Fine Arts and Football?

At first glance, the fine arts and football seem like they’re worlds apart. I mean, one is all about creativity, beauty and deep emotional expression, and the other. Well, it’s rough and competitive right? But if you stick with me for a few minutes, I think I can convince you that these two arenas actually have more in common than you’d expect. In fact, both can lead to what philosophers call an “aesthetic experience” - that moment when you’re totally absorbed, moved, and in awe of something, whether it’s a painting or a perfectly executed play.

Let’s start by looking at one of the most overlooked aspects of a football game that ties directly to the fine arts: the architecture of the stadium. Believe it or not, architecture has long been considered a fine art. Ever since the Renaissance, architects have been viewed not just as builders, but as creative artists. One of the key figures in this shift was Alberti, whose book De re aedificatoria (On the Art of Building), published in the 15th century, helped establish architecture as a liberal art. He argued that designing buildings was just as intellectually and artistically important as painting or sculpture. From that moment, architects began to be celebrated for their ability to create structures that could inspire people emotionally, much like a beautiful painting or an incredible piece of music.

From the sleek lines of modern stadiums to the historical charm of older arenas, each structure has its own unique story to tell. Every stadium isn’t just a place to watch a game - it’s a bold expression of the team’s identity. With their grand designs and iconic features, and prominent postings of the logo, these structures become the physical embodiment of the team’s essence. Whether it’s through the towering stands, the colors woven into the architecture, or the way the space is designed to bring fans closer to the action, the stadium reflects the spirit and brand of the team it represents.

Let’s talk about another fine art that might not be the first thig that comes to mind when you think of football: the music. Yes, it’s true - music is a huge part of the game! When you’re watching from the stands in the stadium, music is almost always there, creating the mood and atmosphere. You’ll hear it before the game starts, during timeouts, between plays, and of course, at halftime.

My grandfather once said, “music is emotion,” and honestly, I think he nailed it. Music is all about making you feel something. At a football game, it’s what sets the tone for the entire experience. Think about it - when the college fight song starts playing, or the alma mater comes on, there’s this incredible sense of pride that rushes through the crowd. It’s not just about the game at that moment; it’s about school spirit, unity, and feeling like you’re a part of something bigger. Music has this incredible ability to bring people together, and at football games, it does just that.

Now let’s talk about design and how it plays a role in sports, specifically when it comes to the identity of a team. Think about your favorite team for a second. What comes to mind? Probably their colors, the logo, maybe even the mascot, right? All of these are carefully crafted elements of the team’s design - what we could even call a form of fine art, with a big focus on aesthetics. These visual cues aren’t just random; they’re part of the team’s world, or what we could call their story, their “diegesis.”

In storytelling, diegesis is everything that exists within a certain world: the characters, the setting, the sounds, and the events that take place. For a sports team, that diegetic world includes the players, the games they play, and the stadium. It’s the unique universe of that team. Now here’s where design comes into play - it’s through the team’s visual identity (those colors, logos, mascots, etc.) that we recognize and connect with their diegesis. But what about everything that exists outside the team’s direct control? Things like fan culture, media narratives, or even traditions that have grown over time.

That’s what you could call the “hyper-diegesis” - the larger, sprawling universe that surrounds the team but isn’t dictated by the brand itself. It’s kind of like an iceberg - what you see above the water is the diegesis, the visible part of the team’s world, all the obvious stuff. But then there’s everything beneath the surface - the hyper-diegesis. That’s the bigger part of the iceberg, hidden below the surface of the water, but very much there. It’s not part of the iceberg you can see directly, but you can imagine it and even shape it in your mind. As a fan you get to decide what that deeper part of the iceberg looks like - adding your own meaning, traditions, and stories to it. It allows for the fan to be more than just being a spectator; through fan culture, traditions, and all the external elements that surround the official team world, fans actually get to participate in building that universe. They become part of the whole experience. Think about it - when fans paint their faces in team colors, chant the same chants (“Jared Goff, Jared Goff”), or create viral memes about a favorite player, they’re contributing to something bigger than just cheering on game day. They’re shaping the narrative, adding layers to the team’s identity that go beyond the official design of the brand. This hyper-diegesis - the expanded world around the team - becomes something fans can own and claim as their own. They are writing themselves into the team’s story. They’re no longer just observers but active participants in the ongoing saga of the team. It’s a powerful feeling to be part of that. So, while the team’s logo, colors, and design create the framework, it’s the fans who really bring that world to life, filling it with meaning and keeping the story going season after season.

Returning to the “aesthetic experience.” What exactly is an aesthetic experience? Imagine it as one of those moments when something - an artwork, a song, a beautiful view - just clicks, and you’re suddenly more tuned in, feeling everything with a heightened awareness. People often describe this as “interested attention” where you’re genuinely captivated and drawn in, versus a more detached, “disinterested” kind of attention. There’s been a long-running debate about what really counts as an aesthetic experience. Is it something you have to seek out and consciously engage with or does it just happen, catching you off guard? Some say it can only happen when you’re paying attention, while others argue it might sneak up on you, with certain things stirring feelings in ways you weren’t actively thinking about. Either way, these moments go beyond simple enjoyment - they carry a sense of value or significance that feels uniquely meaningful, as if you’re experiencing something precious for its own sake. An aesthetic experience can feel like a glimpse into something profound, offering a kind of fulfillment or insight that resonates deeply ad stays with you long after the moment has passed.

We can definitely relate the concept of an aesthetic experience to a football game. For starters, people often seek out the experience of the game to feel that sense of significance, that connection to something bigger than themselves. The thrill of seeing your home team beat a rival isn’t just about the win; it’s about experiencing a deeply rooted tradition tha feels meaningful and valuable. The game becomes more than a sporting event - it’s a cultural touchstone. For many, it connects them to their hometown, bringing them closer to family memories, the excitement of traditions passed down from parents and grandparents, and a sense of pride in their community, state, and country. The collective experience in the stands - the chants, cheers - also taps into that same feeling of unity and value. Football, for fans, becomes a space where they find fulfillment in rooting for favorite players, experiencing the game alongside others who share the same passion. It’s an immersive moment where everyone’s attention is fully, intentionally engaged, creating memories and feelings that linger long after the final whistle. In this way, the aesthetic experience of a football game is about more than just the score; it’s about a shared sense of identity, pride, and connection that enriches the lives of those who take part.

So, let’s think about what shapes the aesthetic experience of a football game. Everything about it - the stadium’s architecture, the music, the team’s branding - plays a specific role in how fans experience the event. Some of this is in the fan’s control, but a lot of it is determined by the franchise itself. This brings up the question of the value of a football experience. There’s no doubt that the franchise has a huge hand in shaping (and charging for) that experience. To see the game live, you have to buy a ticket, which could be anywhere from $20 to thousands of dollars, depending on the teams and your seat choice. Then there’s the food and drinks, which might come from the general concessions or be part of a pricey club-level package. And don’t forget the branded gear! If you want to show you’re a “true” fan, you’ll likely grab a jersey or a $40 cap with your team’s logo.

Art and experiences, like a great football game, are often about more than just what’s in front of us. Ethics and morality can sneak in and shape how we perceive the “value” of what we’re experiencing. In art, we tend to think good morals make good art, and bad morals make bad art. But it’s not that simple. Take propaganda, for example. It can be stunning, meticulously crafted, and totally deserving of awards - even if it’s created for a purpose we’d call questionable. On the flip side, a well-meaning piece of art might fall flat if it lacks that same craft.

This all leads to a bigger, question about the ethics of pricing. Is it fair for a franchise to charge such steep prices to fans who are, without a doubt, its biggest supporters for the aesthetic experience of value and significance? Are they taking advantage of their fans’ loyalty? The same question can be raised about attending a pop concert or any event where loyalty and passion might come with a hefty price tag. At what point does creating a memorable aesthetic experience cross into simply profiting off the fans’ devotion?

Sky-high ticket prices, expensive concessions, and overpriced merch aren’t accidental - they’re part of a strategy to get as much as they can from loyal fans. This isn’t just about covering costs; it’s about turning a game into a carefully designed spectacle that feels it’s worth every overpriced dollar, even if the main goal is profit over passion.

The irony is that, in making fans feel that every moment is significant, they actually cheapen what’s meant to be a pure love for the game. It’s a bit like beautiful propaganda: the end product may look impressive, but the motives behind it taint its integrity. By feeding off our loyalty and pushing an aesthetic that appeals to our emotions, they’re not enriching our experience - they’re exploiting it.

Alright, football fans, something cool that art scholars have been debating for ages, and it totally applies to sports too. Some experts think that the ethics and morals of the people behind an entertainment experience - like the organizers of a game - completely shape how we see it, right down to the atmosphere and aesthetic. Others argue that morality and aesthetics are totally separate things; they think the experience itself stands alone, no matter the motives behind it. That’s how opera audiences can go see a production of a Wagner opera knowing that the composer was an antisemite. And then there are those who fall somewhere in the middle, seeing a bit of influence but not necessarily a complete connection.

So, where does this leave the fans? Can they still enjoy a football game, knowing that part of the motivation behind it might be to squeeze some extra dollars from them? It’s a tricky question. On one hand, they love the thrill, the atmosphere, and the energy of the game. But on the other, it’s hard to ignore the fact that some of this experience is crafted with profit in mind. Can they separate their enjoyment form the intentions behind it, or does it change how they feel about the game?

How much are you willing to pay for an aesthetic experience? How much are you willing to pay for any form of entertainment, be it a football game, a pop tour concert, a Broadway show, or a theme park? Are you willing to give up your hard-earned money for these experiences?