British Journal of Aesthetics, Vol. 33, No.

1, January

CHESS AS AN ART FORM

P. N. Humble

It is ariddlewrapped in a mystery inside an enigma: but perhaps there is a key.

W. S. Churchill

WE MIGHT think that the question whether chess is an art form should interest
the philosopher and aesthetician. Chess is a game with a long history; it
possesses a literature rich in aesthetic interest and it is for many the very
paradigm of intellectual activity. Although philosophers are fond enough of
using chess as a metaphor they have said remarkably little, however, about a
question which bedevils chess literature.1 To the best of my knowledge,
Harold Osborne is one of the few aestheticians to have regarded chess as a
subject worthy of comment. In a short but perceptive review-article,2 he
discusses the aesthetics of chess in relation to the concept of intellectual beauty.
Although his discussion is constrained by the books under review, he remarks,
en passant, that chess may rightly be treated as an art form 'since among other
things it offers scope for the creation of intellectual objects characterized by
beauty'.3 This remark expresses an important insight; one which I shall elabor-
ate upon with the intention of arguing a case for classifying chess as one of the
minor arts. I shall begin by looking at criteria used for evaluating chess games
from an aesthetic point of view. I shall then put the case for treating chess as an
art form by drawing upon the writings of Grandmaster Bronstein, and con-
clude by discussing the most powerful objection to my claims.
It is a well-established practice to award brilliancy prizes at chess tourna-
ments for the most beautiful game. (This, incidentally, gives institutional
recognition to the aesthetic nature of chess.) With this practice in mind the
French chess enthusiast, F. Le Lionnais, stipulated seven criteria for judging a
game's aesthetic merit. It is worth summarizing these criteria as they make
clear what may not be apparent, namely how a game can reward aesthetic
contemplation.4
(1) Correctness (a). A winning combination (i.e., a unified sequence of moves
usually involving two or more pieces) must be correct in the sense that it
cannot be refuted by skilful defence. It is not judged beautiful if it succeeds
owing to an opponent's blunder. (2) Correctness (b). The combination must be
the most economical way of winning material or giving checkmate; it should
not indulge in pyrotechnics for its own sake. (3) Difficulty. A game should be
judged beautiful in proportion to the difficulties each player sets the other and
© Oxford University Press 1993 59
60 CHESS AS AN ART FORM

how well each overcomes the difficulties he has been set. Mistakes on the part
of either player detract from a game's merit, while dangerous moves enhance
it. (4) Vivacity. Dull moves diminish a game's merit; spectacular moves
increase it. Sacrifices in which a player gives up pieces to obtain a stronger
position or attack are especially praiseworthy. (5) Originality. A game or
combination must be unique. Combinations of a novel, imaginative nature
contribute to a game's aesthetic merit. (6) Richness. The greater the variety of
combinations, the more beautiful the game is to be judged. As well as com-
binations that are actually played, there are 'hidden' ones or threats. Although
these threats being anticipated and countered by the opponent do not
materialize, they give a game greater depth and profundity. (6) Logical Unity.
A game should exhibit harmonious development in which all the moves form
part of a larger, overall conception which is itself correct.
M. Le Lionnais regarded these conditions as being necessary and sufficient
conditions for a game to be beautiful. This may or may not be true. For our
purposes it is sufficient to note that chess is susceptible to aesthetic appraisal
and indeed invites it. However, it is one thing to say this and another to say
that chess is an art form. Plainly, there are many things we take an aesthetic
interest in, including natural phenomena, which are not works of art. Though
we may have a clearer idea of how chess can reward aesthetic contemplation,
we still lack an argument to show how it is an art form. Such an argument can
be extracted from the writings of Grandmaster Bronstein and co-author,
Smolyan.
Their book Chess in the Eighties5 is best regarded as a brilliant polemic in
which, with passion and wit, they set out to confound sceptic and 'pragmatist'
alike by arguing that chess is a creative art. 'Chess is in the highest degree',
they assert, 'an individual form of creativity'.6 'Everything that appeals to us in
a game', they say, warming to their task, 'be it a combination or a manoeuvre,
a trap or a study-like ending, the complex logic of a plan or the geometrical
harmony of co-ordination—all of these are distinctive aesthetic "invariants'"
(my italics).7 Good aesthetic judgement can enable the chess player, they
believe, to spot the correct move or hit upon a winning combination.8 Not
only does chess give the player scope to express artistic gifts, the game can be
appreciated by the spectator in the same way that paintings, music and archi-
tecture can be appreciated, i.e., as art.9 For our authors, this is no fanciful
analogy, and they look forward to a time when chess is properly presented
as an (intellectually and morally improving) entertainment for a wider
public.10
This is good stuff, but it should be said that it is supported by a perceptive
analysis of chess creativity; one which may provide the key argument for
which we are looking. Let us examine more closely the four important factors
our authors think are involved in such creativity.
First, there is the joy the player himself takes in creating 'artistic riches',
 P. N. HUMBLE 61
which are imperishable (being works of art which are recorded in permanent
form, using standard chess notation).
Second, there is the pleasure the audience—the chess public—gets from
watching an entertaining game of chess. It is the master's responsibility to
ensure that the game is truly entertaining. Our authors write: 'Just as the
musician extracts for the public the sounds of a charming melody, so the
artistic chess player uses his skill to extract from the material at his disposal the
beauty of a chess idea'. The audience must play its part too by creating a sense
of occasion (rather like an audience at the theatre). As Bronstein and Smolyan
remark: 'Without an audience there is no creative intensity . . . on a deserted
stage, alone with himself, the master loses his creative potential, and his torpid
soul becomes the prisoner of countless variations from which he no longer has
the strength to escape'.11 We can in turn extract from these writings the all-
important notion of an audience, of a spectator. Via this notion we can link
chess with the major arts, where we speak of the artist as creating something
with the intention of rewarding aesthetic contemplation. Similarly, we can
speak of the chess master as playing a game with exactly the same intention.
Third, there is the 'powerful attractive factor' of the game's 'mysterious
beauty'. Our authors refer to the views of Le Lionnais, which we noted above,
and regret these are not more widely known. They suggest alternative ways of
evaluating games, and attach the greatest importance to qualities of daring,
imagination and fantasy. They quote approvingly Francis Bacon's observation
that 'there is no complete beauty in existence which does not contain a certain
portion of strangeness'. And they agree wholeheartedly with Richard Reti,
who remarked: 'That which basically delights us in chess . . . is the triumph of
a deep, brilliant idea over dull mediocrity, the victory of the individual over
the trivial'.12 In a manner calculated to have warmed Collingwood's heart,
Bronstein and Smolyan distinguish between mere craftsmanship and true art.
The importance our authors attach to originality is reminiscent of the
attitude of early European avant-garde artists, hi this connection, it is interest-
ing to note that Richard Reti, to whom they refer, was one of the leading lights
of the wonderfully named Hypermodern school of chess. This school
nourished in the 1920s, and its members saw themselves as the artists of the
game who would revolutionize how it was played. Their highly original ideas
have had a lasting influence.13
The fourth and final factor Bronstein and Smolyan mention is that of the
medium. Chess is said to afford 'the deep intellectual pleasure of working in a
fantastically varied and flexible medium', which enables the player to test the
strength of his ideas and of his imagination. As in science new ideas are
rigorously tested; mere novelty not being prized for its own sake.
I hope that by examining the views above we are now better placed to
understand how chess may be justifiably treated as an art. We may freely
summarize those views as follows: chess offers a medium in which players
62 CHESS AS AN ART FORM

strive to produce intellectual objects of beauty and imaginative power for a

spectator's appreciation. We may on the basis of this define a game of chess as a
work of art in terms of necessary and sufficient conditions. A game of chess is a
work of art if, and only if, it is (a) produced primarily with the intention of
rewarding aesthetic contemplation; (b) exhibits aesthetic features14 and (c) is
unique. I shall comment on each condition, taking them in reverse order.
The third condition is the most straightforward. It has been calculated that
the number of different legal positions on a chessboard is 2X1043, while the
number of different 4.0-move games is 25X10115. This would seem to afford
ample scope to the enterprising player!15
As regards the second condition, the term aesthetic features is used in Frank
Sibley's16 sense and includes both features implying merits in games and those
implying demerits. It should be noted that according to the proposed defini-
tion games of chess in common with paintings or poems etc. may be good,
bad or indifferent works of art, even though it is only masterpieces that are
anthologized.
It is the first condition that for many will prove the hardest to swallow.
Although it may be readily granted that chess possesses an aesthetic dimen-
sion, it may be objected that aesthetic considerations must yield to the impera-
tives of the contest—which provides the game with its true rationale".
According to this view, chess is a sport and, moreover, a highly-competitive
international one in which the world championship is a gladiatorial contest
fought with psychological weapons for highfinancialstakes. This would seem
to be a pretty formidable objection, or in chess parlance a crushing combina-
tion. I hope to show, however, that the position I seek to defend has hidden
resources which may yet blunt the force of the objection.
Osborne himself believed the competitive nature of the game did not
preclude its being an art form. His review-article gives two useful hints as to
how competitive and aesthetic considerations may be reconciled^ He specu-
lates that the competitive features of the game may well 'supply the interest
necessary for gripping and sustaining attention before appreciation of beauty
can take place'. And he adds these features 'may well colour to some extent the
nature of the beauties to which [chess is] susceptible or at any rate modify the
conditions under which beauty can arise'.17 Let me offer a gloss on these
remarks.
The first has a rather odd ring to it. I think the point that needs to be made is
that we can appreciate a game as a sporting contest or dramatic spectacle.
Some of the aesthetic judgements we pass on a game are directly related to how
satisfying we find it in this respect. We may say that a game is compelling,
electrifying, or dynamic. Or less favourably, we may speak of it as being dull,
lifeless or lacking in tension. The game's competitive nature may influence
also our aesthetic judgements indirectly, and this brings me to Osborne's
second point.
 P. N. HUMBLE 63
An example may be helpful. Suppose Black appears to have a lost game. He
is a piece down, and must find a reply to a nasty looking threat with only five
minutes left on his chess clock.18 Then Black surprises his opponent and the
onlookers by finding a hidden resource in what appeared to be a completely
lost position. He plays an elegant combination and brings off a forced win
with only seconds remaining on his clock. How should we describe the game
from the onlooker's point of view? We would expect him to appreciate,
certainly, the combination's formal elegance. But the pattern of moves, pleas-
ing in its harmony and fresh invention, hasn't been laboriously fashioned in
the quiet of the study; it has been played at dazzling speed and under the most
tense circumstances. For our spectator the combination would assuredly be
spectacular in the literal meaning of the word. The circumstances, then, have
'coloured' the aesthetic qualities of the combination.
Such an example does not exhaust the subtle implications of Osborne's
point. There are other ways in which aesthetic and competitive considerations
may be interwoven in our appreciation of a game. At this point it is worth
recalling the criterion of difficulty stipulated by Le Lionnais. According to this
criterion, a game is to be judged beautiful in proportion to the difficulties each
player sets the other and how well each overcomes the difficulties he has been
set. For example, White's combination counts as a beautiful one only if Black
consistently finds the best possible replies. In short, we would refrain from
praising White's play if the opponent's play is of a poor competitive standard.
Moreover, the greater the risk White takes in playing the combination, the
more highly we praise it. In cases of this sort how we use aesthetic terms is
logically tied, as it were, to the criterion of difficulty and therefore to competi-
tive considerations.
In trying to answer the objection stated above, I have looked at matters from
the spectator's point of view and have argued that how we judge a game
aesthetically may be influenced by its nature as a contest. What I wish to do
now is to look at the relationship between sporting and artistic aspects from a
player's perspective and show how the latter can influence the former.
It will be recalled that Bronstein and Smolyan attach importance to the role
played by aesthetic considerations in a master's conduct of a game. Here is
what they say:

But in chess, as in mathematics, there is harmony of form, geometric beauty and

expressiveness, and free play of the imagination. And there is a multitude of
examples of how the choice of the best plan or move in chess is guided by beauty.
A harmonious idea is almost always correct. Without exaggerating greatly, it can
be said that it is aesthetic feeling which attunes the intellect towards searching, and
leads it there." (my italics)

What is being claimed, among other things, is that a player with acute aesthetic
judgement can see what the requirements of a given position are. He can
64 CHESS AS AN ART FORM

devise a plan which exhibits logical unity, or home in on the correct move, or
spot the dynamic combination latent in a position. In the case of the latter, the
master does not carry out long, complex calculations of every possible vari-
ation (which may involve computing hundreds of moves) and arrive at a
winning combination by elimination; he sees a pattern. That is to say, the
master sees how individual elements can be fitted together in the right way,
i.e., a beautiful way. And what our authors are suggesting is that seeing how
the elements can be fitted together in the right way requires a highly developed
sense of aesthetic judgement. (Though once the master has found the com-
bination he will then check its soundness by calculating the relevant variations.)
In my view the psychological research which has been carried out on chess,
while not establishing the authors' claims, goes a long way to doing so.20
The upshot of this is that aesthetic considerations are not of secondary
importance, not merely icing on the cake. At the very highest levels of the
game the successful competitor is one whose play shows a feeling for the
aesthetic.
We may compare the view expressed by our authors regarding the import-
ance of aesthetic considerations with similar ones voiced by modern
mathematicians and scientific thinkers in relation to their own concerns. In
1908 the great mathematician, Henri Poincare, observed that: 'It is true aes-
thetic feeling which all mathematicians recognize . . . the useful combinations
are precisely the most beautiful'.21 Substitute 'chess-players' for 'mathemati-
cians', and it might be Bronstein and Smolyan speaking. The distinguished
mathematical analyst, G. H. Hardy, characterized the mathematician as 'a
maker of patterns' which 'like the painter's, or the poet's must be beautiful; the
[mathematical] ideas, like the colours or the words, must fit together in a
harmonious way. Beauty is the first test: there is no permanent place for ugly
mathematics'.22 J. C. Polkinghorne, sometime Professor of Mathematical
Physics in the University of Cambridge, remarked: 'It is a recognized tech-
nique in elementary particle physics to seek theories which are compact and
mathematically beautiful, in the expectation that they will then prove to be the
ones realized in nature'.23 We will not, however, let the moderns have the last
word. Aristotle said: 'Those who assert that the mathematical sciences say
nothing of the beautiful are in error. . . . The chief forms of beauty are order,
commensurability and precision'.24
We may recap what has been said in reply to the objection that chess is not
an art form as aesthetic considerations are at best of secondary importance. I
hope to have shown that on the contrary they are of the first importance. I
argued that it is wrong to suppose that aesthetic and competitive considera-
tions are somehow incompatible, or that the latter take precedence over the
former. I suggested that a game could be appreciated as sporting contest or
dramatic spectacle, and that some of our aesthetic judgements refer explicitly
or implicitly to the game understood in these ways. Moreover, I claimed that a
 P. N. HUMBLE 65

player's aesthetic judgement could be a crucial factor in determining how well

he plays and whether he wins or loses. I referred in this connection to the
fundamental importance of aesthetics both within and without chess in order
to show that this was not something peculiar to the game.
Whatever else it may, chess is first and foremost an art form whose games
are to be enjoyed as works of art. But however beautiful or profound the
masterpieces of Alekhine, Bronstein and Kasparov may be, I doubt whether
we would wish to describe them as great works of art. (There is an interesting
asymmetry here—chess masterpieces: minor art works.) Perhaps this is
because chess by its very nature cannot comment upon the deep human themes
characteristic of great art—but this is a question I shall leave for another
occasion.

P. N. Humble, School of Historical and Critical Studies, University of Central

Lancashire, Harris Building, Corporation Street, Preston PRi 2TQ, England.

REFERENCES

1
See, for example, the introduction to Wil-
liam Hartston's The Kings of Chess (Pavilion
Books, 1985). It begins: "The game of chess
occupies a curious, perhaps unique niche in
the realms of man's leisure activities. Too
serious and mentally demanding to be dis-
missed as merely a game, yet too inherently
trivial to justify its pretensions to be con-
sidered anything higher, chess has absorbed
the minds of its practitioners for centuries
. . . . Whether we view the game of chess as a
harmless and unimportant pastime, or a field
of serious study, or a minor art form, it is the
competitive aspect of the game which has
remained paramount' (my italics).
The controversy is neatly encapsulated in a
story Richard Eales tells in his Chess. The
History of a Came (Batsford, 1985). The
Sports Council and Arts Council debated at
length which should be held responsible for
subsidizing British chess.
2
Harold Osborne, 'Notes on die Aesthetics of
Chess and the Concept of Intellectual
Beauty', British Journal of Aesthetics, Vol. 4,
No. 2. The books he discusses are: Chess
Problems: Introduction to an Art by M. Lipton,
R. Matthews and J. Rice, and Les Prix de
Beauti aux Echecs by F. Le Lionnais. My
remarks above refer strictly to Osborne's
review-article. There is evidence to suggest
he may possibly have changed his mind
about chess being an art form. See his
editorial introduction to Aesthetics (Oxford
U.P., 1972), p. 13.
3
Osborne, 'Notes on the Aesthetics of Chess
and the Concept of Intellectual Beauty', op.
cit., p. 163.
4
The summary below is based upon
Osborne's own summary of Le Lionnais'
criteria. See Osborne's review-article, op.
cit.
5
D. Bronstein and G. Smolyan, Chess in the
Eighties. Trans. K. P. Neat (Pergamon Press,
- n>82).
6
Ibid., p. 26.
7
Ibid., p- 24.
8
Ibid., pp. 27-8.
9
Ibid., p. 27.
10
Ibid., pp. 29—30. Chapter 7 has far-sighted
and practical suggestions about how to
improve die manner in which chess is presen-
ted as entertainment.
11
For both remarks see, ibid., p. 29.
12
For both quotations see, ibid., p. 31.
13
The historical parallel with the visual arts is
instructive, for as we noted above chess had
its own avant-garde. Bom the avant-garde
artist and chess master valued originality
66 CHESS AS AN ART FORM
highly. But the notion of progress in the
history of chess differs in certain respects
from its counterpart in art history. Innova-
tions in chess have rendered some earlier
practices and even principles obsolete. For
example, standard openings have been
greatly refined over the centuries and open-
ing theory is now much more elaborate and
sophisticated than previously. Principles of
positional play familiar to the strong club-
player of today would astound the
eighteenth-century master. In this respect,
the notion of progress in chess resembles its
counterpart in science more closely than any-
thing else. Despite this, the games of Philidor
(1726-1795) are still artistic masterpieces and
are rewarding in just the same way that the
masterpieces of, say, David are. In short, the
notion of progress in chess exhibits features
of both the artistic and scientific conceptions,
and this points to the very complex nature of
chess itself and the many changes it has
undergone during its long history.
For more on the Hypermodern school see
Richard Eales's Chess: The History of a Game,
chapter 6 and Richard Rcti's own brilliant
work, Modern Ideas in Chess (Dover Publica-
tions, i960), trans. John Hart.
14
For more on the conditions see P. N. Hum-
ble, "The Philosophical Challenge of Avant-
Garde Art', British Journal of Aesthetics, Vol.
24, No. 2.
15
See Mike Fox and Richard James, The Com-
plete Chess Addict (Faber & Faber, 1987), p.
166.
16
F. N. Sibley, 'Aesthetic Concepts', The
Philosophical Review, Vol. 68, No. 4. For a
recent discussion of Sibley's seminal views,
see Marcia Eaton, Aesthetics and the Good Life
(Associated University Presses, 1989), c h a p -
ter 1.
17
H a r o l d O s b o r n e , o p . cit., p. 163.
18
T o u r n a m e n t games are played according to
s t r i a time controls. T h e players have to
m a k e a specified n u m b e r of m o v e s in a speci-
fied time. If a player fails to complete the
m o v e s in the allotted time and has not check-
mated the o p p o n e n t or agreed a d r a w , he
loses the g a m e automatically. A chess clock is
t w o clocks in one, connected together. W h e n
a player m o v e s he presses his clock w h i c h
stops it and engages his o p p o n e n t ' s . T h e
introduction of clocks for this specific
p u r p o s e in the latter half of the nineteenth
c e n t u r y had the effect of m a k i n g the g a m e
m o r e exciting and entertaining.
19
Bronstein and Smolyan, o p . a t . , p p . 2 7 - 8 .
20
W . R. Hartston and P. C . Wason's The
Psychology of Chess (London, 1983) attempts
to explain in clear terms the nature of chess
ability. One interesting conclusion they
reach is that to play the game well requires
visual-spatial skills of a high order and an
ability to r e m e m b e r a very large n u m b e r of
constantly recurring positions or patterns of a
visual nature.
21
Q u o t e d by Harold O s b o r n e , 'Mathematical
Beauty and Physical Science', British Journal
of Aesthetics, Vol. 24, N o . 4, p. 291.
22
Q u o t e d b y Gideon Engler, 'Aesthetics in
Science and in A r t ' , British Journal of Aes-
thetics, Vol. 30, N o . 1, p . 25.
23
Quoted by Harold Osborne, op. cit., p. 291.
24
Quoted by Harold Osborne, op. cit., p. 293.
This paper was researched and written with the
support of the Leverhulme Trust to which
grateful acknowledgement is made.