Kitsch and Art 9780271074184

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Kitsch and Art

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Tomas Kulka

and Art The Pennsylvania State University Press University Park, Pennsylvania

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Kulka, TomPS. Kitsch and art / Tomas Kulka. P cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-271-01556-X (cloth) ISBN 0-271-01594-2 (paper) 1. Kitsch. 2. Arts, Modern-20th century. I. Title. NX456.5.KS4K86 1996 700-dc20 95-20626 CIP Copyright O 1996 The Pennsylvania State University All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America Published by The Pennsylvania State University Press, University Park, PA 16802-1003 It is the policy of The Pennsylvania State University Press to use acid-free paper for the first printing of all clothbound books. Publications on uncoated stock satisfy the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information SciencesPermanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI 239.48-1992.

Contents

List of Illustrations

vii

Preface

ix

Introduction

1. What Is Kitsch? 2. Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

3. Varieties of Kitsch Appendix: On the Alleged Impossibility of Defining Aesthetic Concepts Select Bibliography Index

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List of Illustrations

Fig. 1. Pablo Picasso, Woman in a Chair Fig. 2. Edouard Manet, The Bar at the Folies-Bergere Fig. 3 . Lady Playing the Violin Fig. 4 . Pablo Picasso, Les Demoiselles d'Avignon Fig. 5 . John William Waterhouse, The Lady o f Shalott Fig. 6 . Alexandre Cabanel, The Birth of Venus Fig. 7 . Jorn Utzon, the opera house in Sydney Fig. 8. Angeles Abbey in Los Angeles Fig. 9. Me1 Ramos, Val Veeta

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Preface

As the title suggests, this book involves two distinct fields of inquiry. One, which is quite specific, pertains to the peculiar nature of kitsch. The other pertains to art appreciation in general. Shouldn't these two topics be dealt with independently? In view of the contention (endorsed in this essay) that kitsch is discontinuous with art, shouldn't one keep kitsch and art appreciation as far apart as possible? That the two areas of inquiry could be treated independently is obvious enough. Theses about the nature of kitsch have been advanced without consideration of the nature of art appreciation, and vice versa. The first reason for the link is essentially autobiographical. I have not been able to explain to myself the aesthetic deficiencies of kitsch without entering into broader issues pertaining to aesthetic evaluation and art appreciation in general. Questions such as why kitsch is bad have led to more general questions such as, What do we value in real works of art? How can we justify aesthetic value judgments? For some questions I have not found satisfactory answers in current theories of art. 1 thus found it necessary to make some amendments to the prevailing conceptions of aesthetic value judgments and art appreciation in general. These amendments, revisions, and elaborations naturally do not amount to a comprehensive theory of art evaluation, and kitsch remains the central focal point of this inquiry. However, some of the conclusions clearly transcend the bounds of this specific topic. The second reason for dealing with kitsch and art appreciation together is the conviction that analyzing artistic failures and borderline cases of art may help us to see more clearly what it is that we ought to look for in respectable works of art. Since kitsch could be, in a certain sense, seen as

an antithesis of art, an analysis of its characteristic features may indirectly shed some light on the nature of art itself. Chapter 1 proposes criteria for the identification of kitsch. From the discussion of kitsch in relation to visual art, three conditions that govern the application of the concept emerge. Each of these three conditions, I argue, should be regarded as necessary and jointly as sufficient. What thus emerges in this chapter amounts to a classificatory definition of kitsch. Chapter 2 deals mainly with the deceptive nature of kitsch. Its central questions are: What does the aesthetic and artistic worthlessness of kitsch consists of? Is kitsch continuous with art or does it form a sui generis category antithetical to art? I demonstrate that the appeal of kitsch is totally parasitic on the emotional charge of its subject matter, and has little to do with the specific features of its rendering. The conclusion is that kitsch differs radically not only from good art but also from bad and mediocre works of art, and that the appeal of kitsch cannot be regarded as aesthetic appeal. The discussion in the first two chapters is restricted to kitsch in relation to the visual arts. Chapter 3 deals with manifestations of kitsch in other artistic genres. It is not the aim of this book to be exhaustive or definitive in any sense. The sections on literature, music, and architecture are at best only sketchy. Comprehensive treatment of these subjects certainly requires further analysis by experts trained in literary criticism, musicology, and theory of architecture. What this book aims for is to draw attention to a phenomenon that is central to our culture, yet has been hitherto neglected. This neglected category requires further study. The idea of writing a book on kitsch and art appreciation came from Avishai Margalit, to whom I am indebted for many stimulating discussions and for his encouragement at various stages of the work. I also thank Nelson Goodman for encouragement and comments on an early version of Chapter 1. I have also benefited from discussions with Meirav Aviad, Gilad Barelli, Yael Cohen Ben-Porat, Menachem Brinker, Jonathan Broido, Yair Gutman, Ruth Hacohen, Yifat Maoz, Eli Weisstub, and Eddy M. Zemach. I am also considerably indebted to Anat Weissman for her constructive criticism and suggestions. I especially thank Bosmat Alon, Doron Avital, and Amos Noi for reading the manuscript and for their valuable suggestions for improvements.

Introduction

This book is not written from a currently fashionable perspective. It is neither deconstructive nor postmodernist in any way, and its assumptions will probably be considered conservative in the present climate of opinion. One of its objectives is to define kitsch, to explain why kitsch is deficient, and how kitsch differs not only from good art but also from bad or mediocre works. This by itself is likely to meet with two objections: that the task is (1)superfluous or (2) misguided. Some would argue that we all know what kitsch is (since we use the concept and communicate quite successfully with it). To establish that kitsch is bad, they would say, is to establish a truism, since it is clear that the term carries negative connotations. They might also point out that since the term is normally used to denote works that contrast with good art, it matters little whether it is considered an extension of bad art or something that just pretends to be art. Others might point out that whether one calls something kitsch is ultimately a matter of taste, and as we know, tastes may and do differ. Kitsch, they would say, is in the eyes of the beholder. The objection can also be construed in broader terms: that kitsch should be defined by its sociohistorical or anthropological context rather than by some "intrinsic" structural properties. Kitsch is a relative concept, and understanding the phenomenon requires a psychological, sociological, historical, or anthropological analysis rather than an aesthetic one. The first objection appeals to common sense and to the ordinary connotations the term kitsch has in our culture. The second appeals to the fact that in different cultures, historical periods, or social milieus different things

2

Introduction

are valued differently and that there is no way to settle questions of values definitively. The first objection takes too much for granted. Is it really true that we all know what kitsch is? When you press people on this point you catch them either without an answer or with an unsatisfactory one.' The same applies to the aesthetic worthlessness of kitsch, which is generally assumed but seldom explained. People dismiss kitsch without bothering, or being able, to specify what its aesthetic deficiencies are. As to the question of whether kitsch is continuous with bad art or whether it should be seen as an antithesis to art, the answer may indeed be of little practical importance. It is, however, as I will show, theoretically important since it enables us (among other things) to explain the deceptive nature of kitsch. The first objection doesn't really challenge the basic assumptions of this book; indeed, its full answer is the book itself. The second objection, however, is not resolved so easily. A committed relativist is not likely to be persuaded by arguments based on assumptions he or she does not share. Because the book does not try to establish these assumptions, let me briefly spell them out here and explain their motivation. This essay (1)takes kitsch to be an aesthetic category, and assumes that (2) kitsch is artistically deficient. It also assumes that (3) it makes sense to talk about values in art (that some works are better than others). It follows from (1) that one should look for structural features that characterize kitsch, while (2) suggests that kitsch's aesthetic deficiencies are to be explained rather than explained away. The third assumption implies that one of the legitimate candidates for explaining why some works are preferred to others is that they are aesthetically or artistically superior. Commonsensical as these assumptions may be,2 each of them has been (explicitly or implicitly) rejected by different kinds of relativism. Let me state from the outset that I do not have any conclusive argument to refute relativism. Some of relativism's versions have been elaborated with such sophistication that even a partial criticism would require a book of its own. The following remarks should thus be understood as an explanation of 1. You are likely to get metaphors, such as that kitsch is too sweet, which you don't know how to interpret; or generalizations, such as that kitsch is pretentious, which turn out to be wrong (there are many pretentious works that are not kitsch, and many kitsch works have no pretensions). 2. They are, I believe, reflected in everyday linguistic usage: When one calls something "kitsch" we normally understand this to be an aesthetic judgment, and we understand this judgment to be negative. We also normally understand discussions about works of art as both assuming and implying that some works are better than others.

Introduction what motivates the perspective from which this book is written rather than as what ultimately justifies it. I begin with the subjectivist version of relativism, which interprets aesthetic judgments as expressions of personal preferences. According to this view kitsch (like beauty, or ugliness) is in the eyes of the beholder and cannot be defined. One person's kitsch is another person's art. What is or is not kitsch is determined by individual likes and dislikes. My reason for not adopting this stance is the conviction that the very existence of the concept of kitsch argues against it. Kitsch is both a normative and a classificatory concept, and as such presupposes a certain constancy of use. The fact that there is a need for this term speaks against such a subjective interpretation. Moreover, if " x is kitsch" means merely "I dislike x," then statements like "I like kitsch," which are perfectly intelligible, would have to be regarded as self-contradictory. Another reason I do not adopt such a subjective stance is that people who use the term kitsch usually agree about its paradigmatic examples. Kitsch thus cannot be in the eyes of the beholder; it can only be in the eyes of beholders. This still leaves plenty of room for wider relativist conceptions. Kitsch could be regarded as a sociological, historical, or anthropological category rather than as an aesthetic one. Instead of assuming that kitsch is aesthetically deficient, one could simply point out that different social groups have different preferences, that in different historical periods, or in different cultures, different kinds of objects were valued or disvalued. Let me first point out that analyzing kitsch from the aesthetic point of view does not assume that this is the only legitimate perspective. Like many other complex cultural phenomena, kitsch has its social, historical, and anthropoldgical aspects. Studies that take kitsch to be a social, historical, or anthropological category can be valuable not only in their own right but also because they may widen our sensibilities and question some of our narrow-minded assumptions. I believe that, apart from the anthropological, historical, and sociological aspects, there is also the aesthetic aspect of kitsch. In the comprehensive evaluation of this phenomenon all these aspects should be seen as complementary. One of the reasons for adopting the aesthetic perspective on kitsch is that it is the one that seems currently unavailable. While its sociohistorical aspects have attracted sustained attent i ~ n its , ~aesthetic aspects have not yet received a comprehensive treatment. 3. See, for example, Gillo Universe Books, 1969).

Dorfles, ed., Kitsch: The World of Bad Taste

(New York:

Introduction

The relativist objection inspired by the sociohistorical approach is, however, more radical. The relativist claims that, since kitsch (like art) is a culture- and context-dependent concept, it cannot be defined by any "inherent" structural properties: and that its alleged aesthetic worthlessness reduces to (ethnocentric, historical, or elitist) prejudice. The relativist further maintains that values (especially aesthetic values) are relative, unjustifiable, and ultimately reducible to sociohistorical preferences. Unlike subjective relativism, which is bound to run into difficulties in accounting for our basic cultural concepts, practices, and institutions, sociohistorical relativism appears to account for them quite successfully. It is a powerful doctrine that draws support from no less powerful, wellknown, and thoroughly worked-out theories such as Arthur Danto's theory of art5 or George Dickie's institutional t h e o ~ y .In~ a wider sense it also gains support from Thomas Kuhn's sociopsychological account of scientific rationality,' Paul Feyerabend's defense of "epistemological anarchi~m,"~ and Michel Foucault's sociohistorical critique of ideologies and social institution^.^ It is also indirectly, but no less significantly, supported by recent developments in the visual arts. In view of the dramatic changes that have taken place in the visual arts in the last fifty years, it seems very risky to claim that kitsch (or art, for that matter) can be characterized by some set of structural properties; that one can show what its aesthetic deficiencies are, and what sets it apart from respectable art. This characterization is especially difficult today, when flouting all categories has become part of the in-game not only in the philosophy of art but also in art and its institutions themselves. Beginning with Dadaism, much of twentieth-century art has been questioning its own boundaries. Duchamp's Fountain has already shown that even a common urinal can become a treasured work of art. How can one hope to characterize art by some inherent features when the same object can be both art and 4. A partial answer t o this objection is also given in Chapter 1. 5 . The Transfiguration of the Commonplace (Cambridge: Haward University Press, 1981). 6. Art and Aesthetics: An Institutional Analysis (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1974); The Art Circle: A Theory of Art (New York: Haven Publications, 1984). 7. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1970). 8. Against Method: Outline of the Anarchistic Theory o f Knowledge (London: Verso, 1978). 9. The Archeology of Knowledge (New York: Harper and Row, 1976); The Birth o f the Clinic (London:Tavistock, 1976).

Introduction

5

non-art, depending on where it is encountered? Given this state of affairs, it is not surprising that some philosophers of art have opted for a contextual or institutional theory that rejects the idea that what groups together works of art are sets of intrinsic similarities among them. The idea that its location and social implications determines what art is, seems, under the circumstances, a reasonable move to take. To say that art is what we find in the museum is also a very safe move. (How can one challenge it? Only a fool or an unemployed critic would dare say "This is not art.") For a theoretician of art it may also be quite a liberating move. Instead of having to struggle with difficult questions, such as what inherent features vastly disparate objects have in common, and what inherent qualities distinguish art from non-art, one could just describe the conditions that give certain individuals within certain institutions the power to declare which objects will henceforth enjoy the status of art. The details of the institutional story can be quite complex, but the basic idea is simple. Art is what has been (by the agents of the artworld) baptized as art. Sociological theory has no problem accounting for culturally entrenched concepts, practices, or institutions. Its answers are often quite elegant in their simplicity. Good artists are those who show in good galleries; high culture is what is attended by privileged groups; mass culture is what is consumed by the masses. What is considered aesthetically valuable can be explained by its being consumed by the right kind of social elite. At the same time, the sociological relativist doesn't risk the charge of elitism, cultural imperialism, or ethnocentrism; he doesn't have to (and usually does not) justify these social preferences. The category of kitsch is accounted for with equal ease. Kitsch is the cheap stuff you find in suburban stores and supermarkets, not the expensive stuff that hangs on the walls of the museum. Kitsch arises when lots of people have enough money to buy such merchandise. Kitsch, in this view, is also a quite natural category. It is as inevitable as plastic flowers or fastfood restaurants; this is what you get in a mass culture. Another advantage of this conception is that kitsch has become a thoroughly open concept. Tomorrow's kitsch may differ from today's just as today's is probably different from yesterday's. As to the negative connotations the term bears at present, they can be explained by analogy to phenomena that do not conform to the currently accepted social norm. Kissing in public was once regarded as improper. So was smoking for women or being divorced. Not any more. Today, the hotly

Introduction debated issue is homosexuality. Why shouldn't kitsch be regarded as something that simply doesn't fit the present social norm rather than something that is intrinsically (aesthetically) deficient? The gist of the sociohistorical argument is that what characterizes kitsch is a certain sociohistorical process that determines what is called kitsch at a certain point of history, rather than any kind of immanent structure. Different objects are grouped together not because of their inherent similarities but because they fulfill a certain social function in a given society. I believe that even if one is convinced that the sociohistorical aspects are central to the study of kitsch, one cannot consider kitsch as a purely sociohistorical category. Even if what is considered kitsch is determined by social preferences, the class of objects that constitute its extension is also bound to have (and indeed does have as I shall show) certain common properties. Although the extension of the sociohistorical category may change (different objects count as kitsch in different contexts), their classes still may exhibit common characteristics. Moreover, some such structural identifying features are to some extent presupposed by any sociohistorical analysis. Any sociohistorical study has to assume some stable categories, even if its very raison d'iitre is to show how they change. If we do not assume some structural or formal properties by which kitsch can be identified synchronically, it would be impossible to show that the extension of the concept changes diachronically. Even much broader concepts, such as high culture and low culture, which could be considered sociohistorical categories par excellence, cannot be exhaustively analyzed in purely sociological terms. Apart from being appreciated by different social strata, high and low cultures have to have certain inherent characteristic features: unless we want to adopt the view that preferences are entirely arbitrary, we need some characterization of the classes of the preferred objects in order to make these preferences intelligible.lo The description of the identifying structural features thus provides the basic data for sociohistorical explanations. Kitsch certainly is the cheap paintings we find in suburban stores, and art is the expensive stuff that hangs on the wall of the museum. But neither is solely that. This is not the whole story of kitsch or art. Would Velizquez's Las Meninas, or Picasso's variations on this theme, instantly become kitsch 10. If there were no inherent similarities between works that constitute popular culture and high culture at present, we wouldn't understand what the actual preferences of different social groups consist of.

Introduction if they were exhibited in a supermarket?" And would kitsch cease to be so if it were smuggled into the museum? It seems that there are reasons why cheap paintings are cheap and expensive ones expensive, or that some works are in the museum and others not. These reasons, I believe, may have to do with the artistic quality of the objects in question. Even if one accepts the institutional theory that insists on a sharp separation between the questions "What is art?" and "What is good art?" the first question remains a normative one. The museum curator who is supposed to perform the baptizing function still has to choose between different candidates, and he finds some more suitable than others. Even in the most controversial cases he reasons for his preferences, and his conferral of the status of art is not arbitrary. As some philosophers have pointed out, the institutional theory is not altogether institutional.12 Even if the idea of any necessary connection between aesthetic value and art is rejected, just as the concept of art has ceased to be tied to the concept of beauty, we have to be able to talk about good art and bad art in order to talk about art at all. Naturally, the conceptions of good and bad art also depend on history13 and various extra-artistic purposes, and aesthetic preferences cannot be conclusively justified. Nonetheless, what underlies such preferences is the normative idea of artistic rightness. Despite the fact that some contemporary artists show contempt for canonical art and its institutions and take pride in saying that they don't know anything about art, that what they do is not art, and that they couldn't care less whether it is called that, they must keep up the tradition of artistic discourse in order to become part of this institution and secure the benefits that flow from the status of being an artist. The normative connotations have not been exorcised from the concept of art, which is still understood as an "achievement concept." Although the art scene has changed considerably during the last fifty years, we still keep the concept of art, the meaning of which is also affected by earlier periods. Art still covers Etruscan sculptures, Michelangelo's murals, Rembrandt's self-portraits, Van Gogh's landscapes, and Modigliani's nudes. This is something that even the most radical anti-art trends cannot undo. The relativist objection against the intrinsic characterization of kitsch (or 11. The prospect that I could afford to buy such paintings is just too good to be true. 12. For example, Richard Wollheim, "The Institutional Theory of Art," In his Art and Its Object, 2d ed. (Cambridge:Cambridge University Press, 1980). 13. During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries El Greco wa5 considered a secondrate artist.

8

Introduction

art) need not be, however, confined to the cheap-stuff-in-suburban-stores argument. It may also use the exactly opposite claim to challenge the assumption that kitsch is aesthetically deficient and that it differs from art; namely, that kitsch already is in the museum. One could point to Pop Art, which is often seen as doing away with the distinction between high art and popular culture, or to the paintings of Julian Schnabel, which some people may find kitschy. If kitsch has indeed made it into the museum, the objection indicates a real problem. The question is whether the problem pertains t o kitsch or to the contemporary art scene. The objection suggests not only that kitsch need not be bad but also that it might be In (and hence good). But this is not the only possible conclusion. If kitsch really were in the museum one could just as well say: So much the worse for the museum. Andy Warhol once said that in the future everybody will be famous for fifteen minutes. This was a profound and prophetic observation at the time. Today, however, an increasing number of people have the feeling that this future has been with us for too long, that everybody has already had his fifteen minutes. The boundaries of art have lately become so fluid that nobody can be sure any more what is and isn't art.14 Almost anything could be placed into the museum today.Is N o wonder some people are already announcing the end of art.16 Such prophecies might, however, be premature. History might well prove them to have no more validity than the prophecies that were not so long ago announcing the end of history itself." Nevertheless, what such judgments may indicate is that art (at least visual art) is going through a period of crisis. For what Warhol's statement actually boils down to is that art has entered the era of gestures and gimmicks. But if this is so, it would be unwise to derive normative conclusions on the basis of 14. Phyllis Steen reports that "the owner of [a famous Manhattan] gallery, fearful that his overly zealous staff would mistakenly exhibit the artist's typewriter in the gallery, attached the following label to it: 'This is not an artwork.' Too bad. It was totally self-defeating. Off it went. He might as well have said 'I'm not now speaking in English.' " Editorial, Journal of Aesthetic and Art Criticism 39, no. 4 (Summer 1981): 365. 15. In the editorial quoted in note 14, Phyllis Steen describes the following artwork: "One of the best-known galleries displayed a work titled I'm Proud of M y Dad. The work consists of the father of the artist sitting in a rocking chair beneath a sign bearing the title of the work. It rocks and it talks. You can ask it questions. It may be the first time in the history of art where the artwork created the artist." Ibid., 363. 16. See, for example, Berel Lang, ed., The Death of Art (New York: Haven Publications, 1984). 17. 1 believe that art will survive as aesthetic needs are real human needs.

Introduction what goes on today under the name of "serious art."18 Thus, even if kitsch really were in the museum, the conclusion need not be that some kitsch is good. It might just as well be that some "pieces" that have gotten into the museum are bad. But is it really true that kitsch has already conquered the museum? Surely some paintings we encounter there may remind us of kitsch, yet I think that kitsch as such hasn't really made it (at least not yet). Since the function of the museum today is not only to store canonical art but also to question the basic assumptions of art and to inquire as to its limits, it is natural that for this purpose some artists will also make use of kitsch. But when "kitsch" enters the museum it doesn't enter as kitsch. Kitsch images are usually used as self-conscious subversions, as part of irony, parody, anti-art, or some other artistic ideology. As I shall show (in the section on Pop Art), making use of kitsch is not the same as making kitsch. (In any case, this book is not so much concerned with possible exploitations of kitsch elements for artistic purposes; that is, with how kitsch may work in the artworld. It is rather concerned with kitsch in its natural surroundings; that is, with how kitsch works in the kitschworld.) Still, since we cannot ~ r e d i c twhat the art of the future will be, let us suppose that real kitsch (kitsch as such) conquers the museum. Let us also suppose that canonical art is pushed out, and assume further that the relevant social groups adjust their attitudes accordingly. The art-educated elite impatiently awaits the grand openings of exhibitions of garden gnomes, fluffy little kittens, and children in tears, while those who once consumed kitsch now decorate their walls with Giottos, Titians, Monets, Kokoschkas, and similar rubbish. Would such a revolution vindicate the claim that kitsch is a sociohistorical category that cannot be characterized with reference to any intrinsic features? I don't think so. Again, we would have to assume some such features just to be able to say that there was a revolution. Even if, starting from tomorrow, society would demonstrate the same attitude to a radically different class of works that it previously displayed toward kitsch, we would have to refer to internal features in order to describe this change. This is the reason I believe the explanation of the inherent properties to b e the underlying story of kitsch. To put it differently, kitsch may not be a natural kind of the same sort as fish or hippopotami, but I believe that it is a sort of cultural-natural kind. 18. After all, what is fifty years in the long history of art beginning in Altamira, ancient Egypt, classical Greece (or whenever you choose)?

Introduction From a more general point of view, the stance adopted here with respect to aesthetic value is analogous to the one Hilary Putnam has argued for with respect to values in general.19 Putnam has pointed out that even if we recognize that no justification is ever complete, this recognition neither implies that'we can dispense with values nor that they are reducible to preferences. Even if the valuelfact distinction is not in any way metaphysically given, it is presupposed by the rules of rational discourse. Putnam has undermined the claim that values are "ontologically queer," or that there are no matters of fact that can settle disputes over values, by showing that what we take to be facts depends itself on values and vice versa. But haven't anthropologists, sociologists, and historians of culture shown that all standards and values are relative? Not quite--or rather, it depends on what you mean by "relative." Let me adapt now Putnam's argument against cultural relativism to the domain of aesthetic. Aesthetic relativists usually cite examples of aesthetic judgments that differ radically from ours, and then proceed to show that they are justifiable by their advocates' own standards (which differ from ours). They show (to the extent that their examples are convincing) that what is considered aesthetically wrong by our own standards may be aesthetically appropriate by some other standards. So far so good. The problem is that they frequently draw the wrong conclusions from such examples. The case in point is the conclusion that "it's all relative," meaning that there is no fact to determine with finality what is aesthetically right and wrong at all. One can often sympathize with their motivation: to convince us to stop denigrating other cultures by undermining our belief in the superiority of our own. Unfortunately the argument is confused. Such examples show that what is good and bad aesthetically (ethically, or epistemically) is relative to certain standards, not that there is no aesthetic (ethic, epistemic) good or bad at all. The relativist's argument against aesthetic elitism or cultural imperialism amounts to this: Different (aesthetic) judgments are not objectively worse than ours (because there is no such thing as objectively better or worse, in the relativist's view); therefore they are just as good as ours; therefore it is wrong to look down on them. The argument equivocates. The conclusion requires that "just as good" means objectively just as good (at least by our lights). However, what 19. Reason, Truth and History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981). In analogy to Putnam's perspective, which is called internal realism, the stance adopted here could be seen as aesthetic internalism.

Introduction follows from the nonexistence of objective values cannot be that everything is (in the required sense) "just as good" as anything else, but rather that there is no such thing as "just as good." If values really were arbitrary, then why shouldn't we denigrate (or destroy) whatever judgments (or cultures) we please? Fortunately, there are better grounds for criticizing elitism or cultural imperialism than the denial of objective values. The relativist's motive may be a good one, but he has chosen the wrong argument. Another term on which he equivocates is the notion of being "relative." What his examples actually confirm is John Dewey's "objective relativism." Certain things are right--objectively right-by certain standards and wrong--objectively wrong-by others, and the culture and the environment constitute the relevant standards. But this is not the same thing as values being "relative" in the sense of being mere matters of opinion or taste.20 To assume that the values of our culture, or of its elite, are superior to others may indeed betray a kind of dogmatism. But to maintain that anything is just as good (or bad) as anything else is certainly no less dogmatic, and more obviously wrong.21 Moreover, without the assumption that some works are better than others it would be difficult to give an account of what we take to be art, its institutions, its history, or culture in general. This assumption defies even those theories that try to repudiate it or do without it. Value judgments are presupposed by the very concept of competence, which is in turn presupposed by any comprehensive description of social practices (not only of artistic ones). Without some notion of competence we would not be able to make sense of elementary cultural 20. For Pumam's original argument (which I have lifted, in parts, almost verbatim) see Reason, Truth, and History, 161-2. His argument against more modern versions of "relativism" (Foucault) goes on as follows: [Tlhe temptation is to fall into the trap of concluding that all rational argument is mere rationalization and then proceeding to argue rationally for this position. If all "rational argument" were mere rationalization, then not only would it make no sense to try to argue rationally for any view, but it would make no sense to hold any view. If I view my own assent and dissent as crazy behavior, then I should stop assenting and dissenting-something to which there can be no rational assent or dissent, only crazy parody of rational discussion, cannot be called a statement. . .The modern relativist, were he consistent, . . should end by regarding his own utterances as mere expression of feeling. (162-63)

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21. For it is also self-defeating. I discuss this (in connection with Feyerabend's epistemological relativism) in "How Far Does Anything Go?" Philosophy of the Social Sciences 7, no. 3 (September 1977): 277-87.

Introduction

concepts; indeed, not even of the most basic practices that underlie any (more or less) functioning society. Let me finally consider another objection I have encountered on several occasions: On what authority can I claim that works that are well liked by so many people are aesthetically bad or artistically worthless? Isn't this a blatant example of ethnocentrism, elitism, or arrogance? The answer is that the objection is misdirected. It is the concept of kitsch itself, rather than the proposed analysis of it, that carries derogatory (or, if you like, arrogant or elitist) connotations. The term has its established use; it denotes objects that have a widely popular appeal, yet despite this are considered bad by the art-educated elite. Anyone using this concept normally implies a negative aesthetic judgment about works enjoyed by a great number of people. In this sense kitsch simply is an elitist concept and, unless its meaning changes, it will remain one. The issues I am dealing with are the nature of the objects this term denotes and what explanations one can offer to account for its negative connotations. In other words, this book analyzes the meaning of the concept of kitsch together with the connotations it has at present.

What Is Kitsch? Romanticism is outmoded, symbolism disused, surrealism has always appealed to a small elite but kitsch is everywhere. Even more pervasive and indestructible now that it is fused to a civilization based on excess consumption. -Jacques Sternberg

One of the questions often raised in connection with kitsch is whether it is a distinctly modern phenomena, or whether it has accompanied art throughout its history. Is kitsch historically dated, having made its appearance some hundred and fifty years ago, or is it as old as art itself? Most of the authors who have dealt with this issue believe that kitsch is indeed a relatively recent arrival in Western culture. Although the reasons they cite in support of this claim vary, two distinct lines of argument can be discerned. The authors who focus on the sociological and sociocultural aspects of the phenomenon emphasize that the proper conditions for both the consumption and the production of kitsch did not exist prior to the modern era.' They invoke factors like the emergence of the middle class, 1. This view was presented most forcefully by Clement Greenberg in his influential essay "Avant-Garde and Kitsch," first published in the Partisan Review 4, no. 5 (Fall 1939), and reprinted in his Art and Culture (Boston: Beacon, 1961), 3-21. His views are echoed by John Morreall and Jessica Loy, "Kitsch and Aesthetic Education," Journal of Aesthetic Education

Kitsch and Art urbanization and the influx of peasant populations to the towns, the decline of aristocracy, the disintegration of folk art and folk culture, increased literacy among the proletariat, more time for leisure, mass production, and technological progress, as preconditions for kitsch. Thus, for example, Clement Greenberg, who sees the emergence of kitsch as more or less simultaneous with that of modernism, claims that "[klitsch is a product of the industrial revolution" (Art and Culture 9 ) . Authors who are more concerned with its art-historical, stylistic, and aesthetic aspects consider kitsch to be an offspring of the Romantic movement.2 Hermann Broch, for example, maintains that "every form of kitsch . . . owes its existence to the specific structure of Romanticism." He claims that Romanticism, "without being kitsch itself, is the mother of kitsch and that there are moments when the child becomes so like its mother that one cannot differentiate between them."3 The two perspectives support each other, since they claim roughly the same starting point for the appearance of kitsch. This stance seems to be further strengthened by the fact that the term kitsch has nowhere been recorded before the second half of the nineteenth century. Yet there are dissenters. Arthur Koestler, for example, maintains that when Petronius in his Supper of Trimalchio describes the bad taste of the newly established class of the merchants, he is clearly referring to k i t ~ c h . ~ A similar claim is made by Susan Sontag about Cervantes, who makes fun of seventeenth-century chivalric romances.' Others maintain that the small Hellenistic painted statues that were produced in large quantities mainly for export, as well as many of the objects in Pompeii, can be seen as examples of kitsch from the distant past. It is clear that only historians of art can resolve this issue. Nevertheless, I 23, no. 4 (winter 1989): 65-73. See also Matei Calinescu, Faces of Modernity: Avant-Garde, Decadence, Kitsch (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1977). 2. See, for example, Gillo Dorfles, ed., Kitsch: The World of Bad Taste (New York: Universe Books, 1969), especially the essay "Notes on the Problem of Kitsch" by Hermann Broch (49-76). . was 3. "Notes on the Problem of Kitsch," 62. Broch argues that "Romanticism uncapable of producing average values. Every slip from the level of genius was immediately transformed into a disastrous fall from the cosmic heights to kitsch" (52). 4. "The earliest examples of this phenomena," says Koestler, "are the truly Victorian horrors described by Petronius in the Supper of Trimalchio, and the latest, the developments in the Soviet applied arts"; see his Insight and Outlook (New York: Macmillan, 1949), 397. 5. "Don Quixote is a book which is, first of all, an attack on a certain kind of literary kitsch." Susan Sontag, from a symposium "On Kitsch," Salmagundi: A Quarterly of the Humanities and Social Sciences, nos. 85-86 (Winter-Spring 1990): 249.

..

What Is Kitsch? believe that there are true and important insights in both of these views, and that they need not be considered so irreconcilable as they may seem. Kitsch as we know it cannot be divorced from the socioeconomic conditions described by those who see this phenomenon as a product of industrial revolution. It also seems true that of all artistic movements it is the Romantic movement that created the most fertile grounds for kitsch. One can hardly deny that Romanticism, with its emphasis on dramatic effects, pathos, and overall sentimentality, displays intrinsic affinities with kitsch. It seems also plausible to claim that since the term kitsch is relatively new, there was probably no acute need for its use in earlier times. Yet, the denial of the existence of kitsch prior to the nineteenth century seems too strong. Naturally, there is a problem involved in the attempt to establish the existence of kitsch before the term was coined. The question is not whether we can find something in earlier times that we would call kitsch today. (Perhaps our respect for history-for works of art more than two hundred years old-prevents us from making such judgment^.)^ The question is whether there were works (prior to Romanticism) that were perceived as kitsch at the time they were created. One cannot prove that people would have used a term they didn't have. Would Petronius have used the term kitsch in the same sense that we use it today? We cannot know. What we do know is that he was describing things that were popular but done in bad taste (at least according to his judgments, or the judgment of the elite he represented)'-that is, things that were well liked despite their worthlessness (or perhaps just because of this worthlessness). But isn't this the very category kitsch belongs to? The question thus is whether those who believe that it would be anachronistic to speak about kitsch prior to the nineteenth century want to imply that bad taste is also a modern invention. Some authors assert just that. Thus, for example, Gillo Dorfles says that "in every age before our own, there was no such thing as 'really bad taste' i.e. kitsch" (Kitsch 9-10). This conclusion is somewhat surprising. Why should such a universal phenomena as bad taste be confined to modern times? Dorfles goes on to explain: "In ages other than our own, particularly in antiquity, art had a completely different function compared to modern times; it was connected with religious, ethical or political subject matter, which made it in a way 'absolute,' unchanging, eternal (always of course within a given 6. We come back to this issue in Chapter 2. 7. Petronius was Nero's elegantiae arbiter (judge of good taste-a tacles).

sort of maitre des spec-

16

Kitsch and Art

cultural milieu)" (10). It is true that art used to serve various extraaesthetic purposes. Its aesthetic function might have been subordinated to ceremonial, religious, ethical, or political aims. But does this mean that its aesthetic aspects were ignored or considered unimportant, that classical artists were not concerned with aesthetic merits, or with the "problem of taste"? Dorfles seems to suggest just that: "when we talk about the art of the past . . . we shall have to apply a totally different judgement from the one we would apply today; and this is also why it would be absurd to refer to 'bad taste' in connection with the kind of art which was never concerned with the problem of taste" (10). Are we to believe that Michelangelo, or Praxiteles for that matter, was not concerned with the aesthetic impact of his works? And how are we to interpret Vasari's praise and criticism of the artists he wrote about? Discussions of the nature of beauty are almost as old as philosophy itself, and concerns with the problem of taste in connection with art are too well documented to need further argument. Bad taste, like poor judgment in general, is such a universal human failing that it is difficult to imagine that it could have appeared only some one hundred and fifty years ago. However, even if bad taste is not a modern invention, and even if we can find kitsch before Romantici~m,~ it can certainly be argued that kitsch became a widespread phenomenon with a strong cultural impact on the masses only in the second half of the nineteenth century, and that this impact has been steadily growing ever since. Whether kitsch began at some point in recent history, or whether it is as old as art itself, one thing is beyond dispute: Kitsch has become an integral part of our modern culture, and it is flourishing now more than ever before. You find it everywhere. It welcomes you to the restaurant, greets you in the bank, and smiles at you from advertising billboards, as well as from the walls of your dentist's waiting room. The phenomenal success of Dallas and Dynasty seems already to have vindicated Milan Kundera's prophetic dictum that the "brotherhood of men on earth will be possible only on the base of k i t s ~ h . " ~ The appeal of these soap operas has obliterated differences of traditions, ideologies, religions, and cultures, as they were watched with equal addiction by T.V. audiences all over the world. Kitsch has become an embarrassment of modern culture and an easy prey for those who want to discredit 8. It would be probably best to look for pre-Romantic kitsch in those periods of art history when the prevailing artistic style had already passed its climax and begun to degenerate into mannerism. 9 . The Unbearable Lightness of Being (New York: Harper and Row, 1984), 251.

What Is Kitsch? it. "Kitsch isn't limited to a few categories or examples," says Jacques Sternberg. "It's long ago taken over the world. If Martians were to take a cool look at the world they might well re-name it Kitsch."l0 Does Sternberg overstate the issue? Probably. Valuable works of art are still being produced today in all artistic genres and disciplines. Yet Sternberg certainly isn't far off. If works of art were judged democratically-that is, according to how many people like them-kitsch would easily defeat all its competitors. Despite the fact that the phenomenon of kitsch is central to our culture, very few theoretical studies have been devoted to the subject. Given that kitsch is generally considered an aesthetic category, it is even more surprising that the little attention it has received has come from historians, novelists, sociologists of culture, and art critics, rather than from aestheticians. There are some very interesting studies of the relationship between kitsch and politics, especially totalitarian politics. Milan Kundera exposed kitsch as a main instrument for the manipulation of the masses by Communist regimes (Unbearable Lightness 251), while Saul Friedlander showed how central a role it played in the mobilization of the masses in Hitler's Germany." However, the question of how kitsch performs such wonders, as well as the question of what its appeal consists of-which are essentially questions of aesthetics-have not been fully answered. The same applies to the question of why kitsch is worthless. In Gillo Dorfles' anthology Kitsch, all the different authors consider kitsch to be aesthetically bad, but none of them actually explains what this badness consists of. The authors deal informatively with those aspects of human conditions that have contributed to the emergence of kitsch, its proliferation, and rise to prominence. They do not, however, explain the nature of kitsch from the aesthetic point of view. Socioeconomic factors may explain why kitsch fell on a fertile soil; they do not explain its seductive powers, nor what is aesthetically wrong with it. We may have a sociology or social anthropology of kitsch but not an aesthetic theory of kitsch. Why is this so? Why has kitsch been neglected by aestheticians? One reason is probably that from the point of view of contemporary aesthetics, which is primarily understood as the philosophy of art, kitsch-which is at best considered to be on the periphery of art-seems of marginal interest to 10. Kitsch (London: Academy Editions, 1972). 1 1 . Reflections of Nazism: Essay o n Kitsch and Death ( N e w York: Harper and Row, 1984).

Kitsch and Art

the discipline. Aestheticians have been traditionally more interested in questions such as "What is beauty?" than in questions such as "What is ugliness?" Questions such as "What makes a good work of art good?" have received all the attention of theoreticians, while questions such as "What makes a bad work of art bad?" or "What disqualifies a work from being regarded as a work of art?" have been neglected altogether. Philosophers of art concerned with questions of aesthetic value have concentrated on the analysis of artistic success, while artistic failures have been relegated to art critics, as if they were of no theoretical interest. It has been contended that kitsch has been neglected because its analysis raises no interesting theoretical questions, or cannot contribute much to the understanding of more central issues of philosophy of art. I hope to disprove this contention. There is a general methodological rule that studying the borderline cases of a system provides insight into the principles of the system itself. "Since the system of classification depends upon exclusion," notes Jonathan Culler, "one looks at what is apparently marginal to the system in order to understand the system." Culler goes on to say: "One must consider ungrammatical sentences in order to work out the grammar of the language, or look at what is 'unthinkable' in a particular milieu in order to discover its deepest assumptions, or at what is unfashionable in order to reconstruct the code of fashion."12 According to the same principle one can expect that a closer look at the phenomenon of kitsch will shed light on the nature of art itself. The term kitsch, we have seen, is of a relatively recent origin. According to Matei Calinescu, "it came into use in the 1860s and 1870s in the jargon of painters and art dealers in Munich, and was employed to designate cheap artistic stuff" (Faces of Modernity 234). Later the word entered other European languages, and by the end of the 1920s "kitsch" became by and large an international expression. There is no consensus among scholars as to the etymology of "kitsch." Some believe that it derives from the English "sketch," mispronounced by the Germans,13 while others link it to the German verb verkitschen (to make cheap).14 Ludwig Giesz maintains that the origins of "kitsch" can be traced to the German verb kitschen, meaning den Strassenschlam zusammenscharren, literally, "to collect rubbish off the 12. Framing the Sign: Criticism and Its Institutions (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988), 168. 13. See Gero von Wilpert, Sachworterbuch der Literatur (Stuttgart: A. Kroner, 1969). 14. See Triibners Deutsches Worterbuch, vol. 4 (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1934).

What Is Kitsch? street."ls There have even been speculations that "kitsch" comes from the inversion of the French chic. The experts do, nevertheless, agree that ever since the word was coined, in the second half of the nineteenth century, it has borne distinctly negative connotations. "No matter how we classify its context of use," says Calinescu, "kitsch always implies the notion of aesthetic inadequacy" (Faces of Modernity 236). People often say that kitsch is sketchy, cheap, that it is artistic rubbish-the very opposite of chic. Should we survey the entries under "kitsch" in standard dictionaries, we would find expressions like "worthless art," "pretentious art," "artistic rubbish," or simply "bad art." Yet "kitsch" is by no means coextensive with bad art. Though kitsch is bad, not all bad art is kitsch. If I were to portray my dog, the readers might not think much of the result; yet I doubt that they would classify it as kitsch. Kitsch isn't simply an artistic failure, a work that has somehow gone wrong. There is something about kitsch that sets it apart from bad art. The peculiarity of kitsch consists, no doubt, in its appeal. People like it; at least many do. Commercially, kitsch competes successfully with serious art. The mass appeal of kitsch has been exploited by advertising agencies to promote commodities, just as it has been used by political parties to promote their ideologies. (The official art in Hitler's Germany or Stalin's Russia may illustrate this point.) These observations yield the following conclusions: (1)kitsch has a very strong appeal, and (2) despite this appeal, kitsch is considered, at least by the art-educated elite, to be aesthetically bad. These facts also prompt the following basic questions: Question 1. What does the mass appeal of kitsch consist of? Question 2. What does the aesthetic badness of kitsch consist of? A theory of kitsch should thus explain why it is that so many people are attracted to kitsch; that is, why kitsch is so successful, as well as why, despite this success, kitsch is not entitled to the status of respectable art. There is a tension between the fact that kitsch has a strong appeal and the judgment that it has no appreciable degree of aesthetic value. If the appeal of kitsch is aesthetic, why should kitsch be regarded as aesthetically worthless? This prompts yet another normative question: IS. Ludwig Giesz, Phanomenologie des Kitsches (Heidelberg: Rothe, 1960), 21.

Kitsch and Art

Question 3. Should the appeal of kitsch be properly regarded as aesthetic? One way to resolve this tension would be to show that the appeal of kitsch is not of an aesthetic nature. To do this, however, one would have to show that the attitude of consumers of kitsch is not an aesthetic attitude, and that their interest in kitsch is not an aesthetic interest. But can we really show this? It seems, at least prima facie, that we are in no position to do so. We learn from The Encyclopedia of Philosophy that to have an aesthetic attitude, or to view things aesthetically, "one must perceive for perceiving's sake, not for the sake of some ulterior p~rpose."'~Kitsch clearly seems to be perceived in this way. Its consumers value it not as a means to something external to it, but as an end in itself. They seem to be interested in kitsch pictures for their own sake. The interest and attitude of consumers of kitsch often appears to be even more purely aesthetic in this respect than that of typical consumers of high art. Unlike art lovers, who buy their paintings from respected art dealers, consumers of kitsch are more interested in the pictures themselves than, for example, in the reputation of their creators, or in the social status they might gain by acquiring these pictures. They buy these pictures because they like them, without being concerned about whether they have made a good investment, as more sophisticated buyers of art often are. Judging by all the external, behavioral indications, people who like kitsch derive the same kind of pleasure from its contemplation that others experience in their encounter with so-called serious art. However, if we concede that the appeal of kitsch is indeed an aesthetic appeal, and cling to the generally accepted assumption that art is appreciated for its aesthetic appeal, then how can we dismiss kitsch as aesthetically worthless artistic rubbish? This question need not disturb the skeptics, who agree with their Scottish master that "beauty is not a quality inherent in things" since "it only exists in the mind of the beholder."17 For radical relativists or subjectivists the problem of how to reconcile the appeal of kitsch with the dismissive attitude of the art-educated elite does not even arise. For them, aesthetic judgments are not genuine statements about works of art that may be true or false, but mere expressions of subjective preferences of an essentially 16. John Hospers, "Aesthetics, Problems of," Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Paul Edwards (New York: Macmillan, 1967),1:36. 17. David Hume, "Of the Standards of Taste," Essays Moral, Political and Literary (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1963).

What Is Kitsch? autobiographic nature. De gustibus non disputandurn est. Just as some people prefer tea to coffee, others prefer kitsch to so-called serious art. But what if we do not want to embrace radical subjectivism or relativism of this kind? Can we reconcile the mass appeal of kitsch with the dismissive attitude of the art-educated elite without interpreting aesthetic judgments as essentially autobiographic statements expressing subjective preferences? There seems to be another easy way out. The question of why so many people like kitsch if it is aesthetically bad is often dismissed as posing no real problem; indeed, it seems to be self-explanatory. The worthlessness of kitsch is assumed to be self-evident. Its mass appeal is then explained by the alleged fact that most people simply happen to have bad taste, which is demonstrated by their attraction to kitsch. This view differs from the relativist or subjectivist answer by investing the differences of taste with normative, or if you like elitist, implications. However, it doesn't really resolve our problem. Making kitsch synonymous with bad taste does not answer the question of what makes kitsch appealing. If anything, it suggests that aesthetic worthlessness has aesthetic appeal, which sounds somewhat perverse. Nor does it touch upon the question of what makes kitsch worthless. The circularity of the answer that the mass appeal of kitsch consists of its being liked by so many people and the explanation of its deficiencies by reference to their bad taste is hardly philosophically illuminating. Moreover, making kitsch synonymous with bad taste is questionable on empirical grounds as well. Bad taste is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for explaining the seductive powers of kitsch. In order to demonstrate that kitsch is simply a manifestation of bad taste, one would have to show that consumers of kitsch also consistently prefer bad works of art to good ones, outside the realm of kitsch. But do we have sufficient evidence to support such a claim?18Conversely, it is also not altogether clear whether the art-educated elite is entirely immune to the seductive powers of kitsch. Even if we do not regard kitsch as a high form of art, aren't we sometimes touched by it? Aren't we sometimes attracted rather than repulsed by kitsch? "None of us is superman enough to escape kitsch completely," says Milan Kundera. "No matter how we scorn it, kitsch is an integral part of 18. One could, of course, plausibly argue that the attraction to kitsch is a clear sign of a lack of aesthetic sophistication that is also likely to manifest itself in judgments of serious art. But whether or not this is true (and to some extent it probably is), making kitsch synonymous with bad taste requires much more than that. One would have to show that consumers of kitsch always prefer artistic failures to artistic successes.

Kitsch and Art

human condition" (Unbearable Lightness 256). His words are echoed by Eugene Goodheart who says: "There must be something in all of us that wants kitsch, that needs kitsch. . . . It is an appetite which everybody shares."19 Satisfactory answers to the questions of why kitsch is worthless, what makes it work, or why it is appealing, should be considered as adequacy conditions for any comprehensive theory of kitsch. These basic questions, however, have not received much serious attention. This applies especially to the question of the alleged worthlessness of kitsch, which has been largely assumed rather than explained. However, before we address these questions we have to answer another even more basic question: What kind of objects are correctly classified as kitsch? Or simply, What is kitsch? One of the reasons we do not have satisfactory answers to the above normative questions is that we do not have a clear characterization of the nature of the phenomena we are dealing with. I shall thus propose now a classificatory definition of kitsch that will also help answer the normative questions about the alleged worthlessness of kitsch and the nature of its appeal. (I shall expand upon this definition in Chapter 2.)

A Note on the Problem of Definition In his Confessions Saint Augustine asks the question, "What is time?" He ponders and comes to the rather puzzling conclusion that when no one asks him he knows, yet when someone asks him he does not know. Despite obvious differences, the situation is similar with respect to the question "What is kitsch?" We use the term often, and we presume that its meaning is reasonably clear. Yet once the question of what kitsch actually is, or what the conditions that govern the application of this concept are, is asked, we realize that we are caught without a satisfactory answer. This may not be surprising. To define kitsch is not an easy task. Authors who have tried to analyze the concept have soon noted its extraordinary complexity and elusiveness. Thus, for example, Hermann Broch opened his lecture "Notes on the Problem of Kitsch" with the warning: "Do not expect any rigid and neat definitions. . . . Otherwise I am afraid that at the end of this lecture 19. From the symposium "On Kitsch" (see note 5),222.

What Is Kitsch? you will find that too many questions have been left open, to which I could only reply in a study of kitsch in three volumes" (49). "We are dealing here indeed with one of the most bewildering and elusive categories of modern aesthetics," says Matei Calinescu, and goes on to explain: " ~ i k eart itself, of which it is both an imitation and negation, kitsch cannot be defined from a single vantage point. And again like art--or for that matter antiart-kitsch refuses to lend itself even to a negative definition, because it simply has no single compelling, distinct counterconcept" (Faces of Modernity 232). The relation of kitsch to art is indeed far from simple. Why we have no satisfactory definition of kitsch may, however, go beyond the elusiveness of the concept. Hermann Broch's warning not to expect any neat definitions was amplified in the 1950s by influential philosophical arguments purporting to show that defining categories of art and aesthetic concepts is logically impossible. Most of these arguments were designed to refute the Aristotelian assumption that concepts apply in virtue of some common characteristics that constitute the nature or the essence of the entities designated by them. One may speak about the anti-essentialist turn of analytically minded philosophers and aestheticians (influenced by the writings of the later Wittgenstein), which led to the conviction that it is a mistake to offer generalizations concerning aesthetic categories and concepts; or, to put it differently, that it is a mistake to discuss what art, or tragedy, or poem, or kitsch essentially is. One might mention here influential and frequently anthologized essays like "The Dreariness of Aesthetics" by J. A. Passmore,z0 "The Function of Philosophical Aesthetics" by W. B. Gallie,zl "Does Traditional Aesthetics Rest on a Mistake?" by W. E. K e n n i ~ k "On , ~ ~ 'What is a Poem?' " by C. L. Stevenson,23"The Task of Defining a Work of Art" by P. Ziff,24 and "The Role of Theory in Aesthetics" by M. we it^.^' None of these authors actually deals with the concept of kitsch, but since "kitsch" is an aesthetic category the anti-essentialist claim should apply to it as well. The most influential formulation of the anti-essentialist argument can be found in the above-mentioned essay of Morris Weitz. One can hardly find an anthology on modern aesthetics that does not include a reprint of 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25.

In William Elton, ed., Aesthetics and Language (Oxford:Basil Blackwell, 1954), 36-55. In Elton, ed., Aesthetics and Language, 13-35. Mind 67 (1958):317-34. Philosophical Review 66 (1957):329-62. Philosophical Review 62 (1953):68-78. Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 15 (1956):27-35.

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Weitz's famous article. It purports to show that there is no set of defining characteristics for aesthetic categories, since the objects to which aesthetic concepts and categories apply do not have properties in common. Such concepts, Weitz argues, are by their very nature "open concepts," which means that necessary and sufficient conditions for their application will never be forthcoming. "Aestheticians may lay down similarity conditions but never sufficient and necessary ones."26 Under the sway of the antiessentialist argument, whose influence is still felt today, aestheticians were naturally discouraged from trying to define aesthetic concepts, since this argument appears to establish that finding defining characteristics is not a factual difficulty related to the complexity of the subject matter, but a logical impossibility. Another well-known argument that also implies that defining the concept of kitsch would be hopeless has been put forward by Frank Sible~.~' Sibley too does not deal specifically with the concept of kitsch as such; his thesis applies to aesthetic concepts in general. While Weitz's anti-essentialist argument focuses on the alleged impossibility of finding necessary conditions for the application of aesthetic concepts, Sibley's is directed against the possibility of sufficient conditions. His claim is that "there are no nonaesthetic features that serve in any circumstances as logically suficient conditions for applying aesthetic terms," that "[alesthetic or taste concepts are not in this respect condition-governed at all" (66). Sibley claims that although the aesthetic properties of objects are caused by their nonaesthetic features (that is, that what makes a painting graceful or kitschy is the configuration of the colored spaces that cover the canvas), there are no rules for translating the information about the nonaesthetic features into the information about the aesthetic ones. The ultimate reason for this is that the configurations of those nonaesthetic properties on which the aesthetic ones supervene is always unique. Generalizations are thus always doomed to failure. As Sibley's criterion for aesthetic concepts is that the faculty of taste or aesthetic sensibility is required for their correct application, "kitsch" clearly qualifies as an aesthetic term. These arguments thus not only explain why we have no workable definition of kitsch at this time, but also stipulate that we shall never have one. I want to propose a definition of kitsch in terms of necessary and 26. "The Role of Theory in Aesthetics," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 15 (1956): 127; reprinted in J. Margolis, ed., Philosophy Looks at the Arts, rev. ed. (Philadelphia:Temple University Press, 1978). All page references are to this edition. 27. Frank Sibley, "Aesthetic Concepts," Philosophical Review 18 (1959): 64-87.

What Is Kitsch? sufficient conditions, and I want to base these conditions on features that do not require aesthetic judgments for their recognition; both of these arguments, however, directly clash with my proposed task. Before proceeding any further it is therefore necessary to examine these arguments and show where they go wrong, or why they do not apply to our case. I do indeed believe that these arguments are misconstrued. Doing them justice, however, requires a careful analysis, and showing where they go wrong requires a discussion of more general philosophical issues. This would divert the attention from the main topic. I have therefore decided to proceed with the main task and put the explanation of the inapplicability of these arguments in the Appendix to this book. Readers who feel that these arguments are compelling can read the Appendix first.

Kitsch and Its Object Let us begin by imagining the following situation: Our friend, a competent artist, needs, for some reason, to produce a commercially successful work of kitsch. However, he has no idea what kitsch actually is, and is requesting our advice. What kind of advice could we offer him for creating convincing kitsch? What kind of instructions could we devise, which, if properly executed, would produce a successful kitsch painting? As we can distinguish between the subject matter of a painting and the manner of its rendering, we can accordingly distinguish between the instructions pertaining to the question of what to paint and those pertaining to the question of how to paint it. In other words, let us consider what sort of objects would be most suitable as a subject matter of kitsch, and what kind of rendering would be best suited for this task. Since figurative and nonfigurative painting are equally legitimate today, the first question is whether our painter should go for a figurative picture or for an abstract one. The answer is clear. It would be evidently more difficult to produce a commercially successful abstract kitsch picture than a figurative one. We seldom call an abstract work kitsch, even if we think it is bad. The next question is whether all objects or themes are equally suitable as the subject matter of kitsch. Clearly, some are more suitable than others. Fluffy little kittens or children in tears would surely do better than an ordinary chair or a washing machine. Let us list some more examples of

26

Kitsch and Art

typical subjects exploited by kitsch. Among the themes that figure most prominently in kitsch pictures are puppies and kittens of various sorts, children in tears, mothers with babies, long-legged women with sensuous lips and alluring eyes, beaches with palms and colorful sunsets, pastoral Swiss villages framed in mountain panorama, pasturing deer in a forest clearing, couples embracing against the full moon, wild horses galloping along the waves of a stormy sea, cheerful beggars, sad clowns, sad faithful old dogs gazing toward infinity . . . the reader could easily extend the list. What do these themes have in common? The answer is: they are all highly emotionally charged. They are charged with stock emotions that spontaneously trigger an unreflective emotional response. The subject matter typically depicted by kitsch is generally considered to be beautiful (horses, long-legged women), pretty (sunsets, flowers, Swiss villages), cute (puppies, kittens), andlor highly emotionally charged (mothers with babies, children in tears). This emotional charge does not just typically concur with kitsch; it is a sine qua non. Consider ordinary objects of everyday life that are devoid of any emotional charge: an ordinary chair, or a washing machine. It would, of course, be easy enough to paint bad pictures of chairs or washing machines. However, no matter how hard our painter tried, his efforts would not be rewarded by clear-cut examples of kitsch. Take, on the other hand, an object that is generally considered cute and elicits a ready emotional response: a fluffy little kitten, for example. Not only would it be quite easy to produce such a kitten-depicting work of kitsch, it would actually take some ingenuity to steer clear of it. This dependence on the emotional charge of its subject matter may also explain the difficulty of producing a nonfigurative work of kitsch.28 Our first advice to our painter should thus be: Choose a subject matter with a clear emotional charge that triggers a ready emotional response. Before turning to the question of how to paint-that is-to the question of the stylistic properties of kitsch, let us consider what further specifications should guide the choice of the subject matter, and what type of emotional response the painter should aim to elicit. Let us take, for example, the theme of the crying child that figures so prominently in kitsch depictions. Our painter should be advised to choose a nice and cute little child rather than a wicked or ugly-looking one. The cry shouldn't be irritating or hysterical, but rather a sob of the soft and quiet variety; the 28. More will be said about the possibilities of abstract kitsch in the discussion of kitsch in music and architecture.

What Is Kitsch?

27

child should elicit a sympathetic response. The painter should avoid all unpleasant or disturbing features of reality, leaving us only with those we can easily cope with and identify with. Kitsch comes to support our basic sentiments and beliefs, not to disturb or question them. It works best when our attitude toward its object is patronizing. Puppies work better than dogs, kittens better than cats.19 The success of kitsch also depends on the universality of the emotions it elicits. Typical consumers of kitsch are pleased not only because they respond spontaneously, but also because they know they are responding in the right kind of way. They know they are moved in the same way as everybody else. This psychological aspect of kitsch was also stressed by Milan Kundera: "Kitsch causes two tears to flow in quick succession. The first tear says: How nice to see children running on the grass! The second tear says: How nice to be moved, together with all mankind, by children running on the grass! It is the second tear that makes kitsch kitsch" (Unbearable Lightness 251). The aim of kitsch is not to create new needs or expectations, but to satisfy existing ones. Kitsch thus does not work on individual idiosyncrasies. It breeds on universal images, the emotional charge of which appeals to everyone. Since the purpose of kitsch is to please the greatest possible number of people, it always plays on the most common denominators. The examples of kitsch themes mentioned above belong to what one may call universal kitsch. They play on basic human impulses irrespective of religious beliefs, political convictions, race, or nationality. They exploit universal subjects such as birth, family, love, nostalgia, and so forth, which could, perhaps, be further analyzed in terms of Jungian archetypes. However, alongside universal kitsch we also find more specific types of religious, political, national, and local kitsch. "Kitsch has its source in categorical agreement with being," says Kundera. "But what is the basis of being? God? Mankind? Struggle? Love? Man? Woman? . . . Since opinions vary, there are various kitsches: Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Communist, Fascist, democratic, feminist, European, American, national, international" (Unbearable Lightness 256-57). 29. John Morreall and Jessica Loy have some interesting observations on this point: "A good example here is the use of cuteness in kitsch. Cuteness is a group of features that evolved in mammalian infants as a way of making them attractive to adults. These 'releasing stimuli' for nurturant behavior, as ethologists refer to cute features, include a head large in relation to the body, eyes set low in the head, a large protruding forehead, round protruding cheeks, a plump rounded body shape, short thick extremities, soft body surface, and clumsy behavior. The manufacturers of dolls, children's books, and greeting cards exaggerate all these features to get a positive response from customers" ("Kitsch and Aesthetic Education" 68).

Kitsch and Art We may thus distinguish between different types of kitsch of varying degrees of universality. Christian kitsch--exemplified by plastic Jesus babies, pictures of the Virgin Mary, or scenes of the Crucifixion-combines the universal elements of kitsch with symbolism relating to the articles of Christian faith. Communist kitsch--depicting smiling workers in factories, young couples on tractors cultivating a collective farm or building a hydroelectric power station-played on the mythical values of the joy of work and the enthusiasm for building a classless society. Capitalist kitsch, exemplified by advertising, on the other hand, uses class distinctions and status symbols to create artificial needs and illusions to foster the ideology of the consumer society. There can also be even more specific national kitsch that exploits the sentiments associated with national symbols and leaders: Mao Tse-tung leading the Great March, Lenin speaking to the workers, or good-hearted Hitler holding a child in his arms. The subject matter of kitsch may vary considerably in accordance with beliefs and traditions. What remains constant is that the consumer of kitsch is never emotionally indifferent to what the picture represents. Let us sum up the above considerations and state the first condition for the application of the concept of kitsch: Condition 1. Kitsch depicts objects or themes that are highly charged with stock emotions.

Identifiability It seems that our first condition already provides the answer to question 1: "What does the mass appeal of kitsch consist of?" (or "Why do people like kitsch?"). People are attracted to kitsch because they like its subject matter; its emotional charge elicits a ready positive emotional response. However, condition 1, by itself, is not really sufficient. We forgot something; or rather, we made an implicit assumption, that--despite its obviousness-should be spelled out. The positive response to the depicted object obviously depends not only on what is represented but also on how it is represented. The depicted subject matter has to be represented successfully. In order for the spectator to respond appropriately to the represented subject matter, he must be able to recognize it. People have to be able to decipher the configuration of color patches as the beautiful or emotionally meaningful

What Is Kitsch? subject they are familiar with. What characterizes kitsch is the instant and effortless identifiability of the depicted subject matter. The next question is, What accounts for this instant identifiability? First of all, the depiction has to be reasonably skillful. An incompetent drawing or painting that makes it difficult to grasp what it is that we are looking at certainly wouldn't produce the appropriate effect. Our artist is, however, assumed to be competent enough. Yet competence is also not enough. Not every competently painted sunset will turn out to be kitsch. The pertinent question is, What are the stylistic constraints that should guide our painter in the choice of the specific manner of the rendering? Let us assume we have chosen a fluffy little kitten or a crying child as our subject matter. Can we produce such a kitten-depicting or child-depicting work of kitsch in any artistic style? Clement Greenberg says that "[klitsch changes according to style, but remains always the same" (Art and Culture 10). This may suggest that kitsch is indifferent to style, that the little kitten, or the crying child, lends itself equally well to different artistic styles. Yet some artistic styles are clearly much more suitable than others. Our artist would be more likely to succeed by painting in compliance with the stylistic conventions of nineteenth-century Romanticism, or the socialist realism of the 1950s, than by adopting a cubist or futurist style. It is very hard to imagine a convincing kitsch depiction of a crying child executed the way Picasso painted his Woman in a Chair (see Fig. 1).With pictures like this, it takes some time and effort to figure out what is represented in them. Or try to imagine what would happen to our fluffy little kitten if it were rendered the way Marcel Duchamp painted his Nude Descending a Staircase, or the way Severini rendered his Lady with the Dog. A kitten decomposed into multiple time-sliced phases, exhibiting twenty-three legs, would hardly succeed as kitsch, no matter how fluffy it was. Should we thus conclude that kitsch employs a very naturalistic, or realistic, mode of representation? The answer depends on what we mean by "realistic." Realism has traditionally been conceived of as a mode of representation that is particularly "true to nature." It has been thought of in terms of faithful imitation. The degree of realism has been assumed to be proportional to the degree of resemblance between the object and its depiction. However, Ernst Gombrich taught us that representational success has little to do with imitation.30 Moreover, Nelson Goodman has shown 30. Ernst Gombrich, Art and Illusion: A Study in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation (New York: Pantheon Books, 1960).

Fig. 1. Pablo Picasso, Woman in a Chair, 1910. Oil on canvas, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Alex L. Hillman. (Photograph O 1955 The Museum of Modern Art, New York)

What Is Kitsch? that similarity is neither a necessary nor sufficient condition of representation, and has argued that "realism" is no less a matter of convention than other modes of repre~entation.~' This is not the place to engage in a philosophical debate on the complex issue of the nature of pictorial realism. However, even our commonsense conception of realism indicates that it would be hasty to identify the stylistic features of kitsch with its mimetic likeness.32 The eyes of the crying child in kitsch pictures are disproportionately large, and the tears are roughly five times the size of any real tear you are ever likely to see. Kitsch also typically displays considerable disregard for detail. It could thus hardly be naturalistic or realistic in the traditional sense. Kitsch can, nevertheless, be regarded as "realistic" in the conventionalist or Goodmanian sense, according to which realism is "determined by the system of representation standard for a given culture or person at a given time."33 Kitsch invariably uses the most conventional, standard, well-tried, and tested representational canons. Any departure from the accepted conventions is undesirable for kitsch, as it may make unnecessary demands on the spectator. The deciphering of the picture must be as effortless as possible. Kitsch should speak the most common language understandable to all. It shouldn't venture into esoteric jargons (like cubism) or idiosyncratic dialects (as in Jackson Pollock's biomorphic period). Kitsch artists never have to explain how their pictures should be looked at, what categories and concepts are relevant for their comprehension. Kitsch cannot afford to be, and hence never is, confusing.34 The adherence to the accepted representational conventions of one's time is thus conducive to instant identifiability. We may note further, however, that this compliance need not enhance the artistic qualities of the depiction. Originality and artistic innovation, which are generally considered positive features of works of art, often challenge the accepted representational 31. Nelson Goodman, Languages of Art: An Approach to a Theory of Symbols (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1976), chap. 1. 32. It seems that this is what Clement Greenberg does (Art and Culture, esp. 14). 33. Languages of Art, 37. "Realism," writes Goodman, "is not a matter of any constant or absolute relationship between a picture and its object, but a relationship between the system of representation employed in the picture and the standard system" (38). 34. As John Morreall and Jessica Loy observe: "The effortless response kitsch aims for is manifested in kitsch's lack of risk taking and genuine novelty. Kitsch always use representation, for example, in a straightforward way; there is no question of the relation of the representation to what is represented, as there is in so much twentieth-century art" ("Kitsch and Aesthetic Education" 68-69).

Kitsch and Art

canons. Within the framework of accepted representational conventions there is often enough space for innovation. However, sometimes this space becomes so saturated that artists feel a need to expand, modify, or altogether abandon the accepted canons of representation. It is on such occasions that we speak of emerging new styles. New styles often meet with hostile reaction^.^^ This is because the novel kind of presentation is not readily acknowledged by the conservative public as a "correct" or "realistic" representation. Let me illustrate this point by just one example. This is what the official art critic of Le Figaro wrote in his review of the second Impressionist exhibition: The Rue La Peletier is really very unlucky. First there was the great fire at the Opera, and now a second disaster has come to upset the district. An exhibition-supposed to be an exhibition of paintingshas just been opened at the Durand-Rue1 Gallery. . . . It really is frightful seeing such an aberration of human vanity and lunacy. Do tell Monsieur Pissarro that trees aren't really purple and the sky isn't really the color of butter; tell him the things he paints don't really exist anywhere and no intelligent person can be expected to accept such rubbish. . . . Try and make Monsieur Degas see reason and tell him that there really are such things in art as drawing and color and technique and meaning. . . . Try and explain to Monsieur Renoir that a woman's body is not just a bundle of decomposing flesh with green and purple patches that show what an advanced stage of putrefaction the corpse is in.36 All this is quite relevant to our subject. In the 1870s Impressionist paintings were considered "unrea1istic," "incorrect," and therefore inadmissible representations because certain salient features of those paintings (for example, the presence of green and purple patches in the rendering of a nude) were not conducive to the instant identifiability of the depicted subject matter. Today, when we are well acquainted with the manner of Impressionist rendering, the same pictures appear to us as natural and thoroughly convincing. Impressionism has become part of our "realism.'' 35. The names of new styles originally carried distinctive negative connotations that have been forgotten by now. Gothic was originally a synonym for "barbaric," baroque originally meant something like "twisted" or "badly shaped," and the terms impressionism and cubism were invented by critics to ridicule the emerging movements. 36. Albert Wolf, Le Figaro, 3 April 1876, quoted by Maurice Serullaz, Phaidon Encyclopedia of Impressionism (Oxford: Phaidon, 1978), 20.

What Is Kitsch? Since the appeal of kitsch derives its force from the emotional charge of its subject matter, it must be readily recognizable as such. This, as we have noted, is best achieved by compliance with the accepted conventions of the time. However, it was the very violation of these conventions that eventually secured the Impressionists their esteemed place in the history of art. The requirement of instant identifiability thus works against stylistic innovations. Kitsch never ventures into the avant-garde, or into styles not yet universally accepted. It can jump on the bandwagon only after the novelty wears off and becomes commonplace. This accounts for the ultraconservative and stylistically reactionary nature of kitsch. Our kitsch artist would thus be well advised to refrain from any stylistic innovations and keep well within the most widely comprehensible representational conventions. He should consider all features that do not directly contribute to the instant identifiability as superfluous and-since they may also distract our attention from the associations evoked by the represented subjectpotentially harmful to kitsch. This is why kitsch is likely to be unexciting, or even boring, from the artistic point of view. Let us summarize the above considerations by stating the second condition for the application of the concept of kitsch: Condition 2. The objects or themes depicted by kitsch are instantly and effortlessly identifiable. This condition should also be regarded as a necessary condition, since a failure or even a slight difficulty in our ability to identify the depicted object would destroy its kitschy impact.

Transformation and Enrichment of Associations We have stated two necessary conditions governing the application of the concept of kitsch. Does their conjunction also constitute a sufficient condition? The answer is no. Not only kitsch but also the Venus o f Milo, Goya's Maya, Manet's Bar at the Folies-Bergdre, and many other great works of art will satisfy them. To single out kitsch we need additional constraints. What we need to ask then is what distinguishes kitsch from respectable works of art in which the depicted subject matter is generally considered beautiful or highly emotionally charged, and the mode of

34

Kitsch and Art

rendering conforms to representational conventions accepted at present. Consider The Bar a t the Folies-Bergere (Fig. 2). The theme of this painting-a beautiful woman serving at a cabaret bar-is instantly and effortlessly identifiable, and could be easily exploited by kitsch. What is it, then, that places this painting at a safe distance from kitsch? Let me quote from James Ackerman's description of Manet's painting: The point of this picture is not that it tells you about a bar and a barmaid and how it was at the Folies-Bergere . . . the picture distills an exhilarating experience that can be shared with the artist, in which the objects in the theatre bar, bottles, glasses, gas lights, anonymous barmaid, and reflections in a mirror lose their mundane character and are transformed by a perceptive human intellect into a magical image. The picture does not simply represent a bar, it

Fig. 2. Edouard Manet, The Bar at the Folies-Bergere, 1881-82. Courtauld Institute Galleries, London

What Is Kitsch? presents the end product of a transformation, we value it because it is like experiences we ourselves have had of suddenly seeing the ordinary world changed and exalted, but the picture is different from and superior to our experience. . . . [Olnce having witnessed this transformation, we are prepared to be exhilarated more often and more intensely. Knowing the picture can actually make the real environment more worthwhile. The value of Manet's image, then, lies in the isolation of an experience of the environment-an experience most viewers share with the artist--and its inten~ification.~' What we should note is that the aesthetic appeal of the painting is not simply parasitic on the projected beauty.of the barmaid. The picture (unlike kitsch) creates beauty of its own. The subject matter is presented in a manner that is, as Ackerman says, superior to our experience. The picture transforms and intensifies our experience. The key point here is that "the picture can actually make the real environment more worthwhile." The artist transforms the subject of his depiction so that his painting evokes something we might have not noticed or felt before. He elaborates its unique and often overlooked features to reveal new aspects of reality. It was John Dewey who emphasized this function of art when he wrote: "Art is not nature, but nature transformed by entering into new relationships where it invokes a new emotional response."38 When we perceive depicted objects in pictures we spontaneously draw upon our past experience of the actual objects of the same general kind. The standard associations stored in memory are evoked by the identification of the familiar object. This holds for all representational pictures. Some paintings, however, transform the familiar ideas and associations related to the depicted object in various ways. Standard associations can be sharpened, amplified, intensified, or altogether transformed. "[Wlhen we leave an exhibition of the works of an important person," says Nelson Goodman, "the world we step into is not the one we left when we went in; we see everything in terms of those works."39 The enrichment and transformation 37. "On Judging Art without Absolutes," Critical Inquiry 5 (Spring 1979): 462; my emphasis. 38. Art as Experience (New York: Putnam's, Capricorn Books, 1958), 462. Essentially the same idea has also been expressed by Nelson Goodman, who says: "How representational painting makes worlds is strikingly clear to anyone who has stepped into a new world after seeing an exhibition of works that work"; "Aesthetics and Worldmaking: Reply to Jens Kulankampff," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 39 (Spring 1981): 275. 39. Nelson Goodman, Of Mind and Other Matters (Cambridge: Haward University Press, 1984), 192.

Kitsch and Art

of associations can be achieved in many different ways. Surrealist paintings, for example, typically exploit the tension between associations related to the depicted object, whose surface details and style of depiction are reassuringly naturalistic, and their arrangement, which is disturbingly unnatural. By breaking objects into fragmented brushstrokes of discontinuous patches of pure prismatic colors, and by emphasizing the immediacy of the changing effects of light, the Impressionists not only enriched our associations, they actually helped us look at our environment in a more perceptive manner. "Where, if not from the Impressionists," asks Oscar Wilde, "do we get those wonderful brown fogs that come creeping down our streets, blousing the gas-lamps and changing the houses into monstrous shadows? To whom, if not to them . . . do we owe the lovely silver mists that brood over our river, and turn to faint forms of fading grace curved bridge and swaying barge? The extraordinary change that has taken place in the climate of London during the last ten years is entirely due to this particular school of art."40 Wilde has also been reported to have said that there was no fog in London before Whistler painted it.41 In a similar vein Georg Schmidt and Robert Schenk remarked that "although the color-saturated atmosphere of Paris is older than the city itself, its beauty was first revealed by impressionist^."^^ Our experience of the world can be enriched not only by revolutionary stylistic changes but also by much more mundane means. Standard associations can also be enriched by presenting objects from unusual angles that emphasize often overlooked features. "Pictures . . . that are not revolutionary," says Nelson Goodman, "may have qualities enabling us to see . . . somewhat differently, discern differences, and make connections that we couldn't make b e f o r e t o see things in terms of new patterns" ( O f Mind and Other Matters 192). 40. "The Decay of Lying," in Intentions and the Soul of Man, reprinted in Melvin Rader, ed., A Modern Book of Esthetics: An Anthology (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1979), 27-28. 41. 1 have been unable to locate this remark about Whistler. The following passage, however, makes the attribution more than likely: "Things are because we see them, and what we see, and how we see it, depends on the A m that have influenced us. . At present, people see fogs, not because there are fogs, but because poets and painters have taught them the mysterious loveliness of such effects. There may have been fogs for centuries in London. 1 dare say they were. But no one saw them, and so we do not know anything about them. They did not exist till Art had invented them" (Decay of Lying 28). 42. Kunst und Naturform (Basel: Basileus, 1958), quoted by E. M. Haffner, "The New Reality in Art and Science," Comparative Studies in Society and History 11 (October 1969): 389.

..

What Is Kitsch?

Examples of representational pictures that enrich or transform our standard associations could easily be multiplied. My claim is that kitsch does not belong to this category. Kitsch does not exploit the artistic possibilities of structural elaboration, extension of expressive potentialities, elaboration of unique individual features, interpretation, and innovation. It does not sharpen, amplify, or transform the associations related to the depicted subject matter in any significant way. As opposed to real art, which involves an enhancement of certain experiences, kitsch tones them down. Our artist should thus be advised to strive for a stereotype. The subject matter should be presented in the most standard and schematic manner, without any individual features. The picture should be totally explicit and one-dimensional; no ambiguities, no hidden meanings. There should be just one interpretation. What you see at the first glance is all there is to be seen. If verbal labels (like "Cheerful Beggar," "Sad Clown") were attached to the pictures, the following rule should apply to kitsch: The "message" of the picture should be roughly the same as the "message" of the label. The associations triggered by kitsch depictions should not substantially exceed the associations triggered by its label. Apart from the obvious differences due to the different media, the label and the picture should have roughly the same effect. They should be, so to speak, interchangeable. The label sums up the picture; the picture sums up the label. Let us then sum up what has been said in this section by stating our third condition for the application of the concept of kitsch: Condition 3. Kitsch does not substantially enrich our associations relating to the depicted objects or themes.

Concluding Remarks Let us restate our three conditions and consider some objections to the proposed definition of kitsch. 1. Kitsch depicts objects or themes that are highly charged with stock emotions. 2. The objects or themes depicted by kitsch are instantly and effortlessly identifiable.

Kitsch and Art

3. Kitsch does not substantially enrich our associations relating to the depicted objects or themes. Condition 1 restricts the range of themes that can be profitably exploited by kitsch, while conditions 2 and 3 pertain to the stylistic properties' manner of presentation. Each of the three conditions is considered to be necessary: if our artist violates any of them he will not produce kitsch. Taken jointly, they are considered sufficient: the artist who fulfills them is most likely to produce kitsch. Let us consider two possible objections. One may argue that any definition in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions is bound to be too simplistic, because such conditions tend to cut too rigidly and dichotomously. A definition is inappropriate for at least two reasons: (1) the boundaries of kitsch are not clear-cut but fuzzy, and there are bound to be many borderline cases; ( 2 )even among works that are clearly recognized as kitsch, some are more "kitschy" than others. A classificatory definition with dichotomous criteria cannot account for degrees of "kitschiness." It is quite true that some manifestations of kitsch are more "kitschy" than others and that there are bound to be many borderline cases. Kitsch is not an all-or-nothing category. The reasons for stating the suggested definition in categorical terms are didactic ones: clarity and simplicity. It should be understood from the context that the categorical formulation of the three conditions is just an attempt to summarize the observations made in the respective sections. The criteria for kitsch need not be seen as dichotomous; all the conditions allow for degrees. The high emotional charge of the objects depicted by kitsch pictures can be graded. Some highly emotional themes are more universal and have stronger impact than others. The same applies to the conditions of easy identifiability and the absence of significant enrichment of associations. The proposed definition can thus be understood in the following qualified sense: The more clearly, saliently, and unambiguously the picture complies with our three conditions, the more paradigmatic an example of kitsch it is. One may also object that a definition in terms of necessary and sufficient condition is bound to be too rigid to account for a concept that is essentially context-dependent and culture-bound. It could be pointed out that kitsch is a flexible, context- and culture-dependent concept, the application of which changes from period to period and from culture to culture. What is considered kitsch in our society today might not have been so regarded some one hundred years ago, or in a culturally different society. Doesn't

What Is Kitsch? this argue against any attempt to use a rigid model of necessary and sufficient conditions? No. The fact that the proposed definition is stated in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions does not mean that it cannot account for different identifications of kitsch in different cultures or at different times. The definition is flexible enough to account for differences in cross-cultural and historical identifications of kitsch, since the culture-dependent and timedependent factors that may influence these differences are already built into our three conditions. Consider the first condition. Whether or not a given subject matter is considered beautiful or emotionally charged may differ from culture to culture. The subject matter of the painting depicting a slim, naked, longlegged lady playing a violin on the seashore (see Fig. 3) is likely to be considered beautiful by Western standards. The picture can thus be considered as a paradigmatic example of kitsch in our society. However, for Bedouins or for some African tribes, where beautiful women have to be fat, this picture is unlikely to elicit the requisite emotional response.43 The emotional charge of pictures of Israeli soldiers praying and dancing at Jerusalem's Western Wall trigger the appropriate response in Israel. They might not be appreciated in a similar way in Baghdad or Teheran. As to the second condition, we have already noted that the instant identifiability of the depicted subject matter depends on how well we are accustomed to the given representational convention. Radically novel ways of rendering impair the ease of identifiability. When we recall the reactions to the first Impressionist exhibitions we may safely assume that in the 1860s and 1870s it would have been virtually impossible to paint an Impressionist picture that would be (at that time) considered kitsch. There is, however, no problem to produce impressionistically styled kitsch today, since Impressionism has by now became a "realistic" mode of repre~entation.~~ The cubist mode of representation, however, is even today still seen as "unrealistic." This is why even our lady violinist wouldn't quite come out as kitsch if rendered in truly cubist manner. Our third condition too is clearly context- and culture-dependent. 43. The picture might also fail qua kitsch in a society in which the violin would not be recognized for what it is. 44. Indeed, Impressionism seems to us today so "realistic" that we find it difficult to understand the objections and the hostile reactions it was greeted with. For today, as Impressionism has become part of our "realism," these paintings strike us as far more convincing than the "realistic" paintings of the same period.

Fig. 3. Lady Playing the Violin (reproduced from Kitsch: The World of Bad Taste, ed. Gillo Dorfles [New York: Universe Books, 19691)

What Is Kitsch?

Whether the picture transforms or enriches the associations related to the subject matter (that is, whether we may "learn" something new through the work in question about its subject matter), depends on what we "know" about it in the first place. The cultural dependence of kitsch thus does not invalidate our definition; indeed, the existing differences in the identification of kitsch may actually be explained by its conditions. They may help us understand why people disagree about kitsch and point out what it is they are actually disagreeing about. The term kitsch was originally applied exclusively to paintings; only later was its use extended to other artistic disciplines. Our discussion has so far been restricted to pictorial kitsch; I shall consider manifestations of kitsch outside visual arts in Chapter 3. Let me just note here that everything that has been said about kitsch paintings applies to kitsch sculptures as well. This shouldn't be surprising, since there is no reason why bringing in third dimension should affect any of our three conditions. Just like kitsch paintings, typical kitsch sculptures are never abstract. The choice of the subject matter usually betrays sentimental leanings and its execution conforms to the most conservative representational conventions of the time. We are never in doubt what kitsch sculptures represent, because they use stereotypes. There is no need for interpretation, and the associations triggered by kitsch sculptures are roughly the same as those invoked by the objects of their representation. We should also note that the suggested definition is a classificatory one. Its task is to provide an answer to the question of what kind of objects are correctly classified as kitsch. Just as a classificatory definition of gold need not explain why gold is valuable or why it glitters, it is not the task of this classificatory definition to answer all the questions that can arise in connection with the phenomenon of kitsch. Let us nevertheless see what our conditions may suggest in connection with the questions raised at the beginning of this chapter. As to question 1, "What does the mass appeal of kitsch consist of?" I believe that we can extract an answer from our definition. Conditions 1 and 2 suggest that the appeal of kitsch essentially consists of the strong emotional charge of the easily identifiable subject matter to which we are positively predisposed. For questions 2 ("What does the badness of kitsch consist of?") and 3 ("Should the appeal of kitsch be properly regarded as aesthetic?"), the answers are less definitive. If we consider our three conditions jointly, they point to the essentially parasitic nature of kitsch.

Kitsch and Art

They suggest that kitsch does not create beauty of its own, that its appeal is not generated by the aesthetic merit of the work itself but by the emotional appeal of the depicted object. This is quite unlike the situation with real works of art. It should be noted that serious artists typically refrain from depicting objects that are generally considered to be beautiful or emotionally charged. And even when they do, such artists do not simply capitalize on the emotional charge of their subject matter. They are not interested in ready-made effects. These observations may suffice to cast doubt on the contention that the appeal of kitsch should properly be classified as aesthetic. A more comprehensive analysis awaits us in Chapter 2.

Why Is Kitsch Worthless ? Kitsch is certainly not "bad art," it forms its own closed system, which is lodged like a foreign body in the overall system of art, or which, if you prefer, appears alongside it. -Hermann Broch

Now that we have an answer to the basic question of what kind of objects are correctly classified as kitsch, we can focus more sharply on the normative questions posed at the beginning of this essay. Most of our discussion will center around the question pertaining to the worthlessness of kitsch; as we shall see, to establish what this worthlessness consists of is not a simple task. Together with the question of the aesthetic nature of kitsch's appeal, which will be reexamined in this chapter, we shall also consider the relation between kitsch and art. Assuming that kitsch is indeed worthless, the next question that comes to mind is, Just how bad is it? Or, What kind of badness are we talking about? Can kitsch be viewed as an extension of bad art (that is, as works that are just worse than others)? Or should it be regarded as a sui generis phenomena? In other words, is kitsch continuous with art, so that its badness is commensurable with that of mediocre and bad works of art, or is it qualitatively different? Kitsch is often viewed as works that make a claim to an artistic status to

Kitsch and Art

which they are not entitled. But how does kitsch make this claim, and why is it not entitled to the status of art? We can hardly deny that its deceptive powers work. Consumers of kitsch do not buy kitsch because it is kitsch; they buy it because they take it for art. (Most people would be insulted if they were told that the paintings on the walls of their living room are kitsch.) It has been often said that kitsch is an artistic impostor, that it is an enemy of art camouflaged as art, that it puts on the disguise of art in order to infiltrate and destroy art. The deceptive nature of kitsch has been noted by a number of authors. Gillo Dorfles, for example, says that kitsch is "something with the external characteristics of art, but which is in fact a falsification of art."' Matei Calinescu maintains that "the whole concept of kitsch clearly centers around such questions as imitation, forgery, counterfeit, and what we may call the aesthetics of deception or self-deception," concluding that "[klitsch may be conveniently defined as a specifically aesthetic form of lying."2 But is the deception of kitsch the same kind as that of forgeries or imitations? This hardly seems to be the case. So what does it consist of? Matei Calinescu offers the following explanation: As such, it obviously has a lot to do with the modern illusion that beauty may be bought and sold: Kitsch, then, is a recent phenomenon. It appears at the moment in history when beauty in its various forms is socially distributed like any other commodity subject to the essential market law of supply and demand. Once it has lost its elitist claim to uniqueness and once its diffusion is regulated by pecuniary standards (or by political standards in totalitarian countries), "beauty" turns out to be rather easy to fabricate. (Faces of Modernity 229) The problem is that not only kitsch but also respectable works of art are (and always have been) "subject to the essential market law of supply and demand." From ancient Greek markets to Sotheby's auctions, beauty has been bought and sold. It might be true that the "beauty," or rather the illusion of beauty, created by kitsch "turns out to be rather easy to fabricate." But how is this illusion created? In order to understand what kind of a trick kitsch pulls on its consumers 1 . Kitsch: The World of Bad Taste (New York: Universe Books, 1969), 12. 2. Faces of Modernity: Avant-Garde, Decadence, Kitsch (Bloomington:Indiana University Press, 1977), 229.

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

we must first answer the question, Of what exactly does its worthlessness consist? The answer, as we shall see, will also elucidate the other issues which have been raised. I intend to show that the prevailing conception of aesthetic value judgments and art evaluation cannot adequately account for the worthlessness of kitsch. We shall see that without some revisions and amendments of current conceptions of art evaluation, it cannot be demonstrated that kitsch is inferior to some highly respected works of art. I shall show that this prevailing conception is in need of revisions and ramifications, not only because it doesn't adequately account for the badness of kitsch, but also because it likewise fails to account for the artistic merits of some undisputed masterpieces of modern art.

Aesthetic Properties That Make Works of Art Good We say that kitsch paintings are aesthetically bad. But what do we actually mean when we make such claims? That they are badly painted? In some sense this must be true, for if kitsch is bad, and if it is a kind of painting, it must be badly painted in some sense or another. The question is, In what sense? Does kitsch exemplify technical or artistic incompetence? Though we may find examples of kitsch that are badly painted in this sense, typical kitsch paintings are, on the whole, painted quite competently. The requirement of instant and effortless identifiability by itself implies a considerable measure of artistic competence. To produce convincing images of cute puppies, cheerful beggars, or sad clowns is not a trivial matter. Most people would fail to achieve the requisite illusion of mimetic likeness, since they lack the necessary competence and the appropriate artistic skills that have been mastered by the professional painters of kitsch. As it is clear that typical kitsch paintings cannot be disqualified on grounds of technical incompetence, we must look for more subtle signs of defectiveness. Since we want to demonstrate the aesthetic deficiency of kitsch, we should first single out the aesthetic properties that make works of art in general good art, and then show that kitsch fails to exhibit them to a sufficient degree. But what are these properties? What are the features that make good works of art good? Can we say, for example, that having delicately subdued colors is a property that makes works of art good, while garish colors is a feature that makes them bad? We know that expressions like "delicately subdued colors" are usually used to praise paintings, while

Kitsch and Art comments like "garish colors" have, as a rule, negative connotations. However, even if this is true, such specific properties cannot really serve our purpose. They are not standard and general enough. Delicately subdued colors may enhance the aesthetic value of a romantic landscape painting, but they may be fatal to a fauvist portrait. Conversely, a fauvist painting might benefit from a combination of colors that would strike us as garish in another context. Moreover, not every artistic object can be graded for degrees of garishness or delicacy of subdued colors. The features we are looking for have to be standard in the sense that every artistic object has them to some degree or other. They have to be general in the sense that it will always be desirable for a work to display them to a high degree. Fortunately, we are not stepping here into unknown territory. The aesthetic value of works of art has been traditionally analyzed in terms of unity, complexity, and intensity. Drawing on the time-honored theories of Plato and Aristotle, which were refined by the medieval church philosophers, Monroe C. Beardsley worked out a comprehensive theory of art evaluation centering around these three key notion^,^ a theory that was recently revived and further elaborated by George D i ~ k i eBeardsley .~ argued that unity, complexity, and intensity can be regarded as "general canons of criticism." He showed that the "good" properties of unity, complexity, and intensity are indeed standard and general, since every artistic object exemplifies them to some degree or another, and it is desirable that they be displayed to a high degree. The more intensive the work, the more complex and diverse elements have been unified within its bounds, the better it is. Beardsley has shown that all art criticism operates with these general canons, that art critics implicitly or explicitly rely on the concepts of unity, complexity, and intensity when they appraise works of art for their aesthetic merit^.^ Because the concept of kitsch implies aesthetic inadequacy, it seems reasonable to expect that kitsch will be deficient with respect to these properties. Moreover, since kitsch is not treated simply as art that somehow failed to achieve its desired goal, but is dismissed as artistic rubbish, one 3. Monroe C. Beardsley, Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of Criticism (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1958). 4. George Dickie, Evaluating Art (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1988). 5. Beardsley's conception of general canons of criticism has been criticized for using concepts that are too vague. I basically agree with this criticism. Indeed, this is the main reason I propose later in this chapter the explication of the concepts of unity, complexity, and intensity.

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would expect these deficiencies to be dramatic enough to warrant this kind of dismissal. Let us first consider the concept of unity. What does it mean to say that a work of art is (or is not) well unified? Neither Beardsley nor Dickie actually defined the scope of the three concepts. It is, nevertheless, clear that their assessment of the degree of unity pertains to how the constitutive features of the work are balanced or harmonized. Beardsley lists "reasons that seem to bear upon the degree of unity or disunity of the work," such as "is well organized (or disorganized)," "is formally perfect (or imperfect)," "has (or lacks) an inner logic of structure and style" (Aesthetics 462). With respect to paintings we are chiefly concerned with questions such as how well the composition is balanced, how well its colors are harmonized, how the proportions fit together, and so forth. A failure to unify the constitutive elements of a work into a coherent whole certainly constitutes an aesthetic defect. But is kitsch dramatically disunified? We may find here and there examples of kitsch pictures with some unfitting proportions or that are not very well managed compositionally. But such deficiencies could just as easily be found in any genre or style within the realm of respectable art. The question is whether such deficiencies are typical of kitsch, and, if so, whether they are sufficiently dramatic to justify our dismissive attitude. The answer, however, is clearly negative. Pictures of children in tears or cute little kittens do not strike us as blatantly incoherent, incongruous, or disunified. Kitsch does not typically display stylistic inconsistencies, glaring compositional faults, or unpleasant color configurations. It may not excel in harmonizing its constitutive features, but kitsch isn't typically incoherent either. Outrageous as it might seem, a defender of kitsch could even argue that typical kitsch pictures are more unified than some of the most celebrated masterpieces of modern art. He might take as an example Picasso's famous canvas of 1907 Les Demoiselles d'Avignon (Fig. 4). Notice what art critics Frank Elgar and Robert Maillard have to say about its aesthetic qualities: "In itself the work does not bear very close scrutiny, for the drawing is hasty and the colour unpleasant, while the composition as a whole is confused and there is too much concern for effect and far too much gesticulation in the figure^."^ This is by no means an isolated dissent. John Golding (as well as many other art critics) comes to the same conclusion: 6. Frank Elgar and Robert Maillard, Picasso, trans. F. Scarfe (New York: Praeger, 1956),56-58.

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Fig. 4. Pablo Picasso, Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, 1907. Oil on canvas, The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss Bequest. (Photograph O 1955 The Museum of Modern Art, New York) "It is in many ways an unsatisfactory painting. To begin with there are obvious inconsistencies of style. Even a cursory glance is enough to show that Picasso had several changes of mind while he was working on the canvas: indeed he himself considered it unfinished."' 7 . John Golding, Cubism (London: Faber and Faber, 1959), 48. For similar assessments, see Fernand Olivier, Picasso et ses amis (Paris, 1973), 120; Roland Penrose, Picasso: His Life

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Can we really show, a defender of kitsch may ask, that typical kitsch pictures suffer from such aesthetic deficiencies? Can we really say that hasty drawing, unpleasant color, confused composition, and obvious inconsistencies of style are characteristics of typical kitsch pictures? I doubt it. In any case it is quite clear that kitsch cannot be disqualified for an exceptional lack of unity. Now, what about complexity? Beardsley again largely relies on the intuitive grasp of the concept. From the examples he cites we can understand that complexity is related to multidimensionality, repleteness, combinations of heterogeneous forms, elaboration of structures, and concern for detail. As to the "reasons that seem to bear upon the degree of complexity or simplicity of the work," Beardsley cites the following: "is developed on a large scale," "is rich in contrast (or lacks variety and is repetitious)," "is subtle and imaginative (or crude)" (Aesthetics 462). The question thus is, Can we disqualify kitsch on the account of the lack of complexity, understood in this sense? Typical kitsch pictures are admittedly not markedly complex. Many are very simplistic indeed. Typically there is not much concern for detail or diversification, the structures are not very elaborate, and many kitsch pictures strike us as one-dimensional. Still, low complexity in this sense doesn't seem to be the distinguishing feature of kitsch, and could hardly be the reason for its disqualification. For any degree of low complexity that we could easily find examples of well-respected we find in kitsch works of art that could be judged as even less complex. Think, for example, of the paintings of the Russian constructivists or suprematists, of Mondrian, van Doesberg, Lichtenstein, Warhol, or of the painters of the minimalist school. We thus have to conclude that although it is true that kitsch pictures do not in general display a very high degree of complexity, this by itself cannot account for their aesthetic worthlessness. Given that we have failed to show that kitsch is sufficiently deficient with respect to unity and complexity, the whole weight of thk charge of its aesthetic worthlessness now rests on the intensity component. We have already noted that Beardsley does not define his key evaluative concepts. This may present a problem here. While with respect to unity and complexity our intuitive grasp of these concepts is fairly clear, the same may not be true about intensity. Beardsley gives very few examples (Les Demoiselles d'Avignon is one) of works that in his opinion exeinplify a high degree of and Work (New York: Schocken, 1962), 56; and Gertrude Stein, Picasso (New York: C. Scribner's Sons, 1951), 18.

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intensity. As to the "reasons that seem to bear upon the intensity or lack of intensity," Beardsley lists the following: "is full of vitality (or insipid)," "is forceful and vivid (or weak and pale)," "is beautiful (or ugly)," "is tender, ironic, tragic, graceful, delicate, richly comic" (Aesthetics 462). The list may be somewhat problematic, especially with respect to delicacy, beauty, and ugliness, which could be, I think, more naturally subsumed under the general canon of unity. Delicacy and beauty seem to pertain to formal perfection and harmonious organization rather than to intensity. We may agree with Beardsley that the Demoiselles d'Avignon displays a very high degree of intensity. Yet we wouldn't normally say that it is delicate or even beautiful. As to ugliness, again it seems to be more naturally analyzable in terms of lack of fitting proportions, disharmonious combinations, lack of inner logic of structure and style; that is, in terms of incongruity or disunity rather than in terms of lack of intensity.* Our intuitions concerning intensity nevertheless tend to agree with Beardsley's when he speaks of the vitality, forcefulness, and vividness of the presentation. More generally, Beardsley seems to point to those qualities that have a strong impact on the spectator. Les Demoiselles d'Avignon could indeed be described as highly vivid and forceful. The problem is that even though kitsch may fall short of the intensity displayed by the Demoiselles, it certainly does not seem to lack intensity altogether. Most kitsch pictures are quite vivid and forceful; they certainly have a fairly strong impact. It could even be argued that typical kitsch pictures display quite a considerable degree of intensity. Kitsch is extensively used in advertising, and surely intensity (the strength of the impact of the image) is what advertising is about. Kitsch paintings of children in tears are usually quite vivid and forceful, and leave a fairly strong impact. Indeed this might be the reason why so many people are attracted to kitsch. In any case, we have to conclude, at least for now, that kitsch cannot be disqualified for lack of intensity either.

The Dilemma The conclusions reached in the preceding section are hardly a cause for celebration. We were able neither to demonstrate what the worthlessness of 8. One could still argue that, even though beauty is best analyzed in terms of unity (formal

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kitsch consists of, nor to show how kitsch differs from other manifestations of not-too-good art. This leaves us with the following dilemma: We must either admit that kitsch has an appreciable measure of aesthetic merit, or abandon the assumption that unity, complexity, and intensity are indeed standard and general features of good art. Neither horn of the dilemma is particularly attractive. The aesthetic worthlessness of kitsch is semantically built into the very meaning of the concept. To admit that kitsch has a significant measure of aesthetic worth defies our basic intuitions. As things stand now, we are even left without an explanation of why kitsch is aesthetically inferior to one of the masterpieces of modern art. The other horn of the dilemma is, however, no less problematic. The rejection of unity, complexity, and intensity as aesthetic properties of good art would violate th; intuitions and contentions that run through-the history of aesthetics from Plato and Aristotle to the present. It seems quite clear that it is always desirable that works of art should be highly unified, complex, and intensive. It seems equally clear that the lack of these qualities constitutes aesthetic deficiency. Obviously, something has gone wrong. Some of our intuitive judgments will have to be revised. We will have to analyze the concepts of unity, complexity, and intensity more closely in order to see how they reflect aesthetic merit. However, even before we embark on an explication of these basic evaluative concepts, we must examine one prevailing assumption, pertaining to the evaluation of works of art, that is chiefly responsible for the intolerable conclusion that kitsch might be better than one of Picasso's masterpieces. It is the general assumption (implicit in most classical as well as contemporary writings on aesthetics) that works of art are, and should be, evaluated and appraised solely for their aesthetic value. Not only Beardsley and Dickie, but almost all contemporary aestheticians9 seem to identify the appreciation and evaluation of works of art with the apprecia-

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perfection of fitting proportions), it could, at the same time, enhance the intensity of the work. After all, beauty does have a strong impact on us. Note, however, that the same applies to ugliness. The ugly may be as vivid and forceful as the beautiful. We are, of course attracted to beauty and repulsed by ugliness, but our attraction and repulsion may be equally intense. 9. The exceptions 1 know of are Carolyn Korsmeyer, "On Distinguishing 'Aesthetic' from 'Artistic,' "Journal of Aesthetic Education 11, no. 4 (October 1977): 45-57; Peter Kivy, The Corded Shell: Reflections on Musical Expression (Princeton:Princeton University Press, 1980); David Best, "The Aesthetic and Artistic," Philosophy (1982): 372-75; Goeran Hermeren, Aspects of Aesthetics (Lund: Lund University Press, 1983); Bohdan Dziemidok, "Aesthetic Experience and Evaluation," in J. Fisher, ed., Essays on Aesthetics (Philadelphia, 1983), and "Controversy about the Aesthetic Nature of Art," British Journal of Aesthetics 28, no. 1 (Winter 1988).

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tion and evaluation of their aesthetic merit. I believe that this assumption, natural as it may seem, must be abandoned. In order to establish this contention, the implications of which reach beyond our particular concern with kitsch, we shall have to inquire into the nature of art appreciation in general. In the next two sections we shall thus leave aside the specific problems pertaining to the phenomenon of kitsch, and take a closer look on the assumption that art is appreciated for its aesthetic value. We shall come back to kitsch only afterward, when we shall consider the implications of this general inquiry for the artistic status of this particular phenomenon.

The Case o f Les Demoiselles dYAvignon It is generally assumed that works of art are appreciated for their aesthetic merits. Good works of art have high aesthetic value, bad works of art have low (or, if you prefer, negative) aesthetic value. To say that famous, important, and highly valued works of art may not be aesthetically good, while less-valued works of marginal importance may be aesthetically excellent, may strike us as paradoxical, provocative, or at least somewhat unorthodox. I shall nevertheless try to defend this claim. I shall not deny that art is, or that it should be, appreciated for its aesthetic merits. I shall, however, resist the general tendency to identify the value of a work of art with its aesthetic value. 1 think that when we appraise works of art we take into consideration a great deal more than their aesthetic qualities. This contention, when properly analyzed, may provide a rationale for the judgments of experts that would otherwise have to be regarded as incoherent. It will also-and this is our primary concern here-place our examination of kitsch in a broader context of art criticism. Let us consider again Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon. The fact that this picture is generally regarded as a masterpiece is incontestable. We could hardly find an anthology of modern painting that does not highlight this famous canvas. We might be thus surprised to learn that when it was painted (in 1907) the picture was not received with great enthusiasm. Picasso himself was not quite satisfied with it, and his friends-people who can hardly be accused of bad taste-liked it even less. We learn from Fernand Olivier that "when he was shown Demoiselles d'Avignon, Braque appeared at first to have been bewildered by it" (Picasso et ses amis

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120). John Golding writes that "when Picasso painted the Demoiselles d'Avignon, those friends who were allowed to see it have felt that in some way he had let them down" (Cubism 47). "They could not grasp it at all: their only reactions were shock, alarm, regret, dismay, some nervous or indignant laughter," says Patrick O'Brian,1° and Gertrude Stein reports that the Russian art collector "Tschoukine, who had so much admired the painting of Picasso . . . , said almost in tears: what a loss for French painting."" We also learn from Roland Penrose that the art critics were disappointed as well: "Apollinaire, when he came to see the Demoiselles d'Avignon, brought with him the critic Felix Feneon, who had a reputation for discovering talent among the young. But the only encouragement that he could offer was to advise Picasso to devote himself to caricature" (Picasso 126). The rejection of the Demoiselles was unanimous. Nobody at the time had anything encouraging to say to Picasso, who was reportedly quite depressed. How are we to reconcile such reactions with the superlatives of the present-day art critics? Thus John Golding, for example, writes: "With the Demoiselles d'Avignon . . . [Picasso] had produced a painting which was to become one of the cornerstones of twentieth-century art. . . . [I]t is incontestable that the painting marks a turning point in the career of Picasso and, moreover, the beginning of a new phase in the history of art" (Cubism 19, 47). Golding's praise is echoed by Frank Elgar and Robert Maillard (as well as many other contemporary art critics), who say: "The Young Ladies of Avignon, that great canvas which has been so frequently described and interpreted, is of prime importance in the sense of being the concrete outcome of an original vision" (Picasso 56). Have tastes changed since 1907, or did Picasso's friends miss something 10. Patrick O'Brian, Pablo Ruiz Picasso (London: Collins, 1976), 151. 11. G. Stein, Picasso (New York: Scribner's, 1951), 18. The reaction of Picasso's friends to Demoiselles d'Avignon is also described by Roland Penrose: "The opinions given by Picasso's friends were of bewildered yet categorical disapproval. No one could see any reason for this new departure. Among the surprised visitors trying to understand what happened. . [Picasso] could hear Leo Stein and Matisse discussing it together. The only explanation they could find amid their guffaws was that he was trying to create a fourth dimension. In reality Matisse was angry. His immediate reaction was that the picture was an outrage, an attempt to ridicule the modern movement. He vowed he would find some means to 'sink' Picasso and make him sorry for his audacious hoax. Even George Braque . . was no more appreciative. All he could say at his first comment was: 'It is as though we are supposed to exchange our usual diet for one of tow and paraffin' "; see R. Penrose, Picasso: His Life and Work (New York: Schocken, 1962), 126.

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important? Though there is some truth in both of these suggestions, they do not really explain much. The same art critics I quoted above do not actually disagree with the negative assessment of Picasso's friends. As we noted earlier, Elgar and Maillard also say that "the work does not bear very close scrutiny," that "the drawing is hasty and the color unpleasant," and that "the composition as a whole is confused" (Picasso 56-57). John Golding concurs when he says that "[ilt is not hard to understand why it disappointed Picasso's friends," pointing to "obvious inconsistencies of style," concluding that "[ilt is in many ways an unsatisfactory painting" (Cubism 48). The painting, according to Herbert Read, "is in point of fact stylistically incoherent, and was never considered 'finished' by Picasso himself."12 How are we to reconcile such conflicting assessment^?'^ How are we to resolve the tension between the unreserved praise of the critics and their harsh criticism? Are the above-quoted authors inconsistent? I think that before jumping to such hasty conclusions we should ask whether their praise and their criticism pertain to the same domain. When the critics praise the work they refer to its originality, its importance in the history of art, its being a "turning point," "the beginning of a new phase." They imply that the work was very influential, that it presented a new manner of representation, a novel type of solution to visual problems. They refer to the significance of Picasso's achievement in its art-historical context. On the other hand, when they criticize the painting, they refer to its composition, to the combination of colors, to the inconsistencies of style; that is, to the aesthetic properties exemplified by the canvas. While the first type of judgment presupposes familiarity with other particular works of art and with historical developments, the second is primarily based on the visual qualities of the painting itself.14 Both types of judgment refer to the value of Picasso's painting. Each of them, however, refers to a different kind of 12. A Concise History of Modem Painting (London: Thames and Hudson, 1959), 68. 13. Beardsley seems to suggest that the faults of this picture, which pertain to its unity, are compensated for by its intensity. But note that, even if this is true, it still doesn't explain why the painting is considered a masterpiece. Surely, there are other works of art of high intensity that do not suffer from serious deficiencies (with respect to their unity). What Beardsley actually shows is that the intensity of this painting is achieved a t the expense of its unity: "in certain works of art the intensity of the quality is achieved at too great a sacrifice of unity. This is perhaps what the critics meant by saying that in Les Demoiselles d'Avignon there is "too much concern for effect" (Aesthetics 463). This certainly doesn't make the Demoiselles a great work of art; the overall aesthetic value of this picture couldn't be considered very high. 14. This doesn't mean that one doesn't need background information for correct determination of aesthetic properties (see Elgar and Maillard, Picasso 58).

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

value. I shall call the first kind the artistic or the art-historical value, while the second is what we commonly refer to as the aesthetic value. We could say that the critics consider Les Demoiselles d'Avignon to be a monumental achievement of prime importance for subsequent developments in the history of art despite its aesthetic shortcomings. Thus while the aesthetic value of the painting falls short of Picasso's standards (he himself considered it unfinished),ls its artistic value can hardly be compared to that of other paintings of the period. As Elgar and Maillard observed, "this famous canvas was significant for what it anticipated rather than for what it achieved" (Picasso 58).

The Artistic and the Aesthetic Value of Art Our example of Picasso's first cubist painting has demonstrated the need for the distinction between artistic and aesthetic value of art. Before we consider the implications of this distinction for kitsch, let us make a few general observations about the relevant factors pertaining to the determination of the two values. The artistic value of a work of art can be conceived of as reflecting the public, or more specifically, the artworld16 significance of the innovation exemplified by the work, and the inherent potential of this innovation for subsequent artisticlaesthetic exploitation. Artistic value cannot be simply identified with creativity, originality, or novelty as such. If I splash some paint on a canvas, take a brush and make some random strokes, the result might exemplify novelty, originality, and creativity in the sense that nobody before has produced anything which looks just like that. This, however, does not mean that this "original creation" would have any significant 15. See J. Golding, Cubism, 48. Discouraged by the reactions of his friends, Picasso stopped working on the painting. The canvas was rolled up in the corner of his studio where it stood abandoned for years. Some twenty years later Khanweiler urged Picasso to sell him the painting, to which he eventually reluctantly agreed. The picture was first publicly exhibited in 1937, thirty years after it was painted. 16. I am using the concept of artworld as coined by Arthur Danto, "The Artworld," lournal of Philosophy 61 (1964): 517-34, and made commonplace in the theory of art by George Dickie, "The Institutional Conception of Art," in Language and Aesthetics, ed. B. R. Tilghman (Kansas: University Press of Kansas, 1971);Aesthetics: An Introduction (New York: Pegasus, 1971); Art and Aesthetics: An Institutional Analysis (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1974); The Art Circle: A Theory of Art (New York: Haven, 1984).

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measure of artistic value. Although its "novelty" may be of private significance (it may mark a beginning of my newly discovered artistic career), it would be of no interest to the artworld. To be of public significance the innovation would have to be recognized as suggesting solutions to topical artistic problems. It would have to open new possibilities that could be artistically further developed and aesthetically elaborated. Picasso's first cubist painting, although aesthetically not very refined, already exemplified all the main principles of the emerging style. The innovation exemplified by this picture had the potential for further development and aesthetic exploitation. The cubist principles heralded by the Demoiselles were indeed further refined and brought to aesthetic perfection by Braque, Gris, LCger, Delaunay, Gleizes, Metzinger, and, of course, by Picasso himself. It follows from our characterization of artistic value that it cannot be assessed merely by attending to the work in and of itself. No amount of scrutiny of the picture will reveal whether it represents a significant innovation. Novelty is not an intrinsic property of the aesthetic object, but a relation between the work under consideration and a relevant class of other works. It is therefore clear that in order to assess artistic value it is not enough to have the capacity for aesthetic discrimination and sensitivity. One has to be equipped with relevant art-historical knowledge. It also follows from our characterization of artistic value that it can be reliably assessed only with appropriate hindsight. To appreciate fully the artistic significance of the innovation, one thus has to be also familiar with subsequent developments. This does not mean that we cannot say anything meaningful about the artistic value of a work at the time of its creation. Sensitive art critics can often "see" the new artistic possibilities opened for aesthetic exploitation in the work that has just been created. They may grasp the significance of the innovation even before its influence has actually made itself felt. We should, nevertheless, consider such instant evaluations of artistic value-even when they prove to be correct-merely as intelligent or educated guesses.'' The final verdict is always that of history. The reason we can appreciate the artistic value of the Demoiselles so clearly today is not that we are more imaginative than Picasso's friends, but that we have 17. What happens more often, however, is that people fail to see the significance and aesthetic potential of the innovation. Picasso's friends at first failed to see the aesthetic potential of the cubist principles expressed in Picasso's painting, probably because the picture was aesthetically not convincing enough. Picasso had to paint more pictures in his newly invented style in order to convince even his closest follower Braque that the principles of cubism were worth further exploration.

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the benefit of hindsight. We can see the work in the proper perspective, or rather retrospective. To see this more clearly, imagine that Picasso were so discouraged by his friends' criticism as to have abandoned all further experimentation with the newly developing style and Les Demoiselles d'Avignon had remained the only "cubist" painting ever produced. Nobody would have further elaborated upon its principles and nobody would be influenced by them. Under such circumstances, I think, this painting, despite its originality, would be considered more a curiosity than a masterpiece. As to aesthetic value, I shall have more to say about it later. At present it suffices to note that the general conception of aesthetic value and aesthetic properties adopted here is quite standard. It does not substantially differ from the conception of mainstream aestheticians.18 How should aesthetic and artistic values be balanced? Ideally, works of art should combine a high degree of artistic value with a high measure of aesthetic value. The best example I can think of is Rembrandt. His paintings are fascinating not only because he developed a very original personal style that challenged the accepted representational conventions, but also because he simultaneously brought his innovations to an unprecedented level of aesthetic perfection. However, not all good art achieves the highest scores on both counts, and it is not an easy task for those whose decisions are of public consequence to find the right balance between the relative weight of the two values. We may discern a different bias in different historical periods in favor of one of the aspects at the expense of the other. Thus, for example, the ideology that promoted academic art combined an exaggerated emphasis on the aestheticizing aspects with an almost total disregard, or perhaps even discouragement, of innovation. Today, the results of this ideology are not considered very exciting, and the names of the oncepopular academic artists are almost forgotten. The contemporary Zeitgeist tends toward the opposite extreme. Much of contemporary art is not primarily concerned with unity, complexity, and intensity. The emphasis is placed on novelty and experimentation combined with an almost total disregard of aesthetic merit. Novelty is becoming an absolute value, almost 18. The conception of aesthetic value adopted here, however, is not that of the formalist philosophers who believe that its assessment is based solely on the perceptual properties of the work. I fully agree with Kendall Walton that ascription of aesthetic properties depends on the categories under which we perceive a gven work of art. The determination of the category under which the work is to be perceived often depends on relevant art-historical information. However, once this is achieved, we judge the work's aesthetic properties and aesthetic value by what we discern on the basis of visual perception alone; see Kendall Walton, "Categories of Art," Philosophical Review 79 (1970): 334-67.

Kitsch and Art synonymous with quality and artistic progress. How will this period be assessed by future generations? We have to wait and see. Be that as it may, some minimum measure of both values seems to be prerequisite for a work to be readily accepted as a work of art. The reason that many people feel uneasy about the artistic status of some of the "pieces" produced by some conceptual artists is that they lack the aesthetic dimension.19 Conversely, the reason why forgeries are not acceptable as works of art may have to do with the fact that they lack artistic value (even though their aesthetic value may be comparable to that of the original^).^^ Let me also note that the conceptual distinction between artistic and aesthetic value does not imply that there is no interaction between the two. Impressive artistic innovations (such as cubism) may influence our aesthetic perspective, and aesthetic considerations often play a decisive role in our determination of artistic merit.

The Artistic Worthlessness of Kitsch Assuming that the distinction between artistic and aesthetic value is sufficiently clear, let us consider what can be said about kitsch from this newly developed perspective. How does kitsch score on this dual scheme? In other words, What is the artistic and what is the aesthetic value of kitsch? In this section I shall deal only with the first part of this question. Further analysis of aesthetic value will have to be undertaken in order to give a comprehensive answer to its second part. From the definition of kitsch in Chapter 1, especially from the discussion of the second condition, it follows that kitsch never ventures into stylistic innovations. We have noted that kitsch typically employs the most conservative, tried and tested stylistic conventions. Isn't this, by itself, reason enough to deny artistic status to kitsch? Not quite, for not all innovations have to be stylistic; works of art may be inspiring in other ways. There are 19. This also seems to be the conclusion of Harold Rosenberg, who writes the following in his article titled "De-aesthetization": "To appraise the products of this self-denying movement as visually boring is to invite the retort that the quality of the visual object does not matter and that the function of art in our time is not to please the senses but to provide a fundamental investigation of art and reality"; see The De-Definition of Art (New York: Collier, 1973), 35. 20. I have argued this point in "The Artistic and the Aesthetic Status of Forgeries," Leonardo 15, no. 2 (Spring 1982): 115-17.

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

respectable artists who have worked well within the framework of the stylistic convention of their period. Take, for example, Maurice Utrillo. Even in some of his best paintings there are no significant stylistic innovations. (This is probably the reason why Herbert Read didn't consider him "modern" enough to include him in his Concise History of Modern Paint~ng.)~' Yet who would assess the artistic value of Utrillo's paintings as comparable with that of kitsch? The crucial difference, I think, pertains to our third condition. Utrillo's paintings have that special quality that ensures our continuous fascination with his work. His work has influenced quite a few of his contemporaries, and even today artists find inspiration in his paintings. The expressive quality and atmosphere his pictures convey cannot be adequately communicated by describing what is represented in the pictures. All this is emphatically not the case with kitsch. The conjunction of the second with the third condition indeed ensures that kitsch lacks an appreciable measure of artistic value. We may thus conclude that one reason for treating kitsch as an artistic impostor is that it lacks artistic value. This, however, cannot be the only reason. Utrillo was mentioned as an artist who is not a stylistic innovator but is inspiring in other ways. However, we can also find examples of delightful works of art that are conservative in every respect, works that do not exemplify any innovations (whether in style, composition, atmosphere, technique, coloring, expressiveness, manner of presentation, and so forth). Yet, the aesthetic value of some paintings with low artistic value is sometimes so high that they can even be considered masterpieces of their own kind. The combination of low artistic value with high aesthetic value is, I think, typical of what T. C. Mark calls works of v i r t u o ~ i t y .Take, ~ ~ for example, the still-life paintings by Dutch masters of the seventeenth century in which such hard-to-paint objects as crystal goblets, jewelry, glass spheres, dewdrops, lobsters, and oysters on the half-shell are so convincingly represented. Such works succeeded in bringing the technique, the compositional, coloristic, and textual properties within a well-defined artistic genre and style, to aesthetic perfection without contributing anything substantially novel to that genre and style. 21. In the introduction Herbert Read expresses his somewhat uneasy feelings about this exclusion: "there are certain artists one omits with a somewhat guilty feeling of neglect. Maurice Utrillo, for example, is one of the most renowned of contemporary painters, but his aim was certainly to reflect the visible, and has remained true to the style of an earlier age"; see A Concise History of Modem Painting, 3d ed. (New York: Praeger, 1975), 8. 22. Thomas Carson Mark, "On Works of Virtuosity," Journal of Philosophy 7 7 (1980).

Kitsch and Art Works of art can thus be valuable even if they have low artistic value. Evidently, their lack of artistic value is compensated for by their aesthetic value. If we want to justify our rejection of kitsch we thus have to show that it lacks aesthetic value as well. Before we do that let me briefly consider one extensive artistic category that is often called kitsch, compared to kitsch, or seen as its borderline case: academic art.23 Clement Greenberg once said that "[slelf-evidently, kitsch is academic; and conversely, all that is academic is I think that he was wrong on both counts. There is nothing academic about Donald Duck, garden gnomes, or most of the contemporary kitschy greeting cards (which would probably be regarded as modernist by academic standards). Conversely, most academic artists managed to keep a safe distance from kitsch. One can nevertheless understand what motivated Greenberg's claim. There is a definite affinity between academism and kitsch. Academic art, being stylistically conservative, automatically satisfies the condition of instant identifiability. But are academic works really works of kitsch? An intriguing selection of academic works has been put together by Aleksa Celebonovii in a book titled Some Call It Kitsch: Masterpieces of Bourgeois R e a l i ~ m The . ~ ~ ambivalence incorporated into the title sums up the problem. One of the characteristics noted by Celebonovii is that "the skill of the artist, his erudition and his capacity for pandering to the tastes and inclinations of a rich clientele, took precedence over the desire to deal with problems of more general interest in painting" (80). In other words, aesthetic merits are achieved at the expense of artistic value. What we may note when we go through the material collected in this book is that when the academic works exploit the motives of temptation, devotional themes, the cult of death, eroticism, medieval legends, or warlike patriotism, they are closer to kitsch than when they represent mundane objects or themes from everyday life. But even when there is pathos and emotional charge the work does not automatically fall into the category of kitsch. 23. The term academic was originally restricted to French art of the Second Empire, when art teaching was controlled by the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, and official commissions were channeled by the Acadimie des Beaux-Arts. (Sculptorslike Jean-BaptisteCarpeaux (1827-75), who was employed to adorn the OpCra and the Louvre, or painters such as Thomas Couture (1815-79), Alexandre Cabanel (1823-89), or Jean-Lion GirBme (1824-1904), who exhibited at the official Paris Salon, could be taken as examples.) Today the term is used more broadly to cover most mainstream nineteenth-centuryart. 24. Clement Greenberg, "Avant-Garde and Kitsch," Partisan Review 6, no. 5 (Fall 1939); reprinted in his Art and Culture (Boston: Beacon, 1961), 3-21. 25. (New York: Abrams, 1974).

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

61

Let us consider two pictures from ~elebonovii'sselection: The Lady of Shallott by John William Waterhouse and The Birth of Venus by Alexandre Cabanel (see Figs. 5 and 6). Cabanel's picture is clearly much closer to kitsch than that of Waterhouse. The reason is that Waterhouse's visual transposition of Tennyson's "The Lady of Shallott" is a highly accomplished painting while Cabanel's treatment of the birth of Venus leaves much to be desired. In the first painting there is a rich contrast in details (the shining waters, trees and plants, and the embroidered material that drapes the Lady). Despite its medieval atmosphere and air of unreality, the painting is thoroughly convincing. This is not true of Cabanel's Venus, which is rather poorly painted. The naked woman lying, or rather lounging, on the waves of the sea (as if she were resting on a sofa) is painted in the same artificial and undifferentiated color as the baby angels flying around her. The barely perceptible shadows lend no plasticity to her body and the

Fig. 5. John William Waterhouse, The Lady of Shalott, 1888. Oil on canvas, The Tate Gallery, London, presented by Sir Henry Tate 1894

62

Kitsch and Art

Fig. 6. Alexandre Cabanel, The Birth of Venus, 1863. Oil on canvas. Muste &Orsay, Paris. (Photograph O R.M.N.) whole picture is rather flat. Some of the shortcomings are pointed out by Celebonovit herself: "Neither the lines of the body, nor the softness of the shadow, give the forms any particular significance. The plastic or formal side is underemphasized . . . there is no boldness in [Cabanel's] colours" (Some Call It Kitsch 11).The picture is rather simplistic. One has the feeling that many of its specific features (the arrangement of the little angels, the particularities of the sea and the sky, for example) could be altered in many different ways without aesthetic detriment or benefit. What we can learn from this case is that academic works with appropriate subject matter border on kitsch only when they are aesthetically deficient. I would nevertheless be reluctant to call this Cabanel kitsch, even though it is quite clear that if it were painted today it would be dismissed as kitsch. The reason is that the painting has its place in the history of art. Let me explain this point by way of answering an objection to the definition of kitsch proposed in Chapter 1. Some Florentine paintings of the Virgin Mary seem to satisfy our three conditions: They are emotionally charged, they are instantly identifiable, and they do not substantially enrich our associations. Indeed, if such

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

pictures were painted today we would probably consider them kitsch. Yet we aren't at all inclined to do so. One could, of course, say that it is simply our respect for history as such that prevents us from calling such paintings kitsch. However, there may be also a deeper reason. Our respect for works that have their place in the history of art may be explained by their art-historical value; that is, by their artistic contribution to the artworld of their period. Although such paintings would lack artistic value if they were painted today (they would say nothing new to the contemporary artworld), they do, as a matter of fact, have artistic value because they were influential in their own time. This is true even of paintings that seem to us routine and similar to others of their kind. Where we tend to see (in retrospect) similarities and uniformities within a certain artistic style, contemporaries (lacking the benefit of our hindsight) perceived more diversities and idiosyncrasies than unifying features in a given style (which they were probably unable to perceive as such). One could plausibly argue that even the works that were not radical innovations in their time had artistic value because they helped to establish and define the emerging artistic style. I believe that similar considerations also apply to the historical category of academic art. Works in the academic style could be considered kitsch only if they were produced after academic art had been superseded and rendered irrelevant for the contemporary artworld.

The Logical Structure of Aesthetic Value Judgments We have reached the conclusion that the lack of artistic value, by itself, does not suffice to disqualify kitsch. To show that kitsch is indeed an impostor that only parades as art, we have to establish that it lacks aesthetic value as well. What we have to show, however, is not merely that kitsch has notable aesthetic shortcomings; a combination of aesthetic mediocrity with lack of inventiveness can also be found within the realm of art. (Think, for example, of schoolworks of the not too talented students of art academies.) If we wish to justify the claim that kitsch is both artistically and aesthetically worthless, we have to show not only that it dramatically differs from good works of art, but that it also differs, in important aesthetic aspects, from bad and mediocre works. One should bear in mind

64

Kitsch and Art

that most works produced with sincere artistic intentions range from mediocre to bad. Yet they are still considered as belonging to the respected enterprise called art. We thus have to show not only that kitsch suffers from serious aesthetic shortcomings, but that these defects are sufficiently drastic. But didn't we already fail in this task when we tried to show that kitsch is exceptionally deficient with respect to the aesthetic properties of unity, complexity, and intensity. The question is, Why did we fail? I suggest that it is not because the general concepts of unity, complexity, and intensity are in principle unsuitable to serve as tools for the analysis of aesthetic value. The reason is that the tools haven't been sufficiently refined. The concepts of unity, complexity, and intensity are employed by Beardsley and Dickie on a purely intuitive level-as primitive concepts-as if they did not allow for, or need, further analysis. Consequently, these concepts (especially the concept of intensity) are too vague, unclear, and ambiguous to produce reliable results. My contention is that these concepts require further analysis in order for us to see how they reflect our aesthetic preferences and our comparative judgments of aesthetic merits and deficiencies. In order to employ these concepts as serviceable evaluative tools we have to analyze their inner logical structure and expose the internal relations between them. What we need is at least a partial explication of these general evaluative concepts in order to be able to answer questions such as, When is one work more unified, more complex, or more intensive than another? In other words, we need a comparative model of aesthetic evaluation. I am going to propose an outline of such a model that will be based on an explication of the concepts of unity, complexity, and intensity. Aesthetic value can be seen in this model as a function of the relations between different kinds of alterations to which works of art can be subjected. For the sake of simplicity the outline of this model will be presented in the form of an algebraic formula. This does not mean that I am proposing any kind of algorithm that would actually allow us to ascribe numerical values to degrees of unity, complexity, and intensity. I shall nevertheless invite the reader to consider these magnitudes as functions that take as arguments alterations of different kinds, as functions that increase under certain conditions and decrease under others. The purpose of this model is to expose the basic logical structure of these key evaluative notions, so that we can see how they reflect our aesthetic preferences. With the help of this model we shall also see that the earlier assessment of the aesthetic properties of kitsch was inadequate, and how it should be revised. The next section

Why Is Kitsch Worthless? will thus be devoted to the exposition of this explicatory model. The results of its application to kitsch will be demonstrated subsequently.

The Concept of Unity

. . . a moment comes when all the parts have found their definite relationships, and from there on it would be impossible for me to add a stroke to my picture without having to repaint it entirely.

-Henri Matisse

Let me again begin with the concept of unity. What does it mean to say that a work of art is well unified? Beardsley uses expressions like "well organized," "formally perfect," and having "an inner logic of structure and style" (Aesthetics 462). Since the concept of unity allows for degrees, let us consider first its limiting case: a perfectly unified work of art. What does it mean then to say that a work is perfectly unified or "formally perfect"? It means that it has no formal shortcomings. The notion of perfect unity clearly implies the absence of any formal deficiencies. To say that a work is perfectly unified means that every one of its constitutive features is in its place, exactly where it should be. This in turn means that such a work cannot be improved by alterations of its constitutive features. An alteration that would constitute an improvement would thereby demonstrate a defect, and so the work would not be perfectly unified. Such a work could, on the other hand, easily be damaged. We could thus say that a perfectly unified work of art does not allow, so to speak, any departures or deviations from its actual form. An aesthetically beneficial deviation would, as noted, ipso facto imply a deficiency. A perfectly unified work of art is thus one that can only be spoiled but not improved by alterations of its constitutive features. The opposite limiting case-a totally disunified work of art--could be conceived of as one that cannot be spoiled but only improved by alterations of its constitutive features. The two limiting cases may have no real instances. We can, however, assume a continuum between the two extremes, a continuum on which real works of art can be projected. Exquisitely balanced or unified works of art could be considered relatively close to the limiting case of perfect unity, since such works would be easy to spoil but difficult to improve. The better or more unified the work, the more difficult it would

Kitsch and Art

be to improve and the easier to damage. Conversely, the less unified the work the easier it is to improve it by alterations. (We shall return to this contention.) It is evident a work of art can be improved or damaged by alterations of its constitutive features. However, it is also possible that some alterations could be aesthetically neutral; that is, that they would neither improve nor spoil the aesthetic quality of the work. It is important to note, however, that this cannot be true about every transformation or alteration of a work of art. For clearly, if no alteration of the constitutive features would affect the aesthetic quality of an object, the object could hardly be said to function aesthetically, or (which comes to the same thing) it wouldn't be considered a work of art. So far, we have been dealing with the semantic question: What does it mean to say that a work of art is well unified? Let us now turn to the parallel epistemic question: How can we know that a work of art is well unified or right? How can we justify our judgments about the unity (or disunity) of works of art? One possibility is comparing a given work to other works of the same media, genre, style, and so forth. The problem is that even with works executed in the same style, which belong to the same thematic categories, employ the same techniques, checking one work against another is not likely to be revealing. The point is that the assessment of the aesthetic unity of a work of art primarily consists of the assessment of how well its own specific constitutive elements are integrated. Or, as Richard Wollheim puts it, "the coherence that we look for in a work of art is always relative to the elements that the artist is required to assemble within it."26 Since the specific constitutive elements of different works are, obviously, different, the unity of one work cannot be assessed by juxtaposing its elements with those of another. Given the uniqueness of a work of art, how can we justify claims about its unity? How can we know whether the constitutive features of a given work are in their place, exactly where they should be? How can we justify a claim such as: Feature F of work W is (or is not) in its place, exactly where it should be? I suggest that we can back up such claims by juxtaposing W with versions of it or alternatives to it that differ from W only with respect to F. If we can find an alternative W' that strikes us as aesthetically superior 26. Richard Wollheim, Art and Its Object 2d ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980), 141.

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

to W, we can infer that F is not quite in its place. If, on the other hand, all the alternatives turn out to be aesthetically inferior to W, we may conclude that F fits well with the rest of the work.*' We could thus learn about the rightness of organization of a work of art by comparing it with possible versions of itself. Alternatives that are inferior to a given work of art could be regarded as positive evidence or confirming instances of the claim that the work is well unified, while alternatives superior to W could be regarded as disconfirming instances of such a judgment. We can thus say that judgments pertaining to the unity of a work of art can be tested or justified by juxtaposing the work under consideration with possible alternatives to it. Before proceeding further, a few words should be said about the concept of alteration. Though this notion will figure prominently in the rest of this chapter, we cannot (for reasons that will become apparent) offer anything like a formal definition of this concept. Let me, nevertheless, make a few remarks about the sense in which this notion is employed here. The notion of alteration implies a change, but evidently not every change will count as an alteration. A change in a work of art that would make it difficult to recognize its basic dominant features would not be normally considered an alteration. The type and range of permissible alterations will depend on the "inner logic" of the work. We could say that every individual work suggests its own alternatives. Generally speaking we may say that a change in a work of art constitutes an alteration only if it does not shatter its basic perceptual gestalt. A work is considered an alternative or a version of another only if we can perceive the same basic perceptual gestalt in both. We could also say that an alteration or an alternative of a given work of art exemplifies one of the unrealized possibilities of the work. It should be emphasized that we cannot offer a formal criterion for what is to count as an alteration, as this may depend on stylistic considerations, on perceiving the work in an appropriate category, on the context of presentation, sometimes even on the assessment of the artist's intentions. It should thus be clear that the authority to determine whether a change in a work of art 27. It should be noted that there is logical asymmetry between the justifications of positive and negative aesthetic judgments. For in order to establish that feature F is in its place, exactly where it should be (i.e., that F is a "good-making feature"), we would have to survey all its alternatives and determine that they are all inferior to F. It would be, however, sufficient to find a single aesthetically superior alternative to F in order to show that F is not quite right. This asymmetry between the verification and falsification of claims about the righmess of features applies a fortiori to claims about the righmess of works of art as such.

Kitsch and Art

does or does not constitute an alteration ultimately rests with the art critic and not with the philosopher. Alternatives are conceived of as being roughly of two kinds: (1)those resulting from local changes and adjustments, where most of the constitutive elements are left intact, and (2)those resulting from overall transformations that may change all the constitutive elements while preserving their relations and structural properties. Making revisions in a musical piece, editing a poem, or retouching a photographic print would be examples of alterations of the first kind. Transposing a musical work into another key, translating a poem, or making the photographic print larger or smaller would count as examples of alternatives of the second kind. Naturally, the concept of alteration is a very fuzzy one, and there are bound to be many borderline cases. The concept is, nevertheless, clearly meaningful, since given any work of art we can easily think of paradigmatic examples of changes that would shatter its basic gestalt, and changes that would not. We noted above that the more unified the work is, the more difficult it is to improve it by alterations of its constitutive features, and the more prone it is to damage. Let us now try to express this intuition in a more orderly manner. Let us assume that each work of art (W) has some definite number (N)of alternatives, that it can be altered in N different ways. Each of these alterations must fall into one of the following three categories: Either the alteration A causes some aesthetic damage to W, or B aesthetically improves W, or C does not aesthetically affect W. Let a, b, and c stand for the number of alterations which fall under the We can say that the unity of a work categories A, B, and C re~pectively.~~ of art is greater, the greater the number of its aesthetically damaging alterations a, and the smaller the number of its beneficial alterations b. The unity of a work of art could thus be seen as being directly proportional to the number of its A-type alternatives minus the number of its B-type 28. a thus stands for the number of alterations by means of which W could be aesthetically damaged, b stands for the number of alterations by means of which W could be improved, and c stands for the number of alterations that have no aesthetic impact on W. Roughly speaking, B-type alterations indicate W's shortcomings; A-type alterations indicate W's positive features; and C-type alterations indicate features of no aesthetic importance.

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

alternative^.^^ The basic logical structure of the concept of unity can thus be schematically expressed as a - b.30 I believe that this explication of the concept of unity of a work of art basically agrees with Beardsley's intuitive conception of being "well organized," "formally perfect," or "having an inner logic of structure and style." It also agrees with the ideal of beauty of many classical aestheticians. By way of illustration, let me quote just one, Leon Batista Alberti, who says: "I shall define beauty to be harmony of all parts, in whatsoever subject it appears, fitted together with such proportion and connection that nothing could be added, diminished or altered, but to the worse."31

Complexity and Intensity While proposing the formula a - b as an explication of the concept of unity, I do not wish to suggest that it adequately reflects the overall structure of our aesthetic value judgments. Clearly, we do not judge the aesthetic merits of works of art only by ascertaining how unified, or well balanced, they are. A painting of a black circle in the center of a white canvas may be so well executed that it could only be damaged but not improved by alterations; it might be optimally balanced. This does not mean, however, that we would admire it as a supreme aesthetic achievement. The reason is that such a painting lacks the dimension of complexity. What we admire in art is not unification per se, but the harmonization of highly complex and heterogeneous forms. From Aristotle to Beardsle~,complexity has been thought of in terms of heterogenity and multidimensionality. The more complex the work, the greater the plurality and diversity of its constitutive features. I suggest that these intuitions can be (at least partially) accounted for by representing the degree of complexity of a work of art as being proportional to the total number of its 29. Aesthetically neutral alterations of type C need not be seen as affecting the unity of works of art. (They do, however, affect their complexity and intensity.) 30. The above formula captures basic intuitions pertaining to the notion of unity. As we have noted, a maximally unified work could only be spoiled but not improved by alterations. Accordingly the formula reaches its highest value when b = 0 while a is maximally large. It also accords with our intuitions that unity decreases when the number of B-type alternatives increases at the expense of A-type alternatives (i.e., when a work can be improved in many ways but damaged in only a few). 31. Leon Batista Alberti, De Redikatorie (Vl.ii., p. 113). Quoted by Monroe C. Beardsley, Aesthetics from Classical Greece to the Present: A Short History (New York: Macmillan, 1966), 125.

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Kitsch and Art

alternatives, as being proportional to the number of ways in which the work could be altered. More complex works allow for more alterations than less complex ones, without their basic perceptual gestalt being shattered. Take, for example, a very simple musical piece, the song "Frlrre Jacques"; and a fairly complex one, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. It is clear that even the first "work" could be changed in many ways. Most of them would, however, shatter its basic melodic gestalt, and hence could not count as alterations. The high complexity of the Beethoven work, on the other hand, allows for great many alterations (whether detrimental, beneficial, or neutral) that do not simultaneously alter its basic melodic structure. The degree of complexity of a work can thus be conceived of as the total number of alternatives to it. It can be schematically represented by the formula a + b + c. Because it is artistically more impressive to achieve a successful harmonization or unification of elements in more complex works, the degree of complexity should be seen as an amplifying factor of the degree of unity. Unity in complexity could thus be represented by the formula (a - b) x (a + b + c). Let us now turn to the concept of intensity. Intensive works of art are usually very expressive. As a rule, works of art that strike us as highly intensive are very tightly and economically organized. There are very few redundancies and the specificity of the constitutive features is paramount. The more intensive the work, the more of its constitutive elements function aesthetically. In a work in which nothing is redundant or accidental no features can be altered without changing (for the worse or for the better) its aesthetic impact. What affects this high intensity is the specificity of the constitutive features of the work. The constitutive features of highly intensive works all have definite aesthetic roles. We could say that an intensive work of art is, so to speak, fully committed to its particularity. Its specific features are not interchangeable with a range of others. The degree of intensity can be thus conceived of as the degree of specificity or the degree of aesthetic functioning of the work's constitutive features. To take an example from the literary arts, poetry is the most intensive of its genres. While with novels we can often paraphrase passages without changing their overall aesthetic impact, this is seldom the case with poems, where the specificity of each element counts. A poem, every line of which could be paraphrased without affecting its aesthetic merit, wouldn't just be a bad poem: it wouldn't be a poem at all. I believe that these intuitions can best be accounted for by the ratio between the number of aesthetically significant alterations (i.e., a + 6 ) and the number of aesthetically neutral alterations

a+b

(i.e., c). The degree of intensity can thus be expressed as -.

c

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

It should be noted that high intensity (just like high complexity) is not by itself a guarantee of aesthetic goodness. Highly intensive (or complex) works can be good or bad. Indeed, extreme beauty and ugliness are both aesthetically highly intensive. Intensity should thus be also regarded as an amplifying factor of unity.32 The overall aesthetic value of a work of art can thus be schematically represented by the following formula:33

32. Both Beardsley and Dickie treat unity, complexity, and intensity as if these were independent good-making properties or values of equal standing and equal importance. I believe this is a mistake. Unity, in my opinion, should be seen as the dominant component of aesthetic value. If the work is seriously disunified, high degrees of complexity and intensity may further accentuate rather than attenuate its badness. Complexity and intensity by themselves should be regarded as aesthetically neutral components that only amplify the positive or negative value of the unity component. This contention could be supported not only by the observation that highly complex and intensive works can be bad, but also by the fact that we may estimate degrees of complexity and intensity without necessarily employing aesthetic value judgments. This is also reflected in our formula. It can be seen more clearly when we rewrite it as follows:

(N, it should be remembered, is the total number of alterations a work can be subjected to; c).) It should be noted that only with respect to unity need we employ i.e.; N = (a + b aesthetic value judgments when discriminating between aesthetically beneficial alterations of type B and the aesthetically detrimental alterations of type A. With respect to complexity all we have to do is assess the total number of alterations the work could be subjected to without the necessity of discriminating between the types of these alterations. No value judgments need be involved. With respect to intensity it is necessary to discriminate between alterations that would have a definite aesthetic impact (i.e., N - c) and those that are aesthetically inconsequential (i.e., c). It is not necessary to be able to discriminate between alterations of type A and type B. It should also be stressed that choosing a multiplication function to reflect the idea that complexity and intensity are to be seen as amplifying factors of the unity component is a mere convenience. Any other monotonic function would do just as well. 33. There is one technical problem with this formulation. In its present form the formula could get the value zero under two different sets of circumstances: (1) when the number of A-type alterations equals the number of B-type alterations (when a = 6);and (2) when all the alterations are of type C (i.e., when a + b = 0). These two possibilities, however, represent quite different situations. The first represents a state of affairs when, roughly speaking, the bad-making properties are balanced by the good-making ones. The second represents circumstances in which all the alterations are aesthetically neutral; that is, when no alteration has any aesthetic impact. In the first case we could say that this state of affairs reflects mediocre works of art, and it seems quite appropriate that the formula assigns them zero value (since bad works have negative value). In the second case, however, we cannot speak of a mediocre work of art. As we have noted before, if no alteration of any constitutive features would affect the aesthetic quality of the object, the object couldn't be said to function aesthetically at all; that is, it wouldn't be considered a work of art. The value of our function thus should not be zero; it should be undefined-indicating that

+

Kitsch a n d Art

In order not to get too far from our main topic I am not going to deal with all the assumptions underlying the outlined model of aesthetic e ~ a l u a t i o n ,nor ~ ~ with all its implications. (I have done this el~ewhere.)~~ What I would like to do here is to show that this model enables us to see not only that there is a dramatic aesthetic difference between good art and kitsch, but also that kitsch differs in important aesthetic respects from mediocre and even bad art. This analysis will also help us to see that the appeal of kitsch cannot be properly regarded as aesthetic.

The Aesthetic Worthlessness of Kitsch It is n o t even wrong. -Enrico

Fermi

Prior to the analysis of the notions of unity, complexity, and intensity we were unable to show any significant aesthetic difference between kitsch and the object doesn't function aesthetically. This technical deficiency could, however, easily be amended, as our formula can be also rewritten as follows:

For all the values of a, 6, and c the value of the two functions is the same, except the case when a + b = 0, when this reformulated function is undefined-due to the inpermissibility of dividing by zero. 34. Let me emphasize that I d o not suggest that we actually do, or should, form our aesthetic judgments by making calculations in accordance with the proposed formula. What 1 claim is that the principles incorporated in our model reflect our aesthetic preferences. The proposed model should be seen as a suggestion for a rational reconstruction of our aesthetic value judgments and aesthetic preferences in the same way that Rudolf Carnap's and Karl Popper's models should be seen as suggestions for a rational reconstruction of epistemic value judgments and scientific preferences. Carnap didn't think that scientists who evaluate various hypotheses and theories actually do, or should, proceed through state descriptions, assessments of probability, and calculations of C*-functions. Nor did Popper want to suggest that scientists do. or should. aauallv count and comoare ootential falsifiers when thev choose between competing theories. They saw their models as suggestions for a rational reconstruction of the scientific practice. They intended to show that scientific choices and preferences are reflected, and can be accounted for, by the normative principles of their respective models. Similarly, I am not suggesting that we actually do, or should, arrive at our aesthetic assessments by juxtaposing alternatives, sorting them into requisite classes and calculating various algebraic functions with their cardinal numbers in accordance with our formula. What I am suggesting is that accepted aesthetic judgments and preferences are reflected in and can be accounted for by the normative principles incorporated in our model. 35. Tomas Kulka, "Art and Science: An Outline of a Popperian Aesthetics," British]ournal of Aesthetics 29, no. 3 (Summer 1989): 197-212.

. .

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

73

nonkitsch pictures. Our intuitive conception of these properties awarded kitsch with an appreciable measure of each. The first result of the proposed explication is that this assessment can now be revised. Let us first consider the last component of the proposed model, for the anomalous nature of kitsch has to do mainly with its lack of intensity. The reason why kitsch should be considered seriously deficient with respect to intensity is that its appeal and impact would remain unaffected by a great many alterations and transformations of its constitutive features. Kitsch pictures can be subjected to many alterations without turning out either better or worse. Let us take as an example the familiar kitsch pictures of children in tears. We have defined alterations as those changes that do not shatter the basic perceptual gestalt of the work. What has to be preserved here is that the focal subject of the picture be a child, preferably a cute one, with its eyes and tears highly salient, and the style of the depiction has to conform to the most standard representational conventions. In other words, the basic perceptual gestalt of the crying child has to satisfy our conditions for the application of the concept of kitsch. What characterizes kitsch is that as long as its basic gestalt is preserved, alterations and transformations of a whole range of other features do not affect its aesthetic impact. Consider, for example, the specific colors of such pictures. Not only can you alter the particular shades of the colors, you can even completely change the colors themselves without affecting the aesthetic impact. The colors appearing in typical kitsch pictures are interchangeable with a range of alternatives. The same applies to other "artistic" dimensions of kitsch. The composition can also be altered in many different ways. Would it really affect our aesthetic judgment if the child were sitting instead of standing? And would it really matter if the child in the picture were wearing different clothing? Or if the background of the picture were different? Or if instead of a crying little boy there were a little girl? While it could be argued that even good works of art might be aesthetically unaffected by some minor alterations, it would be hard to find examples of nonkitsch paintings that would not be affected by alterations comparable in range and magnitude to those that kitsch can be subjected to. What we should note is that the kind of alterations we are considering here would have a definite aesthetic impact not only on good and mediocre works of art (which would be probably damaged by them), but also on bad ones (which might be improved by them). With kitsch we thus tend to be indifferent to a great many features that in nonkitsch paintings play a

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definite aesthetic role. This is what makes kitsch so different from works that are simply considered artistic failures. A relatively high degree of intensity or specificity is not just a hallmark of exquisite art; it also seems to be a necessary condition of art as such. There is a certain minimum threshold level of intensity, or specificity, that seems to be necessary in order to consider an object to be a work of art at all. Kitsch seems to be very close to this threshold. In any case its intensity is extremely low. How does kitsch score with respect to the other components of aesthetic value? We concluded earlier that although kitsch may not excel with respect to unity, it does not really strike us as being exceptionally disunified either. We also noted that, although typical kitsch pictures do not display a notable degree of complexity, we can easily find respectable works of art that exemplify this quality to an even lower degree. Must we also revise these intuitive judgments as a result of the suggested explication of these concepts? If not, perhaps it could still be argued that deficiencies with respect to intensity need not be fatal, as they might be compensated for or mitigated by positive values of the other components. These considerations presuppose that any deficiency with respect to one of the aesthetic dimensions, no matter how grave, can be compensated for or mitigated by positive measures of the other two components. But is this really the case? When we reflect on our intuitive differentiations between bad art and nonart we may note that there are critical boundaries we cannot cross without a significant shift in our basic attitude. It seems that if one of the components of aesthetic value plunges below a certain critical level, we simply disqualify the work without being concerned about the others. A completely disorganized drawing would be considered very bad because of its lack of unity. Nevertheless, it would still have to be unified enough to be regarded as a drawing in the first place. At a certain critical point a messy drawing ceases to be a drawing and becomes just a mess. A messy drawing could still be assessed for its complexity and intensity, but once we switch to the category of mess or scribble, further considerations become pointless. This critical point applies to other artistic genres as well. A very bad piece of music may be criticized for the "total" lack of any unifying principle of organization. However, from a certain critical point a disorganized and incongruous sequence of sounds ceases to be regarded as bad music; it just becomes noise. Noises may, of course, have their complexity and intensity, but to assess them we would use decibel-measuring instruments rather than faculties of aesthetic discrimina-

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

t i ~ nA. similar ~ ~ disqualifying shift can result from a plunge below a certain level of complexity. Think, for example, of a "musical composition" consisting of a uniform repetition of one or two notes. Is kitsch so dramatically deficient with respect to intensity that we just dismiss it without bothering to assess its unity or complexity? The answer isn't quite so simple. On the one hand, kitsch does not strike us as belonging to the same family as meaningless noises or scribbles. But then, a deficiency with respect to intensity is a different matter than deficiencies with respect to unity or complexity. Still, there is a certain similarity between kitsch and the above examples, since our dismissive attitude toward kitsch differs from our attitude toward bad or mediocre art. When a critic considers a work of art to be deficient he usually points to its aesthetic shortcomings. Kitsch, on the other hand, is seldom criticized in specific terms. Its critics hardly ever point to specific deficiencies, nor do they suggest ways in which kitsch paintings could be improved. They just dismiss it by stating that it is kitsch, as if it were some kind of a category mistake; as if it were beyond repair. This is not accidental. When we contemplate kitsch paintings we do not feel that if one altered this or that the picture would be right. Whether or not we do, as a matter of fact, assess kitsch paintings for their unity, we may still wonder what the results of such an assessment would be.' After all, there is nothing wrong with the question of whether kitsch is reasonably well balanced or unified. We noted earlier that wellunified works of art are harder to improve than badly balanced ones. When we consider kitsch from this respect we may be in for a surprise. Curiously enough, it turns out that it is extraordinarily difficult to improve a typical kitsch pi~ture.~'Let us consider the possibility of an alternative to a competently painted kitsch picture that would strike us as significantly better. Wouldn't the result of such an alteration shatter the picture's basic perceptual gestalt? But if this is so, the "alteration" wouldn't really be an 36. Decisions about appropriate categories need not always be easy. Arnold Schoenberg's first dodecaphonic compositions seemed to many of his contemporaries more like strange noises than music. What once sounded as incongruous and disunified may become harmonious and highly congruous when we adopt new organizational principles. The same applies to first encounters with Chinese and Japanese music, which may be quite disconcerting to the Western ear. 37. This may not apply to instances of badly painted kitsch. However, as we have noted earlier, typical kitsch pictures are not incompetently painted. Indeed, if our fluffy little kittens or children in tears were badly painted, they probably would not strike us as kitsch; the painterly incompetence could affect the instant recognizability of the depicted subject matter.

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Kitsch and Art

alteration in the sense in which we are using the concept here. It seems that any significant improvement of a kitsch picture would in all likelihood encroach on one of the three conditions governing the application of the concept of kitsch. It would either tamper with the emotional charge of the depicted object, or disturb the conventionality of its presentation, or invoke nonstandard associations. But if it is difficult to improve kitsch by alterations, shouldn't we conclude that kitsch is very well unified? The catch is that it is equally difficult to imagine alterations that would seriously impair the impact of a typical kitsch picture without simultaneously destroying its "kitschiness." We can, of course, easily imagine how a kitsch picture of a fluffy little kitten might be damaged. We could just take some paint and splash it on the kitten's face. But what would be the result of such damage? Most likely it would spoil the emotional appeal of the picture (the kitten might look monstrous rather than cute). It might also tamper with the instant identifiability of the depicted subject (the disfigured face might remind us of a rat rather than a kitten). It might also alter the standard association (as the imagined ambiguity would surely do). In other words, it would again encroach on the identity conditions of kitsch and its basic perceptual gestalt. Doesn't this curious fact show that kitsch must be in some sense optimally balanced? In some sense it indeed does, but only in one sense: namely, that it is optimally balanced qua kitsch; that is, that it is good as kitsch. But this only means that some kitsch pictures perform their task as they should. It doesn't imply anything about the aesthetic merit of kitsch; what we have just learned is that this extraordinary resistance of kitsch, both to improvement and damage, is something that sets it apart from good art and artistic failures alike.38 It thus turns out that the difference between kitsch and other manifestations of bad or mediocre art is not just quantitative but also qualitative. It does not consist only in the fact that typical kitsch may be altered in many more ways without being aesthetically damaged or improved, but also in 38. This rigidity or resistance of kitsch to improvement or damage might prompt one to think of kitsch as being aesthetically unfalsifiable. 1 have indeed tried to show elsewhere ("Art and Science: An Outline of a Popperian Aesthetics," British Journal of Aesthetics 29, no. 3 [Summer 19891; 197-212) that Popperian principles can profitably be applied to aesthetics. Just as epistemic falsifiability can be seen as a demarcation criterion separating science from pseudoscience, aesthetic falsifiability could be seen as a demarcation criterion for art. The degree of aesthetic falsifiability (again in full analogy to the degree of epistemic falsifiability) can also be seen as reflecting the degree of aesthetic worth (in analogy to epistemic or scientificworth).

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

the fact that it is very difficult for kitsch to be damaged or improved by alterations at all. In other words, not only do typical kitsch pictures have more C-type alternatives than any work we consider art, but they seem to have only C-type alternatives. However, as we noted earlier, if all the alterations to which a work could be subjected belong to category C--that is, are aesthetically neutral ones-we would have to conclude that the object does not function aesthetically at all. Kitsch thus cannot be viewed as an extension of bad art, as works that are just worse than others. It has to be viewed as a sui generis category. This confirms the insight of Hermann Broch, who wrote: "Kitsch is certainly not 'bad art,' it forms its own closed system, which is lodged like a foreign body in the overall system of art, or which, if you prefer, appears alongside it."39 It could be objected that our last claim is grossly exaggerated. Is it really true that the only alterations to which kitsch could be subjected are aesthetically neutral alterations of type C? Can't we find kitsch pictures that could be aesthetically damaged or improved without their basic gestalt being shattered? One must admit that there are kitsch pictures that could be improved or damaged without losing their kitschy impact. We should remember, however, that kitsch doesn't form a pure, monolithic category with sharp, clearcut boundaries. There are paintings that are more kitschy than others and there are bound to be many borderline cases. There are also cases over which there may be legitimate disputes. Our claim concerning the extraordinary resistance of kitsch both to damage and improvement should thus be understood in the following relative sense: The more resistant the painting is to improvement or damage, the more paradigmatic or pure an example of kitsch it is. We could thus say that the case where all the conceivable alterations are of type C is a limiting case of "ideal" or "pure" Typical kitsch pictures, like those we have been chiefly concerned with, come, as a matter of fact, quite close to this limiting case. For apart from their gestalt-preserving properties, which are essential to their kitsch effect, the specific features of kitsch are aesthetically contingent in the sense that their particularity is quite optional. The question raised by these observations is, What is it that makes kitsch so resistant to damaging or improving alterations? Why is it that a change that would significantly improve or damage a kitsch picture would simulta39. "Notes on the Problem of Kitsch," in G . Dorfles, ed., Kitsch, 42. 40. That is, when, in our formula, a = 0 and b = 0.

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Kitsch and Art

neously shatter its basic perceptual gestalt and threaten its kitschiness? The reason, I think, is the strong dominance of the basic gestalt over the other features of kitsch. It is the basic gestalt of the crying child that matters rather than the specific features of its rendering. But since this basic perceptual gestalt can be effected in a great number of alternative ways, we have to conclude that the impact and the appeal of kitsch is not so much effected by its specific aesthetic properties but rather by its referent, that is, the idea of a crying child. It is mainly the idea of a crying child that has the impact on the consumer of kitsch, and that triggers the appropriate emotional response. This may elucidate the claim made in the preceding chapter that a label may sum up the picture and the picture sum up the label-that kitsch pictures and labels are in a certain sense interchangeable. It may also explain our earlier intuitive conclusion that since kitsch has a strong impact, it must be highly intensive. Only now we can see that this impact is not an aesthetic intensity, but a kind of emotional intensity, or ~entimentality.~~ Kitsch thus combines low aesthetic intensity with high emotional intensity. It is the sentimental force of the basic perceptual gestalt rather than the aesthetic properties of kitsch that accounts for its mass appeal. Now we can also understand why kitsch is often said to be schematic despite the fact that it might be replete with colors, contrasts, shadings, details, and so forth: Kitsch may indeed look like other paintings. The point is that it does not function the same way. Although kitsch has all the formal properties of paintings, it actually functions, when we come to think about it, more like a pictogram. If we consider how few of the features of kitsch actually matter, and how many are interchangeable with a wide range of others, we indeed see that kitsch functions like a kind of schematic sketch. Kitsch may not appear to be "sketchy," but even a simple sketch is aesthetically more intensive than kitsch. We can thus see that kitsch functions as a transparent (or quasi-transparent) symbol. To say that kitsch functions like a kind of pictogram is just another way of saying that it functions like a transparent symbol, or that the effect of kitsch is totally 41. It should be noted that emotional intensity, pathos, and even sentimentality is often encountered outside the realm of kitsch as well. Renaissance and Baroque religious art is highly emotionally charged. Consider, for example, the emotional intensity of Michelangelo's Pieta, or the pathos of El Greco's Espolio. What makes these masterpieces so different from kitsch is that they also display a very high degree of aesthetic intensity (in the sense defined here). Moreover, and this is not less important, these works also exemplify a very high degree of artistic value that is altogether missing in kitsch. This applies especially to El Greco, whose paintings strike us as refreshingly modern. Were it not for the nonconformism and originality of his style, El Greco's paintings could indeed appear to us somewhat oversentimental.

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

parasitic on its referent. Although there is a world of difference between a kitsch picture of a crying child and the inscription "crying child," semiotically they function alike. We can now also properly understand the insight of Gillo Dorfles's remark that kitsch is "something with the external characteristics of art, but which is in fact a falsification of art" (Kitsch 12). The "external characteristics" are the formal or physical properties of kitsch that are not essentially different from other paintings. The act of falsification consists of the functioning of kitsch as a transparent symbol. In a different context Roger Scruton says about transparent depiction that "if it holds our interest it does so because it acts as a surrogate for the thing which it shows."42 This is precisely what happens with kitsch. With transparent pictures, Scruton goes on to explain, "the interest in the picture is derivative. . . . The picture is being treated as a means of access to the subject, and it is therefore dispensable to the extent that there is a better means to hand (say, the subject itself)" (109). This, Scruton explains, is sharply contrasted by our interest in nontransparent, or artistic, pictures: "Here it could not be said that the painting is being treated as a surrogate for its subject: it is itself the object of interest and irreplaceable by the thing depicted. The interest is not in representation for the sake of its subject but in representation for its own sake" (110). This, as we have seen, is not the kind of interest that people have in kitsch. The contention that the appeal of kitsch should be regarded as an aesthetic appeal is thus, if Scruton is right, further undermined: If the concept of representation is to be of aesthetic importance, it must be possible to describe an aesthetic interest in representation. Only if there is such a thing as aesthetic interest which has representation as its object can there be representational art. . . . It is commonly said that an aesthetic interest in something is an interest in it for its own sake: the object is not treated as a surrogate for another; it is itself the principal object of attention. It follows that an aesthetic interest in the representational properties of a picture must also involve a kind of interest in the picture and not merely in the thing represented. (109) 42. Roger Scruton, The Aesthetic Understanding (Manchester: Carcanet, 1983), 114. The charge of transparency is directed by Scruton not against kitsch but against photography, which, in his opinion, is essentially incapable of artistic representation. 1 do not endorse this claim.

Kitsch and Art This brings us back to the deceptive nature of kitsch, which earlier we were unable to explain. At the beginning of this chapter we quoted a remark of Matei Calinescu, who noted that "[klitsch may be conveniently defined as a specifically aesthetic form of lying" (Faces of Modernity 229). We can now understand what kind of deception is involved here. Kitsch plays a rather subtle little trick on its consumers. They may believe that they like (and aesthetically appreciate) the symbol-that is, the kitsch picture-for its specific aesthetic properties, while what they are really affected by is the emotional charge of its referent, which may have nothing to do with its specific features. Consumers of kitsch look through the symbol, so to speak, to what the symbol stands for. The dominance of the referential function, on which the effect of kitsch is entirely dependent, carries its consumers straight from the picture (which they seldom scrutinize) to what the picture stands for. We can thus see that the appeal of kitsch is totally. .parasitic on the associations related to its referent. In kitsch paintings, unlike in real art, what is represented is more important than how it is rendered. The what overshadows the how. We have noted above that kitsch has all the properties of paintings, that it indeed looks like any other painting; it just does not function the same way. This raises the question of whether the aesthetic worthlessness of kitsch is an intrinsic or immanent property. If it is a function that underlies the status of kitsch rather than its intrinsic properties, couldn't it be that other pictures not normally considered kitsch could also function as transparent symbols (that is, as kitsch)? Couldn't a person admire Titian's Venus, Tintoretto's Sussana and the Elders, or Modigliani's Reclining Nude not for the aesthetic properties of the rendering, but, just as in the case of kitsch, simply for what these pictures represent? Couldn't one appreciate such paintings simply as beautiful-woman-representing pictures in much the same manner as one may appreciate the pictures in the Playboy magazine? If so, couldn't Titian, Tintoretto, and Modigliani also function as kitsch? It is this kind of context, I believe, that prompted Hermann Broch and Ludwig Giesz to introduce the notion of the Kitschmensch, or kitsch-man, referring to the "man of bad taste," or rather to "the way in which a person of bad taste looks at, enjoys and acts when confronted with a work of art (either good or bad)" (in Dorfles, ed., Kitsch 15). Indeed, any work of art can be looked at transparently so that the specific features of its rendering and its aesthetic properties are ignored.43 The standard associations related 43. This applies not only to figurative paintings but also to abstract ones, which can be

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

81

to the subject matter of the depiction may be equally well triggered by kitsch and by a great work of art. The point is that, in contrast to real art, this is all that we can ever get from kitsch. Given frequent exposure and perhaps some instruction, our "kitsch-man" may come to appreciate the nontransparent qualities of artistic paintings. If one gives up "transparent looking" at pictures (that is, looking through the symbol, so to speak, to what the symbol stands for), in cases of real art there is a reward. In cases of kitsch there is none. There is a point in scrutinizing art: in good works of art every feature is where it is for a good reason. Everything in the picture has its logic, so to speak. This, as we have seen, is not the case with kitsch. This brings us to another category of kitsch: copies and imitations of famous works of art. The kind of kitsch exemplified by the "Mona Lisa" mosaics made of colored seashells differs from the regular kitsch by the referent on which its effect is parasitic. Such "Mona Lisas" do not denote the lady with a mysterious smile portrayed by Leonardo, but refer to the painting exhibited in the Louvre.+' Instead of being parasitic on the emotional charge of the represented subject (the woman looking at us from the seashell mosaic is not astonishingly beautiful), it is parasitic on the aura of the reputation of the famous masterpiece. Obviously, not all copies or reproductions of works of art are kitsch. As long as the replica is essentially accurate, so that it fully reflects the aesthetic properties of the original, it cannot be kitsch. Kitsch imitations involve distortions. The diminished scale of the plasters of Michelangelo's David by itself distorts proportions and destroys the effect of details. Adding insult to injury, such replicas are also available in different colors. You can buy Rodin's Thinker in any color you like, including pink. They are also sold in pairs, with their backs flattened, to serve as bookends, and the Venus de Milo is obtainable complete, with both hands. You can choose the material as well as the technique and genre of rendering (for example, used simply for decoration. One may buy an abstract painting for the living room simply because its dominant color matches the curtains and the armchairs. Its specific aesthetic features could thus also become unimportant, even though decoration is also a kind of aesthetic function. One could say that decoration serves a low-level aesthetic function characterized by a low level of aesthetic intensity, in the following sense: as in the case of kitsch, only the dominant features of decorative objects have a definite aesthetic role, while the other specific propemes are of little importance. It could, perhaps, be argued that in many cases kitsch pictures serve predominantly for decorative purposes (in restaurants, for example). 44. This can be said also about Duchamp's and Warhol's paintings of the Mona Lisa and other art appropriations. One of the aspects in which such works differ from kitsch replicas is that they usually use the appropriated image to make a certain statement. More will be said on this point in Chapter 3.

Kitsch and Art

Leonardo's Last Supper as a three-dimensional sculpture, or a bas-relief carved in olivewood or in mother-of-pearl). The market for such monstrosities is mainly created by tourists, and their function can be compared to that of souvenirs. Plastic replicas of the Florentine Cathedral bear just enough resemblance to Brunelleschi's masterpiece to trigger the association and memories related to the experience of seeing the dome; they do not, however, add anything to them. Thus with kitsch imitations of works of art-just as with kitsch in general-the what is again more important than the how. The insensitivity of kitsch imitations to the aesthetic properties of the work usually leads to a somewhat peculiar relation: An object that is grossly deficient aesthetically refers to a highly accomplished one. The consumers of kitsch imitations, however, usually don't mind that the object is rather ugly. They often hardly notice it, since the object is seldom scrutinized for its aesthetic properties. Its primary function is to remind one of the aesthetic experience related to the original, not to produce or reproduce it. The specific features of the rendering are thus relatively unimportant. As long as their basic perceptual gestalt unmistakably refers to that of the treasured work of art, the rest does not matter. That is why it may be more important that the color of the Thinker matches the color of the table on which it stands than that of Rodin's original. Kitschy art souvenirs, just like kitsch in general, function as transparent symbols.

Concluding Remarks Let us now first consider an objection pertaining to the general assumptions of the proposed model of aesthetic evaluation. One could object that the concept of alteration, which plays a central role in the proposed model, has not been clearly defined. I have stipulated that only those changes that do not shatter the basic perceptual gestalt of the work count as alterations. However, the concept of basic perceptual gestalt is itself left quite unspecified. Unless we are told what exactly this basic perceptual gestalt is, we cannot know which changes are to count as alterations of the work in question and which should be considered as resulting in a different work. It is quite true that I haven't offered any formal criteria for determining alterations or specified characteristics for the identification of the basic perceptual gestalt. This, however, is not an accidental omission; it should

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

be clear that no such criteria or general characteristics will ever be forthcoming. Each individual work of art is unique. The type and range of permissible alterations are always determined by the individual features of the work in question, and they differ from one work to another. The same change that counts as an alteration of one work of art may shatter the basic perceptual gestalt of another. This, however, does not mean that the conceptual apparatus developed is thus rendered useless. Although we cannot say in general, a priori, what counts as an alteration or a basic perceptual gestalt, there is no reason why we shouldn't be able to do so in each specific case on an ad hoc basis. In every specific case we have a reasonably clear idea of which changes count as alterations and which do not. This holds especially in the case of kitsch. It should be emphasized again that the identification of the basic perceptual gestalt and the suggesting of alterations and alternatives does not fall within the competence of the philosopher; this is a task for the art AS we have already remarked (in note 34), the proposed scheme is not supposed to teach the art critic how to judge works of art. It is primarily intended as a rational reconstruction of art criticism that should reflect the preferences and aesthetic judgments that art critics actually make. Another objection could be directed at the apparent circularity of the suggested model for the explication of aesthetic value judgments. These judgments are analyzed in terms of certain relations between different kinds of alterations. However, the identification of the alterations as beneficial, detrimental, or aesthetically neutral also involves aesthetic value judgments. The judgments that are to be analyzed thus seem to be involved in their explication. It is quite true that the ability to make aesthetic discriminations involving value judgments is indeed presupposed by the suggested model. However, the judgments of alterations presupposed here are of a different kind and are largely independent of aesthetic value judgments of works of art as such. What is presupposed here is that given a work of art and its alternatives, one is able to judge which alterations would improve the work and which would cause aesthetic damage. These value judgments are comparative; their logical form is that of two-place relations (that is, "W' 45. Naturally, the identification of the basic perceptual gestalt as well as the determination of alternatives could be controversial matters, and there will always be room for legitimate disputes among art critics and art historians. With works of art that can be subject to different interpretations, the determination of their basic gestalt, and consequently their aesthetic assessment, will differ.

Kitsch and Art is better than (worse than, as good as) W"). Aesthetic value judgments of works of art as such have the logical form of (simple or complex) one-place predications (that is, "W is good (or bad)," or "W is good (bad) to degree N"). Judgments of alterations and judgments of the aesthetic value of works of art are thus judgments with different logical structures. It should be also noted that in order to judge whether an alternative W' of a given work W is better than W, we have to assess neither the aesthetic value of W nor that of W' itself. We can determine whether W' is better than W without being committed to any particular value judgment about W. Judgments about the relative merits of alterations are thus, in this sense, independent of judgments of the aesthetic value of works of art as such. It should also be noted that comparative judgments of alterations are considerably simpler than judgments of the aesthetic value of the works of art themselves. Judging the aesthetic value of a work of art as a whole involves a judgment of how well all of its constitutive elements and features fit together. Judgments of the aesthetic impact of alterations, on the other hand, involve relatively simple judgments pertaining to how one of the work's features or elements fits the rest of them. In view of this relatively simple structure of comparative judgments of alterations, it seems plausible that there should be considerably more consensus concerning judgments of alterations than about aesthetic value judgments of works of art as such. It seems likely that even people with different opinions about the work under consideration could agree as to whether suggested alterations constitute improvement or damage. We can often judge with considerable confidence whether alterations are beneficial or detrimental to a given work of art, without being sure, or having any definite opinion, about its overall merits. It seems that our aesthetic intuitions are stronger with respect to judgments of alterations than with respect to works of art as such. These judgments could thus be considered more basic and more intersubjective. The proposed model for explication of aesthetic value judgments could thus perhaps also be used as a model for aesthetic persuasion. By juxtaposing the work with its alternatives the critic could justify and demonstrate the validity of his judgments. He could thus bring us to see what is to be seen in the work of art from the aesthetic point of view. Objections could also be directed at the quantitative nature of the suggested model. One could argue that the number of conceivable alterations of any given work, even if finite, would be unmanageably large. One could also point out that some alterations are likely to have more impact than others. Before indicating how such objections could be met, let us first

Why Is Kitsch Worthless?

note that they do not really affect our central claim with respect to kitsch, which is that the kinds of alterations that are inconsequential to the aesthetic appeal and impact of kitsch would definitely affect (for better or worse) any true work of art (good or bad). This claim holds regardless of whether the number of conceivable alterations is limited or indefinite, or whether some alterations have stronger impact than others. As to the general model as such, the potentially indefinite number of alterations could be limited by the stipulation that only those alterations that would prima facie be seen as credible candidates for improvement are to be considered as relevant. As I have tried to show elsewhere ("Art and Science," esp. 204-S), this stipulation effectively limits the number of alterations to a manageable amount. It also excludes alterations that have little or no impact.46

46. Without this stipulation an alteration detrimental to a given work of art would be considered a confirming instance of a positive aesthetic judgment. Every such alteration should (to some degree) raise the probability of the claim that the work under consideration is right; it should serve as a piece of positive evidence for positive aesthetic judgments. Yet this does not always agree with our intuitions. Imagine an art critic who wants to justify his positive assessment of Canaletto's paintings of Venice by urging us to compare them with alternatives in which the sky is painted green, pink or yellow; or with alternatives in which a little hole has been drilled into the canvas. We would readily agree that such alternatives would be aesthetically inferior, yet we would be reluctant to accept them as positive evidence, or genuine confirming instances, of the claim that these paintings are aesthetically valuable. Given any work of art, we could easily conjure up all sorts of such clearly devaluing alterations, yet we would feel that they reveal nothing about the actual aesthetic qualities of the work. The stipulation of considering only alterations that could prima facie be seen as serious candidates for improvement rules out such weird alternatives as having a green or pink sky in Canaletto's pictures, since (even without actually comparing them to the given work) we would not consider such alternatives as candidates for improvement. It also rules out alterations that do not conform to the general conception of the work, to its stylistic particularities, or to its inner logic and spirit. By restricting alternatives to those that could prima facie be seen as candidates for improvements, the range of alternatives is thus drastically reduced. This stipulation also ensures that all the alternatives are relevant. For it is only when an alteration that can be seen as a credible candidate for improvement turns out to be, after inspection, aesthetically detrimental after all, that we have a genuine confirmation of a positive aesthetic claim.

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Varieties of Kitsch

Originally, the term kitsch was used exclusively with reference to paintings. This primary meaning has, however, been gradually extended, and the term is now used more or less freely throughout the arts, as well as outside the realm of art. Linguistic purists may take exception to such a stretching of the concept. They may object that it is inappropriate to apply the term kitsch outside the realm of art; that is, outside the periphery adjacent to art. One may also object that even within the bounds of art the application of this concept to some of its genres, like music, or even literature, is not only inappropriate but also superfluous since we already have other wellestablished labels such as "trash," "schmaltz," or "Muzak." They may further object that calling restaurant decorations, fast food, or plastic flowers "kitsch" dilutes and distorts its meaning; one could simply speak about bad taste or some other kind of inappropriateness. It is probably true that the further we move from pictorial art, the weaker our intuitions as to what distinguishes kitsch from other manifestations of bad taste, and the more problematic our application of this concept. Even

Kitsch and Art today, when the term is used freely to refer to gardens, furniture, wallpaper design, or election campaigns, its paradigmatic examples are still sought on the periphery of visual art. It is probably also true that some artistic genres may be more prone to "kitschification" than others. There is, however, hardly any artistic discipline that is entirely immune to kitsch. I do not intend to legislate on matters concerning the appropriateness of current linguistic habits. Whether or not what people call kitsch should properly be so designated, we may still inquire to what extent the works that are so called conform to the conditions proposed in Chapter 1, and to what extent they exhibit the characteristics discussed in Chapter 2. Whether or not trash novels or schmaltz music should properly be regarded as kitsch, one thing is clear: They belong to the same category of things that have a considerable mass appeal, but are considered by the art-educated elite to be of no real value. In other words, I shall be concerned with those popular works that a large section of the population considers art, but which are viewed by others as a mere substitute for art. In this chapter I thus discuss some issues and problems concerning kitsch in the areas of photography, literature, music, and architecture. I ask how well the conditions for the application of the concept of kitsch in pictorial art apply to other artistic disciplines, and what kind of modification is required for them to characterize kitsch outside the periphery of plastic arts. The section titled "A Note on Photography" aims to explain why our psychological response to a photograph of a colorful sunset differs from our response to a painting of the same subject. The section on literature shows that, although the transition from pictorial to verbal art calls for some modification of our three conditions, the basic principles of kitsch remain the same. The section on music and architecture deals with the possibility of abstract kitsch. I also examine the claim that Pop Art collapses the very distinction between art and kitsch.

A Note on Photography The photographic image is the object itself. -Andre Bazin Since we have noted that kitsch in sculpture, which differs from painting by bringing in the third dimension, doesn't call for any modification of our three conditions, one would expect that photographic images (which, if

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anything, differ from painted ones by being more accurate or realistic) should not cause any problems either. Photography is often considered as merely perfecting the mimetic possibilities of painting. The invention of photography in the 1830s caused an uneasy feeling in the artistic community, as it was generally perceived as a technological assault on the domain of creative art. Given the conception of art as aiming to reproduce reality, artists who subscribed to it felt threatened by this impertinent intrusion. With the gradual refinement of photographic techniques the message the camera sent to the painter read: Anything you can do I can do better. Thus it may not be accidental that revisions of the basic mimetic assumptions concerning the aims and the methods of visual arts, which had been unquestioned for more than two thousand years, took place at the same time as the advent of photography. The expectation that photographic kitsch should not involve any special problems is further strengthened by the fact that ordinary photographs satisfy our second condition almost automatically. Instant identifiability seems to be the hallmark of the photographic image. The requirement of having photographs in our passports certifies to this fact. As to our third condition, it also seems that photography can satisfy it better than any other media. For what if not photography presents the object as it really is, as we normally see it? Could it be denied that what we see in the photograph is just what we would see if we were at the spot from which it was taken? Given that photographs, by and large, satisfy our second and third condition~,~ one would naturally expect that when their subject matter also happens to be generally considered beautiful or highly emotionally charged, what emerges will be no less clear examples of kitsch than their painted counterparts. But is this really the case? Consider ordinary photographs of crying children, or embracing couples, such as we see often in family albums. Do we consider them kitsch? Or take a photograph of a sunset. Wouldn't we say that it is beautiful rather than kitschy? Yet if it was painted we might not hesitate to call it k i t ~ c h . ~ 1. I do not want to imply that photographic depiction is essentially incapable of enrichment or transformation of our associations. Artistic photography does just that. All 1 claim is that photography is capable of satisfying the third condition no less that painting is. 2. To the objection that this comparison is flawed since it ignores the fact that typical kitsch paintings do not look like photographs, one could reply that the difference, when there is one, usually consists in photographs being more accurate and realistic. This should thus mean that their subject matter is even more instantly identifiable than that of their cruder handmade rivals. Photographs should thus come out even more "kitschy." Yet they do not.

Kitsch and Art

In order not to get sidetracked by contingencies, let us assume that the photographic images and their painted counterparts look exactly the same.3 Let us imagine pairs of identical-looking pictures of colorful sunsets, embracing couples, cute little kittens, and so forth. Given the information that the picture in the righthand frame is a photograph and the one in the lefthand frame is a painting, which of the two would you more readily call kitsch? The answers I got from different audiences all went in the same direction. Some people refused to regard photographic representations as kitsch, and even those who did not still considered the paintings much more kitschy than the photographs. But why should this be? Because the pictures were made differently? Note that we wouldn't find this kind of difference if we asked people to compare drawings with etchings, or oil paintings with a ~ r y l i c . ~ Before answering this question let us consider another thought experiment. Imagine a series of trios of images that are again assumed to be visually indistinguishable and in which we see typical kitsch themes. We are told again that there is a painting in the first frame and a photograph in the second. The third, however, frames a window through which you see the reality itself (say, a real sunset). Though what we see in the three frames is the same image, our responses are different. No one would want to say that what we see in the third frame is kitsch. Nature itself cannot be kitsch, only its representations can.s How could this help us understand why we are more reluctant to regard photographic depictions as kitsch than their painted counterparts? Philosophers who have dealt with the nature of photography have noted that photographs produce a very special kind of realism, that photography is in some sense especially close to n a t ~ r e The . ~ way photography affects 3. It should be noted that this assumption need not be seen as hypothetical. With artistic styles like hyper-realism or "photographic" realism we are sometimes at loss whether we are looking at a "handmade" picture or at a photographic depiction. Even very unrealistic paintings can be "reproduced" by photographic means. Clever manipulation of lenses and mirrors can produce cubistlike perspective, while photomontage and darkroom tricks can create surrealistic effects. Conversely, there is no theoretical reason why any photographic depiction couldn't be reproduced by painterly means. 4. 1 do not want to maintain that photographs of picturesque sunsets or little kittens cannot produce any associations of kitsch. All I am claiming is that in comparison with painted pictures photographs strike us as being less kitschy. This difference calls for an explanation. 5. Even when people say, "this sunset is kitsch," they probably mean that it reminds them of kitschy pictures of sunsets. 6. See, for example, Rudolf Arnheim, "On the Nature of Photography," Critical Inquiry 1 (September, 1974): 149-61; Andre Bazin, "The Ontology of Photographic Image," in What

Varieties of Kitsch us, they say, is strikingly different from the way ordinary "handmade" pictures do. We feel as if we are looking at the things themselves. Photographs of crimes are admitted as evidence in court. Paintings are not. Photographs "are more useful for extortion; a sketch of Mr. X in bed with Mrs. Y--even a full color oil painting-would cause little c~nsternation."~ This is not because photographs are usually more detailed, naturalistic, or accurate; this impact is unaffected even when they are blurred or badly exposed. In an article titled "Transparent Pictures: On the Nature of Photographic Realism," Kendall Walton tries to make sense of Andre Bazin's bizarre claim that the photographic image is the object itself. He argues that photographs are best seen as aids to vision, like mirrors, telescopes, and microscopes. Just as mirrors enable us to see things we would otherwise not be able to see (ourselves, or things around corners), and telescopes and microscopes enable us to see things that are too distant or too small, with the assistance of the camera we can also see into the past. Walton compares the camera to a mirror endowed with memory. "My claim is," he says, "that we see, quite literally, our dead relatives themselves when we look at photographs of them" (252). This conclusion may seem somewhat extravagant. Walton has, however, marshaled strong arguments in its support. Let us consider just one of them: "No one will deny," says Walton, "that we see through eyeglasses, mirrors, and telescopes. How, then, would one justify denying that a security guard sees via a closed circuit television monitor a burglar breaking a window or that fans watch athletic events when they watch live television broadcasts of them? And after going this far, why not speak of watching athletic events via delayed broadcast?" (252). is Cinema? trans. Hugh Gray, vol. 1 (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967); Stanley Cavell, The World Viewed (New York: Viking, 1971); Joel Snyder and Neil Walsh Allen, "Photography, Vision and Representation," Critical lnquiry 2, no. 1 (1975): 143-69; H. Gene Blocker, "Pictures and Photographs," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 36 (1977): 156-62; Roger Scruton, "Photography and Representation," Critical Inquiry 7 (1981): 577-603, reprinted in his The Aesthetic Understanding (Manchester:Carcanet, 1983); Ronald Barth, Camera Lucida (London: Fontana, 1984); Susan Sontag, On Photography (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973); Patrick Maynard, "The Secular Icon: Photography and the Function of Images," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 42 (1983): 155-70; and "Talbot's Technologies: Photographic Depiction, Detection and Reproduction," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 47, no. 3 (Summer 1989): 263-76; Kendall L. Walton, "Transparent Pictures: On the Nature of Photographic Realism," Critical Inquiry 11 (1984): 246-77; and "Looking Again through Photographs: A Response to Edwin Martin," Critical lnquiry 12 (1986): 801-8. 7. Kendall Walton, "Transparent Pictures," 247.

Kitsch and Art Walton recognizes that the last example introduces a new element, namely, seeing events in the past. But is this a good enough reason to deny that we actually see the event depicted by the photograph? Walton points out that "[wle also find ourselves speaking of observing through a telescope the explosion of a star which occurred millions of years ago" (252). Continuing his slippery-slope argument, Walton says: "We encounter various other differences also, of course, when we slide down the slope. The question is whether any of them is significant enough to justify digging in our heels and recognizing a basic theoretical distinction, one which we might describe as the difference between "seeing" (or "perceiving") things and not doing so" (252). Walton implies that seeing the sunset through a photograph of it is more like seeing it through the window than seeing a painting of it. Walton stops short of saying that photographic images do not function as representations. Roger Scruton does not. The main argument of his provocative essay "Photography and Representation," in which he sets out to show that photography cannot aspire to the status of art, is that photographs should be seen as surrogates of the photographed objects rather than as their representations. Scruton is not concerned with semantics. His point is that photographic images do not share with "handmade" pictures those essential features that make them representations; that is, those features that enable us to take an aesthetic interest in them as representations. There are, Scruton argues, three crucial differences between photographs and paintings: (1)whatever a photograph is a photograph of has to exist, (2) the object in the photograph is seen (more or less) in the same way as it actually is, and (3)the connection between the photographic image and its object is causal rather than intentional. These three conditions define the essence of photography, or as Scruton says, the "logical ideal of a photograph." The first condition precludes fictionality, the second precludes control over details, while the third, in Scruton's opinion, prevents us from seeing photographs as expressing a thought about the photographed object. He argues that to take an aesthetic interest in representation presupposes the possibility of the violation of these condition^.^ 8. Scruton is aware that photographers may use all sorts of techniques (for example, retouching the print, photomontage) to interfere with the causal process, or that they may stage things in their studio to produce fictive effects. (A model can be staged to represent Venus, for example.) About the first possibility, he says that when the photographer interferes with the causal process he is actually polluting the medium of photography with that of painting-that the photographer is painting the photograph, as it were. As to the second

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One need not endorse all the conclusions that the proponents of the above arguments want to establish. For our purposes it is sufficient to note that they demonstrate the existence of crucial differences between photographic and painted images, no matter how closely they may resemble each other. The special features of photographs that have been pointed out may help us understand why photography gives us a feeling of closeness to nature that even the most realistic paintings do not give us. The experience of contemplating a photograph of a colorful sunset is somewhere in between that of looking at a painting of it and that of looking at the sunset itself. Since nature itself can never be kitsch we may correspondingly be more reluctant to consider a photograph of a sunset kitsch than a painting of one. It is important to stress that this is not because the photograph creates an illusion of reality. In normal situations photographs are seldom confused with what we see in them. The feeling of closeness to nature has less to do with resemblance (black-and-white photographs do not look like nature) than with the "mechanical" origins of photographic images. Should we thus conclude that it is impossible to produce a convincing work of kitsch by photographic techniques? This would be going too far. Many photographic images, especially those used in advertising, may indeed strike us as kitsch. It should be noted, however, that the degree of kitschiness in such cases is related to how much the photographic image was manipulated in one way or another. As a rule the kitschiness of the photographic image begins exactly where it departs from "straight photography." One way to achieve a kitschy effect is by "staging" the subject matter. Here, as Roger Scruton notes, the representational act is largely achieved even before the photograph is actually taken. Other means by which the kitsch effect can be secured include photomontage, interfering with the photographic process by retouching the print, or using different laboratory development techniques, and securing special effects by using colored filters or special lighting. In other words, kitschy effects are mainly achieved by departing from the "straight photography" that gives the photographic image its special closeness to nature, due to its unmediated character. Let us also note that even in cases of "manipulative" photography we would feel more convinced of the "kitschiness" of the image if we were told that it was actually painted. Another way to account for the difference in our response to photographs possibility, Scruton maintains that insofar as the model represents Venus the representational act is complete before the photograph is taken.

Kitsch and Art

and paintings is to note that the range of alternative renderings of the depicted subject that are at the disposal of the painter and the photographer differ substantially in kind and scope. The photographer may select the angle, aperture, exposure time, and the like, but he does not have the kind of control over the resulting picture that the artist has.9

A Note on Literature The further we move away from visual arts, the more problematic it seems to point out clear-cut examples of kitsch. How can we distinguish literary kitsch from works of literature that are simply bad? Is kitsch confined to Romanticism and the post-Romantic era? Or can we find it in every literary genre, style, and period? Can kitsch be reduced to sentimentality? These kinds of questions came up in a discussion on literary kitsch at the Some symposium "On Kitsch" organized by the editors of Salmag~ndi.'~ of the problems surfaced right at the outset, as there was little consensus even about the paradigmatic examples of literary kitsch. Barry Goldensohn suggested Moby Dick and Huckleberry Finn, only to draw a response from Irving Howe that just those parts in Huckleberry Finn which Goldensohn singled out as the most kitschy form "one of the most beautiful passages in American literature."" Susan Sontag claimed that it would be more appropriate to say that parts of Moby Dick are simply bad than to label them kitsch (247). Charles Dickens and Victor Hugo were also suggested, but didn't win much of a consensus either. There was more agreement about Dostoyevsky's Sonya in Crime and Punishment as a kitsch figure. Why? This is what Barry Goldensohn suggested in way of explanation: "[Slhe represents a mass middle-class fantasy of the prostitute: a Christianized vision of the soul that can be saved through orthodox means. . . . Why we call the conventions of sentimental romance kitsch is that they have lent themselves so well to mass 9. This is another reason why we should judge paintings and photographs by different artistic criteria. 10. The proceedings of this symposium were published in "On Kitsch," Salmagundi: A Quarterly of the Humanities and Social Sciences, nos. 85-86 (Winter-Spring 1990): 197-3 12. 11. "On Kitsch," 246. The passages in question are those that describe the scene where Huck and Jim are sitting on the rock, and Jim is declaring his own humanity by talking about his wife and children.

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fantasies, mass wish-fulfillment. They have been used again and again in bad art; they gratify the assumptions that we can very clearly identify with a mass audience" (248). All this is true, but fantasy and wish-fulfillment are features that also appear frequently in good literature. We must also remember that not all conventions of sentimental narrative that are positively received are kitsch; otherwise all Romantic literature, as well as the nineteenth-century novel, would have to be regarded as such. A different set of aspects were mentioned by Saul Friedlander: "The stereotype of the prostitute taken out of the gutter and redeemed. The portrait aims at an unmediated, immediate, emotional reaction in the reader. . . . It is the imitation of the familiar stereotype, the simplicity of the figure and the immediacy of the response that together call to mind the presence of kitsch, even in what is obviously a very great novel" (250).This characterization reminds us of the principles invoked in characterizing kitsch in the visual arts. Strong emotional charge, the immediacy of an unreflective response, simplicity that borders on stereotype have all been mentioned as major characteristics. However, before we ask how the conditions designed to identify pictorial kitsch can be extended to identify literary kitsch, we must first note some of the essential differences between the visual and the verbal arts. In literature it is not the visual experience that is the object of aesthetic comprehension and appreciation but the interrelationships between the meanings of the various components of the text. The prime vehicle of reference is not depiction but description.12 Though the propositional and narrative elements may not be altogether absent in visual arts, in literature they are clearly more dominant. The literary medium can be seen as a vehicle for expressing meanings and ideas. The question thus is, Is there anything distinctive about the meanings and ideas expressed by kitsch? Is there, in other words, anything that can be identified as the content of kitsch? Milan Kundera, whose Unbearable Lightness of Being was often quoted at the symposium, singled out some such general features. Kitsch, according to Kundera, has its source in the "categorical agreement with being." Kundera begins his provocative analysis with theological and metaphysical premises, noting that the "dispute between those who believe that the world was created by God and those who think it came into being of its 12. I am using the term description in its most general sense, which subsumes all forms of "verbal depictions" (metaphors,allusions, evocations, and so forth).

Kitsch and Art own accord deals with phenomena which go beyond our reason and experience. Much more real is the line separating those who doubt being as it is granted to man (no matter how or by whom) from those who accept it without re~ervation."'~The basic faith that Kundera finds behind all the European religious and political movements is traced to the first chapter of Genesis, which tells us that "the world was created properly, that human existence is good, and that we are therefore entitled to multiply" (248). It is this basic faith that Kundera calls the "categorical agreement with being." The role of a dialectical antithesis to this basic assumption that disturbs and threatens its validity is assigned to shit: The fact that until recently the word "shit" appeared in print as s--has nothing to do with moral considerations. You can't claim that shit is immoral, after all! The objection to shit is a metaphysical one. The daily defecation session is daily proof of the unacceptability of Creation. Eithertor: either shit is acceptable (in which case don't lock yourself in the bathroom!) or we are created in an unacceptable manner. It follows, then, that the aesthetic ideal of the categorical agreement with being is a world in which shit is denied and everyone acts as though it did not exist. This aesthetic ideal is called kitsch. . . . Kitsch is the absolute denial of shit, in both the literal and figurative sense of the word; kitsch excludes everything from its purview which is essentially unacceptable in human existence. (248) Does this mean that in kitsch novels all conflicts have to be resolved, initial disruptions and incongruities eliminated, that everything has to conform to accepted ethical norms and culminate in the inevitable happy ending? The elements of beautification and the resolution of conflicts, as well as the happy ending, are indeed typical of literary kitsch. "The greatest conflict that could occur between two Russians," says Kundera, commenting on the Soviet socialist realism of the 1950s, "was a lovers' misunderstanding: he thought she no longer loved him; she thought he no longer loved her. But in the final scene they would fall into each other's arms, tears of happiness trickling down their cheeks" (253). Happy endings are indeed essential for Communist kitsch, in which the heroes have to live happily thereafter. But Communist kitsch, which is largely indoctrinatory and didactic, is just one of the less sophisticated species of kitsch. Most of the 13. The Unbearable Lightness of Being (New York: Harper and Row, 1984), 247.

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episodes of Dallas and Dynasty close with conflicts and misfortunes rather than resolutions and happy endings. Yet we don't have to wait for the end of a series to decide whether or not it is kitsch. Clearly, happy endings are not a sine qua non for literary kitsch. The "categorical agreement with being" pertains to a higher plane. The crucial point is that kitsch must not question the basic metaphysical and moral assumptions of human existence. More sophisticated kitsch thus allows "shit" to enter the contingencies of everyday life, as long as it doesn't touch the basic assumptions about the meaningfulness of our endeavors, the accepted moral code, and the meaning of life as such. It is on this level that kitsch always has to be reassuring. The world of kitsch resembles the world of religious faith. Karl Marx's dictum that religion is the opiate of the people also applies to kitsch. In everyday life there may be questions and uncertainties, but with respect to guiding principles all questions and doubts are answered even before they are raised. As Saul Friedlander says: "there is no kitsch which ends with a question. All kitsch ends with a statement" ("On Kitsch" 253). Kitsch is indeed totally incompatible with even the mildest form of questioning; that is, with irony. Kitsch always means what it says, and says it literally. There are no two ways of reading kitsch. (Once kitsch is interpreted ironically, or as a parody, it ceases to be kitsch.) Coming back to Dostoyevsky's Sonya, perhaps she is a kitsch figure. But even if she is, it is unlikely that we would learn much about literary kitsch by analyzing her. Even if we could explain what a kitsch character is, and even if we could somehow extract her in one piece and unimpoverished from the given context, one could still argue that the same literary character that in one setting weakens (or kitschifies, if you like) the work, could perform wonders in another work. (The kind of literature that is today called postmodern often uses characters of Sonya's type.) If one is looking for paradigmatic examples of literary kitsch, it is thus better to consider literary wholes rather than their components. An ending that may be kitschy for one novel could be quite appropriate for another. In order to capture the characteristic features of literary kitsch we must turn to pulp novels, cheap romances, or to what is today called the supermarket novel: the kind of literature that is a popular success despite its worthlessness, or, perhaps, because of certain features of its worthlessness. We may start with the romanticized melodramatic tales written for young Victorian ladies at the turn of the century. There is no literary merit in these stories, yet their mass appeal is undeniable. Clearly, it is the emotional charge of the stories rather than the literary quality of their presentation -

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that accounts for their popular success. The narrative is as a rule based on a fixed standard model that has been well tried in the past. The story is usually highly sentimental; it typically plays on stock emotions and romanticized Victorian ideals, on dreams and illusions of the rising middle classes. Though these novels purport to be realistic, their inspiration comes from legends, fantasies, and fairy tales. A young millionaire falls in love with his chauffeur's daughter. She is sent to live with her grandmother, he goes abroad. Their love is, however, stronger than all the obstacles and they are married in the end. The heroes of these novels are stereotypes and the plot is usually predictable in its dominant features: justice is seen to be done, truth prevails, evil is punished, honesty and chastity rewarded. This kind of kitsch, as Kundera points out, describes the world of a beautiful lie.14 The modern version of literary kitsch represented by the supermarket novel is admittedly more sophisticated and less easy to characterize thematically. Modern literary kitsch often achieves the status of best-seller, and is often read for relaxation even by very sopisticated and intelligent people. One may mention authors such as Georgette Heyer, Harold Robbins, and Jackie Collins. Though it is difficult to characterize modern literary kitsch thematically, there are some common formal characteristics: The narrative usually closely follows the plot. Flashbacks are rare, and when they occur they are, as a rule, directly related to action. For instance, when the heroine has to decide whether to marry the rich man she remembers her poor childhood in her town's slum district. Anticipations, on the other hand, are frequent and explicit. At all turning points of the story there are a limited number of possibilities and the reader has usually been given enough hints to expect what will be next. The reader is never frustrated or disappointed: what he expects is just what he gets-it may be not at the very next point of the narrative (there has to be some suspense in kitsch stories), but eventually for sure. The thematic framework is highly conventional, and there is usually a third-person narrator. The story is filled with action and it moves from bad to good or from good to better. There is always more 14. Arthur Koestler asks, "How it was possible that in the age of imperialist conquest, when human purpose was defined by the concepts of the Survival of the Fittest and the Struggle for Existence, people surrounded themselves with velvet, plush, and knick-knacks on the imitation-marble mantelpiece, how art could become so completely separated from reality?" He concludes that the aim of Victorian kitsch was to camouflage the unbearable ugliness produced by the industrial revolution and to cover up the dreadful discovery that man was a monkey and the stock exchange a continuation of the jungle; see his Insight and Outlook (New York: Macmillan, 1949), 396.

Varieties of Kitsch telling than showing. Dialogues or monologues are not very central; what we learn about the characters is mostly mediated. All this agrees with the general spirit of our conditions. As to the first one, its literary analogue is that the narrative is strongly emotionally charged. Literary kitsch plays on standard emotional situations that elicit unreflexive spontaneous emotional response. They conform to the moral standards and social ideals of the period. Just as kitsch pictures typically depict what is commonly considered beautiful, kitsch novels typically play on what is commonly considered good, moral, or proper. As to the second condition, its literary analogue is instant understandability. Kitsch does not require interpretation. The condition thus stipulates that the language of kitsch be sufficiently simple and the style of the narration highly conventional. As in the visual arts, literary kitsch is usually totally explicit: nothing is left to the imagination. The third condition suggests that by reading kitsch novels we are not likely to broaden our horizons or gain any real insight into the human predicament, and that no novel aspects of reality are likely to be revealed to us. Unlike real literature, kitsch does not intensify our sensitivity, nor does it help us to make more refined distinctions and discriminations. As Robert Nozick observed, "kitsch often obstructs real emotions. . . . [It] provides a simulacrum of the emotion that erodes and degrades the capacity to feel that emotion" ("On Kitsch" 225-26). Turning to the question of why kitsch is worthless, the distinction between artistic and aesthetic value can also be applied to literature. Artistic value, we remember, reflects the significance of the innovations exemplified by the work and the potential of these innovations for aesthetic exploitation. It is quite clear that the conclusions reached about pictorial kitsch equally apply to literary kitsch. Kitsch novels have no artistic value. As to aesthetic value, Beardsle~has shown that the general canons of unity, complexity, and intensity apply to literature just as they do to other forms of art. As far as unity is concerned, kitsch in literature (just as in painting) can hardly be singled out as being drastically deficient in this respect. Kitsch novels are not, as a rule, glaringly incongruous, unbalanced, or incoherent. The unity of literary kitsch is, however, achieved at the expense of its complexity. As to the intensity, which we defined as the sensitivity to alterations, one obvious literary analogue would be the sensitivity of the literary work to paraphrase. The specific way of choosing the right expression among the range of alternatives is to a great extent what the art of stylistics is about. The stylistic quality of the literary work

Kitsch and Art could thus be indirectly assessed by the extent of damage that would be inflicted by a paraphrase. Good style in prose (not to mention poetry) invariably suffers from paraphrase.ls This should not be surprising. What does it mean to say that the work is stylistically accomplished or perfect, if not that it can only be damaged by a paraphrase? If a paraphrase would improve on the original text, it would, eo ipso, point to stylistic deficiencies in that text. We are, of course, rehearsing the general argument about the possibility of assessing the aesthetic quality of a given work by juxtaposing it with its own alternatives. Only now, when we are concerned with literary style, one obvious range of alternatives or alterations is the domain of paraphrases to which the text can be subjected. One of the characteristic features of kitsch is that it is highly insensitive to paraphrase.16 Paraphrases of kitschy texts are unlikely to change the impact of the work. This also applies to paraphrase in the more general or extended sense of the term. Kitsch stories could be told in many different ways without there being a notable difference in their impact. As long as we stick to the basics of the story, the rest does not matter that much. This means that the impact of kitsch novels is achieved by what is said rather than by how it is said. Thus again, just as with kitschy pictures, the what overshadows the how. (No need to stress that what characterizes not only good literature but also the poetic function of language as such is just the converse.) Thus, just as we reached the conclusion in the context of visual arts that kitsch doesn't really function aesthetically, we may say that in the context of literary art kitsch doesn't function poetically. It should be also noted that the principles of literary kitsch are just as historically and culturally impregnated as the principles of kitsch in visual arts. Moral and social ideals change just as ideals of beauty do. Stylistic features that might once have been considered radical innovations may later become clichb, and what was considered revelation yesterday may become old hat tomorrow. The temporal element is thus often crucial for judging whether or not a work should be considered kitsch.

Music and Architecture At the symposium "On Kitsch," the question of musical kitsch was also raised. Is there such a thing? As some of the participants noted, to talk 15. This is also why stylistic masterpieces are so difficult to translate. 16. We should also note that kitsch literature easily translates into other languages.

Varieties of Kitsch about kitsch in music presents a special problem. We have a reasonably clear intuition about what schmaltzy music or Muzak is, but when people offer examples of musical kitsch the discussions end in controversy. In his essay "Notes on the Problem of Kitsch" (in Dorfles, ed., Kitsch), Hermann Broch singled out Wagner and Berlioz. What he says, however, tells us more about his personal dislikes than about the nature of musical kitsch." Should we conclude that the application of this concept to music, or at least to serious music, is simply inappropriate? Some of the participants at the symposium did indeed express this opinion: The distinction between inferior music, or music which is unpleasant, or unimportant or dated, and great, timeless music is fairly clear. If the notion of kitsch has some application to music it would be very limited. . . . Music which is folkloric or more mediocre is not called kitsch. In fact, I think as far as serious music is concerned, very little is called kitsch. (Susan Sontag, 239) Music is a very difficult example to deal with. . . . I'm uncomfortable talking about kitsch in any music except popular music, simply because the medium is such that it's too easy to call that which is unfashionable kitsch. (Barry Goldensohn, 239) Yet there was one example, brought by David Steiner, that was not rejected from the outset: What about something like Tchaikowsky's 1812 Overture, and particularly the use of cannons in it? You can't say that's a failure. The cannons are integral to the conception of the work, and yet I think we'd want to call it kitsch in some sense. (239) The question is, Why are paradigmatic examples of kitsch in serious music so hard to find, and in what way is the Tchaikowsky example special? The answer, I believe, has to do with the fact that music is, by and large, nonrepresentational. Our first condition for the application of the concept of kitsch, which emphasizes the central role of its representational function, 17. Let me quote: "Take Berlioz, for example, whose decorative and consciously affected style (a very French feature) is only just bearable: not only does Berlioz use associations which are sensational and foreign to music, he even shamelessly sets his Faust to the rhythm of a spiritedly orchestrated Racony march" (52).

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thus cannot be met, at least not in the same straightforward manner as it is, for example, in paintings or novels. To the extent that this is the case, musical works thus cannot be parasitic on the emotional charge of anything external to them. In this respect music resembles abstract painting and sculpture, genres that also make the life of kitsch very difficult. Recognizing that music is, by and large, nondenotational, does not mean, however, that there are no elements or passages in musical compositions that are "descriptive." It seems that those passages in Tchaikowsky's 1812 Overture that may perhaps be called kitschy are just those in which the composer used descriptive referential devices (the quotation of the Marseillaise, the bells of Moscow, the use of cannons and battle trumpets).l8 Should we thus conclude that insofar as a musical work lacks descriptive or denotative elements, kitsch is correspondingly impossible? The question is analogous to the question of whether there can be purely abstract kitsch in painting or sculpture. We have already noted that we find it difficult to label abstract works kitsch, no matter how bad we might consider them. But aren't there exceptions? Couldn't the parasitic nature of kitsch be exemplified even by abstract works? Although a purely abstract work cannot (by definition) denote physical objects or themes it may refer to other (abstract) works. Just as an abstract painting can be parasitic on the visual gestalts and patterns of design exemplified by other paintings, a musical piece can be parasitic on musical gestalts of popular musical works. In such cases we may also conceive of abstract kitsch. When an abstract painting or a piece of music has no artistic and aesthetic merits of its own, but derives its appeal from being parasitic on some previously well received gestalts, it functions as kitsch. It was Clement Greenberg who stressed the dependence of kitsch on the possibility of "borrowing" from the artistic tradition. Although he was not thinking about abstract kitsch, the passage describing this dependence may just be relevant here: The precondition for kitsch, a condition without which kitsch would be impossible, is the availability close at hand of a fully matured cultural tradition, whose discoveries, acquisitions, and perfected self18. If this conjecture is true, operas and operettas might be considered more prone to kitschification than other musical works, as these genres typically use more descriptive and denotative elements and devices.

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consciousness kitsch can take advantage of for its own ends. It borrows from its devices, tricks, stratagems, rules of thumb, themes, converts them into a system, and discards the rest. . . . [Wlhen enough time has elapsed the new is looted for new "twists," which are then watered down and served up as kitsch.19 This passage is particularly relevant to music. The kind of popular music that we might want to call kitsch indeed seems to exemplify the features Greenberg describes. (Think, for example, of the Eurovision song contests.) It is usually parasitic on previously well received musical gestalts (frequently lifted from classical music). Simplicity as well as sentimentality are also among its characteristic features. Not only is musical kitsch hardly ever complex, it also lacks the kind of aesthetic intensity and commitment to specificity that characterizes all serious music. As long as the basic tune or theme satisfies the above specifications, the specific features of its rendering and instrumentation are of secondary importance. Since musical kitsch has no real artistic or aesthetic value, in order to find it in serious music we would have to look for works of third-rate composers whose names have long been forgotten. This may explain why it is so difficult to come up with noncontroversial examples of kitsch in serious music: the classical music we are familiar with is the music that survived because of its artistic and aesthetic merit. We may thus conclude that kitsch in music is conceivable either when descriptive devices are employed, or when the piece is parasitic on some previously well received musical gestalt from which it derives its appeal. It should be stressed that the use of musical quotations, allusions to other musical works, and other referential devices need not result in kitsch. Take, for example, Dmitry Shostakovich, who used allusions and quotations of musical themes (of other composers as well as his own) almost obsessively. His Fifteenth Symphony is virtually built around them: from Rossini's William Tell Overture in the first movement, to the "Fate" motif from Wagner's The Ring in the finale. The point is that the beauty of the Fifteenth Symphony is not simply parasitic on Rossini's, Wagner's, or Shostakovich's own past achievements. The integration and transformation of the quoted musical themes creates beauty of its own, as the "borrowed" passages are enriched by new meanings in their interaction with the new musical 19. "Avant-Garde and ffitsch," in Art and Culture (Boston: Beacon, 1961), 10-11.

Kitsch and Art context.20This does not happen in kitsch music, which merely sentimentalizes and waters down the lifted musical themes. Turning to architecture, it may seem prima facie strange that I have located its discussion here next to music. In many respects one could hardly think of two more unlike arts. However, in the context of this inquiry, the relevant important common feature is that the two arts are by and large nonrepresentational. Consequently, what has been said about the possibilities of kitsch in music largely applies to architecture as well. Just as there may be passages in musical works that are "descriptive," we may find elements of architectural structures that are representationaL21These elements, like descriptive elements in music, may indeed be kitschy. There is just one difference. The nonrepresentational character of architecture is more due to a self-imposed convention than a result of the inherent limitations of the medium. Even whole buildings can be representational, and architects occasionally do explore this possibility. The fact that this is an exception rather than a rule explains why architectural kitsch is less frequent than, say, pictorial kitsch. But representational buildings may exemplify kitsch no less forcefully than manifestations in other artistic disciplines. Many fish restaurants built to look like ships can serve as examples. It should be stressed that not all architectural structures that are representational automatically end up as kitsch. The opera house in Sydney, Australia, is clearly evocative of a sailboat. It maintains a safe distance from kitsch because the design is quite original and one has to use one's imagination to see the structure as representing a ship (see Fig. 7). However, when the representation leaves nothing to the imagination so that its subject matter is instantly identifiable, the result is bound to be kitsch. This is what happens when McDonald's stands masquerade as hamburgers, gas stations as mushrooms, or hotels as elephants. This kind of architectural kitsch clearly depends on its mimetic function. However, as in music, we also get the other kind of imitative architectural 20. Thus, for example, Rossini's Overture grows out of the trumpet tune that is the first movement's second subject. It shares the same basic rhythm and each time it recurs it is in Emajor, formally the "correct" key for this sonata-form movement. The tune to which it is appended, however, uses all twelve notes of the chromatic scale and consequently strives against conventional tonality. The juxtaposition of the two themes, as Clive Bennett observes, evokes the associations of "diatonic tears of joy and chromatic tears of sorrow" (from the cover of the compact disc of Shostakovich's Fifteenth Symphony, Decca 417 581-2). 21. The facades of Romanesque churches and Gothic cathedrals are often covered with sculpted figures.

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Fig. 7. The opera house in Sydney, Australia, 1973, designed by Jorn Utzon

kitsch, which is nonrepresentational but parasitic on well-known architectural gestalts from the past. Here we may mention the Beverly Hills nouveau riche villas that imitate the style of classical Greece, or the even more pompous near-replicas of gothic, Renaissance, and baroque mansions that may be found at various locations in the United States. Or take the Angeles Abbey on Long Beach Boulevard in Los Angeles, which despite its new name is just a somewhat bastardly reincarnation of the Taj Mahal (see Fig. 8). What happened in this transformation is just what Clement Greenberg describes in the passage quoted above. Many nineteenth-century neoclassicist buildings, including those in the Empire style, belong to this category, and consequently border on kitsch. So do, I think, most of Albert Speer's projects and structures like the Lomonosov University in St. -

Fig. 8. The Angeles Abbey on Long Beach Boulevard in Los Angeles (reproduced from Kitsch: The World of Bad Taste, ed. Gillo Dorfles [New York: Universe Books, 19691)

Varieties of Kitsch Petersburg, which in their different ways merely imitate classical architectural principles.

Pop Art and Kitsch As soon as kitsch is recognized for the lie it is, it moves

into the context of non-kitsch, . . . becoming as touching as any other human weakness. -Milan Kundera Looking back at the era of modernist art, we could say that its very ethos is a negation of kitsch. What can contrast more strongly with the reactionary conservatism of kitsch than modernism's incessant search for innovations? As Clement Greenberg points out, the principles of kitsch and those of the avant-garde-a concept at the very heart of modernism-are diametrically opposed ("Avant-Garde and Kitsch" 10-11). Indeed, there is little risk of confusing Picasso, Kandinsky, Pollock, or Rothko with kitsch. But what about Lichtenstein, Warhol, or Hockney? We do not know whether future historians will see Pop Art as the closing chapter of modernism or as the beginning of what is now called postmodernism, or whether these categories will be replaced by others. What we can say today is that Pop Art, which took its inspiration from commercial design, brought a dramatic change into the art scene of the 1960s. While modernism tried to repudiate the imagery of kitsch, Pop Art embraced it enthusiastically. As Simon Wilson says, "Pop art is art liberated from the dignity of High Art."22 Reacting against "the 'elitist' art of the subjective Abstract Expressionism," says Tilman Osterwold, Pop Art "found itself confronted with the demand for a broader-based culture."23 Pop culture and lifestyle became closely intertwined in the 1960s, when slogans like "art is life" (Beuys) and "everyone is an artist" (Warhol) were widely circulated. As Osterwold observes, "people felt a new license to like kitsch, to collect all kind of knick-knacks, to read comics, to eat hot-dogs and drink Coca-Cola" (Pop Art 7). "The sordid or exhuberant, flashy, heartless, familiar, throwaway visual world which everyone inhabits-that 22. Simon Wilson, Pop (London: Thames and Hudson, 1974), from the back cover. 23. Tilman Osterwold, Pop Art (Cologne: Benedia Taschen, 1990), 9.

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of commercial advertising and entertainment," says Wilson, "came to be recognized as a kind of culture, as a kind of art in itself" (Pop, back cover). One often hears that Pop Art has collapsed the very distinction between kitsch and art. But if this is true, and if Pop Art is a legitimate and respectable form of art, shouldn't we rehabilitate kitsch? It is not difficult to understand what motivates such claims. It has been often said that the aim of Pop Art was to elevate popular American culture to the status of respectable art. "Pop painting," says Marco Livingstone, "generally involves the use of existing imagery from mass culture already processed into two dimensions, preferably borrowed from advertising, photography, comic strips and other mass media sources . . . delving into areas of popular taste and kitsch previously considered outside the limits of fine art."I4 Roy Lichtenstein transformed comic strips and commercial advertisements into paintings that have achieved the status of celebrated works of art. His Ben Day-dot comics characters are now better known than the originals he copied. "In adopting his mechanical method,'' says Simon Wilson, "Warhol seems to have simply been pursuing the logic of art based on mass-produced imagery" (Pop 24). Andy Warhol serialized images of Marilyn Monroe, Elizabeth Taylor, Elvis Presley, Coca-Cola bottles, and dollar bills in the same manner that he serialized the image of the Mona Lisa. Another Pop artist, Me1 Ramos, painted Manet's Olympia, Ingres's Grand Odalisque, and Veliizquez's Venus with Cupid in the photographic style of Playboy pinups, with bikini tans and updated hairstyles. The question of the connection between Pop Art and kitsch comes up quite naturally, as many works in this genre indeed remind us of kitsch. "The authentic Pop image," says Suzi Gablick, "is simple, direct and immediately ~omprehensible."~~ Indeed, when we consider our three conditions, Pop Art seems to conform to them more than works in any other artistic category. What, then, prevents us from calling it kitsch? The idea that kitsch has made it into the most prestigious galleries and museums, where it represents the culmination of the visual arts of the 1960s and 1970s, is somewhat disconcerting. But is this really the case?26Are the works of Andy Warhol, Roy Lichtenstein, Tom Wesselmann, Me1 Ramos, 24. Marco Livingstone, Pop Art (London: Thames and Hudson, 1990), 9. 25. John Russell and Suzi Gablick, Pop Art Redefined (London: Thames and Hudson, 1969), 11. 26. Some authors seem to suggest just this. Osterwald, for example, writes: "Kitsch, souvenirs and the imagery of the mass media, consumer goods and packing industries not only became the subject of art and research, but were collected by musuems" (Pop Art 8).

Varieties of Kitsch and others nothing but glorified kitsch? I believe that even if we don't consider Pop Art a breathtaking artistic or aesthetic achievement:' we can still point out important differences between it and kitsch. Do Pop Art paintings really satisfy the three conditions for the application of the concept of kitsch? Clearly not all of them, for some fail to satisfy the first condition: The subject matter of Lichtenstein's Brushstrokes, or Warhol's Campbell Soup series, do not spark an easily identifiable emotional response. But how about those works that do? (for example, Warhol's Marilyn Monroes, Tom Wesselmann's Great American Nudes, Me1 Ramos's Olympia or his Val Veeta picture.) Let us consider the last example. The depicted object-a seductive-looking nude-easily satisfies our first condition, and its almost photographic realism ensures the fulfillment of the second (see Fig. 9). Does it also satisfy the third condition? The answer might not be immediately obvious. One can, of course, just look at the nude in this picture as one looks at pictures in Playboy. To see Mel Ramos's painting in this way indeed requires no interpretation, and the associations triggered by the painting could be roughly the same as those triggered by the model. But to see the painting in this way is to miss its point entirely. Ramos didn't just want to portray beautiful women; he wanted to make a socially relevant statement about American culture. One of the aims of Pop Art was to comment on the impact of mass culture and popular art on American society. Much art from the 1960s onward is about art itself. It questions its basic assumptions and its role in a consumer society. Kitsch never questions anything. Pop Art, especially in its early stage, was (among other things) a protest against the increasing commercialization of art.28 It is only natural that for this purpose it would also make use of kitsch. But to make use of kitsch is not the same as to produce kitsch. Mel Ramos's paintings use kitsch to make a certain statement, to focus attention on certain aspects of consumer societies and their values. It is not important for our purpose to determine exactly how his pictures should be interpreted. What is important is that they need interpretation. Kitsch never does. 27. Although Pop Art represented a new (and if you like, a revolutionary) artistic movement, one cannot say that it brought any genuine stylistic innovations in the 1960s. Although its manner of rendering was highly unusual in relation to high art, it was taken from advertisements, comics, and other forms of commercial design. 28. The inevitable paradox is that although Pop Art was originally intended to be uncollectible, it soon entered the highly inflated collector's art market and became no less commercial than the art against which it revolted.

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Fig. 9. Me1 Ramos, Val Veeta, 1965

Another difference is that kitsch does not inhabit any art-historical space, that it is oblivious to what goes on in the artworld. Kitsch ignores its competitors; it lives outside the context of art. Pop Art, on the other hand, was generally perceived as a reaction to, and a revolt against, abstract expressionism, in both its dynamic (Pollock) and its static (Rothko) form. It also comments on other developments in the arts. As Suzi Gablick says, an "important category of Pop images is art which makes some reference to other art" (in Russell and Gablick, Pop Art Redefined 1 1 ) . From the formal point of view one can also say that there is a difference in denotation. Comic strips, advertisements, and kitsch denote whatever they depict. Roy Lichtenstein's utilization of comic-strip material, however, refers primarily to the comic strips themselves. A kitsch picture of a nude refers to the nude. Me1 Ramos's painting uses the nude to refer to kitsch. It is thus to be seen as a comment on kitsch rather than as kitsch proper.29 29. Incidentally, though this may have not been Andy Warhol's intention, some of his serial works can also be interpreted as theoretical studies of kitsch. They can be seen as a visual

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One may also point out that Pop Art's "combination of strong formal and abstract qualities with familiar, immediately recognizable imagery" (Wilson, Pop 3) creates a special kind of aesthetic tension that is not found in kitsch. Another important feature that places Pop Art at a distance from kitsch is its wit, irony, and ambiguity. One of the salient features of kitsch is that it is always univocal, unambiguous, and deadly serious. It is this seriousness that makes kitsch so pathetic. And it is its pathos that often makes kitsch ridiculous. In Pop Art irony and ambiguity forestall the pathos. Pop Art paintings can be seen as "monuments to fetish mass culture." They can, however, also be seen as making fun of this culture. Not only do the paintings themselves often exhibit humor and irony, but so do their titles, which give them an ironical twist. Andy Warhol's title for the repeated silkscreens of Mona Lisa reads Thirty Are Better than One, and his Six Marilyns is subtitled Marilyn Six-Pack. As we have noted in connection with literature, irony is incompatible with kitsch. I believe we may sum up and say that although Pop Art uses kitsch and refers to kitsch in various ways, we do not have to conclude that it produces kitsch. We are thus not compelled to rehabilitate kitsch or promote it to the category of respectable art. Blame (or praise) for erasing the distinction between respectable art and kitsch has been placed more recently on the doorstep of postmodernism. One of the problems in the assessment of this claim is that it is not always clear whether "postmodernism" refers to a set of discernible principles that are consciously used by some contemporary artists, or whether it should be understood as an art-historical label that simply refers to whatever is going on in the arts at the present time. Although no other term is used more frequently in the present-day discourse on art, the boundaries and distinctive characteristics of postmodernism are not very clear, and there is little consensus about what constitutes paradigmatic examples of it.30 A definianalysis of the basic principles of kitsch, emphasizing its transparency, or its lack of aesthetic intensity, exactly in the sense suggested in this essay. Take, for example, the Marilyn Monroe series. The basic gestalt of her facial features is repeated in different color variations. Yet one could argue that none of these alterations (that is, none of the single images from which the diptychs are composed) is aesthetically inferior or superior to any other. Indeed, it would be pointless to ask whether any of the frames is better than some other one. This series could thus be taken as showing that what works in kitsch is its basic perceptual gestalt rather than the specific features of its rendering. It is in this sense that one may see Warhol's works as a study of kitsch or, if you like, as a critique of kitsch. 30. Should one read Lyotard on Duchamp, or Jameson on Lyotard (on Duchamp), or Connor on Jameson (on Lyotard on Duchamp), especially as others might insist that Duchamp is a typical example of modernism?

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tive appraisal of postmodernism will probably require a certain time perspective from which it can be seen with sufficient hindsight. Still, some typical features can be pointed out, such as a radical eclecticism that freely borrows from works of the distant and recent past. Postmodernism often combines principles and features hitherto considered incompatible. The elements of quotation, appropriation, representation, deconstruction, allusion, and comment are also central. Unlike Pop Art, which was confined mainly to painting, postmodernism is interdisciplinary. It has left its mark not only on the plastic arts, but also on literature, architecture, drama, interior design, computer graphics, cinema, video clips, and other aspects of culture (some would say on philosophy as well). While Pop Art saw itself as a socially relevant type of art reflecting contemporary reality, postmodernism rejects the conception that art should reveal the truth about the world (as there is no such thing as the truth). Postmodernism is more about art itself than about the world. Art is seen more as a game than as a reflection of reality, and postmodern works are just moves in this game. There is no commitment to any definitive statements or to any particular fixed signification of symbols. Postmodern work is not to be seen under one definite interpretation but rather as an interplay of meanings and interpretations-since the very concept of fixed meaning is being questi~ned.~' Despite all these differences, what has been said about the relationship between Pop Art and kitsch also applies by and large to the relationship between postmodernism and kitsch. Postmodernism involves kitsch only in the sense that it uses kitsch, "quotes" kitsch, or otherwise refers to it. Like Pop Art, it plays on the myths of everyday life that surface in the mass media and on the euphoria surrounding modern technology. But the elements and principles of kitsch appropriated by postmodern works are integrated into new and complex contexts in which they acquire new and often ironic meanings. Unlike kitsch, postmodernist works (especially literary ones) require i n t e r p r e t a t i ~ n .(Some ~ ~ proponents of postmodern 31. In postmodemist literature there is no clear distinction between reality and fiction. Fiction is transformed into reality and reality becomes fiction in an all-encompassing intertextuality. The transition between mimesis and diagesis becomes elusive. So does the distinction between content and form, as the work often refers to itself in self-conscious reflexivity. (Consider, for example, the novels of Italo Calvino, especially I f on a Winter's Night a Traveler.) 32. Postmodem works typically employ rich, complex symbolism with frequent allusions to other works. The elements of irony, parody, and complex metaphor are very central. The ironic and metaphorical meanings obviously presuppose the literal meanings. The work is conceived as an interplay of different readings on different levels. One of those readings (the

Varieties of Kitsch criticism-especially literary criticism-maintain that the work is the interpretation; that is, that all there is are interpretations.) As we have seen, these are not features of kitsch. There is no reason why quotations, evocations, comments, or parodies of kitsch, or the utilization of some of its features in works that have complexity and intensity of their own, should be regarded as kitsch. Conversely, there is no reason why kitsch should be accredited with the status of postmodern art. One also often hears that postmodernism has destroyed the hierarchical structure of values and standards in art. This claim may be interpreted as saying that the traditional boundaries between the different arts are now less clear than before, or that the "fine" arts are now more mixed with "lesser" arts. This is true enough, but again, it does not mean that there is no difference between kitsch and respectable art. The above claim is, however, often interpreted in a more radical sense: that postmodernism has rendered all discussions about values and all evaluations obsolete and pointless, that works can no longer be appraised for their artistic or aesthetic merits. This seems wrong to me. Even the most enthusiastic proponents of postmodernism wouldn't want to deny that some postmodern works are better than others. The destruction of the hierarchical structure of values and standards thus only means that the standards for appraising postmodernist works are not the same as the ones used in the past. The fact that these standards may not yet be fully articulated does not mean that there shouldn't be standards, or that there aren't any. The fact that the eclecticism of postmodernism often combines features hitherto thought to be incompatible only means that new standards of coherence are required. 1 think we may conclude that neither Pop Art nor postmodernism erases the distinction between art and kitsch. The very fact that we can identify kitsch elements and features in both attests to that. Nor does it seem that either Pop Art or postmodernism provides for the artistic rehabilitation of kitsch.

Conclusion Let me now sum up the main points of this essay. In Chapter 1, three necessary conditions that govern the application of the concept of kitsch in literal one in most cases) may indeed be on the level of kitsch. This reading, however, does not constitute the work. The interaction of the "kitsch interpretation" with the other interpretations may actually enhance the aesthetic quality of the work.

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visual arts were suggested, conditions that can be jointly regarded as sufficient. This classificatory definition enabled us to answer the question of what attracts people to kitsch. We saw that kitsch is parasitic on the emotional charge of the subject matter to which we are positively predisposed. We have also seen that the identifiability condition explains the conservative nature of kitsch, while the third condition shows why kitsch, unlike art, does not enrich our experience in any meaningful way. The theoretical apparatus developed in Chapter 2 enabled us to establish two main conclusions from which we derived a number of corollaries about the special nature of kitsch. The distinction between artistic and aesthetic value, together with the explication of the logical structure of aesthetic value judgments, led to the conclusion that kitsch has no appreciable measure of either artistic or aesthetic value. The second conclusion is that kitsch differs essentially not only from good works of art, but also from mediocre or bad ones. The difference between kitsch and art can thus be seen not only as quantitative but also as qualitative. Kitsch is thus seen as forming a sui generis category discontinuous with other kinds of artistic and aesthetic failures. What sets it apart from other manifestations of bad art is mainly its transparency, which results from its lack of aesthetic intensity. We have seen that kitsch lacks the kind of specificity characteristic of art (both good and bad). The explication of the concept of intensity revealed that the chief deficiency of kitsch consists of a special kind of redundancy. Apart from the gestalt-preserving features essential to its kitschy effect, the specific features of kitsch turned out to be optional. These features are not redundant in the simple sense that they could be omitted. (Erasing areas of a kitsch painting, or stripping it of its colors, would certainly affect its appeal.) The specific features are redundant in the sense that they are more or less freely interchangeable with a wide range of alternatives. Kitsch thus refuses, so to speak, to commit itself to the specific particularity of its features. Yet the particular features of kitsch are as specific as they can be. This is the hard core of the deceptive nature of kitsch. For we have seen that although kitsch has all the formal properties of a work of art, it doesn't function as art. Kitsch works may thus be described as transparent symbols, the referential function of which is essential to their success. Their effect is not secured by the specific qualities of the symbols themselves, but rather by what the symbols stand for. Typical consumers of kitsch usually look through the symbol, so to speak, to what the symbol refers to. They may believe that

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they appreciate the works for their aesthetic properties, while what they are really affected by is the emotional charge of the depicted object, to which they are positively predisposed. In contrast to real art, with kitsch the what overshadows the how. The question raised by these observations is whether the symbolic functioning of kitsch should be properly understood as aesthetic functioning, and whether the appeal of kitsch should be considered an aesthetic appeal. Since kitsch lacks both artistic and aesthetic value, whatever the nature of its mass appeal is, it cannot be aesthetic. We have seen that aesthetic intensity, as defined by our formula, is a necessary condition of aesthetic functioning and that paradigmatic examples of kitsch are drastically deficient in this respect. Let me add here that the contention that kitsch doesn't actually function aesthetically can also be supported by the conclusions of Nelson Goodman, who considers the "emphasis upon the nontransparency of a work of art, upon the primacy of the work over what it refers to" 33 to be one of the most important characteristics of aesthetic functioning. What is specifically aesthetic about the properties of works of art, Goodman explains, is that "these properties tend to focus attention on the symbol rather than, or at least along with, what it refers to. . . . [ w e cannot merely look through the symbol to what it refers to as we do in obeying traffic lights . . . but must attend constantly to the symbol itself" (69). Kitsch may not be quite so transparent a symbol as traffic lights are. It nevertheless fails to comply with the criteria of aesthetic functioning. This is what sets kitsch apart from good art and artistic failures alike. The principles governing the application of the concept of kitsch in the visual arts also have a bearing on its manifestations in other artistic genres. The same kind of transparency that characterizes pictorial kitsch is also manifest in its literary incarnations. The same lack of commitment to the specificity of the rendering of its subject matter (which could be demonstrated in visual kitsch by the impact-preserving alterations) could be demonstrated in literary kitsch by its insensitivity to paraphrasing. With respect to music, architecture, and abstract art in general, we have seen that kitsch is possible even when there is no representation. This shows that kitsch may result not only from a work's being parasitic on the emotional charge of the represented subject matter, but also from the work's being parasitic on the gestalts and patterns created by art itself. 33. Nelson Goodman, Ways of Worldmaking (Sussex: Harvester Press, 1978), 69.

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At the beginning of this essay we invoked a methodological principle stipulating that looking at what is marginal to the system, or what it excludes, may help us understand the system itself. Does this rule also apply to kitsch and art? If it does, then if we take the negation, or better still the opposite, of what has been said about kitsch, we should have quite a good idea of what we should look for and expect from real art. If this principle holds, we could also expect that when we arrive at a better understanding of kitsch, art itself might perhaps be defined as a struggle to overcome kitsch. But is kitsch a negation of art and vice versa? To see kitsch in the role of the Antichrist is certainly part of the traditional perspective on kitsch and art. When the great Viennese novelist Hermann Broch said that "the modern novel struggles heroically against the tide of kitsch, but it ends up overwhelmed by kitsch,"34 he regarded kitsch as the enemy of art, threatening it from the outside. Accordingly the concept of "art-kitsch7'-that is, something that is both kitsch and a valuable work of art-would be selfcontradictory. I think it could be agreed that the perspective that considers kitsch to be a negation of art is valid for the history of Western art, including modernism. But does it also hold for the contemporary art-scene? Does it make sense to say that basketballs immersed in water, or an arrangement of vacuum cleaners, which were recently sold at the New York Sotheby's art auction, are negations of kitsch? And how about the works of Julian Schnabel or Jeff Koons, which appear indistinguishable from kitsch? In the preceding section I have argued that works that remind us of kitsch need not be seen as such. I have also argued that postmodernism need not be interpreted as a rehabilitation of kitsch, stressing that using kitsch or commenting on it isn't the same as presenting it, and that irony is incompatible with kitsch. But works of art that use or comment on kitsch thereby transport it from the periphery to the very center of the artworld. One should also bear in mind that irony can be easily missed. The question thus is whether we may not end up with kitsch that is just dressed up as art. Hermann Broch has warned us against the danger of kitsch assaulting art from the outside. But aren't we also in danger today of kitsch infiltrating the artworld, wrecking it from the inside? With all the anti-art movements being accepted as art, can we be sure that kitsch will not be accepted as the paradigmatic in-art by the art-establishment elite? I think the danger is real. 34. Quoted from Milan Kundera, "Man Thinks, God Laughs," New York Review of Books 32, no. 10 (13 June 1985): 11-12.

Varieties of Kitsch When Marcel Duchamp came up with his urinal he didn't present it as another candidate for aesthetic appreciation. This provocative gesture of his was intended to comment on art; it was not intended as an object of art to be admired for its aesthetic or artistic merits. But what has actually happened? Art critics made his Fountain into a celebrated work of art. Duchamp himself tried to protest when he said: "I threw the urinal into their faces and now they come and admire it for its bea~ty."~' It didn't help. His gesture became the most discussed event in the twentieth-century artworld-not as a comment on art but as art as such. Instead of questioning the implicit assumption that a comment on art should itself be taken as art, philosophers of art have also jumped on the bandwagon and adjusted their theories and definitions of art to accommodate Duchamp. Moreover, Duchamp's Fountain wasn't just accommodated as a problematic borderline case but rather as a paradigmatic example of what art is (and should be) all about. But if Duchamp's Fountain can become a paradigm of artistic success, it follows that anything can. Some contemporary "artists" soon realized the potential of this implication and the benefits that could follow. As a result of this you can get (if you are wealthy enough) a tin with the excrement of the artist (signed and with the certificate of authenticity), and contemporary critics will explain to you that white canvas exemplifies the essence of painting. It goes without saying that people who buy these things also have a feeling that they are participating in the making of art history.36 Given all this, it doesn't seem inconceivable that even if bringing kitsch into the artworld might have been initially intended as a provocation or as a comment on presuppositions of kitsch and art, we may end up with kitsch works as paradigmatic examples of art. I think that some of Jeff Koons's works certainly have all the requisite qualities to become celebrated "art kitsch." But then, isn't the conclusion that art can be seen as a struggle to overcome kitsch contradicted by contemporary art? What has to be admitted is that basketballs and vacuum cleaners do not strike us as negations of kitsch. But they don't really strike us as works of art either. I think the answer to our question largely depends on whether things that are currently in vogue are just temporary aberrations stemming from 35. Quoted by Hans Richter, "In Memory of a Friend," Art in America (July-August 1969). 36. 1 am referring here to the CBS program Sixty Minutes called "Yes . . . But is it Art?" (19 September 1993) about the last Sotheby's New York auction of contemporary art.

Kitsch and Art

the crisis in art, or whether they foreshadow the course of things to come. The answer, of course, depends on what we think the future history of art will be. What will come after postmodernism?I guess we will just have to wait and see.

Appendix: On the Alleged Impossibility of Defining Aesthetic Concepts As we have already noted, the very possibility of defining or characterizing aesthetic concepts and categories of art has been denied by a number of prominent philosophers. Since the concept of kitsch is treated here as an aesthetic category, I would like to examine the arguments of the two most influential proponents of this view, in order to show that they are misconstrued (in the case of Morris Weitz) or inapplicable (in the case of Frank Sibley). In his frequently anthologized article "The Role of Theory in Aesthetics,"' Morris Weitz concentrates mainly on the concept of art itself, but claims that his conclusions equally apply to its subcategories such as novel," "tragedy," "comedy," "opera," "painting," "portrait," and other aesthetic concepts and categories. Weitz briefly surveys some definitions and theories of art and points out their inadequacies. But this is not his main point. The inadequacy of these theories, he says, "is not primarily occasioned by any legitimate difficulty such . . . as the vast complexity of art which might be corrected by further probing and research" (122). Weitz claims that their basic inadequacies reside in a fundamental misconception about aesthetic concepts as such: "[the] attempt to discover the necessary and sufficient properties of art is logically misbegotten for the very simple reason that such a set and, consequently, such a formula about it, is never forthcoming. Art, as the logic of the concept shows, has no set of necessary and sufficient properties; hence a theory is logically impossible and not merely factually difficult" (122). 6b

1. "The Role of Theory in Aesthetics," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 15 (1956), reprinted in J. Margolis, ed., Philosophy Looks at the Arts, rev. ed. (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1978). All page references are to this edition.

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To elucidate this point Weitz turns to Wittgenstein's discussion of the concept of game. Wittgenstein points out that the fact that different activities (e.g., board-games, card games, ballgames, Olympic games, etc.) are all called "games" does not imply that there must be some property or set of properties that they all share. Weitz claims that "[tlhe problem of the nature of art [and other aesthetic categories] is like that of the nature of games. . . . If we actually look and see what it is that we call 'art,' we will also find no common p r o p e r t i e ~ n l ystrands of similarities" (126). Weitz calls such concepts "open," as opposed to closed concepts, for which necessary and sufficient conditions can be stated. The concept of art thus cannot be defined because it is an open concept. Since the only concepts that are closed, according to Weitz, are the concepts of logic and mathematics, the argument is extended to subcategories of art and aesthetic concepts in general. Let us first consider Weitz's claims that definitions of aesthetic categories are not merely factually difficult but logically impossible. How does Weitz establish this? By claiming that what Wittgenstein says about games applies equally well to art and other aesthetic categories. Let us thus see what Wittgenstein actually says: What is common to them all?-Don't say: "There must be something common, or they would not be called 'games' "-but look and see whether there is anything common to Now, from the fact that we apply a common name to different objects or activities it indeed does not follow that they must share some common properties. But it equally does not follow that they may not. Whether the objects or activities in a certain class have some particular qualities in common is an empirical question and not a matter of logic. This, in any case, was the message Wittgenstein wanted to put across when he emphasized: "To repeat: don't think, but look!" (31). The central claim of Weitz's thesis is thus an empirical claim and, as we shall see, an unsubstantiated one. There may not be any simple exemplified properties that all works of art share. But this does not mean that at some higher, more abstract, levels of relational attributes and dispositional properties we cannot find common 2. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, trans. G. E. M. Anscombe (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1972),3 1.

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characteristic^.^ Symbolic functioning, being a product of human activity, being capable of giving rise to aesthetic experience, and having prestigious status are just some of them. This applies a fortiori to subcategories of art like portraiture, drama, tragedy, or kitsch. Only here the common features are much more specific. If anything is a matter of logic, it is that any class of objects (regardless of whether the same common name applies to them; that is, whether they form a natural kind) will always have some properties in ~ o m m o n All . ~ this, however, is quite beside the point. The pertinent question is not whether we can find some common properties (which we always can), but whether we can find some combination of properties that uniquely determines the class of objects to which our concepts apply. Weitz's conclusions about the logical impossibility of defining aesthetic concepts stem from two logical confusions that permeate his essay. The first pertains to his characterization of open and closed concepts. Here Weitz confuses the issue of whether necessary and sufficient conditions for the application of the concept can be stated, with the issue of the revisability or corrigibility of definitions. Let me quote just one passage to illustrate this point: A concept is open if its conditions of application are emendable and corrigible; i.e., if a situation or case can be imagined or secured which would call for some sort of decision on our part to extend the use of the concept to cover this, or to close the concept and invent a new one to deal with the new case and its new property. If necessary and sufficient conditions for the application of a concept can be stated, the concept is a closed one. But this can happen only in logic or mathematics where concepts are constructed and completely defined. It cannot occur with empirically-descriptive and normative concepts unless we arbitrarily close them by stipulating the range of their uses. ("Role of Theory in Aesthetics" 126) The openness of a concept is identified here with corrigibility of its conditions of application. But this does not mean that empirical and 3. The same point was made by Maurice Mandelbaum in reference to Wittgenstein's discussion of games. Cf. "Family Resemblances and Generalization Concerning the Am," American Philosophical Quarterly 2, no. 3 (1965), reprinted in G. Dickie and R. J. Sclafani, eds., Aesthetics: A Critical Anthology (New York: St. Martin's, 1977), 500-515. 4. Any arbitrary class of objects we choose to list will have (among many others) the common property of being mentioned on that list.

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normative concepts lack conditions for their application, or that the objects to which these concepts apply have no common properties. All empirical definitions are revisable in principle. This makes them neither logically impossible nor useless in practice. The fact that a definition may be in need of revision in the future does not mean that it is arbitrary. It follows from what Weitz says that no empirical science could ever produce useful definitions. This is clearly false. Moreover, if all empirically descriptive and normative concepts are open there is nothing special about aesthetic concepts and categories of art. Weitz was probably aware of this last problem, for he felt the need to add another argument to establish the special difficulty presented by aesthetic ~ategories.~ In a frequently quoted passage Weitz says: What I am arguing, then, is that the very expansive, adventurous character of art, its ever-present changes and novel creations, make it logically impossible to ensure any set of defining properties. We can, of course, choose to close the concept. But to do so with "art" or "tragedy" or "portraiture," etc., is ludicrous since it forecloses on the very conditions of creativity in the arts. ("Role of Theory in Aesthetics" 127) The argument may have psychological appeal. Who would want to impose arbitrary constraints on creativity and on future developments in the arts? The problem is that the argument rests on the assumption that once a concept is closed (by necessary and sufficient conditions) it cannot apply to future instances that differ from those we are familiar with. But this assumption, if it makes sense at is certainly not so compelling as Weitz seems to believe. Suppose the concept "portraiture" was closed hundreds of years ago by the defining condition that it applies to all and only those pictures that depict a particular person or persons. Now, despite the fact that the history of portraiture has witnessed many dramatic and indeed revolutionary developments since, this closed concept applies equally well to portraits by Rembrandt, Modigliani, Matisse, Picasso, or Andy Warhol. It applies equally well to photographic portraits, which were 5. Incidentally, this argument contradicts Wein's claims that objects to which aesthetic categories apply have no properties in common. 6. Weitz's assumption seems to imply that concepts that are closed by necessary and sufficient conditions can apply only to entities that have all properties identical.

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not dreamed of then, and it could be applicable to future instances whose form we may not be able to imagine today. Here we come to Weitz's second logical confusion. As Maurice Mandelbaum has already pointed out, Weitz is confusing "the question whether a particular concept is open or closed (i.e., whether a set of necessary and sufficient conditions can be offered for its use) . . . with the question of whether future instances to which the very concept is applied may or may not possess genuinely novel properties." Mandelbaum concludes that "Weitz has not shown that every novelty in the instances to which we apply a term involves a stretching of the term's connotations" ("Family Resemblances" 151). This, however, is not just a desideratum. What Weitz hasn't shown simply cannot be shown. For if this were the case, common names would apply only to those objects that have all their properties in common. But no two actual objects can possibly share all their properties. Determining the nature, that is, the essential or defining properties of aesthetic categories, including art itself, always leaves plenty of room for differentiations and contingencies. Weitz might be right that some definitions of art (for example, defining art in terms of the imitation of reality) would indeed legislate against some recent developments in the arts. But this only means that some definitions were misconceived or have become outdated. It does not mean that providing adequate and serviceable definitions of aesthetic concepts and categories of art is a logically impossible task. In his article "Aesthetic Concepts" Sibley argues that aesthetic terms are radically different from other empirical concepts. He claims that aesthetic concepts are not governed by conditions, in the sense that no information about the nonaesthetic properties of objects will ever be logically sufficient for correct application of an aesthetic term. While Weitz's anti-essentialist argument focuses on the alleged impossibility of finding necessary conditions, Sibley's attack is directed at the sufficient conditions. While Weitz's argument against generalizations with respect to aesthetic concepts is based on historical considerations (the dynamic, expansive, and ever-changing nature of art), Sibley's is based on the alleged uniqueness and specificity of works of art. Sibley begins his essay by observing that works of art can be described in two ways. We may describe a painting in ordinary, nonaesthetic terms by pointing out that it uses pale colors, predominantly blues and greens, that there is a kneeling figure in the foreground, that its composition is diagonal,

Appendix

and so forth. Such remarks can be made, says Sibley, by "anyone with normal eyes, ears and intelligence."' But we may also describe the painting in aesthetic terms by attributing to it properties such as "that a picture lacks balance, or has a certain serenity and repose, or that the grouping of the figures sets up an exciting tension" ("Aesthetic Concepts" 64). Sibley explains that "the making of such judgements as these requires the exercise of taste, perceptiveness, or sensitivity of aesthetic discrimination and appreciation" (64), which are not requisite for describing works of art in nonaesthetic terms. He gives the following criterion for identifying aesthetic concepts: "when a word or expression is such that taste or perceptiveness is required in order to apply it, I shall call it an aesthetic term or expression, and I shall, correspondingly, speak of aesthetic concepts or taste concepts" (64). Sibley also lists examples of aesthetic terms. They include predicates like unified, balanced, integrated, lifeless, serene, dynamic, powerful, vivid, delicate, moving, trite, sentimental, tragic, lovely, pretty, beautiful, dainty, graceful, elegant, garish, handsome, and so forth. His claim is that "there are no non-aesthetic features which serve in any circumstances as logically sufficient conditions for applying aesthetic terms. Aesthetic or taste concepts are not in this respect condition-governed at all" (66). He goes on to elaborate: There are no sufficient conditions, no non-aesthetic features such that the presence of some set or number of them will beyond question logically justify or warrant the application of an aesthetic term. . . . Things may be described to us in non-aesthetic terms as fully as we please but we are not thereby put in the position of having to admit (or being unable to deny) that they are delicate or graceful or garish or exquisitely balanced. (70) Sibley isn't just saying that information about nonaesthetic features does not guarantee with absolute certainty the correct application of aesthetic terms (this would be true about any empirical concept). He implies that the presence or absence of nonaesthetic features does not even raise the probability of the correct application of an aesthetic concept. The same nonaesthetic features that enhance the aesthetic impact of one work may be detrimental in another. "One poem may have strength and power 7. "Aesthetic Concepts," Philosophical Rwiew 18 (1959), reprinted in Joseph Margolis, ed., Philosophy Looks at the Arts, rev. ed. (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1978), 64-87. Page references are to this edition; here, 64.

Appendix because of the regularity of its meter and rhyme; another is monotone and lacks drive and strength because of its regular meter and rhyme."* This, Sibley explains, is due to the irreducible uniqueness of works of art, and due to the specificity of aesthetic qualities. Sibley emphasizes that when we talk about a work of art we "concern ourselves with its individual and specific features" (73): No doubt one way of putting this is to say that the features which make something delicate or graceful, and so on, are combined in a particular and unique way; that the aesthetic quality depends upon exactly this individual or unique combination of just these specific colors and shapes so that even a slight change might make all the difference. Nothing is to be achieved by trying to single out or separate features and generalize about them. (74) He then concludes: It is a characteristic and essential feature of judgements which employ an aesthetic term that they cannot be made by appealing, in the sense explained, to non-aesthetic conditions. This, I believe, is a logical feature of aesthetic or taste judgements in general. (75) Though Sibley does not explicitly mention kitsch, it is clear that according to his own criteria the noun "kitsch" and the adjective "kitschy" must count as aesthetic terms. To apply such expressions correctly we certainly have to exercise taste and perceptiveness. A man need not be stupid, or have poor eyesight, to fail to see that something is k i t ~ c hThus, . ~ if Sibley is right, the concept of kitsch not only cannot be defined, but information about the features of a kitsch work provided in nonaesthetic terms wouldn't even raise the probability of the correct application of the concept. Sibley's argument, unlike Weitz's, does not suffer from easily detectable mistakes. Yet there is a problem. Let us first note that aestheticians generally regard stylistic properties as aesthetic properties and consequently also regard stylistic concepts as aesthetic concepts. But is it really true that with 8. "Aesthetic Concepts," 69. Sibley points out that "a failure and success in the manner of Degas may be generally more alike, so far as their non-aesthetic features go, than either is like a successful Fragonard" (63). 9. Because of its strong normative connotations "kitsch" might even be regarded as a paradigmatic example of an aesthetic concept.

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respect to concepts like "gothic," "baroque," "Impressionist," "cubist," and so forth, things can be described to us in nonaesthetic terms as fully as we please but we are not thereby put in the position of having to admi; (or being unable to deny) that they are gothic, baroque, Impressionist, or cubist? If someone accurately described Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris in nonaesthetic terms, why should I be unable to conclude that it is gothic? The same, I believe, applies to other expressions such as "dynamic," "dramatic," "sets up tension," or "tragic," which appear on Sibley's list of aesthetics concepts. Even a very sketchy description of the plot of Oedipus Rex may serve as a sufficient ground for the conclusion that it sets up a tension, that it is dynamic, dramatic, and tragic. The problem with Sibley's thesis is that it makes too sweeping a generalization. Sibley does not distinguish between descriptive aesthetic concepts such as "gothic" or "tragic," and predominantly normative or evaluative aesthetic predicates such as "beautiful," "unified," or "handsome." He may be (partially, as we shall see) right about evaluative aesthetic concepts. However, with descriptive ones there are no logical reasons why we should be in principle unable to state sufficient conditions for their application. While it may be true that every beautiful painting achieves this quality due to its specific and unique combination of constitutive features, descriptive aesthetic concepts depend on shared general characteristics for their application. This conclusion, however, does not yet resolve the problem of kitsch, since this concept has clear evaluative connotations. Let us therefore consider normative aesthetic concepts more closely. Some, like "beautiful," elegant," "graceful," or "sublime," have clearly positive connotations, while others like "ugly," "trite," "garish," or "unbalanced" are clearly negative. What we must ask is whether Sibley's argument applies to positive and negative aesthetic judgments with the same force. It seems that there is an asymmetry here. Let us consider a few examples. Take the predicates "beautiful" and "ugly" as applied to people, and "dynamic" and "boring" as applied to plays, for instance. We may indeed be unable to list general characteristics that would give sufficient ground for applying "beautiful" or "dynamic" in the above-mentioned contexts. However, if we were told that a certain woman has a nose more than six inches long, that her left eye is grey and the right one pink, her face is covered with large red spots, her mouth is twisted, and her smile reveals seven brownish teeth, wouldn't this information be sufficient to allow us to judge that the poor woman is ugly? Wouldn't we be entitled to conclude that a play is boring if we were told &