Chapter 2: The Institution of Art

As is well known, George Dickie considers the institution of art a sine qua non for art, which he has repeatedly made clear in his discussions of his Institutional Theory of Art. The view here is exactly the opposite – that art is a sine qua non for the institution. Nonetheless, as pointed out in the introduction, there is a major overlap in the instances that would be classified as art according to his theory and according to the one that has been presented in this thesis, which is the reason that it is considered important here to discuss his theory and the concept of “the institution of art” in general – along with the fact that Dickie is a central figure in the overall discussion of definitions of art.

According to Dickie, “works of art are art because of the position they occupy within an institutional context”⁵², and his five-part definition reads as follows:

(1) An artist is a person who participates with understanding in the making of a work of art.

(2) A work of art is an artifact of a kind created to be presented to an artworld public.

(3) A public is a set of persons the members of which are prepared in some degree to understand an object, which is presented to them.

(4) The artworld is the totality of all artworld systems.

(5) An artworld system is a framework for the presentation of a work of art by an artist to an artworld public.⁵³

Before discussing the definition, Dickie’s central, overall elaborations on his theory will be quoted and briefly commented on here:

“I have always sought to define a value-neutral sense of art. I believe this is necessary because we sometimes speak of bad art and worthless art. If works of art are defined as necessarily valuable, it would make it difficult or impossible to speak of bad or worthless art. Thus, I believe the basic theory of art is about a value-neutral sense of art.”⁵⁴ A statement to which there is obviously complete agreement here: Art should not be considered an evaluative term.

“The general claim of the institutional theory is that if we stop looking for exhibited (easily-noticed) characteristics of artworks such as representationality, emotional expressivity, and the others that the traditional theorists focused on, and instead look for characteristics that artworks have as a result of their relation to their cultural context, then we can find defining properties.”⁵⁵ There is agreement that art should not be defined on its exhibited characteristics, but not when it comes to the relation to the “cultural context”. To repeat a core statement of this thesis: Art cannot exist outside a cultural context, but it is not this context that is the defining aspect of art – rather, that is the naturally occurring urge to create it, which precedes the cultural context, which a given outcome will nonetheless necessarily be a part of.

Dickie also says that it is not possible to present counter-examples for the institutional theory, since “no artwork, no matter how unusual, can escape its relations to its cultural context”⁵⁶. Dickie is not just describing an overall cultural context, but a specific institutional one, and, as it will be claimed in the following, it is possible for a piece of art to not have any institutional relations.

Now, on to each of the five parts of Dickie’s theory.

“An artist is a person who participates with understanding in the making of a work of art.”

Dickie elaborates on what is meant by “understanding”: It is an understanding of “what kind of activity he or she is involved in” and “of the particular medium or media that an individual is using”⁵⁷.

First of all, such an understanding, as is the claim here, is not necessary. There are no specific requirements for anyone to produce art, which is also the reason why the term “artist” is avoided when possible in this thesis. The connotations are unhelpful, since they allow the term to imply that the person who has created a piece of art is first and foremost an “artist”, which he obviously might not be. That said, obviously someone created a given piece of art, and there are cases in which it can be helpful to have a term that designates that the given person did so, in which cases “artist” will do the trick.

In discussing this part of his definition, Dickie states that “even beginners can make art”, thereby limiting the importance of “understanding” somewhat. However, it still begs the question: From where does this understanding and awareness of the concept of art come from? From traditions, art history books, museums, and so forth, obviously, but where did it originally come from? Dickie openly and repeatedly admits the circularity of his definition, but all the honesty in the world on Dickie’s part cannot remove the issue at hand: It must logically come from something that precedes the institution; and what that something is was dealt with in the previous chapter.

“A work of art is an artifact of a kind created to be presented to an artworld public.”

Seeing as how both “artworld” and “public” are defined separately, and artifactuality is dealt with in chapter four, the discussion here will be on the claim that all art is “created to be presented” to an audience (a specific audience, according to Dickie, but to ensure clarity, the general term is used here). Dickie elaborates on the definition, saying that “artworks can be created that are never presented to anyone, for the definition requires only that an artwork be a kind of thing to be presented.”⁵⁸

Unsurprisingly, there is disagreement with this claim. Although it might hold true for a majority of pieces of art that they are created to be presented to an audience, it is seen as a misunderstanding that all pieces are created with this intention. The argument is two-fold: First of all, as mentioned in the introduction, all instances of art are evaluable – meaning that it is possible for anyone to pass judgment on them. This, however, does not necessarily lead to the conclusion that any instance of art is created with the intention of letting that someone else pass judgment on it. Much art might be the result of such intentions, but it seems a stretch to say that all art is the result of this. To repeat another core statement of this thesis: Above all, a piece of art is created to meet the urge of the person who made it, not those of others, unless, of course, that is precisely the urge of the person who made it – to satisfy others – but that does not change the fact that it is made to first and foremost satisfy himself.

Second of all, that art is suited to be exhibited, does not say anything definitive either about the intentionality behind a given piece of art. To use an analogy: A diary – which is not specifically art, but one could think up a situation in which it might be – is certainly suited for exhibition, but is generally not intended for that, although some might have secret cravings for the whole world to read their diary, but obviously not everyone thinks that way. Similarly, a poem or a drawing – both of which could easily be a diary entry – or any other kind of art might not be intended for anyone but the person who made it, and the degree to which it would be easy to exhibit is irrelevant.

As promised, actual counter-examples to Dickie’s theory will be provided here. By definition, they have to be private examples, since if they had been encountered in a public, institutional setting, they could clearly not be counter-examples. The following examples are, therefore, pieces of art made by friends and family members of the author of this thesis. Using such examples goes against academic tradition, but seeing as how it is impossible to go about it any other way, along with the fact that the examples are not extraordinary in any way, there is hope that this unorthodox approach will be accepted.

One guy is a big fan of the German music group Kraftwerk and has painted a picture with the words “Mensch” and “Maschine” and red and white graphic elements as a private homage to the band.

Another guy is a car enthusiast and has created a painting of a Lamborghini.

A woman, who lives in Las Vegas, has painted part of the legendary hotel and casino Sahara, with focus on the logo, but leaving out the last ‘a’, so that the remaining letters are an anagram of her name, Sarah.

Another woman has a strong love of all feline creatures and thus paints both her own house cats as well as lions, tigers, bobcats, and so forth.

Now, all these examples are paintings, and it would have been more convenient if a wide array of art forms had been represented. The reason why they are all paintings is not hard to figure out; first of all, it is a widely recognized art form and one that is easily approached – and thus one that people are likely to have a go at, as opposed to, for instance, song writing, that is harder to approach, since the required theoretical knowledge to get going is bigger. Second of all, it is an art form that is easily noticed by others when the result is put up on a wall, as opposed to, for instance, a poem that would often not be readily available, or would require the person who made it to actively recite it.

Now, since all these examples were noticed by this author, one could argue that all the pieces were exhibited after being “created to be presented” to an audience. Theoretically, yes, they might have been put up on the walls of the private homes of the people who made them, so that visitors would see them and possibly praise them. But they might just as well have been put there for the enjoyment of the person who made it. Either way, they are all restricted to a private setting that is not institutional in Dickie’s sense. The potential audience is limited to the people that are let inside this private sphere; there are no “institutional relations” as such. Without saying for certain that they are, these pieces could, potentially, be examples of pure art, in the sense described in the previous chapter.

Dickie does himself a large disfavour when he starts including stage carpenters and primers of canvases that are technically “artists” according to his definition and playbills and exhibition catalogues that are technically “works of art” in the discussion.⁵⁹ It is as if the inclusion is intended to make the reader go “oh, he is aware of this, so that makes the definitions okay after all”, but he is precisely touching upon a core problem with his perspective on art:

If his definitions do not directly exclude the activities of a stage carpenter, or a graphic designer that makes playbills, then he is essentially drawing the wrong line between art(ists) and non-art(ists). The difference between, say, the playwright and the stage carpenter, who are both contributing toward a play taking place, obviously lies in the differing motivations and intentions of the two. The playwright is directly connected to the play – “the work of art” – seeing as how he has written it with whatever urge he possessed to do so at the time he did so, while the stage carpenter is in all probability only working on the given play, because it is what the theatre he works for decided to put up. Similarly, the work of the graphic designer – the playbill – has a direct functionality and goal; to attract an audience to the given play, and the success of it is thus more likely to be measured in commercial terms rather than directly aesthetic ones.

“A public is a set of persons the members of which are prepared in some degree to understand an object which is presented to them.”

The same problem with “understanding” – its origin – that is present in the definition of “artist” is naturally also present here. Also, “public” does not need to be defined in this manner if the institutional approach is not accepted – the term then simply covers what it usually covers; the opposite of that, which is private.

Nevertheless, Dickie continues the discussion sparked by the previous part of the definition and rhetorically asks if an artist always has in mind a public for his work.⁶⁰ Of course the answer, according to Dickie, is “yes”, and he brings up the term “double intention”, explaining it by saying that there is, in the artist, “always an intention to create a thing of a kind to be presented to an artworld public, but there is always an intention not to actually present it” – that is, if the piece is “unworthy” or “too revealing for a public to see”⁶¹.

Another analogy will shed light on a problem with Dickie’s theory: Sexual activities are generally considered private and are therefore generally practiced privately. That does not mean that they are not potentially both “unworthy” or “too revealing” for a public to see. As already stated, the fact that an activity can be presented to a public, does not mean that one such is ever truly present in the mind of whoever practices it. Sure, it might generally be present more often in the mind of the person who engages in artistic rather than sexual activities, but, to repeat an important point, it is not a valid claim to say that a piece of art is always created with an initial intent to present it to any kind of public.

Dickie writes about the production of art as if it always takes place with such an initial intent, but only upon completion does the person realize that “this is not up to par” or “this would be far too revealing to show anyone”. It is not hard to imagine the person, who usually spends weeks, if not months, on every single piece of art, who then once in a while gets an urge to throw together a piece within a matter of hours, if not minutes; just for the sake of it. In all probability, such a piece would not be “up to par”, and the awareness of this will obviously have been present from the get-go.

A similar example can be constructed with the artist that always, at least publicly, portrays the lives of others in some way or other, who then once in a while feels the urge to portray his own life in a most intimate way: A very likely feeling would be, again from the get-go, that the piece he is working on would be far “too revealing” for him to have any urge to ever show anyone.

In both of these examples, yes, there is awareness of a public of some sort, but a fair question would be if such awareness could ever be switched off, not least in the mind of someone who regularly deals with the concept of presenting his art to the public. That, however, is not the main point here: Rather, it is to illustrate that it is by all means possible to talk about “art” although a given piece is not made “to be presented to an artworld public”.

“The artworld is the totality of all artworld systems.”

“An artworld system is a framework for the presentation of a work of art by an artist to an artworld public.”

Joining the discussion of the last two definitions is necessary since the fourth is strictly dependent on the fifth.

That an “artworld” – or an “institution of art” – exists is agreed upon, not least when Dickie points out that “the artworld is a cultural construction – something that members of society have collectively made into what it is over time.”⁶² That artworld systems exist in the way Dickie describes them is agreed upon, too – but with the notion, of course, that they are not necessary when it comes to defining art.

In Dickie’s pondering over why dog shows, horse shows, and circuses somehow are not part of the institution of art⁶³, half of the answer is obvious: Animal shows are typically ones where various skills and the physical appearances of the animals are judged and where a victory means that the owner will have success in selling off the animal as a breeding partner for other members of the given species. In other words, a dog or horse show is typically, at its core, a business gathering with specific goals in mind, and thus does not have any specifically artistic motivation. Circuses, however, could, in some forms, quite easily be considered art in the same vein as other performing arts, and it will not be taken for granted that no one might see a circus show as being art according to the definition given in this thesis.

Favrholdt’s criticism

One person who has criticised Dickie’s theory greatly is David Favrholdt, and two major points of his criticism will be discussed in the following – to shed light on additional aspects of the theory as well as misconceptions that the theory has led to.

The first point of Favrholdt’s that will be discussed here, is his claim that Dickie’s theory excludes a division between good and bad art:

“It tries to deliver a definition of art, but at the same time it excludes all talk about one artwork being better than another, all talk about good and bad art. The wheelbarrow is as good – or bad – art as the most gorgeous sculpture by Bernini. Because no specific traits about Bernini’s sculptures make them art. And when someone appreciates Bernini’s sculptures, it is not because of the aesthetic qualities of the sculptures. They are just appreciating. Can we live with this? Are Bernini’s ‘Pluto’ and ‘Persephone’ really not better than a wheelbarrow?”⁶⁴

This is a severe misunderstanding of Dickie’s theory, which must be defended on this highly important point, not least because the core of it is being repeated in this thesis. That “art” is not an evaluative term, and thus does not deal with the aesthetic qualities of a piece of art, does not mean that the given piece of art is not subject to judgments. On the contrary; it definitely can be. But such judgments are entirely subjective, and they do not determine whether something is art or not.

The second point is Favrholdt’s disapproval of the statement that “everything can be art”:

“The logical difficulty lies in the fact that if everything becomes art, then the word loses its meaning, and the term will not be possible to define. [...] One must be able to point out objects that are not artworks. But according to the institutional theory, a recognized artist can rename everything an artwork.”⁶⁵

The logical difficulty lies, it would seem, in the lack of logic in Favrholdt’s claim. He clearly reads “everything can be art” as if it said “everything is art”. If the latter statement was true, then he would be right; if everything is “x”, then there cannot be anything that is not “x”. But that is obviously not the claim. Rather, it is that everything has the potential of becoming art. So, “everything is not art” is a perfectly valid claim, and it is quite easy to point out objects that are not art – a random wheelbarrow at a hardware store, for instance – thus fulfilling Favrholdt’s requirements to a definition being possible.

Whether or not literally “everything” can be art is up for discussion. Certainly a seemingly endless list of things, objects, arrangements, concepts and ideas can. But perhaps fleeting, immaterial things such as thoughts, dreams and emotions cannot in and of themselves be art. And perhaps it would make good sense to continuously highlight that oftentimes it is, indeed, the concept or idea behind a piece of art that is the sine qua non for the given piece of art, as opposed to any untransformed physical counterpart, which might not specifically be art itself, but rather just a helpful prop when presenting the given concept or idea. For the sake of argument – and through the lack of any definite argument against it – it will, however, for now, be agreed that everything can be art.

Now, that statement tends to cause fear of chaos. Favrholdt uses the word “alarming”⁶⁶ and quotes Peter M. Hornung, an art critic at Politiken, a Danish newspaper: “When [a museum] incorporates an artwork into its collection, this artwork is then attributed value. It gets put on a pedestal, gets exhibited, is talked about, debated, defined and approved as art. That is pretty much the end of the story. Maybe it will also be the end of the history of art.”⁶⁷

This fear seems highly illogical, however. It projects a vision of arbitrary and most likely not very good art being stuffed into museums at the expense of the carefully chosen and rather good art, while the masses will not care one bit, but still flock to the museums and see whatever is on display – “it is after all art, so it will per definition be interesting to look at!”

Where, exactly, did the highly important judgments of everyone involved, from the people who are making this art, to the curator and inspector, to the audience and critics, go? Is “the history of art”, as Hornung talks of it, not exactly the history of aesthetic judgments?⁶⁸ Hundreds of thousands of pieces of art that collectives of people have found interesting in one way or the other and therefore placed in galleries, museums, art history classes and books? The fear that, because everything has the potential of becoming art, then everything will suddenly end up in museums, is rather silly. Obviously only pieces of art that someone along the way – and in all probability quite a few people – have found interesting will end up on the walls of a museum. And if it is interesting to a bunch of people, they are bound to believe that others might find it interesting, too. And sometimes they are right, and curators and critics and the general public all cheer, and sometimes they are wrong, and no one will bother to see it – that is, if it even ended up in any museum, before they realized that the interest did not extend beyond themselves. “The history of art” will quite automatically ensure that the art that very few people or perhaps even no one seems to like is disposed of.

The person who made the piece of art might be highly enthusiastic about it, but he is only half of the equation here: The other half is, indeed, the audience (be it a curator, a critic, the general public, or all of them, or whoever), who will determine whether or not that given piece is interesting or not – whether it will go down in history; “the history of art”.

This whole process can serve as an analogy to the Darwinian concept of “survival of the fittest”: If a piece of art is considered good by many people – if it “fits” the taste of its surroundings – its chances of being exhibited and going down in history – its chances of “survival” – are obviously bigger than if no one likes it; in that case it just might “die” and other members of the “species” will live on and possibly “reproduce”.

In short: The institution of art will regulate itself, so there is no reason to fear, in this context, the statement that “everything can be art”. This regulation, of course, is the result of individual tastes working together (as well as against each other), and not any general, overall taste of art – since one such does not exist.

Through the discussions in this chapter, it should be obvious what the shortcomings of Dickie’s theory are believed to be. The elimination of these, as it has been shown, happens when the circularity of the theory is broken, and a look at what precedes the institution becomes possible.

Proceed to Chapter 3: The Reception of Art