An Ontological Fallacy in Analytical Aesthetics
Draft (Do not Quote)
Rob van Gerwen, Ph.D.
January 25, 2006
1
Introduction
To assume that a work of art realizes intentions does not require one to also
think that, ‘ultimately’, a work’s meaning is to be found in the head of the
artist. That idea, and connected with it, the idea that an artist’s biography
produces a safer interpretation than a thorough scrutiny of the work itself, is
know as the intentional fallacy.1 A fallacy because it argues from exceptional
cases where the intentions of the artist appear decisive for his works’ interpretation to the general conclusion that artists’ intentions decide in all cases.
Several other fallacies keep us from scrutinizing the work itself. The evocative
fallacy assumes that the meaning of a work is in whatever experience the work
causes in its ever beholder. Of course, only adequately equipped beholders are
capable to fully appreciate a work of art, and whatever such beholders subsequently experience does indeed form an indication of its meaning. Yet, we
shouldn’t identify what is evoked with the meaning of the work, lest the work
disappears behind a mist of possibly irrelevant experiences. Whatever a work
causes in the beholder has its standard of correctness in the work itself.
A third fallacy will be my subject matter. This fallacy says that in order to
analyse a representation one must first ascertain whether or not its subject
matter exists. (I realize that representations are not necessarily works of art,
but I shall indicate in what follows how they are similar in crucial respects.)
Presently, the ontological fallacy is not an isolated phenomenon in the philosophical literature. It can be found with philosophers who form central points
of reference for contemporary analytical aesthetics, such as Nelson Goodman,
Kendall Walton, Roger Scruton and Gregory Currie. We hardly notice the fallacy, exactly because it is part and parcel of core analytical aesthetics. I shall
not assess that wide proliferation. Nor do I intend to correct all three fallacies
in one swoop, by siding with a formalism which sees no role whatsoever for the
elements and events these fallacies concentrate on. I submit that the artist’s
intentions, the beholder’s thoughts and feelings, and the ontology of the represented, all belong to a work’s meaning. I merely insist that they be brought to
1 This time the issue is not how aesthetic or tertiary properties relate to secundary ones.
See for this issue: Sibley 1959; Sibley 1963; Cohen 1973; Scruton 1983b; Zemach 1993; van
Gerwen 1996b; van Gerwen 1996a. The discussion I mention can be found in the aesthetics
of film: Currie 1998; film and drama: Walton 1990; music: Scruton 1997; and painting:
Gombrich 1963, and, resisting the temptations of the fallacy: Wollheim 1988 and Podro
1998.
1
2
THE AESTHETIC APPROACH
2
bear on the work itself, and are not themselves substantialized into something
that overrules the work.
2
The Aesthetic Approach
Gregory Currie plays a central role in a debate that is in the heart of philosophy
of art, on how perceivable properties of a work of art are related to properties
of the subjects they represent. Currie 1998 philosophizes about film against the
backdrop of cognitive science. Currie says here that “A fiction does not have
the kinds of properties—shape, size, colour—that could be represented pictorially.”2 Currie’s views form part of a long tradition of disqualifying secundary
qualities in favour of what can be thought or imagined. See van Gerwen 1999
Fictional entities do not exist, so they have no perceivable properties, and film
viewers, therefore, cannot perceive them. Instead, film viewers perceive the
actor and are requested to imagine the character. We merely think we perceive
a fiction, whereas in fact, we do nothing of the kind.3
2.1
Back to main argument
The irrefutable, logical sound of this reasoning is precisely what forms its problem: Currie’s thesis is mere logic; in fact, it is an ontological fallacy. As a
philosophical analysis of the experience of film and of the language game the
viewer participates in, this thesis is wrongheaded. Yes, in literature our senses
are not addressed by the fictional world and imagination must do all the work
of setting it up. But this should be so because language is thoroughly conventional and works irrespective of issues of resemblance. Pictures, however,
especially technologically recorded, highly detailed ones, show forth by way of
their own perceptual properties some of the perceptual properties their subjects supposedly have. Since Currie denies this in the case of fictions, and he
rightly refuses to take on the alternate, semiotic, view, that pictorial meaning
depends on a thoroughly conventional system (Currie 1998, 116-17), he yields
a nasty predicament onto his own theory. By transferring a thesis that can be
defended in the area of literary fiction to film, Currie imparts the view that
movie watchers are inferring (from actors to characters), instead of watching
the characters and their fictive lives. My main argument with the ontological fallacy is based on the thesis that both the real nature of the represented
and, therefore, the establishment of its existence are contingent on the nature
of its representation, and that any approach to representation, including epistemological or ontological ones, should start off with an aesthetic approach,
which takes this contingency as its methodological starting point. Whence the
contingency-thesis? First of all, representations on their own hardly ever reveal
their truth or falsity—unless what they are showing is downright impossible.
In general, one cannot decide just by looking at the representation whether
2 Currie 1998, 12.
3 Comparably, Podro 2001, thinks that we use what is seen in a painting
to imagine something about the represented. Scruton 1983a, thinks that in his treatment of
the material a painter (in contrast to a photographer) conveys a vision about the represented.
[Add Currie’s elaboration of the argument, and Matravers’ discussion]
3
KINDS OF REPRESENTATION
3
or not the represented actually exists or existed. The assumption that with
photographs we can (i.e. establish the truth of its subject matter) is based on
a complex story about the technology responsible for the production of photographs. A story, which by the way is currently in the process of collapsing
under the weight of digitalization. Secondly, in the event we fail to understand
what is represented in a picture this depends, not on the vagueness of the object represented, but on the picture’s properties, its lack of clarity. Lastly and
crucially, no representation depicts everything that is co- extensive with the
represented. Only details that are represented can be assessed with regard to
their truth-value.
3
Kinds of Representation
Assessing representation aesthetically, we can distinguish three mechanisms.
Representing through pictures—esp. photographically realistic ones as in film—
is perceptual. What some picture represents, we see in its surface.4 Describing, secondly, means representing in a thoroughly conventional manner via
a well-defined grammar and vocabulary. By definition, no properties of the
represented can be perceived in its description—except contingently, such as
when the description of a green thing happens to be in green ink, or the story
is about words.5 Readers reproduce the described in their own minds with
their imagination. The imagination also plays a central role in the third representational mechanism, representation through omission, except that, here, the
imagination is not guided by conventions—as it is in linguistic representation—
because omission presupposes neither a grammar nor a vocabulary.6 (Currie
reserves yet another role for imagination, as a modificator of whatever happens
to present itself to the senses.7 In my scheme of things this modifying role of
imagination has no place. I do not treat it as a primitive.)
With no pretence of completeness, I distinguish two types of “representation
by omission”. Temporal ellipses, for one, generate conclusions that can be put
into propositions. When one sees, in a film, how a woman packs a suitcase
which lies on a bed, and next, one sees her phoning a cab in front of an airport
entrance, one should be able to realize that in between, “the woman made a
trip by air, and that now the next episode in the film should begin”. With a
jump in time like this, the imagination functions as an inferring capacity. It
fills in the gap by providing a proposition. In the other variety, modal omission,
an event will be presented, but not to all the sensuous modalities the audience
would expect to see addressed. Examples are those moments of great anxiety
when one sees how, upon entering her hotel room a character hears a scratching
sound. Thus, one perceives ‘the criminal behind the curtain’ without actually
seeing him, as a consequence of which one’s imagination is induced to concoct
the near future of the events. The result, in this case, is not merely some proposition stating that the character entering the room is about to be attacked, but
4 See Wollheim on the perceptual nature of seeing-in, e.g. in Wollheim 2001.
5 Cf.
Goodmans views on exemplification in Goodman 1985b. 6 (Strong) habits may be at work
here, but it is a long run from there to the establishment of conventions. 7 As does Walton,
in Walton 1990. Sergei Eisenstein’s ’montage of attractions’ makes use of the imagination as
well, as a power of association.
4
PERCEIVING A CHARACTER
4
an imaginative, empathetic anticipation, a perception of the imagination—a
foreseeing of events—which supersedes the strictly sense-perceptual, but has
its own perceptual modality. Imagination now mobilizes a type of experience
from its own memory (e.g. a fear for unknown, yet anticipated threats) and
projects this onto the represented events for no other reason than to adequately
and coherently perceive what is going on. Such projection has its standard of
correctness in the film (image, sound and narrative). An empathetic identification ensues, which will be such as to match the degree of nervousness expressed
by the character. Because it is a regulated effect of the film, the experience
that the viewer has of the events isn’t merely evoked, but is represented in the
film. At the same time, it is intimate for the viewer, because it is anchored in
his own experience. I call such representation by modal omission ‘intimation’.8
However we are to analyse these types of representation, I submit that, first,
we must see how a character is represented only then to be able to state which
properties they have or, assumably, lack. Thus, the key issue to be addressed is,
What exactly is it that some fiction film represents? The aesthetician can ask
relevant questions here, whereas the ontologically minded philosopher cannot.
He is a victim of his own priorities about fictional entities.
4
Perceiving a character
4.1
“Wendy, I’m home!”
In Stanley Kubrick’s the Shining, Jack Nicholson plays the character of Jack
Torrence, out-of-season caretaker of a colossal hotel in the middle of nowhere.
Snow blocks the roads and has interrupted telecommunication. Shelley Duvall
plays the role of his wife, Wendy. Near the end of the film, the tragedy unfolds
as Wendy’s deepest premonitions come true, when she finds out that the book
Jack has been busy writing all the time, contains only one sentence, repeated
indefinitely: “All work and no play make Jack a dull boy”. Upon this discovery,
Jack Torrence threatens his wife who fends him off with a baseball bat, and
while she recedes up a long staircase a conversation follows, which might fairly
easily be paraphrased. Yet, it is not the contents which should interest us here,
but the way it proceeds. This is how it goes:
Jack: And are you concerned about me?
Wendy: Of course I am.
Jack: Of course you are. [Cynically repeating]
— Have you ever thought about my responsibilities?
Wendy: Oh, Jack, what are you talking about?
Jack: Have you ever had a single moment thought about my responsibilities?
— Have you ever thought a single solitary moment about my responsibilities
toward my employers? [Contemptuous, aggressive repeating]
— Has it ever occurred to you that I have agreed to look after the Overlook
Hotel until May the first?
— Does it matter to you at all that the owners have placed a complete confidence and trust in me and that I have signed a letter of agreement, a contract,
8
See van Gerwen 2001.
4
PERCEIVING A CHARACTER
5
in which I have accepted that responsibility?
— Do you have the slightest idea what a moral and ethical principle is? Do
you? [An aggressive disqualification]
— Has it ever occurred to you what would happen to my future, if I were to
fail to live up to my responsibilities?
— Has it ever occurred to you? Has it?
Wendy: Stay away from me.
Jack: Why?
Wendy: I just want to go back to my room.
Jack: Why?
Wendy: Well, I’m very confused. I need a chance to think things over.
Jack: You have had your whole fucking life to think things over.
— What good is a few minutes more going to do you now?
Wendy: Jack, stay away from me. Please. Don’t hurt me.
Jack: I’m not gonna hurt you.
Wendy: Stay away from me.
Jack: Wendy. Darling. Light of my life. I’m not gonna hurt you. You didn’t
let me finish my sentence. I said: “I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m just gonna
bash your brains.” I’m gonna bash them right the fuck in.
Wendy: Stay away from me.
etc.
In the spirit of Currie’s position, one might want to argue that it is the actors
Nicholson and Duvall who utter these sentences, but how can this explain
more than half their meaning? It is one thing to utter the words “I said:
I’m not gonna hurt you, I’m just gonna bash your brains”, but it is quite
something else to say this to someone. If there is a threat in these words it
is in the addressing involved in saying the words and meaning them. What
I am talking about here is what speech act theory calls the perlocutionary
force of utterances. Two actors, stating words like these while the cameras
buzz and both are on the same pay-roll, and the scene is played over and
over to ensure that the director has enough material to compose the resultant
sequence, etc.—how earthly a description would Currie want us to provide of
what we are factually seeing happening on the screen? That doesn’t make
sense. Torrence’s utterances are far more than a set of propositions; they are
an agency, an exchange between characters, instead of one between actors in
a studio, subsequently to be transfigured by imagination. In fact, we need a
whole lot more imagination to view that interaction as one between actors,
than to understand it like we do, as an exchange between characters.9
Now, the sentence “the owners have placed a complete confidence and trust in
me and [. . . ] I have signed a letter of agreement, a contract, in which I have
accepted that responsibility” is a descriptive assertion, and to grasp its meaning
we will indeed have to actively reconstruct in the imagination the situations it
describes, of a conversation between ‘the owners’ and Torrence, and of Torrence
signing a piece of paper which holds a contract. This is because the assertion
9 Maybe Currie is willing to retract and submit that the issue is not a matter of how much
trouble the viewer is to invest. However, that would amount to acknowledging that the
ontological analysis is vastly irrelevant for aesthetic practice. Aesthetic practice assumably
is just another case of common nonsense (as Goodman would call it). Oh well.
4
PERCEIVING A CHARACTER
6
is presented linguistically.10 In fact, the requirement to imagine these events
forms as much part of this sentence’s meaning for the characters as it does for
us. Yet, given a certain asymmetry which I am about to address, there is no real
need for the actors to actually procure the imagery as long as their expression,
and their characters’ expression, do not contradict the viewers’ belief that they
do. This sentence too derives its significance from the character who utters it.
There is, however, a minor difference between the relationality of this sentence
and that of the threatening perlocution just cited. Kubrick might have used
another character to describe the facts of the signing of the contracts in third
person language to convey the same factual knowledge, but there is no way he
could have had someone else utter the threatening language on the staircase
in third person language and produce the same experience in the audience.
Torrence’s conduct derives its meaning from the second- person confrontation
with his wife it forms part of. In the process of forcing an ontological argument
onto filmic representation, Currie neglects many kinds of meaning that depend
on the context of their utterance. Is this objection pertinent only to the role
of language and agency in film? What about the objects?
Whose baseball bat is Wendy carrying up the stairs? Is it the bat of Shelley
Duvall or is it Wendy’s? Well, this depends on all the things we are willing to
attribute to it, doesn’t? Obviously, the audience will want to identify the bat
as the one that Wendy uses to ward off her husband and, finally, hit him on
the head with. Not a single member of the audience will view the baseball bat
as that object which in reality some firm (say, “Have Cake and Eat, ltd.”) delivered just minutes before Kubrick wanted to start filming the relevant scenes,
and that in the haste of delivering it, Mr. Cake actually hurt his left foot
with. Nobody who sees this bat in the film will think about its real-life causal
history. How could one, when nothing in the film indicates what has really
happened to it. This is hardly exceptional because, generally speaking, no object is ever perceived as it is, really, causally, in itself—objects are perceived
under a description.11 Both the nature and meaning of Wendy’s baseball bat
derive from ‘descriptions’ procured by the film. Currie thinks we see the actor
Shelley Duvall and imagine things about her character, but the imagination
has nothing to do here: we straightforwardly perceive this character and the
bat she swings. It costs a whole lot more to imagine to be perceiving the scene
under the description of an event in a real studio.
The issue may be more complex than it appears though, because in film we
are confronted with an asymmetry that explains both Currie’s thesis and the
possibility of actors presenting fictional events. Whatever we see the body of
an actor do, we are supposed to see his character do it. In contrast, whenever
a character is supposed to be in some mental state, the actor merely has to
reproduce the outward expression that goes with that. There is no need for him
to actually be in a particular state, let alone in the one the character is going
through, or one with the same intentional object. Yet, actors are type-cast,
which assumes that their characters will be most lifelike if the expression they
need on account of the story. is provided for by an actor who, by nature, has
10
Torrence does not tell us how he signed the contract, which pen he used, what clothes he
worethere is only the single fact that he signed one. 11 Or, as Heidegger would put it: due
to its nature of ’Zeug’, or its ’Bewandtnissganzheid’, the whole of something’s relations to
the aims and purposes that are connected with it in the human world.
4
PERCEIVING A CHARACTER
7
that kind of expression. Indeed, Nicholson acts most lifelike when the expression of his acting body is embedded in his own personal history, as Wollheim
rightly says: individual style has psychological reality.12
4.2
Film is congraphic
As to the issue of how properties of the actor relate to properties of his character, one might best, as I argued above, start from an aesthetic analysis of
the intentional structure of film, which consists in a complex combination of
scenario, directing, lighting, acting, shooting images with a camera, and cutting and pasting them afterwards. All these elements, working together in
ever-different ways, provide the characters with their mental lives. Whose intentions are realized in a film? Unlike with literature, where this question is
answered rather straightforwardly, due to the fact that each and every copy
of a book is strictly identical qua wording with the original manuscript the
writer delivered with his publisher, with layered works like those in music and
film the relation between the conception and its ultimate realization isn’t as
neatly laid out. Moreover, film differs in this from music and theatre. It may
be all right to view a piece of music as the composer’s creation, or a play as
the playwright’s. The performers’ intentions form a temporary intermediary
for that creation, exchangeable up to a point—the score, or the text of the play
decide what belongs to the work.13
In cinema, however, the end product is a substantial, singular entity. It is not
the scenario that decides the ontology of film, but the film itself. A film realizes the intentions of many and all are geared to one another. None of these
intentions can be viewed as temporary or exchangeable. An actor’s expressive
powers are tuned to intentions in the scenario, to the director’s directives, and
to what the narrative apparently requires, to the sensitivity of the camera and
to anticipations as to the length of the resultant shots and the place and timing
they shall get in the resultant film. Scenario-writers count with the actors’ expressive powers and director’s views, etc. Films are ’congraphic’. They are not
autographic like paintings are, nor allographic—assuming a notational system
to warrant score-performance compliance—like music or drama.14 The movie
watcher understands the mental life of some filmed human body in accordance
with this congraphic intentional structure of the film.15 Because of its congraphic nature, a film is more than what literally meets the senses, which, due
to his ontology, Currie reduces film to.
12
In Wollheim 1993, 179, 181-82. And see Walter Benjamin 1936 on the intrusive powers of
the camera. 13 See Goodman 1985c. 14 The ontologically (!) motivated distinction between
allo- and autografic artforms, with which Goodman 1985a analysed ’the possiblities of fake
and forgery, is unhelpful. Allografic works of art are conceived of in a different medium
from the one used when they are presented to the audience. Their identity is coupled to
the regulated link between conception and appearancewith music this is regulated through
notation, with literature through character-identity. An autographic form of art, e.g. is
painting. 15 Identifying the actor with his character (as in type-casting and in Strassberg’s
“Method Acting”) is merely one approachand the fact that ’Hollywood’ chose to adopt it
does not prove its viability, notwithstanding the global success of that choice. Directors such
as Robert Bresson delegate the structuring of the characters’ mental lives to the editing of
sets of images that are as emptied of actorial meaning as possible.
4
PERCEIVING A CHARACTER
4.3
8
The representation of inner life
Currie may want to dismiss my argument with his ontological fallacy: “fictional
characters do not exist, so how on earth could we perceive them?” The time
has come to seriously wonder if we ever see the actor on the screen. To perceive a person in real life exceeds perceiving a bundle of phenomenal qualities:
persons are creatures with a mental life filled with memories, expectations,
emotions and moral considerations. This mental life shows forth in a person’s
facial and gestural expression.16 Understanding a mental life—whether one’s
own or someone else’s—depends on social and linguistic contexts. The perception of a feeling is ‘under a description’ too. Even mental elements an agent is
phenomenally privileged to are ordered by the language he needs to understand
them—the very same language he uses to understand some other person’s feelings.17 Now, someone showing his own inner life is not thereby representing it.
Rather, such expressing is a symptom or extension of the inner life. By definition, the expression is in the same space and time that the mental it expresses
is in. If the expressing body is perceived here and now, then in the same move
its inner life will be perceived.
Hence the atypical status of represented expression—pictures of faces— and
the asymmetry just mentioned. One who sees a represented expressive face,
sees the expression of an absent mental life. I submit that it is the representation that provides it with this mental life. Thus, we may have seen Jack
Nicholson on many occasions in cinema, but always as play-acting; that is, we
are used to seeing him showing expressive symptoms of mental lives of ever
different characters. What we see that represented body (which happens to be
Nicholson’s) express is a function of ever-differing narratives and intimations.
As the person Nicholson is, we never get to see him. I am assuming, of course,
that the actor is any good. If he isn’t he—in cooperation with the rest of
the film crew—won’t even bring to life the minds of his character. Without a
doubt, Nicholson qualifies. This cautionary remark is informing, because it is
the bad actor whom we see as the person he is, with his personal mental life;
the trouble he has playing his role.18 Compare this with the awkward feeling
one may get from seeing a 50’s Hollywood actor ride a car which is clearly
being rocked along in the studio—in such cases we cannot succeed in seeing
the fictional, but are forced to imaginae it instead. It seems wrong to think
of this ty pe of situation as exemplary of fiction film. Obviously, for Currie,
such unsuccesful representation may be of little help. A bad actor, for instance,
won’t induce us to imagine a character. Thus, what we see represented on film
is humane bodies endowed with mental lives provided by the representation.
16
One’s privilege over one’s mental life is not cognitive in nature; the person is merely the
one going through it. The privilege is experiential. Cf. Nagel 1979 17 Cf. Wittgenstein’s
objections against the possibility of a private language (Wittgenstein 1953, 243 e.v.). Cf. also
Joseph Margolis’ thesis that selves and their mental lives are culturally emergent entities,
in Margolis 2000. 18 This is the actor’s challenge. Through their own outlook they must
suggest an autonomous character dissimilar to their own selves, a.o. by disconnecting this
outlook from their own actual experiences. If they succeed in this, they prove technically capable to act. Techniques alone are insufficient though. Actors must animate their characters,
and this they do by mobilizing types of experience from their own psychological history. In
short, first the actor must do away with his own personality and he must reintroduce it. For
the audience, the first suffices for an identification (ontology) of the work, but without the
second there can be no artistic merit. (This predicament is not unique for actors; in music
performance the situation is analogous).
References
9
That is ontology too—but it is ontology after aesthetics.
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