Randall Dipert

(1951 - 2019)

Few philosophers today know much about Charles Peirce’s metaphysics, although a great many know something about his epistemology, philosophy of science, and logic. Indeed, few Peirce experts have written much on his metaphysics or made it the focus of their research. To an extent, this is understandable. Peirce’s writings were left in a disastrously disorganized state (mostly unpublished), and the crucial papers on metaphysics from his later years have not yet been republished in the first-rate chronological edition, the incomplete Writings of Charles S. Peirce: A Chronological Edition, edited at Indianapolis by my friends. And then there is Peirce’s writing: an awkward, abrasive, arrogant, eclectic style that demands technical knowledge in diverse fields, especially logic, mathematics, and the natural sciences. His worst personality traits manifested themselves in his highly technical metaphysics—with its idiosyncratic, anti-Cantorian conception of continua, a pecularly mathematical phenomenology, and elaborate views on Darwinian and non-Darwinian evolution, for example. Finally, there is what might appear to be the bizarreness of the theory itself, as we shall see. Peirce was a kind of philosophical swashbuckler, a bold, courageous speculator on philosophical questions beyond most of our temperaments even to ponder. Ours is not the philosophical age of Errol Flynn but the minimalist age of Harrison Ford, with no grand gestures or speeches, just a series of small, no-nonsense gestures: we typically like our philosophy short, neat, "science-like," and isolated from other philosophical issues.

Randall R. Dipert argues that, at first glance, Rand's view of representational arts, such as literature and the visual arts, might seem to have little applicability to pure music. Nevertheless, Rand took music without words as a serious art form, and struggled to develop a plausible theory of music. As Torres and Kamhi note in What Art Is, Rand's approach probably contradicted certain elements of her full aesthetic theory. But her theory of music and its relationship to emotions offers some fascinating suggestions that accord with—and in some respects go beyond—the best recent thinking in musical aesthetics.

Few philosophers today know much about Charles Peirce’s metaphysics, although a great many know something about his epistemology, philosophy of science, and logic. Indeed, few Peirce experts have written much on his metaphysics or made it the focus of their research. To an extent, this is understandable. Peirce’s writings were left in a disastrously disorganized state (mostly unpublished), and the crucial papers on metaphysics from his later years have not yet been republished in the first-rate chronological edition, the incomplete Writings of Charles S. Peirce: A Chronological Edition, edited at Indianapolis by my friends. And then there is Peirce’s writing: an awkward, abrasive, arrogant, eclectic style that demands technical knowledge in diverse fields, especially logic, mathematics, and the natural sciences. His worst personality traits manifested themselves in his highly technical metaphysics—with its idiosyncratic, anti-Cantorian conception of continua, a pecularly mathematical phenomenology, and elaborate views on Darwinian and non-Darwinian evolution, for example. Finally, there is what might appear to be the bizarreness of the theory itself, as we shall see. Peirce was a kind of philosophical swashbuckler, a bold, courageous speculator on philosophical questions beyond most of our temperaments even to ponder. Ours is not the philosophical age of Errol Flynn but the minimalist age of Harrison Ford, with no grand gestures or speeches, just a series of small, no-nonsense gestures: we typically like our philosophy short, neat, "science-like," and isolated from other philosophical issues.

This is an extensive and diffuse collection of essays woven together by a number of leitmotifs. It is a work by a technically virtuosic professional philosopher for readers with the same credentials; even many of the complicated examples use extensive insider information about the institution of professional analytic philosophy in the last half of the twentieth century in the United States. In the sequence of its chapters, we see a development that in some ways mirrors Castañeda's philosophical career and topics of active thought. Namely, Part 1 of the book, embracing 4 chapters, is devoted to linguistic phenomena--broadly to issues of reference, but with special attention to indexicals and what Castaneda has called "quasi-indexicals." It reads very difficultly for anyone not steeped in recent issues in the philosophy of language. Many elements of this work, might seem at first a rather slender basis on which to found a broader philosophy of mind, experience, and the world in the tradition of modern philosophy. But this is precisely what Castaneda has done in his career and in this volume. His earlier analyses of complex referential phenomena form the unlikely springboard for far-flung reflections in epistemology, phenomenology, metaphysics, and, especially, the philosophy of mind.

I do not think that previous writing on artifacts has been satisfactory, for reasons that will become clear. This situation has only been slightly remedied, I believe, by works such as my Artifacts, Agency, and Art Works, Dipert, sometimes referred to here as “AAA.” At the same time, I believe that a general notion of artifact is crucial for philosophy: the concept of an artifact is a central piece of our conception of the world. One of the important projects in the theory of artifacts that is incomplete, or perhaps has not yet even been seriously undertaken, is a definition of artifacts. To give a definition of artifact, and to explore its difficulties and entanglements, is the central organizing goal of this essay.