Everyday Aesthetics
Saito, Yuriko.
Philosophy and Literature, Volume 25, Number 1, April 2001,
pp. 87-95 (Article)
Published by The Johns Hopkins University Press
DOI: 10.1353/phl.2001.0018
For additional information about this article
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87Yuriko Saito
Philosophy and Literature, © 2001, 25: 87–95
Yuriko Saito
EVERYDAY AESTHETICS
It is generally agreed that aesthetic objects do not constitute a set
of special objects, but rather are determined by our attitudes and
experiences. A consequence of this view is that, as Jerome Stolnitz
claims, “anything at all, whether sensed or perceived, whether it is the
product of imagination or conceptual thought, can become the object
of aesthetic attention.”1
The same point is made by Paul Ziff, who
contends that “anything that can be viewed is a fit object for aesthetic
attention,” including “a gator basking in a mound of dried dung.”2
In light of this consensus, it is both curious and noteworthy that
today’s aesthetics is mostly concerned with art. As Thomas Leddy
observes, “although many aestheticians insist that aesthetic qualities are
not limited to the arts, even those thinkers generally take the arts as the
primary focus of their discussion.”3
Indeed, the subject matter of
aesthetics is dominated by the definition of art, expression in art, artist’s
intention, art and reality, art and ethics, as well as the issues specific to
each artistic medium. As a result, the aesthetics of non-art is marginalized,
attended to only when we discuss beauty and aesthetic experience.
But even discussions of non-art objects and activities often focus on
their likeness to art, conflating art and aesthetics. For example,
discussing the aesthetic in sport, one author questions whether “any
sport can justifiably be regarded as an art form.”4
Another contrasts
most artists who “do not equate art with cooking . . . nor . . . hold
cooking in such high theoretical esteem” with “chefs through the
centuries who have seen themselves as artists.”5
It is understandable that the aesthetics of non-art objects and
activities are explained through comparison to art, simply because, for
better or worse, aesthetics of art is our familiar frame of reference.
88 Philosophy and Literature
However, there is also a risk in such comparisons. Non-art objects tend
to be regarded as “wannabe” art, which often turn out to fall short of
those features characterizing art, such as formal coherence, expressive
power, embodiment of an idea, and creativity and originality. Consequently,
non-art objects are regarded, at best, as something “like art” or
as second-rate art. I find this implicitly hierarchical procedure to be
problematic. Particularly with respect to aesthetic matters, pursuing
and celebrating diversity is more rewarding and constructive than
limiting what counts as worthy aesthetic objects. Just as Paul Ziff
reminds us about the different “aspections” required for various works
of art,6
I believe that diversity of aesthetic objects in general requires
diversity of analyses and approaches.
Ignoring the rich diversity of aesthetic objects impoverishes the
scope of aesthetics in two respects. First, it represents a rather parochial
viewpoint unique to modern Western aesthetic theories, which presupposes
the institutionalized artworld and certain cultural and economic
conditions.7
Second, it unduly limits the range of aesthetic issues by
implying that only those related to art are worthwhile for theoretical
analysis. I intend to address these limitations in what follows.
The first limitation is simply based upon observation. Most non-art
objects and activities concern our everyday experiences of eating,
clothing, dwelling, cleaning, and dealing with natural elements. Unlike
the institutionalized artworld, these are shared universally. In a culture
like ours with a distinct artworld, the experience of art is usually limited
to special occasions set aside for that purpose, although not all of us
have access to or knowledge of the artworld. In contrast, all of us
engage in everyday activities and handle non-art objects. Arnold Berleant
thus remarks: “the custom of selecting an art object and isolating it
from its surroundings . . . has been . . . most pronounced since the
eighteenth century, with its aesthetic of disinterestedness. Yet it is at
variance with the ubiquity of the aesthetic recognized at other times in
the West and commonly in non-Western cultures.”8
Other writers also
point out that Balinese and Inuit culture lack the Western notions of art
and artist because they embrace the aesthetic concerns in everything
they do and make.9
Likewise, traditional Japanese culture aestheticizes
everyday objects, phenomena, and activities, providing a fertile ground
for examining those issues neglected by art-centered aesthetics.
In our experience of paradigmatic art, the ingredients of aesthetic
experience are determined primarily by conventional agreement and
by the artist’s control of the material. Painting, for example, is viewed
89Yuriko Saito
when standing straight, and confined to the visual elements of one side
of the canvas circumscribed by the frame. Its smell of fresh paint and
relationship to the surrounding wall paper or to the back of the canvas,
no matter how intriguing, are intentionally bracketed. Similarly, experience
of a symphony consists of sounds conforming to a score created by
the musicians on stage. The outside traffic noise, the cough of the
audience, the feel of air-conditioning breeze blowing on our face, and
the texture of the seat, are again consciously ignored, though they are
part of our experience. Despite controversies regarding what is and is
not a part of a work of art, in general, an art object presents itself to us
more or less with a determinate frame.
In contrast, the absence of equivalent conventions renders a non-art
object “frameless,” making us a creator of its aesthetic object. As Ronald
Hepburn points out, the aesthetic price we pay for the frameless
character of non-art objects, such as the lack of unified design, can be
compensated for by exercising our imagination and creativity in
constituting the aesthetic object as we see fit.10
For example, the
appreciation of a baseball game may include the noisy cheers of the
fans, the hot sun beating down our necks, and the smell of hot dogs, in
addition to the quasi-artistic elements such as the players’ body movements,
the thrill of stiff competition, and the drama of the recordbreaking
home run. By the same token, New York City’s “sense of place”
cannot be separated from the smell of burnt pretzels and chestnuts, the
feel of vibration and steam coming from below, the chaotic honking of
the cabs—though we can choose to ignore all of these and concentrate
exclusively on its architecture. We also create non-art objects and
experiences on a much smaller scale. In appreciating the smell and
taste of green tea, I may incorporate the visual and tactile sensation of
the tea bowl, as well as the sound of slurping.
Our everyday aesthetic experience does not come to us in a neatly
packaged bundle, consisting exclusively of qualities we receive through
the “higher senses” of vision and hearing as an uninvolved spectator.11
We sit still and quiet during a classical concert or a theater performance,
and we look at a painting or sculpture without touching, moving,
or holding it. But what may be aesthetically most appropriate and
rewarding when viewing a painting or listening to a symphony is neither
suitable nor rewarding when we are engaged in everyday activities. Our
current art- and spectator-centered aesthetics cannot adequately account
for our equally important aesthetic experience of everyday
objects and activities, which almost always engage us bodily.
90 Philosophy and Literature
In this respect, traditional Japanese culture offers rich examples of
aesthetic experience facilitated by body and mind. They include
refined sensibility regarding seasonal change and weather conditions
felt by the body; the physical and spiritual discipline involved in martial
arts; and “a sensual feeling of well-being, of harmony with one’s
environment and with one’s self” when taking a Japanese bath, which
“go(es) beyond efficiency and transcend(s) physical cleanliness.”12
Furthermore, although established as an artistic medium, the tea
ceremony is an aesthetic experience of frameless character, which both
encourages and challenges the participant to create an aesthetic
experience out of many disparate elements. These include some predetermined
ingredients, such as the tea hut, utensils, flower arrangement,
and snack, but other features are beyond anyone’s control, such
as the weather, the sound of birds or of rain hitting the roof, and the
spontaneous conversation between the host and guests. This art medium
also requires the bodily activities of the participants—going through
the tea garden, cleansing the hands and mouths, entering the tea hut,
holding the tea bowl, drinking tea by slurping, and eating a snack.
Another feature unique to the tea ceremony suggests the second
point of difference between Western paradigmatic art and everyday
objects and activities. The aesthetics of the tea ceremony emphasize the
singularity of each occasion, expressed by the term ichigo ichie (one
chance, one meeting). That is, the object of aesthetic appreciation is
impermanent, which is often characteristic of the objects of our
everyday aesthetic experience. Food is literally gone in a few minutes,
weather alters constantly, clothes are changed almost everyday, bodies
age steadily (despite our desperate efforts to arrest the process), and
the rooms are cleaned and straightened regularly. As Kevin Melchionne
points out in his discussion of domestic aesthetics, “unlike paradigmatic
art forms like painting or poetry, interiors do not just sit around after
their completion unaltered for the centuries. They are lived in, worked
in, and worked on and so they are also transformed, if only by being
worn upon daily.”13
Indeed, there are very few objects in our everyday
life that we “freeze” and “keep the way they are” as if they were works of
art, except for items which are very much like domestic works of art,
such as antique furniture, crystal vases, and expensive jewelry.
In contrast, art stays relatively permanent. Interpretations and evaluations
may change with time, but the identity of the object itself is
supposed to remain the same. So Beethoven’s fifth symphony stays
constant, although its performance varies from time to time, conductor
91Yuriko Saito
to conductor. Physical objects such as paintings and sculptures age and
weather, but in general we try our best to keep them in their “original”
condition through climate-controlled preservation, conservation, and
restoration.
I suspect that the obsession with permanence in art stems from the
dominant Western metaphysical legacy, starting with Plato, which
privileges permanence, stability, and being as salient characteristics of
reality, over change, transience, impermanence, and becoming. However,
the identification of reality with permanence is not accepted
universally. Many non-Western traditions instead embrace the opposite
view: that reality consists of constant flux, transience, movement, and
impermanence. Buddhism and Taoism are prime examples of such a
view.
Accordingly, transience and impermanence are specifically appreciated
in some aesthetic traditions. Again, the Japanese aesthetic sensibility
is perhaps most prominent in this respect. According to it, the
beauty of something is cherished precisely because of its evanescence.
Hence, the favorite symbols for beauty convey the transience of
existence, such as falling cherry blossoms, mist, rain, snow and wind;
autumn leaves and other materials especially signify the effects of aging.
The change and impermanence of many of our everyday objects and
activities, therefore, does not necessarily detract from their aesthetic
value; they can instead heighten our awareness and enhance the
experience.
Art objects also differ from everyday objects and activities in this
respect: although they often serve utilitarian purposes, they are primarily
created and appreciated for their aesthetic significance. But except
for pure spectator sports and other forms of entertainment and
amusement, most of our everyday objects and activities are created,
used, or performed first and foremost for nonaesthetic purposes. We
clean our kitchen and bathroom for hygiene, cook and eat food for
nutrition, and select our clothes for protection and comfort. Utensils
and furniture are created, used, and appreciated for their respective
functional use.
At this point, those who advocate an art-based aesthetic theory may
remind us that if we distance ourselves from everyday practical concerns,
if we adopt a disinterested attitude, we can attend to the aesthetic
values of everyday objects and activities. I have no doubt we can and
sometimes do just that. I can, for example, contemplate on my knife as
if it were a piece of sculpture. However, doing so would compromise its
92 Philosophy and Literature
aesthetic value by unduly limiting various sensory inputs which are all
integrated into our everyday experience of this object. The aesthetic
value of a knife consists not only of its visual qualities and its feel in my
hand, determined by its surface texture, weight, and balance but, most
importantly, by how smoothly and effortlessly I can cut an object with it.
Or consider, likewise, the aesthetic experience of opening a Japanese
package. The several steps involved in opening it thoroughly integrate
the functional purpose of protecting and hiding its contents and the
aesthetic allure of gradually exposing the object inside. Its aesthetic
appeal can only be revealed by opening it.14
As these examples demonstrate, the aesthetic and the practical
cannot be neatly separated. Thus, although it is true that various
practical and utilitarian purposes are intimately bound up with our
everyday experience, such integration does not necessarily detract from
aesthetic value. I believe that it is misleading to recognize the aesthetic
value of everyday objects and activities only insofar as they are momentarily
isolated from their everyday context and treated as art objects
created specifically and exclusively for aesthetic purposes.
Now, the primarily utilitarian purpose of everyday objects and
activities has other implications. Because they are created or performed
principally for practical purposes, they do not communicate or express
a view, idea, worldview, or the like, as most artworks do. Despite
persistent debates regarding artistic intentionality, there is no denying
that an art object is a vehicle by which an artist tries to communicate or
express a certain vision, view, attitude, or idea.
However, on a closer examination, we realize that some important
communications and expressions do take place through everyday
objects and activities. Indeed, it is remarkable how much our seemingly
nonaesthetic daily concerns are dominated by the aesthetic dimension.
For example, various rituals and ceremonies, such as weddings and
funerals, express religious commitments, attitudes toward life, and
human relationships through the choice of color scheme, music,
costume, setting, organization of the ceremonies, and so on. Whether
or not we find an emphasis on aesthetics in these rituals excessive and
superficial, aesthetics nonetheless plays a crucial role in various cultural
practices.
Consider also how often our moral judgment of a person relies on
aesthetic concerns. Whether desirable or undesirable, wise or unwise,
correct or incorrect, we do tend to make moral judgments on someone’s
character by evaluating his/her appearance. We make a judgment,
93Yuriko Saito
sometimes perhaps unwarranted and hasty, upon seeing a person with
an unshaven face, disheveled hair, and soiled, tattered, and wrinkled
clothes, particularly if we have reason to believe that he can afford to
look otherwise, or if he shows up that way at a job interview. In a
different context, however, we may judge him to be making a certain
“statement” through his appearance. Don’t we likewise make an unfavorable
judgment on a homeowner if her yard is unkempt and her
house disorganized and messy? Or, sometimes our judgment of a
person’s character depends not so much upon what she says or does but
the way in which she acts, such as the tone of voice and the facial
expression, and the manner in which she performs various physical
tasks, such as opening and closing doors. True, the extent to which our
assessment of a person relies upon the aesthetic surface is not as
thorough as the way in which a person’s moral worth was judged
exclusively by his/her aesthetic capacity and sensibility during the
ancient Japanese court period.15
However, I find it quite remarkable
how entrenched our practice is of assessing other people’s character,
moral virtue, capability, and attitude through their aesthetic manifes-
tations.
By the same token, a certain moral virtue can be conveyed through
objects. Consider the way in which Japanese food is served, most of its
design principle derived from the aesthetics of the tea ceremony. Its
taste, texture, and arrangement embody both respect for nature by
maximizing the ingredient’s native characteristics and of considerateness
by inviting the guest to have fun deciding the order of picking
each item with chopsticks. Similarly, Japanese packaging pays respect to
the indigenous qualities of the material and amuses the receiver by
requiring several steps for opening it.
In interpreting art, we are careful to distinguish our judgment of the
artwork from our judgment of the artist, although many aspects of the
artist’s life are relevant and necessary for understanding the object. The
kind of communication and expression I cited concerning everyday
objects and activities, however, are taken as embodiment of personal
character, and it would be unreasonable to require that we bracket our
interest in the other person in our aesthetic experience of these things.
In other words, everyday objects and activities provide another way in
which the aesthetic surface acts as a vehicle of communication and
expression, different from the way in which art functions as such a
vehicle.
I want to conclude my discussion by calling attention to a special
94 Philosophy and Literature
urgency for exploring everyday aesthetics. The aesthetic sensibility we
cultivate and the resultant judgments we make regarding everyday
aesthetics and objects often have serious consequences that affect
everybody’s lives. One such consequence is their effect on the human
body, as explored in the recently published Beauty Matters.16
Another consequence is the ecological impact of our aesthetic preference
regarding nature and environment. Many scientists concerned
about ecological issues often lament the fact that the general public
tends to protect aspects of nature that are aesthetically appealing, such as
pandas, whales, seals, and redwoods, but not cod, insects, prairies, and
wetlands, which may be in more dire need of protection. At a recent
landscape ecology conference, one group of landscape planners presented
an empirical study which, to their surprise, indicated that the
midwestern farmers’ land use decision was primarily motivated by
aesthetic, not economic or pragmatic, considerations.17
Finally, at another
recent sustainable design symposium, a designer for major
industries like Nike and Interface Carpet illustrated how the primary
obstacle to the public acceptance of ecologically sustainable design is
aesthetics.18
These examples indicate to me that our everyday aesthetic
preferences and decisions have serious, far-reaching consequences and
certainly deserve aestheticians’ long-overdue attention.
Rhode Island School of Design
A previous version of this essay was presented at the 1999 American Society for Aesthetics Annual
Meeting in Washington, D.C. I would like to thank Denis Dutton, editor of this journal, for his
encouragement and Deborah Knight, associate editor, for editorial suggestions.
1. Jerome Stolnitz, Aesthetics and the Philosophy of Art Criticism, reprinted in Introductory
Readings in Aesthetics, ed. John Hospers (New York: The Free Press, 1969), p. 27.
2. Paul Ziff, “Anything Viewed,” reprinted in Oxford Readers: Aesthetics, ed. Susan L.
Feagin and Patrick Maynard (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997), p. 29, 23.
3. Thomas Leddy, “Everyday Surface Aesthetic Qualities: ‘Neat,’ ‘Messy,’ ‘Clean,’
‘Dirty,’” Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 53 (1995): 259.
4. David Best, “The Aesthetic in Sport,” reprinted in Philosophic Inquiry in Sport, ed.
William J. Morgan and Klaus V. Meier (Champaign: Human Kinetics Publishers, 1988),
p. 487.
95Yuriko Saito
5. Barbara Kafka, “Pleasing the Palette: Food, Cooking and Making Art,” Art News 88
(October 1989): 163. I thank my student, Bonnie Paisley, for this reference.
6. Paul Ziff, “Reasons in Art Criticism,” in Philosophy and Education, ed. Israel Scheffler
(Boston: Allyn and Bacon, Inc., 1958).
7. For the relevance of economic class, see Kathleen Higgins’s introductory remarks on
“Popular Culture and Everyday Life” in Aesthetics in Perspective, ed. Kathleen M. Higgins
(Fort Worth: Harcourt Brace College Publishers, 1996), p. 592, and Thomas Leddy’s
“Sparkle and Shine,” British Journal of Aesthetics 37 (July, 1997): 259–73. For gender
issues, see Leddy’s “Everyday Surface” and Kevin Melchionne’s “Living in Glass Houses:
Domesticity, Interior Decoration, and Environmental Aesthetics,” Journal of Aesthetics and
Art Criticism 56 (Spring, 1998): 191–200.
8. Arnold Berleant, The Aesthetics of Environment (Philadelphia: Temple University
Press, 1992), p. 157.
9. See Melvin Rader and Bertram Jessup, Art and Human Values (Englewood Cliffs:
Prentice-Hall, 1976), p. 116, and Victor Papanek, The Green Imperative: Natural Design for
the Real World (New York: Thames and Hudson, Inc., 1995), p. 233.
10. Ronald Hepburn, “Contemporary Aesthetics and the Neglect of Natural Beauty,”
in “Wonder” and Other Essays: Eight Studies in Aesthetics and Neighboring Fields (Edinburgh:
University Press at Edinburgh, 1984).
11. See Arnold Berleant’s The Aesthetics of Environment as well as his Art and Engagement
(Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1991).
12. Peter Grilli, Pleasures of the Japanese Bath (New York: Weatherhill, 1992), p. 22.
13. Melchionne, op. cit., p. 199.
14. See my “The Japanese Aesthetics of Packaging,” Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism
57 (Spring, 1999): 257–65.
15. For the ancient Japanese court sensibility, the best original source is The Pillow Book
by Sei Shonagon (965?–c. 1020), trans. Ivan Morris (Hammondsworth: Penguin Books,
1982). For secondary sources, see Ivan Morris’s The World of the Shining Prince: Court Life
in Ancient Japan (New York: Kodansha International, 1994); Donald Keene’s “Feminine
Sensibility in the Heian Era,” in Japanese Aesthetics and Culture, ed. Nancy Hume (Albany:
SUNY Press, 1995); and Barbara Sandrisser’s “On Elegance in Japan,” in Higgins’s
Aesthetics in Perspective.
16. Beauty Matters, ed. Peg Zeglin Brand (Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
2000).
17. Robert Ryan and R. DeYoung, “Understanding Farmers’ Motivations for Improving
Ecological Health,” presented at the Fifth World Congress for the International
Association for Landscape Ecology, 1999.
18. The Rhode Island School of Design Colloquium on Ecology and Design, October
1999.