No More Learning

They received the patent of nobility, or they were honored in other ways, sometimes by receiving gifts. It became important to show through one's lifestyle that one did not work for money. The bi- ographies of such artists became the object of literature. Their social ad- vancement always also documented independence and individuality. And when the nobility did not recognize their equal status, as was generally the
51
case, they sought different criteria based on accomplishment and merit. Of course, such a move requires expertise on the part of the upper classes and, at the same time, places limits on the extravagance of artistic activity. In the twentieth century, a new trend began to emerge. One in- sulted the clients one portrayed by exposing the limits of their under- standing, and finally, when this trend became the object of reflection, one moved on, sacrificing in a spectacular (again, surprising) way the need to
demonstrate one's skill and to confront difficulties.
This strategy works only if one can show that the object in question is,
in fact, art. Secondary forms of making the improbable plausible become necessary: in other words, one needs an art industry. The art system sup- plies institutions in which it is not unlikely to find works of art--muse- ums, galleries, exhibitions, theater buildings, social contacts with art ex- perts, critics, and so forth. But this is merely the first step in approaching art. Institutions (in Goffman's terminology) supply only the "frame" for condensed expectations; they generate a receptive attitude for observing
52
striking objects as art.
of redundancy and surprise; it must deliberately create and resolve the paradox that information is at once necessary and superfluous. The art- work, in other words, must indicate itself as a concrete and unique object
and by searching for the improb-
The artwork must provide its own configuration
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the AruSystem 155
in order to demarcate the frame for displaying universal or exemplary truths. (Logicians might insist on distinguishing multiple levels of analy- sis, or be forced to accept "self-indication" as the third value in the analy-
53 sis of the distinctions displayed in art. )
Redundancies, in the form of the system's own constructions, are rein-
54
troduced in two stages--via frames and works.
cation thus created are unthinkable in the unprepared everyday life of so- cial communication. From the perspective of the artwork, this does not mean that hetero-references lose their significance. On the contrary, as we mentioned earlier, they acquire their function qua hetero-references pre- cisely within the protected differentiation of a unique domain for creating and elaborating information. Within this domain, actors on stage or in the novel can be endowed with motives, and paintings acquire represen- tative functions that are not confused with ordinary social reality, even though they refer to reality in a manner that implies both proximity and distance.
This explains why rejecting utility is not the same as rejecting hetero- reference--if it were, self-reference would collapse for lack of a distinc- tion. Rather, the form of self-reference--the distinction between self- reference and hetero-reference--must be reconstructed internally. In science, this happens via the combination of methodological (internal) and theoretical (external) considerations, but also by differentiating lin- guistic levels: at a certain level, science always employs a socially given lin- guistic material that might be used in other contexts as well (this is the
55
well-known "ordinary language" argument).
trend. As we noted earlier, art remains dependent on materials that can be used outside of art as well, albeit in different ways. Art works with stone, wood, metal, or other materials to create sculptures; it employs bodies in dance and the theater, colors in painting, and ordinary words in poetry. The point is to highlight within the material--which is indispensable for perception--a difference in usage. It is crucial that art dissolves the all- too-compact references to the environment that were still common in the eighteenth century in accordance with the notion of art as imitation. Not even the principles and rules of (an otherwise valid) morality can be in- herited in uncontrolled ways, lest the impression arise that the work of art
56
serves moral instruction and edification.
releasing art and literature from its ties to reality cannot be identified yet, especially not as a principle. A certain type of English literature--such as
Possibilities of intensifi-
In art, we see a comparable
Still, a clear tendency toward
156 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
Pamela--still teaches that morality may turn out to be quite useful in practice. One has the impression, however, that every restriction to a spe- cific relationship between morals and art/literature is now taken note of and provokes objections, especially when it can be described in a national comparison as typically English or typically French. As a result, art even- tually meanders toward autonomy after all. Hetero-references are not al- lowed to affect the forms that art must select freely if it is to accomplish operative closure. They are restricted to the elements that serve as the me- dial substratum of art. The medium's capacity of dissolution, which un- derlies the loose coupling of its elements, adjusts to the work's formative intent. The more abstract the form combination that is to be presented, the more the medium must be dissolved. But even then the medial sub- stratum continues to support the hetero-references against which the work's self-reference must stand out.
V
The differentiation of the art system has been observed from within the system itself and has been described in terms of various semantics of dis- tance. We have shown this in the previous section. We tacitly assumed that works of art present discrete sections of the perceptible world (which is certainly true). Works of art are objects. One can recognize them as works of art (as distinct from other objects or processes) and can see how, at least when they occur in an artistic manner, they give rise to a distinct system almost spontaneously. This account, however, ignores the analyti- cal resources we introduced in previous chapters; besides, other theoreti- cal sources encourage us to go further.
Psychic and social systems create their operative elements in the form of extremely short-lived events (perceptions, thoughts, communications) that vanish as soon as they occur. In the same way, in creation and observation works of art unfold as a sequence of events. But how? In the course of pro- ducing or encountering an artwork, one moves from one operation to the next. One must be capable of generating both continuity and discontinu- ity, which is easier in reality than in theory. What happens during this process?
57
Following Spencer Brown's terminology,
requirement of condensation and confirmation. On the one hand, identi- fications must be generated to observe the same in different situations and
one might speak of a double
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 157
allow for repetitions and for the recursive recall and anticipation of further events. Meaning must be condensed into forms that can be employed re- peatedly. On the other hand, such condensations must fit ever new con- texts and, when this succeeds, be confirmed as fitting. In this way, conden- sations become replete with possibilities. What results from this process can no longer be fixed or accessed by definitions. Using it requires experience
58
gathered within the same system; it presupposes "implicit knowledge. "
59
Jacques Derrida's analysis of writing,
though informed by a different
approach, arrives at similar conclusions. Derrida asks how repetition {itera-
tion) is possible in different situations. The objects of repetition are rup-
tures that are posited together with signs. These ruptures must be mobile;
they must be capable of shifting {diffirance of the difference), which re-
quires that the object of the sign (referent) and its indicating intention (sig-
60
nifiant) remain absent.
this means that the sequentialization of events and the recursivity necessary to identify discrete events generate and presuppose a separation between system and environment. A distinct art system differentiates itself because the observations that produce and contemplate artworks are processed se- quentially. Only under these conditions can artworks function as bearers of communication.
In another terminology, the condition of operative closure might be de- scribed as autonomy. Autonomy implies that, within its boundaries, au- topoiesis functions unconditionally, the only alternative being that the system ceases to exist. Autonomy allows for no half-measures or gradua-
61
tion; there are no relative states, no more or less autonomous systems. Either the system produces its elements or it does not. A system that par- tially relies on external elements or structures because it cannot operate without them--a computer, for example--is not an autopoietic system.
This is not to say that the system's size or its boundaries might not be subject to variation. Nor does it follow from our terminology that there can be no evolution, that autopoietic systems have no history. Changes in structure and, all the more so, gains in complexity--an increase in the number and variability of elements--are certainly possible; indeed, they are typical of autopoietic systems. But any "more or less" refers exclusively to the system's complexity. In this sense, autopoiesis and complexity are conceptual correlates, and it is the task of the theory of evolution to trace the connections between them.
Assuming that the system's autopoiesis is at work, evolutionary thresh-
Translated into the language of systems theory,
158 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
olds can catapult the system to a level of higher complexity--in the evo- lution of living organisms, toward sexual reproduction, independent mo- bility, a central nervous system. To an external observer, this may resem- ble an increase in system differentiation or look like a higher degree of independence from environmental conditions. Typically, such evolution- ary jumps simultaneously increase a system's sensitivity and irritability; it is more easily disturbed by environmental conditions that, for their part, result from an increase in the system's own complexity. Dependency and independence, in a simple causal sense, are therefore not invariant magni- tudes in that more of one would imply less of the other. Rather, they vary according to a system's given level of complexity. In systems that are suc- cessful in evolutionary terms, more independence typically amounts to a greater dependency on the environment. A complex system can have a more complex environment and is capable of processing a greater amount of irritation internally, that is, it can increase its own complexity more rapidly. But all of this can happen only on the basis of the system's opera- tive closure.
When presenting the history of the art system, we must take these the- oretical foundations into account, lest we switch to an entirely different theory. Historically, the differentiation of a system always occurs on the basis of independent system achievements, that is, under the condition of autopoietic autonomy (how else? ). Within this framework, however, dif- ferentiation occurs in the form of a rapid increase in internal complexity. Evolution presupposes a self-generated nucleus of autopoietic autonomy, which is recognized and utilized only in retrospect. Evolution, in other words, is a form of structural change that produces and reproduces its
62
own preconditions.
sionally makes a leap forward, the question is always how much complex- ity may still be compatible with the autopoietic autonomy of a system whose irritability by the environment increases accordingly. More accu- rately, differentiation means nothing other than the increase in complex- ity within a fully differentiated system.
VI
From a sociological standpoint, the differentiation of a social subsystem can be inferred from what it demarcates and specifies as relevant in the en- vironment. Certain environmental relationships become more important;
If evolution suggests a gradual process that occa-
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 159
as a result, others are treated with indifference. This distinction presup- poses that autopoiesis is well established, in other words, that the stakes of art are readily apparent. In the late Middle Ages, this means that art was no longer a matter of skillfully carrying out the instructions of a client. In a somewhat more suitable terminology, one might say that a self-oriented art system searches for "supporting contexts" that leave enough room for
63
its own autonomy and its own choices.
What we retrospectively identify as art in the Middle Ages, in antiquity,
or in non-European cultures fulfilled subordinate functions in those other contexts. A first decisive step toward differentiation had already been made via the shift from a magical to an educational use of the visual arts in the context of Christian religion. In retrospect, we recognize the tremendous difficulties involved in such a shift. We can imagine how hard it must have been to guide viewers, especially the lower classes, from a magical to a rep- resentational understanding of images, which focused on recounting fa- miliar narratives. We recognize these difficulties in clerical taboos against
64
images or in efforts to adapt older visual motifs,
tempts to supplement the treasure house of forms by elaborating the most important themes of Christian religion and clerical history.
Apparently there was never a direct transition from a magical under- standing of art to artistic autonomy. Artworks of the Middle Ages (more accurately, works that we would identify as art) were meant to highlight certain religious or other social meanings; they emphasized such meanings and ensured that they could be experienced repeatedly. Within a well- ordered cosmos, created for the sake of the Good and the Beautiful, art took on memorial and educational functions. Its task was transmission, not innovation, and the only freedom it claimed (a freedom nonetheless) was ornamentation (we assume that ornamentumlornatum was under- stood in the sense of the rhetorical tradition, as expressing the perfection of the creation, rather than as mere adornment). Not until the late Mid- dle Ages can one speak of a situation in which art follows internal criteria. As Hans Belting has shown in great detail, "the aura of the sacred gives
65
way to the aura of art. "
evolution, the enormity of this transition is astonishing, as is typical of evolutionary leaps. Sufficient skills and experience in the most diverse realms were certainly available, as was a sense for an ornamental play of forms familiar to the ear and the eye. So-called preadaptive advances had already been made. But how could one conceive of art-specific criteria if
Within the context of a sociological theory of
and above all in the at-
160 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
art was not evaluated independently of the contexts that made it mean- ingful? And how could the observation of art as art get off the ground, if such criteria did not yet exist?
With European history, the Italian courts provided exceptional start-up conditions for this. During the Middle Ages either guilds or individual monks were in charge of artistic activities of the most diverse kind. As early as the fourteenth century, the culture of the courts began to free it- self from these constraints. The stimulation to do so arrived in Italy via Paris and Naples, then throve in the special conditions that existed in small territorial states. After an initial time of confusion, relationships of domi- nation ceased to be defined by social rank. Within city-states or small ter- ritories, including the Vatican, such relationships were oriented by politi- cal oligarchy (in Florence, for example) or the court. The absence of a centralized state was crucial for the political use of money. On the one hand, Italy (especially Florence) played a leading role in developing a mon- etary economy (in an export-oriented textile industry, in trade and bank- ing, and in the administration of church income). On the other hand, Italy did not produce a centralized state. In other parts of Europe, income from trade lost its political function for cities and was channeled into larger units--via the purchase of political positions, the acquisition of patents of nobility, or credit. In Italy, such efforts remained focused in the significantly smaller courts, after larger military ambitions (by Milan, for example) had failed. The form of the new territorial state, especially the courdy state, was not yet secured. Whether a new prince belonged to the category of "rex" or "tyrannus" and whether he would build a palace or a fortress on the city's territory were open questions. In this situation, polit- ically motivated patronage developed (or, in Venice, patronage based on a republican oligarchy), and patrons began to compete with one another. The value of artworks, which in the trades was based on material (gold, ex-
66
pensive blues) and labor, shifted toward artistic skill. As a result, the fine
67
arts and individual artists were endowed with new value,
especially in the
domains of architecture, painting, sculpture, and poetry. The first treatise
on painting, Alberti s Delia Pittura, claimed nobilita and virtu for the best
(not all! ) painters, thus elevating their work to the rank of the artes lib-
68
erales, and this goal required the presentation and evaluation of their abil-
ities. Unlike those caught in patron/client relationships based on land ownership, artists were mobile and could take their skills and reputation elsewhere if local conditions were unsatisfactory. According to the con-
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 161
ventions of bourgeois theory, such a gain in prestige is described as "ad- vancement," but it might be more accurate to emphasize the emergence of new and enthusiastically cultivated differences in rank. One began to de- marcate lower domains that came to be considered mechanical rather than
69
belonging to the liberal arts.
its close ties to the guilds, integrating it into the personal, insecure, and corrupt relationships that characterized die courts.
Under the circumstances, all hopes for advancement of the arts, for the recognition and support of innovations, for one's share of social prestige and a privileged lifestyle had to be based on the system of patronage, es- pecially on the courts. Although, starting in the sixteenth century, print was commonly used to discuss the features and intentions of various artis- tic genres, and poetry benefited from print, it would have been absurd to expect support for a differentiated art from "the common people" or to entrust the arts to "public opinion. " What could be perceived as a trend toward autonomy was restricted to interactions within the system of pa- tronage and to the insistence on internal criteria for evaluating art. At die same time, the patronage provided by the courts created a mechanism for protecting the arts from regulation by guilds and from integration into the ongoing stratification of households. The courtly state was about to leave behind the difference between the nobility and the people--which was based on social rank and was responsible for the failure of classical ideas of republican "liberty. " The artist, now held in high esteem, no longer found his place in the order of stratification (although some did re-
70
ceive the patent of nobility
). Despite his common birth, the artist could
gain recognition.
71
Although the pattern was already moving toward func-
Legally, this demarcation liberated art from
tional differentiation, semantics, especially in the debates about artistic
genres and artists, was still completely dominated by considerations of
72
rank.
This schema generated a need for criteria enabling the attribution
of superior rank,
73
indeed for criteria diat could not be derived from the
contemporary discussion of nobility, which was flourishing for perhaps
74
Today it may strike us as puzzling that the first impetus to differentia- tion should have been brought about by a high-ranking system of patron- age. The most important consequences may have been motivated by pa- tronage's need for decisions--not only decisions that concern a particular edifice, a certain purchase or commission, but also decisions of a new kind that are difficult to grasp, since they require judgments about artists and
the last time.
16z The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
artworks. Recommendations and court intrigues might have played a role in such decisions, but in the end the work itself had to show whether or not one could attain recognition by presenting oneself as having commis- sioned it. In order to make decisions of this sort, one needed criteria, and criteria had to be elaborated in writing and publicized. All of this needed to be developed in retrospect and was waiting, so to speak, for the arrival of the printing press.
In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the theory of art developed against this background. Theory inquired into the idea of beauty and, from this position, degraded ornament to mere adornment. Via concepts such as concetto [conceit], disegno, and acutezza [wit], the discussion moved away from the doctrine of harmonious proportion and increasingly em- braced irrational concepts of taste or ventures into the realm of the no so que. One continued to adhere to the ancient principle of imitation while making room, within this principle, for opportunities to go beyond what was given in nature. One appreciated spontaneity, inspiration, deviation from models, ingenious innovations. Sketches, drafts, and unfinished pro-
75
jects were hailed as artworks of a special kind
tially served as a basis for interacting witJh the prince or for recommending certain projects or the artist himself, and only later turned out to be pleas- ing in their own right. (There are reports of princes who visited artists' stu- dios. ) But such tendencies presupposed sufficiently well-established crite- ria of selection. In the course of an extended self-observation, on the level of composition and style the art system gained independence vis-a-vis its clients. It could now take the criteria of evaluation into its own hands and
76
make them more dynamic.
afford to exaggerate, because one was aware of the limits of what was tol- erable. At the other end of the spectrum, the same trend manifested itself in the late-seventeenth-century appreciation of "sublime" simplicity, which no longer risked being mistaken for a lack of artistic skill. Apart from that, we find a highly developed technical literature that provides instructions, and with Veronese and Rubens we see the beginnings of a workshop orga- nization, in which the bearer of reputation had the function of outlining projects, giving instructions, and signing the works. We shall return to this point in conjunction with the self-description of art.
The next leap forward in the development of art occurred toward the
end of die seventeenth century, motivated by changes in the supporting
77
--perhaps because they ini-
On the one hand, this meant that one could
context and by the shift from a courtly system of patronage to the market.
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 163
During the collapse of the Roman patronage system around the mid-sev- enteenth century, a remote patronage for Italian art emerged throughout
78
Europe, depending on expert mediators who knew the right people. basic stock of tradable art could be found in the tremendous art collections of individual patrons--which often comprised several hundred paintings and occasionally were liquidated--and to a lesser extent in the studios of artists. These collections contained a stock of ready-made products. The market regulated acquisitions and sales by means of prices. There was plenty of wealth, thanks to the rapid development of capitalist agriculture in the wake of the restoration, although in the eighteenth century wealth consisted predominantly of real estate rather than liquid capital. The mar- ket reflected limited means in the form of enormous price discrepancies, which subsequently--but presumably only much later--motivated specu- lative acquisitions as a financial investment. These price differences mir- rored the internal dynamic of the market rather than artistic quality (even though unsuccessful works were eliminated). Producing for a certain client (portraits, buildings, and so on) was not impossible, but was determined in part by market estimates--in the sense that negotiations about commis- sions concerned prices rather than the content of the work (the client had to be interested in acquiring a typical work of a particular artist). Increas- ingly, market yields became a symbolic equivalent of an artist's reputation. They replaced oral recommendations within a circle of high-ranking pa- trons and their followers; and they substituted for the tedious personal ne- gotiations with a patron, which always included irrational values such as
79
aristocratic generosity and symbols of the artist's reputation.
Once again, a peripheral situation in European developments provided the decisive impetus that triggered the shift toward market conditions in Italy. The first major market to specialize in the acquisition and sale of art-
80
works emerged in England, which depended on imports.
money had to be available for investment. Patronage, which had been
81
based on personal relationships,
These collections tended to consist in acquisitions from abroad, frequently from auctions, and they were liquidated again when the occasion arose (for
82
example, with hereditary succession).
the decisions that motivated individual acquisitions depended on experts who knew how to handle the distinction between original and copy and how to attribute a work to a certain artist. This distinction had been around for quite some time; it now took over the function of generating
was replaced by large art collections.
The value of such collections and
Here, too,
A
164 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
83
scarcity and guaranteeing prices.
one still demanded and sought to
that supposedly distinguished the
defined himself by social rank and
self instead on his expertise, that
While interest in collecting artworks no longer depended on the internal hierarchy of the upper classes, insistence on objective criteria created the fatal side effect of differentiating socially, on a rather shaky basis, between
86
experts and nonexperts.
longer be expected from the upper classes; indeed, it could no longer be lo- cated within a stratified order at all. Art became a business that involved risk. Artists began to resist the pretensions of "connoisseurs" and experts who themselves were incapable of producing artworks and thus had no
87
hands-on experience in creating art.
In Paris, the establishment of peri-
At the level of general criteria of taste,
develop the competency of judgment
84
upper classes. The patron no longer
aristocratic generosity but based him-
is, on function-specific capabilities.
85
The expertise required by the market could no
odic art exhibitions in "salons" (beginning in 1737) triggered a flood of
88 public commentary attacking the irresponsible criticism of the salons. In-
stead of being justified by (in principle fulfillable) demands on the upper classes, art criticism became a parasite, feeding off the relationship between artist and recipient (buyer). In a sense, criticism took the insecurities that accumulate in this relationship and reworked them from within the art system. In this way, art criticism lost its secure ground; it had to give up its pretensions to represent the only correct view, and it could no longer ap- peal to truth. At most, it could claim coauthorship of the work in a man- ner that anticipated romantic criticism; Scottish moral philosophy would later do its part in historicizing the problem in the domains of law, moral- ity, and aesthetics. National differences regarding artistic production and taste could be as fascinating as historical ones. One sought ways to classify art that no longer depended on unconditionally correct criteria.
The economic orientation granted art much more freedom than re-
liance on patrons such as churches, princes, or leading aristocratic houses.
It furthered an evaluation of artworks that was independent of subject
89
matter,
ate specialized institutions of interaction and mediation. No longer de- pendent on a patron's decisions and on negotiations with him, art found itself in the double grip of the demands raised by the art market and a public art criticism. To the extent that the art market relied on economic trends, it was unstable. But it offered two advantages. On the one hand, the market could use the general economic medium of money, while on
and it required less interaction, although the market did gener-
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 165
the other hand, it operated without competition and without the threat of being displaced, which facilitated its isolation from other markets within the economic system. (This is less true when people become concerned with "conspicuous consumption" and art is replaced by coaches, yachts, servants, and so forth--or vice versa.
) But the market also generated de- ception and the need to protect oneself against fraud. It created networks of influence that differed from courdy intrigues, and, thanks to a stronger dynamic of its own, it cared little about what art thought of itself. As a re- sult, economic dependencies were felt more painfully and could no longer be balanced by shifting one's allegiance to another patron; instead, such dependencies had a systemic effect. The relationships between die art sys- tem and the economic system could no longer be controlled via the no- tion of generally accepted criteria. Buyers no longer needed to legitimize themselves by their expertise, and if they made fools of themselves, they were certainly no fools on the market.
The tendencies in painting we have discussed can be observed, several
90
decades later, in poetry as well.
The market, with its agents, readers/
buyers, publishers, and reviewers, turned into a generalized patron, but one
could not respond to the market as one responded to a person. In Parsons's
terminology, this change can be described as a shift, within a given set of
pattern variables, from the particular to the universal. On the one hand, a
market orientation allows more specialized offerings, while on the other
hand, it provokes defensive reactions--a written polemic against publish-
ers and reviewers (for example, Jean Paul), a rejection of productions that
91 might stimulate sales (for example, Ludwig Tieck's Peter Lebrecht), and,
at a more general level of self-description, a contrastive revalorization of art as culture: "At a time when the artist is being described as just one more producer of a commodity for the market, he is describing himself as a spe-
92
cially endowed person, the guiding light of the common life. " The fact
that the debate about good taste eventually subsides must be seen in the same context: when sales are at stake, public models of taste are no longer acceptable; and in the final third of the eighteenth century they gave way to the idea of the genius who disciplines himself---a notion that revives the old nexus between melancholy and discipline.
Academic philosophy in Germany reacted to increased uncertainty in the realm of evaluative criteria by developing a specialized aesthetics that
93
pursued theoretical projects of its own.
tended to gloss over its own failure to register the fact that the social situ-
This high-level conceptual effort
166 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
ation of the art system was undergoing yet another fundamental, and by now obviously irreversible, transition toward functional differentiation. Around 1800, however, the situation was still far from clear. Processes of bifurcation at odds with hierarchical structures began to distinguish them- selves, especially vis-a-vis politics ("the state") and the economy ("com- mercial society," "system of needs," "society"). In the meantime, it had be- come evident that religion was not a science in the usual sense and that the family, bound by love, was not a contractual relationship (despite Kant). Hopes for a "culture state" that would offer education and artistic taste as a preemptive measure against revolutionary aspirations had
94
quickly become obsolete.
can substitute for any other. As a result, the internal criteria of individual functional systems lost their plausibility within society at large. There was a vague awareness of these changes, but a new concept of society that would provide an explanation was still lacking.
When Hegel speaks of the end of art, "In all these respects, art--ac- cording to its highest determination--is, and remains, for us a thing of
95
the past,"
to society and worldly affairs and must henceforth acknowledge its own differentiation. Art can still claim universal competence for almost every- thing, but it can do so only as art and only on the basis of a specific mode of operation that follows its own criteria.
The notion that art, as represented by artists, can find a knowledgeable and sympathetic counterpart somewhere else in society must be sacrificed as well. A supporting context--if this is what one is looking for--is no longer available. A model based on complementary roles for artists and connoisseurs can no longer represent the couplings between the art system and society. Rather, it represents the differentiation of art as communica- tion in society. The interaction between artists, experts, and consumers differentiates itself as communication, and it takes place only in the art system, which establishes and reproduces itself in this manner. What ro- manticism called "art criticism" is integrated into the art system as a
96
"medium of reflection,"
fact, romanticism was the first artistic style to embrace the new situation of an autonomous art system. Starting with romanticism, the only social support of art is that each functional system deals with its own function, claims priority for its own function, and develops no further competen- cies that point beyond the system. This also means that each system pro-
It had become clear that no functional system
he can mean only one tiling: art has lost its immediate relation
and its task is to complete the artist's work. In
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 167
duces an excess of communicative possibilities--mainly because of the in- difference of other systems--and therefore requires self-limitation, that is, "auto-nomy. " The romantic movement intuitively grasped this situation, for which it compensated by focusing on self-reflection, by embracing the temporal difference between subjective reflection and what appears to be the objectively given world, by emphasizing writing as an absence that symbolizes absences, and by counting on concepts such as self-possession, sobriety, and irony. The semantics of romantic reflection was still search- ing for itself in the sense of searching for a goal displaced to infinity. What it actually reflected upon, however, is the autonomy imposed upon art-- the functional differentiation of society. This situation seems to have re- mained unchanged for the past two hundred years. Only the extent to which the system provokes itself has been perfected.
When artists can no longer derive stimulation from tradition--or from a patron or the market, indeed, not even from art academies--new kinds of alliances begin to form within the art system. These alliances attract like-minded individuals and compensate for the lack of external support by providing self-affirmation within the group. One thinks of the Pre- Raphaelites, the Blue Rider, Bauhaus, the Gruppe 47, the Art & Language group, and countless other formations. Such organizations are not formal associations, nor do they depend on condensed interactions in the form of regular meetings. Instead, they are loose alliances, which create a sense of belonging and leave it up to individuals how long they want to commit themselves. Socially, these groups appear to be motivated by the desire to find support in similar efforts for unusual programmatic decisions, so that they do not come across merely as idiosyncratic moves by individuals.
VII
The differentiation of the art system--a process characterized simulta- neously by continuity and discontinuity--allows the relation between sys- tem and environment to be reintroduced into the system in the form of a relationship between self-reference and hetero-reference. As we recall, there can be no self-reference without hetero-reference, for it is not clear
97
how the self can be indicated if it excludes nothing.
self-reference and hetero-reference becomes an issue, searching for the common denominator in the meaning of reference suggests itself: What is the reference of "reference"?
When the unity of
16 8 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
Depending on how the relationship between self-reference and hetero- reference is applied, we shall distinguish an art that is primarily symbolic from an art that thinks of itself as a sign, and we shall further distinguish an art that specializes in experimenting with form combinations? * Prior to its differentiation, art was considered symbolic if it searched for a higher meaning in its condensed ornamental relationships. In the course of the court- and market-oriented phases of its differentiation, art turned into a sign. The sign, by virtue of what was believed to be its objective reference, stood for what the artist, the connoisseur, and the lover of art had in com- mon. But once the differentiation of this community was realized as com- munication, the only remaining option was to observe the continual bal- ancing between self-reference and hetero-reference in the operations of the art system. Under these conditions, one finds the nexus between self- and hetero-reference in the formal combinations of artworks that facilitate an observation of observations.
Semantics follows sociostructural ruptures while glossing over disconti- nuities and thereby providing for recursions and transitions within the sys- tem. These evolutionary changes tend toward tolerating, indeed, toward favoring, the artwork's individual uniqueness. Under the regime of sym- bolic art, this would have made no sense. But when art is considered to be a sign, thinking of art in terms of its uniqueness becomes an option, and when art is understood to be a form combination, uniqueness becomes imperative--enforced by the mode of production and by the require- ments of understanding. At the same time, the trend toward individuality requires sacrificing all external support. It correlates with the social differ- entiation of the art system, which in turn motivates the perpetual renewal of the relationship between self-reference and hetero-reference. In similar ways, mathematics develops from a symbolic understanding of numbers (as late as Agrippa von Nettesheim") via Descartes's notion of numbers
100
as mental signs of space and infinity
constructs in modern mathematical logic. The parallel development of art and mathematics suggests general sociostructural transformations, which are outside our present scope. Instead, we restrict our focus to the art system.
We shall term symbolic an art that seeks to render present, within the ac- cessible world, what is inaccessible (unfamiliar, unobservable). Symbolic
101
art is always concerned with the unity of a difference, in this case, with
the unity of the specific difference between the accessible and the inacces-
to the formalism of self-limiting
God.
But visual and poetic symbolizations could develop freely so long
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 169
sible. The symbol marks the inaccessible within the realm of the accessi- ble; we are therefore dealing with a form of reentry of a distinction into what it distinguishes. fThe symbol contains a reference to its own origin, which grounds the representation in its "given" form. This origin does not refer to a distant past that retreats further as time goes by. On the con- trary, it is a presence that must be continually reactualized. '? ? flf the con- cept of the symbol is understood in this way (as a symbol of hospitality or of belonging to a secret cult), then the symbol is, or brings about, this unity by virtue of its suggestive power. If the symbol is defined as a sign (signum)--as was common in the Middle Ages--then it is a sign that it- selfbrings about access to the signified.
The representation of unity in the form of symbols reached a climax in
the twelfth century. A (written) theology, increasingly concerned with
consistency, might have been troubled by the notion of a "beautiful"
103
as theology could be assured that they did not present simulacra but in-
stead symbolized the unpresentable. In opposition to the effort to inte-
grate traditional elements from antiquity, a new cultural form thus began
104
to establish itself, the origin of what we recognize today as "Western"
culture. A differentiation of art was inconceivable within this formal model (even though, at the level of roles, a differentiation of specialized roles and skills did occur). Art remained strictly focused on the problem of unity as it presented itself in a monotheistic (Christian) religion. The unity of the world --a unity of God and his creation--could be shown in the creation. This demonstrated that the world is ordered and beautiful. One could trust the world, even though abuse, corruption, and sin abound. For this reason, symbolic art found itself in close proximity to re- ligion, which originated precisely in the desire to overcome the difference
105
familiar/unfamiliar.
At first, art turned to the (ontological) distinction
between the visible and the invisible for orientation; its task was to acti-
vate the invisible within the realm of visibility without actually being able
to render it visible. In a sense, art became the sister of magic. A doorway
for example, or an elaborated portal facilitated entrance into an order of
106
higher meaning.
The symbol must be "condensed" in this world {hie mundus). Under
the condition of such a contractio, art could not be the supernatural, it could only represent the supernatural. In relation to what it intended to show and to what exists without contractio in the form of the transcen-
170 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
dental God, art marked itself as difference. In so doing, it had to avoid elaborating the kind of illusion that was later called "beautiful appear-
107
ance. " Art did not yet form a medium of its own.
At the same time,
contractio facilitated relationships between symbols, creating a symbolic
"language," which had to adapt to the regulations of theology. This re-
quired direction and supervision by the church and assigned to those who
carried out the work (only) the status of craftsmen. At this level, the para-
dox of observing the unobservable, the paradoxical marking of differ-
ences, could unfold. According to Kristeva: "The function of the symbol
in its horizontal dimension (where it articulates the relationship between
significant units) is a function of escaping paradox; one might say, the
10
symbol is horizontally anti-paradoxical. "
But if the ultimate responsibility for dissolving paradoxes is left to reli-
gion, art cannot distinguish itself from religion through this task. Al- though essentially art is not a religion (not "Spirit" in the full Hegelian sense), it is the servant of religion. Yet the moment the symbol is commu- nicated as a symbol, it raises the suspicion of being a "simulacrum" that exploits the means of visual plausibility to create a deceptive unity. The symbolic relation thus carries within itself the seed of its own dissolution, and once the church deemed it necessary to decide which forms of sym- bolization are correct and which are false, the symbol's demise was in- evitable. This development parallels a mnemotechnical, artificial use of images that was meant to establish a transmittable cultural space and per- sisted through the decline of this art in the wake of the invention of print. The concettismo of the seventeenth century announced the end of this tra- dition and the beginning of a modern, nonreferential use of signs (which
109
at first lacked connectivity).
Once the ties between art and religion began to relax,
110
art could ex- pand its competency to include "allegories" of common universals or "em-
blems" that present complex states of affairs in a condensed form.
from painting and poetry, the courtly theater of the fifteenth and six- teenth centuries staged allegories supported by an elaborate machinery which had to compensate for its lack of information and depth. Stage pro- ductions of this sort remained subordinate to the regime of the symbol-- the point was to render visible something that is essentially invisible--but they now included an awareness of their own exteriority, of the discrep- ancy between sign and signified, and they gave up the notion that they could bring about unity by virtue of their own operative means. Aside
*
111
Apart
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 171
from religion (or within religion), a cosmos of essences established itself,
equipped with invariant universals--with virtues and vices, with time, or
with good or bad luck. But whatever art signified had to already be famil-
iar. The theater stage, which followed in the second half of the sixteenth
century, was a decisive step forward. Productions no longer took place
among the people or as elaborate courtly festivals but instead occurred at
self-determined times. Space was divided into the stage and the audience.
One had to pay to "get in. " The actors and the audience no longer shared
the tangible symbolization, the "representation" of the invisible in this
world--a representation that, in a religious sense, transcended life as a
world of appearances. Now both actors and audience participated in pro-
jecting appearances; they both knew how to see through appearances and
how to read signs as signs for something else--which now meant that
signs stood for the fatalities of individuals who had to learn to deal with
112
their own fate.
ideas, but at first its representations still presumed familiarity. With the growing supply of signs, the recognition eventually sunk in that there were too many of them, and that one could not rely on the "nature" of
113
At the formal level, art was free to experiment with new
signs but had to proceed selectively. As Kristeva points out,
this requires
a quantitative restriction in the amount of available symbols as well as a
sufficiently frequent repetition of these symbols. This is how the idea of
compiling allegories lexically arose, so that correspondences between
meanings and images would be accessible to those who wished to produce
114
accurate copies.
cially in the theater and later in the modern novel--to substitute narra- tiveplausibility for the quantitative limitation of symbols and to generate the necessary redundancies within artworks themselves rather than draw- ing them from the real world.
But all allegories were still mere signs. In a sense, the artwork debased it- self unless it aspired to more than allegory; it excluded itself from partici- pating in the essence of things. In so doing, art gained an important ad- vantage: the true/false schema broke down. Allegories were neither true nor false, or they were both true and false, depending on how one looked at them. Following the rationalistic tendency of modern thought, the realm of the symbol was consumed by the allegorical. Conceptually, it be- came increasingly difficult to distinguish between the two, until the lim- ited repertoire of conventional allegories was experienced as too restrictive. In the eighteenth century, one gave up the quasi-lexical standardization of
But more and more art offered the opportunity--espe-
172. The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
allegorical forms (in Alciat and Ripa) and left it to the artist to discover
115
suitable topics and forms of creativity. Kant acknowledges this situation
by reestablishing the concept of the symbol on the basis of a new distinc- tion--the distinction between schematic and symbolic--both of which he
116
This conceptual arrangement allows for the devaluation of the schematic
and for the "expansion of the concept of the symbol toward a universal
117
takes in an operative sense and posits against the concept of the sign.
Solger reduces the symbol/allegory distinction to the dis-
principle. "
tinction between existence and indication and distinguishes the symbol
118
from a merely signifying function.
ever, the concept of allegory loses its relationship to intuition.
Even in earlier times, allegorical art was unable to cover the entire realm
of art. The mere fact that art had shifted its hetero-reference from symbols
119
to signs was a step beyond the limitations of allegory. In the wake of
this shift, forms could become "classical"; they could strive for perfection and accomplish it on their own. It became possible to draw a meaningful distinction between the sign and its material basis and to treat the latter as interchangeable. Only much later did the questions arise of whether the material substratum of the sign might not in the end be more meaningful than a pure semiotics had assumed, and whether it might communicate
120
something in its own right.
The gradual, more implicit than explicit shift from symbol to sign
(which could draw on a semiology that originated in antiquity) may be re- lated to the fact that the concept of the sign facilitates the elaboration of complex patterns of distinction. In modern terminology, the sign mediates both between subject and object and between subject and subject; or, to put it differendy, it mediates between the factual and the social dimensions of meaning. The use of signs for the purpose of signification subjects itself to social observation; indeed (just like language) it is necessary only if one wants to communicate one's intention to others. When one uses signs rather than symbols, there is no need to mention the unity of the distinc- tion subject/object and subject/subject so long as a common reservoir of signs can be taken for granted and the selection is situationally motivated. Sociostructural and sociohistorical (evolutionary) conditions apparently confront communication with a complexity that has become more intense and yet is still restrained rather than internally open, so that an orientation toward signs is already necessary and still sufficient. This is why the seven- teenth century succeeded in staging, one more time, the unity of the po-
At such a level of abstraction, how-
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 173
litical order of society in a theatrical ceremony that included all the signs
related to that order (for example, the king's body and his actions) and
could take for granted that the signs of representation would recruit the
121
players.
cept that the sign user must be observed as an observer and that the signi- fied is not the object itself but a correlate of sign use, a signifii.
Signs point toward nonpresence. An experience that can be actualized
122
Signs signify the order of signs. Only much later could one ac-
opens itself toward the nonactual. This includes symbolic art,
pands its realm toward immanence. As always with evolutionary steps, it is difficult to see why this happens and where it is going. This became plausible in portrait painting, for example, which was meant to preserve the memory of the person portrayed. The early modern apotheosis of na- ture may have fostered the notion that the entire world was worthy of du- plication. Compared to the symbol, the sign supported creative freedom, since it remains external to the signified. Unlike symbols, signs may be used ironically within the limits of intelligible contexts; they can be used
123 in a laudatory sense when one intends to blame someone and vice versa.
Unlike the symbol, the sign liberates the facts signified for the tasks of sci- entific analysis and explanation. As a result, science and art could now be- gin separate careers in one and the same world. As a kind of compensatory measure, art required an additional component to be meaningful: a work of art must be well made; it must be skillfully crafted. In order to justify its referential access to the external world, art depended more than ever on system-internal criteria, and this provoked an effort of reflection that would eventually transform itself into a theoretical aesthetics.
But the freedom of artistic creativity still remained restricted. Between sign and signified there is no natural relationship of the kind one observes, for example, when the changing colors of the leaves and fluctuating air temperatures indicate the approach of winter. This is why the signifying relation needed another guarantee, which resided in the artworks resem- blance to what it signifies--in the imitation of nature. To put it differ- ently, an artwork could be understood or "consumed" with pleasure only if it allows recognition (or, in information-theoretical terms, if it provides a sufficient number of redundancies). This requirement, along with the concept of imitation, is coupled to hetero-reference. The work of art must bear sufficient resemblance to phenomena familiar from a realm of expe- rience outside of art. The essence of things guarantees their representabil- ity, as it were, from within, and this is why art is capable of signifying this
but it ex-
174 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 124
essence. Already in the era of courtly art, compromises were inevitable. Representations of the sovereign and his family in portraits, on tomb- stones, or in texts had to bear a certain resemblance to their objects, and
125
yet one could not exclusively focus on how they looked in reality. Such
deviations had to be justified within the doctrine of imitation. Once one
produces for an art market, this requirement loses significance. The eigh-
teenth century defined artistic license in ways that permitted, indeed de-
manded, an imitation of nature while rejecting the imitation of art--the
mere copying of other works--in the name of originality, innovation, and
126
This rule was directed against the notion of a self-imitation of
progress.
art--an imitation that sought to emulate classical perfection--which had
127
earlier served to justify artistic claims to autonomy.
So long as the semantics of the sign dominated notions about art, a bal-
ancing mechanism was needed to compensate for the increasing ambigu- ity of the signifying relation. We find this mechanism in the theory of taste. But with the idea of taste art opened itself up once again to social reference. The displacement of social reference by, and in the name of, au- tonomy triggered an effort of reflection that replaced the sign relation with the distinction between the universal and the particular and defined art as the appearance of the universal in the particular--art, in other words, was once again defined as symbol, albeit in a nonreligious sense.
In a parallel development, eighteenth-century narrative no longer rep-
resents exemplary cases but seeks instead to activate the reader's self-
experience. Excessive amounts of detail (in Richardson's Pamela, for ex-
ample) suggest proximity to real life while displacing the exemplary into
motivational structures that remain below the level of consciousness. The
relationship of such works to reality is beyond doubt. The sign stands in
for something that really exists. And yet, the premise of a common world
is no longer self-evident. Displaced into the realm of latent motives, it re-
quires a shift in level to become visible, a move toward second-order ob-
servation. The reader can see what the hero cannot see. The sign, now
fully secularized, takes over the symbolizing function of rendering visible
what is invisible. In the meantime, one's understanding of the symbol has
128
changed as well.
world and for this world, and the mystery the symbol sought to appre- hend has been displaced to the mode of functioning that characterizes the subjective faculties in their dealings with the world. This shift provided the starting point for the nineteenth-century resurrection of the symbol.
The entire artistic production is now staged within the
The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System 175
The structure of the sign remains dualistic, like that of the symbol (which is considered to be a special kind of sign). The form of the sign is a difference. But what is the unity of this difference? This question does not arise so long as the problem is posed in terms of a distinction between real objects diat one observes as either art or nature. After all, landscape paintings coexist with landscapes and narratives with event sequences in reality. The difference between art and reality is bridged via the demand for resemblance--it must be possible to recognize one in the other. This presupposes, of course, that the signified itself is not a sign, and this as- sumption limits the complexity that is possible under these circumstances. But what are we to make of the fact that the world is now divided into two kinds of reality--a world of singular events and a world of statistics (or of inductive inferences), a reality out there and a fictional reality? And what happens when this difference is radicalized, when resemblances are deconstructed, when it becomes doubtful whether there is a bridge be- tween these two worlds, and when one is eventually forced to admit with Saussure that "the sign is arbitrary"? Has trust in the sign and its relation to a primary reality become no more than a "habit" of the sort Hume saw in induction or John Austin in legal norms? Is it, as Kant suggested, merely a reflex of the pressure to act, of the need to engage oneself before one's cognitive possibilities are exhausted? Do signs always refer only to other signs--even if their relationship to reality seems "immediate" and
129
thus unquestionably and uncritically plausible? Or is it in the end noth-
ing but the inevitability of a cut, of "writing" (Derrida), the need to draw a boundary without which no observer can observe?
We do not raise these questions in order to provide answers. We take them only to indicate trends. In the second half of the twentieth century, die art system has found itself in a society that can raise such questions-- in a manner far removed from the old debate about universals, which was concerned only with the primacy of one side or the other. In his transcen- dental critique of the empirical world relation, Kant, for example, goes be- yond the notion that aesthetics should concern itself with a factually cor- rect use of signs. Earlier we mentioned Kant's reformulation of the concept of the symbol. The authority of aesthetic judgment is now referred to as "Spirit" (in contrast to reason), and its criteria are called "aesthetic Ideas"
130
(as opposed to Ideas of reason).
bolize a hinter-world but to "stimulate the mind,"
theoretically in rather vague terms. Subsequent developments went well
Their function, however, is not to sym-
131
which Kant describes
176 The Function of Art and the Differentiation of the Art System
beyond this conceptualization, not least by radicalizing the problem of the relationship between self-reference and hetero-reference.
This is why romanticism can speak of the symbol as well as of allegory --with a certain preference for the symbol. Romanticism is no longer concerned with an analogy of being, nor with a naturally secured (possi- bly erroneous) use of signs.