The #metoo movement has forced many fans to consider what they should do when they learn that a beloved artist has acted immorally. One natural thought is that fans ought to give up the artworks of immoral artists. In Why It's OK to Enjoy the Work of Immoral Artists, Mary Beth Willard argues for a more nuanced view. Enjoying art is part of a well-lived life, so we need good reasons to give it up. And it turns out good reasons (...) are hard to find. Willard show that it's reasonable to believe that most boycotts of artists won't succeed, so most of the time there's no ethical reason to join in. Someone who manages to separate the art from the artist isn't making an ethical mistake by buying and enjoying their art. She then considers the ethical dimensions of canceling artists and so-called "cancel culture," arguing that canceling is ethically risky because it encourages moral grandstanding. Willard concludes by arguing that the popular debate has overlooked the power of art to change our lives for the good. It's of course OK to decide to give up the artwork of immoral artists, but--as Willard shows in this provocative little volume--it's OK to continue to enjoy their art, as well. Key Features Offers accessible discussions of complicated philosophical topics like aesthetic value, collective action problems, and epistemic justice Provides a unique perspective and underexplored argument on the popular issue of cancellation Explores the role of aesthetic value in our lives, including its relation to our ethical decisions and our well being. (shrink)

Erich Hatala Matthes’s (2021)Drawing the Line is about what we ought to do when we discover that an artist whom we love has committed a great moral wrong. As it turns out, Matthes and I agree almost entirely on the moral obligations of the individual consumer. We both agree that it is necessary to ascertain whether the life of the artist affects the aesthetic quality of their work, and that we should attend to how continuing to engage with their work (...) publicly expresses our ethical values. Both of us wind up with a morally permissive stance, according to which individuals can, in some contexts, continue to engage with the artwork of immoral artists.There is one distinct difference in how we approached the problem. Matthes took up the question of the role and responsibility of institutions in his third chapter, a question I set aside almost entirely. In this article, I want to delve more deeply into the question of art institutions and their responsibilities to reform themselves. I will argue that the nature of aesthetic practice means that it is harder for an institution to tread the desirable middle ground between uncritically endorsing an immoral artist and cancelling them. (shrink)

To the person unfamiliar with the wide variety of street art, the term “street artist” conjures a young man furtively sneaking around a decaying city block at night, spray paint in hand, defacing concrete structures, ears pricked for police sirens. The possibility of the ethical criticism of street art on such a conception seems hardly worth the time. This has to be an easy question. Street art is vandalism; vandalism is causing the intentional damage or destruction of someone else’s property; (...) causing destruction or damage is wrong. The only remaining question is which of two coarse-grained models of ethical criticism we choose. The ethicist model holds that a work of art that exhibits ethically bad properties is a work that is thereby aesthetically flawed. That is, the work is flawed as a work of art just because of its ethical flaws. Bad ethics make art worse than it otherwise would have been, although it may be aesthetically successful otherwise. The autonomist model, by contrast, holds that the ethical properties of a work of art have no bearing at all on its aesthetic success. One might suppose, therefore, that on either model, a criticism of street art would be relatively easy to undertake. In defacing public property, some street art exhibits and endorses ethically bad attitudes. On the ethicist model, such a work is thereby pro tanto aesthetically flawed because in the process of creating such works, they violate ethical norms concerning the use of public spaces; on the autonomous model, any ethical criticism of the aesthetics of street art would need to be set aside entirely in favor of criticism that focused purely on the aesthetic properties of street art. I will argue in this paper that neither the ethicist nor the autonomist model adequately captures the moral landscape of street art. Street art may indeed be criticized productively on aesthetic grounds for the destruction it does to public spaces, but the existing models of ethical criticism overlook the complex ethical landscape of street art that results from its use of public spaces. In the interplay of various forms of street art we can see the emergence of an ethical criticism of art that is accomplished by the material properties of related artwork, and consists in the creation of a dialogue over the proper use of contested public spaces. (shrink)

Not all public art is bad art, but when public art is bad, it tends to be bad in an identifiable way. In this paper, I develop a Waltonian theory of the category of public art, according to which public art standardly is both accessible to the public and minimally site-specific. When a work lacks the standard features of the category to which it belongs, appreciators tend to perceive the work as aesthetically flawed. I then compare and contrast cases of (...) successful and unsuccessful public art to show that accessibility and site-specificity are features which tend to preclude the other. It is difficult, although hardly impossible, for a site-specific work to remain accessible, and difficult for an accessible work to engage adequately with the site on which it is situated. As a result, while not all public art is bad, the features peculiar to public work encourage a latent tendency toward badness. (shrink)

Matthes and I both hold that the central ethical harm of continuing to engage with the work of immoral artists lies in what doing so inadvertently expresses to others. (Matthes, 2021; Matthes, 2022; Willard, 2021; Willard, 2022). We also agree that there’s little wrong ethically with continuing to engage the work of immoral artists in private or within interpretive communities poised to place the ethical and the aesthetic in dialogue with each other. Matthes (2022, p. 523) notes that part of (...) his motivation for writing the book was the countless conversations he had with friends, colleagues, and strangers about the problem of immoral artists, and my experience–—everywhere from the doctor’s office to the classroom to the bike shop—was similar. Interpretive communities reappraise immoral artists’ art together.Outside of those contexts, we both advise caution. Liao (forthcoming) suggests that doing so comes at an unrecognized cost to our aesthetic agency because the source of aesthetic value is social. In response, Matthes (2022) argues that attending to the social expression of one’s aesthetic pursuits does not compromise our aesthetic agency. This seems right. Any reasonable account of the value of aesthetic agency should presumably allow for ordinary human decency to restrain one’s public expression of one’s aesthetic loves. The proper exercise of aesthetic autonomy requires not unbridled freedom, but sensitivity to the right kinds of reasons. (shrink)

This chapter first distinguishes between originality and creativity. True originality is rare, whether in art, science, or LEGO, because to be truly original means to have done something that no one has ever done before, and that no one could have anticipated. Most LEGO creations will not meet that condition, for with the exception of serious hobbyists who undertake massive builds, most players who make original creations are making creations that are commonplace. Painting or remolding or placing stickers on the (...) bricks counts against the spirit of LEGO creation. The chapter then discusses The LEGO Movie embodies the paradox that presents three conflicting models of creative LEGO play, illustrated by the Master Builders, Finn's father, and Emmet. The movie's creators were deliberately playing around with conflicting popular conceptions of creativity: creativity as madness, creativity as thinking outside the box, and creativity as vision. (shrink)

I present a case study of the use of a table-top role-playing game in a mid-level course that presupposes no previous familiarity with philosophy. The course covered philosophical analyses of propaganda and language, and the pedagogical purpose of the game was to help students grasp the basics of philosophical and linguistic theories of assertion quickly. The game, Sign, directs players to create a signed language collaboratively, and thus forces them to pay attention to the subtle ways in which communication occurs.

I present a case study of the use of a table-top role-playing game in a mid-level course that presupposes no previous familiarity with philosophy. The course covered philosophical analyses of propaganda and language, and the pedagogical purpose of the game was to help students grasp the basics of philosophical and linguistic theories of assertion quickly. The game, Sign, directs players to create a signed language collaboratively, and thus forces them to pay attention to the subtle ways in which communication occurs.