“Against Interpretation” (1964)
Susan Sontag

In the introductory article on this website, we note that critical theory is all about understanding the process of interpretation. The article goes on to elaborate the various ways in which theory allows us to interpret texts. In this sense, we take for granted that texts are there to be interpreted. Indeed, we would go further and claim that since there is no neutral reading of a text, all reading automatically involves interpretation.

 

Sontag’s essay, then, stops us in our tracks. It is essential reading for theorists since it takes perhaps the most fundamental assumption of theory (that we should interpret texts) and forcefully argues against it. Sontag asserts that we need to stop asking what works of art say and instead pay attention to what they do.

 

By interpretation, Sontag means “a conscious act of the mind which illustrates a certain code, certain ‘rules’ of interpretation.” So while Sontag does not deny the idea above that all reading involves a degree of interpretation, she is opposed to interpreting in a programmed or strictly structured manner where the critic consciously decodes or “uncovers” hidden meaning in a text.

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Form and content

Sontag agrees with Walter Benjamin when she speculates that in prehistory, art was connected to the performance of magical rituals. One of the effects of theorizing about art, which she traces back to Plato, is the diminishing of art. By understanding art to be a mere representation of reality, Plato strips it of this magic, making it into a poor imitation of reality.

 

But more significantly, this theory of representation rests on a specific claim about art. If art is a poor representation of reality, then it must be trying to represent reality. There must, therefore, be some kind of idea or account of the world which is being presented by a work of art. The work must mean something; it must have some kind of content.

 

Sontag mentions Plato’s example of a painting of a bed. Plato interprets the painting as a representation of a real bed. In this sense, it points to an object in the real world. So when Plato looks at the painting, he is not thinking about the paint on the canvas, the brush strokes or the emotional effect that it has on him. Rather, in interpreting the painting, he moves past it as an object of contemplation, enjoyment or spiritual power, insisting that the paint on the canvas can only be understood in relation to something else entirely – in this case, a real bed.

 

There is also a sense in which the act of interpretation presupposes that there must be some kind of content. For if there was no content, then there would be nothing to interpret. The very act of approaching a work of art with an interpretative frame of mind changes or transforms the artwork into something which must mean something.

 

Interpretation gives rise to a binary division between form and content. Form is the type of artwork, its style or other technical elements that have contributed to its production. Content is what the work of art is about; what it means. So for the painting of the bed, the form is that it is a painting, painted in a particular style and the content is the idea of the bed.

 

As with all binary divisions, one of the terms is privileged over the other. Sontag notes: “content comes first.” The first question that we ask of a work of art is “What is the content?” Or to put it another way, “What is X trying to say?” By concentrating on the content, we tend to neglect or undervalue the form of art. Instead of asking what the content of art is, Sontag argues that we should be thinking about what art does.

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Marx and Freud

Sontag points out that interpretation can be a conservative act. This is often the case when “for some reason a text has become unacceptable; yet it cannot be discarded.” Sontag gives the example of the biblical book “The Song of Songs.” She notes that the “clearly erotic” text has often been interpreted as having a spiritual rather than a sexual meaning. Since it is a part of the bible, there is no way to discard the text, and so interpretation is called in as a method of rendering the text more acceptable. In this sense, to interpret is to tame unwieldy texts.

 

There is a double violence to this kind of interpretation since “the interpreter, without actually erasing or rewriting the text, is altering it. But he can’t admit to doing this. He claims to be only making it intelligible, by disclosing its true meaning.” Not only does interpretation distort the text, but it does so in the name of supposedly uncovering the real but hidden meaning.

 

This is emblematic of what Sontag calls the “modern style” of interpretation which she characterizes as a kind of archaeology or “digging.” The idea here is that the real meaning is hidden under the surface of the text and only by using interpretative tools to dig into the text can this meaning be discovered. 

 

Marxist and Freudian interpretations are singled out as methods which perform this type of digging. In The Interpretation of Dreams (1899), Freud claims that the real meaning of a dream, its latent content, is hidden beneath the manifest content which is a censored and distorted version of the real dream thoughts. Similarly, Marx claims that works of art are part of a social superstructure which has arisen from the real site of analysis, the economic base. For Marx, art can only be properly understood in relation to the economic relations of its production. 

 

Sontag labels both Marxism and psychoanalysis as aggressive forms of interpretation in that they bracket off the obvious, observable or surface elements of a work of art and instead insist that what is really going on is something else entirely. A good example of this type of aggressive reading (which Sontag does not mention) would be Freud’s essay on “The Uncanny,” which reads Hoffman’s short story “The Sandman” through his theory of the castration complex. This reductive reading offers few insights into the primary text and ignores many important aspects of the story. It renders everything subservient to the castration complex and proposes that the real meaning of the text is hidden and in need of uncovering.

 

This sort of reading “indicates a dissatisfaction (conscious or unconscious) with the work, a wish to replace it by something else.” Here, Sontag claims that the interpretation becomes more important than the work of art itself. Moreover, she states that interpretation violates art in that it reduces it to a series of content items which can be categorized and organized in a rational attempt to bring order to art.

 

Reinstating the magic of the word

Although Sontag concedes that it is impossible to “retrieve the innocence before all theory,” when people simply knew what works of art did (like in magical rituals), she observes that some works are complicit with interpretation while others resist it.

 

For example, she accuses Thomas Mann of being “an overcooperative author.” Not only does Mann write in a way that suggests that his novels ought to be interpreted – that there is some hidden meaning to be uncovered – but he actually presents explicit interpretations of his writing within the texts themselves. In this sense, he is acting as both writer and critic at the same time, making it impossible to read his novels without engaging in interpretation.

 

On the other hand, Sontag admires other sorts of art which resist interpretation. She notes that abstract painting has no obvious content and therefore is not open to interpretation. On the other end of the spectrum, the content of pop art is so obvious that there is no room for additional interpretation. Sontag also praises avant-garde writing which resists interpretation by denying the reader any sense of clear content through radical experimentation with form.

 

The form which has the most promise for Sontag is film. She theorizes that:

 

Ideally, it is possible to elude the interpreters in another way, by making works of art whose surface is so unified and clean, whose momentum is so rapid, whose address is so direct that the work can be . . . just what it is. Is this possible now? It does happen in films, I believe. 

 

Just as pop art simply is what it is, so film, in its directness, can head off the possibility of interpretation. In addition, since the image is constantly changing, there is no time to formulate interpretations. So instead of interpreting the ideas in film, Sontag wants to concentrate on the “beauty and visual sophistication” of images on the screen. Instead of reading these images as symbols, they should be enjoyed simply for what they are.

 

Here, we see Sontag in dialogue with Benjamin who also writes about film. In contrast to Benjamin, who thinks that film can be put into the service of Marxism by revealing the true social conditions, Sontag believes that film should be all about surface.

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Recovering the senses

Sontag claims that “transparence is the highest, most liberating value in art.” By this she means the act of seeing something simply as it is. In a sense, her argument is one against intellectualism (at one point, she describes interpretation as “the revenge of the intellect upon art”). Instead of thinking about art, she advocates a sensory experience. It is not that we should stop writing about art, but when we do, it should be in order to “reveal the sensuous surface of art.”

 

Sontag believes that contemporary capitalist society has resulted in a “steady loss of sharpness in our sensory experience.” She connects this to the capitalist drive towards overproduction and the general crowdedness of modern life. In this sense, her project extends beyond the appreciation of art and has a more general social application. “What is important now is to recover the senses” she writes; “we must learn to see more, to hear more, to feel more.” Here, she is not just discussing the appreciation of art, but has in mind experience in general. The end of the essay therefore invites the reader to consider the broader implications of being against interpretation. Sontag argues that we go around with blunted senses, failing to see the world for what it is, unable to properly experience our lives. By recovering our senses in relation to art, she hopes that we can do likewise for our lives in general.

 

The essay ends on a cryptic note. “In place of hermeneutics [interpretation] we need an erotics of art.” This is the final sentence of the essay and one which is, ironically, in need of interpretation. Sontag is calling for a new kind of criticism which does not consider the meaning of art, but concentrates on the formal aspects. By calling our attention to the surface of art, she wants to sharpen the senses of the viewer which will in turn lead to a heightened sensuality. Although she acknowledges that it is not possible to return the genie to the bottle – we are incapable of not interpreting – she hopes to recover some of the magic of artworks. 

 

Past Present Future podcast episode on “Against Interpretation”

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