Robert Hopkins

Does historic architecture enable a form of collective memory? Taking a lead from John Ruskin, I argue yes. Memory is representing the past to oneself. The representations one uses to do this need not be mental, and the memories for which they are the vehicles can be collective. Despite the widely held view of architecture as an abstract art, some buildings do represent, symbolising what Susanne Langer called ‘an ethnic domain’—the distinctive form of life of a society or culture. In allowing us to experience their meaning, those buildings act as vehicles of collective memory for earlier forms of life. Given this, their loss in war (or otherwise) amounts to loss of shared memory for the cultures from which they sprang. We may still have knowledge of those cultures—there are many ways to retain information about them. But we will, as Ruskin says, no longer remember them.

What kind of mental state is episodic memory? This chapter defends the claim that it is, in key part, _imagining_ the past, where the imagining in question is experiential imagining. To remember a past episode is to experientially imagine how things were, in a way controlled by one’s past experience of that episode. This view is motivated by appeal both to patterns of compatibilities and incompatibilities between various states, and to phenomenology. The bulk of the chapter defends the account against four objections. Imagining and remembering seem to differ in whether they are active or passive, in the forms of singular content they involve, in their relations to observation, and in their relations to belief. The chapter argues that these differences can be accommodated, and some even explained, once we flesh out what else is involved in episodic memory, in addition to imagining the past.

To engage with something aesthetically you must be conscious of it. But can consciousness itself be an object of aesthetic appreciation? Is consciousness aesthetically interesting? If it is, there may be room for a theory of how this can be: of what is interesting about consciousness (or some particular form of it), from an aesthetic point of view, and what our relations to it must be for us to engage with it. Such would be an ‘aesthetics of consciousness’. I argue that such a theory is already available, in the work of Susanne Langer. Langer’s account is primarily a theory of art. She tells us both what makes something art, and what differentiates its various forms: what each art form has to offer that is distinctively its own. Langer takes the defining feature of art to be that it articulates for us the nature of various conscious states, and perhaps that of consciousness itself. This is art's mission, and to appreciate art, as art, is to appreciate it as articulating forms of consciousness. But, more than this, it will emerge that on Langer’s view, to appreciate a work of art is to appreciate the conscious states it expresses. Her view thus tells us both that it is indeed possible for those states to be objects of aesthetic engagement, and how this can be. It thereby offers us at least a good part of an aesthetics of consciousness.

Questions about the nature of beauty and the relation between morality and art were among the earliest discussed by ancient philosophers. And today, a host of new issues has been prompted by recent developments in the arts and in philosophy, testifying to a great revival of interest in aesthetics and literary criticism. The nature of representation, the relation between art and truth, and the criteria for interpretation are among the most debated problems in contemporary philosophy. This reference series, centred on analytic philosophy but also covering important aspects of the continental tradition and of non-Western philosophies, is made up of a number of volumes each dealing with a particular subject area. Taken together the series offers a comprehensive survey of philosophy as a whole. The entries in each volume combine summarized information on names, terms and moverments and each essay is also supported by a selective bibliography. Alphabetically arranged, the 130 articles in this volume provide comprehensive coverage of the main topics and writers in this area of aesthetics. The _Companion_ will serve students of philosophy, literary criticism and cultural studies - as well as the general reader - both as a work of reference and, with its many substantial essays, as a guide to the best thinking about the arts in the late twentieth century.

What is sensory imagining and what role does it play in our lives? How does visualizing a castle, running through a tune in one's head, or imagining the taste of fish ice cream relate to perceiving such things, or to remembering them? What are the connections between imagining and agency, and how does it relate to emotion and other affect? The Profile of Imagining offers a theory that answers these and many other questions. It argues that sensory imagining involves the redeployment of resources central to perception, though in a radically different context and to very different effect. The result is a view that explains central features of imagining's phenomenology and functional role, including its capacity to capture what it would be like to perceive its objects, while acknowledging the many and striking differences between imagining and sensing. Hopkins shows how the view can be extended to imagining in other forms, especially the imagining of affect; and uses it to argue for some surprising conclusions: that imagining something is not a way to engage with its aesthetic character; and that imagining provokes real feeling much less often than is usually assumed. Table of contents: Introduction; Ch.1 Imagining and agency; Ch.2 To be given as a representation; Ch.3 Knowledge of sensory profiles; Ch.4 Profiles in imagination; Ch.5 Observation, overflow and attention; Ch.6 Episodic memory; Ch.7 Learning from imagining; Ch.8 Aesthetic engagement, imagining and the draw of the real; Ch.9 Reacting to imagining?; Conclusion

Many attempts to define depiction appeal to viewers' perceptual responses. Such accounts are liable to give a central role in determining depictive content to picture features responsible for the response, design. A different project is to give a compositional semantics for depictive content. Such attempts identify syntax: picture features systematically responsible for the content of the whole. Design and syntax are competitors. But syntax requires system, in how picture features contribute to content, that design does not. By examining John Kulvicki's semantics for basic depictive content, I argue that the relevant systematicity is absent from the pictorial realm.

_A COMPANION TO AESTHETICS_ This second edition of _A Companion to Aesthetics_ examines questions that were among the earliest discussed by ancient philosophers, such as the nature of beauty and the relation between morality and art, while also addressing a host of new issues prompted by recent developments in the arts and in philosophy, including coverage of non-Western art traditions and of everyday and environmental aesthetics. The volume also canvases debates regarding the nature of representation, the relation between art and truth, and the criteria for interpretation, which are among the most hotly discussed topics in contemporary philosophy. In this extensively revised and updated edition, 168 alphabetically arranged articles provide comprehensive treatment of the main topics and writers in aesthetics. Major additions include historical overviews from the prehistoric to the present and a section on the individual arts. _A Companion to Aesthetics_ will serve students of philosophy, literary criticism, and cultural studies - as well as the educated general reader - both as a work of reference and, with its many substantial essays, as a guide to the best thinking about the arts from the ancient Greeks to the dawn of the twenty-first century.

Christopher Nolan’s Memento illustrates and explores two roles that memory plays in human life. The film’s protagonist, Leonard Shelby, cannot ‘make new memories’. He copes by using a ‘system’ of polaroids, tatoos, charts and notes that substitutes for memory in its first role, the retention of information. In particular, the system is supposed to help Leonard carry out his sole goal: to find and kill his wife’s murderer. In this it proves a disastrous failure. But are we so very much better off? The film uses the failures of Leonard’s system to raise doubts about the effectiveness of our own psychological capacities for grasping the past. However, memory does more than allow us to retain information. As Richard Wollheim showed, it also enables the past to control our present, by perpetuating, while modifying, its affective hold over us. This is something wholly denied Leonard. By implicitly contrasting his position with ours in this respect, the film also explores this second role that memory plays in our lives

Representational pictures and sculptures both present their objects visually: to grasp what they represent is in some sense to see, not only the representation before one, but the object represented. But is the form of visual presentation the same? Or does a deep difference lie at the heart of our experience of these representations, a difference in how each presents us with its object? Almost all philosophical discussion of pictures and 3D representations has assumed or implied a negative answer to this question. The notable exception is M.G.F.Martin’s account of pictures in terms of an ‘image’, a pure visibile that presents the represented object and its features without exemplifying them. In order to interpret Martin’s view so as to bring out its plausibility, I relate it to the somewhat similar position advocated by Lambert Wiesing’s account of pictures and our experience of them. That done, I ask whether a position drawing on both these positions can justify drawing a fundamental distinction between the ways in which pictures and sculptures present what they represent.

We engage with all representational pictures by seeing things in them. Seeing-in is a distinctive form of visual experience, one in which we are aware of both the marks, projected lights, or whatever that make up the picture (its Design) and what the picture represents (Scene). Some seeing-in is inflected: what we then see in the picture is a scene the properties of which make essential reference to Design. Since cinema involves moving pictures, it too supports seeing-in. But can that seeing-in be inflected? Film is a relatively transparent pictorial medium: properties of the representation other than its content have a relatively low profile in our experience of it. This prevents film from exhibiting the sorts of inflection common in other pictorial media. However, film is certainly not completely transparent. Among the Design properties of which we are aware are temporal properties of the film. Is our experience of cinema inflected by these properties? And, if so, is this one source of the feature some take to constitute cinema’s distinctiveness as an artform, the special relation in which it stands to time? I argue that the answer to both these questions is Yes.

What is artistic style? In the literature one answer to this question has proved influential: the view that artistic style is the expression of personality. In what follows we elaborate upon and evaluatively compare the two most plausible versions of this view with a new proposal—that style is the expression of the artist’s ideals for her art. We proceed by comparing the views’ answers to certain questions we think a theory of individual artistic style should address: Are there limits on what range of features can figure in a style? Can flaws be stylistic? Are there limits on the range of art forms across which a given style can be exhibited? To what extent is a style a kind of unity, and why? What makes style an artistic achievement? Why do we care about style? By considering the different views' answers to these questions we argue that our proposal is a workable theory of individual style and suggest that it fares better on the whole than both versions of the influential and widely accepted view.

What are the legitimate sources of aesthetic belief? Which methods for forming aesthetic belief are acceptable? Although the question is rarely framed explicitly, it is a familiar idea that there is something distinctive about aesthetic matters in this respect. Crudely, the thought is that the legitimate routes to belief are rather more limited in the aesthetic case than elsewhere. If so, this might tell us something about the sorts of facts that aesthetic beliefs describe, about the nature of our aesthetic judgements, or about the responses that ground them. Getting the epistemology right here may help with the metaphysics, the semantics or the philosophical psychology. Investigating the legitimate sources of aesthetic belief may thus teach us something important about the aesthetic realm.

Is it legitimate to acquire one’s moral beliefs on the testimony of others? The pessimist about moral testimony says not. But what is the source of the difficulty? Here pessimists have a choice. On the Unavailability view, moral testimony never makes knowledge available to the recipient. On Unusability accounts, although moral testimony can make knowledge available, some further norm renders it illegitimate to make use of the knowledge thus offered. I suggest that Unusability accounts provide the strongest form of pessimist view. I consider and reject five Unavailability accounts. I then argue that any such view will fail. But what is the norm rendering moral testimonial knowledge unusable? I suggest it lies in the requirement that we grasp for ourselves the moral reasons behind a moral view. This demand is one testimony cannot meet, and that claim holds whatever account we offer of the epistemology of testimony. However, while appeal to this requirement forms the most plausible pessimist view, it is another question whether pessimism is correct.