In 1945, two years after the surprise test paradox was discovered, Edwin Bechenbach published a "proof" that all positive integers are interesting: If there were a dull integer, then there would have to be a first one. But being the first uninteresting integer would itself interesting!

Drawing inspiration from Andy Warhol's aesthetics of boredom, I champion the existence of interestingly dull numbers. These oxymoronic characters undermine the validity of Bechenbach's inference:

• It is interesting that n is the first uninteresting integer.
• Therefore, n is an interesting integer.

Facts, not things, are the primary bearers of interest. I explore restrictions on the ways an object or relation can inherit interest from the facts they constitute. Historical specimens show how a dull number can play a role in an interesting fact.

More broadly, I use Bechenbach's sophism as a launch pad for a theory of interest. As I gain altitude, I comment on the publishabilty of triviality results, Langford's paradox of analysis, the definition of 'art object', and Martin Heidegger's characterization of boredom as a metaphysical insight. My aim is to paint a big picture—by numbers.

In The Blue Book, Wittgenstein says, "To ask 'are you sure that it's you who have pains?' would be nonsensical" (67). There is something inappropriate about the question, "Someone is in pain, but is it me who is in pain?" Such first person statements are thought to be immune to error through misidentification (IEM): if I am wrong that I am in pain, this cannot be because—while I know that someone is in pain—I have mistaken that person for myself. Not all first person statements are IEM: I might wrongly believe that I have a bump on my forehead because I see someone in a mirror with a bump on her forehead and mistake that person for myself. In that case, it would make sense for me to ask, "Someone has a bump on her forehead, but do I have a bump on my forehead?"

Philosophers often appeal to IEM to characterize what is special about self-consciousness or introspection. IEM is typically associated with the self-ascription of psychological properties. But there is also a tradition of arguing that some physical self-ascriptions can also have IEM. These include statements about the position or movement of one's body based on proprioceptive or kinesthetic awareness (e.g., "my legs are crossed", "I am raising my hand"), as well as egocentric statements about where things are with respect to one's body (e.g., "there is a table in front of me"). Philosophers in this tradition appeal to the claim that certain physical self-ascriptions are IEM to argue for the view that self-consciousness is consciousness of oneself as a being with both psychological and material properties. In this paper, I will examine whether some physical self-ascriptions are in fact IEM, and—if they are—what that is supposed to show about self-consciousness and bodily awareness. I will argue that if we accept the assumptions required to show that physical self-ascriptions are IEM, then IEM can no longer play the role it needs to play to support the claim that we are conscious of ourselves as material beings.

In this paper, I discuss a little known treatment of sculpture in the history of aesthetics, which attempts to argue that sculpture has its own norms and provides its own type of aesthetic experience, by contrast to painting: that of Johann Gottfried Herder, in his work, "Sculpture: Some Observations on Shape and Form from Pygmalion's Creative Dream." Herder argues that sculpture is a distinctive artform because it is directed towards, and appreciated by, the sense of touch, rather than vision. I shall suggest that Herder's attempt to define sculpture as an artform by reference to the sense of touch is not successful, but that his arguments are useful for making salient distinctive aspects of (some) experience of sculpture, making connections between aesthetic theory and art critical discourse, and providing grounds for the articulation of an embodied aesthetics.