## 1. Conceptual Art - What Is It?


### 1.1 Introduction



Few artistic movements have attracted so much controversy and debate
as conceptual art. By its nature, conceptual art has a tendency to
provoke intense and perhaps even extreme reactions in its audiences.
While some people find conceptual art very refreshing and relevant,
many others consider it shocking, distasteful, and conspicuously
lacking in craftsmanship. Some even simply deny that it is art at all.
Conceptual art, it seems, is something that we either love or
hate.



This divisive character is, however, far from accidental. Most
conceptual art actively sets out to be controversial in so far as it
seeks to challenge and probe us about what we tend to take as given in
the domain of art. In fact, this capacity to evoke argument and debate
lies at the very heart of what conceptual art sets out to do, namely
to make us question our assumptions not only about what may properly
qualify as art and what the function of the artist should be, but also
about what our role as spectators should involve. It should come as no
surprise, then, that conceptual art can cause frustration or vexation
- to raise difficult and sometimes even annoying questions is
precisely what conceptual art in general aspires to do. In reacting
strongly to conceptual art we are, in some important sense, playing
right into its hands.



The first difficulty that a philosophical investigation of conceptual
art encounters has to do with identifying the object of examination,
or at least the category of objects under scrutiny. In the words of
the art historian Paul Wood,



> 
> [i]t is not at all clear where the boundaries of 'conceptual
> art' are to be drawn, which artists and which works to include.
> Looked at in one way, conceptual art gets to be like Lewis
> Carroll's Cheshire cat, dissolving away until nothing is left
> but a grin: a handful of works made over a few short years by a small
> number of artists... Then again, regarded under a different
> aspect, conceptual art can seem like nothing less than the hinge
> around which the past turned into the present. (Wood 2002, 6)
> 



On a strict historical reading, the expression 'conceptual
art' refers to the artistic movement that reached its pinnacle
between 1966 and 1972 (Lippard
 1973).[1]
 Among its most famous adherents at its early stage we find artists
such as Joseph Kosuth, Robert Morris, Joseph Beuys, Adrian Piper, to
name but a few. What unites the conceptual art of this period is the
absorption of the lessons learnt from other twentieth-century art
movements such as Dadaism, Surrealism, Suprematism, Abstract
Expressionism and the Fluxus group, together with the ambition once
and for all to 'free' art of the Modernist paradigm. Most
importantly, perhaps, conceptual art of the 1960s and 70s sought to
overcome a backdrop against which art's principal aim is to
produce something beautiful or aesthetically pleasing. Art, early
conceptual artists held, is redundant if it does not make us think. In
their belief that most artistic institutions were not conducive to
reflection but merely promoted a conservative and even consumerist
conception of art and artists, conceptual artists in the mid-1960s to
the early 1970s instead tried to encourage a revisionary understanding
of art, the artist, and artistic experience.



While conceptual art in its purest form might arguably be limited to
works produced during these five or six years half a century ago, it
seems overly narrow - certainly from a philosophical perspective
- to limit our inquiry to works produced during that period
alone. For although the work created during that time might generally
be conceived as more directly anti-establishment and anti-consumerist
than later conceptual art, the spirit of early conceptual art seems to
have carried on relatively undiluted into the very late twentieth and
twenty-first centuries, as witnessed by pieces such as Tracey
Emin's *Unmade Bed*, Damian Hirst's *The
Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living*,
and Ai Weiwei's *Surveillance Camera*.



The highly individualised character of the intellectual exploration
that conceptual art urges us to engage in has always been such that
any attempt to pinpoint a specific common denominator other than this
general vision and approach to art, art-making and society at large
invariably fails to catch its very essence. The means of artistic
expression, we are told, are infinite and the topics available for
questioning and discussion are limitless. It belongs to the very
nature of conceptual art, then, to be - like Lewis'
Cheshire cat - elusive and slippery. Conceptual artists, be it
Joseph Beuys or Marina Abramovic, pursue artistic originality and
representation in *every* possible way. For that reason, one
might find oneself obliged to replace the slightly lofty cliche
according to which there are as many definitions of conceptual art as
there are conceptual artists, with an even more extreme version of the
claim, namely, that there are as many definitions of conceptual art as
there are conceptual artworks.



Nevertheless, in the midst of this deliberately produced uncertainty
about the nature of conceptual art, a handful of characteristics and
general aims do seem to recur, and although they should not be seen as
criteria for conceptual art strictly speaking, they may be considered
tenets fundamental to (most) conceptual art.


### 1.2 The Limits of Art and the Role of Artists



First and foremost, conceptual art challenges our intuitions
concerning the limits of what may count as art and what it is an
artist does. It does so, on the one hand, by postulating ever more
complex objects as candidates for the status of 'artwork',
and, on the other hand, by distancing the task of the artist from the
actual making and manipulating of the artistic material.



A characteristic way in which conceptual art explores the boundaries
of the artwork is by a process of questioning where the realm of the
artistic ends and that of utility begins. Continuing the tradition of
Marcel Duchamp's readymades such as *Fountain*, or
*Bottlerack*, it sets out to overthrow our traditional
conceptions of what an art object should be made of and what it should
look like. The artwork is a *process* rather than a
*material thing*, and as such it is no longer something that
can be grasped merely by seeing, hearing or touching the end product
of that process. The notion of *agency* in art-making is thus
particularly emphasised. In many cases, the 'art-making'
and the 'artwork' come together, because what is sought is
an identification of the notion of the work of art with the conceptual
activity of the artist. Conceptual art, politicised and influenced by
events such as the 'May Days' in Paris (1968), the
'Hot Autumn' in Italy (1969), the Vietnam War, and the
rise of feminism, promotes a *rapprochement* between art-making
and criticism - both artistic and social - by raising
questions about the products of artistic activities and the very
purpose of art. To use the words of Joseph Kosuth, it 'annexes
the functions of the critic, and makes a middle-man
unnecessary.' (Guercio 1999, 39).


### 1.3 Artistic Media



As a direct result of its examination of what may properly qualify as
art, and of the markedly broad conception of what may constitute an
art object resulting from this examination, conceptual art tends to
reject traditional artistic media such as conventional painting or
sculpture. Instead, it has found itself drawn to alternative means of
expression, including performances, photography, films, videos,
events, bodies, new ready-mades and new mixed media. In a nutshell,
nothing can be ruled out in principle for use as possible artistic
media, as can be seen, for example, in Richard Long's photograph
of a line made in the grass by
 walking[2],
 Bruce Nauman's nine minute film of the artist himself playing
one note on a violin whilst walking around in his
 studio[3],
 Janine Antoni's use of chocolate and soap, Marina
Abramovic's display of an array of everyday objects, including
knives, torches and feathers, which the audience is invited to apply
directly on to the artist's body, and Piero Manzoni's act
of signing a woman's
 arm[4].


### 1.4 Art as Idea



The most fundamentally revisionary feature of conceptual art is the
way in which it proclaims itself to be an art of the mind rather than
the senses: it rejects traditional artistic media because it locates
the artwork at the level of *ideas* rather than that of
*objects*. Because more weight tends to given to creative
process than physical material, and because art should be about
intellectual inquiry and reflection rather than beauty and aesthetic
pleasure (as traditionally conceived), the identity of the work of art
is said to lie in the idea at the heart of the piece in question. In
the words of Kosuth, '[t]he actual works of art are ideas'
(Lippard 1973, 25). For conceptual art, 'the idea or concept is
the most important aspect of the work' (LeWitt 1967, 166). Art
is 'de-materialised', and in this sense held to be prior
to its materialisation in any given object.



The claim that the conceptual artwork is to be identified with an idea
that may be seen to underlie it has far-reaching ramifications. It not
only affects the ontology of the conceptual artwork but also
profoundly alters the role of the artist by casting her in the role of
thinker rather than object-maker. Moreover, it calls for a thorough
review of the way in which we perceive, engage and appreciate
artworks. Further still, it links art so intimately to ideas and
concepts that even a principled distinction between the domain of art
and the realm of thought seems difficult to preserve.


### 1.5 Semantic Representation



For all these reasons, the kind of representation employed in
conceptual artworks is best described in terms of the transmission of
ideas. In conceptual art, the representation at work can generally be
seen as *semantic* rather than *illustrative*. That is
to say, it sets out to have and convey a specific meaning rather than
to depict a scene, person or event. Even in cases where a work makes
use of illustrative representation, conceptual art is still putting
that representation to a distinctively semantic use, in the sense of
there being an intention to represent something one cannot see with
the naked eye. Accordingly, the conceptual artist's task is to
contemplate and formulate this meaning - to be a
'meaning-maker'.


## 2. The Philosophy of Conceptual Art - What is it?



On the whole, the philosophical concerns raised by conceptual art can
be divided into two main categories. First, there are specific
questions to do with conceptual art itself, and the claims which
underpin the project that drives it. Philosophical investigations
might thus be called for not only in relation to the internal
consistency and coherence of the project and its set goals, but also
with regards to the particular tenets outlined above. For example,
what does it mean to say that every single thing, person or event is a
possible candidate for an artistic medium and does that suggestion not
render the category of art, as we know it, redundant?



Second, conceptual art poses philosophical problems from a wider
perspective, in so far as one might expect philosophy to provide us
with unitary accounts of the nature of art, the role of the artist,
and artistic experience. In many important respects, conceptual art
sits very uncomfortably with other, often more traditional artforms
and artworks, and this tension highlights a pressing issue for anyone
interested in the possibility of a universal theory of art. For if
there is to be one rule for conceptual art and another for all other
kinds of art, are there still good grounds for thinking of conceptual
art as a kind of art? Moreover, could not every particular kind of
artform or artwork demand a separate theory of art, artist and
artistic experience?



If we are to sidestep such an intrinsic division between conceptual
art on the one hand, and other kinds of art on the other, then
theories concerned mainly with art that is not conceptual will have to
make many significant concessions in order to incorporate the
problematic case that conceptual artworks present. At the very least,
a compromise will have to be reached concerning what we mean by the
term 'artwork'.



One of the over-riding concerns that beset the philosophy of
conceptual art is thus whether and, if so, why one should actively
pursue unified accounts in the philosophy of art. Whether one comes
out of that investigation embracing a broader - albeit perhaps
vaguer - set of concepts and tools than one started off with, or
whether one considers oneself forced to abandon any hope of anything
but very specific theories of art, artist, and artistic experience,
conceptual art obliges us to think about where we stand on these
issues.



Philosophizing about conceptual art is, then, not merely
philosophizing about one specific artform. It is philosophizing about
the most revisionary kind of art, one that sees its own task as being
profoundly philosophical in nature. Let us now turn to five more
specific philosophical themes that conceptual art urges us to
consider.


## 3. Five Philosophical Themes


### 3.1 The Definition of Art



The problem of defining art is by no means a problem for conceptual
art alone. Two principal difficulties immediately arise in the context
of any attempt to form a definition. First, the category of art is
particularly heterogeneous. Simply put, there seems to be an infinite
variety of things, or kinds of thing, that need to fall under its
jurisdiction. Second, there is great variety of opinion on what any
putative definition of art should actually consist of.



On the standard conception, a definition is something that provides us
with necessary and sufficient conditions for some thing *x* to
be F, so that, for example, it is a necessary and sufficient condition
for a number to be an even number that it is (i) an integer and (ii)
divisible by two. Accordingly, a definition of art must be capable of
outlining a clear set of conditions that must be satisfied.



There have been no shortages of attempts to define art in this manner.
Most prominently perhaps, it has been suggested that art ought to be
defined in terms of its aesthetic character, so that, roughly,
*x* is an artwork if and only if *x* gives rise to an
aesthetic experience (e.g., Beardsley 1958). Notwithstanding the
difficulties that this particular suggestion entails (we shall return
to this in SS3.3), the advent of a kind of art that is as
profoundly revisionary and difficult to classify as conceptual art
renders the attempt to provide a general definition applicable to
*all* art particularly complex. It is no coincidence, then,
that a neo-Wittgensteinian approach came to dominate the philosophy of
art in the late 1950s and 1960s. Drawing support from
anti-essentialist theories of language, it was suggested that art was
numbered among the various concepts that are, by their very nature,
'essentially contested' (Gallie 1948; see also Weitz
1956). That is to say, some concepts - such as that pertaining
to sports, for example- simply do not allow for definitions in
terms of necessary and sufficient conditions, and art is best as
understood as one of them. In the words of Morris Weitz, art may
be



> 
> an open concept. New conditions have constantly arisen and will
> undoubtedly constantly arise; new art forms, new movements will
> emerge, which will demand decisions on the part of those
> interested... as to whether the concept should be extended or
> not. (Weitz 1956, 32)
> 



The act of proposing a definition of art thus becomes a less stringent
exercise of conceptual analysis. The alternative method proposed by
neo-Wittgensteinians such as Weitz in attempting to identify art and
explain how we are to distinguish it from non-art is the notion of
*family resemblance* (see Wittgenstein 1953,
SS66-71). Faced with the question 'Is *X* an
artwork?', what we should do is try to detect strands of
resemblance with paradigmatic instances of an artwork. If some
significant resemblance to such a paradigmatic case is observed, we
can rightly call the object of our scrutiny a work of art.



The proposal, though interesting, is not without its own difficulties.
One problem that immediately arises relates to the idea of resemblance
itself, and the way it rapidly expands in such a way as to render it
close to useless. This is for the simple reason that we can always
find some way in which some given thing may be said to resemble any
other given thing. This kind of openness, it is important to note, is
*not* something that fits in with the programme of conceptual
art. Whilst conceptual art does hold that any kind of object could be
a work of art, it is not saying that every object *is* a work
of art. Far from it. Much conceptual art, in exploring the boundaries
between the realms of the artistic and that of function and utility,
is perceptually indistinguishable from non-art, such as Andy
Warhol's *Brillo Boxes*. In that sense, conceptual art
presents a particularly difficult case for the neo-Wittgensteinian
method of identification. After all, the only way in which
Warhol's Brillo Boxes *does not resemble* any other stack
of Brillo Boxes is the sense in which the former is a work of art and
the latter is not. The notion of resemblance is clearly of little use
here.



Picking up on this concern, Arthur Danto has famously suggested that
it is in fact a non-manifest relation that makes something an artwork
rather than an observable property (Danto 1981). That is to say,
artworks acquire that status in virtue of their relations to the
historical and social setting constituted by the practices and
conventions of art, our artistic heritage, the intentions of artists,
and so on -- the 'artworld' (see also Dickie
1974). The general idea here is that artworks are generated within a
social and artistic context, and so being an artwork is a function of
certain social relations. Conceptual art reinforces the idea that art
and non-art can be perceptually indistinguishable and so cannot be
marked off from each other by 'exhibited' properties
 alone.[5]



Setting aside the details of such an account, one of the things
conceptual art has helped philosophers to grasp more fully is that any
successful general definition, or indeed principled theory of the
identification of art, will need to have the non-manifest properties
of artworks at its centre. It is the meaning that the artist infuses
into the work and the meaning that we as audience stand to gain from
it that contains the key to its status as art (more on this in
SS3.4). To use the example of Warhol's *Brillo Boxes*
again, the work of the conceptual artist seems primarily to be the
work of imbuing objects with a particular kind of meaning.



A more promising line of enquiry has been developed by David Davies.
Taking his cue from the problems posed by conceptual art, Davies
argues that a unified definition of art can only be found if we think
of art primarily in terms of the creative process or series of actions
resulting in a material thing or other 'focus of
appreciation'. In that sense, the artwork is primarily
identified with the intentional acts through which it comes into being
rather than with the end-product of that process (Davies 2004). Art,
on this view, is better understood as a kind of performance than as a
manifest object. By shifting the focus of our attention in this way,
we can overcome many of the difficulties associated with defining art,
most notably that of its heterogeneity. It may be, then, that the most
enduring lesson to be learnt from conceptual art with regards to the
definition of art is not so much that a conceptual analysis of art is
completely unattainable, as that we simply have been looking in the
wrong place.


### 3.2 The Ontology and Media of Art



The claim that conceptual art is to be identified less with a
perceivable object than with the meaning or idea it aims to convey,
gives rise to a host of complex ontological questions. The rejection
of traditional artistic media, together with the de-materialisation of
the art object, forces us to reconsider what seemed to be relatively
uncomplicated aspects of artistic experience. The answers to questions
such as 'Is there in fact any one thing (or set of things) that
we must perceive in artistic appreciation?', and 'Is it a
necessary condition for the existence of an artwork that it have a
medium?' suddenly become a good deal less obvious.



In the first instance, conceptual art drives us to review the common
assumption that appropriate appreciation and engagement with an
artwork must involve a direct first-hand experience of that piece
itself. The idea here, to use Frank Sibley's words, is that



> 
> [p]eople have to *see* the grace or unity of a work,
> *hear* the plaintiveness or frenzy in the music,
> *notice* the gaudiness of colour scheme, *feel* the
> power of a novel, its mood, or its uncertainty of tone. They may be
> struck by these qualities at once, or they may come to perceive them
> only after repeated viewings, hearings, or readings, and with the help
> of critics. But unless they do perceive them for themselves, aesthetic
> enjoyment, appreciation, and judgement are beyond them... the
> crucial thing is to see, hear, or feel. (Sibley 1965, 137).
> 



The assumption in question is, then, that although we seem to gain
something from looking at, for example, a postcard or poster of
Katsushika Hokusai's *Fine Wine, Clear Morning*or
Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun's *Self-Portrait in a
Straw Hat* , a genuine judgement about its artistic character
necessitates one's own un-mediated perceptual experience of it.
But - and herein lies the crux of the problem for conceptual art
- what if there is nothing for us to get a first-hand perceptual
experience of? In the case of Walter De Maria's *Vertical
Earth Kilometer*
 (1977)[6],
 a kilometre-long metal shaft plunged into the surface of the earth so
that only the very top is visible, first-hand perceptual experience is
simply not something that can be had. More pertinently, what does it
even mean to have a perceptual engagement with an artwork that claims,
basically, to be an idea?



Perhaps the most pressing question, however, has to do with the extent
to which we are to take conceptual art's claim of
de-materialisation seriously. Does the de-materialisation of such art
not suggest that there is not only a rejection of traditional artistic
media in conceptual art, but an outright refutation of artistic media
in general? One possible way of making sense of this idea is with a
distinction outlined by Davies, namely that between *physical
medium* and *vehicular medium* (Davies 2004). Crucially, a
vehicular medium is said to incorporate not only physical objects
(such as paintings and sculptures, say) but also actions, events, and
generally more complex entities. In Davies' words, '[t]he
product of an artist's manipulation of a vehicular medium will
then be the *vehicle* whereby a particular artistic statement
is articulated... The vehicle may, as in the case of
Picasso's *Guernica*, be a physical object, or, as in the
case of Coleridge's *Kubla Kahn*, a linguistic
structure-type, or, as arguably in the case of Duchamp's
*Fountain,* an action of a particular kind.' (Davies
2004, 59). Adhering to this vehicular medium in art, may then at least
equip philosophers with a notion that can deflate the concern of
whether conceptual art, by rejecting physical media, denies the need
for *all* artistic media.



Clearly, conceptual art is not the first kind of art to raise
ontological concerns of this kind. After all, music and literary art,
be it traditional or *avant*-*garde*, hardly present
straightforward cases either. The question of what exactly
constitutes, say, a novel or a musical work have been widely discussed
for some time (e.g. Davies 2001; Ingarden 1973; Wollheim 1980)
Building on the suggestion that artworks such as musical pieces and
literary works are best understood in terms of universals or
'types', one view that has been widely discussed in the
last two decades or so is based on the idea that not only musical and
literary artworks, but *all* artworks, are types. More
specifically, they are to be conceived of as 'event- or
action-types' (Currie 1988). According to this theory, the
artwork is thus not the material thing itself but, rather, the way in
which the artist arrived at the underlying structure shared by all
instances or performances of that work.



Whilst the general approach fostered by both Currie and Davies is
clearly congenial to some aspects of conceptual art, it might
nevertheless still be the case that further work needs to be done if
the view that artworks are basically event- or action-types is to
accommodate all art in the conceptual tradition. Further questions
include what role, if any, is played by the (set of) material thing(s)
that many conceptual artists undeniably *do* present us with.
What, in other words, are we to make of the object (be it a human body
or a video-recording) that is supposed to transmit the idea which, in
turn, is said to be the genuine artwork? A good philosophical
explanation needs to be given as to how the material thing that is
regularly presented to the audience is, in fact, relevant to the
artwork itself. Is the vehicular medium constitutive of the artwork,
and if so, how exactly does that square with the claim of
de-materialisation?


### 3.3 The Aesthetic Value of Art



Underlying the claim that we need to have a direct experiential
encounter with an artwork in order to appreciate it appropriately is
the fact that some of the properties that bear on the value of a work
can only be grasped in this way. The properties in question here are
generally *aesthetic* properties, and the assumption motivating
the experiential requirement is that the appreciation of artworks
necessarily involves an aesthetic element (i.e. not necessarily beauty
*per se*, but something aesthetically pleasing or
rewarding).



However, one of the most distinguishing features of conceptual art,
setting out as it does to replace illustrative representation with
semantic representation, is that it does not prioritise aesthetic
experience in a traditional sense. Conceptual art is intended as an
art of the mind: it generally appeals to matters of the intellect and
emphasises art's *cognitive* rather than
*aesthetic* value. In the words of Timothy Binkley, traditional
aesthetics is preoccupied 'with perceptual entities' and
this 'leads aesthetics to extol and examine the "work of
art", while averting its attention almost entirely from the
myriad other aspects of that complex cultural activity we call
"art" ' (Binkley 1977, 271).



We can now see that the experiential requirement may well fail to have
any bite with regards to conceptual artworks because the
artist's aim does not necessarily involve conferring to the work
of art properties that must be experienced directly in order to be
grasped and fully appreciated. If there is to be any kind of
first-hand experiential requirement for the appropriate appreciation
of conceptual artworks, it will perhaps be of a kind that focuses on
an imaginative engagement with the idea central to the artwork rather
than a perceptual experience of its aesthetic properties (see
Schellekens 2007)



The main philosophical question highlighted by conceptual art in this
context, then, is the following: 'Does art really need to be
aesthetic, and, if so, in what sense?'. In Binkley's
opinion, and in support of conceptual art, one does not necessarily
have to think of art in terms of aesthetic value -whilst a lot
of 'art has chosen to articulate in the medium of an aesthetic
space', there is 'no a priori reason why art must confine
itself to the creation of aesthetic objects. It might opt for
articulation in a semantic space instead of an aesthetic one so that
artistic meaning is not embodied in a physical object or event'
(Binkley 1977, 273).



However, not everyone has endorsed such a liberal view about the
separation between the aesthetic and the
 artistic[7].
 If art does not aim at having aesthetic value, what, one might argue,
will set it apart from non-art? Which view one decides to favour on
this point may well end up being an issue about definition. If one
wishes to define art in terms of aesthetic experience, the question
finds a clear-cut answer, namely that conceptual art simply cannot be
considered a kind of art. The down-side of that position is, however,
a whole set of difficult concerns to do with things, such as nature or
persons, that hardly qualify as art even though they invite aesthetic
experiences. If one is impressed by these worries and cannot see any
decisive philosophical reason to uphold the aesthetic view, there is
little, if anything, to block a conception of art which is not
necessarily aesthetic. One may, then, think of aesthetic value as
*one* kind of artistic value that, alongside with moral,
religious, political, historical and financial value, some artworks
have and others do
 not.[8]



Now, even if it is granted that art need not be aesthetic, it is still
possible to hold that conceptual art does not qualify as *good*
art because it does not (aim to) yield aesthetic experiences. But
while this may be a viable position to hold in relation to the project
of conceptual art in general, it cannot be used to attack conceptual
art on its own grounds. Saying, for example, of Michael
Craig-Martin's *An Oak Tree* that one cannot consider it
a great work of art because it fails to give rise to a distinctively
aesthetic kind of pleasure does not actually undermine the project.
Conceptual art, as we now know, is more about conveying meaning
through a vehicular medium than about furnishing its audiences with
experiences of, say, beauty. Any attack on this fundamental feature of
conceptual art targets not so much an individual work of art but
rather finds fault with the artistic tradition itself.


### 3.4 The Interpretation of Art



At the most basic level of inquiry, two queries arise about
interpretation in art: (i) what 'tools' do we use to
interpret artworks?, and (ii) what is it we do when we interpret
artworks? In the case of conceptual art, a satisfactory answer to (i)
will most probably appeal to elements such as the narrative aids
provided by artists or curators (e.g. catalogues, titles, exhibited
explanations, labels, etc.); the appropriate mode of perception (i.e.
looking or listening); and what we know about the artwork's and
artist's social, historical, political or artistic context.
Depending on the ontological status of the particular piece (if it is,
say, a ready-made or a performance), these elements can be combined in
different ways to explain our interpretative habits and practices.



In addressing (ii) we will most likely need to refer to the various
mental abilities we put to use in such interpretative exercises (e.g.
imagination, empathy); and also to ask precisely what the target of
our interpretation is. This latter task is not as unproblematic as it
may seem, for it is not always clear whether it is the object itself
that should be under scrutiny, the object's perceptual
properties (and, if so, which), the idea at the heart of the work, or
the artist's intentions in making the piece. It seems unlikely
that the question will find an adequate answer until we find an
acceptable solution to the problem mentioned above, namely 'Is
the vehicular medium a constitutive part of the conceptual artwork or
not, and if so how?'.



Two further philosophical questions about the notion of artistic
interpretation take on a particularly complex dimension in relation to
conceptual art. First, exactly what information is relevant in
artistic interpretation? And, more importantly, to what extent should
the *artist's intention* be allowed to determine the
appropriate interpretation? Views differ widely on this topic. In
their article, 'The Intentional Fallacy', William Wimsatt
and Monroe Beardsley famously argue in relation to the literary arts
that the only kind of evidence that is relevant to interpretation is
that which is internal to the work in question. (Wimsatt &
Beardsley 1946). An artist's intention or design is of no
interpretative significance. Obviously, this position seems difficult
to defend in the case of conceptual art: when we are dealing with
pieces such as Warhol's *Brillo Boxes*, where the
internal evidence is clearly insufficient to discern that it is an
artwork in the first place, it seems that we need to know that Warhol
intended the boxes to be viewed *qua* art, at the very
least.



Now, even if we do wish to defend the view that the artist's
intention needs to be taken into account somehow in the interpretation
of conceptual art, further questions still require our attention here.
Most centrally, should the artist's intention always be
considered the *decisive* factor in interpretation and
*must* it always be involved? Generally speaking, there are two
main strands of intentionalist positions available. On the one hand,
there is an approach which holds that the artist's intention
determines an artwork's meaning, and thus cannot be overlooked
- or indeed superseded - in artistic interpretation (e.g.,
Carroll 1992). On the other hand, there is a view that the interpreter
ought to construct the best hypothesis concerning the artist's
actual intention with the help of, say, the text and biographical
notes, and that this hypothesis confers meaning on the work in
question (e.g., Levinson 1992).



At least at a first glance, it may seem that conceptual art presents a
stronger case for the first approach to interpretation, since the
artist's intention is all we have to go by, quite literally, in
works such as Robert Barry's simple statement entitled *All
the Things I Know But of which I am Not at the Moment Thinking*
(1969) (see, e.g., Maes 2010 and Gover 2012). Nevertheless, the
question cannot be settled quite so easily, for many conceptual
artists make a point of putting all the interpretative onus on the
spectator. How often are we told, after all, that a specific
artwork's meaning rests entirely in our hands; that 'it
means whatever you want it to mean'?



This leads us to the second question that is especially pertinent for
a kind of art that sets out to convey an idea or meaning, namely
whether there can be more than one correct or appropriate
interpretation of an artwork. Again, several theories present
themselves as eligible candidates in relation to this problem. One
suggestion has centred around the idea that there can be a
multiplicity of appropriate or correct divergent interpretations of
one and the same artwork which cannot be reduced to one underlying
interpretation or ranked in relation to each other (e.g., Margolis
1991; Goldman 1990). In opposition to this view, however, another
approach has it that there is in fact always a single best
interpretation which is better than any other (e.g., Beardsley 1970).
The aim of artistic interpretation is, then, in Matthew Kieran's
words, 'restricted to discovering the one true meaning of an
artwork.' (Kieran 1996, 239). Whilst conceptual art certainly
seems to rest on something like the interpretative plurality of the
first view, it is not obvious how a kind of art that presents itself
as an idea can, in reality, accommodate such indeterminacy.



There are good reasons to believe that of all the questions conceptual
art gives rise to, interpretation is the most problematic from an
internal point of view. The conundrum can be put in the following
terms. If the conceptual work is the idea, it seems reasonable to
assume that artistic interpretation will consist primarily in coming
to understand that idea (which is conceded by the artist to the
artwork considered as such). In other words, if we take conceptual
art's de-materialisation claim seriously, we are left with a
notion of interpretation which is relatively constrained to the
artist's intention and to the claim that that intention
determines *the* appropriate or correct interpretation for that
particular work.



As we have seen, though, we are often encouraged by conceptual artists
to take the interpretative exercise into our own hands, so to speak,
and not be shy to use features about ourselves and our own lives as
interpretive tools. We are, in other words, asked to combine the idea
of art as idea with the claim that we can, as spectators, convey an
entirely new and fresh interpretation onto an artwork that is nothing
but an idea which, by definition, needs to be about or concerned with
something. So, if the idea is the art, then how can my idiosyncratic
interpretation of that idea be anywhere near valid? It seems, then
that in order to be coherent, conceptual art must give up either the
claim that the actual artwork is nothing other than the idea, or the
claim that the interpretative onus lies on the viewer.


### 3.5 The Cognitive Value of Art



In seeking to convey a semantic representation through a vehicular
medium, conceptual art arguably aims to have cognitive - rather
than aesthetic - value. By cognitive value, what is meant is
simply the value an artwork may have in virtue of enhancing or
increasing our understanding of some topic, notion or event.
Interestingly, conceptual art seems to assume that the aesthetic
detracts from or divests art of its possible cognitive value in such a
way as to render the two kinds of value close to mutually exclusive
(Schellekens 2007).



The attempt to separate the aesthetic from the cognitive is far from a
recent investigative endeavour in philosophical circles. In the very
first section of Kant's *Critique of the Power of
Judgement*, a clear-cut distinction is outlined between aesthetic
and cognitive (or 'logical') judgements. However, few
artistic movements have pressed these questions about the division
between aesthetic value on the one hand, and cognitive value on the
other, as scrupulously and explicitly as conceptual art. In fact,
conceptual art makes things very difficult for itself by holding that
the *only* kind of artistic value that is entirely legitimate
is cognitive value.



Clearly, conceptual art is not the only kind of art that may have
cognitive value - many other artforms aim to have cognitive
value *in addition* to aesthetic value - and most of us
would agree that part of why we find art rewarding is precisely
because it often yields some kind of understanding. That is to say, we
read novels, look at paintings and listen to music not only because of
the pleasure it may afford, but also because it tends to make us
richer human beings, better able to make sense of the world around
us.



Uncontroversial as this claim may seem, some philosophers have denied
that art should either have or seek to have cognitive value. Most
famously perhaps, expressivists such as Clive Bell and Roger Fry held
that art should only seek to express and arouse emotions (Bell 1914;
Fry 1920). James Young has defended a view whereby
*avant-garde* art, like conceptual art, cannot yield any
significant knowledge or understanding (Young 2001, 77).



Young's argument focuses on the notion of exemplification which
he locates at the heart of the only kind of semantic representation
and cognitive value that can be ascribed to artworks such as
conceptual ones. Exemplification is a form of reference to properties
by means of a sample (or exemplar). An exemplar 'stands for some
property by [non-metaphorically, literally] possessing the
property' (Young 2001, 72). In the case of conceptual art, a
work then exemplifies an idea or concept. So, for example, Tom
Marioni's *The Act of Drinking Beer with One's Friends
is the Highest Form of Art*
 (1970)[9]
 - a piece involving the artist and his friends drinking beer
together - is an exemplar of the idea at the heart of the work,
namely that drinking beer with one's friends is the highest
art-form of all. This is the work's statement. However, as Young
points out, it doesn't follow from the fact that something
expresses a statement or has meaning that it has significant cognitive
value. All things considered, the kind of statement that conceptual
artworks and their like are typically able to make, according to
Young, are merely truisms. If conceptual art yields cognitive value,
that is to say, it tends to be so trivial that it barely deserves the
name.



The argument puts a finger on an experience shared by many spectators
of conceptual art who feel conned or deceived by it. Not only are
conceptual artworks not beautiful, one might object, they don't
even tell us anything over and beyond banal cliches. What,
then, is conceptual art really good for?



If there is to be a way out of this difficulty, we will have to take
the bull by the horns and discuss exactly what (kind of) understanding
one may gain from it. This answer will have to be cashed out in terms
of two concerns: one about the *content* of the knowledge, and
another about the *kind* of knowledge in question. First,
knowledge yielded by art can be about the artwork - not only the
techniques employed, the work's history and tradition, and so
on, but also the meaning and thoughts that the work conveys. Second,
art can yield either propositional knowledge or knowledge by
acquaintance. Whereas the first consists of knowledge given to us in
terms of propositions and can either be concerned with the artwork
itself (e.g. knowledge 'that [Manet's famous painting]
represents the Emperor Maximilan's execution') or a reality
beyond that work (e.g. knowledge 'that horrible things are often
done in the name of political revolutions'), the second kind of
knowledge has the potential to enable one to imagine what it would be
like to be in a certain position or situation, to empathize, to come
very close to experiencing what it would be like to have that kind of
experience first-hand (e.g. what it is like to witness the execution
of a dishonoured Emperor).



The notions of knowledge and cognitive value, whilst at the very heart
of the conceptual project, raise a manifold of important questions
that require solid and cogent philosophical answers. Perhaps
exemplification can still serve an epistemological purpose by inviting
us to engage with the issues raised by a work of art in a richer and
more imaginative way; in a way that makes us think about questions of
philosophical interest in particular way - a way that
propositions alone cannot do? Perhaps the key to conceptual
art's value lies in a more challenging intellectual relationship
with the work, a genuine engagement with the idea in question.
Exploring this avenue may yet help us see what kind of non-trivial
cognitive value conceptual art is capable of yielding.


## 4. Further Questions



Many more questions centred around these five philosophical themes
remain to be examined in relation to conceptual art. With regards to
concerns about defining art, we need to address the increasing number
of worries to do with exactly how we are to distinguish art from
non-art, and indeed whether there really is a distinction (if only
theoretical) to be drawn here. That is to say, if conceptual art is at
times not only perceptually indistinguishable from non-art but it is
also the case that everything is alleged to be (part of) a potential
artwork, perhaps the inevitable outcome is that there simply cannot be
a principled distinction between art and non-art. So, does the
conceptual project lead to the end of the category of art as such?



From the ontological perspective, this set of concerns acquires an
even more aggressive flavour: if art should be all about putting
forward ideas and making statements, why, one might wonder, do we need
the conceptual artwork at all? Can we not merely ask the same
questions and make the same statements directly?



In addition to these questions, the host of issues that have been
raised about interpretation, intention, appreciation and the way they
are (or should be) related have not yet been silenced. For art that is
as discourse-dependent as most conceptual art is, it is not always
clear whether there is anything more to interpreting conceptual art
than just being told what the idea in question is. And if so, can we
still call this *interpretation*?



Finally, what are we to make of the relation between aesthetic and
cognitive value in conceptual art - should they be considered as
in opposition or even as mutually exclusive? If the only kind of value
that is of genuine artistic importance is cognitive value, it will be
difficult to avoid the definitional and ontological concerns mentioned
above. Also, it will call for a deeply revisionary conception of art,
one fundamentally hostile to the very notions we are probably most
used to associating with art, namely beauty and aesthetic
pleasure.



Central to the philosophy of conceptual art is thus the provocative
spirit of the project under investigation - conceptual art
throws down the gauntlet by challenging us to reconsider every aspect
of artistic experience, and it may well be up to philosophy to pick it
up and address some of the questions conceptual art makes its business
to raise. Conceptual art actively aims to be thought-provoking,
stimulating and inspiring, and if only for that reason, philosophers
interested in art should not pass it by unaffected.