Notes From Nowhere

To recap: my suggestion was that a camera might be “beautiful” because it is ingeniously designed, flawlessly functioning, everything in it performing some task and nothing superfluous. And though it is one thing to say something and quite another to understand what you are saying, it was a high-point in my philosophical life: an internationally renowned Aristotle professor seemed to like my example.

But she was also mercilessly sharp when it came to discussing what I had in mind. First, I should have expanded on the idea that something well-functioning is “beautiful.” Aristotelians seem to like the idea that something is excellent in performing its job really well. And, in a way that I find very appealing, they don’t seem to care for a distinction between moral and aesthetic excellence: excellence, it seems, is just excellence at whatever it is something is really good at. I find that most refreshing.

And then there was the implication that apparently caused some concern: was I alluding to some kind of design theory of the beautiful – the beautiful as the well-created? Careful, young man, the eyes of the professor seemed to say, and no sooner than I opened my mouth I realized: I’m about to paint myself into a corner here… Quick retreat: the idea about excellent activities is where I should have gone, if only I had read some more Aristotle before venturing to speak in the seminar… To be continued.

Before we get to the Aristotelian’s take on palaces and cameras, some more background. The seminar meeting took place in the evening, after dinner. Everyone was pretty much ready to retire, or ready for a drink, when I used up the last couple of minutes to make my anti-Kantian points. However, a well-known professor, who would usually address himself to equally well-known colleagues rather than presumed dilettantes, followed me out into the hallway, full of objections. I must have hit a nerve.

In retrospect, I think I understand a serious point of contention: what kinds of things are even plausible candidates for being called “beautiful”? Palaces? Sonatas, sculptures, poems? Trees, lakes, and sun-sets? Apparently, I still have much to learn, for almost everything seems to fail. Palaces, let’s assume, are out. But the Kantians told me that Kant’s aesthetics isn’t even as much about art as it is about nature; and yet, nature might be ‘sublime’ rather than beautiful. What’s left? Cameras?

Well, perhaps. Apparently, my intuition that ingenuity and beauty go together was a bit alien to people. The professor explained to me that Kant wasn’t interested in “entertainment” and it took me a while to explain that I wasn’t thinking of technology-qua-fun, but of technology-qua-ingenious. This is how I thought a camera might be beautiful: as a perfectly built, flawlessly functioning machine. As it turned out the next day, this steered me towards dangerous territory… To be continued.

What then about Aristotle’s Camera? Suppose a camera is beautiful if it is ingenious in its design; everything is where it should be; it functions flawlessly; the shape of individual elements fits perfectly with the overall shape; everything superfluous has been gotten rid off. It is admirable how engineers could get to the point to conceive of, and build, such a machine. Now, suppose we apply Kant’s test. Is my judgment that this camera is beautiful “disinterested” in the sense that I do not care whether it exists? That seems crazy. My aesthetic appreciation depends on the idea that someone succeeded in building the camera as they conceived of it.

You won’t be surprised, but this was my contribution in the Aesthetics seminar where I almost got into a fight. I offered a friendly amendment to the Kantians. Perhaps they should rethink what they mean when they say that aesthetic judgments are “disinterested.” Perhaps the point is that, though I care about the existence of the beautiful object, I need not care about owning it. I personally may have no need for this camera and I may not desire to have it. For the work I do, another camera, a much lesser one, may be better suited. It’s just nice to know that someone cared enough to build the masterpiece, and that it is out there.

When I said this, an Aristotelian in the room was looking at me with genuine interest. The next day she approached me to discuss the example further. So, I came to think of it as Aristotle’s Camera. And I needed to find out why Aristotelians would like my example… To be continued.