Several prominent philosophers of music, including Lydia Goehr and Peter Kivy, maintain that the experience of music changed drastically in about 1800. According to the great divide hypothesis, prior to 1800 audiences often scarcely attended to music. At other times, music was appreciated as part of social, civic, or religious ceremonies. After the great divide, audiences began to appreciate music as an exclusive object of aesthetic experience. The great divide hypothesis is false. The musicological record reveals that prior to the (...) great divide music was often the exclusive object of aesthetic experience. (shrink)

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Titles, Labels, and Names:A House of MirrorsGreg Petersen (bio)An EducationAmong the harshest critiques ever received during my doctoral coursework came from a professor who was noticeably perturbed that I had researched and written a paper on an artwork without considering the title in the interpretation and analysis of the work. The professor insisted that the title is necessary to understand the piece. As a diligent student, the lesson was (...) learned, and the following semester I wrote a different paper for a different professor including the title as part of the interpretation and analysis. The professor's response asserted that the sections of the paper discussing the title should be deleted to improve the paper because a title is a name only—a linguistic referent to speak and write about the work that has no other relationship to the work. The discussions that followed with the two professors evolved into a permanent interest in the relationship between appellations and the works they represent. The debate of whether titles are or are not important is not a two-sided argument but rather a maze. This article is not a specialized theoretical argument but an explication of this maze of disjointed relationships among images, their appellations, and the theories espoused by various artists, art critics, art historians, and philosophers. Nevertheless, the clearest exits from the maze are found by treating the appellations as literature and applying literary theory to them.Between Text and ImageMuch of the world we live in is visual and linguistic in nature: visual to the extent that seeing is associated with knowing, and linguistic to the extent that we can communicate through the use of words and letters. For thousands [End Page 29] of years there has been a close relationship between images and language. Both are commonly represented through the use of pigments on a two-dimensional surface. While we know of no literary relationships in early paintings, it is extremely rare today to find paintings without a literary appellation attached. Today we study paintings through words, but only on the most elementary levels do we study words through paintings. It appears that literate cultures give dominance to textual symbols over those in paintings, while illiterate cultures reverse these relationships. The problem is that words have culturally agreed upon meanings, often more so than visual images. We read and listen and then write and speak about those things we have read and heard. Historically, it may be that the relationship between language and images has reversed itself, and perhaps even reverses itself in our own educational process as we begin teaching children letters and words through the use of pictures. After all, which came first: image or language?There has been little written on the use of word associations with iconographic images during the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, it is clear that identification characteristics other than linguistic ones existed. Hazard Adams is one of the few to raise this issue in his essay on titles: "Before I turn to literary titles it might be well to ask whether... I am correct in assuming that there has never been a nonverbal title of a literary work or of anything else for that matter, the word-objects relation of a title being irreversible. There are certainly nonverbal labels like coats of arms and crowns that imply title in a related sense."1 It may be true that titles are typically thought of as word associations identifying objects, but it may also be possible that medieval imagery was at least as communicatively accurate as our present textual system. For example, a man with arrows fixed in his flesh would still be recognized by a medieval illiterate as St. Sebastian, yet most of the depictions of this Catholic saint are simply titled St. Sebastian. Would hanging the text St. Sebastian next to these depictions have created more meaning or a deeper understanding to a medieval Catholic? Often sacred personages and other important visual images have their own identifying characteristics that make a correlative text unnecessary. These identifying characteristics, to those familiar with them, remain very effective nonverbal symbols that conjure the stories they represent.Furthermore, during the medieval... (shrink)

What is the difference between a performance of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony and the symphony itself? What does it mean for musicians to be faithful to the works they perform? To answer this question, Goehr combines philosophical and historical methods of enquiry. She describes how the concept of a musical work emerged as late as 1800, and how it subsequently defined the norms, expectations, and behavior characteristic of classical musical practice. Out of the historical thesis, Goehr draws philosophical conclusions about the (...) normative functions of concepts and ideals. She also addresses current debates amongst conductors, early-music performers, and avant-gardists. (shrink)

Wishing to contribute to the brief history of title science, I would argue that the difference in terminology between “secondary title” and “subtitle” is too weak for the mind to grasp; and since, as Duchet has noted, the principal feature of his “subtitle” is to contain a more or less explicit generic indication, it would be simpler and more vocative to rebaptize it as such, thereby freeing the term “subtitle” to resume its usual present meaning. Hence these three terms: “title” (...) , “subtitle” , “generic indication” . This is the most complete state of a de facto system in which the only mandatory element, in our present culture, is the first one. Nowadays, we find most frequently incomplete combinations, such as title plus subtitle or title plus generic indication —without counting the really simple titles that are reduced to the single “title” element, without subtitle or generic indication, such as Les Mots or, a little differently, statements such as the following, clearly parodic: Victor Shklovskii, Zoo / Letters not about Love / or The Third Heloise. Gérard Genette is professor of history and theory of literary forms at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales. His principal works in French include Figures , Figures II , Figures III , Introduction à l’architexte , Nouveau discours du récit , and, most recently, Seuils . Bernard Crampé is assistant professor of romance languages and literatures at the University of Chicago. His principal work is in the history of rhetoric. (shrink)

For the moment, I assume that we have some rough idea of what “title” is supposed to mean: the large letters on the spine of a book, the words on the center of the first page of a musical score, or the little plate on the museum wall to the right of the painting . Thus examples of titles would be The Taming of the Shrew, “Mapleleaf Rag,” or The Birth of Venus, but that generates a rather complex set of (...) answers.Let us start with what is undoubtedly the simplest situation: where an inscription of the title is physically part of the work. The most familiar of the aquatints of Francisco Goya which collectively are called Los Caprichos—the forty-third—is titled The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, or, more precisely, the Spanish equivalent of those words, for the Spanish words appear as a large and significant element on the plate, indeed occupying more than 10 percent of its surface. In such cases titles are not given: they are elements of works, not by inference or subtle metaphor but in a most literal way. No other title fits in that way. That print could not be called Bats and Cats and Sleeping Man with the expectation that those words should serve as its title. Some works—most works—on the other hand, allow for a range of acceptable titles. Guernica could have been titled The Bombing of a Basque Village or Luftwaffe Hell. Neither of these would, I suspect, have been as good a title as Guernica, but they remain possibilities, even though the familiar title is not physically part of the work. Some works, incidentally, contain words, even sentences, and are not titled accordingly. Several familiar works of René Magritte include a most realistic representation of a tobacco pipe and the large words “Ceci n’est pas une pipe.” Examples of the titles given by Magritte to paintings in this series are L’Air et la chanson and Le Trahison des images. Obviously, not all works of visual art which contain linguistic inscriptions have titles which correspond to those inscriptions. The simplest situation is hardly much help. John Fisher is professor of philosophy at Temple University and editor of the Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism. He is also the editor of Perceiving Artworks and Essays on Aesthetics. (shrink)