NMD 501

Where Ethics and Aesthetics Meet: Titian's Rape of Europa by A. W. EATON

May 2, 2011 @ 5:46 PM by a_pierce

Source: http://www.jstor.org.prxy4.ursus.maine.edu/stable/3810979?seq=1

Image: Titian's Rape of Europa (1559-62, oil on canvas, 178.7 x 202.5 cm, Isabella Stewart
Gardner Museum, Boston)

Text: Where Ethics and Aesthetics Meet: Titian's Rape of EuropaAuthor(s): A. W. EatonSource: Hypatia, Vol. 18, No. 4, Women, Art, and Aesthetics (Autumn - Winter, 2003), pp.159-188Published by: Blackwell Publishing on behalf of Hypatia, Inc.Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3810979 .Accessed: 02/05/2011 18:27

Where Ethics and Aesthetics Meet: Titian's Rape of Europa
A. W. EATON

Titian's Rape of Europa is highly praised for its luminous colors and sensual textures.
B ut the paintingh as an overlookedd arks ide, namelyt hat it eroticizesr ape.
I arguet hat this is an ethicald efectt hat diminishesth e paintinga estheticallyT. his
argument-that an artworkc an be worseo ff qua worko f art preciselyb ecausei t is
somehowe thicallyp roblematic-demonstratetsh atf eministc oncernsa bouta rt can
play a legitimater olei n art criticisma nd aesthetica ppreciation.

Titian's Rape of Europa (1559-62, oil on canvas, 178.7 x 202.5 cm, Isabella Stewart
Gardner Museum, Boston) is often touted as the greatest Italian Renaissance
painting hanging in an American collection. It is also considered one of Titian's
finest works, and it's not hard to see why. The painting is rightfully praised for
its subtle modulations of luminous colors and its wide array of palpably sensual
textures. If this were all there were to the painting, then its univocal acclaim
and pride of place in the canon would be entirely justified. But this virtuosic
display of lustrous colors and shiny textures has a dark side, namely that the
paintinge roticizesa nd celebratesr ape.I shall arguet hat this constitutesa n ethical
defect, and further, that this defect diminishes the painting aesthetically.'
The general position defended here is a modified version of ethicism, the view
that an artwork can be worse off qua work of art precisely because it is ethically
problematic.2(M y modificationsb ecome apparentl ater in this essay.)
I make an argument for ethicism in two stages. First, I examine Titian's
painting in some detail in order to reveal its particular kind of ethical flaw. It
will be important to look at the painting closely because the second part of the
paper demonstrates the artistic relevance of this flaw, and this can only be done
convincingly if we have a sense of how the painting works aesthetically.

I. THE PAINTING


The painting depicts a scene from the following mythological story.3 Europa,
daughter of the king of Tyre, used to play with her companions on the sands
where her father's cattle were taken down to the shore. Jupiter became infatuated
with the maiden, donned the disguise of an alluring snow-white bull with
gleaming horns, and approached the lovely Europa. He frolicked and played
about until the maiden was thoroughly charmed and her fears allayed. First
the trusting Europa placed a garland of flowers upon his horns, and then, finding
him such a docile and sweet creature, ventured to mount him. Once the
maiden was coaxed into climbing onto his back, Jupiter bolted for the sea and
carried his frightened prize off to Crete. This is the moment of the story that
Titian's painting depicts: the bull carries Europa away from the shore where her
companions (left behind) appear to call after her and a lone cow looks on.

What happens next? Most literary versions of the myth do not explicitly
say; they merely report that Europa gave birth to a line of wise kings. But this
ellipsis makes it clear that after Jupiter arrives on the island with Europa he
impregnates her. Although Titian's painting does not literally depict this act,
it does strongly hint at the sexual nature of the events to follow. Consider, for
instance, Europa'sr evealed breast, the evocative and allusive folds of drapery
between her bare and fleshy thighs, the froth of sea foaming around both figures,
and so on. The paintingi mpliest hat sex will soon take place, and moreovert, hat
this sex will be of the nonconsensual and violent sort.4 The latter is indicated
by Europa'se xtremelyp recariousp osture;s he is clearlyn ot riding the bull but
rather being savagely dragged off against her will. The ominous storm clouds
in the direction in which the two are heading portend her unhappy fate, and
the monstrous fish directly below emphasizes the danger and threat. In these
ways, the picture is emphatic about the violent sexual aims for which Europa
is being forcibly hauled off.


But do these signs of nonconsensual sexual violence justify describing
the picture as one representing a rape? One might think that they do not,
since, strictly speaking, the painting depicts not Europa'ss exual violation but
simply her abduction.T he painting'st itle, Rattod 'Europas, upportst his reading
because, one might argue, the early modern ratto is better translated as
"abduction"o r "kidnapping"th an as "rape."6


There are several problems with this interpretation of Titian's picture. First,
as far as we know, the painting does not have what one might call a proper title.
Titian did not officially entitle any of his paintings-such was not common
practice in sixteenth-century Venice-and the title Ratto d'Europa was first
given to the painting fifty years after Titian's death.6 One cannot, then, at least
not without further argument, lean on the painting's title in making a case
about what it represents.


But let us pass over this difficulty. It is still the case that once the painting
was called Ratto d'Europa, this became its standard title. The endurance and
widespread acceptance of the title may be most readily explained by its suitedness
to the painting'sr epresentationalc ontent: the rattoo f Europai s just what
the painting depicts. Now if, as some suggest, ratto meant simply abduction-that
is, merely the forcible carrying off of a person without any connotations of sexual
violence-then this might count in favor of the view that Titian's painting
does not represent the rape of Europa. But, I contend, the seventeenth-century
termr attor arelym eant merelya bductioni n the neutrals ense describeda bove:i t
was used almoste xclusivelyfo r thea bductiono ffemales,a nd in these cases sexual
violence was almosta lwaysi mplied.7T hat is, when the "object"b eing carriedo ff
was a woman,r apirem eant not garden-varietyk idnappingb ut, rather,s pecified
abduction of a certain sort, namely one committed for the purposes of sexual
violation. So although the term did not commonly designate the act of forced sexual intercourse itself (there were, and still are, more legalistic terms for this, such as stuprare) i,t did refert o the abductiono f a woman for this purpose.


The case is similar with Titian's painting. In a strict sense it merely shows
us a scantily-dressed woman awkwardly posed on a bull who is in the water
far from shore. But this fastidiously minimal description fails to capture the
fact that the painting represents an action-that is, a temporally extended
and goal-directed activity. Now, actions take time to complete and the static
medium of painting, unlike film, cannot literally represent the entire process
from beginning to end. If a painter means to represent an action (as opposed
to, say, painting a portrait), she can either show the moment at which the goal
is achieved and ignore the steps leading up to it, or represent a stage of this
temporally extended activity and merely suggest the goal toward which it aims.
Titian's painting is an example of the latter. In order to properly understand
the scene we must situate it within the whole action of which it is but a stage.
Any interpretationo f the picturet hat insists upon overlookingt he goal toward
which the scene is a step would be incomplete.8 So although it is not false to
simply say of the painting, as the strict description allows, that the bull is in
water far from shore, such a description misses the important point that the
bull is moving in a direction, namely toward Crete. And the fact that the island
is not included in the picture should not stop us from saying that the picture
shows the bull swimming toward this goal. Likewise, the fact that forced sexual
intercourse is not depicted should not stop us from saying that Titian's picture
shows the bull in the process of achieving this objective. Indeed, as discussed
above, the picture provides many visual cues that sexual violation is imminent.
The painting does not, then, represent a mere kidnapping, but rather the forcible
carrying off of Europa for the purpose of sexual intercourse. This, I think,
justifies saying that the painting represents rape.


But the painting does not simply represent rape in a neutral manner. Rather,
it eroticizesE uropa'sr ape, and it does so along two axes: first, in terms of what
it depicts, and second, by calling for certain feelings regarding what it depicts.
Let me explain what I mean by these two things.


First,t he painting eroticizesE uropa'sr ape by representingh er as complicit
and taking pleasure in the act. For instance, Europa'sf acial expression does
not obviously betray distress, fear, or pain, and is often interpreted as a look of
ecstasy.9F urther,h er masturbatoryg raspo f the bull'sp hallic horn suggestsh er
active participation not only in riding the bull (she's got the bull by the horns,
so to speak), but also in the sexual act. And the joyous colors of twilight seem
to emanate from her and evoke her passion. Consider, in addition, the pink
drapery above her head that appears to flutter as the result of voluntary waving,
a standard sign of triumph. Finally, notice that the putto, or cherub, directly
above Europa has a bow but no arrows, suggesting that she has been "shot" and
so is already in the grip of erotic love. These indications of her complicity andsexual intercourse itself (there were, and still are, more legalistic terms for this,
such as stuprare)i,t did refert o the abductiono f a woman for this purpose.
The case is similar with Titian's painting. In a strict sense it merely shows
us a scantily-dressed woman awkwardly posed on a bull who is in the water
far from shore. But this fastidiously minimal description fails to capture the
fact that the painting represents an action-that is, a temporally extended
and goal-directed activity. Now, actions take time to complete and the static
medium of painting, unlike film, cannot literally represent the entire process
from beginning to end. If a painter means to represent an action (as opposed
to, say, painting a portrait), she can either show the moment at which the goal
is achieved and ignore the steps leading up to it, or represent a stage of this
temporally extended activity and merely suggest the goal toward which it aims.
Titian's painting is an example of the latter. In order to properly understand
the scene we must situate it within the whole action of which it is but a stage.
Any interpretationo f the picturet hat insists upon overlookingt he goal toward
which the scene is a step would be incomplete.8 So although it is not false to
simply say of the painting, as the strict description allows, that the bull is in
water far from shore, such a description misses the important point that the
bull is moving in a direction, namely toward Crete. And the fact that the island
is not included in the picture should not stop us from saying that the picture
shows the bull swimming toward this goal. Likewise, the fact that forced sexual
intercourse is not depicted should not stop us from saying that Titian's picture
shows the bull in the process of achieving this objective. Indeed, as discussed
above, the picture provides many visual cues that sexual violation is imminent.
The painting does not, then, represent a mere kidnapping, but rather the forcible
carrying off of Europa for the purpose of sexual intercourse. This, I think,
justifies saying that the painting represents rape.

But the painting does not simply represent rape in a neutral manner. Rather,
it eroticizesE uropa'sr ape, and it does so along two axes: first, in terms of what
it depicts, and second, by calling for certain feelings regarding what it depicts.
Let me explain what I mean by these two things.


First,t he painting eroticizesE uropa'sr ape by representingh er as complicit
and taking pleasure in the act. For instance, Europa'sf acial expression does
not obviously betray distress, fear, or pain, and is often interpreted as a look of
ecstasy.9F urther,h er masturbatoryg raspo f the bull'sp hallic horn suggestsh er
active participation not only in riding the bull (she's got the bull by the horns,
so to speak), but also in the sexual act. And the joyous colors of twilight seem
to emanate from her and evoke her passion. Consider, in addition, the pink
drapery above her head that appears to flutter as the result of voluntary waving,
a standard sign of triumph. Finally, notice that the putto, or cherub, directly
above Europa has a bow but no arrows, suggesting that she has been "shot" and
so is already in the grip of erotic love. These indications of her complicity and pleasure are so strong that it is not uncommon to describe the painting as this art historiand oes, noting "Europa'osw n excitementa s it begins to flowt hroughh errippling, pulsating flesh and ignite the landscape around her. As she approaches
her divine union, she starts to throb with ... [a] sense of rapture"( Nash 1985,
60). (It may be worth noting that these are not the words of an outmoded male
art historian but rather of a woman writing in the mid-1980s.)
To see this point more clearly, let us briefly contrast Titian's painting with
another picture that depicts a rape but does not, in this first sense of the term,
eroticize rape. Consider Nicolas Poussin's Rape of the Sabine Women in the
Metropolitan Museum of Art.'0 In the foreground we see victims with pained
and terrifiede xpressionso n their faces who kick and raiset heir armsi n struggle
and vehement resistance. The overall scene is one of violence and mayhem,
babies and old mothers left crying in the dirt as the women are violently dragged
off. There is little hint that the impending forced sexual intercourse will be
pleasurableo r beneficialf or these women, nor a suggestiont hat they instigated
or willingly participatei n the act." Poussin'sp ainting representst hese women
as victims of unwanted and unbidden sexual assault.


Titian's painting, by contrast, indicates in a variety of ways that Europa is not
truly a victim but rather an active and willing participant for whom the rape is
pleasurable, as I've discussed. This is what I mean by saying that the painting
eroticizesr ape in terms of its depictive content. And yet, I began this paperb y
pointing to those aspects of the painting that imply the nonconsensual nature
of the impending sexual intercourse. So at this point it may strike you that I'm
talking out of both sides of my mouth. And in a certain sense, I am-or better,
the painting is talking out of both sides of its mouth, as it were. That is, Titian's
painting engages in something of a contradiction:b y eroticizingE uropa'sr ape
in the way I've just described, the painting simultaneously affirms and denies
rape. Now, although the concept of rape is not logically incompatible with
an attribution of sexual pleasure to the victim, these two thoughts do not sit
comfortablyt ogether.A nd it certainlyi s a contradictiont o suggestt hat a victim
activelye ngages in her own rape.'1T he incompatibilityh ere turns on consent.
Since rape is an act of sexual intercourse forced upon a person against her will,
portraying a victim as a willing participant in sexual intercourse nullifies one
defining feature of rape (that is, force), transmuting the act into something
akin to seduction.'3


In this way, Titian's painting trades on a common fantasy about female
sexuality and, in particular, a common fantasy of rape. The basic components
of this fantasy are likely familiar. They include the notion that women at least
sometimes solicit or otherwise "ask for" rape (perhaps by dressing provocatively
or staying out late unaccompanied by a man); that because they provoke and
tempt men in this way, women deserve whatever sexual advances are made to
them; that rape satisfies women's secret desires to be taken and ravished; that although they appear to be terrified, deep down they are actually enjoying themselves; that they pretend to resist in order to protect their virtue but their "no"r eally means "yes"a; nd so on.14N ow, in calling this a common fantasy of
female sexuality I do not mean to suggest that many people explicitly affirm
such propositions to themselves or others. Rather, I think that such assumptions
about female sexuality are often unconscious or otherwise inexplicit and
are rarely articulated clearly. But one doesn't have to look very hard to see
these assumptions manifest today in peoples' attitudes, in a variety of cultural
representations (for example, movies, pornography, popular music, and high
art), and in the way that rape is handled in official arenas.15T he evidence we
have suggestst hat this was equallyt rue in Titian'ss ocial milieu,16a nd a strong
case has been made that this fantasy pervades Italian Renaissance artistic
representationso f rape.17


As our examination of Titian's painting shows, this fantasy is at odds with
itself, fluctuating between the victim's resistance and consent, innocence and
guilt, unwanted terror and sexual pleasure. But these tensions cannot be too
glaring or the fantasy will collapse:a ffirmingE uropa'sv ictimizationt oo much
would cancel her complicity,o veremphasizingh er participationw ould negate
her helplessness, and laying too much weight on her terror would render her
pleasure implausible. Balancing these potentially incongruous elements would
be particularlyd ifficultw hen the fantasy is materializedi n visual form, which
tends to make things concrete and often leaves less to the imagination than, say,
literaryr epresentationsW. e might, then, considerm aintaining an equilibrium
between these seeminglyi ncompatiblec omponentsy et anothero f the painting's
achievements. I urge instead that Titian's intricate, vivid, and deeply sensual
conjuring of this rape fantasy counts as an ethical defect. To see why, let us turn
to the second way in which the painting eroticizes rape. But before we do, I
should briefly say something about ethical defects in works of art.


There are many reasons an artwork might be judged unethical. One arises
from concern about an artwork's subject matter, either because it represents
something that shouldn't be displayed publicly (such as nudity) or because
it depicts unethical actions, scenarios, lifestyles, and so on. Jesse Helms, for
instance, regularly espouses the idea that acts and lifestyles that he deems
immoral simply shouldn't be represented, and that any work depicting such
things is thereby" immoralt rash"( Bolton 1992, 75).18A nother reasonh as nothing
to do with an artwork'sr epresentationacl ontent, but ratherr estse ntirelyo n
the unethical character of the person who produced the work. For example, a
recently discovered group of watercolor landscapes bearing the signature "Adolf
Hitler" has been deemed so morally reprehensible that it has been hidden in
a secret location protectedb y the U. S. Army.19A relatedb ut differentr eason
pertains to the unjust conditions under which a work was produced. The great
pyramids in Egypt, for example, might be judged unethical because they were built through slave labor. A final reason rests upon a causal claim about and artwork'sh armfulc onsequences.W illiam Golding'sL ordo f the Flies (1962) for instance, might be deemed unethical because it apparently incited a group of college students to viciously torture a sow and her piglets and eventually set them ablaze (see Booth 1988, 163).


How many of these one accepts as genuine ethical defects depends upon the
ethical theory to which one subscribes. I bring them up only to highlight the
peculiar features of the essentially different kind of ethical defect in Titian's
painting. This defect depends not on the painting's genetic history, nor upon
empiricalc laims about its effects in the world,20n or on the fact that it merely
depicts an unethical act. Rather, the ethical defect at issue for us lies in the
work'se thically defective vision of rape.21T his vision consists primarilyi n the
picture's eroticization of rape, which leads us to the second sense in which I
mean the term.


When I say that Titian's painting eroticizes rape, I mean not only that it
depicts a willing victim for whom this rape is pleasurableb, ut also that it represents
this internally conflicted event in a manner aimed to arouse the viewer's
sexual desire. This is not to say that the audience does in fact respond to this
picture with erotic feelings, but rather that the painting calls upon us to have
such feelings about this event. This teleological understanding of artworks,
which has its roots in Aristotle's Rhetoric( 1984) and Poetics( 1987),22h as the
distinct advantageo f allowingf or a robustu nderstandingo f aestheticf ailure:a n
artwork is flawed insofar as it fails to engender the response for which it calls.
"Erotica,"fo r instance, designatesa categoryo f artisticw orkst hat aim to sexually
stimulate the audience, and insofar as a piece of erotica fails in this aim it is
defective. But this view needs refining because, as discussed below, there might
be causesf ort he audience'sf ailuret o responda s an artworka sksa t have nothing
to do with the work itself and everything to do with external circumstances.
Although such causes might explain our failuret o responda ppropriatelyt,h ey
do not justify negative judgments about the works. Berys Gaut (1998) provides
a formulation that takes this into consideration: to the extent that an artwork
does not merit the response for which it calls, it is defective on that count. (As
we shall see in the last section of this paper, the problem with this formulation
is that it does not appear to distinguish the artistically relevant responses for
which a work calls from the irrelevant ones.)


In making his case, Gaut uses the language of prescription to capture what
I'mc alling the teleologicald imensiono f representationaal rtworks;h e sayst hat
a work prescribesa particularr esponse to the world it represents.T his is not
a surreptitiouss muggling-ino f authoriali ntention-what the workp rescribes
need not be what the actual author intended (although a work's prescriptions
are attributablet o the implied author).23R ather, the languageo f prescription
refers to the various rhetorical devices through which works aim to shape the audience's sentiments regarding the characters and events they depict. This is
a useful, indeed some would arguee ssential (see Booth 1961),2w4 ay of thinking
about literary works of art, but the terminology is infelicitous when it comes to
picturesb ecause, unlike prescriptions,t heir calls for affective responsesa re not
propositional. Pictures lack, for instance, narrators to instruct us, either explicitly
or implicitly, in our responses to characters and events. So how does one
accurately discern the affective responses that a picture calls for? How can we
tell how we are supposedto feel about characters,e vents, and other things represented
in a picture? How does one discern a picture's aims in that regard?


Rather than attempt a theoretical explanation of this complicated process,25
I shall briefly demonstrate how visual evidence supports my claim that Titian's
painting calls for an erotic response to Europa'sr ape. Consider, for instance,
the panoply of sensual textures (wet cloth, soft flesh, frothy sea foam) or, more
important,t he visual emphasisu pon eroticallyc hargedp arts of Europa'sb ody,
such as her bare thighs, her navel revealed by clinging drapery, the triangular
shape of the drapery between her thighs that highlights her pubes, and the
vulvar form insinuated by these pliant folds. Further, observe the way that this
entire pubic region falls on axis with her breast and navel along the strongest
diagonal in the painting. And notice that Europa'sp ose is obviouslyr iggeds o
that her legs spread toward the viewer; this posture is not justified narratively
(that is, by something in the story) but rather clearly aims to allow the audience
unobstructed visual access to this key erogenous zone. But if there remains
any question about where we are supposed to look, two putti, or cherubs, (the
one directly above Europa and the other in the lower left corner of the painting)
stare directly at her crotch, thereby directing our attention to it. Finally,
although Europa'sfa ce is barelyv isible and her expressionh ardlyl egible,26h er
exposed breast, navel, and crotch are of central focus. In this way, sexualized
parts of her body are put on display as if not connected to a person with thoughts
or feelings. This invites the viewer to ignore her subjectivity while enjoying her
sexy body, an objectification that in its extreme form characterizes the act of
rape itself. In these ways, the painting palpably and insistently aims to kindle
the viewer'sc arnal appetites in regardt o Europa'sr ape.


I'veb een urgingt hat Titian'sp aintinge roticizesr apei n two ways:f irst,i t does
so in terms of its representational content, by portraying Europa as a willing
victim who derives pleasure from and actively solicits sexual abuse; and second,
it presents Europa's sexual subordination in a way aimed to sexually arouse
the viewer. The painting calls upon the viewer to respond to its problematic
portrayal of rape with erotic feelings, and this is its ethical defect.
But what, one might ask, what is the problem with responding to rape with
erotic feelings? Or, to put it another way, what is wrong with the response for
which Titian's painting calls? Since the answer to this question is not obvious,
here is a schematic account of an argument.27

1) In many societies women, just because they are women, are denied equality
of opportunity in many arenas and often suffer abuse, harassment, and
discrimination of various sorts.
2) This is a grave injustice.
3) The subordination of women is not inevitable but rather is sustained and
reproducedb y a complexo f social factorst hat can be explicit (as in the denial
of rights and privileges,o r in discriminatoryp ractices)o r more subtle (as in
the influence of religion, television, advertising, etc.).
4) Rape and the constant threat of rape play a significant role in women's subordination.
T hat is, rape is a mechanismo f genderi nequalitya nd not merely
a symptom of it.28
5) Eroticizing rape is a part of what sustains and promotes this inequality. Its
efficacy stems from the fact that tying gender inequality to sexual pleasure-a
pleasure in which almost all humans are deeply invested-renders that
inequality not just tolerable and easier to accept but attractive, pleasurable,
and even desirable.29

It follows that Titian's painting is ethically defective insofar as it calls upon viewers
to adopts entimentst owardr apet hat playa role in the reproductiono f gender
inequality. Note that this ethical defect does not depend upon claims about
whether the painting does in fact engender sexist attitudes in its audience.30
Such an empirical fact would be irrelevant to the defect at issue here, namely
that the painting aims to produce strongly positive feelings toward a despicable
act that currently plays an important role in perpetuating social injustice. It is
wrong on ethical grounds for us to enter into these sentiments, and yet refraining
from responding in this way would cause us to miss a significant aesthetic
dimension of the work.

What role, then, should this ethical defect play in our appreciation and
assessment of the painting's artistic value? I began by noting that Titian's painting
is widely celebrated as one of the hallmarks of Western art. I want now to
consider whether it deserves such univocal praise in light of the ethical concern
just raised. Does the painting's ethical defect legitimately diminish this widely
esteemed aesthetic value? Does the fact that the painting eroticizes rape give
us reason to reconsider its venerated place in the canon of Western art? I think
that it does. I shall now provide an argument for this with a little help from
David Hume and Aristotle.

II. SEPARATISM, MORALISM, AND ETHICISM

So far I have argued that while Titian's Rape of Europa is generally agreed to
merit the highest aesthetic praise, it is ethically defective in the sense that it
calls for an objectionable response to rape. This puts the viewer in something of a predicament in that these two dimensions-the aesthetically meritorious
and the ethically problematic-do not sit comfortably together. As feminists
we are pulled in the direction of condemning the work;a s appreciatorso f fine
art we are pulled in the direction of praising it. So what should we do when
estimating the overall value of the work as a whole? Must we choose between
our feminist qualms about the painting and our admiration of its artistic merits,
or is there some way to balance the two? Do the ethical blemishes and the
aesthetic merits interact?


One common resolutiont o this problems egregatest hese seeminglyo pposing
judgments and sympathies into airtight compartments. Let us call this strategy
"separatism."T he separatisth olds that although we find works like Rape of
Europa to be simultaneously agreeable and disagreeable, and so judge them
to be both meritorious and defective, the opposition is only apparent because
these sympathies and judgments actually pertain to utterly distinct kinds of
value. Works like these are good in one respect, namely aesthetic, but bad in a
completely different respect, namely ethical, and these two kinds of value are
incommensurable. The separatist's denial of any common measure between
ethical defects and aesthetic merits dissolves the apparent tension by refusing to
acknowledge any opposition in the first place. The separatist holds that there is
no basis for comparison between the two kinds of value: works such as Titian's
are simply good in one way and bad in another, end of story.

Separatism encounters difficulties in distinguishing the praiseworthy features
of such works from the blameworthy. The problem is that this often
boils down to a form/content distinction in which the aesthetic features are
associated with color, composition, line, and the like, and the ethical features
are associatedw ith the work'sr epresentationacl ontent. (Aesthetic formalism,
the most common form of separatism,a doptst his strategy.)A nd in such cases,
the separatist'sr igid partition of the aesthetic from the ethical depends upon
a crisp distinction between form and content, a distinction that is notoriously
difficult to achieve.

But let us imagine that the separatist can handle this problem. It would
still prove an unsatisfactory way of dealing with works such as the Rape of
Europa because it fails to capture the phenomenology of our encounter with
them. Separatism misses something real and troubling in our experience with
such works-that unqualifiedly savoring them and recognizing their artistic
worth appears to implicitly condone their ethically problematic vision. The
praiseworthy and blameworthy aspects of these works seem to overlap and
interpenetrate so that the works do not strike us as simply good in one way
and bad in an entirely different and unrelated way, but rather present us with
a genuine conflict in which our sympathies are pulled in opposing directions
along the same axis. Separatism cannot explain this conflict.


There is another way to handle the predicament in which Titian's painting puts us that appears to acknowledge a common measure between the two kinds
of value. This approach,o ften called "moralism,"h olds that aesthetic value is
simplya mattero f whether a workp romotest he ethically good.31T he moralist
holds that a work of art is good as a work of art insofar as it is ethical, and no features
other than those pertaining to its ethical value are relevant to appreciating
the work aesthetically. As we have seen in the recent reemergence of this view
in the Robert Mapplethorpe and Brooklyn Museum controversies (see Bolton
1992 and Rothfield 2001), this reduction of aesthetic value to ethical value is
unsatisfactoryb ecause it effectivelye liminates the aesthetic altogether.
Is there a model for the relationship between the ethical and the aesthetic
value of a work that doesn't subsume aesthetic value under the ethical? Can
we account for the dilemma that works such as Titian's pose without either
rigidly segregating the ethical from the aesthetic or reducing the latter to the
former?

The philosophy of art has recently witnessed a renewed interest in the
intersection of ethics and aesthetics. This interest takes several forms, one of
which is often called ethicism (See, for example, Booth 1988 and 1998, Carroll
1996 and 1998, Devereaux 1998, Dickie 1989, M. Eaton 1997 and 2001, Gaut
1998,H anson 1998,a nd Kieran1 996).32E thicismh olds that the ethical features
of an artwork are relevant to, but not determinative of, its aesthetic merit. To
explain how a work's ethical value can legitimately bear on its aesthetic value,
the ethicist typically relies upon what I shall call an assimilationm odel.3T3 he
assimilation model explains the relevance of an artwork's ethical properties
to aesthetic judgment by construing these ethical properties as one species
of a larger, multifarious category of aesthetic value. "There are a plurality of
aesthetic values," writes Berys Gaut, "of which the ethical values of artworks
are but a single kind" (1998, 183). According to this strategy, ethical properties
of worksc an both diminisha nd augmentt heir aesthetic value.34I shall refer
to this featureo f the assimilationm odel as its symmetryS. o, artworksc an not
only depreciate aesthetically by virtue of their ethical defects but can also be
aesthetically enhanced by virtue of their ethical strengths. (An asymmetrical
version of ethicism, by contrast, would hold that ethical values can diminish
but not augment, or augment but not diminish, a work's aesthetic value.)
There are at least two problems with the assimilation model. First, the identification
of ethical values as a kind of aesthetic value erases the distinction
between the two kinds of value. One need not be a separatist invested in a rigid
distinction between the ethical and the aesthetic to find this unsatisfactory,
for the very aim of ethicism is to explain why one sort of value bears on judgments
regardingv alue of a differents ort. Identifying one of these as a species
of the other sidesteps the problem by denying any real difference between the
two, thereby rendering ethicism (that is, the view that ethical value bears upon
aesthetic value) tautologous.

Second, the symmetry resulting from the assimilation of ethical values to a
broader category of aesthetic ones is counterintuitive. Whereas the idea that
an artwork'se thical faultsm ight detractf rom its overall artisticv alue has some
intuitive appeal, the notion that a work might be better as a work of art in virtue
of its ethical merits does not. The presence of an ethically commendable trait
will not lend an artworkg race,s ubtlety,h armoniousnesso, r any other aesthetic
value one might choose, nor will it improvea worka long these axes. It is no surprise,
t hen, that all of the exampleso fferedb y ethicism'ss upportersin volvec ases
in which a highly acclaimed work of art is found unethical and on this basis
argued to be aesthetically diminished. But no one, to my knowledge, explicitly
endorses the notion that works such as Harriet Beecher Stowe's Uncle Tom's
Cabin (1982) are better artisticallyp reciselyd ue to their ethical merits.S uch a
view seems not only too moralizing but also sometimes false: overly righteous
worksc an be sentimental, self-congratulatorya, nd boring (all aestheticf laws).
Justt hink, for example,o f Steven Spielberg'sS chindler'Ls ist (1994). But the fact
that works are not artistically improved by their ethical merits does not falsify
ethicism, for they may be aesthetically marred in virtue of their ethical failings.
How does the lattern ot entail the former?I suggestt hat Hume offersa solution
in his essay "Of the Standard of Taste" (1985).35

III. HUMEAN ETHICISM

Although Hume was not the first to defend the congruence of ethics and
aesthetics, his essay is arguably the first to treat this junction nonreductively.
Unlike some of his predecessorsH, ume does not reduce an artwork'sa esthetic
value to its morality, but rather suggests that a work's aesthetic merit can be
influenced by its ethical character. More specifically, Hume holds that the
ethically problematic character of an artwork need not completely destroy its
aesthetic value, but it can diminisha worka esthetically.

Here's what Hume says about this. At the end of the essay, he makes the
following remark about artworks that we (the audience) find ethically problematic:
"[W]here vicious manners are described without being marked with
the proper characters of blame and disapprobation, this must be allowed to
disfigure[ the work],a nd to be a real deformityI. cannot, nor is it propert hat
I should, enter into such sentiments; and however I may excuse the poet, on
account of the manners of his age, I never can relish the composition. The
want of humanity and of decency, so conspicuous in the characters drawn by
several of the ancient poets ... diminishecs onsiderablyth e merito f their noble
performances .. ." (1985, 246; italics added). Several features of this claim are
worth noting. First, Hume says that when an artwork contravenes the audience's
morals tandards,t hey should considert his a "deformity.S"i nce deformityi s for
Hume the contrary of beauty (1978, Book II, Part I, Section VIII: "Of Beauty and Deformity," 293-303), this means that the ethical defect disfigures the
work aesthetically. Second, the influence of the ethical upon the aesthetic
admits of degrees. Hume says not that "want of humanity and decency" ruins
the work completely,b ut rather that this diminishest he work'sa rtistic merit.
This subtlety, which is so conspicuously absent from moralism, respects the
all-things-consideredn ature of judgmentsa bout the artistic value of worksa s
a whole. Third, neither here nor elsewhere in the essay does Hume affirm the
converse, that a work's moral virtues can improve its composition and thereby
augment its aesthetic merit. This is perhaps an accident that does not reflect
any intended asymmetry,b ut I suggestt hat, regardlesso f what Hume actually
thought, it would be advantageous to construe the influence of ethical value
upon aesthetic value asymmetrically; that is, to hold that in some cases an
artwork's ethical flaws diminish it aesthetically without thereby committing
to the claim that a work can be enhanced as a work of art simply because it
promotes a proper ethical perspective. It makes sense to hold that whereas an
artwork's ethical failings can impede its aesthetic success, its ethical virtues
provide no guarantee of such success.

So, the subtlety and the asymmetry are real advantages of Hume's version
of ethicism. But what is the argument for it? Unfortunately he does not provide
one, so part of my aim here will be to construct such an argument. The point
is not Hume exegesis, but rather to see what can be said in favor of a view that
offers these advantages for dealing with works such as Titian's.
I begin with Hume's famous analogy between artworks and friends: "We
choose our favourite author as we do our friend, from a conformity of humour
and disposition"( 1985, 244).36A t firstb lush this statement appearst oo strong.
The best friends are typically not those whose views and tastes are identical
to our own, but rather those whose humor and disposition diverge from ours,
those who will help us to see and appreciate things that we otherwise would
miss. Good friends expand our horizons and thereby enrich our lives. Likewise
with works of art: the best works of art call upon us to adopt unfamiliar points
of view and imagine strange worlds, often thereby revealing something new
about our own world, something that we otherwise would have overlooked. It
might seem, then, that although Hume's analogy between artworks and friends
reveals an important similarity between the two, he is far too conservative in
what he requires from both.

And yet, the context in which Hume's comment arises suggests that he
means not conformity in overall disposition but rather conformity in something
like ethical orientation. We might then read the passage thus: "We choose our
favourite author as we do our friend, from a conformity of ethos." Now, you
still might not agree that we choose someone as a friend because they share our
ethical orientation, but it seems plausible that a certain amount of agreement
in this regard is required in order to appreciate someone's other qualities and so to consider her as a candidate for friendship in the first place. A person's ethical values cannot diverge wildly from mine if I am to appreciate her sense of humor, taste, etc. For instance, if someone is an outspoken racist but is in
other respects likeable (perhaps she has a sharp sense of humor and is in some
ways generous and kind), my aversion to the morally repugnant feature of her
personality will distract me from whatever redeeming qualities she might possess.
Perhaps the more conservative a person is, the more similarity to her own
values she requires from potential friends, but most everyone has some point
at which another's ethical orientation would be so disagreeable as to diminish
or even block enjoyment of that person's other potentially redeeming (in the
sense of friend-making) qualities.

Likewise, an artwork's ethical failings might impede the viewer's aesthetic
response, preventing it from even getting off the ground. Hume does not explain
exactly how this works, but it's not difficult to come up with a story in which a
work's ethical blemishes inspire such a feeling of aversion in the audience that
it inhibits their aesthetic delight in the work. This could happen in one of
several ways. A work's ethical deformity might result in an unpleasant feeling
so strong that it distracts the viewer from those features that would otherwise
arouse pleasure. Imagine, for example, stubbing your toe and the resultant pain
being so sharp and annoying as to make it very difficult to concentrate on anything
else, much less something as subtle and demanding as an artwork. Or the
impediment might work this way: the resultant feeling of repugnance so disturbs
the audience's state of mind that it inhibits their capacity for that free and
spontaneous activity that many think characterizesa esthetic pleasure.I n this
case, even though the audience could concentrate on the work, they would be
unable to take pleasure in it. Imagine that even if you could attend to an artwork
after stubbing your toe, the accident had altered your disposition, making you
too peevish and ill-temperedt o feel pleasurei n what you saw or heard.37E ither
by distraction or disturbance, then, an ethical flaw in an artwork could make
it difficult or even impossible to take pleasure in its artistically praiseworthy
features, much as an ethical defect in a potential friend could inhibit appreciation
of the person's merits. The point of the friendship analogy seems to be that
just as we must concur with a person's ethical orientation in order to be suitably
positionedt o enjoyh er other qualities,s o we must agreew ith an artwork'se thos
in order to take pleasure in its various artistic merits. When this condition of
conformity in ethical orientation is not met-that is, when a work strikes us
as ethically flawed-the ethical failing interferes with our appreciation of the
work'so ther praiseworthyfe atures.I shall call this construalo f the relationship
between ethical defects and artistic merits the interferencme odel.
Does interference provide a good model for explaining how an artwork's
ethical flaws can legitimately diminish its artistic value? I think not. To see
why, consider the following objection. The interference model conceives of an so to consider her as a candidate for friendship in the first place. A person's
ethical values cannot diverge wildly from mine if I am to appreciate her sense
of humor, taste, etc. For instance, if someone is an outspoken racist but is in
other respects likeable (perhaps she has a sharp sense of humor and is in some
ways generous and kind), my aversion to the morally repugnant feature of her
personality will distract me from whatever redeeming qualities she might possess.
Perhaps the more conservative a person is, the more similarity to her own
values she requires from potential friends, but most everyone has some point
at which another's ethical orientation would be so disagreeable as to diminish
or even block enjoyment of that person's other potentially redeeming (in the
sense of friend-making) qualities.

Likewise, an artwork's ethical failings might impede the viewer's aesthetic
response, preventing it from even getting off the ground. Hume does not explain
exactly how this works, but it's not difficult to come up with a story in which a
work's ethical blemishes inspire such a feeling of aversion in the audience that
it inhibits their aesthetic delight in the work. This could happen in one of
several ways. A work's ethical deformity might result in an unpleasant feeling
so strong that it distracts the viewer from those features that would otherwise
arouse pleasure. Imagine, for example, stubbing your toe and the resultant pain
being so sharp and annoying as to make it very difficult to concentrate on anything
else, much less something as subtle and demanding as an artwork. Or the
impediment might work this way: the resultant feeling of repugnance so disturbs
the audience's state of mind that it inhibits their capacity for that free and
spontaneous activity that many think characterizesa esthetic pleasure.I n this
case, even though the audience could concentrate on the work, they would be
unable to take pleasure in it. Imagine that even if you could attend to an artwork
after stubbing your toe, the accident had altered your disposition, making you
too peevish and ill-temperedt o feel pleasurei n what you saw or heard.37E ither
by distraction or disturbance, then, an ethical flaw in an artwork could make
it difficult or even impossible to take pleasure in its artistically praiseworthy
features, much as an ethical defect in a potential friend could inhibit appreciation
of the person's merits. The point of the friendship analogy seems to be that
just as we must concur with a person's ethical orientation in order to be suitably
positionedt o enjoyh er other qualities,s o we must agreew ith an artwork'se thos
in order to take pleasure in its various artistic merits. When this condition of
conformity in ethical orientation is not met-that is, when a work strikes us
as ethically flawed-the ethical failing interferes with our appreciation of the
work'so ther praiseworthyfe atures.I shall call this construalo f the relationship
between ethical defects and artistic merits the interferencme odel.

Does interference provide a good model for explaining how an artwork's
ethical flaws can legitimately diminish its artistic value? I think not. To see
why, consider the following objection. The interference model conceives of an artwork'se thical defect as a mere impedimentt o the audience'sa ppreciationo for the work's artistically valuable features. But many things could impede attention to or enjoyment of an artwork without affecting the work aesthetically.

As suggested in the analogy above, stubbing one's toe might make it difficult or
even impossible to attend to or take pleasure in an artwork, but the stubbed toe
itself does not count against the artistic value of the work. It would be absurd
to deem a work artistically deficient simply because the pain in my toe made it
impossiblef orm e to attend to or enjoyt he artworkf, or althought he stubbedt oe
provides a genetic (that is, causal) explanation for my failure to have an aesthetic
response,i t does not providea justificationfo r my failuret o so respond.H owever
it may interfere with aesthetic pleasure, my stubbed toe is clearly aesthetically
irrelevant, and likewise with an artwork's ethical flaws. Ethical defects may
similarly interfere with one's appreciation of an artwork but we're not thereby
justified in blaming the work for our lack of aesthetic response.38
A supporter of the interference model might respond that this objection
misunderstandst he nature of the ethical defect with which the ethicist is concerned.
As I mentioned earlier, a work of art might be considered unethical for
a variety of reasons, many of which are foreign to the work itself (for example,
genetic history, character of the artist, or causal effects). But the ethical flaw
that concerns the interference model is a feature of the work itself. As we saw
with Titian's Rape of Europa, the eroticization of rape is built into the visual
nuts-and-bolts of the work itself. It is this feature of the work itself that calls for
a feeling of aversion so distracting or disturbing, according to the interference
model, that it would impede appreciation of other aspects of the painting, for
instance, its sensual textures and luminous colors. This impediment differs from
the stubbed toe in that it is not an external hindrance to our enjoyment of the
work, but rather a feature of the work itself that interferes with our access to
its other qualities.

But this move cannot save the interference model. To see why, imagine a
painting that emits a foul and noxious odor. This would be a case in which
some real feature of the painting produces a feeling of aversion that might well
make it difficulto r even impossiblet o appreciatet he painting.N evertheless,w e
shouldn't say in such a case that the impediment (that is, the stench) is relevant
to the painting's artistic value. If someone judged a painting inferior and justified
this by pointing to its putrid odor, we should say that the criterion operative in
this judgment is misplaced: barring a few exceptional cases, a painting's smell
makes no difference to its artistic value. And so although it may be true that
a work's smell interferes with our access to those features that make the work
good artistically, it does not follow that the smell itself is artistically relevant,
that it should play a role in justifying judgments about the work's aesthetic
value. On the contrary, the putrid odor does nothing to erode the artistically
praiseworthyf eatures;t hese would remain untouchedb y the artwork'sn oxious smell. Likewise, so the objection might go, with ethical features of works of art.

Although a work'se thical blemishesc ould interferew ith our accesst o its artistic
merits, it would be misguided to say that such a work thereby suffers qua work
of art. Like a bad smell, an ethical flaw in an artwork is potentially damaging to
our experience of the work but nevertheless aesthetically irrelevant.
We can see from this objection that it is not enough to demonstrate that
a work's ethical defects interfere with aesthetic appreciation. To answer this,
the Humean needs to establish a more intimate connection between a work's
artistic merits and the ethical defect in question. Noel Carroll (1996) suggests
that at this point we look to Aristotle for support. In the Poetics (1996), Aristotle
describeso ne function of tragedya s the arousalo f the audience'sp ity and terror
for the protagonist.T his is a means to achieving tragedy'sp rimarya im, namely
the catharsiso f these emotions.39A tragedyt hat achievest his end-that is, that
producesf ear for the protagonist'sp light and pity for his misfortunes-counts
as a good tragedy, whereas one that fails to produce this response counts as a
bad one. For Aristotle, then, engendering a particular feeling (in this case pity
and fear) serves as a criterion of artistic excellence. This seems like a reasonable
way to see things: a good comedy is one that succeeds in making us laugh, a
good piece of erotica in sexually exciting us, a good melodrama in making us
weep, and so on.

In showing how a good tragedy achieves this end, Aristotle explains that
the protagonist must be of the right moral character (1996, 16 [52b28-53a17]).
"Right" here does not mean morally flawless, for if the protagonist were perfect
in this regardh, is passagef romg ood fortunet o misfortunew oulda ngeru s rather
than evoke our pity. Likewise, the protagonist cannot be wicked, for if he were
his fall from prosperity to misfortune might be morally satisfying but neither
pitiablen or terrifying.T he "right"m oralc haracterf or the protagonist,A ristotle
explains, falls between the poles of virtuosity and wickedness; he should be
within the realm of human frailty and so easier for the audience to identify with.
Such a protagonist would be good enough to merit the audience's pity when he
falls into adversity but not so good that his downfall will provoke outrage.
These observations help to explain how the achievement of a work's artistic
aims can depend upon the audience's agreement with the work's ethical orientation
or vision, and so how disagreement with this orientation can hinder an
aesthetically significant response. Psychological identification with a character
involves, among other things, adoptingh er point of view.39I f the characterh as
a severee thical flaw (the questiono f the degreeo f ethical failing is one to which
we shall return shortly), then putting ourselves in her shoes means taking up an
ethically defective perspective, and this is something that an ethically sensitive
person has good reason not to do. But if in such a case we fail to identify with
the character,t hen we will not respond appropriatelyw hen, for instance, his
fortune erodes into misfortune; rather than fear his impending downfall and pity his suffering and grief, we might applaud them. Since invoking pity and terror is a significant artistic aim of tragedy, this means that our ethical qualms about the protagonist should prevent us from responding in a way required for
the work to succeed artistically.

Hume appears to agree with Aristotle's idea that characters' ethical flaws
can hinder the identification required for proper engagement with a story. In
speaking of the "want of humanity and of decency [of] the characters drawn
by ancient poets," mentioned above, Hume observes that "we are not interested
in the fortunes and sentiments of such rough heroes ... we cannot prevail on
ourselves to enter into [the author's] sentiments, or bear an affection to characters,
which we plainly discover to be blameable" (1985, 246). If a story aims
to engage our interest in its heroes and this interest is essential to the story's
success, but the heroes do not merit our sympathy precisely because they are
ethically objectionable( or in Hume'st erms, "rough")t, hen the ethical defect
can hinder the artistically relevant response and so count against the artistic
value of the story. This view of the relationship between ethical defects and
artistic value frames things in terms of conditions rather than in terms of mere
interference. A work's artistic success can depend upon the audience's agreement
with its ethical orientation, and failure to meet this condition can impede
the response required for the work's artistic success.
This, I suggest, is the right way to draw an analogy between artworks and
friends. Recall that on my reading, we must agree with a person's ethos in
order to appreciate some of the qualities that would make her a friend. That
is, agreement in ethos is a condition of enjoyment of other potential friendmaking
qualities. Now consider the following case. A keen sense of adventure
is one quality that might make a person a good friend. This aspect of a person's
personality would be analogous to an artistically valuable feature of a work; just
as this feature of the work is part of what makes the work good qua work of art,
so the keen sense of adventure is part of what might make the person valuable
as a friend.B ut now imaginet hat the person'sk een sense of adventurem anifests
itself only in the following manner: this person likes to go to gay bars and invite
young men to come home with him, but upon leaving the bar he assaults the
young men and leaves them wounded in a nearby alley. (Although repugnant,
this is surely a kind of adventure in that it involves violence, danger, and risk.) If
we find this kind of activity ethically reprehensiblet, hen it wouldb e difficulto r
even impossible to appreciate the keen sense of adventure that would otherwise
have made the person a good candidate for friendship. In this case the friendmaking
quality depends upon a response-approval of gay bashing-that we
have good reason not to adopt on ethical grounds. Or to put this another way,
refusal to comply with the person's ethical orientation renders inaccessible the
friend-making quality that depends upon it.


The case is analogous, Hume suggests, with some works of art. It can happen that appropriate engagement with an artwork requires adopting an ethically defective attitude or perspective. This is an ethical flaw in the work and renders inaccessible those features that depend upon it. In the case where those features
are artisticallys ignificant,t hen the work'sc all fora n ethicallyd efectiver esponse
will impede the work's artistic success in that regard.


But we should remember that for Hume this influence of the ethical flaw
upon a work'so verall artistic merit admits of degreesT. his acknowledgest hat
works can have a variety of merits and defects that we must balance and weigh
against one another when judging the work as a whole. In some works an
ethical flaw of the sort at issue here might be peripheral to the work's overall
aims and thus outweighed by meritorious features that remain untouched by
the defect. Consider the example of Titian's Bacanal in the Museo del Prado,
Madrid. There is an argument to be made that such a representation of a passive,
anonymous,v ulnerablen ude so gratuitouslys playedf or the viewer'se rotic
enjoyment is ethically problematic, at least in the context of a society pervaded
by gender inequality (see A. Eaton 2002). I do not have time to make that
argument now but ask that we grant it for the sake of the point at issue here,
namely that little in the Bacanal hangs on this defect. The objectified, passive
nude appears appended to the picture as an afterthought and is completely
unintegrated into the work; indeed, the nude could be easily ignored when
appreciating and judging the artistic value of the painting as a whole. This is
not the case with the Rape of Europa where the unethical feature-the call
for an erotic response to rape-plays a much more central role in the artistic
nuts-and-bolts of the picture.


In addition to responsiveness to the varying extent to which an ethical
defect can affect a work's overall artistic value, this analogy offers several other
benefits. First, it is responsive to degrees of severity in ethical defect. To see
this, imagine that our potential friend's sense of adventure manifested itself in
shopliftingr athert han gay bashing.40S hoplifting is a much less seriouso ffense,
ethically speaking, than gay bashing, and although I disapprove of shoplifting
in most cases, I don't think it a reprehensible crime and acknowledge cases
in which it is excusable. A shoplifter's values are not radically at odds with
my own, and so I may find it acceptable to turn a blind eye to such a person's
ethical flaw in order to appreciate other things about them that I may find
valuable, for instance their keen sense of adventure. But rape is a universally
reprehensible crime and I cannot comply with a work that asks me to think
and feel otherwise.


At this point one might ask whether I mean that I cannot enter into the
work's sentiments or simply that I should not. Returning to the friendship analogy
for a moment, if I am a homophobic gay basher myself, then I will be able
to appreciate the potential friend's sense of adventure. Likewise with Titian's
painting, if one is the sort of person who is erotically titillated by the sexual subordination of women, then one can have the erotic response that I have argued is central to the painting aesthetically. But according to my argument, this is to say that in such a case there is no aesthetic defect and so my account
for the influence of the ethical upon the aesthetic fails. Let's call this the Objection
from Creepiness.41


The Objection from Creepiness asks us to imagine an artwork whose aesthetic
value is only available to ethically flawed people or, as I shall call them
for brevity's sake, creeps. Taking into consideration the point about degrees
of ethical defect made earlier, let us imagine that these people are not minor
creeps of the shoplifting sort, but rather major creeps of the extreme racist
sort. And now imagine a painting about which one says, "It's a quite beautiful
picture but it appeals only to a very limited audience, for you've got to be a
membero f the KKKt o appreciatei ts beauty."N ote that to say that one cannot
appreciate the work unless one is a Klansman or is sympathetic to Klansmen
(that is, unless one is the sort of person that one should not be) is tantamount
to saying that one should not appreciate the work. And the fact that I must
enter into the sentiments of a Klansman in order to appreciate the beauty of
such a work appears to be an artistic, not simply a moral, defect. The problem
is not just the work's limited appeal to a highly specific audience. The artistic
value of James Joyce's Ulysses, for instance, is only fully accessible to those who
can read Greek, Latin, Italian, and French, and who are well versed in Homer,
Dante, and Shakespeare, to name only a few, but the novel is not thereby
aesthetically defective. This is perhaps because doing whatever it takes to get
inside the novel would be good for us; it would help us realize our potential
as human beings. What's special about the creepy case is that we have to do
something that's bad for us in order to get inside the work; we would have to
become creeps, even for just the moments that we spend with the work, and
this is contrary to our flourishing.42


The second thing to notice about this account is that one cannot stipulate
in advance of careful engagement with an artwork which responses matter
to its artistic aims. Only through scrupulous attention to the specificities of a
particular work can one see which responses called for are central, and which
peripheralt, o its artistics uccess.4I3n those cases in which it has been established
that a work's artistic success indeed depends upon ethically defective responses
from the audience, this will present an obstacle to that success. Such a work
contains the seeds of its own artistic failure.


Titian's painting, I suggest, is just such a case. Consider, for instance, that
the painting depends upon our sympathy for its "rough hero," the god in taurine
disguise who looks out at the viewer, a standard artistic device for psychological
identification.I t is his attitude towardE uropa'sr ape that we are supposedt o
adopt: that is, the work calls upon viewers to be sexually aroused by Europa's
helplessness, fear, and vulnerability; to find her both terrified and sexually excited, willing and resisting, and so on. I've shown that the call for this erotic response is a significant artistic dimension of the picture: the work's artistic success depends in part upon achieving this aim, that is, upon engendering this
erotic response in the audience. But I've also urged that this erotic response is
one that we have good reason not to have precisely because it takes rape as its
object. Putting these two thoughts together yields the conclusion that we have
good reason not to respond in a way required for the painting's artistic success;
that is, we have good reason not to respond to the painting in the way required
to fully understand and appreciate it. The work fails to warrant a response central
to achieving its own artistic aims and this counts an artistic failure.
This is not to say that the ethical defect in Titian's painting destroys its
artistic value, for there are some artistically valuable features of the painting
that do not depend upon the viewer's endorsing its eroticization of rape. But the
ethical defect does diminish the painting aesthetically in the way I've described.
It may be that the painting still counts as a great work of art but not as great
as previously thought.


NOTES


Manyt hankst o SvetlanaA lpers,L ee BrownD, avidC arrierJ,i mC onant,T edC ohen,
DavidF inkelsteinI,v anG askellM, arthaN ussbaumR, obertP ippinL, indaS eidel,M ary
Stroud,a nd threea nonymourse fereefsr omt his journalf or insightfucl ommentsa nd
criticismos n earlierd raftso f this paperI. ama lsog ratefutlo MatthewK ieranfo rp robing
remarkos n a shorterv ersionp resenteda t the annualm eetingo f the American
Societyf orA esthetics2, 001.D anW ackg avea thoughtfual ndh elpfulr esponsein the
ContemporarPyh ilosophWy orkshoapt theU niversityo f Chicagow, hereI alsor eceived
valuablec ommentfsr omS cottA ndersonT, imothyR osenkoetteGr, eorgeS treetera, nd
CandaceV oglerT. he authora pologizefso rb eingu nablet o obtainp ermissiontso include
reproductionosf Poussin'Rs apeo f theS abineW omen( 1634-5,o il on canvas,1 54.6x
209.9c m,M etropolitaMn useumo f Art,N ewY orka) ndT itian'sB acana(l1 520-1,o il on
canvas,1 75x 193c m, Museod el PradoM, adrid)R. eadercs an finda dequater eproductionso
f the Poussino n theW eba t <http://www.historywiz.com/images/rome/sabine.jpg>
and <www.kfki.hu/-arthp/artp/po/u ssin/2a/17sabinl.jpagn>d o f the Titiana t <http:
//www.abm-enterprises.net/titian_andrians.jpg>.

1. I maintain a broad and inclusive picture of the category of aesthetic value
that includesa rtisticv alue.


2. I use the terme thicismto refert o a familyo f viewst hat holdt hat an artwork's
ethicalv aluec anb earu pon,w ithoutn ecessarildye terminingit,s a estheticv alue.R ecent
advocateosf thisg enerapl ositionin cludeN oel Carrol(l1 996a nd1 998)M, aryD evereaux
(1998),M arciaE aton( 1997a nd 2001),B erysG aut( 1998),K arenH anson( 1998),a nd
MatthewK ieran( 1996).F ora recentr eviewo f ethicisms, ee Gaut2 001.


3. Althoughi rrelevantto the mattera t hand,t he questiono f whicht ext Titian
had in mindw hen makingt he paintingi s one that art historianst akes eriouslya nd that has spawned much debate. The traditional favorite is Ovid's (1994) Metamorphoses
(see, for example, Panofsky 1969 and more recently Barkan 1986, chap. 5), but many
are dissatisfied with this proposal because Titian's painting diverges from Ovid's text in
several significant ways. Other texts have then been suggested, such as Horace's Odes
(1934) and an obscure text by Moschus (see, for example, Shapiro 1971), but the favorite
alternative (first proposed by Rosand 1971-1972 and Stone 1972) to Ovid is a novel
entitled Leucippea ndC litophonb y the ancient Alexandrianw riterA chilles Tatius,w hich
appeared in Italian translation in Venice in 1560. (A complete English translation of
the relevant passage is available in Stone 1972.) However, some (for example, see Fehl
1976 and 1992, esp. 83-103) are dissatisfied with Achilles Tatius and insist that Ovid
(or Lodovico Dolce's 1553 paraphrase of Ovid) must be the true source. Perhaps a more
sensible view is Hilliard Goldfarb's contention that Titian did not intend his painting
to precisely illustrate any single antique text but rather freely interpreted his sources "in
his own spirit" (1998, 16). For a review of the debate about the painting's iconography,
see Goldfarb (1998, 12-16).

4. I do not mean to suggest that the intimations of nonconsensual sex come from
the painting alone, that is, from the painting considered in the absence of knowledge of
the myth. We must take the painting to representa moment in Europa'st oryi n ordert o
understand that nonconsensual sex will take place rather than, say, that it has already
taken place. I claim simply that once the painting is considered as a representation of a
moment in Europa'ss tory, these visual cues foreshadowt he imminent, nonconsensual
sexual violence.

5. I would like to thank an anonymous Hypatia reviewer for a concise formulation
of this objection to my claim that this painting represents a rape. The objection was first
put to me by Hilliard Goldfarb in a personal correspondence dated June 3, 1998. After
his arrival in 1991 as Chief Curator of Collections at Boston's Isabella Stewart Gardner
Museum (where the Titian hangs), Goldfarbc hanged, or as he puts it, "returned,"th e
title from Rape of Europa to the simpler Europa for the very reasons mentioned above.
(Goldfarb also had reasons for not calling the painting The Abduction of Europa.) I
respond to this objection below.

6. Although Titian did not, as far as we know, give this painting a title, he does
refer to it in a series of letters to his patron, Philip II of Spain, and there he does not
use the word "rape"( ratto)t o describet he painting (see Crowe and Cavalcaselle 1881).
The term ratto was first used in referring to the painting in 1626 by Cassiano dal Pozzo,
secretary to Cardinal Francesco Barberini, who gave the first precise description of the
painting while it was hanging in the lower vaulted galleries of the Alcazar in Madrid.
In his diary,d al Pozzod escribest he painting "l'rattod 'Europa"a nd referst o Europaa s
"[la] donzella rapita" (see Volk 1981). As mentioned in note 5 above, the painting was
thereafter called The Rape of Europa until Goldfarb changed, or as he puts it, "returned"
the title to the simpler Europa.

7. One need only look through the historical references of the Grande Dizionario
UTET (roughly the Italian equivalent of the OED) to see this. This use of rapire
to indicate sexual violation has a long history: the Vocabolariod egliA ccademicid ella
Crusca cites "il Maestruzzo"2 .30.6 (a text dated 1338) thus: "IIr atto non solamente
si commette nella vergine, ma anche, largamente preso, nella vedova e monaca" (s.v.
rapire).I am gratefult o ElissaW eaverf or help with this.

8. The following analogy should help to clarify this point. Imagine that I'm
baking a cake and am in the process of picking up an egg in order to break it over a bowl
when my sister snaps a photograph of me. If a friend later comes across the photograph
and asks my sister what I'm doing, it wouldn't be wrong to reply that I'm breaking eggs.
This is so despite the fact that, strictly speaking, the photograph merely represents my
holding an egg; broken eggs are nowhere to be found in the picture. It also wouldn't
be wrong to say that I'm baking a cake even though the photograph doesn't show even
the slightest beginnings of a cake. Indeed, it would be odd to describe my action in this
snapshots implyi n termso f what the pictures trictlyr epresents.T he frienda sks," What's
she doing?" My sister replies, "She's holding an egg." The friend responds exasperatedly,
"Well I can see that! But what'ss he doing?"T he friend sees that the picture represents
a step in a temporally extended activity and inquires into the whole of which the
thing pictured is but a part. This whole, the action in which my holding the egg is but
a stage, is characterized by my aim: I am holding an egg in order to break it in order to
combine it with flour and sugar and oil in order to produce a mix that I will pour into
a pan in order to bake a cake. But unless the achievement of my objective is dubious, to
the question "What is she doing?" one need not reply, "She is holding an egg in order
to bake a cake"; one can simply say, "She is baking a cake." This would be an accurate
and informative description of what I'm doing in the picture. This is not to say that it
would be wrong to describe my action represented in the photograph as holding an egg,
but, rather, that such a strict characterization would be uninformative and partial; it
wouldn't really tell you what I'm doing. Likewise, a fastidiously minimal description of
Titian'sp ainting as representingm erelyt he carryingo ff of Europai gnorest he aimo f this
action and so misses part of what the picture is about. (This discussion of intentional
action owes much to G. E. M. Anscombe's Intention [2000]).

9. As I discuss later in this section, it is difficult to see Europa's face because it
is shown at an oblique angle and partially obscured by the shadow that her arm casts.
Insofar as her face is legible, however, it strikes me as emotionally neutral, betraying
neither pleasure nor distress. (On the latter point it is instructive to compare Europa's
expression with that of Titian's Lucretia in the Cambridge painting from 1568-71,
which offers an excellent example of Titian's rendering of a woman's fearful expression
in a similar context.) It is striking that despite this neutrality, many art historians
make passing comments about her ecstatic expression, while still others describe her
as terrified. My own view, as discussed below, is that the picture is conflicted regarding
Europa'sp sychic state: on the one hand, because her subjectivity is not at issue here,
her facial expression is obscured precisely in order to emphasize her objectification; on
the other hand, it is a key element of the rape fantasy attributed to the painting (below)
that the rape be both pleasurable and agonizing for the victim and that she both resist
and participatei n the act. So although Europa'sfa cial expressiont aken by itself would
appear neutral, this neutrality allows it to take on the conflicting emotional states suggested
in other parts of the picture.

10. Of course,P oussin'sp icturet ells a very differentk ind of story-not one in which
a maiden is raped by a god but rather one in which Sabine wives and mothers are carried
off by enemy Roman troops. However, this difference is irrelevant to the matter at
hand. I use the painting here simply to provide a foil for the Titian in order to clarify
just what I mean by "eroticize."

11. This version of the Rape of the Sabine Women does provide one indication that at
least some of the Sabines went willingly and happily with the Romans: note the pair in
the middle-groundj ust left of the painting'sc enter who walk off together smiling. This
is part of what leads Norman Bryson (1986) to interpret the painting as reflecting on
the creation of law, order, and stable relations between the sexes rather than on sexual
violation.

12. This trades on a distinction between active engagemenat nd mere acquiescence.
One can passively comply with a rapist (under perceived threat of some sort-the threat
need not be physical), and so not actively resist, without nullifying the coercive and
assaultive dimension of the act. However, Titian's painting indicates more than Europa's
mere passive submission to the bull; it suggests that she will actively participate in the
sexual intercourse to follow.

13. I do not mean to deny the possibility of voluntarily acting out rape fantasies. But
in such cases both actors willinglye ngage in violence and the coercive aspect is simply
make-believes,o such scenarios should be distinguishedf rom actual acts of rape.

14. Many of these elements were first articulated and explicitly criticized by Susan
Brownmiller in Against Our Will (1975), although this fantasy has a long history that
predates Titian by centuries. Key elements of this fantasy are baldly and vociferously
expressed, for instance, in Ovid: "Though she give them not, yet take the kisses she
does not give. Perhaps she will struggle and at first cry, 'You villain!' Yet she will wish
to be beaten in the struggle ... You may use force; women like you to use it... She
whom a sudden assault has taken by storm is pleased ... But she who, when she might
have been compelled, departs untouched ... will yet be sad. Phoebe suffered violence,
violence was used against her sister; each ravisher found favor with the one ravished"
(Ovid 1939, 59). Although this is not the Ovidian text often considered to be the textual
source for Titian's painting (see note 3 above), one sees a less blatant expression of
this fantasy scatteredt hroughoutt he Metamorphoseass well. The role of rape in Ovid's
writings is a topic that is only beginning to receive critical attention (see Hemker 1985;
James 1997; Richlin 1991; Stirrup 1977; and Zissos 1999).

15. Some feminists make a convincing case that we live in a "rape culture," that is,
that rape and sexual assault permeate our society (see, for example, Buchwald, Fletcher,
and Roth 1993).O n the failingso f our currentl egal systemt o deal properlyw ith rape,s ee
Estrich (1987) and Taslitz (1999). On the pervasiveness of this rape fantasy in cultural
representation, see, for example, essays in Tomaselli and Porter (1986) and Higgins and
Silver (1991).

16. Guido Ruggiero's groundbreaking study on sex crimes in early Renaissance
Venice (1985) shows that this fantasyw as widespreadi n early-modernV enetian society
and had a strong hold on those in the position to make and enforce laws (both secular
and religious) regarding rape. For instance, although rape and fornication were distinct
concepts from a legal point of view, at trial rapes were commonly treated as cases of
fornication in which the victims were assumed to be at least partially responsible for
the rape. Claudio Povolo's work (1993 and 1997) suggests that the case was similar in
sixteenth-century Venice. The dominance of this fantasy of rape also held sway in other
partso f what we now call Italy,a s MaryG arrard's( 1989) monographo n ArtemisiaG entileschi
subtly and thoroughly demonstrates. Finally, George Vigarello's (1998) detailed
social history of rape from the sixteenth through the twentieth centuries shows that assumptions that women enjoyed, solicited, and deserved rape were common in France
as well.

17. For a groundbreaking and interesting treatment of the dominance of this fantasy
in Italian Renaissance art, see Wolfthal (1999, chap. 1). Yael Even also skillfully
demonstrates the influence of this fantasy in Italian Renaissance and Baroque art (Even
2002, 2001, and 1992).

18. It may be that Senator Helms actuallyo bjects to the celebrationo f lifestylest hat
he considers unethical, but this is not how he typically expressed his objections to Mapplethorpe
and others. For example, he says,: "The American people in the vast majority
are aghast to learn that their tax money has been used to reward artists (for example,
the Mapplethorpe exhibit) who chose to depict sadomasochism, perverted homoerotic
sex acts and even sexual exploitation of children" (Bolton 1992, 75; italics added).

19. These paintings are discussed in a recent article in the The New York Times
entitled "Court Considers Ownership of Seized 'Hitler' Paintings" (7 May 2001, El) by
William Honan. Thanks to Scott Anderson for bringing this article to my attention.

20. This point is significant for distinguishing the ethical defect in Titian's painting
discussedh ere from the sort of ethical defects with which anti-pornographyfe minism
is concerned. Anti-porn feminism finds ethical fault with pornography because of its
purported connection with various harms: those that purportedly occur in the production
of pornography (for example, coerced sex, brutality, rape, psychological abuse, and
other exploitation sometimes inflicted upon women in making porn) and those that
purportedlyo ccur post-productiotnh rough its effects on men's attitudes and behavior.
(For an excellent recent survey of these arguments and criticisms, see Cornell 2000.)
Although one might attempt to connect Titian's painting with these sorts of harms and
thereby find ethical fault with the work, such is not the aim of this essay. As explained
below, the Rapeo f Europa'se thical defect at issue here does not depend on connecting
the picture with harm of any sort.

21. I get the term "vision" from Mary Devereaux (1998), who uses it to make her
argumenta bout Leni Riefestahl'sT riumpho f the Will (1980). This is a particularlya pt
way to think about a picture's ethical perspective.

22. Modern defenders of this view include Wayne Booth (1961 and 1988), who,
although not employing the language of teleology, provides a sensitive, compelling,
and detailed justification for the view that a proper understanding of fiction requires
thinking about the demands that works make upon the audience. Devereaux (2001)
explicitly argues for the need to understand artworks teleologically when judging them
ethically.

23. Although Gaut does not, to my knowledge, make use of Booth's concept of the
implied author, this is clearly the sort of thing Gaut has in mind in his discussion of a
work's" attitudes"m anifest in the responsesi t prescribest owarde vents, characters,a nd
the like (see Gaut 1998). For an explanation of the concept of the implied author, see
Booth (1961, esp. 70-76, 211-21; and 1988, esp. chap. 6).

24. Although Booth does not use the term "prescribe,h"e does provide a masterful
and detailed account of the various rhetorical literary devices that aim to shape readers'
responses and convincingly argues that a proper understanding of fiction requires
attention to its rhetoric

25. Michael Baxandall (1985) provides one of the most subtle and informative
explanation of pictures' aims.

26. This argumento wes much to anti-pornographfye minists.T he argument,I think,
has its roots in John Stuart Mill's The Subjectiono f Women (1988), and is most fully
developed by Catharine MacKinnon (esp. 2001, sec. 10.2; 1993; 1991; 1989, chap. 11;
1987, chaps. 11-16; and MacKinnon and Dworkin 1997). My outline here is indebted
to Joshua Cohen's (1996, 103-105) reconstruction of anti-porn feminism, although I
differ from Cohen on several significant points.

27. Brownmiller (1975) provided the first thorough and eloquent explanation of
rape's function as a means to keep women in a state of fear and thereby perpetuate male
dominance. For more recent accounts of rape as a technique for maintaining gender
inequality see Stock (1991) and MacKinnon (1989, chap. 9; 2001, chap. 7.1).

28. The notion that eroticizing sex inequality is an effective means for promoting
and sustaining that inequality was first suggested by Mill (1988). Although this idea
filters through contemporary anti-porn feminism, few acknowledge its origin.

29. As noted in note 20, above, this means that the kind of ethical fault at issue
here fundamentally differs from those ethical faults that anti-porn feminists attribute
to pornography, which depend upon causal claims about the effects of pornography
consumption. Although I rely upon anti-porn feminism to explain what's wrong with
responding to rape with erotic feelings, the ethical defect discussed here need not take
a stand on whether the Titian does in fact engender such feelings.

30. This is the view that Noel Carroll (1996) calls "radical moralism."

31. Another form this interest can take involves an argument that artworks can
morally edify by serving as models for moral reflection and offering occasions for moral
understandinga nd imagination( see, for example,C arroll1 996 and 1998;F reeland1 997;
Nussbaum 1985, 1990, and 1998; and Murdoch 1970). Elaine Scarry (1999) holds the
related view that our experience of the beautiful (she does not limit her discussion to
artworks) leads to attitudes of fairness and justice.

32. Not all contemporary ethicists rely upon the assimilation model (see, for
example, Devereaux 1998).

33. Gaut argues that "a work's manifestation of ethically bad attitudes is an aesthetic
defect in it. Mutatis mutandis, a parallel argument shows that a work's manifestation of
ethically commendable attitudes is an aesthetic merit in it" (1998, 196). Carroll adds
that "some works of art may be evaluated morally ... and sometimes the moral defects
and/or merits of a work may figure in the aesthetic evaluation of a work" (1996, 236).

34. In turning to Hume for a model of ethicism, I do not mean to endorse all aspects
of his aesthetics or his theory of value (for example, his projectivism). In particular, I
do not stand behind his apparent appeal to duration of approval as an indication of the
high artistic value of artworks (see, for example, Hume 1985, 233). Feminism's critique
of canon formation gives us good reason, I think, to be skeptical of accepting the test
of time as a benchmark of aesthetic value (see, for example, Pollock 1999). But this and
other problems in Hume need not concern us here, for his ethicism can be abstracted
from much of his theoretical work on aesthetics and value.

35. Although he does not explicitly mention Hume, Booth (1988) draws and makes
much of an analogy between friendship and one's relationship with artworks

36. Hume might opt for this characterizationo f the wayi n which a work'si mmorality
interferes with the capacity to take pleasure in an object, for he considers it a psychological
fact that "all resembling impressions are connected together, and no sooner
one arises than the rest immediately follow" (1978, 283). Since Hume takes it that the
passion aroused by vice resembles the emotion aroused by deformity in that both are
painful impressions, it might happen that the painful impression aroused by the vice
sets the stage for the emotion aroused by deformity to follow. The reason that this does
not happen the other way around (that is, that the pleasurable emotion aroused by the
pleasing features of the work does not take precedence) is that, according to Hume,
violent passions (which include vice) have a stronger grip on us than calm emotions
such as those associated with beauty.

37. Daniel Jacobson makes a similar analogy to argue against an interference-model
for the relevance of ethical concepts to the funniness of jokes. Although there may
be circumstances that prevent one from laughing at a joke (for instance, that it would
disrupt a public lecture), this does not mean that the joke should be blamed for failing
to warrant laughter (1997, 174).

38. For the difficulties involved, see Cohen (1999).

39. What Aristotle means by catharsisn eed not concern us here, which is fortunate
since the meaning of the term is a matter of great dispute. See, for instance, Barnes
1995, Halliwell 1986, Lear 1992, and Nussbaum 1992.

40. Thanks to Matthew Kieran for this suggestion.

41. This concern has been raised independently in conversation by David Finkelstein
and William Tashek, neither of whom is the least bit creepy. I am grateful to both
for their thoughtful comments.

42. Booth makes this point brilliantly when he discusses the ways in which readers
must take on a character, if only for the duration of their engagement with a work, in
order to meet the invitation of the implied author (Booth 1988, esp. chap. 8).

43. Few contemporary ethicists appear to take this point seriously. An exception is
Devereaux's( 1998) scrupulousr eading of Riefenstahl'sT riumpho f the Will (1934).
REFERENCES
Achilles Tatius.1 560.T hea dventureos f Leucippea ndC litophonT. rans.F rancescoA ngelo
Coccio. Venice: Francesco Lorenzini da Turino.
Anscombe, G. E. M. 2000. Intention. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Aristotle. 1984. Rhetoric. Trans. W. Rhys Roberts. In The complete works of Aristotle,
ed. Jonathan Barnes. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
. 1987.P oeticsT. rans.R ichardJ anko.I ndianapolisH: ackettP ublishingC ompany.
Barkan,L eonard. 1986. The godsm adef lesh:M etamorphosiasn d thep ursuito f paganism.
New Haven: Yale University Press.
Barnes,J onathan. 1995.R hetoric and poetics. In The Cambridgec ompaniont o Aristotle,
ed. Jonathan Barnes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Baxandall, Michael. 1985. Patternso f intention:O n the historicael xplanationo f pictures.
New Haven: Yale University Press.

Bolton, Richard, ed. 1992. Culturew ars:D ocumentsf rom the recentc ontroversieisn the
arts. New York: New Press.
Booth, Wayne. 1961.T he rhetorico f fiction.C hicago: University of Chicago Press.
. 1988. The company we keep: An ethics of fiction. Berkeley: University of California
Press.
. 1998. Why banning ethical criticism is a serious mistake. Philosophya nd Literature
22:366-93.
Brownmiller, Susan. 1975. Against our will-men, women, and rape. New York: Fawcett
Columbine.
Bryson,N orman. 1986. Twon arrativeso f rapei n the visual arts:L ucretiaa nd the Sabine
Women. In Rape:A historicala nd social enquiry,e d. Sylvana Tomaselli and Roy
Porter. Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd.
Buchwald,E milie, PamelaR . Fletcher,a nd MarthaR oth, eds. 1993.T ransforminag r ape
culture. Minneapolis: Milkweed Editions.
Carroll,N oel. 1996. Moderatem oralism.B ritishJ ournalo f Aesthetics3 6 (3): 223-38.
.1998. Art, narrative,a nd moral understanding.I n Aestheticsa nd ethics:E ssays
at the intersectione, d. JerroldL evinson. Cambridge:C ambridgeU niversity Press.
Cohen, Joshua.1 996. Freedom,e quality,a nd pornographyI. nJusticea nd injusticein law
and legal theory, ed. Austin Sarat and Thomas Kearns. Ann Arbor: University of
Michigan Press.
Cohen, Ted. 1999. Identifying with metaphor: Metaphors of personal identification.
Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 57 (fall): 399-409.
Cornell, Drucilla, ed. 2000. Feminism & pornographyO. xford: Oxford University
Press.
Crowe, J. A., and G. B. Cavalcaselle. 1881. Titian: His life and times. London: John
Murray.
Devereaux, Mary. 1998. Beauty and evil: The case of Leni Riefenstahl's Triumph of
the Will. In Aestheticsa nd ethics:E ssaysa t the intersection,e d. JerroldL evinson.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
.2001. Moral judgments and works of art. Paper delivered at the 50th annual
meeting of the American Society for Aesthetics, Minneapolis, October, 2002.
Dickie, George. 1989. The Myth of the Aesthetic Attitude. In Aesthetics: A Critcal
Anthologye, d. George Dickie, RichardS clafani, and Ronald Roblin.
Dolce, Lodovico. 1553.L e trasformationdi i m. LodovicoD olce, di nvovor istampatee da
lui riicorrette& in diuersil uoghia mpliate. . . Venice: G. Giolito de Ferrari.
Eaton, A. W. 2002. The ethics of displaying the female nude. Paper delivered at the 60th
annual meeting of the American Society for Aesthetics, Miami, October.
Eaton, Marcia. 1997. Aesthetics: The mother of ethics? Journal of Aesthetics and Art
Criticism 55: 354-64.
.2001. Merit, aesthetic and ethical. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Estrich, Susan. 1987. Real rape. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Even, Yael. 1992. The Loggia dei Lanzi; A showcase of female subjugation. In The
expandingd iscourseF: eminisma nd art historye, d. Norma Broudea nd MaryG arrard.
New York: Icon Editions.
. 2001. Commodifying images of sexual violence in sixteenth-century Italy.
Source 20: 13-19.
. 2002. The emergence of sexual violence in quattrocento Florentine art. In
Violencei n fifteenth-centuryte xt and image,e d. EdelgardD ucruck and Yael Even.
Camden: Boydell & Brewer.
Freeland,C ynthia. 1997.A rt and moral knowledge. PhilosophicaTl opics2 5: 11-36.
Fehl, Philipp.1 976.O vidian delight and problemsi n iconographyT: woe ssayso n Titian's
"Rapeo f Europa"I:, the cows. Storiad ell'Arte2 26: 23-30.
. 1992. Decoruma nd wit: The poetryo f Venetianp aintingV. ienna: IRSA.
GarrardM, ary.1 989.A rtemisiaG entileschiT: he imageo f thef emaleh eroi n ItalianB aroque
art. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Gaut, Berys. 1998. The ethical criticism of art. In Aesthetics and ethics: Essays at the
intersectione, d. JerroldL evinson. Cambridge:C ambridgeU niversity Press.
. 2001. Art and ethics. In The Routledgec ompaniont o aestheticse, d. BerysG aut
and Dominic McIver Lopes. London: Routledge.
Golding, William. 1962. Lord of the flies. New York: Coward-McCann.
Goldfarb, Hilliard. 1998. Titian: Colore and ingegno in the service of power. In Titian
and Rubens: Power, politics, and style. Boston: Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum.
Halliwell, Stephen. 1986. Aristotle'sp oetics.C hapel Hill: University of North Carolina
Press.
Hanson, Karen. 1998. How bad can good art be? In Aesthetics and ethics: Essays at the
intersectione, d. JerroldL evinson. Cambridge:C ambridgeU niversity Press.
Hemker, J. 1985. Rape and the founding of Rome. Helios 12: 41-47.
Higgins, Lynn, and BrendaS ilver,e ds. 1991.R apea ndr epresentationN. ew York:C olumbia
University Press.
Horace. 1934. The odes and epodes. Trans. C. E. Bennett. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press.
Hume, David. 1978. A treatise of human nature. 2d ed. Ed. L. A. Selby-Binge. Oxford:
Oxford University Press.
. 1985.O f the standardo f taste. In Essaysm oral,p olitical,a nd literarye, d. Thomas
Hill Green and Thomas Hodge Grose. Indianapolis: Liberty Fund.
Jacobson,D aniel. 1997. In Praise of ImmoralA rt. PhilosophicaTl opics2 5: 155-99.
James, Sharon. 1997. Slave-rape and female silence in Ovid's love poetry. Helios 24
(1): 60-76.
Kieran, Matthew. 1996. Art, imagination, and the cultivation of morals. Journal of
Aesthetics and Art Criticism 54: 337-51.
Lear,J onathan. 1992. Katharsis.I n Essayso n Aristotle'sP oetics,e d. Amelie Oksenberg
Rorty. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
MacKinnon,C atharine. 1987.F eminismu nmodifiedd:i scourseosn lifea ndl aw.C ambridge:
Harvard University Press.
. 1989. Toward a feminist theory of the state. Cambridge: Harvard University
Press.
. 1991. Pornography as defamation and discrimination. Boston University Law
Review 71: 795-802.
1993. Only words. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
.2001. Sex equality.N ew York:F oundationP ress.
MacKinnon,C atharine,a nd Andrea Dworkin,e ds. 1997.I n harm'sw ay:T hep ornography
civilr ightsh earingsC. ambridge:H arvardU niversity Press.

Mill, John Stuart. 1988. The subjectiono f women,e d. Susan Okin. Indianapolis:H ackett
Publishing Company.
Murdoch,I ris. 1970. The sovereigntyo f the good.L ondon: Routledge.
Nash, Jane. 1985. Veiledi mages:T itian'sm ythologicapl aintingsf or PhilipI I. London and
Toronto: Associated University Presses.
Nussbaum, Martha. 1985. "Finelya ware and richly responsible"M: oral attention and
the moral task of literature.T he Journalo f Philosophy8 2: 516-29.
.1990. Love's knowledge:E ssays on philosophya nd literature.O xford: Oxford
University Press.
. 1992.T ragedya nd self-sufficiencyP: lato and Aristotle on feara nd pity. In Essays
on Aristotle'sP oetics,e d. Amelie OksenbergR orty.P rinceton:P rincetonU niversity
Press.
. 1998. Exactly and responsibly:A defense of ethical criticism. Philosophya nd
Literature2 2: 343-65.
Ovid. 1939. The art of love and other poems. Trans. J. H. Mozley. Cambridge: Loeb Classical
Library.
. 1994. Metamorphoses3.d ed. Trans. FrankJ . Miller. Cambridge:H arvardU niversity
Press.
Panofsky,E rwin. 1969. Problemsi n Titian, mostlyi conographicN. ew York:N ew York
University Press.
Pollock, Griselda. 1999. Differencingt he canon: Feministd esirea nd the writingo f art's
histories.L ondon and New York:R outledge.
Povolo, Claudio. 1993. IIr omanziere I'archivistaD: a un processod el '600 all'una nonimo
manoscrittod ei PromessiS posi.V enice: The ProcessG uarnieri.
. 1997.L 'intrigdo ell'OnoreP: oterie istituzionni ellaR epubblicdai Veneziat raC inque
e Seicento. Verona: Cierre.
Richlin, Amy. 1991.R eading Ovid's rapes. In Pornographayn d representationin Greece
and Rome, ed. Amy Richlin. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Riefenstahl,L eni. 1980. Triumphd es Willens:d asD okumentv omR eichsparteita(gT. riumph
of the Will). 114 min. New York: Crown Video.
Rosand, David. 1971-2. Ut pictor poeta: Meaning in Titan'sp oesie. New LiteraryH istory
3: 527-46.
Rothfield,L awrence,e d. 2001. Unsettling" Sensation"A:r ts-policyle ssonsf romt heB rooklyn
Museumo f Art controversyN. ew Brunswick,N .J.:R utgersU niversity Press.
Ruggiero,G uido. 1985. The boundarieso f eros: Sex crime and sexualityi n Renaissance
Venice. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Scarry, Elaine. 1999. On beauty and being just. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Shapiro, Maurice. 1971. Titian's Rape of Europa. Gazette des Beaux Arts 6 (77):
109-16.
Spielberg, Steven. 1994. Schindler'sL ist. 197 min. Universal City: MCA Universal
Home Video.
Stirrup, Barbara. 1977. Techniques of rape: Variety of wit in Ovid's Metamorphoses.
Greece and Rome 24: 170-84.
Stock, Wendy. 1991. Feminist explanations: Male power, hostility, and sexual coercion.
In Sexualc oercion:A source-booko n its nature,c auses,a nd preventione, d. E. Grauerholz
and M. Koralewski. Lexington, Mass.: Lexington Books.

Stone, Donald. 1972. The source of Titian's Rape of Europa. Art Bulletin 54: 47-49.
Stowe, Harriet Beecher. 1982. Uncle Tom's cabin, or life among the lowely; the minister's
wooing; oldtown folks. New York: Viking Press.
Taslitz, Andrew. 1999. Rape and the culture of the courtroom. New York: New York
University Press.
Tomaselli, Sylvana, and Roy Porter, eds. 1986. Rape: a historical and social enquiry.
Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd.
Vigarello, Georges. 1998. Histoire du viol: XVIe-XXe siecle. Paris: Editions du Seuil.
Volk, Mary Crawford. 1981. Rubens in Madrid and the decoration of the king's summer
apartments.T he BurlingtonM agazine1 23: 513-29.
Wolfthal, Diane. 1999. Imageso f rape:T he "heroic"tr aditiona nd its alternativesC. ambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Zissos, Andrew. 1999. The rape of Proserpina in Ovid Met. 5.341-661: Internal audience
and narrative distortion. Phoenix 53: 97-113.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



tags
posted Theoretical Texts
post is public

Comments

Blog

Media

Calendar

Profiles



Blog Actions


Recently Active Posts


Folders


Users


Login

name
pass
forgot pass/name?