Jerrold Levinson

Let me begin with a quote: “The universal organum of philosophy—the ground stone of its entire architecture—is the philosophy of art.”1 This statement, made in 1800 by the German Idealist philosopher Friedrich Schelling, is rather striking, not only because of its grandiosity, but also because it contrasts with what the majority of contemporary philosophers would be prepared to say on the subject. There is nevertheless a grain of truth in the claim that there is a peculiar connection between art and philosophy and in the claim that aesthetics is a central area of philosophy. First of all, it is worth noting that, even if the philosophy of art has not played a role in the systems of all the indisputably great philosophers, or even of most of them, it has occupied an important place in the thought of quite a few, among them Plato, Aristotle, Hume, Kant, Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Hegel and Sartre. And a good number of philosophers of lesser rank—including Croce, Collingwood, Dewey, Bergson, Santayana, Gadamer and, evidently, Schelling, also had a philosophy of art; one finds them perhaps more interested in it than in, say, ethics. Why this natural, even if not inevitable, link between philosophy and art?

Art and Pornography presents a series of essays which investigate the artistic status and aesthetic dimension of pornographic pictures, films, and literature, and explores the distinction, if there is any, between pornography and erotic art. Is there any overlap between art and pornography, or are the two mutually exclusive? If they are, why is that? If they are not, how might we characterize pornographic art or artistic pornography, and how might pornographic art be distinguished, if at all, from erotic art? Can there be aesthetic experience of pornography? What are some of the psychological, social, and political consequences of the creation and appreciation of erotic art or artistic pornography? This book will contribute to a more accurate and subtle understanding of the many representations that incorporate explicit sexual imagery and themes. It is sure to stir debate, and healthy controversy.

The complex relationship between life and the arts has always Vbeen a crucial topic in philosophical discourse. The essays in this book discuss fundamental issues of modern and contemporary aesthetics, drawing upon the work of the French philosopher Jean- Pierre Cometti, a key fi gure in the studies of aesthetics, pragmatism, and Austrian philosophy. The volume covers a wide-range of topics, from the examination of fundamental principles of art and literary criticism to a new understanding of the Modernist notion of art. It proposes an anthropological aesthetics using Musil's The Man Without Qualities or the analysis of literary characters such as Tolstoj's Hadji Murat and Cervantes' Don Quixote as a tool to cast light on themes in Wittgenstein's philosophy. Editors Carla Carmona and Jerrold Levinson have brought together renowned voices in the field of philosophy to offer a window onto Cometti's philosophical work, as well as an in-depth analysis of contemporary artistic and aesthetic practices, in an effort to overcome what can sometimes appear as a gulf between art and life.

Two of the principal roles or positions in the aesthetic/artistic situation are those of artist and aesthete. The former is obviously primarily a creative role, while the latter is obviously primarily an appreciative role. And these roles, as we know, are also interdependent: aesthetes would have little, or at any rate less, to appreciate without artists, while artists would have little, or at any rate less, creative motivation without appreciators, with aesthetes as the most important vanguard therein. But what, more significantly, differentiates artist and aesthete? Do the basic impulses of the two tribes coincide, or are they rather in conflict? Is being an artist fully compatible with being an aesthete, or might there be a fundamental tension between those identities? Are the same talents, inclinations, and attitudes essential to being a successful artist those which make for a successful aesthete, or are they at some level at war with one another? These are some of the questions that are explored in this article.

In the beginning—or more exactly, the seventies, when I was in graduate school at the University of Michigan—was the void, and darkness was upon the face of the waters. Philosophical reflection on the experience, meaning, and powers of music by analytic philosophers was almost non-existent. And then, as the 1980s dawned, came Peter Kivy. Suddenly there was light, and analytic philosophy of music was born. In this piece I summarize the substance of the successive instalments in the astounding series of books on the philosophy of music that Peter published between 1980 and 2002, allowing myself some critical reflections in a few cases.

Ivan is a gifted pianist, but spends most of his time at the keyboard playing simple blues progressions over and over. Sarah is fluent in French, but avoids every opportunity to converse in that language. Greg lives in a household whose kitchen offers an assortment of tantalizing foods, yet he never eats anything except bagels and cream cheese. Melinda has many friends, with whom she would enjoy socializing, but she forgoes their company to devote all her free time to video games. Clive is a champion mountain climber, but has lately taken to never venturing out of the house. Esther has a masters degree in comparative literature, but now reads nothing but Harlequin romances. And Phil is partial to the Allegros in Bach’s Brandenburg Concerti, but only as background music for dancing, not as something to listen to with attention.

Stephen Yablo has attempted recently to revive the notion of contingent identity, identifying this with a relation of L coincidence between objects that are "distinct by nature but the same in the circumstances" (296). Yablo argues convincingly for the need of essentialist metaphysics to recognize some relation of this sort, a relation of "intimate identity-like connections between things" (296) if it is to acknowledge properly the intuitive difference between (i) the nonidentity of a bust B and a hunk of wax H of which it is composed, and (ii) the nonidentity of the hunk H and the Treaty of Versailles. (i) and (ii) are clearly not on the same level. Even though B, like the Treaty of Versailles, fails to be strictly identical to H, it is very closely, and quite specially, related to it. What this relation is is certainly worth a general inquiry

As readers of this book will discover, from several disputes with me contained in its pages, Scruton and I are not in accord on a number of matters in the philosophy of music. Notwithstanding that, and more generally the fact that the book is controlled by a phenomenological-idealist perspective on music that I regard as fundamentally misplaced, in my estimation The Aesthetics of Music is the most valuable work to date on the subject of its title, one that addresses that subject in its full range and complexity, and one that is full of insight and instruction, both musical and philosophical, at every turn. It is must reading for anyone concerned with philosophical reflection on music.

Je voudrais ici réfléchir, de façon provisoire et exploratoire, à la question de savoir en quels sens il est possible de dire que certaines émotions ne pouvaient pas exister avant que certaines œuvres d’art ou certains genres artistiques n’existent, ou qu’elles ne pourraient pas exister s’ils n’existaient pas. Mon but est donc de mieux comprendre le rôle que les arts peuvent jouer, à la fois dans la construction, dans la conception et dans la communication de certaines émotions – émotions qu’on pourrait alors considérer à juste titre comme véritablement originales et inédites.