Love and truth touch by pushing away: they force the retreat of those whom they reach, for their very onset reveals, in the touch itself, that they are out of reach. It is in being unattainable that they touch us, even seize us. What they draw near is their distance: they make us sense it, and this sensing is their very sense. It is the sense of touch that commands not to touch. It is time, indeed, to specify the following: Noli me tangere does not simply say “Do not touch me”; more literally, it says “Do not wish to touch me.”
-Jean-Luc Nancy, Noli me tangere: On the Raising of the Body
Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart (via human-activities)
Portrait of a young man. Jean Dominique Ingres. French. 1780-1867.
oil on canvas. http://hadrian6.tumblr.com
Jean Genet, Funeral Rites (via human-activities)
Caravaggio - The Incredulity of Saint Thomas
Rem Koolhaas, Delirious New York
Listening is not reading. But the comparison between the two can shed light on the surprise of which I speak. Reading a text, reading it in an “expert” way, we rewrite it, we draw quotations from it that are sometimes quite far apart from each other in the “body” of the text, we contrast and compare them, we make meanings and sometimes contradictions or paradoxes emerge from them that the linear structure of the text did not immediately make visible. One could even say that reading does not truly become criticism until it breaks with the temporal linearity of the stream. Until we render it discrete by a certain analysis. What does this critical condition become in listening?—That, in brief, is the question that stays with us after we read Adorno.
-Peter Szendy, Listen