SUSANNE K.

LANGER
THE SYMBOL OF FEELING

Susan ne Lange r ( 895— ) is professo r Emeri t us Of Phi •

losophy at Connecticut College for Women. She is the author
Of numerous works including Philosophy in a New Key.

In the book to which the presentone is a sequelthere is a chapter en-

titled "On Significance in Music." "Ihe theory of significance there devel-
opedis a theory, which not pretendto any further application
than the one made of it in that original realm, namely music. Yet, the
more one reflects on the significance of art generally, the more the music
theory appears as a lead. And the hypothesis certainly suggests itself that
the oft-assertedfundamentalunity of the arts lies not so much in parallels
their elementsor analogies among their techniques, as
in the singlenessof their characteristic imr»rt, the meaning of "signifi-
cance" with respect to any and each of them. "Significant Form" (which
really has significance) is the essenceof every art; it is what We mean
by calling anything "artistic."

"The Symbol of Feeling" is reprinted with the of Charles ScribneB

from Feeling and Form, pp. 24-41 , by SusanneK. Langer. Copyright 1953 by
Charles Scribner's Sons. Also by permission of Routledge & Kegan Paul, Ltd.,
London.
THE SYMBOL OF FEELING 451

If the proposedlead will not betray us, we have here a principle of

analysis that may be applied within each separateart gender in explaining
its peculiar choice and use of materials; a criterion of what is or is not
relevant in judging works of art in any realm; a direct exhibition of the
unity of all the arts (without necessitating a resort to "origins" in frag-
mentary, doubtful history, and still more questionable prehistory); and
the making of a truly general theory of art as such, wherein the several
arts may distinguished as well as connected, and almost any philosophi-
cal problems they present—problemsof their relative values, their special
powers or limitations, their social function, their connection with dream
and fantasy or with actuality, etc., etc.—may be tackled with some
Of decision. The proÆY1•
way to construct a general theory is by generali-
zation of a special one; and I believe the analysis of musical significance
in Philosophy in a New Key is capable of such generalization, and of
furnishing a valid theory of significancæ for the whole Parnassus.
The study of musical significance grew out of a prior philosophical
reflection on the meaning of the very ppular term "expression." In the
literature of aesthetics this word holds a prominent place; or rather, it
holds prominent places, for it is employed in more than one sense and
consequently changes its meaning from one book to another, and some-
times even from passage to passage in a single work. Sometimes writers
who are actually in close agreement use it in incompatible ways, and liter-
ally contradict each other's statements, yet actually do not tycome aware
of this fact, because each will read the word as the other intended it,
not as he really used it where it happens to occur. Thus Roger Fry tried
to elucidate Clive Bell's famous but cryptic phrase, "Significant Form," by
identifying it with Flaubert's "expression of the Idea"; and Bell probably
subscribes fully to Fry's exegesis, as far as it goes (which, as Fry re-
marks, is unfortunately not very far, since the "Idea" is the next hurdle) .
Yet Bell himself, trying to explain his meaning, says: "It is uselessto go
to a picture gallery in search of expression; you must go in search of
Significant Form." Of course Bell is thinking here of "expression" in an
entirely different sense.Perhaps he means that you should not look for the
artist's self-expression, i.e. for a record of his emotions. Yet this reading is
doubtful, for elsewhere in the same book he says: "It seemsto me
though by no means certain, that created form moves us so profoundly
because it expresses the emotion of its creator." Now, is the emotion of
the creator the "Idea" in Flaubert's sense, or is it not? Or does the same
work have, perhaps, two different expressivefunctions? And what about
the kind we must not look for in a picture gallery?
We may, of course, look for any kind of expression we like, and there
is even a fair chance that, whatever it be, we shall find it. A work of art
is often a spontaneousexpressionof feeling, i.e., a symptom of the artist's
'dateof mind. If it representshuman beingsit is probably also a rendering
of somesort of facial expressionwhich suggests the feelings those beings
supposedto have. Moreover, it may be said to "express," in another
452 SVSAN,VE K. LANGER

sense,the life of the from which it stems,namely to indicate

customs,dress, and to reflect confusionOr decorum,violenceor
And besidesall thesethings it is sure to expressthe unconscious
wishesandnightmaresof its author.All thesethings may be found in
museums and galleries if we choose to note them.
But they may also found in wastebaskets
and in the marginsof
This does not mean that someone has discarded a work of
art, or producedonewhenhe was boredwith long division.It merely
meansthat all drawings,utterances,gestures,Or personalrecordsOfany
sort express social conditions, and interesting neuruses;
"expression"
in anyof thesesenses
is notpeculiarto art, andconsequently
is not what makes for artistic value.
Artistic significance,or "expressionof the Idea," is in still
a differentsenseand,indeed,a radicallydifferentone.In all the contexts
mentionedal»ve, the art work or Otherobject functionedas a sign that
lx»intedto Somematter of fact—how someonefelt, what he when
and wherehe lived, or what his dreams.But expressionof an
idea,evenin Ordinaryusage,wherethe "idea"hasno capitall, not
referto thesignificfunction,i.e.theindicationOfa fact by somenatural
SymptomOr inventedsignal.It usuallyrefersto the prime purposeOf
language,which is discourse,the presentationof mere ideas.When we
saythat something is well we do not necessarily the
d
expresse ideatorefertoour situation,Orevento betrue,butonly
to begivenclearlyandobjectivelyfor contemplation. Such"expression" is
thefunctionOfsymbols:articulationandpresentation of concepts.Herein
synms differ radicallyfrom signals.lA signal is comprehended if it
Servesto makeus noticethe objector situationit bespeaks. A syml»l is
understcxxl whenweconceivethe ideait presents.
Thelogicaldifference signalsandSymbols is suffcientlyex-
plained,I think,in Philosophy
in a NewKeyto requirenorepetitionhere,
although muchmorecould said it thanthatrathergenerallittle
treatiseundertook toSay.Here,asthere,I shallgoonto a consequent Of
thelogicalstudies,a theoryOfsignificance
that IXIintsthecontrastbetween
the functionsOf art and Of discourse, respectively; but this time with
e
referenc
to allthearts,notonlythenon-verbal
andessentially
non-repre-
art Of music.
Thc theory of music,however,is our point of departure,wherefore
it maybebriefly hereasit finally stoodin the earlierbook:
Thetonalstructures
wecall"music" a closelogicalsimilarityto
In Philosophy
in a NetvKey (citedhereafterasNewKev) themajordistinction
wasdrawnbetween"signs"and"symlx»ls";CharlesW. Morris, in Signs,Language
and Behavior,distinguishesbetween"si nals"and "symt»ls."This seemsto me a
betteruseof words,sinceit leaves
"s n" to coverboth"signal"and"symbol,"
whereasmy formerusageleft me without any genericterm. I have,therefore,
adopted
hispractice,despitethefactthatit makesfor a discrepancy
in thetermi-
oologyof two E»oksthat really belongtogether.
THE SYMBOL OF FEELING

the forms of human feeling—formsOf growth and of attenuation,flowing

and stowing, conflict and resolution,speed,arrest,terrific excitement,calm,
or subtle activation and dreamy lapses—notjoy and sorrow perhaps,but
the poignancyof either and both—thegreatnessand brevity and eternal
passingof everything vitally felt. Such is the pattern, or logical form, of
sentience;andthe patternof musicis that sameform workedout in pure,
measuredsound and silence. Music is a tonal analogueof emotive life.
Suchformal analogy,or congruenceof logical structures,is thc prime
requisite for the relation between a symbol and whatever it is to mean.
The symboland the object symbolizedmust havesomecommonlogical
form.
But purely on the hnsisof formal analogy,there would be no telling
which Of two congruent structures was the symbol and which the mean-
ing, sincethe relation of congruence,Orformal likeness,is symmetrical,
i.e.it worksbothways.(If Johnlookssomuchlike Jamesthat youcan't
tell him from James,then you can't tell Jamesfrom John, cither.) There
must be a motive for choosing,as betweentwo entitiesor two systems,
one to be the symbol of the other. Usually the decisivereasonis that one
is easier to perceive and handle than the other. Now sounds are much
easierto produce,combine,IYrceive,and identify, than feelings.Forms
of sentienceoccuronly in the courseof nature,but musicalformsmay
beinventedandintonedat will. Their generalpatternmay be reincarnated
againand againby repeatedperformance.The effectis actuallynever
quite the sameeventhoughthe physicalrepetitionmay be exact,as in
recordedmusic,becausethe exactdegreeof one'sfamiliarity with a pas-
sageaffectsthc experienceof it, andthis factor can neverbe madeper-
manent.Yct within a fairly wide range such variationsare, happily,
unimportant.To somemusicalformsevenmuchlesssubtlechangesarenot
really disturbing, for instance certain differences of instrumentation and
even,within limits, of pitch or tempo.To others,they are fatal. But in
the main,soundis a negotiablemedium,capableof voluntarycomposi-
tion and repetition, whereas feeling is not; this trait recommends tonal
structures for symbolic purposes.
Furthermore,a symbolis usedto articulateideasof somethingwewish
to think about,and until we havea fairly adequatesymbolismwe cannot
thinkaboutit. Sointerestalwaysplaysa majorpartin makingoncthing,
or realmof things,the meaningof somethingelse,the symbolor system
of symbols.
Sound,as a sheersensoryfactor in experience, may soothingor
exciting,pleasingor torturing;but soarethe factorsof taste,smell,and
touch.Selectingandexploitingsuchsomaticinfluencesis self-indulgence,
a verydifferentthing from art. An enlightenedsocietyusuallyhassome
means, public or private, to support its artists, becausetheir work is re-
gardedas a spiritual triumph and a claim to greatnessfor the whole
tribe.Butmereepicures
wouldhardlyachieve
suchfame.Evenchefs,per-
454 SUSANNE K. LANGER

fumers, and upholsterers, who produce the means of sensory pleasure for
others, are not rated as the torchbearers of culture and inspired creators.
Only their own advertisements bestow such titles on them. If music, pat-
terned sound, had no other office than to stimulate and soothe our nerves,
pleasing our ears as well-combined fcy_xlsplease our palates, it might be
highly popular, but never culturally important. Its historic development
would be too trivial a subject to engage many [Rople in its lifelong study,
though a few deslx•rate Ph.D. theses might wrung from its anecdotal
past under the rubric of "scrial history." And music conservatories would
be properly rated exactly like cooking schools.
Our interest in music arises from its intimate relation to the all-imm»r-
tant life of feeling. whatever that relation may be. After much debate on
current theories, the conclusion reached in Philosophy in a New Key is
that the function of music is not stimulation of feeling, but expression of
it; and furthermore, not the symptomatic expressionof feelings that beset
the composer but a symbolic expression of the forms of sentience as he
understands them. It bespeaks his imagination of feelings rather than his
own emotional state, and expresses what he knows about the so-called
"inner life"; and this may exceed his personal case, because music is a
symbolicforrn to him through which he may learn as well as utter ideas
Of human sensibility.
There are many difficulties involved in the assumption that music is
a symbol, Weare so deeply impressedwith the paragon of sym-
IX)lic form, namely language, that we naturally carry its characteristics
over into Our conceptions and expectations Of any Other mode. Yet music
is not a kind of language. Its significanceis really something different
from what is traditionally and protyrly called "meaning." Perhaps the
logicians and l»sitivistic philosopherswho have objected to the term
"implicit meaning," on the ground that "meaning" properly so-calledis
always explicable,definable,and translatable,are promptedby a perfectly
rational desire to keep So difficult a term free from any further entangle-
ments and Sourcesof confusion; and if this can be done without barring
the conceptitself which I have designatedas "implicit meaning," it cer-
tainly seemsthe part of wisdom to accepttheir strictures.
Probably the readiest way to understand the precise nature of musical
symbolizationis to considerthe characteristicsOf language and then, by
comparison and contrast, note the different structure of music, and the
consequentdifferences and similarities betweenthe respective functions Of
those two logical forms. Because the prime purl»se of language is dis-
course, the conceptual framework that has developed under its influence
is known as "discursive reason."Usually, when one Of "reason"
at all, one tacitly assumesits discursive pattern. But in a broader sense
any appreciation of form, any awareness Of patterns in exrx•rience, is
"reason";and discoursewith all its refinements (e.g. mathematical sym-
bolism, which is an extensionof language) is only one Inssible pattern.
THE SYMBOL OF FEELING 455

For practical communication, scientific knowledge, and philosophical

thought it is the only instrument we have. But on just that accountthere
are whole domains of experience that philosophers deem "ineffable." If
those domains aplxar to anyone the most important, that IY'rson is natu-
rally inclined to condemnphilosophyand scienceas barren and false. To
such an evaluation one is entitled; not, however, to the claim of a better
way to philosophical truth through instinct, intuition, feeling, or what
have you. Intuition is the basic process of all understanding, just as
0B:rative in discursive thought as in clear sense perception and immediate
judgment; there will be more to say about that presently. But it is no
substitute for discursive logic in the making Of any theory, contingent or
transcendental.
The difference lx:tween discursive and non-discursive logical forms, their
reslrctive advantagesand limitations, and their consequentsymbolic uses
have already been discussedin the previous book, but becausethe theory,
there developed, of music as a symbolic form is our starting point here
for a whole philosophy of art, the underlying semantic principles should
lxrhurxs be explicitly recalled first.
In language, which is the most amazing symbolic system humanity
has invented, separate words are assigned to separately conceived items
in exF•ience on a basis of simple, one-to-onecorrelation. A word that is
not composite (made Of two or more independently meaningful vcr.ables,
such as "omni-potent," "com-l»site") may be assigned to mean any 0b-
ject taken as one. We may even, by fiat, take a word like "omnipotent,"
and regarding it as one, assign it a connotation that is not composite, for
instance by naming a race horse "Omnipotent." Thus Praisegod Barbon
("Barebones") was an indivisible being although his name is a composite
word. He had a brother called "If-Christ-had-not-come-into-the-world-thou-
wouldst-have-been-damned."The simple correlation between a name and
its bearer held here between a whole sentence taken as one word and an
object to which it was arbitrarily assigned. Any symbol that namessorne-
thing is "taken as one"; so is thc object. A "crowd" is a lot of but
taken as a lot, i.e. as one crowd.
So long as We correlate symbols and concepts in this simple fashion
we are free to pair them as wc like. A word or mark used arbitrarily to
denote or connote something may called an associativesymbol, for its
meaning dependsentirely on asscxiation.As soon, however, as words taken
to denote different things are used in combination, something is expressed
by the way they are combined. The whole complex is a symbol, because
the combination of words brings their connotations irresistibly together in
a complex, too, and this complex of ideas is analogous to the word-complex.
To anyone who knows the meanings of all the constituent words in the
name of Praisegod's brother, the name is likely to sound absurd, because
it is a sentence.The concepts associatedwith the words form a complex
u)ncept, the parts of which are related in a pattern analogous to the
456 SUSANNE K. LANGER

word-pattern.Word-meanings and grammatical forms, or rules for word-

using,maybe freely assigned;but oncethey are accepted,propositions
emergeautomaticallyas the meaningsof sentences.
Onemay say that the
elementsof propositions
arenamedby words,but prol»sitionsthemselves
are articulated by sentences.
A complexsymbolsuch as a sentence,or a map (whoseoutlinescor-
respondformallyto thevastlygreateroutlinesof a country),or a graph
(analogous, to invisibleconditions,
the rise andfall of prices,
the progress of an epidemic) is an articulate form. Its characteristic
symbolicfunctionis what I call logicalexpression.
It expresses
relations;
and it may or denote—anycomplexof elementsthat is
of the samearticulateform as the symbol,the form whichthe symbol
"expresses."
Music,like language,is an articulateform. Its partsnot only fuse
togetherto yield a greaterentity, but in Sodoing they maintainsome
degree of separateexistence, and the sensuouscharacter of each element
is affectedby its function in the complexwhole. This meansthat the
greaterentity wecall a compositionis not merelyproducedby mixture,
like a newcolormadeby mixing paints,but is articulated,i.e. its internal
structure is given to our perception.
Why, then, is it not a languageOf as it has often beencalled?
e
Becaus
itselements
arenotwords—independent symbols
with
a referencefixed by convention.Only as an articulateform is it found to
fit anything;andsincethereis nomeaningassigned to anyOfits parts,
it lacksoneof the basiccharacteristicsof language—fixed
andtherewitha single,unequivocal reference.We arealwaysfreeto fill
its subtlearticulateformswith any meaningthat fits them;that is, it
may conveyan idea Of anythingconceivablein its logical image.so,
althoughwe do receiveit as a significantform,andcomprehend the
prcressesof life andsentience
throughits audible,dynamicpattern,it is
not a language, it has no
in the samespirit Ofstrict nomenclature,
onereally should
notreferto itscontentas"meaning," either.Justasmusicis onlyloosely
andinexactlycalleda language,so its symbolicfunctionis only
calledmeaning, becausethefactorOfconventional referenceis missing
from it. In Philosophyin a New Key music was called an "unconsum-
mated"symbol.2But meaning,in theusualM:nserecognizedin semantics,
includesthe conditionof conventional
reference,Orconsummation of the
symbolicrelationship.Musichasimport,andthisimportis thepatternOf
e
sentience—th patternOflife itself,asit is felt anddirectlyknown.Let
us thereforecall the significanceOfmusicits "vital import" insteadOf
"
"meaning,
using"vital"notasavague
laudatory
term,butasaqualifying

2HarvardUniversityPresgedition,p. 240;NewAmericanLibrary (Mentor)edi-

tion, p. 195.
THE SYMBOL OF FEELING

adjective restricting the relevanc.eof "import" to the dynamism of subjec-

tive
So much, then, for the theory of music; music is "significant form,"
and its significance is that of a symbol, a highly articulated sensuous
object, which by virtue of its dynamic structure can express the forms of
vital which language is peculiarly unfit to convey. Feeling, life,
motion and emotion constitute its import.
Here, in rough outline, is the special theory of music which may, I
believe, generalized to yield a theory of art as such. The basic concept
is the articulate but non-discursive form having without conven-
tional reference, and therefore presenting itself not as a symbol in the
ordinary sense, but as a "significant form," in which thc factor of signifi-
cance is not logically discriminated, but is felt as a quality rather than
recogni7.edas a function. If this basic concept be applicable to all products
of what we call "the arts," i.e. if all works of art may be regarded as
significant forms in exactly the same senseas musical works, then all the
essential prqx»sitions in the theory of music may be extendedto the other
arts, for they all define or elucidate the nature of the symbol and its
import.
That crucial generalization is already given by sheer circumstance: for
the very term "significant form" was originally introduced in connection
with other arts than music, in the development of another special theory;
all that has so far been "Titten about it was supposed to apply primarily,
if not solely, to visual arts. Clive Bell, who coined the phrase, is an art
critic, and (by his own testimony) not a musician. His own introduction
Of thc term is given in the following words:
"Every one of 'art,' making a mental classification by which he
distinguishes the class 'works of art' from all other classes. What is the
justification of this classification? There must be some one
quality without which a work Of art cannot exist; possessing which, in
the least degree, no work is altogether worthless. What is this quality?
What quality is shared by all objects that provoke.our aestheticemotions?
What quality is common to Santa Sophia and the Windows at Chartres,
Mexican sculpture, a Persian bowl, Chinese carpets, Giotto's frescoes at
Padua, and the masterpieces of Poussin, Piero della Francesca, and
Cézanne?Only one answer seems possible—significant form. In each, lines
and colours combined in a particular way, certain forms and relations of
forms, stir our aesthetic emotions. These relations and combinations Of
lines and colours, these aesthetically moving forms, I call 'Significant
Form'; and 'Significant Form' is the one quality common to all works of
visual art."3
Bell is convincædthat the businessof aesthetics is to contemplate the
aestheticemotion and its object, the work of art, and that the reason why
458 SUSANNE K. LANGER

certainobjectsmoveus as they do lies beyondthe confinesOf aesthetics.'

If that wereso,there would be little of interestto contemplate.It seems
to me that the reasonfor our immediaterecognition of "significant form"
is the heart of the aestheticalproblem;and Bell himself has givenseveral
hints of a solution, although his justified dread of heuristic theo-
ries of art kept him from following out his own observations.But, in the
light Of the musictheorythat culminatesin the conceptof "significant
form," the hints in his art theory are enough.
"Before we feel an aestheticemotion for a combination of forms," he
says (only to withdraw hastily, evenbefore the end of the paragraph,
from any philosophical commitment)"do we not perceiveintellectually
therightnessandnecessity of thecombination?
If wedo,it wouldexplain
thefact that passingrapidlythrougha roomWerecognizea pictureto
good,althoughwe cannotSaythat it has provokedmuch emotion.We
seemto have recognizedintellectually the rightness Of its forms without
stayingto fix our attention,andcollect,asit were,their emotionalsignifi-
cance.If this Wereso,it wouldbe [Yrmissibleto inquirewhetherit was
theformsthemselves
or ourperception
of theirrightness
andnecessity
that
caused aesthetic emotion."5
Certainly"rightnessand necessity"are propertieswith philosophical
implications,andthe perceptionof thema moretelling incidentthan an
inexplicableemotion.To recognize thatsomething is right andnecessary
is a rationalact, no matterhow spontaneous andimmediatethe recogni-
tion maybe;it l»ints to an intellectualprinciplein artisticjudgment,and
a rational basis for the feeling Bell calls "the aesthetic emotion." This
emotionis, I think a result of artistic perception,as he suggestedin the
passagequotedabove;it is a personalreactionto the discoveryof "right-
ness and necessity" in the sensuous forms that evoke it. Whenever we
it we are in the presenceof Art, i.e. of "significantform." He
himselfhasidentifiedit as the sameexperiencein art appreciationand in
pure musical hearing, although he says he has rarely achievedit musi-
cally.Butif it iscommon tovisualandtonalarts,andif indeedit bespz•aks
the artisticvalueof its object,it offersanotherFY)intof suw»rt for the
theory that significant form is the essenceof all art.
That, however,is aboutall that it offers.Bell'sassertionthat every
theory of art must begin with the contemplationof "the aestheticemo-
tion," and that, indeed,nothingelseis really the businessof aesthetics,6
seems to me entirely wrong. To dwell on one's state of mind in the
presenceof a work dcæsnot further one'sunderstandingof the work and
its value.The questionof what givesonethe emotionis exactlythe ques-
tion of what makesthe objectartistic; andthat, to my mind, is where
philosophicalart theory Irgins.
4 Ibid., p. 10.
5 Ibid. , p 26.
6 See reference note 4.
THE SYMBOL OF FEELING 459

The samecriticism appliesto all theoriesthat begin with an analysis

of the "aestheticattitude": they do not get beyondit. Schopenhauer, who
is chiefly responsiblefor the notion of a completelydesireÄs state of pure,
sensuousdiscrimination as the proper attitude toward works of art, did
not make it the starting Y)int of his system, but a consequence.Why,
then, has it beenso insistently employed,eslk•ciallyof late, as the chief
datum in artistic exrRrience?
Probablyunderpressureof thepsychologisticcurrentsthat havetended,
for the last fifty years at least, to force all philosophicalproblemsOf art
into the confinesOf behaviorismand pragmatism, where they find neither
developmentnor solution, but are assignedto vaguerealmsOf "value" and
"interest," in which nothing of great value or interest has yet done.
The existence of art is accounted for, its value admitted, and there's an
end of it. But the issuesthat really challenge the aesthetician—e.g.the
exact nature and degreeof interrelation among thc arts, the meaning of
"essential" and "unessential," the problem of translatability, or transm»Sa-
bility, Of artistic ideas—either cannot arise in a psychologistic context, or
are answered,without real investigation,on thc strength of somegeneral
premise that Seemsto cover them. The whole tenor of modern philosophy,
especially in America, is uncongenial to serious speculation on the mean-
ing and difficulty and seriousnessof art works. Vet the pragmatic outlook,
linked as it is with natural sciencæ,holds such sway over us that no
academic discussion can resist its magnetic, orienting concepts; its basic
psychologism underlies every dcrtrine that really looks resmwtable.
Now, the watchword of this established doctrine is "experience." If the
leading philosophers publish assortedessaysunder such titles as Freedom
and Experience,7or center their systematicdiscoursearound Experience
and Nature,8 so that in their aesthetics, we are presæntedwith The
Aesthetic Experience9 and Art as Experience,10 it is natural enough that
artists, who are amateurs in philosophy, try to treat their subject in the
same vein, and write: Experiencing American Pictures," or: Dance—A
Creative Art Experience .12As far as possible, these MTiters who grope
more or less for principles of intellectual analysis adopt the current termi-
nology, and therewith they are committed to the prevailing fashion of
thought.
Since this fashion has grown up under the mentorship of natural sci-
ence, it brings with it not only the great ideals of empiricism, namely
observation, analysis and verification, but also certain cherished hypoth-
eses,primarily from the least lx•rfect and successful of the sciences,psy-
chology and sociology. The chief assumption that determines the entire
7 Essays in Honor Of Horace M. Rallen (1947).
8John Dewey (1925).
9 Laurence Buermeyer ( 1924).
IOJohn Dewey (1934).
11Ralph M. Pearson ( 1943).
12 Margaret Il'lhubler (
 SUSANNE R. LANGER

prcr.edureof pragmatic philosophy is that all human interests are direct

or oblique manifestationsof "drives" motivated by animal needs.This
premiselimits theclassof admittedhumanintereststo suchasCan,by
onedeviceor another,beinterpretedin termsof animalpsychology.
An
astonishinglygreatpart Of humanbehaviorreally bearsuchinter-
pretation without strain; and pragmatists,so far, do not admit that there
is any rnint wherethe principle definitelyfails, and its use falsifiesour
empirical findings.
The effectof the geneticpremiseOnart theoryis that aestheticvalues
mustbe treatedeitheras directsatisfactions, i.e. pleasures,or as instru-
mentalvalues,that is to Say,meansto fulfillment Of biologicalneeds.
It is eithera leisureinterest,like sportsand hobbies,Or it is valuablefor
gettingonwith theworld'swork—strengthening morale,integratingsocial
groups, or venting dangerousrepressedfeelings in a harmlessemotional
catharsis.But in eithercase,artisticexperience
is not essentially
different
from ordinaryphysical,practical,andsocialexperience.ta
The true connoisseursOfart, however,feel at oncethat to treat great
art asa sourceOfexperiences
not essentiallydifferentfrom the
Ofdailylife—astimulusto one'sactivefeelings,andly:rhapsa meansOf
communication betweenIk:rsonsor promotingmutualappreciation
—isto misstheveryessence of it, the thing that makesart as imrx»rtant
as scienceor evenreligion,yet setsit apartas an autonomous, creative
functionOfa typicallyhumanmind.If, then,theyfeelconstrained by the
prevailingacademictradition to analyzetheir attitude, re-
sponse,or enjoyment,theycan only beginby sayingthat aestheticexpe-
rienceis differentfrom any other, the attitude toward works Of art is a
highlyspecialone,thecharacteristic
responseis anentirelyseparate
emo-
tion,somethingmorethancommon enjoyment—not relatedtothepleasures
or displeasures
furnishedby one'sactualsurroundings,andthereforedis-
turbedby themratherthanintegratedwith thecontemporary scene.
This convictiondoesnot spring from a sentimentalconcernfor the

'a Cf. John Dewey,Art as Experience,p. 10: . . the forcesthat Createthe

gulf betweenproducerand consumerin m«xlern operateto createalso a
chasmbetweenordinaryand estheticexperience.Finally we have,as a recordof
this chasm,acceptedasif it werenormal,the philosophies
of art that locateit in a
regioninhabitedby no othercreature,and that emphasize
beyondall reasonthe
merely contem lative character Of the esthetic,"
o l. A.I!ichard
Als s, s
Principle
ofLiterary
Criticism,
pp.16—17:
"When
welook
at a picture,reada poem,or listento music,we arenotdoingsomething
quite
unlikewhat we weredoingon our way to the Gallery or whenwe dressedin the
morning. The fashionin which thc experienceis in us is different, Ondas a
rule the experienceis morecomplexand,if we aresuccessful,moreunified. But our
activity is not of a fundamentallydifferent type,"
LaurenceBuermeyer,in The AestheticExperience,p. 79, followshis accountof
artisticexpressionwith the statement:'This dcr•snot mean,oncemore,that what
the artist hasto sayis differentin kind from what is to be saidin actuallife, or
thattherealmof artis in anyessential
respect
divorced
fromtherealmof reality."
TITE SYMBOL OF FEELING 461

glamor and dignity of the arts, as Mr. Dewey suggests;'4 it arises from
the fact that when in whom appreciation for some it paint-
ing, music, drama, or what not—is spontaneous and pronounced, are in-
duced by a psychologistic fashion to reflect on their attitude toward the
works they appreciate, they find it not at all comparable with the atti-
tude they have toward a new automobile, a beloved creature, or a glorious
morning. They feel a different emotion, and in a different way. Since art
is viewed as a special kind of "experience," inaccessible to those who can-
not enter into the proper spirit, a veritable cult of the "aesthetic attitude"
has grown up among patrons of the art gallery and the.concert hall.
But thc acsthetic attitude, which is supposed to beget the art experi-
ence in the presence of suitable objects (what makes them suitable seems
to be a minor question, relegated to a time when "science" shall be ready
to answer it), is hard to achieve,harder to maintain, and rarely complete.
H. S. Langfeld, who wrote a whole book about it, described it as an
attitude "that for most individuals has to bc cultivated if it is to exist at
all in midst of the opposing and therefore disturbing influences which
are always And David Prall, in his excellent Aesthetic Analysis,
observes: "Even a young musical fanatic at a concert Of his favorite music
has some slight attention left for the comfort of his 1M)dyand his posture,
some vague sense of the direction of exits, a degree of attention most
easily raised into prominence by any interference with his comfort by
his neighbor's movements, or accidental noises coming from elsewhere,
whether these indicate thc danger of fire or some milder reason for taking
action. Complete aesthetic absorption, strictly relevant to one object, is at
least rare; the world as exclusively aesthetic surface is seldom if ever the
sole object of our attention."lfl
Few listeners or spectators, in fact, ever quite attain the state which
Roger Fry described, in Vision and Design, as "disinterested intensity of
only state in which one may really perceive a work
of art, and experience the aesthetic emotion. Most people are too busy or
too lazy to uncouple their minds from ull their usual interests before look-
ing at a picture or a vase. That explains, presumably, what he t•emarked
somewhat earlier in the same essay: "In proportion as art becomespurer
the number of people to whom it appeals gets less. It cuts out all the
romantic overtones which are the usual bait by which men are induced

14Speaking Of the separation Of art from life "that many theorists and critics
pride themselves upon holding and even elaborating," he attributes it to the desire
to keep art "spiritual," and says in explanation: "For many persons aura Of
mingled awe and unreality encompasses the 'spiritual' and the 'ideal' while 'matter'
has become . . . something to be explained away or apologized for." John Dewey,
op. cit., p. 6.
The Aesthetic Attitude, p. 65.
'G Aesthetic Analysis, pp. 7—8.
Vision and Design, p. 29.
462 SUSANNE K. LANGER

to accepta work Of art. It apB:alsonly to the aestheticsensibility, and

that in most men is comparati+elyweak."18
Jf thegroundworkof all genuineart experience is reallysucha sophis-
ticated,rare, and artificial attitude, it is somethingof a miracle that the
world recognizesworksof art aspublictreasuresat all. And that primitive
rx'0ples,from the cavedwellersof Altamira to the early Greeks,should
quite unmistakably have known what was beautiful, becomesa sheer
absurdity.
There is that, at least,to said for the pragmatists:they recognize
theart interestassomethingnaturalandrobust,nota precarious hothouse
flowerreservedfor thevery culturedandinitiate.But the smallcompass
of lx)ssiblehumaninterestsP?rmittedby their biologicalpremisesblinds
themto the fact that a very Sl»ntaneous,
evenprimitiveactivitymay
nonethe less human,and mayrequirelong study in its own
terms before its relations to the rest Of our clear. TO
say, as l. A. Richards does, that if we knew more about the nervous
system and its responsesto "crrtain stimuli" (note that "certain," when
applied to hypothetical data, means"uncertain," since the data cannot be
exactly designated) Wewould find that "the unpredictableand miraculous
differences in the total responseswhich slight changesin the
arrangementOf stimuli produce, can fully accountedfor in terms of
the sensitiveness
of the nervoussystem;andthe muysteries
of 'forms' are
merely a Consequence Of Ourpresentignoranceof the detail of its
is not only an absurd pretension (for how do we know what facts We
would find and what their implicationswould prove to before we
havefoundthem?), but an emptyhypothesis,becausethereis no clemen-
tary successthat indicatesthe direction in which neurologicalaesthetics
coulddevelop.If a theoreticalbeginningexisted,onecould imaginean
extensionof the sameprocedureto describeartistic exFriencein terms
of conditionedreflexes,rudimentaryimpulses,or cerebralvibra-
tions;butsofar thedatafurnishedby galvanometers andencephalographs
havenot borneonartisticproblems, evento the extentof explainingthe
simple,obviousdifferenceof effecttx:tweena majorscaleandits parallel
minor. The proposition that if we knew the facts we would find them to
be thusandthus is merelyan articleOf innocent,pseudo-scientific faith.
The psychologicalapproach,dictatedby the generalempiricist trend
in hasnotbroughtus withinrangeof anygenuineproblems
Ofart. So,insteadOfstudyingthe "slight changesof stimuli" which cause
"unpredictableand miraculouschanges"in our nervousreslx»nses, We
mightdobetterto look theart Objectassomething in its ownright,
with properties of our prepared which
command our reactions, and make art the autonomousand essentialfactor
that it is in every human culture.
Ibid., p. 15.
19op cit., p. 172.
THE SYMBOL OF FEELING 463

The conceptof significantform as an articulate expressionof feeling,

reflecting the verbally ineffableand thereforeunknown forms of sentience,
offers at least a starting l»int for such inquiries. All articulation is diffl-
cult, exacting, and ingenious;the making of a symbol requires craftsman-
ship as truly as the making of a convenient Or an efficientpaddle,
and the techniquesof expressionare evenmore important social traditions
than the skills of self-preservation, which an intelligent can evolve
by himself, at least in rudimentary ways, to meet a given situation. The
fundamentaltechniqueof expression—language—is somethingwe all have
to learn by exampleand practice, i.e. by consciousOr unconscioustrain-
ing.20Peoplewhosespeechtraining has beenvery casualare lesssensitive
to what is exact and fitting for the expression Of an idea than those of
cultivated habit; not only with regard to arbitrary rules of usage,but in
respect Of logical rightness and necessity of expression, i.e. saying what
they mean and not something else. Similarly, I believe, all making of
expressiveform is a craft. Therefore the normal evolutionof art is in close
association with practical skills—building, ceramics, weaving, carving,
and magical practices of which the average civilized person no longer
knows the and therefore, also, sensitivity to the rightness
and necessityof visual or musical forms is apt to be more pronounced
and sure in persons of some artistic training than in those who have only
a bowing acquaintancewith the arts. Technique is the meansto the crea-
tion of expressiveform, the symbol of sentience;the art processis the
application of somehuman skill to this essentialpurpose.
At this point I will make bold to offer a definition of art, which Serves
to distinguish a "work of art" from anything else in the world, and at
the same time to show why, and how, a utilitarian object may also
a work of art; and how a work of so-called "pure" art may fail Of its
purpose and be simply bad, just as a shoe that cannot be worn is simply
bad by failing of its purm:jse.It serves,moreover, to establish the relation
of art to physical skill, or making, on the one hand, and to feeling and
expressionon the other. Here is the tentative definition, on which the fol-
lowing chapters are built: Art is the creation of forms symbolic of human
feeling.
The word "creation" is introduced here with full awareness of its prob-
lematical character. There is a definite reason to say a craftsman produces
but creates a thing of a builder erects a house, but creates
an edifice if the house is a real work of architecture, however modest. An
artifact as such is merely a combination of material parts, or a nu_xlifi-
cation of a natural object to suit human purp»ses. It is not a creation, but
an arrangement of given factors. A work of art, on the other hand, is

20 Cf. Neat' Key, Chap. v, "Language."

21 Yet a pervasive magical interest has probably been the natural tie between
practical fitness and expressiveness in primitive artifacts. New Key, chap. ix,
WI*he Genesis of Artistic Import."
 SUSANNE R. LANGER

morethan an "arrangement"of giventhings—even qualitativethings.

%methingemerges from thearrangement Oftonesor colors,whichwas
notthere andthis,ratherthanthearrangedmaterial,is the
of sentience.

Themakingof thisexpressive form is thecreativeprocess

that enlists
a man'sutmosttechnicalskill in the serviceof his utmostconceptual
lx»wer,
imagination.
NottheinventionOfneworiginalturns,northeadop-
tionof novelthemes,
meritstheword"creative,"
butthemakingOfany
work symbolic of feeling, evenin the mcBtcanonicalcontext and manner.
A thousandrxx»ple
mayhaveusedeverydeviceandconvention of it before.
A Greekvasewasalmostalwaysa creation,althoughits formwastradi-
tional and its decorationdeviated but little from that of its numberless
forerunners.
Thecreativeprinciple,nonetheless,
Wasprobablyactivein
it from the first throw Of the clay.
To expoundthat principle,anddevelopit in eachautonomous
realm
Ofart,is theOnlywayto justifythedefinition,
whichreallyis a philo-
sophical theory of art in miniature.