Lately, I’ve been feeling a sense of inhibition relating to Josephine Bosma’s book Nettitudes , which I’ve had checked out from the library for the past six months. For me, Duchamp’s philosophical discovery was that art could exist, and that its value was that it had no aesthetic distinction to speak of, at a time when it was broadly believed that aesthetic delectation was what art was all about. Artistic output in the contemporary era changed the understanding of art so radically as to render parts of the landscape absolutely unrecognizable.
It cleared the philosophical air to recognize that given that anesthetic art could exist, art is philosophically independent of aesthetics. In my 1st book on the philosophy of art I thought that works of art are about some thing, and I decided that functions of art accordingly have which means. For Danto, the point is the essence, that unseen embodiment, that spirit of what art is. His point is the same no matter which art object we speak of. Reflecting on your comments, I would be prepared to say that art that hurts or injures us is not art.