representations. Clearly, it would be irresponsibly optimistic to overlook
the fact that works of art and the aesthetic experience to which they give
rise may also fail, and then the aesthetic experience will not be pleasant,
affirming, or do much in the way of cultivating our humanity. Obviously,
one can hate works of art, be disgusted by them because they are so imper-
fectly executed (which is quite different from the case of admiring an
exquisitely represented disgusting scene), and be led to concepts of evil by
them as well. Not all art is good art, so not all art elevates humanity.
But in Auschwitz, Levi, for obvious reasons, did not turn his mind to
art that had failed, but to art that had succeeded: art that could put him
in touch with his humanity. Certainly, some presence of order is part of
what any successful work of art must possess and communicate; indeed,
works of art can take what seems ineffable and chaotic and communi-
cate something coherent about this disorder. Art challenges traditional
paths to order and coherence, completely giving up on them would be
sure to end in disaster.
Art is notoriously difficult to define, and I will resist offering final
definitions of what art is. In fact, I am suspicious of any reductionist
definitions of art. Certainly, although I take my lead from Primo Levi,
and so have privileged lyrical poetry, I would not want my comments on
art to be limited to just the medium of poetry. I think what I have said
about the humanizing function of art holds also for mediums such as
dance, painting, music, and architecture. As I stressed above, I also want
to avoid the tendency to define art in terms of its merit. Those guilty of
following this tendency overlook the obvious, but essential point, that
bad art is still art.^22 Indeed as Oscar Wilde observes in De Profundis, “In
art, good intentions are not of the smallest value. All bad art is the result
of good intentions.”^23 My aim is to explore one central and defining
function of art, a function that would be shared by all forms of art,
whether the art in question involves the moving body, color on a canvas,
animated figures on a movie screen, or notes played on a piano, and
whether the work of art in question is the most celestial object ever cre-
ated or a clumsy, ugly excuse for a work of art.
Works of art have meaning for an audience insofar as they commu-
nicate something to the audience, and this semiotic approach to art
makes, as Geertz points out, “a theory of art... a theory of culture”
rather than “an autonomous enterprise.”^24 He explains:
For an approach to aesthetics which can be called semiotic—that is, one
concerned with how signs signify—what this means is that it cannot be a
formal science like logic or mathematics, but must be a social one like his-
84 Elizabeth Millán