Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Monique Tschofen
Ryerson University
Abstract
This article examines an experimental genre of philosophical writing known as the
Denkbild (‘thought-image’) practiced by members of the Frankfurt School to show
how it is resurrected in the Augmented Reality installation of the artist-scholar
Caitlin Fisher. It argues that Circle (2012) renews the Frankfurt School’s project of
reaching to art to find a way for critical theory to bring about ‘a transformation of
consciousness that could become a transformation of reality’. However, as a material
and virtual artifact that produces a unique circuit of exchange, the digital artwork is
able to provide a sharper picture of that reality, positing community as the context
and goal of philosophical thinking. Through a complex sculpting of its form, content,
and image of its own thoughts, Fisher’s Denkbild strives to create a fluid, ‘discon-
nected and non-binding’ form capable of building what Adorno described as a ‘shared
philosophy from the standpoint of subjective experience’.
Keywords
Adorno, Augmented Reality, Benjamin, Denkbild, digitality, feminism, new media
This structure is what I’m calling the thought sculpture – the invis-
ible intellectual labor that demands a new kind of literacy and one
concrete object rather than the abstract concept, that one can extract the
‘gift’. One could say that the gift is an understanding of the inextricability
of verbal form and visual/performative content he was experimenting
with in this work. Yet the fragment underlines that the very process of
peeling away the outside to view the inside undoes the entire project.
Benjamin describes ‘teasing’ the woolen mass out of its pocket until he
observes something disconcerting: ‘I had brought out the “present” but
“the pocket” in which it had lain was no longer there’ (2006: 96). In other
words, it is a gift that keeps un-giving. ‘Socks’ thus aims to offer an image
of a kind of critical thinking that sees, feels, and moves, that turns itself
inside out and then back again. It does not retreat from the material
world but emerges directly from it. It is a kind of thinking that is playful
and yet perhaps also anxiety-provoking, since it can reach for but never
extract truth.
In ‘The Mark’, from Traces, Ernst Bloch seeks a way to speak object-
ively about the importance of ‘little things’ (2006: 5). Bloch treats an
unremarkable everyday sight, a kind of performance/spectacle/scene: a
soldier arrives late for muster and stands out of formation. His skewed
position is only noticed by the officers around him as a vague impression.
Then, according to the narrator, somebody recounts seeing this shard of
the everyday. Oddly, Bloch refers to the ‘amusement’ the story of the
soldier’s stance provides its listener, because nothing else happens. There
is no punchline, no epiphany, just a sight pulled almost at random from
the things one looks at in a day. Yet what might be perceived of as trivial
here is not, for this ‘picture’ of order can be understood as one of fascistic
discipline and control. The soldier who is out of line offers a diminutive
yet potent image and gesture that resists militaristic order, one that
power can sense but not see. When Bloch says that the philosopher
must begin by observing ‘what is slight and odd’, he is providing an
image of ways the western philosophical project might be refashioned
and refocused to retrieve small acts of resistance (2006: 5).
Bloch hints that the key resides in philosophy’s translation of the
visual back to the verbal via an adoption of a story-telling mode. ‘It’s
good to think in stories’, writes Bloch; they point out things that ‘will
have to be thought in the telling, retold in the thinking’ (2006: 6). In fact,
he suggests that there are ideas or concepts that ‘can be grasped only in
such stories’ (2006: 6). Yet, as we see, the ‘story’ recounted in the
‘thought-image’ only provides a neutral picture of the scene. It does
not explain it. What is happening in this ‘thought-image’ is the presen-
tation of a multidimensional picture of thinking as it thematically repre-
sents as well as formally solicits from its reader a movement from
impressionistic thought to penetrating critical thinking. The critical
thinking it proposes is dialogical. It is shared with an audience like a
story, and hence is social. It is also dialectical, formed and unformed
through a process of seeing, thinking, telling and seeing again. Bloch’s
material. AR, in other words, could create concrete sculptures that con-
nected actual objects with concepts. AR could also create, like the earlier
Denkbilder, only now spanning the real and the imaginary, new ways of
connecting concepts to each other.
Augmented Reality is a medium with military origins that has not yet
been used extensively by artists or by philosophers. One could argue that
the medium’s primary function has been to help the techno-logic of late
capitalism to penetrate even further into everyday life. However, possibly
more than other digital media, AR’s unique attributes can provide the
framework for the resistance of digital culture’s instrumentalization of
communicative action.
By itself, the technology is quite magical. When a user holds a web-
linked camera device like a cellular phone or tablet up to a fiducial, that
is, a graphical marker, or an object in the case of the natural object-
tracking AR, what appears on-screen is a fusion of the world before the
camera’s neutral documentary eye and the fanciful digital augmentation,
which could be a still or moving image, sound, text – just about anything
that can be coded and shown on a screen.
What is important for the medium’s use as a tool for philosophy is that
AR always produces, according to Christine Ross, a ‘perceptual predica-
ment’ – a friction at the border between the two ontological registers that
are fused in the same compounded image (2010: 20). The screen image
does not distinguish between the real and the represented. This interpene-
tration of the naturalistic representation of what is before the viewer’s
eyes and in her hands, and the magically illusory augmented representa-
tion, can be used to produce an image of the blurry borders between two
kinds of knowledge.
If the technology of AR permits a kind of complex visualization of
knowledge, it also permits a complex visualization of history and
memory. Through its on-screen suturing of the present tense of the
viewer and what she has pointed her screen at with the past tense of
the flickering digitally-augmented representations that the camera has
activated, the medium is able to create a unique and dynamic texture
of time and its afterlife (in German, Nachleben). Compressing time-past
and time-present is something all storage media do, but unlike photog-
raphy or a museum, for example, AR can recreate the remembered past
through representational strategies that underline how its intangible,
magical, and even ghostly qualities permeate the present. AR is thus
able to represent the complex travelling of memory between past and
present through a technical apparatus that helps visualize this movement.
The medium is thus suited to conjure the history of things that have
circulated through social and cultural fields as well as the history in
things, that is, the ‘crystallization of the anxieties and aspirations that
linger there in the material object’, activated through processes of per-
ception and remembrance (Brown, 1998: 935).
We have mothers who cry, sleep all day, and weave curtains of
beads we later choke on. We have the kind of mothers who do
not know Heimlich but who will shake us upside down to get
beads or pennies out and when they laugh they spin us around and
around until we are sick. We have mothers who make their own
poisonous pigment and keep vats of mulch on the patio. Mothers
we need to tuck into bed after parties. Mothers we tell to please get
more milk and who’s sleeping in my bed?
connection’ (Hyde, 2007: 73). When gifts ‘circulate’, argues Lewis Hyde,
‘their commerce leaves a series of interconnected relationships in its
wake, and a kind of decentralized cohesiveness emerges’ (2007: xx).
The importance of gift-exchange becomes visible in the series of
‘thought-images’ treating the grandmother. Jilly is a cook who lovingly
makes turtle pancakes and emergency brownies. Importantly, Jilly is also
a story-teller whose medium provides continuity and connection. In one
fragment, Jilly draws a room full of children into a fanciful universe,
giving each child the gift of their own personalized story when she
takes them by the hand and leads them, blindfolded, into a space trans-
formed by their own imaginations:
Blindfolded in the hallway until it’s our turn to be led across the
bridge of chairs. The makeshift gymnasium of the living room
turned upside down just for us. No one is scared because that’s
Jilly holding after all, who has their hand, who is telling the story
about the friendly lion hiding just over the next chair, the beautiful
birds overhead. Make-believe story composed on the spot for every
child. Tell me when you close your eyes what is it you like to
imagine the most. She starts there.
with sound and light is animated by the user. These physical gestures
intervene in the material world of things to bring sounds and images
to life. This is important because, as Circle solicits bodily engagement
with animate and inanimate matter, it puts pressure on traditional phil-
osophy’s order of the symbolic and of language (Kristeva, 1984: 26).
Another aspect of the circulatory system of the work describes the
movements and flows at the site of the installation where objects and
screens circulate among viewers. With these gestures of free exchange
among viewers, Circle forges a robust interconnected system that turns,
as Bourriaud puts it, ‘the beholder into a neighbor’ (2009: 43). The
thoughts move and are moving. Theoretical thinking becomes a com-
pound act that includes listening, looking, touching, moving, and feeling
as well as sharing. Where constellations and circles model ways of think-
ing about the configurations of ideas and the circuitous paths of know-
ledge, the circulatory thought-system brings to these models a notion of
theoretical praxis as a life-sustaining endeavor.
Fisher’s digital Denkbild brings these twinned notions of circulation as
animation and as connectivity together through a fragmented ‘thought-
image’ that describes a heartbeat. The heartbeat is transmitted to the
female figures through the medium of a gold bracelet that is passed
down through the generations. The bracelet is a circle, circulated through
the family, connecting mothers to daughters despite emotional, geo-
graphical, and temporal separation:
Thump thump. The pulse in the bracelet is a strong signal from the past
that can only be heard by those who listen differently. Thump thump.
We are reminded that the heart is the powerful instrument driving the
first and ultimate network; listening for it carefully, we can sense a
potent, human alternative to the networked cultures of an information
age.
In a separate ‘thought-image’ the speaker holds her baby – the fourth
generation in this family of women. With a gesture much like that of the
viewer who reaches into the box of the installation to handle artifacts
from the past, the baby reaches for the golden circle with the hidden
heartbeat:
Harriet wants to make words. I know she does. I coo and make
rolling rrrs and gentle purrs near her ears. Harriet waits for me to
finish and then makes he he sounds. She wants birthday parties with
turtle pancakes and stories made up on the spot I think. She needs
her Jilly. . . . She sits on the lap of her own mad Mrs. Smith. When
did I eat my last turtle pancake? Crying into the brownie batter.
Hoo hoo hoo Harriet says. She grabs my bracelet with the hidden
heartbeat. You can still hear it beating. Thum thum thum tha-
thump.
The mother is holding onto the baby. The baby is holding the bracelet,
which in turn holds the heartbeat of the past. If grasping can be a tactile
gesture or a cognitive one, a practice of the hand or of the mind, this
digital Denkbild proposes a kind of thinking that draws both together in
a circuit.
‘To touch the world’, Esther Leslie offers in an essay on Walter
Benjamin, ‘is to know the world’ (1998: 6). There are different kinds of
knowledge that can come out of touch. The kind of knowledge produced
by the tactile capacities of the Augmented Reality medium can connect
thought to gesture and gesture to action. In Circle, viewers reach into the
suitcase and retrieve pieces of everyday culture. They manipulate these
objects and the screens, passing them to other viewers, inadvertently
sculpting a kind of social space between each other. Touch here becomes
the palliative to the subject-object dichotomy, and the hinge upon which
philosophy opens itself to the world.
There is the knowledge that resides in making. Circle’s story-telling/
story-thinking/picture-thinking returns continually to the theme of cre-
ation. Turtle pancakes and brownies, caressing, purring, cooing, hooing:
all these modes of knowledge conjured in Fisher’s ‘thought-images’
reside beyond the limits of philosophical language. Yet, Circle tells us,
they have the potential to launch new theoretical insights that are at once
subjective and contingent, anchored in the concrete and also powerfully
indeterminate. These practices must be understood as examples of a new
kind of interrelational philosophical praxis – maybe now Handwerk
instead of Kunstwerk, Denkplastik instead of Denkbild – that encapsulates
the radical modes of everyday knowing the text’s image fragments seek to
pass on.
Adorno concludes his Denkbild, Minima Moralia, with the following
injunction: ‘Perspectives must be fashioned that displace and estrange the
world, reveal . . . its rifts and crevices. . . . To gain such perspec-
tives . . . entirely from felt contact with its objects – this alone is the
task of thought’ (2005: 247). This is precisely what Fisher’s interrela-
tional philosophy has accomplished. Circle offers an example of how
new media art can intervene in contemporary theoretical debates about
the nature and possibilities of art’s philosophical modes of thinking.
Fisher’s updated Denkbild makes creative use of a new digital medium’s
capabilities of conjoining the material and the virtual in an immanent
Acknowledgements
My thanks to Dave Colangelo, Sydney Tyber and Chelsea Olsen for research assistance,
Stuart Murray, Jennifer Burwell, Lorraine Janzen, and Matthew Kronby for reading
drafts, as well as Caitlin Fisher for providing access to the work along with fruitful
discussions of it.
Notes
1. Circle was shortlisted in 2011 for the UK New Media Writing Prize. It was
awarded the ‘Jury’s Choice’ Award at the Electronic Literature Organization
Conference Media Art show in June 2012. For a still photo of the installation
see: http://futurecinema.ca/arlab/?p=175. Video documentation can be
viewed at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9i9jRrolKk.
2. See Georg Simmel’s Aphorisms, published in this journal (Swedberg and
Reich, 2010).
3. Most of the scholarship on the genre has focused on the relationship between
the Denkbild and a restricted corpus of high-art practices such as the baroque
emblem (Kirst, 1994), or on technologies of reproduction such as photog-
raphy (Jennings, 2009, 2011) and cinema (Hansen, 2012). Sieg’s writing on
Kracauer is the only one that underlines the importance of the everyday for
the visual character of the texts, but he does not explore whether this is
characteristic of the work of other Frankfurt School writers (Sieg, 2010).
4. The exception is Benjamin’s Berlin Childhood, whose frequently memoiristic
mode of narration has the most in common with Circle’s.
References
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Adorno T (1977) The actuality of philosophy. Telos 31: 120–133.
Adorno T (1980) Bloch’s ‘traces’: The philosophy of kitsch. New Left Review
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Adorno T (1992) Benjmain’s Einbahnstrasse. In: Notes to Literature, Vol. 2. New
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Adorno T (1998) Aesthetic Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Adorno T (2005) Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damaged Life. London:
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Benjamin W (1968) Theses on the philosophy of history. In: Illuminations. New
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