Paisley Livingston

Do the artists intentions have anything to do with the making and appreciation of works of art? In Art and Intention, Paisley Livingston develops a broad and balanced perspective on perennial disputes between intentionalists and anti-intentionalists in philosophical aesthetics and critical theory. He surveys and assesses a wide range of rival assumptions about the nature of intentions and the status of intentionalist psychology. With detailed reference to examples from diverse media, art forms, and traditions, he demonstrates that insights into the multiple functions of intentions have important implications for our understand- ing of artistic creation and authorship, the ontology of art, conceptions of texts, works, and versions, basic issues pertaining to the nature of fiction and fictional truth, and the theory of art interpretation and appreciation. Livingston argues that neither the inspirationist nor rationalistic con- ceptions can capture the blending of deliberate and intentional, sponta- neous, and unintentional processes in the creation of art. Texts, works, and artistic structures and performances cannot be adequately individ- uated in the absence of a recognition of the relevant makers intentions. The distinction between complete and incomplete works receives an action-theoretic analysis that makes possible an elucidation of several different senses of fragment in critical discourse. Livingston develops an account of authorship, contending that the recognition of intentions is in fact crucial to our understanding of diverse forms of collective art-making. An artists short-term intentions and long-term plans and policies interact in complex ways in the emergence of an artistic oeuvre, and our uptake of such attitudes makes an important difference to our appreciation of the relations between items belonging to a single life-work. The intentionalism Livingston advocates is, however, a partial one, and accommodates a number of important anti-intentionalist contentions. Intentions are fallible, and works of art, like other artefacts, can be put to a bewildering diversity of uses. Yet some important aspects of arts meaning and value are linked to the artists aims and activities

These comments concern Bordwell’s explicit and implicit claims about cinematic authorship in his 1985 Narration in the Fiction Film. Distinctions are drawn between causal and attributionist conceptions of authorship, and between actualist and fictionalist views about the spectator’s attitude toward authorship. A key question concerns the autonomy or independence of a viewer’s competent uptake of story and narration, as opposed to its dependence on knowledge of authorship or authorial design. The example of cinematic quotation in Resnais’s Mon oncle d’Amérique is used to illustrate the pertinence of the latter option.

Although Ingmar Bergman figures on everyone’s list of philosophical filmmakers, attempts to specify the philosophical implications of his films have yielded highly divergent results. One reason why this is the case is that interpreters disagree over how the philosophical content of a cinematic oeuvre is to be identified. Some interpreters clearly believe it best to work with their own philosophical views when interpreting a film’s story and themes, while others contend that the content of a work is at least partly constituted by the filmmaker’s own ideas and background, which the interpreter should try to reconstruct on the basis of the available evidence. This entry focuses on claims made by interpreters who share the latter premise. Such interpreters often disagree about the content of a given film because they do not have the same evidence about its context, or because they reason about the evidence differently. I survey such disagreements among Bergman’s interpreters and then shed new light on his actual philosophical sources and ideas.

Late twentieth-century discussion of the nature of communicative intention was dominated by the theories of British philosopher Herbert Paul Grice. Grice initially argued that the primary intended effect of an indicative utterance was to get the hearer to believe the proposition expressed; an essential component of this communicative intention was the intention to have this effect be achieved through the hearer's recognition of that intention. He eventually acknowledged that there were counterexamples to this analysis and subsequently proposed that the primary communicative intention must be that the hearer should at least come to believe that the utterer has some particular thought or belief. Grice also allowed that speakers need not intend to change the attitudes of some specific, actual audience; instead, this part of the communicative intention concerns what is meant to happen should there be an audience having such-and-such characteristics.

Consider Thomas Hardy's 1895 novel, Jude the Obscure. It is true in the fiction that in spite of his humble origins, Jude Fawley aspires to a life of scholarship. It is also true in the fiction that the stonecutter sends letters to five academics expressing his desire to study at Christminster University. The only answer he receives is from T. Tetuphenay, the master of Biblioll College, who curtly advises him to abandon his scholarly ambitions. It is true in the fiction that Fawley never recovers from this blow, even though Hardy's narrator does not state the point explicitly.

Meta-axiological distinctions introduced here introduced here include cognitivism and non-cognitivism on the status of evaluative discourse, as well as revisionary and non-revisionary positions. I argue that anti-realist and error-theoretical views of evaluative claims tend to be revisionary in ways that conflict with the realist orientation of much evaluative discourse, yet I contend that this does not provide a decisive reason in favor of cognitivism. While categorical aesthetic imperatives are hard to justify, some of these hypothetical imperatives have important implications in arguments over literary value. Dispositional accounts of value and 'ideal judge' conditions are also canvassed. In what follows I shall take up some central issues in meta-axiology, the branch of philosophy that engages in second-order reflection over values and evaluative discourse. My highly selective survey will be conducted with an eye to the implications of key philosophical strategies for questions pertaining to the topic of literary value. I propose no systematic theory of the latter, but do schematically indicate what I take to be some cogent basic assumptions and lines of future enquiry.

We may begin to grasp the importance of exploring the relations between literary studies and the sciences by reflecting on some of the implications of a recent scholarly publication in literary theory. The example that I have in mind is an article by Ruth Salvaggio, entitled "Shakespeare in the Wilderness; or Deconstruction ithe Classroom," which was included in an anthology called Demarcating the Disciplines. In her article Salvaggio reproduces and comments on a paper written by Andrew Scott Jennings, a second-year student in an American university who was enrolled in her survey course on British literature. The paper, she convincingly argues, ably embodies five major features of deconstructive criticism. Although she admits to having taught deconstruction ithe course, she claims that she did not encourage the members of the class to write deconstructive papers, and thus was quite surprised when she received a student essay that boldly reduced Shakespeare's sonnet 104 to the formula: "i + i + i = + 0," concluding that interpreting the poem is a "silly game." Salvaggio comments: "Iwasn't quite prepared. But I am now moving toward acceptance, maybe even welcome. And I am changing many of my assumptions". In his introduction to the volume, Samuel Weber would seem to approve of Salvaggio's willingness to let the sophomore's essay demolish her previous assumptions about the goals and meaning of literary criticism. According to Weber, his volume "assembles protocols of an alteration at work in what is perhaps the beginning of an institution turning itself inside out". It would seem that Salvaggio's account of what Weber refers to as "the confrontationf a college teacher of literature with a strange and remarkable undergraduate paper" deserves to be printed along with one of Derrida's readings of Hegel because both texts contribute to the deconstructive enterprise by exploring the relations between the reading and writing of texts and the operations of the institution.

In an essay first published in 1959, Roland Barthes declared that modern literature had become “a mask pointing to itself ”.1 Barthes described this self-reflexivity as an anxious, even tragic condition, a tortured process in which literature divides itself into the two logically distinct, yet inter-related levels of object-language and meta-language. Asking itself continually the single, self-absorbing question of its own identity, literature becomes a meta-language and thereby ceases to be an object-language capable of depicting or describing anything other than itself. “It follows”, Barthes proclaims, that “for over one hundred years our literature has played a dangerous game with its own death, or in other words, with a manner of living through its own death”. Barthes conjectures in passing that this perpetual self-questioning began with the bourgeoisie’s loss of its bonne conscience. Literature’s self-reflexive turn has resulted in a variety of fascinating writerly strategies, but has also had the global effect of precluding the emergence of a literature of action and engagement. Ceasing to ask: ‘What is to be done?’, the artist can only utter the words: ‘Who am I?’

Paisley Livingston on Stanislaw Lem and the history and philosophy of Virtual Reality. The technologies and speculations associated with “virtual reality” and cognate terms have recently made it possible for scores of journalists and academics to develop variations on a favorite theme - the newness of the new, and more specifically, the newness of that new and wildly different world-historical epoch, era, or Zeitgeist into which we are supposedly entering with the creation of powerful new machines of simulation. The innovative powers of the machines of virtual reality are so extensive, it would seem, that they are even supposed to be able to achieve the extraordinary feat of revitalizing that tired journalist genre, “gee-whiz” scientific reporting. “Gee whiz,” one can now read, “you just put on a data glove and don the head-mounted display helmet, and step right into a whole new world where the old reality - and even the tired, old-fashioned notion of reality as such - gets replaced by the non-existent reality simulated by the machine. You can fight battles and have sex with people who aren’t anywhere near you, or who never even existed. Why you can actually, I mean really, interact with an illusion!”

Intentionalism in aesthetics is, quite generally, the thesis that the artist's or artists' intentions have a decisive role in the creation of a work of art, and that knowledge of such intentions is a necessary component of at least some adequate interpretive and evaluative claims. In this paper I develop and defend this thesis. I begin with a discussion of some anti-intentionalist arguments. Surveying a range of intentionalist responses to them, I briefly introduce and criticize a fictionalist version of intentionalism before moving on to an approach I call moderate intentionalism. I consider a salient alternative known as hypothetical intentionalism and try to show why moderate intentionalism should be preferred to it

This article explores basic constraints on the nature and appreciation of cinematic adaptations. An adaptation, it is argued, is a work that has been intentionally based on a source work and that faithfully and overtly imitates many of this source's characteristic features, while diverging from it in other respects. Comparisons between an adaptation and its source are essential to the appreciation of adaptations as such. In spite of many adaptation theorists' claims to the contrary, some of the comparisons essential to the appreciation of adaptations as such pertain to various kinds of fidelity and to the ways in which similar types of artistic goals and problems are taken up in an adaptation and its source.

Samuel Coleridge once noted that very short works of art ease the cognitive burden on poet and reader alike. Limiting the number of lines in a poem, he contends, allows the work 'to acquire, as it were, a Totality' which allows the reader's mind to 'rest satisfied'. Anyone who has strained to grasp the overall pattern of some massive novel, film, or musical work can readily appreciate Coleridge's point. And yet insofar as a film or poem is a temporal work of art, the parts of which are manifested only consecutively, its Totality - be it an ever so small one - is never directly presented to us all at once, and its acquisition, as well as the satisfaction such an acquisition can provide, requires a feat of memory. A film, like a life, may have a brilliant, simple order and a deep and powerful unity, but the presentation and realization of such a totality is something that takes place in time, something that requires an experience of temporal unfolding - something that requires the work of a mind capable of thinking through and recollecting the temporal relations between the parts of the whole. So that while Marianne Olsen Ulrichsen's Come is a perfectly unified gem, a satisfying totality that presents itself to us in just four and a half minutes, we must nonetheless live through its unfolding to discover the coherence of its parts. One of this film's central themes is precisely this kind of process, namely, the constitution of personal identity and togetherness, in and through time and memory. What follows is just one story that may be told about an elusive process that no doubt takes very different forms for different viewers.