volume	20,	no.	14 may	2020 The Arts of Action C. Thi Nguyen University of Utah © 2020 C.	Thi	Nguyen This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 3.0 License. <www.philosophersimprint.org/020014/> T he	theory	and	culture	of	the	arts	has	been	largely	focused	on	the	arts	of	objects	and	has	largely	ignored	the	arts	of	action.	Here,	I	wish	to	draw	attention	to	the	neglected	arts	of	action. These	are	the	arts	intended	to	engender	agency	and	activity	in	their audience,	for	the	sake	of	the	audience's	aesthetic	appreciation	of	that activity. This includes their appreciation of their own deliberations, choices,	reactions,	and	movements. The	aesthetics	of	our	own	actions	are	already	a	natural	part	of	the rich experience of our lives. And the arts of action already exist in plenty;	we	are	surrounded	by	them.	Many	of	our	artifacts	are	designed for	the	sake	of	encouraging	and	structuring	the	aesthetics	of	actions. Games, cities, food rituals, social dances, and more	-	all are forms which	sculpt	activity,	often	for	aesthetic	ends.	But	these	arts	have	been inadequately appreciated in theoretical work on art and aesthetics, and	often	ignored	in	much	public	reflection	on	the	value	of	the	arts. They	are	rarely	called	"arts",	but,	I	argue,	they	deserve	to	be. Consider rock climbing. Rock climbing is a profoundly aesthetic enterprise. Climbing culture is replete with aesthetic lingo. Climbers	talk	about	the	beautiful	movement	of	a	climb,	about	the	exquisite grace	that	a	particularly	tricky	sequence	called	out	of	them.	Many	people	climb	in	order to	experience	their	own	graceful, interesting,	dramatic	movement.1	What's	more,	the	quality	of	a	climber's	movement	is significantly	conditioned	by	an	external	object.	Each	climb	calls	for	a particular	form	of	motion.	One	climb	calls	for	powerful,	direct,	aggressive	movement;	another	one	for	loose,	monkey-like	swinging	around; another for dainty, precisely balanced, tiny steps. And climbs, and their	implied	movement,	can	be	designed.	In	climbing	gyms,	"setters" design	climbing	routes,	creating	puzzles	to	solve	in	movement.	And the	particular	details	of	those	puzzles	shape	the	nature	of	the	resulting movement.	Similarly, some	board	games	are	designed to	encourage particular	turns	of	mind.	For	example,	the	design	of	chess	offers	a	concentrated	access	to	a	particularly	elegant	form	of	cogitation.	The	chess player	gets to	experience	the	emergence	of	a lovely	solution	from	a 1. (Nguyen	2017a).	For	general	discussion	of	the	aesthetics	of	movement	from the	philosophy	of	sport,	see	(Best	1974;	Cordner	1984). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 2 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) in where the primary aesthetic properties emerge. In the arts of objects,	the	artist imbues	the	artifact	itself	with	aesthetic	properties.	In the	arts	of	action,	the	artist	creates	the	artifact	in	order	to	call	forth	aesthetic	action,	where	the	intended	aesthetic	properties	will	emerge	in the	actions	themselves.	(I	mean	here	an	"artifact"	in	the	loosest	sense, which	includes	physical	objects	such	as	rock	climbing	routes,	plated dishes	of	food,	rituals	such	as	the	Passover	Seder,	communal	practices such	as	tango	dancing,	and	entities	as	abstract	as	the	rules	for	a	party game.) By contrasting the arts of action with the arts of objects, I don't mean	to	be	drawing	a	distinction	between	live	performances	and	static	physical	artifacts.	For	my	purposes,	I	count	paintings,	novels,	movies, musical	performances,	theatrical	performances,	and	staged	dances	as exemplars of the traditional arts of objects. In all these cases, there is	some	work	which	exists	independently	of	an	audience,	which	the audience	appreciates	and	to	which	we	attribute	aesthetic	properties. In	a	live	performance	as	much	as	a	painting,	the	aesthetic	properties adhere	to	some	external	artifact.	It	is	this	performance	of	King Lear	that captures	the	particular	tragedy	of	regret	so	well;	it	is	the	album	Enter the Wu Tang (36 Chambers) which	is	full	of	eerie	aural	space	and	satisfyingly	unhinged	rhythm.	The	arts	of	action,	on the	other	hand,	are marked	by	distinctively	self-reflective	aesthetic	appreciation.	In	these arts, the focus of the appreciator's aesthetic attention is on the aesthetic	qualities	of	their	own	actions. The	term	'action'	-	though	in	some	ways	the	most	evocative	of	my interest	-	is philosophically fraught, and some of its colloquial connotations	are	a	bit	narrow	for	my	purposes.	Let	me	switch	to	a	slightly less laden term. Let's call the larger realm here "process aesthetics" and	stipulate	that	the	term	'process'	refers	specifically	to	activity	from the	perspective	of the	actor.	Process	aesthetics	covers	the	aesthetics of	mental	and	physical	processes,	including,	but	not	limited	to,	one's own investigating, thinking, perceiving, deciding, choosing, moving,	changing,	and	acting	upon	external	objects.	It	also	includes	the aesthetics	of	the	world,	experienced	as	part	of	the	activity.	Part	of	the thousand	tactical	minutiae,	and	they	get	it	with	some	frequency	-	far more	than	they	are	likely	to	get	from	grinding	away	at	the	actual	problems of the world (Osborne 1964). Rock climbing and chess, I will argue,	are	examples	of	the	arts of	action.	They	are	practices	oriented around designing artifacts and procedures, which sculpt, encourage, and	call	forth	aesthetic	experiences	of	doing. 1. Process art and object art Let's	take	a	step	back.	There	is	a	large	category	of	human	practice:	the arts.	Speaking	loosely,	the	arts	are	the	practice	of	manufacturing	artifacts	for	aesthetic	reasons.2	We	have	been,	I	think,	too	ready	to	think that	this	practice	can	be	filled	out	only	in	one	particular	way:	An	artist creates	an	artifact	and	imbues	it	with	aesthetic	properties.	The	artifact is the	artwork	and	the	bearer	of	aesthetic	properties.	Then	the	audience	comes	along	and	experiences the	artifact,	appreciating	the	aesthetic	properties	that	occur	in	the	artifact.	The	artifact	bridges	the	gap between	artist	and	audience	by	acting	as	a	kind	of	carrier	for	aesthetic properties.	This	is	the	general	schema	of	the	arts	of	objects. But	I	am	suggesting	that	there	is	at	least	one	more,	very	different schema	for the	arts: that	of the	arts	of	action. In that	schema,	some person (or persons) makes an artifact. (We might as well call them the	artist, though	we	could just	as	easily	call them	something	else.) The	artifact	is	intended	as	a	prompt	for	further	activity.	Others	come along	and	engage	with	the	artifact,	letting	it	prompt	them	into	an	activity whose contours are partially determined by that artifact. And then	those	participants	appreciate	the	aesthetic	qualities	which	arise in	their	own	actions.	This	schema	differs	sharply	from	the	first	schema 2. Many deny that all art is made for aesthetic reasons. I do not mean to be claiming	that	all	art	must	be	made	only	for	aesthetic	reasons.	I	only	mean	to be	suggesting	that,	in	the	category	of	the	aesthetically	oriented	arts,	there	are two	sorts. I leave	the	notion	of	"aesthetic	reasons"	purposefully	vague	here, and	I intend	my	account	to	be	compatible	with	any	number	of	ways	of	filling	this	out.	I	myself	favor	Dominic	Lopes'	recent	account,	which	focuses	on considerations	of	aesthetic	value	that	bear	on	aesthetic	actions	(Lopes	2018, 32–36).	Another	useful	account,	which	my	discussion	is	compatible	with,	is (Gorodeisky	and	Marcus	2018). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 3 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) is	good	because	it	has	induced	and	encouraged	me	to	be	graceful,	and helped	to	shape	the	form	of	my	grace.5 I	will	assume,	for	the	remainder	of	this	paper,	that	there	can	be	aesthetic	qualities	in	one's	own	actions	-	that	process	aesthetics	is	real.	I have	argued	for	this	possibility	at	length	elsewhere,	drawing	especially on	recent	work	in	the	aesthetics	of	bodily	movement	(Nguyen	2019a; 2020,	especially	101–120	).6	Furthermore,	the	recent	conversation	on the	aesthetics	of	the	everyday	has	also	begun	to	explore	the	aesthetics	of	actions,	as	they	emerge	in	ordinary	activity.	The	conversation	in everyday	aesthetics	has	charted	the	aesthetic	qualities	of	such	actions as	scratching	an	itch	or	doing	housework	(Irvin	2008a,	2008b;	Saito 2007,	2015;	Lee	2010). Crucially,	though	philosophers	have	begun	to	think	about	process aesthetics,	they	have	largely	ignored	the	possibility	of	process	art.	Everyday	aesthetics	has	focused	on	the	aesthetics	of	more	spontaneous, agent-driven activities. It has ignored the possibility that we might make artifacts in order to shape experiences of process aesthetics. Theorists of everyday aesthetics seem to presume that process aesthetics is somehow incompatible with the practices of art-making. Elsewhere, theorists	have investigated	art forms that seem	rife	with 5. I	will	not	fill	out	the	notion	of	an	"aesthetic	property",	for	I	wish	my	account to	be	compatible	with	a	wide	variety	of	theories.	I	have	attempted	to	ensure, at	the	very	least,	that	my	account	is	compatible	with	the	views	that	aesthetic properties	are	recognized	through	judgments	of	taste;	that	attributing	them requires	first-personal	acquaintance;	that	recognizing	aesthetic	properties	in an	object	requires	correctly	perceiving	features	in	that	object;	and	that	aesthetic	properties	merit	the	perceptions	of	them. 6. Much of this work has been made possible by earlier work on bodily perception	and	the	possibility	of	an	aesthetics	of	bodily	senses,	including	work on proprioceptive experiences of dance (Montero 2006). Also crucial has been work rejecting the requirement that all aesthetic experiences be sensory,	much	of	it	emanating	from	work	on	conceptual	art.	(Schellekens	2007) provides	an	excellent	overview	of	that	terrain,	and	a	convincing	argument	for the	possibility	of	the	aesthetic	experience	of	ideas.	Notice	that	the	category of aesthetics of actions is a much larger one than, say, that of somaesthetics,	which	concentrates	specifically	on	the	internal	aesthetics	of	bodily	movement	and	excludes,	say,	the	internal	aesthetics	of	doing	logic	or	playing	chess (Shusterman	2012). process	aesthetics	of	rock	climbing	lies	in	how	the	rock	climber	sees the	rock,	when	they	are	looking	to	it	as	obstacle	and	means	for	forward progress. Process	aesthetics	permeates	our	lives,	often	emerging	as	a	part	of our	natural, spontaneous,	and	unsculpted	everyday	activity.	When I swerve around an unexpected obstacle in the road, I might delight in	the	elegance	and	beautiful,	swift	precision	of	my	response.	When	I finally	figure	out	the	solution	to	a	philosophical	puzzle	that	has	been plaguing	me,	I	can	do	so	through	clumsy,	ugly,	brute-force	reasoning, or	I	might	alight	directly	on	the	solution	with	a	wonderfully	precise turn	of	mind.	Some	actions,	of	course,	are	aesthetically	evaluable	from the	outside	and	the	inside.	The	grace	of	a	dancer's	movement	may	be evident	both	to	the	inner	kinesthetic	sense	and	to	the	outside	observer's	eye.	But	some	aspects	of	acting	are	primarily	available	to	the	acting agent	themselves:	what	it	feels	like	to	choose,	to	decide,	to	originate an	action, to	respond	to	a	changing	environment.	The	sense	of freedom	or	constraint	engendered	by	a	game	environment	or	an	urban landscape is one available primarily to the navigating agent. These various	experiences	of	agency	and	skill	are	the	special	provenance	of process	aesthetics. But, I	will	argue,	we	can	also	shape	these	experiences	as	part	of an	intentional	artistic	practice.	The	process	arts,	then,	are	the	arts	in which	artifacts	are	made	for	the	sake	of	bringing	about	first-personal aesthetic	experiences	of	mental	and	physical	processes.3	I	will	contrast process	art	with	object	art,	which	I	take	to	be	the	dominant	form	in high	art	culture	-	at	least	in	the	art	cultures	descended	from	the	Western	European	tradition.	In	object	art,	the	aesthetic	properties	adhere	to the	artistic	artifact.	In	process	art,	the	aesthetic	properties	adhere	primarily	to	the	processes	and	activities	of	the	actor,	as	instigated	or	influenced	by	the	artifact.4	In	object	art,	the	artwork	is	good	in	virtue	of	its being,	say,	graceful.	In	process	art,	it	is	I	who	am	graceful;	the	artwork 3. Though	I	focus	on	aesthetically	oriented	process	art,	I	have	written	the	definition	so	as	to	be	open	to	the	possibility	of	non-aesthetic	process	art. 4. I	intend	no	connection	to	Whitehead's	"process	philosophy". c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 4 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) The	historical	inattention	to	the	process	arts	has	left	a	number	of key	questions	unanswered.	Who	is	the	artist	in	process	art?	How	do they	imbue	an	artifact	with	the	capacity	to	shape	a	resulting	activity? Who	is	responsible	for	the	aesthetic	qualities	of	action	-	the	artist	or the	active	audience? In	what follows, I	offer	a theory	of the	process arts	and	make	first	attempts	at	answering	these	questions.	I	argue	that the	process	arts	are	a	viable,	and	important,	category	of	the	arts.	I	give a general account of the basic difference between process arts and object arts, in terms of the prescribed focus of aesthetic attention. I give	an	account	of	the	place	of	the	artist	in	the	process	arts,	and	argue that	we	can	often	attribute	significant	responsibility	for	the	aesthetic qualities of an audience member's action to an artist. And I defend the	process	arts	from	various	skeptical	claims.	Finally,	I	take	the	first steps	towards	diagnosing	the	resistance	to	process	art.	This	analysis,	I hope,	will	also	expose	some	basic	presuppositions	engendered	by	the largely	object-centered	history	of	our	artistic	practice. One	last	note:	I	use	the	term	'art'	here	for	lack	of	a	better	term,	but I am not particularly attached to it. For my purposes, the important claims are that we humans engage in practices of making artifacts for	aesthetic	purposes;	and that there	are two	distinctive	categories of	those	artifacts,	one	of	which	has	been	theoretically	neglected.	And furthermore,	that	we	have	neglected	the	possibility	that	we	can	create artifacts	to	intentionally	bring	about	aesthetic	experiences	of	activity. When	I	say	that	the	social	tango,	games,	and	cities	deserve	to	be	called "arts",	I	mean	that	they	deserve	to	take	up	a	place	in	the	pantheon	of human-created	artifacts,	created	for	aesthetic	purposes.	My	goal	is	to investigate	and	give	an	account	of	these	artifacts.	I	will	make	a	case that these artifacts are quite similar to the traditional object arts in some very important regards, and that some of the most cherished features	of	the	object	arts	also	occur	in	the	process	arts.	But	I	will	not rigorously	defend	my	use	of	the	term	'art'	beyond	pointing	out	these similarities.	If	the	reader	wishes	to	reserve	the	term	'art'	for	what	I'm calling the "object arts", and wishes to use some other term for the process qualities. The academic discussion of videogames as an art form,	as	we	will	see,	has	typically	focused	on	object-qualities,	such	as fixed	story,	graphics,	and	music,	and	ignored	the	aesthetic	qualities	of player	choice	and	skilled	player	action.	In	order	to	render	such	objects legible to the	established terms	of	discourse,	conventional	aesthetic theory	has	largely	ignored	their	process	aesthetic	qualities. Philosophical	aesthetics,	then,	seems	to	behave	as	if	there	are	only two	options:	either	there	can	be	process	aesthetics,	but	not	in	art;	or there	can	be	art,	but	denuded	of	process	aesthetics.	In	other	words,	the discussion	seems to	presume	that there	can	be	no	process	art.	Why might that be? Yuriko Saito makes a compelling suggestion in her account	of	everyday	aesthetics.	With	ordinary	external	objects, says Saito,	we	can	clearly	delineate	what	we	are	supposed	to	focus	our	attention	on.	But	with	actions,	the	aesthetic	qualities	are	too	variable	to support any intersubjectively stable experiences. We can all look at the	same	external	object,	but	we	each	have	our	own	different	activities.	It	thus	seems	very	difficult	to	have	any	sort	of	critical	discourse	or make	any	sort	of	objective	aesthetic	judgment	of	our	own	actions.	And making	such	objective	aesthetic judgments	and	having	such	shared experiences	are	the	foundations	of	the	practice	of	art.	So,	says	Saito,	to embrace	the	aesthetics	of	action,	we	must,	for	that	space,	abandon	the demands	of	art	(Saito	2007,	18–26;	Saito	2015). Here	is	where	my	account	differs	sharply.	I	think	we	can	use	artifacts	to	shape	aesthetic	activity	in	a	way	that	is	significantly	like	the traditional	arts. Furthermore, those	artifacts help to stabilize certain experiences	of	action	and	make	them	more	intersubjectively	sharable. The	aesthetics	of	action	are	not	simply	confined	to	everyday	activity; they can be intentionally called forth and sculpted through artistic practice.	There	can	be	arts	of	action.7 7. I don't mean here to require that the purpose of an artifact align with the designer's	intent.	A.	W.	Eaton	provides	a	useful	account	of	the	"function"	of an	artifact,	by	which	the	function	is	set	by	etiological	facts	about	use	and	the procedures	by	which	artifacts	evolve	(Eaton	forthcoming). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 5 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) fixed	narratives.	In	doing	so,	the	theoretical	discussion	excludes	process	aesthetics,	concentrating	instead	on	the	object-aesthetic	qualities that	might	be	found	in	the	artifact	itself.	This,	I	suggest,	is	due	to	theoretical	baggage from	art	culture's	historical	emphasis	on	the	object arts,	and	the	relative	paucity	of	developed	tools	for	thinking	about	the process	arts.8 A survey of various theoretical approaches to games will serve here	as	a	useful	case	study,	to	help	us	to	get	a	grip	on	the	dominance of the	object	art	paradigm.	Some theorists	have focused	on the representational	qualities	of the	game.	For	example, Ian	Bogost	praises those	games	that	make	arguments	through	procedural	rhetoric: that is,	games	that	comment	on	social,	political,	and	economic	systems	by simulating	them	in	a	pointed	way	(Bogost	2010). John	Sharp	has	argued	that	videogames	can	become	art	when	they	move	beyond	promoting mere player absorption in the instrumentalities of play, and start,	instead,	to	represent	the	world	in	a	meaningful	way.	Sharp,	for example,	points	to	Mary	Flanagan's	game	Career Moves,	which	reproduces	the	old	family	game	The Game of Life,	while	forcing	players	with female	pawns	to	make	stereotypically	gendered	career	choices.	Flanagan's	game,	says	Sharp,	is	art,	because	it	brings	the	player	to	reflect	on gender	biases	in	the	world	(Sharp	2015).	Flanagan	herself	has	argued that	games	can	become	art	when	they	start	to	perform	the	functions of much contemporary art	-	such as offering social critiques (Flanagan	2009).	The	pattern	of	argument	here	is	clear:	for	games	to	be	an art,	there	must	be	some	sort	of	valuable	representational	content	that we can attribute to the game itself. Notice that in all of these cases, the	valuable	qualities	that	make	the	game	art	are	attributable	to	the artifact	itself	-	its	mechanics,	its	representation	of	the	world,	and	the commentary embedded in the rules of its simulation. Here, the artstatus of videogames is defended by ignoring any process qualities and	focusing	solely	on	the	object	qualities.	A	similar	form	of	argument also	occurs	in	the	fast-growing	literature	which	treats	games	as	a	kind 8. This	paragraph	is	a	brief	summary	of	an	extended	account	I	have	developed of	game	aesthetics	elsewhere	(Nguyen	2019a;	Nguyen	2020). higher-level	category	of	"artifacts	manufactured	for	aesthetic	reasons", they	may	feel	free	to	substitute	the	term	of	their	choice	throughout. 2. Games, tango, cooking, cities It	will	be	useful	to	step	back	from	philosophical	theorizing	for	a	moment and survey some representative process arts. First, games are clear	examples	of	a	process	art.	I	mean	games	in	the	broad	sense,	including board games, sports, videogames, and tabletop role-playing games.	Games	are	often	made	for	the	sake	of	the	player's	experience	of their	own	play:	their	controlling	an	avatar	through	carefully	timed	sequences	of	difficult	jumps;	their	thinking	through	complex	sequences of	moves;	and	the	grace	and	precision	of	their	complex	reactive	movements.	Part	of	the	player's	experience	also	involves	their	practical	experiences	of	the	object	as	it	is	relevant	to	the	player's	activity	-	like	the speed	and	shape	of	obstacles	hurtling	at	them	in	a	videogame. Obviously,	many	games	also	have	traditional	object-aesthetic	qualities.	When	we	praise	the	graphics	of	a	game	for	their	beauty	or	grandeur,	we	are	attributing	aesthetic	properties to	an	object	as it	exists independently	of	our	activity.	But	a	very	significant	amount	of	game design	effort	goes	into	shaping	the	player's	experience	of	active	play. Game	designers	sculpt	a	choice	space	and	an	action	space	which	give players an opportunity for rich, interesting choices, for thrilling actions, for graceful movement. Game designers often also neatly coordinate	the	process	and	object	qualities,	as	a	claustrophobic	choice space	and	a	desperate	set	of	obstacles	might	be	matched	to	similarly ominous	music	and	visual	design.	Note	that	the	practice	of	game	design	and	game	criticism,	as	it	is	found	in	the	wild,	is	largely	focused	on the	experiential	elements	of	active	play.	The	discourse	that	naturally arises	in	the	practice	of	creating	and	appreciating	games	often	involves richly	aesthetic	language.	The	natural	talk	about	games	clearly	treats games as a process art. However, when we move to the theoretical discussion of game aesthetics, and various attempts to demonstrate that	games	are	a	valuable	form	of	art,	the	discussion	usually	switches to	object-aesthetic	elements	-	like	graphics,	sound,	fixed	scripts,	and c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 6 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) Games	should	also	draw	our	gaze	to	other	kinds	of	choice	space	-	of environments	designed	to	support	the	free	movement	and	decision	of agents.	Urban	planning	is	also	a	process	art,	at	least	in	part.	Think	of the	difference	between	the	miserable	experience	of	navigating	a	certain	kind	of	modern	American	metropolitan	sprawl,	full	of	sameness and	repetition,	compared	to	the	rich	and	lively	experience	of	navigating a city like Istanbul, full of lovely winding streets and delightful mazes of back alleys and market paths. Some of this delight arises from	object-aesthetic	qualities,	such	as	the	visual	quality	of	the	architecture	and	the	street.	But	a	day	wandering	the	streets	of	Istanbul	is also	one	replete	with	interestingly	textured	navigational	choices	-	of noticing	and	discovering	a	hidden	passageway,	of	deciding	to	take	the broad,	curving	street	or	to	enter,	instead,	the	cool,	dark	labyrinth	of	an indoor	marketplace.	The layout	of the	city conditions the	quality	of these	choices.10 hand,	non-philosophical	discussion	of	games	often	focuses	on	the	aesthetics of actions. We find such discussion in designers' diaries and in online reviews	of	games	-	that	is,	in	the	natural	practice	of	the	aesthetic	appreciation of	games	itself.	I	discuss	those	critical	practices	in	greater	detail	in	(Nguyen 2019d).	Jon	Robson	does,	in	fact,	discuss	the	aesthetics	of	videogame	performances	-	though	his	discussion	is	confined	to	the	question	of	whether	such performances	are	aesthetically	evaluable,	and	does	not	broach	the	topic	of how	the	work	of the	game	designer	might	shape the	aesthetic	qualities	of such performances (Robson 2018). Notably, some writers outside of philosophical	aesthetics	have	directed	attention	to	the	aesthetics	of	action,	most notably Jesper Juul (Juul 2004, 2013). Importantly, some work in the field of	game	studies	has	started	to	explore	the	process	aesthetics	of	games.	For examples,	see	Daniel	Vella's	work,	which	occurs	at	the	intersection	of	literary studies	and	continental	aesthetics	(Vella	2016),	Graeme	Kirkpatrick's	discussion	of	videogames	from	the	perspective	of	continental	aesthetics	and	critical	theory	(Kirkpatrick	2011),	and	Veli-Matti	Karhulahti's	work	on	timing	in videogames,	again	from	a	continental	perspective	(Karhulahti	2013).	Notably, all	of	these	discussions	draw	heavily	on	traditions	of	continental	aesthetics. What's	particularly	interesting	here	is	the	degree	to	which	philosophical	aesthetics	in	the	analytic	tradition	has	largely	ignored	process	aesthetics	entirely in	the	discussion	of	games	as	an	art	form. 10. The phenomenology of city walking has been the subject of much study, though most of it outside of analytic aesthetics. For an overview of continental and phenomenological work on city strolling, see (Paetzold 2013). Jonathan	Maskit	offers	a	phenomenological	account	of	urban	aesthetics,	as conditioned	by	mobility	and	transportation	technologies	(Maskit	2018). of	fiction.	Here,	we	are	directed	to	focus	our	aesthetic	appreciation	not on	qualities	in	our	own	actions,	but	on	fictional	qualities	in	the	work itself.	In	The Art of Videogames,	Grant	Tavinor	claims	that	videogames are	art	because	they	are	a	kind	of	fiction.	His	account	locates	the	primary	aesthetic	qualities	of	videogames	in	stable	features	in	the	artifact, such	as	the	narrative,	characters,	and	story.	These	are	features	attributable	to	the	object	-	the	videogame	itself	-	rather	than	to	the	player's actions. The player's activity shows up in Tavinor simply as means to further the ends of immersion in the fiction. A player's struggles with the	challenges	of the	game	are supposed to	help the	player to identify	with	the	struggles	of	their	in-game	avatar.	The	player's	activity	is	supposed	to	aid	in	their	absorption	in	the	fiction	(Tavinor	2009). Dominic	Lopes	offers	a	similarly	object-oriented	account	of	the	art	of computer	games.	If	computer	games	are	an	art,	says	Lopes,	they	are	a form	of	interactive	computer	art.	Importantly,	says	Lopes,	interactive computer	art	does	not	prescribe that the	user	pay	attention to their own	actions.	Instead,	the	user	is	interacting	in	order	to	explore	a	possibility	space,	to	bring	the	algorithm	into	view.	As	Lopes	says,	the	user does	attend	to	their	own	activity,	but	only	as	a	means	to	appreciating the	actual	artwork.	The	actual	artwork	is	the	algorithm	and	the	possibility	space	it	creates;	we	look	through	our	own	actions	in	order	to	get a	handle	on the	proper	object	of	aesthetic	appreciation.	And	notice that the	algorithm is	a stable	object	created	by	an	artist. Interacting with	the	computer	art	doesn't	create	the	object	of	aesthetic	attention; it	is	something	like	a	digital	version	of	walking	around	and	through	a large	sculpture.	They	are	the	actions	that	we,	the	audience,	must	take to	bring	the	artist's	work	into	view	(Lopes	2010,	36–52,67–84).	Notice that, in all these treatments, the discussion of the art of games has avoided	any	direct	treatment	of	process	aesthetics.	I	take	this	to	be	a serious	omission,	one	driven	by	an	attempt	to	squeeze	games	into	a theoretical	framework	that	has	been	built	to	suit	object	art.9 9. This discussion of the videogames literature is merely a sketch of a much more detailed discussion I've offered elsewhere (Nguyen 2017b; Nguyen 2020).	For	another	take	on	that	literature,	see	(Tavinor	2010).	On	the	other c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 7 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) spontaneous	way,	where	you're	free	to	invent	and	they're free	to	invent	and	you're	neither	one	hampering	the	other	-	that's a very pleasant social form. (Kaltenbrunner 1984,	11) Contact improvisation is also a practice primarily oriented towards the	inner	experience	of	the	dancer,	rather	than	some	outward	display. This	is	why,	as	some	have	noted,	beginning	contact	dancers	often	create	spectacular	performances,	but	experienced	contact	dancers	can	be quite	boring	to	watch.	Experienced	dancers	are	dancing	for	an	inner sensation	and	a	felt	relationship,	and	not	for	an	outer	observer.	In	fact, the	contact	improvisation	community	has	frequently	spurned	the	traditional	performer/audience	division,	preferring	to	hold	open	contact jams,	and	to	stage	performances	so	that	audience	members	can	feel free	to	join	in	(27,	37–38). Consider, too, the	neglected	aesthetics	of	activity in culinary life. There	is	an	aesthetics	of	movement	in	and	around	food,	as	conditioned by	the	physicality	of	the	dish.	Some	dishes	are	uncomfortably	plated, like	many	of	those	teetering	food	towers	so	popular	in	the	fancy	dining of	recently	bygone	days,	which	looked	stunning	but	were	physically annoying	to	eat	(Nguyen	2018).	The	process	of	cooking,	too,	is	full	of aesthetic	delight,	from	the	gorgeous	aromas	of	a	simmering	braise	to the	lovely	sizzle	of	vegetables	hitting	oil.	And	many	of	these	aesthetic experiences	are	distinctively	agential.	There	is	an	interaction	between one's	sensual	awareness	of	the	ingredients	-	how	they	smell	and	look and	sound	as	they	simmer	and	fry	-	and	one's	cooking	choices,	as	informed	by	that	awareness. Food	writer	John	Thorne	suggests	that	modern	food	culture	separates	the	process	of	food	creation	from	the	eating	itself,	and	socializes us	to	think	that	the	food	creation	is	just	a	chore	-	a	mere	instrument	to the	central	aesthetic	experience	of	the	finished	product. However, cooking at its most primal is not consciously instructed labor but a flowing, attentive reverie. Spear a	chunk	of	meat	on	a	skewer	and	hold it	over	a	bed	of Other	process	arts	center	on	a	designed	social	practice.	Consider, for	example,	the	inward	aesthetics	of	rapport	in	the	social	tango.	Importantly,	says	Beatriz	Dujovne, the theatrical	stage tango,	which	so many	of	us	are	familiar	with	from	the	movies,	is	something	of	a	misleading	imitation.	The	true	tango,	she	says,	is	the	social	tango,	which	is improvised	and	intimate.	In	the	social	tango,	the	dancers	aren't	dancing	for	the	eyes	of	an	audience. They improvise. They dance for themselves, introspectively. Shunning the external world, their eyes turn inward. This circumspect dance comes from a different	heart	and	culture	than	the	stage	tango.	....	At	social dances	we	see	neither	sexual	passion	nor	violence.	The dance's	form	is	different	as	well.	Legwork	is	minimal;	feet are	kept	on	the	floor;	the	size	of	the	steps	is	small.	People dance	closely	embraced	to	one	another,	bodies	connecting,	chests	close	together,	heaving	and	retreating	with	every	breath,	heads resting	delicately together,	moving	as one,	immersed	in	total	improvisation	that	forbids	them	to hide behind choreographed steps. Beauty radiates from the emotions inside the dancers, not from external displays	of	skill.	(Dujovne	2011,	5–6) True tango	dancers	dance for themselves.	They	appreciate their rapport	with their	partner, the	sense	of	connection	and	responsiveness, the	absorption	in	the	collective	improvisation	of	movement. Similarly, consider	contact improvisation,	a	dance form in	which the dancers play with gravity by putting their weight	-	and their trust	-	on another person, rolling around each other's bodies and perpetually	falling	towards	each	other	(Bigé	2017).	Steve	Paxton,	the dancer	who	originated	the	practice,	explains: Just the pleasure of moving and the pleasure of using your body is, I think, maybe the main point. And the pleasure	of	dancing	with	somebody	in	an	unplanned	and c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 8 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) details	of	the	pot,	and	the	implicit	rules	of	its	use,	that	structure	those interactions.	(Ruth	Van	Waerebeek	recalls,	in	her	lovely	Belgian	cookbook,	her	childhood	family	ritual	of	having	Belgian	waffles	for	dinner. The	part she remembers	with the	most fondness	and	nostalgia, she says,	was the	hours-long	argument	amongst the twelve	members	of her	family,	all	gathered	around	their	single	waffle-maker,	about	who had the rights to the	next	waffle	[Waerebeek	1996].) If	one thought that	there	could	be	an	aesthetic	experience	of	social	interaction,	then this, too, is surely	a	process-aesthetic	experience	conditioned	by	an artifact	and	its	rules	for	usage.11	And	surely	the	social	interactions	are conditioned,	in	significant	part,	by	the	rules	of	the	practice,	and	by	the particular	preparation	and	layout	of	the	dishes	and	material. Obviously,	in	many	of	these	cases,	process	and	object	aesthetics are	deeply	intermingled.	Part	of	the	quality	of	a	Turkish	breakfast	is	certainly	in	the	gustatory	quality	of	the	ingredients	themselves.	However, critical	and	aesthetic	talk	in	the	culinary	realm	seems	entirely	focused on	the	object-aesthetic	qualities	-	the	taste	and	aroma	of	the	food	itself	-	and	not	on	the	process-aesthetic	qualities.	But	a	life	with	food	is a	life	full	of	process	aesthetics.	And	many	of	these	qualities	arise	from intentionally	designed	features.	Our	critical	practice,	however,	largely elides	the	process-aesthetic	features.	In	reviewing	restaurants,	we	usually	talk	about	the	food's	taste,	smell,	and	appearance,	but	almost	never	talk	about	how	the	physical	arrangement	of	the	food	made	our	own manipulation	of	it	pleasing	or	awkward	-	though	how	that	movement goes	is	clearly	the	result	of	the	kitchen's	attentiveness	or inattentiveness	to	the	forms	of	movement	which	will	be	called	forth	by	how	they arrange	and	plate	the	food.	In	reviewing	cookbooks,	we	often	talk	of the	recipe's	resulting	deliciousness	or	appearance,	but	rarely	talk	about how	fun	or	annoying	it	was	for	us	to	cook	the	dish	-	about	whether the	processes	described	were	elegant,	where	the	times	and	activities fit	just	right;	or	whether	they	were	jumbled	messes,	where	we	were required	to	do	six	things	at	once	and	jump	frenetically	between	them. 11. For	discussion	of	the	aesthetics	of	social interactions,	see	(Bourriaud	2002; Bishop	2004,	2012;	Finkelpearl	2013). smoldering	charcoal.	It's	not	conscious	thought	but	a	continual tension between the fire's hunger and your own that directs the sharp-eyed turning, keeping sear from turning	altogether	into	char	as	the	fat	bubbles	and	pops, the juices	sizzle	and	crust,	and	the	odors	of	smoke	and meat	swirl	about	your	head.	(Thorne	1992,	29–30) This	realization,	suggests	Thorne,	might	bring	you	to	change	how	and why you cook. Following a good recipe with painstaking precision might	lead	to	a	better	finished	product,	but	that	subservience	also	robs the	cooking	process	of	much	of	its	richness.	Cooking	more	improvisationally	may	sacrifice	a	bit	of	quality	in	the	end	product,	but	it	offers, in	trade,	a	much	more	rewarding	experience	of	one's	own	agency	in cooking. Other food	practices	are	built	around	the	pleasures	of the	eater's agency. Take, for example, the joys of Turkish breakfast. Traditional Turkish	breakfast	is	a	composed	arrangement	of	small	dishes,	meant	to be	freely	combined:	small	blocks	of	feta	cheese,	olives,	jams,	spreads, fresh	bread,	eggs,	and	perhaps	a	bit	of	sausage.	One	of	the	key	pleasures of the meal lies in the experience of culinary free choice	-	of getting	to	decide	and	construct	each	next	bite	according	to	the	whim of	the	moment.	But	that	experience	of	free	culinary	activity	is	conditioned	by	the	details	of	the	layout	of	the	breakfast.	When	the	spread has	been	well-assembled,	the	process	of	assembly	is	full	of	small	delights:	the	cubes	of	cheese	are	the	right	size	to	have	with	a	bit	of	bread; the	spreads	are	just	the	right	density	to	scoop. What's more, many food rituals structure, through their physicality and the surrounding social norms, a set of movements, a sociality,	and	a	choice	space.	Consider	the	familiar	rituals	of	hot	pots	and raclette	machines,	in	which	large	groups	of	cheerful	eaters	cook	their meal	at	the	table,	swishing	slices	of	meat	through	liquid,	or	pouring	a bit	of	sizzling	melted	cheese	over	cubed	potatoes.	During	the	process, they	rub	shoulders,	argue	about	whose	piece	is	whose,	or	whose	turn it	is	to	grab	a	particular	piece	of	cooking	real	estate.	It's	the	physical c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 9 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) represent	and	depict,	and	so	acquire	meaningfulness	(Korsmeyer	1999, 103–145).	Such	attempts	do	indeed	survey	some	valuable	aesthetic	terrain.	But	the	overall	approach	also	distracts	us.	They	focus	on	fitting the	process	arts	within	an	object	art	paradigm,	and	pull	our	attention away	from	these	forms'	unique	potential.	Ignoring	process	aesthetics and	process	art	is	a	poor	use	of	the	aesthetic	resources	of	the	world. It	is	my	hope	that	the	following	account	will	help	us	come	to	plainer terms	with	the	process	arts	and	their	value. Finally, I focus largely	on	pure	examples	-	artifacts	and	practices that	are	almost	entirely	object	art	or	process	art.	But	this focus	is intended	only	to	help	us	start	to	get	a	grip	on	these	categories.	Actual artistic	practice is full	of	all sorts	of	hybrids	between the two forms. Many	videogames	invite	process-aesthetic	appreciation	of	the	player's own actions, but also object-aesthetic appreciation of the graphics, the	music,	and	pre-generated	elements	of	storyline.	And	such	features can	harmonize	and	blend	in	fascinating	ways,	as	when	a	videogame's soundtrack dynamically adjusts to the player's actions, emphasizing the	drama	and	danger	of the	situation.	And I suspect that there	are many	artistic	practices	that,	though	object-centric,	also	have	substantial process-aesthetic qualities. For example: our involvement with detective novels typically involves not only appreciation of objectfeatures like character and plot, but a self-reflective appreciation of our	own	process	of	puzzling	through	the	mystery.	And	when	we	try	to understand	the	aesthetic	value	of	such	a	hybrid	work	within	a	theory built	only for the	object	arts, then	we	will inevitably	misunderstand key	features	of	that	work. 3. Process art: A theory First, I define process aesthetics as the aesthetics of activity from the perspective	of the	actors.	This includes the	overtly	self-reflective	experiences	of	each	actor's	own	activity.	Process	aesthetics	also	includes those	experiences	of the	outside	world that	are	related	to that	activity	-	such	as	a	cook	monitoring the	smells	and	sounds	and	color	of their sautéing vegetables, to determine when they're ready. Process But	the	activity	of	cooking	is	itself	part	of	the	content	of	a	cookbook. The	activity	of	cooking	is	a	product	of	intentional	design,	attributable to a cookbook's author. One might then protest that the object-aesthetic	qualities	are the	genuinely important	ones,	while the	process qualities	are	just	a	side-show.	But	this	simply	begs	the	question	of	why we	favor	the	object	arts	over	the	process	arts	-	of	why,	in	so	many	of the	artifacts that	have	both	object	and	process	art	qualities,	we	concentrate	our	critical	discourse	on	the	object	qualities. All of my examples lie at the periphery of what is normally considered	art,	and	belong	to	practices	that	are	rarely	granted	the	respect generally	accorded	to the traditional	arts.	This is	part	of the	point. I think	the	historical	focus	on	the	object	arts	has	induced	a	relative	neglect, in official attention and valuation, to the process arts. This is why	we	cannot	proceed	merely	by	interrogating	our	intuitions	about the	use	of	terms	like	'art',	for	those	have	been	shaped	by	the	very	cultural	patterns	which	I	mean	to	question.12	I	freely	grant	that	the	norms and	practices	of	the	art	world,	at	present,	usually	ennoble	the	object arts and marginalize the process arts. I grant, furthermore, that our intuitions about the use of the term 'art' often support the primacy of	the	object	arts.	I	wish	to	question	the	basis	of	these	intuitions	and practices. Much	of	the	previous	work	on	this	terrain	has	argued	for	the	worthwhileness of these various process arts by attempting to assimilate them	to	more	familiar	object	arts.	Consider,	for	example,	Michael	de Certeau's	aesthetic	analysis	of	walking	in	the	city	as	a	kind	of	textual creation,	by	arguing	that	various	walks	could	be	interpreted	as	a	kind of	expressive	speech	(Certeau	1984,	91–95);	Bogost's	and	Flanagan's defenses	of	the	worth	of	games	in	terms	of	their	abilities	to	model,	critique,	and	comment	on	society,	economics,	and	morality;	and	Carolyn Korsmeyer's	account	of	the	meaning	of	food	in	terms	of	its	capacity	to 12. For a more robust defense of moderate skepticism towards the usefulness of	interrogating	our	intuitions	about	the	term	'art',	see	(Zangwill	2007,	1–35). Richard	Wollheim's	work	is,	in	my	eyes,	an	excellent	example	of	careful	theory	building	which	takes,	as	its	starting	points,	intuitions	about	artworks	which implicitly	exclude	the	process	arts	(Wollheim	1980). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 10 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) refer	to	the	enactor's	activities	in	response	to	such	an	artifact	as	their 'engagement'	with	it.	None	of	these	notions	are	meant	to	be	exclusive; many	artworks	have	both	processand	object-aesthetic	qualities,	and an	individual	can	appreciate	both	at	once.16 Process art involves a more distanced relationship between artist	and	enactor	than	object	art	does	between	artist	and	audience.	In the object arts, the artist creates a work which the audience experiences.	The	audience	experiences	aesthetic	properties	as	in	or	adhering to that work, and makes aesthetic judgments about that work. Process	art	involves	an	extra	stage.	The	designer	creates	an	artifact.	The enactors interact	with	the	artifact,	which	conditions	the	enactors' resulting	activity.	The	enactors	experience	aesthetic	properties	in	their own actions ("That was a graceless serve"; "We were so beautifully in	synch	with	each	other	in	that	dance").	The	artifact	influences	what and	how	aesthetic	properties	emerge	in	the	enactor's	activity,	but	the primary	aesthetic	properties	emerge	in	the	enactor's	activity	itself.	We may also make secondary judgments about the quality of the work based	on	its	functional	capacity	to	encourage	aesthetically	valuable	actions.	We	might	judge	this	board	game	good	because	it	tends	to	create situations	that	are	interesting,	thrilling,	fascinating,	and	tends	to	create	opportunities	for	our	own	brilliant,	dramatic,	and	elegant	moves. But	the	goodness	of	process	art	as	such	comes	down	to	its	capacity	to encourage	valuable	aesthetic	qualities	in	the	enactor's	own	activity.17 16. I originally introduced the terms 'object art', 'process art', 'enactor', 'artist's work',	and	'attentive	focus'	in	a	very	brief	sketch	in	my	book,	Games: Agency as Art	(Nguyen	2020,	142–144).	Though	Games	bears	a	similar	publication	date to	the	present	article,	due	to	the	complexities	of	book	publishing,	those	parts of the book were actually written several years prior to the writing of the present	article.	In	the	interim,	I've	grappled	with	a	wider	variety	of	process arts.	The	present	account	departs	from	the	earlier	one	in	many	details.	I	take the	present	account	of	process	art	to	be	much	improved	from	the	preliminary sketch	I	gave	in	Games.	Furthermore,	I	take	myself	to	have	answered,	in	the present	article,	some	of	the	open	questions	and	puzzles	I	mentioned	in	Games about	the	nature	of	process	art,	and	the	questions	concerning	its	lowly	place in	the	culture. 17. I	am	relying	here	on	Jane	Forsey's	account	of	the	aesthetics	of	design	(Forsey aesthetics	thus	includes	experiences	of	sensory	and	aesthetic	qualities in	external	objects	as	they	are	cognized	as	part	of	the	activity.	Consider, for	example,	the	aesthetics	of	a	rock	climb.	Process-aesthetic	qualities include the climber's aesthetic experiences of their own movement, but	also	the	aesthetic	experiences	involved	in	perceiving	the	rock	as obstacle	for	movement	and	as	means	for	aiding	movement.	I	attend	to those	external	qualities	that	are	relevant	for	my	activity,	and	I	attend to	them	as	part	of	an investigative	and	practical	process	where	they function	as,	among	other	things,	the	basis	for	further	decisions	and	actions.	There	is	an	aesthetic	quality	-	a	perception	of	a	kind	of	practical harmony	-	that	arises	from	recognizing	that	this	little	nubbin	of	rock is	exactly	in	the	right	place	to	re-balance	your	foot.13 Process art	refers	to	those	artifacts	whose	function	is	to	bring	about process-aesthetic	experiences.	I	mean	'artifacts'	loosely	here	-	I	mean to	include	manufactured	physical	objects,	rituals,	instruction	sets,	and even	social	practices.	The	rules	of	the	party	game	Werewolf	are	an	artifact,	in	this	sense;	as	are	the	conventions,	traditions,	and	practices	of social	tango;	as	well	as	the	physical	apparatus	of	fondues,	along	with the	social	norms	for	their	appropriate	use.	I	will	refer	to	the	creators of	process	art	as	the	designers.	The	designer	here	can	be	anything	from a	single	individual,	such	as	a	board	game	designer,	to	a	multi-generational	community, such	as the	one that	originated the	social tango practice.14 I	will	call 'the	enactor' the	person	or	persons	who	engage with	such	an	artifact,	whose	actions	are	appropriately	guided	or	instigated	by	it,	and	who	aesthetically	appreciate	their	own	activity.15	I	will 13. For	a	further	discussion	of	practical	harmony,	see	(Nguyen	2020,	107–110). 14. For	a	discussion	of	how	groups	can	be	artists,	see	(Bacharach	and	Tollefsen 2010;	Nguyen	2019c). 15. I	intend	no	connection	to	Alva	Noe's	enactive	aesthetics.	Furthermore,	though I	will	usually	speak	of	single-person	enactors,	I	am	entirely	open	to	the	possibility	of	group	agent	perspectives	-	though I	do	not	want to litigate	here for	the	possibility	of	multi-person	perspectives	for	aesthetic	experience.	Note that	(Himberg	et	al.	2018)	argues	that	the	point	of	collective	dance	improvisation	is	to	induce	a	collective	perspective	from	which	collective	self-reflective aesthetic	experiences	can	be	had.	See	also	my	discussion	of	collective	audiences	in	(Nguyen	2019c). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 11 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) the	spectator.	A	chess	player	makes	a	complex	decision;	the	elegance of	their	solution	can	be	grasped	by	an	observer	who	understands	the state	of	play.	Certainly,	some	process-aesthetic	qualities	are	available to the spectator.	But	many	process-aesthetic	qualities	are	not.	What it feels like to react,	how	exactly the	pieces	of the	solution	come to you	-	these are qualities to which the agent themselves has special access. More	importantly,	however,	my	claim	is	not	that	the	attentive	focus in	the	process	arts	must	be	private.	My	claim	is	only	that	the	process arts are aimed primarily at an agent's experience of their own activity.	This	means	that	there	is	no	requirement	for	externalizability	and no	demand	for	publicity	for	the	aesthetic	qualities	-	though,	of	course, some	aspects	of	that	activity	might	turn	out	to	be	publicly	accessible. Let's	return	to	rock	climbing.	Some	rock	climbs	are	quite	aesthetically public,	with	spectacular	large-scale	gymnastic	movement.	Other	rock climbs	-	like	the	classic	balance	problem	The Angler	-	involve	minute shifts	of	balance	and	delicate	adjustments	in	inner	torsion,	invisible	to the	outside	eye.	The Angler is	fascinating	to	climb,	but	mind-numbingly boring	to	watch	(Nguyen	2017a).	My	claim	here	is	only	that	rock	climbing	is	primarily	oriented	towards	the	aesthetic	qualities	of	climbing	for the	climber	themselves;	thus,	The Angler is	no	aesthetic	failure	because of	the	relative	absence	of	aesthetic	payoff	for	the	spectator.	Consider, also, the differences between a more object-art dance practice, like ballet, and a more process-art dance practice, like the social tango. Though	there	may	be	process-aesthetic	qualities	to	ballet,	the	practice is	oriented	primarily	towards	producing	aesthetic	qualities	available	to the	non-dancing	spectator.	This	is	why,	under	the	current	social	practice, it	doesn't	seem	a	viable	aesthetic	criticism	of	a	particular	ballet performance	that	it	was	thoroughly	unpleasant	for	the	dancers.	And though	there	may	be	some	observable	aesthetic	qualities	in	the	social tango, the practice is freed from the demand that it must primarily aim	at	producing	such	observable	qualities.	The	practice	is	designed primarily	for	the	sake	of	producing	the	subtle	feelings	of	connection With	process	art,	there	is	a	significant	gap	between	the	work	and the aesthetic experience	-	much more so than with object art. This requires	making	a	conceptual	distinction	between	two	aspects	of	artworks	that	are	usually	merged.	In	object	art,	we	aesthetically	attend	to what	the	artist	produces.	Melville	writes	the	text	Moby Dick,	and we aesthetically	attend	to	that	very	same	text.	To	understand	process	art, we	must	dissolve	the	expectation	for	such	a	singular	locus	of	aesthetic effort. Let's distinguish between the designer's work and the attentive focus.	The	designer's	work	is	the	stable	artifact	created	by	the	designer for the	purpose	of	engendering	aesthetic	experiences.	The	attentive focus	is	the	prescribed	focus	of	aesthetic	attention.	In	object	art,	the designer's	work	and	the	attentive focus	are	one	and	the	same	thing, or	very	close to it.	The	painter	creates	a	painting,	and the	audience attends	to	that	painting.	In	process	art,	the	designer's	work	and	the	attentive	focus	come	apart.	The	designer's	work	is	the	artifact:	the	game, the	recipe, the	city, the	rules	of the	tango.	The	attentive	focus is the enactor's	own	activity,	which	arises	in	response	to	the	designer's	work. In	process	art,	there	are	two	distinct	generative	processes:	first	the	designer	generates	the	work,	and	then	the	enactor	generates	an	activity in response to the work. And in process art, it is that latter activity which	is	prescribed	as	the	attentive	focus.18 One	might	worry	that	I	am	presuming	some	special	private	interiority	of	agency	-	some	inaccessible	first-personal	perspective	for	the agent.	This	might	strike	some	as	problematic.	At the	very least,	one might protest, aesthetic qualities of agency are sometimes available to	an	outside	viewer.	The	basketball	player	dodges	and	weaves,	and the	gracefulness	of	their	motion	is	available	both	to	themselves	and	to 2013)	and	Glenn	Parsons	and	Allen	Carlson's	account	of functional	beauty (Parsons	and	Carlson	2008). 18. One	might	think	that	the	divide	between,	say,	composer	and	performer	can be	mapped	onto	the	divide	between	artist	and	enactor.	This	turns	out	not	to work;	see	Andrew	Kania's	excellent	discussion	(Kania	2018).	Note	that	even when	performance	art	ontologies	are	divided	into	multiple	stages	(the	script, the	performance),	there	is	still	some	further	audience,	beyond	the	performer, who	attribute	aesthetic	properties	to	an	external	work. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 12 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) recalcitrant texts, such	as	Thomas	Pynchon's famously	cryptic	novel Gravity's Rainbow,	may	also	highlight the	reader's	own	struggles	and the	experiential	qualities	of	so	struggling.	But	that	is	just	to	say	that fictions	sometimes	cross	the	line	between	object	arts	and	process	arts. It	may	turn	out,	once	we	have	performed	our	analysis,	that	many	of the	traditional	arts	actually	partake	more	of	process	aesthetics	than	we might	have	thought. Finally,	the	object	and	process	arts	occur	on	a	continuum.	For	example,	there	are	certain	intentional	process	qualities	in	the	traditional arts.	From	my	own	experience	playing	piano,	I	suspect	that	Beethoven cared	not	a	whit	about	the	experience	of	the	piano	player.	His	interest was	solely	on	the	finished	product.	But	Chopin's	piano	works	have	always	seemed	different	to	me.	The	physical	movements	that	each	piece requires	have	an	expressive	resonance	with	the	music	itself.	Bold	passages require athletic leaps of the pianist's hands; elegant melodies are	often	paired	with	movements	that,	when	executed,	feel	physically elegant;	agonized	chords	force	the	fingers	to	twist	in	a	grotesque	and agonizing	manner.	If	this	is	right,	then	Beethoven's	piano	sonatas	are object	art,	but	Chopin's	piano	works	are	a	mixture	-	they	have	some clear	process	art	qualities	that	are	accessible	only	to	the	piano	player.20 Similarly,	consider	some	of	the	differences	between	various	practices of	dance.	Some	practices	of	dance, such	as	ballet, are largely in the domain	of	object	art,	where	others, like the	social tango,	are largely in	the	domain	of	process	art.	But	surely	there	are	ballet	dancers	who dance	primarily for their	own inner	experience	of	dance,	and	social tango	dancers	who	dance	for	the	outside	eye.	I'm	classifying	ballet	as an	object	art	and	social	tango	as	a	process	art	from	what	seem	like	the overall	aims	of	the	practice.	But	the	boundaries	are	fluid,	and	individuals	may	enter	into	the	practices	for	different	reasons.	My	intention	is not	to	show	that	the	object	arts	and	the	process	arts	are	always	distinct from	each	other.	Rather,	it	is	to	show	that	the	process	art	side	of	the 20.	For	a	further	discussion,	see	(Willard	2018). and	improvisational	responsiveness	that	are	primarily	appreciable	by the	dancers	themselves. Alternately, one might attempt to refuse the distinction between the	object	and	process	arts	by	pointing	to	the	fact	that	an	audience's appreciation	of	an	object	artwork	involves	a	substantial	amount	of	activity.	Audiences	for	the	traditional	arts	are	not	passive,	as	has	been often	pointed	out.	We	choose	what	to	attend	to;	we	question	and	interpret.	For	example:	experiencing	fiction	involves	a	substantial	deployment of the active imagination. Note, however, that no matter how active	the	role	of	the	imagination,	critical	talk	of	fiction	usually	attributes	aesthetic	properties	and	judgments	to	the	text	itself	and	not	to one's	imagination	of	it.	Furthermore,	if	one	loses	oneself	in	one's	own imagination, that attention is usually directed towards the fictional world	as	imagined,	and	not	self-reflectively	towards	the	mental	efforts of imagining.	In	other	words, in	many	encounters	with	fiction,	even if the	audience	participates in	the	manufacture	of	an	attentive	focus, they still grapple with it as something produced. Their appreciative focus	is	on	the	world	produced	by	their	imagination,	and	not	on	their own	process	of	coming	to	imagine	it,	nor	on	the	relationship	between that	world	and	the	process	of	imagining	it.19 Consider,	too,	the	precise	target	of	our	critical	discourse.	When	we praise	Jane	Austen's	novels,	we	praise	them	for	their	wonderfully	exact	descriptions	of	characters.	This is	an	object-aesthetic	attribution; the	quality	of	precision	is	attributed	to	the	novel	and	not	one's	own mental	efforts	in	response.	This	is	not	true	of	all	fiction,	however.	Consider, for example, more game-like fictions, such as mystery novels. There, it seems, the structure of the fiction encourages attention to the	reader's	own	struggles.	When	we	praise	a	good	mystery	novel,	we often	praise	it	for	giving	us	a	juicy	puzzle	to	sink	our	teeth	into.	Other 19. I	am	confining	my	discussion	here	to	those	theories	of	the	object	arts	which presume	that	the	work	of	art is	some	external	artifact. I take	this	to	be	the dominant	view,	and the	most	plausible	one.	Some	other	accounts,	such	as that of R.	G. Collingwood, claim that the work of art is constructed in the imagination	of	the	viewer	(Collingwood	1938).	Space	does	not	permit	me	to address	that	family	of	views	here. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 13 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) However,	there	is	a	very	different	sort	of	relationship	between	the setter	of	a	rock-climbing	route	and	the	aesthetic	qualities	that	emerge in	a	climber	of	that	route.	The	route	setter	can	aim	at	instigating	graceful	motion;	they	can	set	the	size	and	difficulty	of	the	holds	to	encourage	delicacy	in	the	climber.	In	many	cases,	process	artists	do	have	particular	artistic	qualities	or	values	in	mind,	and	they	imbue	their	work with	features	that	play	some	direct	role	in	shaping	the	aesthetic	quality	of	the	enactor's	activity	-	even	if	the	process	artist	doesn't	entirely determine that aesthetic quality in its full specificity. The designers of Microsoft Word had nothing like wildness or hilarity in mind. A climbing-route	setter,	on	the	other	hand,	may	set	a	climb	specifically for	the	purpose	of	encouraging	graceful,	delicate,	aesthetically	pleasing	motion	-	though	the	precise	form	of	grace	is	finalized	only	by	a particular	climber. It	will	be	useful	here	to	consider	Sondra	Bacharach	and	Deborah Tollefsen's discussion of artistic collaboration. Some artworks, like movies,	are	made	by	a	group	artist.	But	what	are	the	outer	boundaries of that	group	artist?	One	might think	that	anybody	that	contributed at	all	to	the	aesthetic	quality	of	the	end	product	was	part	of	the	group artist.	But	this	is	too	broad	a	criterion;	it	does	not	distinguish	between genuine	artistic collaborators	and	mere	contributors.	Obviously, say Bacharach and Tollefsen, the directors, script-writers, cinematographers,	actors,	and	set	dressers	are	part	of	the	group	artist,	but	the	onset	caterers	are	not.	How	do	we	draw	that line in	a	principled	way? Their	answer	is	that	the	group	artist	is	constituted	by	its	members	taking	on	a joint	commitment to	collaboratively	fix	particular	aesthetic qualities	in	the	work.	They	intentionally	cooperate	to	make	a	film	delicate	or	spooky.	The	caterer's	tacos	may	have	helped	the	director	make good	artistic	choices,	but	the	tacos'	cook	didn't	play	a	role	in	intentionally	fixing	the	particular	aesthetic	qualities	of	the	film	(Bacharach	and Tollefsen	2010). Their	analysis	helps	us	to	identify	who	the	process	artist	is,	exactly	-	and	how	that	designation	may	fall	in	different	places	for	different process	arts.	The	designers	of	Microsoft	Word	don't	play	a	collaborative spectrum	has	been	neglected,	as	have	the	process	aspects	of	many	traditional	arts. 4. Who is the process artist? Who	is	the	artist	of	a	work	of	process	art	-	the	designer	or	the	enactor? One	might	be	tempted,	at	this	point,	to	suggest	that	I've	put	the	labels in	the	wrong	places.	Perhaps	the	designers	of	games,	cities,	and	Turkish breakfasts are simply creating the background and the tools for artistry.	The	designers	aren't	any	sort	of	artists	at	all.	Instead,	it	is	the enactors	-	the	players,	walkers,	and	diners	-	who	are	the	true	artists. This does seem quite apt for some cases. It seems precisely the right	characterization	of,	for	example,	the	social	tango.	There,	the	social	practice	simply	enables	a	kind	of	live,	artistic,	creative	process.	The dancers	themselves	seem	primarily	responsible	for	the	aesthetic	qualities	that	emerge	in	the	dance.	The	designers	of	the	social	practice,	such as	they	are,	are	responsible	for	creating	a	fertile	ground	for	aesthetic creation,	but	not	for	the	aesthetic	creation	itself.	It	would	seem	strange to	think	of	those	designers	as	any	sort	of	artists	or	artist-analogues. But	the	view	that	the	enactors	are	the	artists	seems	quite	inapt	for other	cases:	for	instance,	many	board	games	and	computer	games.	For example,	the	enactors-as-artists	view	doesn't	have	the	resources	to	account for the	difference in	aesthetic responsibility	between,	say, the designers	of	a	computer	game	versus	the	designers	of	a	word-processing	program.	The	team	that	designs	a	word	processor	is	making	the tools for other artists to write their various artistic masterpieces on. But	surely	the	designer	of	the	word	processor	isn't	an	artist.	They	don't have anything like particular artistic values or aesthetic qualities in mind	as	they	design	the	software.	They	are	not	active	participants	in the	act	of	artistic	creation.	Suppose	that	Paul	Beatty	wrote	his	novel	The Sellout	using	a	copy	of	Microsoft	Word.	The	aesthetic	qualities	of	The Sellout are	wildness,	bleak	hilarity,	and	expressive	bitterness.	None	of these	specific	aesthetic	qualities	can	be	attributed	to	Microsoft	Word or	its	design	team. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 14 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) the	relationship	between	a	film's	scriptwriter	and	its	production	team. The	scriptwriter	creates	a	document	and	passes	it	to	a	production	team, who	are inspired	by that	document to	some	further	activity.	Superficially,	this	might	seem	like	the	same	kind	of	multi-stage	affair	as	with process	art.	However,	in	film-making,	the	scriptwriter	and	production team	are	both	focused	on	getting	aesthetic	qualities	into	the	same	endstage	artifact	-	the	film	-	for	appreciation	by	some	further	audience. The	primary	aesthetic	qualities	here	occur	in	that	finished	work	itself. The	scriptwriter	isn't	focused	on	structuring	and	influencing	the	aesthetic	qualities	of the	production	team's	activity	of	creation.	A	game designer,	on	the	other	hand,	is	designing	precisely	for	the	sake	of	the aesthetic	qualities	of	the	player's	activity	of	play. Second, an artistic collaboration usually involves both collaborators	aiming	at	a shared	goal	-	the	production	of	an	aesthetic	object with	certain	aesthetic	qualities.	But	the	goals	of	the	designer	and	enactor	are	often	quite	divergent.	The	designer	of	Portal might	be	designing for	the	sake	of	imbuing	the	player's	experience	with	these	particular aesthetic	qualities,	while	the	player	themselves	might,	during	play,	be wholly	aimed	at	winning.	Often,	the	player	generates	those	aesthetically	infused	actions	when	their	mind	is	bent	wholly	to	the	practical considerations of the game-task; the aesthetic qualities are unintentional	by-products	of	their	attempts	to	win.22	Similarly,	the	city-walker may	simply	be intending	to	find	something to	eat for the	night; the aesthetic	qualities	in	their	activity	arise	from	an	interaction	between their	local	goal	and	the	navigational	qualities	of	the	city.	In	many	cases of	process	art,	it	is	the	designer	who	aims	at	bringing	about	aesthetic experiences.	The	enactor pursues some	other aim, like	winning the game	or	finding	a	late-night	snack.	For	the	enactor,	the	aesthetic	qualities	can	arise indirectly,	as	a result	of	activity	aimed	at some locally 22. In	some	cases,	the	player	may	have	initially	decided	to	play	the	game	for	the sake of aesthetic experience, but during game-play, they are not choosing their particular action in order to generate those particular aesthetic qualities.	Rather,	those	aesthetic	qualities	arise	out	of	wholly	instrumental	intentions	and	actions,	as	conditioned	by	their	gaming	environment.	See	(Nguyen 2019a)	for	a	detailed	discussion	of	aesthetic	qualities	and	agential	layering. role	in	fixing	the	aesthetic	qualities	of	The Sellout.	Furthermore,	no	elements	in	Word	play	a	significant	role	in	fixing	the	particular	aesthetic	qualities	of	The Sellout.	Word	may	have	contributed	to	that	work's quality	by	making	Beatty's	artistic	creative	life	easier,	but	the	particular aesthetic	properties	of	The Sellout	aren't	significantly	explained	by	any particular	aspects	of	Word,	nor	by	any	choices	of	Word's	design	team. Consider,	on	the	other	hand,	the	beloved	computer	puzzle	game Portal. In	that	game,	the	player	is	given	a	single	primary	tool:	a	wormhole	gun.	The	wormhole	gun	first	fires	an	orange	portal,	which	sticks to	wherever	you	aimed	it,	and	then	a	blue	portal.	Once	you've	attached these	two	portals	to	the	world,	the	game	connects	them	with	a	wormhole.	You	can	go	in	one	portal	and	you'll	instantly	exit	out	the	other. Manipulation	of	the	portal	placements	lets	you	manipulate	the	topology	of	the	virtual	environment.	The	game	then	places	an	increasingly difficult set of obstacles in your virtual path, which you must solve with	only	your	wormhole	gun.	Solving	these	puzzles	is	a	fascinating, mind-bending	delight,	in	which	gorgeous	solutions	finally	emerge	for the	player	out	of frustrated	despair.	Notice, though, that the	aesthetic	quality	of	the	player's	activity in	Portal	are	partially	attributable	to design	elements	in	the	game	and	to	the	game	designer's intentional efforts.	The	astonishing	feel	of	one's	mind	finally	unlocking	a	puzzle arises in response to the counterintuitive physics and the details of each	particular	puzzle.	And these	parts	of the	game	were	surely	designed,	at	least	in	part,	to	bring	about	the	particular	experiential	qualities	of	that	mental	unlocking. We might be tempted, then, to instead claim that the artist of a piece	of	process	art	and	the	enactor	are	actually	artistic	collaborators.21 And	while	this	may	be	true	in	some	particular	cases,	I	do	not	think	we should	so	readily	subsume	the	relationships	of	artist	and	enactor	in	the process	arts	to	the	kinds	of	relationships	we	find	in	traditional	object art	collaborations.	First,	if	it	is	a	kind	of	collaboration,	then	it	is	one	of a	very	different	sort	from	traditional	artistic	collaborations.	Consider 21. Such a view is advanced by Paul Crowther, who says the digital arts are unique	in	that	their	users	also	count	as	co-creators	(Crowther	2008). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 15 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) I	take	it	that,	in	the	case	of	tango,	the	aesthetic	insight	is	had	by	the enactor.	It	is	the	dancer	who	understands,	on	some	level,	that	moving like	so,	and	responding	like	so,	will	lead	to	graceful	movement	and	a wonderful, sensitive sense of connection. The creators of the social practice	have	not	had	the	aesthetic	insights	themselves;	they	have	created	a	background	against	which	such	aesthetic	insights	might	more readily	flourish.	In	that	case,	I	think	we	can	say	that	the	primary	artist is	the	dancer.	The	designer's	work	-	the	social	practice	of	tango	-	constitutes	a	background	and	environment	for	encouraging	the	dancer's process	artistry. In	the	case	of	many	computer	games,	on	the	other	hand,	the	aesthetic	insight	is	largely	held	by	the	designer.	It	is	Portal's	designers	who realized	that	such-and-such	lines	of	code,	and	such-and-such	virtual physics,	will	create	such-and-such	physics	puzzle,	which	will	make	it significantly	likely	that	a	game	player	will,	in	solving	the	puzzle,	have an	aesthetic	experience	of	their	mind's	own	elegance.	The	game	player may	have	an	insight	about	the	solution	to	the	puzzle,	but	that	is	not an	aesthetic	insight	in	Zangwill's	sense.	During	their	absorption	in	the game, the players' attention is devoted to the instrumental calculations	of	play.	It	is	the	game	designer's	insight	that	a	certain	variety	of instrumental	calculations,	as	guided	by	particular	goals	and	rules	of physics,	will	result	in	certain	aesthetic	qualities	in	the	player's	activity.23 The	primary	artist	in	this	case	is	the	game	designer. There	can	also	be	nested	aesthetic	insights.	For	example,	consider the	eater	of	a	Turkish	breakfast.	They	may	have	a	culinary	aesthetic insight:	that	a	certain	bit	of	feta	would	taste	great	when	balanced	with a	very	small	dollop	of	bergamot	jam.	They	then	bring	that	insight	into being,	in	the	form	of	a	particular	morsel	of	food.	They	are	the	artist	of that	morsel,	which	is	itself	a	piece	of	object	art.	But	the	process	of	creating	that	morsel	also	has	aesthetic	qualities,	and	the	aesthetic	nature of that	creative	process	was	conditioned	by	the	aesthetic insights	of 23. For	a	further	discussion	of	the	focused,	goal-oriented	nature	of	play,	and	its relation	to the	emergent	aesthetic	experiences	of	play,	see	(Nguyen	2019a; 2020). non-aesthetic	goal,	as	it	brings	them	into	interaction	with	the	process artist's	design. Who	exactly is the	artist, then, in	a	given	piece	of	process	art? It will be useful here to consider Nick Zangwill's account of aesthetic creation.	The	artist,	says	Zangwill,	is	the	person	who	has	an	aesthetic insight	-	an	insight	that	certain	aesthetic	properties	would	depend	on certain	non-aesthetic	properties	-	and	who	imbues	some	work	of	art with	those	aesthetic	properties	in	virtue	of	those	non-aesthetic	properties.	For	example,	an	artist	might	have	the	insight	that	a	certain	array	of colors	and	shapes	would	create	a	delicious	tension	in	a	painting.	They then,	based	on	that	insight,	create	a	painting	with	that	array	of	colors and	shapes,	and	so	give it	delicious tension	(Zangwill	2007,	36–58). Notice	that	the	definition	as	written	excludes	designers	of	process	art, since	they	do	not	imbue	the	work	itself	with	aesthetic	properties.	Rather	they	design	a	work	with	the	capacity	to	trigger	a	particular	range	of aesthetic	qualities,	as	they	will	emerge	in	downstream	engagements. But	let	me	suggest	an	expansion	of	Zangwill's	account: Expanded conception of the artist:	The	artist	is	the	person who has an aesthetic insight	-	which is an insight that	certain	aesthetic	properties	would	depend	on	certain non-aesthetic properties	-	and who imbues some work of	art	with	aesthetic	properties	or the power to bring about those aesthetic properties in virtue of those non-aesthetic properties. I	have	emphasized	the	addition	I	have	made	to	Zangwill's	account. The	expanded	conception	seems	utterly	reasonable	to	me.	It	captures something	essential	about	what	it	is	to	be	an	artist	engaged	in	an	act of	aesthetic	creation.	The	artist	has	some	particular	insight	into	how aesthetic	properties	might	emerge	from	non-aesthetic	properties;	and they	manipulate	some	non-aesthetic	medium	in	order	to	give	rise	to those aesthetic properties. The expanded conception only relaxes Zangwill's	implicit	demand	that	those	aesthetic	properties	emerge	in the	work	itself. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 16 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) rules	and	methods	of	the	social	tango	as	part	of	the	explanation	of	the aesthetic	qualities	that	emerge	in	the	final	dance.	And	Microsoft	Word is	no	process	art	at	all.	The	designers	of	Word	did	not	design	specific parts	of	Word	in	order	to	bring	about	specific	aesthetic	qualities	of	the various	novels,	plays,	essays,	and	philosophy	articles	that	are	written with	it. 5. The frame around the process It	will	be	useful	to	compare	my	analysis	of	process	art	with	the	recent discussion	of	"everyday	aesthetics".	Yuriko	Saito	contrasts	the	formal practices	of	art-making	and	art	appreciation	with	a	range	of	less	structured, more freeform aesthetic experiences	-	ones unconstricted by the	prescriptions	found	in	the	traditional	arts. Says Saito: in the standard practice of art, there is a prescriptive frame	around	works	of	art.	That	is,	there	are	prescriptions	for	a	proper encounter, in	which	we	must	approach	an	artwork in	a certain	way and	include	only	certain	properties	in	our	aesthetic	attention.	In	order to	experience	a	painting,	I	am	supposed	to	view	it	from	the	front	and not	the	side.	When	we	discuss	and	judge	a	novel,	we	are	supposed	to do	so	by	considering	the	meanings	and	sounds	of	the	words,	and	not the	smell	of	the	ink	and	paper	they	are	printed	on.	Such	prescriptions are	clearly	central	to	our	art	practices.	Simply	imagine	our	reaction	to someone	breaking	them	-	say,	by	pronouncing	on	the	aesthetic	qualities	of	Diego	Rivera's	painting	Flower Seller by	licking	the	canvas	and commenting	on	its	flavor. Let's call anything that has such an attentional frame a "framed work". Framed works involve prescriptions for appreciation. Many of	these	prescriptions	arise	through	practice	and	tradition.	We	know what	to	do	with	a	book	and	with	a	painting	from	the	way	their	appearance	and	the	context	of	their	presentation	declare	their	membership in some prescription-bound class. In other cases, prescriptions are overtly declared by the artist, such as when a contemporary avantgarde artist instructs their audience to roll around in their museum installation's ball-pit as part of their experience of the work (Irvin the	person	who	set	up	the	Turkish	breakfast.	Those	insights	might	be, for	example,	that	this	size	of	feta	cube	would	be	more	pleasant	to	handle	than	that	size,	and	that	this	arrangement	of	plates	would	generate the	most	elegant	movement	for	an	eater	in	the	process	of	assembling their	various	tasty	morsels.	The	person	who	sets	out	the	Turkish	breakfast	spread	can	imbue	aesthetic	qualities	in	the	process	of	the	eater's own	particular	process	of	aesthetic	creation.	In	other	words,	Turkish breakfast	is	an	object	art	nested	inside	a	process	art,	where	the	process artist	is	arranging	a	spread	in	order	to	design	an	aesthetically	valuable process	-	where	that	process	is	the	eater's	activity	of	making	object	art. I suspect that there will turn out to be many other examples of such	nested	arts.	Consider,	for	example,	tabletop	role-playing	games and	improvisational	theater,	where	the	actors	or	players	are	creating	a piece	of	object	art	-	a	performed	narrative	-	but	doing	so	inside	a	rule set	which	makes	their	process	of	creation	itself	aesthetically	interesting.	Role-playing	games	and improvisational theater	procedures	are process	artworks,	built	around	the	process	of	creating	object	art. Let	me	suggest,	then,	a	taxonomy.	With	regards	to	the	location	of the	artist,	there	are,	loosely,	three	types	of	process	arts. Designer process arts:	the	arts	where	the	designer	has	the primary	aesthetic	insights. Enactor process arts:	the	arts	where	the	enactor	has	the	primary	aesthetic	insights. Hybrid process arts: the	arts	where	the	designer	and	enactor share the primary aesthetic insights (either through collaboration	or	through	a	multi-stage	nesting). Portal	is	a	designer	process	art.	The	designer	had	the	insights	to	create	the	game-physics	and	game-environment	in	a	certain	way,	in	order to	imbue	the	enactor's	activity	with	certain	aesthetic	properties.	Social tango	is	an	enactor	process	art.	The	weight	of the	aesthetic insights is	borne	by	the	enactor.	It	is	a	process	art	because,	when	we	wish	to explain	these	aesthetic	qualities,	we	will	need	to	make	reference	to	the c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 17 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) for	ourselves	how	we	will	spend	it,	as	we	please.	We	can	constitute	the aesthetic	object	in	any	way	we	wish	(Saito	2007,	18–19). Let's	accept	this	analysis	for	the	moment.	It	gets,	I	think,	at	something	crucial	about	what	we	care	about	in	art	in	particular	-	something about	why	the	aesthetics	of	art	are	distinctive	from	everyday	aesthetic experiences.	Art	involves	artifacts	and	social	practices	which	prescribe particular	approaches	to	those	artifacts.	The	point	of	all	that	rigmarole is	to	produce	certain	sculpted,	stable,	repeatable	experience	-	to	capture	an	aesthetic	property in	an	object, to	tie it	down	so	that	others may	see. So:	what	about	process	aesthetics?	For	Saito,	all	process	aesthetics is	everyday	aesthetics.	There	is	no	such	thing	as	a	framed	experience of process aesthetics. There is, in other words, no process art. Why reject	the	possibility	of	process	arts?	Saito's	suggestion	is	interesting. The	art	world,	says	Saito,	wants	to	give	us	controlled	and	optimal	experiences	of	art,	which	require	a	degree	of	physical	distance	and	physical	disengagement.	The	paradigmatic	experience	of	art is,	according to	Saito,	passive:	we	stand	still	in	front	of	the	painting;	we	sit	still	at a	concert	hall	(20).	Thus,	the	essential	active	participation	of	process aesthetics	might	seem	in	tension	with	the	controlled	nature	of	art. Saito is surely right that our everyday experience is full of unframed	moments	of	process	aesthetics.	But I	do	not think it is right to	think	that	there	can	be	no	process	arts.	Processes,	I	argue,	can	also be	framed.	And	artists	can	exert	some	degree	of	control	over	the	aesthetics	of	activities,	even	when	there	is	no	physical	distance	between the	audience	member	and	their	own	activity.	This	is	easiest	to	see	in the	practice	of	game	criticism.	One	cannot	pronounce	a	critical	judgment	of	a	videogame	merely	from	smelling	the	disc.	When	I	play	the videogame	Shadows of the Colossus, I	am	supposed	to	form	a	judgment of	the	game	by	aesthetically	attending	to	the	challenges	of	moving	my avatar	in	and	around	the	bodies	of	massive	giants.	I	am	not	supposed to	include,	in	my	evaluation,	how	satisfying	it	was	for	me	to	eat	popcorn between battles. Other forms of process art also involve some form of frame. The prescriptions involved with these practices may 2005;	Davies	2004,	50–79).24	Importantly,	the	normative	force	of	these prescriptions	is	entirely	hypothetical;	there	is	no	reason	to	follow	the prescriptions	for	"reading	a	novel"	unless	one	intends	to	be	engaged	in the	practice	of	novel	reading.	The	prescriptions	only	specify	what	the work	is,	by	specifying	what	one	must	do	in	order	to	count	as	engaging with	the	work.	One	is	perfectly	free	to	enjoy	the	smell	of	one's	copy	of Moby Dick	by	burning	it	in	a	fire,	but	one	is	not	thereby	appreciating Moby Dick. These	prescriptions	only	fix	the	nature	of	what	Moby Dick is:	it	is	not	a	piece	of	physical	material	to	be	appreciated	in	all	its	physicality.	Nor	is	it	a	collection	of	words	to	be	accessed	at	any	order,	like	a dictionary.	The	work	consists	of	a	set	of	words to be read in a particular order.	Those instructions frame the	work, specifying	what it is,	over and	above	a	particular	set	of	material.	Everyday	aesthetics,	on	the	other	hand,	is	aesthetic	experience	without	officially	prescribed	frames.	In everyday	aesthetics,	says	Saito,	we	wander	through	the	world	framing and	re-framing	as	we	please. Why	do	we	frame?	The	prescriptive	frame	helps	stabilize	the	object of	attention.	It	is	part	of	what	makes	it	possible	for	different	audience members	to	have	something	like	the	same	experience.	The	rule	that	a novel	should	be	read	in	a	certain	order	-	all	the	words,	from	front	to back	-	helps	to	ensure	that	all	the	readers	are	looking	at	the	same	basic	narrative	object,	and	are	all	starting	from	approximately	the	same experiential	place.	But	that	means,	says	Saito,	that	there	is	a	trade-off between	art	aesthetics	and	everyday	aesthetics.	With	art,	we	have	a prescriptive	frame,	and	a	relatively	stabilized	and	relatively	sharable form	of	experience.	But	with	everyday	aesthetics	there	is	no	frame,	so we	lose	the	stable	object	and	the	sharable	experience.	What	we	gain, instead,	is	aesthetic	freedom.	In	everyday	aesthetics,	we	can	exercise our imagination	and	creativity	as	we	see	fit.	Rather	than	letting	convention or social practice dictate our aesthetic attention, we choose 24. Note,	as	Irvin	explains,	that	these	claims	do	not	violate	the	intentional	fallacy, since	they	don't	depend	on	reference	to	private	internal	states,	but	only	on public	actions	and	declarations. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 18 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) agency,	rather	than	towards,	say,	certain	select	perceptual	qualities	of a	physical	object.	The	existence	of	framed	process	arts	is	what	permits the	sculpting	and	delineation	of	particular	activities,	and their transmission	from	artist	to	audience.	It's	what	permits	us	to	have	processaesthetic	experiences	that	are	something	like	shared	-	like	when	we ascend	the	same	rock	climb,	performing	similar	patterns	of	motion	in response	to	precisely	the	same	physical	challenges. Not	all	process	art involves	frames.	A	process	artwork,	according to	my	account,	is	some	artifact	made	for	the	purpose	of	shaping	the aesthetic	qualities	of	the	enactor's	engagement.	We	can	easily	imagine artifacts	made	with	such	aesthetic	intent	but	with	no	frame.	I	suspect that	cities	are	such	unframed	works	of	process	art.	It	is	hard	to	think of	a	way to	attend to the	wrong	sorts	of features in	aesthetically	appreciating	a	city.	So	long	as	one	is	aesthetically	appreciating	the	city, any	form	of	roving	aesthetic	attention	and	action	seems	permitted	in forming	an	aesthetic	judgment	of	the	city.	An	artifact	can	be	made	for the sake of conditioning the aesthetic quality of actions, even for a freely roving,	unframed	aesthetic	attention.	But	most	of the	process arts	I've	described	-	games,	cookbooks,	tango,	contact	improv	-	seem to	involve	frames. Interestingly, much of the aesthetic frame in traditional works arises	from	practice-based	prescriptions.	We	know,	through	familiarity with	the	social	practice,	that	we	are	supposed	to	attend	to	the	words of the novel and not to its smell. However, some process arts offer what	we	might	call	a functional frame.	That is, the	enactor's	attention is guided by the specification of some goal. Consider, for example, fly-fishing,	which	is	a	plausible	candidate	for	a	process	art.	Many	flyfishers	describe	a	kind	of	aesthetic	experience	that	arises	from	some gestalt	between	the	rhythms	of	their	casting,	their	attention	to	the	water,	and	the	particular	mental	state	of	scanning	for	signs	of	the	trout. Notice	that	we	don't	need	to	teach	a	fly-fisherman	social	prescriptions that	tell	them	to	attend	to	these	things	-	that	attention	arises	through the	instrumental	demands	of	the	goal	of	catching	fish	in	this	manner. be	so	familiar	that	we	may	forget	their	existence,	but	they	are	easy	to bring	into	view.	Consider,	for	example,	if	I	were	to	pronounce	on	the poor texture of a restaurant's broth after trying to eat it with a fork. This	is	an	illegitimate	judgment,	precisely	because	I	haven't	attended to	the	work	while	following	the	appropriate	prescriptions.	These	process	arts	are	appreciative	practices	whereby	we	frame	processes.	The social	practice	contains	prescriptions	which	seek	to	focus	various	participants'	aesthetic	attention	on	the	same	set	of	features,	to	regularize and	focus	that	attention	in	controlled	and	repeatable	ways.	These	prescriptions	usually	accompany	artifacts	that	have	been	intentionally	designed	for	the	sake	of	such	aesthetic	attention.	And	it	is	the	coordination	of	the	prescriptions	and	the	artifact	design	that	can	give	the	artist some	measure	of	control	over	the	audience's	experience,	and	provide for	some	stability	to	how	the	audience	interacts	with	the	artifact	and	to the	experiences	which	it	generates.	When	we	all	cluster	around	a	Vietnamese	hot	pot	to	dip	our	various	meats	and	vegetables	in	the	bowl,	it is	no	accident	that	we	end	up	having	these	very	particular	experiences of	dipping	food,	dropping	food,	searching	desperately	around	for	our lost	shrimp,	bumping	elbows,	and	laughing.	The	conventions	of	the practice,	and	the	physical	nature	of	the	artifacts	involved,	reliably	give rise	to	those	sorts	of	experiences.25 The existence of framed process art is crucial to allaying certain worries	about	the	status	of	the	process	arts	as	genuine	arts	-	or	at	least their	having	art-like	value.	The	frame	is	crucial to	how	art functions and	why	it	is	valuable.	The	fact	that	we	share	a	frame	helps	to	control and	stabilize	how	different	people	attend	to	the	material	substrate	of traditional	art	objects.	It	directs	our	various	attentions	along	a	similar course	and	towards	a	well-defined	range	of	aspects;	it	brings	the	appearance	of	a	painting	or	the	narrative	of	a	novel	to	the	fore.	In	process art,	the	frame	functions	in	the	same	way	-	but	in	this	case,	our	aesthetic	attentions	are	directed	towards	particular	aspects	of	our	actions	and 25. The	discussion	of	frames	and	framed	works	in	this	section	is	an	extension	of (and	improvement	on)	my	earlier	and	much	narrower	discussion	of	framing prescriptions	in	games	(Nguyen	2019d;	2020,	124–133). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 19 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) Lopes'	account	is	surely	right	about	certain	sorts	of	computer	art, especially	the	interactive	art	installations	in	museums,	which	are	his primary focus. In many cases, interacting with the artwork is effortless.	There	is	little	in	the	design	or	context	to	draw	the	user's	attention to	their	own	activity.	Their	attention	is	directed, instead, to	a	virtual environment	or	a	space	of	choices.	Compare	these	sorts	of	object	to, say,	an	arcade	game	such	as	Super Mario Brothers,	where	the	center	of the experience is my skilled navigation of the challenges. The core elements	of	these	sorts	of	games	are	failure,	the	development	of	skill, and the deployment of skill during repeated attempts to overcome obstacles (Juul 2013). When I play Super Mario Brothers, I encounter the	same	simple	environments	and	visual	and	musical	elements	over and	over	again;	what	changes	are	my	skill	and	my	choices.	In	fact,	the simplicity	and	the	repetitiousness	of	the	visual	elements	are	useful	for drawing	attention	towards	player	activity;	the	visual	content	of	these elements	recedes	from	attention,	thus	focusing	the	player's	attention on their environment's practical aspects	-	its existence as challenge and	obstacle.28	This,	in	turn,	foregrounds	the	enactor's	active	presence. It	foregrounds	their	skill	-	and	lets	them,	over	time,	aesthetically	appreciate	their	journey	through	skill	development.	That	journey	begins in	their lack	of	skill,	moves	through	stages	of	delightful	skill	acquisition,	and	climaxes	in	a	highly	skilled	achievement.	In	fact,	the	appreciative	heart	of	much	gaming	practice	is	in	the	experience	of	bringing yourself,	over	time	and	through	much	effort,	into	greater	and	greater practical	harmony	with	a	set	of	challenges,	peaking	with	that	perfectly executed	victory. Some	interactive	art,	then,	is	object	art.	There,	our	focus	is	on	the stable object which our activities reveal	-	on the algorithm, the virtual environment, the possibility space. Other interactive art is process	art.	There,	our	attention	is	on	our	activity	itself,	which	may	vary would	be	to	treat	architecture	as	a	process	art	-	where	we	take	the	movement itself	as	the	primary	focus	of	our	aesthetic	attention. 28.	Simon	Dor	provides	a	useful	discussion	of	how	repetitive	visual	elements	in StarCraft II	focus	the	attention	on	non-visual	strategic	elements	(Dor	2014). 6. Aren't we really just looking at the artifact, in the end? Finally, one might insist that the process arts are not really distinct from	the	object	arts.	Perhaps	what	we	are	doing,	with	all	of	our	activity	with	games	and	food,	is	simply	a	way	for	us	to	come	to	terms	with the object itself. Lopes explores such a possibility in his account of interactive	computer	art.	Suppose	I	am	using	a joystick to	explore	a virtual space	on	a computer installation.	My interaction	generates	a sequence	of	displays.	Crucially,	says	Lopes,	the	artwork	isn't	the	particular	sequence	of	displays	that	I	generated.	I	am	not	the	artist,	and my	particular	voyage	through	virtual	space	is	not	an	artwork.	The	real artwork	consists	of	stable	features	that	are	shared	between	all	users	of the	work: the	algorithm,	the	program,	and	the	possibility	space	that these	other	features	create.	In	this	case,	says	Lopes,	I	am	not	prescribed to	aesthetically	attend	to	my	own	activity.	Rather,	my	activity	is	simply the	means	through	which	I	appreciate	the	stable	artwork.	Maneuvering	through	a	virtual	space	and	participating	in	virtual	events	is,	then, something	like	a	very	complex	version	of	walking	around	a	sculpture. My	movements	and	choices	are	simply	my	method	for	bringing	the whole	of	the	work	into	view.	This	account	permits	Lopes	to	assimilate computer	art	to	the	traditional	object	art	paradigm.26	Similar	suggestions	have	been	made	about	architecture,	as	we	might	move	through and	around	a	piece	of	architecture	for	the	sake	of	studying	its	movement-independent	shape	and	structure.	Such	an	instrumental	view,	as Jenefer Robinson says, treats movement as merely a means for constructing	"a	mental	representation	of	the	form	of	a	building	considered as	a	static	structure"	(Robinson	2012,	343).27 26.	This discussion of Lopes is drawn from my discussion in (Nguyen 2020, 145–146). 27. Consider,	on	the	other	hand,	Robinson's	own	account	of	the	place	of	movement in architecture. She insists that we must not only look or imagine a piece	of	architecture,	but	move	through	it.	But, in	Robinson's	account, it is still	the	architecture	that	is	the	primary	focus	of	aesthetic	appreciation.	She wishes	us	to	use	our	proprioceptive	senses	to	appreciate	the	architecture,	but movement,	here,	is	part	of	the	process	through	which	we	discover	and	appreciate	aesthetic	qualities	in	the	architecture	itself.	This	is	different	from	what	it c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 20 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) object-revealing.	Under	the	transparency	thesis,	that	move	would	thus be	highly	favored.	On	the	other	hand,	under	the	transparency	thesis, those	actions	that	are	more	distant	from	stable	features	of	the	object would be less important. The transparency thesis renders aesthetically	unimportant	those	actions	primarily	attributable	to	the	enactor's own special creativity or ability, since they would be not be objectrevealing. But this runs against core features of the actual practices we've	been	looking	at.	In	many	of	these	practices,	participants	praise particular	artifacts	because they	serve	as	environments for fostering creativity.	Go	is	cherished,	as	a	game,	because	it	serves	as	such	an	intricate	background	for	the	wonderful	experience	of	profound	intellectual creativity.	Portal	creates	the	conditions	for	a	very	particular	type	of	solution,	but	leaves	much	room	for	the	player	to	fill	in	the	details	of	their own solution. Turkish breakfast is wonderful because the eater has a	luxurious	sense	of	freedom,	as	they	can	tweak	every	bite	to	match exactly	their	heart's	desire	in	the	moment.	The	social	tango	is	beloved for giving rise to particular intimacies that are unique to each pair of dancers, and to their creative coordinated response to the music, the	moment,	and	the	mood.	Of	course,	the	existence	of	those	distant process-aesthetic	qualities	do	reveal	the	object's	capacity	to	encourage such	qualities	-	but	that	simply	drives	us	back	to	the	sorts	of	evaluations	of	the	object	which	are	secondary	to	aesthetic	evaluations	of	the inspired	actions. The process arts are distinct from the object arts because they aesthetically	center	on	the	activity	of	the	enactor.	In	the	process	acts, these	activities	aren't	used	as	a	means	to	attend	to	the	object.	Nor	do we	self-attend	preferentially	to	those	activities	which	are	more	likely to	reveal	the	true	features	of	the	object.	We	simply	self-attend	to	the aesthetic	qualities	of	our	activity,	and	then	we	secondarily	evaluate	the object	in	terms	of	its	capacities	to	encourage	and	foster	those	aesthetically	rich	activities. from	encounter	to	encounter	and	from	enactor	to	enactor.	And	many interactive	artworks	are	hybrids,	such	as	most	first-person	computer role-playing games, which provide both beautiful environments for the player to freely explore, and frequent challenges that focus the player's	attention	on	their	own	activity. Suppose, then, that we accept that in the practices I've described	-	games, social tango, cooking	-	I am, in fact, orienting my aesthetic attention towards myself, and to the world as it relates to my	activity.	Still,	an	opponent	might	resist	my	claims	that there is	a distinctive	category	of	process	art.	They	might	insist	that	this	self-oriented	aesthetic	attention	is	only	an	intermediary	-	a	means	which	we use	to	come	to	grips	with	the	aesthetic	properties	and	aesthetic	value of the	underlying	static	object.	That is,	we	might think that, in	playing	Super Mario Brothers,	I	attend	to	my	own	experience	of	agency	as	a way	to	attend	to	the	aesthetic	qualities	of	the	game	itself.	Let's	call	this the	transparency	thesis	about	process	aesthetics,	since	we	are	looking through our processes just in order to get a better aesthetic handle on the object beyond them. The transparency thesis, if true, would reveal	that	all	this	so-called	process	aesthetics	was	but	a	peculiar	subcategory	of	object	aesthetics. But	the	transparency	thesis	seems	to	get	the	order	of	explanation the wrong way around. Attributions of process-type aesthetic qualities	to	games	are	grounded	in	attributions	of	aesthetic	qualities	to	the emergent	activity.	We	praise	games	as	aesthetically	good	precisely	because	they	bring	about	aesthetically	good	play.	Furthermore,	the	transparency	thesis	would	confine	our	aesthetic	attention	to	those	aspects of	our	actions	which	reveal	features	in	the	object.	That	is,	under	the transparency thesis, reflective	attention to	our	own	action is	part	of aesthetic	appreciation	only	insofar	is	it	reveals	aesthetic	properties	of the object. Thus, in appreciating an object through our activity, we should look primarily to the object-revealing features in our action. Take,	for	example,	a	rock	climb	in	which	a	particular	movement	was forced by the climb as the only movement that would allow progress. That forced move is closely tied to the object and thus highly c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 21 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) will	be	experiencing	exactly	the	same	aesthetic	property	as	it	arises	in exactly	the	same	activity.29 There is, of course, a sliding scale. The more rigidly delineated the	space	of	actions, the	closer those	experiences	will	be.	Some	videogames, such as Dragon's Lair, offer simple reflex challenges in a fixed	sequence.	Similarly,	some	rock	climbing	problems	require	such specific	and	precise	movements to	succeed that rock	climbers	often find themselves performing nearly identical sequences.30 But this is certainly	not	the	case	across	all	the	process	arts.	Many	of	the	process arts	offer	the	enactor	significant	freedom	of	choice,	where	various	enactors'	differing	decisions	will	help	shape	very	different	engagements for	each	of	them.	This	is	crucial,	since	many	of	the	process	arts	seem designed	to	support	those	aesthetic	qualities	which	arise	from	giving the	enactor	genuine	choices.	Perhaps the	deepest	pleasures	of	Turkish	breakfast	are	in	constructing	for	myself,	at	each	moment,	what	my next	most	pleasurable	bite	will	be. (One	might	note	a certain trend in	high-end	restaurants,	which	offer	carefully	constructed	single	bites. This	strategy	trades	away	diner	autonomy	in	favor	of	the	chef's	control of	the	experience,	presumably	in	the	name	of	bringing	the	dining	experience	towards	the	stability	of	object	art.)	Many	games	are	praised precisely	because	they	afford	their	players	genuine	freedom	-	because a	player's	choices	will	help	form	the	narrative	or	shape	the	simulated world.	In	fact,	some	games	seem	to	offer	us	an	aesthetic	experience	of our	own	freedom	(Gingerich	2018)	-	which	would	be	inaccessible	if the	designers	eliminated	choice	in	the	favor	of	a	controlled,	repeatable experience. 29.	Alternately, one might reject the claim that we can ever be in touch with the	same	aesthetic	properties,	even	in	the	object	arts.	One	might	think	that aesthetic	properties	depend	substantially	on	an	application	of	the	skills	and abilities	of	the	observer.	(Mary	Mothersill's	account	might	be	read	to	support such	a	view	[Mothersill	1984]).	That	may	be	true,	but	such	a	view	would	only further	erode the	reasons	one	might	have thought	elevated the	object	arts over	the	process	arts. 30.	Montero	discusses	how	dancers	may	approximate	a	shared	experience	of	motion	through	careful	talk	(Montero	2006). 7. The status of process art: On sharing experiences Why have we traditionally emphasized the object arts over the process	arts?	A	complete	diagnosis,	I	suspect,	will	draw	significantly	on the	resources	of	cultural	and	intellectual	history,	sociology,	economics, and more. Here, I will examine a few philosophical sources for the historical	preference	for	the	object	arts,	and	then	give	some	defenses of the	process	arts.	These	final	sections	of this	paper	should	be	considered	an	opening	salvo	on this topic; I	have	selected	a	handful	of skirmishes	to	help	illuminate	my	positive	account. One	philosophical	explanation	for	the	higher	status	of	the	object arts	is	that	they	make	available	a	relatively	stable	appreciative	focus. The	attentive	focus	is	on	a	shareable	object.	We	can	all	read	the	same work	and	talk	about	it.	We	lose	this,	to	some	degree,	with	process	art. There	is	an	artifact	we	can	share	-	the	game,	the	recipe,	the	city	-	but the	enactor's	agency	intervenes	between	the	designer's	work	and	the attentive	focus.	Obviously	this is true	with	enactor	process	arts, like tango,	but	it	is	also	true	for	artist	process	arts,	like	games.	Even	when the designers have tightly constrained the choice space to give the player's	activity	very	specific	aesthetic	qualities	-	still,	different	game players	have	different	skills	and	make	different	choices.	The	precise content of the attentive focus, and the precise form of its attendant aesthetic	properties,	varies	from	one	enactor	to	the	next,	even	when they	are	engaging	with	the	very	same	process	artwork. Why	did	we	want	a	stable	attentive	focus	in	the	first	place?	There are	a	few	reasons.	First,	the	practice	of	the	object	arts	makes	it	possible to	have	shared	experiences,	or	something	that	approaches	them.	One might think,	of	a	graceful	drawing, that the	gracefulness	was in the drawing itself. Thus, we different appreciators can all be in contact with	the	very	same	gracefulness.	With	the	process	arts,	on	the	other hand,	we	cannot	have	such	mutually	shared	contact	with	one	and	the same	aesthetic	property.	Since,	in	the	process	arts,	the	focus	of	appreciation	is	each	enactor's	own	separately	generated	activity,	no	enactors c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 22 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) 8. The status of process art: Cognitively, merit, and uniqueness Finally, one might worry that something about the appreciation of processes	essentially	conflicts	with	the	nature	of	the	aesthetic	and	of art.	According	to	some	popular	accounts	of	artistic	and	aesthetic	value, aesthetic	experiences	must	have	a	special	relationship	to	some	independent	states	of	affairs.31 First, it has been suggested that aesthetic experiences, by their nature, must involve some form of cognition of a distinct state of affairs.	Loosely,	the	thought	is	that	aesthetic	experiences	aren't	just	freefloating	pleasures	or	some	other	mental	state	whose	value	is	derived wholly	from	its	internal	character.	Rather,	aesthetic	experiences	must involve	an	accurate	perception	or	appraisal	of	some	independent	state of	affairs.	I	intend	'state	of	affairs'	here	to	include	anything	that	could be the	object	of	an	experience, including	physical	objects,	activities, internal	states,	and	events.32	There	are	at	least	two	versions	of	the	requirement	for	cognitivity.	Depending	on	the	account,	either	aesthetic experience	must	involve	the	correct	cognition	of	particular	aesthetic features	in	the	independent	state	of	affairs,	or	it	must	involve	the	correct	cognition	of	that	state's	aesthetic	merit.33	Such	theories	are	usually driven	by	the	need	to	explain	our	rational	discourse	about	aesthetic 31. I am using 'aesthetic experience' here for the sake of brevity; some of the theories	I	am	discussing	speak	in	terms	of	a	distinctive	character	to	"aesthetic appreciation"	or	"aesthetic	judgment".	Nothing	I	say	here	turns	on	the	differences between thinking of the aesthetic primarily in terms of experiences, appreciations,	or	judgments. 32. Note	that	my	way	of	putting	things	here	departs	from	the	typical	language	in the	academic	literature,	which	is	usually	of	relationships	between	aesthetic experiences and their objects. 'Objects' is meant in these cases to refer to 'objects	of	experience',	and	is	so	identical	in	meaning	to	my	use	of	the	term 'states	of	affairs'.	I	use	the	term	'state	of	affairs'	only	to	avoid	any	potential	confusion	between	the	notion	of	an	object	of	experience	(which	could	include activities)	and	the	notion	of	a	physical	object	(which	excludes	activities). 33. For	example,	Monroe	Beardsley's	account	of	aesthetic	value	makes	such	cognition a key component of valuable aesthetic experience (Beardsley 1979, 728).	Malcolm	Budd	makes	a	similar	claim	(Budd	1996).	More	recently,	James Shelley	's	account	and	Keren	Gorodeisky's	and	Eric	Marcus'	account	involve crucial	reference	to	such	a	principle	(Shelley	2010;	Gorodeisky	and	Marcus 2018).	For	a	further	discussion,	see	(Nguyen	2019b). In	such	cases	I	think	we	must	give	up	on	the	hope	of	sharing	precisely	the	same	content	in	our	engagements	with	process	art.	Here	is where	the	process	arts	differ	essentially	from	the	object	arts.	The	value of	much	process	art is that it	makes	significant	room	for the	agency of the	enactor.	Having	genuine	agency in	generating the	content	of one's	aesthetic	experience	is	at	odds	with	sharing	precisely	the	same content	with	others. On	the	other	hand,	the	process	arts	may	bring	to	different	people experiences of agency with very much the same character. Players typically	come	up	with	very	different	particular	solutions	to	particular puzzles, but the character of the experience	-	of coping with these puzzles	with	such	a	particular	and	peculiar	affordance,	of	having to learn	to	think	in	terms	of	manipulating	the	topology,	of	figuring	out particular	tricks	-	is	sharply	similar.	That	is	what	we	gain	by	putting attentional	frames	around	our	active	processes.	Different	enactors	are channeled into	a	similar	situation	when they	engage	with the	same process	artwork,	and	so	when	they	act,	the	qualities	of	their	actions can	be	quite	similar.	But	we	must	sacrifice	the	precise	shareability	of aesthetic	content	in	order	to	have	particularly	aesthetically	infused	experiences of our own free choice. What having framed process arts gets us is not precise shareability, in these cases, but some near approximation	-	far nearer than we would get otherwise. There will likely	be	little	overlap	in	the	experiences	of	process	aesthetics	that	you and	I	might	have	as	we	go	about	our incredibly	different	days,	with our	widely	varying	practical	struggles.	But	in	a	game,	we	can	fix	the goals,	fix	the	abilities	we	have,	and	fix	the	environmental	challenges. Even	if	you	and	I	don't	make	precisely	the	same	movement	to	get	over this	jumping	challenge	in	Super Mario Brothers,	we	are	using	the	exact same	fixed	abilities,	while	confronting	the	exact	same	challenges,	and pursuing	exactly	the	same	goal.	And	this	will	put	our	aesthetic	experiences	in	close	proximity	and	give	them	a	markedly	shared	character, even	if	we	aren't	fixed	on	exactly	the	same	aesthetic	object. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 23 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) value by eating, say, sautéed liver instead	-	and the liver would be just	as	valuable	to	me,	and	valuable	in	exactly	the	same	way.	As	James Shelley	puts	it,	the	particular	value	of	an	artwork	is	inseparable	from the	artwork	itself.35 Let's	grant,	for	the	moment,	that	artworks	must	be	unique	in	this way. Perhaps the problem with process art is that its artworks lack uniqueness.	If	the	value	of	a	process	artwork	is	not	in	the	artwork	itself,	but in	the	activity that it inspires, then	we	might	think	that the value	is	detachable	from	the	specific	artwork.	Perhaps	a	particular	occurrence	of	an	activity	-	like	one	particular	session	of	chess	-	might have	a	unique	value,	inseparable	from	that	particular	activity.	But	the artifacts	-	the	games,	the	recipes,	the	cities	-	are	too	distant	from	that unique	value, their features too	separable from	the	aesthetic	properties,	which	occur	far	downstream	of	the	artifact.	Thus,	we	might	conclude,	there	can	be	no	such	thing	as	process	artworks. But I do think process artworks can often have a sort of uniqueness,	though	one	that	comes	via	a	more	complex	series	of	stages	than with	object	artworks.	The	particular	qualities	of	a	process	artwork	can uniquely inform the aesthetic activities they inspire. The activity of solving	a	chess	puzzle	cannot	be	had	outside	of	chess.	Any	aesthetic value that we find in the player's chess activities, insofar as they are	unique	to	that	enactor's	engagement	with	chess,	is	also	unique	to chess.	And	the	exact	nature	of	that	aesthetic	value	is	informed	by	the particularities of chess' design. Let's call this feature aesthetic dependence.	An	activity is	aesthetically	dependent	on	an	artifact	when	the precise	aesthetic	character	of that	activity is	dependent	on its	being evoked by that particular artifact. In this way, the process arts have their own distinctive form of uniqueness. An enactor's activity can be	uniquely	valuable in the	same	way	a	piece	of	object	art	can.	But also,	in	many	cases,	that	activity	also	aesthetically	depends	upon	the 35. (Shelley	2010)	also	offers	an	excellent	overview	of	discussions	of	the	uniqueness	requirement,	including	versions	by	Malcolm	Budd,	Stephen	Davies,	and Jerrold Levinson. Budd offers a particularly clear statement of the view in (Budd	1996,	4–11). experiences	-	how	we	seem to	correct	each	other's aesthetic	experiences	by	pointing	out	features	we've	missed,	or	give	reasons	in	support of	a	given	evaluation	of	aesthetic	merit.	Aesthetic	life	often	involves getting	things	wrong	and	then	coming	to	see	things	rightly.	Features	of our	aesthetic	practice	seem	to	indicate	that	aesthetic	experiences	are not	free-floating;	rather,	they	must	arise	from	accurate	comprehension of	some	independent	state.	That	requires	a	separation	between	the	experience	itself	and	what	it	is	of.34	Perhaps	there	can	be	no	such	a	separation	with	process	artworks,	since	the	aesthetic	experiences	aren't	of the	artist's	work,	but	of	the	enactor's	own	activity. Suppose	we	grant	such	a	demand	for	a	separation	between	experience	and	the	independent	state	that	experience	is	of.	Even	then,	this presents	no	particular	problem	for	the	process	arts.	Such	independent states	need	not	be	external,	physical	artifacts.	That	is,	we	need	not	be limited	in	our	aesthetic	experiences	to	experiences	of	physical	objects. To	satisfy	the	cognitivity	requirement,	we	simply	need	our	experiences to	be	of	states	of	affairs	distinct	from	those	experiences.	In	the	process arts, that independent state	of	affairs is the	enactor's	activity,	which is	distinct	from	the	enactor's	experience	of	that	activity.	Doing	something	is	distinct	from	one's	experience	of	doing	it. Next, let's turn to the requirement for the	uniqueness	of	aesthetic value.	According	to	some,	the	value	of	an	artwork	must	be	unique	to that	artwork	-	unlike,	say,	the	value	of	money	or	nutrition.	According to	this	view,	the	value	of	a	particular	artwork	cannot	be	achieved	via a	different	artwork.	There is	no substitute for the	experience	of the Wu-Tang Clan's rap masterpiece Enter the Wu Tang (36 Chambers); its value	is	inextricably	specific	to	its	exact	content	and	aesthetic	properties.	Another	work,	like	Bill	Evans'	Sunday at the Village Vanguard,	might also	be	a	masterpiece,	but	it	does	not	offer	an	alternate	route	to	the very	same	value	offered	by	Enter the Wu Tang (36 Chambers).	Artwork values	aren't	fungible.	On	the	other	hand,	if	I	am	eating	this	spinach salad	strictly	for	its	Vitamin	K	content,	I	could	also	achieve	exactly	that 34. I	take	such	object/experience	views	to	be	expressed	by	(Shelley	2010)	and (Zangwill	2007,	127–159). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 24 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) without reference to the particular rules of the game in which they occurred.	A	leap	is	not	necessarily	a	game	action,	and	the	beauty	of a leap	not	necessarily	dependent for its	existence	on	being	situated within	a	particular	game.	On the	other	hand, the	actions	of	making a	basket	or	performing	an	assist	are,	by their	nature,	actions	within the	game	of	basketball.	The	actions	themselves	are	constituted,	in	part, by the game rules. If a particular game-action is beautiful as a game action, then that aesthetic activity is aesthetically dependent on the game.	If	the	loveliness	of	my	dunk	shot	arises	not	from	the	movements themselves,	but	from	the	movements	understood	as	moves	within	the game	-	from the fact that they are elegant solutions to challenges brought	into	being	by	the	rules	of	the	game	-	then	that	beautiful	dunk shot	is	aesthetically	dependent	on	the	game	of	basketball.	Which	is	not to	say	that	the	rules	of	basketball	entirely	fix	the	aesthetic	properties	of each	particular	dunk	shot.	This	is	the	essential	difference	between	the object	arts	and	the	process	arts.	My	dunk,	in	basketball,	is	mine.	But basketball	creates	the	conditions	for	that	dunk	and	its	beauty,	and	the rules	of	basketball	play	a	significant	and	inextricable	role	in	the	formation	of	that	particular	occurrence	of	beauty. The	process	arts,	then,	offer	their	own	peculiar	version	of	uniqueness.	In	many	cases	-	but	certainly	not	all	-	the	aesthetic	qualities	of the	enactor's	activity	are	inseparable	from	a	particular	work	of	process art.	This	does	not	mean	that	particular,	finalized	aesthetic	qualities	are to	be	found	in	the	process	artwork	itself.	But	the	process	artwork	creates the	special	background	conditions	under	which	those	aesthetic qualities	can	arise.	A	process	artwork	does	not	entirely	determine	the aesthetic	qualities that	arise from it,	but	many	of those	qualities	depend,	for	their	exact	nature,	on	the	particular	process	artwork	which enables	their	existence. 9. Conclusions I	have	offered	the	beginnings	of	a	diagnosis	of	the	traditional	preference	for	the	object	arts.	In	the	object	arts,	we	can	have	a	shared	object of	attention.	Furthermore,	in	the	object	arts,	it	is	fairly	straightforward particular process artwork that inspired it. In those cases, the value of the activity is dependent on the process artwork which provides the unique condition for its existence. Notice that the structures of the	uniqueness	relationships	are	different	between	the	object	and	process	arts.	The	uniqueness	relationship	in	object	arts	is,	conceivably,	a one-to-one	relationship.	Here	is	one	pair:	the	work	Enter the Wu Tang (36 Chambers) and its	value.	Each	uniquely	belongs to the	other.	But uniqueness	relationships	in	the	process	arts	have	a	tree-like	structure. The	game	Portal	can	give	rise	to	many	different	aesthetically	valuable activities,	but	each	of those	aesthetically	valuable	activities	depends on	Portal	as	the	unique	condition	of	its	existence. Not all process arts will give rise to aesthetic dependence, but many	do.	The	most	obvious	cases	of	aesthetic	dependence	are	games. In	Bernard	Suits' influential	analysis,	games	turn	out to	be	activities constituted by the specified constraints and goals	-	the rules of the game.	In	other	words,	a	set	of	game	rules	brings	into	being	new	sorts of	actions	and	activities.	What it is to	"make	a	basket", in	a	game	of basketball,	isn't	merely	to	pass	a	ball	through	a	metal	hoop.	To	make	a basket	is	to	pass	the	ball	through	the	hoop	while	obeying	the	dribbling rule	and	all	the	other	constraints,	and	while	facing	opponents.	There	is no	such	thing	as	"making	a	basket"	separate	from	those	various	rules.36 When the game uniquely constitutes the activity, and the aesthetic qualities	of	the	activity	depend	on	unique	features	of	the	activity,	then we	have	aesthetic	dependence. Suppose	I	am	playing	basketball	and	perform	an	absolutely	beautiful	fake-out, followed	by	a	perfect	behind-the-back	pass	to	my	teammate,	just	as	they	are	jumping	into	place	for	a	dunk.	The	various	aesthetic	properties	of those	actions	cannot	be	described	without references to the specific rules and constraints of basketball. This is not true	for	all	action	and	movement.	I	could	leap	with	elegance	and	flair, and, in some	cases, that	elegance	and	flair could	be	comprehended 36. (Suits	2005).	I've	given	a	slightly	simplified	summary	for	the	purposes	of	this argument.	I've	offered	a	detailed	analysis	of	Suits'	view	and	its	implications	in (Nguyen	2020,	5–11,	52–73). c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 25 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) Beardsley,	Monroe	C.	1979.	In	defense	of	aesthetic	value. Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association	52	(6):	723–749. Best,	David.	1974.	The	aesthetic	in	sport. British Journal of Aesthetics	14 (3):	197–213. Bigé,	Romain.	2017.	Tonic	space:	Steps	toward	an	aesthetics	of	weight in	contact	improvisation. Contact Quarterly	42	(2). Bishop, Claire. 2004. Antagonism and relational aesthetics. October Magazine	110:	51–79. ---. 2012. Artificial Hells: Participatory Art and the Politics of Spectatorship.	London:	Verso	Books. Bogost,	Ian.	2010. Persuasive Games: The Expressive Power of Videogames. Cambridge,	MA:	The	MIT	Press. Bourriaud, Nicolas. 2002. Relational Aesthetics. Trans. Mathieu Copeland,	Fronza	Woods,	and	Simon	Pleasance.	Dijon:	Les	presses	du réel. Budd,	Malcolm.	1996. Values of Art: Pictures, Poetry and Music.	London: Penguin	Books. Certeau,	Michel	de.	1984. The Practice of Everyday Life.	Trans.	Steven	F. Rendall.	Berkeley:	University	of	California	Press. Collingwood,	R.	G.	1938. The Principles of Art.	London:	Oxford	University	Press. Cordner,	C.	D.	1984.	Grace	and	functionality. The British Journal of Aesthetics	24	(4):	301–313. Crowther,	Paul.	2008.	Ontology	and	aesthetics	of	digital	art. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism	66	(2):	161–170. Davies,	David.	2004. Art as Performance.	Oxford:	Wiley-Blackwell. Dor,	Simon.	2014.	The	heuristic	circle	of	real-time	strategy	process:	A Starcraft:	Brood	War	case	study. Game Studies	14	(1). Dujovne,	Beatriz.	2011. In Strangers' Arms: The Magic of Tango.	Jefferson, NC:	McFarland	&	Company. Eaton,	A.	W.	Forthcoming.	Artifacts	and	their	functions.	In	The Oxford Handbook of History and Material Culture.	Ed.	Ivan	Gaskell	and	Sarah Anne	Carter.	Oxford:	Oxford	University	Press. to	locate	the	aesthetic	value.	If	the	value	of	an	artwork	lies	in	its	aesthetic properties, then the value of the object arts is fairly self-contained.	We	could,	at	least,	act	as	if	we	could	arrive	at	a	collective	shared judgment	of	an	object	artwork's	properties	and	value. It is	not	so	with	the	process	arts.	There,	the	value	is	far	more	distributed.	The	aesthetic	value	of	a	work	lies	in	its	capacity	to	instigate aesthetically	valuable	activity.	This	is	diametrically	opposed	to	many traditional	accounts	of	aesthetic	and	artistic	value.	Malcolm	Budd,	for example,	has	demanded	that	we	find	an	account	in	which	an	artwork is	valuable	in	itself,	and	not	merely	as	a	tool	for	some	further	experience	(Budd	1996).	With	the	process	arts,	we	must	admit	that	the	artwork	is,	in	fact,	often	merely	an	instrument.	In	many	cases,	the	primary aesthetic	value	attaches	to	the	instigated	activity	and	not	to	the	work itself.	The	work	can	play	an	indispensable	role	in	bringing	about	the particular	aesthetic	qualities	of	the	activity,	but	the	aesthetic	qualities are not finalized until the enactor has played their own active role. That is not something I think we can get past. It is essential to the very	nature	of	the	process	arts.	Of	course,	this	doesn't	tell	us	that	the practice	of	engaging	with	process	arts	has	less	aesthetic	value.	It	only shows	us	that	in	order	to	cope	with	it,	we	will	have	to	distribute	the locus	of	aesthetic	value	between	artwork	and	enactor's	activity.	This is,	in	fact,	exactly	what	makes	the	process	arts	special.	The	artifacts	of process	art	can	participate	substantially	in	the	aesthetic	end	product and	its	particular	value	-	without	finalizing	that	value.37 Bibliography Bacharach,	Sondra	and	Deborah	Tollefsen.	2010.	We	did	it:	From	mere contributors	to	coauthors. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 68	(1):	23–32. 37. I'd like to thank, for	all their	help	and	support	on	this	project,	Zed	Adams, Julianne	Chung,	Anthony	Cross,	John	Dyck,	Richard	Eldridge,	Jonathan	Gingerich,	Melissa	Hughs,	Alex	King,	Nick	Riggle,	Dominic	Lopes,	Aaron	Meskin, Shelby	Moser,	Guy	Rohrbaugh,	James	Shelley,	Leslie	Simon,	Nick	Stang,	Matt Strohl,	Angela	Sun,	Servaas	Van	der	Berg,	Mary	Beth	Willard,	Nick	Wiltshire, and	Sarah	Worth. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 26 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) Game Studies 13 (1). http://gamestudies.org/1301/articles/ karhulahti_kinesthetic_theory_of_the_videogame. Kirkpatrick, Graeme. 2011. Aesthetic Theory and the Video Game. Manchester:	Manchester	University	Press.	http://www.manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk/9780719077180. Korsmeyer, Carolyn. 1999. Making Sense of Taste: Food and Philosophy. Ithaca,	NY:	Cornell	University	Press. Lee, Jessica J. 2010. Home life: Cultivating a domestic aesthetic. Contemporary Aesthetics 8. https://www.contempaesthetics.org/ newvolume/pages/article.php?articleID=587. Lopes,	Dominic	McIver.	2010.	A Philosophy of Computer Art.	Routledge: New	York. ---.	2018. Being for Beauty: Aesthetic Agency and Value.	Oxford:	Oxford University	Press. Maskit, Jonathan. 2018. Urban mobility	-	urban discovery. Environmental Philosophy	15	(1):	43–58. Montero, Barbara. 2006. Proprioception as an aesthetic sense. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism	64	(2):	231–242. Mothersill, Mary. 1984. Beauty Restored. New York: Adams Bannister Cox,	1991. Nguyen, C. Thi. 2017a. The aesthetics of rock climbing. The Philosophers' Magazine	78:	37–43. ---.	2017b.	Philosophy	of	games.	Philosophy Compass	12	(8). ---.	2018.	What's	missing	from	cookbook	reviews? Aesthetics for Birds. ---.	2019a.	Games	and	the	art	of	agency.	The Philosophical Review 128 (4):	423–462. ---.	2019b.	Autonomy	and	aesthetic	engagement.	Mind.	https://doi. org/10.1093/mind/fzz054. ---.	2019c.	Monuments	as	commitments:	How	art	speaks	to	groups and	how	groups	think	in	art.	Pacific Philosophical Quarterly	100	(4): 971–994. ---.	2019d.	The	right	way	to	play	a	game.	Game Studies	19	(1). ---.	2020.	Games: Agency as Art.	New	York:	Oxford	University	Press. Finkelpearl,	Tom.	2013. What We Made: Conversations on Art and Social Cooperation.	Durham,	NC:	Duke	University	Press. Flanagan, Mary. 2009. Critical Play: Radical Game Design. Cambridge, MA:	The	MIT	Press. Forsey,	Jane.	2013. The Aesthetics of Design.	New	York:	Oxford. Gingerich, Jonathan.	2018.	Freedom	and	the	value	of	games. Canadian Journal of Philosophy 48	(6):	831–849.	https://www.tandfonline. com/doi/full/10.1080/00455091.2017.1423224. Gorodeisky, Keren and Eric Marcus. 2018. Aesthetic rationality. The Journal of Philosophy	115	(3):	113–140. Himberg, Tommi, Julien Laroche, Romain Bigé, Megan Buchkowski, and Asaf Bachrach. 2018. Coordinated interpersonal behavior in collective dance improvisation: The aesthetics of kinaesthetic togetherness. Behavioral Sciences	8	(2):	1–26. Irvin,	Sherri.	2005.	The	artist's	sanction	in	contemporary	art. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism	63	(4):	315–326. ---.	2008a.	Scratching	an	itch. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 66	(1):	25–35. ---. 2008b. The pervasiveness of the aesthetic in ordinary experience. The British Journal of Aesthetics 48 (1): 29–44. https://doi. org/10.1093/aesthj/aym039. Juul, Jesper. 2004. Half-Real: Video Games Between Real Rules and Fictional Worlds.	IT	University	of	Copenhagen,	Digital	Aesthetics	and Communication. ---.	2013. The Art of Failure: An Essay on the Pain of Playing Video Games. Cambridge,	MA:	The	MIT	Press. Kaltenbrunner,	Thomas.	1984. Contact Improvisation: Moving Dancing Interaction. 2nd ed. Trans. Nick Procyk. Oxford: Meyer & Meyer Sport,	2004. Kania,	Andrew.	2018.	Why	gamers	are	not	performers. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 76	(2):	187–199.	https://doi.org/10.1111/ jaac.12451. Karhulahti, Veli-Matti. 2013. A kinesthetic theory of videogames: Time-critical challenge and aporetic rhematic. c.	thi	nguyen The Arts of Action philosophers'	imprint – 27 – vol.	20,	no.	14	(may	2020) Vella,	Daniel.	2016.	The	ludic	muse:	The	form	of	games	as	art. CounterText	2	(1):	66–84. Waerebeek,	Ruth	Van.	1996. Everybody Eats Well in Belgium.	New	York: Workman	Publishing	Company. Willard, Mary Beth. 2018. On the aesthetics of playing piano. Aesthetics for Birds. https://aestheticsforbirds.com/2018/06/05/ on-the-aesthetics-of-playing-piano/. Wollheim,	Richard.	1980. Art and Its Objects.	2nd	ed.	New	York:	Cambridge	University	Press. Zangwill, Nick. 2007. Aesthetic Creation. Oxford: Oxford University Press,	2012. Osborne,	Harold.	1964.	Notes	on	the	aesthetics	of	chess	and	the	concept of intellectual beauty. The British Journal of Aesthetics 4 (2): 160–163. Paetzold, Heinz. 2013. The aesthetics of city strolling. Contemporary Aesthetics 11. https://www.contempaesthetics.org/newvolume/ pages/article.php?articleID=666. Parsons, Glenn and Allen Carlson. 2008. Functional Beauty. Oxford: Oxford	University	Press. Robinson,	Jenefer.	2012.	On	being	moved	by	architecture. The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 70	(4):337–353. Robson, Jon.	2018.	The	beautiful	gamer?	On the	aesthetics	of	videogame	performances.	In	The Aesthetics of Videogames.	Ed.	Jon	Robson and	Grant	Tavinor.	New	York:	Routledge. Saito,	Yuriko.	2007.	Everyday Aesthetics.	New	York:	Oxford	University Press. ---. 2015. "Aesthetics of the Everyday." In The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, edited by Edward N. Zalta, Winter 2015. Metaphysics Research Lab, Stanford University. https://plato.stanford.edu/ archives/win2015/entries/aesthetics-of-everyday/. Schellekens,	Elisabeth.	2007.	The	aesthetic	value	of ideas. In	Philosophy and Conceptual Art.	Ed.	Peter	Goldie	and	Elisabeth	Schellekens. Oxford:	Oxford	University	Press. Sharp, John.	2015. Works of Games: On the Aesthetics of Games and Art. Cambridge,	MA:	The	MIT	Press. Shelley, James.	2010.	Against	value	empiricism	in	aesthetics. Australasian Journal of Philosophy	88	(4):	707–720. Shusterman, Richard. 2012. Thinking Through the Body: Essays in Somaesthetics.	Cambridge:	Cambridge	University	Press. Suits,	Bernard.	2005. The Grasshopper: Games, Life and Utopia.	Peterborough:	Broadview. Tavinor,	Grant.	2009. The Art of Videogames.	Oxford:	Wiley-Blackwell. ---. 2010. Videogames and aesthetics. Philosophy Compass 5 (8): 624–634. Thorne,	John.	1992. Outlaw Cook.	New	York:	Farrar,	Straus	Giroux.