Tu vois? Anamorphic writing in Emmanuel Hocquard's "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS".
It is obvious that an imagined world, however different it may be from the real one, must have something--a form--in common with it. --Wittgenstein, Tractatus (2.022) Demeler les lignes d'un dispositif dans chaque cas, e'est dresser une carte, cartographier arpenter des terres inconnues ct e'est ce qu'il [Foucault] appelle le "travail sur le terrain." II faut installer sur les ligncs memes, qui ne se contentent pas de composer un dispositif, mais qui le traversent et l'en-trainent, du nord au sud, d'est en ouest ou en diagonale. --Deleuze, "Qu'est-ce qu'un dispositif?"
French poet Emmanuel Hocquard's 1997 text titled "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS*1 offers ample reason to doubt the notion that there has been any radical shift in the directions of, or critical perspectives on, French poetry over the past decades that span the twentieth and twenty first centuries. Rather than simply negative, my opening sentence seeks to move toward a new disposition, toward what we even understand by the notion of a shift from one perspective on the French poetic tradition to another; a shift that first assumes critical readers of French poetry are sufficiently confident in their shared knowledge of a previous perspective to say that it is no longer a subsequent one. As this essay shows, I am confident neither in this knowledge of changing perspectives nor in how it gets shared or imposed. Hocquard's writings in general, and "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" in particular, offer some further insight into both the reasons why such confidence is lacking, and why this lack might not be so negative.
Despite occasional bouts of certainty as to the beginnings and ends of literary-poetic movements, as to definitive fault-lines in the canon, and as to more or less stable definitions of aesthetic experience, the usual state of affairs remains one of uncertainty, of more or less scrupulous hesitation, and of dissent within varying intellectual ranks. To choose one twentieth-century instance among many, Stanley Cavell's 1967 essay "Music Discomposed" is a perfect example of scrupulous hesitation since, in considering the attempt to communicate his experience of the "art object" to someone else, he runs up against the apparent impossibility of this attempt:
Only I lind I can't tell you: and that makes it all the more urgent to tell you.[...] It matters that others know what I see, in a way it does not matter whether they know my tastes. It matters, there is a burden, because unless I can tell you what I know, there is a suggestion (and to myself as well) that I do not know. But I do--what I see is that (pointing to the object). But for that to communicate, you have to see it too. Describing one's experience of art is itself a form of art: the burden of descrihing it is like the burden ot producing it?
Cavell's past dilemma is wholly pertinent to the contemporary writings of Emmanuel Hocquard, and it helps expose a number of uncertain shifts in potential perspectives on contemporary French poetry. For instance, when perceiving, creating, or creating through perceiving and describing a given work or object from a certain point of view, at a particular time and place, how can one proceed to generalize this particular experience (since, in the final analysis, Cavell laments that no one else can share exactly his particular perspective on "that" object there to which he points)? (3) In other words, how can one proceed--if one must proceed--to make of this fragmentary perspective the communication of the whole of aesthetic experience? Does not this particular or fragmentary perspective stand as a particular "vanishing point" or hole in a more generalized aesthetic perspective?
The logic or rhetoric according to which the part may safely stand for the whole assumes a certain stability that, in the opening pages of his 1997 Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique), leaves Emmanuel Hocquard skeptical: "L'ennui avec ce mot [fragment], c'est qu'il renvoie a un continu qui le fonde The same can be said of the assertion that there has been a recent or profound shift in contemporary French poetry and its critical reception. Very possibly, this assertion still refers back to some presumed stable and anchored knowledge of a previous perspective. Perhaps, then, we could conceive of an unan-chored, discontinuous or Deleuzian rhizome-like fragment. (5) But what would such a fragment or rhizomatic poetry be, and what form of ana-morphic communication would it entail? Or as Hocquard asks, again in Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique):
Sur quelles experiences de n'etre rattache a rien ou ne s'accrocher a rien, meme fugitives meme furtives comme certains regards pouvons-nous prendre appuis? Ces experiences, difficilement traduisibles dans tin contexte general de rattachement, sont-elles des trous? Comment prendre appui sur un trou? (VR 53)
As with many of Hocquard's writings, Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique) attempts to answer the above questions through a number of deceptively simple illustrations that literally invite the reader to a particular form of "anamorphic reading," which Slavoj Zizek, in The Plague of Fantasies (1997), described as follows: "the procedure which enables us to discern the structural inconsistency of an ideological edifice is that of the anamorphic reading." (6) In the case of Hocquard, he receives in the mail a cardboard cut-out of the letter "W" in a large sealed envelope, sent to him by visual artist Alexandre Delay. Upon receipt of the envelope, and before opening it, Hocquard takes great delight in reading the word "LETTER" written across ("ecrit en travers") the envelope, and he writes back to Delay: "Ca, c'est litteral!" (vr 34). (7)
Several decades ago, such giddy pleasure in the arbitrariness of the "letter probably would have been stamped, by some, as a form of "semiotic nihilism." (8) Today, however, perhaps there is a shift to potentially reading and perceiving differently Hocquard's reaction to the envelope, to the postal worker ["le propose"] who found it odd, and to the letter "W" that (both in the video and the subsequent book) also refers to the first letter of the word "War." As Hocquard also writes to Delay about the postal worker's reaction: "Cest normal, il n'a pas accks. Tu m'as repondu: non c'est nous qui n'avons pas acces. Pas acces a ... comment dire ... a la moral itd" (vr 34). And again, in "LE CAN ALE SYNOPSIS," Hocquard cites Wittgenstein's parenthetical "ethics and aesthetics are one" (cs VI), to underscore the potential ethical dimension of the literalism and "anamorphic reading" in which his texts seek to engage us. (9)
In both Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique) and "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS," Hocquard does indeed pursue the work of staking out the terrain that might allow for a perspective where aesthetics and ethics might be, if not identical, then at least one. He does so, in part, by shifting the question from Cavell's "what" art sets out to show to "how" and to whom it is shown. This is also to propose poetry's move between, and disruption of, any number of dichotomies (nominalism and realism, rhetoric and terror, grammar and philosophy, esthetics and ethics, etc.). Yet, for Hocquard, this practice is not necessarily indicative of any radical shift or departure. One could argue, in fact, that this practice is something like a repeated law of poetic form, which might allow a way out or at least a redefinition of the apparent impasse of Cavell's attempt to communicate to others thai which he sees, rather than the mechanism or apparatus through which this communication might or might not be possible.
Further exploration of this perspective within the works of Emmanuel Hocquard first requires situating, both physically and intellectually, "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" as it appears in the 1997 publication titled Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique), which is itself the extension (in the form of video stills and several photographs interspersed within epistolary exchanges between Emmanuel Hocquard and Alexandre Delay) of the 1994 eponymous video chronicle. (10) The 28 pages (with their Roman numeral pagination) of "LE CAMALE SYNOPSIS" are set next to the preceding text of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique). I say next to since, in looking at the book layout, it would not really be correct to say that "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" follows the text of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique). There is no transition between the 80 pages of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique), and then the 28 pages of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" One text is set next to the other, like parallel lines or a serial gesture, with each telling its own story without necessarily communicating with one another; or with the question of their inter-communicability being the story each tells. As we will see, this compositional gesture is on equal footing with the texts themselves, since it again sets up the question of how, and from what point of view, these texts and images might be perceived as intersecting and communicating (with) one another.
Closer attention to the formal layout of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" also shows that, with the exception of the first and last pages that feature both photograph and text, the intervening twenty six pages are made up either solely of 1 ) text; 2) a single photograph; 3) a set of four smaller square photographs not quite perfectly laid out to create a square that is a bit smaller than the square formed by the single photographs. Each text page of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" is printed on light beige rectangular paper that appears to be pasted or set onto (but not quite on-center) the white background of the pages of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique). On each photograph page, the photograph or set of four photographs forms a square that is equally centered against the white background of the pages of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique). The above-mentioned layouts produce several quasi-anamorphic visual effects: 1) the text pages of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" appear like matted photographs; 2) when looking at the beige rectangles of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS," the white pages of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique) look more like squares than rectangles; 3) when looking at a square photograph or set of four photographs, the pages of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique) look more like rectangles than squares.
If the preceding analysis of the form of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" says little about its content or meaning, it does proceed according to the logic of Emmanuel Hocquard's own delectation in the surface--as in the surface of the envelope from Delay--and the operational logic or disposition of the private eye who appears throughout Hocquard's work, and who (hopefully vigilantly and more attuned to the "how" of his text than to the "what") starts with the surface of things--"le prive [...] part toujours de la surface" (VR 12)--before falling into or passing through the unequal semantic depths of words.11 As such, Hocquard's writing returns repeatedly to the surface and to its support. That is, he returns to the means of textual production, and to the question: "comment va-t-on montrer ce qu'on montrera?" (VR 12). I would add that, beyond the fact that Hocquard's writings do not represent an actual voyage to Reykjavik (parts of the video were shot a few miles northeast of Bordeaux around an artificial lake created in an abandoned gravel pit) or Le Canaie, they also circle around issues of temporal and spatial conversions in writing or of the "chronique" (the subtitle of Le Voyage a Reykjavik) and a potential "synopsis" (the subtitle of "Le Canaie In other words, Hocquard seeks to "fabriquer cet espace[, ce qui] concerne aussi le temps. Le temps que tu mets a traverser cet espace. Quelle sorte de memoire est liee a ce temps ou a ce tempo? Ca, est-ce que ca peut etre montre?" (VR 18). The fabrication of this space is not for the sake of representing some thing--that--within it, but of communicating, chronicling and perhaps offering a synopsis of how, with which apparatus or "dispositif " and with which tempo this space is created, perceived or created through perception. The word "apparatus" for the French "dispositif" leaves much to be desired, and Hocquard's "dispositifs" are closer to their function in the work of Michel Foucault, who offered the following definition in a 1977 interview:
A thoroughly heterogeneous ensemble consisting of discourses, institutions, architectural forms, regulatory decisions, laws, administrative measures, scientific statements [...] in short, the said as much as the unsaid [...] between these elements, whether discursive or non-discursive, there is a son of interplay of shifts of position and modifications of function which can also vary very widely. (12)
The past several decades have seen some work on the "dispositif" that can be related to Hocquard's writings and to contemporary French poetry in general. My analysis provides a closer consideration of the relation of Hocquard's "dispositif" to Deleuze's notion of the fold, rhizomatic poetry, literalism, and "anamorphic reading" and writing. (13)
To shift now to a reading of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" what at first appears to be shared are varying perceptions (viewed on different days during the summer of 1995 from a specific point--a rock [or island] placed in a shallow pond or basin) of I) a nineteen-meter-long white trapezoid that is (sk)etched into a landscape with chalk powder and 2) photographs of the trapezoid, equally taken during the summer of 1995:
Vu depuis la pierre du hassin 3, un rectangle parfait. Vu par l'optiquc de l'appareil un carre pose de champ dans le triangle d'herhe. Sur La photographic, un carre gris comme du ciment. lei l'italique montre autrement La merne chose que le romain. En echo. Anamorphose plate. Surface dressee (dans le paysage). Un pli de Ia perspective. (Cs III)
Initially, Hocquard's perspective would seem to be simply that a large trapezoid chalked out in a field appears as a "perfect rectangle" when viewed in person, but appears as a "square" when viewed through the lens of a camera or on the subsequent photographic representation. Taken alone, this reflection on anamorphosis would be a bit disappointing, were it not for the complications or fold brought by the subsequent paragraphs which tell the reader what perhaps should have been known already: We are not looking at a landscape, we are looking at a book: "Ce n'est pas un bassin, c'est un livre" (cs III).
As Hocquard indicates in the opening pages of Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique) the "fold of the perspective" that merges basin and book, is also the apparatus for his 1980 Une journee dans le detroit. Beginning with what he calls the "minuscule event" of accidentally discovering, on the European side of the Strait of Gibraltar, two-thousand-year-old Roman pottery shards that Hocquard had sought out twenty years earlier, on the African side. This event becomes the pretext for what he calls a "proposition de recit deplie a partir de la figure du detroit." This is equally the anamorphic model of the fold where, from one perspective only, "ce qui s'est passe il y a vingt ans sur 1'autre rive du detroit (a quatre-vingts kilometres a vol d'oiseau) est identique a ce qui se passe aujourd'hui sur cette rive. Mais pour voir 9a, il faut etre en face, sur I'autre rive" (VR 18-19). As the apparatus proposed by Hocquard's experience 011 the banks of the Strait of Gibraltar suggests, the ethical, political and the aesthetic are all immanent to the "fold of the perspective" and to "anamorphic reading." In fact, though the Canale was realized in the summer of 1995, in his 2001 ma haie, Hocquard reveals that the landscaping and photography that took place in 1995 first existed in the form of a model or apparatus developed a month earlier. According to this model, the trapezoid was to have been constructed using cement rather than chalk powder:
ciment peu profond (cent dix ciceros), etroit (moins de deux cents ciceros), et sa longueur sera fausse, comme celle de la perspective du Palais Spada. Au bord il faudra un saule pleureur et un grenadier, comme partout. (14)
This already looks like a plan less for an earthwork than for a book measured not on the metric scale, but on the typographical unit of ciceros (I cicero = 4.404 mm), and bordered by commonplace elements ("comme partout") and, as Hocquard makes plain in "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS":
Ce livre est un livre dans le livre ou un trou dans ce livre (qul est iui-memc un trou). Comment faire communiquer ces deux livres qui n'en font qu'un? Comment faire communiquer deux trous? (Cs XXI)
In other words, from what point of view can one achieve the anamorphic perspective from which Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique) and "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" can be seen or read not as two separate or parallel texts, but as one, and where the issue is not what new object is communicated, but how ("comment")? Or, as Deleuze suggests in his reading of Foucault, what matters is not any one given object or enunciation that contrasts with another, but the new "regime of enunciation" to which the apparatus or "dispositif" gives rise. (15) As Hocquard noted in 1997: "Ces bassins ont d'abord ete creuses par plaisir. Le plaisir de l'eau. Ensuite, ils ont ete regardes comme des dispositifs (modeles) de langage, un agencement plus important et autrement complexe" (nih 251). While the initial pleasure (of water) and optical anamorphic effects cannot be overlooked, I he subsequent issue is one of communication and of what Hocquard finally calls "anamorphosis in writing " and that he defined as "un regard de desobeissance precise a rinterieur (Tune perspective: d'un point et d'un seul, sou-dain on voit quelque chose qu'on ne peut pas voir d'un autre point de vue" (cs VI). While Hocquard's description of anamorphosis is more or less clear in terms of sense perception, in relation to "anamorphosis in writing" it begins to take on the contours of Foucault and Deletize's "apparatus," and Zizek's "anamorphic reading." In what follows, I examine the type of "otherwise complex arrangement" at play in "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" as it relates to literary anamorphosis.
Common sense would seem to dictate that the notion of anamorphosis is ubiquitous in writing due to the polysemic and heteroglossic composition of language. By "anamorphosis in writing," however, Hocquard is not only (if at all) thinking of these characteristics of language, but also of his understanding of literalism, such as in the example of the "letter W" in Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique) or as in following example in ma haie:
Olivier dit a Emmanuel: la robe de Pascale est rouge. Emmanuel qui n'a pas entendu, ou qui n'est pas certain d'avoir bien saisi cc qu'Olivier a dit ou qui s'etonne parce qu'il a vu que la robe de Pascale esi verte se tourne vers Pierre qui lui repete ce qu'a dit Olivier: la robe de Pascale est rouge, (mh 263)
The two statements--"Pacale's dress is red"--are identical in that they use the same words, but when uttered either by Olivier or Pierre they say something entirely different, which would appear to both substantiate the apparent ubiquity of anamorphosis in language as in perception. As opposed to visual anamorphosis, however, the moment when anamorphosis in reading is represented is accompanied by another moment that presents itself as the rule of anamorphosis and its undoing; two moments in which the visual ("I see") and approximate ("I understand") meanings of "tu vois" appear to converge or, as Hocquard writes in "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS," in which telling and showing or word and reference converge: "Nous sommes partis de dire et montrer. Nous allons dire et montrer" (cs IV), and he pursues:
Trouver Ie point d'ou I'on voit quelque chose qu'on ne pourrait pas voir d'un autre point de vue, c'est a la fois dire et montrer. C'est un probleme grammatical. Le Canale est une proposition grammaticale. Hier, au bord du bassin 3. nous cherchions a localiser le point de passage entre dire ct montrer. Ce point extreme a la limite du langage. (cs VI)
By way of Wittgenstein's parenthetical remark--"(ethics and aesthetics are one)," and another in which Hocquard cites Wittgenstein's view that the ethical is a product of "donner du front contre les homes du langage," Hocquard raises what he calls a "petit probleme grammatical qui suppose une revision d'ete." (16) He further addresses the question of anamorphosis in writing by proposing a question, an answer, and a rule:
QUESTION: Peut-on penser je comme sujet sans en faire il? REPONSE: C'est impossible. REGLE: Le sujet est toujours a la troisieme personne. (es IX)
If all language is subject to anamorphosis, but also holds within it a point of view that upends the visual-grammatical rules that allow for anamorphosis, then Hocquard proposes that the password to this fold within anamorphosis is the first-person pronoun "I" This, nevertheless, is a slippery password since, when it is thought or represented as a first-person subject, it shifts to the third-person singular. Another way of framing this is to say that in the attempt to represent in writing the present act of seeing ("I see the rectangle") the pronoun shifts to the third-person past tense ("he saw the square"). Not without humor (and pleasure), Hocquard also notes that literature, representation, and the past tense originate in the temptation to speculatively represent as subject: "Confronte a ce probleme grammatical, l'eleve Narcisse invente la litterature, en confondant je et il" (cs IX). Narcissus is clearly the last in Hocquard's class, whereas the work of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS" and of Hocquard's private eye is both to analyze this temptation to evade the problem through the invention of literature and to find an alternative solution. The verb Hocquard uses for this investigative work is to dig ("creuser"):
C'cst cc livre que nous creusons dans ce livre. Pas avec nos mains: avec un appareil photographique et avec nos yeux. Avec nos mots. (cs X)
To dig in "this book" is also to dig, initially, on its surface, as Hocquard did on the European side of the Strait of Gibraltar: "je me mis a fouiller machinalement le sol," which reveals what he calls "cette aptitude de la surface a scintiller en dispositif strategique" (vr 18). Mechanically since, rather than thought, conceived or represented, the password "I" is "une affaire de point de vue ou d'echo" (cs III). Echo's response to Narcissus is the mechanical repetition of the same from a point of view from which the narcissistic attempt to think or conceive 4T as subject is excluded. In "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS," the means to having telling and showing or aesthetics and ethics be one is thus to find the means to renounce on the personal pronoun "I as subject," and to shift away from the temptation of representing a point of view in favor of echoing points of view. (17)
In "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS," for instance, in order to see the rectangle rather than the square represented on the photograph, the only means is what Hocquard calls (in ma liaie) "observation directe": "La pierre a fleur d'eau (une Tie) qu'on a placee dans le bassin 3 est le seul point de vue depuis lequel je ou tu peux voir le trapeze blanc comme un rectangle parfait. Mais pour le voir, il faut y aller soimeme" (mh. 487). According to this apparatus or "dispositif," to see (and say) something other than a representation, you must go see for yourself, which is also to turn your back on the writer and reader of representations, if only to be able to echo the final sentence of "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS": "je vois le Canale" (cs XVIII). From this point of view, one avoids the fate of Narcissus--inventing the past tense and literature--but at the cost of assuming that of Echo:
Alors tu le vois et alors tu peux dire, comme moi Je le vois. Toi ou moi pouvons dire je le vois c'est un point. Et sur ce point, nous void pareil. (cs XXVII)
From this perspective, you and I are alike, but only in the shared solitude of Echo, not sharing or communicating something ("that"), but a point of view and "fleeting, even furtive" ways of looking ("how") (VR 53). Elsewhere, Hocquard attributes this positive solitude to the non-classical elegist who sees in solitude "I'occasion unique a) de se desaccoutumer des lieux communs; b) de voir dans les lieux communs autre chose que des lieux communs. Par exemple le Canale" (mh 487). From such apparatuses, the self is not so much freed from the common-place (of ideology) as free to see as if anew, and to share not a representative place, but a particular "regime of enunciation" or point of view on the place. But should you or I turn to represent what is seen then it, you, and I fall into the past tense: the lot of history, literature, and myth. What is left, Hocquard suggests in "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS," is to go see for yourself, not just on the stone in the pond, but also on the surface of words observed from a certain perspective. For the sake of the possibility of showing not, as Cavell thought, that which you see, but how you perceive it, from one particular point of view and intonation, and for the sake of the fold of aesthetics, ethics, and politics.
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(1.) Emmanuel Hocquard, "LE CANALE SYNOPSIS," in Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique). pp. I-XXVIII. Subsequent quotations from this text are cited parenthetically in the text with the abbreviation cs.
(2.) Stanley Cavell. "Music Discomposed," 192.
(3.) Some fourteen years after Cavell's lament, in another instance of more or less scrupulous hesitation, in his response to Michael Riffaterre's reading of Jacques Derrida in 1981 Paul de Man wrote: "Pointer du doigt% which is indeed (lie abstraction par excellence, belongs to language as gesture and as voice, to speech (Sprache) and not to writing, which cannot be said, in the last analysis, to point at all." Paul de Man, "Hypogram and Inscription: Michael Riffaterre's Poetics of Reading." Reprinted in The Resistance to Theory, 43.
(4.) Emmanuel Hocquard and Alexandre Delay, Le Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique). 1 2. Subsequent quotations from this text are cited parenthetically in the text with the abbreviation VR.
(5.) See Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, Mille plateaux. Elsewhere, in Fold: Leibniz and the Baroque. Deleuzc writes: "What produces a point of view? [...] That regional proportion of the world that is clearly and distinctively expressed by an individual in relation to the totality of the world that is expressed confusingly and obscurely" Gilles Deleuze. Fold: U'ibni: and the Baroque, 37. Cited in Alberto Corsfn Jimenez, "An Anthropological Anamorphosis," 20.
(6.) Zizck offers the following example of "anamorphic reading": "is not the relationship between le Nnm-du-Mre and le Nondu-Pere in Lacan a kind of theoretical anamorphosis? The shift from Norn to Non--that is, the insight which makes us discern, in the positive figure ol Father as bearer of symbolic authority, merely the materialized/embodied negation-effectively involves a change in the subject's perspective: viewed from the right perspective, the Father's majestic presence becomes visible as a mere positivization of a negative gesture" Slavoj Xizek, The Plague of Fantasies. 75 77. Somewhat more succinctly, Emmanuel Hocquard remarks: "non est, par excellence, I'outil a trouer" (VR 33).
(7.) For an overview of literality and contemporary French poetry, see Glenn Fetzcr, "Daive, Fourcade, Cadiot: Americana and Liitteralite." 52-63.
(8.) I ant also thinking of the derive over the past decades between the anamorphic and the anagrammatic, and of any number of essays engaged, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, in the stakes of another apparent (though difficultly diseernable) shift and perceived threat of semiotics to ethics. See note 3.
(9.) See Kathrin Stengel, "Ethics as Style: Wittgenstein's Aesthetic Ethics and Ethical Aesthetics," 609-625. to.
(10.) See Glenn Fetter. Voyage a Reykjavik and Emmanuel Hocquard's Poetics of Simulacra." in The Documentary Impulse in French Literature (Amsterdam/Atlanta Ga: Rodopi, 2001).
(11.) The private eye appears as of the first video still in Im Voyage a Reykjavik (Chronique). Delay writes to Hocquard that it was not the television that killed Guttenberg (and thus printed writing), and that to find the real culprit: "On a mis le meilleur prive du moment sur I'affairc" (VR 2-3). See also, Glenn Fetzer, Emmanuel Hocquard and the Poetics of Negative Modernity, 53-54
(12.) Michel Foucault. "Confessions of the Flesh." 194-5.
(13.) In 1988. Gilles Deleuzc situates the function of the "dispositif in Foucault's writings in "Qu'est-ce qu'un disposilif?" In 2007, there follows Giorgio Agamben's eponymous Qu'est-ce qu'un disposilif? In 2008. Sverre Raffnsoe offers an in-depth reading of Foucault's "dispositif in "Qtf est ce qu'un dispositif? L'analytique soeiale de Michel Foucault," 44-66. In 2009 a special issue of L'Esprit Createur edited by Christophe Wall-Romana, focuses in part on the relation of the "dispositif and literality to contemporary French poetry.
(14.) Emmanuel Hocquard, ma haie, 212. Subsequent quotations from this text are cited parenthetically in the text with the abbreviation mh.
(15.) See Gille Deleuze. "Qu'est-ce qu'un dispositif?" 190.
(16.) The reference is to Wittgenstein's conversations recorded by Fricdrich Waismann in Wittgenstein and the Vienna Circle.
(17.) As Hocquard wrote in 2003: "Vivre / anonyme sans / pour autant vivre / seul." Emmanuel Hocquard, L'invention du verre. 19.
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|Article Type:||Critical essay|
|Date:||Sep 22, 2012|
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