No sooner is a definition of Art given than some artist will seek to undermine it, in the name of art. Obvious examples include Marcel Duchamp’s “Fountain” and Flarf poetry. It’s a commonplace that art defies definition, quite literally - it openly refuses to comply with the insistence of the philosopher.
Must we accept that any definition of art may be immediately undermined? Is there a definition for which this might not be so?
Talk of art is talk of some individual, some item, be it a pot, a painting, a play, or a piece of poetry or prose. The item is crafted. A waterfall may be beautiful, but it takes the intrusion of Capability Brown before it is considered art. Could even this be subverted? Laurence Weiner’s Words on Walls or Many Colored Objects Placed Side by Side to Form a Row of Many Colored Objects remain items. Tino Sehgal’s Project 29: This is so contemporary, “seems to revel in its own contradictions”, leaving no trace. No physical object remains. Yet since there is art-talk, it seems there need be something about which to talk.
That something’s being crafted will not suffice. There is a normative aspect here, as Stanley Cavell noted, in that it will not do just for us to consider the item to be artistic - we expect them to consider it artistic, too. Failure on their part shows a failure to somehow grasp what is before them, to see what has been shown. Calling the item “art” makes a demand on others.
And art is about talk; a story, a narrative or exposition that places the item into a context in our discourse. Being embedded in the actions of people, it is a part of the communal structure of our lives.
Consider the logic: If an item were offered as art without some story, then that becomes its story. Fountain became art with Duchamp paying the fee, adding “R. Mutt” and displayed the urinal obliquely - in short, by his adding to its story. Flarf becomes poetry by actively rejecting that which the usual narratives tell us makes a text poetic.
This is not a paradox, not Russell’s liar, painted into The Treachery of Images. It’s the opposite, a certainty; we might only doubt that the item is art by considering it as part of an artistic narrative. The act of doubt confirms that which was doubted.
Art takes on a dimension over and above the mere item that gives it a place in our discourse. None of this should be a surprise. Meaning is not found in definitions, but is enacted in the doing. These items count as art because of the part they play in our discourse about art.
Notice that this approach is extensional. It’s not reliant on notions of beauty or of the sublime, not dependent on private reactions or ineffable impressions. Art is a game we play, even if one occasionally makes an object for one’s own enjoyment - it at least might be shared.
Saturn still engages us, Yves Klein’s The Void, less so. There’s less to say about a white room containing an empty vitrine than there is about Goya’s visceral betrayal.
For Lyotard the sublime moment is exactly the breaking of the definition, our very inability to judge the item resolves the indecision in the affirmative. Yet that break in continuity is also a point of discourse, the disruption of the game is yet another move in the game, the next step.
If anything, seeing art as an ongoing game is far too permissive; more than asking what is art, we might be informed by asking what isn’t art.
The point here might be not to close off the criteria we use. We have here a grammar for aesthetics, a logical space in which art takes place, without the demarcation of an explicit definition.
And as with all art, this item that you are now reading is just more pretentious shite. Yet another aesthetic judgement.