Another Look at Aesthetic Imagination

Another Look at Aesthetic ImaginationAuthor(s): H. Gene BlockerSource: The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Vol. 30, No. 4 (Summer, 1972), pp. 529-536Published by: Wiley on behalf of The American Society for AestheticsStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/429468 .

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H. GENE BLOCKER

Another Look at Aesthetic

Imagination

THIS PAPER proposes to show that the imaginationist aesthetics of Croce and Colling- wood contain, or imply, a strong argument, largely ignored by recent commentators, for the public character of feeling and emotion in works of art. But while a compelling account of the publicity of feeling and emotion in works of art is contained in imaginationism, it is also obscured by another Imaginationist doctrine which appears flatly to contradict it, namely, the view that a work of art is an imaginary entity, "in one's head." Since it is the latter which has most interested and upset contemporary writers, the Imaginationist argument for the public character of emotion and feeling has been not only obscured but lost. I hope, then, to recover this lost insight of the Imag- inationists. And to do this will require, first, to make clear that in addition to the claim that works of art are imaginary entities, the Imaginationists have also held that feeling and emotion are inseparable from the perceptible features of works of art, and second, to show that these two views are logically distinct, that one may hold the one without being committed to the other. Having done that, I will be in a position to show that by rejecting the outlandish view that works of art are somehow inside one's head, we have not rejected the more important view of the Imaginationists that feeling

H. GENE BLOCKER is assistant professor of philosophy at Illinois State University. He has published articles in several scholarly journals.

and emotion are inseparable and unintelligible apart from the perceptible features of the work of art. Then, if we consider this view in isolation from the view that works of art are imaginary entities, we will see that this becomes a strong case for the public character of feeling and emotion in works of art.

If feeling and emotion characteristics are inseparable from the perceptible features of works of art, and we treat works of art, as we normally would, as public, external objects, then the feeling and emotion characteristics are inseparable from the public, external entity and are therefore themselves public.

The predominant theme in the Elton an- thology, Aesthetics and Language, is the sustained attack on "essentialism," the assumption that all works of art must have in common some one defining feature, whether imagination, form, expression, or whatever. About half of these articles are directed against the view that art is imagination, which the Elton writers interpret to mean that the work of art is an imaginary entity. Passmore, for example, says:

What Croce would have us believe is that whether we are contemplating architectural masses, or a Bach fugue, or a play by Shake- speare, or the painting of Cezanne, what we are in every case really contemplating is a certain form of human feeling ... Whatever describes the work itself is dismissed as "technical"; aesthetics is no longer particularly concerned with works of art.1



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Beryl Lake also emphasizes as the hall- mark of Croce's theory the imaginary status of the work of art.

Now, real works of art are not physical objects at all in spite of our everyday ways of speaking about them... Croce insists that real works of art do not hang on the walls of galleries nor are they performed by orchestras, but exist in the minds of all who truly appreciate them.2

And Ziff attacks the Imaginationists in much the same way.

Perhaps the most persistent myth in present-day aesthetics is the notion that when we discuss a work of art we are not talking about a painting but about some "illusory" or "imaginary" thing sometimes called the "object of art" or the "aesthetic object".3

This is the contemporary criticism of the Imaginationists; how well does it accord with the views actually held by the Imagi- nationists, Croce and Collingwood, in particular?

In Croce, understanding by means of imagination is called "intuition," and the central thesis of the philosophy of art as imagination appears as the identity of intuition and expression. All human knowledge, according to Croce, is divisible into two main departments:

It is either intuitive knowledge or logical knowledge; knowledge obtained through the imagination or knowledge obtained through the intel- lect; knowledge of the individual or knowledge of the universal...; it is, in fact, productive either of images or of concepts.4

Croce, thus, defines intuition as that "which gives knowledge of things in their concrete- ness and individuality." It is for this reason that intuition cannot be equated with mere "sensation, formless matter"; intuition is a concrete understanding of things which, as Croce says, is impossible without some formation and objectification. Nor is intuition the mere composition or juxtaposition of sensations; it is rather an achievement, a development or synthesis of the materials of sense on a different level which produces a concrete perception "detached and standing out from" sensation.

Thus, the defining trait of intuition is that it be represented, or embodied, or as Croce puts it, "expressed," in some objective

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structure which in some sense stands apart from the internal sensations of the thinking subject.

Every true intuition or representation is, also expression. That which does not objectify itself in expression is not intuition or representation, but sensation and naturality. The spirit does not obtain intuitions, otherwise than by making, forming, expressing. He who separates intuition from expression never succeeds in reuniting them.5

In relation to art Croce says quite simply that all art is intuition in this sense, differ- ing from ordinary intuition only in degree.

In these passages Croce is arguing that we cannot have an idea of anything in isolation from the means used to express that idea; that the criterion for having an idea of something, as opposed to some vague feeling about it, as well as the criterion for recognizing and identifying what that idea is, consists in its manifestation, or embodiment in some publicly accessible medium which Croce calls "expression." But this scarcely resembles the characterization of Croce's position in the Elton volume. Of course, it all depends on what Croce means by expression, but at first glance he seems to mean expression in a publicly perceptible, external work of art. Indeed, through- out the section on the identity of intuition and expression, Croce speaks explicitly of "verbal expressions" and of "non-verbal expressions, such as those of line, colour, and sound"; and of expressions "pictorial, or verbal, or musical."

If people really had the intuitions they supposed they had, he says, "they could have coined them into beautiful, ringing words, and thus expressed them." In short, the crucial test of a genuine intuition, for Croce, is "speak, here is a pencil, draw, express yourself." Here Croce seems to be saying quite clearly that intuitions are identi- fied in their public, external manifestation.

Thus far, then, Croce's account seems clearly at odds with that attributed to him by the Elton writers. Elsewhere, however, when Croce is trying to distinguish aesthetic from physic, his account of expression does resemble that claimed for him in the Elton volume. The physical, which has to do with "sounds, tones, movements, com-



Another Look at Aesthetic Imagination

binations of lines and colour," he says, re- lates only to the "practical side of aesthetic activity." Whereas, "in common speech, sometimes it is the words of the poet that are called expressions, the notes of the musician, or the figure of the painter...," in reality, it "is not a physical fact; it does not belong to things but to the activity of men, to spiritual activity."

The physical object adds nothing to the intuition-expression, but merely external- izes it, an activity which may serve various nonaesthetic, practical interests, such as ped- agogical, or as an aid to memory. Externali- zation, then, is essentially a question of practical knowledge involving special tech- niques unrelated to intuition.6

In these passages Croce clearly falls within the characterization of his position by the writers of the Elton volume. But whatever his account of the ontological status of the work of art, whether public or imaginary, the essential feature in his theory of imagination is the identity of intuition and expression.

In the aesthetical fact, the aesthetic activity is not added to the fact of the impressions, but these latter are formed and elaborated by it. ... From this it results, not that the content is something superfluous..., but that there is no passage between the quality of the content and that of the form.

The content, he goes on to say, "has no determinable qualities until this transfor- mation takes place. We know nothing of its nature. It does not become aesthetical content at once, but only when it has been effectively transformed."7 We cannot identify an emotion except by its outward expression. Therefore, we understand nothing of the emotion except the way in which we understand the outward expression.

Equally important in this respect is Coll- ingwood's Principles of Art. It is true, of course, that Collingwood defines art as an imaginary expression of emotion. ("By creating for ourselves an imaginary experience or activity, we express our emotions; and this is what we call art.") The question is what does he mean by imaginary?

On the one hand, it is clear that his fundamental concern is very similar to Croce's identification of intuition and expression.

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"Imaginary" does not mean anything in the least like "make believe", nor does it imply that what goes by that name is private to the person who imagines...."Expressing" emotions is clearly not the same thing as arousing them. There is emotion there before we express it. But as we express it, we confer upon it a different kind of emotional colouring; in one way, therefore, expression creates what it expresses, for exactly this emotion, colouring and all, only exists so far as it is expressed. Finally, we cannot say what "emotion" is, except that we mean by it the kind of thing which, on the kind of occasion we are talking about, is expressed.8

The object at which he (the poet) is aiming is not to produce a preconceived emotional effect on his audience but by means of a system of expressions, or language, composed partly of speech and partly of gesture, to explore his own emotions; to discover emotions.9

In Wittgensteinian terms, the criterion of identity, or recognition for feeling and emotion words, is the public display. In these passages Collingwood, like Croce, seems to be contrasting vaguely felt, private emotion with its clear, articulate portrayal in a publicly perceptible work of art. A poem, he says, is "composed partly of speech and partly of gesture," both of which are surely public phenomena. There is nothing here of a subjectivist or solipsist view of the work of art.

Elsewhere, however, Collingwood, like Croce, speaks of the work of art as an imaginary entity, "in one's head." At first he says only that "a work of art need not be what we should call a real thing. It may be what we call an imaginary thing." But then he begins to identify the act of creating with the formation of the "plan... in one's head" and to oppose this to the mere fabri- cating which consists in "imposing the plan on certain matter." And from here the im- plication, which Collingwood progressively develops and which the Elton writers have rightly criticized, is that the real work of art is an imaginary thing, while the physical object we normally identify with the work of art is largely extraneous to the work of art proper.

The actual making of the tune is something that goes on in his head and nowhere else.... But the musician's tune is not there on the paper at all. What is on the paper is not music, it is only musical notation.... The music, the work of art,



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is not the collection of noises, it is the tunes in the composer's head.... Music does not consist of heard noises, paintings do not consist of seen colours.1'

Other Imaginationist writers, such as Su- sanne Langer, L. A. Reid, D. G. James, and Sartre, hold similar views.

Writers who defend the notion of art as imagination, then, put forward two views of the role of imagination in art: one, rightly criticized and rejected by the Elton writers, that the work of art is a private, imaginary entity, "in one's head," and the other, one of the more significant contribu- tions to contemporary aesthetics and criticism and altogether ignored by the Elton writers, that what is expressed in a work of art is inseparable from and unintelligible apart from its embodiment in the particular work of art. If these two positions are logically tied together, then rejecting the one is tantamount to rejecting the other; but if they are not so related, then we may hold the one while rejecting the other-and indeed, by separating the first from the second, the second will emerge as a far clearer and more plausible position. But it seems clear on reflection that the two views are quite distinct logically. Not only is it not necessary to regard expression as a private, internal affair, it is extremely difficult to think of it in any other way than its embodiment in a publicly perceptible, external object, which I think a study of the earlier passages in Croce and Collingwood indicate. Both find it natural and almost irresistible to think of expression as expression in sound, color, line, word, and, generally, in some publicly accessible media-at least when they are discussing the relation of expression to emotion or intuition. This is sufficient to show that neither view is neces- sitated by the other. One could easily hold either position without espousing the other. Just as one could maintain that art expresses emotion and that this expression is public, so one could hold the view that a work of art was a private, imaginary entity, and solely the product of divine inspiration or the workings of the Unconscious.

What remains of the Imaginationist position when the imaginary status of the work

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of art is pared off? Naturally, the emphasis on the public character of the expression, in color, line, and movement, which was all along the most natural and plausible sense of expression, will be reinforced. What remains is the fundamental insight of the Imaginationists, that what is expressed must be understood in terms of its manifestation in a particular work of art, where we understand work of art in the ordinary sense of an external, public object. This interpretation frees the Imaginationist position not only from the so-called idealist slant but also from what must now be re- garded as a largely inadequate psychology of sense materials organized into recogniza- ble thought and perception.

But even if we accept this interpretation and recognize its importance for aesthetics and art criticism, is it not a rather queer and arbitrary use of the word imagination? For this, after all, is the brunt of the Elton attack. As a part of their general critique of essentialism, the Elton writers are primarily objecting that the Imaginationists have taken a concept with well-defined uses in ordinary language and tried to force every conceivable aesthetic phenomenon into the crude mold of one or more of these ordinary senses taken out of their ordinary con- texts. When one looks carefully at ordinary uses of imagination and imaginary, they are saying that while there are several aesthetic phenomena which fall under one or more of these ordinary uses, there is no single ordinary use of imagination which applies to all aesthetic phenomena. Much of what we wish to say about works of art, say the Elton writers, has nothing to do with imagination. Margaret Macdonald, for example, says that one can meaningfully speak of the artist imagining a work of art which he would like to produce but which, for some reason, he never finishes. And in a different sense, she says, one may legitimately speak of an artist exhibiting imagination in the sense of creativity or ingenuity. Similarly, Furlong in his book Imagination distin- guishes three different senses in which we ordinarily speak of imagination, only one or two of which have any legitimate application to aesthetic phenomena. We may




speak of imagination in the sense of make- believe, pretending, and the like, or we may speak of imagination in connection with hallucinations and false belief, and one sometimes speaks of imagination in the sense of the inventiveness or originality of certain kinds of activity. Furlong claims that the last and possibly the first can be used to describe certain things about art and artists, but not the second. The point these writers wish to make is that previous philosophers have greatly exaggerated the extent to which these ordinary uses could be applied to art.

My own view is that while the Imagina- tionists have exaggerated the place of imagination in aesthetics and have never been sufficiently careful to specify precisely what they mean by "artistic imagination," their observations about imagination cannot be understood entirely by reference to ordinary senses of the word. The key to what the Imaginationists mean by imagination is not to be found in a collection of various ordinary uses of the word, but in a semitechnical philosophical use traceable through Aristotle, the British Empiricists, Kant, and Coleridge, and emerging finally in the views of Croce, Collingwood, and the other Imaginationists. In this context imagination has been used to refer to that aspect of our empirical knowledge which pieces together, or constructs from the diverse materials of sense, the coherent empirical reality as we are ordinarily aware of it. It could be argued that it would be less misleading if the Imaginationists would refrain from using the word imagination, since this word already has well-defined ordinary uses which differ considerably from this quasi- technical philosophical use. But if one wants to understand what these philopo- phers mean, then one must understand the way they actually use the term.

I will begin by considering two philo- sophic uses of imagination which are rather closely related to ordinary uses. One is the concept of imagination as a mental faculty for representing to oneself ideas previously presented in sense experience. This is memory in the sense of reliving through a present image some past event. The other, syn-

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onymous with fantasy or fancy, is imagination as an ability to construct freely from "materials of sense" novel combinations the operation and production of which are not bound by objective or realistic constraints. The first, generally called the "reproductive imagination," is taken to be veridical, whereas the second, the "productive imagination," is usually non-veridical. Deriving from these two uses is a third, more technical, philosophical use. Like the second but unlike the first, it is productive, that is, constructive and creative over and above what is represented in sense experience, while it is unlike the second but like the first in being veridical, at least in the sense and to the extent that ordinary sense perception is more veridical than not. In this sense imagination is a necessary feature of our experience of empirical reality, whether by sup- plementation, as in Hume, or by synthesis, as in Kant, of what is given in sensation. Imagination in this third sense is an attempt to solve the Empiricist problem of constructing solely from materials of sense the ordinary appearance of sensible phenomena. This third sense, which we may call the Constructive Imagination, is most closely related to imagination as a concept in aesthetics. Without some appreciation of this philosophical use of the term, we cannot hope to understand what writers like Croce and Collingwood are talking about. Without pretending to provide a thorough genealogy of this use of the word, it would be helpful to consider a few representative examples of Constructive Imagination which have helped to define aesthetic imaginationism.

In De Anima, Aristotle likens imagination to perceptual judgment although he explicitly rejects any identification of the two. For example, Aristotle says one can imagine this white thing to be a man, or the sun to be one foot in diameter. Aristotle hesitates to call such imagining judgments or opinions because they are more like ordinary perception than judgments, and indeed, in ordinary speech we would say we perceived, not judged, the white object as a man. Thus, imagination in this sense is simply part of our ordinary perception of em-



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pirical reality. The reason Aristotle refuses the term perception or sensation to this activity is the Empiricist assumption that sensation proper is infallible, whereas the judgment, This white thing is a man, is fallible. For Aristotle only the perception of the simple objects proper to each sense, e.g., the perception of this thing as white, is infallible. Only this deserves to be called sensation; the rest of what we ordinarily call sensation or perception is really a synthesis of simple objects, e.g., white or this man, and is liable to error. The relation of infal- libility to "simples" and fallibility to synthesis defines for Aristotle, as for most Em- piricists, the distinction between sensation and imagination. When we put these re- marks of Aristotle together, we may interpret him as saying that in almost all ordinary perception imagination is at work bringing together various simples, say, white and a certain shape, to form some complex perceptual unity, in this case, a man.

It is not until we come to Hume that the idea of Constructive Imagination begins to assume the importance it has had in modern philosophy. Price claims that "the word imagination is the keyword of Hume's whole theory of knowledge." 11 In the section of the Treatise, "Scepticism with regard to the Senses," the greatest part of ob- servable objects and events is said to consist of imagination. According to Hume, the external, distinct, and continuous existence of objects cannot be apprehended by means of the senses alone, and the fictitious belief and apparent perception of such he tries to account for by a power of imagination to feign the gaps in our experiences of continuity, etc., by supplementing the additional images. As Hume says, "the imagination when set into any train of thinking, is apt to continue even when its object fails it, like a galley put in motion by the oars, carried on its course without any new impulse." 12 Although Hume usually speaks of imagination as supplementing ideas of sense, he also refers, in one passage at least, to a constructive role of imagination in syn- thesizing ideas of sense into complex uni- ties.

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The colours, taste, figure, solidity, and other qualities, combined in a peach or melon, are conceived to form one thing; and that on account of their close relation, which makes them affect the thought in the same manner, as if per- fectly uncompounded.13

Clearly, as Hume is aware, without the identity, unity, continuity, distinctness, and external existence of objects there could be no public empirical world. Despite the fact that Hume believes this Constructive Imag- ination to be fictitious and falsifying, he nonetheless recognizes it as a necessary part of our ordinary experience of the world. Indeed, as Hume says in the Treatise, some principles of imagination are "permanent, irresistible and universal" without which human nature would "immediately perish and go to ruin." Price is right, then, when he says that for Hume "the phenomenal world, the world of material objects and empirical selves, is in some sense an imaginative construction."

In this respect Kant's doctrine of the Transcendental Synthesis of Imagination is closely related to the dependence in Hume of the phenomenal world on syntheses of imagination, but with this crucial difference, that whereas Hume maintained a skeptical attitude toward beliefs based on imagination, Kant justifies the more important of these beliefs by reference to their necessity in the construction of a coherent empirical world.

All empirical knowledge and any perception of objects depend, for Kant, on syntheses of sensuous intuitions, and all such syntheses depend, ultimately, on the faculty of imagination. The way in which this synthesis takes place is determined by the understanding, the faculty of concepts, or rules of synthesis. Although interpretations will vary on this point, Kant most often appears to regard concepts as general rules which can be applied to the synthesis and formation of intuitions only by means of an imaginative construction of models or schemata in the nonsensuous media of space and time to which intuitions must conform. Thus, there is no empirical knowledge nor any empirical reality, for Kant, without the construction of the imagination; or to put it another way, what we




normally take to be the public world of sense perception is, for Kant, largely an imaginative construction.

From Kant the notion of a Constructive Imagination necessary to and inseparable from our ordinary perception of the empirical world is carried over into Coleridge's account of "secondary Imagination," from which, along with the views of Schelling, derives the position of the modern Imagina- tionists, Croce, Collingwood, etc. Although Coleridge had developed his ideas of poetic imagination as distinct from fancy before he read Kant, he took over from Kant his conception of the Transcendental Imagina- tion (i.e., imagination in the sense of the Constructive Imagination) in relating this poetic imagination to experience and knowledge in general. Coleridge accepted Kant's theory of the productive, sponta- neous, and constructive imagination necessary to all experience, but then went on to apply this concept to a different field of application, the aesthetic apprehension and organization of experience, to which Kant would not have accorded the same objectiv- ity. In Coleridge's view the poetic imagination transforms the commonplace, cliche- ridden view of things to make room for a deeper appreciation of the "truth of nature" in which the "poet's heart and intel- lect are intimately combined and unified with the great appearance of nature." 14 It is this sense of imagination, and not some exaggerated, or confused ordinary senses of the word, which we find in Croce and Coll- ingwood, and this is the sense in which we must try to understand them.

Thus, the criticisms raised by the Elton writers are, on the whole, misdirected. A more damaging objection, perhaps, would be that the Imaginationists either prove too much or too little, that if they prove anything at all it can only be something very trivial. For on the one hand, the objection might run, we can understand the emotion expressed in the work of art independently of that particular work of art, and if we can not, words like sad would have no meaning in reference to works of art. And on the other hand, the objection would continue, it seems to be just as true outside of aesthet-

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ics that any given manifestation of sadness must represent a particular sort of sadness and that every translation from one medium to another necessarily deviates more or less from the original.

But while the points raised by this sort of objection are substantially correct, they do not show the Imaginationist doctrine to be trivial or uninteresting. The difference between sadness in general and a particular sort of sadness is not important in most cases, but it is extremely important in the case of works of art. Similarly, any loss of meaning which might result from the translation, say, of the Imaginationist doctrine from a quasi-empiricist language to the language of Wittgensteinian criteria would be insignificant compared with the loss in- curred through an attempt to paraphrase Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" in terms of Death and Responsi- bility. And even though the meaning of aesthetic terms, and linguistic expressions generally, depends on a certain generality of meaning, it is the peculiarity of aesthetic terms that their meaning also depends on a more specific sense, which, as Isenberg says, can only be "'filled in', 'rounded out', or 'completed' by the act of perception." The ordinary meaning of emotion words, and other words used in art criticism, helps to delimit the full meaning intended in this more specific sense, but we cannot identify the meaning independently of the particular perceptual object, as we usually can outside of aesthetics.

The point I want to make is what are we to do with statements like "this passage is very sad." One way of stating the Imagina- tionist position is that statements of this sort should not be taken as simply classify- ing the passage within the class of all sad things in the way I might classify a pair of shoes as black or brown. As Isenberg, Ham- shire, Sibley, and others have recently sug- gested, the point of most critical talk is to get us to see what is being talked about in a particular way; critical statements ought to be seen more as directions for perceiving than as statements of fact.

When Frost said that the last stanza of "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Even-



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ing" 15' had nothing to do with death, he was, quite rightly, warding off any attempt to limit the meaning of these lines to some preconceived idea understood independently of the poem. This is what is meant when one says that a poem is untransla- table-not that one can not offer a paraphrase or prose equivalent, and one that might be useful in some way, but that it is dangerously misleading to suppose that one can identify the meaning of a poem, or whatever, independently of an intuitive grasp of the work of art. At the same time, of course, it would be equally absurd to suppose that one cannot even indicate in some rough way, within certain limits, what the poem is about. If one takes death to indicate the sort of thing the poem is about, then the poem is surely about death. Death in this case would indicate a range of possi- ble interpretations and would not necessarily exclude, for example, tranquillity, nihil- ism, repose, serenity, etc., though, again, no one of these is the only meaning of the poem, for this would block our openness to an interpretation of what this particular poem is about.

And what is it about? Well, one can answer, "Death," and one can also answer, "Look and see." But if the first is to have any critical relevance, it will generally be understood as a guide to the second.

Thus, there are still a great many things we wish to say in aesthetics which can best be said within the general framework of Imaginationism, but we must first recapture from its contemporary critics a sense of the importance of Imaginationism as a concep- tual tool in aesthetics.

1J. A. Passmore, "The Dreariness of Aesthetics," in William Elton, ed., Aesthetics and Language (New York, 1954), pp. 13-14.

Beryl Lake, "A Study of the Irrefutability of Two Aesthetic Theories," in Elton, p. 101.

8 Paul Ziff, "Art and the 'Object of Art,'" in Elton, p. 170.

'Benedetto Croce, Aesthetica, trans. D. Ainslie (London, 1909), p. 1.

6 Ibid., p. 13. 6 Ibid., pp. 153-83. 7 Ibid., pp. 26-27. 8 R. G. Collingwood, The Principles of Art (New

York, 1958), p. 151. 9 Ibid., p. 122. "Ibid., pp. 134-42. "H. H. Price, Hume's Theory of the External

World (Oxford, 1940), p. 15. 'a David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature,

ed. L. A. Selby-Bigge (Oxford, 1955), p. 198. 18 Ibid., p. 221. 14S. T. Coleridge, Biographia Literaria, ed. J.

Shawcross, vol. 1 (London, 1962). "The woods are lovely, dark and deep

But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.

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Another Look at Aesthetic Imagination