This is not an attempt to redefine art, as many art critics have tried to do. Rather, it is an in-depth analysis of art as a concept, explaining the term in its broadest sense, with only a few exceptions: First, the meaning as a synonym for acquired skill or special talent is not included. Psychoanalysis, for example, is an art, but it is not art. Second, claims that anything is art and everything is art are thoroughly discredited. Art is something specific. The aim here is to explain exactly what that something is.

The precept of definition demands that we should try not to take offense with anyone's application of the term, but rather try to explain how the term came to be applied. Art critics (both cultured and uncultured) may find this mode of defining unsatisfactory, having been offended on occasion by people claiming something is art when it clearly lacks some quality (such as good taste) they deem essential for proper application of the term, art. But here, matters of opinion have been weeded out. What remains is a rigorous methodology capable of explaining why certain applications of the term are logical while others are not.

A somewhat vague term---artistic purpose---is used here to depict the mysterious motivations that lie behind human expressions of the aesthetic variety. It is enough to say that in creating art the person has a purpose beyond the simple desire to create something practical and utilitarian. We cannot specify exactly what that purpose (or purposes) is. Even though art springs from a broad range of human motivations, we need only acknowledge that people do things that are meant to beautify or to creatively express ideas. Artistic purpose is a genuine phenomenon. Evidence of it exists. This evidence is what we call art, and it can occur in degrees so minute as to go unnoticed.

Granted, the distinction between artistic purpose and utilitarian purpose is very subtle, a subject of debate in some cases. Advertisements, for example, are often a creative blend of artistic form and utilitarian function. But this blending of purposes need not confuse us. We know there are advertisements that are not artistic, and art which does not advertise. In defining art it is sufficient that we are able to recognize these two different purposes for things and realize that in some cases one or the other is not present or does not apply.

Another subtle distinction employed here is between evoking and reflecting. If something evokes an idea, it is capable of summoning that idea into conscious awareness by its own force or nature. If something merely reflects an idea, it is compatible with the idea but lacks the ability to summon that idea into conscious awareness all by itself.

Art results from a dynamic intersection of two closely related ideas (hereafter referred to as elements), where each is supporting or contributing to the other. To be properly called art, a thing must involve both of these elements. This categorization (splitting one concept into two) corresponds to a natural human bias in perception. Both elements are related to human expectations that can be categorized according to an intrinsic-extrinsic dimension, one being intrinsic and the other extrinsic to the art thing itself. This dualistic perspective naturally gives rise to a third idea, that of an intrinsic-extrinsic boundary.

It goes without saying that some things are more obviously art than others. The reason for this is the variable nature of the above-mentioned elements. In some cases both elements will be clearly evident and clearly distinguishable (from each other). In other cases the elements will be highly subjective and practically indistinguishable.

Sometimes a work of art will evoke only one of the elements and merely reflect the other. Art of this type exemplifies the fact that two distinctly different elements are affecting our perception.

Let us say I am an accomplished sculptor. My exhibition at the art gallery is just about to open when I realize that one of my sculptures got left behind at the studio. I do not have time to retrieve it. In a flash of inspiration I go out the back door of the gallery and into the alley where there are several cans of garbage. I grab one of the cans at random, bring it inside, and set it in the spot reserved for the absent sculpture. As the foul smell of rotting garbage fills the room, I make out a card--- "Can of Garbage #1 / Andrew Akers / found objects / $2,900.00"

The garbage can in the art gallery is art (maybe not good art, but art nonetheless). The garbage cans in the alley are not. The difference is artistic context. I created a work of art simply by changing the context of an object, moving it from its natural environment to a special environment created for an artistic purpose. By the same token, a block of marble in my studio is not art. But if I place it on a pedestal, under a light, in a gallery, and call it "Venus in Marble" it becomes art. Art is sometimes nothing more than creative placement of things. Sculpture was used as an example, but the principle is applicable to all artistic media. For example, a dog's barking is not art; but if I record the sound and seriously label it as music then the barking becomes art. Similarly, an old man scratching himself is not art; but if I put him on a stage in front of an audience and call it theater then his scratching becomes art.

Generally speaking, an artist carries out some artistic purpose by adding to whatever culture has determined to be a blank background---an artistic context. To use an obvious example, painters usually paint on a piece of canvas that has been stretched over a rectangular frame made of wood or cardboard. This custom evolved as a result of artists painting on various surfaces until the most suitable one was found. So many painters painting on stretched canvas has led to a situation where paint on stretched canvas is nearly always considered art.

We learn very early in life that a picture frame has the function of enhancing two-dimensional works of art. Consequently, almost anything on a wall surrounded by a picture frame is taken to be art. If I drill a hole in the art gallery wall and hang a frame around it, the hole becomes art. If I say, "Look into that hole and you will see art." then whatever can be seen in the hole becomes art, even if it is only blackness. If there was a common phenomenon in our culture known as "art holes," the visual cues alone would lead passers-by to look in the hole and perceive the blackness as art.

The point here is that the experience of art is strongly influenced by culture and convention. Where an environment (such as an art gallery) evokes artistic context (that is, evinces artistic purpose of a contextual nature) it will generally cause anything placed therein to reflect artistic content. As a general rule, that which is displayed as art is art. Hence the creation of art often involves the use (or even creation) of artistic context.

Let us say that my impromptu sculpture, Can of Garbage #1, receives rave reviews at the exhibition. The critics praise it: "Daring;" "...innovative;" "...a stroke of genius." Thus encouraged, I set to work on a new sculpture---Can of Garbage #2. Working in molded fiberglass I attempt to create an exact replica of a can of garbage. I carefully make a mold of each piece of garbage and of the can itself. Once formed, I meticulously paint each piece of molded fiberglass to match the original. The end result is a painted fiberglass sculpture which, to the untrained eye, looks just like a can of garbage. As a finishing touch I spray it with garbage juice so that it will stink like the real thing.

I schedule another exhibition and, in another flash of inspiration, decide to exhibit the sculpture in the back alley among the real cans of garbage. I lock the front entrance to the gallery and post a sign directing patrons to the back door. The sculpture gets no title, no special lighting, and no mention whatsoever. All day long patrons file by the sculpture not even realizing that it is a sculpture.

Can of Garbage #2 is art. But context has little or nothing to do with it; the context (an alley) acts to camouflage the sculpture rather than draw attention to it.

Now let us say that a vagrant wanders through the alley looking in all the garbage cans. Being an expert on garbage, he spots my clever fake. He is impressed by the fine craftsmanship, the meticulous attention to detail. He wonders, What led a person to create a near-perfect replica of a can of garbage? He will have to conclude that it is the creation of an artist, and serves an artistic purpose. What else could it be but art?

Artistic content---the artistically purposeful quality evident in a thing---is the intrinsic dimension to the concept of art. As a general rule, a thing (or part of a thing) which appears to serve no practical utilitarian purpose and yet shows evidence of human design or craftsmanship is presumed to be art. Artistic content can cause the thing's surroundings to reflect artistic context. That is, it can cause the thing to be distinguished from an environment that is not purposeful in the same way. The context does not necessarily have to be artistic to begin with; it automatically becomes so once the artistically purposeful thing comes to reside there and be recognized as art. Thus the alley behind the art gallery becomes an artistic context for Can of Garbage #2.

This is not to suggest that things that normally serve a practical, utilitarian purpose cannot be transformed into art. On the contrary; such things can be rendered useless by taking them out of their "normal" environment or by altering or adding to them in some way as to make their intended function impossible.

Human perception tends to divide everything into pieces. Art, being a thing, is consequently perceived according to this scheme---as a combination of elements. A perceptual bias makes it seem that content is the only dimension, that context is insignificant. But while artistic content is central to the concept of art, artistic context is equally significant due to the mental habit of denoting a boundary between an object and its surroundings. To perceive something as art we must experience it as occurring in a context of some kind. A conceptual division is responsible for creating this essential boundary between subject and background, and thus is important to understanding the experience of art.

In the evolution of the concept of art, artistic content (the intrinsic dimension) can be understood as having come first, a natural outgrowth of artistic purpose. From artistic content arose a second idea, artistic context, which represents the kind of (extrinsic) backgrounds against which artistic content tends to stand out. This second concept took on a life all its own. As a result, the experience created by a thing of art is often partly (and sometimes entirely) determined by things seemingly unconnected with the art thing itself.

In addition to the basic mechanics of observation, culture and convention play a part in determining what gets called art. Not surprisingly, many of the rich traditions associated with art involve boundaries. The most notable of these traditions is the use of picture frames. These decorative objects merely accentuate the physical boundaries of two-dimensional pieces of art, falling into the category of either content or context.

Again, consider a typical painting: Looking beyond the painted surface of the canvas we find the edge of the canvas plane, with its four straight sides and four right-angle corners. This is the customary shape for borders (and for frames). We have been conditioned, when we look at a typical painting, to ignore the rectangular shape and structure and focus exclusively on the arrangement of paint. The border is something we expect to see, so much so that we take it for granted. So it is with all art; as a general rule, art appears to have a boundary, either in space or in time, and appears self-contained.

The definition of art presented here involves only these two elements; we essentially exclude everything else. As a result the concept of art will seem to become more concrete in some ways, more abstract in others. But the end result is a definition that is both logical and practical, one that does not get bogged down by inevitable uncertainties. Either a thing is art or it is not, based on available facts. Either both elements are present or they are not.

In the process of extracting "artistic" things from our environment, our minds, infected with the notion of art, will go so far as to impose order on what is essentially chaos. Sometimes the boundary is in fact merely a pretense, a product of perception. Saying that art appears to have a boundary (as in the general rule italicized above) means exactly that---in some cases no true boundary exists; the art is not really self-contained. This does not mean that art is ubiquitous or indefinable; the impression of boundary arises precisely because the two artistic elements of content and context are perceived at the same time.

Moreover, despite the importance placed on artistic purpose in defining art, there is no general rule about human intervention. This is because we must allow for unexplained connections between the mental and physical worlds. Whether such connections are coincidences, "divine interventions," or something else entirely, we must allow for them. To exclude meaningful but unexplained experiences from our definition of art is to leave the question (Is it art?) open to potentially unending debate. And so we need to concede that naturally occurring things can sometimes qualify as art if they are perceived to be symbolically meaningful.

If the boundary between artistic content and artistic context is so important to our perception of art, how is it we can recognize that artistic features are incorporated into the design of something other than art? How is it we can say that artistic purpose is evident, without knowing exactly how or where? The answer is simply that we perceive the presence of both elements---art and non-art (or content and context)---and presume that a boundary exists.

Take a modern automobile for example. It is primarily a utilitarian device---a transportation appliance. But in another sense it is a work of art. That is, it usually has artistic features incorporated into its design. These features are intended to enhance its appearance or to evoke certain ideas, such as the idea of motion. The artistic features are more than simply applied ornaments; they are incorporated into the design to such a degree that it is nearly impossible for anyone (except the designers) to recognize where the utilitarian aspects end and the artistic aspects begin. Yet we clearly recognize that both aspects are present.

If we do not perceive the actual boundaries (known only to the designers), what do we perceive when we recognize artistic features in an automobile? Recall that we see art in terms of artistic content and context. The context in this case is a metal machine for transporting humans over roads at high speeds. The content is something we experience when we look at the machine---a subjective feeling that signals the influence of artistic purpose. The automobile itself is objective and physical. The art is essentially spiritual; we believe it is there based on faith in what we feel. The "boundary" is a product of these distinctly different perceptions coming together in a single object.

An automobile is art, but not an example of what we might call pure art---objects which are all content. With pure art, boundaries are clearly defined. The necessary context for such objects exists outside their boundary, external and independent. It can be provided by almost anything. If the context is an art museum, we can observe the art museum separately and notice that it is a blend of art and architecture---another work of art, if you will.

Notice that the art museum, like the automobile, is not pure art; it has a practical side. This practical side provides a contrast to its artistic side, and thus a context for its content. What is significant in these examples is that the context is incorporated into the art object, differentiated only by the fact that it does not itself evoke artistic content. This is the case wherever the all-important boundary is not directly observable. The general rule here is that where the boundary between artistic content and artistic context cannot be readily identified, physical or practical aspects of the whole tend to get associated with context.

Imagine a Mormon missionary is wandering through the desert somewhere in the Southwestern United States, hoping to receive a message from God. He comes across a rock that to him, in his state (exhausted, dehydrated, and delusional), resembles the face of Jesus Christ. A feeling comes over him. He determines that an inhabitant of North America carved the rock 2000 years ago. In his opinion, it is genuine proof that Jesus Christ visited the Continent shortly after His resurrection in Jerusalem, as revealed in the holy Book of Mormon.

Is the rock art? It depends, a person might say, on whether the rock is really carved. Thus a geologist is required to pronounce judgement on the reputed artifact. But let us say the face turns out to be a product of natural erosion, not ancient artistry. And in light of this finding the Mormon insists the rock is even more miraculous than he first thought; it was created by God's own hand. More questions arise: Who is God? What kind of special rock-carving abilities does He have?

The point here is that there is no need to consult a geologist or a theologian for the answers to these questions; the questions are not important. Art is more about perception than about scientific fact or expert opinion. It is not important that another observer might think the rock's artistic qualities are simply an illusion, or might not see them at all. As demonstrated by Can of Garbage #2, art can go unnoticed. So long as just one person perceives something as art then it is art, regardless of what others perceive.

The rock reflects artistic purpose within the cultural context that the Mormon observer brings with him into the desert. With that particular viewpoint a person (the Mormon) can associate a thing (the rock) with some kind of artistic purpose on the part of another person (ancient Indian; God). This purposeful quality---artistic content---turns the surrounding desert into an artistic context, just as Can of Garbage #2 turned the alley into an artistic context when seen from just one person's viewpoint.

The Mormon is not aware of the fact that he is merely lending his own artistic purpose to an object that previously had none. Nor is he likely to become aware of the fact. The nature of his faith, combined with the nature of human perception (which is to break things down into bits and pieces), causes the Mormon to mentally separate a single rock from the surrounding landscape. Consequently, both elements of art are present in the Mormon's experience: artistic content and artistic context.

As a general rule, a thing is art not because someone says it is art, but because someone believes it is art. Thus it is sufficient that the Mormon believes that God exists, that He used the forces of nature to carve the rock, and that He had an artistic purpose in mind when He did it. As long as the Mormon is alive and believing in the doctrine of the Mormon Church, he continues to give the necessary cultural context to the rock, maintaining its artistic purpose. However, if the Mormon dies in the desert before he can tell another believer about his find, then the rock ceases to be art.

III. FALSE REPORTS

In the absence of a general rule about human intervention, some possibilities will need to be explored. Having opened the door wide to claims of art created by supernatural sources and having unidentifiable boundaries, we must now close it, least the definition of art be left entirely open-ended. The difficulty in defining art is that it is essentially a subjective thing. Whether we like the fact or not, any claim of its presence must be presumed to be correct unless a solid case can be made against it.

Although the experience of art is subjective, the art experienced must be objective (a thing of some kind). If a person says "That is art," we may reasonably seek to know what "that" is. To judge whether something is art we need certain information. If someone falsely reports (though truly believes) to have experienced a work of art, reasonable inquiries alone can sometimes prove the claim incorrect. Specifically, if the person cannot logically explain what thing he or she is referring to, we can say that the report is mistaken---that there is no art, that the experience reported to be of art probably came from something else.

A religious person may believe that the entire universe and everything in it was designed and created by God, that the creation fulfilled some purpose, and that the purpose was artistic. This does not mean that everything is art. As previously said, art requires two elements. The belief that "everything is art" projects artistic content onto the entire universe, leaving nothing to reflect a corresponding artistic context. "Everything" is all-inclusive; if not, there is error in applying the term. The only logical alternative to everything is nothingness. But nothingness is not a background, context, or thing of any kind. It is an idea without substance. Therefore, even if someone believes that everything is art, he or she is mistaken. We can say that either the term "everything" has been applied to something which is clearly not or the artistic context is imaginary.

Before putting the issue to rest, however, we need to examine some of the religious person's other beliefs. For one, a realm of spiritual things, existing wholly apart from the realm of physical things, could conceivably serve as a background to the realm of physical things (defined as "everything"). Another context for everything might be God himself. As the argument goes, God created everything and so cannot be a part of the "everything" he created. That is, God is not a substance in the ordinary sense.

Recall the example of how a modern automobile can be seen as art. In our perception, the pure art is mentally extracted from the pure machine, creating the necessary elements of content and context, respectively. This mental division demonstrates how artistic content is something we hypothesize from the spiritual aspects of a thing---the mere sense that artistic purpose was involved in its creation. This is always the case, even where a boundary is distinct. Suppose, for example, that a framed painting has the very practical purpose of concealing a wall safe. It is thus a cover as well as an art piece. But even as a cover it has artistic qualities. Its utilitarian function borrows as much from the artistic content as it can and converts it into context, so that the framed, picture-covered canvas itself becomes part of the safe and (by extension) part of the wall. After the non-artistic purpose of the painting is understood, what art that is left over is essentially non-physical, little more than an impression left on the observer.

When the boundary between content and context is positioned at an extreme limit so as to isolate (as much as possible) the pure art, it tends to separate that which is sensed physically from that which is sensed mentally or spiritually, the former being relegated to the role of context. As a rule, where only one element of art is apparent to an observer, that element will be context.

Whereas everyone is aware of the physical world, not everyone experiences God or a spirit world. So the above notion of the physical world as artistic content and the spiritual world as artistic context goes contrary to the usual arrangement. Similarly, God, whose presence is merely felt, cannot logically serve as a context for the universe, the presence of which is directly observable.

Belief in a Creator raises many questions. For one, what about the practice of looking at just any physically or temporarily disconnected things as art objects within other art objects (like paintings in a museum)? As we shall see, this view does not stand up to the kind of logical scrutiny demanded by a proper definition of art. If two phenomena regularly occur together then there is no case to be made for one of them being art. I may walk into an alley, look at a can of garbage and imagine it as art, but that does not make it art. The unavoidable fact is that cans of garbage are naturally found in alleys.

Going back to the first example, if Can of Garbage #1 is "exhibited" in an alley among other cans of real garbage, it ceases to be art. That is, Can of Garbage #1, without its special artistic context, would no longer reflect artistic content. For an ordinary can of garbage to be art, someone must have (in some way) created a distinction between the can of garbage that is art and those that are not. Or at the least someone must believe that an artistically purposeful distinction exists.

We can take an example from nature: Although a honeybee can move from flower to flower, it is also very much a part of each flower. In a broad sense each depends on the other for its form and existence. If there is artistic purpose to either one (assuming divine creation), it is the same artistic purpose. So the boundary between bee and flower, though quite distinct, is not one of differing artistic purpose. Put in the form of a general rule, although the boundary between a thing and its surroundings may be well defined, the thing is not artistically purposeful or meaningful unless it appears that someone has acted to make it so.

Let us return now to the question of whether the universe is one big work of art. In the religious beliefs of some people, the universe might be seen as an artistic event initiated and (some would say) directed by God. Certainly an event can be art, and artistic events necessarily occur in a context that includes time itself. Moreover, we cannot place an arbitrary time limit on artistic events. Looking at the universe as an event, with a beginning and (we will suppose) an end, eternity might conceivably serve as a context. On closer examination, however, "eternity" is just another idea without substance. Time is the true context for an event. Time and space, as Albert Einstein demonstrated, are relative. That is, they co-exist and are naturally related, just as bee to flower or garbage can to alley. Generally speaking, things belong together if they are naturally found together and so the juxtaposition does not amount to art. For this reason, time cannot serve as background for the universe, which is mostly space.

We have seen that art itself is primarily a thing (an object or event) and that the quality or qualities that make a thing art can exist within the thing, around the thing, or both. And we have seen that to get to the heart of what art really is we must examine both the observer and the thing observed. Unlike most other things, art's boundary between its inside and its outside, though generally overlooked, plays a crucial role in our perception. It is part of the raw experience of art. Consequently, the idea of a boundary between artistic things is useful in the task of determining what is art and what is not. Toward this end we need to further isolate and examine this often arbitrary and flexible boundary.

Recall the Mormon missionary's experience: The rock with the face on it evokes artistic content; he sees it as art. And an otherwise ordinary dessert with ordinary rocks makes a logical contrast to (and hence context for) the art he claims to see. Thus his claim that the rock is art, though rather dubious, is one we must accept because it meets the minimal requirements of the definition. We can be generous in our evaluation of the missionary's claim mainly because his "artistic" discovery has a definite boundary. Though he may believe that everything was designed and created by God for a purpose, the Jesus-faced rock, in his view, was clearly designed or created for a purpose quite different from that of the surrounding landscape.

We need to deal with still another aspect of religious belief---the idea that not all of nature is interconnected and interdependent. Creation stories allow a person to believe that God created the world in a series of steps, each of which independently met with His approval. In this view, various stages (or combinations of steps) must have existed without the latter steps for a period of time (if only a day). For example, a lifeless rock of a planet (which we all agree Earth once was) might serve as a context for organic life in all of its diversity. One can readily argue that the context is real; not all planets have life on them. Artistic content, then, would appear to be simply a matter of faith in a grand Creator who had an artistic purpose in mind when He created life. However, there are logical problems with this claim.

First of all, we cannot grant that the other known planets make a suitable contrast to Earth. Given all the unknown facts about our planet (particularly its age) as well as our limited knowledge of the cosmos, we are at a loss to find evidence that the presence of life is not inevitable. Perhaps all planets with large quantities of liquid water are bound to develop life. So if we are to make a lifeless planet Earth a context for art, we must at least grant that, as a context, it is unique in our experience.

From the above realization emerges a more serious problem with this claim: the subject (organic life) has caused some dramatic changes to the supposed background (an inorganic planet). The abundance of plant and animal life has a profound impact on global climate, causing wind to blow and rain to fall in places where it otherwise might not. Just over the past few thousand years these rains and winds (and even the plants and animals themselves) have altered the shape of mountains, rivers, and coastlines. Consequently, the true nature of the hypothetical context (Earth without life) is unknowable.

All things considered, what we have here is a case of an indistinct boundary between subject and background. As noted previously, a background cannot, in itself, evoke artistic content in such cases. If the creation of the planet and the creation of life were both carried out with artistic purpose, then the two are parts of a single piece of pure art. If organic life was created with an artistic purpose in mind and the planet as a support structure for organic life, we are still talking about a single piece of pure art. (This is no different than saying that a painting---stretcher, frame, and all---is pure art.) The same logic applies to whatever step of creation (or stage of evolution) we happen to focus upon. The subject matter of each was not simply added on top of the previous one, leaving it (and any artistic elements it might evoke) distinct and intact. Instead, each step of creation seems to have become the raw material for the next, as if each new component was intended to make use of utilitarian aspects of previous components.

A clear, distinctive boundary is essential when defining where one piece of art ends or another begins. Where such a boundary is blurred or undecipherable we experience a single piece of art (though perhaps multiple artistic purposes). The rule here is that whenever we observe two different works of art we do so only because we observe a distinct boundary (or boundaries) between them.

Despite its intuitive appeal, the idea that organic life is art created by God does not have logical consistency because of the indistinct boundary involved. Regardless of what one believes, biological life in itself cannot be art because it is not distinctly separate from the inorganic planet that supports it. Nor can any higher form of life be art when viewed against a "background" of pre-existing lower forms.

As if to get around the logical problem of indistinct boundaries, the religious person could suppose that earlier stages of creation were purely utilitarian while the final stage involved true artistic purpose. It is well within the definition (thus far) to look at planet Earth as serving some unknown utilitarian purpose, and hence being a context for humans (as artistic expressions, ornaments, etc.), with a blurred boundary involving all other life forms. Mankind, in this view, is quite unlike anything that came before. (Creation stories make this clear.) Thus the religious person may believe his or her self to be a work of art, or a part of a larger work of art consisting of all humankind. Human beings are special in many ways; could it be that we are at the apex of God's art work, the essence of God's artistic stamp on creation? For the immediate purpose (defining art) we need only look at one way human beings are special: Human beings create art.

An animal may strive to create something that humans might consider purely aesthetic, but in nature this is done to attract a mate. Though aesthetically pleasing, these arrangements (of movements, sounds, or objects) are simply means to an obvious end. They can be considered purely utilitarian from the animal's point of view. The purpose is reproductive, not artistic. There may be an art to what animals instinctively do to attract mates, but the end result is not art.

The opposite is true in the case of animals using human tools and techniques. Here we can simply ignore the animal and focus attention on the human behind the scenes. The person responsible for giving the animal the tools (and perhaps showing it the technique) can be seen as acting with an artistic purpose in mind. Artists are free to use or create whatever tools will help them fulfill an artistic purpose, even to the point of total automation. Photography, for example, is automated picture making, but can serve artistic purposes nevertheless. Similarly, an animal can be viewed as a tool used in the creation of art. This remains true regardless of what sense of artistic purpose the animal may develop on its own as a result of being exposed to an artistic medium. So anything animals produce which even hints at a human influence must be art.

Now suppose a religious person, inspired by his religious beliefs, creates a work of art for the artistic purpose of glorifying his Creator. Who shall we say is the artist---the human, or the God who created him? In the religious person's view (and it is this view we are concerned with), God intended for humans to acknowledge Him, worship Him, and glorify him. From this perspective we can say that the human has a utilitarian function, which is to create works of art that fulfill the purposes of his or her creator. God, then, is the real artist behind the glorifying art; the human is simply a tool.

Tools used in creating art may have artistic qualities incorporated into their design, but there is a utilitarian aspect as well. They are not pure art themselves. Even if we conceive of a tool that can do nothing but make art, this is not the kind of "artistic purpose" that evokes content. The tool may conceivably serve as the artistic context for its product, but as long as it functions as intended it does not stand alone as pure art.

Having discovered a utilitarian purpose for human beings and having linked it to the same belief system that found artistic purpose, we are in a position to deny the claim that human beings are pure art (or more precisely, the artistic feature of planet Earth). Upon examination we find that the religious person's claim conflicts with some of that person's other beliefs regarding the nature of human beings. Specifically, if God created humans for a purpose, it was not entirely an artistic purpose. If God intended for humans to carry out His will, and if part of His will was that they should serve their Creator through art, then humankind cannot be a work of art in the pure sense.

So even judging within the religious person's particular point of view, the "pure art" claim is unfounded. The same belief system that is responsible for finding artistic purpose in the thing also finds a utilitarian purpose co-existing. Since utilitarian aspects are always relegated to the role of context, a boundary is apparent within the alleged art object itself. The other background (in this case, planet Earth) is rendered irrelevant because of a simple rule: Where artistic content is present in a thing that also has a utilitarian purpose, artistic context will be contained within that thing's boundary.

The essence of art---artistic purpose---is a mysterious, personal thing, largely indefinable. It most closely corresponds to the intrinsic dimension of art---artistic content, which is highly subjective. By contrast, the extrinsic dimension---artistic context---consists of more palpable things. Regardless of its nature, it fills the logical need for something that clearly exists but which does not have the same artistic purpose as the art thing itself. In simple terms, artistic context must be real.

As I said in the beginning, art is not a meaningless term. It refers to particular combinations of things that together indicate the influence of artistic purpose. Where there is any work of art both elements will be present. Because artistic context is an essential element of art, its absence can alert us to experiences that only seem to be a result of someone expressing artistic purpose. Such was the case of the whole universe being seen as a single work of art. But in certain cases of mistaken perception both elements can seemingly be accounted for. In these cases it must be logically argued that neither the subject nor its background evokes anything artistic, and that the boundary itself is insignificant or non-existent.

What then of the possibility that human beings have artistic qualities incorporated into an otherwise utilitarian design? If a religious person gazes at his or her reflection in a mirror and perceives evidence of artistic purpose, does this not qualify as art? Remember: artistic content need not be "real;" it may be entirely a product of perception, projected onto a thing by an observer. Furthermore, we have seen that the boundary between artistic content and context need not be identifiable.

In support of his or her claim, the religious person can point to features of the human body that appear to serve no practical, utilitarian purpose. The size of female breasts, for example, has no relation to the ability to nourish offspring; even women with flat chests are capable of producing an adequate supply of breast milk. And as with many other seemingly artistic features of the human body, we find them attractive. To expose this illusion we must ignore for a moment the artistic content and focus instead on what is presumed to be an artistic context---the human body.

The idea that our bodies serve a utilitarian purpose (thus acting as context for art) is clearly a product of religious belief. And according to the religious belief system, God did not simply find some ugly, ape-like creature and transform it into a human being. For the religious person, no pre-existing, independent context will do; he or she believes human bodies were entirely designed. So the art is something like the kind discerned in a modern automobile, where artistic elements are incorporated into the design of a utilitarian thing, not merely added on. That is to say, the human body might have been created for a non-artistic purpose, but with the design intention that it would also serve as a substructure for a work of art.

The religious person who sees art in actual human bodies (not just in representations of human bodies) asks us to accept the idea that a largely unidentified boundary exists between artistically purposeful aspects and other aspects, all of which were created at the same time. We are also asked to ignore the fact that there is an alternate explanation for the existence of human beings. If we are to be unbiased in our judgement (as we ought to be), we must give adequate weight to the idea that the unguided forces of natural selection were responsible for producing man, and did so gradually rather than all at once. Given the wide acceptance of evolutionary theories, we can safely say the purported context may be imaginary.

All this may seem irrelevant to the question, Is it art? Yet it is not irrelevant, because a thing is not art if it lacks context. To say that its particular context might be imaginary is a serious indictment against any alleged art, far more serious than saying the content may be imaginary. Still, this alone is not conclusive enough for us to assert that the designation art is unfounded. Having established that the particular context may be imaginary, we must next turn our attention to the purported content.

Recall that the Mormon missionary who discovered the Jesus-faced rock projected its artistic content. The resulting "sculpture" in turn reflected artistic content, transforming it into art. The desert too was transformed, reflecting artistic context because of the mere presence of the perceived art. Compare this to the present case: Is the supposed content convincing enough to cause the rest of the human body to reflect artistic context?

Again, the need for unbiased judgement compels us to look to evolution theories for an alternate explanation. For example, these theories suggest that women have large breasts for one simple reason---because men like them. Physical attractiveness is closely related to sexuality. Women with large breasts are more attractive to men generally and so have a significant advantage over women with flat chests when it comes to mating and reproducing. If such "artistic" body features serve only to stimulate sexual desire, we can say their purpose is reproductive rather than artistic. As explained earlier, a purely reproductive purpose is not an artistic purpose. This is true whether we are talking about animal mating dances or women's breasts. And while there is an art to appraising the relative attractiveness of various human bodies, this does not make them art.

Now, a religious person might scoff at the possibility of curiously beautiful features evolving through natural selection, or insist that God's handiwork cannot be for such a worldly purpose as sex. However, the possibility remains; there is an explanation for what the religious person sees, an explanation involving no willful design and no artistic purpose. We can credibly argue that the religious person, by seeing art in a human body, is projecting the content of the art he or she claims to experience.

Of course, there is an explanation for the Jesus-faced rock as well, one that involves no willful design or artistic purpose. There is, however, an important difference: The rock, from the missionary's point of view, causes the desert to reflect artistic context. There is no explanation for this effect except to say that the rock (at least in the missionary's opinion) evokes artistic content. While our own opinions about the rock may be skeptical, there is no room for judgement as to whether the desert makes a suitable context for what the missionary claims to see; it does. But in the present case context too has been called into question. We can therefore contend that the purported art (all elements included) evokes neither context nor content.

Thus we have two competing points of view: one religious; one evolutionary. The first points to the human body and says, "There is art," while the second asks, "Where is the art?" For the evolutionist, the entire human body exists for, and is the product of, a singular, unified purpose---reproduction. And although the religious person may allude to a conceptual boundary that appears to exist through his or her belief system, the skeptical point of view can find no comprehensible subject or background. So in essence we can argue that the boundary is not simply invisible; it is an illusion. Consequently we can say there is no art. As a general rule, if both content and context are projected by the observer and neither is individually reflected by what is observed, then there are no artistic qualities in what is observed and hence no art.

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