Martin’s remark calls to our attention the fact that sculpture, especially when it
depicts the human figure, may appeal to us as specifically embodied and gendered
beings: and part of its appeal to our bodily senses may be sexual. While most
...


commentators have shied away from discussing the role of sexuality in aesthetic
responses to art, and some have claimed that sexual and aesthetic responses are
incompatible, Herder (2002/1778) acknowledges that sexual attraction can provide
the impetus for careful aesthetic exploration of a sculpturally depicted human form,
and holds that bodily responses are integral to rather than in tension with aesthetic
ones. As Herder notes, and as remains true today, philosophers have tended to
privilege vision as the “highest” of the senses and to downplay the importance of
embodied experience, including sexuality. Rachel Zuckert (2009: 294) suggests that
the intimate connection of sculpture to our embodied condition may explain the
striking philosophical neglect of sculpture among the arts.



As we have seen, several theorists have proposed that sculpture has specific effects
on the bodily awareness of the spectator, but each account has its limitations. A
more promising contender is Susanne Langer’s (1953) proposal that sculpture
affects us by altering our experience of space. In general, Langer claims, we
experience space as organized by our kinetic possibilities: the way in which we
might choose to move through it. In the presence of a sculpture, we experience
space as organized by the kinetic possibilities we imagine for the sculpture—which,
when the sculpture represents an identifiable object, are determined in part by the
kinetic possibilities we understand that object to have


As Hopkins (2003) notes, Langer’s view may have its limits: it is hard to account for
the impact of a portrait bust by appealing to its kinetic possibilities, which seem to
be severely circumscribed. Nonetheless, Langer’s view may be able to absorb many
of the phenomena discussed by Herder, Vance and Martin by suggesting that we
identify bodily with sculpture, or experience its forces as physically impacting us,
because it alters our felt relationship with the space that it and we jointly occupy.

Langer’s account provides useful resources for seeing Duchamp’s In Advance of the
Broken Arm as operating sculpturally, not just conceptually. Our awareness of the
snow shovel’s kinetic possibilities, already activated by our knowledge of its
ordinary use, is heightened by the title (which is also inscribed on the object). In
addition, the shovel was originally hung from the ceiling by a wire, which introduces
the possibility of a swinging motion, perhaps even caused the viewer’s body. It thus
makes sense to think that our appreciation of the work involves a response to the
shovel’s kinetic possibilities as they interact with our own.