Derek Matravers

As Hume remarks, the view that aesthetic evaluations are ‘subjective’ is part of common sense—one certainly meets it often enough in conversation. As philosophers, we can distinguish the one sense of the claim (‘aesthetic evaluations are mind- dependent’) from another (‘aesthetic evaluations are relative’). A plausible reading of the former claim (‘some of the grounds of some aesthetic evaluations are response- dependent’) is true. This paper concerns the latter claim. It is not unknown, or even unexpected, to find people who believe that aesthetic evaluations are culturally relative, or even agent-relative. A cultural relativist would hold that there is no way to adjudicate an apparent disagreement between, say, a Japanese critic who finds Wright of Derby clunky and unsubtle, and a British critic who finds Utamaro’s flower pictures overly pretty and sentimental.

Empathy--our capacity to cognitively or affectively connect with other people's thoughts and feelings--is a concept whose definition and meaning varies widely within philosophy and other disciplines. Philosophical Perspectives on Empathy advances research on the nature and function of empathy by exploring and challenging different theoretical approaches to this phenomenon. The first section of the book explores empathy as a historiographical method, presenting a number of rich and interesting arguments that have influenced the debate from the Nineteenth Century to the present day. The next group of essays broadly accepts the centrality of perspective-taking in empathy. Here the authors attempt to refine and improve this particular conception of empathy by clarifying the intentionality of the perspective taker's emotion, the perspective taker's meta-cognitive capacities, and the nature of central imagining itself. Finally, the concluding section argues for the re-evaluation, or even rejection, of empathy. These essays advance alternative theories that are relevant to current debates, such as narrative engagement and competence, attunement or the sharing of mental states, and the "second-person" model of empathy. This book features a wide range of perspectives on empathy written by experts across several different areas of philosophy. It will be of interest to researchers and upper-level students working on the philosophy of emotions across ethics, philosophy of mind, philosophy of psychology, and the history of philosophy.

This clear and thorough introduction provides students with the skills necessary to understand the main thinkers, texts and arguments of political philosophy and thought. Each chapter comprises a brief overview of a major political thinker, followed by an introduction to one or more of their most influential works and an introduction to key secondary readings. Key features include: * exercises * reading notes * guides for further reading The book introduces and assesses: Machiavelli's _Prince_; Hobbes' _Leviathan_; Locke's _Second Treatise on Government_; Rousseau's _Social Contract_; Marx and Engels' _German Ideology_ ; Mill's _On Liberty and The Subjection of Women_. _Reading Political Philosophy_ requires no previous knowledge of philosophy or politics and is ideal for newcomers to political philosophy and political thought.

The recent exhibition at the Hayward must surely have prompted anyone who paid £5 to see it to ask whether some of what they were being shown was worth looking at. This is not simply the 'But is it art?' question all over again, but something more specific. do we have a reason to _see_ these things, as opposed to hearing about them, reading about them or appreciating them in some other way? One would expect the answer to be 'yes'. Art, like malt whisky, is made to be experienced. That is, one can look forward to it, talk about it, collect it, buy it or sell it but ultimately what gives its existence point is that it provides a worthwhile experience for people who try it. There would be no point in making malt whisky just to put vitriol into it and there would seem to be no point in exhibiting works of art which are not worth looking at

I am going to assume, in what follows, that when we engage with a fiction we are participating in a game of make-believe; that is, that we are engaging in an imaginative effort. In this paper I shall attempt to identify the kind of game we are playing. I begin with two words of caution. First, identifying the kind of game will be a matter of finding a game whose structure best reflects the facts about our engagement with fiction. The fit, however, will not be exact. In a game of mud pies, the fact that the cardboard box holds a maximum of six globs of mud may make it true in the game that the oven holds a maximum of six pies, but the fact that the box has "Fyffes bananas" written on the side of it will probably not make it true in the game that the oven has the same. Second the variety of works of fiction makes it unwise to assume that one kind of game will cover all cases. These two provisos might be thought to vitiate my project before it begins. In the face of an objection to my first proviso, namely, that the kind of make-believe I maintain we play with fiction does not mirror the facts of our relations with fiction, I can reply that the structure is not isomorphic in that particular respect. In reply to the claim that in some particular instance we do not play the game of make-believe that I suggest we do, I can simply agree and count it as one of the many exceptions to the rule

Richard Wollheim was born in 1923 in London. His father was Eric Wollheim who was at the time the London manager for Diaghilev. His mother had been a Gaiety girl; she left the stage when she married. Wollheim was educated at Westminster School and then, after active service in the Second World War, he went to Oxford to complete degrees in history and PPE. Despite relatively little study of the subject he was recruited by A. J. Ayer for the Philosophy Department at University College London. He remained there for thirty-three years, becoming Grote Professor in 1963. In 1983 he moved to America where he taught at various universities before returning to England shortly before his death in 2003

This paper is a response to that of Christopher New. It argues that New has no alternative to an earlier solution I proposed to the problem of specifying the content of a fiction fails, as his solution is in terms of facts external to the game of make-believe being played, while mine was internal. It argues that understanding fiction is only a special case of understanding representation, which can be given a Gricean analysis. It proposes that the inferences crucial to our understanding should be those we think reasonable of the world of the fiction

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Reviewed by:The Oxford Handbook of AestheticsDerek MatraversThe Oxford Handbook of Aesthetics, edited by Jerrold Levinson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003, 821pp., $99.00 Hardback.The aesthetics community has much for which to thank Jerrold Levinson. His papers are required reading on a number of topics in aesthetics, and he is renowned as a generous commentator and critic. The considerable labor he must have expended in editing this book is yet another reason to be grateful for his industry. As well as a useful Preface, which lays out the editor's rationale for the content, the book contains two survey articles and thenforty-six individual articles that, according to the Preface, cover "virtually all the major issues in philosophical aesthetics that are active topics of discussion and research" (p. v). I shall begin this review with a brief overview of the book. I shall then comment on the extent to which it fulfils it stated purpose, on its usefulness in teaching, and what it might show us about the current state of our discipline. Finally, I shall compare it with similar books that are currently available.The first of four parts consists of the two overview articles: the first covering debates on contemporary aesthetics, and the second an account of recent work in the history of aesthetics. The first, by Levinson himself, usefully demarcates the subject before organizing the discussion into three foci of aesthetics (art, the aesthetic property, and the aesthetic experience) and then five problems (the concept of the aesthetic, the definition of art, the ontology of art, representation in art, and expression in art). The piece is skillfully organized, and Levinson's grasp of the details of the various topics is unsurpassed. It is very much a teaser, however, as thebrevity means that only the bare outlines of the various problems get discussed. The second article, by Paul Guyer (once again, it is difficult to think of anyone more suitable to the task) does not attempt to give an overview of the history of aesthetics, but rather an overview of the recent work in the history of modern aesthetics. Although descriptive, this is informed by Guyer's view that the Anglo-American tradition has been unduly restricted in both the history it has studied and in the range of its current concerns. The article aims to be comprehensive: the bibliography takes up eight of its thirty-five pages.The second part, which is the most extensive, consists of twenty-five essays of general issues in aesthetics. It begins with two essays on aesthetic realism. The first, by Nick Zangwill, advocating the position and the second, by John Bender, opposing it. This is the only instance of such a debate: the other twenty-three essays cover all the general issues currently being discussed (at least, this reviewer could not see any obvious gaps). The third part covers aesthetic issues of specific artforms including, it is nice to see, Architecture, Sculpture, Dance, Theatre,Poetry, Photography, and Film as well as Music, Painting, and Literature. [End Page 104] The final part certainly has the most intriguing heading: "Further Directions in Aesthetics." This pushes out the boundaries, including articles that relate aesthetics to evolutionary psychology, cognitive science, the everyday, postmodernism, cultural studies, and the avant-garde.One function of a handbook (or companion) is to offer readers a one-stop place from which to learn what the main issues are in a particular area, what is the orthodox mainstream view, and what are the main points for and against. It is an intriguing matter that fifteen years ago there were few introductions to philosophical aesthetics, and ever fewer handbooks or companions such as this one. I imagine that there are many people who, like me, make use of such books (I look on my shelves and see, as well as the book I am reviewing, six introductions to aesthetics and two Companions) yet who feel that the notion of a philosophical textbook is problematic. It is difficult to be precise about this feeling of unease although, were I to do so, I would point to two issues. The first worry is that presenting a synoptic view of an area...

In 1987 Jerrold Levinson wrote, in a review of George Dickie's _The Art Circle_, that in reading it he felt 'caught in a kind of aesthetic time warp'. I had the same feeling, and indeed have the same feeling when I read papers published since on Dickie's theory. A recent criticism in this journal by Oswald Hanfling is a case in point. To be fair, Hanfling explicit states that he is discussing the 1974 version of the theory rather than Dickie's current views. However, this weakens the paper as a contribution to the current debate. Dickie no longer advocates the 1974 theory, as opposed to the 1984 version. Hanfling also directs most of his argument against the second disjunct of that definition, largely ignoring the first. furthermore, following recent work on the theory by others, Dickie's theory has become a more protean creature than Hanfling suppose. Criticism are rarely decisive; what works against one version of the theory is ineffective against another. In this paper I will argue that the theory as standardly conceived can be broken down into two logically independent parts. Once this is done, the objections current in the literature are not decisive. I will then attempt to evaluate what I take to be the improved version

About the book: Contemporary Debates in Aesthetics and the Philosophy of Art features pairs of newly commissioned essays by some of the leading theorists working in the field today. Brings together fresh debates on eleven of the most controversial issues in aesthetics and the philosophy of art Topics addressed include the nature of beauty, aesthetic experience, artistic value, and the nature of our emotional responses to art. Each question is treated by a pair of opposing essays written by eminent scholars, and especially commissioned for the volume. Lively debate format sharply defines the issues, and paves the way for further discussion. Will serve as an accessible introduction to the major topics in aesthetics, while also capturing the imagination of professional philosophers

It is hard not to sympathise with Professor Honderich's starting point. It is easy to feel pessimistic about philosophy's ability to throw light on the nature of consciousness. What, then, to do? One option is to persist with the various current approaches. It is clear that Honderich thinks this would be akin to putting more effort into trying to work out the temporal priority of the chicken and the egg. The thought of the orthodox is that an account of consciousness is going to be either fundamentally materialist or fundamentally dualist. The first of these is untenable as consciousness has other or more than neural properties. The second is untenable for various reasons, Honderich's favoured one being that it renders consciousness as out of space and of a mysterious nature. A second option would be to follow Colin McGinn's lead, and think that the problem is of such a nature that it is necessarily unsolvable (McGinn, 1989). Alternatively, we should be more radical and think creatively, not necessarily respecting our current conceptual boundaries between the mental and the physical, the inside and the outside. The solution, Honderich says, lies in the thought that `my consciousness now consists in the existence of a world' (Honderich, 2004, p. 130). I shall say a little about what I understand by this claim, by raising what I take to be three obvious questions, looking at Honderich's answers them, and inviting some further clarification. Throughout I will address only the question of perceptual consciousness.

There are several interconnected themes in Roger Scruton’s The Aesthetics of Architecture, including an account of aesthetic experience, a criticism of reductive theories of architecture, and an account of the self. Through each of these themes Scruton spins a web of argument which supports some manner of conservatism about architecture, and, even more broadly, a conservatism about culture. In this paper I want, from a broadly Scrutonian perspective, to discuss whether it would be appropriate to use architecture in the same way as some have used the visual arts this century, particularly in 1950s and 60s New York, as a vehicle for criticising certain ingrained habits of seeing. By this I mean art which deliberately frustrates prior expectations of what would be something pleasing to look at. I shall work with an example, which I take to be only a placeholder for any number of candidates, of architecture which pays no regard to symmetry and what I will broadly call ‘laws of proportion’

This paper joins recent attempts to defend a notion of aesthetic experience. It argues that phenomenological facts and facts about aesthetic value support the Kantian notion that aesthetic experience lies between, but differs from, pleasures of the agreeable and pleasures stemming from cognitions. It then shows that accounts by Beardsley, Levinson, and Savile fail to resolve clear tensions that surface in attempting to characterize such an experience. An account of aesthetic experience—as involving experienced cognitions that are the bearers of value—is presented. The paper ends on a sceptical note as to whether aesthetic experience can be clearly delimited.

This study asserts that philosophical interest in the connection between music and the emotions lies in the light it could throw on the nature of expression. Expression in turn is interesting because of the light it could throw on the nature of understanding and of value. Three different sorts of theory are considered: those that rely on experienced resemblance, those that rely on some imaginative state and those that rely on an aroused feeling. It is suggested, following Malcolm Budd, that room might be found for all these accounts

This paper considers the view, recently put forward by David Davies in Art and Performance , that works of art should be identified with the generative performances that result in the object, rather than with the object. It attempts to disarm two of Davies arguments by, first, providing a criterion by which the contextualist can accommodate all and only the relevant generative properties as properties of the work, and, second, providing an alternative explanation for his modal intuitions. Finally, it draws attention to Davies’ difficulties in providing a clear criterion for the identity of the work of art.