2/ The mystery of the concept and experience of beauty

Since the concept of 'beauty' is empty, using it to describe the phenomenon of aesthetic experience—the vivid impression a piece of art makes on a viewer—renders that experience profoundly mysterious.

When an aesthete declares a work of art to be beautiful, it is as though they have identified a mysterious quality—'beauty'—within the painting, prompting the question of what that quality might actually be. Furthermore, when another aesthete disagrees, not finding the work beautiful, questions arise: how can one determine who is correct? How can two equally knowledgeable individuals disagree? How can one fail to perceive the beauty that the other clearly observes? The typical conclusion has been that 'beauty is subjective', an expression that seems devoid of clear meaning.

In my view, the supposed mystery of both aesthetic experience and aesthetic disagreement is simply a symptom of our reliance on an empty concept to explain them. If we instead interpret these phenomena through the concept of value, any perceived magic, miracle, or mystery dissipates. The experience of art does not lose its power or significance when its mystery vanishes—unless, of course, we insist on grounding art’s value in an explicitly empty concept.

So let us use the concept of value. Here lies the problem: two aesthetes disagree about the Mona Lisa. One experiences aesthetic pleasure in contemplating it, while the other does not. Where does this disagreement stem from, and how can we determine who is correct?

When a viewer contemplates a work of art, they are presented with numerous 'contents of meaning'. In the Mona Lisa, for example, we perceive a smile, an approach to painting as imitation, and several of Leonardo's techniques, such as sfumato. We also notice specific colours—yellow, pink—and the influence of the Renaissance period in which the painting was created. This list could be extended indefinitely.

These 'contents of meaning' each possess distinct ontological realities. Among a smile, an era, the colour yellow, a technique, and imitation, we encounter elements that do not share the same mode of being: some are material, others abstract; some are objective realities, while others are human conventions or decisions, and so forth.

Proposition: in experiencing the artwork, the viewer disregards the ontological nature of the contents of meaning they observe. Their sole aim is to grasp the meaning and be moved by it, regardless of whether it pertains to a concrete or abstract reality.
The only consideration is whether the meaning they uncover holds significant value for them. If it does, they will take great pleasure in contemplating the work; if not, they will not.

Consider a simple, perhaps even simplistic, example: we often speak of the mysterious smile of the Mona Lisa. If one of our two aesthetes values joy or mystery, he will enjoy contemplating the Mona Lisa. However, if the other values melancholy, darkness, or cruelty, he will find no pleasure in it.
Thus, it is an axiological disagreement about what is valuable, rather than an aesthetic disagreement about what is beautiful, that lies at the root of critics' conflicts.

We must acknowledge that this example is somewhat simplistic and consider how we might make it more complex without sacrificing its relevance.
The complication arises because, with myriad meanings present in a work of art, we cannot predict which meanings the viewer will notice or use to form a value judgement.
For instance, with the Mona Lisa, its status as a global icon might detract from the aesthete’s enjoyment if they value the solitary discovery of lesser-known works.
Additionally, the artwork may contain numerous meanings—some of which the aesthete finds valueless, while others are deeply valued. In such cases, they might react ambiguously, feeling hesitant to give a definitive opinion, or even feel a sense of ‘embarrassment’ toward the piece.

Furthermore, as our value judgements shift over time, it is common to enjoy a work of art at one point, only to lose interest years later. This is not because some mysterious quality—the beauty of the work—has been revealed and then hidden, but due to the ordinary phenomenon of our evolving value judgements.

This theory does not oversimplify the experience of a work of art; rather, it recognises that an infinite number of meanings can be noticed and weighed by the spectator. This internal struggle among these contents of meaning shapes the viewer’s ultimate response of pleasure or displeasure, and its complexity defies full comprehension. We cannot calculate with certainty whether we will like a work. Nevertheless, this complexity does not undermine the fact that it is the value, not the ‘beauty', of these meanings that determines our pleasure.

Disregarding the concept of beauty as an empty term aligns with significant studies in the philosophy of art. Indeed, philosophers have historically imbued beauty with other definitions, as if it held no intrinsic meaning.
For example, they have described beauty as symmetry (a mathematical proportion), as unity, as perfection (alignment with its abstract concept), as utility, and so on. If we assert that beauty is symmetry, it implies that pleasure comes not from beauty itself, but from symmetry (or unity, perfection, utility).
Beauty, then, is merely an empty word into which we insert pre-existing, meaningful concepts. In this, I am simply articulating an idea that has resonated since antiquity.