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pictured to the right of Victorine.) Even the success-ful female artists cited by Harrison, such as BertheMorisot and Mary Cassatt, do not provide adequaterelief from this male-dominated psychological modelof exchange. (Only twenty of the total 180 repre-sentations in the text are works by women artists.)Harrison minimizes the originality, subtlety, and sub-versive nature of their unique domestic scenes ofmothers and children—where the imagined specta-tor is clearly female—by citing the influence of theirfriends Manet, Degas, and Renoir, and by suggestingthat even if their paintings are not intended for maleaudiences, the possibility is not precluded. But whatabout the special relationship and the role of irony—Does it function here or not? What about otherartists, particularly contemporary women (other thanthe cited 1980s work of Cindy Sherman and Bar-bara Kruger), especially the numerous women whopainted self-portraits? What about other writers?Complex notions of agency have been explored byphilosopher Diana Tietjens Meyers (Gender in theMirror: Cultural Imagery and Women’s Agency [Ox-ford University Press, 2002]), art theorist GriseldaPollock (Differencing the Canon: Feminist Desire andthe Writing of Art’s Histories [Rout ledge, 1999]), and,more to the point, art historian Eunice Lipton (AliasOlympia: A Woman’s Search for Manet’s NotoriousModel and Her Own Desire [Cornell University Press,1992]), who is mentioned only in a footnote.

On the positive side, it can be pure joy to read anabundantly illustrated text that focuses on artists’ in-tentions, the predominance of images of women in thehistory of art, and numerous art-historical and theo-retical writings such as those of Clement Greenberg,T. J. Clark, and Michael Fried. Harrison is the authorof Essays on Art and Language (MIT Press, [1991]2001) and Conceptual Art and Painting: Further Es-says on Art & Language (MIT Press, 2001), and theco-editor of two volumes entitled Art in Theory, onechronicling 1815–1900, the other 1900–2000 (Black-well, published in 1998 and 2003, respectively). Hebrings a wealth of art-related information to bear onhis version of the history of modern painting. Some-times, however, artists are taken out of chronologicalorder and, surprisingly, he brings the enumeration ofart examples to an abrupt halt in the year 1993 (and,oddly enough, with the artwork of a British groupcalled Art and Language). Does it not seem odd for abook published in 2005 to ignore twelve years of con-temporary art—particularly an abundance of post-modern works employing irony, many by women?

In spite of its shortcomings, I recommend this bookfor its exploration of art’s perceptual and cognitivepuzzles that undeniably raise issues of gender, class,and privilege. This is subject matter that philosopherscan enjoy, engage with, and challenge, especially ifthey are interested in the cross-fertilization of philos-

ophy with art criticism, theory, history, feminism, andcultural criticism. Reexamining the role of imagina-tion, the gaze, and the canon can only enhance ourdiscourse and facilitate dialogue. In Painting the Dif-ference, Harrison hopes “to contribute something tothought about the grounds on which canonical statusmay have been, and perhaps ought to be, earned” (p.xii). Such grounds are the foundation of philosoph-ical aesthetics; we are all, in effect, engaged in thesame enterprise.

PEG BRANDDepartment of PhilosophyWomen’s Studies Program, Indiana University

cutting, james e. Impressionism and Its Canon. Lan-ham, MD: University Press of America, 2006, xii+ 298pp., 20 b&w illus. $41.95 paper .

This book is a lucky event for philosophy of art. Who-ever thinks about art institutions, artistic styles, taste,or the relationship of art to culture—and what arttheorists do not?—would profit from its fact-filled,empirically argued, yet highly readable account of theformation and maintenance of the paradigm stylisticcategory “Impressionism” in painting. The good luckis that its author, a leading cognitive psychologist, hasbrought together his skills in that discipline, an evi-dent appreciation of art, and a tenacious curiosity tofind relevant ways of applying quantitative measuresto issues of art. Besides engagingly explaining thosemeasures to nonspecialists, James Cutting providesdiscussions of such wider philosophical topics as cat-egories, theoretical explanations, methods of induc-tive sampling, cultures, and, notably, of the nature,formation, and use of canons generally. The result isa focused treatment of an absorbing particular casethat is also an elegant guide to conceptual thinkingabout other cases in the arts, popular and fine.

French Impressionism is one of the best-knownmovements in art, its works among the most popularin museums and reproductions. But what are our im-pressions of Impressionism—of what it is and even ofwho are the Impressionists? What is the extent of theworks, and which the exemplars whereby we mightlearn to recognize others? A familiar account of Im-pressionism’s relevant features might be as depictionsof contemporary passing moments, notably of out-door scenes in which human figures do not dominate,with transient effects of direct and reflected sunlight,rendered by broken strokes of unmixed prismaticcolors—often painted directly in open air. Histori-cally, we might add, these pictures were producedby a group of French artists, who by the 1870s haddefied authority, held their own exhibitions, and be-gan or at least prepared the way for what we call

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“modern art.” Yet neither account fits well three ofthe seven artists who are the “major” Impressionists,according to Cutting’s statistics: Cezanne, Degas, andManet. For example, the top tiers of the picturecanon are mostly portraits or groups, such as Ab-sinthe Drinker by Degas. Many would hesitate to callCezanne an Impressionist, and we learn from othersources that Degas, who preferred the term “realist,”steadfastly rejected the label “Impressionist” (whileexhibiting with them), whereas Manet, who paintedhalf the first fourteen core works, was, by the ac-count just given, “Impressionist” in only a few, andrefused to exhibit with the group. Of the magnificentseven (including Monet, Pissarro, Renoir, Sisley—not Bazille, Forain, Guillaumin, Morisot), Cuttingconcludes that “there is no record at the time thatisolates, justifies and defines these seven as the Im-pressionists,” yet “unequivocally, a century’s worth ofliterature . . . presents seven—and only seven—artistsas representing the core of the movement” (pp. 59,65).

Thus apparently failing of common prototypicalfeatures, distinctive family resemblance, even of spe-cific association, the question arises: Why these artistsand works? Part of the book’s readability is that itmay be taken as a detective investigation of thesequestions, with a surprising solution. The investiga-tion begins with a legal violation: Zipf’s remarkablelaw for ranked categories, according to which theproduct of rank and frequency is constant, fails forthe canonic artists. Something particular seems to beat work. However, there is a prior question: How dowe discover which are the canonic artists and works?Cutting’s answer is to count illustrations in relevantlibrary books, which span just a century, working botha broad sample of around a possible 11,600 throughninety-five standard books, and a deep sample, tak-ing a smaller group of images through so many booksas statistically to approximate all relevant books. Thelabor implied is daunting.

The results are remarkable in several ways (for ex-ample, proportional image reproduction frequencieshave been stable over a half century of rapid change)as we derive not only measures for but also, perhaps,the causes of canonicity. Still, as Cutting remarks,canons are states “inside our heads” (p. 23), not justcollections of objects, and therefore phenomena of“cultural psychology.” For that he provides a sec-ond kind of sampling, testing recognitions and pref-erences regarding Impressionist pictures by subjectgroups of varying acquaintance with visual art, andfinds a 59 percent preference rate for the more fre-quently preferred in matched pairs, while with youngchildren these register about even. One wishes formore extensive tests, since the most surprising resultfor the adult experiments is that the 59 percent pref-erence rate holds independently of reported recog-

nitions of the images, even where these recognitionsrange from 1 to 19 percent. Cutting’s conclusion isdouble: that preference is markedly affected by thefactor of “mere exposure,” and that this works fromunconscious recognition, independently of what werecall seeing. Cultures, he argues generally, dependon an in-built conservatism that makes us prefer whatwe are used to, especially when we do not know thatwe are used to it: thus cultures’ forms, including theircanons, tend to persist.

How this works specifically for the Impressionistcanon is the object of Cutting’s third main study—thistime a historical one. On the basis of detective workregarding art dealers, collectors, and museum acces-sions, he argues an exposure pattern of formationand maintenance that runs as follows. An initial bignews event, positive or negative, draws the public’sattention to some works, these works are taken intowell-known museums (this may have been the newsevent), curators show them, authors choose them,thus their reproductions go into books, resulting inthe public becoming more acquainted with and, bymere exposure, tending to favor them. Cutting sug-gests that certain aspects of this particular case maybe found in other cases, including in other arts, al-though mere exposure will work in different ways. Ashe states, we know well how use of musical excerpts inmovies has produced new audiences for them, and soincreased playing of them on radio, amplifying theirexposure and preference.

Three responses to these conclusions might be thatthey are unsurprising (after all, advertising billionsare spent each year based on brand recognition, in-dependently of quality), or questionable (maybe thepreferred pieces are the more appealing ones?), andthat frequency is not the same as canonicity. Regard-ing the first objection, what is most surprising is theapparent effect of “implicit memory”: that preferencepercentages appear invariant over conscious recollec-tion variations. Indeed, left mysterious is how thoseImpressionist images get to the subjects who professlittle acquaintance with art. On the second, of how aquantitative approach to the subject could deal withthe qualitative question, Cutting uses what might becalled a private collection argument: whatever qual-ity is, it is implausible that it would be statistically lessin images in private collections, which are thereforeless known and rank lower in preference.

Troubled by our trio, Cezanne, Degas, and Manet,I find the third question more pertinent. We havea reproduction measure of canonicity—things ascanonic—and we have a psychological (implicit mem-ory or preference) measure for canons as mental atti-tudes. Cutting argues that the former canon stronglyaffects the latter. Regarding the former, if the canonicare just the most often reproduced, is all the fussabout promoting cultural canons just a matter of

248 The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism

maintaining market advantage? As to the latter, itis usually thought of as the twice best: the best (mostrepresentative) examples of the best. Yet when Cut-ting tests paintings for the category “Impressionist”itself, the trio comes last of the seven. Sisley’s pic-tures come out tops, even though that artist’s highestreproduction ranking in the wide survey ties for eigh-teenth, his next ties for sixty-sixth and one-hundred-twenty-third. Another question might be, regardingthe canonic “inside our heads,” which heads to count.John Willats overheard a lady in a picture gallery ex-claim how she admired Manet, but when her com-panion read out from the label, “Monet,” her airyresponse might be the title for this piece: “Some callhim ‘Monet,’ I prefer to say ‘Manet.’” However, Cut-ting’s tests are for picture recognition and preference,not for artists’ names.

Concerning such challenges, Cutting has at leastthe following replies. There is indeed a select groupof those who determine what museums purchase, ex-hibit, and advertise and there is also a group that getsreproductions of these artworks into books. Thesegroups—particularly the former—working with spe-cialized normative criteria, with the idea of canonic-ity already in their heads (also knowing the artists’names)—initiate and maintain canons. That replymight invoke Leo Tolstoy’s anti-elitist complaint that“there exists an art canon according to which certainproductions favored by our circle are acknowledgedas being art.” But remember the news event and thefilm score. Cutting insists, in closing, that “canonsare a part of collective memory” (p. 208), the verybroad, vague cultural memory that he samples, fromwhich neither public museums nor publishing can beinsulated. Thus he suggests that, by the slow but ef-fective mechanism of mass exposure, web access toa wider variety of images may independently affectfuture picture canons, including that of Impression-ism. Using Google, readers may enjoy imitating theauthor’s quick statistical check of numbers of web-sites listed for selected artists’ names (adding the con-straint ‘art’). Although that resource has in the mean-time expanded many-fold, Cutting’s findings for vi-sual artists generally have remained quite stable, al-though Picasso has significantly passed Leonardo forthe overall lead (even when not following his adviceto subtract from the latter ‘di Caprio’).

As for the mystery, a main surprise finding of thebook is that, at least in the case of Impressionism,the core canon was initially put in place by historicalaccident—a single collector’s grouping of the seven.Not to spoil it by naming whodunnit, here is a de-scription. During the time when Manets did resem-ble Monets, whose engineering skill helped Monetbuild his floating studio, as depicted by Manet, inwhat Cutting’s library sleuthing shows to be a top-ten Impressionist canonic work, Monet in His StudioBoat?

PATRICK MAYNARDDepartment of PhilosophyUniversity of Western Ontario

baas, jacquelynn. Smile of the Buddha: Eastern Phi-losophy and Western Art from Monet to Today.University of California Press, 2005, 310 pp., 45color + 59 b&w illus., $45.00 cloth.

That Western artists have long been drawn to thingsEastern will surprise no one; indeed, leanings towardZen have become as much a signifier of the artis-tic temperament as, say, the French beret once was.Yet historians, theorists, and critics of art have hadlittle systematic to say about this attraction. Smileof the Buddha: Eastern Philosophy and Western Artfrom Monet to Today, by Jacquelynn Baas, begins toremedy this situation. On the face of it, Baas’s ap-proach seems straightforward enough. Although shegoes into considerable detail about various aspects ofdifferent strains of Buddhism and the history of theirreception in the West, the major part of the book isgiven over to discussions of artists whose work in in-formed, Baas believes, in one way or another, by Bud-dhism. The book is divided roughly chronologicallyinto five sections, each of which treats four artists.In the first two sections—she focuses on Monet, VanGogh, Gaugin, and Redon in the first and Duchamp,Brancusi, Kandinsky, and O’Keefe in the second—Bass argues that the artists she discusses encountered,or might have encountered, Buddhism, and offersinterpretations of their work such encounters sug-gest. The third section moves on to Isamu Noguchi,Ad Reinhardt, Yves Klein, and Jasper Johns, all ofwhom, to a greater or lesser degree, acknowledgethe influence of Buddhism on their work and lives.Here, understandably, Baas spends less effort estab-lishing this influence and more showing how Bud-dhist perspectives inform particular works. By thelast two sections of the book—the fourth treatingJohn Cage, Nam June Paik, Yoko Ono, and LaurieAnderson, all of whom incorporate sound into theirworks, and the fifth discussing Agnes Martin, RobertIrwin, Viha Celmins, and Richard Tuttle—Bass hasturned to artists whose work, she argues convincingly,indisputably and often self-consciously takes as itstheme the various concerns of Buddhism: for exam-ple, the impermanence of all things, the illusion (anddelusions) of the ego, the conditions and possibilitiesof enlightenment, the spiritual and epistemologicaltraps of rigid, conventional ways of seeing the world.Perhaps not surprisingly, her take on the works ofthese clearly Buddhist-inspired artists is richer andmore compelling than the readings she offers earlierin the book. After all, as Baas readily admits, her ar-gument in the earlier chapters depends quite a biton speculations about discussions Monet, Gaugin, or