BUA Institution

Freie Universität Berlin

Research Description

Generally speaking, in my research I explore questions at the intersection of aesthetics and theoretical philosophy, focusing on concepts such as truth, representation and reality in the context of art. More specifically, I’m interested in modes of thinking that do not rely on statements and propositional reasoning, but instead unfold through affective, intuitive or aesthetic forms of thought. Yet another step more specific, I write about the possible form of truth of such non-discursive modes of thought. 

Where in the world has your career been largely based until now?

Until I came to Berlin, I was based in the Netherlands. I have worked as an assistant lecturer in Amsterdam, tenured lecturer at the University of Arts Utrecht, and as a curator and researcher in Dutch art sector. Besides, I have been visiting researcher at Royal Netherlands Institute in Rome, the Van Doesburg House in Paris, the Netherlands Institute in Athens and the Dutch University Institute for Art History in Florence.

Why Berlin?

Of course, Berlin has been one of the most important cities for philosophy since the late eighteenth century - it has been a crucial site for for the institutionalisation, transformation, and radicalisation of the canon of European thought, from German Idealism and Marxism to critical theory.  Although the academic world has changed almost unrecognisably since the age of Hegel and Marx, I would still hold that Berlin remains one of the foremost places globally for continental philosophy, especially in theoretical aesthetics and critical theory.

What fascinates you about your research area?

My research arises from a fascination with an enigmatic fact, familiar to everyone: works of art have something to say that cannot be said in any other way. Technically speaking, we might say that the meaning of an artwork is entirely implicit in the unique form through which it appears. The logical consequence of such implicitness is that this meaning cannot be made explicit in another medium, such as discursive language. Thus, I can never replace the meaning of a poem with a conceptual or descriptive account of it, in the way that I might explain a scientific theory in different formulations. What is strange and philosophically fascinating, however, is that this implicit meaning—that which the artwork has to say entirely on its own—nevertheless appears to be about the world beyond the artwork itself. We commonly hold that successful works of art can transform our perception of reality; that music can penetrate our emotional life in an irreducibly singular way; or that a novel can disclose reality to us in a manner that deepens our understanding of it. A work of art affects us because it shows us something about life. This is only possible if the artwork can enter into a necessary relation with what lies outside the work itself. At the same time, it is precisely this artistic meaning—this content that only works of art are capable of producing—that remains entirely implicit in the work’s form. How, then, can the specific and inexplicable meaning of a work be both self-contained and yet necessarily related to a world beyond it? This enigmatic character of the work of art is what may be called its “truth.”

How will your research change the world?

That's an interesting question. Marx famously remarked that philosophers should change the world rather than merely interpret it. This remark has become something of a bad conscience for almost every academic philosopher. Both the diligent scholar who constantly strives for measurable “societal impact” and the ascetic academic who retreats into the ivory tower, renouncing the world in the name of an alleged “intrinsic value” of Wissenschaft, are equally expressions of this bad conscience. What it means to change the world, however, neither happens completely on its own accord, nor can it be measured solely in terms of impact. I do believe that philosophers bear a responsibility toward the world, but the decisive question should not concern the content or the scale of change so much as its form. Philosophers relate to the world in a qualitatively different way than politicians, journalists, or natural scientists. Whereas the latter are typically expected to effect change within the world, philosophers are often better equipped to shape the way that world appears to us—or, perhaps more accurately, to deconstruct it: to dismantle and reconfigure the world as we thought we knew it. By this I mean that philosophical reflection can enable us to perceive reality in a fundamentally different way: to question its operative categories, and to rethink the concepts and logics through which we make sense of it. Rather than striving for impact in readily communicable or familiar terms, I see the philosopher’s responsibility as lying precisely in the critique of those terms themselves—in attempting to emancipate what may have been obscured by them. 

If you could have a radical career change for a week, what would it be?

A pizzaiolo in Naples. With an uncompromising devotion to the art, pretending the world is as round as the crispy crost of a perfect margherita.

Who is the most interesting or inspiring person you have ever worked with?

I have had the privilege of having a genuine mentor—someone who truly taught me what it means to do philosophy. That person is Victor Kal, who is perhaps the greatest philosophers I have encountered. I should also mention my friend Mari van Stokkem, whose creativity always amazes me.

Is there anyone else in the Berlin-Brandenburg area that you would love to collaborate with?

I am very much looking forward to collaborating with anyone interested in questions at the intersection of theoretical philosophy and aesthetics. To this end, I am about to launch a research group entitled Aesthetica Prima Philosophia, dedicated to reformulating questions of metaphysics, epistemology, logic, and the philosophy of language through the lens of aesthetics. We are actively seeking (post)doctoral researchers and professors who are interested in joining the research group.

What would be the greatest professional achievement you could ever aspire to?

I am still at the very beginning of my career, but perhaps the most vain hope an academic can cherish is to transcend academia while remaining within it. If I were ever able to write a book that could engage colleagues in a professional high-standing dialogue while at the same time inspiring a broader audience beyond the university, I would consider that my greatest achievement.