By Jeremy K. Thompson
I argue in defense of Umberto Eco’s position that a distinction between a work of art and a hyperreal object can be accomplished by categorizing hyperreality as those objects in which the viewer’s subjective understanding of the work’s meaning is mediated through an independent object or idea, as opposed to works of art where meaning is derived directly from the form of the work itself. In Travels in Hyperreality, Eco describes the predominantly American phenomenon of hyperreal forms of visual representation, but fails to make a distinction between how these hyperreal objects are different from canonical works of art that also function as representations of natural or real objects. Eco defines hyperreality as an artificially constructed object or environment that attempts to perfectly imitate an authentic original (i.e. a wax museum or a historical reconstruction). He says, “The aim of the reconstructed Oval Office is to supply a ‘sign’ that will then be forgotten as such: The sign aims to be the thing, to abolish the distinction of the reference, the mechanism of replacement.” (Eco 1986: 7) However, many artistic media (photography, sculpture, cinema, etc.) are at least partially founded upon some form of replication or imitation of nature which would seem to make their categorization with hyperreality appropriate. Eco suggests throughout the essay that he considers things such as da Vinci’s The Last Supper and even photorealist schools as works of art categorically different from hyperreality (1986: 7), even though he ignores the potential argument that a portrait or stone sculpture could serve the same function as a wax museum figure. I will begin my defense of Eco by examining the differences between a viewer’s subjective experience and interpretation of a work of art and a work of hyperreality.
First, I address the necessary conditions for a material object to be classified as a work of art (at least the conditions that define art within Eco’s framework), so that a richer understanding of what it means for an object to be hyperreal can be developed in counterpoint. Eco describes hyperreality as an imitation that attempts to replace the thing it imitates (or “the absolute fake,” 1986: 8), so we can conclude that his characterization of a work of art would be that, even when it represents some independent object in the real world, art is considered at its core to have real or authentic properties. That is, real art does not depend on the reality of the thing it represents. From Immanuel Kant we understand that the material structure of the object itself is unknowable, and so authenticity is a subjective experience of the viewer (Ginsborg 2008). Because of the vast range of subjective experiences found within different media and historical trends in art, it might be difficult to pinpoint an experience that is common to all of art that gives it the authenticity not found in hyperreality. I will propose that this common experience is that the viewer is able to make a meaningful interpretation upon contact with the work. That is, the viewer understands the work to communicate an idea of some form, and this meaning is seen as intrinsically manifest from the form of the artwork. This meaningful interpretation is a cornerstone of the process of aesthetic judgment (also for Kant, artistic beauty is considered the expression of an aesthetic idea (Ginsborg 2008)), and the ability to make an aesthetic judgment is a necessary condition for a viewer to consider an object as a work of art.
Where hyperreality differs is that the idea is not an intrinsic feature of one’s experience of the object. Because the hyperreal object attempts to replace the original thing for which it is a sign, the viewer sees the hyperreal object itself as a phantom of sorts, perceiving it in reality as an obvious fake, but then denying a conscious interpretation of this “authentic fake”. What is seen in its place is the far-removed referent object, and it is this third party from which the meaningful interpretation is derived. For example, the interpretation of a reproduction of da Vinci’s The Last Supper in a California museum will render the physical object as meaningless for the viewer. If the reproduction is successful, the act of interpretation takes place only on the original work in Milan, for which the hyperreal object imitates the form to stand in as a proxy. Furthermore, this implies that the only measure of judgment the viewer has for the hyperreal object is the degree to which it imitates the originating idea. All other forms of aesthetic evaluation are reflective of the originating idea, and because the existence of this idea is not dependent upon the creation of the artwork, but is supplied externally, the physical form of the hyperreal object has no impact on how the viewer makes the aesthetic judgment. Since the ability to make an evaluative aesthetic judgment is a necessary condition for any form of art, and because the hyperreal objects fail this condition, hyperreal objects cannot be categorized as art.
However, an objection could still be made against Eco’s essay by noting that he also categorizes as hyperreal the fantastical environments of theme parks such as Disneyland, which not only have a deliberate goal of representing an enhanced, “better” version of a real object, but also representing imaginary worlds where no real world counterpart has ever existed. An example of this is the Fantasyland Castle. Although loosely inspired by traditional European castles, the exotic coloration and whimsical details make the building an original work of architecture not entirely unlike the works of Antoni Gaudí. It is this example that is the most problematic for Eco, because there is no third-party concrete object that mediates the interpretation of meaning between the subject and object; the Fantasyland Castle is not experienced anywhere else on earth except as it is found in Disneyland. The concept of a building that is simultaneously hyperreal and fantastical would be logically incoherent, as fantasy by definition can only exist in the ideal realm and imitates nothing real. While the parts of Disneyland that represent some other real place or time in the world belong in Eco’s critique of hyperreality, he was incorrect to include the elements of purely whimsical fantasy without qualification.
My reply to this is that the fantastical hyperreality of Disneyland is possible, and imaginative structures such as the Fantasyland Castle cannot be categorized as works of art. Eco briefly hints at a solution when he states that within Disney’s magic enclosure is “fantasy that is absolutely reproduced.” (1986: 43) Although he describes hyperreality primarily in terms of the imitation of concrete things, here he suggests that he also would consider the imitation of ideas hyperreality. The defining characteristic of what makes a hyperreal object as such is that the viewer has an inauthentic subjective relationship with the object, consciously denying the real existence of the object’s material construction, and experiencing a meaningful interpretation that is supplied from a third-party source independent of subject and object. In the case of the Fantasyland Castle, the viewers will recognize the object for how they perceive it to really be; i.e, it was made of polystyrene 50 years ago, built by Floridian contractors, and its goal is to imitate the idea of a perfect fantasy castle. However, Disney sets the context of these objects by telling viewers that what they are witnessing is not the representation of fantasy (this experience would be authentic and akin to the experience of many works of art and architecture) but is a manifestation of authentic fantasy itself. Therefore the viewer’s experience of the object is that it was made with Byzantine stone 500 years ago, built by All the King’s Men, and has the purpose of housing Sleeping Beauty. The meaningful interpretation is once again independent from the object itself, the idea of fantasy pre-supplied by Disney through the external context of movies, advertising, and so on. The judgment that the viewer can make is limited to how well the ideal of fantasy is imitated by the castle, not how the idea of fantasy is manifest in the castle’s visual form. Eco’s critique of hyperreality remains sound and is separate from the domain of artwork.
References
Eco, Umberto. 1986. Travels in Hyperreality. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Google Books. Web.
Ginsborg, Hannah. 2008. “Kant’s Aesthetics and Teleology”. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2008 Edition), ed. Edward N. Zalta.
Oh man, I recently discovered your site and I love it. Applying intelligent and thought-provoking analysis to theme park design is a lot of fun, and I appreciate the thought and effort you put into your essays.
While I’m not particularly interested in whether a thing qualifies as “art,” I do find myself interested in the question of whether it is fair to categorize Disneyland (and other Disney and Disney-like themed entertainment experiences) as “hyperreal” by your definition.
Forgive me if I’m misinterpreting you, but in your Disneyland introduction essay, you seem to react pretty negatively to the park’s “fake”-ness. Everything is artifice, everything is constructed, etc. etc. From your essay above, it sounds like you interpret the Disney parks as inviting the guest to “play pretend.” We know it’s fake, but we’re going to pretend it’s real somehow and derive some kind of pleasure from that. That is, we’re not engaging with Sleeping Beauty Castle as a work created by an artist and therefore to be appreciated as such, we’re engaging with it as if it were a real fairy tale princess residence.
I would argue that you are kinda sorta right… but only about the Disney corporation and many of the Disney park guests NOW. I would argue that this is NOT the way the park was intended to be viewed by Walt, and not the way that many of the more ardent Disney fans appreciate them (to a lesser degree) even today.
I think the proper way to understand Disneyland is as a giant model train set or Christmas village – the Christmas village you get to walk around in, the model train you get to ride. Walt was fascinated by trains and miniatures prior to building Disneyland. He had the train in his backyard, for example, and intended to tour the country in a railroad car full of miniature exhibits. The keyword to understand Walt’s original park is not “pretend” but “control.” The artifice is deliberate. The trains and facades are deliberately downscaled to create the impression that this is a controlled, created, toy-like space. All of it points not to the reality of a midwestern town (with a castle at the end of it?) or the jungle or what have you, but to the designer – to Walt, whose name and face was widely known and loved – and to his enthusiasms and passions. (Or perhaps to Mary Blair or Mark Davis, who showed up once or twice on TV, etc).
Of course, the “idea” being communicated by the artist may not be terrifically profound (“Trains are awesome!”), or it may be extremely corny and sentimental (a valid critique, if that’s a dealbreaker for you), but you ARE supposed to understand Disneyland as the product of a creative vision (even if it may not qualify as a “work of art” under a given rubric). The design, the control over the space – all of that is the point.
I grew up in the eastern US, so I went to Magic Kingdom many times before I first went to Disneyland – and I was shocked at how small and how “fake” everything seemed in comparison. But I gradually grew to fall in love with it. The visible seams, the total lack of “slickness,” the naivete of the park – not only did it fill the park with a strong sense of personality that Magic Kingdom didn’t quite have, I actually felt invited to PARTICIPATE in the artifice and control of the park. There’s a reason that so many young Disney park fans dream of becoming Imagineers, even if they don’t have a lick of artistic skill – the parks invite you to design and create along with them, to vicariously enjoy the process of laying out this awesome model train village along with Walt.
This view of the parks has diminished over the years, and I mostly blame very young kids, who have a porous view of reality/fantasy. No one went to Disneyland in 1955 to stand in line to shake hands with Mickey Mouse, but now “character meet and greets” are incredibly dominant. As technology got better (and competition with Universal got steeper), Disney started pumping more money into making their attractions “slick,” which justifies larger price tags, but doesn’t invite the guest to participate in its creation or design. It’s increasingly a passive thing you experience, are impressed by, and leave. Trendy concepts like “immersion” and “story” miss the point to some extent – instead of appreciating the design (and therefore engaging with the designer) of a thing via atmosphere, charm, clever writing, ingenuity, etc., you are focused on the thing-in-itself and asked increasingly to “play pretend” along with the 3 year olds. You can’t take ownership of Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey the way you can of Main Street USA in Disneyland.
I think this may also explain why so many long time Disneyland fans gravitate to Epcot when they first visit Florida. Epcot, of all the parks on the east coast, is the most obviously “designed” and “controlled,” and therefore invites guests to own it and participate it in a way that the more “play pretend”-oriented parks don’t. Not everyone responds the same way, of course, as Epcot is gigantic and monumental, but its “presentational” qualities (to borrow a term from passport2dreams) make it potentially more participatory in the way that Disneyland is (or was).
So thanks for letting me dump text on your site! I really enjoy reading your thoughts.
Hi Chris, I very much appreciate the text dump! It’s been more than 7 years since I wrote this essay so I’m glad it’s still able to spark discussion.
I agree with a lot of your analysis, including your first observation that the debate over the definition of art is not very interesting. My position on this topic has shifted somewhat over the past years, even if I still retain a lot of my original perspectives… but I were to write this essay again I’d definitely take the emphasis off the question of what is art.
I’m really intrigued by your analogy of Disney parks to model trains, as I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before. Lots of analogies between theme parks to film, video games, or theater out there, but I think the model example better understands a lot of the issues about the subject-object relationship and the 4th wall “media divide” that I never felt the other analogies were quite appropriate for. I still think there’s a big difference, since when looking at a model your viewpoint is still above and outside of the objects, which like all other media allows the subject to remove him/herself and consider the work in a separate space from their own existence. But it does help to resolve the “charm” of Disneyland despite (or rather, because of) the fact that it’s not really tremendously “immersive” compared to modern standards.
I guess that relates to the idea of control and participation that you describe. It’s a very interesting way to frame it since normally the perspective is the other way around, but I like the idea that simpler themed environments requires that audiences pick up more of the slack and take a more active interpretive role than in an environment where everything is 100% controlled by the designer and that audience can only play in the way that is prescribed for them. At least I think that’s how I’m supposed to understand your thesis?
And yes, Epcot (at least the Future World half) uses its monumentality in a way that is extremely different from most other themed design; in fact I’d say that architecturally it is closer related to iron ride thrill parks than it is to hyperreal theme parks, where it’s more about the impression of the sublime than it is the transportive quality of hyperreality. (Except for the Epcot I experience in 2012 had very little design discipline and mostly undermined my more charitable interpretations of that park, but oh well.)