I’m still waiting for an acquaintance to unlock the secret chambers of my former CPU’s operating system to gain access to my documents (including forthcoming posts on Integral Ecology), but at least I’m getting around to a lot of desired reading while I wait.
Currently I’m enjoying a few amazing essays by Tom Sparrow. Sparrow is a philosopher currently teaching at Slippery Rock University. And I couldn't be more excited about his forthcoming book, Plastic Bodies: Rebuilding Sensation After Phenomenology. He blogs at Plastic Bodies.
Below is an extraordinary passage from Tom’s essay, “Bodies in Transit: The Plastic Subject of Alphonso Lingis”, where he is riffing off some core ideas in Lingis's work - talking up elementary life and sensuality as a fundamental mode:
“The elements that give life to each one of us by offering themselves as the very stuff of our existence are sensuous material—luminosity, tactility, and sonority bathe our sensitive bodies. As the real source of our nourishment, they lend us sensibility and illuminate our world. Through the elements, the affective quality of sensuality—the unbearable or ethereal modes of bare life—is able to condition our “spontaneity.” No one can spontaneously wrest their psyche from a depressive state or truly induce a rapturous joy within themselves without the influence of some external power. Sensibility is not formal in its pure state, as Kant thinks. It does not come from inside and project itself outward; it does not derive from some transcendent location, over and beyond the sensuous manifold. The perceived sensuous manifold is always immersed within a sensuality which generates a creature whose sensibility emerges with its ripening.” – Tom Sparrow, p.113I’m enthralled by Tom’s developing aesthetic/metaphysic and intend to follow is project intensely. I have also discussed his work previously here and here.
Cross-fertilize Tom’s words with those of Lingis on “the elements” below:
“Life lives on sensation; the elements are a nourishing medium…The light is not just transparency which the gaze slips through on its way to distant surfaces; our gaze delights in the vivacity of the light itself. It assimilates in its languor the soft depths of the dark. The sonority is not just a succession of sense data which the hearing identifies as signals and information-bits; the ears are contented with the resonance of realm beyond realm as with a content. The touch lets go of things to relish the terrestrial and solar warmth. The earth extends its indefinite expanses before the steps of the nomad who is not scouting for any retreat, moved by his appetite for open roads and uncharted deserts. Erotic sensuality is not a hunger…It surges in a vitality that lacks nothing, is fed and sheltered and contended, a vitality that greets the earth, the skies, the day and the night with the ardor of kisses and caresses.” [Alphonso Lingis]
[ Lingis quote courtesy of Adam Robbert of Knowledge Ecology – a blog any thinking primate needs to follow ]
7 comments:
Thanks for reading, Michael. Sorry I've been quiet on PB lately, but I'm still making myself comfortable at SRU. And finishing revisions on the book, which I'll get to SUNY this fall and may appear as early as the spring (but that's pure speculation at this point).
dear Lingis has often taken going native to a new level for our times, that said one would be hard put to find much of the daily, often grinding, background realities of the subjects highlighted in his vivid postcard snapshots. I'm looking forward to seeing how ToSp and others put his poetic on the road insights back into the everyday demands/contexts of life at home.
-dmf
No problem Tom, I sincerely respect your work and will continue to follow it closely.
Sooner the better for the book I say.
I have a question for you though: from your position is it fair to say that it is sensations 'all the way down'?
I think of actual existence (objects, etc.) as ontologically intimate - that is to say, all elements are vulnerable (in particular ways) to each other through the ubiquitous sensuality of the cosmos. So is the flesh and flow of the world open to actual encounters?
M-
@Dirk - Ditto. I think Tom is on to something special. Of course we all need to bring the speculative into the praxis of life.
Where do you think speculative realism can (or already does) meets the everyday?
I think that SR can help shape our sense(s) of our everyday lives as creative-works/rhetoric (rhetoric for me is part of what we do as expressive/manipulative critters and is not the nomad genre locked outside the neo-platonic gate of the city of Thinking), what after Wittgenstein I would call perspicuous presentations, but not by getting It right or by pulling an ought out of an is. For instance are the differences in how the various founders of OOO understand/flesh-out the intuition (if it is One intuition) of a flat ontology a difference in Reality (or the failure of all but one to get It right?) or in the life experiences/auto-bio-graphies of the writers? for me we should think of them as a school in the way that we might think of painters as a school. So to the degree that they have an impact on daily life by speaking to us, or even just spurring/provoking us, I would say that they meet us in our daily lives, but does this interaction have a broader impact on our lives off the page/screen? I'm not so convinced, but I find this to be a problem/limit of writing divorced from other practices. At worst it can be a kind of catharsis that relives us of the anxiety to go and do other things to change our lives together, gives us the release and the virtual feeling of having accomplished something substantial, done our part as it were.
-dmf
brer AG's
Supermarket in California
What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
self-conscious looking at the full moon.
In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families
shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the
avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
were you doing down by the watermelons?
I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
boys.
I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?
I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
detective.
We strode down the open corridors together in our
solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in
an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
supermarket and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The
trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
http://clinamen.jamesjbrownjr.net/2011/09/12/the-decorum-of-objects/
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