able to recall
to mind, or recollect in tranquillity, the rage he initially felt at the
bombing. This is the dual-model theory of artistic expression in
another form. Here the ar tist has both an outward and inward
model, i.e., Picasso works from both the scene depicted and the
feeling generated by that scene.
We know that this view of the inner model has taken a number
of forms in aesthetic theory-the "feeling-image" of Ducasse, the
"given emotion" of Collingwood, Langer's "envisagement of feel-
ing" yielding the "vital import" of the work, and so on. The cru-
cial point, however, is t o see that these various formulations of
inner models s tand as the artistic analogues to the "private
objects," or inner private emmions which, through acts of intro-
spection and related acts of naming, constitute the alleged private
meaning of emotion t erms. Thus the metaphysical variety of
introspection required by the expression theory of the artist inthe
creation of the work looks very much indeed like that required by
Wittgenstein's famous introspecti ve virtuoso, the diary keeper.
Before approaching Wittgenstein's argument directly, however,
there remains still one more lead to follow in clarifying thc paral-
lel betweell the linguistic privacy theorist and the artistic expres
sian theorist.
Our fundamental concern here is with the view that the artist is
in all essentials like a speaker of a language and that the meaning
of an art work is thus like the meaning of a word. The ways in
which this analogy can be given detail, however, differ consider.
I
l' u r., If " Jfll'lTU U U U U-J]
"4 Art as Language.
ably. In CoUingwood'stheorytheworkofartwasdefined interms
ofaninnermentalentityprivatetotheartist.It wasonlyin virtue
ofthisinnermentalworkthattheartistwascalledanartistatall,
andon thatviewit i spossiblethattheartist,althoughperfectly
capableandperhapsevenaccomplished, neverproducedan exter.
nalpublicinstantiationofthisinnercontent,I3Wemusthereask,
in spellingouttheprecisedetailsoftheanalogy,whethertheartist
istoh,eseenastheanaloguetothespeakerwhoisonlyspeakingto
herselfinwardly, orratherastheanaloguetoaspeakerwhohas
thoughtsbutnolanguage,novocabularyin whichtoexpressthem!
On theweakeranalogy, 14thelogicoftheexpressiontheoristisnot
parallel tothatoftheprivacy theorist,becausetheartist, likethe
speaker,hasalready acquired a"Lmguage" -shealreadythinksin
terms of, orelaborates herinnerimages in terms of, thegiven
materialsoC herart,andin thiscasetheentireissueoflinguistic
privacywouldbe irrelevantbecausedisanalogous. Theexpression
theory inaestheticsdoesin factitselfdictatethattheanalogy be
spelledout in thesuongercase,wheretheartiststandsparallelto
the "speaker" with thoughts but no language. The twoterm
explanatoryschema, whereworkAexpressesfeelingX, requires
thattheinnerobjectexpressedbeseparablefrom theoutcrthing
thatexpressesit.Theobjectmust beseparablein thesame way
thatacause, inordertobeunderstoodasacause, must beisolable
from and prior to its effect .This essentiali"y dualistic schema
demands theseparability ofthe "cause" ofthe work ofart, the
innerobject, from thephysical workitself.Mostimportant, it
requiresthatthe"cause"of theoutwardexpressiveobjectprecede
thatOutwardwork, be itobjectofartorverbalutterance.Thus
these twoessentialconditions-separabi.lityandpriority-dictate
thatthe3rt language analogy bespelledout,atleast wit hinthe
domainofexpressiontheory,inthestrongerterms. Theartisthere
I}. Thi. implication.ofCOWSI':, apptoximatcsa leductio adabSlll dum.
'. HueJ follow thedistinctioofor .an.aJogy madebyRiclwdWoU.
he.im bctwnthel-pC'akerof aUnguagf:whoeouJd, but DOl ,
rumscl1andtht.speakerwho,duoughtbelack01anout'Wudlanguage,c.l 1l,I10I express
runlle:U.Sec: RichaldWollheim, All and lIS Objecu. ::ld ed. ICambridge:Cambridge:
Ulli velillyPreiS, 19801, pp. 105-17.
lrWlr,f II I,f 1-11U l' frJ ffl V-
TIleSilence 0/Aesthetic Solipsism " I
standsparaUelto thespeakerwhohasthethoughtorfeelingbefore
hehasthewordorsignthatattachestoit.Themeaningoftheword
must,tomakethisviewgood, comefirst,justasthemeaningofthe
workmustprecedeitsexpression. Withthesetheoretical require
mentsinmind,requirementswhichthemselvessecuretheimme
diaterelevanceoflinguistictoaestheticconSiderations,wemayat
last tumt othecaseofWittgenstein's privatediarykeeperandthe
argumenthousedwithinit .
"s" AND THE DIARY AJlGUMINT
We now haveverygoodreason t obelieve thatt helogicofthe
expressiontheoristofanparallelsexactlythatofthelinguiSticpri
vacytheorist.Theprivacytheoristclaimstlutouremotionwords,
e.g. "anger," gettheirmeaningthroughreferenceto innerprivate
experiences, andthat words onlyserve as signs for priori nner
objects signifiedbythem.Onthisview,theemotionwordiscon
nectedin amerelycontingentwaywiththeactualinwardemotion.
Thusthepersonwhoisangryhookstoget herthesignornameand
itscorrelatedinnerobjectbyintrospection,focusinginwardatten-
t ionontheexperiencewecall "anger"andthenassociatingitwith
thatoutwardlabel,t heactualword"anger.illS Onthislinguist ic
theorysuchan actof innerostensivedefinition shouldbetheway
outofsolipsism, servingtobridgethegapbetweenoneselfandthe
ext ernalphysicalworld, butatthistheoreticaljuncturethewayis
acnullyopenedintosolipsism.Tobeprecise, thefirst steptoward
metaphysicalsolipsismistoreflectthat,becausesignmeaningcor-
relations arecontingent,wecannotreallytellif A's redisnotB's
blue,A'ssweetisnotB'ssour,andA'sangerisnotB's delight.16 The
secondstepistogeneraliu:thisskepticism,concludingthat'We can
neverauthenti callyknowthecontentsofthemindofanother,and
the thirdandfinal st epistoconcludefromthisthatwecannot
reallyknowif thereisamindofanother. Aestheticsolipsism,asan
I s. SeeWiugenstcin, plti10s0phical Inve3lilDliOtJJ, see. lS6.
16. SeeaboWiu,enstein'$ eadiel di.s-cwsionof this i&suein The and Brown
Books 100001d:8a$iJ 81ac: kweU. 19s8Lp.60.
I
,,6
Art as Language
analogue to this metaphysical-linguistic variety, should then be
dear enough. We begin by reflecting that we cannot authentically
determine what the emotive content 01 a particular work of art is
(as this is inviolably private to the mind 01 the artistll we then go
on to generalize this into the critical di ctum that we can never
know that a description 01 a work of art involving emotive predi
cates is true; and finally we arrive via an explicit rational progres-
sion at precisely the critical-metaphysical priority granted the
artist with which we began this chapte r, namely, that only the
artist, as the sole possessor of the inner object, knows with cer-
tainty what the contingent emotion-work association is. With
these often-suppressed conceptual maneuvers brought to the sur-
face, it is now clear how we arrived at our central claims, only sup
i ported intuitively at the outset: (11 the artwork functions as an
,

outward physical sign, 12) artistic meaning is ultimately mental
and hence private, and 131 the fundamental task of criticism is to
lead us from sign to meaning.
The fundamental tenet of the linguistic theory behind the fore
1
going aesthetic solipsism is that when I say the word "anger" what
I mean is the inner emotion I have felt . It is at this point that we
may begin to fill in some details and review, if only in a cursory
fashion, Wittgenstein's argument as it applies to the linguistic side
of the artlanguage analogy. It should, i1 the linguistic privacy the
ory is correct, be possible for someone-a genius
l 7
- while showing
no outward signs of emotion, to invent a language in which inner
emotional experiences are recorded. For a particular snsation, let's
say the emotion of anger, he decides to write down an 'IS" in his
diary every time the inner sensation makes an appearance on his
private mental stage. Wittgenstein remarks at even this very early
point that we are already bound up with conceptual impossibilities,
for "a definition of the sign cannot be formulated."" In short, we
cannot let ourselves toO quickly presume that we possess a full
comprehension of this case, because a definition of the sign would
l.
., 17. See Wiugen$lein, PbilosophfCDI l nvutlgauoos, tet . :117
) 8. !bid., 158. For Ihe purposes of t hi. di KlIliioo I have broughl togelber the
genius who invenls 3 name for a sen$ll iiOIl of see. :lS7 with diarisl who marks.to
! HS,. for every ocClinenee of tbe SCll$auon In .te. :ISS.
\
,I

The Silence of Aesthetic SolipSism
'"
refer to the genius's emotion-which is by definition private. We
could never know the referent of the word and thus, within the run.
row referential confines of this theory, Dever know the meaning of
the "sign" ,, 19 Thus we already find ourselves in the impossible
theoretical position of having subtracted the general schema of
object-anddesignation with one hand while retaining it with the
other. The privacy theorist, however, will insist that this is never
theless fully inteUigible. The genius-diarist is giving himself a def
inition by looking at the "S" on his page and focusing his inner
attention on the anger; nothing more complicated than that is hap
pening, and we, as outside observers or as, indeed, other minds,
have nothing to do with the issue. We should here remind our
selves that the activity of the geniusdiarist is nothing like dwelling
on anger, or thinking to oneself how angry one is, or holding a.
grudge, or trying to put aside one's anger; it is not like anything
that may normall y come to mind as turning our attention to our
anger. This is, as an introspective act of definition, different, and
uniquely so. Any descriptive formulation of the act of inner defini
tion of the linguistiC sign involving any part of the life and language
in which we are communally resident is necessarily wr0I1&t indeed
these more familiar mentalemotive acts cannot constitute, in
whole or in part, what our genius is doing. He is allegedly carrying
out the ghostly equivalent of pointing to a chair and saying,
"chair," except that he does so in utter isolation from others who
use this word and in isolation from any history of the word's public
use. This definition of the linguistic sign, however, not only is in
the present context beyond understanding, but it in fact cannot in
any case be understood, as the following problems-which worsen
as they progress-will make clear. We are told that the genius
impresses on himself "the connexion between the sign and the sen
sation." Here Wittgenstein points out that this curious ceremony-
lSI . We .tre nOI I.lisclluing a condngemly privatt ianguagt, i.t., one that no one ehe
happens to 'puk, but necuslmly private one, i.e., ont which no ont ellie,
becaulC of il ' prl V31t refertnt, could undcrsund. See Wlttgcnslcln, Pb1IoJophical
Invt,Jff,aIiOnl, see. 143, Ind Roberl Fogelin, WittgerlSufn ILondon: Routledge &
Kegan Plul, 19861. p. 155, whtJe il is made enlirely clur th:tt it i5 IlOt merely a private
use of a pubUe unguage that is II issue.
'I I, U Cit II II II lnrO-U- U IIIill 1I 11' IH ii' H ii'IU Ilr" ", '" If!"r
u8
Art a.s Language
" for thatis all itseems tobe"-couidonlyamounttoonething,
whichisthatthegeniuswillremembertheconnectioncorrectlyin
thefuture.Intheprivateinteriorworld,however,utterlydevoidof
alargerlanguageorlingUisticcommunityintowhichthisnewsign
liS" falls therecouldbe no "criterionof correctness. Onewould
liketo5;Y: isgoingtoseem righttomeisright.Andthat
onlymeansthathen: wecan' t talkabout' right. ' ,,10
Thispassageisseverelydamagingfor thelinguisticprivacytheo-
rist .Thegenius-diaristmaynotbeable to rememberaccurately
whattheinnerobjectwas;hemaymistakethesensationtowhich
weallegedl yattachthesign" melancholy" {or the sensationhe
thinksheremembers,theoneactuallycorrespondingto"anger."If
thegeniuscannotrememberorcannotbe sureof theconnections,
whicharealreadydefinedascontingent,thenthemeaningofthe
sign"S"cannotbeascertainedinanyparticularcase,whichis to
saythatitcannotbeascertainedatall, thus irreparably wrecking
theoperativeconceptionofa" language." Thereisacorresponding
impacton anyconceptionofcreativityinart wherebytheartist
alone, inhis exclusivelyprivateemotionalworld, determinesand
thenfixesupontheemotiveCOntentofthecontingentlyassociated
anworktofollow.ThispartofWittgenstein'sargumentcan, how-
ever,beread inaperhapsmOleaccurateandcertainl ydecperway.
Theproblemisnotmerelythattheprivatespeakercannotremem-
be.r, butmorestronglythattheveryissueoflinguisticconsistency,
ofperformingtheinnerostensivedefinition correctly, is vacuous
because,intheabsenceofanypossibilityofverification,theideaof
consistency has no discernible content and thus no linguistic
sense.2.1
10. ThethreeqUOtatil)nIIttheendof p;'I1grapharefrom Pbilo-
sophiGt!.llnvutigllfiOI;ll, ICC. lS8.
,
1.I . Secinthi. to.IUltionEdwudCraiC'msighdul"Munin&UK.andPri vacy,"
Mind 91 (19811:H I-61,espeei,lI ypp. inwhicb thi spnt01 Witt genstdn's
,rgumentis identified. th.rougb inU.roci3tion ofsenseaDd ttlubility,as a new
employmentoftheverilieationprinciple thatWIIcentul topoaitivl.rn.Cr,ighere
identifiestheconsistencyofpuenee.lS thecruxofthe languageissue,andthis
!.
ofcourseconnecutotheissueofconsistentlyfollowing3 rule.InPhilO$op/!.icllllnvu
ligations, sec.101,Wiugenslein " ys that 'obeying3rule'b apractice.Andtothink
oneisobeyinga ruleillnot toobey.. rule.Hence it isflOtpouible toobeya rule' pri.
vately:otherwisethinkin,onew" oheyingarulewouldbethesamethillgu obey
,
The Silence of Aesthetic SolipSism "9
Theproblemsofmemoryandconsistencyrequirefortheirintel-
ligibilitytheexistenceof twothings,eachinitspropercategoryof
mindormatter, Theinnersensationoremotionhastobephenom-
enologically present, as the innerobjectaroundwhichall other
considerations, i.e. attendingto, identifying,ornaming, revolve.
Secondly- andheretheargumenttakesanotherstep-therehasto
bethementalactofcomparison,specificallytheplacingofthecur-
rentlyfelt emotionagainst a memoryimage oftheemotion(rom
itsprevious OCCWTence,when"S" was outwardlyconnectedthen
toitssignasitistobeagainconnectednow.
Theseriousproblemwiththeveryideaofmentalcomparison
withinthisprivatecontextis introducedbyimagining"a table
(somethinglikeadictionary)thatexistsonlyinourimagination,'ttl
An3lHhentictableofthis sort,wearereminded, "canbeused to
justifythe transl.1.tionofawordXbyaword y."llNowaquestion
arisesast o the similaritiesanddifferences betweentheemploy-
mentofanysuchreal tableandthe consultation ofanimagi nary
tableexistingonlyinthemindofthegeni usdiarist .Theprivacy
theorist mightassertthattheimaginary table is tobe usedinpre-
cisely the samewayas the realone,just3S one might,inwonder-
ingwhetherone knowsthedeparturetimeofa train, call tomind
howtheappropriatepageinthe timetablelooked.This,however,
as Wittgenstein remindsus, is whollyunlike consulti nga real
table,becauseforthistostandequivalenttoanactualconsuhation,
thememoryofthetableandofthewayitlookedwouldhavetobe
ingit."Thil is cleadyclosely related to the claim thatifwecannotdistlngubh
betwcenaCNt01 correttprivate06teDsivedefinitiooIJtdtheimpre.s.Uonofcorrectpri
Vateostensivedefinition, thenthereunbe: nostich thing.ls " correctuse..Ch.ri.to-
pberPeacockebasmadetbe: pointthat by fWiugcnsteinlmUDS thepr.ICtice
of aeommunit y. " in WitfltnSleill:1bFollow a Rule, ed.S. Holtzmanand C.Leicb
(London:Routled8e aKClan Paul t9811,p.72., indicatingdutwhatitistofolio.... a
rulecannotbe:expl.3inedwithout to,commWlity,andthisis,rwouldlJlUe,
dirertlyIIu1OSOU5to theneuanlypublic natureof:ut,directlyIn.alogou$10 the
possibilityofutlstlc In u mecoliecti(Xl G.P.a.kumakcs lhewelcome
point thatthe: tainingof.anovaviewofa.Il thedifferent kindsofminpwhichconui
IUleru1efollowingwould plevmt theillusion01,needforaIhN)'ofrule-following
touke hOldj seepp.S7- S8.
u. Witlgenstei n. P1Ulowphicol1nvesrislllions. sec.1(5:5 .
13. Ibid.
.,0
Art as Language
correct .Thiscorrectness,here again, wouldhave to be capableof
beingputtothetest,andnotmerelyforpracticalpurposesbuthere
tooin ordert ogivecont extualmeaning,togiveafunctionalutility,
t otheword" correct .,MThiscannotbe donewiththementaltable,
for, as Wittgensteinsays,here too there is nodistinction between
seemingrightand beingright .Becausewepossessno independent
criterionofconectness,wecannot know whethereventheidenti-
I
fication ofthe emotion,yetto becontingentl yassociatedwithi.ts
sign, iscorrect.In thisway, the "mental tabl e" case cutsmore
deeplythanthememoryargument .Theallegedactofinnerosten-
I,
:,.
sivedefinitionrequiresforitscoherencethistabl e-checkingnotion
I
of comparison, but thegenius-diarist 's prelinguisti c activities,
withinthestrictcon1inesofhi sownprivatelanguage,cannOt reach

outtoapublicconfirmationofsensationidentificationoremotion-
namingthatwouldensureinte!ligibility_Indeed, if we relyun-
"
criticallyonsucha notion, as Wittgensteinwarns generall y, we

bf
constructouridea oftheinneron the modeloftheouter,or con-
strue themental onthe model ofthephys ical. Thiserror is, of
course, perfectly analogous t o a number of problems we have
encounteredinourconsiderationofexpressionistic,idealistic,and
intentionalisticconceptionsofartisti c meaning.
,

,
THE. INCONCEIVA, BILlTY OfART
AS A PRIVATE LANGUAG E

:1 Funherproblems concerningthe internalcoherence ofthepri-
I
vacy theory as the linguist ic forebear [0 aesthet ic solipsism
remain, and theseproblems concern not the issue ofconnecting
theinnerobjecttoasign, butratherthepossi blerelevanceofthe
innerobjectitself.Thecentralrel evance ofthe innerobject is, of
course,assumed by boththe linguistic privacy theoryand the
artisticexpressi on theory; intheformeritdeterminesthemean-
ingof a wordand inthelatter it det ermines the meaningofa
,t
14 For full of (he ncc",il),of COnIC);1 10meaning, seemyMeaning
r: and ImCTprelD rioll Corncll Untvcalty PI CSS, 19941,pp.9-
8
3.
t
,
The Silence 0/Aesthetic SolipSism
13
work.Thisbringsust othewellknown problemofthe in
theboX."lS
Wi ttgenst eininvites us todunkofa groupofpeopl e, eachof
whom hasa boxwithsomethingin it, anobject which each calls
"beetle."Each person canonl yseehis privatebeetle, but theyall
share thecommon word, tbe meaningofwhich theylearnfrom
consultingt hecontentsoftheirownboxes. Nowitis"quitepossi-
bleforeveryonetohavesomethingdifferentinhisbox."Thepoint
here isthat thesupposedrelation between the object anditssign,
i .e. referentandsign, couldnot bethat which is envisaged bythe
privacytheorist, because aUof thesepeople doinfact have the
word incommon.Ofcourse,wecannotobjectbyskepticall ysaying
thattheydonotreallyknowwhatitmeans, becauseeachlearnsit
from his own case, which, as 3perfectspeci men of immedi ate
ostensive defin iti on, allegedl yguaran tees referential certainty.
Wiugensteinfurthersuggeststhattheobjectintheboxcouldbea
sortofchameleon object, constantlychanging, andcuri ously, this
factwouldhave noeffectwhatsoeveronthisword,"beetle,"which
has"3use inthesepeople'slanguage." For the aestheticparallel,
we mi ghtimagineagroupofpaintersin astudio, all ofwhomagree
t ouseabrightredstrokeontheircanvasesas thesignfora partie
ularfeeling, the inwardfeelingcould constantl ychange wi t hout
thechange beingdetectedandyettheredstrokewouldcontinueto
operatewithinthe"language" definedbythestudio'spract ices. uU
Ithe word" beetle"had such asuse) itwouldnotbe usedasthe
nameoC athing.The thingintheboxhasnoplacein the language-
game at all ;noteven as asomething; for tbeboxmight evenbe
empt y." Similarly, althoughpublicl yusedinthe studio,t he red
stroke would not be used as the " name"01 sign01 an e moti on.
Thus, although itwouldundeniablyhaveameaning-orarangeof
mean.ings- withinthestudio,itwould not acquirethis meaning
throughreferencetoaninnerobject.
u
Wittgenstein's last point is the fina l blow to the account of
inwardemotion-naming. Theproblem isnotonlythat[he"beetl e"
1j. Wjttgcnstdn. rhilruophical InveStigations, sec.193.
16. Allquotationsin Ibispauguph from ibJd.
u... J1f Jf (lUUJl JI JJ JJ .,. 11 ,u " ," ,11 ,tl,11 If! tf1 -,r
I
I3:l Art0$ Language
usersallhavesomethingthere, whichmaydifferandchangebutto
whichtheword" beetle"stillrefers :lndinvirtueofwhicbitstill
possesses meaningas asign. Noris theproblem merely thatthey
may indeed have nothing there and yet still use the sign. The
deeperproblem is thatthecategoriesintermsofwhichtheentire
explanationisconstructedaremisleadingandinsufficient/thesign
is Dot whattheprivacytheoristpresumed ittohe-adead linguis-
ticsigngiven Jifebytheinnerobject t owhichitrefers-precisely
because the innerobjectisnotrelevantas thesoledeterminantof
meaninginthewaypredicted.Itmayhave,infact, aswehaveseen
inthe"heetle"case, nopositionatall; thusitbecomesclearthat
thesuppositionconcerningthecentralrelevancefor meaningof
theprivateobjectwas erroneous. " No, onecan'dividethrough'by
thethingintheboxiitcancelsout,whateveritis."Onemaysimi-

larly"dividelhxough"bytheemotivesignificancebelieved tobe
privatetoeach oftheaxtistsinowimaginarystudio.Cleaxly, the
,
r
categoriesofinnerobject andoutwarddesignationwithinwhich
t
thisexplanationofemotive-linguisticmeaningisgivenareindeed
insufficient.Thusthestartingpointofthistheory, theinneremo-
tionwhoseoccurrencetheg<?Jlius istorecord by inscribingan"S"
inhisdiary,misleadsfromthebCglnningbyforcinganysubsequent
conceptionof linguisticsignificancetoconformtothecategoriesof
theinnerobjectanditscontingentlyattachedoutwardsign.Indeed,
thesecategoriesmustbetheoreticallyotioseifnotpernicious,for
"ifwe construethegrammaroftheexpressionofsensationon the
modelof'objectanddesignation'theobjectdropsoutofconsidera-
tionas urelevant. "1.7
I
17. QuOtationsi.D thisp:mIgntphVI:homIhid.1beObjeclciJOPSOUti/,.sJCIbnCook
hupointedOUt. ""eCOll5true thecaseonthe modelofobjecl andname,oroblectI.Ild
dUigolItion;thusthepointisnOI thatoftbecrudebehaviorist,i.e., that theinnellife
IS here diseusaeddoQ()( e:rilt, bututhl!Ttbatthepictule01objecl.nddcsisnatlon,
'pplied10Ihiscase,ifiuclJtheresult01 am.isludinggnl.m.mnie.ianalogy. Secfohn
Cook. "WitllenSteinonPrivacy, ThePhilOl<JpbicdlReview74 (196SI: 181-)14,
reprimedin Willgenllan:ThePhilosophicalInve.stigarJonr,ed.G.PitchecINotre
Dame;UniyersilyofNoueD'mePrCS5, pp. J8&-P3, upeeilll)'pp.)al- U.
,
CnmpMe Wittttnndn'sremark:inZettel, IOxford:BullBbclcwell, 1967Lace.481:
' Joy' dt41icutesnothJ.n.sIIillNeitheranyinwardnora.nyoutwardthine. Thtcru-
dll wordint his rem..rkis not butrathe,"dcSignIIU." This reDi n k is
interconnectedwithWiutI;enstein'srefutation04 theAutI;U! tinlanpicture:01 me.nin&
1 TheSilence0/ AestheticSolipsism 133
We know, chen, that theprivacytheorist regards asunproblem_
aticthenotionof thenamingofanobject,andwenow know that
thiscannotbetakenforgranted, andmoreovercannotbeapanof
theexplanationofwhatthegenius-diaristis doinginhispreHn_
guisticsi lence. Afterall, whatcoulditmean, intheabsenceof
everythingexceptthegenius-diaristandhisemotion, to say: He
nameditbyconcentmtingontheemotionandconnectingitwith
thesign"5"1Thesewords,alongwiththeveryconceptofnaming.
mustremainincoherentinisolationfrom apubliclanguage.Here,
ofcourse, the"stage-setting" thatWittgensteinremindsus isso
easilyassumedisbroughtmoreclearlyintofocus;thestagesetting
is,ofcourse, theconceptualapparatusofobjectanddesignation.
u
Withoutthisst'age-setting,nothingthatgivestheprivacytheoryof
meaningits initialplausibility-theassumptionofalanguageinto
whichthenewsignSfit s--c.anbe takenforgrantedorpresumedas
givenata preexplanatorystage.For thiswouldmark "thepost
wherethenewwordisstationed,"andifthisaccountofmeaningis
tobemadegood,wherethemeaningofthewordis glvensolelyby
i.e.,thatallwordsfunction as namuandderivc their meomingthrougbreference, as
discussedin theope llillgsection3of thePbHolophical Invtstigaliot:u,sec. I-9. It
shouldalsobenoted huethatthe udtoppinSout"oftheinnerSCllUtiOJ) withinthe
modelofob;ectomdIksignation00e.,cotIOf.momentsuggestdutinw'rdexperience
withoutlinguisticformulation isincoocciv.ble,forexample!lUIwccouldnotape-
rience whatwe cal lI hudache withoutknowingthe WOId " headache,"orthJltany
inne.- event i.s ruledoUlSide thehounds01pouibiliry(byI curi<lUSvarieryofpsycho-
Jogic.al nominali smlifwedonOtfitsl l\lveanamefor thalevent .Thi simplausible
interpretivedirectionwouJdturnWi\lgenstein'sargumtnthereinto'Dargumentfor
behaviorism01 themoltoaremekind.But on the<ltherhandithardly/oll<lwS from
thefact thatp,e]inguilticKDsatiOnS lIeconctiv. blethatwecanalsothenhaveOJ
m..tkenonliDgui.stlcbel.i.efs, know\edseclal.!m,IIsscrti<lllS,explanatoryhypotheses,or
d.efinitioru.lnthUconnectionfeeRichardRofly,PbilDrophyaDdtbeMmorofNlltwe
(Princeton:PrineetOnUniversiryPrest, pp.I81""9:1. Ontheissueofknowingow
sensati<lns, for enmplethe geniuldi,rin', "SH sensation, or ourpossibly non-
linguistiche.d.acht,orPicasso'.liceItFr&OCO',utur.tionbombiT13ofCuemiel,see
Wittgcmtein, PhilosopbJerJllnvUtifatiool,!lee..,.,,6,wbnewe'lire remindedth:u the
e.laim IunknowwhetherJ am ,eaJl yIn p.ain'" isinonesenscfdse,andil\
another{intc lcstinglnonsensc.Thee.5e01misplacingdoubtin theeonteJ:l isIiso
epistemol<lgicaUy,f&nlliuntlontbismalle.- ICCRobenFogdin'sIemukthat" il there
weresuch aWOld, wemightsayt hai hereiti.cuytoeonfux.the<ldubillblewiththe
indubilable,"in his WiUgeDSlein{londoll :Rootiedgea KcganPJlul. J916Lp. 158.
:18. Wiltgen_lein,PhiknophJCtlllnve-sdlalioDs,sec.:lS7.
'34 Art as LanS!J-oge
the inner object to which it reel'8, then such a post, comprehensi-
ble only within a larger linguistic c.ORt e xt, cannot be put to any
explanatory use. Thus we cannot, in the end, explain what the
genius-diarist is supposed to have done. We cannot say that he
named his sensation, because the public words "naming" and "sen-
sati on," already situated within a linguistic context, cannot enter
into the account. Wittgenstein takes this to the argumentative end
by pOinting out that the privacy theori st cannot even resort t o
explanations as vague as Well, he bas somet.l1ing, and he affixes a
sign to it-and that', all, because "has," and "something," and
again the idea of "affixing the Sign" are part of OUf public usage,
they "belong to OUf common language.,,19 In the same wa y, we
must now go back to our imaginary studio wilh its "language" of
red suokes and subtract the COllcept of object (or emocion).and des- .
igIlation, leaving only incoherence and an ulter inability to explain
the communal meaning of even that single artistic-expressive ges-
ture. Of course, if this theory lacks the explanatory force to account
for the expressive power of the first ges ture within an expressi ve-
interpretive community, it cannot begin to explain the vastly more
complex meanings of it s actual artisti c practices, its visual lao-
guage:1/)
19 Ibid., 161 . For a panicuiuly helpful plesentation of Wiugennein', argu-
menl eoncernin& sensation aod IIIUli ng. or the problem of the meani n, of lICe
Malcolm Budd, Wiugensu1n', PMJOIOphy 0/ Psycbology (London: Routledge, 19
8
91,
PP46-,6.
30 . .Further, if works of a" were the literary, J1.Iusi<.::al, poet k , or sculpru,,1,
,
teeOrdinp of "S" in artwork diaries, the factlhat $OOIe worka of an ue dceper Of more
rcsona::u lhan others would remain beve, maplictble, and if arunic communi<.::ation
aru.lotOU$ to private we oould 001 explUn ow: daiire to rorud, c.,.,
BrothctJ Karamazov or lisl eD .glln 10 The Riteo! Sprin3 , Abo, IOCOf'I$truc a work of
;trt as all analDgue loa linguistic ,Ip! f:lven content through innu ostmSlve definition
is to . dopt a num...,. critical monism. as there would be ooly one w rrect critiCiI i\kn-
tific.1llion 01 the iD.ner object behind the work. By COnuast. to&ee an artwork as an ana-
logue to a mu ningiul word 0 1 pluase In spoken communal IInguagc is to feselVe
interpretive . pce for the multiple meanings of crideal plur3.li5m. Sec in thill connec-
tion Wittgcnstein'. remark that NScbubell ', Wlt t tnh ed i s d early deeper than
Brahms's WiegenlJed, but .. . it C'D be deeper only in the whole of our m\lsic,l Lin'
,uage," in Rutb Rhecs, Withoul ADSWU$ (New YOlk: Schocken, 19691. p. 136_ Of
COurk, there is a deal more to be said in explanation of Ihi3 contexlu,1or com-
munal conception (J resist the WOld htttl of mearung. but it can certainly be
u id here t hat altinic mUni", will nOI be .ucccufully explicaled in terms of
The Silence of Aesthetic SolipSism 'lS
The priv3cy theorist has nowhere to turn at this point-not.h.Ulg
more can be said to explain the theory or give it content. Linguistic
solipsism is, in the end, profoundly vacuous; there remains DO
means with which to give it an intelligible formulation. Thus
Wittgenst ein says, "So in the end when one is doing philosophy
one gets to the point where one would like just to emit an inartic
ulate sound.,,31 In precisely the same way and for the same reasons,
aesthetic solipsism-the theory that the meaning of a work of art is
ultimately private to the mind of the artist and thus categorically
and ont ologiu lly beyond our reach-is utterly vacuous , Picasso's
rage is, I believe, perfectly visi ble in Guernica, and it would be
deeply misguided t o deny that brute aesthetic fact. To claim, how
ever, that the emotion is metaphysically private, that it is only con-
tingently associated as the mental meaning behind a physical
artwork, and that the proper function of criticism is to provide
guidance from the visible artifact to an hypothesis concerning the
immaterial emotional state hidden behind it, is t o reven to the
dualisti c categories from which Wittgenstein's arguments provide
a much needed escape. Indeed,. we might claim-with something of
a sense of relief-that in a curiously literal sense aesthetic solip-
sism, along with its corre1ated conceptions of the ontology of art
and the t ask of criticism, are theori es for which nothing can be
said. The metaphysical priority or interpretive privilcge we are
inclined to grant the artist and its consequent intentionalistic crit-
ical theori es may well be deepl y e mbedded in an intuitive sub
strate. As we have seen, however, they are in fact the aest heti c
vestiges of a linguistic mythology. Our task in the final two chap
ters will be to reconsider the linguistic issues resident in, or embed
ded beneath, three of the most influential recent aesthetic theories.
analogul:$ (a tbe "S" enuies consldcnd above, be they red sttOkes in painting , wdios,
or chords, ebonbl or melodic and rhythmic motifs in Inusiul compelitlon,
or Corinthian columns or auted pilasl ers in design, or cubes, pyurn.ids,
and Sphcnf in sculpturll composiTion, and so forth. Theseelcmenll are inlleed mean-
ingful in .nUtlc compositioD&, but JlO( a! in 211 ultimately priv3te ilItis-

) t . Wi llgenstcin, Philosopbictll IllVllStigtlfions, 5C('.. 16l .
,"
I
__________________ __________________________________________________ __
7 The Aesthetics
of Indiscernibles
Philosophy itself was transfigured by Wittgenstein's reflections
0 0 the nature of linguis ti c meaning. and these refl ections had,
insofar as they were intertwined wit h problems of perception, an
epistemological aspect . With characteristic insight and lucidity
Arthur Danto, as one small pan of his larger project of developing
a comprehensive aesthetic theory, has encapsulated that intellec-
tual revolution. I As I shall argue, however, it appears that he has,
perhaps unwittingly, both concealed and preserved within his
own aesthetic methodology a good deal of the old ways of think-
ing beneath the more attractive surface of the new, and this
implicit theoretical preservation is symptomatic of the powerful
grip of those old ways. Wittgenstein himseU did not, in the later
philosophy of the Philosophical Invc.scigations,l merely decide to
change hi s mind on conceptually fundamental questions and
answers, as they were formulated in the Ttl1Ctll tuS Logico- PhiIo-
sophicus.
1
He struggled against those eMlier, and more theoreti-
cally accessible, views.
,
t . See Arthur Danto. "Description and tbe Phenomenolop of Per(:epllon, n ill
Vilu<ll TbtOl)', eel. Nonn.o.n Bryson. Michael Ann Holly, and Keil h Moxey jNew York..:
H:upe.rCoUina, ' 9901. PI'. Ul'-I}. The pbn.5es quoted in the foUowinj; diJI:\lssion Ill'
hom thi. paper unle" otherwiae
1. PhIJ<nopbicallnl'e$IiKa fi onJ, ]d ed., (lans. C. E. M. AnloCOrnbe (New York..:
MaemilLm, t9SBI.
1. 71-act<lIUJ ('911L nan'. O. F. PUI"II.llld B. f . MeCuinnas
(Alilnt ic Hig.blantU, N.J.: Humanitie5 PreM, 19741.
-----
_
inn u u U u IJ 0 D D \lQJ D D D D D II II II IT Ill! JY
The Aesthetic.s of Indisce.rnibles 'J7
DANTO AND A.STHSTl C ATOMISM
Danto' s fundamental strategy, in aestheti c theory, is that of
aS$embling imaginative collections of works that are separate and
distinct in identity but indistinguishable from each other perceptu-
ally.' Thus a set of square canvases painted red might be variously
entitled "Kierkegaard's Mood," "Ni.rvana," "The Israelites Crossing
the Red Sea," "Red Square," "Untitled," or any of a number of other
possible identity-detenn.i.ning titles. One of the many achievements
of this strategy is that it brings to the surface and very finely focuses
the central question of aesthetic perception: What is difference
between our percepti.on of an artwork and of a non-an object (a
" mere rea) thing") t.h.at is, on a perceptual level, indistinguishable
from iH I would suggest that this is a new and improved ver-
sion of the question common to much work in aesthetics predating
Danto's contributions: What is (if any) the distinctively aesthetic
mode of perception, and how does it differ (il it doesJ lrom nonaes-
thetic Danto has shown us that until the mid-century
conceptual turmoil, perception was regarded as epistemologically
h shoold be mentioned bele that Dinto'. larger project in authetic, runs vastly
beyond my present concerns in thll atCti()ll, what 'ppe&rs here is thus !lOt in any ,ense
intended as,. complete or full t rutme.o t of hil br&er eoonibutioo, wbich would
reqUln: a book untO itself. I ruve concerned myKlf with here is a singl e point of
coDvergence between D3ntO', metbod aJld ph.ilosopbY--<llthougb I do
believe th:l t tbis convergence IJi the Joundation oj Ol nto'S ptoiect. It , boold also be
lai d hele lrut D.lJJ.t o', work ill of eoune a luge part of the "Iel um to men
tioocd in the In troduction .bove. See Mary Mother.JIl, Beauty R.estored (Orlord:
Oxford Univers.hy Press, PI'. B - 7, . It it lrue th.u tbe p<eeeWnglIltithroIeticai
moveme.Dt took it. impetus from Willgenstt.in'. WOIk, altbou&h it concemed itself
primarily with tbe very limited ls,ue oJ artistic delici.tlon, lll"guinj; that the concept
"AIt docs Dot behave &I one wboM: membcn are iocluded on !.he pounds 01 fued
neets.5U)' and $ulficimt eonditiorul. M I have argued ei.scwbeR, the ootion of "i.amil y
resemblance, and of overLappinC !.hat con$titute varyillg criteria for
inclusion In the e11l55 "Arl, iJ in fact only ODe 01 the many Wiuge:ns.t.einian conerpts
that hold deep and direct 'igniliCll1et for our I.Ind.ersundin, of an. I have explored
some of these, e.g., fWmlI 01 We, lIn""i5lic . nd artistic practicc, a gea-
tweLao;ual!.c, aspect perctptioo, anti ClltJltuliSUl, cxpre.uive t one and conte"t, IIld
philoosophical me!.hod. in my Mullinj: twd InltlJlrelation: Wil/genuan. Henry lames.
aud Utuory Knowledge (Ithaea: Comell Unive ... iry P,UlI, on the IIlUlheorisu'
"aHOW sense oltbesi,pilieance 01 W{lIgeD.5tein for .athetit$, Itt jnrticu1arly Meo-n
ing IWd IntelJlIclO"tiOn, pp. I-B.


.....,
.' 't.f
,1>Jd.
: ' ..'''- ..()' 'V
. (" ....

I
'J8
Art as LllllgUoge
fundamental or basic, and that language was regarded as only an
acoustical adjunct, an ex post lacto representation, of the primary
perceptual event. One sees first, one says-if at all-only later.
Given this perceptual primacy, it is only natural to ~ identify the
essential function of language as that of naming, where a word gets
its meaning through direct reference to a simple or basic perception.
i.e., a percepti.on that is Wl31lalyzable and thus, as Danto succinctly
PUtS it, "capable of being named but not defined" (2.02.1. With this
perceptual atomism, one would recognize any familiar object as a
composite of basic perceived d2ta collected through the five sensory
modalities, and if required, one could (although this would be in
almost any context unusualllist the basic perceptions out of which
the object is, on this model, constructed. Thus the apple is "round,"
" red," "tan, " and so on duough what would be, in toto, a very long
list of basic perceptions.
Of course, linguistic atomism closely follows perceptual atom-
ism; just as one is led to the conception of language as naming, one
is led to the idea of correspondence, where a given word stands for
a given perception and the truth of any utterance is then a function
of the match between word and world, As Locke and his twentieth-
century su.ccessors believed, we generalJy trouble ourselves to
name only composites in actual spoken language. Thus, if I hold up
an apple, study it, and say "avocado," I have uttered a falsehood;
the language following the perception does not refer to the com-
posite "round, red, tart, ' ." Now, having glimpsed only this one
example in which trut h is construed as a function of correspon-
dence, one can already see that spoken, or natural, language is a
'rather messy alfair. Although atomistic in structure, it is systemat-
ically imprecise, because the linguistic name, the word, does not
refer, through referentially clean one-to-one correspondences, to
perceptions. Words refer, imprecisely, to clusters. At this point one
can both feel the motivation for the TTactatus and at least mini-
mally appreciate its modernist ic elegance. it describes, not a
makeshift and even chaotic natural language, but a logically pedect
language, inside which there are no such things as ambiguit y,
vagueness, metaphOrical undertones, allegorical overtones, or even
simple misunderstandings. [n the TTactatus, as we saw in Chapter
The Aesthetics o/lndiscernibles
."
r, a proposition is a picture of a state of affairs in the world, and at
the most fundamental level of significance, basic perceptual atoms
are directly and precisely represented by basic linguist ic atoms.
The only possibility is that of absolute clarity; owing to the pres-
ence of corresponding atomistic basics, confusion and interpreta-
tive disagreement cannot arise. Thus in the prerevolutionary
philosophy of science we arrived, as Danto reminds us, at the idea
of "observation sentences," i. e., those sentences "which could be
verified or falsified through some isolated single perception" (:lo31.
Analogously, prerevolutionary philosophy of art would insist on
the possibility of aesthetic "observation sentences"; these would
be post factum descriptions of properties exhibited in works of art
which could be verified or falsifi ed through a single perception, or
through checking the correspondence between word and work.
Although the problem of verifying criticism ranges considerably
beyond the specific concerns of t.his discussion, it seems clear that
contemporary diSCUSSions of r.ritical objectivity and of its possibil ,
ity still rest squarely on atomistic foundations. Stated directly, i1 a
critical observation is thought to be a proposition about properties
exhibited by the work, where the conception of the meaning of crit-
icism reduces in the final analysis to naming, atomism is still
exerting a powerful influence, and its full manifestation is seen in
the often employed but rarely stated delinition of critical truth as a
verified description of a prior perception, These are, in summary,
the old ways of thinking.
Wittgenstein's search for a new philosophical method was car
ried OUt in large part as a struggle against himself, against the
ways of thinking expressed in the Tractatus. Th.i s exorcism of
atomism is what Danto has referred to as Wittgenstein's chi ef
thesis, the claim that " we cannOt as easily separate percepti.on
and description as had been taken for granted by philosophers"
!.204). On the earl ier view, the claim that a proposition is a pic-
ture of the world itself impli es that perception and description
are wbolly separable and only contingently related-when in fact
they are related. Remi nding us of the lIactatus's histOrical affini-
ties with the views of Schopenhauer, who solipsistically asserted
that "the world is my representation," and with Nietzsche, who
u u u ur 11 rruU II U ill ill
140
Arl as Language
made the related claimthatifwe change languages(meaning
herearadicalexchangeof t bestructureoflanguage)we change
worlds DantacharacterizesWittgenst ein'sLat erview as a repu-
diatio;ofthedistinctionthoughttoexistbetween"theworldon
theonesideandlanguageontheother"(2041.Indeed, 3S Qurepis-
temological access to the world runs exclusively t hrough
representation,wecannever, as alogico-epistemological impos-
sibility,arriveatanindependentpositionfrom which to assess
theaccuracyof the representation against its original, or the
descriptionagainsttheperception.Norcanwetakethefirststep
towardsuchaposition, bec;lusei t i sa departurefrom thelin-
guisticthatisnotonlyimpossiblebutinconceivable.
s
Ofcourse,
itiscrucialtoanyelucidationof thelaterWiugensteintodistin-
guishbetweenanassertion thatisfaJseandonethatisunintelli-
gible. DantoaccuratelyidentifiesWittgenstein'srepudiationnot
as concerningthefals ity ofa specifictheoryregardingthedis
tinctionbetweenperceptionanddescription, butratheras con-
cerningthevery intel ligibilityof tbat distinction.Ifperception
does notprecededescription,andifperception wit hin anysen-
sory modalityorcombinat ion ofmodalities(as insynaesthetic
perception)is ineluctablylinguistic,thenany discussion ofthe
relation betweenperceptionanddescriptionisasotioseas itis
misleading.IIthenewwayofthinkingisarepudiation,thenitis,
atbottom,arepudiationoftheexplanatoryfunctionofthebasic.
AlOmism,inbothitsperceptualandsubsequentlinguisticforms,
isthetheoret'lealconsequenceofanillusoryepistemologicaldis-
tinction.Heretooafull elaborationofthis pointwould takeus
far beyondpresentpurposes, buta few passages fromWittgen-
st ein willsuffice tosuggestthegeneral directionofthenewer
thoughtasitopposestheold.
,
5. ThesepaJabiliry that1here rdel t oas isnotonlybeyondour
i maginativegrasp, illtheway that3 Olltbundred,idtdf1".m.is inconceivablebut
st ill, ofcourse,pouiblt,but ratherinconeeivable In theItnset hlt,ollce we have
deputedfrom thellquJuietherecouldbenoconteDttocheconception.WiththeImt
r
struc.01moonc:c.ivabUiCy, this utterIepMationofp( ICeption fromdcsc:rlpdOil would
bepossible,butonJycontintenti ybeyondourimaginat ive bounds.Thepoint,onthe
leeondsenseofmconceivability, is thnthevery idea ofthisIKpu.ltion, as.lc:oncep-
mal impossibility,t.ineohereDt.
ill lJilIUUUUilJUUilJilIUIJIU
141
The Aesthetics o/ Indiscernibles
Very earl yinlh-:. Philosophical Investigations, amongprelimi-
naryreflecti.onson theold conceptionofmeaning, Wittgenstein
writes, "Whenwesay: ' Everywordinlanguagesignifiessomething'
wehave so far saidnothing whatever; softeningthiscategorical
statement only slightly by adding "unless we have explained
exactly wlwt distinctionwewi.sh tomake.'" Slightlylaterheadds
t othat repudiationofnami ngas theoriginof meaningthewell-
knownremark,"ToimaginealanguagemeanStoimagineaformof
We.,,7 Toimaginealanguageisnot, presumably, t oim.agineanet
workofcorrelatedbasicobjectsoranassemblageofperceptionsand
names, Abit later heisata position from which theoddityor
remOteoessofthenamiDgmodelcanbesensed,andsays, "Andyou
reallygetsuchaqueerconnex.ion(ofawordwithanobject]when
thephilosophertries tobringoutthe relationbetweennameand
thingbystaringatanobjectinfront ofhimandrepeatinganame
eventheword"this"innumerabletimes.,,8 lndeed,even from the
verybeginningsofanoverviewof themultiplefunctionsoflan-
guage,achievedearlyinthePhilosophicill Investigations, thedream
oftheideal orlogicallyperfectlanguageanditsmethodofreduction
tobasicsseemsimpossiblyalientoactuallinguisticpractice.Much
laterin thesameworkhemakesapointedinquiry:" CanInotsay:
acry,alaugh,arefullofmeaningr,,9Suchutterancesare, atleastin
certain contexts, both intensely meaningful and beyond the
explanatoryreachofthenamingtheoryofmeaning.10
Theselew passagesserveto illustrateWittgenstein'sattackon
theconception of language as asystemofnames thatsignifybasic
perceptionsorclustersofbasicperceptions.Thesecondsiteofbat -
tlewiththeold wayofthinkingisthecollection ofremarkson
6. Phi1osopblC41 InvutJ:ationJ, 1lU.I).
7. Ibid.,see. 19. Idisc:uu lbe fullerum..ifitationsofthiscbimforaesthetia iD
Meilll/ng IlJId lnll!rprltalion, pp. 4S-8l
8. Wi ttgtllitc:in,PbilosopblcollnvCjti,Olions, &tc.)8.
9 ibid.,tec.54)
10. Thisofc;our1tconnec:utothep:rivatel3l1guage &.c:ussc.dabove,foI
aneluc.1dalionofthe.lpWic:ancc01 thisa:rgvrnentspecificallyfor thexumin&:
He JolinCook, on PhilOtWpbk41 RlvilW 741196sl:18t-ll4,
leptintedinWItf&l.o.srlio: Tbe Philosophical !nvestitatjon.J, ed,G.PitcherINoue
Dame: UnlveniryofNot reDJome Press, 1968).pp.186-)1).
'4' Art as Language
aspect perception or "seeing as. ,II I Danto reminds us of both the
irrepressible duck-rabbit
' 1
and the reversing Necker cuhe {10SJ; if
one comes to the first of those visuall y ambiguous figures with the
concept-or perhaps more accuratdy, the context-oI a duck, then
that is what one sees, and if one comes with, say, Beatrix Potter
rather than Walt Disney in mind, ODe sees not Donald but Peter. Of
course, this variety of visual ambiguity, an ambiguity resolved by a
description seeming to reach into and transform a perception, has
more than trivial consequences. U These consequences, identified
by Danto (2,05), can in the phUosophy of science generate the idea
of radically incommensurable world views, each carrying its own
internally generated criteria for verification and certainty. In the
philosophy of art, one could develop the analogous theory of radi-
cally incommensurable interpretations, where it would be not only
inappropriate but in fact impossible to argue against one interpre-
tative scheme employing the discourse of another. But these con-
sequences, which are the scientific and aesthetic implications of a
deeper philosophy of language
14
and perception, IS were as Dilnto
says (2051 not drawn by Wittgenstein himself hut by some of those
directl y influenced by his work, iUld I believe this is more than an
incidental fact_
<I . Philasophialllnve&ri:atiOlu, Pan n. $CC..JU.
u . A few 0( the ttisclU5ions of tbl.r ambiguous fi.cuu in ooontttion with
anistic perceplion are: E. H. Gombri(.h, Art and Illusion, Sih ed.jOxford: Pluidon,
19711, pp. 4-5; Roge.r $(:culon, Art and i/DQ!inatiOD ILondon: Methueo, 19741, pp.
101-' Rich:ud WoUheiru, An and Its Obj rs, 1d ed. lwmbri d&'e: C&rnbridg-e Uni.
versity Press, 19801, pp. 10S-16; :and fol ;tn employmem of th,L, type of visual "'tlbigu-
ity within Wscussiotl$ of the ;tnd a cocnitive IIrle, Michael B.axandall,
Painting and in FifuembCenfUry Italy jOxford: OUord Uoi ve" ity Pless,
19111. pp. "9"-108.
I ) . One of these con5Cquences, I hhoug,h beyond the unge of wh" is being tfu.-
cussed bere:, is tkit poIiu vism, or pot:it ivistic epistemology, is Kve.dy by
tbe du<:ku bbit case. While Wiltgenltein did not put the m;tUU in this W;ty, cues of
this ' Ott oi visualdescriptive ambiguity wue cltnly bc:cause the rela.
tion between what Is perceivably the case that ease's accurate desc.ription is iK"V.
tred by thf.tn. To put the nutter in positivism', own language," single visual object is
the mcan$ 01 verifyiog two mUlu, Uy iIlCOfflp3tible a&SC"'ol1$.
14 The "deeper philO$ophy of unguage" here nleu ed to is the :lIgament against
the po$siIJiHty of a private Lmguate, discuucd ill Clupt e.r 6.
15 For m e1ucidali oll of the Sc1entUi.c view here alluded to,.ec ThowlI5 Kuhn, The
0/ ScJ.cn tif/c Re.volurioll$ (Chitlp University of Chicago Pras, 19611.
The. Aesthetics of IcdiscernibJes
'4,
The result of the above reflections was, as DOlnto explains, the
widespread belief in analytic philosophy that "a given thing has a
given i dentity ' only under a description' "11051. Anscombe's l6
assertion that a bodily movement is an action only under a de-
scription was, as part of a thorough analysis of the concept of in-
tention, the most focused of these post-WittgensteinUn claims. To
hold thi s view, one must hold a number of prerequisite beliefs,
beliefs which are often left unspecified. These prerequisite beliefs,
in my view, both underwrite Danto's aesthetic methodology of
juxtaposed indiscernibles
17
and preserve (as well as conceal! those
elements of the old ways of thinking that Wittgenstein opposed in
his work.
If one claims that a human action is a bodily movement under a
description, one implies that the bodily movement is constitutive
of that action. In other words, the bodily movement is present as
the physical component of a more complex ontological entity, Le.,
an entity possessing both physica.l and psychological or intentional
aspects. This is, of course, perfectly Olnalogous to the potentially
misleading construal of the duckrabbit case, where the drawn lig-
ute is taken as the physical--a.nd constant---<onstituent to which
the int'etpretati ve or intentional constituent is added. It is helpful,
in seeing the cent.ral reJevance of this anal ytical scheme to Danto's
aesthetic methodology, to underscore the extent to which this
approach is a dualistic lor, as the post-Wittgensteinians called it,
"Cartesian"! theoretica.l enterprise. Physical events in the external
world ate classified either as bodily movements or as human
actions according to whether they correspond to mental events,
where these mental events are encompassed by the descriptions
under which the movements fall . This, then, is the first prerequi-
site belief, viz., that bodily movements are components of human
actions, or more generally that the intentional will include a com-
ponent of, or in a sense rest just above, the physical .
l6. C. E. M. An5combe, imen!.ion (Ithaca: Cornell Univenit y Press, 19691.
17. Thi.s method i . of course primatily developed in Arthur Oanto, nans!igu.
latlon of the Commonplace (Cambridge.: HalYard Unive. rsity Press, ' 981). and
(,,:nellds through many 01 the esu ys in his The Philosophiall of
ArlINew Yorli;: CoJumbu. Unl ven ity Pres5, 1986).
u U U II lrU U U U U U II II U II II1M U U U U II U II 11 II IlU ,., .p
'4'
Art as LOfWlage
Although one can see at this juncture the method of indis-
cerniblecounterparts waitingtopresent itself as a corollaryto
theseviews,letusfirsts tatedirectlythesecondprerequisitebelief.
Closelyallied tothefirst, itis thatthereare, beneaththehuman
action and behindtheperceptionoftheduckand oftherabbit,
unimerpret ed constantsupon whichoroverwhichtheconcept,
context,ordescriptionisplaced.18 Therearemovementsbehind
actions,19eventsbehindcauses,lOperceptionsbehinddescripti ons,
and- herewe arriveattheaestheticsofindiscernibles---obiects
behindartworks.
11
Thatthisisanaturalwayofthinking,especially
afterthephilosophyofperceptiondevelopedinthefirstha.liofthis
century,isbeyonddispute.
12
Itstruth,however,isanothermauer,ll
andhereone is remindedofa remarkfromWittgenstein's Zettel,
" Itis verydifficulttodescribepathsofthoughtwhere there ace
1&. InthUioolUl<!elion$Wittgcnstein',discussionofWlulonerelll1ya.eoes, inNor-
man Mal colm, Wlurenm:in: A MemoillOrlOld:Oxford UniversityPre..,
' 9sSLpp.49- }0.
19 See AnnurD2nco, Analytical Philosophy of Action (Cambridge: Cambridge
University 19131,for tebemeappliedtodeliberatehUQla naction.
10. Sec Danto'sAIlalylical Philorophy of Hisl(yICamblidge:CambridseUnivu -
.it)'Pros,
l l. SecDanto, Transfigwalio1l o/!heCommonplace, pp.1-3 l.
11. Itmustalsobesai dhereth..u natu"lwayofphilosophical pr e.
vents orObSCUIUa viewof thepower ofbnguat;e, inthaIlanruage h,Within this
.c.hema,kept" neat, sothat"ll conl.-,adictiotu,apparentorl ut hentic,areregardeda$
unacc<:puble.Simpl yPUt, theyare not .Sunzing contradictions,once understoodfor
whattheyare, are not rationallyunacceptable. Manycl amu,ton.Outofcontextand
placedslde-by-. lde,ueexplicitlyinconsistent, buttheybotb tanbe,nevenheJeliS, pC1_
feed yaeec: pt.tble. SeeRenlord Bambwugh.. " Etbics.odthe Limitso.Cons istency,"
Procudm:
s
o/the AriSloldian Society90 I- I S; .ndRenlord &imbrough.,
andDiKiplu hip. inPhilosopby IlIId LiteraruIe: on10hn Wisdom,
cd.m..mDW1UJl (TheHague:NiJhoif, 1984).Tobringlhis pointin downto
the t heoryofaCtiOD, onecouldadmitthat , Inaec:rt.a.in kindnfease, a humanaction
coul dbennething, Itcouldbedfl&(;liiHd diiierently,andthoteQiver&em descriptiona
could be bot h Ic.upt.ble andcontradic tory, where noonedesCriptionprovide.Ihe
,
intupreution.
1}. I.bouldpoint outIhltitcertainl), docsnotfollowtt.-lIbisdu.listicwlyof
tbinkinrIItruefrom tbeflc! thaI i.nterprc(ati"eambigui tycanaill,e.I.,innot
i ,
knowinr;wb(,t bcrtheappearanceona bl.:!ckboardot thewordl1MES"indicatesa
di,cuas lonatLatm,ofncw.p.>pcrs,ofhistory. oftbeotttiea.l pbyaics, 01 oItumething
el sc. IIowe thi.eumplca nditsplaec:me ntinthisCOnteXt to RcnlQrd 8ambrou&h.J
Sucb ambiruitiaencourage theaction-bodyandmeaning word dillinClion$u dil-
here.butlbe)'donotneec:ssitatetbem.
Tile Aesthetics of lndiscernibles
'41
alreadymanylinesofthoughtlaiddown,- yourownorotherpea-
ple's- andnotgetintooneofthegrooves."l4Ontheoldway of
thinkjn.g,thesearch forthebasicinboth perceptualandlinguis ti c
formwasamanifestationofthedesiretooriginateanepistemology
atapointofabsoluteandindubitablecertainty,apointimmuneto
Cartesian doubt.Perceptually, thosebasic atomswereuninter-
pretedgivens ofexperience) in language, theywerecorresponding
linguisticsimplesthatcouldbenamedbutnot,underthe delimi
tation 01atomisticsimplicity, described)andinart, theyarenot
interpreted works,butrather, to employDanto'sphrase,merereal
things.:15 Theyaretheobjects behind theworks, thebasicsover
whichaninterpretativeschemeis superimposed.
Thereare, Ibelieve,serious problemswithpost.Wittgenstemian
analysesofbasicactionsthatrangeintOphilosophica,logic;toabbre
viatethemonemightsimplypointtosomeofthe exuemelyoddcon-
elusionsresultingfromsuchananalyticalprogram.Amongcountless
such examplesonefindstheunembraceableconcl usions thatwhat
takesplaceas akneeierkinamedicalexamination ispanofwhat a
soccerplayerdoesunderthedescriptionoflUckingagoal,thatacting
thepanofaparticipantinaritualis,atleastinpart,whattheauthen-
tic participantdoes, and, movingt o thelinguisticcase, that the
soundsapanotmakesin"sayinghello"are,inpart, identicaltowhat
a persondoesunderthedescriptionofsaying,. "Hello."u;Theseare,
again,problemsinternaltothi smethodofanalysisl
1
moreimportant
14_ Ludwi& Wj!tsenstcin, Zt.ttel, ed. G. E. M.AJucombe andG.H. von Wrip t,
traDs.C.E.M.An,combe!O:dord:Basil Bl ackwell, 19671,sec. 349,p.64e.
lS. 7tDnspr;urmion of /be pp_I-p.
l 6. AnOl hu wayofcastincthe problemsintowhichwearcledwhhln this b.uic-
aClion-pit.LS-intc.ntionanalyUca.lplogramIs Ihat01 de,cri ptiveoomudiclion.l{abee
}erkina medicalexamination, , tene:r.ction!hudocsDOt involvenelVeimplllses
fromthecelebrum, illbuicconstituentofwhitaSOC:I pl ayeris inkickirtla
goal,whichobviouslymuat i.nvolvel uc hcerebulimpulses,c.he n wearrivc.tthe
absurdc.onc1usion_ direct contTlldic t ion-thata vol\llluryacliooi scomposed of
inVOhUltarymovemenll, I.e., thai partof whal wemeanby"voluntary" is"involun
tary. MypointaboveisthaiUthhisow: pointof.rrival, thenthercis5ufficientWII
r.a.nt to lOMiderourpointofdeparture-which istbeadditiveanalyticalprol!1.m.
11. Punherproblem, intrinsic10 thiskindof1UI.lysisu e.\\ownin.xlailmFrank
B. Eber,wie,Languare and Peruplion: mll),s in IhePhj1osopb)' 01 urngunge fW.uh-
ingtoo,D_C. :UnlvetlityPrCS$ of 1975'1,pp. r 99- 111.
147 '46
Art as LanfUage
in the present case is to suggest, first, that such an analytical program
is alien to Wittgenstein's later thought and, second, that the program,
as a method in aest hetics, Wlwittingly reiterates the old ways.
Consider then this remark: " Nothing could be more mistaken
than to say: seeing and forming an image are different activities.
That is as if ODe were to say that moving and losing in chess were
different activities."
u
In b ct, if actions are basic movements per-
formed under descriptions, tben precisely such a claim is being
made. In the parallel visual case, if one insists on the existence of
the uninterpreted basic as the perception behind the description,
then one is saying precisely that seeing and forming an image are
different acti vities. The affinity between this and the strategy of
assembling indiscernible counterparts is clear. First identify the
perceived entity common t o both a mere reaJ thing and an artwork,
and trus yields, through an act of conceptual subtraction, the iso-
lated descriptive or interpretative essence of an artwork, an essence
which exists, as an ontological intangible, above and beyond the
physical object and its uninterpreted perception.
From this vantage point one can well understand Danto's admi-
ration- his theoretical admiration
19
_for snow shovels, porcelai n
fixtures, and Brillo boxes. They satisfy the requirements of this
analytical program perfectly. We have al ready seen, however, the
deeper affinities of t his theoreti cal program with the old ways
against which the revoluti onary thought c.onceming perception
and description was opposed, and hence its actual disrance from
Wittgenstein's later thought. To state the matter bluntly, this aes-
thetic method perfectly exemplifies the very atomistic analytic
strategy against which the later Wittgenstein was struggling.3D
18. WiUgtD5tein, Zettel, !lee. 6,,}, p. t ue.
19 That this admiration is. function of the tbeoretlcal fittingneu of readymades
Is made explicit in Danto, PhilosophicDJ Diun/tancbJsunenl, p. H, whue Danw
writes of Ducbamp'5 FornHam, "I confcu that much u 1admire it phll0s0phicaUy, I
1/
should,. were it given me, udange it as quickly u I could for mote or lesa any Oiardin
or Morandi.
fl
)0. For Danlo's reading of Witt geDsl ein aJ an atomiBtic analYIl 01. hUffiPll action,
I
see 'nansfigwa/ion of tbe CDmmonplace, pp. 4...s. For a cornpeting interpr et.ali on,
where Wittgensle1n U seen as dlsputlng the very pouibility of the atomin ic
of action, see B. R. Tildonun, Bul b It AlII (Oxford: Bast! Blackwell, [9841, pp. 96-98.
The Aesthetics of Indiscernjbles
There are twO questions remaining. The first concerns the
applicability of the method of indiscernible counterparts to central
or noncontroversiaJ cases in art, quite apart from the question of its
al1inities with an earlier stage of analytic philosophy; the second
task is that of sketching more fully the later Wittgensteinian view
as it applies to the relation between description and perception.
It is clear that the method of juxtaposed indiscernibles fit s
"found" art as well as any conceptual appMatus could; Duchamp's
bottle rack is not identical to a non-Duchampian bottle rack. 11ris
fittingness, however, allegedly extends far beyond such specific
cases, and it is, as Danto claims, the achievement of Duchamp and
Warhol to have brought the question concerning the essence of art
to this focal pOint. Their achievement is not, then, to have drawn
OUI attention to the otherwise unnoticed formal features
31
of com-
monplace object s, but to have bought the history of art to a stage of
development'l from which it can itself engender actS of conceptual
subtraction among its percipients; i.e., it provokes the focused ques-
tion, "What is left over when we subtract the object fro(ll the art-
work! " Now, in order for the method to apply generaJl y, as Danto
clearly believes it does, we must, as a contextual necessity, have a
kind of ambiguity present . We must have, in a way closer to the
spirit of the later Wittgenstein, a contextual OccasiOD for the asking
of this focused question. Such an occasion is, in dIe noncontrover-
sial cases, precisely what we are quite clearly lacking. It is true that,
as a way of insisting on the implicit applicability of the question,
Damo invites us to engage in the gedankenexperiment in which an
accident involving paints and canvas produces an object phenome-
nally indistinguishable from the Polish Rider.3J Such an imaginative
act, he believes, wiU secute the relevance of the Duchampian ques-
tion because we are, through the side-by-side comparison of these
indiscernibles, provoked to search for an ontologi cali y less solid
31. See Danto', discussi on of George Dicki e's ilJ.stilutionalisl conception 01
Dueb.mps FO!JllIain as 3 Clndidate for appreciation. lID. object eiliibillng a "gleam-
ing whIle and a oval s hape,'" in Pbll050phicDI DjserlfranchIJr;
nltllt, p . . U .
p . For a conc.iJe expruaion of Ibis philosophy of an history see ibid., pp. iJI.-xv.
3). DJnlo, Ttan$figurOliDn 01 rile pp. 3l- 3a.
,-

Art as Language
I The Aesthetics of Indiscemibles %49
148
item, as a description or an interpretation, which explains the
difference. Danta admi t s that such para-aesthetic accidents are
unlikely-<>ne might feel compelled to say very unlikely-but any
such reaction is beside the point; it is, Danto insists, logically possi
ble, and that is enough, i.e., it is not a gedankenexperiment that
refutes itself in self-contradiction or internal incoherence. But the
function of any theory is, presumably, to explain, and the method of
indiscernibles can demonstrate an explanatory force only within the
context of a problem or set of problematic particulars which that
theory covers. Again, what we lack in central, or more specifically
"non-readymade," art is the very visual ambiguity that obtains
between a mere object and an artwork.
34
Whatever the answer to the
question posed by those specific indiscernibles, that answer cannot
illuminate until its contextual necessity, in the for m of the
Duchampian question, is first established.
PE.RCEPTI ON IN DESCRIPTION
,
The foregoing remarks concerning context lead to a related but
separat e task, that of discussing the late-Wittgensteinian view o(
perception and description. Surely the most widely known project
in Wittgenstein's later philosophy is the repudiation of linguistic
atomism as a viable theory of meaning. This is related, however,
to a parallel repudiation of visual atomism or an epistemology
based on sense data, and this relation can now be explicitly stated.
To say of the duck-rabbit that we /iIst see an unanalyzed basic and
then give it one descriptive interpretation or the other is still to
insist on the distincti on-in both logical and psychological
t erms- between perception and description. To say then that the
" rabbit" description can reach into or "suffuse" (as a Kanda n
might put the matter) the unanalyzed basic figure, is in this way
;,
34. To see mOle clearly the lack of contextual necessity for this method, and Its
consequent resuicted explanatory capacity, one might try to imagine the formulation
of questions concerning non-readymade inruscemibles: "Is tbat an actual Kandinsky
pornait or is it rainedon Pollock leftovers!" "Is that Klee's geomeuic design or a bloc-
ler [OI small sponge pads!"
also to remain within the very categori es from which the later
Wittgenstein was trying to escape. Indeed, we would be developing
a theory of the relationship between perception and description
rather than, in a manner consistent with the new ways of trunk-
ing, denying that distinction's intelligibility. In the repudiation of
linguistic atomism Wittgenstein shows at great length and in a
way deeply resistant to summarization the Significance oj context
as a determinant of, and occasion for, meaning. The assertion that
a bodily movement is an action when it is performed under a
description only superficiall y acknowledges the signifi cance of
contextj as we have seen, this way of putting t he matter pretends
that "bodily movement" is not i tself a description that has its use
within rather specific meaning-generating contexts. It pret ends, as
we have seen, that the brute perception of t he movement comes
first and that its descriptive interpretation follows. In the parallel
aesthetic case we are presented wi.th an ingeniously developed
conceptual template of indiscernible cOlPlterparts, and to put this
template to explanatory use we must presume that we see the
mere thing first and that its descriptive interpretation follows. But
"mere thi. ng" is no more descriptively inert a phrase than "bodily
movement," and to believe that it is interpretively vacuous is to
conceal within the aesthetics of indiscernibl es precisely the con-
setvative epistemological categories against whi ch t be str uggle
was catried out. Conversely, to insist on the signific3nce of con-
text is to deny the intelligibility of a fundamentally misleading
distinction, to insist on a view which seems at once radically
untraditional and, insofar as it delivers us from reductionistic
atomism, theoretically liberating.
35
Danto has quoted Nietzsche to the effect that there are no facts,
only interpretations, and it is clear that Wittgenstein's remarks on
aspect perception fundamentally concern the multifarious relations
between sight and thought, seeing and interpretation. Taken
together, these remarks illustrate the antireductionist affinities
between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein, as well as their shared antipa
H. A cle.ar demonstration of (he significance of cont ext fOJ elucidating art iSIiC
intention is found in Michael BaxandaU, Palle.ms 0/ Intention INew tuven: Yale Uni
versity Press, 19851, pp. 4 1-7.}.
.
,,0
Art as Languqge
thy to the perceptual and linguistic foundationalism at the core of .
the old ways. Inany case, it is clear that atomistic analysis-in per-
ception, in language, and in their i.ntersection in aesthetics-is a
theoretical program, or as Wiutenstein characterizes it, a "picture,"
not easily left behind. One might s till insist tbat there must be a
way of separating perception hom description and oJ theoretically
capturing their complex interrelations.
36
Against such insistence,
such theoretical ca.ptivity, one might place Wittgenstein's remark
about his own earlier philosophy, II A picture held us captive. And
we could not get outside it, for itlay inour language and language
seemed to repeat itto us inexotably,,37
DI C KIE, STATUS-CONFERRAL, ANO THE LIMITS
OF AESTHETIC DOUBT
FoJtowing the direction set out by Danto,3f George Dickie
39
has
elaborated and systematically defended one answer to the question
36. I emphasize hue iliat what! am oppoting is !.he attempt to geneIl lly, Iheare,i.
e.ill.y, e.J pNIe and for allin. lWCTal thtory rlw: bctwe.en and
perception. But inopposing this pIillosopb.iul " pleOlre" resideo! in00' larv;w&e, r do
not WtJ1t 10 fall into another error frequently dia.gnoscd inWittgenstelnian I.nveslip.
tiOIU, i.e.., assertin.!::. nq:alive version of the positive s-encn.l andabmatt doctrine briug
opposed, or a<ptini: me fcrr mu1ttion Q/ the problem bul del"lyin,itssol\ltion. We do, 01
c.ourx, &equently make distinetiOfU between peu:eption I nd description, aad between
Wc:ription and interpret.atiOl1, illparticularized, OfW.II.Iry, COCltUllIaw:ed ways. The
problem arises wben we pnxud beyond. N Wittgensl ein puts ii, saying what we lmow
and no more, and prel\III\CWI there must be some .. bsolute, dewtl tutualized version
oftheat distinetions w!lith can &enCo allthe basit for I philO!KJSl lUu l theory.
37 WiugaUlein, PbilosopbiClll 1n'lest4atians, 5. u s.
,
38. This is true evetI1I,:ai Dama pillS h, he n.ust do Oedijll.lbattle with the theory
that has n:wlted from this :llhetic direction blvin& beenfoUawed. See Da.nla, nan.s.
figmation of the p. vlli. It.further remark Damo makes illthis prcbcc i5
l igniliu.r:1 rw the prueJlI ...d the previous di Kuuioo: imponlDt, if;lJ)ything J
write fails t o apply throughout the ...odd ofart, ' shall consider that a reNtation: fofthi.s
.tim$ at being ;lJ) malytlcal philosophy of art, even ifit may also be relId IS a SlI5uined
phlIosophic.al reflection on me p.tlntio&an!I-scwptuteol the pre.tenl time" p. viii.
I. 39 f or t his elaboration, see Dickie, Art Dod Ibe AMlbeUc (lthae.J: Cornell
Universi ty Press, 1974). Helpful ofboth Danto and Dickie e;m. befound in
L.A..Ig33rd Mogenscn, ed., Cult ure Dnd A rt (Atlan tic Highl ands, N.J.: Humanities
Press, 19761; see espeti d ly t he tonllibudon hy Colin Lyas, I nd Dickie on
An,"pp. I7o-93.
The Aesthetjcs o/lndisce.rnibles 15 '
how it is we can coherently account for the classification":) of some
artifacts as works of art. The institutional theory boldly brought
about a return to a search for essence in aesthetic theory} tbis was
made all the more bold, of course, by the fairly widespread accep-
tance of a general skepticism about the possibility of ever locating
a defining essence.
41
II was not thought possible to accommodate
the multifariousness of the arts up to the present, incorporat e a
conceptual flexibility to allow for the future development of art,
and reveal the inner coherence, indeed the defining feature, of the
concept of art. Dickie's answer, however, was formulated not in ref-
erence to an intrinsic property of an object where its automatic and
prereflective inclusion within the class of artworks was assumed,
but rather inreference to an extrinsic act of conferral, so that, once
the conferral was performed, the object was allowed entry, in what
must be 3 postrefl ective way, into the category of art.
This attempt to capture the hidden unity of art, through focusing
on tbe " non-exhibited characteristic"41 of conferred st atus, is
clearly close inspirit to Danto's position, because it is here tOO the
Don-exhibited, the reliance on a charact eristic that, in Danto's
felicitous phrase, the eye cannot descry, that allows the project of
the search for unity t o go forward. For itS very reliance on the COD-
ceptual instead of on the perceptual, the institutional theory was
seen by many to have assi milated whatever lesson the Wiltgen-
steinian position had to offer, inthat it no longer looked for a defin-
ing essence both intrinSically contained and perceptually locatable,
and it was seen to have returned the subject of aesthetics ve.ry gen-
erall y to its higher calling of conceptual analysis. Both of these
40. ThaI this theory isdeveloped intbe inltrest of c1i1ssiji(:(Jtton nnOels it
rnenu lly dillertnl ftorn a v,ri, nt ol t he itl slilutiona] position that doea not .eem t o
embody the precise problel!ll discussed betel see, e.g., T. J. Diffey, "The Republic of
AIt, " Briwh ' ourna1 of 9 If 969!: 14S-S6.
4 1. fOI . densely Hticle exhibiting the diversi ty tbal ,eriousiy
iDlpedo::.s the u adilional searcb Idr es&ence, su MaMball Cohen, "Aesthetic b$enee,
i n Philosophy In A m uica, ed. Malt Black {IlhaClil: Cornell Unlvuslty Pte.85, ' 9611,
reprinted In A C1itical Anthology, ed. George Dicki e and Richard 1
5dllllUli (New York: 51. Mauin', Press, 19771.
041 . See Mandclblum, Resembl ances and Gener. liu tloD Can
eemin,g the Mts," Amencan Ph;]osopbiwl Quart erly a II 96S ): 119- 18, Tt prinled In
At.Slbtlics: A Crit ical Anthology, ed. Dickie and Sclafani., pp. jOO-j l S.
uw
'I' Art as lAlDgU.Qge
beliefs, it seems to me, have far more to do with appearance than
with reality, but to argue this I must relmn first to the insti.tutional
theorist 's starting point, and then, later, to the presuppositions
within that misl eadingly auspicious beginning.
Heavily weighed-down by the multitudes of aesthetic differentiae
collected in the interest of applying the idea of family resemblance
to the problem of artistic definition,4J aestheticians were oHered the
possibility of tossing the hard-won overview of diversity aside for
the simplifying and much lighter conception of conferral For all the
waywardness of the art world's artifacts, they would still have one
thing-a thing available not to the senses but to the intellect-in
common. They would have the status of candidacy for appreciation
conferred upon a collection of their aspects by a spokesperson acting
on behaU of the social institution of the art worJd.
44
As a start, this
does seem refreshingly straightforward after the. multitudinous dis.
tinctions offered as illustrations of family resemblance, but indeed
only as a start, for as the theory attemptS to progress beyond this ini.
tial stage it turns back on itself in an ever.more.confining circul ar.
ity.4S The question directly facing this theoretical start is, naturally,
"Why is one artifact and not another put forward as 3 candidate?"
Or, "Why is this [pointing to the Polisn Rider! an object with con.
ferred candidacy and these [pointing to thumb tacks and plast ic
forks}"6 not !" It is here that we are led around the first curve of cir.
cularity, for the answer must be put forward: "Because that is a truls.
terpiece painting, a true work of art, and those squalid objects ate
not." This distinction, of course, is not available as an explanation
of the institutional pOSition, since it presupposes an Wlderstanding
of the very subject the theory set out to explain. From this point,
indeed a disappointingly early point, the circularity accelerates: the
,
o Sc-e Motbcrsill, Bwury Rurored, pp. H -n, for.n helpful ovc.-view
of thc stl te of play just belore Dickie's retum to theory.
44. See George Dickie, "What" An!" in ell/tlUe and Art, ed. J\aga.ud.MogenSCD,
p. :I.).
On cbe$e grounds Ricbard Wom.eim bas offel"e-d whit ImS the deei,ive rdu.
UtiOD of wtinnionalism in "The lMtitution.al. Theory of Mt, in Arl !lnd Iu ObjtcU,
ld cd. (Csmbrid:e: CMnbrid&e Univel"sity 19801. pp. 117-66.
d . See Ted Cohen, "A Critique at tbe Institutional ThflOly of An: The Possibilit y
of Nt, in AUlbelial; A Crilical Antbology. Dickie and Sclafani.. pp.
18
1-91.
The. A8Sthelics of Indisceruibles '53
difference between art and nonart must be explained by reference
back to what is appropriat e as a and the appropriateness
will then be employed to justify the conferral which was the non
exhibited reason for our selection of the ex:unple in the first place.
Vicious circularity can be escaped only at the higher conceptual cost
of vacuity, since to answer the question concerning the justification
of conferral with any such vague locution as, "Some objects just are
justifiable candidates and some are not," is simply to restate the
question with diminished clarity. Works of Ovid and Kafka are
works of literature, and works of compulsive list makers (e.g., shop-
ping lists, laundry lists, and lists of texts for the core curriculum! are
DOt. To offer an expiamtioD of this difference is to offer justification
for the inclusion of the former and the exclusion of the latter from
the very c.1tegory of art; to say that one possesses conferred statuS
and the other not is nOl of course to say why. It is only to reiterate a
diffusion of the initial question. These, however, are problems neat
the stuting point of the institutional theory; less often discussed are
the darker problems lurking within that starting point's presupposi
tions.
At the core of this aesthetic strategy is the search, albeit in an
attenuated form, for a necessary and sufficient condition for art
hood. This strategy, familiar to philosophy since at least the time of
Plato's early dialogues,'1 implies a conception of the perception of
particulars which, at a prereflective stage, are only candidates for
inclusion in general classes or universal categories. This is to say
that the presumed utility of such 3. ca.tegory-detennining condition
itself enforces the belief. otherwise unaddressed, that the perception
of the particular object, a.s yet or at this early metaphysical stage
unclassified, is invariably and funda.mentally problematic. Prob
lems, of course, call for solutions; on this picture of the perception
of the particulars, i.e., within the &amework of the presumed utility
of a necessary and sufficient condition, the solution will take the
form of a decision. in schematic form, in the perception of object 0
we ask, on .encountering it, "Is 0 a member of S," (where S is a
47. In EUlbyphro, loc eumple, the definition of piety proceeds i.D temu 01, search
101 its essence} the prOttU of defini t ion .nd oountu.t.U..Dlple il eharacteristlw ly
more Instruccive tw.n the defini tional tAtnti.lism th.at motiv,l(;I it.
'54
Art liS Langu{lge
larger class, set, or category, such as the class of all artworksJ, and
the solution to this problem is then sought through the employ-
ment of the subsequent question, "Does 0 exhibit (or, in the atten-
uated institutional theorist's sense of non-exhibited cluracteristics,
possessJ necessary and sufficient condition C, such that Q's categor-
ical inclusion is expJicidy justified?" If the answer is affirmative,
ow problem, allegedly intrinsic to the perception of paniculars, is
solved: 0 is a member of S. Obviously, the problem is solved in a
negative case as well; 0, in the absence of C, is not a member of S.
This strategy of searching for the determining attribute is clear; it
offers a simplification of unwieldy diversity; and it promises judg-
mental certainty about aesthetic controversy. But in a way (not
surprisingly} like Danto's method of indiscernibles, it rests on a mis-
construal of the experience of art, moreover, the m.isconstrual in the
case of the insti tutional theory is more severe.
,
In the method employed by Danto, what is described as the
"Duchampian question," i.e., asking whether we are justified to
include what appears to be a mere real thing within the larger care-
gory oj art, was generalized- where this generalization constitutes
the misconstrual- to all att. The institutional theory encourages a
similar misconstrual, but one of greater severity, because it does not
begin with a context-specific'" question and then generalize; rather
it superimposes the schema, "Is 0 a member of 5 through th!! pres
ence of C?" over all cases of art from the outset. The presupposition
that would justify this superimposition is precisely that the percep
tion or aU works of art, despite all the vicissitudes and variances of
differing sectors of the larger institution of art-the an world- is in
this sense uniform. Simply stated, it is not. Less simply stated, the
strategy of determining a necess3.l'}' and sufficient conditiOn presup-
poses that far more is in question, and thus that far more objects are
precariously situated on the controversial edge of art, tJun is actu-
all y the case. For this strategy to have more than merely apparent
utili ty, two conditions would need t o be satisfied. First , it would
,,8. The 01 !his context $pilicit y lor our of anlSlic
meaninz; 2nd 10f the avoidance ol a "hawued" critical condition las depicted in Henry
james's '"The Figure in the Carpet'"' Is dis.cuucd In my Me<Jning 'JlJd Inretpul afion,
pp. I J<r,,8.
The Aesthetics of lndiscernibles ' Sl
have to be necessary for us to answer the following question in all
cases: Does every given art objett have the non-exhibited character
istic of possessing aspecls
9
put forward as candidates for apprecia
tion by an aesthetic "spokesperson" or, since this is aesthetics and
not linguistics, by an institutionally empowered artist! And second,
the question of artistic definition wouLd have to be the best situated
of aesthetic questions
so
vis-II-vis its solution's power to illuminate.
As it stands, we have been given a tool to perform a task for which
there is no conceptual need. It must be explained, however, why
this task- the definitional process of question and answer as
schematized above and as presumed by any institutionalist-is one
we are not called t o perform. In providing this explanation it will
help to focus on some observations made by Wittgenst ein on the
experience of certainty-the aesthetic relevance of which will
become increasingly clear as we progress thtough them.
In a discussion of cenainty of the sort that precedes justification,
Wittgenstein remarks, "Giving grounds, however, justifying the evi
dence, comes to an endl-but the end is not certain propOSitions
striking us immediately as true, i.e. it is not a kind of seeing on our
pan; it is our acting, which lies at the bottom of the language-
game. ,,5l The ways in wbich language-games are relevant to an
understanding o( the arts is a topic I have pursued elsewhere; for the
present we can consider all but the concl uding line of this remark.
The giving of grounds in the aesthetic case would of course be the
giving of grounds for, or explicitly justifying,. the inclusion of any
particular artifact within the larger class of artworks. 50 far, this is
compatible with the project envisioned by the institutional theory,
"9. There is. serlous probl em here as well for the instinltlooal theory coneernlng
t he be!ween aestbelic . nd uonaesthetic propelli cs; set Wollhe.iOl,
"The lnstilluiorul Theoryol An," in AIl <lnd I ts pp. I S7- 66, a.nd Colin Lyas,
"Aestheti c .nd Penoul Qualiliu., " ptocudiDgl of rbll Aristollllian Society 7l-
11 971-71-1: 11[-93
SO. I bdleve the qUe5!ion of artl5tie definition 15 in fa<;! not only nOt t he best , ilU'
ated questiolllD thi' sense! it Is amoog the WOI3t. The unionunal ety appl'09ri:ue,KW-
u lio,.. of dryneu 0 1 aridity mad< of much lwentielh(:Cntwy aesthetics b a function
of an ellcenive COncel D with this ql.lestion to the e.xdusion of questions 01 muning,
s!yie, depth. raonance, etWed 5igniikll1lct:, lind so faith.
S1. Wh1lennein, On CertainlY, cd. G. E. M. Ans<;ombe and G. H. von Wright,
tnuu. Dennis Pliliand G. E. M. Anseombe IOxford: BaSil Bbcln.e.!l, 19691,



.
..,.
,, 6
Artas Lcmg u a.ge
in thatitseeks:ill finality-indeedace.Itaint),-3.ooutthecategorical
classificationoftheartifact .Bur thecompatibilityofWittgenstein's
insightintothenatureofcenaintyandtheinstitutionalconception
stops bere-fortheendofgivinggroundsisnot thataproposition
strikesusasimmediately true.Theproposition, intheaesthetic
case, would beformedinsomethinglike thisway: "Everyworkof
artthatweunproblematicallyincludeasthememberofalarger
classofaU artworkshashadstatusconferreduponitbyanappro-
priately empoweredrepresentative."TIllsproposition,indeed, c.ap-
tures theveryessenceoftheinstitutional theory,asitgi ves clear
expression to thepostreflective conferral thatmusthave occurred,
accordingtothequestiontemplateconsideredabove. Forthosewho
have accepted the applicabilityofthe t emplate, this proposition
wouldstrike them asimmediatelytrue: thePieta in St. Pet er's, the
Fifth Symphony, DiviDe Com edy, and Flowers af Evil allhavethis
featureofconferredstatus incommon.As withDanta's methodof
indiscernibles, theinstitut ionalist wiU c13im thatwecomeonOUI
parttosee tha t thisis thecase, whele whatwe "see" is the non-
exhibitedcharacteristicC thatjustifiestheinclusionof0 in S. It is
clearatthisstagethattheinstitutional theor yisutterlyincompati-
bl ewithWin genstein'sinsightintothenatureofcertaint y, and1
wouldwantt o includeourknowledgeoftheseartworks-andthe
waywetake them tobeartworks-asexamplesofthevarietyofcer-
taintyWittgenstcinis examining. lndeed,asexemplarsofsuchcer-
tainty, theyembody the samelogic.Itisourtakingthem, inawa y
fardeeperthanthereflectiveinstitutionaltemplatecanreach, that
constitutesthe"actingwhichliesatthebottom."Theproposi tion
abovewhichcaptures theessenceofthe institutional theoryalso
capturestheessenceof the falsification,orthe postrenective mis-
construal,of thisvarietyofaestheticknowledge.
Theinstitutionaltemplate,likethestrategyofindiscem.ibles, has
itsplace/i.e., therearecaseswheretheproposition hasuses. Thusif
it is truetbat a pi eceofdriftwood, or aremnantofabicycle, ora
woven textile, ora bottle rack,hashadstatusconferredupon it-
!.
explicitlyinresponsetoa contextuallysituated need todoso-the
misconstrual isgrounded in the restofourregular,nonproblematic
q.ses.Thisdoesnot mean-against thecentralt enetoftheinstitu-
The Aesthetics of lndiscernibles ' S7
lionaltheory- that thosegrounds, thosemultiformpractices,are
justifiedinthesameexplici tway. Wittgensteincontinues,J/If the
trueiswhatisgrounded,thenthegroundis nottroe, noryetfalse."S2
Wemightwellimaginesomeonelistening,forthefirsttime,tothe
musicSchonbergcomposedaft erTransfigUIed Night , andasking
" Butisittwe thatyou counttha t al ongwithBach andBrahmsas
music?" DependingaD exactly whatisbeingasked,wemightsay
"Yes," andif askedforgroundsforthis incl usion, we mightsay, "I
can'tgiveyouanygrounds, butifyouUstenmore-andcometohear
more-youwillthinkthesame."Wittgenstein'snext(emarkis, "If
someoneaskedus' hutisthattruer' wemightsay'yes'tohim;andif
hedemandedgroundswemightsay' Ican'tgiveyouanygrounds,but
if you learnmoreyoutoowill thinkthesame.'" Wittgenstcinthen
adds "Ifthisdi dn'tcomeabout, thatwouldmeanthathecouldn'tfor
example learnhistory.",53Tocomplete the analogyto theaesthetic
case,if, in listeningagainandagaintoSchonberg,OUT auditordidnot
cometoagree withus, then itwouldindeed meanthat thelistener
couldnotlearnthemusichistoryofthenYentiethcentury.
The operat ion of t he problematic particularcase against the
groundthatitselfis neithertruenorfalse isbroughtoutstrikingly
ina subsequentexamplefrom Wittgenstein.Hewrites, "Ihavea
telephoneconversationwithNewYork.Myfriend tellsroethathis
youngtreeshavebudsofsuchandsuchakind..Iamnow convinced
thathistreeis....Am[alsoconvinced thattheearth U
we areintheposition ofthelistenerabove, andare then toldthat
Schonberg's harmoni c language bas somepreviousl y unknown
formsofstructwaJcoherenceofsuchandsuchakind,andwethus
become convinced thatcompositionafter Trans figured Night i s
whatIwillfornowcallsimplyratherseri ousbusiness, arewe
thenalsoconvincedthatmusicexistsasanarHTheludicrousgen-
eralityofthisremarkisbornoftheconflationofwhat is calledinto
p.[bid.,sec. ws.
SJ. Ibid.,sec.:w6.
54. [bid.,see. wS.
ss. Iru,cw.sthis cue01 Kl'iousneu11$ I developmentandpdual
,iOD ofI circumscribed Klofmuslulpos5ibilltic.-.a
Meanln, and !merprwIIJon,pp.36-)9.
I
IIUllU ,DBrB " W WNw _ _=.=
The Aesthetics of lndiscernibles 1'9
,,8 Art IlS Languoge
thereremains theproposition that this is howwe calculate. "
60
groundthatis, notbeyond, butbeneath, justification.Thisis the
question- the problematic particular-and what is not-the
Whatifsomeone,anaestheticskepticin theextreme,weretoask
conl1ation inaestheticform, thattheinstitutionaltheoryforces whatgivesustherighttocountTitian's The Three Ages of Man as
uponus.fu fact, theexistenceofmusicasanart,and,evenbeyond a workofart?"Weoughtnot tosayherethatourjustificationfor
this, theplaceoftheartsin ourlives, ispartofthewholepicture thisclaimrestson theconferralofstatusconductedinTitian's
thatforms thestattingpointofQur beliefthat the lateworksof time.Thisis,rather,aestheticscaffolding. andassuchis fixed; we
Schonbergare indeedmusjC(l1works. AsWittgensteinwrites,"The answerbest-ifwe anSweratall--bysaying,likesayingthis ishow
existenceoftheearthis ra,therpartofthewholepicture which wecalculate,this isaworkofart.
fannsthestarting-pointofbelieffor me.,, 56 In thenextremark, we Atthisprecisejuncturemanyhavethought thatawayisopenfor
encounteragainthequestion,"DoesmytelephonecalltoNew theskeptictocontinuein awaythatinfactis not.Theskeptic,who
Yorkstrengthenmyconviction thattheearthexistsr "S7 Ludicrous triestoreUeve hisskepticismwi ththeinstitutionaltheoty,wantsto
inthesameway,forthesamereasons,istheclaim,"Myincl usion saythatourresponsejustshowsthattheaestheticground,i.e.,what
of a bottl e rack ora giganticclothespin in theclass ' art works' isfixed,is amatterof truthandfalsehood, andthatindeedevery-
strengthensmyconviction thattheentireartworldhasexis ted thingcallsforjustification.Wittgensteinasks,"Can IbelieveforOne
from its inception to the present day, and that it has exis ted momentthat1haveeverbeeninthe No. SodoIknow
becauseofthestatusconferreduponitsincludedparticulars."This thecontrary, likeMoore?,,61ThesuspiciousnessofthisMooreian
istheclaim, aclaimfalsifyingtheepistemologyatthefoundations conclusion, thatweknowthiSbecause wecannotseriouslyenter-
ofaesthetics,thattheinstitutionaltheorymustinsistupon. Much, tainthecontrary, isinwcatedby theemphasisplacedon theword
asWittgensteinputsitwithin thecontextofthisdiscussion, is know, andit is followedby theanswer"Therecannotbeanydoubt
"fixed," and it "gives our way of looking at things, and our aboutit for meas areasonableperson.-That'sit._,,6JNorcan we,
researches, theirform.. "sa Justas, Iwouldsuggest, whatis fixed in withoutlapsingintoanirrationalityborde.ringonmadness,seriously
theart worldgivesourwayof lookingatthe problematiccasesin doubttheTItianinthewayencouragedbytheaestheticskeptic.64
aesthetics, andindeed theresearches, i.e.thetheories thatensue,
theuform. .Wittgensteinadds, "Perhapsit wasoncedisputed.But
60. Ibid.,see.lU.
perhaps,forunthinkableages,it hasbelongedtothesCllffolding of ' I. IdoDOl mtllJ"l herelheeasein whichsuchaqutltioo arise,viz., acoo
noj$SC'Uf is talledintosen-ice10scnll i.Dize hrllshsuokesfortheverifi e.t ionofan
ourthoughts. "s,Wedonothave toderive, throughtheapplication
attributionunderluspieionof(orr;cI')'.Thatiabonestdoubt,no!. phUosopbieaJskepti
ofageneralruletoaparticularhumanbeing, theconclusioD that
cism.andItis thusclearhow10 prouedin pWSultofCErtainty.
thathumanbeinghas parents. Nordowehave toderive, through h. Wi!tgenstcin, On CgUlinty, IiCC. N'IIUlallymuchofOnCertainty canbe
read.11'conuncmaryon 1I100rcl thiswayof pultiDgitaboclearlybrlnfS0111 therois
theapplication oftheinstitutionalist'scentralpropositionabove,
ukcofmakln&alloJcpistcmoloJYa lDatu: rofpllstreDCClive knowl edgc. A51aIJ1
theconclusionthatTItian'scanvasesareworksofart.Wittgenstein
.Ittempting(0.how,thisisabothefatal weaknessendemiccothcinstitutlonalibeo.y.
askshowitisweregard amathematicalcalculationassufficiently 'l. Ibid.,,ec.1.l9
II thef keptieclaims.11 !his pointl halwearcIbusbol.diDgfast 10oneproposl
checked,andwhatgivesus therighttodeclarei t checked."Some
tiOn, I.e., Ih.lttheTitianisawork01 an,weshouldthenrespond,IU doesWittge"nsteln
II I where," hesays, " wemustbefinished withjustification, and then
t oaparall el claim, "WhatIboldflllt til isnOt onepropoliicionbut11 Ilestofpropoil
tlons."Ibid.,sec.llj.Moreover,the"nest'"weholdtowillllOl:uniformlyre1:l\e10one
I.! I.
56. Wit t&tnsleirl, OnCeuaimy, see.10,. conceptooly_intoocasetheconcept'"' workof ." "-but toanumber()i interrelated
57. Ibid.,see. ] l a.
concepts;thisI.lelfunkucrodest hecredibilityofthedeinhiorulprojectofaesthetie
58. Ibi d., sec. :arI.
Cllcntialiun.1discussIhisluue inconnectionwith literaryaesthelic,in },f,aning
59. Ibid.,sec.;1.1 t.
and l rHttpl etarion, pp. 149-78.
.<
,60 Art li S l.anguage
In a las t -ditchattempt t o keep this wayintodoubtopen, the
skepticmightsay," Well,justsuppose that you reallydo doubtthe
inclusion of the foll owing onehundred works in the category
' WorksofArt' " ImdhethenliststheTitianandninety-runeothers.
II theskepti csays,inthenaggingstylecharact eristicofepistemo-
logicallyindiscriminateaestheticskeptics, "What would you say
itis surely a temptation-buta mistake-to in
termsofconferredstatus.To justifyscaffoldingis tocollaborate
withskepticism,andattheendofourexplanationswewi1llind,
notourmultiformaestheticpractices,buttheinstitutionaltheory.
Iti s nol amistaketoresistthistemptati.on,tocloseoff thisavenue
intoskepticism,andtosay,asWittgensteindoes, "Thereasot\3bJe
mandoe.s not have certaindoubts."osTheskepticwillinsist,"But
Isaidsuppose youdoubttheseonehundredworks,"andwe.should
then answer,"CanIbeindoubt at wi.W""Doubt,as thepragma-
tist tradit ion has demonstratedin opposition t o the Cartesian
methodin epist emology, isnot subjectt othewill-that is t osay,
notreally." 11 attemptS tounderstandthearts, tocastlightonthe
placetheyhaveinlife, andto locate themwithinanexusofcuI .
turalandsocialpractices,arenotconcerned withwhalareinreal-
itythefactsofthecase,'then-insofaras theyhousewithintheir
seemingly auspiciousbeginnings
68
arequirementtotakeakindof
doubtseriousl y thtlt inpOintoffact cannot be sotaken- those
attemptsoughttoberegarded,ifforrathercomplexreasons, as
6S. On CMrll imy, see,UO.
66.
,
61. SuforexampleC. S. PdICC, HSome ofFourlnClp.llcilics, !OUI
nal of SpeculativeP1Wosopby 11 868):pp.140--141, reprintedillClastic.tJl American
Philosopby, ed.John Stuhl(Ne wYork:OUordUn; vlUs lryPre.., 19871, pp.
Peirceprovides here,p"lIieularlyusefulmaxim:hLcI Uli notptete:odtodoubt Inphi-
losopby whnwedo notdoublinourhearts"lpl.Motepolntedl J, bewri ttl,
andmany'philo.opherattDl$ t o thinkthatUking;1 pieceofpapt'randwril inldoWlJ
1doubt Ihlt'isdoubtingiI,Of that; t U lbing hecandoina minute"'s$OOn atbe
decides beW3l11S to doubt" (p_ 88].
6&. (IiItruethaiirohisITIOttre:ttnt om:.u1aliollofwhathC$l iU n:garibastheinui ru-
I. liCtWtheory, Dickie: has removedanyWsellS5ionIi theexplicitconle:.mJofnat....and
thUibasob5ewedthecentralroleoftheaestheticDoubc towhichcon/enalit "C:SPOD$C:
SeeGeorgeDickie, Tlu All C1rck (Ne w York:HaVeD PreQ, 1935].SUI infaCt this
'CJn(7.o.i soem. 10 inStitut ional ehar.octerofthetheory.SeeJlj,hard Woil -
heim,Poinrln.g <uan Art(London:"ThamesandHuIbon,19117L pp. '3- ' 7andp_)58, D.I .
The Aesthetics of
,6,
engagingonlywithappearanceinsteado(workingwithreality_ In
his influential contributions t oaesthetics, JosephMargolis has
attemptedtodescribe, throughatheoryofaestheticontology,that
veryreality,anditisthustoanexamination ofhisposition,andof
wherehispositionleadsus,thatweshallturninChapter8.
8 ArtandCulturalEmergence
Providingasuccinctencapsulationofhisownpositionin regardto
thena.tureanddefinitionofart,Joseph Margolis has statedconfi-
dently, "Works of art, then, are culturaUy emergent ent ities,
tokcns-of-a-type that existembodied inphysicalobjects."lThis
definitionwarrantsveryseriousconsideration, andIbeginbyfol-
lowingthepathofreasonhehas takentoarriveatit.
MARGOLIS AND AESTHETI C OUALI SM
Inhisinitialremarkssettingoutthestrategyforaphilosophyof
an,MargoliscitesP.F.Sttawson'sIndividuals. where,withrespect
toalargerbutperhapsnotfundamentallydissimilarproblem from
thatofthenatw:eofan,it isarguedthatbothpersonsandbodiesare
ontologicallybasic,and thatwhileboth PandM(personal and
material!attributescan beproperly ascribed topersons, onlyM
:attributescanbeproperlyascribedtobodies.Therefore,personsare
notidenticalwith,and thuscannotbe reducedto,physicalbodies.
z
In reminding usofStrawson'scontribution,Margolisexp1icitlysays
that"$trawsonrefusedtocountenanceaCartesiandualismregard-
ingpersons,"3 yethequicklyaddsanacknowledgmentof someof
I. JosepbMargolis, Art and Pbllo.ropby(AI!J,ndcHi&hbnd.5:HUlllInitiesPress,
1980), p.14
1. P.F_SUllW50n, In dividllQ!s lLorodon: Methuen, 19S91
). Margolis, An and Philosophy, p.1 .
Art and Cultural Emergence ! 6J
themostsalient limil.1tionsofStrawson'sposi tion,namely, that
the relationship between persons and bodies hasnever been
explainedinacceptablynondualistict ermsandthatarespectably
consistentStr3wsonlllln would have to admit that,evenon this
allegedl ynondualisticontological scheme, twodistinctenti lies.
differentinkindatabasiclevel(asoneisthesubjectofPandthe
otherofMascriptions!, mustoccupythesameplaceat thesame
time. ThediffidencethattheseratherdarkODtological problems
mightengenderisquicklyreplacedbyoptimismwithin thecontext
ofaesthetics, withMargolisidentifyingtheimportantlesson from
Strawson'sworkas containedin theclaimthat" personsandphys-
ical bodiescannotbedistinguishedfrom oneanotherin anypurely
perceptualway."sItwouldbeashortstept otheanal ogousclaim
thatworksofartandphysicalobjectscannot,mutatismutandis,be
distinguishedfromoneanotherin anypurelyperceptualwayeither,
butinsteadofrushingtothisanalogousaestheticassertionMSIgo-
lisfirst tellsus thatpersonsandbodiescanbeexplained(although
Suawson did not doso) asbeing"(nondualisticalJyl'aifiliat ed.'..6
Moreover, once we grasp thispoint, there awaits ananal ogous
asserti on in thephilosophyoflanguage, i.e., thatwordsandsen
tences cannotbe reducedto,orexhaustively identified with, t he
soundsandmarkswithwhichtheyare"affiliated,"whereheretoo
thedistinctionbetween thesecategoricaltypescannotbemadeby
purelyperceptual means.Havingthusenrichedthepostponedaes
theticassertionbyshowingfirstitsimerrelationstotheontologyof
pers.onsandseconditsinterrelations,in thepost-Wittgensteinian
philosophicalworld, toaparticularlyresonantformulationofthe
problem 01 linguisticmeaning(i_e., howthe"sign"getsits"life"!,
Margolissuggests thatperhapsall culmralphenomenaexhibitthe
ch:aracteristiCof beingnondualisticallyandnonreductively affili-
4. Iemphuuetb., this problemoftwoentitiesoccupying theli meplace.rise.
onI.hls omoJogiealsebcme. In lac" whetlteronejsperceiving"onet h i n ~ or"twO
thing." depend5on theneedsoftheoontCJI:l.One personI"M-y see11 face ofA famill..
figlIrein amoulc,orm Inarrang-ementofbeads, whil eanot herdocsnot /themethods
ofcoun1inspercei vedent ities,objects,orpatterns. ortherecognitionoiimen,,1reil
lioJls,wUt beCOntexl -spe<:ific.
s Ibid. ., p. 3
6. Ibid.
""UIiUUUUDDUiUU"''''rII
.'
,64
Art as Lal1P.Joge
aledwithphysicalbodiesormateri alentities. Thusworksofan,as
culturalphenomenaandas analogues t otheperson-bodyconnec
tion andthesound-meaningconnection,aresimilarlyaffiliated
withphysicalobjects.Wehave,inshort,beb'llIltopiecetogetheran
understandingofMargolis's owndefinitionofart withwhichwe
began, orat leastof thelastphraseofthatdefiniti on,anartwork
existing" in pbysicalobjects."
Strawsonisby nomeanstheonl yphilosopherconcernedwith
ontologicalquestionsdiscussedbyMargolisin thedelineationof
hisstrategyforaphilosophyofart. Danto, weare remi nded,has
claimed that,tluough theemploymentofthe"is"ofartisticiden-
tification,wedistinguisb worksofartfrom physicalobjects, and
thatthisdiff erencepreventsusfromidentifying. orexhaustively
reducing, theartworkt otheobjectJ Ofcourseparticularlyprob-
lematicworks, orworks thatprovokeamongtheirpercipientSthe
question"Why is thisnotjust aBrillobox, plumbingfix[Ure, bot-
tlerackl"canindeedbe"easilymistakenforrealobjects,'" butthe
mistakeinsuchcaseswould bepreciselythat9ffailingtorecog-
nize(whichisnotthesameasrefusingtoacknowledge)thattheart
objectenjoysa"doublecitizenship,"holdingpasspons,3Sitwere,
for two-waycommercebetweenthereal worldandtheartworld.
Atthi SpointtheStrawsonianringtothisaestheti cassertion is
undeniably clear, andMargolisis surelyrightt oplace theseviews
pertainingtoArtontheonehandandPersonsontheotherinsuch
closeconceplu3lproximity.Danta,however,hastwoclaimshere:
first,thatitwouldbepossibleto identifyt wO distinctart works,'
eachpossessingdifferentkindsof properties,thatareinfact indis-
tinguishablebyunaidedperceptionalone,andsecond,thattoiden-
tifyanobjectasanartworkistotranscendmereperception,i. e., to
invokehistorical,intentional,causal,orconceptual-theoretical(all
allegedlynonperceptualJreasonsinjustification.Dantoisreiterat-
,
7 ArtburDanto,"TheArtworld, !olllno.l of Pbl/osopby 61,DO. H I-a.
8. M.'Iolll,AIl tl1ld Pbilowphy, p.-4.
9 TbUill theviJUll.uu.logut10thecompetingsenitioi, word "TlMES'"
!.
,den\10 "hove,01' multiple meaninpof ""01(\ financi.lri Vet,
bil..liards, and!K)on} hoveringII pot.Sihilili n WOldis dropped inlOtorJtCXI.to
Danlo',COlt, of t hevisualambiguitywouldnu d10QUtli..econtelll u. 1place-
D.tnl.
U
,N {V r
U
[V -p r
U
r'" r
, 6S
Art and Cultural Emergence
ins:theclaims,albeittheaestheticallyanalogousclaims, thatgen-
eratedthetroubleforStrawson,andatthispointconceptualprox-
imity isescalatedtoguiltby association. Margolisclaimstbat,
with regard to both Strawsan's and Danto's positions, " to the
extent th3t each contradicts the very dist inction on which it
rests" IO itmustfall,Strawsonhavingtwonumericallydistinctand
mutuallyirreducibleentitiesoccupyingthesameplace,wherethe
occupationofplaceisthecriterionofidentity,andDantOfacingthe
incompatibleclaimsthatagivenwork ofartbothis andis nota
physicalobject.Whetherornotthesearethebestpossiblesuccinct
formulationsof theseviews, andthuswhethertheyreallycapture
theheartoftheproblemorthedeepertensionshousedwithineach
position,isdebatable.Itisatleastdeat,however,thatMargolishas
identified strat egies that in outwardappearancelookverymuch
likehisown,butfromwhichbewantstodisentanglehimself,hav-
ingseen that,inthosepositions, thecrucial relationshipswith
which they are concemedhave been leftunspecified.We have
heardofbasjc PandMontologicalentitiesandofentitiesenjoying
doublecitizenship,andinbothcaseswehavehadrepudiations,but
notconvincingrefutations, of thedualismimplicitinthese analo-
gousviews.Thisis thedualism that Margolisseesmust beobvi-
ated, andtopursuehiscontribution to this problemwemust turn
toanotherphraseofhisownencapsulateddefinition,the"token-
of-a-type."
Beginningwith themoregeneralandlesstangiblesideofthisills-
tinction,Margolisexplainsthatby"types"hemeans"abstractpar-
ticularsofaki ndthatcan beinstantiated." II Forexample,prints
pulledfromDilrer'sengravingMelancholia I instantiatetheMe.lan-
cholia 1type.Acaptivatingwaytoputthemattergenerallyis to
say, as Margolisgoesontodo,thatartists maketokensofthetype
theyhavecreated,andthattheyCQJl1lot createthetypeunless they
instantiate thattypeinamadet oken.Thus, justason Margolis's
versionof theStlawsonian.account, we cannoton purelypercep-
1ualgrounds distinguish a person from a body, and just as in
10. lhid.,p.7.
II . lbid., p.18 .
.66
Art as Lang.uage
Danto's description we ate relying on a distinction between art-
works and physical objects that the "eye cannOtdescry, " so in Mar-
golis's employment of the type-token distinction an art ist like
Duchamp creates the type "bottle rack" by making (Of, rather, in
this case, "making", an instance of that type, where the manufac-
turers of the actual bottle rack did not make a t oken-ol.g-type.
They did of course make something, namely, the material out of
which Duchamp made the instantiated type; they did not, how-
ever, make the token. Margolis encapsulates trus part of his posi.
tion by saying that inthe use of the not ion of embodiment, " My
own suggestion is that token works of art are embodied in physical
objects, not identi cal with them. " ll Thus he explicitly draws on
the analogy with the perception of persons that has been implicitly
relied upon from the outset, adding that "persons, similarly, are
embodied in pbysical bodies but not identical with them." With
this last phrase we can now see how the term "embodiment" found
its way into the encapsulated definition with which we began, and
with the larger Strawsonian model applied to aesthetics, we can, see
how itis aHegedly the token-of-a-type that is embodied. II we look
at these conjOined ideas more closely, however, I think the magni-
tude of the task of overcoming r escaping dualism withinthis type
of aesthetic theory will appear larger than Margolis has heretofore
allowed_
Let us first look at the features of the type-token distinction as
Margolis wants to use it. He MyS, first, that " types and tokens are
individuated as particulars ." The startling assertion here, I take it, is
that types are being defined as particuLtrs_ Types are, however, as we
have already been told, embodied in particuJars. It would seem a rea-
sonable condition of intelligibility that they be separable from those
particulars) were such separability not available the very idea of
embodiment, as we normally understand the word, wouJd remain
impenetrably mysterious_ Nevertheless, the next feature of types
I
and tokens is, indeed, that they "are not separable and cannot exist
I
,
separatdy from one 3I)other." Thus, itwould appear, tokens and
types are both particulars and yet intertwined or commingl ed in
11_ Ibid., p. l l _
I
.6,
Art and Cultural Emergence
such a way that neither eye nor mind can identify one in isolation
from the othe-:_ We are, it seems, already in rather deep trouble,
because again the concept of embodiment is central to the defini-
tion and itS cogency is thus cruciali yet at this point types and
tokens, although in every customary philosophical employment
categorically distinct, are here not distinct, and while they tradi-
tionally suod in a relation of general-to-particular, here they stand
as particular-to-particular. Moreover, this last relationship eludes
our intellective grasp, because typeand token stand in this rather
idiosyncratic use as particular to-particular-yet-inseparable_ This
pull toward strings of hyphens seems endemic to this territory, and
J think this is symptomatic of a deeper problem . The next feature of
the type-token distinction as Margolis wants to use it is that "types
are instantiated by tokens." which is clear, as we have seen, from
what he has said earlier, where "embodiment" is the operative con-
cept_ He then goes on to explain this by adding that "token" is an
ellipsis for " token-of-a-type," with the hyphens symptomati c of a
desire to obviate the very kind of dualism enforced by the type-
token apparatus_ Yet Margolis would not, I suspect, accept the
phrase "Person-ina-body" as a philosophical solution to the Straw-
sonian problem, nor would he accept " Anwork-in-an-Object " as a
solution to the ontological question raised by Duchamp and Warhol
and articulated by Danto.
I J
The deep trouble we are in hcre is further manifested by the
statement, "TYPes are actual abstract particulars only inthe sense
that a set of actual entities may be individuated as tokens of a par-
ticular type.,, 14 Beginning with the first part of this quotation, let
us consider, ifonly briefly, the phrase "acrual abstract particular,"
which is a densely packed amalgam of extremel y counterintuitive
combinations. U actual, then is it abstract! U abstract, then is it
particular? Of course, "actual" and "particular" are conceptually
harmonious, but they afe the two components here not together. If
we are to take these features as giving the real content to the phrase
"token-of-a-type" as it appears in the encapsulated definition, then
Ij . Quotations in this. ~ r l : l p h are from ibid., P_1Q.
14- Ibid. -
,
.. II II II g-u-u If U-U II ill AI ill '"

, 68
An as Language
ie seems that we are owed substantial further eluc.; dation. Directly
stated, what we are given so far simply is not helping. The second
part of the quotation gi ven above is, I believe, far clearer, but it
implicitly signals a change of subject from types and tokens. The
qualifying line "only in the sense that a set of entities may be indi.
viduated as tokens of a particular type, " brings to mind the famil
iar process of individuation according to a type; an artistic example
would be that of identiIyi.ng a p3Iticular Madonna and Child paint-
ing as one instance of the genre. This familiar variety of aesthetic
individuation, however, is not the type-token distinction as Mar-
golis wants to employ it; it in fact rather indicates how far hi s use
of thi s distinction is from the familiar cases. His usage is rather
more like ascertaining that rows of production. line vehicles are the
end products of long labors expended on a prototype, or that a seri es
of machine-made violins are tooled to the dimensions of their
hand-carved prototype. Prototypes, as a change of subject, would
appear to help, because thcy are particular, they are mode, :md the}'
are not reducible to their production-line progeny. The help is onl y
Hlusory, however, and the implicit change of subject is itseU a fur
ther manifestation of conceptual difficulty, because prototypes are
decidedly not embodied in their progeny. They are, in and of them
selves, their own particulars. Thus to move to a discussion of
prototypes couLd help reli eve conceptual t ensions in Margolis's
account, but it would not help the aesthetic project of explaining
what Duchamp does in creating Bottlerack, Warhol in producing
Brillo Box, Rauschenberg in erasing de Kooning, or for that matter
what any other artist is doing. It might help explain what print-
makers do with engraved plates, but that, again, is too far down the
production Hne to contribute to the central aesthetic question of
definition.
These problems are only exacerbated when Margolis says that " it
is incoherent to speak of comparing the properties of actual token-
and type-particulars as opposed t o comparing .the properties of
actual particular t okensof-a-type."1S Given what Margolis has
t
already said, the attempt to compare a token-particular with a type-
I S. Ibid..
M'"ItV tV \tI N N N IV IV IV tV tV '" rtf fV fV If!
,69
Art and Cultural Emergence
particular sbould yield incoherence, because the one, being embod-
ied in the other, is inseparable from it. But then, again, nothing is
left of the concept of embodiment other than identity, Le., the one
is the other, and that is of course the very reduction to identity
Margolis is most centrally concerned t o avoid. We can compare,
according to this feature of the type-token distinction, one "actual
particular" with another, but then we are comparing the group of
cars manufactured t oday with those from yesterday, the group of
vi olins made this week with those from last week, and, in the artis-
tic ease, this Dali print with that one, or this run of a thousand
with that run of a thousand. Although interesting aesthetic ques-
tions ari se, in connection with such comparisons of existent pac-
ticulars, concerning mechanical reproduction, forgery, unintended
duplication, qualitative erosion through excessive printing. and the
like, the issue of the definition of art and the explanation of what
takes place, ontologically speaking, at its creation, remains un-
touched. Recalling Margolis's claim that artworks are "embodied
in physical objects, not identical with them, " we arrive, in sum-
mary form, at this: 1 the claims that elucidate Margolis's use of the
type-token distinction are coherent, then they are reductively
physicalistic (and thus not really about types and tokens at all, but
about prototypes and production models, or about tokens and
and the conceptS of "embodiment" and of "token-of-a-
type" as they appear in the encapsulated definition are empty. And
if they are not empty, they arc-insofar as they refer to the embod-
iment of one ki nd of thing within another and the presence of an
intangible entity within a phYSica l object that transcends unaided
sensory
PIII.CE.t VING ARTWORKS AND SEEING PIRSONS
It takes neither argument nor subtlety to see that persons exhibit
an enormously broad range of properties that bodies do not, thus
reserving linguistic space for each and every one of the Strawsonian
P predicates or ascriptions that are quite clearly not ascribable to a
material body. To see that thiS is the case, we need only imagi ne
I
Art as Language
70
the profoundly deep shock, or perhaps terror, that a coroner would
feel if, after a lifetime of contact with a good number of bodies, one
day the bodies were all suddenly to start exhibiting person-proper-
ties. It seems beyond dispute that persons and bodies 16 fall into sep-
arate, i. e., ontologioally distinct, categories. We have seen that
Margolis has impon ed this categorical distinct ion between persons
and bodies from metaphysi cs into aesthetics and employed it as the
model for the closely analogous distinction between artworks and
physical objects; we have also seen him remark on a similarly per-
ceived distinction between meaning and marks or sounds in the
philosopby of Language. The prevalence of all of these distinctions
in recent philosophy is beyond doubt, and, as I hope to show in
more positive t erms below, the understanding of art can only be
enriched by placing it next to our understanding of persons and OUI
understanding of language. Moreover, the poteotial illuminating
power of these analogies between persons, language, and art, is
nourished by our knowing the transformati ve difference it makes
to our perception when, for example, a seemingly lifeless accident
victim suddenl y moves, or we 3re told that a set of seemingly
meaningless marks in the sand is a message encoded in obscure
symbols, or we suddenly realize that the LeCorbusier chair we are
about to sit on in the gallery is in fact pan of the exhibition. For the
perceiver in such cases, a body becomes a person, marks become
language, and an object becomes an artwork. But these intuiti ons,
C4ltegories, and analogies can mislead as well as illuminate. Among
modern philosophers Wittgenstein was perhaps most aware of the
conceptual daugers here, and in the Philosophical Investigations he
discussed in detail the nature of the distinction between persons
and bodies that Margolis has employed as his modeL Wiugenstein
also showed that, OUt of that distinction, there quietl y emanates a
dense conceptual fog.
As the issue is shaped at this point, Margolis construes his defin-
itional problem in aestheti cs-the problem of what ao artwork is,
16. To talc.e an in;u.1 eumpJe, one :night think olrhe response ro war photogu.phy,
wbac one rightly the iCeoe IS one in which rhere arc "bodies everywhere."
0 0 the view under diseuu ion, UziJ kind of perception would t onn ilUre a phY.I Ul
oorull iruent in the peTteprion 0( pel'$Oos-wbleb it does IlOL
Art and Cultul al Emergence '7'
given that it invites ascriptions of properties above and beyond
those allowed by the physiC4ll object in which it is !nondualisticallyl
embodied-on the model of the following question: What is a per
son such that it invites (or in this case demandsl ascript ions of prop-
erti es above and beyond t hose all owed by physical This
formulat ion of the question in metaphysics concerning persons is
structured in such a way that, to put it strongly, in seeing persons
we see bodies first, i.e., it is the body we first see, identify it with M
ascriptions, and then transcend what it intrinsically allows, moving
up to P ascriptions. A weaker variant would be that pan of our see
ing a person involves the seeing of a body, such that in seeing a per-
son we see a synthesis of M and P properties. Eit her formulati on
sugges ts t hat, on this view, the perception of persons involves,
either 3 5 a prerequisite or contemporaneously, the perception of
bodi es. To make the aestheti c analogy explicit, the perception of
artworks would involve the prerequisite or contemporaneous per
ception of physical objects.
Regarding the perception of bodies, Wittgenstein's reliably errant
interlocutor (bere appearing in t he guise of a behaviorist J, asks,
"But doesn' t what you say come t o this: that there is DO pain, for
example, without pain-behaviorl" Resisting this kind of reduction,
Wittgenstein responds immediat ely with the well"known passage
"It comes to this : only of a living human being and what resembles
(behaves like) a hving human being can one say: it has sensatioos;
it sees; is blind; hears; is deal} is conscious or unconscious." l7 The
important contrast for our present pUIJloses is that we do not say
these things, or rather make these ascriptions of sensation, of sight,
of consciousness, and so fonh, all of which lie beyond the kinds of
ascriptions allowed by physical bodi es, of anything other than liv-
ing human beings. More directly, we do not make such ascriptions
t o bodies. This becomes even clearer in the following discussion,
which turns next to the fairy tal e in which the pot can see and hear.
(This is of course again the interl ocutor's suggesti on.) Is this not a
clear refutati on? A pot is not a human being. yet, at least within the
17. Sorb qUOtations &om Ludwl, Wiu&eostein, InIlUti&afloDs, 3d
ed., C. E. M. Anst:Ombc (New York: Macmillan, 19581. sec. 1.81.
.. tilt II 1M All " U' g lITtV r"j ,tIrV tV rvr
U
r
U
r
U
r
U
r
U
,V rV ,V rV
.' ,7>
Art as LWlgUage
imaginaryworldof thecr-ild's tale, wemake theallegedly pro-
scribedascription.Wittgensteinrespondsthistimewiththeparen
thetical cemark, "Certainly; but it can also talk, ,,UI and this
imputedcapacityshows thatthisis infact, withinthecontextof
thischarming:iiry tale,somethinglikethelimitingcaseofanthro-
pomorphism, i.e., tbeentireconceptofpersonhood isfirst estab-
lished(throughthecapacityofspeechandallthatthatimpliesland
thenweascribethishumanitYtoapreviouslyinanimateobject,the
pot.inafollowingpassage, thepoi nt is amplifiedtluough thecase
ofchildrensayingofaninanimateobjectthatitisinpain. Is thisa
refutati ol1 ! Again, it is an exceptionthatfurtherprovestherule,
becausetheinanimateobject is adoll,soagaintheinitialimput.1-
tionofhl.1manity precedes the ascriptionofsentience, thusagain
showingthatwedonot infactmakesuchascriptionstoinanimate
obiects. Reitenltingtheinitialpoint, Wittgenstein says, "Onlyof
whatbehaveslikeahumanbeingcanooesay thatithas pains.,,19
Recallthattheformulationofthemetaphysicalques ti on tbat
wehaveconsideredthusfarleadsustoexplainbowitis tbat we
transcendwhatitiswe"reall y"seeatthelevelofunaidedpercep-
tion, thalis, bodies,andproceed toaperceptionofpersonsabove
and beyond those perceptual prdi minari es. Consider then
WittgenSt ein's next remark:"Lookatastoneandimagineithav-
ingsenSations." Atfirstglance, thiswouldseemastrikingl ycuri-
ousrema:ktornakeinthisdiscussion.Iftheperceptual theoryof
personsweareentertainingasabasisforworkinIl estheticsiscor-
rect ,however, thenthisoughtnottobe so odd, becausetheper-
ceptual theoryboldsthatweascribepersonattributes aboveand
beyondthematerialattributesweascri.be toaperceivedbody.But
Wittgenstein, respondingtothissuggestion,adds, "Onesays to
oneself: liowcouldonesomuchasgettheideaofascribingasen-
sation toa. thing! Onemightaswellascribeittoa number!"That
is tosay, thisisextraordinarilyodd, as odd as ascribingsentience
toanabstract ent ity, asoddas reportingtoa theorem thatthe
I, number"2"cannotparticipatein thecalculationbecauseithas a
18. Ibid., see. lh.
19 Ibid., 'IIec. 18,).
Art and Cultural Emergence '73
terribleheadache.Wittgenstein'snextstepis torestoreustointel-
lectualsobrietywi ththeremark," Andnow lookatawrigglingfly
andatoncethesedifficultiesvanish andpainseemsabletogeta
foothold here, where belore everythingwas, so to speak, too
smooth for it." The metaphor of smoothness is appropriate,
becauseitmakessalientthe"hardness"of theconceptualsurface
ofinanimateobjects,i .e., farfrombeinganessentialcomponentor
basis ofOUI ascriptionsofhumanfeatureslikesentience, such
objectsareratherantitheticaltosuchascriptions.Butthenwhatof
thebody! Wittgensteinnext remark is, II Andso, too, a corpse
seemstousquiteinaccessibletopain:'Hereagainsuchdarktones
areinescapable, becausebodiesare notwhatconstitutepersons,
they constitute cOfJlses, and thus whilepersons are animate,
sentient,conscious,unconscious, andsofonh, bodies,inand of
themselvesoras constituentsofsomelarger metaphysical con-
struction,arenot .Indeed,on thedistinction between bodiesand
persons, Wittgensteinsays, "Allourreact ionsarediHerent.-lf
anyonesays:' ThatcannOlsimplycomefrom thefact thataliving
thingmovesaboutinsuch-and-sucha wayandadead onenot,'
thenIwanttointimatetohimthatthisisacaseofthetransition
' from quantityto quality.'"Thislastphrase, anexpression with
whichWittgensteinisobviouslynot entirelyhappy,isforourpre-
sent purposesperhaps themostsigniiic.tnt .Achangeinquantity
woUldbethechangeofproceeding, uptheascriptivescale,fromM
predicatestoPpredicates, from theinitialrecOgnitionofabodyto
therecognitionofaperson.By contrast, tocharacterizethisdis-
tinction, surelymoreaccurately, as achangeinqualitystrongly
suggeststhatsuchanascriptiveascent is not made, butthatwe
haveachangeofamorefundamenn1order.
lO
Still,onemightfeelcompelled toinsist,puttingitlinguistically,
thattheresimply must besuch an ascriptiveascentw,toputit
metaphysically, thatthematerial simplymust beacomponentof
10. All quot.ttioruinmitp;lr.g.pharc bomibid., Ie<:. 184.The pointis, II
mustbelaid, prob.lblycompcltlblewitb tbeory. be<;a1UC.Jtetallhewu
I
"pingforthebasic natureofbothu teltOries.My pre&a1t toncem.01CO\l!'K, iswith
Margolis'liemploymentoftheSUIWSOnian dblinctiooiD aesthetiCS,withwhichlbiJ
isdearlynotoornp.uibie.
I
I
'74 Art as Language
the personal. Butdoesthe rnaterial, thephysical,playtherole it
shouldjj thisweretruel!1ThisinsistenceismetbyWiugenstein's
nextsection: "Thinkoftherecognitionoffacial expressions. Orof
thedescriptionoffacialexpressions-whichdocs notconsistin
givingtbemeasurementsoftheface! Think,too, howonecanimi-
tatea man'sfacewithoutseeing one'sown ina mirror."n Mea-
surementsoftheface, aminutedescriptionof itsmaterialstateof
being, donotenterintotherecognitionofand response tofacial
expressions; itwouldbeextremelyoddif theydid. Norneedwe
examineourownfacial-mat erial stateofbeingina mirrorwhen
adoptinganother'sexpression; ifit weretrue thatthefacial-mater-
ialisrelevantin thewaythatthetheoryimplies, thenitwouldbe
oddthatweinfactdonot needto do this-whichis infactnotodd
intheleast .Insummary,themore we lookfort hebodily compo-
nentintheperceptionand ascription of humanfeatures themore
remotethatcomponentbecomes,whichisWittgenstein'smeaning,
withrevealingitalicizedemphasis, inthequestion" Butisn'tit
absurd tosayof abody thatithaspainr "lJBut not tosaysucha
thingnowseemsenormouslydifficult-preciselybecauseof the
pervasivemisleadingin(Iuenceofthisdualisticconceptionofthe
sel1.
2A
Letusreturnfromtheprototypeinmetaphysicstoitsprogenyin
aesthetics. Margolisseestheunderstandingofpersonsas being
closelyrelatedtotheunderstandingofartworks,andhasidentified
1 1. To"yth. t,his conception01 , he felf it miiludingis not'0 uy,hI!
Utterance lending lherunuJ.Ollowudthephysiul,iscon.fu$ed.Thi&,
incidentally. is wb.yRyle'sdiagnos isin terms01theCartesian iSl00itark.oS
Gilben Rylc, Tne CoOUpt of Mind (NewYork:Bamu Noble, '9491, pp. I
Any acrount01the5clI must accommodatethefac1S, IS John Wl.tdom h.asidentified
them, "whichleadpeople to5.ly th.at.penODbas way 01knowin&howheleel!
whichnooneelsehu,hasarigh,10"'ywhuhedoes:.bouthowhefeels whichnoooe
haseve, hadOt everwillhave."SeejohnWisdom, Otner Minds (Oxford:&sil
Blackwell, IS'P), pp.:138-.4.Therecognitionofluch '"clIneednot, however,give
lise10a skepticism othermind$, ju" n, in OUI eue, theanalogousathetic
dUi!ismisno,necusitlltw.
n . WittgenstciJl, PlIilruophicol/nvt$tigllfioaJ, ICC. lSS.
)3. Ibid., sec.186.
14 Seeibid.,st(; .)S6}$C'C ilio5t(;. 17. whereI patalle!pointofphilosophicallogic
ismadeabouttheoddityoforucrvin& 01 pen:eivingen'hebuili01evidence,dutwe
aleourselveseon5Cious.
Art and Cultural Emergence '75
thecentralpuzzleas thatofgettingbeyond thebodyOJ physical
objecttothepersonorworkofart.Wehavcseenthattheencapsu
lateddefinitionpromisesasoluti on tothis problem,butwehave
alsoseen thatthe phrase" tokens-of-a-type" asit appears in that
definition is problematic. quallyproblematicis theemployment
of therelatedconceptof embodiment;aswehaveseen, themeta-
physical origins01 theideaof"physicalobject " are uncertain.The
roleofthatideaintheperception01 artworkswilL, byconceptual
parity, remainas dubiousas theroleofbodiesin theperceptionof
persons.
There is,however,acomponentofM.argolis'sdefinitionwehave
notyetconsidered. Thisisthenotionofculturalemergence,andit
isthisideawhichliesatthecenterofMargolis'sattempttoobviate
dualism.Hesays, 'tButparticularworksof artcannOtexistexcept
as embodiedinphysicalobjects.Thisissimplyanotherwayofsay
ingthatworks01 artarecultural1yemergententities;thatis, they
exhibi tpropertiesthatphysical objectsc.annot, butdonotdepend
on thepresenceof anysubstanceotherthanwhatmaybe ascribed
topurelyphysicalobjects.,,:t5 Wearehereagaingivenwiththeright
handthenow-familiarideaofanobjectexhibitingpropertieswhich
transcendthelimitsofthatobject, butas weare given it, theleft
handtakesawaythe traditionaUy associatedCartesianideaofthe
presenceofanothersubstancein whichthoseexhibited properties
inhere.Thismaneuver,aswehaveseen,strainscoherence,butthe
strainisaUegedly reli evedbyculturalemergence.We haveherea
denia1 ofdualism throughthedenialoftheexist ence ofanOther
substance,butwhatweareheregivenis bluntrepudiation, and
nOt,It hink, obviation.How, apartfrom theCartesiancategories
wehavealreadyconsidered,havewearrivedatthispositionr
Fromempiricismwearefamiliar,perhapsoverlyfamiliar, with
thedistinctionbetween primaryandsecondaryqualities.Thepri-
maryqualities,ofcourse, werethoughttobeactuallyin theobject
perceived, suchthata relation01 resemblanceobtainedbetween
theidea of theobjectandtheobject itself; thesecondaryqualities,
bycontrast,were thoughttodepend, for theirexistenceas percep-
I S_ MJJ'gol;." Art and PlWoscphr. p.23
U--U IV IV IV 111 If} r" l lf} rfl
,,6 Art as Langull;ge
fUal qualities,on humanperception.Culturallyemergentproper-
ties, suchas"design,expressiveness, symbolism, representation,
meani ng.. styl e, andthelike,"U. areapparentlydependentuponaes-
thet icperception for theirexistence, andexist beyond whatthe
pbysical obfect just is. From ethicswe:Irefamiliarwiththecon
ceptian ofevaluationhoveringabovedescription,withthe fa ctsof
thematterbeingfixedandthevaluesfloatingaroundthem.CuI
turallyemergentaestheti c properties apparently " fl oat" in the
samewayabove thefixedobjectsbelow. From aestheticsproper,
Margolishimselfsaysthatthepointofadmittingtheissueofinter-
pretationintoanydiscussionin aestheticsis "simplythatitentails
thatartworksmust be entitiesquitedistinct from mere physical
objects,orobjectsaccessiblemerelythroughsensoryperception...17
Yet an interpretationis nOt "somethingadded to anartwork-
intact,sotosay,withoutaninterpretation;wearespeaking.rather,
o(whatoft en mustbesuppliedinordert obeable tospeakofa
workofartatall,thatis,togivea reasonablyadequateaccountof
itspropert ies."
u
Thusemergentpropertiesaretheaestheticprop
erties"carried"withintheinterpretation ofthe work, where this
interpretat ion is notadded toan object but the presenceofthe
interpretationis a prerequisit eforspeakingoftheobject as art .
Takenone way, thisis againa move madeagainstaestheticdual
ism, because,evenwithits affinities totheCartesian categori es,
empiricistepistemology,andmoralrelativism,theinterpretat ionis
not superadded totheobject. Can this movetakeus beyond the
mererepudiaTIOn wealreadyencOlUltered?Ido not believethatit
can, andthisisborneoutinthefurtherelucidation ofMargolis'S
conceptionofinterpretation.
Aestheticrealism holds that,if we encountertwo competing
interpret ations of a given work, and those interpretations are
incompati ble, thenatleastoneofthemisfalse, aconsequenceof
aestheticillusion, misperception, misapprehension, judgmental
enor,andthelike.Onsuchrealistgroundsitcould(whetherornot
itshould) beargued thattheinterpretationisin somewayemergent
16. [bid.
17. Ibid..p.) r .
18. Ibid. .
., Irll II u g 1I- rV rV rV rVrV rV rV IV rV IV rV i"
177
Art and Culf ulol Emer8ence
fromtheobject,and thattheemergentproperti esarecontained
within this interpretation.Margolis explicitlyreject s thisvi ew,
however,claiminginstead(hal "itis logicall ypossibl etoidentify
oneandthesame workunder alternativeandincompatibleinter
pretations (each interpretati on compati blewith the minimally
describablefeaturesoftheworkin question),wherethetruthvalue
offurther characteristics andappraisalsof given workswill be
aHectedbysuch intensionalidentification.
1f19
It foll owsthatthe
interpretation can he severed from the object and replaced by
anot her equally plaUSi ble, wherethe equal plausibility will be
determi nedbyapriorminimaldescripti on.Toillustratethisreturn
tothe traditionalandirremediabl ydualistic between
descriptionandinterpretation,letme bringuponceagainthatline
drawingwiththenotori ouslyuncertainidentity.If Isay, "Look,
thoseareratherelongatedearsonthatrabbit,aren't theyr"andyou
say, insurprise," Whad! Doduckshave protrudingears,reall yr"
then it is cle3r thatmycriticismofthedrawingas havingexces
sivelylongears is both irretev3.lltandfalseonyourinterpretation,
19. $imuhaneity01plopertin i.hereefU,iat,moethisI! whythey"eincom
patible.Inmany'IlKS Ine lneomplt ibililY01 descriptionsis onlyapparentlyproblem
atic,, ineethecompetingde$Cril'tloNariseoutofseparatecontextsandtnusdonOIin
fa,t rollidc; .f;hisis.lactohen missedbyphilosopheu- orartcritics-withminimal
toleu ncuforseeming01 appilreTl tcontradiction.It mightalsobel emarlc.edhereth3t
su,h",selineVl:' rin factendoBCa perceptualrelati vbm in thewaytheyarc u,kcnto
do, sinceitis, in su,h cn es II theduck rabbit, obi ectivel ytr ue that"caseofvi$ual
ambiguity isbefore us,andflUH fact;1n<M op<: nto interpretation.See Renlord
brough,#LileratureandPhllosopby," in Wisdom: Twelve ossays, ed.ReNordBam
brou&b IOd ord: Basil Bl,d::well, ' 914), p. In thisconnection,onsidelu wellthl:'
passage inWiltgenslein, PhflO$ophica1lnvestigutiom. p.10j: ' HecplnuIesmil es
down on mefrom the wall.'It ntedn OI always doMI, whenevCI my lightsOD
Indeed,.whenamultitudeof aspects,of"Uooduioos,ofthouthtsandfeelings, sur
roundthepinurein such awaythatwc" e "enveloped" within it,thenit#sroil es.H
Thisis an experienceentll yUke," we: uy, " reached" byaperson.Thefact
thatwe: areMlmetimesbcyoll dtbereathofapenon,ort hat theperson lail,to reach
us,isnotbyanyme:ansanargumeOt lortbepo!Iitionthattheynever$10 reacbus,01do
n<M IC411ydo 10; againwearrive:"thep.t.rslltlpocusof persons,nd
peraiviucworksof all ,which1havedis,ussed fullyin Meoning (lnd lmupre
Wlion: WiufenJteln,Henry lama. ODd Luuary Knowledge Ilthoo,,:Cornell Univer
sit y Prus,1994), pp.84- 148.Sec.1110pp. 10000tO ofPililosophi(;41/n"fMflgudons,
whCTe WiugUlueinWKU$SH theeompcllncellinu,madeinruponu.tohuri",the:
pl'iminapbint ivemcJodicpusage,"Iht arIt- Vtt$U$ '" doo' t reall yhear it, "andthe
easeofcoml/l&to"IcelthestriOU$RCUoIat une."

'78 All as Language
and your remarks about the elongated bill will be similarly irrele-
vant for me. Moreover, if I say that the duck is drawn as a strong
and confident member of the species, and you say that the rabbit
looks shy and diffident, then these properties emerge from the
drawing at high speed and collide headon. They are alter all equally
plausible, both determined by (competingj minimal descriptions,
and absolutely incompatible as properties held simultaneously30 by
an object. On Margolis's view, the object beneath the emergent
properties stays fixed, and the emergent properties themselves-
well-hover. Just as secondaries are detachable (rom primaries on
empirical groWlds, and as evaluations are detachable from descrip-
tions on moral-relativistic grounds, so emergent properties are
detachable from underlying physical objects on these aesthetic
grounds. This is, in short, a perfect example of aesthetic dualism,
and it seems to proceed from the idea of emergence.
An interpretation, on this view, is a repository of emergent prop-
erties, and as such is not Wllike what one might call the soul of an
object of art. In this connection I want to consider a few further
remarks of Wittgenstein. In a discussion well beyond the passages
we considered above, the interlocutor asks, expressing precisely the
sort of petsistent dualism we are considering. " But can't I imagine
that the people around me are automata, lack consciousness, even
though they behave in the same way as usuaH" That is, can't I see
people just for what they are physically, or as mobile clusters of M
ascriptions, without the emergent person.properties! Wittgenstein
answers, HIf I imagine it now-alone in my room-I see people
with fixed l ooks (as in a trance) going about their bUSiness- the
idea is perhaps a little uncanny. But just try to keep hold of this
idea in the midst of your ordinary intercourse with others, in the
street, say!" That is, as a fleeting- and uncannily inhuman-
thought-experiment this State can be momentarily sustained, but it
is in any elise quite obviously alien to our regular, theoretically
uninterrupted perception of persons. He continues, "Say to YOllI-
t,
self, for example: 'The children over there are lUcre automata; all
their li veliness is mere automatism.' And you will either find these
jo. 1'o'i<llgolis, AIl lind Philruophy, I'. 4 l .
Art and Cultural Emergence '79
words becoming quite meaningless; or you will produce in yourseli
some kind of uncanny feeling, or something of the son."l l The feel-
ing. if sustai ned, is uncanny and, again, inhuman and obviously
alien to our actual perception of persons.
32
Yet, if the perceptual
model Margolis is employi ng were correct, this should be among
the most familiar of human perceptual experiences, becallse we
would see the emergent humanity in a person JUSt as we would the
emergent aesthetic properties, or the "soul," of an artwork. The
attraction of dualism is stron&,. however, and its employment is
habitual. Thus, as Wittgenstein says, "Ie seems paradoxical to us
that we should make such a medley, mixing physical states and
states of consciousness up together in a single report: ' He suffered
great tonnents and tossed about restlessly.' It is quite usual; so why
do we find it p3J'adoxicaH Because we want to say that the sentence
deals with both tangibles and intangibles at once." Indeed, it seems
paradoxical to mix up in a single report of an artwork both tangi -
bles and intangibles, simultaneously, and it seems that we stand in
need of a theory to explain how it is we so readily accomplish this
metaphysical merger. But is the reality of such mergers really so
Wjttgenstein continues, "But does it worry you if I say: ' these
three struts give the building stability'? Are truee and stability tan-
at the sentence as an instrument, and at its sense as
its employment."3.}
To look at the sentences we use, with mixed intangibles, in the
art world or the large and multifarious la.nguage-games attending to
it, would of course lead well beyond the reach of present purposes.
To show the analogies between that language and the language we
use in connection with our multifariOUS perception 01 persons
would constitute still a further project. For the present, it is clear
that Margolis' s theory does accomplish the large task oC bringill8
these issues together, so that language, persons, and artworks each
31. This quotation, and all previous ones in rMs are nOIll Wiugenstein,
Phi/O$opbIGllllnvM/iflltions, sec. 4:.1.0. Sec: also John Cool.:, "Human lleing8," in Stud-
iM in !he Philosophy of Willgcll$lein, ed. Pete:r Wine:h lLondon: Routledgt a Kegm
Paul, (969), pp. 't7- j r, where these passages ate discussed in conneelioD witb tbe:
problem of other minds.
31, Set also Wiugen"ein, philorophiC411nve$liglllioDl, Part D, Ite. iv, p. 178.
33. This quotation and the previous one are (rom ibid., sec. 4ll .
I
tI ., 1111 ., U U U IU U ID ,V 111 IV to L
,80
Art as LanguO$e
inform and shape our conception of the others. But he states, again
conJidently, that within his scheme, " In admitting enti"ties of dif
ferent kinds we implicitly admit the possibility of entities of one
kind being embodied in entities of another-persons in semient
bodies, or works of act in physical objects and movements. So
embodiment is essentially a question of reference and attribution,
ontologically construed. Consequently it raises no question what-
soever of dualistic substances.,,301 11, however, investigations of the
phrase " tokensofa-type," of the conception of physical objects as
analogues to material bodies, of the conception of embodiment
itseU, and of the conception of cultutal emergence all lead to dual-
ism in his definition of 3rt, should we not believe that, while it
explicitly avoids raising any direct questions of dualism, it avoids
raising them only by concealing them, and that this concealment is
the source of the initial plausibility of the definition? Margolis has
indeed clearly shown that the nature of an understanding 01 per-
sons will be very much like our understanding of works of art, and
one can only applaud an achievement of that magnitude. If, bow-
ever, the conception of persons with which we begin is, unlike a
very dWerent conception of persons suggested by Wittgenstein,
fundamentally dualistic, then the resultant conception of art sim-
ply could not obviate dualism; indeed, it would be compelled, even
if only covertly, to embrace it.
ARTWORKS AND HUMAN BEINGS
Given the analogical bridge now standing between the work of
art and the person, we should look briefly, into some of the specific
conceptual similarities supporting it . Doe approach would be to
examine some salient aspeCts of artworks and of our critical lan-
guage, and then to identify parallels in persons. Another tactic
would look at some of the aspects of a human being as they have
been identified by philosopbers and then seek parallels in the arts.
Here I will take the latter approach.
J4. Marcol;s, Nr ODd Philowpby, p. -4 4.
V to .00 ,V LV 10 IV ,V ,V ,V rv tV rV [V rtf
Art and Cultural Emergence
,8,
Charles Taylor provides a convenien t list of such human as -
pects.
15
First, the concept of personhood " figures primarily in
moral and legal discourse.,,36 So does the concept of an 3rtwork,
both as a vehicle for moral discourse Isee, for example, the works
of Hogarth and David, and even less initially plausible cases like
architecturej31 and as an object of legaJ discourse Isee, for instance,
the Rothko legal di sputest
8
Second, a "person is a being with a
certain moral status, or a bearer of rights. " An artwork has, in-
deed, a kind of moral status, because its integrity, as we appropri-
ately call it, can be violated by popularizations, film versions of
novels, and inappropriate stylistiC mergers, e.g., of classical and
popular music. An artwork is without question a bearer of
rights,39 as is registered in our shocked and defensive reaction to
its abuse in the phrase, "But that is a work of artl" Taylor contin-
ues, "" But underlying the moral status, as its condition, are certain
capacities. A person is a beiog who has a sense of self, has a notion
of the fu ture and the past, can hold values, makes chOices; in
short, can adopt life- pJans." [t would, of course, be going toO far-
too far beyond analogy t oward identity- to claim that a work of
art possesses a sense of self, but if we are speaking analogically, it
would be difficult to find a better way of succinctly capturing the
kind of internally generated coherence many artworks exhibit.
Any sprawling,. disjointed, architectural facade lor, indeed, "face"),
standing in contrast to, say, the Petit Trianon, illustrates the qual-
ity: a quietly dignified and truly elegant composure and self-
containedness, thal simply is best described-and perhaps only
3S. Chu les Taylor, "'The COllCepr of a Per.sou, in Humon A!MCY ond umguage:
PbiJosophlc4/ Poper., vol. I (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni veni ty Pre., 1985/, pp.
!H-144.
36. Ibid., p. 97, and the lollowloi: brief quotalioos.
}7. e.g., David Watkin, M Otlllily oud .AJ"("hit&;:U1re (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1977).
38. Although the deuUed SOl1i1ijj: out 01 such uses is weU bory-Olld herr,
Stich a PTO;tCl would prove of c:onsideuble conceptual value in showiDg bow irne.
u<ltf.d........apiNt claim, 101 the moraUy eevered autonomy ol.he work 01 an_esthetic
and cthicallssuCil in "' CI are; it would also sbow thai lhe right, of a work can in fael
he Sl.rong enough to compete with the righr. of . penon.
39. For the debatc about filDl eolorlulion, Itt Je rrold Levinson, "ColoorUatioD 111-
Defended," BtiUsh lmunll! 01 A.& / bet/es 30 It 990/: h-67
t8,
Art as Languag,:
describable-inthese terms. Nor,ofcourse, do artworksthem
selves possess notions of the future and thepast, but they do
exhibit many varietiesofhistorical relation, both topaSt and to
futureworks.Any archetypal work,anystylisticallydefinitional
work, anyworkthatbecomesmuchimitat ed, oranyworkthatis
"strong" enought o reorientthehi story of itsgenrebehindit,40
exhibitssuchrelations."Can holdvalues"isTaylor'snextfeature
ofpersonhood, whichis quitedearlyinevidence throughoutthe
arts, as aredebat esaboutthatvalue,4!andthisfeatureis followed
bytheslightly more difficult" makeschoices." Again, thework
does not choose,butitindisputabl yservesastheembodimentof
a multitude ofchoicesmade onthepartofitS author.Thesym-
metryofcantosinThe Divine Comedy isanembodimentofafor-
malchoice, just3S thechoicetopursuetheinwardlyrevelatoryis
embodiedinPetrarch's sonnet s, thechoicetoconHatesoniciden-
t ities is embodi ed in Ives's work, and the choice to make no
choicesisexemplifiedinCage's aleatorycomposition.Inadeeper
sense, however, artworks can " ma ke choices." Acollecti onof
quietl yprofound Rothkopanels can, whenput sidetosidewitha
few bombasticsculpture-paintingsofStella, condemnthemfor
beingvisuallycacaphonous.Rothko, ofcourse,doesnotcondemn;
he is absent.The works themselvescando this.LaSt onTayloe's
li st, it wouldseemto range wellbeyondcoherencetosay thata
workofartadoptsa" life-plan."Butagain,withinthecontextofa
developingartisticstyle-andtherearecountlesssuchcases-one
trajectoryofdevelopmentseemsappropriat eorfitting
d
within
theJargercontextfrom whichtheworkemerges,whereasanother
traj ectoryseemsalien,remote, orill-fitting.Thisis,ofcourse,not
aHfe-plan,andisperhapsfarfromit,butitis nofartherthananal-
,,0. Ialludehere10 HlIrold Bloom'sOedi pal 'l'icw oftbedevelopmentofpoetry,see
A Map of MUlilOdillg (Oxford: OrlordUDivcnil YPress, 19151, especiallypp.6)-105'
1. $ee,L&-, BarbulHenllSlci nSmith,Comiogenciu 01 Vwue: All unolive Pllr-
spectivt$ fo r CritlClllTheory (Cambridge:HuvardUnivusity PJC55, t 988),and,fOJ a
brid discussionofthis direction, myreviewofherworkin British Journal 0/ Au/bu
I.
la)0 \1990):~ S 7 8 S .
4 ~ . ForadeulleddiK u.nionofthissenseoffilllngneu seeE. H.Gombrleh,11u:
Seose 0/Ordllr IOxford:Ftuudon. 19S.).nd RotaSaUtQn.The Atl.Sl beliC301 N elli
ICCluttl(London:Metbuen. '9791.pp. l06-)6.
t83
Art and Cultural Emergence
ogy isfrom identity: developmental trajectory is indisputabl y
somethinglike alifeplan.
Taylornextidentifiesthecap.1city to respond, andtheappropri-
atenessofbeingaddressedin thefirstplace,assalienthUDlantraits.
ThesetOO find theirdirect parallelsinthearts, andagainatthis
preliminarylevelofgeneralitytherearecountless cases. Among
the moreobviousonesaretheprocesses of refinement toanemo-
tionalconceptuponreading-or, indeed, "consulting:' as wein
somecontextsputit-poetryorverse.Moreover,thereisthefamil -
iarexperienceoffindingacomparativel yvagueexperiencegiven
specificitywhenwelocateitsmimeticdepictioninpoetrY; trus is
avarietyofaestheticexperiencestrikinglycloseto"addressing" a
poet andgettinga response. Tayloralsoment ionsthefeatureof
conSCiousness, where' ''consciousness is seenasa power toframe
representationsofthings."4,) Quite apartfrom theaccuracy ofthis
defini tionofconsciousness,itisvividlyclearthatthearts,atleast
the representationalartS,veryoften shape,orindeedframe,our
viewsorconceptionsoftheobjectsdepicted.Again, this impres-
sion isalmosttoogener.al t oillustrate,butone needonlyimagine
seventeenth-centuryHolland,andthenaskoneselfforthesources
ofthoseimages, tosee thepointofthe analogy.Atadeeperlevel,
however, Tayloridentifies as essentiallyhumanthe capacityto
becomeengagedwithina particularsituation, whereemotional
descriptionsofourselvesarise, andwithinwhichthosedescrip
tionsarerenderedappropriate,accurate,in needofrevision,inneed
offurtherspecification, andsoon.Thushesaysthat"formulating
howwefeel,orcomingtoadoptanewformulation,canfrequently
change how wefeel.,," Of course, as humans, wecanhave this
emotionallytransfonnativeeffectonourselvesandoneachother.
Butsuch"newformulatioDs"canalsobe,andoftenare, theconse-
quencenotofhumaninteraction,orselfreflection,butofaesthetic
experi ence.
" Emotionterms,"Taylor recognizes, arelinkedto"situation-
descriptions,"andsomeofthe" significancesasituationcanhave"
.n. liylof,"'TheCODCC'pI of.Penon,- p.98 .
44. Ibid.,p. 100.

I
'II II II " 1I IU 11 P lJJ lJJ I
II V I V , V ,V I '" I' V I' V I '" I
l '_lll.l 1_
;84 Art as Language
iilclude " ' humil iati ng,' ' exciting. ' ' dis ma ying, ' ' exhilarating/
' intriguing..' ' ascinating, ' ' frightening. ' ' provoki ng. ' ' awe-inspiring,'
' joyful; and so on. "45 Artworks are, invariably, placed in contexts
and, within those situations, these emotively descriptive terms are
. rendered appropriate, accurate, in need of revision or further speci-
fi cation, and $0 on. The need for such descriptions often arises in
aesthetics when comparisons are made within particular contexts,
just as moral questions come up in human affairs. In fi ct iOD, for
example, one often encounters full si tuation-descripti.ons which
show- without directl y saying-which "significance-terms" are
accwate. Taylor swnmarizes this aspect of persons by saying that
they exhibit an "openness to certain matters of significance," and
the arts surely exhibit a parallel openness. Beyond these, one could
easily imagine many further parallels between the perception of
persons and the perception of artworks,.f6 between ethics and aes-
thetics; these might include artistic integri ty, internal coherence,
developmental patterns, expansions and traj ectories, the "break
45 . 01, Penon. " p. 107.
46. There is. t101.dy reUlcd issue, beyond lilY preston I COIlce. ns, Ihn would ex.cnd
the alUl logy bctweCll artworks and persons ari!.CS in reblion to tbe hll man
AnKombc claims Ihl l " ' f am Ihil thing here' it, then, a ful proposit ion, hUI nOl a
proposition of identity. It means: tIli, lhing here II thc (rul'l& the person ... of whose:
Ictio:! ,hiS icka of !lei ian I, an idu, of whose movements ,hue ldeu of movements
are ide3.s, of po$t\l re ,his idea of posturc i f !.he idea. And also, of which
intended actlons, if carried OUI , will be Ihe action$.n G, E. M. An5COrnbe, "The Fint
Pel son," in Mind Ilnd La.QguaS4. ed. Samuel Guttenpl.m IOxford: Ox/ord Universit y
Preu, 19751 pp. 45-66. This eblrn, tf3Il.smuted 10 ae:sLheties, would hold considerable
5ignifiunce. The an ....ork ....ould be the object in which Ibis ae-Slhelie idea is situated,
11m movement (0:1 tine, 01 melody, of act ing, of stylistic tl1l jccloryl is situ.tted, this acs
thetic to fonh. This .....1)' oi PIlUinl the matter ....ould obviate the need
for MIIIOH,'s question, which , rands as the . ni sric aualotue to t he question
An:;wmbe's formulat ion obviates, n, mely, "RUI what il lhe self IIport (1Ql!l , llthose
things, to what idelllity doe, ' I' refcr!" Anthony Kenny, in Anscornbe'5
claim, says, rather ummel)', "For mysc:lf.I3.m wholly pcnuaded that ' I' is not a Tefer
riDs expres.!ion .... 1accept that Lhe 'KIl' is a piece of phJ.lo.opben oorw:nse produced
by mjsundersl.llldinll of the reflexi ve pronoun- to ask II f S\lbltanet my slllf
if; is like n k.ing what the characterbtic of ownnu.J is which my own propeny has in
addition to its bel", mine." Anthony Kenny. Tbe Legacy of Wiugell ..Ul!jn {O,uord:
Basil Blackwell, 19841, pp. 77-87, quotat io!! from p. 81. ThU5 10 un t he m311cr one
way, asking hue fo r the Buhstanc;e of .he sclf quil e 'pan h om wc locus 01 thue rela
tional proputies, is the meuphy,ica1 variant of. the onlolocical quulion Margolit and
l boole in hi s tradi t ion ask.
'.
Art and Cultural Emergence , 85
jng" of a or a set of expectations, and so on through what
would be, in toto, an extraordinarily lengthy list,
41
The assemblage
of such a survey would of course itself constitute a rather full philo-
sophical investigation of a kind that would remain, against the var-
ious misleading infl uences of aestheti c theory, honest to our actual
aesthetic practices.
l.N all of the preceding attempts to unsettle and rethink the sources
and formul ations of traditional aesthetic questi ons, as in this final
brief sketch of the anal ogy between persons and artworks, it has
been language, the richly multifarious capacities for description and
for linguistic expression, that has been fWldamental. One concep
tion of language served as a foundation for aestheti c atomism in
Langel 's theory, where the for ms embodi ed in works of art were
thought to beat a logical resemblance to the forms of human feeling.
But Langer's synthesis of formalism and linguistic atomism, insofar
as that synthesis led us to expect the mean.ing of a work of art to be
one metaphysi cal kind of thing and the physical Outward symbol of
that meani ng another, generat es the need for an escape from tbose
very categories. Wittgenstein discovered that the picture-theory of
meaning in the 7lactatus-the view that a rheaniogful proposition
bears a logical resemblance to a state of affairs in the world-could
not he intelligibly stated even if it were true, and Langer's Tractar
ian aesthetics were found t o lead co the same discovery.
47 Another wl y of o.teTIding the analogy between Inworks t nd ptIWll5 is taken
by E>oJ. .... ho hu Inade clur the remuk2ble p"lIl.l el thai ex.i$ts betwcen the
emot ional t tud unent5 eDluing hom OUr ptJl:cplion of people . nd works:
the closest . nalogue to Lhe for an object of Icsl beLic prefercnce is t hat oJ the
love in which one person can hold another... . And S5 the v.lue att ached to the objecl
of love b OOt additional to what is wt.1dy ooouincd in the act of IOvillg, !IO the vllluu
we place on t be oo}ecu 01 our w le do not go beycnd or ouiside wb.at is guped. in the
act of appraiains; them. NevenhelCM, the emotion of love permutes !.he entire l.ile 01:
the perSOIl who loves. And 80 it is also with the pleasures of \.Ute. Eva Schaper, "The
Plu$ures 01 Tute, in Ple.JSUle. Preference. t/nd Value, ed. Ev. Schaper ICamhridtc:
Cambridte Univtrsity PIUS, 19831, p. ,. See ,Iso in this connection Wollhe.im's d o .
ing remark in his revi ew of A1hbexy's .and Updike's an Crilicisrn: "A K nse of what 15
s.pcciaiaboul art depc:ncb on our , ecognizin$: th!lt .art Is, sUI I13e1y eDOUgh, something
that we humans un love." Richnd WoUheim, NObjeas of Love,'- L;ltrruy Sup-
ple11Jent (May 15- 3', ' 990J: SB. See also Mary MothcrsiU, Bttlury Re.slOri!d (Oxford:
Oxford Universi ty p,t_, 198.41 Pol. 405- 8.
Q{ tt?'iP- _
m.u..
l

I
,86
Art as Language
A somewhat different linguistic foundation was uncovered
beneathCollingwood's aesthetictheory: here theidealist'sbelief
that,inordertohavemeaningatall, theremustbeone-ta-onecor
relationsbetweenthinkingandspeaking.or meaningandsaying.
wasfoundtoobscuremorethanitilluminates.Indeed,theidealis-
ticsenseinwhichCollingwood intendedhiscompactassertion
"AItmustbe language"ledtoabswdconclusions.Iftherawemo-
tivecontentofeitherlanguageorartis firstimaginativelyspecified
orrefined, and onlylater- andcontingently-exptessedinaJin-
guisticorartisticmanifestation, thenthematerialsofart- the
medium- 3re relegatedtoanuodeservedl ysubordinateposition
vis-a-vismeaning.By reconsideringsomeofWittgensteio'sremarks
on thecomplex relationsbetween thought andspeech-vastly
more intricatethanthesimplifiedone-lo-onecorrelationmodel
wouldeithersuggestorallow-wegainedaperspectivefrom which
toappreciate theaestheticsignificanceof Wittgenstein's remark:
"WhenIthinkin language,therearen't' meanings' goingthrough
mymindinadditiontotheverbalexpressionsjthelanguageisitself
thevehicleof thought."
In makingtheassertion,"Artisthelanguageoftheemotions,"
Ducassewasrelyingonafamiliarconceptionoflinguisticmean-
ingbestexpressedby Locke;hereagainapriorconceptionallan-
guagegeneratedacorrespondingconceptionofart.Ifthoughtsare
initially"hiddenfrom others,"andonJylaterlinked to"sensible
signs," i.e. words thatstand for chose hidden ideas, then we
understandeachotherwhenthesignexcitesthesameideainthe
hearerthatthespeakerhas linked to thesign. Ducassecontends
that, ifartis the languageofthe emotions, we understandan
artist ifweaestheticallyexperiencea correspondingemotion,
where this is excited by the "sign" of the work. Through an
investigation into someparticularcases, wesawthatthislin-
gUisticallygeneratedmodelofartisticmeaningisalsotoosimple
J and .theoretically neat to fit the facts . A brief inquiry into
!. Wittgenstein'scomplicatingremarksonthemanykindsofthings
thatactuallyoccurlandthatdono!occur}inexperiencingmean-
ing-likethe meaningof thename "Schubert "-revealed the
unsoundnessof the Lockeian distinctionbetween
...,
....
Anand Cultural Emergence ,87
ideaandsignemployedl\S afoundationfor thiswayofconstruing
artisticmeaning.
BeginningwithWittgenstein'srem3Tkthatwecanwanttospeak
withoutspeaking, justas wecanwantcodancewithoutdancing..
and thatthinkingabout wantinginthisfashionleads us natuxall y
tograspattheimage ofspeakingordancingasawaytospecifythe
contentof thewant,weturneddirectlytointentionalconsidera-
tionsinartthatrueshapedby assumptionsconcerning linguistic
intention.Thedualisticcriticismthattheseassumptionsgenerated
wasfound to falsify thefactsofaDumberof individualcasesof
artisticcreationandinterpretation.TransferringWittgenstein's
advice-nottoguessatbowawordfunctionsbutto lookat itsuse
andto learn homthat- from linguiStics toaest hetics,we looked
intocaseswherepanicularizedquestionsofartisticintentionactu-
ally arise. We found thattheverysense ofthegeneral questionof
artisticintention---especiallyinmusic,whereitseemsto have
readyappUcation-wascalledverymuch intoquestion.Indeed, "a
misleadingpictureof' intending,'"asWittgensteinputit,alsogen-
eratesan initiallyplausiblebutultimatelymisleadingpictureof
artisticcreativity, towhichweturnedin Chapter.> .
Thetranslationmodelisobviouslyanaestheticconsequenceofa
linguisticposition:herecreativityisviewedas aprocessofrender-
ingapreexistentmeaningin awaydirectl yanalogoustolinguistk
translation.AftersortingOut acontlationof transitiveand intran-
sitiveusage, however, and reconsidering aestheticdescriptions
bothofartworksandoffacial expressions insuchawaythatnoth-
ingapart from theexpressivephenomenonunderconsideration
wasavailableasasubjectfordescription,weiOWld thatthecon-
ceptsof creationand translation,commingled, mystifyfarmore
thantheyexplain. Still,thephenomenonofsearchingfortheright
expression in wri.ting seems almost to require the translation
model. Alookatcases,however, stronglysuggested thatthemOSt
relevantWittgensteinianquestionhere, "Doyou havethethought
beforefinding theexpression!"doesnothavetheunitary, affi rma-
tiveansweritshouldhave, ifthe translation modelinfactapplied
even to the apparently most amenable cases. Indeed, the anti-
unitaryacceptanceofcontextualcomplexity provedonreflection
-
., III
.88 Aft os Longuage
more enlightening than the unitary conception of creativity
derivedfrom 3 simil adystrai t -jacketedconceptionoflinguistic
meaning. Nevertheless, wearestronglyinclinedto privilege the
artistwithregard toanyquestionofmeaning. andevenif thework
of theartistisnotaccuratelycastin termsof translation,stillit
seemsthattheremustbesomemeaning-content to whichthe
anisthasimmediate access.
Thuswetwnedtothesignificanceof thepriva te-languageargu-
mentforaesthetics,bCginningwiththecurioussense thatartistic
expressionisimpossible,insofaras itentailscrossingtheontologi-
caldividefromtheanimateandphenomenologicallyprivatetothe
inanimateandphysicallypublic.Withthisontologicaldivide in
place,weareIUlturallyledtothenotionofan artistworkingfrom
an"innermodel,"theinnerprivateemotivecontentof thework
thatLangercaUedthe"envisagementoffeeling. "Collingwoodthe
"givenemotion,"andDucasse"thefeeling-image_" Thesenotions,
itemerged, are theaestheticanalogues tothe" privateobjects"
underinvestigationinWittgenstein'sargument;if themeaningof
thesignofasensation"S" inaprivate-linguist'sdiaryis notgiven
by theinnerobject(which, as Wittgensteinsbows,drops outas
irrelevant),then the artisticversionof"$"-aredstrokeofoilon
canvas-cannot,byparity,begivenbyanaestheticinnerobject_
Problemsofconsistencyofuse,ofmemoryofthereferentof"S,"of
inner-objectidentification,of theverypossibilityof being"right"
about thesign-sensationrelation,and theimpossibilityof there
existinganinnertableorcharttoascertainsuchrelations,together
calledintoquestion theentireunderlyingapparatusofobjectand
designation,andoftheveryontologicaldividewithwhichthis
largerconstructionof theparallel problems'ofinner linguistic
meaningandinnerartisticmeaningbegan_
Submergedbutpowerfullyinfluential oflanguage
havenotbeenabsent inpost -Wiugensteinianaesthetictheory. In
reconsideringonefoundational elementof Danto'smethod-that
ofemployingcollectionsofperceptuallyindistinguishablecounter-
partswithseparateidentitiestofocus On questionsofaestheticper-
ception-weuncoveredanatomisticanalyticalprogramthat,in its
distinctive way, harked back to the Tractatus . It also recalled
Art and Cultural Eme.rgence .89
notionsofartisticperceptionshapedbydeeperconceptionsoflin-
guisticmeaning,specificallyofbasicwoed-worldrelations.Indeed,
inartas in languagewefound that theuninterpretedconstants
overwhichdescriptionsandinterpretationsareplaced,according
tothis analyticalstrategy, arenotbasic in theinterpretivelyinert
waytheyneedtobe if thisanalyticalprogramis toproveviablenot
justfor casesofgenuineindistinguishables,e.g.Brilloboxes, snow
shovels,bottleracks,andsoforth.butforallart.Here, too,thevery
distinction at the base of the theory, between perception and
description,doesnoton iJlvestigationproveasclear,orasstruc-
turallysound,as itshouldif itistoserveasalinguistic-perceptual
foundationfor anaesthetictheory.
BecauseWittgenstein'sremarks oncertaintyconcernthegiving
ofgroundsinepistemology and thelegitimacyofquestions about
thoseepistemicgrounds,thoseremarksconcerntruthin language.
Certaintyand truthare certainlynotforeign topicstoaesthetics,
andareconsiderationofDickie'sexplicitinstitutionalismprovided
theoccasionforbringingthesesubjectstogetherhere.It wasagen-
eral skeptical questionconcerningan isticidentityprerequisiteto
theinstit utional theorythatproved mostproblematic;genuine
doubtisnotsubjecttothewill,sowhatweneed, whatistrulypre-
requisite, is agenuineparticularized questiongivenlifewithinan
aestheticcontext;otherwisewefind ourselves, knowinglyornot,
attemptingto"justifyourscaJfolding."Margolis'stheoryofcultur-
aJly emergentartifactsprovidedanoccasiontoreconsiderthelogi-
cal behaviorofthetype-tokendistinction,itselfdrawnfrom the
ontologicalsectorsot thephilosophyoflanguage, andtoencounter
someot theilluminatinginterrelationsbetweenperceivingworks
ofartsandperceivingpersons. Thisintumled us toaconsidera-
tionofsomeofWittgenstein'sobservationsconcerningthelan-
guageweinfact usetospeakofowperceptionsof,andinteractions
with,humanbeings,andthis,last-ly,led us toabriefconsideration
ofthestrikingsimilatit iesbetweenourlanguageaboutpersonsand
OUIlanguagea.boutart.
Oneeminentaestheticianhassaidthat "Wittgensteinwould
seemalwaystohaveremainedoftheopinionthat,whereasthevar-
iousfalse viewsof languagecanbestatedorlendthemselvesto
10FER2OU4
__ __---- - - - - - - _A "'1 " .ii iii II II :u U "'''''"..."

'9
0 Artas Language
assertion, the true view is something that has t o be seen-it
remainsaview."48Thisremarkcapturessomethingofvitalimpor-
tancenotonlyforanunderstandingofWittgenstein'sphilosophyof
language. butalso for anunderstandingofthevariousasserted
viewsof theaItsthathavebeenshapedbyviewsof language.The
remarkmayalsohelpusunderstandwhatitmeanstomoveintoa
positionofconceptualclaritythatis itselfanantidotetophilo-
sophicalperplexity,leavingthosefalseviewsinaestheticsandthe
liriguisticmisconceptionsthatengenderedthembehind.Allofthe
foregoinghas been, ofcourse, an attempt to takea stepinthat
direction. Becauselanguagehasbeenfundamental toaestheticsin
themanywayswehaveseen,itseemsfairtosaythat,solongaswe
remainmindfulofthemanyand variousintrlcacies,difficulties,
anddangersofart-languageanalogies, an investigationintolan-
guageis amongthebeststrategiesat ourdisposalfor achievingan
understandingofartisticmeaningand,indeed,ofachievingaclear
andperspicuousviewofthevastrangeofvisual,aural,andconcep-
tualengagementsthatwecallaestheticexperience.
48. RichardWollbcilll,"Tbe AltLuson, inOn Arrlind rheMind (Cambridge:
HarvardUnivellityPrt.SS, 1914), p. 13' ,Ont be an.:o.logy betweenWingen5tetn" vie....
01 languageandofart, considerhiso.... nstatement: "What we call 'understandinga
Kl'ltC. nCC' haa,inmaoycues,a muchgreatersimilaritytounderstandinga!llusiu!
themeIhMweml&bt be inclined tothiok. But Idon'tmean that understandi n,a
musical ismorelikfthepicture ....hicbonelends 10 makeoneselfofunder
standi ngaKrllenee;bututherthattbillpiclu.eis....ron".ndthaI a
IIClllencc Is muchmorelike .... h.1 rcall yhappens wbeu....e undustandatuncwnal
fin.t d3htappears,TheBluetJudBroWI'! BooksjOxf01'd:&!i tBlackweU, p61.
m discuum,;OIU compulsiooto makesuch picturesofundel'ltandiog,Wittgensteln
memorabl yIdefltOtbe insb tence10posit "lomethingprivate, intangible
sornuhing, U as dream ofO\.I( bngu.ge."in Phi/osophiCD/ Investigations, s.ec.H8.
Aesthctic$.1150 d!earns.
INDEX
L., 'SOD, l5)n
Abstracti on, 17-19, 19
Action, 14), '49
Aestheticintenuon.l ist ,97
Aestheticsc.afioldm& S9, IS9
AC$!hicr.ombie, 4}
Aesthetiu,ana1Ylical, I
Aiken,HenryDtvid,801'1
Albeni,. LeonRam.ta,n
Anscombe, G,E..M, IU,I4sn, I S5n,
1841'1
An8clm,17
Anthropomorphism. 171
Arbitrariness, 5), SS, 63,11,1)
Archyt&s, 77
Armstron.g, Benjamin,
Articulatesounds.S1
Ashbery,John,185n
Alomism,:I,9, '1,13, 17, 19, 'So,
..,
aesthetic, 185
linguistic, 138, t40. 148, '49, 18S
perceptual, 1}8, 140
visual,148
Aude,C.A1ben, l oon
&ch,Joh.. nnSebastian, 19, 48, 59,
86,9:1,93, I 51
Baker,G. P., U9n
Honortde, 101
Bamhrough,RenfoJd, I Un,1771'1
RobertE..,
B.:trlok, Sell,91
Baxandall,,.lichad, ('42n,
Burdsley,MonroeC., Son, III
Beckn13n, Max,9Sn
Beethoven,Ludwigvan. lB. 68, 83, 9:1,
tOl. 104, 106---8, IIJ
"8ef: t leinlhebox, " 1) 1, III
Bell,Clive, 16,:15
Bernini,Gi.anLol'CIUO,89,90
Black, Mu.
Stockel,H. Cene, U I
Bloom,H.tmld, 181n
Bodi lymovement, 149
BoIll1'Iquel,Bern.trd, 1:10
Sn:hms. /ohannu, l)4n, 1}7
Sn:que,Gcorges,85
SlelOn,AndIe,78
BrylOn,Norman, 136n
Sudd,Malcolm, 1)41'1
SulldOO!io& HI
Cage,John, 86, 88, ItS, I S)
Carnap,8udolf,9, l O, I)
14), I H,160, t1S, 176
Causes,menul, B
Cavell,Suruey,800
Cenai l'llY, 5, IB,156, 159, 189
QUnnc,Paul, SS
Char,Jin,I.B. -S., 146n
Chlpp,HeJ!cbdB" 78n, 84n, 1000, lOin
Cicero, lvUrclUThlliu5, 78n
Ciolfi. Fnnk,Son
Circularity, 151
Oa"i/!e.don, 1 t -..,-___ _ __ ---______
-
-

I
L
Index
index 193
Cohen,Mush.ll, Ipn
Cohen, Ted, Ip n
Collmgwood, R.e., ' /,6,lo-lS,4' , 45,
.7,48, 11),1:14/186, .88
CommunicatIon:
' '''6Iic, 65. 66
linguisti c, 74
Complexity, 7, 9, 40
Comprehension,lm,uiUk, So
Compulsion,innermomcnt.ry, 10
Conet;plualfog. 110
Concept ual YeJtigo, 98
Con(on",iI Yto . rule, 8)
Consistency.hnguiSlic, 118
Content,inner, '09, 114
Cool<:, 1000, l}1n, 141n, '790
Counterpoint, S9, 61, III
C,.it,Ruben,S4n
Cuig. Edward. 1180
Creation,4.6, 108, 187
Cfullvcprocell,99, 100,110, ISS
Ctcal ivlIY, 10<), liS
CriUC31monism, IH
Ctitiu!pluralism, 'H
1
dUlllis l;c,80, 181
cxccSSClof, 116
fUnclionof, 118, l,H
emit'sI.Uk, I I I
Crombie,A. C.,77, 78
CultullI lemergence, 6, ' ]S, 180
cult urallyemergent 161,
176-78, 189
O..Ii,Salvador,98n, 169
Oamo,Anhur, 5, '36- 4Q, '41-51, 154,
156, 188
DlIvid,I..1 .. , 181
0,Vinci, 17,78
Davu,Milel,8m
Dc'Ba. bui,84n
DeKooning, Willem, . 68
Denis,Mauri, 1000
Due.Hu,Rent,56
DeKlipl ion,8,
ae,.hetie, 46, 48
Ocseril'tl OTU andint ell'reuljons, 177,
.
Diuy
"
keeper,
Old"", George, S, 147, 'So.,,\ 1600
18
9 , ,
DWey,T.I.,
Dilroan,llliero, iHn
Discursivepro;ect lon,25
Discursiveaymbob, U- IS
Dlsinterested .,
88 u...n, ,
Disney,Wah, p
Doubt, 160, 189
limasof, 5
1i5, 1[9, UI, 14.\ I 6:1.
44, I ,
165,166, 169,174, 115'\'9 180
aesthetic,6, 116, 178 '
Cmesian, 16)
l inguis tlc, H
I>.alin;cconceptualschm"lt 8
Ou,listlccorrespondence,},' I
Dualisticexplan:uion, '01
CUrtJ.. I, 16, 1-5
6
,68.
11. }, 186, 188 S
Duchamp, Marcel, 146-4
8
, ' $4, , 66-68
Dilre. ,Albrecht,17,84r1, '0-",104, ' 07,
10S,TIS, lO.!
EbelSolt,frankB., 145n
ElIOI,George, 90
Eliot,T.5., 8S, 100, 101
Embodiment,3,lS, 97, 161,
170, 175, 180, ISl
EmelgeOl humani ty, ' 79
EmOtional IS4
Emotional 107
EmOliv" mUI'Iln& l, IOI,II{
Entity,innel ,99
),18,91
wence, l S I
olin,16, 17
E.$sentiallim, IH, IS9
[vaN,!liII,81-8)
Evidence, 101
llHernal vs.external,88
Evolutiono/language,11
Experiences\lnderconcepu,t.)
Expressive idiosynClilSiel,S9
Facialexpreuiolls, 174, 187
Familyresemblance, 1)7, Ifl
Fe.elint, naluralhistory01, 10
Dietnch,4S
Fittingnessofaname,67-69
Fogelin, Robert, Il7n, IBn
Fonnalan.lysis,17
FOImalism, 17, I SS
Formandfeeling, 6,9,"6,17
Formand/ullction,"4
FOInt/contentdininction,1,:n,1.
FOlffiofliie, 141
Franco,FJ.nejsco, 111, I nn
Fleud,SigmWl d, 87, 88
Fry,Roger, J6, 15
Ca\lguin, l oon
T'h!adore,87,!8
Gt.Sloifen, CJelued, 19
Gestures, ' 0, I I , 10, 87, J IJ, 1}4
Ciorgume daCastdfraneo,8
Gombnch,E H., '41n, I hn
Gullenpb .... S-Imucl, 184
Hacker,P.M.S., 1111
i-lansllC:k,Eduard, 16
HlStOric.a1dooi;umentl,ion,61
Hognth,William, Ial
Holbein, Hans,41, 41
Holl y, MichaelAnn, 1}6n
Holtzm.n,S., Il9n
Hospeu,John,81ln
HUJllanbeings,6
Hume, :Po
Ideaettitltioll" 51, H,58
Idealism,1, H,4<>-H, 46, 41, 77, 95, 96,
.86
,ulhetic,6, )6, 49,91,91
Im.geCV'OC.ll lion,6S
Imaginaryobjecu, }I,35, 40, 41,4)-4 S,
46n,48,90,91
Imagination,4
lnagiruot iveeXpC:rit nce,34,H
Improvisingmusic;lIn,79,81-'}
Indiuingui,hablecounterpaIlS, 5, '}7,
."
indiscemibles, 5, '.3, 147
Indi vidwll ion,aesthetl c, . 68
Inneleye, 78
lnob,Robert E., lIf)
ins1ilutiona\theory,6, IS' , '54-60, J 89
Intendedsentiment, 109
tntending.76
lmenlionallCljvitY,14
Intention. 1contingency, 71"
intention.ldcsi$n,79
Intent ionalilll template, 79,80,82,84
lntemionl lwork. 8},84
lntentiona, 65, 66, 7 T,18, 187
artiltic,l,),6,7S,SI-8},98
proposition. UyenUJmlbted,98
TeJeunce01 theartist's, 60, 117
lnlCriOfmodel,18
lilte'l'letatioll" 176-18, 187, 189
'44
descriptive, t49
'4'
lnte'l'tetiveuscnce, 146
lntc'l'rt.tivcprivilege, J)S
IDUO$pcction, 11), " }
inUO$pective 117
Ives,Charlel,Ib
Hcosy, IS4D
James, p,53
loyce, ,, 8
!(.afka, Franz, In
Kandin$ky, WaS$il y, Jl 8, 148n
Kant, 11, 148
Kennick, W. E., 80n
Kenny,Anth ony, J84n
Kermode, frank, 85n, 10m
KIee, P.ul, J4Sn
K6hler, WoUgang, 1.0
Kolodkm,Irvin&.840
Kuhn,Thomas, 14ln
i.aodicape,aC$lheuc,6
Lang. 80D
Suunne,1,8-,,}, ]5-]1, 19, 1:1.) ,
ISS, . 88
language-game, ISS, IH, 179
lA: Col hullel,C.-t. J., 110
Leich,C., 1)9"
lA:vinson,leRold, 18.n
lA:wil, P.S., SI,67n
l ibidinalrobliml t ion,81
Linguilticpr.Jcuce,7}
- -
'I J
1 "1 I 1 1
194
Locke, John, }, Il.. SO-56, 6.,6),64.
73, 74, 138,186
Loc.ut ionuyprc<hsposition, 89
Cl(pt(SSiVCDUS, 10
LogicalCorm,.]o
Logicalrcblion, II
Luck,aesthetic,78
Lyas,Col.in, 150n, tHO
MJ.lc.olm, NOlman, 1440
Mandelbaum,Maurice, I pn
M,argolj" loSeph. 6, 161- 70, 17)-10,
1840, 189
Marti ni,Simone,4'
Muon;c5ymboJism,87
Materials, II}
Matisse, Henri,III
Meaning, I, 1, 8, II,ll,IS- 17. 19.11,
14-17,1\1.3,1, 48, n ,54. 56-S8,
6)-69. 71,73, H . TOl,lOS, 106,
1' 1, 118,1'\1, Ill, 11.5- 18, I, G-ll,
13 S, 141, 149, 170, 18S-il0
artistic,7. II], tiS, 119, 1)0, 1)4, IH
upc. ic:nccof,3. 66, 67,69,70,71.1).
cJ:p'"res:s ive, IS
"linguistic, I , 5, 7, 163
memal,}9
multiple., .64
pnvuc, III
uni!d,1],18
Mcdiau:duprcssion, Il.)
Medici.Lorenzodc',14
Medium,48, 100, 101, 110, 186
Mcinong,90,9:to
Mello!).Paul.90,91
Mcn<k:l"ohn,felIX, 18
Mentalimage, 86
Met aphy'icalpriori ty, 118
Michelangelodi Buonarroti, 14,79, S4,
,
101, 104. 107, 115
Milton,John.87
Mmd matt erdUll.lism,7
Mind'seal, 60
I. MJnd' seye, 1<17
MJIO.Joan.98n
Moud,inner, '01, 188
Mondrian, Piet,981'1
MOnloc. Maril yn, Sjn
1 1
- 1
)1 - 1 -,
Illdex
Moore,G.E., 19, 56, S9
Moore,Geuld,44.4S
Mor .....di,Giorgio,98n, 1460
MorpholopCJlIsimilarity, I I,10
MOlhcrsill. s, Ij7n. l pn, 18\ n
Movcment.bodity, 143
Moxey, Kcilh, 1)6n
Moure.WoligangAmadeus,87
MU$ICl Ithought,96
Mythicalenlity, 7.
N.bokov, Vladimir, 87,88
Naming. I la.141
Nativespt.akeu,8)
NewCritlci5m,1, 81,38, 89
Niel'1.SChe, Fricdndl, 119. [49
NO$lalgi4. S9,64
Nyman.Heikkl, I lln
Object-anddesignatlon, 117, 'n,188
Objecl ivecritical ;lldgment, 90
Objectl Ycdaiplioo,90
Obiteu.:
inner, 100, ' 14, llS,IlS-)l,tH. ,98
intwt ional,15,
physic.a1. lS. uo. 16.a. 16" .66,
169-11, 17S, 176, 1]8, ISo
p' iVIIC, 110,11), 188
Observationsent ences, 139
OnlologiC..Jll y buic, 161
Onlology.authclic,6,161
Osbolne,Harold, Son
Osl enlh'c!kfwlion, I } I
inncr, US, 119, 1)0,
pravate, 119
Ovid, IS)
Pain-behaVior, ."
PIJ>Obky,.twin,17,78
PaKai, Fan.a, am
Peacocke,ChfLltophcr, 1::>90
Perception,:
.speCI, 141
ju,ric, 1)9, H I
,ynaesthetlc, 140
PClceptu' \filter,61
Performanceprroctiee, 44
PtJ'&Onaimeaning, 66
Personhood, 181 81
I ,
-
Persons, Ib-H,1]8-80. 18,_ t 8S, 189
Peulreh,ISa
Phid\u,18n
P,CIlSSO, Pablo,lJ.15.84. 111, 1J.3,
13)" , 1)5
PictureThcotyofmeaning.9, I4,:11, 18\
Pier,C S . 160rI
Pitcher,C., l)1n, Uill
Piyotchord, 94,9S
Plato, I Sl
Platonism, 78n,98
newlatoni c, 1001'1
Plotinus, 84
Pollock,JlcklWn, I r8, 148n
PosltiYism, r41
Polltre/lecl iYe knowledge, r59
Poner,BCl lm, 141
Pound, lua,8sn
Plagmdt iM tradlli on,160
Pre!in,gubti Cieye!,3)
Prc,el\lltlondpe1ccpt ioll, I ]
Pluemationdlsymbols, 11--15,19
p,imal)'and&econdaryquali ties, ! 7S
Prl vleY,91
lins;uistiC,4, 117, 1:: 4
Privatefuhng, 99
Privatelanguqe,6, 1:U, ')0, 141
argument, S, .88
P,;yilCIC, 188
Pnvileged I I '
PriVileged 111
Prouss,inner,h
Pmpe$S, aUIhelic, I
Pronoun, reflexive,
PrOt (){YIIt ofbealllY, ]8
h ycllologicalcon" il ut ion, \8
Ra uschenbcrg, Robert, . 68
Ru.]ism,aa lhetic, 1]6
RecollectionIntunqllihty, tOl ,Tl. 3
Reeontu:tualizauon, 7 '
Redpat h, Theodore, 80n
Reference, IlS, 133,1)8
Referent$, 13, U7, 'll
extern,l. I}
Inner, I}
referential/linction, 16
Reid,LOUISArn.ud, IlO, n r
Renaisunce,19, 63,6,
mental, 76
Rrt urn10 thco. y, S
Rhea.Rush, .un. l 34n
Riehu ds,I.A. 89
Ri&ht aprestlOn, 109, 113, 18,
Rornancsqllc,59
Rony, I Bn
Rosklll,Mal k,8on. r11n
ROIhko, Mark,8. r8 . , ,81
Rule-following, h
Russell,Rutrand, tl
Rylc, Gilbert,9],91, 1740
Santayanl,CCOI!:C, 11I
$.i\ll5.S11 . e, Ferdin,nddc,]1n
s.. vile,Anthony, 80n
Schaper, Eva, 18sn
Schonberg, Arnold,9:1-, 1 S7, IS8
Schopcnhlluel, Arthur, 18, 139
Sehubcn,FralU,16,44,45,67- 70, l 34n,
, 86
Scl. bni. RichardJ., 15I n, 1\111
Scruton, n 6n, 14ln, I hn
Se. rl e, John,1w
Self,184
SemiOtic:lCSlhetiu,, I
ScnSllion-nlmin&,. 134
Sensat ions,3.01,1.88
ascrl plionsof, ' 7',171
inner, 116, U 9, I})
Sense-data,1}, '48
Senseimpression,31, H
SeDwrypJclll; U1e,18
Seosllousqllllliucs, 13
Sentience, 17)
ofIhoughtfrom word, }8
Sn.kupcarc,WiUi.tm,11
Shapingpower,1,5- 7, 3'
ShowingV5. 11
SIpl, linguistic, 4
S1gN15,SS
Significance:
hid<kn, 118
inner, j4
Su elso
Signiheam form, 16
Signifier,51
Sig:r1S, 4, r o, 5:1., 54,6},64, 66. 69- 71, 99,
11S-18, 130-14, 16 3, 186--118

...
-
--
-
- -
- -
-
- - - - -
-
i
Jo-Szll!'o-' ...
196 Index
Silence,4/S, n
SistineChapel,79
Smith, Bafb3taHenllst ein, 18:1
Smith.David, 8411
Solipsism, US, 130, 131
Sor, Fernando,"7
Speaker'sidea,s5
Speakingwithout tbought, 37
Stage-setting, 11, 133
SUIt!,inner. S3-SS. llO, In
State,ofalialls. ! I, '3- 1I,19, ISS
StalUS conferral,IS}. 156, 158- 60
Stella,Frank, 181
Stockhausen, Karlhein:t, nS
Stolnitz,Icromc, 88n
StUVUlsky,Igor,8,83.84n,90
SlI l wson, P.P.,971\ 161-67, 169, [73
SlUhl,' ohD, 160n
Sulli van.' .W.N., lun
SUII King. 58
Surfacegram013r, 104
SymbolicfOlms, 8
Symbolist movemem,100
Symbob,10, I I , 12- 15, l8-ao
Symbols,nondisculs;ve, 14
Taylor,Charles, ,81 - 84
Teleologiula$pect, 63
Tennyson, Alfred, tord,81n
Themea ndvariations, 26, 17,94, Ill,
'" Tilghman,B.R.,146n
TItian, 158- 60
Tokenso! atype, 4, 161, 165- 68, 175,
,8,
Leo. UI
Tone, 109
TowerofPisa,18, 83
Transitivevs intransItiveu:I.3ge. lO),
104. to6-8. IIS, 181
n'TlSlali on. li.lW-'ls( ic, 4
Transblioomodel,6, 100. l oa, [0),
109- 13, 11 5, . 87
TUrnofphrase, 109
Throe" J. M.W.,19
Type/lokendistinct ion, 4
VnanllcipalCddiscoveri es, " )
Undcfsundin&,artis lic, 60
Urulllcrpreled 144, 189
Unsayablc, 1-, 8, U,15-17. 11, 16, 19
Updike,John, 185n
VanGogh,Vincelll, r oon
Veron,Eugene, 121
VisualambiguIty, 148, 164
Vltruviu5, Marcus,77
VonKaraj:m, Herbert,83, 54"
VonWright,G.H., 'am,1450, ISsn
WagneJ:, Richard, 66,91.
Wanting, 7)-77, IS7
Andy, SSo, 147, 167, 168
Watkin, David, 180"
Welt"/;, Morris,80n
Wimsatt, W.R.,80n
Winch,Peter, 1790
Wisdom, John, 174n
Ludwi.g:
TheBiueand Brown Books, lIm.511'1,
530,560,70,710,73,99",10}-8,
usn,1 9<)
Culture and Valu e, uln
Lecture5lmd on
AestnellCS. P5yc;hology, lind
Religious Belief, I In
Not ebook!, 1914-1916, lin
On Certainty, ISS, 1)7-60
Philosophicallnvtstigallons, no,
)5",670,7I1l,71, 75, 7B,85, 91, 97,
98,109, 1I0, l!4, UI- 36, 141, 141.,
ISO, 170-74, 177- 79, 190
Pnrloophical Remarks, 111
'Dactatus Logiw.Pnilo50phicu5, In,9,
II, D, 17,1,0,1,1,19, !lS. 1)6, 138,
139, I8S, 188
i
Zettel, 1)1n, I4S, 146
"
WoUlteim, Richard, 44, rOJIl, 114, 141ft,
I51n, ISSO, 16011, 18sn,
Young, JosephE., 840
Zuccari, Federico,98n
10FEB. 2004