Chapter 4: The Challenges of Art

4a. Readymades, found art and titling

A series of topics has been the cause of much discussion among art theorists, because they inherently challenge most definitions of art, and this thesis would be incomplete if it did not touch upon a core group of these topics, which is what the focus of this chapter will be.

A logical place to start is with Marcel Duchamp, whom seemingly everyone within the field of art has an opinion about. Not least Monroe C. Beardsley, who has argued strongly against the art status of Fountain, the urinal that Duchamp turned 90 degrees and wrote “R. Mutt, 1917” on and then submitted to an exhibition by Société des Indépendants, an art society in New York whose jury Duchamp was on. According to Duchamp, the piece was neither rejected nor not admitted, since that would be against the rules of the society, but simply “suppressed”, in the sense that not enough interest was given to the piece, which was then placed behind a partition for the duration of the exhibition, and to not give away that he made it, Duchamp did not speak up.¹⁰¹

Beardsley’s argument reads as follows:

“If there was a point [to ‘Fountain’], it was surely to prove to the jury that even their tolerance had limits, and that they would not accept anything – at least gracefully. This small point was made effectively, but the episode doesn’t seem to me to provide the slightest reason to regard [my perspective on art] as inadequate. Many objects exhibited today by the avant-garde evidently do make comments of some kind on art itself, but these objects may or may not be artworks. To classify them as artworks just because they make comments on art would be to classify a lot of dull and sometimes unintelligible magazine articles and newspaper reviews as artworks, and where is the advantage of that? To classify them as artworks just because they are exhibited is, to my mind, intellectually spineless, and results in classifying the exhibits at commercial expositions, science museums, stamp clubs and World’s Fairs as artworks. Where is the advantage of that? To classify them as artworks just because they are called art by those who are called artists because they make things they call art is not to classify at all, but to think in circles. Perhaps these objects deserve a special name, but not the name of art. The distinction between objects that do and those that do not enter into artistic activities by reason of their connection with the aesthetic interest is still vital to preserve, and no other word than ‘art’ is as suitable to mark it.”¹⁰²

What makes Fountain art, as is the view here, is not that it is in a museum (behind a partition at that) – rather, it is Duchamp’s idea and the execution of it, which had the urinal turned 90 degrees and a signature added to it and then submitted to an exhibition, thereby creating “a new thought for that object”, as Duchamp himself called it when defending Fountain in the publication Blind Man after the exhibition was over: “Whether Mr. Mutt made the fountain with his own hands or not has no importance. He CHOSE it. He took an article of life, placed it so that its useful significance disappeared under the new title and point of view – created a new thought for that object.”¹⁰³

Of course the exhibited objects at science museums and stamp clubs – or anywhere else with no relation to art – should not be considered art simply because they are exhibited, and most probably not for any other reason. Nor should magazine articles and newspaper reviews be considered art simply because they comment on art. What makes Fountain art is not that it comments on art, but, as just stated, the idea Duchamp had and the execution of it.

On a related note, Dickie notes that “Duchamp used a pluming artefact (a urinal) to produce the sculpture-like artwork ‘Fountain’.”¹⁰⁴ It should be pointed out that it is of no importance to the art status of Fountain whether it is “sculpture-like” or not – that it is made of porcelain and is not extraordinary when it comes to comparing its size with actual sculptures is irrelevant in this context.

When asked about how the initial idea for the concept of turning a mass-produced object into a “readymade” – Bicycle Wheel – and thereby making art, Duchamp answers the following:

“Please note that I didn’t want to make a work of art out of it. The word ‘readymade’ did not appear until 1915, when I went to the United States. It was an interesting word, but when I put a bicycle wheel on a stool, the fork down, there was no idea of a ‘readymade’, or anything else. It was just a distraction. I didn’t have any special reason to do it, or any intention of showing it, or describing anything.”¹⁰⁵

Taken at face value, this answer could be considered to tear apart the definition of art given in this thesis: Duchamp clearly made his Bicycle Wheel based on an urge to simply do so – whereby it would be art according to the definition given – but he specifically says that he did not want to make art. The reason it does not tear the definition apart is quite simple, however: The “art” Duchamp initially talks about is clearly a conceptualised version of art, revealed in his statement that “there was no idea [i.e. a concept] of a ‘readymade’, or anything else”. He did not create it to make it fit a concept, but solely did so based on the creative urge to do so, whereby Bicycle Wheel becomes a prime example of “pure” art, as the term has been used in this thesis.

As for Danto’s point about art theory being necessary to elevate Warhol’s Brillo Box into the artworld¹⁰⁶, he is right in the sense that theoretical discussions have helped Warhol’s piece gain merit in the institution of art, but not in the sense that the theory was necessary for the piece to be art at all; it already was, and the theory (that is, some theories) and the institution (some aspects of it) only confirm its status of art.

On the topic of Danto, his argument about “indistinguishables”, which was touched upon in the previous chapter, will be discussed further here. Although the argument is sometimes used wrongfully in the context of Fountain – as if its 90-degree turn, its signature and its displacement from its original context did not make it distinguishable from other urinals – Danto still has a point. It might be close to impossible to find two instances that are literally indistinguishable where one is art and the other is not – at least a slight change of appearance or placement seems likely to generally occur – but at least the argument works on the theoretical level: There might indeed be two such instances, which then leads to one being understood as art and with all that entails in terms of reception, interpretation and judgment, and the other simply as being what it was in the first place. The reversed version of the argument, which was also introduced in the previous chapter, deals with instances that are distinguishable, but appear in the same context. This argument sheds different light on the problem of separating art from non-art.

Imagine three photos by the same photographer: The first is the execution of an idea on how to use light creatively; the second is a casual holiday snapshot; the third is a professional portrait. All can be found in the same context – a portfolio, for instance. The first was solely motivated by the creative act itself, thus being art according to the definition given here; the second can be seen as quite literally a tool to keep the captured memory from entering into oblivion, in which case it would not be art, but it could also be seen as the result of a spontaneous creative impulse, in which case it would be art; the third is paid for by a client, motivated by the financial gain and thus not art. Whether the holiday snapshot is art or not is not to be determined here; it resides in a grey area, since it could be both, and it would take an actual example to approach a convincing answer.

The concept of titling – turning something into art simply by giving it a title – has been discussed by George Dickie and Stephen Davies. Davies states that Dickie “recognizes that no mere attempt at status conferral could be successful without its involving work. He wishes to deny that a person could confer art status on a mountain range, for example, merely by the act of titling.”¹⁰⁷

This, however, is where it all turns fairly ridiculous – or rather, it probably did a while before Dickie got worried about this peculiar discussion. He is addressing a situation that has quite limited likelihood of occurring, if common sense is allowed to play any part. Let us imagine that some person confers art status on the entire range of Rocky Mountains – that is, labels it as art and calls it something else; with the intention of “giving it a new title and point of view” and thus “creating a new thought for it”, to paraphrase Duchamp’s writings about Fountain in the Blind Man magazine. And what then? What will this person do with his artwork? It cannot be exhibited, and in and of itself it is unlikely to impress anyone in the sense of being his creation. Such a “conferral” will, in all probability, sort itself out. If the person in question for whatever reason looks at the Rocky Mountains as his artistic creation, then who cares, really? And if someone cares, then he must be doing something of interest. Maybe he is making a happening out of it – a big opening ceremony with a big red ribbon on a roadside truck stop: All to make a statement about, perhaps, the peculiarity of ‘found art’. That might thrill someone, and the whole deal would be art all the same. What would be the focus would be the mental concept, not the physical work, much like with Fountain.

Would the Rocky Mountains then in and of themselves suddenly be a work of art? Not specifically. But through the perspective of this artist, they could be. On the whole, it is not very important, and it is exactly a goal here to celebrate another grey area: It is accepted as being one such. An endless number of convenient hypothetical situations could be laid out, but two will suffice: One where the person simply labels the mountain range “art”, and then that would be it, and nobody would be likely to care, and then one where the happening expands on the concept of even labelling a mountain range “art”, and where some people might care. It would be conceptual art in either case, but almost certainly the first situation would go by entirely unnoticed by everyone else, thus the point of actually spending time on it is not particularly overwhelming.

The reason for even bothering with this fairly absurd “conferring art status on a mountain range” hypothesis is not to indulge Dickie and indirectly say, “he has a point”. Quite the contrary, in fact; he does not have much of a point at all. His agenda appears to be to try and cover up any possible leakages in his theory, so instead of dealing with more realistic examples, he thinks up an academic nightmare in which some crazy person walks around conferring art status on mountain ranges willy-nilly. A nightmare for him, that is, since the above discussion should reveal a stoic calmness with which it is accepted that a mountain range is hypothetically labelled art. To determine whether or not it would actually be art, an actual, non-hypothetical situation would, again, be required.

In short: Everything can be art, even that which has never physically been in the hands of whoever is labelling it as such, and since mountain ranges fall under the rather broad category of “everything”, they can be art, too. It all boils down to the idea or mental concept that connects art with whoever claims to have made it. Should others find a liking to or at least an interest in that connection, then there is an increased chance of it becoming more well known, and it just might become the centre of attention in a highly intellectual conversation. Should no one find it interesting in any way – literally no one, and perhaps not even whoever claims to have made it – then that is a highly natural way of disposing of insignificant concepts and artefacts – it is the institution regulating itself, as pointed out several times earlier; the survival of the fittest. It might be art all the same, but evidently so tedious that even that very classification becomes unimportant. In this perspective on art, anyway, but evidently not in Dickie’s, since he brought up the topic.

Another frequently discussed and related topic is that of the driftwood and whether or not it can be art, one that has also been discussed by both Davies¹⁰⁸ and Dickie¹⁰⁹.

So, can a piece of driftwood be art? Yes, and for the same reasons just discussed above. If the driftwood is literally just a piece of driftwood, which is completely unaltered by anyone – aside from having been labelled art – then the potential excitement seems somewhat limited. Theoretically speaking, one can proclaim, “look, this cubic meter of air is art!” without thereby devaluating the concept of art.

4b. Animal art

A topic that occasionally emerges in discussions about the definition of art is that of animal art – whether animals are able to produce art or not. The goal here is not to provide answers, but rather questions that illustrate a different approach to the topic of animal art that might prove more fruitful than what Dickie has come up with. Favrholdt paraphrases Dickie:

“Many years ago, people thought of letting chimps in zoos paint pictures with pens, and that produced a lot of non-figurative pictures. The pictures by Betzy [one of the chimps] were exhibited. But – they were exhibited at a natural history museum, and because of that, they are not art, writes Dickie. But if they had been exhibited at an art museum, then they would have been art. Because in that case a person from the institution of art had made the choice to exhibit them, and by that he would have conferred the status of art upon them.”¹¹⁰

It is entirely unimportant – in the context of the discussion of whether or not the object is art – that a chimp drew a picture with a pen. It might as well have randomly defecated on it; the pen-and-paper mimicry of human art production is irrelevant. What is relevant, though, is that the representative from the institution of art conferred the status of art upon it. It, then, is being reduced to a “found object”, the maker of which is as irrelevant as who made the urinal used for Fountain. Certainly this only clouds the discussion, and it is a somewhat bizarre move for Dickie, seeing as how it only helps him in the department of covering up any possible leakages in his theory, as with the “conferring art status on mountain ranges” dilemma. It is far removed from any relevance as to whether or not a picture drawn by a chimp is art or not – in and of itself.

The discussion of animal art – usually involving primates and elephants – tends to go off on irrelevant tangents like the one enforced by Dickie. The actual question of interest must be whether or not there is any aesthetic awareness present in the “art” produced by the animals: Do they have any clue what they are doing? Do the results vary significantly from one member of a species to another? Are they simply behaving in a given way, because they associate that behaviour with treats of some kind? Is there any traceable urge from them to express themselves in any way that occurs naturally, without any human involvement? And so forth. To start including the institution of art and its representatives in the discussion is to deviate far away from the actual case at hand.

Man is an animal, too, and shares ancestors with the primates, so it is not necessarily entirely unlikely that there are some shared capabilities in this field, although it will not be examined or discussed further here whether or not that is the case. The reason for discussing it in the introductory manner above is that it should be firmly noted that the endeavours of Dickie on this matter are considered irrelevant when it comes to an increased understanding of animal art, and they only contribute with frequently repeated points regarding human art.

4c. Artifactuality

A final topic to be discussed is that of artifactuality. It has been agreed by many that an instance of art must be an “artifact”. Dickie uses the term in his definition of a “work of art”: “A work of art is an artifact of a kind created to be presented to an artworld public”¹¹¹ and thus of course generally uses the term when discussing art.

Beardsley comments on this:

“Dickie’s stipulation that artworks must be ‘artifacts’, the product of intentional human activity, is to my mind sound. If I have suggested the broader term ‘arrangement’, it is to include activities, earthworks, smoke rings, ideas not carried out but recorded on paper, and other items that don’t fit easily under the rubric of ‘artifact’.”¹¹²

Davies offers two definitions of the word, including one that is in overall alignment with the way it is understood here, as well as by Dickie and Beardsley: “That which is modified by work, by contrast to that which occurs in its natural state.”¹¹³ The modification is the “intentional human activity” mentioned by Beardsley. (The other definition is not considered relevant in the context of art, since it includes all sorts of things that are definitely not art: “That which has significance for the members of a culture; that which invites interpretation as opposed to mere explication.”¹¹⁴ Any product of human creativity, not just art, can be said to invite interpretation.)

Overall, there is agreement that art is one kind of product of “intentional human activity”, so use of the term “artifact” when talking generally about art is not considered a major wrongdoing. It is, however, considered an unhelpful term, since it connotates that all instances of art are physical things, although everyone agrees that art does not have to be physical; music, literature, performances and so forth are obvious examples of this. Also, when art of that kind that is reproduced physically – like a poem on paper or a movie on a silver disc – referring to that art as “artifacts” semantically tends to make the paper or the disc, which technically are artifacts, the art itself, although they are merely carriers of the art; a necessary physicality. Beardsley mentions the term “arrangement”, which sorts out some of the unhelpful connotations of “artifact”, but brings out other ones, as it puts emphasis on art that is, indeed, a an arrangement of sorts – of existing physical things, for instance – but reduces emphasis on art that consists of new physical things.

The solution to these problems is quite simple: It is not considered necessary to provide a term that describes all instances of art. There is no singular term that logically embraces everything from paintings, novels and sculptures over movies, digital collages and rock concerts to operas, poetry readings and street happenings. They are all products of human creativity and (potentially) instances of art, and that is considered a sufficient terminology.

When the term “piece of art” has been used in addition to “instance of art” throughout this thesis, it has been because of what is considered linguistic convenience. As pointed out in the first chapter, the term has been used instead of “work of art” or “artwork” to diminish the evaluative connotations of those terms – “piece” seems altogether more neutral, also compared to “artifact”. Given the fact that it also has connotations to physicality, it has been attempted to only use the term when discussing instances that were or logically could be physical, and when the contextual discussion was believed to benefit from creating a mental image of a physical thing. As already made clear, however, this is not to suggest that art has to be physical, since it obviously does not.

Proceed to Chapter 5: The Analyses of Art