The Institutional Theory of Art - BA(Hons) Thesis

The Institutional Theory of Art: A survey of alternatives and critical evaluation

Ben Dempster

The Institutional Theory of Art: A survey of alternatives and critical evaluation

Ben Dempster

A dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Bachelor of Arts (Honours) in Philosophy, University of Otago, Dunedin, New Zealand

Acknowledgements: Thanks a lot to the fantastic philosophy department at Otago; notably Colin and above all Heather.

Thanks to Debbie for inspiration. All were invaluable in making this dissertation possible.

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Contents

Page

List of Illustrations ………………………………………………………… 3 Introduction …………………………………..……………………..……….5 1. Other Approaches Early ……...……………………………………….…………………… 7 Weitz …………………………………………………………………… 8 Recursive ..…………………………………………………………….. 11 Functional ……………………………………………………………… 15

2. The Institutional Theory Procedural Definitions ……………………………………………….. 19 The Basics of the Theory ……………………………………………..24 A Minimised Institutional Theory ……………………………………..28

3. Objections Circularity ……………………………………………………………… 33 Applying the Institution Concept ……………………………………. 37 The Isolated Artist ……………………………………………………. 43 Extending the Notion “Artist”………………………………………… 46 The Liberality Problem ………………………………………………. 50 Ad Hoc Response to 20th Century Art? …………………….………. 53

Conclusion ..………………………………………………………………… 58 Bibliography ………………………………………………………..………. 60

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List of Illustrations Page Brillo Boxes (1964) Andy Warhol ……………………………………………… 4 Composition with Gray and Light Brown (1918) Piet Mondriaan …………………………………………… 6 Fountain (1917) Marcel Duchamp …………………………………………. 18 Painted Bronze (1960) Jasper Johns ………………………………………………32 Painting (1948) Jackson Pollock ………………………………………….. 57 Robinson’s Wrap (1974) Helen Frankenthaler …………………………………….. 59

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Brillo Boxes, 1964 Andy Warhol

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Introduction The question, “What is art?” can provoke an extremely varied number of responses. The replies diverge from the very point of understanding the question. The following discussion serves to inspect one narrowly focussed part of the question. Obviously, for a thorough philosophy of art, we would need to answer more than just this question, but that is not my purpose. I intend to seek a bare-bones definition, one that can withstand counterexamples. We can assess a definition independently of the other interesting questions that arise from “What is art?” (such as what is the value of art, what is good art, and what is artistic experience?).

I aim to examine a variety of approaches to definition. However, those chosen do not necessarily indicate which are popular in philosophy today. It merely gives an overview of numerous different styles. Danto is left out, for example, because his views are part of the same wider family of theoretical ground as the institutional theory. His institutional view deals more closely with the ramifications for art than its consequences for philosophy. The examination of other approaches to the definitional question before us will primarily reveal an abundance of difficulties.

George Dickie is the primary exponent of the institutional theory. It proposes a work of art in the classificatory sense is (1) an artefact (2) a set of the aspects of which has had conferred upon it the status of candidate for appreciation by some person or persons acting on behalf of a certain social institution (the artworld)”1. Section Two examines the nature of the theory and suggests heuristic modifications.

A final section will deal with some of the ever-increasing number of attacks on the institutional theory. Responding adequately to these objections will be another force of refinement and modification to the institutional theory.

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Dickie, 1974, p. 34 5

Composition with Gray and Light Brown, 1918 Piet Mondriaan

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Other Approaches Early Theories The first well-known theory of art comes to us from Plato. He conceived art as mimesis (imitation or representation). Clive Bell suggested instead that the essence of art was 'significant form'. These kinds of theories were attractive to early thinkers because they highlighted the importance of certain obvious features of art. Much of art before this century was realist imitation of landscapes, and what could seem more obvious than the fact that art has a significant form?

The earliest theories offered in the history of the philosophy of art have usually been successfully attacked with counterexamples, and little reflection is needed to see why this is such a devastating tactic against them. The essences suggested by these theories are interpreted either broadly or narrowly. If narrowly interpreted, they will leave much of art outside their ranks. If we were to interpret 'imitation' in Plato's mimesis theory as 'an objective attempt at imitating something in the real world', we would leave out the great bulk of twentieth century painting. If interpreted broadly, on the other hand, any imitation would gain art status, letting in all sorts of undesirables such as pop-star posters and television commercials. Most interpretations between these two extremes, i.e. realistic interpretations, would still fail to include counterexamples such as non-objective art and music. There is no straightforward way to see music as imitating the world, and we would have to heavily reinterpret our notion of imitation to allow a work such as Helen Frankenthaler’s Robinson’s Wrap to count. At most, this collection of a few lines of paint might imitate a thought or mood Frankenthaler had, but surely there must be more substance to the imitation theory than this?

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The abundance of counterexamples that plague these early theories indicates a fruitless enterprise. The great dissimilarity between artworks, at least regarding their exhibited characteristics, suggests there is no necessary essence of the kind they searched for.

Many of these early theories with have been charged with restricting the creative nature of art. If, the objection goes, art really must have certain exhibited features, we could never call an object art even if it didn’t have these features. Indeed, not even if we had a number of otherwise convincing reasons. Pollock imitates nothing, indeed, his works, in many cases, resemble nothing seen before. Yet his paintings certainly seems like art in many other ways; it was painted on canvas by an artist, displayed in an art gallery, discussed by art critics, enjoyed by art viewers. It is even called art by everybody but the staunchest of neo-Platonists. So, a painting we do call art is not so called by the imitation theory.

In light of these objections, early essentialist views are better seen as aiding interpretation of a work, or drawing attention to certain of its salient features, rather than as real definitions. Next, we turn to a view that denies we can even define art.

Weitz and Applied Wittgenstein Morris Weitz takes a radical approach. He recognises the typical weaknesses of attempted art definitions and concludes that philosophers are attempting to define the indefinable2. He uses a Wittgensteinian method instead - he asks what the concept 'art' does in our language.

Weitz's reason for believing that art cannot be defined 'classically' follows a chain of reasoning which begins by examining the exhibited features of an object. The vast number of objects which are undeniably artworks do not share any feature we can see, hence, claims Weitz, we have come no closer

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Weitz, p. 30.

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to defining art than Plato3. Because we cannot find any universal similarities between artworks, we cannot supply both necessary and sufficient conditions for being art. Thus, art is an open concept: it is not bounded by certain conditions that must obtain for something to be art. Weitz's reasoning flourishes when we realise the futility of defining an open concept. To do so would be to close the concept, and hence the innovative element which must be included in an analysis of art.

Weitz still thinks we can distinguish between art and non-art, however, even if there are no necessary or sufficient properties all artworks must have. He applies the Wittgensteinian notion of family resemblance to artworks. What links artworks is "a complicated network of similarities overlapping and crisscrossing"4. Just as similarity between individuals in a family may have no necessary feature, artworks resemble each other in a variety of different ways, none of which must always be present.

The Wittensteinian notions of language games and family resemblance, as applied to art, can solve a number of problems for Weitz. It explains the lack of agreement about necessary features of art; there are none. The 'difficult' cases of determining art status are not rendered simpler to decide upon but are instead given a reason for being. We question the status of an object as art because we have not yet found a resemblance relation between the object and previous art. Finally, the idea of art as an open concept seems to follow from the creative nature of art, which, in turn, suggests we cannot find a real definition for the concept.

Weitz’s view seems a logical conclusion to the subjectivity surrounding art.

Because we cannot see obvious connections between artworks, we jump to the conclusion that there could not possibly be any such necessary or defining connections. Weitz's mistake here is that he ignores a whole group of artwork features - non-exhibited ones. Early on, Weitz is oblivious to the distinction, when searching for art's characteristics, Weitz asks us to "look and see what it 3 4

Weitz, p. 25 Weitz, p. 31

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is we call art"5. Consider, however, the difference between Warhol’s Brillo Boxes and real life Brillo boxes. One is art and the other is not, yet they are perceptually indistinguishable. Therefore, there must be non-exhibited features of art that make a difference. These characteristics of art will never be noticed if we merely look and see.

The family resemblance principle allows too much as art. If my well-depicted painting of a Renaissance figure resembles the Mona Lisa enough, everybody may well call it art. But what if I make a blank canvas the exact same size and shape as that of the Mona Lisa, and place it in a glass case beside the original in the Louvre, Paris? The new object resembles the Mona Lisa in many more ways than it differs; it is in Paris, shaped a certain way, viewed by the art public, weighs 30 kilograms. We would surely avoid calling this empty canvas art, but if we consistently apply the family resemblance principle, we may be forced to.

The only way for Weitz to claim the empty canvas is not art is to offer an explanation why the resemblance relation between the canvas and the Mona Lisa was insufficient to make it art, while my well painted Renaissance figure did have the right kind of resemblance.

This kind of discussion is not allowed for Weitz, however, because it conflicts with his original methodological intentions. To make some resemblance relations worthy of art and others not would require Weitz to offer reasons, and this would go against his claim that he is not searching for a definition.

After all, the reasons that suggest why we should limit what art resemblances are acceptable would take on a definitional appearance. Consider the example above; Weitz would have to convince us the resemblance between empty canvas and the Mona Lisa was inadequate. That the empty canvas was made with no skill, gives no aesthetic experience, or conveys no emotion are all suitable reasons. Yet they are the same things put forward by those who are defining art.

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Weitz, p. 31

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So, Weitz's method is inappropriate for a number of reasons. He ignores nonexhibited features of art and his theory allows too much; no explanation is given of which resemblance relations are art relevant. If Weitz attempts to offer an explanation for this, he is in the process of defining. This manoeuvre is rejected by Weitz's insistence that art is indefinable, thus his project is impotent.

Recursive Theories Weitz’s suggestion that something is a work of art in virtue of its resemblance to other (prior) works of art indirectly acknowledges the historical character of art making. This brings us to historicist definitions. Instead of grouping artworks according to an exhibited feature, these philosophers use relational features: historical links between art works. Divergence within this method involves a different content for what the historical links must be; everything from similarity of style6, or appreciation7 to connecting narratives8.

Noel Carroll suggests the central problem of the philosophy of art is not concerned with definition, as may appear the case at first glance 9. He offers evidence too; the explosion of new art theories this century is in direct response to the phenomenal output of borderline cases. These new theories, Carroll contends, are in place to identify objects – not to define art.

Carroll’s own hypothesis claims that objects are to be identified as art if we can find, or construct, a narrative that links the object to past works of art. If an object amplifies, repudiates or repeats features of past art, we can legitimately construct an identifying narrative for it. The narrative is identifying in the sense that, by acknowledging it, we identify the object as belonging to the same class as other artworks. So, we may consider Mozart’s 40 th symphony an artwork because it repeats some of the characteristics of his previous works.

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Stecker, 1997 Levinson, 1979 & 1993 8 Carroll, 1993 9 Carroll, 1993, p. 315 7

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Carroll’s theory makes some telling points. When examining a borderline case of art, we take into consideration the very things Carroll emphasises; credentials that can be supplied linking the work with past art. If I produce a bent twig and try to convince the world to consider it art, I could produce, for example, a study of an aboriginal art form whereby broken pieces of trees occupied the same place in tribal life as artworks do in our own. Furthermore, the mutations of avant-garde art are shocking for the very fact that we find it difficult to connect them to past art with any coherent narrative.

Jerrold Levinson maintains an object is art if the object in question is intended to be regarded in any way pre-existing works of art are or were correctly regarded. If an artist intends an object to be experienced in one of the many ways art has been standardly experienced in the past, the object is art.

So, a painting on canvas may be ruled out as art on the grounds that the painter intended it to be used as a firestarter, merely coating it with paint to increase it’s flammability. On the other hand, because Duchamp intends us to regard his readymade urinal Fountain as we have regarded previous sculpture, it is an artwork. Indeed, it is the very fact that we do not usually regard urinals in this way that no urinal was considered an artwork before Duchamp. That he intended us to regard it like past sculptures is what Levinson claims makes it art.

The most convincing of the objections to the historical approach is that it fails to explain the first art. The first art (the ur-arts) cannot be linked to past art via an identifying narrative nor by a standard regard, because the previous art simply did not exist.

In response a recursive theorist has two options, equally doomed. He can firstly claim that the first arts became art in some different way than subsequent art. Descriptions of what this new method of attaining art status are, unfortunately, all unsatisfactory. To say they are art because they can be

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linked in the appropriate way to subsequent art is dangerously circular. Yet, to offer any other explanation for why the ur-arts are art would involve resorting to non-historical features of art – not a manoeuvre the true historicist has in his armoury.

The second alternative is to stipulate that the first works of art are artworks. In this way, the historicist can remain consistent on the issue of how an object becomes art. The problem here is that many other theories of art’s definition have real reasons for why the first arts are so called, whereas the historicist in reply can only offer a dogmatic stipulation.

The weight that Levinson places on the intention of the artist is dangerous. On his theory, an object need not actually be regarded as earlier artworks have been (thus avoiding examples of never seen artworks), as long as they were intended to be so regarded by their maker.

The absurdity of including the artist’s intention into the definition of art can be demonstrated with an example. I conceive of an intentional state of the musician Richard Wagner, where, for reasons of bad temper, he may have never desired nor intended for certain pieces of his to ever make the light of day. Consider an imaginary failed piece; Wagner, having an off day, writes a piece of music so abhorrent to himself he locks it up and throws away the key.

Later, after his death, a resourceful brother falls upon the work and has it published, where it is recognised as art. Wagner has no intention that the work be regarded in any way let alone a prior standard or correct way, yet it is still art.

On the other hand, Wagner could have had an intention that the work be regarded in an entirely different way than ever before. Perhaps the symphony was to be listened to while flying over Greenland, a kind of regard that was ruled out by technology. Wagner’s piece would not thereby cease to be art; either a new possible regard for art would be discovered or we would simply ignore the intention of the artist and regard it any way we like. The possibility

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of ignoring this intention shows the truth in the idea that once a work leaves an artist’s hands, all interpretative control is forfeited.

In claiming that the identifying narrative can be made up of amplification, repetition or repudiation of previous artworks, Carroll is letting too many objects attain art status. After all, what new object is not linked to previous artworks in this manner? The standard definition of ‘repudiation’ is rejection or disavowal10. Imagine my attempt to have my bowl of breakfast recognised as an artwork. I can defend my decision by identifying a narrative connecting the breakfast to ancient Greek sculpture via repudiation: I repudiate the realism of the sculpture (for I too imagine my bowl to be a bust of Caesar), and repudiate the objectivity with which it portrays humans. Alternatively, I could use amplification and say my breakfast bowl amplified the use of solid material in Greek sculpture, rather than liquid or gas. Here I have given an identifying narrative, linking my bowl with past art; yet we can still surely not call my breakfast art. What went wrong?

The obvious reply is that, in fact, the identifying narrative I offered is useless; it does not guarantee the art status of my breakfast bowl because the narrative I created is a farce. Yet, unless Carroll is willing to offer further reasons why some narrative involving repetition, amplification and repudiation are okay and others aren’t, he cannot convince anyone one identifying narrative is more worthy than any other.

The difficulty with this defence is that if Carroll suggests which narratives confirm art status and which defeat it, he will in fact be offering another definition altogether. If my imaginary identifying narrative is insufficient, it is for the same reason many old essentialist theories were; incompleteness.

Certainly, in a sense, my breakfast bowl repudiates certain facets of Greek sculpture, but surely not the important ones, the ones important to art status?

Carroll hints at the defence he would raise to this. He claims the identifying narrative is used to put the arthood candidate in the context of history, to see 10

Concise Oxford (6th ed.) p. 953

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if it contributes to the tradition11. Here Carroll gives himself away. The notion of making a contribution is, in his hands, thoroughly evaluative. Yet, good art, and art tout-court are two different things, and Carroll’s definition is the less logically fundamental of the two.

The similar defect the two historicist approaches have is persuasion that historical considerations alone cannot define art. With enough imagination one can find links between present objects and past art, but without explaining which similarities are important the historicist programme makes little headway.

Functional Theories Functional theories also appeal to non-exhibited features of objects to determine their status as art. In short, these theories propose various functions for art and suggest something is only art if it performs one of these functions. The necessary condition that functionalists offer is that artworks must serve some purpose.

According to Monroe Beardsley, the function of an artwork is to afford an experience with a marked aesthetic character. Another functionalist, Robert Stecker, contends an item is an artwork at time t if it is in one of the central art forms and intended to fulfil a standard or correctly recognised function within the set of central art forms at time t 12. Responding to criticism, Stecker dropped the requirement that the function be intended upon the work.

To see more clearly how the functional definition works imagine a tennis racquet. A functional definition would say the racquet as something that is used to hit soft rubber balls back and forth over a net, comprising the wellknown game "tennis". This is a functional definition, it categorises an object as a racquet if it serves this purpose. If we had a tennis racquet that had its strings pulled out and frame bent, we would be loath to call it a tennis racquet 11 12

Carroll, 1993, p. 319 Craig (ed.), p. 466

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proper. The functional definition accommodates this; because the object can no longer perform the function of a tennis racquet, it no longer deserves to be called one. We would say "Sure, it was a tennis racquet, but its not now, it’s broken". A functional definition of a tennis racquet suits us well in this situation.

Functional theories have gained popularity in the philosophy of art because their methodology seems to capture something we intuitively believe about the art enterprise. Firstly, we often call something 'art' in order to praise it.

Upon first sight, I may exclaim, "The rugged fjords of New Zealand are works of art". I certainly do not literally mean to say that the fjords are works of art rather, I am praising their beauty, or as Beardsley might put it, I am overwhelmed by the quality of my marked aesthetic experience. So, the common sense view seems to be that we see the art enterprise as inherently value driven. Artists strive for quality, which is measured according to some aesthetic function of art, and if they reach a high enough standard, they gain art status. So, we believe there is a normative aspect to art, and functional theories accommodate this. A thing is art depending on whether or not it performs a certain function to a high enough degree. Whether the degree is high enough is the evaluative component of functional theories Another popular attitude that functionalism captures well is the idea that there is some 'point' to art. Whether this point is to give us aesthetic insight, a smile, to enlighten us with allusions to past art or whatever, it is commonly assumed there is a ‘point’ to art. Note, however, that the view is vaguely put even in the realm of the everyday.

Despite the appearance of agreement with public notions, functional theories miss something crucial to our concept of art; it changes. What we thought the purpose of art was yesterday is constantly being struck down by the revolutionary new movements of today's art.

The function of art undoubtedly changes over time, thus to perform the function of art at t is something completely different to performing it at (t1000). This is a problem for functionalists; an object's status as art would then 16

depend greatly on when it was made. Furthermore, there would be no parahistorical function for art that could unify the concept in the way we hope our definition can do.

The solution of Robert Stecker to this problem is enough to lie it to rest. He lets in a certain amount of historicism into his account to avoid this difficulty.

He claims an object is an artwork not only if it matches up with one or more of the functions of art at its time of presentation, but also if it performs any of the standard functions of art from the past13.

Another problem faces the functionalist: if, as the account suggests, the concept of art is fundamentally normative (i.e. calling something art is also praising it), then the term 'bad art' would be paradoxical and 'good art' would be redundant. This is not the case, hence evaluation is not fundamental in defining art. In turn, if evaluation is secondary is a definition of art, functionalism is not the most logically fundamental definition that can be given.

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Craig (ed.), p. 466

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Fountain, 1917 Marcel Duchamp

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The Institutional Theory Procedural Definitions The functional definition suited well for a distinctly functional object, but what about, say, 'marriage'? Should we offer a purpose for marriage and decide cases according to whether they perform, or attempt to perform, this purpose?

Suppose we can agree on such a purpose, such as promoting happiness, security and longevity between two people in love. To determine which couples are 'married' all we would need to do would be to ascertain whether each couple were performing, or trying to perform, this function of marriage.

This proposal is senseless. It would turn up all kinds of great couples who were not married, and deny marriage status to many that could unhappily display their rings. The point is simple: a functional definition is inappropriate for the concept 'marriage'.

A more fitting formula in the case of marriage is to classify cases depending on whether a certain procedure has taken place. If someone marries two people with the relevant authority to do so, we have a marriage. If there are any defeating circumstances, such as being underage, or having no legal witnesses, the procedure is not accomplished, and the result is not a marriage.

There is striking difference between functional and procedural definitions; a functional definition is normative, whereas a procedural one is classificatory.

In order to determine if something performs a specific function we need to make a judgement about that thing. Thus, I judge object X to be a tennis racquet because it is good enough at doing what tennis racquets are supposed to do. On the other hand, our smashed remnant of a tennis racquet is denied status because we attribute a negative judgement to it - it cannot hit a ball well enough.

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For a procedural definition, the question of evaluation comes later. All that is required to make a classification decision with a procedural definition is to see if the relevant procedure occurred - this is neither 'good' nor 'bad'.

Functional defined concepts are those which have some evident function.

Most everyday items fall into this class: knives, spoons, cars, and telephones.

These objects gain their status by their functional efficacy. The functional category is to a large extent filled with physical items.

Procedurally defined concepts, in turn, are more abstract, often bringing together numerous smaller concepts. They also include the concepts of institutions, and cover the idea of ‘status’. Consider the law, it is at once an institution and a conferrer of status. Accordingly, most legal concepts are procedurally defined. A crime is such if the action breaks the letter of the law, not merely if it is ‘mean’. There are a great number of cases in the law where an action is sufficiently detrimental to society that we expect a conviction, yet due to ‘technicalities’, the action is not punished. The very existence of technical defences shows the procedures override the functions of law.

The artworld is also a status conferring body; hence a procedural definition of the things it confers status on is appropriate. Furthermore, the artworld is an institution. Thus, the concept ‘art’ would seem to suit a procedural definition.

This line of reasoning only has force if the institutional nature of art making procedures can be independently argued for. Thus, the institutional and procedural nature of art’s definition goes hand in hand. Because, the institutional theory would argue, the art process is institutional, art must be defined procedurally.

So, I contend the procedural definition is better applied to art than a functional one. Moreover, one cannot offer both a functional and procedural definition for concepts such as adoption, marriage, and art. Certainly, art has many functions, but the actual art-making procedure is logically more fundamental than these functions.

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The procedure actually unites the various functions together in this sense.

Consider an adoption. We all recognise that adoption has many functions like aiding an orphan and giving a child to infertile parents. The many small gestures that make up the lengthy process of adoption also have individual functions. The filling out of paperwork, for example, serves to register who the parties involved are, for further reference by governing bodies at a later date.

The assessment of couples by an adoption authority serves the function of making sure the family and child are well suited. Each tiny aspect of adoption has its own functions, and the whole notion of adoption can also serve many functions (although, crucially, none of these functions must be adequately performed for an adoption to be officially recognised), but this is all brought together under the term ‘adoption’ with a procedure.

The procedural account has often been called an unclear doctrine 14. The notion of procedure can apply to art in at least two different ways. On one hand, there is the trivial claim that art is made according to a procedure. The more substantial claim of the institutional theory is that an object's status (as opposed to its making) comes about by some kind of procedure. The procedural definition that is being offered is something like: An object becomes art by being a product of procedure X. Procedure X (the art status procedure) involves a member of the artworld conferring the status of candidate for appreciation on the object in question.

Obviously, there are many ways this can be carried out. An artist could paint a work and an interested curator could take the work and have it placed in a gallery. Alternatively, the artist could force his work on the artworld public by painting a public building, whereupon members of the artworld would treat it as a candidate for appreciation.

Matravers draws attention to the ambiguity in saying the definition of art must be procedural15. The strongest reading of proceduralism is that an object can 14 15

Stecker, 1992 Matravers, 2000, p. 241

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be art for no other reason than that it has undergone the correct procedure.

This reading is the motivation behind the often-heard objection that the institutional definition doesn’t do art justice because it was invented to allow as art many controversial cases.

If, the objection goes, the institutional theory was correct, absolutely anything could be made art by mere fiat of enough people in the artworld. In fact, the institutional theory by no means supports this interpretation. If a confused gallery visitor asked a curator why a certain piece of work was art (and not a mere accidental paint splattering), her puzzlement would not be relieved if the curator replied “Because we in the artworld have dubbed it so”. What would satisfy would be something like: “We art fans have called it art, and so must, therefore, everybody else – but fear not, we did for many arty reasons as well…”.

Which leads us to the less strong and far more plausible institutional proceduralism: the procedure itself finalises the status in question – but there is almost always some reason(s) why the procedure of granting art status happened in the first place. Just as there are many possible functions for art, there are many reasons people offer certain objects up to us for consideration as art. So the institutional theory is capable of preserving a plurality of reasons why things are art.

Two classic examples used against proceduralists in this respect are conferring knighthood status16 and a board electing a representative 17. When conferring knighthood, a procedure takes place (the sword on the shoulder trick). This procedure takes place for a reason (service to one’s country, honour in wartime etc.). Why, demand the objectors, should the definition of ‘knight’ involve the procedure, but not the reasons for the occurrence of the procedure? Similarly, when a board decides to elect somebody for whatever reason, the have a list of features that their elected person must have, such as good presentation, a good work ethic, intelligence and honesty. Should not 16

Oppy, 1991, p. 379 Cohen, 1973, p. 75

17

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the definition of the elected role be in terms of the qualities the candidate needed to get the post rather than the seemingly vacuous procedural method?

Both cases can be answered alike. If a person has the appropriate characteristics, he will be given the title of knight by the appropriate authority.

But what if the conferrer is mistaken? What if the person who receives the knighthood is in fact an unscrupulous scoundrel who would never have received such attention had certain facts come to light? Would this mean the person ceases to be a knight? Certainly not, the same would not be true of a truly virtuous warrior-saint who is never knighted; they are not knights. Thus, the presence or absence of factors initiating the procedure, though relevant, are not necessary.

Equally, the board could choose to ignore any feature of the interviewee in the process of selecting their candidate. If a candidate was exceptionally honest, reliable, well presented and intelligent yet had a less than perfect work ethic, the board could choose to ignore this and hire him anyway. This shows that, in an institutional setting, it is the process of the institution that counts – even though the institution may always have some reason.

Stecker accuses proceduralism in art of failing to explain the ‘hardness’ of socalled ‘hard-cases’ such as Duchamp’s Fountain18. Because all works called art by the popular artworld have already achieved that status – the institutional theory cannot explain the difficulty the layman has in accepting as art such a minimal artefact as a urinal.

My reply is twofold. Firstly, I question whether a bare-bones definition of art really needs to offer an answer to this objection. A case may be hard for a number of reasons. This does not need to reflect on the definition used to determine the cases. The fact that there may be fuzzy boundaries to a concept such as art is neither surprising nor damaging to the institutional 18

Stecker, 1992, p. 144

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theory. Distinguishing art involves knowledge of the artwork’s history; something that better explains the hardness of certain cases.

With this in mind, accusing the institutional theory of not adequately offering an explanation why certain cases is hard seems to miss the mark. Many other factors are needed, and the institutional theory should not be held accountable for these further considerations. The speed with which an artworld agrees to the object’s status, its history, the number of reasons for putting the object forward for consideration all play crucial roles in distinguishing art (and thus, determining the hard cases), yet none are part of an institutional definition.

Finally, the institutional theory could still consider certain cases ‘hard’, although the reasons for their ‘hardness’ would differ from those of functionalists. Imagine an object that an aspiring artist offers to a gallery for display. He is refused. The artist then decides to place the work in his own living room and fence it off with a rope. He then invites some of his friends around to look at it. Is the object now art? Is the artists lounge a sufficient setting to be considered part of the institution of art? Certainly many arguments could be offered both for and against such a question. The case is hard because we are unsure whether or not the procedure has been fulfilled.

This too is an explanation of the hardness of a hard case.

The Basics of the Theory Dickie’s original statement of his institutional theory required an artwork to fulfil two criteria: the object must be an artefact, and a candidate for appreciation by the member of the artworld 19. What it is important to remember regarding the artifactuality condition is that the notion of ‘artefact’ is to be interpreted in a very broad sense. The artefacts don’t even need to be physical objects, hence the art status of problematic cases like poetry and dancing20.

19 20

Graham, 1997, p. 156 Dickie, 1997, p. 83

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The definition requires not that art be experienced, but that it is a candidate for appreciation. In this way, objects that are not appreciated can still be considered art21. For instance, if a work was so bad that nobody could really say they ‘appreciated’ it in any but the most minimal sense, it could still be called art, because it has the appropriate institutional background.

‘Appreciation’ in this definition is not the normal kind associated with experiencing art. Dickie argues against an especially aesthetic kind of appreciation22. So what is more limiting (and, thus, more defining) about the institutional definition is the kind of background against which the presentation system is thrust. The status of a work cannot be defeated if the way people appreciate it is abnormal. However, if the object in question is appreciated in a non-artworld setting, its claim to art status is shaken. Consider Duchamp, if he had his urinal placed in a plumbing factory for it to be admired for its good workmanship, he would have satisfied the candidacy for appreciation criterion.

Because those in the appreciating public are not artworld members, or, rather, they are not acting in their roles as members of an artworld public, the status of the urinal would not be ‘art’. Furthermore, the place where the display took place, the plumbing factory, is not a place where art appreciation usually takes place. This adds weight to the defeating circumstances.

The person conferring the candidacy for appreciation is most often the artist himself23. Before this, it is easy to see, with Beardsley, that the demand for such conferral is overly formal; as if an artist has to make a work, then invite some ‘artworld representative’ over to persuade them to present it to others as a candidate for appreciation. Of course, the normal course of action in this situation is that the artist herself pushes the work, bringing it into situations where it will be regarded as something to be appreciated. Once we see the procedure as most commonly occurring when an artist thrusts a work into the public gaze for appreciation, we can see it is not so formal as earlier 21

Dickie, 1997, p. 84 Dickie, 1974, p.40 23 Dickie, 1993, p. 70 22

25

imagined. There is no erroneous paradigm of an artworld ‘representative’ turning up at the site of the work and conferring status on behalf of a public.

The next task for the institutional theory is to provide a term by term definition of the notions basic to the artworld system. These are artist, public, artwork, and artworld.

The core ingredients for the artistic presentation system to get going are artist and public. Once one has this, one has the cause of the artefact and the appreciation of it. These two things satisfy the initial institutional definition: the work is an artefact and candidate for appreciation. The artist needs an awareness that what is created for presentation is art. Originally, the definition required that the artist have some technique 24. Modern art has trivialised this condition. If we count what Duchamp did to the urinal as enough to have technique, assuming Duchamp is an artist, then anything will be included and the distinction loses its meaning.

The artworld public is not to be confused with the public in general. The artworld public is most often a subset of the general public, although the unique character of individual artworlds ensure that even this rule must be broken, if only rarely25.

Diffey claims that self-election is how artworld membership is traditionally achieved26. This rings true; if we think we are part of the artworld we are more likely to attend art appreciation events, which places one into the core of Dickie’s presentation system. There is one exception that needs to be dealt with here, the artist or critic who does not see themselves as a member of the artworld, through stubbornness or revolutionary behaviour. This problem is solved by Diffey’s second stage membership to the artworld public: recognition by the rest of the artworld public27.

24

Dickie, 1997 (1), p. 90 see “The Isolated Artist” 26 Diffey, p. 150 27 Diffey, p. 150 25

26

The artworld public must also have some kind of sensibilities to perceive or understand particular art. Again, in consideration of the aberrant nature of modern art, this requirement seems more like a statistical norm than a prerequisite. It is true that the vast majority of members of the artworld understand specific peculiarities of their chosen favourite art form. For example, a theatre patron would know that the dropping of the curtain represents the end of an act, and that, therefore, applause is appropriate. Yet imagine a movie critic, who for one reason or another had never seen a play in his life. He would still be a member of the artworld public for theatre, even though he did not fully satisfy Dickie’s demand that he have knowledge of particular art. It should be enough that the public recognises what is presented for appreciation is art.

The third notion to be defined is ‘artwork’. In this inflected definition, artwork is basically just what fits into the other definitions: it is what artists make and it is what members of the artworld public appreciate. Artworks must also satisfy the original two requirements given earlier, artifactuality and candidacy for appreciation.

Finally, what binds the definitions together is the understanding of ‘artworld’.

The artworld is the set of individual artworlds. The artworld is an action institution rather than a person institution. This means that the definition of the artworld would contain descriptions of the various roles of the artworld, without specifying which people should fill them. This is another sense in which the institutional theory is non-evaluative. It tells us of the roles, but doesn’t limit them with further requirements about what kind of person ought to be doing them. Whether the role of the artist should even be limited to humans will be examined below28.

The artworld system as a whole, then, is the framework of multiple artworlds of differing size and regard for presentation of works of art created by artists and viewed by the artworld public.

28

see “No Need For An Artist”

27

A Minimised Institutional Theory The institutional account that best fits the actual facts about art is one that is minimal and proud of it. The theory as it stands is quite minimal already, but, for the reasons that follow, it is more faithful to art if it claims even less than what Dickie himself might want for the theory.

The institutional theory is unique in that Dickie believes the art definition to be non-basic29. Art is just one definition amongst others in an interrelated set of definitions that spell out the different roles of the artworld system. Because of this limited view of art’s definition, Dickie has been accused of ignoring all kinds of things: the value of art, the evaluation of art, the worthiness of the activity of art-making, the history of art, to name but a few. These considerations are not ignored or rejected by a sophisticated institutional theorist. But these considerations are not at the same level of logical fundamentality as the bare descriptive definition of ‘artwork’.

Already, the account ignores many possible questions in the philosophy of art.

It does not aim to merely evaluate art, as any value placed on art creates a subset of art. Thus, a value-laden theory would be less than all encompassing. For this reason, the institutional theory can ignore aesthetic concerns also. Nor does the institutional theory occupy itself with distinguishing artworks from objects. This is because even with a bona fide definition, the question will still remain unanswered; the answer will be entangled with mundane facts about the object’s causal and cultural background.

Despite Zangwill’s challenge30, an art definition does not need to explain the value of the art enterprise as a whole either. This is clearly seen by any simple comparison. In defining petanque, one would give the rules for the game and the required equipment. The health benefits of regular exercise and 29 30

Dickie, 1984, p. 111 Zangwill, 1995 , p. 542

28

the joy of competition would hardly needed to be included in the definition.

Likewise for art, we can define what it is to be an artwork without needing to touch the issue of the value of the art experience.

A minimised institutional theory works best if it does not claim sufficiency. As we witnessed earlier, a great deal of the difficulty of defining art lies in meeting the sufficiency condition. Every time a theory tries to be exhaustive enough, some nasty counterexample raises its head and denies success to the project. This has happened, sooner or later, to most historical theories of art.

Radically innovative, hence non-imitative, art shot down Plato’s imitation theory. The wild antics of accepted artists are enough to counter theories, like emotivism, requiring certain attitudes of art makers. Functionalism, if it makes any claims that constrain what kind of functions art may justifiably have, could be defeated by an example of art which had a new function. At no time in the history of art has there been anything that has forever ruled out the possibility of a new function for art. Therefore functionalism, in search of sufficiency, has been no more successful than other theories.

The institutional theory, I argue, also lacks sufficiency. This insight is echoed in both Weitz and Dickie, although certainly not in the form I now propose.

Weitz contended that art was an open concept 31. This ought to mean that we cannot completely pin down the extent to which artworks can go. This is incorporated in a non-sufficient institutional account. It accepts the openness of the art concept that Weitz warns us about. Even Dickie acknowledges that there is more to art than the institutional definition, it’s just that it isn’t essential to art32. My complaint about this statement is simply that the other consideration he mentions, although inessential, should still be catered for in the institutional theory. A non-sufficiency claim does this: the institutional theory provides the positive account, what is necessary, and the nonsufficiency claim represents the impossibility of enumerating all the possible reasons for art.

31 32

Weitz, p. 32 Dickie, 1984, p. 86

29

We would do well to draw a distinction put forward by Matravers 33. Strong institutional proceduralism is the doctrine that an object can become art for no other reason than that it is an artefact and was created for presentation to an artworld public. Weak institutional proceduralism suggests instead that there is always some reason, relative to the artworld, that makes an object art.

Weak proceduralism does not need to specify these reasons. A necessary, non-sufficient institutional thesis can accept that many reasons exist, have existed, and will exist, without having to take the further step of naming some or excluding others. As our analysis of earlier art theories has shown, it is a mistake to limit the reasons why an artwork may be put forward.

I contend the more orthodox upholders of the institutional theory misunderstand the implications of reasons for being art. There is a difference between being the reason for an object being art and being a reason. The requirements that the institutional theory puts forward are necessary ‘reasons’, and as such, accompany every piece of artwork. It is clear, however, that many artworks are art for reasons more than just their artifactuality and candidacy for appreciation. Picasso had some political reasons for painting his 1937 Guernica. Aboriginal Australians have many spiritual reasons for producing their works of art. The icons of Ancient Greek art were for religious reasons also; to glorify their gods. The purpose of much Roman art was glorification also, of their leaders. Even these few examples emphasise the divergent nature of reasons for things being art.

The mistake lies in assuming that because non-institutional reasons one can have for art are so numerous that this somehow requires their exclusion from explaining an artwork’s source. This is not so. The fact that an artwork was created using brushwork techniques from a particular era is as important to its status as the fact that it is an appreciable artefact. Of course, an artwork doesn’t need any particular art techniques, the institutional theory stresses, but this is beside the point. Our definition of art is supposed to apply equally to 33

Matravers, p. 241

30

all artworks, not just the minimal modern ones, so it should allow for the extra reasons required by other kinds of art.

31

Painted Bronze, 1960 Jasper Johns

32

Objections Circularity The simplest way to understand the circularity of the institutional definition is to imagine it as a set of mathematical equations. Each of the four major terms of the definition can be considered as a variable (e.g. x, y, z). If we call ‘public’ P, artwork ‘A’, artist ‘aR’ and artworld ‘aW’, we end up with a definitional structure like the one below: P = the people who realise that A is made by aR and that A is a candidate for appreciation. aR = cause of A A = artefact, caused by aR, candidate for appreciation by P aW = social institution to which P and aR belong. Framework for presentation of A. As can be seen in this schematisation, each element of the definition relies very heavily on the other three. This is evident when we attempt to perform algebraic substitution to work out what each variable represents. We cannot completely eradicate all of the other variables from each definition. So, in the same sense that we cannot get an exact numerical value for x in the equation x = y + c, we cannot get an exact picture of any of the four central terms of the institutional definition. We have not been given enough information to be able to perform this task, just as in the simple equation just mentioned we cannot get a value for x unless we have a value for y and c also.

However, if there are hints within each definition that link the concepts with other notions not formally defined, perhaps an independent grounding can be had. For example, imagine the following circular definition: Paris is populated 33

by Parisians, and Parisians are people who live in Paris. This definition could be independently grounded on the term 'city'. By referring to Paris as a 'city', we have independent information that is outside of the circle. There is still circularity here, because just describing 'city' doesn't get us far enough. There are many cities. We need to know not just what a city is, but which one it is.

So, we need independent grounding by some concept as well as the equivalent of 'pointing to' the instance of that concept art represents. My contention is that the artworld can be ground on some independent concept, a number will be examined below. The job of ‘pointing to’ the artworld will be discussed later34.

There are three terms notably present in the definition given above that could ground the circle. Firstly, in the definition of artwork, the term ‘artefact’ is mentioned, but not elsewhere. Can we get an independent source of meaning from this term? Unfortunately for Dickie, his views on ‘artefact’ ensure that he can have no such luxury. The inclusion of artifactuality as a condition for art status was considered highly obvious by Dickie 35. This is true because, given the fact that Dickie considered such minimal artefacts as ready-mades to be included, his notion is on the verge of being vacuous. If all one needs to make something an artefact is to grab it and thrust it into the artworld spotlight then surely the term ‘artefact’ does not have the strength nor substance to perform the rescue operation required to save this definition from circularity.

‘Institution’ could possibly do the job. A frequent objection to Dickie’s fourpronged definition is that the artworld is characterised as the world involved with art, yet nothing further can be offered to explain what art involvement is other than to say it is what the artworld is in the business of keeping itself occupied with. It is possible that ‘artworld’ can be given separate backing by making clear what is meant by institution. In other words, what other information is given to us by including it, and could this information be enough to give the definition a hook to hang non-circularity on?

34 35

see “The Liberality Problem” Dickie, 1997 (1), p. 83

34

Once again, it is far from clear this strategy could work for the institutional theorist. I am basing my doubts about this method on the fact that the inclusion of the notion institution into the institutional theory has long been a major source of objection. Institutional theorists have got enough work to do to persuade us that the artworld is an institution. Some of the main problems with importing the institution concept are covered later 36.

A third attempt to give the definitions above some independent grounding is based on the inclusion of ‘appreciation’. As it stands, an artwork is defined as something caused by an artist and appreciated by the artworld public (or, at least, the kind of thing appreciated). Yet nothing more is given to explain the public other than to say it is the body of people that appreciate artworks. This dual reliance could be avoided if a principle of appreciation was offered. This would mean that we could specify the artworld public as the body of people who appreciate artworks in manner X. Equally, those who regarded artworks in a non-X manner would not be part of the artworld public. This would allow us a further level of explanation; art and its appreciating public are linked not just by their inclusion within the same institutional background, but by reference to an exclusive method of appreciation.

This tactic would only work, however, if the theory of appreciation given was explained with reference to something unconnected to the structures already defined. This is not forthcoming, at least not in the work of Dickie. He expressly denies that there is any kind of peculiarly artistic appreciation 37.

Thus, it seems unlikely this option would be open to the institutional theorist unless some serious reformation of its most fundamental premises was to be done.

There is still one further way in which we could view the terms defined as being independently grounded. It is possible that we could use our preconceptions of the terms to fill in the gaps. After all, even if we accept the 36 37

see “Applying the Institution Concept” Dickie, 1997 (1), p. 40

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institutional theory, we still believe a great deal about art that is not mentioned in the definitions given. For example, as well as the assertion that art is made by artists and appreciated by the artworld public, we have in our minds a picture of a great deal of artworks.

The same is true of ‘artist’, we know not just that these people are the cause of artworks but also we are acquainted with many paradigmatic examples of artists. Hence, an artist is not just the cause of artworks, but is also in the set of people (‘artists’) among whose members include Mozart, Duchamp, Aeschylus and possibly Madonna. Certainly, I am not intending to ascribe a further condition to being an artist; that one is sufficiently like other artists.

Instead, I am suggesting that there is more to our knowledge of art than just the simple relations that Dickie makes explicit in our notions of artist, artwork, artworld and artworld public.

Dickie himself makes the point in a different way. His definition is not to explain what art means, but to make clear in a more explicit way what we already know38. Because, as he freely admits, everybody has a pretty good idea what ‘artwork’ means, or, at the very least, they think they do. So, we can add this prior knowledge about artworld concepts to the definitions Dickie offers and end up with a sufficiently non-inflected theory. His definitions are not designed to overly restrict these ideas. Rather, once we have an everyday understanding of art notions, we can fully understand what the definitions are telling us.

The proof for this is evident: if we gave the definitions above to an intelligent being who had never before experienced any art, he would be none the wiser.

Background knowledge (possibly in the form of paradigmatic cases, different for each person) is assumed, otherwise, the definitions are somewhat meaningless. And it is this background knowledge which is the independent grounding the defined concepts need. I claim that the nature of this background knowledge is just acquaintance with past art.

38

Dickie, 1984, p. 79

36

Another defence against circularity is that, although the definitions constitute a circle, is it the peculiar nature of art that these concepts must be learned together. One cannot understand what an artwork is without having been a member of the artworld public. The idea of an art public is equally meaningless without the understanding of what an artwork is. The same applies to the artist; one cannot understand an artwork without giving it some cause, and ‘artist’ is meaningless if one is ignorant of what an artwork is. In this way, the concepts of the artworld are chained together; to consider this a circle is no objection.

Applying the Institution Concept For the Institutional theory to do its work correctly, the concept of ‘institution’ must be of the right kind. If the theory distorts the concept more than can be reasonably accepted, institutional theorists lose all of the explanatory power gained from subsuming the artworld under the concept of an institution. Two major issues will occupy us here: can an institution be of the type required, and is the artworld necessarily institutional?

What exactly does the institutional theory require of the institution concept?

Firstly, the artworld is broad. The numerous ways in which artworks are produced and presented attest to this. Art status is, on the institutional theory, reliant on the appropriate institutional background, but, this background can take many forms. A prestigious government funded gallery is part of the artworld, but so is the wall of an art collector; the moral of this story is that the institution concept, to be useful for the theory, must apply to a wide range of circumstances.

A second aspect that institutions must be capable of incorporating is informality. The practices of the artworld – art making and appreciation – lack strictness as a product of the broad character mentioned above. Because there are an enormous amount of different ways an artwork can be made, implicit and indefinite methods must too be part of the acceptable techniques.

Consider an artist who declares before he begins “I intend to write a play that 37

fits into the well-defined genre of Greek Tragedy�. This type of art making is formalised, but we could also imagine a playwright who makes no such declaration. Instead, the writer jots down certain events that happen to him over a course of a few days. At the end of this, he decides to divide the events into acts, and publish it as a play. This art making is non-formal; it is neither explicit in its intentions nor does it overtly operate in a conventional manner with regard to previous playwriting.

Membership of the artworld is also a largely informal situation. There is certainly no overt sign that one is a member of the artworld, no badge one wears, or diploma one holds. Whether a person is a member of the artworld depends to a large degree upon their actions; whether they are traditionally in the habit of appreciating art, attending galleries and so on. Yet, no membership board from the artworld officially recognises such actions as placing a person in the artworld. A great deal of being a member of the artworld is in considering oneself part of it. Because there is no official recognition of membership, it is consequently informal.

An obvious challenge to the institutional theory, therefore, is that institutions can be neither broad nor informal. Indeed, it appears that objectors to the theory have some strong preconceived ideas about how institutions are supposed to run39. The objection needs to contrast the artworld with paradigm cases of institutions.

The institution of law is a typical example, but even a cursory glance at it is enough to show that it does not differ from the artworld in the important respects. Let us consider the broadness of our legal institutions. The subject matter for law taken as a whole is as broad as the variety of situations that arise in our lives. Just as a Virgin in a Condom and Mozart’s 5th symphony are both recognised as art by the artworld and included in artistic discourse, so are both violent murder and drafting a will part of the discourse of the legal institution. One can reply that even though murder and drafting a will are both the subject of legal attention, their placement within the institution of law are 39

Such as Carroll (1988), p. 142

38

so distanced that grouping them together in this way makes no sense.

However, the same can be said of the artworld. Inside the artworld, there are smaller divisions of presentation systems, such as plays, novels, paintings and opera. These divisions map onto the legal institution as equivalent to divisions such as family law, public law and criminal law. For this reason, the artworld cannot be considered non-institutional because of its broadness.

The informality of the artworld looks to be a more grave matter. Being a member of authority in the legal world is a formally recognised position. The bar examination that all law professionals who do court work must sit is this recognition. One cannot find a parallel to this in the artworld.

Nevertheless, focussing on this one facet of law distorts the nature of the institution that still has its informal aspects. One may be obliged to sit an examination to practice law in courts, but there is a lot more to law than just the courts. One does not need to be the professional in order to be involved in a legal matter. Anyone who buys a house is part of the legal world, just as anyone who sees an art exhibit is part of the artworld. Thus, there are formal and informal roles in both the artworld and the legal institution.

Another supposedly formal area of the legal institution is its strict and consistent application of the law. A law is a law, no matter which judge it comes before. This is not the same in the artworld. There is disagreement within the artworld about which objects are art, and almost every system of artistic or aesthetic value is challenged by someone. So, how can the artworld be an institution as well when it lacks a consistent formalised application of institutional procedures?

The solution is not to say that it does, but instead to show that other institutions such as legal and religious ones, are not so consistent or formal.

To be sure, judges are supposed to lay down the law equally to equal cases, but it is unlikely two sets of cases would ever be similar enough to warrant exactly the same treatment in the eyes of the law. Furthermore, there is a great deal of law, case law, where decisions come not from an explicitly 39

stated law but from a series of previous judgements. These previous judgements can often date back centuries from the case in point, but they are still considered relevant. The spirit of case law changes slightly over time, but this is usually not because of direct interference from the legislature but from different interpretation by different judges who, although theoretically impartial, are still a product of human bias.

The situation is similar for religion. Consistent application of Holy Scripture only occurs within religious fragments; Christianity as a whole does not agree on substantial sections of the Bible. Thus religion is an institution yet formal agreement about practices and membership are not as common as one may have thought (some churches do not recognise the baptisms of other faiths).

These particulars bring us to a more general defence of applying the institution concept. The artworld can only be considered incompatible with the institution concept if it is assumed that they must be conservative, formal, consistent and focussed40. Without such an assumption, there is no problem with either enlarging the institution idea to allow the artworld or recognising that the artworld has enough in common with institutions to be considered as such.

The Concise Oxford defines an institution as an established law, custom or practice, especially for a charitable or social purpose 41. There is no mention of formality in this definition at all. On this basis, I contend there is a great deal of question begging on the part of those who object to the institutional theory for this reason. Just because a number of institutions one could point to are formal, it doesn’t follow that this is a requirement. Besides, with words such as ‘for a […] social purpose’ in the dictionary definition, it is likely formality is specifically not meant to be a constraint. Social mechanisms are not formal, and if art is a social mechanism, it does not need to be formal.

40 41

Brand, p. 310 The Concise Oxford Dictionary (sixth ed.) p. 560

40

The next major issue is whether the artworld is necessarily institutional, or whether its institutional appearance is just a contingency of the artworld at this point in history. Davies believes justifying this lies in describing the conventions the artworld operates along, and showing people in the artworld both understand and follow these conventions 42. I have already described the conventions the artworld has, and will instead discuss the adherence and understanding of these rules43.

Our best evidence to show that our artworld adheres to the conventions posited by the institutional theory is to see what happens when they are not adhered to. Conceptual ‘art’ is ample indication of this. I am assuming here that conceptual art is not art, or at most, is art in a minimal uninteresting way.

Both its claims to artifactuality and being presented are too understated to be acceptable as art. The only sense in which conceptual pseudo-art is presented is when the ‘artist’ tells me what he is including in the ‘work’.

However, this would imply that one can present something merely by mentioning it, clearly this is not the case. Conceptual art cannot claim to be creating artefacts either; not even in Dickie’s minimal sense in which an artist ‘works’ artifactuality onto a found object.

So, we have conceptual ‘art’, which does not follow the conventions of the artworld, and for this reason, it is not art. It would be near impossible to give enough examples of convention following in the artworld to convince the extreme sceptic, yet a definitional theory need not do this. There is enough persuasion in considering non-art cases that do not follow the conventions and a few works that do.

Do members of the artworld have an adequate conception of the conventions they operate under? I suggest that this a surplus requirement. Surely an artist who does not explicitly know that she is creating an artefact can still produce art. Besides, if one can successfully show that the term ‘artist’ in the

42 43

Davies, 1991, p. 98 cf. “The Basics of the Theory”

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institutional theory should be extended to include non-human sentient beings, this explicit knowledge will be lacking while art making is still in progress.

Members of the public are required to have some conception of artworld conventions. A prime example is knowing that what artists produce is for public appreciation. Such a minimal convention would surely be in the minds of artworld members. Ask anyone who has appreciated art what the purpose of art is and you will receive many different replies. The one thing all the replies will have in common, however, is that art is to be appreciated. The variety in the answers will be about the style and purpose of the appreciation, but the appreciation itself will always be there.

Silvers takes another approach to this objection 44. She claims that even though many of the roles surrounding artworks can be institutionally defined this doesn’t imply that artworks themselves can be. She uses an analogy with crime. Police officers use the term criminal more than the general public, so the term ‘criminal’ can be given an institutional definition which arises out of the ‘police-world’ in the same way the artwork definition arises from the institutional theory. She points out that this must be mistaken, just because police officers can be institutionally defined, criminals cannot.

I charge that this attack on the institutional theory only works if the analogy does. The analogy does not work at all, however, because Silvers places the police inside the ‘police-world’ institution (which, as one instantly recognises, is unheard of and does not exist) rather than inside the legal institution. Police are given powers by legal methods, and their roles, if one wishes to define them institutionally, should be defined with regard to the institution of law, not the ‘police-world’ fancy. Once we realise this, the objection disappears. We do define ‘criminal’ institutionally: whatever the law says goes.

44

Silvers, p. 453

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The Isolated Artist A number of thinkers use examples of artists working away from the traditional social context. A person is lost in the jungle for years of their life.

She eventually learns to make pigments out of tree bark and paints pictures on the ground. In every respect but her isolation, her actions are identical to a normal artist making art within the artworld. Is what she creates still art? If the answer is in the affirmative, which it should be, the institutional theory must explain how the picture can be art without being present to the artworld.

These examples lead some to conclude that the institutional theory conflates two very different conceptions of art45. The goal of institutional theorists should be to give a definition that encompasses all art. Here it is suggested that it merely explains the arthood of declared art, or socially situated art. Art need not be of the self-conscious variety to earn the title; isolated artist examples are constructed to show this.

The institutional theory can be defended in two ways. We can either bite the bullet and deny that what an isolated artist creates is not art or interpret the actions and situation of the isolated artist as such that the object is compatible with institutionally defined art status.

The institutional theorist should avoid the first option. The common view is that socially isolated artists can still create art. The neutrality of the definition is in dispute if it appears to favour artists from certain central geographical areas. It is hard to shake the idea that if a person in New York City and a person in the Brazilian rainforest perform the same actions, we would call the end product the same thing. If the institutional theory suggests isolated works are not art it relies too heavily on the contingencies of time and place in the artist’s life. The quest for a definition of art, we would hope, must take us past such contingent features of artistic action. I do not think there is a convincing case for claiming isolated artists cannot create art. The remaining option is to

45

Levinson, 1979, p. 233

43

square the apparent lack of social setting with the demands of the institutional theory.

One suggestion is to reject describing the isolated artist situation as a separate person operating outside of the art institution. Instead, we have an art institution that is isolated to one person 46. This method leaves us with a great deal of further unanswered issues. If an art institution can be occupied by a single person, must this person fill every role in the artworld himself? Or, even more radically, does positing an art institution limited to just one person show that some artworld roles need not always be present?

I suggest that allowing an art institution to be limited to one person is a mistake. By allowing it, the institutional theory seems to be nullifying all the explanatory power they had in identifying institutionalised roles in the artworld.

The problem is not that the same person can fulfill more than one role at any one time. This is not problematic because we can easily envisage a situation where an artist acts as a member of the artworld public at the same time as artist; for example, when she appreciates her own art. The problem does lie in being able to clearly define the roles of artist and public when, in an institution limited to one, they would always coincide. There is no grave dilemma being both artist and public sometimes, but in the case of the isolated artist, the two coincide every time, thus leaving us with questions about their separateness.

One of the basic premises of being an artist is having some kind of understanding that one is making works for appreciation by an artworld public.

This understanding would be distorted if, in an isolated art institution, one could only conceive of the artworks being appreciated by oneself.

This point requires distinguishing two different kinds of isolated artists. The first is the artist who did belong to the artworld, and normal society, but left it and now makes artefacts outside it. The second case is the raised-by-wolves artist who has never taken part in society or the public artworld. This second artist cannot have an art institution restricted to just himself. Because, 46

Dickie, 1984, p. 55

44

unaware of normal artworld conventions, he would have no understanding that the artist and the person appreciating the art can be, or usually are, different. The first artist, on the other hand, would have a comprehension of this, and would therefore still come under the definitions supplied by the institutional theory.

Dickie’s isolated institution suggestion can only work for an artist who has previously had experience of the normal artworld. Furthermore, if the isolated artist knows the normal artworld conventions and breaks them only in the sense that the appreciating public happens to coincide with the artist, we cannot call this an isolated artworld at all. For if the ‘real’ non-isolated artworld was not a crucial factor, we would deny calling the end result art. Therefore, it is the fact that we can examine these isolation cases from the viewpoint of an established artworld (or with the knowledge that such a thing exists) that allows us to call a physically isolated artefact maker an artist 47.

Perhaps the biggest difficulty with this tactic is determining whether the artist himself needs to be able to view his actions this way. Is it crucial, as I tentatively suggest above, that an isolated artist have some experience or knowledge of the normal artworld? I think we could still, from our artworld viewpoint, consider a work created and appreciated by an artist raised by wolves to be art.

There is still a difference between this kind of art and ‘declared’ or ‘selfconscious’ art, however. The difference is that the truly isolated artist can only have his creations considered art if those from an artworld perspective examine his situation. The removed-from-society artist performs this task himself, because although physically removed, he still has the understanding of artworld conventions internal to his actions.

What we end up with is two different methods of justifying isolated art making.

The removed artist makes art because his internal operations do not differ from the normal artist; the only variation is his physical location. The truly 47

Davies, 1991, p. 103

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isolated artist can only have his artefacts considered art if an artworld exists from which to view them. The difficulty one might have in being persuaded by this ought to be subsided if an answer is given to Davies’ interesting question: would something like caveman art still be art if the artworld had never arisen48? No, it would not. If the artworld never arose, (not necessarily in exactly the same way the modern one exists either) we would not presently call caveman pictures artworks. We would consider them religious symbols, maps or possibly even hunting aids to teach the young the appearance of hunted animals. Without the existence of the artworld now, what cavemen stuck on their walls could only be interpreted along the lines of other human institutions that may have existed, such as religion or education.

The fact that caveman art needs a modern artworld must be slightly constrained. There could have been an artworld which arose after caveman art but which died out before our time. In this case, the cave pictures would have been art then, but not now. Because the artworld is a contingent social institution I do not see the use in claiming something must always be art if it ever was.

Extending the Notion “Artist” The definition of artist as normally conceived of in the institutional theory places undue constraints on what is considered an artist. I contend that the orthodox institutional theory makes claims about what intentional states artist must have imply species-relative values that ought to be left well alone.

The conventions as described require that certain intentions be in the mind of the artist at the time he creates a work. By these intentions, I have in mind examples such as the curator who displays a chimpanzee’s painting being called the artist and not the animal49. However, I will demonstrate that positing these intentions is unnecessary, disproved by experience, and inconsistent with the institutional approach.

48 49

Davies, 1991, p. 106 Dickie, 1974, p. 46

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The defence used against the isolated artist objection was that an artist without knowledge of artworld conventions could be vindicated by the fact that, when examining the case, we are always looking from an artworld perspective. Without this perspective, the chain of art-making conventions would be broken. The same applies to non-human artists. In many cases, they cannot have the intention that what is being created is for presentation to a public. Trained animals could have such an intention after a while, but placing too much importance on this would have us denying intelligent animals the status of artist if they were not human trained, which is asinine.

At least as much is true for computers as well. They possess the techniques to make artworks, yet we must avoid attributing intentions to a machine with presumably no will. So if other intelligent beings lack the intentions required of an artist, they can still be artists if the case warrants our attention from an artworld perspective. Caveman paintings are art because we see them as such, this should be the same for animal and computer art.

The reason for bypassing this intention requirement in calling for the extension of the artist concept is because the intentions of artists are often ignored or irrelevant. The aphorism that once an artwork leaves an artist's hands it is truly out of his control is appropriate here. Our education system is full of teachers and students furiously at work at reinterpreting the intentions of many novel writers. This is not illegitimate either; a large part of the character of art is that it is highly interpretable – each new person appreciating the work brings another viewpoint. It is an uncommon belief in the artworld that art must retain its initial meaning, and equally uncommon is the conviction that all meaning can only be inferred by a work’s creator. An example of this is some twentieth century French Literature which explicitly subverts what the reader thinks is the artist’s intention such as Alain RobbeGrillet’s La Jalousie. With these ideas in mind, I reject the artist’s intention as overly important in the art process. The institutional theory explains art by reference to the system, but it isn’t compelled to say anything about the beings that make up that system. To be sure, the artist has historically been 47

an important source of meaning for an artwork; yet this is neither a universal or necessary fact. It could have been otherwise, it is unwise to build contingent facts into the institutional theory.

Denying that an animal can be an artist is a mistake, and the institutional theory, as it stands, ought to broaden its statements to include both animals and other forms of intelligence, such as complex computers and alien intelligence. As acknowledged by most, art is to a large degree a product of culture. If there was truly no human culture (if humans were immobile amoebas, for example), there could not be the possibility of human art.

Animals deserve to be included because some higher species have culture.

The complex interpersonal behaviour and tool use of primates shows these animals are at least at the same point ‘intellectually’ as the earliest humans were. This is persuading when one realises human culture cannot have just popped into existence; the beings one step before us in evolution had culture, showing that other non-human animals can too.

Artificial intelligence ought to be included in our conception of artist as well.

Computers contain the complexity to be able to manufacture artefacts in a way that cannot be simply attributed to software and hardware creators. Take, for example, a computer program I have that calculates fractal patterns and displays them for me; a fractal generator. If we add a few new features to this program, we end up with something undeniably similar to an artist. Imagine that the program, as well as generating a visual display of any fractal function I choose, can actually randomly choose an area of the pattern to enlarge, zoom this are to some random degree, and randomly add colours to the final product. Furthermore, it performs this task to create over 2 million pictures a day, but is programmed to only store 1 in 100,000 of these. After a few days of running the program, I am left with 40 or 50 pictures of stunning variety. I take these print outs and have them exhibited in a gallery. Are we to say that I am the artist, or that the computer programmer is? Either way, art has certainly been created.

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The pictures pass every other test the institutional theory demands. Artefacts have been created, and, because they were planned for a gallery all along, they are of the kind to be presented to and appreciated by an artworld public.

Moreover, many aspects of the program’s functioning have much in common with human artists. Skill was needed to create the pictures in the first place, the skill being the calculation ability computers have. Choice is also employed; the computer only chooses a certain amount of finished pictures to be put in the gallery.

Can we say the computer had initiative, on the other hand, or is this reserved for the programmer or computer operator? If we intend to deny that computers can take on an artistic role because they are not the initiators of the processes that make the art, we commit an error. If this were the case, an artist who was inspired by another person or situation would cease to be an artist. We know this is not the case; nowhere is it reasonably demanded that artists need be either the initiator or sole cause of any finished work.

So, what ought to replace the erroneous notion of artist currently applied by the institutional theory? The only thing that the theory requires is that there be a cause of every artwork, and that we, from our artworld perspective, can see this work as a candidate for appreciation. In the most minimal sense, then, an artist is just the cause of an artwork, whatever that cause may be.

There is one feature common to possible artists we would expect to find in the world that is retained by the amendment. It is likely that intelligent creatures with a streak of creativity are the most common sources of art. Bear in mind, nevertheless, that this revision does not demand that art sources be of any specific kind; what is more important is the creation of an artefact that will be appreciated (or be the kind of thing that is appreciated). The reason intelligence and creativity are preferred is twofold: intelligent creatures are more likely to create artefacts (consider the connection between animal intelligence and tool use). Secondly, the artefacts that less intelligent beings do create are overwhelmingly for straightforward practical purposes (such as worn rocks for coconut breaking and shelter for physical protection).

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A further end result of making this alteration is that Dickie’s ‘minimum core’ needs a re-evaluation. He claimed the minimum core for an artworld is the artist and public. It seems the persuasive aspect of these elements as a core entails the most fundamental relation of art is between art creator and art public. I contend it is more reasonable to instead consider the artwork and public as the minimum core in the artworld. The artworld is essentially a presentation system; a system for presenting artworks to the public.

Therefore, what is presented and to whom is more important than who made the presented work. The notion of artist is useful merely to indicate an artwork must have some cause.

The Liberality Problem It has been suggested numerous times against the institutional theory that there is just not enough substance to it. That is to say, with just the theory in hand, it seems as if anything can become art. All one needs to fulfil the criteria is to have something placed appropriately in the institutional setting. Surely we ought not to settle for such a minimal, liberal, account?

The problem goes deeper than this, not only does it seem as if anything can become art, it also seems we cannot even distinguish the artworld from other non artistic presentation systems. With an institutional definition, we can classify such things as dogs being presented in a dog show, or planes being displayed at an air show50. The planes and their flying trajectory are human designed artefacts that are then put up for appreciation by a viewing public. If the institutional definition can equally apply to such cases we have a dilemma: how are we supposed to distinguish artworlds from non-artworlds?

The liberality objection is persuasive because of the cultural elitism abundant in much of the artworld. The popularity of the ‘me and you but not the philistine’ mentality ensures that showing the artworld to be above and beyond other presentation systems will always be a goal of large parts of the 50

Schölz, 1994, p. 312

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artworld. It would be a mistake, however, to forge this kind of bigotry against the ‘cultured’ into our theory. The distinction between the ‘high arts’ and the rest has been a source for division in the artworld and only hinders viewing artworks with an unbiased eye.

Is the solution in distinguishing between the intentions of artists and those of non-artists? Bear in mind the exceptions of isolated artists and non-human artists who have their work validated by our artworld perspective. If an intention common to all artists could be found that was crucial to their art making, we would be on our way to a solution of this kind. Unfortunately, this way is barred by the obvious lack of a common intention. The institutional definition does demand the intention to create something of the kind that is appreciated, but this will not do because, as mentioned, it allows far too much in, like “Warbirds over Wanaka”.

Moreover, the intentions of an artist can be, and are, subverted in many ways after the creation of a work. Interpretations and criticisms are all likely after a work is presented. Interpretations are furthermore valid in the sense that each one tells us more about the possible meanings of a given artwork. Therefore, an artist’s intentions, even if one could find especially artistic ones, should not be rated over the respective interpretation of meaning on the part of the public. The upshot is that because the public has no unique interpretation or type of experience when appreciating art, many commentaries on the meaning of a work can co-exist. It is impossible to find an intention unique to art of artist or public.

Another suggestion would be to distinguish the art enterprise by appeal to a special kind of appreciation only experienced with art. There is no doubt Dickie himself steers clear of such a proposal. It was his rejection of a kind of appreciation peculiar to artworks that played a great part in the motivation to formulate an institutional account. An aesthetic appreciation will not be a suitable candidate. We have aesthetic experiences of things that are not artworks (like a beautiful sunset), and many artworks do not arouse aesthetic experiences in us. Surely if an artist intends his works to be appreciated, there 51

could be at least an equal number of ways to appreciate an artwork as possible intentions an artist might have. If this were true, a unique appreciation method would not save the institutional theory from the liberality problem even if it were not against the foundations of the theory The final method to extract the institutional theory from the problem liberality raises is an admission. One must admit that the theory does make the artworld seem like just another established presentation system. The only way to distinguish the artworld from other worlds like it is trivially: by noting that things are called differently in the artworld. In the artworld, creators of objects for presentation are called artists, the objects are called artworks and the whole enterprise is called art. The only other special thing about the artworld is its illustrious history; the plane-watching and dog-show presentation systems do not have the famous forefathers like Mozart, Strauss, Raphael and Da Vinci.

Many people will find this an offence against the great tradition of art.

However, this is just misplacing the blame. It was the rise of pop art and other twentieth century innovations in art that made the offence against what art was. Art, as this century has shown us, was only ever a presentation system with a certain name and celebrated history. Before this century, however, we could fool ourselves into thinking that certain exhibited features were necessary for art status on the basis that they had appeared frequently in artworks up until that point. We, having passed this point, cannot be so naĂŻve.

Ad Hoc Explanation of 20th Century Art It would be agreed to by all that art in the twentieth century has diverged greatly from what existed before. James Rosenquist, a commercially trained billboard painter, whose works were visually indistinguishable from advertising copy, is just one artist among many who exemplify the trends of pop art. The idea that the artwork’s creation happens in some lofty bed of high culture was thrown to the dogs. Andy Warhol had many of his art works, such as 1964’s Brillo Boxes, mass-produced in the most mechanical way possible. Warhol is perhaps near the logical extreme with regards to subverting traditional art 52

practices. The engaging question, then, is how did these radical art innovations influence and be influenced by art theory?

The charge has been made numerous times that the Institutional Theory is just a response to the art innovations of this century. It does not, continues the attack, add anything to our understanding of earlier art, instead it is hugely reductionist in suggesting that the procedure fulfilment alone can constitute an artwork. In an attempt to make these twentieth century abominations appear worthy, we lose an account of appreciation and of value in our account of art.

What can the institutional theorist reply to this?

To begin, this objection has reduced force against the minimal institutional theory I put forward. In a sense, the non-sufficient institutional theory still retains the same analyses for past art. For instance, because it is acknowledged that art still needs some kind of weighty reason in most cases, the explanation for art such as early Realism can remain the same. The principles of the Realism movement are the sufficient part of the explanation for the art-status of Realist artworks. The institutional theory alone does seem to miss something in this explanation. It contends that for objects made by Realist artists to be art, they must be artefacts and candidates for appreciation. Where in this picture are the tenets of Realism? They have been left out. The institutional theory as it stood only had room to recognise the artifactuality and the artworld context of the Realist artworks.

Now, in the case of Pop art, the important principle was more about making something that appeared non-artlike than substantial systems such as Impressionism. In the accepted practices of Impressionism, there are recommendations about things as precise as what method of brush strokes to employ. Thus, earlier art types such as Impressionism needed extra explanation: to be Impressionist art required more than just what the normal institutional theory required. Certainly, an object could still be art, but not Impressionist art.

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The institutional theory, as this objection shows, seems to best explain the kind of modern art where nothing especially artistic has taken place except for its artworld background. Modern art has no special kind of appreciation or art ‘tricks’ one needs to employ. The institutional theory, accordingly, does not require that objects put up for art status be regarded in any particular way or be created in any certain manner. If all art were Pop art, this wouldn’t be a problem. Nothing claiming to be art would come from any structured and stylised art system that needed further explanation, and, economically, the institutional theory would not give it.

Unfortunately, an art definition must equally cover modern and past art. If we accept that the institutional theory is not sufficient, we avoid this problem. We allow for the fact that many kinds of art have further requirements, stylistic, historic or otherwise. However, because of the sheer number of what these requirements could be, it is more reasonable to find instead something necessary to art, which the institutional definition does.

There is a second aspect to the ad hoc objection that highlights to a large degree the preconception art theorists have about the nature of art. The institutional definition is attacked because it supposedly gives modern art clear-cut rather than borderline status51. In reply to this, I dispute what possible ontological weight could be applied to the difference between borderline and clear-cut status. If the institutional theory accepts modern art as a clear-cut example of art, then it has said “Yes”, to the question, “Is this object art?”. A liberal minded functionalist, who still thought Pop art was art, albeit a borderline case, would reply in the same way to the question. Trying to dredge up a difference between borderline and clear-cut cases seems like the already seen error of equating good art with art and bad art with non-art.

Besides, there is no denying that the institutional theory has borderline cases of its own. Initially, ready-mades themselves must have been borderline cases 51

Silvers, p. 448

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on the institutional definition. Until Dickie laid down the extent to which an artist can minimally confer artifactuality on an object rather than working it on, ready-mades did not appear enough like artefacts. Whether an artwork has a sufficient artworld background is another criterion that creates borderline cases. Hence, the truly isolated artist’s works are not the paradigm of an artwork, because their artistic intentions are only apprehended as a function of our viewing the situation.

There is one further direction that this objection can be taken and it is, in many ways, a commonsensical one. We ought to reject that the most extreme versions of modern art are art at all. A theory of art will no longer have difficulty in explaining modern art if we can argue that what us moderns are calling art these days is none of the sort. Cohen attacks the institutional theory for explaining Fountain at all; it is not art, hence if a theory explains it, it is not really a theory about art52.

In answer to this, I cite again the most obvious evidence of all for considering that Modern Art is 'art': the vast majority of people do already. As the institutional theory correctly highlights, the world of art is a world that is already functioning very well according to its own strictures. We do not need philosophers telling the artworld what is not art; their business lies elsewhere.

So, it is illegitimate to claim Pop and Modern art are not art when, the artworld undoubtedly treats them as such already.

Moreover, the objection raises questions about the presuppositions many thinkers have regarding art. As the existence of this objection shows, many want to criticise the institutional theory because it doesn’t denigrate modern art. Traditional art theory attempts to denigrate modern art because it is itself ridiculed by the extremes of those like Peter Blake and Tom Wesselmann.

The acceptance of the works of such artists has shown the earlier theories up.

There need be no special aesthetic appreciation, artistic ‘mood’ or stylistic structure. The similarity between Pop art and everyday objects sent a loud and clear message to the traditionalists: art has broadened its horizons.

52

Cohen, p. 79

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Painting, 1948 Jackson Pollock

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Conclusion The Institutional theory that I defend differs from the normal conception of it in some areas. I deny that the theory is sufficient because there can be many reasons an object is art that are crucial to its identity that are not institutional reasons. On the other hand, the requirements the institutional theory puts forward are still the only ones that are necessary for art. The only thing that all art works have in common is that they are artefacts of the kind to be appreciated by an artworld public. There are exceptions to this, as mentioned; An artist isolated from birth can only have his work validated by our viewpoint from an artworld, just as cave paintings would not be seen as such unless we were looking at them from our art perspective now.

At the beginning of this exposition I claimed that the institutional theory focussed mostly on pure definition. However, the minimised version of the theory that I have presented does have implications for art in the wider sense.

It directly challenges the romanticised view of art that we have. The history of art is long and illustrious, but it is only the combined actions of artists that have created this entity of history. Art, at any time, is just the name for the popular presentation system with this history. There is nothing peculiar to art about how it affects us that brings the enterprise into some kind of magical realm.

In the end, all one can say is that as the history of art progressed, the diversity of the objects called artworks increased. Over time, there were less and less candidates for similarities between the works. By the beginning of the 21 st century, the only certainty in art is that it will get made and artworld publics will appreciate it. This art justified and begged for a new basis for art theory. No longer content with, nor enveloped by, the mere aesthetic, our artworld had to develop a philosophical approach. A minimal institutional theory is that approach.

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Robinson’s Wrap, 1974 Helen Frankenthaler

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