Tag Archives: Proust

Beyond the Object

Clarice Lispector:

“Certain aspects of seeing were like “flowers on the grave”: what was seen came to exist. Joanna didn’t expect visions in miracle or announced by the angel Gabriel, however. They surprised her in things she had already set eyes on, but suddenly seeing for the first time, suddenly comprehending that the thing had been alive all along. Thus, a dog barking, silhouetted against the sky. It stood on its own, not requiring anything else to explain itself … An open door swinging to and fro, creaking in the silence of an afternoon… And suddenly, yes, there was the thing. Continue reading

Francis Bacon, Proust and Painting

Bacon, Three Studies for the Base of a Crucifiction

“Nothing touches me, nothing interests me, except what directs itself directly to my flesh” (Artaud, Art and Death)


“this unusable body made out of meat and crazy sperm”
(Artaud, Here Lies)

The rain comes straight down, a curtain of rain outside the window.  A city full of windows and so many contained, fleshy warm and bodied, behind each glass.  Each room a box: window-paned, rain-curtained, enclosing its warm human fruit in degrees of ripeness or decay. Continue reading