Well, I fought long and hard and in the end, I gave in. I've decided to stick my oar in on the subject of what constitutes art, partly because I wasn't satisfied with my Cantian-brethren's views and mostly because I'm feeling pissy and looking for a fight. So, with my sleeves firmly rolled up, I'll give you the full benefit of my limited and one-sided views.
What I find troubling about the earlier, very erudite definitions, is that they have tried to nail down art in a way that is inherently exclusive. It's as though there is a list of factors that make up what 'art' is, (or "Art" if you are feeling that way inclined) in the same way that we might define what makes up a hamburger. This I find perplexing. There are, after all, countless facets to human existence which are inherently relative and indefinable. What's 'funny'? What's 'pleasantly warm' ? What's 'a nice pair of legs'? No one seems unduly troubled by the fact that I find, oh, Frankie Howard massively amusing whereas I can pretty much guarantee that no-one else reading this would so much as smile nervously. But when it comes to something as important as 'art' people seem to get very twitchy about having any loose ends.
Art is simply the end product of the creative process. Does it have to have meaning? Well, I think it's nice if it does. I think it's desirable that art should tell us something about the nature of being human but well, that 'something' could just be "hey, it's fun to make squiggles with paint that look like the pope." It's not important in the grand scheme of life, but it's still art. I don't accept that art needs to be difficult. I don't accept that art needs to take a long time. If I read a sonnet by Shakespeare, I don't need to know how long it took him to write it, nor how much thought he had to put into it. It stands or falls entirely on its communication with me. And there is the crux of the matter.
A pile of steaming cow poo is art if it speaks to me. If it doesn't, it's a pile of steaming cow poo.
Harlock's utility argument is seductive. To suggest that we can spot 'art' by looking for things that have no other use is pleasing in it's simplicity and certainly reassuring. Alas, I can't buy it. I can snap the head off a spoon because I enjoy snapping the heads off spoons. What I get is a broken spoon. Not art. Not unless you and I agree that a broken spoon handle is art. Then everything changes.
Art is a contractual, consensual thing. You make it. I experience it. If we agree it's art, then it's art. In fact, the artist and viewer can be the same person. As long as there is an artist and an audience that agree, then it's art. There is also an element of _context_ and _intent_. If I stand on one leg and you and I see this as being in some wayartistic, then it's art. When I later stand on one leg because my foot itches, well, that's not art.
I won't argue that all art is good, or worthwhile or important. I won't argue that all art is beautiful. That's because I can't. No one can. The value of art is as the artist and the audience define it. Otherwise you are left in the indefensible position of claiming to know the full range of possibility of human creativity and to have delineated within that what is and is not artistic. All creativity is equally valid, but some will be valid and important to a few people, some to a great many. The ceiling of the Sistine chapel is viewed by many as "Art," the pile of cow poo, by some. A three year old draws a flower. It's art, it's just trivial, probably to everyone except the three year old and direct family. The exact same drawing, however, could be immensely important if one imbues it with significance beyond simple representation. Contextual, contractual, consensual.
In the end, I am left with the only definition of art that I can defend because I think it is the only one that adequately addresses the range and depth of human expression. Art, (or 'art',) exists purely as the exchange between me and the artist.
I don't know what Art is, but I will know it when I see it.
See? Was that so painful?