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.

1

Contents PageList 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 ..………………………………………………………………… 58Bibliography ………………………………………………………..………. 60

2

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

3

Brillo Boxes, 1964Andy Warhol

4

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.

1 Dickie, 1974, p. 34

5

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.

6

Composition with Gray and Light Brown, 1918

Piet Mondriaan

7

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?

8

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

2 Weitz, p. 30.

9

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 criss-

crossing"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 Weitz, p. 254 Weitz, p. 31

10

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.

5 Weitz, p. 31

11

So, Weitz's method is inappropriate for a number of reasons. He ignores non-

exhibited 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 glance9. 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 40th

symphony an artwork because it repeats some of the characteristics of his

previous works.

6 Stecker, 19977 Levinson, 1979 & 19938 Carroll, 19939 Carroll, 1993, p. 315

12

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

linked in the appropriate way to subsequent art is dangerously circular. Yet, to

13

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

of ignoring this intention shows the truth in the idea that once a work leaves

an artist’s hands, all interpretative control is forfeited.

14

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

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,

10Concise Oxford (6th ed.) p. 95311 Carroll, 1993, p. 319

15

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 well-

known 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

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

12 Craig (ed.), p. 466

16

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 (t-

1000). This is a problem for functionalists; an object's status as art would then

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.

17

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.

13 Craig (ed.), p. 466

18

Fountain, 1917

Marcel Duchamp

19

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.

20

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.

21

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 doctrine14. 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 Stecker, 199215 Matravers, 2000, p. 241

22

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 representative17. 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. 37917Cohen, 1973, p. 75

23

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 so-

called ‘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

24

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 artworld19. 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 Graham, 1997, p. 15620 Dickie, 1997, p. 83

25

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. 8422 Dickie, 1974, p.4023 Dickie, 1993, p. 70

26

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 technique24. 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. 9025 see “The Isolated Artist”26 Diffey, p. 15027 Diffey, p. 150

27

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”

28

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

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

29 Dickie, 1984, p. 11130 Zangwill, 1995 , p. 542

29

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 concept31. 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 non-

sufficiency claim represents the impossibility of enumerating all the possible

reasons for art.

31 Weitz, p. 3232 Dickie, 1984, p. 86

30

We would do well to draw a distinction put forward by Matravers33. 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

31

all artworks, not just the minimal modern ones, so it should allow for the extra

reasons required by other kinds of art.

32

Painted Bronze, 1960

Jasper Johns

33

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

34

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 Dickie35. 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 four-

pronged 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 see “The Liberality Problem”35 Dickie, 1997 (1), p. 83

35

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 later36.

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 appreciation37.

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 pre-

conceptions of the terms to fill in the gaps. After all, even if we accept the

36 see “Applying the Institution Concept”37 Dickie, 1997 (1), p. 40

36

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

37

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

38

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

39

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

40

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 purpose41. 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 Brand, p. 31041 The Concise Oxford Dictionary (sixth ed.) p. 560

41

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 conventions42. 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 Davies, 1991, p. 98 43 cf. “The Basics of the Theory”

42

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 objection44. 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

43

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

44

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 person46. 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

45

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 artist47.

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 ‘self-

conscious’ 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

46

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 Davies, 1991, p. 10649 Dickie, 1974, p. 46

47

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 Robbe-

Grillet’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

48

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.

49

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).

50

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

51

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

52

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 naïve.

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

53

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.

54

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

55

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

56

Painting, 1948Jackson Pollock

57

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 21st

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.

58

Robinson’s Wrap, 1974Helen Frankenthaler

59

Bibliography

Brand, Peggy Zeglin. 1982. “Lord, Lewis, and the Institutional Theory of Art,”

Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 40, 309-314.

Carroll, Noel. 1988. “Art, Practice, and Narrative,” The Monist, 71, 140-155.

1993. “Historical Narratives and the Philosophy of Art,” in The Journal of

Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 51:3, 313-326

Cohen, Ted. 1973. “The Possibility of Art,” The Philosophical Review, 82, 69-

82

Craig, E. (ed.) 1998. “Art, Definition of”, in Routledge Encyclopaedia of

Philosophy, Cornwall: Routledge.

Davies, Stephen. 1991. Definitions of Art, USA: Cornell University Press.

Dickie, George. 1974. Art and the Aesthetic: An Institutional Analysis, Ithaca:

Cornell University Press.

1984. The Art Circle, New York: Haven Press

1993. “An Artistic Misunderstanding,” Journal of Aesthetics and Art

Criticism, 51, 69-71.

1997. (1) Introduction to Aesthetics - an analytic approach, New York:

Oxford University Press

(2) “Art: Function or Procedure – Nature or Culture?” The Journal of

Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 55, 19-28.

Diffey, T.J. 1969. “The Republic of Art,” British Journal of Aesthetics, 9, 145-

156.

60

Graham, Gordon. 1997. Philosophy of the Arts: Introduction to Aesthetics,

London: Routledge.

Levinson, Jerrold. 1979. “Defining Art Historically,” British Journal of

Aesthetics, 19, 232-250

1993. “Extending Art Historically,” Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism,

Special Issue: Philosophy and the Histories of the Arts, 51, 411-423.

Matravers, Derek. 2000. “The Institutional Theory: A Protean Creature,” in

British Journal of Aesthetics, 40:2, 242-250

Oppy, Graham. 1991. “On Davies' Institutional Definition of Art,” Southern

Journal of Philosophy, 29, 371-382.

Schölz, Barbara C. 1994. “Rescuing the Institutional Theory of Art: Implicit

Definitions and Folk Aesthetics,” Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 52,

309-325.

Silvers, Anita. 1973. “The Artwork Discarded,” Journal of Aesthetics and Art

Criticism, 34, 441-454

Stecker, Robert. 1992. “Defining ‘Art’: the Functionalism/Proceduralism

Controversy,” Southern Journal of Philosophy, 30:4, 141-152.

1997. Artworks: Definition, Meaning, Value University Park, Pennsylvania:

Pennsylvania State University Press

Weitz, Morris. 1956. “The Role of Theory in Aesthetics,” in The Journal of

Aesthetics and Art Criticism, 15, 27-35

Zangwill, Nick. 1995. “Groundrules in the Philosophy of Art,” Philosophy, 70,

533-544.

61