(Bohdan Dziemidok, Peter McCormick (Eds.) ) On The

B. Dziemidok and P.
McCormick
Editors
On the Aesthetics
of Roman Ingarden
Interpretations
and
Assessments
ON THE A E STH ETIC S OF RO M AN IN GARD EN
Nijhoff International Philosophy Series
VOLUME 27
General Editor: JAN T .J. SRZEDNICKI

Editor fo r volumes on Applying Philosophy: LYNNE M. BROUGHTON
Editor fo r volumes on Logic and Applying Logic: STANISLAW J. SURMA
Editor fo r volumes on Contributions to Philosophy: JAN T.J. SRZEDNICKI
Assistant to the General Editor: DAVID WOOD
Editorial Advisory Board:
R.M. Chisholm, Brown University, Rhode Island. Mats Furberg, Goteborg

University. D.A.T. Gasking, University of Melbourne. H.L.A. H art, University
College, Oxford. S. Korner, University of Bristol and Yale University.
H .J. McCloskey, La Trobe University, Bundoora, Melbourne. J. Passmore,
Australian National University, Canberra. A. Quinton, Trinity College, Oxford.
Nathan Rotenstreich, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Franco Spisani,
Centro Superiore di Logica e Scienze Comparate, Bologna. R. Ziedins, Waikato
University, New Zealand.
For a list of volumes in this series see final page of this volume.
On the Aesthetics of
Roman Ingarden
Interpretations and Assessments
Edited by
BOHDAN DZIEMIDOK
University o f Gdansk, Poland
and
PETER McCORMICK
University o f Ottawa, Canada
if
KLUWER ACADEMIC PUBLISHERS
DORDRECHT / BOSTON / LONDON
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
On the aesthetics of Roman Ingarden.
Bibliography: p.
1. Ingarden, Roman, 1893- — Contributions in
aesthetics. 2. Aesthetics, Modern— 20th century.
I . Dziemidok, Bohdan. II. McCormick, Peter (Peter J .)
B4691.153406 1989 1 1 1 '. 8 5 88-27303
ISBN 0-7923-0071-8
Published by Kluwer Academic Publishers,

P.O . Box 17, 3300 AA Dordrecht, The Netherlands.
Kluwer Academic Publishers incorporates

the publishing programmes of
D. Reidel, Martinus Nijhoff, Dr W. Junk and MTP Press.
Sold and distributed in the U.S.A. and Canada

by Kluwer Academic Publishers,
101 Philip Drive, Norwell, MA 02061, U.S.A.
In all other countries, sold and distributed

by Kluwer Academic Publishers Group,
P.O . Box 322, 3300 AH Dordrecht, The Netherlands.
/ b ; A A ! S' \
'n ,n , ■, A
I
u
V
/I /I 53 2 , ^
All Rights Reserved
© 1989 by Kluwer Academic Publishers
No part of the material protected by this copyright notice may be reproduced or
utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without written permission from the copyright owner.
Printed in The Netherlands

DLA STUDENT6W POLSKICH
For the Polish students —

and the students of Poland
Contents
Foreword ix
I. Ingarden’s Philosophical Work: A Systematic
Outline. Danuta Gierulanka 1
II. The Structure of Artworks. Anita
Szczepanska 21
III. The Work of Art and Aesthetic Categories
According to Ingarden. Janusz Misiewicz 55
IV. Ingarden’s Theory of Values and the
Evaluation of the Work of Art. Bohdan
Dziemidok 71
V. Ingarden and the Development of Literary
Studies. Henryk Markiewicz 101
VI. Ingarden, Inscription, and Literary Ontology.
Richard Shusterman 131
VII. Ingarden’s and Mukarovsky’s Binominal
Definition of the Literary Work of Art: A
Comparative View of Their Ontologies. John
Fizer 159
VIII. Literary Truths and Metaphysical Qualities.
Peter McCormick 187
IX. On Ingarden’s Conception of the Musical
Composition. Andrzej Pytlak 233
X. The Sculptural Work of Art: Uniquely
‘W ithin’ the World. G. David Pollick 255
XI. Ingarden on the Theatre. Danuta Kuznicka
283
viii
Appendix. Select Bibliography of the Philosophical

Works of Roman Ingarden. Danuta
Gierulanka 297
Foreword
Roman Ingarden’s very extensive philosophical work in

metaphysics, ontology, epistemology, and aesthetics con
tinues to attract increasing attention both in Poland and
in North America. Further work left uncompleted at his
death is appearing. Major bibliographies of his work as
well as of studies about his work are now in print. Ingar
den’s scattered axticles on various questions in philosophy
aure being collected. And conferences devoted to his work
are now held regularly.
These diverse activities might suggest a similar diver
sity in Ingarden’s philosophical legacy. But such a sugges
tion would be misleading. For interest in Ingarden’s work
has continued to centre on the one area which is arguably
at the core of his achievement, namely the complex prob
lems of aesthetics. In this field Ingarden seemed to pull
together his various interests in ontology and epistemology
especially. Here he brought those interests to focus on a set
of issues that would occupy him creatively throughout the
vicissitudes of his long and difficult scholarly life. More
over, aesthetics is also the field where Ingaxden perhaps
most succeeded in orchestrating the many themes he owed
to his phenomenological training while finally transposing
the central issues into something original, something dis
tinctively his own that philosophers can no longer identify
as merely phenomenological.
Ingarden’s aesthetics not surprisingly has captured the
interest today of many scholars in different fields. The pe
culiar distinctions of his work have had a particular, and
lasting, influence, for example, on literaxy theory stretch
ing from the eaxly “New Critical” work of Rene Wellek
and Austin Warren in the United States, through the
more orthodox phenomenological work of Mikel Dufrenne
in France, to the more recent German work in “Reader-
ix
Response Theory” that Wolfgang Iser continues to elabo
rate. But Ingarden’s work, however influential and however
well known especially in Poland, has not yet, it seems to
many, gained the attention in the English-speaking world
its distinctions truly merit. Despite the appearance of an
excellent collection about his work some years ago, Ingar
den’s work still awaits the critical scrutiny of younger schol
ars inside and especially outside Poland.
Consequently, we have tried to commission for this col
lection a series of papers in English by both mature and
younger scholars working today within the Polish intellec
tual world as well as beyond. The present collection tries
to focus fresh attention on Ingarden’s aesthetics. Drawing
heavily on the substantial new publications which have ap
peared over the last years since Ingarden’s death in 1970,
this collection tries to make a new beginning in the un
derstanding and assessment of Ingarden’s major achieve
ments in aesthetics within the context of his philosophy as
a whole. Thus the particular contributions Ingarden has
made to aesthetics axe highlighted in this collection follow
ing the presentation of an overview of his philosophy and
a series of discussions of more general themes. Moreover
the contributions of some younger scholars both in Poland
and in North America have opened up, we think, some new
room for further critical debate. We sincerely hope that
the present collection will help in detailing the continu
ing interest of Roman Ingarden’s exceptional philosophical
achievements.
March 1988
Peter McCormick (Ottawa)

Bohdan Dziemidok (Gdansk)
I. Ingarden’s Philosophical Work
A Systematic Outline
Danuta Gierulanka
Roman Ingarden became a disciple of Edmund Husserl

while the latter was still in Gottingen. Although opposition
to Husserl’s transcendental idealism has found its fullest
expression in Ingarden’s philosophy, none of Husserl’s dis
ciples remained as faithful as Ingarden in conceiving the
sense of philosophy as an “exact science” and in pursuing
the phenomenological method.
According to Ingarden, philosophy is neither a synthe
sis of the exact sciences, nor their theory, nor an analysis
of their language. Philosophy differs from all the exact
sciences by the nature of its special problems and the cog
nitive means subordinate to it. The only factors common
to philosophy and the exact sciences are their objectives,
consisting exclusively in gaining knowledge, and their re
quirements of scientific exactness (i.e., no statement is ac
cepted without sufficient grounds). The specificity of the
philosophical problematic in comparison with that of the
sciences can be described as follows; the sciences are con
cerned with the elements of a field of research while philoso
phy is concerned with its entirety. The distinction between
essential an non-essential properties plays a minor part in
the sciences: all properties are treated equally as factual
data. Philosophy differentiates between them. It is ori
ented toward the essences of individual objects; moreover,
it studies general objects. It is concerned not only with
facts, but also with pure possibilities. The sciences are
always dogmatic in that they accept certain assumptions
without investigating their validity (e.g., they assume the
1
B. Dziemidok and P. McCormick (eds.), On the Aesthetics o f Roman Ingarden, 1-20.
© 1989 by Kluwer Academic Publishers.
2 Danuta Gierulanka
existence of their respective field of research). Philosophy,
however, should be free of this kind dogmatism (it should
study its own principle statements and work out its basic
concepts).
Ingarden’s philosophical output does not form a closed
system in the sense of a set of statements derived from
apriori accepted general assumptions. Following the ba
sic methodological principle of Husserl’s phenomenology,
Ingarden obtained results in all areas of his philosophy by
referring directly to the “things given in experiences” corre
sponding to the type of object being investigated (in direct
intuitive cognition). In spite of the great breadth of topics
studied his results constitute a lucidly organized whole, as
I shall presently try to demonstrate.
Ingarden’s writings (over two hundred items including
twenty-seven large books) belong primarily to three areas of
philosophy: epistemology, ontology, and aesthetics (includ
ing the theory of the work of art). This does not, however,
comprise all of his work, as I shall show later.
The first decade of Ingarden’s philosophic work already
included basic results which set the direction and paths of
development of his thought [1-7 of the appended Select
Bibliography].
I shall discuss the main core of Ingarden’s philosophy
in several sections, indicating the thought processes leading
from one to another. Epistemology, being the least known
chapter of his thought, and ontology, which dominates In-
garden’s philosophy, will be discussed more extensively.
Ingarden’s epistemological considerations are mainly
meta-theoretical in character. They are concerned with
the tasks and structure of epistemology, with the possibil
ity of a correct construction of the latter, as well as with its
relation to other scientific and philosophical disciplines. It
seems that the direction of Ingarden’s theoretical thought
was shaped by the realization of a few simple facts viz.:
Ingarden’s Philosophical Work 3
1. The interest in cognition and the necessity of its the
oretic study appear at the moment doubts arise concerning
the results of cognition. Therefore, the sense of the exis
tence of epistemology lies in the solution to the problem of
the objectivity of cognition in all its forms. In short, epis
temology must include the so-called critique of cognition;
this is the first postulate.
2. In principle, once a doubt has appeared it requires
an ultimate refutation. Otherwise an alleged solution might
raise further and further doubts, and so on ad infinitum.
“Ultimate” here means indubitable, undogmatic, and in
dependent of everything else, i.e., not justified on grounds
belonging to other fields. Thus, according to the second
postulate, epistenjology must be absolute; its solutions and
arguments must be ultimate (in the above sense).
These axe natural and challenging postulates, but how
can they be realized? It is often said that they cannot be
realized, that such a theory of knowledge cannot even be
begun. However, Ingarden is not willing to abandon his
effort until he has become convinced that the objections
raised against it are indeed irrefutable. His opponents rea
son basically as follows: The subject of epistemology is
cognition, considered in terms of its effectiveness and cog
nitive value (objectivity). Now in order to study cognition
the theory of knowledge must employ some new cognition.
However, how can it be ascertained that the new cognition
is objective? This must be either assumed a priori, thus
entailing a petitio principii, or subjected to a new cogni
tion, thus leading to an infinite regress. There seems to be
no solution to this situation. Ingarden’s reply in “Uber die
Gefahr einer Petitio Principii in der Erkenntnisstheorie” [2]
is as follows: The above reasoning is based on the false as
sumption that the process of cognition must always differ
from the object of cognition. But it just so happens that in
cognitive acts, as acts of consciousness, the very occurrence
4 Danuta. Gierulanka
of the act, the experience of living through it (Durchleben),
is at the same time knowledge of it; it is a cognition of it.
The latter can be made lucid through maximum concen
tration, by an oversaturation, as it were, of consciousness.
The distinction between the act and the object of cognition
is here only an abstract differentiation between two aspects
of the same conscious act.
Thus in this exceptional situation we gain a certain in
fallible cognition, for how could such an experienced act ex
ist or be other than the way in which it actually presents it
self in experience (Durchleben)? This idea, appearing from
time to time in the history of philosophy (with Descartes,
Kant, or Brentano), is expressed for the first time in a clear
and precise way by Ingarden. The example of Durchleben
enables us to understand what it means that a certain cog
nition is true, i.e., we can conceive the idea of the objec
tivity of cognition. Thus a kind of Archimedean point of
support has been found for the theory of knowledge.
Starting with this result Ingarden carried on multilat
eral reflections on the theory of knowledge for many years.
The results are collected in a large book [44], available as
yet only in Polish. The author had just begun work on vol
ume two when he died. The book is, in the author’s words,
a methodological introduction to the theory of knowledge,
having as its purpose the conscientious construction of the
theory of knowledge from its very foundations, starting
with a formulation of the problems. This may perhaps ac
celerate a development that until now has been somewhat
chaotic. The method of reasoning used in the book can
be called the method of “successive approximations”: the
author chooses certain conceptions of the theory of knowl
edge which have appeared in history; from their principal
intentions he weeds out accidental shortcomings and incon
sistencies; once idealized in this way he submits them to a
critical investigation, demonstrating why they could not
Ingarden's Philosophical Work 5
lead to the construction of a satisfactory theory. Each sub
sequent theory is chosen on the basis of the way it is able to
avoid some of the errors of the former. The first in the se
ries is the psycho-philosophical theory of knowledge (in the
style of English empiricists and positivists of the nineteenth
century). By its very definition of the categories of cogni
tion (such as the subject, process, and objects of cognition)
as real objects and processes, this theory is a priori bound
to commit logical errors (the vicious circle of contradiction)
when it attempts to lay the basis for any solution to the
problem of the objectivity of the cognition of the world.
The second theory, namely descriptive phenomenology in
Husserl’s style, avoids these errors thanks to the introduc
tion of the phenomenological reduction and the concept of
pure consciousness. However, the latter theory cannot ar
rive at sufficiently well-founded general statements (since
incomplete induction is not infallible). Besides, it has no
adequate means at its disposal for defining all the concepts
required by the theory of knowledge (e.g., the cognitive
value of the result of cognition). Only the third and fourth
conceptions, viz., the a priori phenomenological and the
autonomous theories of knowledge, can consecutively re
move these faults. Ingaxden did not complete this task, but
thanks to his great precision and subtlety further paths in
many directions are clearly visible.
In this area of philosophy Ingarden was most strongly
influenced by Husserl, sometimes modifying but above all
developing and refining Husserl’s ideas. Progress is most
pronounced in the analysis of a priori conditions. The lat
ter is treated in a sense different from the purely formal
Kantian a priori, being concerned with so-called ideation
or eidetic cognition, which can appertain also to something
material (qualitative). Such cognition is obtained on the
basis of one’s own perception or even imagination by ab
stracting from the facticity and individuality of what is
6 Danuta Gierulanka
given and employing the operation of variation. Ingarden
tried to demonstrate for which objects, within what limits,
under what conditions, and why this cognition could pro
vide universally valid and certain results that would not
require further control. This is exactly the key point in the
theory of knowledge.
Finally, another result in this area of philosophy: the
pronouncement in Ingarden’s inaugural address of 1924 [3]
concerning mutual independence: a correctly constructed
theory of knowledge is not only independent of other (sci
entific and philosophic) disciplines, but the reverse is also
true: no other discipline derives its results or justifies its
arguments from the theory of knowledge. Each discipline
must arrive at its results by its own means of cognition.
The theory of knowledge, or rather that part of it called
the “critique of cognition,” may only appraise the effec
tiveness of these means and the cognitive value of the at
tained results as well as show the ground on which they are
based. However, this evaluation neither makes the given
results true (or false) nor improves (or worsens) them. It
can only reassure us with respect to the results in question.
Ingarden makes a clear distinction between such reassur
ances and justification (or refutation). Realization of this
independence results in a characteristic “partitioning” of
Ingarden’s philosophy. He radically “cuts off” the theory
of knowledge from other areas of philosophy which enables
the author to reject the notion , which has prevailed since
Kant, that the theory of knowledge is the key to the solu
tion of philosophical problems. This also enables him to at
tempt a new approach to the basic issue in the controversy
between idealism and realism concerning the existence of
the world, a problem with which, in his own words, his
“entire attitude to reality was most closely bound.” This
new approach is made from the ontological point of view.
Ontology dominates Ingarden’s philosophic work. In
order to avoid misunderstanding, I shall immediately state
that ontology should not be identified with metaphysics.
Ontology, according to Ingarden, is concerned with pure
possibilities and necessary connections (regardless of fac-
ticity), whereas metaphysics is directed to the factual exis
tence and factual essence of everything that exists.
Ingarden refines Husserl’s concept of ontology by
scrupulously differentiating within what Husserl call Wesen
three types of entity: (1) ideal qualities (species), (2) the
essences of individual objects which, in Ingarden’s opinion,
are as individual as the objects themselves, and (3) general
objects (universalia) for which he reserves the term “idea.”
The original concept of the formal structure of ideas de
veloped in “Essentiale Fragen” [4] enables him to escape
objections raised for centuries against universals. Only In
garden’s conception makes two allegedly contradictory sets
of properties clearly distinguishable for the first time, viz.
(1) the universal “man in general,” for example, would have
to be, as it were, something real and changing in time, just
like any man in general. On the other hand, man in general,
i.e., the general object, would have to be something ideal
and unchangeable; (2) a “triangle in general” would have to
be both right angled and non-right-angled simultaneously.
The idea has a two-sided structure, i.e., qua idea it is
being that is immutable, extra-temporal, etc., but at the
same time each idea has a certain content, thus being an
idea of a certain kind of object, e.g., the idea of man which
encompasses all human individuals. This content envelops
all material (i.e., qualitative), formal, and existential mo
ments that can be distinguished in objects of the given
kind. These moments, however, are of two kinds; some are
constant, i.e., those which must be the same in each indi
vidual object of a given kind; others are variable (in the
mathematical or logical sense) of a predetermined range of
variability. If, in a given idea, a variable is replaced by
8 Danuta Gierulanka
one of its values (i.e., made constant), a less general idea is
obtained. Progressing further in the same manner, we can
eventually reach specific ideas in which the only variable is
the moment of individuation and to which individual ob
jects are directly subordinated. It should be noted that,
e.g., the degree of universality is one of the properties of an
idea which it possesses qua idea; another property is that
it has this and not another content.
Ingarden can now define ontology in more precise terms
as the analysis of the contents of various fields, including,
however, the analysis of the contents of ideas of pure con
scious experiences, i.e., phenomenology (which Husserl op
posed to ontologies) as well as existential ontology (i.e.,
analysis of the contents of the ideas of the modes of exis
tence).
Ingarden’s most important work is the Spor o istnienie
swiata (Controversy over the Existence of the World) in
three volumes [15, 19, 48] which came about in a spirit of
opposition to Husserl’s idealism. Preparatory work dates
from 1925. I shall try to present the main ideas of the book.
According to Ingarden, the lack of a satisfactory so
lution to the old problem — whether the being of the
so-called real world is dependent or independent of con
sciousness, i.e., the dispute between idealism and realism
— must be due to faults in the point of departure. There
fore, a new attem pt to solve this problem must begin with
the re-examination of the initial questions. The source of
the problem lies in the uncertainty of external perception.
However, this uncertainty can itself be the reason for the
lack of lucidity in the whole question. The concept of the
world or reality contained in the problem has been formed
empirically, i.e., it is based on uncertain external percep
tion. Therefore the concept of the world or reality neces
sarily requires a re-elucidation based on the results of the
ontological analysis. This is especially so as the source of
the uncertainty of the external perception lies in turn in
a basically ontological situation: real objects (taken in the
from in which they present themselves to us) are transcen
dent to their cognition (in no act of perception are they
effectively and intuitively given in the entirety of all the
properties ascribed to them). The very core of the contro
versy is a metaphysical problem (though intricately inter
woven with problems of another kind) since, after all, it
is a question of the factual existence of the world; never
theless it seem proper to start with ontological investiga
tions. That is because all ontic categories corresponding
to the concepts included in the initial question require elu
cidation. It appears, for example, that the “dependence”
or “independence” of the being of the world on conscious
ness may still have various meanings. This elucidation will
eventually lead to further more differentiated and precise
questions. Ingarden adopts at first the following plan of
procedure: to define, using existential-ontological analysis,
concepts of the possible modes of existence; to establish
a compete list of non-contradictory combinations of the
modes of existence of the world and of the consciousness
which are theoretically possible answers to the question of
the existential relationship between them; then to gradu
ally eliminate some of these answers on the basis of for
mal and material ontological analysis. The latter allows
for the rejection of solutions which cannot be reconciled
with those features of consciousness of the world to which
they would have been ascribed as a result of formal and
material ontological analysis. Thus, the number of possible
solutions of the problem will be greatly diminished and the
ultimate choice will belong to metaphysical investigations.
This procedure would not only significantly facilitate the
metaphysical choice, but also the possible solution would
not be limited to a statement of an essential fact an would
be rationally understandable.
10 Danuta Giervdanka
The three volumes of the Controversy constitute a sys
tematic realization of the above presented plan for existen
tial and formal ontological investigations. As it is not here
possible even to outline them, I shall mention only that the
achievements are of two kinds: (1) central ones connected
with the problem itself and comprising a series of state
ments at the end of the second volume (and related to the
discussion of the causal structure of the world in volume
III, para. 109 and 110); (2) a “by-product,” as it were, ob
tained “on the way” to the solution of the primary problem:
the development of the conceptual apparatus of existential
and formal ontology together with the concept of the ca
sual relationship. To my knowledge, no other philosophical
investigations so thoroughly explain, starting from the very
foundations, such a complete set of ontic categories. It is
not a linguistic analysis. Language becomes an issue much
later. The analysis of ideas is always carried out in the
Controversy in a direct intuitive contact with the relevant
situations. This occurs in the previously mentioned a priori
cognition. Following his own epistemologically grounded
conviction that first one must become cognizant and only
then reflectively construct the theory of the cognition, In
garden “practiced,” almost through his entire philosophical
career, a priori cognition in ontology (and not without suc
cess!) before he was able, at the end of his life, to provide
a more profound theoretical description of it along with
arguments as to its validity.
The first step in existential ontology consists in unveil
ing intuitions hidden behind philosophical considerations of
the problems of existence. On this basis concepts of pairs
of opposed existential moments are defined: (1) an existen
tial original being, i.e., one which has in itself a sufficient
basis for its existence (esse a se) as opposed to an exis-
tentially derivative being (esse ab alio)] (2) an existentially
autonomous being, i.e., one whose qualifications are im
manent to it, as opposed to an existentially heteronomous
being, or one possessing qualification ascribed to it from
the outside; (3) an existentially contingent being, i.e., one
whose being is always stipulated by something else, as op
posed to an existentially self-dependent one; (4) an exis
tentially inseparate being, i.e., one which exists in a certain
whole with something else, as to an existentially separate
being. Non-contradictory combinations of these existen
tial moments yield definitions, incomplete as yet, of the
possible modes of existence. There are supplemented by
considerations of the time factor in some modes of exis
tence, especially in those which are particularly suitable to
the objects of this world (these being divided into three
categories: events, processes, and objects that endure in
time.
Next comes the discussion of the form (as something
non-qualitative in the extreme) as opposed to m atter (the
qualitative constituent of being) and the analysis of the
possible types of unity holding between them.
Formal ontology includes the elucidation of the formal
structure of an autonomous individual object in two re
spects: as the subject of properties with its direct quali
tative determination (called the constitutive nature), and
with respect to its properties as opposed to the structure:
whole-parts. This concept of the objects structure is clearly
opposed to the treatment of the latter as a bundle of prop
erties. Next, the structure of the autonomous individual
object and that of a general object (an idea), as well as of a
purely intentional object (see below) are contrasted. Then
the structure of the state of affairs and of the relation is an
alyzed. The essence of the object, its identity, is discussed.
Finally, taking into account the fact that the world is not
an individual object but a set of interconnected objects, the
structure of object domains is analyzed. These axe of two
kinds: closed compact domains (such as that of mathemat
12 Danuta Gierulanka
ical objects) and “worlds,” in which causal relationships
constitute the principal existential bonds. The analysis of
the possible causal structures of the world fills the central
volume of the Controversy, which already hinges on mate
rial ontology. Finally, the form of pure consciousness, i.e.,
experiences and the stream of experiences, is analyzed. It
appears that consciousness has rather the form of an in
dividual object and not of a domain, as Husserl assumed.
The question emerges concerning the possible inseparate
ness of its stream with respect to certain constituents of
the world (the human soul and the body). This would re
quire rejecting the idea of a pure consciousness and thereby
entail a basic modification of the initial question. Simul
taneously, a wholly different door would open to the so
lution of the “idealism-realism” controversy. This matter,
which is only briefly signalled at the end of volume II of
the Controversy, requires further investigation. Regardless
of the result, however, the already developed conceptual
tools (whose basic elements have been listed above) remain
unchanged. These tools are applicable to almost all pos
sible domains of consideration, owing to the “ubiquity” of
the ontic categories. In this lies the basis for one kind of
concentration of all of Ingarden’s work axound the Contro
versy, almost all of his subsequent writings draw on the
ontological conceptual attainments of this work.
The Controversy dominates Ingarden’s philosophic work
also in the sense that a large part of his achievements in
the theory of art, and indirectly in aesthetics, axiology of
man, philosophy of language, and logic arose on the basis
of its ontological problematic. It might be asked whether
this is possible. I shall try to demonstrate that indeed it is.
It seems that according to the possible idealistic solu
tion at issue in the Controversy, the objects of the world,
which we call “real,” would exist in the same way as, for
example, fictional characters whose existence and qualifi
cations are ascribed to them by the conscious creative acts
of the author. In other words, they would be existentially
heteronomous. According to the realistic solution, on the
other hand, the existence and qualifications of these objects
would be imminently contained in them, i.e., these objects
would be existentially autonomous. Ingarden is convinced
that there is a close relationship between the mode of exis
tence and the formal structure of the object. Therefore, it
might be possible to solve the problem of the mode of exis
tence of the world not directly but rather, indirectly, by first
settling the question of the formal structure of the objects
of this world. Thus, it is not surprising that in aiming for a
thorough understanding of the structure of heteronomous
objects, which he calls purely intentional objects, Ingarden
turns to investigate literary works of art.
Already in 1931 the first edition appeared of his best
known book, The Literary Work of Art [7], whose contents
exceed by far the scope of the original problem. The book
contains the concept of the structure of the literary work
of art, which has become classic. Its most important state
ments are as follows:
1. A literary work of art is a purely intentional object
(all that it is is ascribed to it by the author’s consciousness);
it is a product of the author’s conscious acts.
2. To prevent his work from perishing together with the
conscious acts of its creation, the author makes it perma
nent, e.g., by setting it down in writing. Thus he shapes
a certain physical object called the ontic foundation of the
work, which cannot, however, be considered a part of the
work of art; it is completely outside the work.
3. A literary work of art is stratiform, possessing at
least four strata: (1) the stratum of word sounds; (2) the
stratum of language meanings (the first and second forming
the bistratum of language); (3) the stratum of perspectives
in which the objects and situations represented in the work
appear; (4) the stratum of these objects and situations.
4. Once finished, the work of art forms a whole, but its
parts are so ordered that it unfolds while read in time; this
is called the quasi-temporal structure of the work of art.
5. In various strata, and particularly in that of the rep
resented objects, the work of art is schematic, inevitably
containing gaps, since it is impossible to describe all prop
erties of the represented objects in a finite number of words.
Nevertheless, they are treated in the work of art as com
plete objects, although the mode of completion is not un
ambiguously decided by what was stated in the work it
self. The effective completion, which under certain circum
stances occurs in the reader’s thinking or fantasy, is called
its concretization. There may be different concretions of
the same work, although they are not fully subject to the
reader’s self-will. The work of art sets certain limits to
admissible completions.
The Literary Work of Art played a three-fold role in
Ingarden’s philosophy: (1) it carried out its objective of
being a preparatory study of the purely intentional object;
(2) it introduced the concept of the literary work of art out
lined above; (3) it became the starting point for Ingarden’s
further work, which emerged from the issues discussed in
the book. This last item is the most important one for our
present consideration.
One group of writings extends Ingarden’s research on
the literary work to other arts, viz. music [8], painting [13],
architecture [14], and film [17]. These extensions, however
are never automatic transfers of results obtained for one
kind of object to another. Each kind is studied in an in
tuition which allows the characteristic features of the ob
ject to be unveiled. Ingaxden is not afraid of pluralism
in results, if the things themselves dictate such pluralism.
He fervently tries to avoid a uniformity-at-all-costs which
would distort reality, depriving it of the richness that so
much enchants us when we have natural contact with it,
without theoretical prejudices.
The second group of writings deriving from the The
Literary Work of Art concerns a subject to which Ingar
den devoted an entire book, The Cognition of the Literary
Work of Art [11]. In view of the stratiform structure of
the literary work of art, of its quasi-temporal span and pri
mary aesthetic function, its function is complex; it must
be a multi-step process and it may assume very specific
forms. Starting from such complexity, this book, in its
epistemological aspect, enriches the philosophical literature
with problems never before considered or even anticipated
in epistemology. Ingarden’s most important contribution
to aesthetics is his penetrating analysis of aesthetic experi
ence, the form of direct experience suitable to this domain
and which validates aesthetic judgments and evaluations.
The third group involves works bordering on aesthetics
and philosophy of language, such as “On the Functions of
Language in the Theatre” [15] or “Artistic Functions of
Language” [43]. It must be remembered, however, that
owing to the language stratum present in the literary work,
the extensive fifth chapter of The Literary Work of Art
contains a certain concept of language and an analysis of
the structure of meanings of various categories of linguistic
expression. Ingarden thus enters the terrain of philosophy
of language.
The fourth complementary group of writings concerned
with the problem of values is inevitably connected with the
work of art. Ingarden distinguishes here between aesthetic
and artistic values, which can be mainly ascribed to the
work of art itself as a schematic creation. These latter are
the technical values of its vaxious elements or structural
features; they are axiologically neutral in themselves but
stipulate or cause the appearance in an aesthetic experience
of aesthetically active properties of the work’s concretion.
16 Danuta Gieru.la.nka.
Suitable choices of these aesthetically active features,
which may appear in various strata of the work, form in
turn the foundation for the overall value of the work of art
(resulting from their harmonization). Such a concept of
aesthetic value [22] is the basis for Ingarden’s new treat
ment of the problem of the objectivity of aesthetic values.
Their objectivity is understood here as the sufficient foun
dation in the properties of the work (scheme) itself. If in
retracing the path of the formation of an aesthetic value, as
described above, one finally reaches the neutral skeleton of
the work (i.e., its qualitative and structural features, which
can be found absolutely in the work itself), and this skele
ton is a sufficient basis for the appearance of this aesthetic
value, then the latter must be considered to be objective.
The latter group of writings on aesthetics paves the way
to general axiology. Its principle issues are outlined in a
paper entitled “W hat We Do Not Know about Values” /in
36]. This paper lists and discusses, often with constructive
suggestions, the following problems: (1) What is the basis
for the distinction between the main types and domains of
values? (2) What is the formal structure of a value and the
relation of this structure to the object whose value it is?
(3) What is the mode of existence of values (if they exist at
all)? (4) What is the basis for differentiating between values
as to their “ranking”; is it possible to establish a general
hierarchy of values? (5) Do “autonomous” values exist?
(6) The problem of the objectivity of values (of various
kinds).
Ingarden’s axiology is connected with the view of man
as a bearer of values (e.g., moral values), or as a creator of
valuable works of art, or as their recipient, one for whom
the truly human world is saturated with values. The road
to the problems of the specific features of human nature
that distinguish mankind from the world of other living
creatures leads directly from investigations of works of art.
These axe a kind of intentional creation making up the “hu
man reality” which man builds around himself /in 46]. The
third source of Ingarden’s philosophy of man is the onto/
logical analyses in the Controversy of objects such as the
organism, consciousness, the soul, and the person.
Ingarden’s logic is deeply rooted in ontology and inter
woven with the philosophy of language. The foundations of
the sense and functions of logical constructs and of the va
lidity of statements expressed in linguistic formulations are
always sought by Ingarden in ontic states of affairs. On the
other hand, both the source of logical problems as well as
hints for their solution are sometimes found in the analysis
of meanings, intentions, and functions of suitable expres
sions in (colloquial!) language. For example, in the essay
“On the Conditional Judgment” [20], Ingarden, while op
posing the logistic concept of material implication, which
by no means explains the sense of a conditional sentence
and leads to the acceptance of really paradoxical sentences
as true, investigates above all the ontic ties between states
of affairs denoted by the antecedent and conclusion of the
conditional statement.
There might be some hesitation about whether one can
distinguish in Ingarden’s work a separate group of method-
ololgical writings, even though a lucid methodological con
sciousness undoubtedly pervades his entire philosophical
output and contributes decisively to the transpaxency of its
entire structure. The method of phenomenological descrip
tion was treated in an early report: “The Aims of Phenome-
nologists” /in 33], and was later applied in masterly analy
ses in various areas of his research. Ingarden treated very
seriously Husserl’s methodological insight that the method
of investigation is determined by the type of the object
studied. His philosophic practice (which in various areas
involved research ab ovo in so fax as it started with pre-
scientific convictions) showed as a result gradual parallel
progress in the cognition of the object and in the develop
ment of the method of studying it. Consequently, sporadic
writings which clearly discuss the problem of method [31,
38, 47], though mostly polemics with the oft proposed “uni-
versalist” methods, can always be included not only in
methodology but simultaneously (in view of the contents
of the author’s arguments) in an area of research which has
to do with objects whose investigation is at the same time
their methodology of cognition. Ingarden’s main work in
epistemology, already discussed above, should be treated
in terms of its methodological aspects rather than consid
ered as belonging to the area of methodology. Among the
writings on the philosophy of language, those which re
late to the role of language in cognition should be similarly
treated /in 45].
A large group of critical studies concerning certain ori
entations of modern and contemporary philosophy [33, 39,
41 ] involve, in almost all cases, the problems of epistemol
ogy and logic (mainly polemics with neo-positivist logic);
only a few are concerned with the theory of the literary
work of art /in 23]. Ingarden’s attempts are always here
directed at reaching the things themselves that are the sub
ject of the critically discussed views and, in agreement with
the phenomenological method, to lead the reader to think
for himself rather than be blindly directed by the critic or
the criticized author.
I hope that it has become clear by now why the philo
sophical work of Ingarden (covering such a wide span and
multitude of problems and marked by a thoroughness of
analysis within each of the topics studied) preserves the
character of a tightly interconnected though highly ramified
whole. This is augmented by a network of links connecting
several of his works and sometimes joining fields consider
ably removed from one another. The linkage comes about
thanks to the individual topics which reappear in various
writings, and are considered in each case from another point
of view, and unveil different features of the given topic, de
pending on the role it plays in the context of the given
work. Consider the following example, which should serve
to demonstrate the point. To trace Ingarden’s consider
ations on time, the following writings and aspects of this
topic would have to be examined:
Controversy, volume I [15]: time as a moment of the
mode of real existence and its role in determining the formal
type of the object (event, process, object enduring in time).
Controversy, volume III [48]: the temporal relationship
between cause and effect.
The Literary Work of Art [7]: the time presented in the
literary work, the quasi-temporal structure of the literary
work of art; changes in time of the work’s concretization
(so-called “life” of the literary work of art).
The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art [11]: tempo
ral foreshortenings and perspectives in the concretization of
the literary work of art.
“On Films and A rt” [17]: the problem of time organi
zation in a film.
“Man and time” [12]: two different experiences of time
and their connection with the feeling of self-identity.
On Responsibility [40]: preservation in time of the iden
tity of an object as a condition of responsibility; the tempo
ral structure of the world as a foundation of responsibility.
Intuition and Intellect on Henri Bergson [1]: the so-
called intensity of perduring; geometricized time and pure
enduring.
“Consideration on the Problem of Objectivity” [38]: va
rieties of ontic objectivity for objects from various temporal
phases.
Other features of Ingarden’s work — precision in for
mulations and courage in attacking difficulties, the thor
oughness and power of suggestion of analyses, scrupulous
argumentation, cautiousness in accepting solutions, sweep
ing dynamics and force of arguments, all combined with
a healthy moderation, naturalness, lucidity, internal or
der, and calm — cannot be transmitted in any attem pt
to present his work. These one can appreciate only in an
attentive reading of his works. The present paper has been
limited to an outline of the problems treated by Ingarden,
in an attem pt to lead the reader to the work itself — to sup
ply him, as it were, with a map of a large city, with its large
central districts and points of interest marked out, and in
cluding the transportation system connecting up the whole,
a map which should enable everybody to travel about the
manner which suits them best.
Translated by Halina Bockris

Translation reviewed by Edward Swiderski
II. The Structure of Artworks
Anita Szczepanska
The aesthetic ideas of Ingarden are an irreplaceable source

of inspiration and a point of reference for many scholars,
irrespective of their particular philosophic orientation —
they have found a permanent place in Polish aesthetic
thought and one can hardly imagine a contemporary in
vestigation in aesthetics taking no account of Ingarden’s
impressive achievement. Yet despite some fascination with
his aesthetic system, nothing like a “school of Ingarden” has
ever been founded. The reasons for this are too complex to
be adequately explained in this paper; one, at least can be
mentioned: alterations within aesthetics itself, which un
der the pressure of cultural change tends to examine art
phenomena in an ever wider context of the processes of
culture and civilization. Sociological and semiotic trends,
treating a work of art as an instrument of social communi
cation and as a m atter of principle shunning academic and
philosophical aesthetics, thrive and flourish. Phenomeno
logical aesthetics, oriented toward investigating a general,
eidetic structure of the object and necessary relationships
within it and regarding cultural, social, and historical de
terminants as superficial and unimportant to the object’s
essence, found itself in the position of an outsider.
The main objection that scholars of a semiotic orien
tation formulate against Ingarden’s theory of the work of
art is its ontological character, the fact that the primary
subject of investigation is the structure and the essential
features of the work of art treated as an isolated objectiv
ity, not as a mere component of communicative acts within
the framework of a particular language of artistic conven
tion.
21
22 Anita Szczepanska
Not all the followers of the above-mentioned orientation
reject, however, the results of Ingarden’s investigation en
bloc, some admit that in spite of fundamental differences
between the two theoretical approaches there are certain
concurrences that make it possible to apply some sugges
tions of the phenomenologist to semiotic analysis. The
concurrences are to be found in certain fundamental onto
logical positions — the rejection by Ingarden of psychical
solutions in his separation of the work of art from the expe
riences and impressions of both the artist and the observer,
his ascription to the work of intentional being — that make
it possible to define a work of art as a sign possessing in-
tersubjective meaning and at the same time constituting
ontological characteristics for the whole class of cultural
signs. Likewise, there are some basic conceptions discerned
by Ingarden in his ontological analysis of literary work that
are not only translatable into the language of semiotic aes
thetics, but also render possible a more precise expression
of many a problem related to the definition of the artis
tic sign.1 Similarly, the answers to some questions vital
to the semiotic investigation (e.g., the problem of which
properties of works of art enable them to function in sev
eral languages of artistic communication) can be found in
Ingarden’s observations on the schematic features of works
of art, aspects of their structure that make them suscepti
ble to various modes of concretization and bring into being
numerous objects of great variety.
The objection against the ontological character of In
garden’s aesthetic investigation, namely against his con
centration on the problem of the structural analysis of an
isolated work of art, reveals the oversight of a very im
portant and perhaps most original trait of his aesthetics.
Ingarden’s conception of the aesthetic situation and of the
subject-object encounter that is fundamental to aesthetics
precludes a division into “subjective” and “objective” in
The Structure of Artworks 23
vestigations. According to Ingarden, there is nothing here
like objects in themselves, existing independently of percep
tion, “given” in the way that real objects are given; there
axe only intentional objectivities created by conscious acts
of an artist or an observer. It should not therefore be for
gotten, when investigating the structure of a work of art,
that the work understood as an intentional objectivity is
insepaxably bound to the creative acts of an axtist and to
the concretional acts of a perceiver. Ingarden never tired of
emphasizing this fundamental feature of his conception; it
was present already in his first treatise on aesthetics, The
Literary Work of Art, dealing with the ontology of a lit
erary work. The work of axt was from the very beginning
comprehended as a purely intentional product of the cre
ative acts of artists and, at the same time, opposed, as a
schematic creation with potential elements, to its own con-
cretizations — a work that had to be created both by its
author and by the re-creative experiences of a reader or a
spectator, and thus that “indicated, at once by its very na
ture and by its mode of existence, existential processes of
different psychical subjects as indispensable conditions for
its existence (or ‘life,’ as I call it) it points at the whole
community of its readers, spectators, or listeners”.2 W ith
out losing sight of this perspective, we will now describe
Ingaxden’s main theses concerning the mode of existence
and the structural characteristics of the work of art.
I. The existential theses
The work of art is by its mode of existence fundamen

tally different from a real object; it is an object brought
to life by conscious acts of an artist and so ontologically
derivative, heteronomous, and intentionally existing. Its
ontological foundations are twofold: the acts that brought
it to life and the material objects appropriately shaped by
an artist. Despite being subject to psychical arts, the work
of art is not a psychical entity and should be identified
neither with the psychical experiences of its creator nor
with those of observers. In the terminology worked out
by Ingarden to denominate different modes of existence by
indicating different ontological moments, the work of art
is an object ontologically derivative from and at the same
time both ontologically independent of the experiences of
its maker and observers (being a separate entity) and on
tologically dependent on its maker, observer, and material
substratum. Neither may the work of art be identified with
the material object which provides a basis for its durability
and intersubjective accessibility.
II. Theses on the structure of the work o f art

1. The work of art is a schematic and in many respects
a nondescript creation, with many of the aspects it embod
ies existing only potentially. It only attains fulfillment and
concreteness in the process of aesthetic perception — in In
garden’s words, in the process of its “concretization.” The
outcome of the process of the aesthetic concretization of the
work of art is the aesthetic object. There are, therefore, two
different kinds of entities: the work of art as a schematic
and intentional creation and as an aesthetic object (the
work’s concretization attained in the aesthetic experience).
It is not, therefore, the work of art as a schema that we
perceive, but one of its concretizations.
2. The work of art is generally composed of several
strata arranged in a hierarchic order. The functions of all
the strata in relation to the others determine their mutual
organic relationship and their structural unity, with suc
cessive “lower” strata forming foundations for the “higher”
ones, conditioning their existence and defining their char
acteristics. The number of distinguishable strata differs in
different types of works of art.
3. Apart from the schema of the strata, which forms the
basic, “anatomical” structure of the work of art, we may
distinguish within it a peculiar quality-structure consisting
of a natural framework of the work of art and a system of
interrelated quality-structures of paramount importance in
supporting the aesthetic value of the work.
Ad I. The existence of the theses

The indication that the whole sphere of cultural cre
ation, including works of art, belongs to the province
of intentional being is one of the fundamental achieve
ments of Ingarden’s investigation. If, as suggested by some
theoretitians,3 the whole development of twentieth-century,
dividing all phenomena into physical or psychical, then the
discovery of an intermediate zone, irreducible to either or
der, is a tremendous achievement of phenomenology in gen
eral and of Ingarden in particular, in his theory of a mode of
intentional being with both existential characteristics and
formal properties.
Here I would like to look more closely at the question of
the ontological situation of works of art treated as a cate
gory of intentional being. The specific character of this on
tological situation, compared to that of purely intentional
and not preservable objects, lies in the fact that works of
art rely not on a single but on two different autonomous
subjects, one of them being an act, creative or perceptive,
the other a material object enabling their “embodiment”
and preservation. The part played by these two ontological
foundations may be summarized as follows: the material,
existential foundations are the basis of the durability of
the work of art, which makes these foundations more im
portant than the acts of perception; the latter, however,
axe of a creative or co-creative nature and so axe more im
portant in their own right. The part played by the creative
and perceptive acts in relation to the work of art is con
26 Anita. Szczepanska
stitutive or co-constitutive; that of the material existential
foundations, sustaining.”4
Traditional aesthetics has never worked out a clear dif
ferentiation between a physical object and a work of art
itself. There are also some post-Ingardenian theories (like
that of N. Hartmann) which accept his conception of the
work of art’s intentionality and complex structure and yet
incorporate into the work of art its material basis as a “low
est” stratum, and so construct and object are existentially
heterogeneous.
Let us examine now the arguments provided by Ingar
den against the identification of the work of art with the
material object that forms its basis. His reasoning concerns
especially those types of work where such an identification
seems most obvious, a painting identified with the canvas
hanging on a wall, an architectural work treated as con
crete, architectonically-formed matter. His main argument
refers to the fact that the physical objects that form the ex
istential basis of the work of art are individual, as all real
objects qualified entirely by the lowest, spatio-temporal,
quality-forms. As such they possess a number of features
absolutely meaningless as properties of a work of art such
as temperature, weight, volume, molecular structure, and
many others, neutral and irrelevant to the qualification of
a work of art. Many statements may thus be formulated
about these material objects, statements that axe untrue if
made about the corresponding works of art and vice versa.
In contrast to the fully qualified material objects, the
works of art superposed upon them are schematic creations,
not completely endowed with qualities but only possessing
some specific traits. At the same time, although not equal
to the material object as fax as the degree of qualification
is concerned, the work of art is superior in another way,
having features far exceeding the set of properties that can
ever be attributed to the former.
A painting cannot be identified with a paint-coated can
vas hanging on the wall, one of the reasons being that an
objectivity it represents — people and objects — appears
in a space of its own, which has nothing in common with
the real space containing the real object, the painted can
vas. For example, the succession of hierarchically ordered
strata — the strata of colour patches, of appearences, of
represented objects, of literary themes — belong to the
painting, not to the painted canvas, because none of them
is the property of a material object.
Similarly, an architectural work must not be identified
with its underpinning, i.e., with the mass of material of
which a building is constructed, for one could realize the
same work many times producing a number of identical
buildings and only one architectural work (the same applies
to reproductions of a painting). The validity of this distinc
tion is further corroborated by the possibility of restoring
architectural structures — individually different material
objects serving as existential foundations of one and the
same work of art. Ingarden’s thesis on the intentional ex
istence of the architectural work has been opposed by cer
tain theoretitians, e.g., J. Slawinska, who argues that his
propositions are irreconcilable with theories such as con
structivism in architecture. According to Slawinska, “In
garden’s ‘On the Architectural Work of A rt’ provides more
arguments against his conception of the purely intentional
existence of the work of art than in support of it. This
conception, having been educed from the analysis of other
arts and transferred to the field of architecture cannot be
fully reconciled with its most vital trends, namely, those
that stress the functional and structural virtues of architec
tural objects.”5 Ingarden answered this and other objec
tions raised by Slawinska in a letter to the editor, in which
he set forth new arguments for the necessity of discrimi
nating between real objects and entities like architectural
28 Anita Szczepanaka
works, whose existence only partially depends on purely
physical (material) objects, “certain fitting multiplicities of
perceptive and reflective acts being indispensable agents for
their final constitution. The building itself and the material
used for its construction are vested with different systems of
properties; to identify one with another is to acknowledge
the existence of some contradictory objects.”6
A further reason for differentiating between the work
of art and its material substratum is the mode of their ap
pearance. A painted canvas or a three-dimensional mass are
given in a simple, sensual act of perception, visual or tactile;
they may be looked at from any point of space; change of
place affects only the sharpness of vision and does not lead
to the object’s “disappearance,” whereas in order to further
intentional apprehensions, exceeding simple sensual percep
tion and involving complex processes of consciousness. The
act of seeing a painting is, as pointed out by Husserl, always
“founded”, i.e., superposed upon other apprehensions, the
complexity of the foundations growing with the number of
strata contained within the painting. Ingarden also demon
strates that the immediate apprehension of the painting is
never founded on a full perception of the real object but
on an experience of a part of sensual data. This kind of
perception is therefore selective, “guided” by a system of
possible data determined by colour patches of the paint
ing, the latter serving in their turn as the sensory basis of
appearences that are eventually to be reconstructed by the
observer. Colour patches have a different function when we
perceive a painting and when we look at a painted canvas:
they do not reveal properties of a real object but render
possible the quasi-perceptive seeing of an intentional, rep
resented object. The painting imposes some additional ex
igencies of perspective vision: to be able to see represented
objects and extension we must place ourselves at a definite
spot of the real space. The immediate apprehension of the
painting does not obliterate completely the peripheral con
sciousness of the presence of the painted canvas, the latter
bringing out sensations of appearances other than of those
reconstructed in the painting. To see a painting requires a
sort of glossing over of these peripheral data. The process
of seeing a painting, therefore, far transcends a simple, sen
sual perception of a real object and requires many complex
mental acts.
Another difference between the work of art and its sub
stratum the real object lies in the different types of indi
viduality vested in them,7 the difference being due to the
causes of their individualities each lying elsewhere. The
material object is an unqualified oneness due to its real,
autonomous mode of existence and unequivocal spatio-
temporal qualification; the individuality of the work of art
is qualified as it ensues from uniqueness of its qualified con
ditions, and so is both non-temporal and unconnected with
spatial designations.
The relationship between the material basis and the
work of art depends, however, on the kind of art involved.
Sometimes the relation is very close, as in an architectural
work, and sometimes very remote or even indirect, as in a
literary work. J. Makota speaks figuratively of the differ
ent “extent of the work’s immersion into the substratum,”
but the fundamental thesis of the necessity of discrimina
tion between the work of art as an intentional entity and
the material object that is its existential basis applies to all
kinds of works of art.
Ad II. T heses on the structure of the work of art

la. Schematization
Where traditional aesthetics saw only one object, the
work of art, Ingarden enumerates three kinds of entity:
apart from the already treated discrimination between the
work of art and its material foundation, he differentiates
within the intentional being two further objects, the work
of art itself and its concretization, which is the real aes
thetic object.
This proposal is based on a statement that is among the
most important discoveries of Ingarden’s aesthetics: that
the work of art is a schematic object, or, more precisely,
a not quite definite schema, embodying potential elements
and by its very nature appealing to an observer’s supple
mentary actions in order to obtain fullness of existence and
concreteness. Only in such “complemented” form may the
work of axt act aesthetically.
This schematization is linked with the fact that the work
of art is an intentional entity (objects of this kind can ex
ist only within the sphere of intentional being); the real,
autonomous world is radically different, real objects being
definite in every respect, comprehensively and unequivo
cally.
The objects represented in a literary work yield the best
examples of schematization. These objects are defined in
some respects only, namely in those which are specified
expressis verbis by a literary pronouncement. “For it is
impossible to specify univocally and comprehensively infi
nite multitudes of the features and conditions of individual
objects, represented with the aid of a finite number of sen
tences or words making them up.”8 The represented ob
jects, usually presumed to correspond to real objects, are
conceived as absolutely individual and possessing an infi
nite number of properties. Though the form of a nominally-
designated object used in a literary text is such a form, an
object possessing a potentially infinite number of proper
ties, it is also only a schema that will never reach com
plete fulfilment. Owing to potential contents of the word’s
nominal denotation, the majority of the object’s properties
are just co-presumed, not fixed univocally. Similarly, the
properties of represented objects, formed by conditions or
states of things given in sentences, are finite as a result of
the finite number of sentences. There is, therefore, a fun
damental contradiction between the “claims” of the objects
represented in a literary work to the status of fully shaped
individual objectivities, and the possibility of denominating
such objects in a finite lingual text. That is why the ob
jects created by such a text inevitably include some “blank”
spots — or in Ingarden’s words, “insufficiently qualified
spots.” These appear wherever, on the basis of a complex
of sentences belonging to the literary work, it is impossi
ble to state whether in certain conditions a given object 0
does or does not possess a property P.9 The represented ob
ject is therefore but a formal schema of an infinite number
of “qualifiable” spots, mostly blank. The choice of insuffi
ciently qualified spots differs according to different literary
works, and may be peculiar both to a particular work and
to literary styles or types.
Schematization and potentiality do not affect repre
sented objects only, but appear on other strata of a lit
erary work, on the strata of both meaning creation and
appearances, which according to Ingarden are “kept on the
alert” by the literary text and become a reality only in the
reader’s perception.
Works of art immediately apprehended by the senses
are schematic too, though their sources of schematization
are different. In the case of architectural works, Ingarden
speaks of a multitude of schemata of appearances deter
mined beforehand by a definitely shaped matter (the ar
rangement of the building’s masses) and “belonging” to a
given shape. These schemata of appearances must not be
mistaken for specific individual appearances experienced by
the spectator.
The same applies to painting. “In different concretiza-
tions there appears an assortment of permanent factors ...
which result in an unchanging skeleton of the painting;
while in the course of experience the variable factors ex
ert an influence on one another and so oust or rectify each
other, at least partially. It turns out that they are not
univocally determined by the painting (or by the painted
canvas) but are complements of a schematic creation that
the picture in fact is.”10 It goes without saying that the
painting’s schematization is also connected to the presence
of insufficiently qualified spots in its quality structure.
With reference to musical works, Ingarden mentions
schematization mainly in connection with their notation:
the music script merely transmits schematic data, which
achieve the completeness of an actual work only in an act
of musical performance. “At various moments of a musi
cal work determined by a score we encounter a considerable
vagueness of qualification and a number of singular obscuri
ties possible only in a purely intentional work, which in the
course of musical performance become ipso facto eliminated
and replaced by ‘clear-cut’ univocalised determinations.”11
The musical work itself is therefore a schematic creation,
an intentional object determined by the score, and must be
discerned from its performances in which those moments of
the work that are not present in the schema or are there
only in a general outline achieve completeness and univocal
character.
lb. Concretization
Given this schematization and the potentiality of many

of the work’s qualifications, the special ontological struc
ture of the work of art results from the fact that “the whole
work as well as its respective elements are a sort of appeal
for an act of concretization,”12 an appeal for a complemen
tary actualizing and personating activity of the perceiver.
This necessity of concretizing while perceiving is dictated,
as shown above, by the very structure of the work of art.
Due to the schematization of the work of art many con-
cretizations are possible: we deal with a number of con-
cretizations that are its “complemented,” “substantiated”
forms. It should be added, as stressed by Ingarden, that
both the work itself and its concretization are different from
the subjective experiences of apprehending it; the work and
its concretizations have no psychical connotations what
ever, although their existence depends partially on psychi
cal experiences. The schematization of the work explains
and justifies differences, often quite considerable, between
different concretizations of the same work of art: it may
allow in the same measure for different concretizations and
none of them may be rejected or recognized as “wrong.”
Only by taking account of the opposition between the work
of art and its concretizations can the situation “in which the
insufficiently qualified becomes fully denominated and the
potential actualizes itself”13 be understood. “The fact that
the one and only work allows any number of concretiza
tions, often departing to an appreciable extent from the
work itself and differing considerably among themselves,
has its basis, among other things, in the schematic struc
ture of the work of a rt’s objective stratum, which admits
insufficiently qualified spots.”14 The schematization of the
work of art and the diversity of its concretizations obviously
do not depend exclusively on insufficiently qualified spots
on the stratum of represented objects, in a literary work or
in any figurative art: In a literary work each stratum con
tains different kinds of both insufficient qualifications and
potentialities; in the arts the situation is, as already noted,
somewhat different.
The aesthetic perception of the work always assumes the
form of one of its concretizations. Usually we are unaware
of this and identify a concretization with the work (most
scholarly investigations share in this guilt). The work is,
however, “in its very essence different from all its concen-
34 Anit& Szczepanska
trizations. It appears in them, evolves in them, but each of
these developments transcends it out of sheer necessity.”15
Here a difficulty arises. If we always deal with some spe
cific concretization and never with the work itself, there
is no ground for investigating the proper structure of the
work and for setting it vis-a-vis its concretizations. In or
der to clarify the problem a more extensive quotation from
Ingarden seems expedient:
If there were no, so to speak, direct access to the
literary work, all our analyses would be exposed
to the danger of being suspended in mid-air. ...
I would like to indicate that this objection is
pointless. Firstly, if we were really able to ap
prehend every paxticular work in one of its con
cretizations, then this concretization would not
be a pretence (or a veil) debarring us from the
work, but something by means of which it would
distinctly manifest itself. Even individual dif
ferences between particular concretizations en
able us to discover what belongs to the work it
self and what to concretizations determined by
things accidental to the work: differences be
tween various concretizations of the same work
surely do not belong to the work, e.g., differ
ent fulfilments of the same insufficiently quali
fied spots of the work. ... Finally, in the text
we speak of aesthetic contact with the work,
whereas in order to detect the results presented
here, a theoretic, purely cognitive access to the
work is indispensable. .. . I may act in such a
way that there will be no concretization of the
work ... I try to stick to the text as close as
possible, with all its insinuations and potential
ities. In that way I will achieve the work in the
schematic form I have presented in this book,
but at the same time I will not achieve aesthetic
perception and will not reach the aesthetic lit
erary object.”16
In his works Ingarden investigates the problem of con

cretization in three contexts: (1) in connection with on
tological analyses dealing with the structure of different
types of works of art; (2) while investigating the process
of getting acquainted with a literary work; (3) in connec
tion with the aesthetic experience, the situations in ques
tion being the apprehension of sets of aesthetically valent
qualities and their polyphonic orchestration, the creation
of aesthetic objects, and communication with the aesthetic
value.
The conception of concretization, educed from struc
tural properties of the work treated as a schematic creation
and standing for a peculiar “complete” version of the work
formed in the act of perception, contains both aspects of
the “aesthetic situation,” objective and subjective: “The
concretization of any literary work and of the literary work
of art in particular is a result of the union of two different
factors: the work itself and the reader, especially his cre
ative and co-creative activities at the time of reading.”17
The factors that determine the form of concretization are
to be found both in the work and in the cultural features
of the historical period in which the concretization takes
place. Ingarden maintains that the concretization is first
and foremost an expression of relations between the work
and the literary climate of the period. The work usually
assumes a form typical of the given period; the influence
of the individual atructure of the reader is ordinarily of
secondary importance.
The theory of concretization enables us to apprehend
the work both in its relations to the perceiver, and thus
opens prospects of overcoming the antinomy between de
scribing the work of art as a specifically structured decla
ration and as a social fact.
One author who failed to notice these prospects in the
ideas of Ingarden is Stanislaw Lem; in his famous book The
Philosophy of Chance he undertakes a vigorous polemic
with Ingarden’s views on the theory of literature. Lem’s
main thesis is that there is nothing like an inner seman
tic organization of the work and that in every single act
of reading it is the work’s code that determines its inner
structure. In other words, the immanent meaning order
of the work is but a “misleading fiction of literature spe
cialists; in reality the said order originates and takes shape
in the acts of interpretation, which by installing the work
within specific significative systems provide it with differ
ent ‘structures of sense.’ ... To read a book does not mean
to confirm its established semantic order (it being nonex
istent, anyway) but rather to identify a certain set of rules
of perception.”18
Lem rejects utterly any idea of an organized inner struc
ture of the work existing independently of perceptive acts.
Semantic structuring of the work would, in such a case, de
pend entirely on receiving gear “applied” to the work and
be thus absolutely free, unrestricted. According to Lem,
the perceiver’s acts cannot be described as “filling in the
framework cast in the work, but constituting this frame
work, extracting the work from the state of shapelessness
and imposing a rational form upon it.”19
Lem’s polemic purpose, directed against positions ne
glecting the role played by acts of reception in the consti
tution of significative contents of the literary work, is man
ifest; it is not, therefore, altogether clear whether these ex
treme theses may and should be taken literally, or whether
they are but a sort of exaggeration aiming at an emphasis
of some important traits of literary communication. The
reason is that in many parts of his book Lem withdraws
from his positions and speaks as if the structuring done
by the reader was to a certain extent governed by the de
terminations of the work. This is most strongly marked
in his appeal to the notions of genotype and phenotype
in analogy with the work and its readings: the phenotype
is supposed to be “what comes into being in the reader’s
mind, but what blessed simplicity often identifies with the
work as a genotype. Both the text and the organic geno
type are the governing programmes of information set in
a material carrier.”20 And so, in the process of reading,
the work treated as a “control system” stops depending
entirely on the receiving code; receptions become submit
ted to some “directive restrictions of the system,” specified
by the very “framework cast in the work” whose existence
Lem previously rejected.
Thus formulated, the unity of the work’s genotype
stands in opposition to the diversity of its “phenotypes” or
readings (the analogy with Ingarden’s notions of the work
and its concretizations is striking), with the genotype serv
ing as a point of reference for different readings and de
termining their field of dispersion. As rightly observed by
J. Sawinski, “if we maintain that beyond particular phe
notypes hides a fairly stabilized genotype of the work ... ,
we appear to understand that this genotype is within reach
of our observation, yet at the same time we state some
thing very similar to the object of our polemics: that the
reader’s concretizations settle round a solid core which is
nothing else but an ‘objective’ order of a literary work.”21
It appears that on the m atter at issue Lem’s views do not
differ appreciably from Ingarden’s approach. This striking
similarity becomes most evident in those parts of Lem’s
book where he attempts his own description of a reading
of a French novel, showing false interpretative hypotheses
emerging in the course of reading as precisely the “wrongly”
read and describes the process of transforming and reinter
preting earlier parts of the work under the influence of the
later. The whole process might, against Lem’s intentions,
serve as a specification of Ingarden’s theoretic argument
for the step-by-step character of the process of the cogni
tion of a literary work and for the gradual articulation and
concretization of data supplied by the text and making the
reconstruction of the represented world possible.
These polemics testify to the vitality and endurance of
issues put forward by Ingarden, whose importance to mod
ern theory of culture has been affirmed by one of its out
standing contributors: “The issues undertaken by Ingar
den in his theory of concretization have of late been proved
particularly timely, having been imposed upon literature’s
attem pts at a description of the work in relation to a reader
no more treated as a passive receiver of anything the work
cared to offer but as a full partner in the act of literary
communication. ” 22
2. The stratified structure
Analyzing the structure of different types of works of

art, Ingarden points not only at a multitude of their ele
ments, at the complex and multi-plane character of their
structures, but also at close relationships, existential and
functional, between different strata. In a “cross-section,”
the majority of works of art appear as stratified systems
whose lower strata serve as existential foundations of the
higher ones. The “lowest” stratum is founded directly upon
the selected properties of the material substructure. What
Ingarden meant by the stratified structure of the work of
art and by its prerequisites, can be best explained by the
following:
These are the conditions, both necessary and
sufficient, that a work of art must satisfy in or
der to possess a “multilayer” structure: (a) it
must be composed of heterogeneous elements
(as, e.g., in a literary work, vocal sounds, rep
resented objects, etc.) (b) homogeneous ele
ments, like vocal sounds, must combine in sets
of a higher order (e.g., the meanings of words
into the meaning of a sentence), the latter join
ing in their turn into linguistic compositions
of a yet higher order (sentences in groups of
sentences), so that eventually all compositions
thus created unite in a single element of the
work, usually spreading over the whole span of
the work (e.g., the stratum of the meaning of
a literary work); (c) thus created, the basic el
ement of the work must not lose its separate
and individual character in the in the work’s
totality, but remain a clear-cut element of the
whole, both when the work’s own structure is
considered and in the form it assumes in aes
thetic perception; finally, (d) between different
basic elements of the said type there must ex
ist an organic bond, ensuing from their essence
and bringing them into the whole of the single
work.23
Different material substrata result in fundamental dif
ferences of structure and type of element between differ
ent literary works and especially between works making
use of language and works having recourse to immediate
apprehension via the senses. The substance of a literary
work is not a directly shaped matter, like colour patches in
a painting, masses in architecture, or tones in music, but
language, i.e., a cultural intentional creation allowing only
indirect construction of the represented world by means of
conventional linguistic signs. “What is represented in the
literary work may be set up in the realm of imagination
only, as it lacks sensual forms that might be apprehended
40 Anita, Szczep&Aska
immediately by the perceiver’s sense-perception.”24 The
fundamental heterogeneity of the literary work springs from
this fact, for on the one hand we deal with the linguistic
stratum, on the other with the represented world. The ob
jectivities represented in the literary work are given “with a
projection-apparatus to develop them.”25 Different strata
may be found in non-literary works as well; their contents
appear, however, as single homogeneous subjects, whereas
the content of the literary work is a whole consisting of two
heterogeneous elements.
Ingarden distinguishes four strata of the literary work:
(1) the phonetic stratum, (2) the semantic stratum of the
meanings of sentences, (3) the stratum of objectivities rep
resented by purely intentional states of things defined by
the meanings of sentences, and (4) the stratum of schema
tized aspects by means of which represented objectivities
of the work become manifest. Close connections between
the strata appear already in this enumeration: the seman
tic stratum superimposed, as it were, automatically upon
the phonetic one as a result of the permanent linkage of
meanings to particular sounds in any given language. And
since the meanings of sentences inevitably produce their
own intentional equivalents — states of things to which
the represented objects are committed — the represented
world arises immediately upon the semantic stratum. As
a result of the specific character of literary language, of its
vividness, some “schemata of aspects” are set in motion in
the sphere of represented objects and states of things, mak
ing possible the immediate, if only notional, appearance of
these objects. The represented world is thus uplifted to
the sphere of intentional existence by means of both strata,
phonetic and semantic, and especially by the latter, sup
ported in its turn by the phonetic stratum.
The introduction of the strata of represented objec
tivities and of schematized aspects brought many objec
tions from investigators endorsing the “linguistic” model
of the literary work, limited exclusively to linguistic ele
ments. Henryk Markiewicz preferred to consider the as
pects as particular contents of certain sentences and, echoed
by Janusz Sawinski, proposed to recognize the stratum of
represented objectivities as a “higher semantic stratum ”
described as a kind of “concentration of meanings,” “with
out the necessity of resorting to the conception of strata
other than the stratum of meanings connected with lin
guistic segments of the text.”26
At the opposite end of the continuum lies the musical
work, the only type of work of art described by Ingarden as
possessing only one stratum: although not all the elements
of the musical work are homogeneous, still they never unite
in uniform wholes that might be considered as strata in
Ingarden’s sense of the word.
This enunciation has been contested by Zofia Lissa; in
her analysis of the structure of the musical work she re
ferred to Ingarden’s theory of the literary work. In oppo
sition to the view taken by Ingarden, that in cinema the
sound is organically related to the picture, she proposed to
differentiate between the visual and the sonic, and to treat
both spheres as separate strata. In her “Remarks on Ingar
den’s theory of the Musical Work” Lissa touched on some
disputable views Ingarden presented in his treatise “The
Question of the Identity of the Musical Work” [8 ], focus
ing especially on the problem of the historical limitations
of theses on the fundamental features of the musical work:
“For all aestheticians,” she says, “views on the essence of
music are historically constrained, being based on musical
empiricism, i.e., on the kinds of musical works and on the
reception they received that the philosophers axe provided
with by the times, environment, and civilization to which
they belong.”27 The views of Ingarden correspond to an
historically laxge proportion of musical works, but not to
the whole of music. The author bases her argument on ex
amples drawn from vanguard music, European folk-music,
and the music of long-bygone times. Ingarden responded
to her criticism with a statement that in his analysis of the
structures of literary and musical works of art, allowing at
the same time a certain margin for a typical cases
In which it is not sure whether the positions
obtained for the first group of objects will be
maintained. .. .It is possible that the new mu
sic belongs precisely to the kind of case only
partially compatible with the positions taken
with regard to the musical work in a narrow
sense. I do not think, however, that we should
adopt a relativistic, historically changeable at
titude. . .. Besides, my considerations on works
of different arts were of a formal and existential
kind and not concerned with the material en
dowment of the work of art. For the latter may
vary greatly over the centuries and it is doubt
ful whether the limits of its variability will ever
be established.28
According to Ingarden a careful examination of the exam

ples of musical works discussed by Lissa does not confirm
her argument that they do not fit the formal framework set
up by his earlier analyses.
The architectural work resembles the musical work in
a number of ways. In both cases the act of perception
does not have to extend beyond what is immediately and
specifically given. “In architecture, as in music — as gen
erally in all non-figurative arts — direct apprehension of
what is given in sense-perception (always qualitatively syn-
thetizing, however) brings us immediately to the architec
tural or musical work of art.”29 In both cases the con
crete, definitely shaped material serving as the existential
basis of the work of art, is homogeneous. It seems plausi
ble, therefore, that the architectural work might be a one-
stratum creation like the musical work. Ingarden rejects
this implication, however, and suggests that there are two
strata: (1) the stratum of visual aspects manifesting per
ceptively the shape of the building, and (2) the stratum
of the very form of the three-dimensional mass. For, in
principle, in every architectural work there is an infinite
multitude of the “schemata of aspects,” determined in ad
vance by the properly shaped matter. Still, it may seem
doubtful whether in the case of architectural works this
discernment of two strata is really justified. Having ex
amined in her book Ingarden’s theory of the structure of
different kinds of works of art, J. Makota denied in general
the expedient of distinguishing the stratum of represented
objectivities in every kind of work, arguing that the aspect
of an object belongs inseparably to the object as its way of
appearing. The epistemological phenomenological analysis
speaks, however, and even with regard to “normal” percep
tion, of a “stratum ” of aspects beyond which lie only the
objects themselves.
The situation of abstract painting is similar to that of
the musical composition. Ingarden is inclined to recognize
it as a one-stratum work, whereas in figurative painting,
apart from the strata of colour patches and appearences,
there is also the stratum of represented objectivities and, in
many cases, the stratum of a literary or historical subject.
All the multi-stratified works give rise to the question of

whether their way of existence is homogeneous, since each
successive stratum is an existential foundation of the other
“higher”-placed strata. Ingarden does not touch upon this
problem, although his answer is implicit in his theory of
the intentional object: in respect to the intentionality of
existence, the work of art is multi-stage.30
3. Qualitative structure
When analyzing the “anatomical” structure of the work

of art, Ingarden used to point out that in different strata of
particular types of works one can find, apart from purely
structural moments, some aesthetically active qualities.
The aesthetically valent qualities of different types appear
on every stratum of the work and create a specific quality-
structure of decisive importance to the work’s value. Here
we shall outline the idea of this structure, or, to use In
garden’s expression, the system of aesthetically significant
qualities, attempting at the same time to show its relation
to the stratified structure of the work.
In the work of art Ingarden distinguishes three types
of qualitative moment: (1) aesthetically neutral moments,
material and formal, some of which are of consequence for
the establishment of aesthetically valent qualities; (2) aes
thetically valent qualities built upon them (positively or
negatively); (3) the aesthetic, qualitatively defined value.
Qualities belonging to the first group form an aesthetically
neutral skeleton of the work, qualified by different sets of
properties — e.g., the properties relevant to the specific
character of the material basis, to their stratified structure,
to their objective or processive character, etc. Some fea
tures of the neutral skeleton participate as the work’s pro
ficiencies in setting up aesthetically valent qualities. Upon
the basis of the aesthetically neutral skeleton arise different
aesthetically valent moments, which in their turn determine
the value of the concretized work of art.
Ingarden attempted to produce an open-ended list of
the moments that may appear as aesthetically active and
arranged them in the following groups of qualities: first,
the aesthetically valent material and formal qualities, then
various forms of the qualities “excellence” or “cheapness,”
the ways the qualities become manifest, variants of “new
ness,” “naturalness,” “truth,” “reality” and a number of
ways they affect the perceiver. There is also a group apart,
that of the qualities determining in detail the aesthetic val
ues themselves.
Among nine discriminated groups Ingarden draws at
tention to two, the group of material qualities and the group
of formal moments, as the groups of paramount importance
both to the creation of a fully substantialized work and to
the remaining groups, which derive from them. Ingarden
calls these moments an aesthetically valent framework of
the work. His attitude directly opposes the views of the
adherents of formalism and theories linking the value of the
work with its essence. “For it is not true that all the for
mal moments, and only them, axe aesthetically valent, nor
axe the material moments of that character.”31 Different
relationships arise between the valent framework and the
different groups of qualities, and also within the framework
itself, e.g., some qualities are derivative, like the more defi
nite determinations of the moments belonging to the valent
framework or of whole groups of them. A closer analysis of
relationships between different types of quality shows that
an appearance of a certain type of basic qualification is ac
companied by a “representative” of each specified group of
qualities. “Speaking differently: the appearance of some
qualities from each specified group of aesthetically valent
qualities is an inevitable consequence of the valent frame
work’s contents.”32 For instance, the emergence of a basic
quality must go together with a definite manner, positive or
negative, of its appearance in the work, a manner that dis
plays a certain “excellence,” a certain grade of originality
or newness, etc. In this way Ingarden justifies his hypothe
sis that in the work of art there is a system of aesthetically
significant qualities, a coherent schema of hierarchically-
ordered qualities crucial to the qualitative determination
of the work’s value.
46 Anita Szczeparislca
The theoretic significance of these issues lies in the pos
sibility of a completely new approach to the problem of the
“objectivity” of aesthetic value. This would require, how
ever, a more extensive expatiation on axiological problems;
here I only want to touch on a question of the relation
between the two structures — the quality structure and
the stratified structure of the work of art. This relation
has sometimes been mistakenly interpreted, with the aes
thetically valent qualities of the work treated as another
“stratum .” I think that the situation is different: in a case
like this we have to do with two different hierarchical struc
tures which enter into complex and multi-layered relations
with one another. Ingarden did not comment explicitly on
this problem, but the premises for its analysis are implied
in his conception.
In what appears to be his only direct remark on the
mutual relationship between the two structures, Ingarden
maintains that both of the following attempts at a solution
are unacceptable: either to try to re-arrange the groups of
qualities according to their aesthetic significance and thus
to obtain a completely new stratification of the work of art,
or to suggest the introduction of a fifth stratum of the liter
ary work of art alongside the four distinguished previously.
“The problem appears to be much more complicated and
it is not as if the strata I am presently going to speak of
were, let us say, a continuation or completion of the strata
which I have discussed before, when I was examining the
structure of the literary work of art, painting, etc.”33 The
two structures — the fundamental stratified structure of
the work of art and its axiological quality structure — may
be said to interweave or to mutually penetrate each other.
To make this penetration and the way it comes about intel
ligible we have to begin with the fundamental fact that the
aesthetically significant qualities may manifest themselves
in every stratum of the work: in the case of a literary work
of axt, in. the phonetic stratum, and in all the strata of
meanings and objects meant; in painting, in the strata of
colour patches, appearances and represented objects, etc.
It is thus clear that the axiological structure penetrates the
whole work, affects all its strata. It is therefore impossible
to identify, e.g., the lowest phonetic stratum of a literary
work, the stratum that serves as a basis for the remaining
strata, with the neutral skeleton of the work, or to sin
gle out one particular stratum responsible for the artistic
craftmanship of the work. On the contrary, each stratum
of the work may be shown to display a hierarchy of aes
thetically significant qualities, along with moments which
are aesthetically neutral and belong thus to the “neutral
skeleton.” Within the linguistic stratum certain features of
language may be altogether aesthetically indifferent, while
other features may become artistically valuable provided
they lead to the manifestation of immediately apprehended
aesthetically valent qualities. The situation recurs within
all remaining strata of the work, e.g., within the repre
sented world certain aesthetically valent qualities may be
founded in the attributes of the world and, therefore, these
attributes express a certain artistic competence (i.e., they
are not artistically indifferent qualities). Those features of
the represented world which do not support any aesthet
ically valent qualities belong, by the same token, to the
neutral skeleton of the work.
The insight we have explored so far can be summed up
as follows: aesthetic quality-structures are “built into” each
stratum of the work; these structures consist of elements
of the neutral skeleton of the work, with artistically sig
nificant qualities and aesthetically valent qualities founded
upon them. It is obvious, however, that this description
considerably simplifies the actual and more complicated sit
uation. The additional complexity is due to the fact that
an artistically significant quality which makes certain va
lent qualities emerge may, but does not have to, belong
to the same stratum of the work on which the aestheti
cally valent qualities which makes certain valent qualities
emerge may, but does not have to, belong to the same stra-
t nmof the work on which the aesthetically valent qualities
appear; on the contrary, it happens frequently that, e.g.,
a particular sentential structure serves as a basis for cer
tain aesthetically valent qualities that manifest themselves
in the represented world, and so the aesthetic competence
(a definite sentential structure, in our example) belongs to
the linguistic stratum, while the aesthetically valent quality
manifests itself in the represented world.
Thus we arrive at a more accurate formulation of our
conception: if aesthetically valent qualities occur already
in the “lowest” stratum of the work of art — in the case
of a literary work in its phonetic stratum, in a painting
in the stratum of colour patches (and similarly also in the
case of one-stratum works) — then this stratum possesses
a “full” axiological structure, namely aesthetically valent
qualities, artistic features that are responsible for the ap
pearance of these aesthetically valent qualities, and neutral
elements; if there are “higher” strata, then the aesthetically
valent qualities occuring in these strata may be based either
on artistically significant qualities that belong to the same
stratum or on artistically significant qualities of “lower”
strata. An additional complication is due to the fact that
sometimes one and the same quality of the work of art is
not only artistically significant but also aesthetically valent,
e.g., the lucidity of a complicated sentence may be aesthet
ically valent, and the same lucidity, if it provided one of
the bases for another aesthetically valent quality (e.g., a
certain atmosphere within the represented world), is a sign
of artistic skill.
It seems that no unique, rigid schema of the mutual
penetration of the two structures is available. This point
becomes obvious if we recall the variety of all possible mod
ifications of their mutual relationships, as sketched above.
A thorough examination of the aesthetically valent and ar
tistically significant qualities displayed on different strata
of the work of art, as well as an investigation of the prop
erties which belong to the neutral skeleton of the work, are
possible only if particular works are dealt with.
The aesthetic value of the work of art is built upon
these two mutually penetrating structures. The “being
built upon” of the aesthetic value distinguishes it from the
aesthetically valent qualities which fulfil their determina
tive function within particular strata (or within elements
of the work singled out in another way, e.g., its parts),
while the aesthetic value embraces the whole of the work of
art. Therefore, it always manifests itself as a moment aris
ing from the aesthetic quality-structure of the work, some
thing that, as I have tried to show, is by its very essence
“immersed” in the work’s “stratified” anatomy. Ingarden’s
conception of the qualitative structure of the work of art has
been critically analyzed by Stefan Morawski.34 One of his
objections, namely the charge of an unjustified “multiplica
tion of entities,” refers both to the discrimination between
artistically valent qualities and aesthetic qualities, and to
the isolation, within the framework of aesthetic value, of
a “quality” of value. The first of these objections has
far-reaching consequences, since it calls into question the
discrimination fundamental to Ingarden’s system, that be
tween the work of art and the aesthetic object. Morawski
argues that since artistic qualities are not directly given
in the aesthetic encounter with the work of art they are
only hypothetically assumed — we may suppose that they
are, but we will never know what they are. The author
does not seem to recall, however, that, the aesthetic ex
perience apart, we may still become acquainted with the
Work of art via its properties, not only through the so-called
pre-aesthetic cognition but also through the investigation
of the work based on already performed concretizations of
it. All this enables us to ascertain which properties of the
work possess the ability (and so the artistic valency) to
underpin specific aesthetic qualities and the way they axe
organized. On the other hand, Morawski rightly indicates
that the same qualities may perform the functions of both
artistic and aesthetic qualities, but this does not testify, as
can easily be shown, to the gratuitousness of the said dis
crimination. The reasons for Morawski’s objections to the
discrimination between the quality of value and the aes
thetic value are not clear, nor is his statement that the said
discrimination is ontologically groundless. In values (as in
everything that exists) we may distinguish the categorical
form, the m atter, and the mode of existence; hence the
chaxge of multiplication of entities seems a misunderstand
ing, for is it not true that the quality (matter) of value
and the value itself are two different beings? Ingaxden’s
statements on this subject leave no room for doubt: “The
qualities of an aesthetic value are its determinations, qual
itative and immediately cognizable. ... The values differ
among themselves too, which means that they possess de
terminations of their own or qualities that define them.”35
The most fundamental objections against Ingarden’s
theory of the structure of the work of art and against his
theory of the aesthetic experience are due to the assumption
of the phenomenological method mentioned at the begin
ning. These objections are raised against the absolute char
acter ascribed to an historically-determined understanding
of the work of art and its functions, and against the model
of an aesthetic experience that takes no account of the mul
tiplicity of ways people have entered into communication
with art in different periods and different cultures. I think,
however, that there is an admissible interpretation of the
positions of Ingarden that to a certain extent averts these
objections: it should be remembered that the general char
acter of Ingarden’s positions is of a very peculiar kind, con
nected with the eidetic, ontological analyses of pure possi
bilities, while the question concerning which sphere of ac
tual phenomena these analyses may be applied to is from
this point of view of minor importance. What is essential is
that it is at all possible to demonstrate objects of this type,
apprehended in their eidetic structure (incidentally, Ingar
den often stated the statistical rarity of perceptive pro
cesses that did not transcend the limits set by his model).
In view of those trends of inquiry that emphasize the
communicative character of the perception of art, the the
ory of Ingarden omits the phenomena belonging to the
process of artistic communication. These approaches too
are not free of onesidedness, concentrating all their interest
on the facts of social mediation and on the determination
of receptive behaviour by social codes of reception, failing
to analyze the structure of the object that participates in
these acts, the work of art itself. It seems that the new
approach to the issues connected with the perception of
art, offered by semiotic analysis, is not at variance with
the conception of Ingarden, according to whom the object
of aesthetic experience is not finished, existing, but rather
the outcome of receptive acts. This formulation implies a
possibility of taking into consideration all types of factors
affecting the course of reception. The aesthetics of Ingar
den offers, moreover, a number of solutions, mostly in the
field of the ontology of the work of art and of the aesthetic
object, that enable us to avoid the extreme positions —
the one treating the work as an object independent of the
ways it acts and functions, the other exaggerating the role
of receptive processes that allegedly proceed irrespective of
the properties of the work, exclusively in accordance with
the requirements of cultural standards obligatory in any
given period.
N otes
1. Katarzyna Rosner, “Ingardenowska koncepcja budowy dziela
sztuki jako zrodlo inspiracji do analizy komunikacji
artystycznej” (Ingarden’s Conception of the Structure of the
Literary Work of Art as a Source of Inspiration for the
Analysis of Artistic Communication), Studia Semiotyczne, V
(1974).
2. Ingarden [42], Studia z estetyki (Studies in Aesthetics),
(Warsaw 1970), III, 23-24.
3. Krzysztof Pomian, “O filozofii K. Twardowskiego” (On the
Philosophy of K. Twardowski), Wi§z , IV: 4 (1973).
4. Janina Makota, O klasyfikacji sztuk pieknych (On the
Classification of the Fine Arts), (Cracow 1964), 173.
5. Jadwiga Slawinska, “Uwagi o teorii dziela architektury
Romana Ingardena” (Remarks on the Theory of the
Architectural Work of Roman Ingarden), Studia Esteiyczne, I
(1964).
6. Ingarden, List do Redakcji (Letter to the Editor), Studia
Esteiyczne, I (1964).
7. Ingarden [13], “O budowie obrazu” (On the Structure of
Painting).
8. Ingarden [21], Studia z estetyki (Studies in Aesthetics),
(Warsaw 1966), I, 40.
9. Ingarden [21], 39.
10. Ingarden [23] Studia z estetyki (Studies in Aesthetics), 2nd
ed., (Warsaw 1958), II, 100.
11. Ingarden [23], 280.
12. Michal Glowinski, Style odbioru (The Styles of Reception),
(Cracow 1977), 96.
13. Ingarden [7], 0 dziele literackim (On the Literary Work of
Art), (Warsaw 1960), 323.
14. Ingarden [23], 103.
15. Ingarden [7], 416.
16. Ingarden [7], 415-16.
17. Ingarden [16], Szkice z filozofii literatury (Sketches in the
Philosophy of Literature), 67.
18. Janusz Sławiński, “Wypowiedz w dyskusji nad Filozofia
Przypadku S. Lema” (Minutes of a discussion on The
Philosophy of Chance of S. Lem), Pamiętnik Literacki, I
(1971).
19. Stanisław Lem, Filozofia przypadku, Literatura w świetle
empirii (The Philosophy of Chance: Literature in the Light
of Empiricism), (Cracow 1968), italics added.
20. Lem, 196.
21. Sławiński, “Minutes.”
22. Głowiński, 113.
23. Ingarden [S3], 201-02.
24. Makota, 219.
25. Makota, 220.
26. Henryk Markiewicz, “O dziele literackim R. Ingardena” (On
the Literary Work of R. Ingarden), Estetyka, II (1961);
J. Sławiński, Semantyka wypowiedzi narracyjnej (The
Semantics of the Narrative Pronouncement), in W kręgu
zagadnień teorii powieści (The Field of the Theory of the
Novel), ed. J. Sławiński (Wrocław 1967), 17.
27. Zofia Lissa, “Uwagi o Ingardenowskiej teorii dzieła
muzycznego” (Remarks on Ingarden’s Theory of the Musical
Work), Studia Estetyczne, III (1966).
28. Ingarden, “Uwagi o uwagach Zofii Lissy” (Remarks on the
Remarks of Zofia Lissa), Studia Estetyczne III (1966).
29. Ingarden [23], 126.
30. Such a solution has been proposed in the above-noted book of
J. Makota. The phenomenon of multi-stage intentionality —
intentional objects being substructured by others, or
“contained” within them — is characteristic of the sphere of
intentional being. Ingarden discusses a number of examples of
this kind: e.g., in the case of a literary work (an intentional
object in its own right) the material, namely language, is
another object. W ithin the framework of the intentional
objectivity of the represented world there may appear
persons who bring to life, through the act of “personated”
talking, other persons or objects, which results in the
appearance of storeyed intentional structures.
31. Ingarden [42], 300-01.
32. Ingarden [42], 302.
33. Ingarden, Wykiady i dyskusje z esietyki (Lectures and
Discussions on Aesthetics). Aesthetics Department,
Jagiellonian University, May session, 1963, (Warsaw 1981),
396.
34. Stefan Morawski, “Szkola stawiania pytari” (The School of
Asking Questions), Studia Estetyczne, part i, VII (1970), part
ii, VIII (1971).
35. Ingarden [86], Przezycie — dzielo — wartosc (Experience —
Work of Art — Value), (Cracow 1966), 129, 197.
III. The Work of A rt and Aesthetic
Categories According to Ingarden
Janusz Misiewicz
It would seem that the elucidation of the essence and speci

ficity of artistic values consists in the description of the
structure and operation of the work of art. Most modern
aesthetic theories seem to share this conviction. However,
the explanation of artistic values through the operation of
a certain kind of object (works of art) leads to unexpected
and even paradoxical results, which appear even in compe
tent and conscientious studies.
Let us take for an example the aesthetic inquiries of Ro
man Ingarden.1 These deserve attention at least because
Ingarden exactly specifies the problems treated by most
professional students of art, who rely on their intuition
or on common customs. Ingarden undertakes the effort
of elucidating the basic concepts and aesthetic categories
in an honest confrontation with art as his constant com
panion in life. His studies, conscientious and penetrating,
are directed at artistic phenomena and provide an excep
tional opportunity to discover drawbacks of a certain way
of thinking about art connected with the philosophical tra
dition of modem aesthetics.
I am not approaching Ingarden’s theory from the point
of view of a different conception of the work of art, but in
order to expose both the inconsistency of the very general
idea of the work of art and its fairly limited usefulness in the
description of artistic values. In some respects, Ingarden’s
conception offers an opportunity for the continuation and
intentional advancement of certain matters despite difficul
ties that will undoubtedly emerge in subsequent inquiries.
55
56 Janusz Misiewicz
According to Ingarden, the work of art is an object of
a special kind; in its mode of existence it is intentional
and heteronomous (as opposed, for example, to real and
ideal objects and, on the other hand, also autonomous ob
jects), having a determined ontic scope and constant func
tion, an object with a characteristic structure — schematic,
containing gaps and indeterminate places which are subse
quently filled up in the process of aesthetic concretization
by the recipient. (The domain of this notion covers the so-
called fine arts, “les beaux arts” as distinguished by Charles
Batteux,2 complemented with the twentieth-century art of
cinema.) The work of art thus understood, self-same and in
principle unchangeable, may be (and usually is) concretized
in different ways by recipients.
However, if we accept that the essence of the work of
art determines its intentional and heteronomous character
and that it is realized through creative and recreative acts,
then its identity must be ensured by the unchangeability of
what Ingarden calls “the physical ontic foundation of the
work of art” (the latter denotes, for instance, the media of
paint and canvas in painting or a building in the work of
architecture).
However, a closer determination of the specificity of dif
ferent kinds of artistic creation carried out by Ingarden
reveals that in fact these various kinds of art have no com
mon categorial form and their relations to the physical on
tic foundation are also varied. Some of them (painting and
sculpture) have the nature of things lasting in time, while
others have the nature of processes (theatrical spectacle, a
piece of music); some works are embedded in things and
in them persist as objects of aesthetic delight; others exist
in language, which is a product of social communication
and a certain interhuman entity and still others owe their
durability to the accepted manner of a musical notation.
A literary work is a thing, an intentional object, that
The Work of Art and Aesthetic Categories 57
has its ontic foundation in another object (language); this
results in a multiplicity of the physical forms in which it
can be recorded (book, gramophone record, tape). Thus,
contrary to Ingarden’s thesis, the concept of the physical
ontological foundation of the work of art seems appropri
ate only for some variants of artistic creation, while the
nature of this relation between them and the work proper
is changeable in the realm of all art.
Significant differences between particular kinds of art
are also revealed by a comparison of the principles of their
construction. For example, the multi-layered literary work
is opposed to the bi-layered work of architecture and to the
essentially homogeneous musical work of art.
Various kinds of artistic creation appeal differently to
the recipient: some do so directly, visually or aurally
or combined in a visual-aural reception, while others, as
Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz would say, appeal to the imagina
tion (a literary work). Moreover, the schematic nature of a
structure cannot be accepted as an attribute of each art if,
as Ingarden writes, “the circumstance that the ontic foun
dation of a work of architecture is a certain real building
has the result, ultimately, that the work is not a schematic
creation in the sense in which a literary work or painting
are. Thus, the schematic character does not belong to the
essence of every work of art in general.3
The relation of the work of art to its receptive con-
cretizations takes various forms in different arts (painting,
music, literature). It is precisely the complexity of this
problem that is revealed by Ingarden’s approach to a work
of music in which the score is regarded as a scheme deter
mining a potential multiplicity of correct and aesthetically
valuable performances, as well as the apprehension of a the
atrical spectacle exclusively as a concretization of a literary
work in drama as a literary kind.
In fact, in the former case weactually encounter a
58 Janusz Misiewicz
substitution of Ingarden’s basic relation “work of a rt-
concretization” by the relation “scheme of a work of a rt-
realization-concretization”; in the latter case it becomes
the relation “work of art-concretization (performance)-
concretization (listening).” Such an approach to music fails
to result in a positively defined work of music, while the ap
proach to the theatrical spectacle removes the proper work
from theatre to the domain of literary creation. According
to the results of Ingarden’s inquiries, one should therefore
assume that some works have a schematic character, since
they exist only potentially (music), while the essence of
other works is determined by different kinds of creation
(e.g. theatrical vs. literary play).
Thus, the superior relation “work of art-concretization”
accepted by Ingarden cannot be retained in the full scope
of the various kinds of artistic creation, while their variety
again makes one raise a question both about the founda
tions on which such differently constructed and operating
objects are being integrated and, more generally, about the
essence of the work of art shared by all of them.
One may suppose that the factor integrating this group
of phenomena — a rather uneven group, as it turns out -
may be found in artistic values that, although differently
realized and manifesting themselves in various ways in par
ticular works, preserve their basic identity at least within
paradigmatic, “full-blooded” works of art.
Let us assume that the work of art constitutes an ontic
foundation of artistic values. Let us also assume that the
work of art is described as any object which tends to serve
aesthetic functions due to the skills and artistic values it
possesses, embedded in the so-called axiologically neutral
skeleton.4 Let us then ask, for instance, in what way we
get at the literary work of art in its essential determinants.
It is obvious that every literary work, read “normally,”
is given to the recipient in some receptive experience, so
that in order to obtain, for instance, an outline of the gen
eral construction of the literary work one should first cor
rectly reduce all those factors that, though belonging to
concretization, do not enter the scope of the essential com
ponents of the work of art, especially those factors which
within a given object of art impress a specific qualitative
stamp of its own picture of artistic character (e.g., the con
crete realized values of a certain literary work). Thus, in
order to gain access to the work of art one should some
how de-concretize one’s receptive apprehension. Intention
is then directed towards a determination of the general idea
of the literary work of art.
This task, although difficult, can still be performed, ac
cording to Ingarden, who referred to his own results in one
of his main works, The Literary Work of Art. The outcome
of such a procedure, i.e., a literary work of art in its essential
determinates, actually constitutes “an intentional object of
a higher order” or, as Husserl might say, “a counter part
of a higher constitutive layer of consciousness.” Let us add
that it is higher than the usual concretization process.
Still, there is something puzzling in this procedure, es
pecially when we accept as its purpose the production of a
positively defined work of literary art, the carrier of skills
and artistic values. For these values, realized in existing
literary works, are always reached by means of concretiza
tion; nor can we find a better foundation to judge the artis
tic skills of a given work than by submitting to it in the
aesthetic attitude. Let us add that, according to a fairly
consistent opinion of experts, the highest and, if one may
say so, most evident artistic values are in most cases indi
vidual and specific, i.e., values that on the one hand do not
easily yield to typological approaches and on the other “do
not fit” the usual stereotypical patterns of reception.
Thus, as we see, the construction of a general model
of a work of literary art, determined by a generalizing and
60 Janusz Misiewicz
typifying approach, excludes the individualizing and con
cretizing attitude which fits the reception of artistic literary
values. The paradox lies in the fact that one can either pro
vide a description of the construction of the literary work
while neglecting its artistic values or offer such a deter
mination of its values and thereby exclude total and fully
general claims.
In the former case the question of the artistic character
is left open, although we have tried to achieve a positive
determination of the literary work of axt; in the latter case
we have to give up a fully objective (and general) coun
terpart of the aesthetic experience and shall probably have
to widen our point of view to include the domain going
beyond the arbitrary realm of artistic literature. In the
former case we seem to be dealing with “the axiologically
neutral skeleton” of the work of art rather than the work
itself; in the latter, with the domain of art deprived of the
ontological foundation of objects of art, it is the object’s
value that decides whether it is “artistic” or not.
Naturally, the “axiologically neutral skeleton” of a work
may concern all varieties of creation, from a trifle to a mas
terpiece, but it cannot reveal any differences between them,
especially in relation to matters most significant from the
point of view of artistic values, i.e., their concrete and spe
cific manifestations in the work. Perhaps this “skeleton”
can also represent an even more general category than the
literary work of art, such as the literary work in general,
though it does not bring us closer to a description of artistic
values in their literary variety.
Thus, it is perhaps worthwhile to pay more attention to
what Ingarden writes in the preface to the first volume of
Studies in Aesthetics:
... when for the first time I was faced with
the problems of the essence of the work of art,
with the values it embodies and introduces into
human life, there at once emerged in the fore
ground questions concerning the basic structure
of the work of art and the structures of works of
particular kinds, as well as the problem of the
mode of existence, especially of its ontic deriva
tiveness and dependence on the productive act
of the creator and on the receptive behaviour of
the recipient. Both should be considered quite
independently of the value of the work of art
in respect to the aesthetic object. Hence, a
number of considerations seem quite indiffer
ent to aesthetics. Nevertheless, they show that
both the general structure of the work of art
and its mode of existence are specifically differ
ent from the structure and mode of existence
of real objects and, furthermore, that because
of that the domain of art and aesthetic objects
constitutes a specific world unto itself which is
built upon real objects and which, by way of
contrast, throw some light on the structure and
mode of existence of that which is real.5
It seems that Ingarden’s treatise The Literary Work of
Art constitutes an attem pt to reconcile contradictory schol
arly aims, namely, the description of the structure of the
literary work and the determination of its artistic skills. In
consequence, the structure is penetrated with artistic mo
ments which everywhere go beyond it. An example of this
penetration may be found in the layer of schematized ap
pearances, distinguished as one of the constituents of the
general structure of the literary work.
In my opinion these “appearances kept handy” actu
ally constitute a set of artistic skills of the representational
variety of literary creation. This is also supported by the
description they are given by Ingarden, according to whom
appearances impose on the recipient sequences and series
62 Janusz Misiewicz
of imaginary phenomena, as well as by the fact, that, in
Ingarden’s theory, this is the only noncontinuous layer of
the work. It seems that Ingarden was far from rejecting
works lacking or only slightly filled with appearances, or
from removing them beyond the domain of what he called
“full-blooded” literary works. But it is worth emphasiz
ing that he did consider the possibility of a lowering of
the artistic effectiveness of those literary works that are
lacking in appearances. Thus, the layer of schematized ap
pearances belongs to the domain of what is artistic (and
specific) rather than to what is typical and common to all
varieties of literary creation.
The treatise The Literary Work of Art also contains
examples of artistic qualities going beyond the scheme of
the general structure of the work of art and beyond its
objective domain. An example of aesthetic factors going
beyond the structural determinations of the literary work
may be found in what Ingarden calls “metaphysical qual
ities” whose “occurrence in the work of art allows various
kinds and degrees”6 and which are realized, though infre
quently, in the experience of real life.
One may suppose that the impossibility of mutually rec
onciling the individualizing (directed towards values) and
generalizing views of the literary work of art also concerns
other forms of artistic creation, as has been shown above.
The literary work of art constitutes, therefore, a convenient
example of what happens in all art or rather in its possible
theoretical determinations.
The superior concept of the work of art covers various
kinds of artistic creation (painting, literature, music, etc.)
that are characterized by different principles of construc
tion, different regularities of structure, different modes of
perception and different relations to the “the ontic foun
dation”; they also differ in the ontic scope and in deter
minants in respect to receptive concretizations. All that
is fully general in their intentionality (although they share
this ontological status with other, non-artistic, objects of
culture: institutions, customs, opinions) and the fact that
artistic values which determine the social sense of art are
given in concretizing apprehension, in the act of the aes
thetic perception of the work of art. Thus, for a description
of literary values only the second component of the rela
tion “work of art-concretization” is useful: the first merely
determines the objective scope of concretization. A de
scription of artistic values should also take into account
their qualitative differentiation which to some extent cor
responds to traditional aesthetic categories.
In more recent aesthetics, the approach through aes
thetic categories serves the purpose of creating a system of
aesthetically significant qualities of combining the generic
distinctiveness of qualities with the specific values of the
work of art.7 Such an attitude also characterizes recent
works by Ingarden.8
The ample list of aesthetically significant qualities made
up by Ingarden9 is comprised of two main kinds of quality:
(1) elementary qualities (the so-called aesthetically valu
able moments), and (2) whole qualities, which he calls the
qualities of values. Aesthetically valuable moments are di
vided into two main variants, “material” and “formal,” and
into several groups of derivative moments related to the
basic moments — connected, for instance, with the way
in which the qualities occur or operate on the recipient. In
the derivative group there occurs, for instance, such charac
teristics as “reality,” “veracity,” “naturalness,” “novelity,”
etc. Among aesthetically valuable moments of the material
kind belong the names of many traditional aesthetic cate
gories, such as the “tragic,” the “dramatic,” the “lyrical,”
the “sublime,” the “pathetic,” etc. Similarly, among formal
moments there are listed such categories as “symmetrical,”
“harmonious,” “dynamic,” “correct,” “concise,” etc. By
64 Janusz Misiewicz
way of contrast, these groups are accompanied by aesthet
ically negative moments: for instance, ‘‘banal,” “boring,”
and “shallow,” among material moments (in a particular
variant, the so-called “intellectual moments”) and, among
formal moments, “monotonous,” “clumsy,” “uneven,” and
“incorrect.” In concrete works these aesthetically valuable
moments are combined with one another forming sets (as
sortments) of qualities of a higher order and thus generating
several superior variants of aesthetic values. Ingarden calls
these variants qualities of values, using this term because of
a peculiar feature dominant within a given variant of values.
Among the variants (qualities) of values he distinguishes,
for instance, “beauty,” “prettiness,” “greatness,” “matu
rity,” etc., with which he juxtaposes “ugliness,” “hideous
ness,” “smallness,” “immaturity,” etc.
One may therefore think that the predominant quality
of a value (positive or negative) of a work constitutes a
derivative of the assortment of aesthetically valuable mo
ments realized in the work. Both qualities of values and
aesthetically valuable moments generally correspond to tra
ditional aesthetic notions. It seems, then, purposeful to
consider the way in which aesthetic categories determine
certain values (groups of values) and the extent to which
they are specifically aesthetical or go beyond the specifi
cally aesthetic sphere.
At least two aesthetic concepts, beauty and ugliness, are
apparently absolute categories of the qualities of values, in
the sense that every realization of beauty in any variant is
something aesthetically positive, just like every ugliness is
aesthetically negative. Yet, when taken separately (and in
a certain variant) both beauty and ugliness may be treated
instrumentally from the point of view of the general value
of the work: they do not determine in advance the value
by their mere occurrence. This is particularly evident in
representational arts in which particular aesthetic charac
teristics are embedded in objects in the work of art.
In a representational work, banal “doll-like” prettiness
(as a variant of general beauty) may be treated satirically
without recommending this kind of quality to its recipients
at all. A beautiful form associated, let us say, with a se
rious topic may actually result in dismal failure in terms
of aesthetic function if the contrast between that which is
presented and the manner of its artistic treatment proves
too great. The functional relation combining the qualities
of the work means that what is valuable in itself (charm or
elegance) does not always retain its value in combination
with other properties of the work.
Similarly, ugliness does not always have an aesthetically
negative qualification; quite the contrary in certain works,
where it is given a positive function. The late portraits
of Rembrandt present old, ugly, and sickly people, but the
physical ugliness of the sitters only strengthens, if not ac
tually determines the values of Rembrandt’s art, especially
in the range of the highest values, i.e., the metaphysical
qualities present in his works. As an art historian writes:
“Rembrandt’s old men have in them something of the pa
triarchal majesty of biblical heroes. Those poor, exhausted,
helpless people are shown in such a way as to make every
body understand that they deserved a better fate.”10
As a qualitative mark of objects and events, ugliness
may be variously and positively exploited in artistic cre
ation. For example, it may be employed in such a way
that as a form of the world it constitutes a visualization
of a cognitive revelation, an illustration of a truth about
life: “the world is ugly, people are vacant.”11 It may also
be combined with completely opposed treatments of the
world presented in the work of art, a depiction in the spirit
of both the sublime and the comic. The sublime, a picture
of the world contaminated with ugliness, may be a mani
festation of the drama of existence in a world repulsive and
66 Janusz Misiewicz
alien to man; it may be a picture of the human condition,
determined but also unwanted, whose significance consists
in the heroism of existence in a hostile and offensive reality.
Comic applications of ugliness are probably as old as the
representational arts themselves. The ugliness of carica
ture and satire constitutes the main means of characterizing
man, a sign of his social status and personality, and an ex-
ternalization of his animosities and inclinations. The ludic,
comic, in a way elemental, highly values characters from
traditional comedy with long noses and huge bellies, exag
geratedly lean misers and hideous suitors.12 Ugliness thus
employed is the first signal of an agreement with the recip
ient, a shaxed detachment from the presented figures, ugly
and therefore ridiculous. In traditional comedy physical
ugliness symbolized, as a rule, inner ugliness and hence the
romantic characters in the commedia dell’arte were hand
some as a mark of their righteousness. Thus, comically
employed ugliness has a definite positive value in building
up the general sense of the work and its overall value.
Naturally, these examples do not exhaust all the cogni
tively and artistically positive applications of ugliness. One
could still mention, for instance, the beautiful presentation
of ugly things typical of the works of Hieronymus Bosch,
who painted his “hellish larvae” in refined, charming har
monies of colour, or the device of an apparently ugly and
clumsy execution which becomes a signal precisely of for
mal virtuosity.13
The beauty of a painting in the sense of an achieved
colour harmony, often happens to be based on ugly primary
colour qualities which, taken separately, would constitute
aesthetically negative moments. Writing about Pablo Pi
casso’s paintings, Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz stated:
Looking at these masterpieces of our times it
is hard to understand by what miracle the
four colours, two of which are neutral and the
other two almost ugly as such and resembling
some excrements in green grass, may have cre
ated this beautiful perverse harmony, necessary
in its perversity, only through their extremely
modest, yet mathematically certain, particular
distribution in fan-like gradations and angular
masses,in which the very apprehension of form
or what the so-called experts call technique is
merely an unassuming blurring of planes in its
discretion and simplicity.14
Therefore, the usefulness of aesthetic categories (beauty,
ugliness) in a description of the values of a representational
work seems to depend on distinguishing in it two functional
moments, namely, what is presented and the manner(s) of
presentation, or of particular aesthetic qualities and their
overall congruence in non-representational arts. To some
extent these oppositions are in agreement with Ingarden’s
distinction between “aesthetically valuable moments” and
“qualities of aesthetic values”15 (assuming that “moments”
build up “qualities”); at the same time they differ from
Ingarden’s conception in that for him beauty and ugli
ness are taken for qualities of aesthetic values while the
tragic and wittiness are taken for aesthetically valuable
moments. This is in disagreement with the operation of
ugliness creating comic or possible satiric effects, described
above. From the point of view of the intended superiority
of the comic, ugliness is precisely an aesthetically valuable
moment rather than a superior (and negative) quality of
values; the result is similar when ugliness creates a supe
rior feature of the sublime in a particular work.
Thus, a description of the values of the work of art
should first of all give an account of the elementary char
acter of the values of work and states if it is principally
beautiful or comic or tragic and what constituent qualities
build up this superior quality. The determination of a con
68 Janusz Misiewicz
stant repertory of aesthetically valuable qualities does not
serve this purpose because in concrete works “aesthetically
valuable moments” and what Ingarden calls “the qualities
of values” may somehow exchange places. In a work whose
principal function is comic, ugliness may belong to a set of
“aesthetically valuable moments” and not to that of “the
qualities of values”; in an essentially tragic work, the tragic
is not only “an aesthetically valuable moment” but also a
basic “quality of values.”
The main problem of aesthetics dealing with a descrip
tion of values, as Ingarden rightly states, is the question
of the congruence of aesthetically valuable qualities lend
ing the work its determined form of superior value. These
problems should be solved separately both for particular
kinds of artistic creation (painting, literature, etc.) and for
particular works, yet not under an assumption accepted
in advance but taking into account the concrete, visually
apprehensible differentation of artistic creation.
Regarded in isolation, in their purely qualitative endow
ment, both beauty and ugliness fail to reveal a specifically
artistic character, probably because, it seems, these are not
strictly or absolutely artistic qualities. The ugliness of peo
ple portrayed by Rembrandt belongs both to art and to the
world, in about equal extent: even the most refined colour
harmonies of beautiful paintings have their real counter
parts in visual colour qualities (colours and colour assort
ments). None of the qualities which created beauty in the
understanding of the ancients — symmetry, regularity, or
proportion — was something that occurs only in art and has
no right to exist beyond art. (In fact they believed just the
opposite, that art is valuable only in so far as it constitutes
an imitation and embodiment of the beauty of the world or
the idea of beauty.) Therefore, when we look at the isolated
notions that denote the so-called aesthetically valuable mo
ments, it turns out that none of them is a qualification
of only artistic products (works of art), that they concern
equally well the sphere of non-artistic phenomena. Such
notions as wistful, lyrical, appealing, unpleasant, interest
ing, banal, sophisticated, coarse, or noble16 contain noth
ing that would be against their non-artistic applications “in
life.” Perhaps the understanding of art itself demands going
beyond the scope of strictly artistic operations to those of
a rt’s higher-order functions, which justify the appearance
of particular artistic solutions. One should expect that at
least in some part of artistic creation aesthetic qualities
(and functions) appear around this structural centre of the
work, which constitutes its metaphysical sense. Therefore,
aesthetic functions themselves neither sufficiently nor fully
explain the significance of art.
N otes
Art), (Warsaw 1960); also Ingarden [21, 23, 42], Studia z
estetyki (Studies in Aesthetics), I—III (Warsaw 1966-70).
2. The first modern determination of the canon of arts,
proposed Batteux in his Les beaux arts reduits a an meme
principe, published in Paris in 1746.
3. Ingarden [23], 161.
4. Ingarden’s term.
5. Ingarden [21], vii-ix (italics added).
6. Ingarden [7], 374.
7. On these themes see F. Sibley, “Objectivity and Aesthetics,”
Artistotelian Society, supp. XLII (1968), 31-54, and
70 Janusz Misiewicz
“Aesthetic and N o n -A e s th e tic Philosophical Review, LXXIV
(1965), 135-59. Sibley states th at aesthetic properties
(tertiary qualities) are dependent on other (non-aesthetic)
properties of things.
8. Ingarden [36], Przezycie-dzielo-wartosc Experience-Work of
Art-Value), (Cracow 1966).
9. Ingarden [42], 228-315.
10. M. Alpatew, Historia sztuki (History of Art), III (Warsaw
1977), 210.
11. J. P. Sartre.
12. This theme is developed in M. Bachtin’s study of Rabelais,
Tworczestwo Francois Rabelais (Moscow 1965).
13. For instance, Chagall’s paintings, or the drawing technique
th at imitates the eidetic vision of a child.
14. S.I. Witkiewicz, Nowe form y w malarsiwie. Szkice esteiyczne
(New Forms in Painting. Aesthetic Sketches),
Teatr (Theatre), (Warsaw 1974), 68 (italics added).
15. Ingarden, “Zagadnienie systemu wartosci estetycznie
donioslych” (The Problem of the System of Aesthetically
Significant Values), in Ingarden [42],
16. Ingarden [42], 290-91.
IV . Ingarden’s Theory of Values and
the Evaluation of the Work of A rt
Bohdan Dziemidok
The theory of values has today assumed a central place in

contemporary aesthetics. It seems to me that the reasons
for this predominant position should be sought not only
in the theoretical and cognitive importance of axiological
problems but also in their ideological significance.
The aim of this essay is a presentation of some axiolog
ical views (especially those concerning art) of Roman In
garden, one of the most distinguished Polish philosophers
of the twentieth century and the most outstanding phe
nomenological aesthetician.
Although the problem of values became t£e main ob
ject of Ingarden’s scholarly interests only in the 1950s and
1960s, a full presentation of all his achievements in the do
main of the theory of values of the work of art would be far
beyond the scope of this study. Thus, the analysis will be
limited to the views of the author of Spor o istnienie swiata
(The Controversy over the Existence of the World) [15, 19,
48] concerning several polemical problems of the theory
of aesthetic values. As a matter of fact, the significance
of these issues and the solutions proposed by Ingarden go
outside the purview of aesthetics.
Undoubtedly, the two ancient controversies have a gen
eral axiological character: (1) the conflict between objec
tivism, subjectivism, and relationism about the mode of
existence of values; and (2) the opposition between abso
lutism and several varieties of relativism concerning the
character of values and value judgements.
71
B. Dziemidok and P. McCormick (eds.), On the Aesthetics of Roman Ingarden, 71-100.
72 Bohdan Dziemidok
1. The origin of Ingarden’s theory of values
As has been mentioned above, the theory of values be

came the predominant concern of the author of the Con
troversy only after the Second World War. His first
study devoted especially to this field, entitled “Uwagi o
wzglednosci wartosci” (Remarks on the Relativity of Val
ues) [18], appeared in 1948. However, Ingarden paid most
attention to these problems in the decade between 1956
and 1966. During that period he published his major
works dealing with fundamental axiological issues in aes
thetics, namely: 1956, “Wartosc estetyczna i zagadnienie
jej obiektywnego ugruntowania” (Aesthetic Value and the
Problem of its Objective Grounding) [22]; 1958, “Uwagi
o estetycznym sadzie wartosciujacym” (Remarks on Aes
thetic Value Judgement) [24]', 1961, “Zasady epistemolog-
icznego rozwazania doswiadczenia estetycznego” (Princi
ples of the Epistemological Analysis of Aesthetic Expe
rience) [30]] 1964, “Wartosci artystyczne i wartosci este
tyczne” (Artistic and Aesthetic Values) [34J’, and 1966,
“Czego nie wiemy o wartosciach?” (What Don’t We Know
About Values?). However, it is quite natural that the prob
lems of aesthetic and artistic values should have appeared
even earlier in Ingarden’s writings, in the period between
the wars. Indeed, one may claim that the foundation of
his conception of artistic and aesthetic values actually took
shape during that period. For the first time, the crucial
distinction between the work of art as a schematic forma
tion and the aesthetic object appeared already in 1931 in
Das literarische Kunstwerk (The Literary Work of Art)
and it served as a ground for the differentiation of artistic
and aesthetic values performed in 1937 in O poznawaniu
dziela literackiego (The Cognition of the Literary Work of
A rt).1 from the outset Ingarden regarded values as a poly
phonic harmony of aesthetically valuable qualities imposed
Ingarden on Values and Valuation 73
on the object, thus definitively opposing both subjectivism
and extreme relativism in the theory of values.2 It should
be mentioned as well that Ingarden’s theory of values has
since become the subject of several studies.3
2. General characterization of values

According to Ingarden, values are not ontologically in
dependent; since they are always values of something, they
cannot be treated as autonomous objects.4 They are values
of something but - with the exception of utilitarian values -
they are not values for something or for somebody; they are
not of a relational nature and hence cannot be regarded as a
kind of relation between an object possessing definite quali
ties and a subject perceiving it.5 Values are connected with
the object, yet they are not merely features of the object;
they are specifically imposed on the features (qualities) of
the object as its determined polyphonic and synthetic qual
ifying properties.6 Finally and self-evident for Ingarden,
values cannot be treated as something subjective, created
by the subject and reducible to the subject’s experiences
or attitudes. The values of a work in question can in no
way be limited to experiences evoked by the work or to
any mental states accompanying the aesthetic perception.
Aesthetic experiences possess their own practical value for
the recipients of art but the value of the work of art it
self is something different from those experiences and in no
sense can values be identified with those experiences.7 The
aesthetic experience, frequently and according to Ingarden
incorrectly understood as so-called “enjoyment” or “aes
thetic pleasure,” is by its nature subjective and it is lived
through by the recipient, whereas the value of a work of art
is attributable only to the work itself. Ingarden writes:
It still happens, especially in this country, that
value and its quality are identified with the at
titude within which we apprehend it or with
74 Bohdan Dziemidok
the experiences, especially with the so-called
“enjoyment,” that we live through within the
context of this attitude. It is a grossly out
dated view and there is no need to review again
all the arguments against it. Suffice it to indi
cate, as has already been done many times, that
such experiences as ‘enjoyment’ or any kind of
‘pleasure’ are certain mental states or types of
behaviour of the recipient perceiving, for in
stance, a painting or a work of architecture,
a behaviour which develops in a chaxacteristic
way and which quickly comes to an end. Fur
thermore, there are as many pleasures as there
are instances of our contacts with a given work
of art and as there are people partaking in them.
The gentle beauty of a painting by Vermeer is
one and the same and it constantly belongs to
the painting without regard to when and how
many people look at it and how many times
they do so. Thus, notwithstanding the diffi
culty of the task of accounting for the quality of
this beauty, it is at any rate something distinct
form the experience or the psychic attitude of
the recipient.8
3. A rtistic values and aesthetic values
Values connected with the work of art are divided by In

garden into two groups, namely, artistic values existing in
the work itself, which by virtue of being a schematic forma
tion is aesthetically neutral, and aesthetic values appearing
in the aesthetic concretization of the work of art, that is
to say, in the aesthetic object.9 Both types of value exist
objectively though they differ in several crucial respects.
W ith aesthetic values, which are qualitative in nature, we
can be in direct and sensuous contact with the aesthetic ex
perience. On the other hand, artistic values, which are not
qualitative phenomena but, as Ingarden calls them, specific
“skills” of the work of art, can neither be detected directly
in the aesthetic experience nor discovered through a sen
suous contact with then. However, one may deduce that
they exist as specific skills of the work of art on the basis
of a number of aesthetically valuable concretizations of this
work.10 In contradiction to nonrelational aesthetic values,
artistic values are relational for they serve a purpose. They
can be reduced to two skills of the work of art as a schematic
formation, namely, (1) the skill of being able to induce an
aesthetic experience, and (2) the skill of being able to cre
ate a basis for the constitution of an aesthetic object and
the aesthetic values connected with it. Thus, artistic values
have an operative, instrumental nature in the same way as
the work of art itself, for according to Ingarden the work
is only a “tool” (a means) for the self-constitution of an
aesthetically valuable object.11
4. Ingarden’s approach to the objectivity of the

values of th e work of art
For Ingarden the question of the objectivity or subjec
tivity of values is the most fundamental problem of axi
ology. In his opinion the mode of existence of values is
determined by the mode of existence of the carrier of val
ues, i.e., the object to which a given value can be ascribed.
Yet, this does not at all mean that the modes of existence
of both values and their carriers must necessarily be iden
tical. Ingarden did not commit himself on this issue; for
him values cannot be assigned any one of the main modes
of existence - real, ideal, or intentional.12 Aesthetic values
are attributable to an intentional object, such as an aes
thetic object, yet it does not follow that aesthetic values
are strictly intentional entities.
76 Bohdaa Dziemidok
According to Ingaxden the solution of the problem of the
objectivity or subjectivity of aesthetic and artistic values
requires a more precise explication of the basic assumptions
ascribed to the notions of “objectivity.”
In his study “The Question of a System of Aestheti
cally Significant Qualities” Ingarden distinguishes six main
meanings of the terms “objectivity” and “subjectivity.”13
Yet, not all these meanings are connected with the concepts
of values. In his opinion one may legitimately speak of the
objectivity of aesthetic values in three principal senses:
1. Aesthetic value does not appear in the subject but in
the object (as “effectively contained” or “appearing
in an object”).
2. In its existence and endowment the aesthetic value is

independent of the cognitive acts which can eventu
ally lead to its discovery.
3. Finally, aesthetic value can be regarded as objective

when it is sufficiently conditioned by the object and
its properties.
At the same time Ingarden admits that there are two

legitimate senses in which one may speak of the subjectivity
of aesthetic values, namely:
1. Aesthetic value is not ontically autonomous, since the

object to which it belongs exists heteronomously as
an intentional entity.
2. The existence of aesthetic value depends indirectly

“on the creative acts of the maker of the work and on
the co- creative acts of the recipient in the aesthetic
experience.” The dependence is indirect since nei
ther the creator nor the recipient generates straight
forwardly the value itself. Nevertheless, the creator
produces the physical base of the work which consti
tutes an artistically effective (valuable) ground for the
valuable foundation of the work. If aesthetic values
“are sufficiently conditioned by the valuable founda
tion of the work of art, then they are only indirectly
and partially dependent on the co-creative aesthetic
experience of the recipient.”14
Ingarden does not determine whether the aesthetic value

is objective or subjective in the sixth sense of the term, a
m atter he leaves open.
Although Ingarden distinguishes three senses in which
the term “objectivity” may be applied to the concept of
“aesthetic value,” he believes that the problem of the ob
jectivity of aesthetic value may, in principle, be reduced to
the question of the manner in which this value is grounded
in the qualities of the aesthetic object and the work of art.
“The problem of the manner of grounding the aesthetic
value in the work itself, i.e., in the aesthetic object, or pos
sibly the lack of such grounding, is, in other words, the
problem of the so-called ‘objectivity’ or ‘subjectivity’ of
aesthetic value in general.”15
Since the qualities of aesthetic value are direct qualita
tive determinants of the value (thus they are not something
entirely different from the value itself), the problem of the
sufficient grounding of aesthetic values demands some an
swers to two specific questions:
1. W hat is the relation between the qualities of aes

thetic values and aesthetically valuable qualities, or,
in a different formulation, are the former sufficiently
grounded in the appropriate selection of the latter?
2. W hat relation obtains between the aesthetically valu

able qualities of the aesthetic object and aesthetically
neutral yet artistically significant properties of the
78 Bohd&n Dziemidok
work itself? (Again, it is the question of the manner
and degree of grounding the former in the latter.)16
According to Ingarden, only a demonstration of sufficient
grounding on both levels permits us to accept the concept of
objective values. The objectivity of artistic values presents
a similar case. One may speak of their objectivity only
when they are sufficiently grounded in aesthetically neu
tral yet artistically significant moments of the work that,
in turn, should be sufficiently grounded in the physical ontic
foundation of the work. Ingarden upholds the objectivistic
view in both cases. Thus, as can be seen, Ingarden’s aes
thetic objectivism has a moderate and specific character.
5. Ingarden’s objectivism and aesthetic

relationism
It is evident that Ingarden’s explanations of the suf
ficient grounding of values in the aesthetic object and in
the work of art undermine aesthetic subjectivism. Nev
ertheless, one may still have doubts whether they consti
tute an adequate justification of objectivism. Objections of
this kind have been raised by S. Morawski,17 whose doubts
seem largely valid. For although the very criticism of sub
jectivism by demonstrating the grounding of values in the
object may be acknowledged as well- founded and fruit
ful, still it would be hard to accept that it convincingly
proves the validity of the attitude of aesthetic objectivism
and that it adequately justifies the hypothesis of the objec
tivity of aesthetic values, as this objectivity is only partial.
However, I believe that Ingarden’s considerations indirectly
confirm the validity of the ‘relationistic’ solution, although
he himself would not admit it. Values are not subjective
since they are values of the object in whose qualities they
are grounded. Yet they are not completely objective either,
because they are always values for somebody who, owing
to the influence of multiple social and biological condition
ings, recognizes and feels definite properties of an object
as valuable, since in their origin and at least indirectly, as
even Ingarden admits, they are dependent on the subject.
Yet, as has been noted above, Ingarden himself quite
definitively rejects the relationistic point of view. The au
thor of The Literary Work of Art maintains that not only
the work of art itself but also the aesthetic object as con
stituted in the process of aesthetic concretization by a sub
ject axe entirely transcendent in relation to the subject.
In his opinion, the active participation of the recipient in
the constitution of the aesthetic object cannot be used as
an argument in support of a relationistic theory of values
(in Ingarden’s terminology - the relativity of values). The
origin of the aesthetic object
Does not determine the ontic character of aes
thetic values themselves ... Regardless of the
kind of origin and the participation of the recip
ient in the constitution of the aesthetic object^
in the moment of being consituted the object
is something with which the recipient is in di
rect, sensuous contact; he or she apprehends it
in one way or another and responds to it. In all
this and in respect to the recipient and his or
her experience it is as much transcendent (con
stituting a self-subsistent whole) as the work of
art itself or as any ontically autonomous ob
ject, especially a real object, in relation to the
experiences of a consciousness. This transcen
dence extends not only to the work of art itself
or to the aesthetic object in its neutral or in
different qualifications, from the point of view
of values, but also to valuable qualities and the
values constituted on their bases.18
Thus, as we see, by the objectivity of aesthetic values
80 Bohdan Dziemidok
Ingarden understands not only their sufficient grounding
in the qualities of the aesthetic object and of the work of
art but also the total transcendence of these values in re
lation to the subject. It appears that the defence of the
conception of the objectivity of aesthetic values in the sec
ond sense is an exceptionally difficult task precisely within
Ingarden’s theory of the aesthetic object understood as an
aesthetic concretization of the work of art performed by a
percipient.19 After all, Ingarden allows for the active role
of the subject in direct co-creation of the aesthetic object
and, therefore, in indirect constitution of aesthetic values;
he nevertheless considers this an argument for relationism
since at the moment of apprehending or discovering values
the latter already exist in the aesthetic object, and conse
quently are transcendent in relation to the subject. Two
objections may be raised against this interpretation. First
of all, the participation of the subject in constituting the
aesthetic object, which Ingarden does not deny, is in fact
an argument in favour of relationism. Secondly, the mo
ment in which the constitution of the aesthetic object or
the aesthetic concretization performed by the subject has
ended (and there follows only the discovering and sensuous
apprehension of already constituted qualities and aesthetic
values) exists exclusively in Ingarden’s ideal, theoretical
model; in the practice of real contact with art it is entirely
fictitious. After all, contact with a work of art such as a
film reveals that the processes of aesthetic concretization
and direct sensuous contact with aesthetic qualities take
place practically simultaneously. Once the viewing of the
film comes to an end, so does its aesthetic concretization
(the latter is possible only in the aesthetic attitude, which
ceases on departure from the cinema) and so does the di
rect contact with the aesthetic qualities and the imposed
values constituted in the aesthetic object. If one’s experi
ence may be trusted, then there is no evidence for a stage
of the aesthetic experience where the perception of a work
and the process of its aesthetic concretization would be fin
ished while direct sensuous apprehending of the aesthetic
values in the established aesthetic object would still be un
der way. The aesthetic object, understood as an aesthetic
concretization of a work of art, and its proper aesthetic
values never become fully transcendent in relation to the
recipient, and to some extent they always depend on the
recipient for their existence.
In its ideal and naturalistic variety, ontological aesthetic
objectivism seems to sever the sphere of values from man in
a way that does not seem rationally justified; moreover, re
garding values as fully transcendent in relation to man may
lead to the mystification of the realm of values. If like In
garden one defends a more moderate variety of aesthetic ob
jectivism, one may largely avoid these consequences. How
ever, in this case the necessary reference to experiences and
attitudes of an individual leads to the breakdown of objec
tivism and in practice means a concession to relationism.
No objectivist - and Ingarden is no exception in this re
spect - has yet succeeded in establishing either some fea
ture shared by all beautiful objects (as a necessary and
sufficient condition of beauty) or a set of features permit
ting the distinction of aesthetic values in the domain of
ontology.
Ingarden comes close to a pluralistic objectivism whose
followers maintain correctly, that beauty may be an at
tribute of sets ab or be , but also of quite different sets,
e.g. kl , mn , etc. Yet the adherents of this theory avoid
the very significant question of who has decided and when
that these are aesthetically valuable sets and why sets ab
or kl have been accepted as valuable.20
The only variety of objectivism that may successfully
be defended is sociological objectivism. Yet all sociological
objectivism is directly or indirectly a variant of sociologi
82 Bohdaa Dziemidok
cal aesthetic relationism. In the latter case, instead of an
individual (or individuals) and his or her experiences, the
subjective element in the relation is substituted by a social
group that determines and suggests appropriate hierarchies
of value to the individual.
Among all these trends in axiology, the historical - soci
ological relationism of values constitutes, in my opinion, the
tradition that most closely approaches marxist aesthetics.21
6. T he object of th e controversy between

absolutism and aesthetic relativism
Another fundamental problem in the theory of aes
thetic values is the controversy between absolutism and
relativism, concerning the question whether aesthetic val
ues and judgements are relative or not. The controversy
between absolutism and aesthetic relativism occurs on two
different planes because it concerns both (1) the charac
ter of the values themselves and (2) the aesthetic status of
value judgements.
In connection with values two specific questions seem
to me most important, namely: (1) Are aesthetic values
and the criteria of values changeable or are they eternal?
For instance, if a certain work of art is a masterpiece will
it always be a masterpiece, or if harmony is an accepted
aesthetic value will it never cease to be a value? (2) Do
aesthetic values have a universal character, common to all
humankind or perhaps even cosmic, or have they a par
ticular character, a class character typical of only specific
cultures milieus, or even individuals?
Aesthetic relativism proclaims the relativity of aesthetic
values. What is beautiful for x, may not be beautiful for
y; what is valuable for one social group (or on the basis of
a certain kind of culture) is not always aesthetically valu
able for another social group (or in a culture of a different
kind); what induces admiration and aesthetic approval in
the twelfth or seventeenth may not give rise to any admi
ration or appreciation in the twentieth century.
On the other hand, the followers of aesthetic absolutism
claim that genuine aesthetic values are independent of in
dividual tastes, class, and cultural conditions and criteria,
and the changeability of the so-called taste of the epoch. In
its most extreme aesthetic absolutism proclaims the univer
sality of a determined perfect model of beauty. Such monis
tic absolutism is in opposition not only to relativism but
also to aesthetic pluralism, whose representatives maintain
that there exist many equal forms (types) of beauty, an
attitude which is by no means identical with a conviction
about the relativity of beauty.
The solution of the problem concerning the nature of
values (changeability - unchangeability, universality - par
ticularity) is largely determined by the approach taken in
the controversy toward the mode of existence of values.
Aesthetic subjectivism naturally leads to relativism (only
the Epicurean Philodemos and E. Abramowski do not con
form to this rule). However, the opposite does not hold
true, for one can be a relativist while simultaneously re
jecting subjectivism (only extreme axiological relativism is
usually combined with subjectivism). A similarly regular,
though complex, relation obtains between objectivism and
aesthetic absolutism. Absolutism is first of all close to ob
jectivism, although one may encounter an exceptional case
of absolutist subjectivism (E. Abramowski). Still, not every
follower of aesthetic objectivism must also be an absolutist
(e.g., the Soviet aestheticians J. Boriew and L. Stolowicz).
7. Ingarden’s m oderate aesthetic absolutism
As an axiological theorist Ingarden was a consistent
opponent of aesthetic relativism, especially in its extreme
(subjectivist) variety, on both planes distinguished above.
84 Bohdan Dziemidok
The problem of the relativity or the absolute character
of values was the subject of a special study in 1948, “Re
marks on the Relativity of Values.” However, this issue
was also raised in many of his other works dealing with
values. Already in his first writings on aesthetics, Ingar
den rejected and criticized extreme aesthetic relativism. He
claimed that aesthetic values are not only objective but also
absolute. The most complete attem pt thus far to character
ize the specific variety of Ingarden’s axiological absolutism
can be found in a dissertation by Adam Wegrzecki entitled
“0 absolutnosci wartosci extetycznych i etycznych” (On the
Absolute Nature of Aesthetic and Ethical Values).22 The
moderate character of Ingarden’s aesthetic objectivism im
plies that the variety of aesthetic absolutism he represents
is also much less radical than the absolutism of Plato and
Scheler, Hartmamnn and Elzenberg. Speaking very briefly,
this less radical character of Ingarden’s aesthetic absolutism
is reflected in two of his convictions. Firstly, absolute and
non-relational values are only aesthetic values, while artis
tic values (because of their subordinate, instrumental char
acter) are relative and relational.23 Secondly, even aesthetic
values are not wholly absolute, in each respect and in every
possible meaning of the term “absolute.” Ingarden admits
that in some senses one may speak of the relativity of aes
thetic values.
According to him, of the five principal meanings of the
concept of “relativity” that he distinguishes in “On the
Relativity of Values,” only two may legitimately be applied
to aesthetic values:24
1. Aesthetic values are relative in the sense that they
are not ontically autonomous and do not exist in the
same manner as real objects. In their existence they
are dependent on the existence of objects to which
they belong and they are derivative in respect to their
ontic status. Nor are they fully independent of men
perceiving the ontic foundations of values in their ex
istence. Without the activity of a subject no aesthetic
objects, which are the carriers of values, could come
into being.25
2. Aesthetic values may be regarded as relative also in
the sense that they are not accessible to all subjects
but only to specially qualified subjects whose percep
tual and emotional faculties meet very specific and
infrequently realized requirements.26
Allowing that the relativity of aesthetic values in these
two senses might be acknowledged, Ingarden also defends
the conviction about the absolute nature of aesthetic values
in two other, very significant, senses.
1. First, the absolute nature of aesthetic values con
sists in their unchangeability. According to Ingarden,
they are unchangeable in the sense that they are not
susceptible to any changes taking place beyond the
aesthetic object (e.g., changes in the course of the
subject’s experience). Ingarden does not claim that
aesthetic values have a universal character, common
to all humankind, since in their existence they are
connected with a monosubjective object which exists
exclusively for a determined recipient of the work of
art. For the same reason the aesthetic object is im
permanent. Still, they are unchangeable in the sense
that in the already shaped object they do not change
as long as the object itself exists in an unchanged
form. “Their changeability occurs only when the aes
thetic objects themselves undergo a change,”27 for in
their existence they depend only on the qualitative
and formal properties of these objects.
2. In many of his works Ingarden repeatedly claims that
aesthetic values are in no sense relational. They are
86 Bohdaa Dziemidok
“absolute in the sense that they are the very em
bodiment of aesthetically valuable qualities.”28 They
are “in themselves qualitatively complete and self-
sufficient; they are nothing relative that would refer
to something or serve something.”29 “Beauty, aes
thetic charm, a peculiar attuning of aesthetically va
lent qualities, etc. - all these are various kinds of spe
cial qualities that are what they are, self-contained,
and, at the same time, non-relational to anybody or
anything. . . . Precisely because their existence is not
an ‘existence for’ somebody or something, the circum
stance that somebody does not encounter them in the
real environment accessible to him or her, does not
violate at all their absoluteness (irrelationality) and
objectivity.”30
A. Wegrzecki is right when he emphasizes the fact that
Ingarden rejects not only radical relativism but also rad
ical axiological absolutism.31 Yet it is difficult to accept
his suggestion that Ingarden’s polemic with relativism can
be reduced to his criticism of extreme relativism. With
equal fervour and consistency Ingarden also fights against
relationism, which need not be connected with a conviction
about the radical relativity of aesthetic values.
If Ingarden’s specific aesthetic absolutism is a conse
quence of his objectivistic solution of the question of the
mode of existence of values, then it should not be surpris
ing that doubts and critical remarks about Ingarden’s abso
lutism will be partly analogical to those that have already
been raised in relation to his aesthetic objectivism.
If one accepts Ingarden’s concept of the aesthetic object,
it is difficult to question the thesis of the unchangeability
of aesthetic values, as Ingarden conceives it. But since this
unchangeability is as transitory, fragile, and fleeting as the
short existence of the aesthetic object, it is hard to take
this as a strong argument for absolutism. At any rate,
consistent and radical absolutism could not recognize such a
relative unchangeability of values as a sufficient justification
of the approach.
W ith respect to Ingarden’s rejection of the relational
conception of aesthetic qualities and values, the negation
of relationism is particularly difficult to carry out within his
aesthetics on the basis of radical objectivism and aesthetic
absolutism. After all, according to Ingarden the aesthetic
object, the ontic foundation of aesthetic qualities and val
ues, is a concretization of the work of art performed by a
recipient of the work in the aesthetic attitude. The exis
tence of the aesthetic object and its appropriate aesthetic
values is connected with the subject and his or her active
perception of the work of art. Only a recipient can appreci
ate the aesthetic value, while a direct response to a value is
a component of the aesthetic experience. If we admit that
without the activity of the subject experiencing the work
of art there is no object and no aesthetic value, the defence
of the thesis that the existence of the aesthetic value is not
“an existence for somebody” becomes very difficult. As
we have already said, a radical absolutism separating the
world of values from man does not contain such immanent
difficulties. Ingarden nevertheless rejects it.
One cannot question the fact that by proving the con
nection between values and an object Ingarden greatly con
tributes to a restriction and undermining of extreme (sub
jectivist) aesthetic relativism. Still, this does not at all
mean that he also undermines historical and cultural rel
ativism; nor does it mean that he succeeds in proving the
validity of absolutism, even in the moderate variety he pro
poses. Like other absolutists, Ingarden deliberately ignores
anthropological, sociological, and historical studies whose
findings make axiological absolutism unacceptable. In his
consideration of aesthetic values Ingarden takes into ac
count first the work of art, second its recipient, and third
88 Bohdan Dziemidok
what comes into being in consequence of the reception of
the work by the recipient, i.e., the aesthetic object. This
does not, however, take sufficient notice of the sociocul
tural context in which the perception of the work of art
takes place. Without taking into account sociocultural con
ditions such as needs, modes of experiencing, and evaluat
ing, artistic conventions, semantic codes, and so on, one
cannot answer questions such as why the dramatic quality,
expressiveness, originality, clarity, or subtlety of a work (all
enumerated by Ingarden as aesthetically valuable qualities)
may be or even ought to be regarded as aesthetically valu
able.
In this case my doubts do not concern the validity or
arbitrariness of the list of valuable qualities given by In
garden, which is a different matter. (From the long list of
aesthetically valuable qualities produced by Ingarden I have
intentionally selected those that also seem valuable to me.)
My point is that the ahistoricity and asocial disposition of
phenomenology deprive it of the chance to explain why par
ticular values of an object are (or are not) felt and estimated
as aesthetically valuable. For centuries, people recognized
(or did not recognize) symmetricality, expressiveness, or
originality as aesthetically attractive and valuable. In dif
ferent epochs and types of culture the enumerated qualities
were not treated identically. What or who has decided, and
for what reason, about the acceptance of symmetricality or
rhythmicality as qualities that are not aesthetically neu
tral? Eidetic intuition provides no opportunity to answer
these questions.
8. Ingarden's criticism of extrem e relativism and

scepticism in the problem of evaluation and
aesthetic judgem ents
The rejection of aesthetic relativism in the domain of
values themselves leads Ingarden to consequent criticism of
extreme relativism and scepticism in the problems of aes
thetic evaluation and in the m atter of justifying aesthetic
judgements. In fact, the polemic with extreme relativism in
the latter domain has received more attention in his works.
In its most developed form this critique was carried out
in The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art (especially
paras. 32 and 33) and in two congress papers, “Remarks on
Aesthetic Value Judgement” (Venice 1958) and “Principles
of the Epistemological Analysis of Aesthetic Experience”
(Athens 1960). Ingarden’s polemic with extreme relativism
can only be understood by taking into consideration some
of his conceptual distinctions concerning the evaluation of
the work of axt. In consequence of distinguishing the work
of art and artistic values from the aesthetic object and aes
thetic values connected with it there appears a distinction
between artistic and aesthetic evaluations.
Aesthetic evaluation, which finds its primary expression
in a direct emotional response to value and a secondary ex
pression in an intellectual aesthetic evaluation, concerns the
aesthetic value of particular concretizations of the work.
On the other hand, artistic evaluation, expressed in the
form of artistic appraisals, should apprehend the artistic
value of the work itself. According to Ingarden, the passing
of a valid artistic judgement is a much more difficult task
than determining the aesthetic value of a given concretiza
tion. “The determination of a significant appraisal of the
artistic value of a work” may be performed “only by some
one who knows the scope of the possible concretizations of
the work.”32 Since in practice it is impossible to take into
account all concretizations, artistic appraisals are only ap
proximate and their significance is limited. Hence, accord
ing to Ingarden, the divergence of evaluations is something
natural and regular but, as will be seen below, this does
not constitute a justification of subjective relativism.
90 Bohdan Dziemidok
As has been mentioned above, the aesthetic evaluation
that according to Ingarden has a more elementary character
and is much more significant occurs secondarily in the form
of aesthetic appraisals and as a response to value.
By a response to value (a phrase introduced by Diet-
rich V. Hildebrand in Wertantwort) Ingarden understands
a direct, emotional evaluation (a form of the aesthetic ex
perience), occurring at the climax of the aesthetic experi
ence. On the other hand, aesthetic evaluation or the aes
thetic value judgement (in his works after the Second World
War Ingarden uses the latter term more willingly) is a
conceptual-linguistic expression of the response to value.33
Normally, the aesthetic value judgement is (and should be)
the expression and result of the response to value. However,
as a purely intellectual act, performed not in the aesthetic
attitude but in the cognitive one, it is characterized by some
independence and may not always be based on a concrete
aesthetic experience. Such evaluations, severed from a def
inite aesthetic experience, are quite often pronounced by
critics employing certain scholarly “criteria.” According to
Ingarden, such appraisals may be valid merely by chance,
since they are deprived of their natural justification, such
as a concrete aesthetic experience.
Thus in Ingarden’s theory neither artistic evaluations
nor aesthetic evaluations (assuming a regular course of eval
uating) are fully self-sustained and depend exclusively on
the fancy of the person uttering them. The former and the
latter both require a justification by prior stages of evalua
tion. Both the former and the latter find a direct or indirect
justification in the original response to the aesthetic value
of the concretization of the work of art. Ingarden explic
itly states that “the aesthetic value judgement is merely a
derivative and secondary product and it plays a subsidiary
role in the process of apprehending the value of the aes
thetic object.”34
Both in The Cognition of the Literary Work and in the
two quoted congress papers the formula de gustibus non
est disputandum is for Ingarden an expression of extreme
relativism and aesthetic scepticism.35
The followers of this formula usually cite the fact of the
divergence of aesthetic experiences and evaluations, which,
in their opinion, is a sufficient argument for the conviction
that all evaluations are equally (exclusively subjectively)
motivated and that no discussion of this matter can bring
positive results. Ingarden does not question the fact of
the divergence of tastes and aesthetic evaluations, yet he
thinks that it does not constitute a sufficient basis for the
acceptance of the formula as valid.
In all of the three cited works, Ingarden proves that
extreme (subjectivistic) relativism is by no means a suffi
ciently justified approach. In his opinion, the arguments of
the followers of this approach do not stand up to criticism
and are either based on false premises or result from mis
understandings whose source is to be found in the neglect
of the fundamental distinctions introduced by phenomenol
ogy-
As a rule, subjectivistic relativism relies on the diver
gence of aesthetic evaluations concerning the same work of
art. Since the work is the same, while its appraisals differ
considerably, for radical relativists this implies the reign
of total subjectivism and arbitrariness in the domain of
aesthetic tastes. For Ingarden, however, this reasoning is
based on two false assumptions, namely:
1. on the conviction that when one passes aesthetic
judgements about works of art the real object of these
evaluations is always the work of art as such; and
2. on the assumption that, with divergent value judge

ments concerning a single work of art, the object of
the evaluation is always the same or that always the
92 Bohdan Dziemidok
same thing is being evaluated in all such cases.36
The followers of extreme relativism (and not they alone)
do not distinguish the work of art from its aesthetic con
cretizations and they do not realize that as a schematic for
mation the work of art creates the possibility of performing
a number of its different concretizations, all of which may
be equally valuable.
As a result value judgements, which most often con
cern particular concretizations, are untenably regarded as
evaluations of the work itself thus creating the appearance
of divergent evaluations. In fact, however, the objects of
evaluation are essentially different, and there is no real di
vergence of evaluations concerning the same object. Ac
cording to Ingarden we also encounter the illusion of diver
gent evaluations when the appraisals of the values of dif
ferent aesthetic concretizations concern only one of these
concretizations.
If our evaluations concern different aesthetic concretiza
tions of the work of art, that is, different aesthetic objects,
then the divergence of evaluations not only does not prove
arbitrariness and chaos in the domain of aesthetic evalua
tion but, on the contrary, is fully legitimate.
Yet, if our evaluations do not concern particular con
cretizations of the work of art but really the work itself,
then also in this case the object of the evaluation is not
always the same. To pass a justified and significant artis
tic evaluation of a work one should take into account as
many of its aesthetic concretizations as possible. Only on
the basis of the latter may we correctly reach the artistic
value. Yet in practice we can never take into account either
all the possible concretizations or the same concretizations.
Ingarden rightly points to the fact that “every apprehen
sion of the work of art ... is always partial. Thus, the
work always manifests itself only in a certain selection of
its properties.”37
In this way it turns out that the divergence of aesthetic
and artistic evaluations has not only subjective reasons but
also that it is always justified objectively, at least in part.
Still, Ingarden does not limit himself to the demonstra
tion of the fact that the generalizations of subjective rela
tivism and aesthetic scepticism are not sufficiently justified
because the arguments of the followers of these approaches
do not stand up to criticism.
He thinks that the central issue of the controversy is not
properly formulated. For in fact the question of the signifi
cance and justifiability of aesthetic and artistic evaluations
is a secondary and inessential matter. Another question is
more important, namely whether the response to the value
of a given aesthetic concretization of a work of art is condi
tioned by this value. Already in his book On the Cognition
of the Literary Work Ingarden wrote that one should first
of all answer the question: “are different aesthetic emo
tional responses possible ... with respect to the fully de
termined concretization constituted in a certain aesthetic
experience?”38 Here the point concerns responses differing
with respect to the degree of appreciation. Only the ac
ceptance of an affirmative answer to this question would
justify the conviction of de gustibus non est disputandum.
However, to Ingarden such a possibility seems “at least very
unlikely.”39
This problem is similarly formulated in both congress
papers (though Ingarden’s approach underwent a partial
modification in the two years between them). In his Venice
paper he claims that one should first of all decide if there
exists “a close relation between the value of the aesthetic
object and the sense of evaluation.”40 Radical relativists
negate the existence of such a relation and maintain that
the evaluation of every object may be quite arbitrary. In
garden explains, however, that it is not the causal relation
that is the point but “a sensible subordination between the
94 Bohdan Dziemidok
manner in which the appreciation of a valuable object is
shown and the quality of the value it possesses. To what is
beautiful we respond with admiration, to what is nice with
delight, to what is ugly with repulsion, and so on. “We
always have to deal with some sensible - one could even
say rational - behaviour towards what is apprehended and
felt. . . . The sensible relation between the response to a
value and the quality of the value is strict and obvious,” so
much so that according to Ingarden an improper response
to a value may be “a preposterous behaviour.”41
Pathological or perverted cases (e.g., a response of ad
miration to hideousness) cannot undermine the correctness
of aesthetic evaluation, much like mistakes in reasoning do
not undermine the validity of the rules of logic. A much
more important question is the justifiability and signifi
cance of aesthetic value judgements. First of all, passing
from direct evaluation (within the aesthetic experience) to
value judgements one may commit mistakes. Yet, as In
garden adds, it is not certain whether language is on the
whole able to reflect faithfully all the essential contents of
the aesthetic experience.
In his Athens paper Ingarden did not change his opinion
about the most important matter; he still maintained that
the validity of subjectivistic relativism and aesthetic scep
ticism had not been proved. De gustibus non est disputan-
durn could be regarded as justified only if “the response
to the aesthetic value was not conditioned by the quality
of the value in the aesthetic object so that with a certain
quality of the value every response to the value would re
ally be possible.”42 Yet in this paper Ingarden comes to the
conclusion that at the present stage of knowledge it is ex
tremely difficult to justify the opposite approaches as well.
W ith surprising caution and scepticism he begins to speak
about the possibility of justifying the standpoint he has de
fended so far. Only two years earlier he had spoken with
scepticism only about the possibility of justifying aesthetic
value judgements, and seemed to have had no doubts con
cerning the sufficient conditioning of the response to value.
But in 1960 he stated that “every solution of the problem
of value apprehension, i.e., the justification and condition
ing of the response to value, is today lacking a sufficient
theoretical basis.”43
As Ingarden rightly observed, the question of the con
ditioning of aesthetic evaluations, especially important
among problems of aesthetic evaluation, may be solved in
three ways:
1. Evaluation is a purely subjective act, depending ex
clusively on the will and predisposition of the evalu
ating subject, and it is by no means conditioned by
the properties of the evaluated object. This position
of subjectivist relativism is consistently rejected by
Ingarden.
2. Acts of evaluation are exclusively conditioned (suffi
ciently and unequivocally) by the properties o f the
evaluated object. The question about the accuracy
and significance of evaluations is not implied by this
solution because every evaluation is automatically ad
equate and valid. This alternative is so unlikely that
Ingarden saw no need to oppose it, although he never
approved of such an extreme ojectivism and abso
lutism.
3. Aesthetic evaluation (its content) depends both on
the qualities of the evaluated object and on biological
- psychical and social skills, on predispositions and
attitudes of the evaluating subject. This conception
of object - subject conditioning is, I think, most valid.
Although in his Venice paper Ingarden expresses an
opinion that with the present state of knowledge none of
96 Bohdan Dziemidok
the three solutions is sufficiently justified; still, in the same
text, while presenting conceptual distinctions in the intro
ductory part, he states that “the response to value is con
ditioned by the shaping of the aesthetic object and by the
mode of behaviour of the experiencing subject.”44 In spite
of the declared rejection of relationism in his theory of aes
thetic values Ingarden once again - objectively speaking -
came out as a follower of precisely this conception.
It seems to me that Ingarden’s considerable achieve
ments in the domain of the theory of aesthetic evaluation
should include:
1. The introduction of further fundamental distinctions

and conceptual differentiations, such as: (a) the sep
aration of the two stages of aesthetic evaluation, pri
mary evaluation (direct and emotional), constituting
a component of the aesthetic experience, and sec
ondary evaluation (purely intellectual), which finds
its expression in aesthetic value judgements; (b)
the distinction of artistic evaluations (concerning the
work of art itself) and aesthetic evaluations (appre
hending the values of particular aesthetic concretiza
tions of the work of art).
2. Discovering in the object multiple causes of diver

gence in both aesthetic and artistic evaluations, and
then interpreting them in such a way that they cannot
serve as arguments confirming the claims of aesthetic
scepticism and radical relativism.
3. Demonstrating that the formula de gustibus non est

disputandum cannot be regarded as justified and,
even if it is not actually overcome, then at least con
siderably limiting the influence and weakening the po
sition of extreme subjectivist relativism in the theory
of aesthetic evaluation.
The theory of values and evaluation of the work of art
was never completed by Ingarden, who was aware of its gaps
and unsolved problems. Yet Ingarden achieved so much in
this domain that the theory of aesthetic and artistic values
belongs among the greatest and most important achieve
ments of Ingarden’s philosophy and its significance reaches
beyond phenomenology.
In his theory one may find statements and conceptions
whose acceptance does not require the adoption of the
methodological assumptions and ontological solutions of
phenomenology. The conceptions that most obviously have
the status of scientific discoveries include, among others, (1)
the distinction between the work of art and its particular
aesthetic concretizations and the awareness of the fact that
value judgements treated as evaluations of the work itself
are primarily evaluations of particular concretizations, and
(2) the distinction between direct aesthetic evaluation and
evaluation expressed in value judgements.
N otes
Art), (Warsaw 1960), 62-63, 410-423, and 453-58 par. 68;
Ingarden 0 poznawaniu dziela literackiego (The Cognition of
the Literary Work of Art), 7, 128, 147—49, 235.
2. Ingarden [7], 420, 453-55; Ingarden (11), 7, 59, 64-65, 128,

144-145, 189.
3. M. Golaszewska, “Ingardenowski swiat wartosci” (Ingarden’s
World of Values), in Fenomenologia Romana Ingardena
(Roman Ingarden’s Phenomenology), (Warsaw 1972),
397-420; and M. Golaszewska, “Romana Ingardena filozofia
wartosci estetycznych” (Roman Ingarden’s Philosophy of
Aesthetic Values), Zeszyty Naukowe UJ, Prace Filozoficzne,
III, (Cracow 1973). Roman Ingarden’s theory of aesthetic
98 Bohdan Dziemidok
values was also discussed in the following. A. Szczepariska,
“W sprawie interpretacji niektorych twierdzen
Ingardenowskiej estetyki” (Concerning the Interpretation of
Some Propositions of Ingarden’s Aesthetics), Studia
Estetyczne, IX, (1972), 341—53; and “Perspektywy
aksjologiczne badari struktury dziela sztuki w koncepcji
R. Ingardena” (Perspectives of Axiological Studies in the
Structure of the Work of Art according to R. Ingarden),
Studia Estetyczne, X (1973), 239-53. S. Morawski, “Szkola
stawiania pytan” (The School of Asking Questions), Studia
Estetyczne, pt. i, VII (1970), 261-81, pt. ii, VIII (1971),
243-54. J. Kmita, “O dwoch rodzajach wartosci zwi^zanych z
dzielem sztuki” (On Two Kinds of Values Connected with the
Work of Art), in Wariose, dzielo, sens (Value, Work, Sense),
(Warsaw 1975), 177-95. B. Dziemidok, “Romana Ingardena
teoria wartosci dziela sztuki w swietle estetyki
marksistowskiej” (Roman Ingarden’s Theory of Values of the
Work of Art in the Light of Marxist Aesthetics), Studia
Filozoficzne, III, 3 (1975), 29-43. See, also R. Luthe, “Czy
alternatywa sceptycyzmu? O niektorych aspektach
Ingardenowskiej teorii wartosci dziela sztuki” (An Alternative
to Skepticism? On Some Aspects of Ingarden’s Theory of
Values of the Work of Art), Studia Estetyczne XIV, (1977),
29-44; D. Surowiec, “Wartosci w swiecie literatury” (Values
in the World of Literature), “Przegl§d Humanistyczny (1979),
71-88; and E.H. Falk, The Poetics of Roman Ingarden,
(Chapel Hill, North Carolina, 1981), 187-201.
4. Ingarden [85], “Zagadnienie systemu jakosci estetycznie
donioslych” (The Question of a System of Aesthetically
Significant Qualities), Ingarden [42], 306; and “Czego nie
wiemy o wartosciach?” (W hat Don’t We Know about
Values?), in Ingarden [42], 234.
5. Ingarden [84], “Wartosci artystyczne i wartosci estetyczne”
(Artistic and Aesthetic Values), in Ingarden [42], 286.
6. Ingarden [11], 145; Ingarden [18], “Uwagi o wzglejdnosci
wartosci” (Remarks Concerning the Relativity of Values), in
Ingarden [42], 218; and Ingarden, “Czego nie wiemy” , 234.
7. Ingarden [11], 200, 217-18; and Ingarden [84], 270-73.
8. Ingarden, “Czego nie wiemy” , 225-26.
9. Ingarden [84], 274-87.
Ingarden on VaJues and Valuation 99
10. Ingarden [84], 286; Ingarden [SO], “Zasady
epistemologicznego rozwazania doswiadczenia estetycznego”
(The Principles of Epistemological Analysis of the Aesthetic
Experience), in Ingarden [42], 170.
11. Ingarden [30], 169; Ingarden, “O estetyce filozoficznej” (On
Philosophical Aesthetics), in Ingarden [42], 14.
12. Ingarden [34], 286.
13. Ingarden [35], 306-08.
14. Ingarden [35], 306 n.
15. Ingarden [35], 305.
16. Ingarden, “Wartosc estetyczna i zagadnienie jej obiektywnego
ugruntowania” (Aesthetic Value and the Question of Its
Objective Grounding), in Ingarden [42], 261-62.
17. Morawski, “Szkola” , pt. i, 280, pt. ii, 245, 249, 254,. Cf. also
the polemic of Szczepanska with Morawski in Szczepanska,
“W sprawie interpretacji.”
18. Ingarden [34], 275; cf. also 271.
19. Some interesting remarks about Ingarden’s concept of
concretization may be found in the following. H. Markiewicz,
Glotvne problemy wiedzy o literaturze (The Main Problems <>f
the Knowledge of Literature), 3 ed. (Cracow 1970), 82-83,
325-26; A. Nowicki, Czlomek w swiecie dziel (Man in the
World of Works of A rt), (Warsaw 1974), 275-76;
M. Glowinski, “O konkretyzacji” (On Concretization), Nurt,
97 (1973).
20. An interesting, though controversial, attem pt to create an
objectivist theory of beauty in a pluralistic variety was
recently undertaken by a representative of American analytic
aesthetics, Guy Sircello, A New Theoy of Beauty, (Princeton
1975).
21. Among others, cf. Markiewicz, Glowne problemy, 324, 326;
A. Kuczyriska, Piekno. Mit i rzeczywistosi (Beauty: Myth
and Reality), (Warsaw 1972), 41; O. Drobnicki, £wiat
przedmiotow ozywionych. Problem wartosci a filozofia
marksistowska (The World of Animate Objects: The
Problem of Values and Marxist Philosophy), (Warsaw 1972),
27, 29, 36; J. Hawthorn, Identity and Relationship: A
100 Bohd&n Dziemidok
Contribution to Marxist Theory of Literary Criticism ,
(London 1973), 146-48; S. Morawski, Inquiries into the
Fundamentals of Aesthetics, (Cambridge, Mass., 1974), 8,
41-49.
22. A. W§grzecki, “O absolutnosci wartosci etycznych i
estetycznych” (On the Absolute Nature of Ethical and
Aesthetic Values), in Fenomenologia Romana Ingardena [see
n. 3], 421-47.
23. Ingarden [SO], 169; Ingarden [34], 286.
24. Ingarden [18], 208-13.
25. Ingarden [18], 211, 215, 218.
26. Ingarden [18], 212, 218.
27. Ingarden [18], 218.
28. Ingarden [SO], 169.
29. Ingarden [34], 286.
30. Ingarden [18], 213.
31. W§grzecki, 421.
32. Ingarden [11], 240.
33. Ingarden [11], 214-15, 237; Ingarden [42], 101, 167.
34. Ingarden [24], “Uwagi o estetycznym s$dzie wartosciuj§cym”
(Hemarks on Aesthetic Value Judgement), in Ingarden [42],
164.
35. Ingarden [11], 186, 214.
36. Ingarden [24], 155.
37. Ingarden [24], 155-56.
38. Ingarden [11], 214.
39. Ingarden [11], 214.
40. Ingarden [24], 157.
41. Ingarden [24], 160.
42. Ingarden [SO], 173-74.
43. Ingarden [SO], 174; 172.
44. Ingarden [SO], 167.
V. Ingarden and the Development of
Literary Studies
Henryk Markiewicz
In 1923 Roman Ingarden, a young secondary-school teacher

working for his post-doctoral (habilitation) in epistemol
ogy, wrote a review of the Festschrrift for Kazimierz Twar-
dowski. He analyzed in some detail Zygmunt Lempicki’s
paper “W sprawie uzasadnieijia poetyki czystej” (On the
Justification of Pure Poetics). He closed his observations
with a suggestion concerning the intuitive nature of our
contact with literary works and he asked himself the fol
lowing question:
Can one, however, intuitively examine a thing
like a literary work; is this an object that can
be directly cognized? What is “a literary work,”
as distinguished on the one hand from a logical
or grammatical construction, and on the other
— from real objects and non-literary works of
art? This is a central question the solution of
which depends finally on both a demarcation
of poetics from the other areas of the theory of
art, and a decision whether anti- psychological
arguments can be entirely applied to poetics.
But Professor Lempicki’s paper offers no clar
ification of these questions. Perhaps it is only
I who find a need for such a clarification be
cause I have not been much concerned with the
theoretical analysis of poetical works. But if I
am aware of the problems involved here there
are curious questions and big surprises to be
encountered. (Ill, 385)1
101
102 Henryk Maikiewicz
Chronologically the latest of Ingarden’s published
works, “Funkcje artystyczne jezyka” (Artistic Functions of
Language) [43], not so much ends as breaks off with the
following sentence:
The analyses carried out here should be com

pleted with the investigation of artistic func
tions of linguistic constructions in pure non-
descriptive lyric poetry. My impression is that
this function is very different from the functions
performed by the language of epic or drama.
This necessitates a renewed consideration of the
essence of the lyric, which means that for the
time being I must give it up.
Between these two statements, the first of which sig

naled newly awakened interests, and the second of which
revealed some exhaustion in an old though still creative
scholar, there is contained a great philosophical adventure
that twice — at the beginning and towards end — dis
tracted Ingarden from the main area of his investigations.
His book Das literarische Kunstwerk (The Literary Work
of Art) [7] was written first of all with the intention of solv
ing some basic philosophical problems especially the ques
tions of idealism and realism. The author considered the
literary work mainly from the viewpoint of ontology: he
treated it as a purely intentional object and by analyzing
the peculiarity of its mode of existence as compared to real
existence “of the question of the existence of the world”
(I, 31). Aesthetic and literary problems became his proper
subject only in the book 0 poznawaniu dziela literackiego
(The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art; 1937) [11] and
in the papers on truth in literature and on the content and
form of the literary work, which were amplified and devel
oped in the post-war years. Only when compelled by ex
ternal circumstances did Ingarden enter the field of literary
Ingarden and Literary Studies 103
theory: he did so in his lectures in poetics at Lvov Univer
sity in the years 1940-41. Out of these only a small section
have been published. Finally, articles appeared after 1956
analyzing axiological aspects of works of art and of aesthetic
objects; directly concerned with literature are two items:
“Funkcje artystyczne jezhka” (Artistic Functions of Lan
guage) and a polemical essay “Sprawa stosowania metod
statystycznych do badania dziel sztuki” (The Problem of
the Application of Statistical Methods to the Investigation
of Works of Art) (1967).
Thus Ingarden’s work — jnany times and in different
ways, though on a limited scale — enters the field which
he used to call “knowledge about literature,” and divided
into philosophy of literature, science of literature, and lit
erary criticism. Let us recall that philosophy of literature
includes ontology and theory of cognition of the literary
work, literary aesthetics (in the narrower sense, i.e., as a
theory of perception of literary works), philosophy of liter
ary creation, and axiology and sociology of literature. As
distinct from philosophy of literature, which through di
rect, a priori cognition investigates the content of general
ideas (their constant and changing components) and dis
covers necessary connections between them, the study of
literature is limited by facts and is empirical in its essence.
It includes on the one hand descriptive characterization of
particular literary works and their typology, and on the
other, a set of historical and literary problems. Criticism
gives an account of aesthetic concretizations and on this
basis offers evaluation of literary works. Later on Ingar
den noticed a further area of “knowledge about literature,”
namely, the theory of literature or poetics, which occupies
an intermediate place between literary and philosophy of
literature. Like the science of literature, philosophy of lit
erature identifies essential moments and relations, proper
ties, and relations in actually existing literary works” (I,
104 Henryk Markiewicz
271). Again like philosophy of literature, it makes use of
the direct, a priori method of cognition; it also uses its
basic concepts and assertions in the sense that “they are
a means helpful in finding material for investigation and
in focusing attention on some concrete phenomena in the
sphere of literary art” (I, 273).
This scheme has been recalled in order to define, in
accordance with Ingarden’s own intentions, the area of
his critical contacts with literature. This area is con
tained within the limits of philosophy of literature or philo
sophical literary aesthetics (the term aesthetics is under
stood broadly here); secondarily, it constitutes a part of
the theory of literature, namely its philosophical founda
tion. Ingarden strongly emphasized differences between
particular branches of “knowledge about literature,” and
he looked without much enthusiasm on philosophical and
quasi-philosophical inquiries undertaken by literary schol
ars, believing that “such confusion of areas and methods of
investigation can bring no profit either to the science of lit
erature or to philosophy” (I, 251). A literary scholar must
in turn declare that not everything is clear in the above pro
posed system, either: the borderlines between philosophy
of literature and poetics, and between poetics and typol
ogy of literary works seem fluid. Let us also note that the
methodology of literary research has not been included.
Trying to prevent literary scholars from entering the
field of philosophy, Ingarden, for his part, did not study
works on literary theory in any systematic way: the bibli
ography given in The Literary Work of Art is scanty (dis
regarding German readers of the book, Ingarden primar
ily refers to Polish theorists); and when he returned to the
problems of literary aesthetics in the last fifteen years of his
life, he confined himself to getting acquainted with a few
representative synthetic works and with particular studies
directly connected with his own views. This presumably
resulted also from deeper methodological assumptions — a
belief that an echo of other views and attitudes hamper an
intuitive contact with the object of investigation. But as a
result he was often unfair to literary research: he deplored
neglects and omissions which were largely eliminated and
appealed for a consideration of problems that were already
being investigated. He did not see or did not appreciate
what had been already done, along the lines pointed out
by him or parallel to his own reasoning. When preparing
a new edition of his works in 1957 he admitted that he no
longer felt as isolated as he had been when his ideas had
been originally formulated, but Ht the same time, not with
out some melancholy, he observed that “literary scholars
did not make use of the instrument suggested to them, en
abling them to investigate in a new way individual literary
works” (II, 409). Indeed, it seems that only a dissertation
by Lucie Elbracht-Hulseveh on Jacob Bidermann’s “Belis-
arius” (1935) was an attem pt — though only partial and
not very successful — at adjusting literary analysis to In
garden’s conception. The conclusions that might be drawn
from this, however, would be misleading.
It is true that Ingarden’s ideas encountered some diffi
culty before they were finally assimilated by literary schol
ars. The Literary Work of Art, because it was written in
German, was known abroad, but remained inaccessible to
many Polish readers; the opposite was true of The Cogni
tion of the Literary Work of Art and of other smaller stud
ies, until they began to appear in translation after 1956.
But not only language difficulties were the problem: Ingar
den’s style, though he made use of both everyday language
and of metaphor, was nevertheless too complicated and too
abstract for the majority of literary scholars. In order to
clarify the content of his assertions he explained the philos
ophy of language, formulated ontological and epistemologi-
caj assumptions which he could not explicate fully, and re-
{erred his readers to Husserl’s works. His “common-sense”
minded readers or those who thought in terms of realism
or materialism objected to a pedantic comparison of inten
tional objects and those existing in reality, and references
to ideal concepts. Some terms discouraged the readers or
even frightened them; some were not always rightly under
stood (e.g., “schematized aspects”). Some were not clearly
defined by the author (e.g., metaphysical qualities). What
was disappointing was the fact that Ingarden’s analyses,
especially in The Literary Work of Art,were to a large ex
tent concerned not with the essence of the literary work of
art but with any text examined regardless of its artistic or
aesthetic properties.
All these circumstances contributed to an indifferent re
sponse to the book — even in Germany, where the situa
tion (because of the language and the philosophical tradi
tion) was relatively favourable. The most prominent of the
few German reviewers, Herbert Cysarz, attacked it sharply
from his position of quasi-mysticism combined with an “or
ganic” approach, stating rudely that what Ingarden obtains
as a result of his analyses, which disintegrate the work and
put aside aesthetic values, stands in relation to the liter
ary work as “a wet spot to a conceived child.” It seems
that Ulrich Leo was the only one to emphasize — though
in a casual comment — “fundamental results of extremely
important work by Ingaxden” that would be impossible for
stylistic investigations to bypass in the future. The silence
surrounding Ingarden’s work in the years following is easy
to explain by its incongruity with “volkhafte Leteraturwis-
senschaft” and with Heidegger’s speculations, as well as
by Husserl’s patronage, “racially” compromising in those
years.2
However, Ingaxden was wrong when he stated that in
pre-war Poland his views “most frequently encountered
crude opposition based on complete ignorance of his work”
(15). The Literary Work of Art was, in fact, greeted with
strong approval by the greatest theoretical authority of
that time, Zygmunt Lempicki. The Cognition of the Liter
ary Work of Art was highly esteemed by Stefan Szuman.
The sceptical empiricist Julian Krzyzanowski, although dis
agreeing with more than one of Ingarden’s statements,
wrote with respect about his “exquisite analysis,” and “his
system constructed with consistency and precision.” Also,
Waclaw Borowy emphasized the fact that we have to do
with “one of the greatest efforts in the sphere of the the
ory of literary phenomena in our time.”3 Manfred Kridl —
though not always adequately — used Ingarden’s theory as
a philosophical basis for his Wstep do badan literackich (An
Introduction to Literary Research (1936). The Cognition of
the Literary Work of Art met with esteem even in the eyes
of the representative of the most traditional trend in lit
erary research, Ignacy Chrzanowski.4 As a m atter of fact,
if we exclude one or two aggressive reviews, it was only
Leon Chwistek who frontally attacked “Ingarden’s verbal
metaphysics.”5
Authors belonging to a younger generation (i.e.

L. Blaustein, M. Des Loges, M. Giergielewicz, T.J. Kronski,
I. Krzemicka, M. Milbrandt), most of whom were philoso
phers, were able to express their appreciation for Ingar
den in the most respectable scholarly journals. His the
ory inspired Stefania Skwarczynska when she outlined a
programme for phenomenological theory of literature and
later when she analyzed the role of understatement in the
literary work and the structure of the poetic world. Mar
ian Des Loges was also inspired by Ingarden in his criticism
of Troczynski’s theory of artistic activities 6 and so was
Kazimierz Wyka in his studies on the time of the novel.7
The most prominent critic of the young generation, Lud-
wik Fryde, wrote:
When we grasp the content of the concepts used
by Ingaxden and we get to the core of his ar
gumentation we feel a rare emotion: the dark
and mysterious psychological process becomes
clear before our eyes, penetrated by a clear and
shrewd thought.8
To mention studies other than Polish, Felix Vodicka be

came interested in Ingarden’s doctrine of the concretiza
tion of the literary work and made critical use of it in
his study Literarnehistoricke studium ohla.su literamich del
(An Historical Study of the Reception of Literary Works,
“Slovo a slovesnost” 1971). It was an irony of history that
a “discovery” of Ingarden by German literary scholarship
came almost simultaneously with the beginning of World
War II and the persecution of Polish learning by the Ger
man invaders. In 1939 Gunther Muller published in the
Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift fur Literaturwissenschaft und
Geistesgeschichte a paper called “Uber die Seinsweise der
Dichtung,” which, without of course mentioning either the
term phenomenology or Husserl’s name, gave an appre
ciative account of Ingarden’s views on the structure and
mode of existence of the literary work and on the rela
tions of the represented world to empirical reality. These
views turned out to be a convenient theoretical basis for
the orientation towards “imminent stylistic interpretation”
which was about to develop at that time. They may have
been know to Emil Staiger, the author of Grundbegriffe der
Poetik (1946) which, incidentally, was highly valued by In
garden. But they certainly influenced Wolfgang Kayser,
who in the introduction to a frequently reprinted hand
book, Das sprachliche Kunstwerk (1948), stated emphati
cally that “the two most important recent works concerning
the definition of the subject of literary scholarship and the
elucidation of the mode of existence of literary texts axe Das
literarische Kunstwerh by the Polish scholar Roman Ingar
den, Husserl’s student, and Uber die Seinsweise der Dictat
ing, by Gunther Muller.”9 In a popular guide, AUgemeine
Literaturwissenschaft (1951), by Max Wehrli, Ingarden’s
views are included in some detail. In the United States,
Theory of Literature (1948) by R. Wellek and A. Warren,
a widely popular work that has been translated into many
languages, played a similar role. Its main author made use
of Ingarden’s theory even earlier in the often quoted arti
cle “The Mode of Existence of a Literary Work” (Southern
Review, 1942).10
Even though American criticism has been particularly
concerned with the problems of identity and of the mode of
existence of the literary work, as well as with its cognitive
function and with the logical value of fictional sentences,
there is no trace of direct contact with Ingarden’s works,
in which these questions frequently found a similar eluci
dation — though usually a more precise and subtle one.
This situation may be changed now due to the translations
of Ingarden’s works that have come out in recent years —
it seems symptomatic that M. C. Beardsley does not even
mention Ingarden in the bibliographical Notes and Queries
to his Aesthetics of 1958, but gives much favourable atten
tion to him in a brief historical outline of 1966.11 At the
time of writing, an extensive analysis of Ingarden’s views
has appeared in Rene Wellek’s book Four Critics (1981).
Ingarden’s name is placed alongside the names of Croce,
Valery, and Lukacs, which in itself is significant. In France,
references to Ingarden have only been occasional, made
only by aestheticians (particularly in the Phenomenologie
de Inexperience esthetique, 1953, by M. Dufrenne).
On the other hand, in the German language new re
search on the structure, morphology, and truth-value of
the literary work develops in a constant dialogue with
Ingarden’s views. This is most evident in such books
as Die typischen Erzahlsituationen in Roman (1955) by
Franz Stanzl, Die Logik der Dichtung (1957) by Kate Ham
burger, Zur theorie der literarischen Wertung (1957) by
Herbert Wutz, and Kritische Wissenschaft vom Text (1970)
by Erwin Leibfried. References to Ingarden are particularly
frequent in scholars concerned with the aesthetics of liter
ary response (e.g., W. Iser, Der implizite Leser, 1972). In
his book Phdnomenologie und Literaturwissenschaft (1973)
the Yugoslav theorist Aoran Konstantinovic presented In
garden’s views with great care and appreciation.
A similar situation can be observed in the area of
Polish literary theory: while Kazimierz Budzyk and Ste
fan Zoikiewski12 maintain a theoretical disinterest in Ingar
den’s works, for the younger generation of scholars like Kaz
imierz Bartoszynski, Janusz Slawinski, Michal Glowinski,
Katarzyna Rosner, or the author of the present paper, In
garden’s theory constitutes as a rule a starting point leading
towards one’s own — frequently polemical — critical posi
tion. It is also no wonder that Maria Golaszewska, a former
student of Ingarden, often refers to his theory in her works
on aesthetics of literature. It is, however, more significant
that Jerzy Pelc, a philosopher representing realism, uses In
garden’s ideas as a point of departure and then formulates
his views on the literary work and on the assertive value
of its sentence in opposition to Ingarden.13 Stanislaw Lem
does likewise in his Filozofia przypadku (The Philosophy
of Chance; (1969) where he attempts to present problems
of literature from a cybernetic viewpoint. Thus Ingar
den’s presence in Polish theoretical awareness is clearly
marked, particularly since the appearance of two collective
volumes: Fenomenologia Romana Ingardena (Roman In
garden’s Phenomenology (1972) and Roman Ingarden and
Contemporary Polish Aesthetics (1975).
This presence is also being marked in the writings of
other East European authors. After the Russian transla
tion of Ingarden’s aesthetic studies appeared in 1962 with
a cautious but appreciative introduction by W. Razumny,
references to this volume have begun appearing in the
works of Soviet scholars (N. Gej, G. Pospelov). The val
ues of the studies have been emphasized by K. M. Dol
gov Fenomenologia literatury R. Ingardena (R. Ingarden’s
Phenomenology of Literature) in a collective volume on In
garden’s Phenomenology. Besides Mukarovsky’s studies,
Ingarden’s works constituted the main frame of reference
for the papers given at the Prague symposium K inter-
pretaci umeleckeho literarniho dila (1969). Even the East
German Marxist scholar Norbert Krenzlin, who is critical
of Ingarden — interpreting his views as an “aesthetics of
consumption” and accusing him of formalism and objective
idealism — emphasizes the importance and rational content
of his “intellectually rich and unusually subtle studies.”14
In his book Das Werk “rein fvir sich” (1978) this same
author argues that Ingarden’s analyses of the function of
language in the literary work, of its stratified structure,
and of the reader’s activity in the process of concretization
are theoretical achievements of high value that should be
assimilated into Marxist aesthetics.
The present essay — without probing purely philosophi
cal problems — is an attem pt to indicate the most vital mo
tifs and inspirations present in Ingarden’s work that have
been — or can be — made use of in literary research. This
attem pt is prompted by a conviction that many of Ingar
den’s statements retain their value regardless of their on
tological components: a literary scholar may re-formulate
them (e.g. in materialistic terms) or may (if he feels in
competent) refrain from making judgements in this respect.
The same concerns Ingarden’s epistemological declarations:
the method of “direct a priori cognition” can (particularly
in his application) be treated, after Adjukiewicz, simply as
a “careful entering into the meaning of words” by means of
examples unquestionably referred to them.15
With this reservation, it is, however, necessary to start
with ontological questions. This is what Ingarden has made
clear to literary scholars, as well as convincing them that
the literary work is an object separate from psychological
acts of the author or readers, from the material carriers of
meaning making up concrete copies of the work, and also
from the sum of meaning of its sentences. He also demon
strated that the literary work is an object transcendent in
relation to each of the aspects (“perspectival foreshorten
ings”) under which it appears to the reader in the course
of different phases of reading (and also after the reading is
over), and in relation to different ways in which it can be
read, and which differ almost of necessity in the degree of
adequacy with regard to different planes of the work.
One can say without hesitation that Ingarden opened
the eyes of literary scholars to the whole complexity of on
tological and semantic relations which lead from tiny layers
of link or from vibrating air particles to such components
of the literary work as characters, plot, idea, and so on. He
showed how numerous are the cognitive acts which must
be performed by a competent receiver of the literary work
and how difficult it is to perform them with an unvarying
degree of concentration and involvement.
Ingarden, as is generally acknowledged, defined the lit
erary work as a purely intentional object and thus existen
tially dependent, because its source of existence is rooted
in the author’s creative act, and at the same time deriva
tively intentional because it is based ontologically on sim
pler intentional creations, namely, the meaning of sentences
whose physical foundation is constituted by material lan
guage signs. It has to be noted that it is the typical quali
ties of these material signs that are in question, and not the
concrete totality of their properties which occurs within a
certain range of changeability in different copies of differ
ent performances of the same work, and also contains some
features which are not relevant for its signifying functions.
It may seem that this formula — which anyway does
not entirely reflect Ingarden’s philosophical subtleties — is
excessively complex and also suggestive of idealism. But
for a literary theorist who is trying to find a philosophical
foundation for his analyses, it is certainly more nourish
ing than a statement that describes the literary work in
general terms as a “reflection of reality,” thus leaving him
with an unsolved alternative: an ideal or material object
(since there is nothing else to choose) or, on the other hand,
statements that merely define the work as a configuration of
signs, which really means evading the ontological problem.
Ingarden has worked out in detail the question of the
literary work as consisting of numerous phases (merely
touched upon in Lessing’s Laokoon) and put even more
effort into revealing its many-layered, as he liked to call
it, “anatomy.” He considered this idea to be of utmost
importance and he believed firmly that the four strata he
identified — those of sound, of meaning, of represented ob
jects, and of schematized aspects (the schemata of aspects
in which objects appear) — are not a construction, a model,
or a figurative approximation, but constitute a fully ade
quate representation of what is given in a direct experience
of this “anatomy.”
However, distinguishing the level of sounds, of mean
ing, and of theme in the literary work has been an obvious
m atter for literary scholars (for example, it was in this way
that Mukarovsky analysed the poem May by Macha, 1928).
What was new in Ingarden’s conception, namely, the dis
tinguishing of the stratum of schematized aspects, did not
meet with the appreciation of either theorists of literature
or estheticians. It was argued that although represented
objects come to appearance through aspects, these aspects
cannot be separated from the objects; they are projected to
gether and therefore both belong to the represented world.
The treatment of written signs merely as material founda
tion of the work and a signal controlling selection of typical
verbal sounds, which itself does not belong to the work, also
raised doubts. And finally, it was observed that from the
viewpoint of the needs of literary analysis it would be nec
essary to introduce further distinctions and hierarchy.
At the same time it was generally agreed that many
of Ingarden’s observations concerning the spatial orienta
tion of represented objects, and especially those concerning
the construction of represented time, were new and useful
(e.g., the opposition between an abbreviated report and
a detailed presentation, and between a remote and close
temporal distance in relation to presented events).
A discussion with Ingarden’s conception of stratifica
tion developed in the opposite direction as well: as a ten
dency to characterize represented objects as concentrations
of meaning of some sort, “without referring to concepts of
strata other than the stratum of meaning connected with
the language segments of the text.”16 This suggestion, how
ever, blurs essential differences between the unequivocally
ordered semantic content of the text received as a sequence
of sentences and higher semantic units which are given in
these meanings only potentially, and which come into being
only through a selection, condensation, and simultaneous
multi-directed bringing together of these meanings. It is
worth adding that the structuralists, who attach great im
portance to making accurate distinctions between particu
lar “levels of description” discriminate as a rule the level
of “discourse” and the level of “history” and — with the
exception of Jakobson — would not agree to treat poetics
as a part of linguistics. This level of “history,” when com
pared with Ingarden’s concept of the represented world,
looks impoverished and schematic. Therefore, it has even
been supposed that “Ingarden may very likely play an im
portant role in the overcoming of the difficulties encoun
tered by the study of literature and related disciplines in
their attem pt to make use of semiology.”17
Perhaps more important than statements on the strat
ified structure of the literary work was the distinction be
tween the work as a schematic object open to intersubjec-
tive reconstruction, and its different monosubjective con
cretizations performed by readers. Especially valuable was
the introduction of the concept of “areas of indetermi
nancy,” which was very useful for the description of differ
ent ways in which the represented world can be constructed.
Of even greater value has been the description of the al
ready mentioned process of synthetizing objectivization in
the course of which the content of the represented world
separates itself and gains independence in relation to the
meanings of successively read sentences: one and the same
sentence is objectivized differently: e.g., in a process-like
or an object-like way (and in the latter case is objectivized
in many directions corresponding to the different objects
referred to in this sentence), which may in turn contribute
to a different constitution of the represented world (e.g.,
dynamic or more static).
These analyses make it possible to distinguish in the
literary work that which is given to the reader from that
which is “assigned” — either unequivocally or as a multiple-
choice operation — with a view to combining the meanings
of sentences into higher units of meaning, thus completing
and inferentially connecting them. The analyses postulate
an investigative effort directed towards the grasping of in-
tersubjectively given elements, properties, and relations ex
isting in the literary work; at the same time Ingarden’s con
siderations warn against attaching absolute value to one’s
reconstructions, and they could prevent many futile argu
ments about the “rightness” of competing interpretations
of the. same work.
In some of Ingarden’s formulations there is no cleax de
marcation between a reconstruction of the literary work
and its concretization, that is “a whole in which the
work appears, with amplifications and transformations per
formed by the reader.”18 In the course of concretization,
according to Ingarden, the literary work develops in the
concrete time of the reader’s experience: sound formation
and phenomena are realized in a concrete vocal material (if
reading aloud is the case), the aspects of represented ob
jects are actualized, areas of indeterminancy present in the
represented objects and in the aspects in which they appear
are completed, and artistic qualities are transformed into
aesthetically relevant qualities which embody aesthetic val
ues. These statements have been of considerable method
ological value for literary scholars: they emphasized a need
to distinguish between the work itself and the aesthetic
emotions it generates, as well as between generalized reflec
tions it occasions or amplifications of its content appearing
in the course of reading and imaginational representations
which accompany the process of reading.
Ingarden did not, however, avoid questionable norma-
tivism. He came to consider the imaginational realization
of schematized aspects and a completion of areas of indeter
minacy present in the objects, and to regard these aspects
as indispensable conditions of a correct concretization of
the literary work. But many competent readers say that
they do not undergo this particular imaginational experi
ence in the course of reading. As regards to completing
areas of indeterminacy (which, as Ingarden used to empha
size, are not to be identified with obvious presuppositions
or with the consequences of presented events) it seems that
his admirable aesthetic intuition failed him on this point.
One should add, however, that in the last German version
of The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art Ingarden ad
mits that in many cases areas of indeterminacy left “blank”
are an important factor in malting the presented situation
more expressive or suggestive, and completing them would
weaken the aesthetic effect.19
Another problem connected with Ingarden’s name is
the question of so-called quasi-judgements in the literaxy
work. He placed them between genuine judgements and
pure propositions because they do not aspire to being true
in the logical sense but merely set up fictitious objects and
states of affairs, endowing them with an appearance of real
existence. Into this category Ingarden included not only
sentences referring to fictitious objects and their utterances,
but also sentences referring to real objects if they appear
in the context of quasi-judgements, and lyrical utterances
including reflective sentences which express general state
ments on philosophical or ideological points. Ingarden con
sidered quasi-judgements the most essential feature of “lit
erariness” ; within the sphere of literature are included only
those works which do not contain any genuine judgements.
According to Ingarden, once genuine judgements do appear
the work is relegated to the borderline or peripheral area,
and “if the work consisted of such judgements exclusively
it would no longer — despite so-called ‘beautiful form’-
belong to the literary art” (435).
These ideas generated a broad polemic that still
persists.20 It was generally agreed that quasi-judgements
adequately specify a peculiar assertive status of sentences
referring to literary fictions. At the same time, it was
pointed out that Ingarden did not distinguish consistently
enough the assertive character from the logical value of the
sentence and, moreover, that he considered this assertive
character sometimes from the author’s point of view and
sometimes from the reader’s. It was also observed that he
did not specify characteristics that would make it possi
ble to distinguish quasi-judgements from the reader’s. It
was also observed that he did not specify characteristics
that would make it possible to distinguish quasi-judgements
from genuine judgements. Ingarden’s general definition of
lyrical utterances as quasi-judgements (Ingaxden made a se
mantic shift here classifying all clearly subjective and emo
tionally charged reflections as quasi-judgements) and his
inclusion of sentences in epic literature concerning histori
cal or geographical reality in the same category have also
been questioned. It was noted that in some of Ingarden’s
statements a vicious circle seemed to appear: the “literary”
quality of the work pointed to the fact that its sentences
were to give to the work the quality of “literariness.” An
other controversial point was the identification of the whole
of literature with the sphere of quasi-judgements.
There is no opportunity here to relate in detail the con
troversy and to analyze the legitimacy of particular objec
tions which were formulated in the course of it. It can
only be observed that Ingarden did not take into consid
eration the fact that the concept of “literature” is itself
an historical phenomenon, and a fairly recent one, whose
boundaries have been continually changing. He also ig
nored the existence of different conventions which varied
according to the period and the literary genre, written or
unwritten “agreements” between the author and the reader
establishing (approximately) how the assertive chaxacter of
sentences of the poetic (and later, literary) work should be
taken (e.g., that utterances of patriotic lyric poetry or con
temporary reportage are to be treated “quite seriously”).
W hat was valuable in this section of Ingaxden’s philos
ophy of literature was distinguishing quasi-judgements not
only from false judgements but also from pure propositions,
and the subtle description of a psychological attitude as
sumed by the reader in relation to literary fiction. And, ir
respective of reservations that have been made, Ingaxden’s
analyses rightly appealed for caution in the treatment of
propositions contained in the literary work as assertions
referring to an extra-literary reality. However, Ingarden
agreed, as has sometimes been forgotten, that such utter
ances sometimes occur in the literary work, although he
considered them to be alien to its nature. In the course of
his analyses he proposed an accurate distinction between
the author as (1) a real person, the producer of the work, (2)
the causative subject belonging to the work, whose features
are determined by the work itself (the “author’s image,” in
Vinogradov’s terminology), and (3) the object presented as
author by the work itself (e.g., the fictitious narrator), thus
constituting its inner element.
Contrary to the simplified opinions of his not-too-
attentive adherents as well as his not-too-attentive adver
saries concerning the theory of quasi-judgements, Ingarden
did not draw any conclusions which would separate the
represented world from extra-literary reality. As a m atter
of fact, he believed that only on the grounds of this the
ory is it possible to talk of represented objects as being
similar to, or representative of, the real world because gen
uine judgements refer to real objects and not to similar or
representative objects. In The Literary Work of Art Ingar
den distinguished three modifications of quasi-judgements
according to the degree to which they approximate gen
uine judgements. They evoke three different kinds of rep
resented object: fantastic, faithful to the type of the objects
existing in extra-literary reality, and faithful to individual
real objects. He also specified in discussions held at his aes
thetic seminars different ways in which the term “truth” is
to be understood with reference to the literary work (among
others, logical truth, a faithful representation of non- artis
tic objects or a simple resemblance to them, consistency
of represented objects, an illusion of their existential in
dependence, the sincerity and faithfulness of the author’s
expression), which is a set of distinctions very useful in
studies of the concept of realism.
But Ingarden did not consider these varieties of “truth
fulness” to be essential for the constitution of values pecu
liar to the literary work or a work of art in general. The
representation of the real world by the fictitious world was
for him, as it were, only a pretext which made contact with
different “harmonies” of aesthetic qualities possible:
An essential task of the work of literary art is to
generate an aesthetic experience in the reader
and in this way to make it possible for an aes
thetic object to be constituted. This object is
— objectively speaking — an embodiment of
aesthetic values of a particular kind. As values
they gave a reason for their existence in the very
fact of being valuable and as such they demand
realization (285).
Can we speak, then, of Ingarden’s aestheticism? This
depends on the meaning we give to this semantically un
clear term. But even if it was aestheticism, it certainly
was not formalism. For among aesthetic qualities, Ingax
den placed most highly those qualities which he called — a
little unfortunately — “metaphysical qualities” (by which
he meant qualities contained in the semantic field of sub
limity), and also some other emotive qualities contained
in the semantic field of sublimity), and also some other
emotive qualities (like the comic, the grotesque, etc.) anal
ogous to qualities which occur the real world but are weak
ened by a peculiar modification of the existential moment
and therefore comprehended from a certain distance, which
makes aesthetic emotion possible. Especially when talking
about lyric poetry, Ingarden liked to stress that it some
times is “unequalled in its function of revealing some most
essential connections between final qualities that come to
appearance in the deepest layers of the human soul and
fate, and in the function of the intuitive understanding of
these connections” (422). Thus he finally came to claim
that an essential function of poetry is a peculiar cognition:
a revealing vision, an emotion accompaying it, and “un
derstanding radiating through it — the role of which is
equally significant as the role of purely intellectual cogni
tion though it is of an entirely different nature” (423). He
was even prepared to treat his analyses as “supporting a
thesis of so-called Marxist aesthetics on the condition that
this thesis — concerning the function of generalizing per
formed by a work of art — is formulated more correctly
and is not applied in a very general way to any work of
art” (II, 427).
It can be seen from the above quotations that the ob
jections made to Ingarden’s theory — claiming that his
“anatomy” of the literary work was futile because it con
cerned features occurring in any work, and that it destroys
the structural unity of the literary work — were groundless.
In order to describe the structure adequately it was neces
sary to isolate its particular elements and establish relations
between them; in order to embark on the investigation of
artistically or aesthetically valuable elements it was first
necessary to reveal an aesthetically neutral skeleton of the
work of art because it is this skeleton that determines a
particular range of artistic possibilities and also serves as
a foundation on which aesthetically valuable elements can
be built. “Harmony” in turn, an organic connection as op
posed to a contingent coexistence of individual elements or
qualities in a valuable literary work, has been a persistent,
constantly repeated article of his theoretical code.
Ingarden’s interests moved from the problem of the
structure of the literary work towards the question of con
cretization, and then to the problem of artistic and aes
thetic qualities and values, which in his last work he de
scribed as “the main problem of literary studies.”
However, this area of Ingarden’s thought, particularly
fascinating for the literary scholars since it touches upon
his deepest methodological troubles and scruples, produces
at the same time a slight embarrassment. On the one hand
Ingarden postulates such efficiency on the scholar’s part
as regards the conscious generating of different concretiza
tions of the same work, while on the other hand he perceives
many obstacles preventing one from achieving an adequate
concretization; he finally reveals so many contradictions be
tween an investigating attitude (fully objective, distanced,
analytical, and perceiving different aspects of the work
with equal clarity) and an aesthetic attitude (demanding
an emotional response, direct closeness to the work, and a
hierarchization of its different aspects) that it is difficult to
imagine what the realization of his postulates should look
like, particularly in the case of the reflective cognition of
one’s aesthetic concretization of the literary work. Ingar
den himself points to this near-utopian character when he
says that “for only a partly satisfactory description of data
occurring in the aesthetic-reflective cognition it would be
necessary to create a new language,” a language which, he
does not hesitate to say, would be “irrational” because it
would be deprived of definition-established meanings (171).
According to Ingarden’s early views, such reflective cog
nition of the aesthetic concretization of the literary work
was to be a domain of literary criticism, if it was worthy of
this name. A study of literature was to limit itself to the
reflective cognition of the literary work as a work of art, i.e.,
cognition taking into account aesthetic potentialities con
tained in its artistic qualities. But the difference between
artistic and aesthetic values is not very clear and Ingarden
himself acknowledged a difficulty in making this distinction.
In his last works he postulated an integral cognition of the
literary work which would also include its aesthetic aspect,
and thus would transgress the formerly established limits
of the science of literature. “The whole of Pan Tadeusz,”
he wrote,
should be analyzed from the point of view
of complexes of aesthetically valuable qualities
successively coming to appearance. It should be
demonstrated how these complexes harmonize
with one another: whether they are finally com
bined in an artistically connected whole whose
dominating elements, in their successive devel
opment, lead to a particular architecturally or
dered final meaning which, after the reading of
the poem is over, is retained as determined in
the reader’s experience. It should also be made
clear to what extent this whole harmony of aes
thetically valuable qualities is determined by
artistic functions of the language, and to what
extent — by the structure and properties of the
world represented in Pan Tadeusz (III, 357).
The persistence with which Ingarden constantly re
turned to this sphere of problems, the tentative nature of
these attempts, and the ever-changing terminology seem
to testify to the difficulties he encountered while trying to
solve them. His solution is unlikely to satisfy literary schol
ars, but it is certainly much more profound than their for
mer theoretical awareness of this area. The systematization
of aesthetically valuable qualities which Ingarden proposes
en passant (material, aesthetically valuable elements, emo
tional, “intellectual” and substantial; formal valuable ele
ments; varieties of “excellence” or “cheapness” of qualities;
varieties of “novelty”; varieties of “being natural”; varieties
of “truthfulness”; varieties of “reality”; varieties of affect
ing the perceiver) is very useful for an accurate description
of the language of literary criticism.
Literary research in Poland, owes to a large extent, to
Ingarden its being set free from the biographical and psy
chological approach. Formalistic conclusions have some
times been drawn from the conception of quasi-judgements;
but it may also be used for the purpose of perfecting and
defining more precisely an investigation of the ideological
and cognitive content of literature. By concentrating his
critical efforts on the literary work, Ingarden strengthened
the work-centered orientation of literary research as well as
the primacy of immanent and idiographical analysis. He
stated explicitly that the “characterology of individual lit
erary works constitutes an essential section of literary re
search” (221). But he also appreciated the typological and
historical functions of literary studies, whose final aim, he
believed, was to “analyze a process of historical change in
the literary climates of successive periods of a particular lin
guistic or cultural complex” in its relation to “the history
of culture, the history of political and social transforma
tions, as well as processes of development of a particular
community” (241). One can question the distribution of
emphases in Ingarden’s views on the aims of literary study
but it is certainly not possible to accuse him of doctrinaire
narrowness. On the contrary, and in striking contrast to
his uncritical supporters and opponents, he regarded any
research area, no m atter how remote from his own inter
ests, with considerable respect as long as it was scientifically
grounded.
The significance of Ingarden’s work for literary scholars,
however, does not consist merely in the totality of his theses
and comments, which it is difficult entirely to grasp and to
exhaust: it grows at each successive reading of his works.
These works have become a model difficult to attain, of
systematic, thorough, careful study, with too ‘awkward’ ex
amples or obsolete solutions. They have demonstrated ob
scurity, chaos, and ambiguities in the traditional conceptual
and terminological apparatus and a simplemindedness in its
criticism. A particularly instructive example is his study
of form and content, compared to which both prior and
later (often rambling) analyses of the subject look pitiable:
those which talk of “the unity of form and content” and
point to the impossibility of separating the two concepts,
as well as those which consider there concepts meaningless.
Ingarden’s works are permeated by an enormous cognitive
optimism; they demand a lot from a literary scholar, some
times so much that his goals seem impossible to attain. But
Ingarden often indicated in a realistic way the possibilities
and limits of the critical cognition of literature — pointing
out that the literary work can be presented only in different
successive cross-sections, and therefore “each presentation
of the literary work by means of a set of judgements is
to some extent inadequate in relation to the work itself”
(193). His works were generated by “a great, superhuman
love of truth,” as his philosophical opponent Leon Chwistek
once said. They formulated fundamental questions as well
as questions concerning “unfashionable” problems (like the
problems of form and content, aesthetic categories, or the
psychology of literary characters) — what matters is only
that our experience tells us these questions are essential for
our contact with the world of literature.21
Finally, and primarily, Ingarden’s works wake the lit
erary scholar from his non-reflective, automatized attitude
to the object of his study: they reveal a whole complexity,
uniqueness, and variety of problems connected with the lit
erary work as a cultural phenomenon:
the literary work is a real wonder. It exists,
lives, acts upon us, immeasurably enriches our
life, gives us hours of delight and allows us
to reach bottomless depths of being, Ingarden
wrote in his old-fashioned, solemn style, “al
though in its mode of existence it is only a het
eronomous creation that in the sense of exis
tential autonomy amounts almost to nothing.
When we want to comprehend it theoretically
it reveals to us its complexity and manysided
ness, which can hardly be grasped; and still
it appears to us in the course of an aesthetic
experience as a unity through which this com
plex structure hardly shows. Its exsistence is
heteronomous, entirely passive it would seem;
but through its concretizations it effects deep
changes in our life, broadens it, lifts it above
the trivial level of ordinary living, gives to it di
vine radiance; it is a “nothing” in itself, and at
the same time it constitutes a wonderful world,
though it comes into being only through our
grace and through our grace it is (458).
Into this essence of literary study, into the fascinating

paradoxical nature of the literary work, Roman Ingarden
penetrated more profoundly and more thoroughly than any
other contemporary scholar.
N otes
1. Arabic numerals in the text refer to pages of Ingarden [7], O
dziele literackim. Badania z pogranicza ontologii, teorii jezyka
» filozofii litemtury (The Literary Work of Art. An
Investigation on the Borderlines of Ontology, Theory of
Language, and Philosophy of Literature), (Warsawa 1960).
Roman and arabic numerals refer to pages of the relevant
volumes of Ingarden [21, 23, 4&], Studia z estetyki (Studies in
Aesthetics), vol. I (Warsaw 1957), vol. II (Warsaw 1958), vol.
Ill (Warsaw 1970).
2. H. Cysarz, Review of Das Literarische Kunstwerk, Deutsche
Literaturzeitung (1935), 1595-99; U. Leo Pirandello,
“Kunsttheorie und Maskensymbol,” Deutsche
Vierteljahrsschrift fu r Literaturwissenschaft und
Geistesgeschichte (1933), 123; cf. G.M. Vajda,
“Phénomenologie et sciences littéraires,” Acta Litteraria
Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae (1969), 102- 06;
N. Krenzlin, Das Werk “rein fü r sich” (Berlin 1979), 131-57.
3. Z. Lempicki, “Dzieło literackie, Struktura i wygląd” (The
Literary Work: Its Structure and Appearance), Wiadomości
Literackie, IX (1932); S. Szuman, “Nowa książka prof.
Ingardena” (Professor Ingarden’s New Book), Przegląd
Współczesny, V III/IX (1937); J. Krzyżanowski, “W
poszukiwaniu teorii literatury” (In Search of a Literary
Theory), Nowa Książka, II (1937); W. Borowy, “Szkoła
krytyków” (A School of Critics), Przegląd Współczesny, II
(1937).
4. A copy of Z. Lempicki’s postcard addressed to
I. Chrzanowski, dated 18 Jan. 1937 (in the possession of the
author).
5. L. Chwistek, “Tragedia werbalnej metafizyki” (The Tragedy
of Verbal Metaphysics), Kwartalnik Filozoficzny, II (1932).
6. S. Skwarczyńska, “Przedmiot, metoda i zadania teorii
literatury” (The Subject, Method and Tasks of the Theory of
Literature), Pamiętnik Literacki, (1938); S. Skwarczyńska, Z
teorii literatury. Cztery rozprawy (From Dissertations on the
Theory of Literature), (Łódź 1947); M. Des Loges,
“Uroszczenia teorii czynności artystycznych” (Claims of the
Theory of Artistic Activities), Życie Literackie, IV-V (1939).
7. H. Wyka, “Czas powieściowy” (The Time of the Novel)
(written in 1944), in O potrzebie historii literatury (On the
Need of Literary History), (Cracow 1969).
8. L. Fryde, “Lekcja marzenia” (A Lesson in Dreaming),
Tygodnik Ilustrowany, XVII (1937).
9. W. Kayser, Das sprachliche Kunstwerk (Bern 1948), 17.
10. Reprinted in the anthologies Critiques and Essays in
Criticism, ed. R.W. Stallman (New York 1948); The
Problems of Aesthetics, E. Vivas and M. Krieger (New York
1953).
11. M.C. Beardsley, Aesthetics from Classical Greece to the
Present: A Short History (New York 1966), 369-72.
12. K. Budzyk, “Glowne problemy metodologiczne w badaniach
literackich” (Main Methodological Problems in the Study of
Literature), Przeglyd Humanistyczny, III (1958);
S., Zolkiewski, “O dziele literacldm” (The Literary Work),
Nowa Kultura, XV (1960).
13. K. Bartoszynski, “Z problematyki czsu w utworach epickich”
(On the Problems of Time in the Epic), in W kr$gtt
zagadnien teorii powiesci (The Problems of the Theory of the
Novel), (Wroclaw 1967); J. Slawinski, “Semantyka
wypowiedzi narracyjnej” (Semantics of the Narrative
Utterance), in the same volume; “On Concretization” , in
Roman Ingarden and Contemporary Polish Aesthetics
(Warsaw 1975); K. Rosner, 0 fvnkcji poznawczej dziela
literackiego (On the Cognitive Function of the Literary
Work), (Wroclaw 1970); H. Markiewicz, Glowne problemy
wiedzy o literaturze (The Main Problems of Literary Study),
(Cracow 1965); M. Golaszewska, Tworczosc a osobowosc
tworcy (Creativity and the Author’s Personality), (Lublin
1958); M. Golaszewska, Filozoficzne podstawy krytyki
literackiej (Philosophical Foundations of Literary Criticism),
(Cracow 1963); J. Pelc, “O istnieniu i strukturze dziela
literackiego” (The Existence and Structure of the Literary
Work), StudiaFilozoficzne, III (1958); J. Pelc, 0 wartosci
logicznej i charakterze asertywnym zdari w dziele literackim
(On Logical Value and on the Assertive Nature of Sentences
of Literary Work), (fragments published in Polish scholarly
journals after 1960).
14. N. Krenzlin, Review of Das literarische Kunstwerk, Weimarer
Beitrage, III (1967), 519-21.
15. K. Adjukiewicz, Zagadnienia i kierunki filozofii (Problems
and Directions of Philosophy), (Warsaw 1949), 71. Thus
Ingarden says, for example, th at in order to get at the essence
of the literary work it is necessary: “(a) to analyse the
structure of the literary work using examples of works purely
literary (such th at no one can doubt whether they are works
of literary art) and then consider border line cases of different
kinds, (b) not to give a priori any definition of the work of
literary art th at would mark in a schematic way a
demarcation line between a literary work of art and
non-artistic written formations, because there is no clear
demarcation line and also because if we are to attem pt to
obtain a definition of the literary work this can be
constructed only as a result of exhausting and comprehensive
investigations, and not at the beginning of this process
through mere conceptual constructions, disregarding facts” (i,
402).
16. Slawiriski, “Semantyka,” 17ff.
17. M. Zurowski, “Teoria sztuki widowiskowej” (A Theory of the
Art of Spectacle), Dialog, (1970). It is especially T. Todorov
litterature et signification, Paris 1967) whose ideas can be
seen as partly convergent with Ingarden’s, evident in the
terminology he uses(“l’etude d ’une oeuvre en profondeur et
en etendue, les strates significatives, l’organisation de
l’univers represente”).
18. Ingarden [16], Szkice z filozofii literatury (Sketches in the
Philosophy of Literature), vol. I, (Lodz 1947), 67.
19. Cf. H. Markiewicz, “Places of Indeterminacy in a Literary
Work,” in Roman Ingarden and Contemporary Polish
Aesthetics, (Warsaw 1975).
20. Cf. the works mentioned above by Borowy, Hamburger and
Pelc; also K. Gorski, Poezja jako wyraz (Poetry as
Expression), (Torun 1946), 90-95.
21. A conference on “The Marxist Critique of Phenomenology
and the Philosophy of Roman Ingarden” held at Jadwisin in
June 1975 can testify to growing international response to
Ingarden’s theory. The papers read at the conference, partly
concerning literary study, have been published in the journals
Studia Filozoficzne and Dialectics and Humanism.
V I. Ingarden, Inscription, and Literary
Ontology
Richard Shusterman
I hold that a world is something more

than the noise it makes; it is also
the way it looks on a page.
— T.S. Eliot
I
It would be both presumptuous and futile to attem pt
within the space of a short essay an adequate critical ex
position and assessment of Roman Ingarden’s theory of on
tological status of the literary work of art. For Ingarden’s
theory, extensively articulated in The Literary Work of Art
and still further developed in the The Cognition of the Lit
erary Work of Art, is probably the most complex, detailed,
and exhaustive account ever to be given of the ontological
nature of the literary work of art.1 In this paper, there
fore, I shall concentrate my critical scrutiny on one rather
narrow and apparently minor aspect of Ingarden’s theory.
Indeed, one might waggishly say that I shall be concentrat
ing on an ontological aspect of the literary work which does
not really exist for Ingarden, an aspect which he explicitly
and repeatedly rejects from the ontological make-up of the
literary work of art. I refer to the visual or graphic di
mension of the literary work; and I mean by this not the
visual imagery which the work’s words evoke, by simply the
written, printed, or (as we shall for convenience generally
denote it) the inscribed form of the text. Ingarden’s rejec
tion of this possible dimension warrants our attention in its
own right, but may also shed light instructively on much
wider aspects of Ingarden’s thought.
131
B . Dziemidok and P. McCormick (eds.)t On the Aesthetics o f Roman Ingarden, 131—157.
132 Richard Shusterman
II
Given Ingarden’s taste for ontological complexity and

polyphonic richness, it is hard to accept that the graphic or
inscribed aspect of the literary text can find no place among
the different strata which Ingarden sees as constituting the
ontologically complex, aesthetically rich, and polyphoni-
cally harmonious unity which is the literary work of art.
Ingarden summarizes the literary work’s four constitutive
strata as follows:
The literary work is a many-layered formation.

It contains (a) the stratum of verbal sounds
phonetic formations and phenomena of a higher
order; (b) the stratum of semantic units: of
sentence meanings and the meanings of whole
groups of sentences; (c) the stratum of schema
tized aspects, in which objects of various kinds
portrayed in the work come to appearance; and
(d) the stratum of the objectivities portrayed
in the intentional states of affairs projected by
the sentences. (CLW, 12)
Ingarden further insists that the literary work’s multiplicity

of strata, its “complexity and many-sidedness” contribute
to its aesthetic power and help make it into something
which “enriches our lives to an extraordinary degree” (LW,
373). For “if a literary work is a work of art having pos
itive value, each of its strata contains special qualities . ..
of aesthetic value . . . which lead to a peculiar polyphony
of aesthetically valent qualities which determines the qual
ity of the value constituted in the work” {CLW, 13). In
other words, the plurality and heterogeneity of the dif
ferent strata make the literary work a unity which is re-
wardingly rich and polyphonic rather than monotonously
uniform. “The diversity of the material and the roles (or
Ingarden, Inscription, and Literary Ontology 133
functions) of the individual strata makes the whole work,
not a monotonic formation, but one that by its nature has
a polyphonic character,” where each individual stratum “is
visible in its own way within the whole and brings some
thing particular into the over-all character of the whole
without impairing its phenomenal unity” (LW, 29-30).
The plurality of strata belonging to the literary work
contributes to the work’s aesthetic richness in two ways.
First “the material of each stratum leads to the constitution
of its own aesthetic characters, which correspond to the na
ture of the material” (LW, 58); for example, the phonetic
stratum affords qualities of rhythm, tempo, and melody.
But, secondly, there may be aesthetic qualities or charac
ters resulting from the synthesis of qualities from different
strata; for example qualities emerging from the synthesis
of the phonetic stratum and the meaning stratum, quali
ties like onomatopoeia and other phenomena where sound
and meaning enrich or modify each other. Ingarden, for
instance, notes how “the many and various ‘emotional’ or
‘mood’ qualities” associated with the sound of literature are
“conditioned and influenced by the meaning that is bound
to the word sound” (LW, 52). Thus, synthetic aesthetic
qualities or characters may occur not only narrowly within
an individual stratum, but “ may also be syntheses of a
still higher order among moments of different groups” of
characters belonging to different strata (LW, 58).
Clearly Ingarden emphasizes and celebrates the lit
erary work’s “remarkable polyphony of aesthetic charac
ters of heterogeneous types” emerging from heterogeneous
strata (LW, 58). Consequently, for Ingarden, the fact that
a given stratum takes part in and enriches the aesthetic
polyphony of the literary work of art will constitute “ an
important argument” that the stratum “belongs” to the
work, since “its absence from the work must lead to far-
reaching changes in it. The polyphony must then not only
be the poorer, lacking a ‘voice,’ but it must also be thor
oughly different, since other types of harmonies would have
to be constructed” (LW, 58).
However, notwithstanding his commendable openness
and largesse in recognizing the rich variety of heterogeneous
strata which constitute the literary work of art (and prevent
it from being tamely pigeonholed in either of the two tradi
tional ontological categories of ‘real’ and ‘ideal’), Ingarden
explicitly excludes the work’s inscribed stratum, the writ
ten or printed text, from being an element of the literary
work. For Ingarden, “the written word does not . . . belong
to the literary work at all”; neither the real graphic ma
terial not the typical letters founded on it are an element
of the literary work of art.” Though Ingarden concedes
that its real durability provides an indirect, ontic basis of
the literary work, the inscribed text is excluded from prop
erly belonging to the work and is relegated to an external
subservient tool for the phonetic stratum, being “merely a
regulative signal for the reader, informing him which words
he is to concretize” (LW, 35n, 367). This exclusion of the
inscribed text from the work, and thus from contributing to
and enriching its heterogeneous polyphonic aesthetic har
monies, is decisively reaffirmed in The Cognition of the Lit
erary Work of Art. “The print (the printed text) does not
belong to the elements of the literary work of art itself (for
instance as a new stratum ... ) but merely constitutes its
physical foundation” and plays “a modifying role in the
reading” (CLW, 4).
We may well feel some discomfort at the idea that some
thing which is both a physical foundation of the work and
a regulative structure for its experience or concretization
is nonetheless firmly excluded in principle from belonging
to the work as an element or aspect contributing to its on
tological (if not aesthetic) status. In any case, I certainly
believe that Ingarden’s rejection of the inscribed text is un
satisfactory and highly problematic, and in what follows I
shall be examining and challenging the reasons Ingarden
brings for it. Some of these reasons are not fully artic
ulated but vaguely suggested by Ingarden and will thus
have to be fleshed out by interpretation. Though some
seem largely the unconvincing product of unreflective pre
conceptions, others are more substantial and cogent, even
if not ultimately compelling. But before considering In
garden’s reasons for denying the literary pertinence of the
inscribed text we must note that however unacceptable we
find this view, it is unfortunately very widespread.
First, among continental aestheticians, we find Croce
adumbrating Ingaxden and treating the written text as
merely a sign for producing certain sounds. Mikel Dufrenne
still more shaxply denies the aesthetic relevance of writing,
while maintaining the essentiality of the oral: “l’ecriture
n ’est qu’on moyen . . . pour la vraie langue qui est la langue
orale,” “la poesie est un voix ... pas un etre ecrit.” Among
aetheticians of the analytic school, we find Beardsley main
taining that since words are “meaningful sounds,” they and
the literary works they constitute “present two aspects for
study: the sound-aspect and the meaning-aspect.” Beards
ley thus blatantly fails to admit that words consist of letters
as well as phonemes and morphemes, and hence that they
and the literary works they constitute have a visual aspect
as well. J.O. Urmson is more outspoken in rejecting the
significance of the inscribed text, boldly asserting that “lit
erature is essentially an oral art,” “the written word being
primarily a score for the performer”.2
Thus Ingarden’s rejection of the inscribed text as aes
thetically irrelevant to and ontologically excluded from
the literary work of art puts him in very good company.
Nonetheless, I think it also puts him in error, because, as I
have argued elsewhere, there are compelling reasons to rec
ognize the ontological pertinence and aesthetic relevance of
the inscribed text and to place it alongside oral performance
as a legitimate, full-fledged end-product of literary art and
an adequate object for aesthetic, literary appreciation.3
My position, briefly, is that literary works may exist
as either oral or written and that, taking literature as a
whole, neither form is primary or more authentic. Literary
works are verbal entities and that includes both texts and
oral performances. Poems may exist without ever being
inscribed and novels may exist without ever being vocal
ized. Just as we may generally appreciate a poem without
being aware of how it would look transcribed in lineation
on a page, so we can enjoy a novel without imagining what
sounds would be heard if it were read aloud. However, as
either the phonetic or the inscribed provides, in Ingarden’s
terminology, a material stratum of the work, both can be
said to belong to it and both in principle can be relevant
to its aesthetic appreciation. Though literary art may have
originated as an essentially oral art, with the invention of
writing, and further with the invention and development of
printing and the consequent growth of literacy, the literaxy
artist was provided with a medium through which he could
reach a far larger audience and in which he could convey
a far longer and more complex message which could not
be adequately conveyed in a standard oral performance.
The literary artist began to write more to be read than
to be heard; the written text has largely supplanted the
oral performance, and we thus find more asides to “the
reader of this story” or “the reader of this line” as op
posed to “the hearer of this tale.” Moreover, once the in
scribed text was firmly established as a standard, if not the
predominant end-product of literary art and typical object
of literary appreciation, it was only natural that literary
artists would exploit the rich aesthetic possibilities offered
by the inscribed medium. Prominent among these possi
bilities are, of course, visual effects of a variety of forms,
examples of which have been analyzed elsewhere.4
Certainly some literary works axe best appreciated in
oral performances. But others seem best appreciated in in
scribed texts, where one can appreciate their visual form,
and can swiftly skim back and forth to refresh the mem
ory and retrace developing patterns of character, plot, and
imagery. My position of phonetic/inscribed egalitarianism
is more fruitful for literary appreciation, since it not only
encourages the critic to pay more attention to meaningful
visual aspects of inscribed literature which should conse
quently be related from the work.
The argument as it stands so far is obviously defective.
It is clear that the mere fact that the literary work con
sists of much more than the inscribed text does not entail
that the inscribed text does not belong to the work as a
feature of it. Plainly all that follows is that the inscribed
is not the sole aspect of the work and that there are oth
ers which are more important. Ingarden, however, tries to
make the exclusion of the inscribed text seem a more plau
sible inference by suggesting that since the work consists
of sentences and since “a sentence is nothing real” (LW, 9)
but purely intentional, it seems proper to view the literary
work (as Ingarden does indeed view it) as a purely inten
tional formation devoid of any real components. Therefore,
the apparent real status of the inscribed text would make
it incompatible with the work so conceived, and it must
consequently be excluded from the work.
This sketchily suggested argument is problematic and
inconclusive. One problem is that it seems to work just as
well for the sounds of the work as for its inscriptions. For
the sounds of the work as orally performed axe certainly
as real as its inscriptions. At first blush, sounds might
appear less materially real than inscribed texts, since they
are invisible to the naked eye and it is harder to delimit
their spatio-temporal location. But invisibility surely does
not imply non-physical unreal status.
Ingarden, however, is aware of the problem that the
reality of sounds poses for his literary ontology; he therefore
is careful to insist that the word sounds which belong to the
literary work are not concrete physical bounds but rather
typical, intentional entities which are neither real nor ideal.
This sort of word sound is not any real “concrete phonic
material ... but a typical phonic form (Gestalt).”
This form shows itself to us only through the
concrete phonic material. It is given to us on
the basis of this material and it continues in ex
istence even though quite extensive differences
frequently occur in the material ... This un
changeable phonic form ... cannot be identi
fied with either this phonic material or its in
dividual concretizations, because it is one and
the same, while the phonic material carrying
its concretizations is many and manifold. Nor
can it be considered something real, nor by its
essence the real cannot appear as identically the
same in many real individuals or real individual
occurrences. . . . Whereas the word may be u t
tered countless numbers of times, and the con
crete phonic material may always be new, the
“word sound” remains the same. (LW., 36-38)
Translated into more fashionable Peircean terminology,
Ingarden’s message is simply that the word sounds which
belong to the literary work are not concrete phonic tokens
but rather types. A phonic type is embodied in, but not
identical with, any of its different tokens (or even all of
them), which in turn are nonetheless unified in their diver
sity by all being tokens of, instantiations of, one and the
same type. (Ingarden naturally assumes that the typical
phonic form or word-sound type, like any type entity is not
a real material entity, and this, of course, neatly fits into
the view of the literary work itself as a type entity, which
maintains its identity is different material tokens and which
cannot therefore be regarded itself as a material individual.
Here we must note that some philosophers have cogently
argued for the attribution of a real, material and partic
ular status to type entities in general and works of art in
general and works of art in particular. But to go into this
issue would mean getting embroiled in ponderous ontolog
ical wrangles over such terms as ‘type,’ ‘real,’ ‘material,’
‘individual’: while we must pursue a more limited quarry
and a more specific question).5
Even if we assume, with Ingarden, the irreality of types,
we must ask the following: if the word sounds of the literary
work may be conceived as typical phonic forms or non-real
type entities and thus be incorporated into a purely inten
tional literary work, why can’t Ingarden do the same for the
inscribed words of the text? What prevents us from regard
ing the literary work’s inscribed text as composed of typ
ical inscribed forms (rather than concretely real, physical
inscriptions) and as being a type entity which is embodied
and presented in the many different real tokens of the text
but which cannot be identified with any of them nor with
any of its individual concretizations in the reader’s percep
tion? In short, what prohibits us from treating word in
scriptions like word sounds and thus enabling the inscribed
text as a non-real type entity to be included in the literary
work: The answer, I think, is that there seems to be no
logical or ontological prohibition.
Ingarden himself recognizes that the written word can
be conceived as “a certain vague type of Gestalt quality”
which might perhaps be thought to belong to the literary
work, and he sometimes treats the inscribed text and its
components as type entities. The inscribed characters of
the text, which for him merely serve as a signal for realizing
140 Richard Shuaterman
the phonetic stratum, “must be formed typically.” “These
typical letters, however, must be based on some individ
ual, e.g. visually apprehensible, material” so that the work
may be preserved over time. The typical inscriptions must
be thus set down and embodied “in some real, fixed, rel
atively little- changeable material,” the “concrete graphic
material” of the token text (LW, 35n, 365-67). However,
as with the typical word sounds, the typical inscriptions
constitute a non-real, intentional type entity which cannot
be identified with any of the real tokens which embody it.
We surely seem to have the ontological apparatus for
clearing the way to accept the inscribed text, as type entity,
as belonging to the literary work. Yet Ingarden, in the end,
firmly and explicitly rejects the inscribed text not only in
its real but in its “typical” form. In contrast to the word
sounds and sentences which “axe genuine components of
the literary work, neither the real graphic material nor the
typical letters founded on it are an element of the literary
work. As we have said, they are merely a regulative signaF
for the phonetic stratum (LW, 367).
Ill
Ingarden’s rejection of the inscribed text cannot there
fore be properly explained in terms of general ontological
principles. So it would seem to be the product of aesthetic
considerations. This might be expected since close scrutiny
will reveal that the issue of the work of a rt’s ontological sta
tus is intimately interrelated and ultimately undetachable
from the issue of the work’s aesthetic appreciation, i.e., of
how we interpret and evaluate the work. To try to put the
point briefly, our commitment as art critics and consumers
that certain categories of features or elements associated
with the art work are relevant to the interpretation and
evaluation of the work will compel us to reject an ontologi
cal position where these features or elements axe incompat
ible with the ontological status claimed for the work. As
intentionalist critics, for example, we must reject the phe-
nomenalist view of the work as a purely perceptual entity.
Thus, as Joseph Margolis shrewdly notes, even if we try to
avoid the entire issue of ontological status of the work of
art, our principles or practices of criticism “might well read
back, if we wished, into a statement of the kind of entity a
work of art is.”6
1. The question which should now claim our attention,
therefore, is that of the aesthetic reasons for Ingarden’s re
jection of the inscribed text from the literary work of art.
There seem to be three major reasons or arguments which
motivate his rejection. The first is that of aesthetic purity
or unity. Ingarden seems to argue that if we admit the
inscribed text as part of the literary work of art, then the
work would in some way be “contaminated” or aesthetically
marred, and our aesthetic experience of it would suffer. For
Ingarden, the inscribed text “introduces a certain contam
ination into the whole of the literary work of art,” and its
only saving grace is that “it allows the identity of the work
to be preserved much more faithfully than is possible with
purely oral transmission” (CLW, 15).
Now in considering any argument relating to aesthetic
purity, we must be careful to realize that this notion is sus
piciously ambiguous and vague. It is sometimes taken as
complete uniformity or lack of mixture of elements, but it is
also frequently construed as consummate fusion or unifica
tion of elements into an organic whole. Obviously, absolute
uniformity of elements would make a rather dull work of
art, and thus it would seem that the demand for “elemen
tal” purity stems from the aesthetic requirement of unity.
But unity is only one side of the classic formula for beauty,
the other being diversity or richness, which of course os
quite contrary to this first conception of purity.
It is, therefore, only the second conception of purity
whose violation in disunity, disorder, or discord implies an
aesthetic flaw. Certainly, it is the only one to which Ingar
den, with his emphasis on heterogeneity and polyphonic
harmony, can appeal. Now though admission of the in
scribed aspect of the text surely makes literary art less
pure in the first sense, mixing another aspect or stratum
to sound, meaning and the rest, this does not necessarily
create impurity in the second and important sense, unless
there is a reason why such a mixture cannot be harmo
nious and unified, that is, unless inscription simply cannot
achieve unity with other strata. This, however, seems pre
cisely to be Ingarden’s charge, for he asserts that though
“the verbal sound enters into a close connection with the
written word they do not blend to form a unity” (CLW,
14). This is in sharp contrast to the perfect blending of
word sounds and meanings which for Ingarden seems to fol
low as the natural or necessary consequence of the essential
indissolubility of word sound and meaning, where “a given
phonetic material becomes a word sound only because it
has a more or less determinate ‘meaning’ ” and where re
ciprocally “the meanings are essentially bound to the word
sound,” “since meaning units necessarily require a word-
sound material” (LW, 39, 59, 61). According to Ingarden,
this intrinsic unity of sound and meaning is reflected in the
unity of their apprehension when we experience a literary
work.
Simultaneous with and inseparable from the de
scribed apprehension of the verbal sounds is
the understanding of the meaning of the word;
the complete word is constituted for the reader
in just this experience, which, although com
pound, still forms a unity. One does not ap
prehend the verbal sound first and then the
meaning. Both things occur at once: in ap
prehending the verbal sound, one understands
the meaning of the word and at the same time
intends this meaning actively. ( CLW, 22)
However, even if we grant Ingarden the thesis that there
is an essential or necessary unity of word sound and mean
ing (and there may be room to question this, e.g., in cases
where words axe clearly heard but not understood or where
meanings axe grasped without the word sound being ac
tually heaxd or imagined), this does not in any way pro
vide any reason for denying that unity can also be achieved
between “word sights” (i.e., word inscriptions) and word
sounds and meanings. Such unity would admittedly be still
more compound by involving a third (viz., the inscribed)
aspect. But there seems to be no general aesthetic or onto
logical reason for assuming that a trinity of aspects cannot
be unified while a duality can be (or alternatively why four
strata can be unified but any fifth must sunder unity).
If Ingarden’s argument here is that the inscribed text
must or is apt to corrupt the work’s unity because unlike
the phonetic stratum it is detachable from or not necessary
for meaning (which can be apprehended simply through
sound alone), this argument seems a rather transparent non
sequitur. Detachability (conceptual or technical) does not
preclude aesthetic unity. The fact that I can separate a
song’s lyrics from its melody does not preclude their being
united in aesthetic perception and grasped as a polyphonic
unity. Ingarden is perhaps laboring here under a confused,
but not unpopular, misconception of organic unity, where
the fact that the elements can be conceived as sepaxate
precludes their being truly unified into an aesthetic whole
whose qualities cannot be reduced to the mere sum of those
of its parts. If the inadequacy of this view of organic unity
is not apparent from the above example, I have elsewhere
analyzed its defects and inconsistencies in some detail.7
Moreover, there is cause to question the ineliminability
or indispensability of the phonetic stratum to the work’s
144 Richard Sfrusterman
meaning, which Ingarden maintains and employs in argu
ing for rejecting the inscribed while incorporating the oral
into the literary work. For it is most doubtful whether it
is always impossible to understand and appreciate a lit
erary work without experiencing its words sounds. The
pervasive phenomenon of silent reading would seem to be a
clear counter-example which we shall soon have to examine.
First, however, we must read what seems to be Ingarden’s
only other argument for the view that admission of (and
consequent attention to) the inscribed text must corrupt
the unity of the literary work.
In rightly remarking that our reading typically grasps
“whole words” rather than individual letters or marks and
that it immediately attends to the inscribed text as “the
carrier of meaning” of a conceptual not visual kind, Ingar
den further tries to justify his habit as necessary for an
adequately unified experience of the work. If we attend
to the visuality of the text, Ingarden argues, “that would
prove to be a distraction in reading, because our main at
tention in visual reading is directed at the apprehension of
the typical verbal forms” and their meaning. Admission of
(or attention to) the inscribed text “would disturb us un
our reading,” from attending to word and sentence mean
ing which, for Ingarden, apparently assumes that it is just
impossible to apprehend appreciatively the visual aspect
of the inscribed text without being blinded to the ordi
nary linguistic meaning it conveys, and consequently that
it is impossible to appreciate the rich and meaningful play
between visual representation and linguistic meaning in a
literary work of art. Once articulated, this assumption is
obviously and sharply refuted by our not uncommon experi
ence of apprehending both the ordinary linguistic meaning
and the attractive meaningful shape of the many poems
which highlight and meaningfully employ the visuality of
their inscribed texts. What then motivates or explains In
garden’s unconvincing denial?
I think part of the explanation is an unsatisfactory and
unnecessarily constrained picture of aesthetic appreciation,
one that is too much enclosed in a singular temporally pro
gressive and ephemeral experience of concretization where
proper recognition is not sufficiently given to the funding ef
fect and superimposition of previous experience of the work.
Ingarden, of course, is basically committed to the view that
adequate aesthetic appreciation is a richly synthesizing pro
cess which “demands an attentive consideration of all sides
of the work of art” where different impressions of differ
ent aspects of the work supplement, check, and perhaps
correct one another, and are, ”in any case, combined syn
thetically into a whole” (CLW, 201). This, for Ingarden,
is easy enough to accommodate in spatial, stationary art
like painting and sculpture; but in literature (or music) the
problem of synthesis is aggravated by the fact that the work
is temporal and sequential, and thus, as it is experienced se
quentially over time, its “previous phases” or perceived ele
ments tend to “pass away” (CLW, 201-202, 227, 305n). Be
cause the literary work’s contemplation and ... concretiza
tion . . . unfold in time, with its part or phases soon pass
ing away, this requires “the perceiving subject to perform
particular synthesizing operations” (CLW, 202). “The aes
thetic experience which takes place in the cognition of a
literary work of art thus demands ... a much greater con
cretization and a more dynamic holding-together of the un
folding parts of the work” (CLW, 228).
Ingarden’s unwillingness to countenance our apprecia
tion of the visuality of the inscribed text thus seems to
come from the fact that it will too severely tax our powers
of concentration and synthesis. To put the point with blunt
simplicity, if we attend to the visual form of the inscribed
text while it is read, we will not be rich enough in attentive
resources to pay sufficient attention to the sound and /or
meanings of the words and may even miss them as they
temporally unfold and disappear.
Two objections are worth making here. First, experi
ence, shows it is not impossible to notice textual visuality
and word and sentence meaning (and sound). Secondiy,
the view that attention cannot be divided since otherwise
improperly apprehended words and sentences will pass and
elude us presupposes that we are dealing with an ephemeral
oral performance and not the a stable text that the appre-
ciator can slowly peruse, pause over, retrace his scrutiny,
and generally digest at his own speed. Whatever initial
and limited plausibility Ingarden’s argument from distrac
tion may possess seems to depend upon the assumption
that we are and must be dealing with an oral concretiza
tion of ephemeral sequentiality. But that is precisely what
we are challenging.
Moreover, in any case, it is clear that the argument is
not one that can be limited to the target of the inscribed
text, for is it similarly applicable to the phonetic stratum.
Indeed, Ingarden himself revealingly slides this way in elab
orating his point about visual distraction by noting that “
the same thing happens in hearing a speech or a ‘recited’
literary work,” when, through insufficient attention to the
word forms and meaning, although we hear the speaker’s
voice (and perhaps even because we attended too much to
its sound), “we often say we ‘didn’t hear’ the speaker and
consequently didn’t understand him” (CLW, 20). Since
even word sounds may be a distractive threat to adequate
apprehension of the meaning of the passing words and sen
tences of the literary work, the proper and typical aesthetic
response, according to Ingarden, demands that “the pho
netic qualities of the work must be heard ‘incidentally’”
only and thus that we should not “concentrate on this stra
tum particularly” (CLW, 23).
The verbal sound is noted only fleetingly,
quickly, and without hesitation; it represents
only a quick transition to the understanding
of the words or sentences. The verbal sound
is then heard on the periphery of the field of
awareness and only incidentally does it sound
“in our ears,” provided, of course, that noth
ing out of the ordinary draws our attention to
it. It is precisely this fleeing way of apprehend
ing the verbal sounds which is the only correct
way for the apprehension of the literary work as
whole. This is the reason one often hears the de
mand for a “discrete” declamation, to prevent
the phonetic side of the language from coming
to the fore. ( CLW, 23)
Notice here how the problem of the fleeting passage of
words and sentences, whose meanings we must ever be
ready to grasp before they flee, is transferred to and re-
vealingly reflected in the account of apprehension of sound,
which must be grasped “fleetingly, quickly, and without
hesitation.”
It should be sufficiently clear from the above that In
garden is extremely anxious lest attention be allowed to
stray from the meanings of the words and sentences which
constitute the literary work’s central stratum and secure
its intersubjective identity (LW, 29, 360-64). One way of
trying, through theory, to insure maximal attention to the
stratum of meaning is to exclude possibly competing strata
from properly belonging to the literary work. This could
explain why Ingarden thinks of himself justified in rejecting
the visual as a contaminating distraction which must mar
aesthetic unity, though there clearly seems to be no reason
why the visuality of the text cannot be harmoniously syn
thesized with sound and meaning. The pervasive and obvi
ously successful use of the inscribed text literary art surely
indicates its pragmatic compatibility with verbal sound and
meaning. And surely we axe not to deny in principle that
visuality as such can be aesthetically united with audible
meaningful speech; for think what such a denial would en
tail for the arts of drama, opera, and cinema.
2. If Ingarden rejected the visual, inscribed text to pro
tect (by harsh and unnecessary means) the primacy of ver
bal meaning, and if similar considerations make him warn
against a deep, unhurried appreciation of the work’s pho
netic qualities, why was the phonetic stratum not simi
larly stripped from the work? The answer to this question
will provide us with Ingarden’s second apparent argument
for excluding the inscribed stratum as part of the literary
work while incorporating the phonetic, and it is this. The
inscribed text is obviously eliminable from and not neces
sary for apprehending and appreciation the work (since il
literates can enjoy poetry and stories), but Ingarden would
have us conclude that while word sounds must belong to
the work, word inscriptions, by such comparison, do not.
The constitutive foundation proper of the indi

vidual literary work certainly lies in the stra
tum of meaning ... but the meanings are es
sentially bound to the word sounds... Without
the “word sound” . . . it could not exist at a ll...
[Moreover] because the phonetic stratum forms
the external, indispensable shell for the stratum
of meaning units and thereby also for the whole
work, it plays an essential role in the apprehen
sion of the work by a psychic subject... [There
fore Ingarden concludes,] the phonetic stratum
is an essential constituent of the literary work;
if it were eliminated the whole work would cease
to exist, since meaning units necessarily require
a word-sound material. If it were formed differ
ently that it actually is an a given work, that
work would undergo sweeping changes. (LW,
59-61)
This argument is much stronger and harder to challenge
than those previously considered. But even admitting, as
I think we must, that literary works do not always require
for their apprehension and appreciation inscribed texts, we
may propose two challenges to the argument. First we
might suggest that to count as belonging to the work it
is enough for the inscribed text to be generally sufficient
(as opposed to necessary) for their proper aesthetic appre
ciation. Secondly, making the same initial admission of the
dispensability of the inscribed text, we may deny that the
case is all that different regarding the phonetic qualities of
the work. Let us now concentrate on the second line chal
lenge, postponing the first until it reemerges in the context
of our criticism of Ingarden’s apparent third and final aes
thetic argument for rejecting the inscribed text from the
literary work.
How does one claim against Ingarden that the phonetic
stratum is not always and necessarily present whenever we
appreciatively apprehend a literary work of art? The ob
vious, though allegedly disputable, evidence for this claim
is the prevalent phenomenon of silent reading. When one
reads a literary work silently to oneself one may (and usu
ally does) understand and appreciate it without producing
any sounds at all. Several aestheticians, desiring to rescue
the claim of the of the essential oral nature of literature (or
a least poetry), have therefore tried to find some manifes
tation of the phonetic in silent reading. More extravagant
literary theorists, like Barbara Smith, have posited the exis
tence of mysterious, imperceptible “pseudo-sounds” which
are produced in and inform our silent reading albeit per
haps unbeknownst to us. More disciplined philosophers,
like Ingarden and Urmson, employ a more subtle tactic,
arguing that silent reading essentially involves a process
of imagining or becoming aware of “sounds that would be
heard” in actual oral performance, and thus it essentially
requires the presence of the presence of the phonetic stra
tum even if it is not physically actualized or produced.8
Thus, whether orally performed or silently read, the liter
ary text inescapably directs “the reader . . . to apprehend
the work in its phonetic stratum,” “informing him which
word sounds he is to concretize in actual expression (as in
recitation out loud) or in imaginative reconstruction (as in
silent reading)” (LW, 367).
However, this argument for the necessary phonetic na
ture of silent reading is hardly compelling. It is not at all
clear from introspection that silent reading must or even al
ways does involve such phonetic imaginations; and our fre
quent surprise as to how texts we’ve silently read actually
sound when read aloud gives further reason to doubt that
silent reading is always phonetic imagining. Finally, there
are the many cases of the congenitally deaf who surely can
not properly imagine or reconstruct the phonetic stratum
of literary texts, yet surely read, understand, and appreci
ate literary works of art. I certainly do not deny that in
one’s silent reading one can and (at least with poetry) one
frequently does imagine the work’s word sounds, and that
such imaginative activity may well improve or enrich our
appreciative understanding of the work. Indeed, for some
texts and/or poor readers of poetry, it may be essential for
proper appreciation of the work. But this does not mean
that phonetic apprehension is always or necessarily present
in silent reading and that consequently word sounds, unlike
word inscriptions, are always necessary for and present with
the apprehension of word meanings. Silent reading shows
they are not and that the inscribed text can suffice for con
cretization of meaning and consequent understanding and
appreciation.
There is, then, no compelling aesthetic evidence here
for the claim that while inscription is unnecessary and ir
relevant for meaning, meaning cannot be conceived or ap
prehended apaxt from the apprehension of (real or imagina
tively reconstructed) word sounds. One therefore suspects
that Ingarden’s insistence on this claim is a product of not
aesthetic inquiry but of a very basic and pervasive philo
sophical prejudice for the oral over the inscribed, a phono-
centrism which perhaps has its proximate source in Husserl
and his phenomenological “living voice,” but which reflects
a phonocentric metaphysics of presence which stretches
back to Plato’s Phaedrus. This is a Derridean direction
which deep decontructionist critics of Ingarden might wish
to take.9 But I shall not explore it here, finding more than
enough of interest on Ingarden’s richly intricate surface.
3. I shall instead consider one last argument for re
jecting the inscribed while embracing the phonetic, which
seems to emerge, albeit not very prominently, on the surface
of Ingarden’s text. This argument should not be confused
with the previous one, i.e., that the phonetic stratum is
instrumentally necessary or essential for constituting and
apprehending (the meaning of) the literary work, while the
inscribed text is not. The argument now is rather that the
phonetic stratum is highly significant or even essential text
in its visuality is instead totally irrelevant aesthetically to
the work. For Ingarden, the phonetic stratum is so impor
tant that “if it were formed differently than it actually is in
a given work, that work would undergo sweeping changes”;
and, in any case, without the aesthetic value of this stratum
“the polyphony of the work would be poorer by a signifi
cant element” (LW,, 61). The aesthetic significance of the
work’s phonetic qualities is stressed again in his later book.
Not only do they themselves constitute an aes
thetically important element of the work; they
are often, at the same time, a means of disclos
ing other aspects and qualities of the work, for
instance, a mood which hovers over the situ
ation portrayed in the work. This the reader
must have an “ear” for the phonetic stratum of
the work. (CLW, 23)
According to Ingarden, nothing like this could be said for
the inscribed aspect of the work, whose only role for him
is to serve the phonetic. He does not demand the reader
have an “eye” for the work’s textual form along with his
“ear” for its music, but rather (as we saw) he cautions
against visuality as a possible distracting irrelevance . Is
the visuality irrelevant because it does not belong to the
work, or is it not, rather, that it is claimed not to belong
to the work because it is held aesthetically irrelevant to it?
There seems to be a circularity here. But whether or
not it exists and is vicious is a question we may perhaps
put aside, because the claim that textual visuality is al
ways aesthetically irrelevant and insignificant to literary
works is vitally important to the work’s aesthetic charac
ter and must be grasped for proper appraisal of the work,
so in other literary works the visual aspect of the text is
significant or even crucial to its aesthetic character, and
must be attended to for the work to be appreciated and
criticized aright. Such works include not only poems by
moderns like Mallarme, Apollinaire, and e.e. cummings as
well as the whole movement of so-called “Concrete Poetry,”
but also include the entire genre of pattern poetry which
was so prominent in the seventeenth century and whose
roots stretch back to the Greek and Roman literary art of
inscription. In these numerous literary works, the visuality
of the inscribed text is not only significant but perhaps even
necessary for a full understanding and aesthetic apprecia
tion of the work. Moreover, countless other works exploit
the visuality of the inscribed text in less dramatic but still
quite significant ways. Think, for example, of “eye rhyme”
and of the central role of lineation in poetry; imagine what
the transcription of poem’s verse lines into prose-paragraph
format would do to our aesthetic experience of the work.
Nor is the aesthetically significant role of the visual lim
ited to verse. Novels also not infrequently exploit textual
visuality in a variety of ways.10
The empirical evidence of the aesthetic relevance of the
visual, inscribed text is enormous and the varieties of its
aesthetically relevant employment are manifold. Substan
tial scholarship has been devoted to this subject, and I
cannot try to summarize the findings here.11 W hat must
be urged, however, is that the very fact that the inscribed
text not only provides apprehension of the work but also
frequently makes a significant aesthetic contribution to the
work should be enough to deter us from excluding it in
principle from belonging to the work as Ingarden excludes
it. This, of course, represents the first line of challenge
mentioned earlier.
IV
Let me conclude by cautioning against a possible misun
derstanding of my defense of the inscribed text against
Ingarden’s exclusion of it from the literary work, and by
placing my attack on Ingarden’s theory (which despite my
criticism I greatly admire) into a larger perspective. This
should cast light on more general and fundamental aspects
of Ingarden’s literary ontology which perhaps underline the
narrow point of doctrine I have been challenging at such
length.
My somewhat impassioned case for the ontological per
tinence and aesthetic relevance of the visual, inscribed
text, and my criticism of Ingarden’s view that the phonetic
stratum is always indispensable and aesthetically essential
might be misconstrued as a philosophical attem pt to give
the ontological an aesthetic pride of place to the inscribed
over the phonetic. This is not my intention nor my view,
and would only be to escape one distortion by embracing
another, perhaps one in a different direction. Nor is my
point to deny empirically that over the history of literature
and criticism, the aesthetic role of the phonetic stratum
has been relatively much more prominent than that of the
inscribed text. My point, however, is to emphasize the rel
ative and historical nature of this thesis as opposed to the
essentialist, absolutist tendencies which seem to underlie
and motivate Ingarden’s thought.
When we contrast the traditional centrality of the pho
netic to the greater marginality of the visual, we are speak
ing about relative tendencies of an historical character,
which indeed differ to some extent in different literary gen
res and periods. We are not talking about the timeless ab
solute essence of literature, of what does and must always
exist in the literary work as an aesthetically relevant ele
ment that is necessary for the work’s apprehension and ap
preciation. Philosophy often displays a hoary prejudice to
seek and find permanent, absolute, and universal essences
even in realms of inquiry where no such things exist to
be found. Ingarden, despite some positive steps toward
recognition of the historically conditioned and exceedingly
variable nature of literary works, remains an essentialist
thinker; and his literary ontology consequently suffers.
In arguing for the indispensability of the phonetic and
in discussing the question of whether there may in fact
be counter-examples to this thesis, Ingarden casually but
most revealingly remarks, “our question is directed at what
belongs in essence, not in fact” (LW, 54). The remark
may cause puzzlement since what belongs to the work in
essence bust belong to it in fact, thought not apparently
vice-versa. But the remark does reveal Ingarden’s pervasive
essentialism, which poses for him the following dilemma.
Either the phonetic stratum belongs to the essence of
the work and is therefore always indispensable to its ap
prehension and aesthetic character, or, alternatively, it does
not belong to the essence of the work and is therefore merely
a dispensable means for apprehension of the work proper
and cannot be a constitutive part or aesthetically signifi
cant aspect of it. In essentialism’s rigid binary logic, there
is not room to say that the phonetic is aesthetically sig
nificant or indispensable in some literary works but not in
others. Saddled with the essentialist choice of alternatives,
Ingarden can only be commended for choosing the lesser
of two evils and incorporating the phonetic as belonging to
the work’s essence and a consequently capable of adding
to its essence richness. With the inscribed text, his choice
was unfortunate but understandable. For given the same
essentialist logic and the fact that the inscribed text has
obviously not been indispensable (as shown by oral tra
dition) and has moreover been obviously less aesthetically
significant than the phonetic, the inference must follow that
the inscribed text does not similarly belong to the work and
cannot constitute an aesthetically relevant aspect of it. Dis
pensability entails non-essentiality, which in turn means
not belonging to the work proper, which finally means ex
clusion in principle from being an aesthetically significant
aspect of the work. The fact that many literary works have
been written to be visually appreciated and can only be
fully appreciated through attention to the visual aspects of
their inscribed texts is apparently dismissed by Ingarden
as but mere irrelevant fact, and not essence.
Thus, the promising option for both artist and critic to
take the inscribed text as a relevant dimension of the work
and as a possible source for aesthetic richness is scratched
by essentialism as a non-starter. But traditional aesthet
ics has long suffered from paying more respect to essences
than facts; if there is one fact that contemporary aesthetics
seems to have profitably embraced, it is that art and liter
ature neither have nor require timeless essences, but rather
seem to be comprised of historically conditioned and shift
ing congeries of heterogeneity. Ingarden, with his welcome
emphasis on the heterogeneous constituents and “life” of
the literary work, points the way to contemporary theory,
but is not quite our contemporary.
N otes
1. See Ingarden [7], The Literary Work of Art, trans.
G.C. Grabowicz (Evanston, 111., 1973); and The Cognition of
the Literary Work of Art, trans. R.A. Crowley and
K.R. Olson (Evanston, 111., 1973). These books will be
referred to hereafter as LW and CLW respectively.
2. See B. Croce, Aesthetic trans. D. Ainslie (New York 1970),
100; M. Dufrenne, Le poetique (Paris 1973), 70-71;
M.C. Beardsley, Aesthetics (New York 1958) 116;
L.O. Urmson, “Literature,” in , ed. G. Dickie and
R.J. Sclafani (New York 1977), 338.
3. See R. Shusterman, “The Anomalous Nature of Literature,”
British Journal of Aesthetics, XVIII (1978), 317-29; and
“Aesthetic Blindness to Textual Visuality,” Journal of
Aesthetics and Art Criticism, XLI (1982), 87-96. For a fuller
exposition of my literary ontology, see R. Shusterman, The
Object of Literary Criticism (Amsterdam 1984), 78-109.
4. See, for example, Shusterman “Aesthetic Blindness,” and
R. Draper, “Concrete Poetry,” New Literary History, II
(1971), 329-40.
5. To pursue these issues concerning type entities, see
E.M. Zemach, “Four Ontologies,” Journal of Philosophy,
LXVII (1970), 231-47; J. Margolis, “The Ontological
Peculiarity of Works of Art,” Journal o f Aesthetics and Art
Criticism, XXXVI (1977), 44-49; A. Harrison, “Works of Art
and Other Cultural Objects,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian
Society, LXVIII (1967), 108-24; and R. Wollheim, Art and its
Objects (Harmondsworth 1970), 90-100.
6. J. Margolis, “On Disputes about the Ontological Status of a
Work of Art,” British Journal of Aesthetics, VIII (1968), 150.
For a detailed analysis of the logical interdependence of the
issues of the work’s identity, ontological status,
interpretation, and evaluation, see R. Shusterman, “Four
Problems in Aesthetics,” International Philosophical
Quarterly, XXII (1982), 21-33.
7. See R. Shusterman, “Osborne and Moore on Organic Unity,”
British Journal of Aesthetics, XXIII (1983), 352-59.
8. See B.H. Smith, “Literature as Performance, Fiction, and
A rt,” Journal of Philosophy, LXVII (1970), 553-63; and
Urmson, 338-40. For detailed criticism of these views of
silent reading, see Shusterman “The Anomalous Nature of
Literature.”
9. For Derrida on Husserl and the “phenomenological voice,” see
J. Derrida, Speech and Phenomena and Other Essays on
Husserl’s Theory of Signs, trans. D.B. Allison (Evanston,
111.,1973), ch. 1.
10. Ironically, one such way is discussed in D.M. Levin’s foreword
to Ingarden’s LW, with the example of the following sentence
(from Nabokov’s Ada) whose visual aspect is shown to be
aesthetically significant in enriching complexities of meaning.
She looked back before locking her (always

locked) door. (LW, xli)
Surprisingly, Levin does not comment on the dubious
relevance of such inscriptional features according to
Ingarden’s theory.
11. See, for example, D.M. Anderson, The Art of Written Forms,
(New York 1969); W. Chappell, A Short History of the
Printed Word, (Boston 1980); J. Sparrow, Visible Words: A
Study of Inscriptions In and As Books and Works of Art
(Cambridge 1965). Other studies are cited in my “Aesthetic
Blindness.”
V II. Ingarden’s and Mukarovsky’s
Binominal Definition of the Literary
Work of A rt
A Comparative View of Their Ontologies
John Fizer
1. The feasibility of a comparative study of

Ingarden and Mukarovosky
An attem pt to compare Ingarden’s and Mukarovsky’s on
tological positions on the work of literary art might seem
equally incongruous to adherents of both phenomenology
and structuralism. However, a closer look at these posi
tions reveals that in spite of their manifestly different epis-
temologies, on a number of other issues they are not as dis
parate as one might assume. Even though Ingarden, unlike
Mukarovsky, “considered [the literary work] as something
detached from the living intercourse of psychic individu
als and hence also from the living cultural atmosphere and
the various spiritual currents that develop in the course of
history” (1973a, 331), and thereby gave preference to the
inquiry as to its being as such, i.e., ontology, he by no
means remained oblivious to its communicative function,
i.e., semiotics. Such oblivion would have been inconsis
tent with the very notion of the heteronomy of the inten
tional object which, accordingly, in order to be, must enter
into a specific relationship with the perceiving subject. In
other words, the very being of such an object is contingent
upon its potentiality or its peculiar forces “to bring [the
observer] to constitute an aesthetic object” (1973b, 239).
Therefore, in this sense, it is of no substantive difference
159
160 John Fizer
whether, as Ingarden postulated, this object exists because
it is “cognized,” “concretized,” “actualized,” i.e., brought
into existence by the intentional acts of our consciousness,
or, as Mukarovsky posited, this object is because-it func
tions as a perceivable signifier. W hat is significant here is
that according to both of them, (a) the being of the work
of literary art is predicated upon the dynamic interaction
between subject and object, and (b) the notion of this in
teraction opens their respective positions to both putative
semiotic and ontological inquiry. The semiotic dimension
of Ingarden’s ontological theory has already been attested
by Katarzyna Rosner (1975), while Mukarovsky’s semiotic
theory has not you been studied from the ontological per
spective. Hence there is, as will be shown in this article, a
core of issues that Ingarden’s and Mukarovsky’s positions
have in common, albeit often differently perceived and ren
dered. Specifically, the issue of the ontological status of
artistic and aesthetic objects appears to be central to both
of them. Undoubtedly, Ingarden’s and Mukarovsky’s in
terest in this issue was heightened by the prominence of
Husserl’s phenomenology in the thirties.1 Ingarden, adher
ing to the principle concern of this school of the philosophy,
considered the ontology of the literary work of art to be the
central ramification of literary scholarship. Ontology, in his
opinion,
does not investigate particular literary individu
als in their factual condition but rather the con
tents of general ideas of literary work and espe
cially the work of literary art. It asks what per
tains to this idea and in particular how certain
individual objects ought to be constituted and
what general qualities it ought to have in order
to be something like the work of literature or
the literary work of art. And further, what are
the possible types and variants of literary works
Ingarden and Mukarovsky 161
(works of literary art) admissible under the ba
sic general structure of the work. (1966, 275)
His seminal works, The Literary Work of Art and The Cog
nition of the Literary Work of Art, address these questions
vigorously and extensively.
Mukarovsky, even though he wrote no specific study on
the ontology of artistic/aesthetic objects, demonstrated his
concern about it in a series of articles devoted to general
aesthetics and the theory of art.
In my expose of their ontological theories I will try to
show how their binominal definitions of the work of liter
ary art, while trying to avoid the hazards of psychologism,
raises at the same time a series of epistemological problems
which resist satisfactory solution. In particular it will be
shown that the conceptual split of the work of art into two
distinct entities, artistic and aesthetic, obfuscates or even
challenges its eidetic coherence.2
2. The ontological m odel and its tem poral

analogue
Ingarden, in contrast to Husserl’s transcendental monism,
posited an ontological pluralism whereby he tried to de
fine the essential structure of all existing and subsisting
objects constituting man’s Lebenswelt. He distinguished
four modes of their being: absolute, ideal, real and inten
tional. Works of creative art belong to the fourth mode.
As such, they are characterized by heteronomy, derivation,
and non-actuality. This means that the work of literary art
and the created sentences are not ontically au
tonomous objectivities but only purely inten
tional ones. Nonetheless, the work (or the sen
tences) exists as soon as it is created. But
it exists as an ontically heteronomous forma
tion that has the source of its existence in
162 John Fizer
the intentional acts of the creating subject
and, simultaneously, the basis of its existence
in two heterogenous objectivities: on the one
hand, in ideal concepts and ideal qualities
(essences) and, on the other hand, in real word
signs. (1973a, 361).
The work of literary art, therefore, is transcendent to (a) in

tentional acts, (b) ideal concepts, and (c) real word signs.
These, being ontically autonomous, are but its existential
sources. While it has its ontical foundation in them, it is
not identical with them. “In comparison with the existence
of the real, the ideal, and, finally, the purely conscious,
what is created is analogous only to ‘illusion,’ to something
which only pretends to be something though it is not this
something in an ontically autonomous sense” (1973a, 101).
This being the case, what are the literary work’s en
dowments and where is its existential locus? Unlike the
ontically autonomous objects which have their “inherent
definition in themselves” and hence exist by themselves,
intentional objects, even after their creation, continue to
depend upon and be determined by the intentional acts of
the creating, perceiving, and cognizing subject. Their ma
terial datum, i.e., the real word signs, aural, oral, graphic,
or all three combined, without such acts, remains but an
other physicum. Accordingly, the work of literary art is
a phenomenon which must continuously result from ad
equate noematic-noetic interaction. There is, however,
a difference between the primary and secondary or the
purely intentional and derivatively purely intentional ob
jects (1973a, 126). The former originate out of ideal con
cepts, intentional acts, and the autonomous material object
or “real word signs,” the latter out of concepts, intentional
acts, and the primary intentional object. Consequently, we
can say that the former is created and the latter co-created.
Here creation is to be understood only as a partial actual
ization of that which exists ideally. Ingarden observed:
The intentional act of pure consciousness is not
creative in the sense that it can create genuine
realizations of ideal essences or ideal concepts in
an object that is intentionally produced of it. If
it were creative in this sense, it could create gen
uinely real and eo ipso ontically autonomous ob
jectivities. However, this is denied to it. Thus,
in the forming of a sentence, it can produce
only actualizations of ideal meaning contents of
concepts and form them into new wholes (i.e.,
meaning contents of sentences). (1973a, 366)
Should the primary intentional object fail to free itself
from the acts which created it, it will remain subjective,
i.e., inaccessible to other subjects. It will not gain inter-
subjective identity. Both primary and secondary objects,
taken in themselves, appear to be “totally rigid formations
and [in their] rigidity are also fully secured as regards [their]
identity” (1973a, 356). This rigidly formed phenomenon is
neither simply “out there,” as a physical object, nor merely
“within us,” as a experience, but “among us” as “identically
the same meaning” (1973a, 360). Its identity is tantamount
to its intersubjectivity.
Mukarovsky’s ontological view of the work of literary art
is less intricate than that of Ingarden and, unlike the latter,
which changed little in time, shifted from initially consid
ering the collective consciousness to the perceiver’s con
sciousness as the major accent of semiotics. Peter Steiner
regards this shift to be of major theoretical importance
since it allegedly signified Mukarovsky’s more pronounced
adherence to phenomenology (Mukarovsky 1978, ix-xxxix).
This was undoubtedly a significant shift, but hardly a sub
stantive one since even after it Mukarovsky continued to
164 John Fizer
consider “the total act of the subject’s existential experi
ences,” to which the work refers, as being rooted in “social
codes.” Specifically, Mukarovsky came to believe that se
mantic unification of the work of art is indeed initiated by
the perceiver’s semantic gesture, “but this gesture does not
transcend the intersubjectivity of “social codes” or, to use
Merleau-Ponty’s apt expression, it is “irrevocably immersed
in the world.” Mukarovsky’s “oeuvre-chose” or work-thing
is a complex, structurally bifurcated sign, consisting of two
fundamental components, the material and immaterial, or
phonological and semantic. The first is perceivable by the
senses and the second is “lacking even merely potential per
ceptibility” (1976, 17). The material component “proceeds
from reality, [the immaterial] tends toward it, though only
through the mediation of psychic phenomena (images, emo
tions, volitions) evoked by speech” (1976, 18).
For both Ingarden and Mukarovsky, the work of lit
erary art originates in the matrix of the following three
constituents:
Ingarden’s Mukarovsky’s
work of art oeuvre-chose
intentional act psychic phenomena
real word signs phonological components
ideal concepts semantic components
Real word signs and phonological components, as material

givens, in order to become works of art are to be, in Ingar
den’s language, “actualized,” and in Mukarovsky’s are to
be perceived by the intentionality of man’s consciousness.
However, actualization and perceptibility are understood
by them somewhat differently. For Ingarden it is the ideal
concepts that constitute “the ontic basis of sentences” and
serve as the regulative principle of that formation, while for
Mukarovsky the perceptibility of the material givens is de
termined by signification “dans la conscience collective.”3
By “ideal concepts” Ingarden understands the total seman
tic potentiality of the word, which even though it is not
to be found in the real world, nevertheless, as a general
ization, forms its semantic ambiance. At each moment of
the word’s appearance, this potentiality yields a part of
the word’s ideal sense. Hence we can speak about the ac
tual and potential stock of compound nominal expressions.
However on this point, i.e., the role of “ideal concepts” in
the bestowal of meaning on words and sentences, Ingarden
is somewhat ambiguous. On the one hand, he treats actual
meaning as a partial realization of the ideal meaning, and,
on the other, he believes that “the ideal concepts are not
component parts of these functions. They are as transcen
dent with respect to those as are subjective operations, and
they are also transcendent with respect to the latter and
remain beyond the reach of their influence” (1973a, 361).
Graphically, within the bounds of three concentric circles,
according to Ingarden, the work of art (circle A) receives
its artistic and aesthetic “unite de sens” both from inter
subjectivity (circle B) and ideal concepts (circle C), while
according to Mukarovsky only from “I’epoque donnee,”4 or
circle B.
Of course, an argument, and in some sense a valid one,
can be made that Mukarovsky’s circle B, by not being iden
tical with the immediate historicity but rather with the “to
tal set of existential experiences of the subject, be he the
creative or the perceiving subject” (1977, 73), must, at least
potentially, subsume the contents of circle C. Accepting the
view of Alexander Potebnia, Mukarovsky observed that the
artistic sign, owing to its close semantic contextual cohe
siveness, while weakening its relation to immediate real
ity, “acquires the nature of a total designation” (1977, 77).
166 John Fizer
A, work of art
B, intersubjectivity,
I’epoque donnee
C, ideal concepts
Hence, it can be argued, the artistic sign, by securing for

itself “the global designation”, becomes, in fact transcen
dent to “I’epoque d o n n e e Consequently, in terms of such
argument, the apparent difference between Ingarden and
Mukarovsky becomes insignificant. In summary, according
to Ingarden,
the literary work as such is a purely intentional
formation which has the source of its being in
the creative acts of consciousness of its author
and its physical foundation in the text set down
in writing or through other physical means of
possible reproduction... By virtue of the dual
stratum of its language, the work is both in-
tersubjectively acceptable and reproducible, so
that it becomes an intersubjective intentional
object, related to a community of readers. As
such it is not a psychological phenomenon and
is transcendent to all experiences of conscious
ness, those of the author as well as those of the
reader. (1973b, 14)
In this mode it is accessible to and reproducible by us.
“It is possible,” Ingarden observed, “to contemplate a lit
erary work of art in such a way th at its places of inde
terminacy stand out as such, or, to put it differently, in
such a way that it is possible to apprehend the work in
its schematic structure and to oppose it to its various con
cretizations”. (1973b, 244).
Mukarovsky , on the other hand, held that the “oeuvre-
chose,” sui generis, is a sign , an external sensory sym
bol, which directs itself to another reality, i.e., to an aes
thetic object. Without this directional factor it ceases
to be “oeuvre-chose.” In his own words, “work- thing
functions... only as an exterior symbol (significant, accord
ing to Saussure’s terminology) to which a definite meaning
corresponds in the collective consciousness (which we also
sometimes call ’the aesthetic object’), determined by what
is common to the subjective states of consciousness and
evoked by the work-thing among the members of a certain
collective “ (1966, 85). From this it follows, then, that the
work-thing, without its definite meaning, cannot be isolated
and hence, paradoxically, cannot be known.
3. A esthetic correspondence, com pletion, and

extension
Conceiving of the artistic object as a schematic forma

tion with multiple indeterminacies (cf. Fizer 1979a) in all
four of its strata (cf. Fizer 1973), it was for Ingarden cogent
to conclude that once perceived, such a formation will be
subject to various transformations, either in the direction
of further schematic contraction or the augmenting expan
sion. Calling these transformations aesthetic addenda or
concretizations, Ingarden inferred that they render the lit
erary work of art aesthetic, even though they themselves
are not the aesthetic object. It is the work itself, “taken
precisely as it is expressed in a concretization in which it
achieves its fullest incarnation” (1973a, 372), that is the
aesthetic object. The artistic object, once created, remains
168 John Fizer
the same.5 Aesthetic concretizations, on the other hand,
owing to the influence of “the cultured atmosphere” (1973a,
351), continue to change. This change, however, should be
no means be fortuitous. It must do justice to the work and
be adequate to it. An aesthetic object is, then, to use the
Aristotelian category, the actualization of the work’s po
tential aesthetic qualities. Being “predetermined” by the
work,”it is “founded in it and is in this sense ’objective,’
despite the fact that its actualization depends on the activ
ity of the observer” (1973b, 296). It follows then that the
aesthetic object, in potential, and in spite of its temporal
variability remains the same. The extent of this potential
ity determines its aesthetic life. Once it is exhausted, the
artistic object ceases “to live.” And yet, such a “dead”
object can be resurrected by displaying renewed potential
ity for aesthetic concretization. In other words, the work
of creative art can live intermittently. “It has phases of
magnificent development and perfection as well as phases
in which, through impoverishment of the concretizations, it
itself becomes more and more impoverished” (1973a, 354).
In sum, Ingarden’s view of artistic/aesthetic objects can be
rendered by the schema opposite.
Mukarovsky’s aesthetic object, in contrast to Ingarden’s
tertiary formation, is a semantic complement to the au
tonomously existing sign. As such, it is both related and
transcendent to it. As an immaterial phenomenon oc
curring in the collective consciousness6, it is directed at
the “total content of social phenomena of the given mi
lieu” (1978, 82), including science, philosophy, religion, pol
itics, economics, etc., rather that at one of its specific ex-
istants. Hence it carries no explicit existential value and
has no documenting authenticity. Even when it is the
matically specific ( “distinctement determine”), as in the
case of tendentious art when it is directed at the defi
nite existant of this milieu, the total context of this mi-
Ingaxden and Mukarovsky 169
physical d atum
artistic object aesthetic object
•ontically •purely or deriv. •ontically

autonom ous purely intentional heteronom ous
•derivative •ontically •deriv. purely

heteronom ous intentional
•stru ctu rally
stratified •intersubjectively •p artially actualized
polyphonic identical
form ation
•p o ten tial aesthetic
a n d m etaphysical
value qualities
lieu in not completely suspended but rather is posited as

this component’s circumference. Therefore, the identity of
the aesthetic object is predicated upon the function it per
forms and not, as Ingarden postulated, upon its structural
specificity, for example, its places of indeterminacy. Yet,
strangely enough, according to Mukarovsky, this function
is not a construct component of the aesthetic object7 but
“a necessary part of [man’s] reaction to the world around
him,” or a mode “of [his] self-realization vis-a-vis the ex
ternal world” (1978, 39, 41). Does this mean that an aes
thetic object or aesthetic sign, sui generis, having no func
tional capacity, is undistinguishable from other objects or
signs and hence must be determined ad novo in each per
ceptive act? Not at all. As mentioned previously, unlike
other objects, material and mental, whose existence does
not depend upon m an’s perception, (a) the aesthetic ob
ject “reflects in itself reality as a whole,” (b) this reality
is organized “according to the image of the subject’s atti
tude toward this reality, and, thus, (d) instead of affecting
reality, it projects itself into reality (1978, 43). These vari
170 John Fizer
able functions (reflects in itself, projects itself, is capable
of, etc.) are expressions of the object’s intentionality, which
is accorded to it by the creative/perceiving subject, rather
than by its immanent predicative qualities.8 In the words
of Mukarovsky, “the perceiver’s active participation in the
formation of intentionality gives this intentionality a dy
namic nature. As a resultant of the encounter between the
viewer’s attitude and the organization of the work, inten
tionality is labile and oscillates during the perception of
the same work, at least - with the same perceiver - from
perception to perception” (1978, 99).
In sum, Mukarovsky’s schema of the aesthetic object is
as follows:
the world of things and signs collective consciousness
work-thing aesthetic object
• autonomous sign • heteronomous object

• sensory symbol • total reality
• sign-object • intentional structure
4. E pistem ological accessibility to a rtistic an d

a e sth e tic o b jects
From the above expose it follows that Ingarden ad
mitted, if only theoretically, the cognition of three and
Mukarovsky of two ontologically distinct objects. Ingar
den’s The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art attests
to his massive effort not only to describe but also prescribe
the adequate ways of apprehending them. Mukarovsky also
stated that his essays on general aesthetics, written in the
thirties and forties, were “the results of work determined
from stage to stage by a consistent epistemological orienta
tion” and that during that time “not everything could have
been unambiguous from the very beginning” (1966, 337).
Let us, then, briefly examine their respective epistemo
logical stratagems.
As far as the purely cognitive attitude9, toward the
work of literary art is concerned, Ingarden distinguishes two
modes of cognition, pre-aesthetic and aesthetic. In the first,
the work ‘“in its schematic form constitutes the main object
of study; in the second ... the object of study is its con
cretization actualized in aesthetic experience” (1973b, 170).
To achieve the first, Ingarden, true to the phenomenologi
cal concept of epoche, insists on the a priori cognitive pos
ture which our mind must assume in order to reach the
object of cognition (cf. Ingarden 1976 and Fizer 1979). He
wrote: “Prior to admitting the existence of objects and pro
cesses that differ from that which is given in experience,
one must acquire this experience and become clearly aware
of the direct data in which the object presents itself” (1963,
295). Cognition of the literary object, as it is in itself, must
then be “guided by the idea that the results of cognition
gained in it are accommodated to the object of cognition
and that all those elements are eliminated from it which
arouse even the slightest suspicion that they originate in
some factors foreign to the object” (1973b, 181). Once
our mind assumes this noetic posture, it can then discern
the artistic datum (givenness) from aesthetic addendum
(concretization) or, more specifically, those attributes of
the artistic object which are independent of those circum
stances under which they appear. Given this kind of cog
nitive procedure, Ingarden claims, we can apprehend the
artistic object in its intersubjective identity.
The apprehension of the aesthetic object
172 John Fizer
(1) is based on, and permeated in all its ele
ments by a faithful (correct) reconstruction of
the work in respect of its determined and ac
tual elements, to the extent that this is pos
sible, (2) keeps within the bounds of the pos
sibilities predetermined by the work itself for
these elements (factors) in the concretizations
which go beyond single reconstruction of the
work elements which make explicit what is un
ambiguously implicit in the work, fill out the
places of indeterminacy, actualize the potential
elements, and produce in intuition the aesthet
ically relevant qualities and their harmony, and
(3) is a “similar” as “close” to the work as pos
sible (1973b, 386)
In addition to being rooted in the meaning-apprehending
and cognitive acts, the apprehension of the aesthetic object
is also rooted in the “acts of imaginative beholding of repre
sented objectivities and situations and, if need be, of meta
physical qualities manifested in them (1973a, 233). The
question of when this apprehension is to be affected, during
or at the end of aesthetic concretization, is of crucial epis-
temological importance. “When,” Ingarden asked, “should
the cognition be accomplished? During the course of the
aesthetic experience or after its completion?” (1973a, 398).
Both alternatives present formidable difficulties. Ingarden
himself neither reached a definitive answer to this question
nor insisted upon one. He stated: “In this difficult situa
tion we must not stand on principle. On the contrary, we
must be willing to try different approaches and to exclude
nothing as error. The aesthetic experience can take various
forms, chiefly because literary works of art are determined
in many different ways and can make apprehension either
easier or more difficult for the experiencing subject” (1973b,
399). However, merely as a hypothesis, he posited that
“somehow there must be a synthesis, the formation of a
single aesthetic object which embraces the whole work of
art. This seems, at any rate, to be demanded. The ques
tion is whether it can be achieved and, if so, how.” Such a
synthesis, Ingarden admitted, “cannot be achieved for all
literary works of art” (1973a, 398). One thing seemed clear
to him:
The more this final act is pure experience,
purely intuitive apprehension, the greater seems
to be the cognitive weight and the significance
of the results it achieves. And the more it relies
on recollections and mere mental acts which re
fer to the “earlier” aesthetic object correspond
ing to the individual acts of a play or chap
ters of a novel, the greater is the danger of a
falsification or misinterpretation of what is no
longer (1973a, 398).
Perhaps it would be consistent with Ingarden’s position if
we were to say that the aesthetic object, during the course
of aesthetic experience, is an object in statu nascendi while
the one which becomes full constituted and which is based
on acts of memory is essentially a cognitive synthetic con
struct.
The question of how the aesthetic object can become an
intersubjective phenomenon, i.e., a phenomenon fixed “in a
set of judgments and corresponding concepts” (1973b, 409),
has not been fully developed by Ingarden. His general ob
servation was that there are two classes of aesthetic objects,
“(a) those which according to their nature can be cognized
immediately as the same by many properly qualified sub
jects of cognition and (b) those which are accessible to the
immediate cognition of one, and only, one, subject of cog
nition” (1973a, 398). Objects of the first class are em ipso
facto intersubjective and those of the second monosubjec-
174 John Fizer
tive. The verification of both modes can be undertaken ei
ther directly, by recourse to an appropriate direct cognition
which can be performed by several subjects, or else indi
rectly, by reduction of the aesthetic object through' logical
operations to judgements which then can be tested directly.
Mukarovsky’s epistemology of the work of literary art
is essentially also phenomenological. It likewise attempts
to investigate the immaterial object in our consciousness
rather than the material product itself. How do we know
that we know both this object and its material correlate,
the sign? Mukarovsky’s answer is: we know them because
of our active participation in their intentionality, because of
our membership in the same(real, ideal, or occasional) com
munity, and because of the specific mode in which the work-
thing has been made, i.e., because of its intentional struc
ture. The work-thing provides the perceiver with the im
pulses which, if adequate, stimulate in his consciousness the
awareness of the appropriate aesthetic tradition and, within
its context, form the aesthetic object. The perceiver’s ap
prehension of this object is therefore focused not on the
“material object itself but the ‘aesthetic object’ that is its
immaterial equivalent in [this] consciousness” (1978, 62).
In more general terms, the sign, or oeuvre-chose, is, to
use an old Cartesian category, res extensa and therefore
relatively constant, while the aesthetic object is a temporal
phenomenon, and therefore diachronically and synchroni-
cally variable. However, the constancy of the sign does not
make it totally passive with no terms of its own for its ap
prehension. In fact, “the longer a work retains its aesthetic
effectiveness, the greater is the certainty that the endurance
of value does not lie in a transient object but in the way
in which the work itself is created in its material appear
ance” (1978, 62). This “way,” this mode of creation, imbues
the sign with semantic capacity which renders the object
aesthetic. Mukarovsky observed: “the greater semantic ca
pacity the work demonstrates, the more capable it is of
resisting changes in place, social milieu and time, and the
more universal its value is” (1978, 66). Ingarden, it should
be recalled, ascribed this endurance of aesthetic value to
“the artistic object’s schematic formation with spots of in
determinacy of various kinds” (1973a, 251), which, in his
view, alone constitutes the basis and possibility for its life.
Mukarovsky, to be sure, to a lesser degree than Ingar
den, also insisted on certain epistemic preconditions of aes
thetic apprehension. Without calling them epoche or re
duction he in fact suggested a procedure rather close to
this. He observed, “intentionality as a semantic fact is ac
cessible only to the view of a person who adopts toward
the work an attitude unclouded by any practical consid
eration” (1978, 97). This attitude must be “unmarked,”
i,e,, free of “a current purely contemporary view that we
unjustly consider generally valid” (1978, 98). There is ,
however, a difference between the two. Ingarden’s aim, via
epoche, was to achieve a faithful or adequate knowledge of
both the artistic and aesthetic objects10 as intersubjectively
accessible phenomena, while Mukarovsky’s was to enable
the perceiver “to find in the organization of the work an
arrangement that will permit the work to be conceived as
a semantic whole” to understand “its intrinsic artistic in
tent” (1978, 96). yet, inasmuch as the perceiver’s initiative
is as a rule, individual only to a small degree, and “being de
termined for the most part by general factors such as time,
generation and cosial milieu” (1978, 96), it wa of lesser im
portance to him than to Ingarden, who insisted that the
perceiver foregoes “his own creation of a new reconstruc
tion of [the work], so that if reconstruction is nevertheless
involuntarily constituted, it is ... transparent and allows
[him] to apprehend the work in the original through it, the
work itself, and no longer its reconstruction” (1973b, 349).
According to Mukarovsky, such an act is neither possible
176 John Fizer
nor necessary.
To sum up, Ingarden’s epistemological theory posits
the possibility of apprehending the work of literary art on
the level of all of its three existential modes: the mate
rial datum and the artistic and aesthetic objects. Even
though the second and the third are objects of conscious
ness for one isolated ego, both of them, the first as it was
given and the second as it has become through the sub
ject’s special epistemic effort and attitude, may be trans
formed from monosubjective to intersubjective phenomena.
Mukarovsky’s theory admits only two objects: work-thing
and aesthetic object. But he, too, conceives of the work of
art as a nonempirical being which appears to, but is not
identical with, the individual consciousness, which alone
validates the literary sign as a sign-object.
The essential difference between these two theories is
that the former insists, via adequate reconstruction, on
attaining a heteronomous, derivative, and non-actual (in
sense that it subsists rather than exists) artistic object,
while the latter denies such a possibility on the ground that
the aesthetic judgement would have to be a priori. This,
in Mukarovsky’s view, is impossible since aesthetic judge
ment could not “fit the necessary conditions for an a priori
judgement . .. [It] frequently appears to be derived from
previous experiences, one’s own or borrowed” (1978, 63).
Consequently, because it is impossible to separate our con
sciousness from the de facto world, access to the temporal
ity of the artistic object remains but an abstract concept,
subject to theoretical reflection rather than aesthetic expe
rience.
5. Some critical com m ents on Ingarden’s and

M ukarovsky’s theories
The difficulty th at one has with Ingarden’s schema is
its emphatic insistence upon the existential heteronomy of
both “purely and derivatively purely intentional objects.”
One can understand and agree that the former’s “ontical
foundations repose in the acts of consciousness by which
they have been intentionally produced, or, more precisely,
in the psychical subjects fulfilling these acts” (1974, 101),
but it sis hard to comprehend how the latter can be both
derivative and intentional, particularly in the case of liter
ary objects which are alleged to be no more and no less
than adequately reconstructed purely intentional objects.
If purely intentional objects are founded in both ideal con
cepts and ideal qualities and by intentional acts and “real
word-signs” become derivative purely intentional, how then
can the latter, being ontically heteronomous, become the
basis for subsequent derivative purely intentional objects?
Heteronomy, as I understand it, must be founded in au
tonomy, which indeed is or could be any act or any ideal
concept. But the cognitive retrieval or reconstruction of
the literary object as it was originally intended is no longer
founded exclusively in the autonomy of my consciousness
but also in the heteronomy of the existing primarily inten
tional object. Hence we must say that either the recon
struction or actualization of the literary object, as it was
originally intended, is not intentional or , as Mukarovsky
contended, is impossible. Ingarden, being aware of this
dilemma, tried to redefine the problem by observing:
Both isolated words and entire sentences pos
sess a borrowed intentionality, one that is con
ferred on them by acts of consciousness. It al
lows the purely intentional objects to free them
selves, so to speak, from immediate contact
with the acts of consciousness in the process
of execution and thus to acquire a relative in
dependence from the latter. Being purely in
tentional, the objects “created” by the units
178 John Fizer
of meaning remain both ontically heteronomous
and ontically dependent, but this ontic relativ
ity of theirs refers back directly to the inten
tionality immanent in the units of meaning and
only indirectly to the intentionality of the acts
of consciousness. (1973a, 125)
In my opinion, this qualification does not resolve the is
sue of autonomy versus heteronomy of derivatively purely
intentional objects.
This brings us to the second difficulty, namely, to the
issue of our capability of reconstructing the work in itself,
i.e., as a “timeless object.” Can we really attain such a
derivatively purely intentional object which in all respects
could be considered a correlate of the primarily intentional
one? I agree with Piotr Graff, who states that “an artis
tic object in a pure form is not accessible to individual
experience, because such experience always involves some
acts which at least partially recreate some elements of the
aesthetic object in a concrete (no longer) schematic form.
The effort to keep strictly to the ‘pure’ artistic object as
a schematic entity is vain because of the very nature of
experiences” (1975, 73). To this I would add three addi
tional critical comments. First, the reconstruction of the
pure artistic object is considerably hindered by the diffi
culty of establishing an adequate correlation between the
meta-language by means of which we render this object
intersubjective and the language in which this object is
given. No m atter how radical a reduction (phenomenolog
ical, transcendental, eidetic) we perform on the object of
our perception, on ourselves and on the generality of the
object, if indeed such a reduction is possible, the suspension
of nonessential elements of all three will still be precluded
by the linguistic mode of this operation. Husserl himself
observed that “all the activities of reason are as good as
entirely bound up with speech” (1969, 19). How can we,
then, attain an object whose linguistic rendition, as a rule,
necessitates an existential commitment and thereby viti
ates the very intention of all three cases of epoche? Sec
ond, the artistic or literary object, being temporal, nec
essarily must be grounded in the reader’s mnemic acts
which do not contain the power of absolute retention and
reproduction11. As a result, the derivatively purely inten
tional object, in Ingarden’s definition, has a limited chance
of becoming an indubitable correlate of the purely inten
tional one. What emerges in the reader’s consciousness or
even in the phenomenologically controlled reconstruction is
an object which both quantitatively and qualitatively is, in
various degrees, at variance with its model. For an indu
bitable correlate we would have to possess an ideal memory.
However, this does not mean that, owing to these psy
chological and linguistic impediments, a consistent and
hence intersubjectively testable object cannot be arrived at
. It can, provided we do not insist, as Ingarden did, upon
what Husserl called the eidetic univocality (Eindeutigkeit)
between purely and derivatively purely intentional objects.
They can remain at variance, as they always do, and at the
same time become intersubjectively apprehended. There
fore, it is to be understood that the reconstruction of the
artistic object occurs within the context of socially rather
that ideally generated rules.
W hat all this leads us to is that the artistic object, in it
self, is to be conceived only as an ideal (i.e., an autonomous,
original, and non-actual) being that, phenomenologically,
appears to us as a set of certain conditions to be fulfilled by
our consciousness. W hat emerges out of this fulfillment, no
m atter how rigorously it is pursued, is not the purely inten
tional artistic schema itself, but rather a kind of aesthetic
object which in some way is contiguous to this schema.
Should we agree with Ingarden that the work of literary
art (p) contains four fundamental strata (q, r, s, t ), then,
180 John Fizer
as an artistic object, encoded in the artistic datum, it can
be written in the language of modal logic as:
p —8(q.r.s.t.)
Should we further agree that an aesthetic object can be

intersubjectively fixed, then, with the aid of a logical clas
sification of relations, it can be grouped into three opposing
categories instead of two, as Ingarden claimed: reflective/
anti-reflective, symmetrical/asymmetrical/anti-symmetri-
cal, and transitive/nontransitive/anti-transitive (cf.TJemov
1971, 94). This multiple classification permits us to treat
various aesthetic objects in terms of their proximity or the
absence of such to their respective artistic data, rather
than, as Ingarden did, in terms of their valency or ade
quacy, which alone do justice to the work of art. Moreover,
such classification shuns axiological hazards.
Third, the artistic object, in order to be completely ac
cessible to us, would have to be retrieved as identical with
its artistic datum, i.e., as :
x y [ R( x , y ) ---- (x = z)\
Such identity would be possible provided the artistic da

tum (a) were deprived of its temporality cf. Fizer 1976),
(b) were semantically unambiguous, and (c) had homolog
ical signs. Therefore, instead of seeking the artistic cor
relate in our consciousness, we would be content with the
aesthetic object, which may stand in the eight-fold rela
tion to the datum which spurs it into being. Each of these
relations is aesthetically valid, provided, of course, these re
lations are not extra-aesthetic dicta imposed upon the da
tum by vested interests. In our quest for the artistic object
we may and indeed should attempt, as Husserl insisted, to
“put ourselves out of play,” i.e., to eliminate (ausschalten)
and bracket (einklammern) both the world that surrounds
and penetrates it and our empirical ego that fuses with
it, but this attem pt can hardly be absolute. Cesare Segre
put it quite well when he said: “A work of art, like any
expression of the mind, comes to us with clear-cut bound
aries, but what it contains is inexhaustible; the ‘model’ the
critic proposes can never be more than an approximation
to it” (1973, 23).
In regard to Mukarovsky’s theory, a criticism could be
raised against its claim that the locus of the structure of
the work of art lies either in the collective or the perceiving
consciousness rather than in the work itself. He wrote:
There is no alternative but to admit that the
existence proper of a structure, particularly the
structure of a new work, does not lie in mate
rial works (which are only its external manifes
tations) but in a consciousness. The correlation
of components, their hierarchy, their agreement
and variances - all of these constitute a certain
reality, but a reality in essence and only there
fore capable of being dynamic. A consciousness
is the locus of its existence (1978, 77).
This claim sounds very much like the one made by Husserl
according to which this world, with all its objects, derives
its whole sense and its existential status, which it has for
me, from myself, from me as the transcendental Ego, the
Ego that comes to the fore only with the transcendental-
phenomenological epoche. The fact that Mukarovsky tried
to decentre this Ego in the living traditions in which it “con
stantly charges, develops, and endures without interrup
tion” (1978, 78) did not alter the ambiguity of his position
since replacement of the Transcendental Ego by the Collec
tive Ego, without ascribing existential autonomy to reality
at large, still left the latter deprived of its fundamental ontic
attribute. As long as this reality gains its existential dis
182 John Fizer
tinctions exclusively through the intentionality of our con
sciousness, be it transcendental or collective, its ontological
being remains very much in doubt. Had Mukarovsky dis
tinguished between real (temporal) and purely intentional
beings, and thought only of the latter as heteronomous,
like Ingarden, his ontology of works of art would have been
less exposed to the dangers of subjectivism. The “exter
nal manifestations” of the work of art cannot be dismissed
as “only” ontologically insignificant, but as centrally im
portant in the determination of the work’s genus (Gat-
tungsverwandtschaft). Without such manifestations reality
out there could indeed be reducible to sameness (Diesel-
bigkeit) and man’s consciousness could be thought of as
the sole constitutor of the infinite variety of objects. I agree
with Ingarden that the work of art is not an amorphous hyle
which, through man’s perception, is to be transformed into
an appropriate morphe, as Mukarovsky’s theory implies,
but rather it is an object in readiness (Parathaltung) with
noematic endowments of its own. These endowments might
not always reveal themselves as they were intended in the
primary creative act, and yet, if only ideally, their encoded
presence is a precondition for our awareness of the poly
morphic reality.
Ingaxden and Mukaxovsky 183
N otes
1. Ingarden was one of the most prominent students of Husserl
(cf. Tymieniecka 1976). Mukarovsky, according to his own
admission, was also very attentive to Husserl’s ideas,
particularly to his theoretical study of the sign. Husserl gave
lectures in Prague and his philosophy was well received by
the Prague Circle (cf. Holenstein 1979). Herbert Gronebaum
and Gisela Riff observed in their postscript to Mukarovsky’s
works: “In the first stages of Prague Linguistic Circle activity
in the twenties there existed a series of points of contact
between the functional apprehension of language and
Husserl’s phenomenology; not only in the numerous personal
contacts, not only in the common resistance to psychological
and sociological relativism but above all in the comprehension
of meaning as an objective, in the subjective intentional
object which distinguishes itself from the individual mental
acts of its perception” ( M ukarovsky 1974, 293).
2. It is to be stressed that Ingarden’s ontological split of the
literary work into the artistic and aesthetic objects was
already widely challenged and appraised, among others, by
his own master Husserl and by both his conceptual
adversaries and his disciples.
3. A c te s du H u itie m e C o n g r is In te r n a tio n a l de Philosophic
(1936), 1066.
4. A ctes, 1067.
5. Ingarden observed, it can “be changed unintentionally. Such
a change can occur when, in a simple apprehension of the
work, the reader — as is usually the case — is not conscious
either of the fortuitousness of a given concretization or of
those points in which it materially and necessarily differs
from the work” (1973a, 35).
6. Mukarovsky understands collective or social consciousness
simply as a “central core” (ustredni ja d r o ) of the
socio-cultural context shared by the members of the definite
collectivity in a definite time and space. Conceptual
categories such as collectivity, time, space, object, subject, in
Mukarovsky’s theory, are conceived as operants in a complex
schema of four fundamental functions: practical, theoretical,
symbolic, and aesthetic.
184 John Fizer
7. This view is rather close to Ingarden’s idea of “borrowed
intentionality” in derived purely intentional objects (1973a,
125).
8. Ingarden speaks about this intentionality as loaned, which in
the fact of perception is taken over and thus becomes really
actually intended (1973a, 339).
9. “The goal of this cognition is to acquire a knowledge, or, if
you will, a number of true sentences, relating to the object
which we have before us and which our cognizing has left
untouched, being, all exactly as it is in itself” (1973b, 173).
10. Ingarden distinguishes between the faithful reconstruction of
a literary work of art and the objectivity of knowledge about
it. The former is “an instance and also a degree of similarity
between the work and its reconstruction; in the limiting case
it can lead to the identity of those two objectivities so that
the work itself can be revealed in the reconstruction.” The
latter can never be achieved. “We can have no absolute
guarantee th at one reconstruction is absolutely faithful to a
literary work of art which we are investigating in that it
continues to be unfaithful (inaccurate) in this or th at
point” (1973b, 356).
11. Ingarden himself conceded that “memory gives us no
guarantee that what we remember is identical with the
content of the actual past moment” (1973b, 346).
R eferences
1936 Actes du Huitieme Congres International de Philosophic a

Prague, September 1934• Prague.
Fizer, J.
1973 “The Concept of Strata and Phases in Roman Ingarden’s
Theory of Literary Structure.” The Personality o f the
Critic, ed. J.P. Strelka. University College. 10-39.
1976 “Ingarden’s Phases, Bergson’s Duree reelle, and William
James’ Streams: Mataphoric Variants or Mutually
Exclusive Concepts on the Theme of Time.” An alecta
H usserliana, IV. 121-139.
1979a “Indeterminacies as Structural Components in Semiotically

Meaningful Wholes.” P T L a Journal f o r D esc rip tive
P oetics and Theory o f Literature, IV:I. 119-131.
1979b “Epoche, Artistic Analysis, Aesthetic Concretization:

Reflection upon Roman Ingarden’s Reflection.” In
Language, Literature, and Meaning, I: Problem s o f L ite ra ry
Theory, ed. John Odmark. Amsterdam 351-371.
Graff, P.
1975 “The Ontological Basis of Roman Ingarden’s Aesthetics: A
Tentative Reconstruction.”” In R o m a n Ingarden and
C o n te m porary P olish A esthetics, ed. P. Graff and
S. Krzemieri-Ojak. Warsaw.
Holenstein, E.
1979 “Prague Structuralism: A Branch of the Phenomenological
Movement.” In Language, Literature, and Meaning, I:
Problem s o f L ite ra ry Theory.
Husserl, E.
1969 F orm a l and T ranscendental Logic. TY. Dorion Cairns.
The Hague.
Ingarden, R.
1947 S p o r o istn ien ie swiata, vol. I, Cracow.
1963 Z badan n ad filozofiq wspolczesnq,(ZZ) Warsaw.
1966 “O poetyce.” In Studia z estetyki (21), vol. I. 275- 278. cf.

the German translation G egenstand und Aufgaben der
L ittera tu rw issen sc h aft (Tubingen 1976), 34-38.
1973a The L ite ra ry W o rk o f A rt: In vestigation on the Borderline

o f Ontology, Logic, and the T heory o f Literature. 'Lr.
George G. Grabowicz. Evanston, 111.
1973b The Cognition o f the L ite ra ry W ork o f A r t. Tr.
Ruth Ann Crowley and Kenneth R. Olson. Evanston, 111.
186 John Fizer
1976 “Problem der husserlischen Reduktion:” An alecta
Husserliana, IV. 1-72.
Mukarovsky, J.
1966 S tudie z estetiky. Prague.
1974 Studien z u r struktralischen A s th e tik und Poetik. Munich.
1976 On P o etic Language. Tr. and ed. John Burbank and

Peter Steiner. Lisse.
1977 The W ord and Verbal A rt. Tr. and ed. John Burbank and
Peter Steiner. New Haven.
Rosner, K.
1975 “Ingarden’s Philosophy of Literature and the Analysis of
Artistic Communication.” In R om an Ingarden and
C o n te m porary Polish A esth etics. 191-221.
Segre, C.
1973 “Semiotics and Literary Criticism.” The Hague.
Tymieniecka, A.T.
1976 “Beyond Ingarden’s Idealism/Realism Controversy with
Husserl: The New Contextual Phase of Phenomenology.”
An alecta Husserliana, IV. 241-418.
Uemov, A.I.
1971 Logicheskie osn ovy m etoda modelirowaniia. Moscow.
V III. Literary Truths and Metaphysical
Qualities
Peter McCormick
Works on literature are able ...

to suggest hypotheses about human
behaviour, human motivation, human action,
and sometimes about the social structure.
— J. Hospers
The experience of the work o f art

always fundamentally surpasses every
subjective horizon of interpretation.
— H.-G. Gadamer
[The] chief function [of literature] is to show

the possible and necessary connections
between the qualitative endowment of
objects ... and values and to enable man to
enter into a direct commerce with values
by acting on his emotional life.
— R. Ingarden
In one of the most consequential reflections on the problems

of literary aesthetics, The Apology for Poetry, Sir Philip
Sidney wrote that poets never lie because they never affirm
anything.
“Nowe for ye Poett hee nothing affirmes and

therefore never lyeth,” Sidney writes in the Nor-
which Manuscript, “for as I take it; to lye is to
affirme that to be true which is false. So as yet
187
188 Peter McCormick
other Artists and especially the Historian af
firming many things can in the Clowdy knowl
edge of mankinde hardely escape from any; But
the poett as I saide before never affirmeth ...
and therefore though hee recount things not
true, yet because he telleth them not for true,
he lyeth not.”1
Sydney’s own affirmation has continued to exercise
philosophers and literary critics even today. For his com
ment raises more than one issue.2 Are there indeed literary
truths, or is talk of truth in this domain finally nothing
more than another species of figurative speech? If we speak
properly of not just truths but of literary truths, then just
what analysis of truths as such can sufficiently warrant this
talk? More simply, what are literary truths, how are they
presented in literary artworks, how do we as readers come
to know such truths, and exactly what are literary truths
true of?
I should like to address one of these questions only, the
nature of literary truths. After providing an example of the
myriad works which raise this question, I want to exhibit
the varied contexts in which this kind of question arises.
Against this background I propose then to contrast two
quite different contemporary accounts of literary truths, an
analytic account and a hermeneutic one, before attempting
to show how several common features in this set of philo
sophical disagreements can be brought into sharper critical
focus with the help of Ingarden’s work on metaphysical
qualities.
1. Q uestions about tex ts

Here then, to being with, is a poem, a dramatic mono
logue by Posthumous from act II of Shakespeare’s Cymbe-
line.
Literary Truths and Metaphysical Qualities 189
Is there now way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers? We are all bastards; all,
And that most venerable man which I
Did call my father was I know not where
When I was stamp’d; some coiner with his tools
Made me a counterfeit; yet my mother seem’d
The Dian of that time; so doth my wife
The nonpareil of this. 0! vengeance, vengeance;
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain’d
And pray’d me oft forbearance; did it with
A pudency so rosy the sweet view on’t
Might well have warm’d old Saturn; that I
thought her
As chaste as unsunn’d snow. 0! all the devils!
Now, on reading such texts carefully we sometimes find

ourselves asking different kinds of question. What kind of
text is this? How does this poetic statement differ from
other kinds of literary statement? Are such fictional state
ments ever true or false? How are we to describe the content
of this text? Are there procedures available for interpreting
this text in an unambiguous way? How are we to evaluate
the success or failure of this work? How can we assess the
propriety of a particular performance of this monologue?
W hat does this text mean? And, most centrally for our
present concerns, just what would allow us rightly to hold
that such a text exhibits literary truths?
These questions are not idle ones as George Steiner’s
magisterial analysis of the many difficulties in just this
text has amply demonstrated.3 We find here lexical prob
lems (the term “pudency”), syntactic difficulties ( “and
pray’d me oft forebearance”), semantic problems ( “chaste
as unsunn’d snow”), rhetorical issues ( “0! vengeance,
vengeance”), textual problems (what was the original ver
sion of these lines?), performance problems (is the conven
190 Peter McCormick
tional Elisabethan presention of such monologues norma
tive in any faithful production of the text?), and on, and
on.
Shakespeare’s monologue then and — to multiply the
genres for what follows — such texts as the choral ode in
Sophocles’ Antigone, or Dante’s geometrical vision at the
end of the Paradiso, or the hunt scene in Tolstoy’s War and
Peace, raise a variety of issues which require some sorting.
We do well to notice here initially what Beardsley has
referred to as three different levels of question.4 There
are first “particular questions about particular works” (13).
Here, for example, someone may well ask whether Shake
speare’s Sonnet 116 is a misleading example of the form
we know as Shakespearean sonnet, or whether the hunt
scene in War and Peace is properly speaking an instance
of pastoral. Questions of this first sort are those for the
practitioners of criticism. “They do not require theoretical
reflection, but demand true information and interpretive
skill” (13).
Other questions may be asked of these works at a more
general level. Thus, someone may inquire whether all
tragedy requires explicit generalization as in Sophocles; or
whether the epic can only be understood as a rhymed poem
as in Dante or also as allowing realization in prose as in Tol
stoy’s epic novel; or whether the Shakespearean monologue
is but an instance of the lyric and not a genre in its own
right. Questions of this second sort insist on a systematic
knowledge of the arts, the kind of knowledge we have come
to expect of a theorist of the arts or, in short, of an aes-
thetician in the broad sense.
Finally, still other questions may be raised about such
texts at even a more general level just in those cases where
the texts themselves — say Pope’s Essay on Man, or
Boileau’s Art poetique — deploy a certain range of crit
ical terms in their own right. Thus, someone may ask
whether the critical term “unity” is not used equivocally
in Pope’s essay, or what are the assumptions about mind
made in Sophocles’ use of the term “hamartia,” or whether
Dante’s understanding of harmony is logically consistent
with Aquinas’s interpretation of Aristotle’s physics. These
questions, while clearly involving some attempt at system
atic inquiry, are usually understood as more than just aes
thetic concerns; in fact, they are taken as philosophical
concerns above all. We have then critical, aesthetic, and
philosophical questions as instances of at least some but
not all of the many kinds of issue which literary texts raise
in a pre-eminent way.
But this division is not yet very clear. We ought then
to explicitate briefly the last two of these kinds of question.
It is not only linguists, rhetoricians, literary critics, tex
tual editors, translator, actors, men and women of letters,
and so on who turn to literary texts but philosophers as
well. The logic of fictional sentences, for example, in such
literary artworks as the poems of Baudelaire, is of increas
ing interest to formal semanticists and philosophers of logic.
The kinds of entity whose descriptions one finds in such
literary artworks as, for instance, the “ficciones” of Borges
together with the conditions and criteria which govern their
identity are of continuing interest to ontologists. The na
ture of judgements which both fictional characters as well
as author’s personae or authors themselves express in such
literary artworks as, for example, the plays of Moliere re
main a fruitful area of inquiry for epistemologists. And the
peculiar features of particular literary plots — think of the
novels of Dostoyevsky or George Eliot or Flaubert or James
— attract the interest of some specialists in moral philos
ophy and even in the philosophy of religion. Here then are
several of the many examples which could be cited and at
much greater length in support of the claims that literary
artworks invite the serious attention of philosophers.
192 Peter McCormick
The interests of philosophers of art or aestheticians —
and I will use this term in its narrow sense as a short expres
sion for the former — however, are somewhat more difficult
to make precise. For even when we artificially narrow the
sense of the word “aesthetics” to include philosophical is
sues only, it is not immediately evident that there is any
further set of questions for the aesthetician to investigate
than just those which we have already noted as topics of
interest for the logician, the ontologist, the epistemologist,
and so on. The independence of aesthetics as a philoso
pher’s discipline, in short, is controversial. For whatever
questions would seem to be grist for the mill of aesthetics,
the frequent claim is, turn out after some grinding to be
the stuff of epistemology or moral philosophy or whatever.
One counter move to this reductive strategy, however,
is particularly prominent in the specialized journals. How
ever much analysis is undertaken, the counter claim goes,
there is at least one set of questions about objects, per
ceptions, judgements, predicates, values, criteria, and so
on that is not reducible to actual concerns of other tradi
tional branches of philosophy. And this set of questions
concerns aesthetic objects, aesthetic perceptions, aesthetic
judgements, aesthetic predicates, aesthetic values, aesthetic
criteria, and so on.
With this dispute in mind, then, we may proceed as
follows. There is at least one philosophical question which
some of these texts cited or others like them may be taken
as raising. And this question is a question about aesthetic
truths. Do some artworks provide us with what may prop
erly be called aesthetic truths, or not? More specifically,
do some literary artworks present us with a set of truths
about, say, persons which may properly be called aesthetic
truths in general and, in instances like those which I have
referred to, literary truths in particular? This is the issue
which we now need to bring into sharp focus with the help
of a contrast.
2. Literary truths — an analytic perspective

I begin then with a rough characterization of some an
alytic views about truths in literature. Although I shall
not rely exclusively on their works alone, I shall be refer
ring most often to Weitz, Mandelbaum, Beardsley, Hos-
pers, and Purtill, whose work in this area continues to be
representative.5 The view I present, however, is a construc
tion and not attributable to any one thinker alone.
Many but not all analytic philosophers who are inter
ested in the literary work of art often begin with a famil
iar observation. Literary works of art consist of different
kinds of sentence about different kinds of thing. Moreover,
some of these sentences — we might call them here “lit
erary statements” — often purport to be communicating
truths about many important matters.
Scrutinizing any classic work of fiction, say War and
Peace%is usually sufficient to see that this observation is
correct. Literary works of art like War and Peace do con
sist of many different kinds of sentences. There are, to keep
our list short, statements, dream accounts, questions, excla
mations, commands, curses, prayers, and so on. Moreover,
each of these items appears in more than one guise. For
we have foreign-language expressions, idiolect, slang, bro
ken utterances, incomplete sayings, and so on. The variety
is very great both of kinds of sentence and of the variants
these sentences assume. The examination and linguistic
analysis of literary works provides a welter of further data
for those who would wish to itemize further.
If the kinds of sentence in literary works, then, are nu
merous, the matters these sentences deal with are even
more extensive. Even when we confine ourselves to literary
statements alone, we find all kinds of topics in evidence.
194 Peter McCormick
Literary statements, for example, often propound putative
truths about those features of the world which the natu
ral science axe accustomed to describe. We can read claims
made about the nature of society, culture, and human insti
tutions in a vein we have come to expect most often in the
social sciences. Truths are offered about historical events
and human actions in a way historians most often use to
formulate such matters. Literary statements are made too
about the nature of mind, about human ideals, about even
such important but surely obscure matters as individual
destiny.
Now with these vague but non-controversial observa
tions in hand analytic philosophers proceed to sharpen their
concerns by operating several exclusions.
The point of interest is not, initially at any rate, under
stood as a set of questions about the values we catch sight
of when dealing sympathetically with literary works of axt.
The accent falls rather on truths. Moreover, the concern is
not with truths of any great stature in the way for exam
ple that didactic theories of art, so important to Plato in
several periods of his thought, focus narrowly on the pres
ence or absence in literary artworks of “greater truths.”
Nor finally is the analytic philosopher usually concerned
with symbolized truths in the peculiar sense of what so
many readers find themselves responsive to, say, in Kafka’s
work — putative truths about the world which they are not
able to formulate in non-figurative terms. Of course there
axe important questions, and indeed philosophical ones,
which concern values, great truths, and symbolic truths.
And some might even hold that at least paradigmatic cases
of successful literary artworks provide privileged access to
such matters. But analytic philosophers axe almost always
concerned with what they like to refer to as the everyday
garden variety of common-sense truths; not the pate de
grives and the canard a Vorange but the peas and caxrots
on the philosophical menu. The accent then falls squarely
on the question whether some literary statements in liter
ary artworks can be said to deal with truths at all, and if
so then just how?
If a start is made with observation about sentences and
a preliminary formulation of the m atter at hand is some
thing like what I’ve just described, what then is the usual
answer to the question? Before looking at the response
three distinctions of unequal importance should be noted.
We need to distinguish first between sentences within
the literary work and sentences about such a work. The
distinction is of course commonplace. Yet it is one we need
to make explicit if we wish to avoid slipping from talk about
truths which sentences within literary works refer to and
truths which sentences within literary-critical works refer
to. This second variety can be extensive in its own right
once we begin to reflect on critical practice. But the set
of expectations we bring to works of literary criticism axe
very different indeed from those we bring to literary works
of art. Sometimes, it is true, these expectations overlap
as in those cases where works of literary criticism would
seem to have aesthetic pretentions of their own quite apart
from the artworks they purport to be reflections on. Yet
in general, and however difficult any anatomy of these sets
of expectations might prove, the fact of such difference is
plain enough.
A second distinction some analytic philosophers con
tinue to find useful is a more slippery one, that between
propositions and predication. Despite almost a hundred
years of work in modern philosophy of logic, propositions
remain elusive entities which appear to many philosophers
as at best only half real. Propositions, some would argue,
are not themselves linguistic entities, but if they are to be
found at all, they are to be found only in the company
of sentences. “Predication” on the other hand is a tech
196 Peter McCormick
nical term in the context of this discussion. The relevant
sense here is almost exclusively confined to the kinds of is
sues philosophers struggle with when they raise questions
about saying and showing. This sense has been construed
as “each distinguishable respect in which a discourse or
part of a discourse may be said to be true or false.”6 Thus
a statement that says one thing and suggests another is
taken here to mean two predications. An example might
go like this. “Peter is not the worst player in the tennis
tournament,” which says that at least one player is worse
than Peter and suggests further that Peter is at any rate a
pretty bad bet. Now the truths in literature which philoso
phers are concerned with are not those which assume a
propositional form but those which are expressed in the
predications which occur in many of the sentences com
prising the literary work.
A third and final distinction we need to notice turns on a
contrast between the kinds of interest analytic philosophers
have with the sentences in a literary work and the interest
which the literary critic has. The literary critic, we might
say with Monroe Beardsley, is largely concerned with three
tasks. The first is that of explication, the attem pt that is
“to determine the contextual meaning of a group of words
. .. given the standard meanings of the words plus infor
mation about their ranges of connotation.” The second is
that of elucidation in the sense of determining “parts of
the world of the work, such as character and motives, that
are not explicitly reported in it, given the events and states
of affairs that are reported plus relevant empirical gener
alizations.” And the third is interpretation in the sense of
determining not the thesis of a work, that is, “its doctrine
or ideological content,” but the themes of the work, that
is “something named by an abstract noun or phrase” such
as, say, the tragic character of poverty (401-03).
Philosophers, by contrast, usually are concerned only
with what can be properly termed true or false in the liter
ary work. This may well turn out to be the thesis which the
critic has been able to isolate with the help of his different
training, skills, and sensibility. The philosopher, however,
will go on to ask his or her characteristic questions about
such theses, questions for example about the world, or just
how such truths are presented (whether by statement or
assertion or whatever), or just what kind of truth or falsity
such statements can properly be said to have.
Now each of these distinctions raises questions in its
own right. But these questions need not occupy us here.
Rather we have to notice, now that the starting point, the
issue, and the relevant distinctions are in mind, just what
answers the philosohpers are want to provide to their own
question.
One way to get clearer about the answer is first to cast
the initial question in a more general form, to see just what
positions have been taken in its regard. The problem is just
how fictional statements differ from non-fictional ones, or
how fiction differs from non-fiction. And this has generated
at least five kinds of response which are worthwhile recalling
here.7
(1) The first view holds that fiction is not true while
non-fiction is true. Yet there is a difficulty here with say
ing just how we axe using the vague word “true.” The
main problem with this view, however, is that many fic
tional works contain true statements (say War and Peace),
whereas many non-fictional works contain false statements
(say, Principia Mathematica).
(2) A second view holds that fictional works consist of
sentences which axe neither true nor false. But the same
kind of consideration that proved fatal to the first view
proves fatal to the second. For some non-fictional works
contain sentences which axe neither true or false (com
mands, say, in programmed logic texts) and some fictional
198 Peter McCormick
works contain sentences which are either true or false (cen
sus figures for small Pennsylvania towns in the 1920s in
John O’Hara’s novels).
(3) A third view holds that all declarative sentences
in fictional works are disguised imperatives of the form
“suppose th a t...” or “let us pretend t h a t . . whereas no
such disguised imperatives are on the loose in non-fictional
works. When we reflect on the variety of uses to which
declarative sentences are put, however, this view appears
overly ingenious.
(4) A fourth view locates the differences between fic
tional and non-fictional works in readers’ attitudes rather
than in the sentences of the work. The attitude of a reader
who takes up War and Peace to determine Tolstoy’s phi
losophy of history is different from the attitude of a reader
who takes up War and Peace to enjoy a novel. But his
view, like the preceding one, also seems overly ingenious.
As Beardsley puts it, “you do not have to ignore the truth-
value of a discourse for it to be literature, and ignoring the
truth-value of the Principia does not make it fiction” (420).
(5) A fifth view turns on a distinction between uttering a
sentence and asserting one. A journalist may, for example,
utter a sentence in reporting certain views about the Polish
constitution. But he is both uttering and asserting such a
sentence when he utters the sentence in such a way as to
communicate to his listeners that he believes the sentence is
true. Fictional works then are construed to include truths
of utterance only, whereas non-fictional ones include truths
of utterance and truths of assertions. It is not difficult
however, as the journals show, to raise important doubts as
to the well-foundedness of such a distinction without even
multiplying those doubts by considering the legitimacy of
its application to literary works.
With these five general views as background I turn to
the usual response given to a narrower question. The ques
tion here is not how fictional works differ from non-fictional
ones, but how putative truths found in literary texts dif
fer from truths found in non-literary ones. And the most
commonly held response to this question goes as follows.
Truths in literary works differ from truths in non-
literary works in the way that suggested truths, the truths
of predications, differ from asserted truths, the truths of
propositions. But just how are truths suggested in literary
works? Literary works do not suggest truths either in the
sense that these truths are intended by the author or in the
sense that these truths are graspable by the audience. Thus
neither writers’ nor readers’ intentions do sufficient justice
to the work itself. “We want to be able to say,” John Hos-
pers writes, “that something is implied [suggested] even
though the author may not intend it and be quite unaware
of it, and even though the audience [reader] may be so im-
perceptive as not to grasp it.”8
But just what kind of truths are implied in this large
sense of implication as suggestion?
“Works of literature,” Hospers continues, “are
able . .. to suggest hypotheses about human be
haviour,- human motivation, human action, and
sometime about the social structure... These
works may suggest or intimate (say without
saying) numerous propositions [predications, in
our terminology] ... about the world, about the
subject m atter of the work itself. And since
some of these suggested propositions are doubt
less true, we have here surely an important
sense of truth in literature.” (213)
3. Literary truths — a herm eneutic perspective

I want now to look at an alternative approach to the
problem of literary artworks and putative truths. This
200 Peter McCormick
approach I will characterize simply as a hermeneutic one.
Again, without restricting the presentation to their work
alone, I will here be mainly concerned with the work of
H.-G. Gadamer and in part with the connections between
his hermeneutic philosophy and the earlier reflections of
Dilthey, Husserl, Ingarden, and Heidegger.9 It is important
to recall that neither here nor earlier is there any attempt
to represent any one particular position as such. Rather the
concern is with sketching the main features of a general po
sition most of whose elements a certain group of thinkers
would characteristically find to be important in the light of
their own individual views. I shall follow the same division
here as earlier, beginning with a starting point and issue,
then sketching more fully the context and formulation of
the matter.
Hermeneutic thinkers concerned with questions about
truths and literary artworks have a different point of de
parture from their analytic colleagues. Instead, that is, of
remarking the curious fact that many statements appear
ing in literary works of art are both similar and yet im
portantly different from those which occur in non-literary
texts, hermeneutic thinkers are struck, for example, by the
way temporality and history are represented in such texts,
by the play of langauge and silence in literary texts, and
especially by a peculiar expectation of literary artworks
as of all art. This expectation might be put as follows.
Hermeneutic philosophers are less concerned to analyze the
truth conditions of different kinds of sentences, whether lit
erary or non-literary, than they are intrigued by the possi
bility that artworks may provide access to truths that are
otherwise unavailable elsewhere. The starting point here,
then, if we confine ourselves to questions about literature
and truths, is not an observation but, roughly speaking, an
assumption.
We need to try to get clearer, however, about what the
Literary Truths and Metaphysical QuaUties 201
issue here may be. Hermeneutic philosophers are not char
acteristically concerned with whether or not a certain class
of sentence can be said to be true or false on some analyzed
sense of those cardinal terms. Rather a general assumption
has already been made before the literary artwork is ap
proached, general in that it accompanies hermeneutic re
flection not just on literary artworks but on artworks of
every kind. The assumption, as I understand it, comes to
something like this: artworks present truths about many
things; literary artworks present truths especially about
persons (characters) and about their actions (plots).
The point, then, is that whether artworks present truths
at all is not at issue for the hermeneutic thinker. Rather
what invites his reflection is, granted that artworks present
truths, just what these truths are about and just how art
works present them. Most interesting is what I referred
to above as an assumption. For work on these questions
is characteristically in the service of a larger interest, the
question whether some artworks present some truths about
persons and actions which are not available anywhere else;
a class of truths available, that is only in their peculiar lin
guistic medium are taken to be in some as yet unclarified
sense privileged sites for the manifestation of such occult
truths. The issue here then does not turn on the similarity
between literary and non-literary texts (both comprise sen
tences), but on the dissimilarity between a peculiar class of
truths accessible in literary artworks pre-eminently and the
inaccessibility of such a class of truths elsewhere.
If these are the starting point and the main issue of a
hermeneutic reflection on literary artworks, what further
context do we need so as to make an initial formulation of
the question more understandable? I think we need espe
cially to appreciate the polemical character of hermeneutic
thinking about the nature of aesthetics.
Hermeneutic reflection, in proposing for investigation
202 Peter McCormick
what seems to be an intriguing property of literary artworks
which is not found to the same degree in other artworks or
indeed outside the realm of art, is self-consciously trying
to contest certain consequences of an established scientific
world-view. Consequently, the issue which this view is call
ing to our attention is to be understood inside a critical
understanding of the history of modern aesthetics. Aesthet
ic?, this larger claim goes, has been understood up to the
present as a progressive and largely helpful subordination
of a philosophical discipline to one only of a number of pos
sible interpretations of science. Aesthetics thus has come
to function as an investigation of particular kinds of ob
jects with the help of a methodology extrapolated from the
models of modern mathematics and physics. More specif
ically, whatever kinds of truths are taken to be aesthetic
truths are as such almost all construed further in terms of
concepts derived from our contemporary understanding of
the nature of science as an intelligible discipline and our
understanding of the truths which science is concerned to
formulate.
So, in locating the issue in terms of some hypothetical
feature of artworks alone, the hermeneutic view is indirectly
contesting the model we habitually work with in delimit
ing certain questions as problems in aesthetics, say, rather
than as problems in ontology. And this view is also con
testing indirectly the model we habitually bring to bear
on questions pertaining to the nature of truths. In short,
part of the background here includes a polemic against a
construal of the separate domains of philosophy after the
model of mathematical understandings of modern science
and a construal of truths in artworks on the model of truth-
functional analyses of scientific truths. Questioning the un
derstanding of truths in literature which analytic philoso
phy presents then involves questioning the understanding
of modern aesthetics as a philosophical discipline.
But even supposing that such a polemic were largely if
not in all its details justified, just what alternative does the
hermeneutic view propose? It is important to see that an
alternative is proposed, and the need for a positive account
of both aesthetics and literary truths is acknowledged. The
problem is not with the denial that more than a negative
account is required, but with the particular positive ac
count brought forward. For this alternative is murky one.
Beyond holding out the hope for literary artworks present
ing different kinds of truths than the natural sciences do,
this position draws attention to the kinds of indirect knowl
edge that have traditionally been associated with human
istic traditions. Gadamer, for example, wants to hold that
the humanities have preserved until recent times a different,
looser, more open-ended, one might even want to say more
contextual understanding of truth than the natural sciences
have. This understanding, so the story goes, is still opera
tive in the early Dilthey until the struggles with psycholo
gism finally move Dilthey beyond the perduring insights of
his neglected masterpiece, the biography of Schleiermacher.
With important qualification, a similar understanding is to
be found also in parts of Collingwood’s work, for exam
ple in his treatment of the logic of question and answer
to which Gadamer refers explicitly. Still, we must persist
in asking just what the positive element in this different
understanding of truth looks like.
One important element in this account is the contention
that, whatever characterization we settle on for those non
objective, non-verifiable, non-scientific truths in literature,
we must situate those truths neither in the sentences in the
work nor in those about the work. Rather these truths are
to be identified within the understanding of the texts. And
such an understanding may assume, as the case of dramatic
production clearly indicates, more than a sentential form
only.
204 Peter McCormick
But doesn’t this further contention bring back into play
all the versions of intentionalism, whether centred on au
thors or performers or audiences, that both analytic and
hermeneutic philosophers have been so ingenious in dis
qualifying? This is not clear. In fact, it would be nec
essary to look much more closely at just what intention
alism is before trying to judge this matter intelligently.
W hat should be noted for now, however, is the charac
teristic way in which the hermeneutic thinker responds to
such a query: “the experience of the work of art always
fundamentally surpasses every subjective horizon of inter
pretation,” Gadamer writes. Moreover, his own work in
large part aims to “show that understanding is never truly
subjective behaviour toward a given ’object,’ but towards
its effective history — the history of its influence; in other
words understanding belongs to the being of that which is
understood” (xix, xxi).
Most of this may be the case. The persistent problem
is finding persuasive reasons, and reasons of a sort that an
alytic and not just hermeneutic philosophers would accept,
for justifying such a view. We have, at least in the remarks
above, no such arguments but assertions only. They may
be true, and then again they may not be. What we require
from the hermeneutic philosophers, however, and precisely
here, is less assertion and more argument. But this final
point requires more elaboration.
Notice both how important the point at issue is and
how the hermeneutic thinker retorts. The point is just how
we are to know what stands for or against the kind of sug
gestive but hardly rigorous reflections put forward so far.
How are we to evaluate such reflections? And if we do not
settle on a solution to this puzzle, then exactly why need
we try to look further into the nature of truths in literature
than analytic philosophers are already doing? At least we
know what can count as an answer to the questions they
axe asking, and we know what form such answers should
take even if these answers are not yet all in hand.
The hermeneutic thinker characteristically replies to
this caxdinal objection in some such terms as these. To
meet the conditions analytic philosophers impose on puta
tive aesthetic theories about truths and literature would be
inconsistent with the critique of a one-sided view of scien
tific truth. To put hermeneutic reflection into such an ac
ceptable form would be to practise just that kind of power
ful but overly narrow kind of thinking which these reflection
have been aiming to question.10 Perhaps not all the issues
we have to raise about truths in literature can be poured
into the mold of problems seeking solutions. Some of these
issues we may not even yet be able to get into proper ques
tion form. So much, then, for the starting point, the focus,
the contexts, and the point at issue of a second set of views
about literary truths.
So, the dispute about what is to count as a proper
theory of truths in literature continues; we need not
pursue it further here. More important are several further
features of the hermeneutic approach, features which
indicate, like the elements noted so far, a resistance to any
easy method of critical evaluation.
4. Invitations to further inquiry

I want now to pursue somewhat further at least one
basic opposition between the two perspectives which I have
been at some pains so far to sketch.
If the characteristic form for the questions many ana
lytic philosophers bring to literary texts is something like
“just how do truths in literature differ from truths else
where?” what if any question characterizes the other ap
proach? With the polemical context still in mind I think
we can put the question something like this: just what if
any truths make themselves manifest in the understanding
206 Peter McCormick
of literary works of art and not elsewhere? Here again we
require some background.
Putting our question this way and not another stresses
the idea, now more familiar since careful critical reflec
tions of Roman Ingarden’s work has started, that the lit
erary work of art is in some important sense a process-like
phenomenon.11 An aesthetic object, this story goes, is con
stituted in the interaction between the stratified structure
of the literary work of art and the active understanding of
its readers. The claim then is that the work of art is a kind
of event, in fact an ontological event in the sense that such
an event brings about the appearance of one species of ob
ject, the aesthetic object; it makes this appearance manifest
to the sympathetic understanding of a reader and makes
available in this phenomenon access to truths about persons
and actions. It is capital here to recognize the primacy of
the artwork over the imagination. For if there is a way out
of the impasses of psychologism which continue to threaten
hermeneutic theories of aesthetic truths, then such an is
sue cannot be found in the direction of subjectivity alone,
no m atter how deeply we pursue the archaeology of knowl
edge. Husserl’s greatest attempt at doing phenomenology,
his endless studies on temporality, have demonstrated this
point. And Husserl himself, as the tortured drafts of his in
tersubjectivity materials show unequivocally, came to un
derstand the point of his interminable beginnings, a lesson
which Heidegger learned early on. That is why, while insist
ing on the understanding of the literary work of art as that
area in which there comes to presence whatever truths lit
erature yields, Gadamer writes: “literature as an art-form
can be understood only from the ontology of the work of
art, and not from the aesthetic experience that occurs in
the course of that reading” (143).
But what more precisely is it that such understanding
is active upon? And what is it in the literary work of art
that makes such presences possible?
Both the hermeneutic and the analytic philosopher here
appeals to the peculiar role language plays in literature.
For the hermeneutic philosopher, however, language is no
longer viewed as simply a means of communication and
therefore an entity to be understood in terms of either so
phisticated mathematical theories like Shannon’s or imag
inative structuralist theories like Jakobson’s or metaphor
ical self-referential theories like Derrida’s. Nor is literary
language to be construed simply as a means of expres
sion and therefore to be subjected to all the puzzles of
expression theories of art. Rather language in the liter
ary work is listened to with something like the ear we see
at work in Heidegger’s mediations on Trakl’s colour sym
bolisms or George’s formalisms or most notably Holderlin’s
lyric memorializings. That is, language on the hermeneutic
view is habitually understood not in the sense of a formal
system but in the obscure and almost mystical sense of a
speaking event, a verbal happening. The text speaks or, as
Heidegger never tires of saying in On The Way to Language
in some of his most carefully deployed tautologies, “Lan
guage speaks,” “the essence of language is the language of
essence.”
This is part of what lies behind some of the cryptic
statements in Gadamer’s work about cultivation, common
sense, taste, and tact as modes of indirect knowledge, about
inexplicitness and inexpressibility (34-36).
“All encounter with the language of art,” he writes, “is
an encounter with a still unfinished process and is itself part
of this process.” The controlling idea is that the peculiar
kind of speaking that goes on in the literary work of art
is a domain, a site, a topos where we are summoned, as
Heidegger likes to say, by the unarticulated possibilities
of a world breaking through the language of the text of
our understanding. This kind of language, the claim here
208 Peter McCormick
goes, may make available to us truths that are otherwise
inaccessible.
Again, I think we need to say plainly that this kind of
talk is for many of us unsettling. What should be noted
however is the primacy, in such unusual talk about language
as speaking, of an experience with language rather than of
a concept of language. If we are ever to come to critical
terms with the central oppositions between analytical and
hermeneutic approaches to truths in literature, as I think
we must, we need to recognize this central opposition be
tween a concept of language and an experience of language.
The former is a difficult enough affair; but the latter refers
us exasperatingly to time, to history, to, for one example
only, the mysteriously privileged speaking of language that
characterized the ritual of Greek tragic drama at Athens.
One final point should now be made. W ith this focus
on the process character of the literary work of art as an
event and the speaking of language in what comes about
in the understanding of such a work, clearly the accent in
the hermeneutic view falls on some as yet unexplicitated
account of experience. Dilthey of course worked long and
hard at developing a more comprehensive account of expe
rience than the empirical account he continued to be both
ered by even after his reading of Kant. And Husserl too in a
quite different vein looked towards reconstructing a view of
experience that would measure up to what he called the life
world. Regardless of the different problems each of these
attem pts foundered on, a common and enduring feature of
both was the stress on time and history. The objectivi
ties of science were to be set aside, or got around, or even
transcended in the vital interest of situating things and
events anew at the centre of a history of understanding. So
the hermeneutic approach characteristically stresses origins
while skirting biographical fallacies, and stresses traditions
while side-stepping historicisms. “If it is acknowledged,”
L it e r a r y Truths and Metaphysical Qualities 209
Gadamer writes, “that the work of art is not a timeless ob
ject of aesthetic experience, but belongs to the world that
endows it with significance, it would follow that the true
significance of the work of art can be understood only in
terms of its origin and genesis in that world” (148).
But does this text give us access to truths which are oth
erwise inaccesible? To the contrary. It would seem that,
without forcing all truths into the form of sentences, we still
can notice that the truths which the hermeneutic approach
directs us to seem more like old chestnuts than novel rev
elations. What could be more familiar than the cycle of
seasons, the cycles of child-bearing, the cycles of birth and
death, the cycles even of our knowledge and our ignorance?
I think we have to recall here the early contrast between
a concept of truth »nd an experience of truth. Granted that
we are not at all clear about just how the term “experience
of truth ” is to be reconstructed, we do understand nonethe
less that truths in the second sense are more happenings
than mental constructs. So in asking just what truths the
text gives us access to, we need to reflect on the possibility
that a text does not so much afford us insight into novel
concepts as, the claim is, occasionally bring about some
kind of event of understanding.
Our initial problems then return, but now in a different
form. For we are pressed to ask just how we are to know
when such events come about, just how we are to charac
terize such events, and, most importantly, just what such
events, if there be any, have to do with if not concepts then,
to use the recommended phrase, experiences of truth?
Neither the analytical nor the hermeneutic thinker
provides an unambiguous response to such difficulties.
Each merely raises again the doubt that this kind of
difficulty about the nature of literary truths, namely the
tortured relations between their contents and their
understanding, allows no consistent solution without a
210 Peter McCormick
re-examination of the paradigms themselves within which
we do philosophy. I want to turn then to an alternative
account.
5. Literary truths and quasi-judgements

In The Literary Work of Art, where he replies to the
criticisms brought against his work by K. Hamburger in
Die Logik der Dichtung,12 Roman Ingarden presents a cen
tral formulation of his perspective on the nature of literary
truths. The key passage runs as follows:
.. .do literary works of art (fictional poems) con
stitute pure judgements (pure “reality state
ments” in Hamburger’s terminology) or not?
It seems to me beyond doubt that Hamburger
must say: No, in no case. Poetry is not
composed of judgements. Fine. Then I ask:
What, then, are those propositions that are
components of poetry? In a general sense,
they are predicative sentences... Are they then
pure “assumptions” in Meinong’s sense? Or are
they somewhat “neutralized” affirmative propo
sitions? Both seem false to m e... There must
be something else, therefore. In my opinion it
is precisely the “quasi-judgement.”13
In short if there are such things as literary truths, In

garden wants to hold, then these truths depend upon the
existence of a peculiar class of judgements called literary
judgements or quasi-judgements.
But his formulation poses at least three tasks for any
one who would evaluate Ingarden’s view both sympathet
ically and critically. The first is describing the nature of
quasi-judgements, the second articulating the connections
between quasi-judgements and predicative sentences, and
finally stating succinctly the consequences for Ingarden’s
theory of literary truths. I will look at each of theses issues
in turn.
In the conclusion to the first volume of the 1966 edition
of his Studia z estetyki,14 Ingarden provided some impor
tant later reflections on the theme of literary truths which
had already occupied him in both The Literary Work of
Art and The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art.15 He
examines there, among other things, the nature of judg
ing. When properly performed, judging is judging seriously.
And “judging ‘seriously,’” he writes, “is the primary and
proper sense of judging performed with full conviction when
the judging subject discharges himself fully in the act of
judgement without any reflective distance from himself ...
And without any reservation regarding either the judging
itself or the object of this judgement.”16 Judging, then, is
pre-eminently a non-reflexive kind of activity except in the
case, which Ingarden explicitly mentions in a passage which
I have omitted, when judging is directed to one’s own self.
But granted that the act of judgement be performed in a
certain way, a second element must also be present if we are
to speak of judging in the proper and primary sense. Later
on in the same’essay Ingarden explicitates the ontological
status of those matters with which proper judgements are
concerned. Thus, he writes, “judgement arises only where a
sentence predicating a certain state of affairs ’places’ that
state of affairs in the real world or in some other world
existentially independent of the act of judgement” (179).
Proper or genuine judgement then is both “serious” in the
sense of being sincere and not primarily reflexive, and ob
jectively oriented in the sense of predicating something of
a real referent.
Now, Ingarden is anxious to distinguish these genuine
judgements from quasi-judgements. This distinction, how
ever, is difficult to engineer because, unlike the formal lan
guages of mathematical logic, at least in some of the early
212 Peter McCormick
work done during this century in such treaties as the Prin-
cipia Mathematica, no special signs mark the occurrence
of quasi-judgements in either colloquial or in literary lan
guages. Ingarden refers, in both The Literary Work of Art
and in The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art, to Rus
sell’s use of the assertion sign to distinguish between gen
uine judgements or theses of the system and pure affirma
tive propositions (Meinong’s Annahmen, which share with
genuine judgements a peculiar form but which lack their
peculiar function, namely assertion).17 Ingarden wants
to claim that quasi-judgements are neither genuine judge
ments nor pure affirmative propositions, and this claim is
difficult to make out without involving himself deeply in
logical, epistemological, and ontological issues all at once.18
Put in summary form, however, Ingarden’s case runs
as follows. Quasi-judgements cannot, on the one hand, be
genuine judgements because on this interpretation the ex
istential status of the referents of such judgements would
be that of real objects instead of that of intentional ob
jects. And this, as is shown by reflection on the variety
of imaginary entities and states of affairs which literary
works present, would contradict our experiences of literary
works. But quasi-judgements cannot, on the other hand,
be pure affirmative propositions either because, on that in
terpretation, the existential status of the referents of such
judgements would lack both verisimilitude and above all
credibility, and this too would run counter to our experi
ences of literary works.
Of these two claims, that quasi-judgements are neither
genuine nor merely pure affirmative propositions, the sec
ond is more puzzling. Ingarden did however fill out his ear
lier account in The Literary Work of Art and The Cognition
of the Literary Work of Art with the later essay I have al
ready alluded to earlier. The key idea in this fuller account
is an inference from his first account of pure affirmative
propositions. For, if such propositions lack the assertive
function, then they also make no belief claims. Sentences
expressing quasi-judgements, Ingarden writes, cannot be
“Meinongian assumptions [pure affirmative pro
positions] .. .that is, sentences completely de
void of assertive power and therefore not con
veying any belief regarding the reality of what
they designate. For if they were “assumptions,”
objects presented in literature would have been
deprived of all character of real existence, and,
although they would as regards their proper
ties perhaps resemble real objects, they would
not have been able to pretend to be such ob
jects and would not have imposed themselves
as real. All artistic illusion would then become
impossible.19
But what then are quasi-judgements?
Quasi-judgements are modified genuine judgements.
The modification is of a double sort. First, the mental
acts which result in quasi-judgements are not serious in the
sense in which they make no reference to independently
existing real objects or to real states of affairs. “I perform
the sentence-forming act,” Ingarden explains, “but at the
same time I behave as though I were judging that I was
not doing this seriously... I take no responsibility. I do not
intend to submit what I am reading to an examination, I
do not look for arguments for or against the assumption
that what the sentences say is or was true. I do not ...
assume that they claim a right to truth or even that they
designate a certain state of affairs in the real world” (169).
And, second, the basis of a quasi-judgement is not “the
receptive cognition of objects” but mental acts only and
these of a peculiar kind. These mental acts are intentional
acts which do not aim at achieving an accommodation (if
214 Peter McCormick
not a correspondence) to what exists antecedently, but at a
“progress beyond the world already given, and sometimes
liberation from it and the creation of an apparently new
world” (170). Quasi-judgements then are neither properly
serious nor primarily oriented to the world.
These two qualifications provide us with a general view
of how genuine judgements are modified. They do not how
ever particularize because the modification can be manifold
depending on whether the quasi-judgement in an individual
case is more like the genuine judgement than the pure affir
mative proposition or vice versa. Some quasi-judgements
seem closest to pure affirmative propositions, as in the
case of Maeterlinck’s symbolist dramas in Les aveugles or
Pelleas et Melisande where no claim to historical versmil-
itude is made at all. Other quasi-judgements occupy, we
might say, the middle ground between the two extreme po
sitions, as in the case of Biedermeier novels where no histor
ical claims are made, strictly speaking, but where nonethe
less “the represented objectivities” do refer in some loose
sense to a real world. Finally, still other quasi-judgements
seem closest to genuine judgements, as in Schiller’s trilogy
Wallenstein, where the represented objectivities are pre
sented in as faithful a manner as possible in the light of
scholarly historical accounts of the same facts and states
of affairs. The relative intermediate status, then, of quasi
judgements seems to be a function of whether or not, and
if so then to what degree, the reader of the literary work
refers the contents of the purely intentional correlate of his
intentions to independently existing real objects or states
of affairs. In short, quasi-judgements and the idea of refer
ence to a real world is also difficult to accept without fur
ther qualification. For Ingarden here speaks mysteriously,
in what seems a deliberate echo of post-Kantian idealism
(the quotation marks around the word “placing” are Ingar
den’s own), of “placing” or positioning an intended state of
affairs in the spatio-temporal world. But surely when we
first think of something or other and then, in a subsequent
reflection, think about this something’s existence or non
existence, we may be performing a mental act of far more
ordinary and simple epistemological status than “placing”
the intentional content of the first act by the mediacy of
a second act in the real world? Why not a simpler, less
figurative, and less psychologist account here, and not just
of “reference to the world” but of seriousness and reflexive
distance as well?
But if the description of the first term (genuine judge
ments) with which Ingarden wishes to contrast quasi
judgements is misleading, the description of the second
term (pure affirmative propositions) is very hard to make
much sense of at all. The problem here is not finally with
the reference to Meinong’s account of assumption, although
in its own right this account is both extensive and quite
complicated. At least the reference to “assumptions” gives
a general view of what Ingarden has in mind when speaking
of “pure affirmative propositions.” And this general idea
is clarified a bit by the further reference to Russell’s not
unproblematic talk, in the context of the Principia, of “as
sertions.” The difficulty here rather is with a contrast be
tween quasi-judgements and pure affirmative propositions.
In other words, the contrast is poorly calibrated since the
notion of proposition remains, although for a shrinking mi
nority of philosophers who still hold for the existence of
such entities instead of plumping for sentences tout court,
a controversial one indeed. Even were we to translate talk
of propositions here into talk of sentences, however, Ingar
den gives us no help as to just how such a translation would
proceed in such a way as to respect at least the major lines
of his own comprehensive ontology. Finally, a closely re
lated difficulty here has to do with the unspecified ontolog
ical status of the contents of pure affirmative propositions.
216 Peter McCormick
Do these contents have the same status as that of any in
tentional correlate whatsoever, or do they, as Ingarden’s
remarks seem to suggest, have a special status? If so, then
what specifically is that status?
One major difficulty with Ingarden’s account is I think
clear. For Ingarden cannot elucidate the nature of quasi
judgements with the sole help of a double contrast so long
as the description of each term in that contrast remains
either misleading or virtually unintelligible. But this diffi
culty is one of detail only. Besides, before any possible re
construction could be attempted we would need to be much
clearer about other features of his doctrine. What then of
his account of quasi-judgements and predicative sentences?
6. Quasi-judgem ents and predicative sentences

So far, in trying to grasp Ingarden’s elusive treatment
of quasi-judgements, we have noted a certain hesitation be
tween formulations which rely on judgements and formu
lations which rely on sentences. We need now, if possible,
to remove this hesitation by scrutinizing Ingarden’s later
discussion for clarity about the kinds of sentence he has in
mind when talking of quasi-judgements.
The starting point for reflection on this issue must be
the observation that literary works are composed of a great
variety of sentences only some of which are the declara
tive sentences which expose judgements. Moreover, liter
ary works contain predicating sentences which perform dif
ferent functions. Part of Ingarden’s task is to sketch this
variety in more detail.
The declarative sentences at issue here, Ingarden holds,
are usually singular statements, whether those which refer
to discrete particulars such as individual persons, or those
which refer to higher order particulars, such as those which
class-nouns like “company” or “regiment” refer to. In either
case, these statements function as means for the construc
tion of the work’s fictional world, to what Ingarden calls
“the presented quasi-reality,” even though he adds “they
themselves do not belong to it” (174). In addition to these
singular predicating sentences, there are plural predicating
sentences, singular and general sentences of the type either
“some S are P” or “every S is a P,” and finally general
predicating sentences which Ingarden calls “gnomic gener
alizations,” sentences, that is, which “do not refer directly
to any particulars presented in the work”20 (175).
Since we need to have this set of distinctions clearly in
view it will be useful to summarize schematically the four
basic kinds of predicating sentence discussed so far together
with their respective object. We have, then:
1. Singular predicating sentences which refer to individ
uals or classes;
2. plural predicating sentences which refer to the same

kind of objects as (1);
3. singular predicating sentences of the form “some S

axe P ” and plural predicating sentences of the form
“every S is a P,” both of which refer to individuals or
classes; and
4. gnomic generalizations, which refer to particulars

only indirectly.
Before bringing his discussion to a point, Ingarden adds

a second element. If we are to determine more exactly just
what axe the relations between quasi-judgements and sen
tences, Ingaxden thinks we must taken into account more
than just the structure of the paxticulax sentence concerned.
We must, that is, consider the contexts of the sentences as
well, in other words, “its background and the function it
plays in the totality” (176). Consequently, and with this
218 Peter McCormick
principle in mind, Ingarden goes on to deploy those sets
of sentences with contexts: (a) “sentences clearly quoted
in the text and uttered by one of the characters presented
in the work” and (b) “sentences appearing in the works of
a borderline character” (176). Examples of each type de
scribed here are provided. Thus, for (a), consider sentences
like Aeneas’ general judgement in the Aeneid, “en Pria-
mus, sunt etiam sua praemia laudi, /sunt lacrimae rerum
et mentem mortalem tangunt,/ solve mutus; for (b), con
sider sentences like du Bellay’s lyric, “hereureux qui comme
Ulysse a fait un beau voyage” and, for (c), consider sen
tences like Goethe’s line in Hermann und Dorothea, “Doch
Homeride zu sein, auch nur als letzter, ist schon” (176).
Finally, against this double typology — four kinds of
sentence and three kinds of sentential context — Ingarden
defines the major relationship between sentences and quasi
judgements. Quasi-judgements are thus not just modified
genuine judgements expressed in predicating sentences in
literary works, but specifically those judgements expressed
in sentences of type (1) which appear in no context like (1),
that is, “singular statements that are neither quoted nor
uttered by any of the characters presented in the work and
that apply to objects presented in the work” (178).
Ingarden notes specifically that such sentences may by
construed as authorial utterances only at the price of seri
ous ambiguity. For the author may speak inside his role as
author-poet about the world of represented objectivities,
or outside that role about the independent real world. But
here the question of just whose utterances these sentences
are is not beside the point. In fact this question when re
formulated brings Ingarden to the heart of his discussion.
Ingarden’s reformulation is as follows: “Is it that, when the
author utters directly within the realm of his poetic work
certain judgements in the strict sense of the work about
some extra-artistic reality, he abandons his poetic role, or
is it that, by uttering them, he not only retains his role
but such utterance also constitutes the effective fulfillment
of his role?” (177-78). And, of course, behind this for
mulation is an operative distinction assumed throughout
between the author of a work and what Ingarden calls “the
lyrical subject” of a work (184).
But what about sentences of type (1) which appear in
lyrical contexts or borderline contexts? Ingarden wants to
claim that, in the case of lyrical works, so long as the dis
tinction is preserved between author and lyrical subject,
then predicating sentences of the lyrical subject, given the
other requisite conditions as well, are in fact instances of
quasi-judgements. And, in the case of borderline texts such
as Goethe’s sentences from the literary preface to Hermann
und Dorothea, which is often printed separately as an elegy,
Ingarden wants to claim that such sentences have a “dou
ble aspect” which requires “a similar duality in the reader’s
attitude” (196). But, if the first case is reasonably straight
forward, the second is complicated and requires more dis
cussion than our present purposes allow.
So much then for at least the central relations between
quasi-judgements and predicating sentences. Again, just as
in the first part of Ingarden’s analysis of quasi-judgements,
there is much of substance here. We need only notice the
unusual and penetrating way Ingarden makes the familiar
distinction between author and lyrical subject, or the care
ful discussion of the status and kinds of authorial comment
in literary works, or the useful remarks about the nature
of borderline cases, a topic Ingarden discusses further in an
extraordinary analysis of Plato’s Symposium (197 ff.). And
again here too we need to enter further particular reserva
tions before moving into the last part of this account.
The analysis of sentences which Ingarden provides us
with here leaves much to be desired. This remains the case
even when we note his very restricted space for discussing
220 Peter McCormick
this topic, the generally dated quality of his extensive dis
cussion of the “stratum of linguistic sound formations” in
The Literary Work of Art (which requires extensive revision
in the light of developments in empirical linguistics since
the early thirties when this material was first published),
and even when we exclude his unsatisfactory treatment of
terms. For Ingarden does not make clear what distinction if
any he wishes to introduce between declarative and pred
icative sentences. Moreover, his account wavers between
talk of particular and general sentences. And of course In
garden makes no mention here of the problematic yet im
portant cases of negatives, conditionals, interrogatives, and
above all, for his account, the distinction between direct
and indirect discourse. These difficulties, however, remain
questions of detail and do not require extensive reflection
for their resolution.
A more complicated problem arises when Ingarden pro
ceeds to talk of sentences plus their contexts. The immedi
ate difficulty is that we are not able to determine just what
the context of the relevant sentences includes and what it
excludes; we do not know, from Ingarden’s account, just
where to draw the line.
Much more important is the subsequent problem with
the tripartite division of sentences and contexts. Why three
kinds and not two or four or however many? Ingarden
provides us with no justification. Moreover, scrutinizing
the actual division he proposes would seem to compound
our initial puzzlement. Is the distinction here effected in
terms of genre, type one being fiction, type two being the
lyric? If so, then what happens to the third type? Is the
distinction then between fiction (types one and two) and
non-fiction (type three)? If so, why specify type three as a
borderline case instead of just non-fiction? Ingarden does
not answer.
These difficulties with both Ingarden’s account of sen
tences and his typology of sentential contexts are not with
out their consequences. For when he arrives at specifying
the nature of these sentences in which quasi-judgements
are expressed, his account is necessarily uneven. We find
again a lack of definiteness in his switching between talk of
sentences and, this time, not of propositions but of state
ments. Moreover, the negative reference to the first type
of sentential context is especially weak because no atten
tion has been paid earlier to the distinction between direct
and indirect discourse. Finally, the unspecified notion of
context is made to do too heavy a job when left both un
determined and then in addition negative. The result is a
description of a class of literary sentences, normally those
in which putative literary truths are supposedly expressed,
which so far from enhancing our understanding of the car
dinal concept of quasi-judgements actually impedes that
understanding by its surprising incompleteness.
I turn now from the application of Ingarden’s idea of
quasi-judgement to the notion of literary truths.
7. Literary truths and m etaphysical qualities
The problem of the nature of literary truths arises from

Ingarden’s account of the nature of quasi-judgements. The
central difficulty for Ingarden in this account, as opposed
to the problems I have been trying to exhibit, is the ten
sion between the modified character of judgements and the
persistent claim that literary artworks have something to
do with reality. Thus, the question about literary truths
“arises, on the one hand, from the assertion . . . that no
sentence in a literary work of art is a ’judgement’ in the
true sense of the word, and, on the other hand, from
the .. .assertion that the poet seeks to give ’reality’ in his
work.”21 If however we are somewhat clearer about In
garden’s views on quasi-judgements, the new idea here of
222 Peter McCormick
“reality” needs some sorting out before we can grasp clearly
enough the opposition between these two assertions.
Ingarden provides us immediately with four different
senses of the cardinal term “reality.” (1) The strictest sense
of the term refers to “a determined relationship between
a true predicative proposition and an objectively existing
state of affairs selected by its meaning content” (300). This
idea of “reality” would at first glance seem to be the idea re
quired by a traditional correspondence theory of truth. But
such an interpretation would be premature as is demon
strated by Ingarden’s further talk here of the proposition
being characterized by “a relative quasi-feature,” a topic
already detailed at length in chapter six of Ingarden’s Es-
sentiale Fragen,22 A second sense (2) of the term “reality”
is the figurative sense in which the judicative proposition
itself rather than the relationship between the proposition
and the world is called a “truth.” The third sense (3) is
that in which a true judicative proposition’s intentional cor
relate is described as its “truth.” And the final sense (4)
of “reality” is that in which he speaks of “the appertaining
objectively existing state of affairs.”23
It is already clear from his enumeration, however, that
Ingarden’s discussion is once again overly loose. For each
of the four senses just distinguished is to be understood as
a gloss not so much on the term “reality” as on “truth,”
or, more simply, a “sense” of the word “truth,” a not un-
controversial view. Moreover, no one of these senses does
justice to the idea of literary truth. For as Ingarden him
self points out senses (1) to (3), in that they all refer to
genuine or proper judicative propositions, cannot be rele
vant to a discussion of the quasi-judgements which char
acterize the literary work. And sense (4) is also irrelevant
because, as Ingarden repeatedly insists, “objectively exist
ing states of affairs in no way constitute an element of a
literary work” (301). In short, whatever sense might be
found for the expression “literary truth” it is in no way to
be regarded the content of a true proposition (cf. 303).
But if these senses are, without exception, inappropri
ate, just in what senses may we speak of literary truths?
Ingarden suggests four. To begin with we have the sense
of “literary truth ” as (5) truth by reproduction of repre
sented objectivities, a sense of truth which is operative in
contexts where we speak of a literary work being a “good
copy” of something or other as in, but only in, the case of
historical novels. In this sense what is spoken of as true is
what is well represented. Ingarden specifies: “we then call
’true’ a represented objectivity engaged in the function of
reproduction (or the sentences effecting its constitution) if
it is the truest reproduction of an appropriately reproduced
real objectivity” (301). A further sense of literary truth (6)
is that of objective consistency. In this sense, once an au
thor has determined the kind of entity he is dealing with,
say a character or an event, then he is bound to observe
in his subsequent dealings with the same entity the iden
tity conditions and criteria which determine that entity.
In addition, the relevant empirical laws which may govern
actual entities of the given intentional type must also be
observed, together with what Ingarden obscurely calls “the
a priori essential laws of the given ontic region” in which
this entity is specifiable (302). It should be noted that (5)
and (6) are not to be understood as conditions for the ex
istence of a literary work, but only as senses of the term
“literary truth.” For Ingarden is aware that many literary
works do not exhibit a concern for either verisimilitude or
consistency.
Still another sense of “literary truth” (7) is the notion of
tru th as the presence of “metaphysical qualities.” Ingaxden
has in mind here a vaxiety of matters which I will touch on
briefly in a moment. For now the main point he wishes
to make is that some literary works axe “true” despite the
224 Peter McCormick
lack of either a representative function of a concern with
objective consistency. In these works situations are, if not
represented, at least presented, and indeed with or without
their proper metaphysical qualities. When these qualities
are present, Ingarden wants to claim, we speak in this sense
of literary truths.
A final sense of “literary truth” (8) comes clear in In
garden’s discussion of the related term of the “idea” of a
literary work. Here we speak of “literary truth” not just in
the sense of a given metaphysical quality but in the larger
sense of the presence or “manifestation” of that metaphys
ical quality together “with the total situation in which it is
manifested” (304). Ingarden tries to put this nuance more
exactly. The “literary truth” of a work in the sense of
the “idea” of a work “is based on the essential connection,
brought to intuitive self-givenness, that exists between a
determinate represented life-situation ... and a metaphys
ical quality that manifests itself in that life-situation and
draws its unique coloration from its contents” (304). The
connection cannot be grasped in a purely conceptual way,
Ingarden says, but when grasped it allows one to under
stand the literary work in its most fundamental unity.
In sum, we may for Ingarden speak properly of “literary
truths” in no one of senses (1) through (4), and in any one
of senses (5) through (8). But we need now to explicitate
more fully just what Ingarden would seem to have in mind
ny his talk of “metaphysical qualities.”
The topic is a central one for Ingarden the ontologist,
and thus a very extensive subject. The relevant materi
als for our purposes, however, can be found in sections 48
and 49 of The Literary Work of Art. Before trying to dis
cern the most important features of metaphysical qualities,
it is worth citing their evocative description in Ingarden’s
own words.
Life goes by — if one may say so — sense-
lessly, gray and meaningless... And then comes
a day — like a grace — when perhaps for rea
sons that axe unremarkable and unnoticed, and
usually also concealed, an “event” occurs which
envelops us and our surroundings in just such
an indescribably atmosphere, whatever the par
ticular quality of this atmosphere, whether it is
frightening or enchanting to distraction, it dis
tinguishes itself like a shining, colorful splen
dor from the every day grayness of the days,
and it makes of the given event life’s culmina
tion point, regardless of whether the basis for it
is the shock of a brutal and wicked murder or
the spiritual ecstasy of union with God. These
“metaphysical” qualities — as we would like to
call them — which reveal themselves from time
to time are what make life worth living, and,
whether we wish it or not, a secret longing for
their concrete revelation lives in us and drives
is in all our affairs and days. Their revelation
constitutes the summit and the very depths of
existence... When we see them, the depths and
primal sources of existence, to which we are
usually blind and which we hardly sense in our
daily lives, axe “revealed,” as Heidegger would
say, to our mind’s eye. But they not only reveal
themselves to us; in looking at and in realizing
them, we enter into primal existence. We do
not merely see manifested in them that which
is otherwise mysterious; instead, they are the
primal [element] itself in one of its forms. But
they can be fully shown to us only when they
become reality... They are high points which
throw a shadow on the rest of our lives; that
is, they evoke radical transformation in the ex-
226 Peter McCormick
istence which is immersed in them, regardless
of whether they bring with them deliverance or
damnation (291-92).
Ingarden wants to hold that metaphysical qualities are

not “properties” of objects. Nor are they “features” of
mental states. Rather, he calls them “simple or ’derived’
qualities (essences)” in the sense of these slippery terms
which he detailed in Essentiale Fragen. Example are such
things as — and here is Ingarden’s own list — “the sublime,
the tragic, the dreadful, the shocking, the inexplicable, the
demonic, the holy, the sinful, the sorrowful, the indescrib
able brightness of good fortune, as well as the grotesque,
the charming, the light, the peaceful, etc.” (290-91).
These qualities do not occur often. But when they occur
they have a positive value in the context of a life. More
over, metaphysical qualities are not graspable — and here
we recall the sense of “literary truth” as the idea of a work
— by conceptual means only. In fact Ingarden goes further
here and holds that such qualities are not graspable by any
purely rational means in the way that, say, mathematical
theories are comprehended. Rather, metaphysical quali
ties, as it were, let themselves be “seen in the determinate
situations in which they arise” (292). To be grasped, such
qualities must be perceived by someone who is in the situa
tion within which such qualities make themselves manifest.
Moreover, when perceived, metaphysical qualities exhibit a
“deeper sense” to life. Such a perception however cannot
be forced; these qualities in some sense conceal themselves.
“And it is precisely when we are awaiting and desiring their
realization and the opportunity to behold them that they
do not appear” (193). Yet, says Ingarden, all persons se
cretly long to lose themselves in contemplation of such qual
ities. And this secret aspiration is what lies at the basis of
both philosophical understanding and artistic creativity.
Now, in the literary artwork metaphysical qualities,
when present, are exhibited by represented or presented ob
jective situations. Indeed, Ingarden wants to claim that a
literary artwork on the one hand culminates in the manifes
tations of metaphysical qualities and on the other achieves
its individuality in terms of just how it manifests these qual
ities. Such qualities are concretized in literary artworks al
though they are realized only in actual life situations which
these concretizations simulate. Because of this simulation
there is a close relation between their concretization and
their realization; because of the distance between the two,
however, metaphysical qualities may be contemplated in
literary artworks where they most often may only be lived
through in reality. Distance also accounts for the fact that
realizations of metaphysical qualities transform lives more
often than their concretizations do, a point which Ingarden
relates to Aristotle’s doctrine of catharsis. The concretiza
tions of such qualities allow of degrees so that literary works
sometimes may only prepare such concretization without
any preparation at all. But the most important idea here in
this talk of the manifestation of metaphysical qualities and
the modes of this manifestation is the link with the larger
topic of values. “The manifested metaphysical quality,” In
garden writes, “as well as the manner of its manifestations
in the concretization of a literary work of art, constitute an
aesthetic value” (298).
So much then for the fuller sense of literary truths as
the presence of metaphysical qualities in literary works or
as the idea of metaphysical qualities.
8. Conclusion
The poet Sidney’s affirmation that the poet never lies

because “hee nothing affirmes,” raises, I have tried to show,
a number of confusing issues about the nature of aesthetic
228 Peter McCormick
truths in general and literary truths in particular. I have
been concerned to illustrate and then to clarify by contrast
at least some of the central elements these issues involve.
More specifically, I have suggested that the fact of repre
sentative contemporary philosophical disagreement about
the nature of these details invites renewed inquiry. Before
that investigation can be pursued in a thematic fashion,
however, it is necessary to win some critical distance on
such contemporary formulations of the problem of literary
truths by examining the historical contexts and interpreta
tions which thoroughly condition these formulations, even
if they do not determine them. I have tried to make a start
here by calling attention to Ingaxden’s aesthetics. Through
out my description of Ingarden’s account I have been con
cerned to point out both positive features and problematic
ones. These comments, however have been restricted to
individual details in Ingarden’s account. Here we need to
step a bit further back.
To begin with, it is difficult to see how Ingaxden’s ac
count of literary truths, for all its inventiveness and sub
tlety, can be accepted. For the central concept in this
account is that of the quasi-judgement, and this concept
itself is spelled out only with reference to a problematic ac
count of genuine judgements and an even more problematic
account of so-called pure affirmative propositions. More
over, as we have seen, Ingarden’s discussion of the kinds of
sentence and so-called sentential contexts in which quasi
judgements are expressed requires a number of precisions
as well. Nonetheless, when we go through Ingaxden’s ac
count of literary truths more critically there do not seem
to be, at least in the materials we have examined, grounds
for in-principle objections to this account. Provided that
the relevant detail in Ingaxden’s treatment of both quasi
judgements and sentences can be adequately reconstructed,
then his account of literary truth can be proposed as a co
Literary Truths and Metaphysical Quahties 229
herent whole. But I think there is still one fundamental
issue which may not be amenable to such generous and
sympathetic efforts and hence may induce some ground for
making an in-principle objection to Ingarden’s account.
This issue comes to the question of whether Ingarden’s
account of literary truth entails the concept of the aes
thetic, particularly in its guise as “the aesthetic attitude”
or “the aesthetic experience.” In one of the central and late
texts which I have used in this exposition, when discussing
the kind of sentence peculiar to literary works, Ingarden
writes: “the nature of these sentences is not easy to describe
precisely. It is connected with the aesthetic attitude with
which we read literary works and specifically with the spe
cial way in which as a result the reader regards predicating
sentences.”24 And towards the end of the same central text
when Ingarden is discussing the relations between literary
artworks and values, he writes with respect to these values:
“there experience is made possible by, among other things,
the aesthetic attitude in which the work of art places its
consumer” (201-02). And finally we need to recall in this
context much of the continuing dispute in aesthetics gener
ally and especially in the evaluation of Ingarden’s aesthet
ics about the putative existence of aesthetic objects. For
besides the aesthetic attitude and aesthetic experience, In
garden’s view of literary truths involves even if it does not
entail a commitment to their being aesthetic objects. But
to the degree that Ingarden’s theory of literary truths nec
essarily involves the concept of the aesthetic — that is, to
the degree his theory cannot be detailed without appeal
ing to such a concept — then this theory seems flawed in
principle. For, as one of the few things aesthetics has man
aged to demonstrate at least in the mid twentieth century,
theories of aesthetic experience cannot finally resist deter
mined criticism. But this objection would require extensive
clarification in its own right as well as careful re-reading of
230 Peter McCormick
Ingarden’s fuller treatment of the concept of the aesthetic
elsewhere. And this is beside our present purpose.
It may then be most appropriate to conclude this discus
sion of literary truths with a final citation from Ingarden’s
work, in which he makes one of his rare attempts to summa
rize the kernel of his views. “The function of art in general
and of literature in particular,” Ingarden writes, “is not to
teach man by means of judgements what the real world is
like, and in performing its task it does not have to resort to
judgements in the strict sense. Its chief function is to show
the possible and necessary connections between the quali
tative endowment of objects, and of man in particular, and
values and to enable man to enter into a direct commerce
with values by acting upon his emotional life” (203).
N otes
1. Sidney, 31.
2. Some evidence of the difficulties here is available in recent
work on the application of formal hermeneutics to literary
texts. See Gabriel, Aschenbrenner, Mellor, and Pavel and
Wood.
3. Steiner, ch. 7.
4. Beardsely 1966, 13.
5. Weitz, Hospers 1946 and 1960, Beardsley 1958, and
Mandelbaum.
6. Beardsley 1958, 404.
7. See Beardsley 1958, 419-20.
8. Hospers, 203.
9. The major text here is Gadamer.
10. See McCormick 1976.
11. See the primary and secondary bibliographies in McCormick
1986, 181-261.
12. Gadamer, 134.
13. Hamburger 1957.
14. Ingarden [7], The L ite ra ry W ork o f A r t, 180-81.
15. Ingarden [21], 415-64.
16. Ingarden [11], The Cognition o f the L ite ra ry W ork o f A rt,
and Ingarden (13).
17. Ingarden [21], 167. Herafter cited as “TIL.”
18. Ingarden [7], 179, and Ingarden (11), 64.
19. TIL, 166-167.
20. TIL, 202-203 (italics added).
21. Ingarden 1930a and Ingarden 1930b. See McCormick 1985,
P29 and P30 on p. 188.
22. Ingarden [7], 300.
23. Ingarden [4] and Ingarden in McCormick 1985, P14 on p. 186.
24. Ingarden [7], 301.
25. TIL, 165-66.
References
Aschenbrenner, K. 1968. “Implications of Frege’s Philosophy of

Language for Literature.” British Journal of Aesthetics 8:319-34.
Beardsley, M.C. 1958. Aesthetics: Problems in the Philosophy of

Criticism. New York: Harcourt Brace.
232 Peter McCormick
---------. 1966. Aesthetics: From Classical Greece to the Present.
New York: MacMillan.
Gabriel, G. 1975. Filetion and Wahrheit. Stuttgart: Frommann

Holzborg.
Gadamer, H.-G. 1975. Truth and Method. Tr. by G. Barden and

J. Cumming. New York: Continuum.
Hospers, J. 1946. Meaning and Truth in the Arts. Chapel Hill:

University of North Carolina Press.
---------. 1960. “Implied Truths in Literature.” Journal of Aesthetics

and A rt Criticism 19:37-46.
McCormick, P. 1976. Heidegger and the Language of the World.

Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press.
---------. ed. 1985. Roman Ingarden: Selected Papers in Aesthetics.

Munich: Philosophia Verlag.
Mandelbaum, M. 1965. “Family Resemblance and Generalizations

Concerning the Arts.” In Dickie, ed. 1977:500-515.
Margolis, J. ed. 1962. Philosophy Looks at the Arts. Philadelphia:

University of Pennsylvania Press.
Mellor, H. 1968. “Literarische Wahrheit.” Ratio 10:124-40.
Pavel, T., and J. Wood, eds. 1979. “Literary Semantics.” Poetica,

special issue.
Sidney, P. 1969. The Apology for Poetry. Edited by M.R. Mahl.

Northridge, Calif.: San Fernando State College.
Steiner, G. 1975. A fter Babel. New York: Oxford University Press.
Weitz, M. 1935. “Truth in Literature.” Revue Internationale de

Philosophic 9:116-29
IX. On Ingarden’s Conception of the
Musical Composition
Andrzej Pytlak
Roman Ingarden’s “Utwor muzyczny i sprawa jego tozsa-

mosci” (The Musical Composition and the Matter of Its
Identity) as well as his other studies concerning different
domains of art have for years been an inexhaustible stimu
lus for diverse considerations on aesthetics.
Dissertations on musical composition hold, I believe, a
special place in contemporary scientific literature, since the
problem of the mode of existence and the identity of a mu
sical composition has not yet been critically analyzed. In
garden’s conception of an opus in music we for a long time
a kind of separate trend in the contemporary aesthetics of
music. The problems he undertook were bypassed more of
ten than not by other scholars, and the definitions of a mu
sical composition we come across in studies and manuals in
various domains of the theory of music delineate solutions
of the issue of the mode of existence and the essence of a
work of music far removed from the results of research con
ception of the musical composition similar to Ingarden’s, 1
to say nothing, naturally, about the works clearly making
reference to Ingarden’s studies. Today we can say, how
ever, that the aesthetics of music of recent years leans dis
tinctly toward Ingarden’s propositions following differen
tiated ways and paths leading to similar approaches and
results in his “purely intentional object,” which must be
distinguished from the real object.
The real object possesses its essence, i.e., a specific set
of qualifications (designations) which are perfectly imma
nent to it; it is ontologically autonomous, self-contained,
233
<£>1989 by Kluwer Academic Publishers.
234 Andrzej Pytlak
or holding its ontological foundation in itself. The purely
intentional object does not possess its essence: it only has
a kind of constitutive nature which belongs with it and
which enables us to identify that object. Thus, ontologi-
cally, it is heteronomic, having its ontological foundation
in something else. All material designations that appear in
contents of purely intentional objects as well as all formal
and even existential moments are no more than ascribed to
the purely intentional object, mentally allocated to it.
The purely intentional object is characterized by the
two sidedness of its form. One side is its “contents,” the
other its “intentional structure.” This differentiation fol
lows from the distinction within the intentional act between
the act itself and the object of the act. The content is
what we conjecture in the purely intentional object in its
content is exactly alike it is conjectured: the fact that it
is conjectured, that all is ascribed to it, is an essential fea
ture of its intentional structure. A characteristic mark of
the purely intentional object is also the fact that its con
tent is incompletely defined, showing gaps, and also that in
its content, the purely intentional object may be logically
contradictory, internally discordant and incomplete. These
very features of the purely intentional object account for
its excellent applicability to works of art. All works of art
are purely intentional objects. Their vehicle is some real
object and they have their abuse in conscious experiences
of the author (creator). Works of art are not a part of the
experiences of their author, neither axe they a part of the
experiences of recipients. They are separate from them and
from the real objects in which they hold only the ontolog
ical foundation of their existence. Consequently, a work
of art is a purely intentional object based on a real object
and to some extent indirectly on creative operations of the
author as well as on perceptual operations of the recipients.
Coming into contact with the real object of a work of
Ingarden and the Musical Composition 235
art, man objectivizes, the purely intentional object, that is,
receives it in a certain way, experiences its presence. Nat
urally, it is an intentional act. Its intentionality is deter
mined, first by the sign of art (a given word, musical note,
painting) which carries intentionality defined as it were by
itself, contained in itself: it is some visible content. And
at the same time, second it is determined by our inten
tion concerning the sign, aiming at it with some invisible,
“empty”, content ant that therefore hits the object with
a uni-accordant sense.2 Then something like a bond (co
operation) develops, a fusion of intentionality determined
by the sign and by our attitude. This phenomenon is pro
vided by self presence of the purely intentional object in
our observation. Only then the concretization of a work of
art is possible, i.e., only then is the completion of its desig
nation, the intentional filling of the gaps which every work
of art contains, since it is a purely intentional object.
If individual concretization, set on a basis intentionally
determined by the sign and accompanied by a specific atti
tude of the perceiving subject, attains a quality of harmony
evoking an aesthetic experience,3 then we are dealing with
an aesthetic object. This aesthetic object exists purely in
tentionally and is purely intentionally created in the cre
ative experience with a work of art as its base.
Such is an outline of the general assumptions of Ingar
den’s concept of art, or more precisely, of the mode of ex
istence of works of art and the process of constituting of
an aesthetic object. It follows from the above that Ingar
den’s fundamental question concerns the existence and the
identity of a work of art. It is an existential-ontological
question to which the author provide an answer in partic
ular aesthetic studies concerned with different kinds of art.
A musical composition is a work produced by the musi
cian in the course of his creative efforts. From that moment
on it exists regardless of the fact whether anyone receives
236 Andrzej Pytlak
it or not. It exists without its maker and without being
heard.
Ingarden devoted the initial three chapters of his study
to negative considerations, in which he arrived at the fol
lowing statements:
1. A musical composition can be performed in various

ways because true judgments about performances are
false when applied to the very composition, and con
versely, true judgments about the composition are
false in relation to performances of it. For exam
ple: every performance is univocally placed in space.
It has specific localization, both, in objective terms,
as the movement of air waves and as a phenomenon,
because it is taking place upon a given stage. Fur
ther, a musical composition lacks spatial localization
(or has an unrestricted localization). Also, every per
formance is specific, and there can be many perfor
mances. Finally, musical composition is determined
by qualities that do not subject themselves to differ
entiation. It is always one and the same. There is,
therefore, no identity of a musical composition and
its performance.
2. A musical composition is a conscious experience nei

ther of its author nor of a listener listening to it. A
musical composition is nothing mental or subjective;
it is not a component of the perceiving subject. Sound
formations subordinate only quality data of experi
ence but are not a componential part of them.4
3. A musical composition is not a music score. A mu

sical composition cannot be identified with the score
because, firstly, not every piece of music is recorded
and secondly, the score is a system of conventional
ized signs and is different from the composition to
the extent that the sign is different from the object
represented by it.
In the subsequent two chapters, Ingarden attempted to
give precision to certain characteristic features of a musical
composition, its typical distinctive marks:
1. A musical composition is not a sign referring us to

another, real, fact (like the singing of a bird that refers
us to a bird, the honking of a car that refers us to an
automobile).
2. A musical composition possesses its individuality by

the specific, unique selection and harmony of qualities
defining it. This is a purely qualitative individuality.
3. A musical composition is supra-individual in relation

to the individuality of real objects determined spatio-
temporally.
4. A musical composition is supra-temporal. The orga

nized continuum of phases of a composition is deter
mined exclusively by components and moments of the
work itself and not by something belonging to the real
world outside the work. It is unsusceptible to any
thing outside itself — for example, to the temporal
colouring of its performances.
5. A musical composition has a quasi-temporal struc

ture. This structure consists in a functional depen
dence of contemporariness and vari-temporariness.
Diverse subordinations take place here, which are
best illustrated by Ingarden’s “time perspective,” —
the finite range of the present time. The time perspec
tive is determined by three mutually defining mem
bers (tri-unity): retention, the now actual point, and
protension. Retension is the lower (first) limit of
Andrzej Pytlak
present time; something that has passed has already
the now actual point but is still bound to it, projects
onto, and remains with it a contact in a determining
tendency, drawing upon itself what is not yet but be
gins to take shape; this from the upper (second) limit
of the range of the present time, protension.
The temporal range of the present time is of slit-like
nature and is, in turn, a kind of “now” point in re
lation to the past and the future. The phenomenon
may be presented in the following diagram:
retention — “now” point — protension
present time
past future
Naturally, it is only a functional subordination, which

has nothing to do with a similar structure of the
phases of quality time. Quality time includes the
present and the past; it never contains future qualities
going beyond protension. The quasi-temporal struc
ture, on the other hand is a finite, complete entity
including the past, the present, and the future.
A musical composition includes sound form ations and

form ations o f a non-sonic nature determined by them.
For example, motion, audited space, form, emotional
qualities, aesthetically valuable qualities, as well as
qualities of aesthetic values.
In chapters six to eight, Ingarden considers in suc
cession the problems of the mode of existence of a
musical composition, its totality, and its identity.
Ingaxden and the Musical Composition 239
A musical composition exists as a purely intentional
object the foundation of which is the score and the
source of which is its maker. Its source and the foun
dation are real. The piece itself is neither a psychic
(mental) phenomenon nor a physical object. It is a
purely intentional being. The entirety of a composi
tion is warranted by the rationality of its structure,
which is characterized not only by occurrences in suc
cession but the mutual affiliation of all its parts. The
very specific sense of its sound-form fall into a unity,
an organic totality.
The problem of the identity of a musical composition
is fully insoluble. It can be phrased only in the follow
ing way: a musical composition is an organic entity
determined by formations of a sonic and non-sonic na
ture which exists purely intentionally while retaining
its schematic identity, which requires the completion
of its definition.
Ingarden’s study still retains its full topicality in contempo

rary aesthetics and is an inexhaustible source of inspiration.
In the field of music itself, however, certain of Ingarden’s
thoughts lose their topicality. For this reason, study calls
for analyses and supplementations and leaves room for crit
ical complementary remarks.
I should like to attem pt to formulate several remarks,
though I am fully aware of all that this demands. Given at
the outset the limited scope of the present article, I must
precisely define the method and the range of my work plus
my attitude toward Ingarden’s study. The method was dic
tated by my own studies of Ingarden’s work and my experi
ence as a performing musician has encouraged me to make
this critical analysis, which will be far from complete. Not
all of the major problems raised by Ingarden will be dis
cussed here and not all of the doubts that come to mind in
240 Andrzej Pytlak
the course of repeated readings of the text will be noted. I
am concerned only with a special kind of continuation of In
garden’s thoughts — a continuation formulated by putting
into question certain of the author’s statements regarding
the musical composition.
In my opinion there is urgent need to question Ingar
den’s theses which do not permit us to fully apprehend the
musical composition. My critical standpoint as a perform
ing musician is based on reflections stemming from direct
contact with musical compositions, which I think is very
useful for going deep into Ingarden’s thoughts.
The methodology of my work upon Ingarden’s text can
be presented as follows: (1) limitation to only certain issues
from the entire range of subjects discussed in “The Musi
cal Composition,” (2) limitation of the scope of the critical
analysis to arguments raising doubts, (3) an overall atti
tude largely oriented toward the continuation of Ingarden’s
thought’s, and (4) the adoption of a critical attitude from
the standpoint of a performing musician. According to the
above outline, my critical remarks can be summed up in
the following these:
1. In the present-day understanding of the musical com
position, goes beyond Ingarden’s conceptions, making
some of his statements lose currency.
2. Ingarden’s assumption that a work of art in mu
sic precedes its performance is untenable within the
framework of his own reasoning, and cannot be ac
cepted.
3. Ingarden’s severance of a musical composition from
its performance was carried out in an oversimplified
manner and now calls for revision.
4. The existence of a musical composition is not ex
hausted by the purely intentional object.
5. Certain new elements should be introduced into In
garden’s notion of the “concretization” of a musical
composition. This would expand the entire range of
problems concerning a musical composition making
it more adequate to the very object of the study.
Ad (1)
Since a musical composition, seen in Ingarden’s terms,
is primarily or exclusively a sound formation, it does not
include concrete music, for instance, which is not a fact in
different to an overall conception of a musical composition.
Truly, Ingarden could question the relation of concrete mu
sic to music; he also could answer that his considerations
pertained only to so-called pure music, but it is for this very
reason that the m atter deserves attention today. Ingarden’s
dissertation requires new distinctions in the domain of mu
sic, and corresponding revisions or a change in the title —
The Composition of Pure Music and the Matter of Its Iden
tity. Without such an addition, Ingarden’s work starts on
its way into history.
A separate problem is aleatorism — the improvised cre
ation of a musical work of art. A musical composition con
tains a gap, which should not, however, be seen in Ingar
den’s sense of an underdefined spot but rather as an uncom
posed fragment (in Ingarden’esque terminology) does not
yet exist. This gap is not determined, by any intentionally
created schematic pattern. The filling of such gaps must
take place in accordance with a principle different from the
one Ingarden had foreseen. Prior to its performance, an im
provised composition simply does not exist. Consequently,
it falls out of Ingarden’s conception even if it is a piece of
pure music.
If we picture such a gap as something intended at the
conclusion of a given composition we face the classical case
242 Andrzej Pytlak
of an unfinished composition. Ingarden had not considered
such a possibility. I do not regard this as an inadvertent
oversight, it is an issue of extreme interest and importance.
I believe it could have led Ingarden beyond the framework
he had designated for a musical composition. A similar
situation occurs with a composition treated as a theme for
variations by another composer, or in so-called improvisa
tions on the theme. Do such pieces consist in a single musi
cal composition? Does the theme remain one and the same
in a context it had become a part of? What matters at this
point is not a variational transformation but the theme of,
for example, the opening part of a given composition, from
which no change has taken place. How can such a “union”
of musical compositions by different composers, often from
different epochs, be possible in a single totality?
I believe that the problems of an unfinished composition
and of a (foreign) theme in a variation cycle axe particularly
significant to considerations on the mode of existence of a
musical composition, and should not be left unconsidered.
A d (2)
In order to prove that performances need not be subse

quent in time to a work of art in music, consider an impro
vised composition. It comes to life as the result of a given
set of activities, and yet, in the course of improvisations
it is not but is being created. And yet — how strange —
it is already being performed! In Ingarden’s understand
ing, half-way in to the improvisation there already exists
the performance because the statements he had formulated
to characterize performance are true in regaxd to it. This
piece is, let us say, being performed and at the same time
it does not exist (in Ingarden’s terms), because the state
ments given to characterize the musical composition are
false.
A d (3)
An approximation of a musical composition to its per

formance is the score. Contrary to Ingarden, I must say
that determinations regarding a given instrument foreseen
in the score include at least one feature that is the same
in the score as well as in the musical composition. The
instrumental texture of a composition is what I have in
mind. Enclosed in the composition and the score in a finite
maimer, it is subject to deviation. A musical composition
must contain a given possibility of performing it. Not each
and every instrument can meet the challenge; a trombone
is unfit to perform a sonata by Chopin. We are informed
about this fact only by an element of the instrumental tex
ture of a musical composition, i.e., by the score. In my
opinion, Ingarden missed this aspect by an oversight, al
though the m atter is of essential significance to the score.
The score is the schematic design of a musical composition,
so why delete from it such important elements? Besides,
the determination concerning a given instrument brings the
musical composition closer to the performance. The score
is a schematic design of a musical composition but, as a
recipe, it is also a schematic design for performance. Thus,
in a way, it is a “bridge” — an arrangement of elements
that permits perception of similarities and of what binds
the two forms of a musical composition.5
An axiom characteristic of Ingarden’s reasoning is the
designation of a musical composition as a sound formation.
I do not know how it could be contradicted that sound
formations do not form a component of the performance of
such a piece. In Ingarden’s conception, however, this would
have to be contradicted, because a musical composition and
its performance are two totally different things. It seems to
me that at this juncture the author failed to explain certain
matters to the full extent. Perhaps it is only a question of
244 Andrzej Pytlak
a terminological nature, but since Ingarden did not provide
any clarifications in any of his statements that distinguish
between the musical composition and its performance, the
only thing to be done here is to put a question mark against
his views.
Another axiom in his reasoning is the similarity between
the musical composition and its performances. Thus, dur
ing a performance an intentional relationship take place:
the musical composition — its performance. Such objects
as tones and chords mutually subordinated to impressions
(i.e., quality data) are similar to the composition itself. The
author does not explain what the structure of such a sim
ilarity is. In what way are these two different things, a
musical composition and its performance similar? If they
are, then there is the possibility of reducing the similarities
to a formally identical shape. W hat is the essence of the
similarity?
Had the author these two problems, it would have
turned out that the severance of a musical composition from
its performance would most likely be impossible. Although
this kind of performance lies at the foundation of Ingarden’s
conception, the great wealth of the author’s ideas provide
many arguments running contrary to this statement.
As regards performance, Ingarden links it to the fol
lowing conceptions: (1) a performance is one of the forms
of the work; (2) it is something the work is not; (3) it is
similar to the work, and (4) it is what unveils the work
in its features and the sequence of its parts. Performance,
therefore, is one of the forms of the work, namely a real
object process. However, this existentially definable pro
cess is not a musical composition but only a resemblance
of it. Owing to this resemblance it is possible to cognize
the composition. No mode of cognizance of the work gives
us such completeness and concreteness as when we listen
to it being performed. The best starting point for all kinds
of analysis can only and exclusively be its performance —
a special kind of operation that can be perceived. Even
if a musical composition is different from its performance,
still its features are entangled with the performance. This,
naturally, does not forejudge final solutions of the prob
lem — what a musical composition is. Ingarden maintains,
however, that if there exists performance then it must be
a performance of something. This something — a musical
composition, of course — already exists, independently of
performance and prior to it.
It is an unwarranted argument stemming from an er
roneous way of speaking. In the justification of my sec
ond critical thesis I have already pointed out the falsity
of the view. It is mistaken, firstly because only in music
is the word “performance” linked (unjustly) to the convic
tion shared by Ingarden that, in time, performance comes
after the musical composition. Normally, the reasoning is
the reverse: the composition as such follows the perfor
mance (all activities leading to it). Therefore, it is better
in this case to speak of the reproduction of a musical com
position so that language does not deceive us. This m atter
calls for considerations that are missing from Ingarden’s ac
count. Secondly, Ingarden uses the word “performance” in
the sense of a performing or a “rendition” of someone else’s
composition, which axe two completely different things. It
is rather easy to disconnect the musical composition from
the process of its musical interpretation. The matter, how
ever, grows more complicated and goes beyond the frame
work of Ingarden’s argumentation, if we examine a musical
composition and its completion, i.e., a thing that is com
pleted, finished, executed. And the existence of something
like an accomplished performance fits Ingarden’s concep
tion perfectly. Suffice it to mention here the phenomenon
of retention and the living memory of what has already
passed in time or has lost its currency.
246 Andrzej Pytlak
Performance is a process. The object of that process is
finished only at the end of the process, as something com
pleted and gone. The totality of the phases after the end
of the process keeps moving, a totality moving further and
further into the past without any alteration from the for
mal or material point of view. Only the degree of intensity
of existence varies depending on what happens in all the
new presents, which follow that process. Moreover, accord
ing to Ingarden, only then (ex post) we come to know it as
a comprehensively defined entity. Man, a conscious being
that lives a conscious life, is capable of the purely inten
tional grasping of what each and every phase of present
and current interests. The completed performance can be
apprehended and defined by means of what Ingarden calls
a “reconstructing vision7’ in reverberations of a completed
act of perception.
We can ascribe many of those features to an accom
plished performance, namely those which Ingarden re
served exclusively for the musical composition: the se
quence of parts, “free” localization in space, and even a
quasi-temporal structure. It also contains an element of the
instrumental texture of a musical composition mentioned
above. Although I do not believe it is possible to prove
the identity of a musical composition and is performance,
certainly some of the essential features that are common
can be revealed. The non-sonic components, for example,
which correspond to Ingarden’s notion of form, are trans
ferable onto an accomplished performance. Independently
of this, all parts of the performance conceived in this way
exist simultaneously, just as they do in a musical composi
tion. At the time of its completion it ceases to be a process;
it does not change; it is unique, or one and only. The most
important thing is that it is something totally different from
what Ingarden conceives as performance, which he treats
too simply.
A d (4)
As concerns the mode of existence of a musical compo

sition Ingarden says that if we consider it as a purely in
tentional object one must take into account three elements:
the author (his operations), the score or performance, and
perception. His analysis, however, is related to the com
position itself. Consequently, the problem of the mode ex
istence of a musical composition was treated Ingarden as
a separate issue and was discussed in the object-oriented
aspect. In other words to say anything about an object,
according Ingarden, it is necessary to consider its form, its
content and its mode of existence. My attention is focused
on the mode of existence. Is it truly so that a musical
composition exhausts its existence in the form of an object
(being) that is purely intentional?
If it cannot be radically divided from performance (and
from the score, if one exists), and because it enters real-like
object relationships via performance (or the score), it can
therefore build an entirely new totality. Perhaps something
like domain-switching takes place here and the emergence
of an entirely new totality occurs possible if we follow In
garden’s philosophical theory. The concept of a work of
art understood as a purely intentional object would not
have to be rejected in total: it would it would only call
for some additions, and this only in relation to musical
composition. It is necessary to reject the separation of the
musical composition from its performance in the absolute
sense as postulated by Ingarden. I believe that under such
circumstances it would be much easier to give precision to
and shed light on at least some of the fundamental issues
which in Ingarden’s text were suspended by necessity. For
instance, the m atter of the adequate perception of a musi
cal composition; verity in performances; an ideal system of
presentations, on the external side, which the composition
248 Andrzej Pytlak
determines; or even the exceptionally difficult problem of
the identity of a musical composition. One way to move
closer to the solution of the problem of the identity of a
musical composition, separating its specific structure from
other phenomena and acoustic formations, would be to find
a marker characteristic of music. In his search for such
a marker Ingarden bypassed an extremely important fact,
what has been called the “pure dynamism” of the musical
composition.6
The musical marker, as seen by Ingarden, may consist if
the following: (a) a special order of sounds in co-occurrence
and sequencing, (b) the appearance in a musical composi
tion of some entirely new factors, and (c) something spe
cific that distinguishes music from acoustic signals and the
sounds of nature (sound phenomena).7 At the same Ingar
den offers his own explanation:
Ad (a). A differing order of tones (sounds) alone does
not solve the problem. The ordering of tones is insufficient
to say that we are dealing with music, with a musical com
position.
Ad (b). Melody, harmony, rhythm, tempo, expression
of feeling, and all the non-sonic formations do not set music
apart from other phenomena and arts. All of this is met
with elsewhere.
Ad (c). The possibility of a music marker is given only
here since the sounds of a musical composition need refer
to nothing but the sound.
I believe this problem can be approached in somewhat
broader terms. Yuckerkandl, for example, while approv
ing Ingarden’s marker according to item (c) introduces a
new element to item (b), which Ingarden would have prob
ably called a formation of a non-sonic nature and which
Yuckerkandl calls “pure dynamism.” Pure dynamism sup
plements item (b) so significantly that it can be retained
as a second marker of a musical composition.
It is a strange fact, however, that Ingarden did not sin
gle out the element “dynamical essence” in music as a sepa
rate factor of a musical composition. “Dynamical essence”
is contained in his “quasi-temporal” structure, if we con
ceive of this more in musical terms. Consequently, Ingarden
uses it implicite. Although the quasi-temporal structure is
characterized musically, he understands and gives precision
to it in the same way as he did in regard to a literary work
of art. In other words, he does not remain within the exclu
sive territory of music. Dynamism is a notion familiar to
Ingarden as a “specific outline” of a melodic sequence, and
also as the “mutual affiliation of sonic formations.” This
was clear in his distinction between literature, music, film,
ballet, and other arts. It is possible that his excellent anal
ysis of the work of literature excessively dominated Ingar
den’s theory as regards the characterization of other arts.
Ingarden very clearly gives top priority to the literary work
of art as compared with others.8
Let us return to “dynamical essence,” which is a basic
category within Yuckerkandl’s conception. It is a qualita
tive notion. Dynamic quality is what distinguishes a sound
taken alone from the same sound taken in a musical con
text, e.g., at the end of a phrase. Dynamic quality accounts
for the fact that the sound becomes and has a given inten
sity. It is a purely musical quality of sounds, independent
of acoustic parameters (that is, physical phenomena, and it
does not depend on psychological experience of a recipient
nature. It is very special kind of quest via sound that is im
manent to music itself and determining its sense (Ingarden
would say, its “intentional contents”). Pure dynamism re
lates to states and not to objects, to relationships between
intensities and not among positions of sound formations,
and finally, to directions rather than dimensions. Dynami
cal essence, therefore, is a non-material phenomenon which
at the same time is a true and significant element of mu
250 Andrzej Pytlak
sic. Conceived in this manner, dynamical essence can be
included with item (b) and constitutes and important sup
plementation of it.
Pure dynamics is non-material. If this is so, for Ingar
den it is a very simple matter, since it is purely intentional.
Yuckerkandl, however, perceives this pure dynamism as sit
uated differently in existent reality. The world of music —
non-physical and non-psychic, — not to mention that it
cannot be reduced to a mixture of those realms — retains
the specific relationship of a “third tension” to them. It
is a generality in relationship to the particularity repre
sented by either physical or psychic phenomena, a relation
ship of something original to its derivates. Consequently,
purely dynamical qualities in music are discoveries rather
that products of the composer.9 Where, then does pure
dynamism come from?
Yuckerkandl handles this fact in the following manner:
The world is real and man commands two ways of ex
periencing the reality of the world: objectively and non-
objectively. External reality exists in an objective manner
independent of ourselves . We came to know it in a physical
way. The non-objective cognition, however, is of a purely
dynamic nature: it is characterized by a co-penetration of
myself and the world. It does not mean cognition in the
juxtaposition “I and the world independent of me” but as
if in a mutual participation. In this kind of cognition, the
world divides into an inner and an outer world, the only
difference being that the “inner world” is not a synonym of
“in me” but embraces the entire world. Thus, the boundary
is not vertical but horizontal. It run across the entire world
and me. In this manner I belong to the complete context
of the world. In this sort of experiencing of reality we do
not come to know the world but directly experience it, and
it is precisely music that makes this possible for us. Other
senses always come across a barrier separating us from the
world, since they cognize it objectively; only the ear makes
participation in the totality of the real-being possible.
Music does not express psychic states of its maker that
we recognize via our within; music is about this inner world.
It therefore is not a sound formation although it constitutes
the essence of music. Ingarden might well have agreed to
such a statement, since for him “musical” need not mean
“sonic.” Now, if a musical composition included not only
the elements given to it by subjective intentions but also
by this “pure dynamism,” that is, a self-existent objective
feature, it could not be a purely intentional object. After
all, it is I believe a doubtless fact that we do not supply a
musical composition with pure dynamism, and it is also a
fact that this pure dynamism exists in it.
Ad (5)
A musical composition’s performance should also be re
garded somewhat differently. Ingarden enumerates charac
teristics of a performance in terms of the listener. The same
concerns concretization of a musical composition. Even the
definition of a musical composition as something that re
mains in us “in the third tension transcendence” is formu
lated from the view-point of the listener. According to him,
the composition is meant to be listened to. That is true,
but it is also to played. Due to is nature, it is first intended
for playing and only later for listening. The concretiza
tion of a musical composition, then, must by necessity be
conceived in a two-fold and two-step mode, and here In
garden makes no such distinction. By a “two-step” cogni
tion, I mean a concretization of the performer and the of
the listener. And “two-fold” means that in the case of the
performer this concretization is affected by experiencing an
active state of playing — performing, in which we ourselves
determine the dynamics of the course of sound formation.
As a listener, however, we only observe it. There is a fun
252 Andrzej Pytlak
damental difference between receiving certain sets of audio
shapes according to someone’s propositions or determining
them ourselves.
Concretization by the performer, I would call “partici
pating” and concretization by the listener “secondly fact.”
The listener always receives a musical composition in poly
phonic duet: in the perceived performance and in his own
visualization of it. If at times his visualization of a given
musical composition converges with the performer’s propo
sition it still remains the duet conducted unisono. There
are no comparisons with the compositions themselves, as
Ingarden suggests on many occasions.
In the case of concretization by the performer, this sep
aration is there. The heaxt of the problem of concretization
lies in that fact. The listener in his process of perception
perceives himself and the performer. A simple consequence
of this is an enquiry about the composition itself. As a
listener, he does not create it; only the performer produces
it. Where, then, is the composition itself? At this point
conceptions running in multiple directions begin to appear.
The performer, on the other hand, does not experience such
a state. For him a musical composition is something en
tirely different. If I were to seek comparisons in Ingar
den’s writings, I would say it is something like the genus of
essence,10 in which not the repetition of features but only
their specific role in constructing the material designation
of an object decides that some one moment is constituting
the genus.
According to Ingarden, the notion of the genus of
essence is applicable to all objects of the real type, thus
to all seemingly autonomous objects. It therefore embraces
purely intentional objects as well. It is, on the other hand,
a broader notion and for that reason, in my opinion, is
well suited to the object of our considerations, the musical
composition.
If these remarks are at all penetrating, Ingarden’s con
ception of the musical composition calls for some broaden
ing; perhaps even the revision of some of his fundamental
statements is called for. This would not mean that the
focal thoughts and the results of Ingarden’s research have
been undermined. The difficulties I have raised may find
their solutions within the framework of this theory, though
for my part this does not seem altogether likely. I remain
convinced, however, that Ingarden’s interpretation of the
musical composition will continue to provide a fruitful area
for further study.
N otes
1. Victor Yuckerkandl, Sound and Symbol, Music and the
External World (London 1956), a study almost parallel to
Ingarden’s dissertation on the musical composition. Other
publications taking up more detailed themes include R. Reti
The Thematic Process in Music (London 1961), an excellent
supplement to Ingarden’s considerations on the issue of the
totality of a musical composition; D. Cooke, The Language of
Music (Oxford 1959), in which the author develops the
strongly marked aspect of Ingarden’s study concerning the
contents of the sound itself (sound formations); and
D.L. Ferguson Music as Metaphor, The Elements of
Expression (1960), as well as E. Newton, The Meaning of
Beauty (Harmondsworth 1962), representing am approach to
the m atter of form and content of a musical composition and
a work of art th at is identical to the concept of Ingarden.
2. If our intention is not empty, it undergoes correction in the

intentional act by the intentionality determined by the sign
until the uni-accordant sense is reached.
254 Andrzej Pytlak
3. A description of an aesthetic experience was given in
Ingarden [11], 0 poznawaniu dziela litcrackicgo (The
Cognition of the Literary Work of Art), in Ingarden [21], 119.
4. Ingarden’s considerations presented in this chapter are an
extension of Husserl’s criticism of psychologism in his “Local
Inquiries.” They constitute a rare and at the same time
exceptionally outspoken illustration of antipsychologism in
Polish scientific literature.
5. Quite intentionally, I bypass the m atter of electronic music
scores, not available when Ingarden was writing his
dissertation on the musical composition. Using such scores as
examples, it would be much easier to prove that there are
features common to a musical composition, its score, and,
perhaps, its performance. Taking up this kind of
argumentation, however, it would be necessary to annex to
Ingarden’s study an additional section on present-day types
of recording and forms of presentation of musical
compositions, something Ingarden clearly did not with to do
since he did not take up the issue even within the scope then
available to him.
6. Yuckerkandl, 61.
7. Ingarden, Studia z esietyki (Studies in Aesthetics), (Warsaw
1958), [23] II, 196.
8. Cf. Ingarden, “O poznawaniu dziela literackiego” (The
Cognition of the Literary Work of Art), in Ingarden [21],
150-52.
9. If such a concept is possible in a formally ontological sense, it
would be interesting to know Ingarden’s position regarding a
possibility of relationship between the “third tension” and
the purely intentional reality. Besides, the existence of a
musical composition would not exhaust itself in a purely
intentional existence.
10. Ingarden [19], Spor o istnienie swiata (Controversy over the
Existence of the World), 2d ed. (Warsaw 1961), II, 433.
X. The Sculptural Work of A rt
Uniquely ‘Within’ the World
G. David Pollick
The subject of this article is the sculptural work of art;

not aesthetic theory and not the philosophical work of Ro
man Ingarden. And although this collection takes as its
unifying theme the aesthetics of Ingarden, I’m confident
that he would find this emphasis congenial. For, in this
case, it is the phenomenon of sculpture itself which makes
Ingarden’s reflections so welcome. Little could have give
him greater satisfaction than to know that appreciators and
theorists of various art modes were capable of finding assis
tance in his research into specific art forms. And assistance
he does provide. For although he carefully avoided giving
too blatant an impression of being involved in systematic
theory construction, out of the diversity of his inquiries into
central art forms emerges a beautifully appointed aesthetic
theory. And this theory could no more be his than if it
carried with it his personal imprimatur.
Bringing Ingarden’s thought to bear on the topic of
sculpture is sufficient in its own right to qualify as a task
worthy of some effort. It requires that general aesthetic
principles be synthesized from his writings on other art
form yet to be touched by the Ingardenian approach. And
furthermore, since this already necessitates the speculation
which accompanies extrapolation, to then go another step
and criticize the synthetic Ingardenian view of sculpture
leaves one open of being accused of having created straw
men for self-serving, purposes. In anticipation of such con
cerns, let it be said that it was Ingarden who made it clear
the necessity of the conclusions I arrive at in this article.
255
256 G. David Pollick
For had I not had the luxury of his clarity and precision
of thought, the way would have been rougher and the end
less firmly resolved. And it is almost with regret that I
feel Ingarden just didn’t, in fact couldn’t, say enough. His
Husserlian connection was simply too strong. The burden
of the last leg of the journey must, once again, fall to the
pervading spirits of Martin Heidegger.
Let us, therefore, take as the ruling factor of this article
a particular art object which requires careful understand
ing, feeling free to allow Ingarden’s philosophical illumina
tion to assist us in the task. And where his light does not
quite reach, we must move on — never quite capable of
leaving him totally behind.
1 Rom an Ingarden's aesthetic theory

Since the decision has been made to accept Ingarden’s
aid, a brief synopsis of his aesthetic theory as a prepara
tion to our examination of sculpture would be helpful. In
Ingarden’s aesthetics three works, of course, stand out as
most significant: The Literary Work o f Art [7], The Cog
nition of the Literary Work of A rt [11], and Investigations
into the Ontology of Art: Music, Painting, Architecture,
and the Film1 [23]. One need only trace the development
and refinement of Ingarden’s thought on aesthetics through
these three works to arrive at a fairly precise synthesis of his
general aesthetic principles — a theoretically simple task
enormously complicated by the fact that Ingarden treated
each art form as a distinct phenomenon requiring ontolog
ical explication. Since the objects themselves, instead of
a preconceived set of aesthetic principles, guided his in
vestigations, each art form results in the modification of
previously accepted principles. Remarkable in all of this,
however, is that there still emerges a set of principles uni
versally applicable to every art form he treated, as well
The Sculptural Work of Art 257
as concrete examples of these principles , synthesized from
the treatment of central axt forms, i.e., literature, music,
painting, and architecture,2 that comprises the Ingardenian
aesthetic theory.
The resultant essential principles can be briefly stated
as follows. The work of art
1. is not to be identified with any real thing,
2. is an heteronomous intentional object, ontically de
pendant upon at least two autonomous objects for
the origin of support of its existence: (a) real objects
and (b) human consciousness,
3. requires a reader/listener/observer for its constitution
and concretization (and as such cannot be identified
with any one of its concretizations), and
4. is a polyphonic harmony of aesthetically valuable
qualities.
Ingarden’s assertion of (1) certainly lends support to the
claim that he has produced a general aesthetic theory and
not merely a series of individual and unrelated analyses.
He says that “every work of axt, of whatever fundamental
kind, is senso stricto no real object.”3 The assertion of
(2) carries with it the identical implication that “neither
is it [the work of art] an ontically autonomous object in
general; and it is distinguished by a relativity of being, in
principle, a relativity to be excluded from no art.”4 The
work of art’s basic heteronomy is clearly established. It
should be noted, however, that in Ingaxden’s analysis of
the literary work of axt there were three ontic foundations
— namely, real objects, human consciousness, and ideal en
tities. His increased discomfort with ideal entities resulted
in an abandonment of the position when he turned his at
tention to other axt forms. Consequently, they do not figure
in the set of general principles.
Principle (3) is clearly present throughout Ingarden’s
writings and provides further support for the position that
there is an Ingardenian aesthetic theory. In response to
Wladyslaw Tatarkiewicz’s call for categorical distinctions
between aesthetic experiences of differing art forms, Ingar
den insists on an essential commonality based upon the na
ture and stages of aesthetic cognition within the aesthetic
attitude. There is essentially no difference, “whether we
have a sculpture, a picture, a building, or with a literary
work of art.”5 All works of art are constituted in acts of
human consciousness in basically the same way, through
the individual experiences differ as a result of (a) the dif
fering aesthetically valuable qualities peculiar to each art
form and each art work and (b) the aesthetic sensibility
and personal lifeworld of the experiencer. Each concretiza
tion (aesthetic object) of the same work of art is a partially
unique individual which reaches to the particular work of
art for its principle of identity and continuity. Thus, no two
concretizations, cannot be the only explanation, since this
is not present in a central art form, namely, architecture.6
Thus it cannot be seen as a general aesthetic principle.
Truly of utmost importance to all art forms is the role
and significance of the work of a rt’s aesthetically valuable
qualities. In The Literary Work of Art it is easy to get the
misimpression that the aesthetic value of work is tied in
with the heterogeneity of the four strata and their accom
panying aesthetically valuable qualities. This not the case
however. Ingarden was never absolutely committed to a
multi-layered description of all art forms, as his treatment
of music confirms, but he was committed to the heterogene
ity of aesthetically valuable qualities. The aesthetic value
of an art work is determined by the overall polyphonic har
mony of aesthetically valuable qualities, not by whether
or not an art form has one, two, three or four strata. In
the case of multi-layered art forms, each layer brings to
the work aesthetically valuable qualities which enter into a
harmonic whole which is, in turn, identified with the work’s
overall aesthetic value. When there are no layers, however,
there are still aesthetically valuable qualities which enter
into harmonic relations, which then comprise the aesthetic
value of the work. Stratification is not essential to the
polyphony of aesthetically valuable qualities. It is by virtue
of the polyphony of these qualities alone that there comes to
appearance the highest of aesthetically valuable qualities,
what Ingarden has chosen to call metaphysical qualities.
Here again is found a principle of universal applicability to
the art forms Ingarden has addressed.
As a result of having identified principles which per
tain to each of the central art forms Ingarden examined,
it is now possible to enlist his services in the analyses of
other art forms. Though one would not expect mechani
cal applicability, it would certainly be reasonable to expect
his theory to provide a solid foundation which would then
accept finer distinctions appropriate to specific arts. The
sculptural work of art now becomes the focus of our atten
tion.
2 T he sculptural work of art — the Ingardenian

perspective
Sculpture received minimal treatment in the writings of

Ingarden. Almost all of his references to this art form were
parenthetical to other topics. Why such an important art
escaped his analysis remains a slight mystery. For as his
discussion of the aesthetic experience of the Venus de Milo
in The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art shows, In
garden was not without a certain feeling and appreciation
for the charms of sculpture. In any case, we are left with
the rather tantalizing question, how would Ingarden have
described the sculptural work of art?
No doubt the principles which generally pertained to
literature, music, painting, and architecture would also ap
ply to sculpture. From his discussion of the Venus, the
sculptural work of art must be seen as an heteronomous
intentional object distinct from either of its ontic founda
tions, namely, the real thing (block of marble) and human
consciousness. It would also be distinct from its many
concretizations, thus avoiding the psychologistic tendencies
that Ingarden found so abhorrent. And finally, its overall
aesthetic value would be dependant upon the polyphonic
harmony of its aesthetically valuable qualities. In other
words, it would be consistent in every way with the princi
ples that emerged from his earlier treatment of central art
forms. But the ever meticulous Ingarden would have had
more to say on this unique art form and, in fact did.
One of his rare, and therefore precious, statements on
the nature of sculpture is extraordinarily revealing.
Similarly, if one seeks to realize an abstract fig
ure in sculpture, then it is only a transitional
form between sculpture, which according to its
nature is a form of representational art, and ar
chitecture, which is quite completely free from
the representational function.7
The representational character of sculpture within Ingar
den’s framework provides what is necessary to draw cer
tain conclusions regarding this art form’s stratified struc
ture. Whenever Ingarden identifies an art form as essen
tially representational, there is to be found a stratum of
schematic aspects.8 And likewise, wherever is found repre
sentation and schematics aspects, there occurs a stratum of
that which is represented, for example in the case of paint
ing, the stratum of represented objects and situations.9
These two strata, therefore, ought to be applicable to the
sculptural art, though indeed their nature and function will
differ. A third stratum may sometimes occur in representa
tional art forms, though it need not. This would be the stra
tum of the literary theme or historical content.10 Whenever
it is present, it would be proper to distinguish three strata
as belonging to the sculptural work of art, not merely two.
Thus, based on Ingarden’s consistency of thought, a struc
tural description of sculpture itself suggests itself. It is a
form with two and sometimes three heterogeneous strata:
(1) the stratum of schematic aspects, (2) the stratum of the
three-dimensional form of represented objects or situations,
and (3) the stratum of literary or historical content, when
ever present. While the nature and role of each of these
strata differs in some respects from similar strata found in
other art forms, they are similar enough provide the reader
familiar with Ingarden’s writings a basic sense of how the
sculptural work of art would fare when submitted to Ingar-
denian analysis. And all of this, of course, must be taken
in conjunction with the already identified four general aes
thetic principles. The resultant effect is a fairly concise,
though simplified, conceptual picture of the essential ele
ments of the art form — a picture sufficiently developed to
permit critical appraisal.11
3 Lim itations of the Ingardenian View
Ingaxden expended his major energies articulating the

structural characteristics of central art forms. In fact, he
admitted that much of recent art was unfamiliar to him.
This is most apparent in his selection of the Venus de Milo
as his single sculptural example. Questions must arise,
therefore, regarding the versatility and flexibility of his the
ory in relation to evolving contemporary art movements.
Analogous to other art forms, sculpture has dramati
cally evolved from the classical work of the Venus. But
perhaps more than any other art, the boundaries of sculp
ture have become almost totally ill-defined. The spectrum
of art objects subsumed beneath the canopy of sculpture
encompasses not only traditionally sculpted figures, but
also such objects as Calder’s mobiles and Christo’s run
ning fences. Whether or not Ingarden’s theory can assist
in our understanding of objects such as these remains an
unanswered question.
Recall that Ingarden referred to abstract sculpture
as “only a transitional form between sculpture ... and
architecture.”12 Program music, abstract painting, film,
and the stage play are likewise seen as straddling the abyss
between central categories. Abstract sculpture, as a transi
tional form, is viewed as significantly different from purely
expressed sculpture (essentially representational) on one
hand and purely expressed architecture (essentially non-
representational) on the other. Abstract sculpture is nei
ther, while in some respects both — a rather problem
atic status. If there are characteristics which make both
sculpture and architecture what they are, then there must
also certain identifiable characteristics which make abstract
sculpture what it is, if Ingarden’s distinction is to be re
tained. Ingarden’s position thus results in a multiplication
of the categories of art. And given the evolution of the arts,
this multiplication has, in principle, the potential of being
endless. Whether or not this multiplication is necessary
becomes the question. For if it could be shown that there
are sufficient grounds for distinguishing sculpture from all
kinds from architecture, then it would not be necessary to
create a new category for abstract sculpture; and there
fore, what Ingarden refers to as a transitional form could
be adequately accounted for in the already existent cate
gories of sculpture and architecture. One might then be led
to suspect that the same reduction of categories could be
performed with other transitional art forms.
This issue has particular importance for the applicabil
ity of Ingarden’s thought to much of current and future
artistic developments. For any theory which finds devel
oping art movements to be ‘exceptions’ or somehow ‘living
on the fringe’ of traditional art categories betrays a closure
which is philosophically untenable. Therefore, taking into
account Ingarden’s unfamiliarity with contemporary art,
a way of strengthening his theory would be to show that
what he termed transitional forms are, in fact, instances of
central art categories which, while possessing a an inherent
diversity of expression, maintain a basic commonality of
purpose. Thus, the question of the representational char
acter of all sculpture requires immediate attention. And if
the characteristic of representation should prove inadequate
as the delineating factor, there will remain the question of
exactly what does set these objects apart from, say, archi
tecture or painting?
There is little difficulty in accepting architecture as
non-representational, or as presentational, given Ingarden’s
use of the term. His claim for architecture is that it is
a self-presentation which reproduces man’s soul “through
the expression of his fundamental psychological structure
and his intellectual capability, as much as the constructive-
relational as the perpetual-aesthetic.”13 While representa
tional art forms do this to some degree, their representa
tional character is ultimately a hindrance to the presenta
tional possibilities of the art form. Ingarden’s dichotomy
between the two types of art forms is complete. It hinges
on an understanding of the difference between the charac
teristics of presentational and representational.
In the architectural work of art there occurs a complete
presentation of the spatial form. Neither the perceptual as
pects nor the three-dimensional spatial form is schematic —
all are simultaneously present. The logically and creatively
ordered masses represent nothing. The architectural work
is a presentation of itself. The logical interdependencies be
tween the masses result in a “pure self-opened play in the
simultaneity of spatial forms” which “leads to correspond
ingly aesthetically valuable qualities and to the aesthetic
value qualities built upon them.”14
Architecture is creative because it rests upon
the discovery (upon a kind of artistic uncover
ing) and the realization or embodiment of new
“forms” — that is, shapes — and new qualita
tive harmonies — new both in relation to the
spatial forms of rigid bodies encountered in our
environing nature, and in relation to the already
discovered forms of finished architectural works
of axt of earlier ages.15
The aesthetic encounter with the architectural work of art

is an encounter with new forms and qualitative harmonies
— an “expression of the emotional and desiderative fac
tors of the human soul”16 — an experience of the human
soul manifest in the logically and creatively ordered spa
tial forms of the work. It is in this sense that the term
presentation ought to be understood in relation to the rep
resentation of sculpture.
Sculpture is also partially presentational.17 As a three-
dimensional art form, the spatial form of the work relies
upon the sculptural aspects in a similar fashion as does
the spatial form of architectural work. Like architecture,
the visual aspects of sculpture must always be present re
gardless of the kind sculpture, abstract or otherwise. The
proximity which all sculptural work’s of art have to the ma
terial thing demands that this be so, thus explaining why
it is that sculpture also possesses the presentational quality
attributed to architecture, though not to the same degree.
And it is this question of the degree of difference which
becomes an issue, since it would seem that Ingarden at
tributes this difference to sculpture’s inability to abandon
its representational function.
As we have seen, since pure sculpture is a representa
tional art form it must always have a stratum of repre
sented objects. By embodying the work with the guiding
principles which direct the observer in the concretization of
commonly recognizable forms, the artist is capable of repre
senting certain aesthetic qualities and harmonies qualities
which bring to appearance the intended aesthetic values.
By a way of a painterly example, the figure of the damned
man in The Last Judgement by Michelangelo is to repre
sent the despair and anguish of damnation. In contrast to
non-representational art forms, The Last Judgement is not
merely a presentation of certain emotional qualities, but the
representation of forms which, in their quasi-real character,
could be said to express such emotions. The very same kind
of representation can be seen in representational sculpture.
There can be no dispute over the representational character
of either the Venus or Michelangelo’s David. Firstly, they
are clear representations of the human form. Secondly, they
are representations of an individual woman and of an indi
vidual man. Thirdly, they possess physical postures which
represent qualities peculiar to each — Venus with her soft,
gentle, and relaxed attitude, and David with his powerful,
confident, and noble stature. And finally, there are numer
ous aesthetically valuable qualities which result from the
qualitative determinations of the spatial forms brought to
appearance through the represented objects. Even the work
of Pablo Picasso and Juan Gris can be seen as representa
tional. In these cases, the artists attempted to “reduce the
images given in visual perception to a schematic or struc
tural order,”18 thus never fully escaping a representational
mode of expression. But the question must be asked, does
this exhaust the possibilities of the field of sculpture, as
Ingarden would seem to indicate?
There is indeed sculpture which does not attem pt to
represent anything in the sense that Ingarden has employed
the term. In much the same way that Ingarden has spoken
of architecture, there exists a kind of sculpture which is
an act of discovery — an uncovering of the potentialities
of the medium. The artist is, in this sense, exploring the
principles which govern the relationship of mass and volume
and the aesthetic qualities which the medium is capable of
receiving.
The terms which have been used to describe this kind of
non-representational sculpture have gone through a rather
creative evolution. Initially, it was Cubism that provided
the necessary impetus for the modern development of a
non-representational movement in the plastic arts. We have
already indicated that Cubism can easily be understood as
representational. This is now in need of qualification. Cu
bism went through of its own, an evolution which left repre
sentation behind. In its early developments it attempted to
reduce common forms to their elements of planes and sur
faces, thus remaining representational (See Picasso’s Head
of a Woman, 1909-10). But in its later developments, the
objects became increasingly more difficult to recognize, un
til finally they reached a stage which was non-figurative.
At this point these later moments in Cubism’s evolution
were no longer identified with the original intent of either
Pablo Picasso or Juan Gris, but instead became known as
non-objective, or, most commonly, as abstract art.
Finally, along came artists who said: Why
bother to introduce representational elements
at all? Why not let your geometric or architec
tural structure speak for itself, in terms of pure
form and colour? And they proceeded to paint
pictures and carve materials in conformity with
such principles. Thus a new type of art was
born which has been called abstract, construc
tivist, neo-plastic, and several other names, but
all these varieties of abstract art agree in re
jecting the notion that art is in any way depen
dant on nature. They neither ‘screen’ nature, in
the manner of Reynolds, nor respect nature, in
the manner of the Impressionists; they will have
nothing whatsoever to do with nature. Some of
them may attem pt to represent what is funda
mental to Nature — namely, the laws of har
mony inherent in the physical structure of the
Universe itself; but others claim to be indepen
dent even of this given quantity, and to invent
an entirely new reality.19
Artists such as Naum Gabo and Antoine Pevsner at

tempted to “research into basic elements of space, volume,
and colour, in order to discover, as they said, ‘the aesthetic,
physical, and functional capacities of these materials.’”20
Their work became known as “constructions.” The shift
was from reproduction to creation of works which presented
space and time embodied in a material construction. The
observer encountering either the works of Gabo or Pevsner
is seldom inclined to make associations between commonly
identifiable objects and the sculptures.These works aggres
sively resist such attempts. Of Franz Marc and the con
structivists in general, Karsten Harries has said that they
are “engineers of the spirt ... changing magical formulas to
force a hidden reality to show itself.”21
It must be seen, therefore, that abstract sculpture is
capable of providing an immediacy between the world and
the observer which is presentational in the fashion of archi
tecture. The problem which now must be faced is whether
or not abstract presentational sculpture ought to be seen
as in some way outside of or on the fringe of art form of
sculpture by virtue of its presentational character.
4 The uniqueness of the sculptural work o f art
In order to justify the position of a new art category,

i.e., abstract sculpture as a transitional form, it would seem
necessary to demonstrate that there is a significant enough
number of essential differences between the two sculptural
expressions to justify the claim that there is indeed a dif
ference in the kinds of art object involved. Obviously, the
exact number differences sufficient for such a distinction is
difficult to determine. But note that Ingarden has moved
abstract sculpture, abstract painting, and program music
out of the category of a ‘purely expressed’ art form on the
basis of one characteristic — representation. If it can be
shown that the similarities which these two forms of sculp
ture and, in turn, fax outweigh the similarities which are
peculiar to architecture and presentational sculpture, then
it would seem unnecessary to create a new category for pre
sentational sculpture. Only then can an attem pt be made
to identify exactly what does separate sculpture in general
from other works of art, and specifically architecture.
As has been noted on numerous occasions, a primary
difference between architecture and sculpture is that archi
tecture is essentially hollow. It is not only concerned with
exterior space but must take into account the arrangement
of interior space as well. Sculpture, on the other hand, is
either solid or else presents voids which are only intended to
be seen from an appropriate distance and not from within.
It can never become fully architectural since there is truly
no interior space in the architectural sense. Whether or not
a sculptural work is representational or presentational, this
is true. There is no basis here for distinguishing between
kinds of sculpture.
Another obvious difference between sculpture and archi
tecture lies in the degree of dependence that these two art
forms have on the material world and the consequent effects
of this dependance. Architecture is bound to the physical
world in a way that limits the creative possibilities available
to the architect to a greater degree than is the case with
sculpture and the sculptor. Architecture must have as a
base, or foundation, which takes into account the demands
of terrain. As a work of art, it is tied to its foundation and
not readily mobile. Sculpture, on the other hand, only min
imally faces such limitations. Many small sculptural works
axe transported from one place to another with the great
est of ease. This was especially true of artifacts of early
art history, i.e., amulets. Abstract sculpture, in particular,
can often be turned over, around, and even ‘upside down’
and still remain aesthetically valuable. Calder’s mobiles
are an excellent instance of the completely free character
of abstract sculpture. And even representational sculpture
must be similarly distinguished from architecture in this
regard. While a base is necessary for our similar David, the
work still remains relatively mobile. And in an essential
way, the base is not part of the work of art itself. It sup
plies the work with a horizontal line and gives the block of
marble physical stability. But because of the work’s repre
sentational character, the base might actually be seen as a
distraction from the work of art. This could never be said
of architecture, since the centre of gravity of the art work is
the same as that of the building, resulting in the fact that
their foundations are identical. In the sculptural work of
art, however, the centre of gravity of the block of marble is
different from the centre of gravity of the work, resulting
in the possibility that a base might distract from a work.
Therefore, abstract sculpture is freer to achieve its artis
tic ends than is representational sculpture. And sculpture
on the whole is much freer than architecture. The balance
and proportion of the sculptural work of art are more de
termined by the factors internal to the work itself than they
are by external factors that affect the real material. Just
the opposite is true with architecture.
A third characteristic which serves to separate sculpture
of any kind from architecture is the overwhelming practi
cal character of architecture. Very simply, human beings
live with and within architectural structures. The arrange
ment of the interior spaces is determined by the works prac
tical function. Even the exterior design must be practi
cally determined since the interior and the exterior are to
a great degree mutually determining. Nothing similar can
be said of any kind of sculpture (e.g., the Athenian cary
atids), sculpture does not perform a practical function that
in any way approaches the practical character of architec
ture. And it must be seen that it is essential to architecture
and only peripheral when it comes to sculpture. In archi
tecture it determines design, thus once again demonstrating
sculpture’s freer character.
Even the most contemporary architects have not been
able to bring themselves to the actual denial of the practical
favor inherent in the architectural work. “Though we no
longer argue over the primacy of form or function (which
follows which?) we cannot ignore their interdependence.”22
And more poignantly, Robert Venturi has said:
Architecture occurs at the meeting of interior
and exterior forms of use and space. These in
terior and environmental forces are both general
and particular, generic and circumstantial. Ar
chitecture as the wall between the inside and
the outside becomes the spatial record of this
resolution and its drama.”23
Although there are certainly many questions regarding the
nature of the relationship between the functional determi
nations and the formal qualities of the architectural work,
these poles are genuine and always present.
In the above three ways sculpture is clearly distinct from
architecture. Although there are many very specific dif
ferences, as Ingarden’s analysis of architecture has shown,
these three are major. But Ingarden has also based his dis
tinction between these two art forms on the characteristics
of presentation and representation. This is now deserving
of closer attention.
Architectural presentation, while indicative of differ
ence, does not truly provide what is necessary to distin
guish architecture from all other art forms, as Ingarden
would seem to indicate. It must be stressed that litera
ture, painting, and sculpture are also presentational, al
though not to the same degree. Consequently, according
to Ingarden, there are art forms which are absolutely pre
sentational, i.e., architecture and music, and there are art
forms which are both presentational and representational
in varying degrees. A purely representational art form does
not seem to be a possibility. Therefore, to distinguish be
tween abstract sculpture, representational sculpture, and
architecture on the basis if presentation is to make the
distinction on the basis of a degree of difference and not
a difference of kind. This would not seem to justify the
creation of a new art category. And further, by virtue of
the characteristics which presentational and, if it may now
be said, presentational/representational sculpture share in
common, in order to avoid needlessly multiplying categories
it would seem more reasonable to maintain one category of
sculpture which embraces both modes of expression than
to argue that representation is sufficient in itself to set one
form of sculpture apart. But, by not allowing the charac
teristic of representation to be used as the basis for multi
plying categories of art, we enter into a basic conflict which
is the main thrust of past opinion. The conflict, however,
is simply unavoidable. A closer look at the consequences
which result form distinguishing art categories on the basis
of representation shows this to be the case.
Rhys Carpenter provides an excellent statement of the
more traditional attitude toward sculpture:
Sculpture is a visual and not a tactile art, be

cause it is made for the eyes to contemplate and
not for the fingers to feel. Moreover, just as it
reaches us through the eyes and not through the
finger tips, so it is created visually, no m atter
how the sculptor may use his hands to produce
his work sculptural form cannot be appre
hended tactilely or evaluated by its tactual fi
delity.
It may be argued — and with entire warrant
— that sculpture frequently involves and appeal
to our sense of touch and physical contact; but
so does painting. Such tactile sensations are, in
either art, induced and secondary, being deriva
tive of subjective mental association. In apaint-
ing of Titian or Bronzino, the representation of
material textures such as fur and velvet may be
so visually exact that it evokes in us a memory
of how velvet and fur may feel when we stroke
them. I do not think that sculpture’s tactual
appeal is very different or much stronger. Any
dissenting opinion is probably inspired by the
heightened physical actuality of sculptural pre
sentation; we cannot directly sense a painted
structure by touching the canvas, whereas we
can actually explore with our fingers the actu
ally sculptural shape. But the logic is faulty if
it is thence inferred that sculpture is more im
mediately involved in the tactile sense; for, at
best, we can only touch the material medium
and not the artistic representation which is in
tended and calculated for the eye’s contempla
tive vision.24
At first it may appear that Ingarden would tend to be in
agreement with Carpenter. Certainly Ingaxden would agree
with the emphasis placed upon sculpture’s representational
quality. He would also agree that the representation of vel
vet does not permit a direct experience of the texture of vel
vet; this would be a co-presented quality dependant upon
memory. And, he would also agree that our experiences of
artistic representation are not experiences of the material
medium. But Ingarden does not seem to be fully committed
to all that Carpenter’s assertions imply. F. David Martin
has said: “the eminence of the eye, in turn, the subor
dination of sculpture of sculpture as a species of painting
presupposes the traditional theory of sense perception.”25
This theory sees the private subject as set against the pub
lic objects of the world. Sensory data are organized into
objects which, while supposedly reflective of the world, axe
not identified with it. The subject never truly experiences
the world, as such, but instead experiences the mind’s log
ical constructions of sensory data. In short, the traditional
theory of sense perception results in the commonly referred
to subject/object dichotomy.
According to Martin, this approach “proclaims the eye
the fundamental sense organ that establishes a world of
objects.”26 As a consequence, representation occupies a
piece of pre-eminence. What this ignores that is so crucial
to sculpture is the state of affairs which precedes and is the
precondition of the mind’s logical constructions of sensory
data:
We are not in space; we inhabit space. We are
not encapsulated bodies, egos wrapped in skin,
distinct form things in space. We are open bod
ies with things journeying through space. As
primordially perceived, our bodies, things, and
space are in an inseparable community, a pre
given unity.27
And here, Heidegger sharpens our focus.
Space is not in the subject, nor is the world
in space. Space is rather ‘in’ the world in so
far as space has been disclosed by that Being-
in-the-world which is constructive for Dasein.
Space is not to be found in the subject, nor does
the subject observe the world ‘as if’ that world
were in a space; but the ‘subject’ (Dasein), if
well understood ontologically, is spatial. And
because Dasein is spatial in the way we have
described, space shows itself as a priori.28
In primordial perception we are aware of the essential unity
of the ‘world’: there exists a direct involvement in which we
are aware of our essential a priori spatiality. The objects
of the world are not set off against the subject as ‘things
out there’ to which we only have access via logical patterns
and models. The abstractions of traditional sense experi
ence do not permit a ‘revealing’ of the world we are in, but
instead leave us with mere images of a shadow world. As
such, logical constructions are once removed from the ‘con
crete suchness’ of things. This is the necessary consequence
of seeing the body as radically separate from mind — as
merely another entity among entities. Again, we turn to
Martin:
Our minds are incarnate, embodies, a unity of
awareness of body with things within a world
so tightly interwoven in primordial perception
that the threads can be separated only by the
abstractive knives of secondary perception.29
Thus the key to appreciating the sculptural work of art lies
in an understanding of the way in which sculpture presents
itself to us and for us. If this presentation is reduced to that
which is present via sensory perception, particularly visual
perception, then sculpture’s being-in-the-world is distorted
and our being-with and standing-in sculpture is obscured.
While this does not result in the denial of the represen
tational quality of some works, it does reduce its overall
importance.
Therefore, in conjunction with the three very specific
sculptural characteristics already discussed, there would
still appear to be much more that needs to be said regarding
the uniqueness of the sculptural work of art. By transcend
ing the question of representation versus presentation, this
has begun to become apparent. Martin has captured this
uniqueness beautifully.
The space around a sculpture, although not a
part of its material body, is still an essential
part of the perceptible structure of that sculp
ture. And the perceptual forces in that sur
rounding space impact on our bodies directly,
giving to that space a translucency, a thickness,
that is largely missing from the space in front
of a painting. ... W ith a sculpture, on the other
hand, even though we do not actually touch the
material body, we sense its power and pressing
on our bodies. The shadows cast, the reflective
surfaces, the bulges and hollows, the textures,
and the attraction or repulsion of the material
itself pull our bodies in and out. The hidden as
pects — especially with sculpture in the round
— lure our bodies around.30
It is in this sense that the sculptor’s activity ought to be
viewed as not only concerned with the mass of the medium
but with the space as well.
For the sculptor, space is much more than the mere ab
sence of a material medium. Space is as much the recipient
of the sculptor’s creative acts as is the real material. To
sculpt is to reorder the relationship which exists between
the two necessarily related sculptural elements. Similar to
the way in which Venturiso eloquently spoke of architec
ture, sculpture is the wall between mass and space — a
record of the essential identity of the two elements, as well
as their perceptual differences, while the primordial expe
rience of ourselves with the world reveals the essential iden
tity of the space and body in which we are immersed. But
the sculptor never merely manipulates a material medium
as if it were an object set apart, as an object ‘over-there.’
The sculptor reveals the ‘concrete suchness’ of the world by
highlighting the diversity of perceptual possibilities which
belong to it. Therefore, the presentation of objects is not an
end in itself, but a means; and is aimed at disclosure. And
within the aesthetic experience of sculpture, this special
quality of the art form emerges vividly. No longer merely a
thing over-there, the sculpture resonates with us. And this
is more, much more, than a question of representation or
non-representation. Rather, it is a question of our deep in
volvement with the world, an involvement which sculpture
is able to call us back to in a unique way via its visual and
tactual character.
Sculpture revives the withering of our tactual
senses by bringing us back in direct contact with
the raw power of reality: the bumping, banging,
pushing, pulling, soothing, palpitating, tangi
bility of our withness with things.31
And here is where the metaphysical qualities of Ingarden
find their natural home — in the revelation of our most
human state of affairs.
The sculptural work of art, therefore, must be distin
guished from architecture on three basic grounds already
discussed. By themselves they are sufficient to support the
claim that both sculptural forms ought to belong to a single
category of art object. And the visual-tactual character of
sculpture — the way it manifests itself to our perception
— simply confirms the propriety of maintaining one cate
gory for all sculptural works of art as well as dispelling any
thought of sculpture being either inferior to or derivative
of any other art form.
These characteristics clearly establish a difference in
kind between sculpture and any other art form, and partic
ularly architecture and painting. And further, any distinc
tion that is made within the general category of sculpture is
based upon a degree of difference, thus not justifying a mul
tiplication of categories. By maintaining this position In
garden’s theory is strengthened since a significant portion of
existing sculptures, as well as sculptural works to come, are
not relegated to the periphery of the art form. The essen
tial Ingardenian principles continue to remain fully intact;
they provide a firm foundation on the general level. But
to maintain the distinction of transitional forms seems to
imply that abstract sculpture is in some sense a ‘lesser’ art
expression than representational sculpture, thereby making
the application of his theory less useful. In fact, Ingarden
has indicated that representational art works are poten
tially more valuable than non-representational art works.32
Modem art, in general, has been forced to fight this atti
tude since its inception, and any theory which encourages
it can only serve to negatively affect the positive contribu
tion that developing art trends provide. To base the value
of sculpture on its ability to represent is essentially to re
duce the enterprise to the level of the superficial.
If anything, the development of abstract sculpture is an
attem pt to call sculpture back to its primary historical con
cerns. The artist throughout history has sought, all above
else, to ‘see’ clearly and to present that clarity of insight to
his or her community. By moving away from representa
tion, the abstract artist has attempted to aid in the disclo
sure of the forces, laws, and harmonies which comprise ma
terial and spiritual existence. These sculptural works of axt
return diversity to unity. They give us objects where mat
ter and spirit are momentaxily locked in a poetic identity.
As such, no other art form possesses the same potential
ity for healing the contemporary schism of body and spirit.
Can this possibly be looked upon as a transition from one
axt form to another? Rather, it would seem to be the ul
tim ate achievement of sculpture — that towards which it
has tended throughout history. In fact, a case could well
be made that representational sculpture is more a transi
tional form than presentational sculpture — attempting to
free itself in order to disclose the underlying unity implicit
within. Interestingly enough, Ingarden’s tendency to ele
vate non-representational music to the highest of aesthetic
rungs coincides with this view of the sculptural work of art.
When viewed from this perspective, all art forms pos
sess a certain common purpose — an identical goal of ulti
mate achievement towards which they all strive. Each must
contend with the barriers and limitations their medium im
poses. But all attem pt to transcend the peculiarities unique
to the art form, revealing the core of the artistic enter
prise as a whole. True, it is because of the peculiarities
of each art form, which can never be totally relinquished,
that there exists the possibility of diverse expressions. But
all art forms, to the extent that they are presentational,
possess the potentiality of achieving a commonality of pur
pose. Music and architecture do this quite naturally and,
as such, exemplify the highest purpose to which an art
can aspire. Sculpture and painting, on the other hand,
are forced to contend with the natural schizophrenia of art
forms which arise out of the human tendency to imitate.
On this point, Aristotle was authoritative. The challenge
of these art forms, therefore, lies in overcoming imitations;
in attempting to disclose the universality which stands in
The Sculptural Work o f Art 279
stark contrast to the imitation of anything.
N otes
1. This work was published in German under the title
Untersuchungen zur Ontologie der Kunst: Musikwerk, Bild,
Architektur, Film (Tubingen 1962). Although an English
translation has been anticipated for several years, it can no
longer be viewed as forthcoming in the near future. Future
references to the German version will read Ingarden [23].
2. It is quite remarkable that so much has been written in
response to Ingarden’s very limited, and one would have to
think preliminary, comments on the film and, to a lesser
extent, the stage play. (Ingarden’s work on the stage play
and the film appear in The Literary Work of Art under the
heading “Borderline Cases.” An essay on the film appears in
Ingarden [23]. For an excellent survey of the pertinent
literature, see Alicja Helman’s “The Influence of Ingarden’s
Aesthetics on the Theory of Film,” in Roman Ingarden and
Contemporary Polish Aesthetics (Warsaw 1975), 97-107).
Regardless of the interest of Ingarden engendered by these
topics, they do not influence the course of the current
investigation. This is justified on two grounds. Firstly, both
art forms fall into that category which Ingarden has called
borderline (Ingarden [23], 325, and Ingarden [7], The Literary
of Art, trans. G. Grabowitz (Evanston, 111., 1973), 322).
Therefore, in accord with the principles Ingarden established
in his treatm ent of the borderline art forms of program music
and abstract painting, namely that the essential feature of art
forms and works of art in general are not to be found in such
examples, we are focusing on the art forms Ingaxden saw as
central. While this certainly does raise a question regarding
the nature of borderline art forms, a question which we will
examine, the identification of Ingarden’s essential aesthetic
principles requires that we follow the course he has
established. W ith regard to the principles and the method of
extending those principles in borderline cases, the
peculiarities of the film and the stage play are certainly not
without interest, but they do not alter the course of our
inquiry. Secondly, given Ingarden’s very limited treatm ent of
these two art forms, they must be looked upon as only
suggestive. An attem pt to articulate and extend his central
principles ought to rely on those studies which drew his
fullest attention.
3. Ingarden [S3], 267.
5. Ingarden [11], The Cognition of the Literary Work of Art,
trans. R.A. Crowley and K.R. Olson (Evanston, 111., 1973),
21-22. Originally published in Polish and later reissued in a
revised and enlarged version in German under the title Vom
Erkennen des Literarischen Kunstwerk (Tubingen 1968).
7. Ingarden [23], 300-01.
8. Ingarden [23], 241; Ingarden [7], 255-87.
9. Ingarden [23], 150; Ingarden [7], 217-54.
10. Ingarden [23], 150.
11. For a more complete description of the rationale leading to
these conclusions, see G. David Pollick, The Aesthetic Theory
of Roman Ingarden (Ottawa, 1982).
12. Ingarden [23], 300-01.
13. Ingarden [23], 300.
14. Ingarden [23], 301.
15. Ingarden [23], 301.
16. Ingarden [23], 300.
17. Ingarden [23], 300.
18. Herbert Read, The Philosophy of Modern Art (New York
1955), 95.
19. Read, 75-76,
20. Read, A Concise History of Modem Sculpture (New York
1964), 101.
21. Karsten Harries, The Meaning of Modem Art: A
Philosophical Interpretation (Evanston, 111., 1968), 100.
22. Robert Venturi, Complexity and Contradiction in
Architecture (New York 1966), 26.
23. Venturi, 88-89.
24. Rhys Carpenter, Greek Sculpture (Chicago 1960), 34.
25. F. David Martin, “The Autonomy of Sculpture,” The Journal
of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, XXXIV (1976), 274.
26. Martin, 274.
27. Martin, 276.
28. Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. J. Macquarrie and
E. Robinson (New York 1962), 146.
29. Martin, 278.
30. Martin, 282.
31. Martin, 285.
32. Ingarden [23], 206.
XI. Ingarden on the Theatre
Danuta Kuznicka
Roman Ingarden’s consideration of theatrical performance

can be found in his book “The Literary Work of Art.”1 Two
articles in it are especially concerned with theatre: “The
Stage Play” (317-23) and the appendix “The Function of
Language in the Theatre” (377-93). The latter Ingarden
wrote in the fifties,2 more than twenty years after the for
mer. Though he does not comment on this, it seem an im
portant fact because from the current point of view the two
articles can be evaluated differently. The ideas expressed
in “The Function of Language in the Theatre” harmonize
with contemporary thoughts on theatre while “The Stage
Play” represents a stand which seems controversial, though
it is not necessary to add that its intellectual rank and in
spirational value are exceptional. The ideas expressed in
both articles are the main subject of my considerations, al
though Ingarden also dealt with the question of drama and
of theatrical performance in many other places in his book,
considering them from various angles.3
I shall attem pt in this paper to consider Ingarden’s
thoughts on the theatre from a present-day perspective.
An interest in this subject seems to be justified by the
substantial transformations the art of the stage has been
undergoing with varying intensity but steadily in Europe
and America since the turn of the century. These trans
formations have affected the basic problem in Ingarden’s
theatrical thought, that is, the function of the literary text
in a theatrical performance.
First of all I must explain what I mean in using the
terms “theatrical performance,” and “a stage play.”4 It is
283
284 Danuta Kuznicka
here, generally speaking, the staging of a work of drama, a
form that still prevails on th e stages of Europe and figures
prominently in American theatres as well. I shall also refer
to performances of other types, but these will be provided
with comment. I have in mind numerous Polish perfor
mances above all and a few each of English, American, Rus
sian, French, German, Italian, Czech, Swedish, Yugoslav,
Greek, and Spanish ones. I shall base the image of the
contemporary theatre performance resented in this article
on numerous theatrical writings that would be too long to
mention in this text.
W hat were those transformations of the art of the stage
mentioned above, which had an effect on the structure of
a theatrical performance? Along with the revolutionary
achievements of avant-garde directors in the early twen
tieth century (indeed, already in the late nineteenth cen
tury) the role of particular components (i.e., systems of
signs after Kowzan’s terminology) in a performance has
changed considerably. Literature and declamatory acting,
prevailing in the theatre before, began to be superseded by
other performance components: scenery, lighting, sound.
All were becoming equal and were shaped by the director
into an artistic whole. Indeed it is the dominating role
of the director, following his own ideas, that character
izes twentieth-century theatre. Particular directors may
use these elements to a greater or lesser extent, while the
literary component very often becomes little more than a
pretext for the whole undertaking. At the same time there
is a striking development of numerous styles of scenery on
the one hand and of the art of acting on the other. All
these phenomena ask of the student of the theatre to be
seen in the right perspective and to be approached with
special methods. So we can inquire, are Ingarden’s views
still valid today?
In my response, I am going to take up two problems
Ingarden on the Theatre 285
in Ingarden’s thought: the role of the literary text in the
atrical performance and, in general terms, the relationship
between the literary work and the theatrical one, as well as
the problem of the spectator in a theatrical show.
Ingarden begins by discussing the relation between a
drama (that is, a literary work) and its theatrical stag
ing and asks the question whether the theatrical perfor
mance is a concretization of a play or something entirely
different from it. In order to answer this question he
compaxes the ways and states that in a performance we
get “determinately qualified real objectivities, which ap
pear in corresponding aspects” (319), whereas in a literary
work the objectivities are presented and depicted by their
“purely intentional states of affairs” and “schematized held-
in-readiness aspects projected by sentences” (320). He ar
rives then at the conclusion: “In the stage play we are thus
dealing with a different type of work that the purely literary
work” (322).
But this position, now commonly accepted, is then
abandoned by Ingarden himself when he maintains that
the theatrical production is a “borderline” phenomenon of
literature (322). He supports this statement with a number
of arguments which I shall try to examine critically. The
first among them is the statement that “in a stage play
we find a stratified structure analogous to that of a purely
literary work.” The second is that the “strata of meaning
units and phonetic formations are also present in a stage
play and have as significant a role as in a purely literary
work.” The third, in connection with the “stratified struc
ture,” is that there appears in a stage play a “polyphony
of value qualities.” The fourth is that there also appears a
“quasi-judgmental modification of the sentences spoken by
represented persons,” so that the objectivities presented in
it are also purely intentional.5 The fifth is that “metaphys
ical qualities can be manifested in a stage play.” The sixth
286 Danuta Kuznicka
and final one is that, there is the particular structure of the
sequence [of parts], and it conditions the various effects of
the internal dynamics of the work” (322).
The three last statements are, in my opinion, right in
a general sense. The sentences said on stage and the pre
sented objectivities are purely intentional; they retain their
“quasi” character, although they can come close to reality
in mystery plays (cf. Eco, 226; Pavis, 33). Various meta
physical qualities may appear in a performance. Ingarden
considers them to be very wide-ranging, but since the sub
ject rather defies a systematic description I will make no
comment on this. Besides, a play indeed has its own very
specific dynamics. This is an interesting area of study not
yet very well explored and only now being approached by
researchers (Pavis, 186). And yet I think that all these fea
tures of the theatrical performance do not link it directly
to the literary work. They can demonstrate a similarity to
film, ritual, or entertainment as well (Schechner, 84-85).
What could determine, in my view, the literary character
of the theatrical performance are the features having to do
with the presence of words, those mentioned in the first
three statements: the stratified structure of a stage play,
the strata of meaning units and phonetic formations, and
the polyphony of value qualities resulting from that strati
fied structure.
So let us look now at Ingarden’s first argument for the
theatrical performance being a borderline case of literature.
It is the thesis about the stratified structure of the literary
work — a basic statement in his system. Let us recall
those strata once more: the stratum of word sounds and
the phonetic formations of a higher order built on them;
the stratum of meaning units of various orders; the stratum
of manifold schematized aspects and aspects of continua
and series; and the stratum of represented objectivities and
their vicissitudes (30). Ingarden admits, however, th at in
this stratified structure “new elements appear” and that
“some of the strata play somewhat modified roles” (322).
Ingarden’s argumentation seems to me on this funda
mental question somewhat uncertain. He stresses on the
one hand the separateness of the theatrical work’s structure
and yet on the other hand speaks of that work’s stratified
structure. “There appear in a stage play the structural dif
ferences we have discussed, which make it a new work with
respect to the corresponding purely literary work” (322).
These structural differences consist in other ways of rep
resentation that cannot be reconciled with the nature of
the literary work. In the literary work the represented
objectivities are created through the states of affairs and
schematized potential aspects projected by sentences. The
function of the states of affairs in a purely literary work is
that “they form an essential and most important means of
representation, so that the constitution of represented ob
jectivities depends primarily and essentially on them and
at the most is supplemented by aspects held in readiness.
In a stage play, on the contrary, these states of affairs do
not have primarily to constitute the things that are repre
sented, since this constitution - which at any rate is only
incipient - is effected by the real objects that perform the
function of reproduction”(320-21).
“The stage play differs from a purely literary work, as
we will call it from now on, in that entirely new means
of representation, precluded by the essential nature of a
purely literary work, appear in it: (1) real objects engaged
in performing the function of reproduction and representa
tion and (2) aspects appropriately formed and predeter
mined by the properties of these real objects, in which
represented objectivities are to appear” (320). Therefore
there are in the theatrical work visual elements which by
their very presence abolish the functioning of the whole
described by Ingarden’s, structure (including word sounds,
288 Danuta Kuznicka
meaning units, states of affairs, schematized aspects, and
represented objectivities). The spoken words (i.e., word
sounds) appear in the stage reality next to different mean
ingful elements that are created in other systems of signs
(i.e., in other performance components).
How do the meanings of words and sentences function,
then, in the presence of real objects? The words uttered
on the stage assume their meaning according to the cir
cumstances and the context in which they are spoken. The
context is created by the gestures and mimicry of the speak
ing actor, by the scenery, lighting, sounds. So the meaning
is made up of various elements present on the stage. And
this constitutes a capital difference between the stage and
literary realities.
The multifarious and meaningful stage reality (de
scribed frequently with the term “theatrical semiosis”) is
according to present-day researchers continuous: they call
it the text (the “testo spettocolare” after de Marinis). Its
essential feature is the fact that one cannot distinguish in it
elementary units of meaning, as is done in linguistic state
ments. This is a capital difference which puts in question, it
seems, the very important thesis about the stratified struc
ture of a theatrical performance according to Ingarden: it
is linked with all the other theses. The mode of existence
of a spoken work in the theatrical performance has already
been discussed. As far as the polyphony of value qualities
is concerned, it should be said that such a polyphony is the
consequence of a multifarious art of the stage, and there
fore is different from the polyphony present in the literary
work.
To sum up, because of its specific multifarious charac
teristics, theatre semiosis is a quite different phenomenon
from the literary work and therefore Ingarden’s claim that
a theatrical performance or a stage play is a borderline case
of the literary work seems to be controversial. But it should
be stressed, that he follows this claim with several reserva
tions. One of them seems particularly important, namely
that in the stratified structure of a theatre performance
“new elements appear” and that “some strata play some
what modified roles” (322). This reservation indicate that
Ingaxden valued the specifity of the art of the stage. How
ever, Ingarden’s conception of the theatrical performance
is, in my opinion, influenced by the traditional conviction,
which claims many advocates — that literature i s very
much present in the theatre. This idea is also evidenced by
Ingaxden’s description of the real objects in a performance
as being there “to reproduce and represent.” He says,
These objectivities “play a role,” as it is usually
said, or, more precisely, perform the function of
reproduction and representation. Indeed, they
represent those objects which, in a “drama”
that is read, axe intentionally projected by both
the stage directions and the main text. These
representing objects need not be precisely those
real things and men that in a given performance
really find themselves on stage. But they must
be constituted in such a way that they can per
form, at least in part, the function of reproduc
ing and representing objectivities represented in
a stage play and of making them appear in ap
propriate visual and acoustical aspects. At its
most basic, it is primarily a question of hav
ing their determinate thus-appearance appro
priately form the corresponding aspects so that
the represented objectivities can appeax in con
crete aspects that can be experienced by the
“spectator.” (320)
This axgument implies that the situation of the char
acters and the events axe so well defined in the text of the
290 Danuta Kuznicka
drama that one can expect them to be “appropriately” pre
sented in a performance. In a note to the quoted excerpt
we can read that “in the case of a historical play, a special,
interesting complication occurs” (319): the characters and
the events are as concrete as if they were historical events.
Ingarden explains the notions of “reproduction” and “rep
resentation” in the context of an historical novel, thus re
ferring to once actually existing persons (242). In a system
in which the ideas of “schematized aspects” and “spots of
indeterminacy” play so importjant a role, this approach is
rather unexpected. And indeed, in the confrontation of a
literary work with a theatrical staging, “schematized” and
“undetermined” character of the presented objectivities is
seen even better.
How much the shape of represented objectivities and
thereby of the whole performance depends on non-literary
factors is clearly evidenced by the numerous stagings of a
given play. The same text of a drama gets all sorts of inter
pretations in different performances, makes the existence of
a single interpretation indicated by literature very doubtful
indeed. The material qualities of real objects on the stage
or the actors’ expressions are often so essential that the
“representing” outshadows the “represented.” I must men
tion here that a similar thought is expressed explicitly in
Ingarden’s book itself: “in spite of that there is a close con
nection between a stage play and the corresponding purely
literary work provided that the latter exists at all, which,
and this must be emphasized, need not necessarily be the
case” (322). The struggle of Ingarden’s thought with the
conviction that theatre depends on literature can be seen
also in his description of the ways objectivities are pre
sented in a theatrical performance. He says that the world
presented on stage is made up of three elements which vary
in the method and substance of presentation: objectivities
presented in an exclusively perceptual manner; objectivities
presented in a two-fold manner (in perceptual depiction and
through a linguistic mode of representation); and objectiv
ities presented exclusively by linguistic means (379). He
also adds that the uttering of words is part of the charac
ter’s behavior and is therefore also part of an act (386-87).
However, when he speaks of objectivities presented in two
ways (in a perceptual manner and by linguistic means),
he gives priority to the literary element. Ingarden writes
that “one can consider the relation between the over-all be
havior of the represented person and the words spoken by
him from another vantage point, however, i.e., by asking
whether this behavior (in facial expressions, movements,
etc.), as it is formed by the actor in a given performance,
harmonizes with the words being spoken? Is it attuned to
them, or does it conflict with them in any way?” (387).
Previously, he would also have said that there must be a
“concordance” between the two ways of presenting objec
tivities (in a perceptual manner and by linguistic means) so
that no “contradictory objectivities” could arise. He wisely
adds, however, that in this respect all sorts of “poetic li
censes” are admissible in literary works (379).
If we regard this “concordance” between the two ways
of representation as the joint shaping of a greater artistic
quality, then it is true. But we can assume, in view of what
has already been said, that to Ingarden this harmony is
more restricted and consists in the creation of similar ob
jectivities by linguistic means and in a perceptual manner.
It must be said that the concordance achieved by the use of
various stage devices is the least interesting. Of the high
est artistic quality are those images made up of many stage
elements, producing together a novel quality which is far
from being a simple sum. And there is wide range of such
aesthetic phenomena in the present-day theatre. Complex
structures of meaning consisting of many elements stimu
late processes of association in the spectator and thus refer
292 Danuta Kuznicka
to his cultural competence, his erudition. But he lacks
that competence if the signals coming from the stage do
not evoke in his mind other events, characters, plays: his
perception is then limited to only one character, or to only
one meaning of the presented image. So it is up to the
spectator to structure the phenomena he is watching. By
his cultural competence he himself is “writing” the play as
it were (cf. Elam, 95).
Despite the criticism expressed here of Ingarden’s per
haps too close linkage of the theatrical performance and
literature, it must be said that his conception of the func
tion of speech in the theatre is quite modern and topi
cal. He opens interesting new prospects for investigation
by indicating the intentional moments in the presentation
of objectivities, by stressing the feeling of characters, com
munication, and finally the function of speech as a form of
action. In discussing all of these, Ingarden points to the
role of the pragmatic component recurrent throughout his
article. That speech is a form of action constitutes a very
fertile idea. Only this approach to the function of speech
explains, for instance, the role of language in many con
temporary dramas (e.g., in the theatre of the absurd or the
works of the contemporary playwrights Kroetz and Bond;
Sinko 1977). Equally interesting is the study of the impact
on the spectator of stage speech (cf. Jakobson).
We come then, to the next major problem in Ingar
den’s book, that of reception and the spectator. Ingarden’s
thought here is very topical indeed, and accords with the
latest statements of theatre semiotics. The transformations
of the present-day stage, the emergence of various theatri
cal forms appealing more and more to the spectator —
engaging him both intellectually and emotionally — have
made of him an object of study. What is the function of
the spectator in grasping the meaning of a performance?
To what extent is his role active and what is its range?
Ingarden, having indicated the schematic character of a
literary work, its spots of uncertainty and as a result the
creative role of the spectator, has opened new prospects
for study. However, the spectator’s activity in theatre is
different from his approach to a literary work, with its own
spots of uncertainty. Here the receiver is not expected to
fill in the gaps and make concrete what is schematic, but
to restructure the presented world according to his cultural
competence. A description of the way theatrical semiosis
is segmented is a major problem of contemporary theatre
semiotics (Sinko 1982, 54-71). Moreover, the identification
of meanings (the segmentation of semiosis) is frequently
even more complex because some of the forms of contem
porary theatre, being close to ritual (the theatre of Gro-
towski or Schechner, to recall the most obvious examples),
invites the spectator to answer the questions “where am I?”
and “what am I taking part in?” The process of perceiv
ing the meanings of the plot is identical with suggesting its
character. The theatrical frame is thus often exceeded.
Ingarden, while describing the spectator’s position in
front of theatrical reality, says, “the spectator finds him
self outside the world represented in the play; second, he
is not a partner in the conversation nor does he partake in
the dramatic action; finally, he is a spectator, who, while
perhaps not exclusively, exists primarily in an aesthetic at
titude during the performance” (393; cf. Gofmann, 95).
But while describing in this way the spectator’s position in
the theatre, Ingarden admits also the possibility of there
being other theatrical forms which change his relationship.
He speaks of the closed stage (the naturalistic theatre with
the “fourth wall”) to which the spectator is not admitted
and the stage which is wide-open to him. This would be
a theatre in which the actors address themselves directly
to the audience, their acting or involving the spectators in
a sort of mysteryplay (383-85). Here Ingarden’s thought
294 Danuta Kuznicka
formulates concepts that during the last two decades have
emerged also in the official theatre, inspiring and stimulat
ing it.
Ingarden’s theatrical thought embraces the whole phe
nomenon of theatrical performance, including its ontology,
the analysis of its structure, its reception by the specta
tors, and its position in culture. While the latter problems
axe only indicated and outlined by him, the former ones
are formulated in statements of fundamental importance,
and by linking the theatrical work with literature they find
themselves within Ingarden’s wide-ranging aesthetical and
philosophical system. Of essential and topical value is his
approach to the function of language in a performance that
links the meaning of words to the context in which they
axe spoken. Also his statements on the specific dynamics
of a play and the “quasi” character of stage reality accord
both with the nature of contemporary performances and
their theoretical description. His thesis on the stratified
character of performance still remains arguable due to the
different semiotic character of theatrical and literary works.
While indicating many qualities of Ingarden’s position, I
have tried in this study to isolate the questions that are
open to discussion and to present them for reconsideration
after the stormy transformations of the present-day theatre.
N otes
1. The Literary Work of Art: An Investigation on the
Borderlines of Ontology, Logic, and Theory of Literature with
an Appendix on the Functions of Language in the Theater,
trans., G. Grabowicz (Evanston, 111., 1973). This translation
is based on the third edition (1965) of Das literarische
Kunstwerk (originally published in 1931).
2. Ingarden (26), “The Function of Language in the Theater,” is
a translation of the Polish “O funkcjach mowy w widowisku
teatralnym,” published originally as apaper in Zagadnienia
rodzajow literackich (Lodz 1958), I.
3. In para. 30 he dealt with problems of drama; he also recalled
the dramaturgy of many authors, for instance Maeterlinck
(168, 201, 279) Lessing (255 n., 275 n.), and Shakespeare
(70-71, 243).
4. I have decided to use the term “performance,” though the
author of a translation prefers “a stage play.” The former is a
commonly used term in theatre studies to describe variety of
theatrical productions.
5. The English translation omits here a statement present in the
Polish version: “ Consequently, the objectivities presented in
it are also purely intentional” Wskutek tego takze i tu
przedmioty przedstawione sq tworami jedynie czysto
intencjonalnymi).
References
Eco, U. A Theory of Semiotics. Bloomington, 111., 1977.
Elam, K. The Semiotics of Theatre and Drama. London, 1980.
Goffman, E. Frame Analysis. Harmondsworth 1974.

296 Danuta Kuznicka
Jakobson, R. “Linguistics and Poetics.” In Thomas A. Sebeok, ed.
Style in Lanaguage. Cambridge, Mass. 1960. 355-77. Kowzan, T.
“The Sign in the Theatre.” Diogenes, LXI(1968), 52-80.
de Marinis, M. “Lo spettacolo come testo.” Versus, pt. i (1978),

66-104; pt. ii (1979), 3-31.
Pavis, P. “Languages of the Stage.” Performing Arts Journal (1982).
Schechner, R. “Przyczynek do teorii i krytyki dram atu” Dialog

(1967), 1.
Sinko, G. Kryzys j§zyka w dramacie wspolczesnym-rzeczywistosc czy

zludzenie? Wroclaw 1977.
---------. Opis przedstawienia teatralnego — problem semioiyczny.

Wroclaw 1982.
Appendix. Select Bibliography of the
Philosophical Works of Roman Ingarden
Danuta Gierulanka
Classifications: 0 , ontology; iE, aesthetics; T, theory

of knowledge; A, axiology; PA, philosophical anthropology;
PL, philosophy of language; L, logic; M, methodology; C,
critical studies.
[In the following, the existence of translations into Pol
ish (P), German (G), English (E), and French (F) is noted
with reference to the complete bibliography of Ingarden’s
work in Peter McCormick, ed., Roman Ingarden: Selected
Papers in Aesthetics (Munich: Philosophia Verlag, 1985),
pp. 181-262. For example, [E16] indicates an English trans
lation, item 16 in the English section of that bibliography.
Eds.]
1 1921 (T) Intuition and Intellekt bei Henri Bergson.
Darstellung und Versuch einer Kritik. Halle.
[P106(ll)]
2 1921 (T) “Uber die Gefahr einer Petitio Principii in der
E rk e n n tn is th e o rie Jahrbuch fur Philosophic
und phanomenologische Forschung, IV. [P127]
3 1925 (T) Uber die stellung der Erkenntnistheorie im
System der Philosophic. Halle. [P15]
4 1925 (0 ,T ) “Essentiale Fragen. Ein Beitrag zum Problem
des Wesens.” Jahrbuch fur Philosophic und
phanomenologische Forschung, VII. [P129(8)]
5 1929 (O) “Bemerkungen zum Problem
Idealismus-Realismus.” In Festschrift,
Edmund Husserl zum 70. Geburtstag gewidmet.
Halle.
297
6 1930 (T) Psycho-fizjologiczna teoria poznania i jej krytyka
(The Psychophysiological Theory of Knowledge
and its Criticism). Lwów.
7 1931 (Æ) Das literarische Kunstwerk. Eine Untersuchung
aus dem Grenzgebeit der Ontologie, Logic, und
Literaturwissenschaß. Halle. Fourth ed., 1972.
[P99, E16, F22]
8 1933 (Æ) “Zagadnienie tożsamości dzieła muzycznego”
(The Question of the Identity of a Musical work
of Art). Przegląd Filozoficzny, xxxvi:4.
9 1934 (C) “Logistyczna próba ukształtowania filozofii”
(The Logistic Attem pt at Reshaping
Philosophy). [G il, FI]
10 1935 (O) “Vom formalen Aufbau des individuellen
Gegenstandes.” Studia Philosophica, I.
11 1937 (Æ,T) O poznawaniu dzieła literackiego (The Cognition
of the Literary Work of Art). Lwów [G35, E17,
F14 and F20]
12 1937 (PA) “Der Mensch und die Zeit.” Congrès Descartes,
Paris. [P57]
13 1946 (Æ) O budowie obrazu. Szkic z teorii sztuki (On the
Structure of Painting. A sketch in the Theory of
Art). Cracow. Also in [23]-
14 1946 (Æ) “O dziele architektury” (On the Architectural
Work of Art). Nauka t Sztuka, 11:1-2. [G24(3)]
15 1947 (0 ) Spór o istnienie świata (The Controversy over
the Existence of the World), vol. I. Cracow. 2d
ed. 1960. [G28.E8]
16 1947 (Æ) Szkice z filozofii literatury (Sketches in the
Philosophy of Literature). Lódź.
17 1947 (Æ) “Le temps, l’espace et le sentiment de la
réalité.” Congrès de Filmologie, Paris. Revue
Internationale de Filmologie, 1:2. [P97II(4),
G24(4)]
18 1947 (A) “Quelques remarques sur le problème de la
relativité des valeurs.” Congrès,
Bruxelles-Louvain. [P82, G40(6)]
Bibliography 299
19 1948 (O) Spor o istnienie Swiata (The Controversy over
the Existence of the World), vol. II. Cracow. 2d
ed. 1961. [G28]
20 1949 (L) “O s§dzie warunkowym” (On the Conditional
Judgement). Cracow. [E2]
21 1956 (JE) Studia z estetyki (Studies in Aesthetics), vol. I.
Warsaw. 2nd. ed. 1966.
22 1957 (£;) “La valeur esthetique et le probleme de son
fondement objectif.” Congres d’esthetique,
Venice. [PI 14(7), G40(8)]
23 1958 0*E) Studia z estetyki (Studies in Aesthetics), vol. II.
Warsaw. [G24]
24 1958 (jE,M) “Bemerkungen zum Problem des asthetischen
Werturteils.” International Philosophy
Congress, Venice. Rivista di Estetica, 111:3.
[PI 13(3)]
25 1958 (C) “Le probleme de la constitution et le sens de la
reflexion constitutive chez E. Husserl.” Cahiers
de Royaumont, III. [P106(ll)]
26 1959 0E,PL) “Von der Funktionen der Sprache im
T h e a te rs c h a u s p ie lZagadnienia rodzajow
litemckich, I. [P99, E16, F22]
27 1959 (C) “Uber den transzendentalen Idealismus bei
E. Husserl.” Colloque Internationale de
phenomenologie, Krefeld. [F12]
28 1960 (PA) “L’homme et la nature.” Congres philosophique,
Venice. [P121, G34, E28(l)]
29 1961 (PA) “Nature humaine.” Congres philosophique,
Montpellier. [P132(2), E28(2)]
30 1962 (T,iE) “Prinzipien einer erkenntnistheoretischen
Betrachtung der asthetischen Erfahrung.”
Congres d’esthetique, Athens. [P103]
31 1962 (T,M,L) “Bemerkungen zum Problem der Begriindung.”
Studia Logica, XIII. [P127(5)]
32 1962 (PL) “Le mot comme element d’une langue.” Logique
et Analyse, n.s. V:20. [P90]
33 1963 (C) Z badan nad filozofig wspilczesnq (Studies in
Contemporary Philosophy). Warsaw. [Various
partial translations]
34 1964 (jE,A) “Artistic and Aesthetic Values.” British Journal
of Aesthetics, IV:3. [P114(8), G40(9)]
35 1965 ( jE,A) “Zagadnienie systemu jakosci estetycznie
donioslych” (The Question of a System of
Aesthetically Significant Qualities), Studia
Estetyczne, II. [G37]
36 1966 (jE,A) Przezycie — dzielo — wartoS6. (Experience —
Work of Art — Value). Cracow. [G40]
37 1966 (A) “Einige ungeloste Probleme der Werttheorie.”
In Festschrift fur 0 . Tschizewskij. Munich.
[PI 14(6)]
38 1967 (T,M ,0) “Betrachtungen zum Problem der Objektivitat.”
Zeitschrift fur philosophische Forschung,
XXI: 1-2. [P127(6)]
39 1968 (C) “Meine Erinnerungen an Husserl.” In Briefe an
Roman Ingarden. The Hague. [P141]
40 1970 (0,PA) Uber die Verantwortung. Ihre ontischen
Fundamente. Stuttgart. [P132(5), E28(5)]
41 1970 (C) Innforing I Edmund Husserl Fenomenologi
(Introduction to Edmund Husserl’s
Phenomenology). Oslo. [P134, G52]
42 1970 (JE) Siudia z esieiyki (Studies in Aesthetics), vol. III.
Warsaw. [Various partial translations]
43 1970 (L,jE) “Kiinstlerische Funktionen der Sprache. Ein
Ausblick.” Sprachkunst, 1:1-2. [P125(19)]
44 1971 (T) U podstaw teorii poznania (Foundations of the
Theory of Knowledge), first part. Warsaw.
45 1972 (L) Z teorii jfzyka i filozoficznych podstaw logiki
(The Theory of Language and the Philosophical
Foundations of Logic). Warsaw.
46 1972 (PA,A) Ksiqzeczka o czlowieku (A Little Book on Man).
Cracow. [E28]
Bibliography 301
47 1972 (M,Æ) “M m Bense und das Problem der Anwendung
statistischer Methoden in der
Literaturforschung.” Sprachkunst, Beiträge zur
Literatur Wissenschaft, 111:3-4 [P123]
48 1974 (O) Uber die kausale Struktur der realen Welt. Der
Streit um die Existenz der Welt. Vol. III.
Tübingen. [P140]
Nijhoff International Philosophy Series
1. Rotenstreich, N.: Philosophy, History and Politics. Studies in Contemporary English Philos
ophy o f History. 1976. ISBN 90-247-1743-4.
2. Srzednicki, Elements of Social and Political Philosophy. 1976. ISBN 90-247-1744-2.
3. Tatarkiewicz, W .: Analysis of Happiness. 1976. ISBN 90-247-1807-4.
4. Twardowski, K.: On the Content and Object of Presentations. A Psychological Investigation.
Translated and with an Introduction by R. Grossman. 1977. ISBN 90-247-1926-7.
5. Tatarkiewicz, W.: A History of Six Ideas. An Essay in Aesthetics. 1980. ISBN 90-247-2233-0.
6. Noonan, H.W .: Objects and Identity. An Examination of the Relative Identity Thesis and Its
Consequences. 1980. ISBN 90-247-2292-6.
7. Crocker, L.: Positive Liberty. An Essay in Normative Political Philosophy. 1980.
ISBN 90-247-2291-8.
8. Brentano, F.: The Theory of Categories. 1981. ISBN 90-247-2302-7.
9. Marciszewski, W. (ed.): Dictionary of Logic as Applied in the Study of Language. Concepts,
Methods, Theories. 1981. ISBN 90-247-2123-7.
10. Ruzsa, I.: Modal Logic with Descriptions. 1981. ISBN 90-247-2473-2.
11. Hoffman, P.: The Anatomy of Idealism. Passivity and Activity in Kant, Hegel and Marx. 1982.
ISBN 90-247-2708-1.
12. Gram, M.S.: Direct Realism. A Study of Perception. 1983. ISBN 90-247-2870-3.
13. Srzednicki, J.T .J., Rickey, V.F. and Czelakowski, J. (eds.): Lesniewski’s Systems. Ontology
and Mereology. 1984. ISBN 90-247-2879-7.
14. Smith, J.W .: Reductionism and Cultural Being. A Philosophical Critique of Sociobiological
Reductionism and Physicalist Scientific Unificationism. 1984. ISBN 90-247-2884-3.
15. Zumbach, C.: The Transcendent Science. Kant’s Conception of Biological Methodology. 1984.
ISBN 90-247-2904-1.
16. Notturno, M.A.: Objectivity, Rationality and the Third Realm. Justification and the Grounds
of Psychologism. A Study of Frege and Popper. 1985. ISBN 90-247-2956-4.
17. Dilman, I. (ed.): Philosophy and Life. Essays on John Wisdom. 1984. ISBN 90-247-2996-3.
18. Russell, J.J.: Analysis and Dialectic. Studies in the Logic of Foundation Problems. 1984.
ISBN 90-247-2990-4.
19. Currie, G. and Musgrave, A. (eds.): Popper and the Human Sciences. 1985.
ISBN 90-247-2998-X.
20. Broad, C.D.: Ethics. Edited by C. Lewy. 1985. ISBN 90-247-3088-0.
21. Seargent, D .A .J.: Plurality and Continuity. An Essay in G.F. Stout’s Theory o f Universals.
1985. ISBN 90-247-3185-2.
22. Atwell, J.E .: Ends and Principles in Kant’s Moral Thought. 1986. ISBN 90-247-3167-4.
23. Agassi, J. and Jarvie, I.Ch. (eds.): Rationality. The Critical View. 1987. ISBN 90-247-3275-1.
24. Srzednicki, J.T .J. and Stachniak, Z. (eds.): S. Lesniewski’s Lecture Notes in Logic. 1988.
ISBN 90-247-3416-9.
25. Taylor, B.M. (ed.): Michael Dummett. Contributions to Philosophy. 1987.
ISBN 90-247-3463-0.
26. Bar-On, A.Z.: The Categories and Principle of Coherence. Whitehead’s Theory of Categories
in Historical Perspective. 1987. ISBN 90-247-3478-9.
27. Dziemidok, B. and McCormick, P. (eds.): On the Aesthetics o f Roman Ingarden. 1989.
ISBN 0-7923-0071-8.
28. Srzednicki, J.T .J. (ed.): Stephan Korner. Philosophical Analysis and Reconstruction. 1987.
ISBN 90-247-3543-2.
29. Brentano, F.: On the Existence of God. Lectures given at the Universities of Wurzburg and
Vienna (1868-1891). 1987. ISBN 90-247-3538-6,
33. Young, J.: Willing and Unwilling: A Study in the Philosophy o f Arthur Schopenhauer. 1987.
ISBN 90-247-3556-4.
36. Pavkovii, A.: Contemporary Yugoslav Philosophy: The Analytic Approach. 1988.
ISBN 90-247-3776-1.
37. Winterbourne, A.: The Ideal and the Real. 1988. ISBN 90-247-3774-5.
38. Szaniawski, K.: The Vienna Circle and the Lvov-Warsaw School. 1988. ISBN 90-247-3798-2.
39. Priest, G.: In Contradiction. A Study of the Transconsistent. 1987. ISBN 90-247-3630-7.
On the Aesthetics of Roman Ingarden
Interpretations and Assessments
R om an Ingarden is one o f the m ost o utstand ing aestheticians and theorists o f art.
His co ntrib u tio n to the philosophy o f a rt, how ever, is not w ell-know n in the
English-speaking w orld.
This book aim s at a critical presentatio n and analysis o f his con trib u tio n to philo
sophical aesthetics, philosophy o f literatu re and the theories o f m usic, theatre and
film.
It is the first book o f this kind in English which brings together contributions by
scholars from P o lan d an d oth er countries.
K LU W ER A C A D E M IC PU B L ISH E R S N IPS 27 ISBN 0-7923-0071-8

(Bohdan Dziemidok, Peter McCormick (Eds.) ) On The

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

(Bohdan Dziemidok, Peter McCormick (Eds.) ) On The

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

B. Dziemidok and P.

General Editor: JAN T .J. SRZEDNICKI

Editorial Advisory Board:

R.M. Chisholm, Brown University, Rhode Island. Mats Furberg, Goteborg

On the aesthetics of Roman Ingarden.

Published by Kluwer Academic Publishers,

Kluwer Academic Publishers incorporates

Sold and distributed in the U.S.A. and Canada

In all other countries, sold and distributed

Printed in The Netherlands

For the Polish students —

Appendix. Select Bibliography of the Philosophical

Roman Ingarden’s very extensive philosophical work in

Peter McCormick (Ottawa)

Roman Ingarden became a disciple of Edmund Husserl

Translated by Halina Bockris

The aesthetic ideas of Ingarden are an irreplaceable source

I. The existential theses

The work of art is by its mode of existence fundamen­

II. Theses on the structure of the work o f art

Ad I. The existence of the theses

Ad II. T heses on the structure of the work of art

Given this schematization and the potentiality of many

In his works Ingarden investigates the problem of con­

2. The stratified structure

Analyzing the structure of different types of works of

According to Ingarden a careful examination of the exam­

All the multi-stratified works give rise to the question of

When analyzing the “anatomical” structure of the work

It would seem that the elucidation of the essence and speci­

The theory of values has today assumed a central place in

As has been mentioned above, the theory of values be­

2. General characterization of values

3. A rtistic values and aesthetic values

Values connected with the work of art are divided by In­

4. Ingarden’s approach to the objectivity of the

2. In its existence and endowment the aesthetic value is

3. Finally, aesthetic value can be regarded as objective

At the same time Ingarden admits that there are two

1. Aesthetic value is not ontically autonomous, since the

2. The existence of aesthetic value depends indirectly

Ingarden does not determine whether the aesthetic value

1. W hat is the relation between the qualities of aes­

2. W hat relation obtains between the aesthetically valu­

5. Ingarden’s objectivism and aesthetic

6. T he object of th e controversy between

8. Ingarden's criticism of extrem e relativism and

2. on the assumption that, with divergent value judge­

1. The introduction of further fundamental distinctions

2. Discovering in the object multiple causes of diver­

3. Demonstrating that the formula de gustibus non est

2. Ingarden [7], 420, 453-55; Ingarden (11), 7, 59, 64-65, 128,

In 1923 Roman Ingarden, a young secondary-school teacher

The analyses carried out here should be com­

Between these two statements, the first of which sig­

Authors belonging to a younger generation (i.e.

To mention studies other than Polish, Felix Vodicka be­

Into this essence of literary study, into the fascinating

I hold that a world is something more

Given Ingarden’s taste for ontological complexity and

The literary work is a many-layered formation.

Ingarden further insists that the literary work’s multiplicity

The constitutive foundation proper of the indi­

The work of art is by its mode of existence fundamen

In his works Ingarden investigates the problem of con

According to Ingarden a careful examination of the exam

It would seem that the elucidation of the essence and speci

As has been mentioned above, the theory of values be

Values connected with the work of art are divided by In

1. W hat is the relation between the qualities of aes

2. W hat relation obtains between the aesthetically valu

2. on the assumption that, with divergent value judge

2. Discovering in the object multiple causes of diver

The analyses carried out here should be com

Between these two statements, the first of which sig

To mention studies other than Polish, Felix Vodicka be

The constitutive foundation proper of the indi

The work of literary art, therefore, is transcendent to (a) in

Conceiving of the artistic object as a schematic forma

Such identity would be possible provided the artistic da

In short if there are such things as literary truths, In

2. A musical composition is a conscious experience nei

3. A musical composition is not a music score. A mu

4. A musical composition is supra-temporal. The orga