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Magdalena Zolkos (Editor) - The Didi-Huberman Dictionary-Edinburgh University Press (2022)
Magdalena Zolkos (Editor) - The Didi-Huberman Dictionary-Edinburgh University Press (2022)
Th e D id i-H u b e r man
D ic t i o n ar y
A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library
The right of Magdalena Zolkos to be identified as the editor of this work has been asserted in
accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, and the Copyright and Related
Rights Regulations 2003 (SI No. 2498).
C on te n ts
Acknowledgementsvi
List of Abbreviations for Translated Works by
Georges Didi-Huberman vii
Entries A–Z 7
Gay Science is also reminiscent of Freud’s grandson, Ernst, and his fort–da
game, initiated in response to maternal disappearance and described by
Freud in the well-known passage in Beyond the Pleasure Principle. The
child’s back-and-forth reeling of a toy accompanies the mournful sound
‘O-o-o-o!’ and is followed by his jubilant exclamation ‘Da!’, by way of
effectuating the mother’s departure and arrival. The game is not only
highly imaginative, but it also has at its c ore the fluctuating rhythm of
imaginal appearance and disappearance. As her image comes in and out
of vision, a crucial element in the psychoanalytic process is revealed:
the dialectic relation between disappearance and appearance, as well as
between mourning and affirmation of living (cf. Fédida, 1978). Drawing
the reader’s attention to the element of visuality in the repetition process,
Stephen Frosh suggests that the fort–da game is a synecdochic figuration
of the psychoanalytic practice as a whole: the ‘throwing something out of
sight, [and then] drawing it back again. Now we see it, now we don’t; an
infantile game that can sum up a whole lifetime’ (2019: 35).
Underpinning that interplay between disappearance and reappear-
ance, and between repression and return, is Freud’s insistence on the
‘indestructible desire’ (unzerstōrbaren Wunsch) – Didi-Huberman’s key
take from The Interpretation of Dreams, which has inspired his more recent
writings on images of protest and uprising, and refugee camps (U; SF).
It suggests a dual character of images as both different (‘new, native,
unexpected, unpredictable’) and repetitive or recurrent (‘moved accord-
ing to the “eternal return” of our most fundamental desires’) (U, 313; SF,
83; see also Freud, 1953). Finally, it also implies that bound up with the
philosophy of the visual is a question of ethical commitment – not to allow
to disappear those on the precipice of retreat or withdrawal into darkness
and invisibility, the ‘firefly-people’ (SF, 84); those enclosed in camps and
ghettos, the nameless relegated to the background of history, the extras on
a cinematic set, the vagabonds and homeless, but who nevertheless emit
‘flashes’, visualising their history and experience.
Diagonal reading, then: a movement across and against established
trajectories; an act of making-appear and making-reappear; attunement
and attention to ‘what appears, what emerges, what suddenly comes to
light’ (KWC, 83). The link between knowledge and cutting is articulated
throughout Didi-Huberman’s oeuvre – starting from his many engage-
ments with Aby Warburg, through his discussions of the montage of war
and camp photography, to his reflections on Michel Foucault (see DM,
621–45) – and the notion of diagonality attests to the political and ethical
dimensions of his writings. While a dictionary cannot do justice to the
richness and heterogeneity of the philosophical and literary project at
hand, and while it shies away from any encyclopaedic ambitions or from
introduction 5
Works Cited
Arendt, H. (1978). The Life of the Mind. Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Arendt, H. (1992). Lectures on Kant’s Political Philosophy. University of
Chicago Press.
Baudelaire, C. (2012). ‘The Philosophy of Toys’, in K. Gross (ed.), On
Dolls, 11–21. Notting Hill Editions.
De Cauwer, S., and Smith, L. K. (2018). ‘Critical Image Configurations:
The Work of Georges Didi-Huberman’, Angelaki, 23(4): 3–10.
Fédida, P. (1978). L’absence. Gallimard.
Freud, S. (1953). The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. J. Strachey, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. IV (1900), ed. J. Strachey, ix–627. Hogarth Press and the Institute
of Psycho-analysis.
Frosh, S. (2019). ‘A Letter Always Reaches its Destination’, in
M. Weegmann (ed.), Psychodynamics of Writing, 29–37. Routledge.
Larsson, C. (2020a). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
Larsson, C. (2020b). ‘Didi- Huberman and Art History’s Amicable
Incursions’, Journal of Art Historiography, 22 (June). https://arthistori
ography.files.wordpress.com/2020/05/larsson.pdf. Accessed 12 April
2022.
Saint, N. (2004). ‘Didi-Huberman, Georges’, in C. J. Murray (ed.),
Encyclopedia of Modern French Thought, 173–6. Taylor and Francis.
Saint, N. (2013). ‘Georges Didi-Huberman: Images, Critique and Time’,
6 i n t r o d u c t i o n
Michaela Bstieler
The afterlife according to Didi- Huberman is the memory that is
ingrained in an image. In order to understand an image, one must take
into account its specific historicity, which is conveyed through the paths
and detours of time. Didi-Huberman shares this conviction with Aby
Warburg, who was interested in the discontinuities and overdetermina-
tions of history throughout his work and tried to consider the ‘powers
of the image’ along the deposited material of an unconscious memory
(Warburg, 1998: 172). Even more firmly than Warburg, Didi-Huberman
argues for a method of historical reconstruction that deals with the pres-
ence of the past under the sign of a non-linear temporality. The afterlife
in particular cannot be understood as latently persisting in concrete
images, motifs and paradigms, as if it could outlast the times like a trace
(Derrida, 1982). On the contrary, Didi-Huberman’s concept of afterlife
emphasises a form of time that disorients past, present and future, opening
them towards anachronism. Thus, the afterlife can only be adequately
grasped if ‘temporal periods are no longer fashioned according to biomor-
phic stages, but, instead, are expressed by strata, hybrid blocks, rhizomes,
specific complexities, by returns that are often unexpected and goals that
are always thwarted’ (SI, 12).
The afterlife refers to a ‘psychological time’ (SI, 178) that always sub-
verts the notion of historical time. This is one of the key theses of L’Image
survivante (2002b; SI), in which Didi-Huberman examines the affective
aspects of afterlife. Hence, Didi-Huberman uses the Freudian notion of
the symptom (see Freud, Sigmund; psychoanalysis) as a model to not
only mark an ‘entangled’ temporality, but also to address the plasticity of
a body ‘agitated by conflicts, by contradictory movements: a body agitated
8 a f t e r l i f e
by the eddies of time. It is a body from which there suddenly springs forth
a suppressed image’ (SI, 198). The symptom thus possesses an extreme
mobility: it forms configurations that are subject to repression, that is,
remain latent, and yet retain a capacity to act. In this dialectic between
fixation and distortion, disappearance and emergence, the entire dynamic
of the afterlife is implied. Just like the symptom, the afterlife is to be end-
lessly interpreted (BI) and defies symbolic translation, as Didi-Huberman
argued in Devant l’image (1990a; CI). Consequently, he accounts for a
psychological apparatus that is subject to the laws of the unconscious,
setting the stage for a different historiography that is receptive to working
with the untimely (cf. SI, 228–30).
Envisaging the afterlife, Didi- Huberman starts from moments of
tension that commonly feature in the concept of pathos. In line with
Aby Warburg’s phenomenological maxim ‘not to separate the psyche from
its flesh, and, reciprocally, not to separate the imaging substance from its
psychological powers’ (SI, 197), Didi-Huberman addresses the unsettling
strangeness that resonates not only with Warburg’s Leitfossil (guide or
index fossil), but also with Freud’s Unheimliches (uncanny). What fuses
the two concepts is the ‘once heimisch, home-like, familiar’ (SI, 230) that
emerges abruptly in a dimension of the secret or hidden, like a ‘“life asleep
in its form” – which awakens completely unexpectedly’ (SI, 217) (see
form). Suffering from reminiscences would hence be the specific expres-
sion of the afterlife. This corresponds to a notion already put forward in
Ce que nous voyons, ce qui nous regarde (1992b): the r esearcher – according
to the double meaning of the French verb regarder – must allow them-
selves both to be looked at, and to be affected, by the object of the research.
Therefore, the lesson of the afterlife should be seen in the Überbleibseln
[remnants of life] – in other words, survivals, as Freud called them (1964:
75). In Images malgré tout (2003a; ISA), Didi-Huberman will finally give
an ethical meaning to these resistant remains when he conceives the images
of the extermination process at Auschwitz-Birkenau taken in August 1944
as ‘flaws’ or ‘splits’, to signal that what once was, has never ceased to be
(see Sonderkommando photographs).
When Didi-Huberman reflects on the concept of survival roughly five
years later, it is to add a political dimension to the notion of afterlife. In
Survivance des lucioles (2010a; SF), he counterposes, via Pasolini, the great
and unpleasant light (luce) of the kingdom (that is, fascism) with the fragile
lights (lucciole) of the fireflies (sparks of resistance), whose lives seem
uncanny, resembling ghosts in dimly glowing, often greenish shapes (SF,
20; see Pasolini, Pier Paolo). Critically drawing on Walter Benjamin,
Didi-Huberman argues that images, like fireflies, are in a certain sense
indestructible. For even if images ‘only rarely [. . .] rise toward the still
agamben, giorgio 9
Works Cited
Benjamin, W. (2006). ‘Paralipomena to “On the Concept of History”’,
trans. E. F. N. Jephcott and H. Eiland, in Walter Benjamin: Selected
Writings, Volume 4, 1938–1940, ed. H. Eiland and M. W. Jennings,
401–10. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.
Derrida, J. (1982). Margins of Philosophy, trans. A. Bass. Harvester Press.
Freud, S. (1964). Moses and Monotheism, trans. K. Jones, in The Standard
Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Vol.
XXIII (1937–1939), ed. J. Strachey, 7–137. Hogarth Press and the
Institute of Psycho-Analysis.
Warburg, A. (1998). Grundlegende Bruchstücke zu einer monistischen
Kunstpsychologie (1928–29). Warburg Institute Archive, III, 43.1–2.
AGAMBEN, GIORGIO
Stijn De Cauwer
Given the fact that two of the most important influences on the work
of Giorgio Agamben are Walter Benjamin and Aby Warburg and
that his most famous texts reflect on the current state of images, on
the relationship between images and power, and on testimony of the
Holocaust, the work of Agamben and Didi-Huberman has a lot in
common. While in works such as Images in Spite of All (ISA, 26, 38,
10 a g a m b e n , g i o r g i o
Works Cited
Agamben, G. (2000). Means without End: Notes on Politics, trans. V. Binetti
and C. Casarino. University of Minnesota Press.
Agamben, G. (2002). Remnants of Auschwitz: The Witness and the Archive,
trans. D. Heller-Roazen. Zone Books.
Agamben, G. (2011). The Kingdom and the Glory: For a Theological
Genealogy of Economy and Government, trans. L. Chiesa and
M. Mandarini. Stanford University Press.
ANACHRONISM
Andrzej Leśniak
One of the most important elements of Didi-Huberman’s intellectual
project is his rethinking of the concept of historical experience. And it
is in this context that he proposes to redefine the notion of anachronism.
Although in the frame of many modern historiographical perspectives
anachronism is considered a methodological flaw (the notion refers to
confusing subjects, objects and actions belonging to different historical
contexts and thus demanding different interpretative frames), Didi-
Huberman attempts to elicit its positive cognitive value. In this view
anachronism is conceived as the very condition of possibility of historical
experience. In his theorisation of anachronism Didi-Huberman relies on
Walter Benjamin’s notion of image, Aby Warburg’s conception of sur-
vival, Sigmund Freud’s reflection on dreams, as well as on more recent
French scholarship, notably Jacques Rancière. His attention to the
concept of anachronism can be seen as part of a larger inquiry questioning
the principles of historical research by postmodern historiographers, such
as Hayden White and Frank Ankersmit. In The Surviving Image Didi-
Huberman underlines the importance of alternative conceptions of time
developed both in art history and beyond its disciplinary limits, especially
in anthropology. He refers to Burckhardt’s vision of the impurity of time
(SI, 44) and to notions created in Darwinian anthropology describing
temporally complex forms of life, such as heterochronies, peramorphoses
or hypermorphoses (SI, 37, 344 n.169).
Didi-Huberman maintains a critical stance towards the dominant
theoretical positions in the study of history in general and art history in
particular (see art criticism; critique). He questions the assumptions
underlying the epistemological certainties in the disciplines dedicated to
the study of the past (see Panofsky, Erwin). In Confronting Images, his
12 a n a c h r o n i s m
We thus find ourselves before the painted surface as an object of complex, impure
temporality: an extraordinary montage of heterogeneous times forming anachronisms.
In the dynamic and complexity of this montage, historical notions as fundamental
as those of ‘style’ or ‘epoch’ suddenly take on a dangerous plasticity [. . .] So to
raise the question of anachronism is to question this fundamental plasticity, and
with it the combination – s o difficult to analyze – of the temporal differentiation at
work in each image. (BI, 38; see images; montage)
Anachronism describes the relation between the image and the viewer, as
well as the texture of the visual material. It points to the necessary tempo-
ral discrepancy between the act of looking and the moment in which the
image came into existence; when we look at an image, we are immediately
confronted with something that does not belong to our temporal context
(see gaze). The ensuing incongruity is not considered to be an obstacle to
of through methodological procedures, nor is it a factor that renders art
historical analysis impossible. Instead, Didi-Huberman defines this tem-
poral incongruity as a condition of knowledge and as a point of departure
for interpretative practices. A striking example of an analysis based on
the principle of anachronism in Didi-Huberman’s writings is a passage in
which Fra Angelico’s fresco from the convent of San Marco in Florence
is set together with Jackson Pollock’s paintings (BI, 40–1). According to
Didi-Huberman, even if it is clearly impossible or absurd to try to estab-
lish a relation of direct kinship between an ‘informal’ part of the fifteenth-
century painting and Pollock’s abstraction, the resemblance between the
anadyomene 13
ANADYOMENE
Magdalena Zolkos
The Greek word anaduoménos (ἀναδυομένος), meaning ‘rising up’ or
‘surfacing’, is immediately associable with Apelles’ painting of the birth
of the goddess A phrodite – Venus Anadyomene, the one who emerges
from the sea. For Didi-Huberman, writing in Confronting Images, the
instance of aphroditic appearance encapsulates a characteristic aspect
of pictorial phenomenology in general; the shape of a female body tran-
spires, where moments before there was only spume, and ‘something
that has plunged into the water momentarily reemerges, is born before
quickly plunging in again’ (CF, 143). The figure of the anadyomene thus
articulates the pictorial rhythm of appearing and disappearing, encap-
sulating the historical dynamic of images as that of coming in and out of
view.
Didi-Huberman’s notion of the anadyomenic rhythm of images partly
draws on Warburg’s theory of culture, which in the introduction to
the Mnemosyne Atlas is described as the movement of ‘formative oscil-
lation’, or a ‘circuit’, between the Einschwingung (lit. ‘swinging in’) and
Ausschwingung (lit. ‘swinging out’) of cultural forms. The notion of the
anadyomene also follows closely the psychoanalytic logic of dreams
and dream-work, as well as compromise formation as expressed in, for
instance, Freud’s grandson’s fort–da game – t he child’s staging of ‘disap-
pearance and return [Verschwinden und Wiederkommen]’ of the mother
(Freud, 1955 [1950]: 14; see psychoanalysis). In The Surviving Image
Didi-Huberman uncovers the logic of the anadyomene in Freud’s book on
Moses and monotheism, whereby collective Jewish memory is described
as ‘anadyomenic’ (une mémoire anadyomene), rather than linear or chrono-
logical; it is a ‘memory that ebbs and flows’, framed by the dialectic of (in
14 anadyomene
Works Cited
Burgin, V. (1982). ‘Photography, Phantasy, Function’, in V. Burgin (ed.),
Thinking Photography, 177–216. Red Globe Press.
Freud, S. (1953). The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. J. Strachey, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. IV (1900), ed. J. Strachey, ix–627. Hogarth Press and the Institute
of Psycho-analysis.
Freud, S. 1955 [1950]. Beyond the Pleasure Principle, trans. J. Strachey,
in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund
Freud, Vol. XVIII (1920–1922), ed. J. Strachey, 1–64. Hogarth Press
and the Institute of Psycho-analysis.
Freud, S. 1964 [1939]. Moses and Monotheism, trans. K. Jones, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. XXIII (1937–1939), ed. J. Strachey, 1–138. Hogarth Press and
the Institute of Psycho-analysis.
ARCHIVE
Andreas Oberprantacher
If it is the case that Didi-Huberman’s writings can be read as contributions
to both a critical archaeology and an archeological critique of images,
then it is also the case that his writings revolve repeatedly around the
archive as a problematic index and locus of imagination.
Already his early book Invention de l’hystérie (1982) signals that the
‘visible is a twisted modality’ (IH, 8) insofar as it is mediated through
that what is itself not (as) visible, that what tends to remain invisible to
the eye, not least: archival procedures of imag(in)ing, for example, others
as degenerate or deviant. According to Didi-Huberman, the Salpêtrière
as the late nineteenth-century’s ‘mecca of the great confinement’ (IH,
13) of women d iagnosed – and degraded – as ‘hysterical’ was equally ‘an
image factory’ (IH, 30), that is, a laboratory of fabricated images. And
as such the Salpêtrière reflects through its various archives (like photo
albums) the dominant interest in ‘catching’ and studying the image of the
hysterical women by generating series of graphic pictures, photographs
of women routinely pictured as hysterics. These standardised portrayals
disclose all sorts of gestures and poses that eventually became associated
16 archive
with the literal definition of the hysteric (see hysteria). They simultane-
ously conceal criticises Didi-Huberman, how they came into effect, how
they were arranged: by a specific and violent ‘clinical gaze’ (IH, 21) that
commands the appearance of those imagined as typical hysterics and that
conditions the archiving of such images for the alleged advancement of
medical reason.
Considering that Didi-Huberman’s approach to the field of visual
culture follows those passages of Walter Benjamin where he argues that
‘the historical index of the images [. . .] attain to legibility (Lesbarkeit) only
at a particular time’ and that the ‘image that is read (das gelesene Bild) [. . .]
bears to the highest degree the imprint of the perilous critical moment (des
kritischen gefährlichen Moments) on which all reading (Lesen) is founded’
(Benjamin, cited in Didi-Huberman, 2006c; OCCE; cf. Mirzoeff, 2002:
3–23), it is comprehensible that to begin to read images in other than
uncritical (conformist) terms requires also both returning to and departing
from the archive as a contradictory context. Jacques Derrida remarks in
this respect that ‘every archive [. . .] is at once institutive and conservative.
Revolutionary and traditional’ (1998: 7). Or, to put it in another way: the
archival act of recording and registering images renders a visual account
of that which seems relevant, fitting (by the archive’s own terms), while
discounting that which seems irrelevant, unfitting, the archive thus being
a ‘split’ dispositif.
This double logic or ambivalence of the archive becomes manifest at
various stages of Didi-Huberman’s research, particularly in Images malgré
tout (2003a). Claude Lanzmann notoriously contended: ‘if I had found
an existing film [as an exemplification of a visual archive] [. . .] made by
an SS [. . .] at Auschwitz [. . .] not only would I not have shown it, but I
would have destroyed it’ (Lanzmann, cited in ISA, 95). In contrast, Didi-
Huberman calls for a critical revisitation and even reimagination of the
archive as a complex setting that at once collects and disperses, illuminates
and obscures, preserves and devastates images.
Auschwitz – as the epitome of the discourse of the ‘unimaginable’ – is
of special concern for Didi-Huberman because it poses the very problem
of how to (re-)view archives, since the Nazi camps ‘were laboratories,
experimental machines for a general obliteration’ (ISA, 20). This Nazi
‘cult(ure)’ of obliteration was so pervasive, Didi-Huberman argues, that
eventually it became directed against the Nazi archives themselves, which
is to say that ultimately ‘the memory of the obliteration [. . .] had to be oblit-
erated’ (ISA, 22) so as to leave no (image) trace. It is as if a twofold oblit-
eration had occurred. First, the Nazi iconography itself – ranging from
the photographs of the ‘identification service’ (Erkennungsdienst) via the
‘office of constructions’ (Zentralbauleitung) to the experiments of Mengele
archive 17
Works Cited
Butler, J. (2009). Frames of War. When is Life Grievable? Verso.
Derrida, J. (1998). Archive Fever. A Freudian Impression, trans.
E. Prenowitz. University of Chicago Press.
Mirzoeff, N. (2002). ‘The Subject of Visual Culture’, in N. Mirzoeff (ed.),
The Visual Culture Reader, 3–23. Routledge.
18 arendt, hannah
ARENDT, HANNAH
Magdalena Zolkos
Hannah Arendt’s writings are an important reference point for Didi-
Huberman, and his reflections on Arendt’s conceptions of judgement,
truth and appearance form a connective between Images in Spite of All
and his later writings, including Survival of the Fireflies and The Eye of
History series. Didi-Huberman draws on Arendt’s wartime publications in
the journal Aufbau (Arendt, 2007a [1942]; 2007b [1942]), proposing that
the Nazis created a ‘machinery of disimagination’ in order to render their
genocidal pursuits ‘unthinkable’ to the international community (ISA,
20–1). Arendt famously stated that the concentration and extermination
camps challenged the boundaries of public comprehension in their bid at
a total domination and dehumanization of persons through terror and the
divestiture of human spontaneity (1962 [1951]: 437–59). As such, they
revealed the limits of rational and utilitarian epistemologies underpin-
ning modern legal and social sciences, requiring a paradigmatic shift in
humanistic knowledge (Arendt, 1950: 53–5). Referencing her insights,
Didi-Huberman connects the unimaginable with totalitarian aims at oblit-
erating visual representations of the camps, and hence at ‘obfuscating [the
world]’ by rendering it ‘wordless and imageless’ (ISA, 20).
Didi-Huberman’s interpretation of the Sonderkommando photo-
graphs as a refutation of this ‘machinery of disimagination’, akin to
glimpses of truth into the realities of the camp, also references Arendt’s
reflections on the Auschwitz Trials. In her introduction to the English
translation of Bernd Naumann’s report of the trials, Arendt contrasts the
failure of the legal process to produce ‘the whole truth’ about Auschwitz
with fragmentary, brief and anecdotal ‘moments of truth’, occurring in
the courtroom and illuminating ‘this chaos of viciousness and evil’ (2003
[1966]). There is a philosophical resonance between Arendt’s notion of
testimonial fragments and Didi-Huberman’s analysis of the photographs
as ‘instants of truth’ (ISA, 31).
Jacques Rancière (2018: 12) argues that Didi-Huberman’s imaginal
theory of politics is closely aligned with Arendt’s nexus of action, power
and the space of appearance, because for them both, ‘a people is first of all
an appearance, a coming into visibility’ (Arendt, 1998 [1958]: 208; CG,
11; Oberprantacher, 2019). Didi-Huberman shares Arendt’s view on the
irreducible condition of the plurality of political existence (FH, 278; TRS,
65; Arendt, 2005 [1993]) (see peoples). However, in contrast to Arendt’s
belief in people’s emergence through events of ‘political constitution’, he
thematises ‘conflict [. . .] [as] the primary force of dividing populations’
arendt, hannah 19
Works Cited
Arendt, H. (1950). ‘Social Science Techniques and the Study of
Concentration Camps’, Jewish Social Studies, 12(1): 49–64.
Arendt, H. (1962 [1951]). The Origins of Totalitarianism. Meridian.
Arendt, H. (1978 [1971]). The Life of the Mind. Harcourt.
Arendt, H. (1992 [1982]). Lectures on Kant’s Political Philosophy. University
of Chicago Press.
Arendt, H. (1993 [2005]). The Promise of Politics. Random House.
Arendt, H. (1998 [1958]). The Human Condition. University of Chicago
Press.
Arendt, H. (2003 [1966]). ‘Auschwitz on Trial’, in Responsibility and
Judgement, ed. J. Kohn, 227–56). Schocken Books.
20 a r t c r i t i c i s m
ART CRITICISM
Vlad Ionescu
An art historian’s involvement with art criticism presupposes a broader
understanding of (contemporary) artistic production. Even Renaissance
historians such as Vasari integrated the work of living artists in their
overviews conceived as the birth, growth and decay of artistry. Yet not all
writing on contemporary artistic production is also art criticism. Modern
art historians only referred to contemporary artists as the afterlife of
certain visual traces. Already Frans Wickhoff had associated impression-
ist visual aspects with the ‘illusionism’ of late Roman art (1895). Aloïs
Riegl intimated a relation between the tactile linearity of Egyptian art and
his contemporary Jan Toorop (1902). Finally, Wilhelm Worringer both
explained expressionism via his psychological aesthetics of the Gothic and
dedicated an essay to the work of Käthe Kollwitz (1931). There is thus an
enduring connivance between how art historians have approached the art
of the past and contemporary artistic production. Art criticism proper is
a discourse that is specific to modernism, an art that was not made with a
specific public in mind. In this case, the critic – f rom Baudelaire to Lyotard
and beyond – explores in their writings the meaning of contemporary art
in relation to an emerging public. In the case of Didi-Huberman, art
criticism is an extension of his art historical writing, more precisely of
two dimensions that systematically return in his work: the notions of
place and time (Hagelstein, 2005; Ionescu, 2017) (see art writing). Before
we address these two dimensions, a note on style is required: like the
rest of his oeuvre, the writings on contemporary art and artists follow
art criticism 21
Works Cited
Alloa, E. (2018). ‘Phasmid Thinking. On Georges Didi- Huberman’s
Method’, trans. C. Woodall, Angelaki, 23(4): 103–12.
Hagelstein, M. (2005). ‘Art Contemporain et phénoménologie. Réflexion
sur le concept de lieu chez Georges Didi-Huberman’, Études phénomé-
nologiques, 41–42: 133–64.
Ionescu, V. (2017). ‘On Moths and Butterflies, or How to Orient Oneself
through Images. Georges Didi-Huberman’s Art Criticism in Context’,
Journal of Art Historiography, 16: 1–16.
Riegl, A. (1902). ‘Objective Aesthetik’, Neue Freie Presse, 13 July: 34–5.
Wickhoff, F. (1895). Die Wiener Genesis, ed. W. Ritter von Hartel and
F. Wickhoff. F. Tempsky.
Worringer, W. (1931). Käthe Kollwitz. Grafen und Unger.
24 art history
ART HISTORY
Maud Hagelstein
In the city of Lyon, Didi-Huberman received a university education in art
history, at the same time as he took classes in philosophy, and developed
in the space between them a very keen attention to problems of epistemol-
ogy. To be an epistemologist, especially in a discipline whose claim to
be a science must constantly be defended, has nothing to do with being
a policeman, which would involve establishing norms and reporting any
transgressions of those norms. To write the epistemology of art history
consists, rather, in identifying, during the construction of a knowledge –
and in order to thwart t hem – any likely effects of authority over the real.
As such, it is more of a counter-policing job. By critiquing the historical
inclination to smooth too much, to synthesise and to fit things into boxes,
Didi-Huberman – e ver sensitive to bastardised images, to events that are
exceptions, to artistic experience that is failing/in default (à l’expérience
artistique en défaut) and always somewhat h eretical – h
as shown to his
readers that art history is above all a discourse that claims to be scholarly,
a formidable model of intelligibility, a system of distribution of legitimacy,
and a system of beliefs, with its own totem notions, taboo concepts and
catch-all terms. For this reason, his fierce and engaged critique of art
history is never plainly aggressive (despite some savage outbursts), for it
leads to practical, heuristic propositions, signalling towards a home-made,
inventive, poetic art history, one whose strong ethical dimension in fact
became more emphasised with time. If the debate with art history is prac-
tically constant in his works, its two most easily identifiable phases unfold
in Devant l’image (1990a; CI) and Devant le temps (2000a).
Devant l’image challenges the iconological tradition and its humanistic
tones. Beneath the surface, the book is organised around a very serious
problem in art history: the problem of orientation. If art is to be the object of
a history, where should we place ourselves in relation to it, within it? How
should we situate ourselves in the visible and in the vast history (stretch-
ing back at least 30,000 years) of painting? Where should we look? On
what should we focus our gaze? How should we build a history from that?
How should we create its points of reference? How should we avoid the
temptation of an excessively synthetic gaze, or shoulder the incomplete-
ness of the undertaking? Those who have tried to embrace such a broad
reality find themselves obliged to make choices, to select and to classify.
But how then should we justify these choices? How should this m aterial
– this infinite material – be stirred, or how should we propose paths to
the amateur of art? How should we put down milestones? How should we
art history 25
even ‘kneads’ it like plastic matter): ‘It is memory that filters the past
of its exactitude. It is memory that humanises and configures time, that
intertwines its fibres, ensures its transmissions, devoting it to an essential
impurity. It is memory that the historian convokes and questions, not “the
past” really’ (2000a: 37).
In Didi-Huberman’s work, the inventing of new modalities of writing
that equal the complexity of images has gained, with time, a political (or
even ethical) dimension. The writing of art history obeys its own neces-
sities, which are not secondary, and which are not merely ‘stylistic’. To
displace the gaze, to grasp the disregarded materialities, to observe those
at the bottom, the extras rather than the main actors, demands a renewal
of art history, an art history taken down from its pedestal, an art history
that might be sensitive to symptoms and to things considered waste. This
required the invention of a new and original way of writing on the relation
with images. Through his chiselled formulae, his patience in conceptual
variations, his indomitable style, and never put off by the play of affects,
with the rhythm of his phrases, his frequent parentheses and his dense
footnotes, Didi-Huberman has invented a writing of his own, guiding
many readers:
To write art history means, firstly, and I must repeat it, to write. Is it just to describe
what we think we have the skill to see, and what we think we have enough talent to
have understood? Certainly not. The historian must not settle for describing – in
the basic sense of the term – any more than the painter should settle for depict-
ing. Describing and depicting are skills: they are acquired through practice. But
writing and painting are re-enacted each time; they are unlearned and begin with
each stroke. Writing, like looking, is not some kind of know-how or expertise,
even if it requires a lot of work. It is a doing or a making that challenges the
knowledge in question at every instant, and it is a knowledge that in every instant
challenges the doing or the making. (2018a: 112)
Translated by Shane Lillis
ART WRITING
Andrzej Leśniak
Didi-Huberman’s questioning of the foundations of art history as
a humanistic discipline (through critical theorising of anachronism,
image, symptom, visuality, etc.), has also influenced his writing and
ideas about the poetics of art writing. His aim is not, however, to break
with art history and to disregard the task of accumulation of knowledge,
art writing 27
Works Cited
Larsson, C. (2020). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
Marin, L. (1989). Opacité de la peinture: essais sur la représentation au
Quattrocento. Usher.
ATLAS
Maud Hagelstein
Atlas is both the name of the Titan who rose up against the gods and that
of the concrete solution to a central problem in the theory of the image.
In the exhibition in Madrid organised by Didi-Huberman in 2010, Atlas,
comment remonter le monde? (Atlas, How to Carry the World on One’s Back?),
atlas 29
the one condemned by Zeus to ‘carry the world on his shoulders’ was
invited by the art historian to give form to the task undertaken by those
who love images. What is to be done with images? How should they be
carried, and how can we let ourselves be carried away by them? How do
we take on the colossal visual material in our culture, deal with it, allow it
to continue to circulate? How do we make images speak, give meaning to
them, articulate them with words? Should we merely collect them, accu-
mulate them, keep in mind their raw and insistent memory, or sort them,
select them, find a new order for them? Obsessed with these questions,
Didi-Huberman undertook an examination – a colossal examination in
itself, including more than 12,000 images – o f the innovative operations
with which visual culture chooses to display itself. And atlas has become
the generic name for a series of strategies regarding the presentation of
visual documents. At the Reina Sofía museum in Madrid, viewers of
the exhibition in 2011 were in this way able to discover multifaceted
atlases, which sought to map the real from objects as distinct from one
another – and as troubling – as tidal waves (Susan Hiller), water towers
(Bernd and Hilla Becher), disasters (Goya), pieces of lava (Roni Horn) or
smoke trails (Etienne-Jules Marey). Many organised collections of images
that play with the catastrophe. This exhibition challenged the viewer to
grasp the subversive logic at the origin of these sometimes incongruous
montages for these atlases caused both resemblances and contrasts to
swarm. In his works, Didi-Huberman patiently describes the heuristics of
montage at work in those who handle and manipulate images. Whether it
is Warburg, whose presence is decisive of course, or Brecht, Blossfeldt,
Marey, Giacometti or Penone, Didi-Huberman makes room for those
who address, in their work, the issue of the presentation of images and
their placing in a series.
Re-examined in this way, the atlas becomes a ‘counter-iconological’
apparatus, in the sense of opposition as well as proximity, for it allows us
to rethink the strictly interpretative function of reading in its complicity
with the order of reasons (see iconology). The atlas introduces mistrust
into our sometimes abstract relations to knowledge. By discarding the
idea of a reasoned decoding, by blocking the impression of too great a leg-
ibility, Didi-Huberman’s work gives the atlas its full heuristic meaning:
images are to be grasped, assembled and placed in montage, arranged,
moved around and given a new frame, etc. As the fruit of such inventive
handling and manipulation, the creative atlas becomes political, aiming
to transform the narrations to which images are linked, and to produce
new knowledge. The atlas makes it possible to unravel the ideological
effects inherent in the iconosphere and to free itself from them. It has
nothing, therefore, to do with the finalising and smoothing operation that
30 a t l a s
Looking at the plates of the Mnemosyne Atlas, it is impossible to get a clear sense
of how Warburg intended us to look at them, or of the exact meaning he attrib-
uted to the relationships among the neighboring images. The more one looks, the
denser and more intricated the relationships begin to appear. At the same time,
the images appear to take off in several directions, to stream out everywhere like
fireworks. Even the saturated ‘packets of images’ seem like sprays of light about to
explode. It thus appears that the Mnemosyne Atlas is less the illustration of a pre-
existing interpretation of the transmission of images than a visual matrix meant to
increase the possible levels of interpretation. (SI, 312)
not when it falsely schematizes [. . .] The image is neither nothing, nor one, nor all,
precisely because it offers multiple singularities always susceptible to differences.
(ISA, 121)
AURA
Adina Balint
Didi-Huberman has conceptualised the notion of the ‘aura’ after Walter
Benjamin’s elusive and well-known rendering of the term, which first
appeared in his Little History of Photography (2005 [1931]), and was
further explored in his ‘Work of Art in the Age of its Technological
Reproducibility’ (2002 [1936]). The Latin dictionary defines ‘aura’ as ‘air,
heaven, breeze, breath, wind’, and as ‘gleam, odor or stench and vapor’
(Olivetti Latin–English Online Dictionary). The first meanings, particu-
larly ‘wind’ and ‘breath’, resonate with the philosophical way in which
Benjamin reflects on the aura of nature (2002 [1936]: 105). In his essay
on Baudelaire, Benjamin notes that the aura is connected to ‘the breath
of prehistory’ (2003 [1940]: 336), meaning that it enables the beholder
to recollect what has been forgotten. If the beholder is an actor in this
experience, then the aura functions in a manner akin to le souffleur, ‘the
prompter’. Benjamin connects both experience (Erfahrung) and involun-
tary recollection with auratic perception as the organ of fulfilling experi-
ence: such perception builds experience from a past that can be neither
exhausted in subsequent experience nor relinquished by a voluntary act
of will. The reference to ‘odor’ helps associate Benjamin’s linkage of the
aura to Proust’s mémoire involontaire, which refers to the springing-up
of memory triggered by sensory experiences. Didi-Huberman explores
this definition in ‘The Supposition of the Aura’ (SA, 3–18). In modern
English, aura appears as ‘energy’, ‘a luminous radiation’ (echoing ‘light’),
and most commonly, ‘a special quality or feeling that seems to come from
a person, place or thing’ (Merriam–Webster Dictionary). Benjamin writes
32 a u r a
that ‘[w]hat is lost in the withering of semblance and the decay of the aura
in the works of art is matched by a huge gain in the scope of play [Spiel-
Raum]’ (2002 [1936]: 127), and Didi-Huberman recuperates precisely this
notion of play in his analysis of secular aura (SA, 3; see also Smith, 2018:
118). Situating his reflections on aura beyond the religious discourse, he
proposes, first, to think aura not as a ‘fact’, but as memory event, and,
next, to consider aura as non-dogmatically linked to meaning (cf. Didi-
Huberman, 1992b).
Building upon the secular term ‘cult’ as in cultural phenomenon,
Didi-Huberman uses the imaginative world of child’s play as a produc-
tive illustration of the secular aura in terms of the oscillation of appear-
ance and disappearance and as a figure of intermittence (for instance,
in Survival of the Fireflies, he describes phasmids as ‘quiet, passing,
intermittent wonder’, invoking their quality of irregular and interstitial
signalling as a metaphor of political hope and resistance, SF, 1, 18–22).
Regarding child’s play, Didi-Huberman underlines: ‘[t]he apparition
is [. . .] not the prerogative of belief – it is because of this belief that
the man who only acknowledges what is strictly visible [l’homme du
visible] encloses himself in tautology. Distance is not the prerogative
of the divine, as we hear all too often’ (1992b: 114). In his analysis of
the works of James Turrell, which display both singular absences and
the secular aura of child’s play, Didi-Huberman identifies the notion
of distance as essential for the understanding of aura. What Didi-
Huberman calls a ‘double contradictory distance’ (MWC, 19) relates
to aura in the sense of the proximity-distance between what appears at
the core of the image as a returning past and what emerges in the very
present, and the paradoxical impression of a proximity which seems to
be the most distant, anachronistic or even archaic. But in proximity-
distance, it would not be possible simply to deviate from something
that touches us, awakens us, alters us and looks at us: ‘[w]e can only say
tautologically I see what I see if we refuse the image the power to impose
its visuality as an opening, a loss – even if momentary – effected in the
space of our cognitive certainty about it. And exactly from there the
image becomes capable of looking at us’ (Didi-Huberman, 1992b: 76). In
this process, the aura encompasses both a process of symbolization and
the work of memory.
Works Cited
Benjamin, W. (2002 [1936]). ‘The Work of Art in the Age of its
Technological Reproducibility: Second Version’, trans. E. Jephcott and
H. Eiland, in Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, Volume 3, 1935–1938,
bark 33
B
BARK
Rys, Michiel
Bark is far more than merely the title of a book first published in
2011 (Écorces) that collects Didi- Huberman’s personal photographs
and impressions after a visit to the concentration camp of Auschwitz-
Birkenau. Already on the first pages, it becomes clear that bark is a
complex, multilayered metaphor that Didi-Huberman uses to connect
some fundamental aspects and themes recurrent throughout his works
on the semiotics, materiality and readability of history. Birch bark in
particular bears connotations related to (ancient) practices of writing and
reading, as well as to the name ‘Birkenau’ itself, which in German refers
to the trees typically found in the camp’s natural surroundings. As such,
in Bark birch trees acquire the status of arboreal witnesses to the atrocities
that took place in the camp. Didi-Huberman is especially attentive to what
he calls ‘the bark of history’ (B, 111) as a form of signification. He uses this
phrase to describe how the cracked concrete floors of the camp’s cremato-
rium V imbue the present moment with the past. In other words, bark is
a metaphor by which Didi-Huberman draws attention to the importance
34 b a r k
Works Cited
Balint-
Babos, A. (2014). ‘Imaginer, monter: la mémoire inachevée
d’Auschwitz selon Georges Didi-Huberman’, Voix Plurielles, 11(2):
20–31.
Gustafsson, H. (2019). Crime Scenery in Postwar Film and Photography.
Palgrave Macmillan.
Weigel, S. (2018 [2015]). ‘The Readability of Images (and) of History:
Laudatio on the Occasion of the Awarding of the Adorno Prize (2015)
to Georges Didi-Huberman’, trans. M. Rys and J. Vanvelk, Angelaki,
23(4): 42–6.
Zolkos, M. (2021). ‘Skulls, Tree Bark, Fossils. Memory and Materiality
in Georges Didi-Huberman’s Transvaluation of Surface’, Qui Parle,
30(2): 249–91.
BATAILLE, GEORGES
Tomasz Swoboda
Prominent already in the early stages of Didi-Huberman’s theoretical and
historical reflection, the work of Georges Bataille constitutes, alongside
that of Aby Warburg and Walter Benjamin, one of Didi-Huberman’s
nearly constant references. At the same time, it has been one of his novel
and far-reaching rediscoveries. While Bataille’s writings were one of the
major inspirations for both structuralists and poststructuralists, Didi-
Huberman’s approach has been far more radical and has gone well beyond
their conceptual framework: through his reinterpretations of Bataille’s
work, Didi-Huberman has shown Bataille to be a central figure in the
aesthetics of modernity, and a figure whose contribution has profoundly
shaped contemporary sensibilities.
In Didi-Huberman’s works from the 1980s, the presence of Bataille
is rather discreet, but references to his texts testify to Didi-Huberman’s
growing interest in his work. These include the essay on the mask and on
the practice of joy in the face of death in Invention of Hysteria (IH, 263–4);
the discussion of Bataille’s articles published in the journal Documents
and the study on Manet in La Peinture incarnée (1985); the epigraph in
Confronting Images taken from Inner Experience; as well as references to
Documents in the work devoted to Giacometti (CF, 169–76).
If those references do not yet make Bataille the focal point of Didi-
Huberman’s reflections, they nonetheless foreshadow the comprehensive
study of the aesthetics of the journal directed by Bataille, Documents.
36 bataille, georges
The journal only survived for two years (1929–30) and only had fifteen
issues in total; it was, to use the words of Jean Jamin, ‘a laboratory, a
genesis, a melting pot, a rebellion, a “madness”, in short, an avant-garde’
(1999: 262). It is its motley character of an illustrated magazine – richly
illustrated with photographs by Jacques-André Boiffard, Eli Lotar and
Jean Painlevé, and with all kinds of other photographic prints and repro-
ductions of paintings, encapsulated by its subtitle Archaeology Fine Arts
Ethnography Varieties (from the fourth number onwards Archaeology
Fine Arts Ethnography Miscellanies) – that must have attracted Didi-
Huberman’s attention in his search for other visions of modernity. He
found in Documents numismatic and ethnographic studies from pre-
historic, ancient and contemporary art, from cave painting to works by
Arp, Braque, de Chirico, Dalí, Giacometti, Gris, Léger, Lipchitz, Miró,
including those of Delacroix or Antoine Caron, as well as articles on
jazz and on all kinds of artefacts of material culture. As indicated in an
advertising text disseminated at its launch, the journal was intended to
be a space where ‘the most irritating works of art’ were placed alongside
‘the most disturbing facts, those whose consequences are not yet defined’
(Leiris, 1963: 689), with a slight preference for the heterogeneous and the
monstrous.
Accordingly, during the two years of its existence, the review, to use
the words of Jean-François Fourny, did ‘not cease hesitating between
an academicism and an academic tone that are all in all fairly flat, and an
outburst that is sometimes filthy in the manner of Bataille’ (1988: 45). And
it is, in a way, both despite this hesitation and thanks to it that Documents
became part of the intellectual history of the twentith century. As Liliane
Meffre summarises it, these were ‘two years of adventure, fifteen issues,
an extraordinary team, heterogeneous and “impossible”, forg[ing] a sort
of monument to the spirit of modern times, often unusual and irreverent,
carrying a new aesthetic and wanting like ethnography to be based on
documents’ (2002: 232).
In an introductory note to La Ressemblance informe, Didi-Huberman
explains that his book started out as a conference paper that was subse-
quently expanded and refined in a lecture and a series of seminars, all
of which were about a topic that was itself initially considered in terms
of ‘a larger-scale research project devoted to the notion of resemblance’
(1995a: 6). One of the key concepts underlying resemblance in the work on
Bataille and Documents is montage. As Chari Larsson observes,
it certainly gives form and creates links in knowledge; but it also knows how to
tear contact, break ties and build itself in the very decomposition of the elements
it uses; by means of which it becomes that paradoxical formless resemblance that
Bataille never ceased to summon and produce, in the infernal game – in the essen-
tial dialectic – of the similar and the dissimilar. (1995a: 381–3)
Works Cited
Bataille, G. (1985). ‘Formless’, in G. Bataille, Visions of Excess: Selected
Writings 1927–1939, 31. University of Minnesota Press.
Fourny, J.-F. (1988). Introduction à la lecture de Georges Bataille. Peter
Lang.
Jamin, J. (1999). ‘Documents revue: la part maudite de l’ethnographie’,
L’Homme. Revue française d’anthropologie, 151: 257–66.
Krauss, R. (1990). Le photographique: pour une théorie des écarts. Macula.
Larsson, C. (2020). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
Leiris, M. (1963). ‘De Bataille l’impossible à l’impossible’, Documents.
Critique, 195–96: 685–93.
Meffre, L. (2002). Carl Einstein 1885–1940. Itinéraires d’une pensée moderne.
Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne.
BENJAMIN, WALTER
It is not that what is past casts its light on what is present, or what is present its
light on what is past; rather, image is that wherein what has been comes together
in a flash with the now to form a constellation. In other words: image is dialectics
at a standstill. For while the relation of the present to the past is purely temporal,
the relation of what-has-been to the now is dialectical: not temporal in nature but
figural <bildlich>. (1999a [1982]: 462)
Works Cited
Benjamin, W. (1969 [1942]). ‘Theses on the Philosophy of History’,
trans. H. Zohn, in Illuminations: Essays and Reflections, ed. H. Arendt,
253–64. Schocken Books.
Benjamin, W. (1999a [1982]). The Arcades Project. The Belknap Press of
Harvard University Press.
Benjamin, W. (1999b [1933]). ‘Experience and Poverty’, in Walter
Benjamin: Selected Writings, Volume 2, 1931–1934, ed. M. W. Jennings,
H. Eiland and G. Smith, 731–6. The Belknap Press of Harvard
University Press.
Benjamin, W. (2006 [1940]). ‘Paralipomena to “On the Concept
of History”’, trans. E. F. N. Jephcott and H. Eiland, in Walter
Benjamin: Selected Writings, Volume 4, 1938–1940, ed. H. Eiland and
M. W. Jennings, 401–11. The Belknap Press of Harvard University
Press.
42 brecht, bertolt
BRECHT, BERTOLT
Jonathan W. Marshall
Theatre maker and author Bertolt Brecht appears in Didi-Huberman’s
work alongside Walter Benjamin and Aby Warburg in an exem-
plary trio of theorist-practitioners of montage. Didi-Huberman’s most
detailed discussion is found in The Eye of History: When Images Take a
Position (EH; see also MM). Didi-Huberman’s analysis focuses on the
photobook which Brecht published in 1955 with Ruth Berlau, Kriegsfibel
(in English translation as War Primer [2017]). Didi-Huberman’s analysis
is ostensibly focused on images and the disturbances which Brecht’s juxta-
positions produce; what Brecht calls the ‘jumps’ and ‘justifications’ which
arise in the face of ‘the incongruous, the discontinuity of the ongoing
process[es]’ alluded to by the images (EH, 89). Didi-Huberman’s atten-
tion to Brecht’s relatively obscure photomedial work demonstrates his
concern with the performative mise en scène of the image, which endows
otherwise flat, static representations with spatial, temporal and gestural
characteristics: ‘seeing and being in time are inseparable’ and hence there
is no clear ‘separation between the “arts of time” and the “arts of space”
(from which pictorial, sculptural and photographic images proceed)’ (EH,
xv). It is the spatio-temporal nature of Brecht’s w ork – what Brecht calls
the ‘art of historicization’ (EH, 58) – which provides the War Primer with
its political charge (Marshall, 2017). Didi-Huberman’s attention to Brecht
also reflects the dramaturg’s shared interest, along with that of Warburg,
in physical gesture. Brechtian acting demands a ‘lyricism’ of conception
and delivery, in which the text is not ‘rhymed harmoniously but rather
[. . .] intensely rhythmed [. . .] [and] that the rhythm itself be “shifting,
syncopated, gestic”’ (EH, 174).
The War Primer grew out of Brecht’s initially unpublished work
journals, Arbeitsjournal (1993), compiled as he moved across Europe and
the US while in exile from Nazi Germany (1938–55). Brecht collected
photographs from magazines and pasted them next to each other, adding
notes and text. For the War Primer, Brecht reorganised these composi-
tions, with the caption from the original publication set against Brecht’s
poetic epigrams. Each page consists of three parts: the often ideologically
loaded caption from the original, Brecht’s own texts alluding to the mate-
brecht, bertolt 43
rial conditions and human suffering implicated in the image, as well as the
now d issociated – or as Brecht would have it, ‘defamiliarised’ – illustration
itself (while the translation of Brecht’s Verfremdungseffekt is contested,
Didi-Huberman sees it as interchangeable with the Russian Formalist
phrase ostranenie, or ‘distanciation’). In Journals images ‘speak to each
other’ from across the same page, while in the War Primer relationships
develop from page to page.
Didi-Huberman argues that Brecht’s status as an exile positioned his
politics close to that of two other émigrés, Benjamin and Warburg. Didi-
Huberman distinguishes between the more multivalent and ambiguous
act of ‘taking position’, as part of the necessary response to industrialised
warfare and fascism, and ‘taking sides’, in the sense of giving unequivocal
support to one side in the conflict (which Brecht would do as director of
East Germany’s Berliner Ensemble, EH, 99–117). For Didi-Huberman
the peripatetic exile is not in a position of taking sides, which situates
Brecht the émigré close to Benjamin, Warburg, John Heartfield, Friedrich
Nietzsche and even Georges Bataille.
Didi-Huberman’s interest in Brecht grew out of the art historian’s study
of the photographs taken by Sonderkommandos, and the iconography of
violence and suffering (EH, xxiii–xxv, 166–70). Didi-Huberman insists
that to know one must first imagine, yet at the same time recognise that no
single view or image can represent the totality of experience or knowledge
(ISA, 3, 19–34, 58–65). He cites Brecht’s ‘Exercices pour comédiens’:
The dislocation of the world: that is the subject of art [. . .] [W]ithout disorder,
there would be no art, nor [. . .] could be one; we know of no world that is not
disorder [. . .] [Theatre and art] speak [. . .] of wars and whenever art makes a
treaty with the world, it is always signed with a world at war. (AA, 158; translation
modified)
we can no longer say [. . .] that [they] have nothing to do with each other [. . .]
[I]n the midst of such dispersion, human gestures look at one a nother – confront
one another, respond to one another – whether over an altar, a military map, or an
open mass grave in the countryside. (EH, 71)
Works Cited
Brecht, B. (1993). Journals, ed. and trans. J. Willett and Ralph Manheim.
Methuen.
Brecht, B. (2017). War Primer, ed. and trans. J. Willett. Verso.
Marshall, J. W. (2017). ‘A Dramaturgy of Montage and Dislocation:
Brecht, Warburg, Didi- Huberman and the Pathosformel’, in Emer
O’Toole et al. (eds), Translation, Adaptation, and Dramaturgy: Ethics,
187–209. Brill.
Shneer, D. (2010). Through Soviet Jewish Eyes. Rutgers University Press.
46 charcot, jean-martin
C
CHARCOT, JEAN-MARTIN
Tomasz Swoboda
Jean-Martin Charcot (1825–93), the founder and head of the neurology
clinic at the Salpêtrière hospital, has been generally credited with isolat-
ing, due to his exhaustive studies and classification genius, hysteria as
a nosological object. In his 1982 book Invention de l’hystérie. Charcot et
l’iconographie photographique de la Salpêtrière, published in English trans-
lation in 2003, Didi-Huberman not only acknowledges these ‘scholarly
aspects’ of the career of the great physician, but also goes much further.
Summing up Charcot’s entry to the Salpêtrière, he succinctly concludes:
‘Charcot thus descended into hell; but he didn’t feel so badly there’ (IH,
17). In comparing the hospital with hell, Didi-Huberman seeks obviously
to reconstruct (in order later to deconstruct) the myth of Charcot as ‘the
uncontested master thinker concerning the functioning of the symptom,
and the uncontested ballet master of the presentation of hysteria as a
spectacle at the end of the nineteenth century’ (SI, 184–5). Accordingly,
Didi-Huberman presents Charcot as the conductor of an orchestra, Sun
King, Caesar, an apostle, Napoleon and Dante, as well as Father, Judge
and Healer. ‘[H]e displayed all the virtues of the actor’, Didi-Huberman
writes (IH, 239), ‘in addition to those of the auctor: the author (master and
guarantor of forms), augur (master of time), instigator of acts (the auctor is
he who literally pushes one to act), director of the actresses of Hysteria’. It
is all these roles, first and foremost that of an author endowed with author-
ity, that Didi-Huberman intends to deconstruct in his analysis, focusing
on the psychoanalytic perspective and Charcot’s complex and ambivalent
legacy in Sigmund Freud’s thinking about the unconscious (see psy-
choanalysis). At the same time, Didi-Huberman approaches Charcot
from a Foucauldian historiographic perspective, insofar as the concept of
power and the medical gaze described by Michel Foucault resonate with
‘deep structures of visibility in which field and gaze are bound together by
codes of knowledge’ in the clinic (Foucault, 1989 [1963]: 109).
Charcot’s ‘method’ emerges, above all, as an important moment in the
history of photography. If Charcot ‘armed himself with photography’
(IH, 28), that is because, as Cornelius Borck puts it (2006: 322), ‘pho-
tography in general certifies existence and ritualizes this certification’.
cinema 47
Works Cited
Borck, C. (2006). ‘Georges Didi-Huberman, Invention of Hysteria: Charcot
and the Photographic Iconography of the Salpêtrière’ (Book Review),
Transcultural Psychiatry, 43(2): 321–4.
Foucault, M. (1989 [1963]). The Birth of the Clinic: An Archaeology of
Medical Perception, trans. A. M. Sheridan Smith. Routledge.
CINEMA
Alison Smith
Film has long been an essential element in Didi-Huberman’s philosophy
of the image. It first appears in his texts in 1995, in two different contexts,
both of which marked the emergence of distinct and extremely significant
strands of his work. On the one hand he published a groundbreaking
review of Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah in that year (1995b; 1998a), a precur-
sor to the essential work on filmic representations of the Holocaust which
run from his polemical engagement with Lanzmann in Images malgré tout
(2004), through several passages of L’œil de l’histoire (notably in volume
2, 2010b) to his essay on László Nemes’s Son of Saul (2015a). On the
other, his major work on Georges Bataille’s visual texts, La Ressemblance
informe, ou le gai savoir visuel selon Georges Bataille (1995a), contains a
sustained engagement with the films and theoretical writings of Sergei
48 c i n e m a
Eisenstein which brought modernist film theory firmly into his develop-
ing theory of image dialectic and montage. Eisenstein has remained a
fundamental referent for Didi-Huberman, perhaps the Ur-referent for all
his subsequent very varied engagements with filmmakers of both past and
present; the final and most substantial volume of L’Œil de l’histoire returns
to this canonical theorist once more, crystallising in the process a differ-
ence with Jacques Rancière which led to a sharp and very significant
exchange around the possibility – a nd desirability – o f visually evoking
political emotion.
Didi-Huberman’s early texts on the cinema use the medium largely
as either an exemplary case of image-construction particularly useful
to illustrate a developing theory of dynamic, dialectical image-reading,
or a reserve of high-profile texts supporting an impassioned discus-
sion on the proper dissemination of the reputedly unrepresentable.
Increasingly, however, cinema has moved from convenient example to
principal object of Didi-Huberman’s research, and since 2008 and the
launch of the groundbreaking series of books L’Œil de l’histoire, it has
been central to his conception of image-work. In European scholarship
Didi-Huberman’s place as a film theorist is becoming more assured: as
Irene Valle Corpas put it, he has been instrumental in bringing cinema
into the orbit of art history as a moving medium, rather than allowing
the discipline to ‘reconvert’ it into a mere study of ‘the images of History
[. . .] dead and eternal’ (2018: 249). He has also engaged in lively debate,
notably with Jacques Rancière, over the understanding of political
cinema in the context of its potential for influence on an audience, and
he is a frequent interlocutor of contemporary filmmakers such as Vincent
Dieutre, Laura Waddington, Alfredo Jaar and Sylvain George (see SF;
Didi-Huberman, 2007b).
While the range of contexts in which Didi-Huberman has made use of
film texts is wide, it is possible to identify three significant currents that
carry his developing engagement with the medium. First, there is the reac-
tive and associative ability of images brought into contact with each other
to generate meaning which diverges from and outstrips that of the originals
taken separately. This exploration of what can be called montage-practice
began with work on still images, and it led Didi-Huberman towards
cinema, rather than the other way round; while certainly not the only
medium to use either the term or the process of montage, film has been the
most active user, and theoriser, of it. Inspired not only by Eisenstein but
also by Jean-Luc Godard’s approach to using archive footage, the fullest
elaboration of Didi-Huberman’s ideal of cinematic montage can be found
in his extended study of the work of Harun Farocki, in Book 2 of the Œil
de l’histoire series (2010b). Here he discusses in detail the way in which
cinema 49
polemic with Jacques Rancière (see, e.g., Rancière, 2018; IL, 19–24),
described by Irene Valle Corpas (2018) as one of the most important affir-
mations of the political power of art since the days of the New Art History.
Apart from these academic studies, Didi-Huberman has established
personal contacts with a certain number of contemporary filmmakers, for
the most part experimental documentarists such as Sylvain George and
Alfredo Jaar, whose work he presents and whom he engages in public
conversation (see, e.g., Didi-Huberman, 2007b). His most sustained pres-
ence in filmic practice is his appearance in Vincent Dieutre’s 2013 film
Orlando ferito – Roland blessé, which takes Survival of the Fireflies as its
guiding text.
Works Cited
Rancière, J. (2018). ‘Images Re-read. The Method of Georges Didi-
Huberman’, trans. E. Woodard, J. R. Solorzano, S. De Cauwer and
L. K. Smith, Angelaki, 23(4): 11–18.
Smith, A. (2020). Georges Didi-Huberman and Film. The Politics of the
Image. Bloomsbury.
Valle Corpas I. (2018). ‘Un cine impuro para salvar la Historia del Arte:
algunas notas sobre el pensamiento de la imágenes del cine en Jacques
Rancière y Didi-Huberman’, Boletín de Arte, 39: 245–54.
CONVERT, PASCAL
Nigel Saint
The contemporary artist whose work Didi-Huberman has engaged with
most often is Pascal Convert (b. 1957). Among the publications are two
books and one text by Didi-Huberman (1999b; 2013a: 9–30; 2019c), a
section of the Fédida volume (2005: 80–3) and a jointly produced livre
d’artiste (2017g; TBRB). Many of Convert’s exhibitions and ‘making-
of’ films feature contributions from Didi-Huberman; works by Convert
have been included in all of the exhibitions curated by Didi-Huberman
from L’Empreinte (1997) to Soulèvements (2016–18); and Didi-Huberman
is a regular guest lecturer at the Ecole supérieure d’art Pays Basque in
Biarritz, which Convert helped to found. I will focus on Convert’s projects
which lead Didi-Huberman to discuss place, time, gestures of lamenta-
tion, memory and resistance.
Didi-Huberman’s text from 1991–92, ‘La Demeure’ (1999b: 9–133),
focuses on two Convert projects, which overlap chronologically, about
convert, pascal 51
memory and space: the first devoted to three abandoned early twentieth-
century villas on the Basque coast and the second to The Artist’s
Apartment. Three Villas consists of large-scale drawings and works in glass
and iron based on photographs taken by Convert at the Villas Belle-Rose,
Itxasgoïsty (‘The house up there’) and Argenson before their destruction
in the 1980s. The huge, detailed and eerie drawings (5 metres square, wire
drawing, felt, with white or red gloss paint/enamel) pull the viewer inside
the extensive spaces of the villas, but they also salvage and reconstitute
them in the face of oblivion. Convert’s projects aim, as Didi-Huberman
puts it, ‘not at a description of what is visible, but at a visual work, under-
taken by memory, recording a disappearance’ (1999b: 23; Convert, 2007:
1). The drawings privilege transparency, space and an intermittent state
between the plan and the aftermath of the destruction (Bann, 1997).
To make the trauma of conflict visible through different forms and
media, Convert uses tree stumps, wax low-reliefs, platinum photographs
and vitrified books in other projects. Souches (1995–98) are sections of
tree trunks retrieved from the battlefields of Verdun and from Seju-ji
Temple in Hiroshima, which are then covered in Indian ink in the first
case and from which a black lacquer cast is taken in the second. For Didi-
Huberman, the form of the stump is the key to its singularity. The tree
stumps have been displaced and now tell a particular story or fable:
Works Cited
Bann, S. (1997). ‘Au travers des cloches’, in Pascal Convert, exhibition
catalogue, 9–15. Villa Arson.
Convert, P. (2007). 1. Villa Belle Rose, Biarritz. 2. Itxasgoïty, Biarritz. 3.
Villa Argenson, Biarritz, suivi de Œuvres. Généalogie des lieux. Préfaces
de G. Didi-Huberman. Atlantica-Séguier.
Fédida, P. (2003–04). ‘L’Ombre du reflet: l’émanation des ancêtres’, La
Part de l’œil, 19: 195–201.
CRITIQUE
Stijn De Cauwer
Critique is a term so commonly used in the history of philosophy,
from Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason to the critical theory developed by
critique 53
the Frankfurt School, that its meaning can become obscured. When
Didi-Huberman writes about the critical cinematography of Jean-Luc
Godard, Pier Paolo Pasolini or Harun Farocki, when he writes about
the critique of the art historical tradition made by Aby Warburg, or when
he comments on the influence of the critical theory of Walter Benjamin
and Theodor Adorno on his work, what exactly is the aspect of critique
that they all have in common? When Didi-Huberman received the Adorno
Prize in 2015 in Frankfurt, he took the occasion to clarify what critique
means for him in his acceptance lecture, published as ‘Critical Image/
Imaging Critique’ (CIIC).
The etymological origins of the word ‘critique’, as well as of the term
‘crisis’, can be found in the Greek verb krinein. This verb was first used
in an agricultural context, referring to the riddling of grain, using a sieve,
and, in a passage from Homer’s Iliad, to separating grain from husk.
Later, the verb was used in Plato’s Theaetetus in the sense of separating
truth from opinion. Didi-Huberman emphasises that before critique was a
concept, it was first of all a practice with a long anthropological tradition.
Critique, the riddling of the grain with a sieve, is a gesture in which a
critical tool is used. Whether to riddle the grain with a sieve or to separate
theory from opinion, critique is learning to discern the world (CIIC,
253). Critique is a gesture in which one has to ‘separate, sort, choose and
decide’ (CIIC, 253). Even though the Greek word for a judge (kriter) is
also derived from this same linguistic root, critique does not have to be
a severe judgement; the interpreters of dreams (oneirokrites) were able to
play with nuance without judgement. Contrary to the recent advocates of
post-critique, who argue that critique is only out to unmask its object of
study (Felski, 2015; Latour, 2004), krinein, Didi-Huberman clarifies, also
means to evaluate and even to appreciate, ‘that is, to be sensitive to the
thousand and one nuances of the thing to be “criticised”’ (CIIC, 254).
Didi-Huberman develops his exploration of critique with Adorno as an
example. Adorno’s critical tool, his sieve to discern the world, is dialec-
tics. In Mimima Moralia, Adorno writes: ‘It is the concern of dialectics to
cock a snook at the sound views held by later powers-that-be on the immu-
tability of the course of the world’ (2005: 72). In this sense, critique has
to shake up the world, like the farmers tossing the grain into the air with
their sieve, making the grain rise up, as can be seen in scenes from Vittoria
de Seta’s film The Lost World. Adorno famously argued that images, such
as those deployed by the culture industry, play a big role in presenting the
state of the world to us as immutable. It is the role of critique to shake this
immutability up and, crucially for Didi-Huberman, we need images to do
so: ‘There can be no critical theory without a critique of images. But nor
is there any such theory without a c ritique – of discourse and image – b y
54 critique
Works Cited
Adorno, T. W. (1991). ‘The Essay as Form’, trans. S. W. Nicholsen, in
Notes on Literature Vol. I, 3–23. Columbia University Press.
Adorno, T. W. (2005). Minima Moralia: Reflections on a Damaged Life,
trans. E. F. N. Jephcott. Verso.
Benjamin, W. (1979). One-Way Street and Other Writings, trans.
E. F. N. Jephcott and K. Shorter. NLB.
Felski, R. (2015). The Limits of Critique. University of Chicago Press.
Latour, B. (2004). ‘Why Has Critique Run out of Steam? From Matter of
Fact to Matters of Concern’, Critical Inquiry, 30: 225–48.
Said, E. W. (1984). The World, The Text, and the Critic. Harvard
University Press.
D
DELEUZE, GILLES
Chari Larsson
In considering his long-term project of critiquing orthodox formula-
tions of temporality and representation, Gilles Deleuze is one of
Didi-Huberman’s most influential interlocutors. In Devant le temps,
Didi-Huberman takes up the question of linear and chronological modes
of history, explicitly aligning himself with Deleuze. In the opening pages
he observes that the book is ‘a tribute paid to the Deleuzian time-image’
(2000a: 25–6, n.31). Despite appearing ten years after Confronting Images
there is a certain synchronicity between the two texts. If the image can no
longer be imagined in mimetic terms, it becomes increasingly difficult to
sustain the temporal logic underpinning this history.
To explore this claim further, it is necessary to retrieve some of
Deleuze’s core arguments. In Cinema 2: The Time-Image, Deleuze
famously claimed that time is freed from its subordination to movement
in post-war European cinema. Deleuze examined temporal structures that
do not necessarily conform to past–present–future configurations. The
linear narrative sustained by the movement-image was gradually replaced
by the discontinuous temporality of the time-image. For Deleuze, the
direct time-image presented a plurality of possible durations as the ‘sheets
of past coexist in a non-chronological order’ (1989: xii). Unimpeded from
56 deleuze, gilles
Grosso modo, I am interested in the image in that it moves the foundations of rep-
resentation, that is to say our idea of representation [. . .] W
hat often fascinates me
is the way an image is capable of inventing [. . .] c onfigurations that, literally, defy
thought. This is why I have less an impression of projecting a ‘philosophical gaze’
onto images, than of handing myself over to the power that the image has – if it is
strong – to upset, that is, to literally make thought itself start over, on all levels.
Works Cited
Deleuze, G. (1989). Cinema 2: The Time-Image, trans. H. Tomlinson and
R. Galeta. Continuum.
Deleuze, G. (1994). Difference and Repetition, trans. P. Patton. Columbia
University Press.
58 d e s i r e
DESIRE
Chari Larsson
In Didi-Huberman’s early work, the art historian’s desire for the art object
is punctuated by absence and loss. In Confronting Images, he observes that
the historian’s ‘desire will always be suspended between the tenacious
melancholy of the past as an object of loss and the fragile victory of the
past as an object of recovery’ (CI, 38). Later, Didi-Huberman sidesteps
traditional formulations of desire measured in terms of absence and lack
as his proximity to Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari comes to the fore.
As such, desire is positioned as productive and affirmative and is closely
associated with potentiality and Pathosformel (see pathos formula).
This corresponds with Deleuze and Guattari’s famous observation that
‘the traditional logic of desire is all wrong from the very outset: from the
very first step that the Platonic logic of desire forces us to take, making us
choose between production and acquisition’ (1977 [1972]: 25).
To formulate desire being rendered as a mode of production, Didi-
Huberman retrieves an important case study by French psychoanalyst
Pierre Fédida that reveals a distinct attitude towards absence and loss. It
is crucial to recognise that Deleuze sat on the committee for Fédida’s doc-
torat d’État (state doctorate) (Deleuze, 2007 [2001]) and Fédida is a vital
link in retheorising desire as affirmative and generative. In his 1978 book
L’Absence Fédida described two young sisters whose mother had just died.
Fédida observed that the sisters played a game using a sheet imitating their
dead mother lying underneath a shroud:
A few days after her mother’s death, Laure – aged four – played at being dead.
With her sister, aged two years older, she argued over a bedsheet that she asked to
be covered with, while she explained the ritual that was to be scrupulously accom-
plished in order for her to disappear. The sister carried this out until the moment
when, seeing Laure no longer moving, she began to scream. Laure reappeared,
and, in order to calm her sister, now asked her to be dead: she demanded that the
sheet she had used to cover her remain still! She did not finish arranging it, for
her sister’s crying suddenly turned into laughter, rippling the sheet with joyful
jumps. And the sheet, which was a shroud, became a dress, a house, a flag hoisted
up a tree, before finally being ripped up in a mad dance, as an old velveteen rabbit
was put to death by Laure bursting its belly! (1978: 198)
detail 59
Works Cited
Deleuze, G. (2007 [2001]). ‘The Complaint and the Body’, in Two Regimes
of Madness, trans. A. Hodges and M. Taormina, 164–5. Semiotext(e).
Deleuze, G., and Guattari, F. (1977 [1972]). Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and
Schizophrenia, trans. R. Hurley, M. Seem and H. R. Lane. Penguin.
Fédida, P. (1978). L’Absence. Gallimard.
DETAIL
Maud Hagelstein
As shown by its great ‘fortune’ in the interpretation of works, the detail
plays a ‘key’ role in the corpus of traditional iconography:
The detail – with its three operations: proximity, partition, addition – would be
the fragment as invested with an ideal of knowledge and of totality. This ideal of
knowledge is exhaustive description. Contrary to the fragment whose relationship
to the whole only puts it into question, posits is as an absence or enigma or lost
memory, the detail in this sense imposes the whole, its legitimate presence, its value
as response and point of reference, even as hegemony. (CI, 230)
60 detail
Every parcel of the world merits its own book. As does every instant of every
parcel. There would have to be an infinite number of novels for that infinite
number of characters which are the most delicate things, the most short-lived
moments or beings. I tend to look upon my work as that craft involving the impos-
sible tearing of every apparition from oblivion. (2018a: 15)
For Didi-Huberman, the concept only has meaning if each image is rec-
ognised in its singularity. But the mathesis singularis with which he experi-
ments does not prevent him from tinkering, from one book to the next,
with the same c oncepts – e ven if their definitions always transform upon
contact with objects – neither to reduce nor to raise the indetermination
of what is perceived but rather to complicate and to grasp, as closely as
possible, the behaviours of our power of imagination.
The conception of the detail adopted by Didi-Huberman (symptom
rather than proof, acute anxiety rather than explanation) owes much
to art historian Aby Warburg, to whom people often attribute the
phrase: ‘God is in the detail’ (Der liebe Gott steckt im Detail). Warburg
gave extreme (and almost sick) attention to details – ‘details’ meaning
as much the singular elements that divide up at the heart of a work as,
more broadly, the so-called ‘secondary’ aspects of culture. The reading of
images for Warburg was the object of a great meticulousness. Beginning
with his doctoral thesis in 1893, devoted to two major works by Botticelli
(The Birth of Venus and Primavera), Warburg showed an acute interest
in the representation of secondary elements (hair, draperies, etc.), which
had often been overlooked, as well as the movement that goes through
them. From this ‘local’ analysis of Botticelli’s work, he developed one of
the essential points of his vision of history and culture (in which forms
were understood through their relations to pathos) – with the detail
dialectic 61
DIALECTIC
Patrick ffrench
Didi-Huberman’s deployment of a dialectical method is persistent across
his oeuvre and is given a specific formulation; it involves the putting into
relation of ostensibly incommensurate registers, media, temporalities and
forms and an invariably provocative transgression of established bounda-
ries and categories. There is a dialectical impetus in Didi-Huberman’s
work towards a form of relationality that is productive not in the sense
of synthesis or resolution, but of tension and collision. Didi-Huberman’s
dialectic is thus richly heterodoxical and may be seen in continuity with
a broad tendency in post-war French thought towards the contestation of
62 dialectic
the legacy of both Hegelian philosophy and its albeit inverted form in the
standard version of Marx.
As with many other concepts and thematics in Didi-Huberman’s work,
the influence of Walter Benjamin, ‘the least orthodox dialectician that
ever lived’ (IL, 21), is prominent; Benjamin’s subversive use of the term to
qualify the way the ‘dialectical image’ interrupts the present ‘in a moment
of danger’, in a ‘configuration pregnant with tensions’, informs Didi-
Huberman’s approach to the temporal and historical complexities of images
and forms (Benjamin, 1973: 247, 254). In a similar vein, the ‘dialectic of
forms’ (IH, 35) with which Georges Bataille endeavoured to challenge
idealist aesthetics in his early work provides Didi-Huberman with a pow-
erful conceptual tool to which, after his substantial attention to Bataille in
La Ressemblance informe (1995a), he constantly returns. The later parts of
this work propose a series of ‘alterations’ of the classically Hegelian notion
of the dialectic through attention to the material of the review Documents.
Bataille’s later, ‘shattering’ engagement with Hegel, and particularly with
the version of Hegel’s Phenomenology of Mind rendered by Alexandre
Kojève in his lectures of the early to mid-1930s, is a less visible instance,
but is nevertheless formative, insofar as what emerges out of it is the anti-
concept of ‘unemployable negativity’ that problematises the ‘work’ of the
dialectic as such. It is this ‘accursed share’ which Didi-Huberman consist-
ently brings to bear upon the epistemologies and representational schemas
of cultural and art history (see Bataille, 1997: 296; 1991). A third essential
figure in the constellation conjured by Didi-Huberman with regard to the
question of the dialectic is Sergei Eisenstein, whose ‘dialectical montage’
he discusses in relation to Bataille’s work in Documents, and to whom he
devotes significant attention in Peuples en larmes, peuples en armes, the sixth
volume of the Eye of History series (2016a). Eisenstein, he points out,
conceived of the result of dialectical montage of images as ecstatic (ex-stase
and not synthèse). The explosive, shock effect of dialectical configurations
theorised and practised by Eisenstein resonates significantly with the use
and the value Didi-Huberman accords to the term and the method.
The dialectical has a heuristic value in Didi-Huberman’s writing, in
which the effort to ‘dialecticise’ is a recurrent and omnipresent gesture,
whence the repeated refrain of Confronting Images, ‘to proceed dialecti-
cally’ (CI, 6, 7, 39, 40, 144, 184, 187), where the emphasis on the process
rather than the end result is paramount. This implies a dynamic of forces
whereby knowledge is fractured and confronted, as above, by its ‘accursed
share’ (2000a: 39), or by ‘non-knowledge’ (CI, 7). This is to say that Didi-
Huberman’s ‘omnidirectional’ dialectics is wielded against historically
positivist notions of progression or evolution (2002a: 102), and that it is
invariably expressed in a phraseology of violence, as collision, fulguration
dialectic 63
(2002a: 115), rend (déchirure) or, less dramatically, as fold (pliure; 2002a:
113), among many other figures. Dialectics, for Didi-Huberman, operates
not as a straightforward opposition, but as tension and interpenetration
of a ‘positive’ element and that which it represses or forecloses; thus the
dialectical relation between speech and silence, between the remainder
and the ‘flaw’ (ISA, 104), or the veil and its ‘tear’ (déchirure, ISA, 80–1)
(see rend). Dialectical relations, moreover, often involve a reversal of
agency, such as that between ‘grasping the image’ and ‘letting oneself be
grasped by it’ (CI, 16), encapsulated in the title of the early work ‘What we
see; what looks at us’ (Ce que nous voyons, ce qui nous regarde, 1992b) and
deployed throughout that volume (see look). The extension of dialectics
to describe the relation between manifest and latent content (2005: 36),
from Freud’s account of the dream-work, or between wakefulness and
dream-sleep (see Freud, Sigmund; dreams), in Benjamin’s account
of the dialectical image (2000a: 113), suggests the extent to which Didi-
Huberman wields this tool widely to qualify any relation of disruption and
tension between visual forms and the forces which underlie them.
Bodily performances, intersubjective relations and the plastic qualities
of specific forms are also dialectical. The performances of Charcot’s
hysterics, whose iconography is analysed in Invention of Hysteria, are
expressed as a series of d ialectics – of gazes, of charm and seduction, of
mastery (IH, 167, 176, 233, 240; see hysteria); Giacometti’s Cube is
rendered as a dialectic of mass and void, for example (CF, 59). In the
more recent work Didi-Huberman’s more politically oriented focus on
‘peoples’ and ‘a people’, including considerations of émotion-peuple and
of the motif of the ‘uprising’ (soulèvement), have required a renewed
attention to the political valencies of dialectics. The first volume of Ce qui
nous soulève, Désirer désobéir (2019a), puts Marx and Bakunin into dialogue
around the dialectics of class struggle and the realisation of the revolu-
tionary impetus in the State (Marx), versus the dialectics of the ‘revolt
and reflux’ of this impetus. Didi-Huberman thus valorises a dialectics of
movement and rhythm, a dialectics of flux and of pulsation (2019a: 262).
The dialectical claim inherent to Didi-Huberman’s work, that there
is a relational and critical force of expression in the dynamics of matter
and meaning, image and language, present and past, manifest and
latent, and even in the relation of images and forms to each other, has
occasioned significant critical debate. In their Formless: A User’s Guide
Rosalind Krauss and Yve-Alain Bois take issue with Didi-Huberman’s
dialectical rendering of the ‘thinking of the informe’, rejecting what they
call the latter’s ‘neat’ replacement of the third term of the Hegelian triad
with the symptom (Krauss and Bois, 1997: 69; see informe). Against this
they propose Bataille’s ‘dualist materialism’ and method of ‘asymmetrical
64 dissemblance
division’ which, from their perspective, means that formless matter is not
absorbable into the image or in language, and remains as a material residue
(see materiality). This critique can serve to illuminate an essential aspect
of Didi-Huberman’s dialectic: it affirms the possibility of a productive
collision between modes of expression, between image and form, for
example, or between language and image, while resisting the postulation
of synthesis or unity and maintaining the difference and violence of this
collision. Didi-Huberman’s response to Krauss and Bois in the postface to
the re-edition of La Ressemblance informe in 2019 proposes a useful rejoin-
der to this criticism, reiterating the claim inherent in the initial postulation
of the ‘dialectical image’ and underlining the mood of ‘perpetual anxiety’
which it induces.
Works Cited
Bataille, G. (1991). The Accursed Share, vol. 1. MIT Press.
Bataille, G. (1997). ‘Letter to X, Lecturer on Hegel’, in The Bataille
Reader, ed. S. Wilson and F. Botting, 296–300. Blackwell.
Benjamin. W. (1973). Illuminations: Essays and Reflections, trans. H. Zohn,
ed. H. Arendt. Fontana.
Krauss, R., and Bois, Yve-Alain (1997). Formless: A User’s Guide. Zone
Books.
DISSEMBLANCE
Maud Hagelstein
Didi-Huberman’s epistemological work involves a critical and systematic
battle with the totem concepts of art history. Many of his texts offer a
determined deconstruction of the humanist concept of mimesis. For this
reason, the critique – sometimes fierce – is not only subversive, but also
proposes in a positive way new conceptual tools that are more suitable
for responding to observed artistic realities. While he places the seminal
notion of mimesis at a distance, Didi-Huberman certainly does not shy
away from thinking about some forms of resemblance, especially in his
research on Christian iconology and his work on the heretical avant-
garde of the journal Documents.
In his book Fra Angelico (1990b), published in a diptych in the same year
as Devant l’image (1990a; CI), Didi-Huberman reinstated one aspect of the
mimetic process – already theorised by Aristotle, but subsequently forgot-
ten by V asari – w
hich the painter Fra Angelico had used. According to
dissemblance 65
DISTANCE
Busra Copuroglu
Didi-Huberman’s conception of distance is one of his most intriguing,
complex and poetic ways of bridging relations between aesthetics, politics
and methods of seeing. He thinks of distance through the idea of contact
and draws from a constellation of writers, theories and concepts including
Jacques Rancière’s The Emancipated Spectator (2009), Bertolt Brecht,
Walter Benjamin, hysteria, gaze, exile, photography, aura, atlas
and montage.
Rancière considers distance to be ‘the normal condition of any com-
munication’ (2009: 10). By questioning the position of the theatre specta-
tor since antiquity, Rancière removes the spectator from the position of
a passive agent and argues that viewing ‘is an action that transforms the
distribution of positions [where] the spectator observes, selects, compares,
interprets [and] links what she sees to a host of other things that she has
seen in other kinds of places’ (2009: 13). Rancière’s considerations of dis-
tance become one of the important reference points for Didi-Huberman’s
conception of distance, as well as his insights derived from Brecht’s notion
distance 67
ground for him to reflect on the methods of seeing and distance: ‘Usually
when you’re told there is something to see and yet you can’t see anything,
you move in closer, imagining that what you have to spot is a missed detail
within your visual landscape’, he writes (1998a: 17, quoted in Alloa, 2018:
104). This means that ‘[t]o see phasmids appear, you need to do the very
opposite, softening your focus, taking a couple of steps back, yielding to
a floating visual’ (1998a: 17, quoted in Alloa, 2018: 104). Thus, from his
unconventional contact with the phasmid and tears, to the figure in exile
and aura, Didi-Huberman, true to his poetic thinking that brings together
the least expected antithetical correlations, offers a series of reflections that
inform his own imagining of distance.
Works Cited
Alloa, E. (2018). ‘Phasmid Thinking. On Georges Didi- Huberman’s
Method’, trans. C. Woodall, Angelaki, 23(4): 103–12.
Benjamin, W. (2002). ‘The Work of Art in the Age of its Technological
Reproducibility: Second Version’, trans. E. Jephcott and H. Eiland, in
Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, Volume 3, 1935–1938, ed. H. Eiland
and M. W. Jennings, 101–33. The Belknap Press of Harvard University
Press.
Rancière, J. (2009). The Emancipated Spectator, trans. G. Elliott. Verso.
Weigel, S. (2018 [2015]), ‘The Readability of Images (and) of History:
Laudatio on the Occasion of the Awarding of the Adorno Prize (2015)
to Georges Didi-Huberman’, trans. M. Rys and J. Vanvelk, Angelaki,
23(4): 42–6.
DREAMS
Magdalena Zolkos
Sigmund Freud’s theory of dreams plays a key role in Didi-Huberman’s
‘break [. . .] with conventional theories of representation’ in art history
(Larsson, 2020: 33). In particular, through a close reading of Freud’s
The Interpretation of Dreams, Didi-Huberman elaborated the importance
of the psychoanalytic concepts of symptom and overdetermination for
the critical paradigm of visual analysis by emphasising the disidentifica-
tion of images and representations in dreams (CF, 139–228). As Didi-
Huberman puts it, in writing the book on dreams, Freud ‘smash[ed] the
box of representation’ (CF, 144). Rather than harmoniously aligning, in
dreams signification and affect form complex dialectical constellations,
dreams 69
Works Cited
Freud, S. (1953). The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. J. Strachey, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. IV (1900), ed. J. Strachey, ix–627. Hogarth Press and the Institute
of Psycho-analysis.
Larsson, C. (2020). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
Lipszyc, A. (2018). Freud: Logika doświadczenia. Instytut Badań
Literackich PAN.
DUENDE
Paweł Mościcki
Didi-Huberman’s use of the concept of duende should be seen in the
broader context of his interest in the culture of cante jondo and baile fla-
menco. It finds its expression in scattered articles and book fragments, and
will probably gain its full form in the book trilogy Chants profonds that has
been announced for years. The general framework of Didi-Huberman’s
thinking about flamenco is an attempt to ‘deconstruct Orientalism’ (Didi-
Huberman, 2021c: 5), of which the two patrons are Edward Said (on
Orientalism) and Georges Bataille. The latter is a kind of guide to the
duende 71
Works Cited
Bataille, G. (1978a). Story of the Eye, trans. J. Neugroeschel. Urizen
Books.
Bataille, G. (1978b). Blue of Noon, trans. H. Mathews. Jean-Jacques
Pauvert.
dynamogram 73
DYNAMOGRAM
Maud Hagelstein
In Le danseur des solitudes, Didi-Huberman describes the rhythmic intel-
ligence with which dancer of the baile jondo Israel Galvan creates forms in
movement, or forms with movement, in an often very delicate mode, one
of virtuosic or dynamic immobility (2006a: 98). The quality of his gestures
– very much inspired by the world of bullfighting – is clearly artistic;
moreover, ‘to dance is not to bullfight’, as Didi-Huberman says, rereading
Ortega y Gasset: ‘Where the dancer makes the beauty more visible than
the wound, the torero makes the wound more visible than the beauty. We
could assume that Israel Galvan seeks, in Arena, something equally distant
from both the wound and from beauty’ (2006a: 38). What is this plastic
language that produces figures that are so dense and always delicately,
tenuously balanced? The dancer invents gestures that seek to match the
intensity of the tragic desire that is expressed in the arena, gestures that
give form to the forces that life deploys when it comes into contact with
the possibility of death. It is at the same distance from the wound (pathos)
and from beauty (form). Dancing, then, resembles a Nietzschean struggle
that re-enacts the tension between the Dionysian and the Apollonian.
This model owes much to the views developed by Warburg, and to the
conceptual tools with which the art historian sought to comprehend how a
gestural language takes form.
‘Dynamogram’ is a concept borrowed from Warburg, and it plays a
unique role in the anthropological and aesthetic story of the emergence of
forms. What is it? A dynamogram measures muscular effort (movement)
and is defined literally as the sensitive trace (form) left by a movement
(force). Art is full, therefore, of these imprint-forms that have recorded
forces graphically, and that have attempted to grasp or master them,
whether these forms are superlative, leaning towards excess, as are very
often the gestures linked to the expression of pathos, or whether they
are restrained as in Galvan’s works. In Didi-Huberman’s reading, the
dynamogram is the ‘graph of the symptom-image’: it is what draws, what
inscribes, and what gives form to the forces of life and to its contradic-
tory tensions (2002b: 169). One of the distinguishing features of antique
dynamograms is that they form at moments of great ‘energetic tension’
74 face
F
FACE
Elena Vogman
The face appears as a crucial motif at many points throughout Didi-
Huberman’s vast exploration of expression and pathos – first in the
representation of hysteria in Charcot’s photographic boards (IH), later
in the context of the German science of expression (Ausdruckskunde)
and Aby Warburg’s pathos formula (SI), and most recently in the
representation of peoples in the history of photography and film, with
a particular focus on film extras (les figurants) (PEPE, TRS). However, a
proper philosophical and conceptual elaboration of the ‘face’ (le visage) as
a paradigm takes place in Didi-Huberman’s monograph on Giacometti’s
Cube sculpture (CF). The Cube serves here not merely as an object for
art historical investigation but as a unique instrument for the conceptual
articulation of the face: between the phenomenology of a surface (la
surface) or side (une face) of an object and an iconic vis-à-vis, a visage and
its representation or portraiture.
In The Cube and the Face Didi-Huberman discovers the Cube as a
many-surfaced enigmatic object, a riddle having more sides than its
reception has noticed so far. He reveals the Cube’s overlooked u nderside
– that is, its basis – as its thirteenth side, the one that stubbornly conceals
itself from view and seems to be buried in both the cube and its recep-
tion. Didi-Huberman’s title, Le Cube et le visage, plays with the differ-
ence implied in the French notion of the ‘face’. While the French title
uses visage, which refers uniquely to the human face, the book’s ‘12+1’
face 75
chapters go through the cube’s thirteen sides, one after the other, using
the French word face, which means surface, wall, side, front and aspect.
These two sides of the ‘face’ are unfolded in multiple variations and
conflicting facets in Giacometti’s sculpture. Neither a regular geometri-
cal cube, nor a doubled six-sided cube, the Cube has 12+1 sides (faces).
Giacometti’s negation of the Cube as an abstract sculpture and a head thus
provides its reading at once as a head and not a head. If it is a head, it is
expected to show a face (visage). This is what happens when years later
Giacometti incised into one of the sculpture’s sides (faces) a visage, or
more precisely a kind of double portrait of his father and son. On another
side Giacometti placed his signature, and on a third a view or portrait
of the cube itself. All these manipulations of an abstract polyhedron
are concentrated in an almost one-metre-high object that is too small to
indicate a human counterpart, but large enough to stand as a massive,
many-sided, many-faced body-object that in Giacometti’s words ‘has
volume’ (Lord, 1980: 9).
The play on face and visage is no mere pun; like the number of facets
that Didi-Huberman follows up in his thirteen chapters – the last one has
the same title as the first – it originates in the Cube itself. Face derives from
the Latin facies, meaning, among other things, the exterior, look, shape,
figure, face, type, condition and configuration (see Olivetti Latin–English
Online Dictionary). This heterogeneous derivation points to the tension
on to which Didi-Huberman shifts the reception of both the Cube and
Giacometti’s oeuvre by means of the sculpture as a figure of crisis.
In this sense the Cube has at least two faces. On the one hand, in the
(self-)portrait, it presents the signature of the artist, who seeks to create
an enigmatic and delicate monument to his loss (of his father, of meaning,
of the ability to love); on the other hand the face is also problematised as
an alteration: a simultaneously positioned, irregular structure of facets,
which the materiality of the sculpture opens up, dissects and perhaps even
explodes over the course of Didi-Huberman’s study.
This is how, with Giacometti’s sculpture, Didi-Huberman crystallises
the critical question addressed by the face as a paradigm of identification,
authorship and symbolic power (AI). Or he asks with Deleuze and Guattari
‘How do you dismantle the face?’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987: 186). In
a continuous rotation, the turning around of Giacometti’s sculpture, the
ascribed identity of the author becomes complex, an object of doubt. In
this way, the motif of the turn, which is inscribed into the face of the Cube
because of its genuine polarity, likewise anticipates Didi-Huberman’s later
writings on the temporality of images, above all his study on Warburg
(SI). In the sense of the ‘iconology of the interval’ examined by Warburg,
this turn or twist can be discovered as a ‘place of thought’, as an interval
76 face
that doesn’t simply bring about a transformation of the face but relocates
and intensifies it. This moving and twisting face has something unsettling
about it, as it simultaneously integrates two contradictory f eatures – b oth
(for example) the front and the profile. Oscillating between ‘mourning and
desire’, cavity and envelope, between the paradigm of proper name and
eerie revenant, it is primarily a ‘place to experience a threshold’ (CF, 31).
The face is pervaded by disquiet as if by a tic, a twitch, which Deleuze and
Guattari describe as an immanent conflict: ‘It is precisely the continually
refought battle between a faciality trait that tries to escape the sovereign
organization of the face and the face itself, which clamps back down on
the trait, takes hold of it again, blocks its line of flight, and reimposes its
organization upon it’ (Deleuze and Guattari, 1987: 188). This shimmering
ambivalence can be read as the embodiment of the paradox that Didi-
Huberman situates in the Cube between ‘a cavity that is too large and an
envelope that is too small’ (CF, 134).
This all-embracing in-between therefore takes the face close to that
desirable but ambivalent place described by Jorge Luis Borges in The
Aleph and quoted by Didi-Huberman at decisive junctures:
I saw the Aleph from every point and angle, and in the Aleph I saw the earth and
in the earth the Aleph and in the Aleph the earth; I saw my own face and my own
bowels; I saw your face; and I felt dizzy and wept, for my eyes had seen that secret
and conjectured object whose name is common to all men but which no man has
looked upon. (AA, 60–1; see Borges, 1945)
In this vertiginous in-between, the face is above all a critical locus that,
because of its polarities, would suggest the aleph less as a p ossibility –
that is, a place in which you could linger – a nd more as the place of sheer
impossibility. This figure of thought can be traced to Didi-Huberman’s
exploration of an ‘atlas of the impossible’ (AA, 54). Yet this place is not
entered from a merely philosophical, fictional or theoretical direction,
but on the level of form: an aesthetic and genuinely anthropological level
where the face becomes the real result of a logic of neither–nor become the
‘crystal or the “synthesis” of a tearing’, which doesn’t resolve the conflicts
but crystallises them (CF, 154). To invoke Plato’s image, it belongs to a
certain extent to a ‘third kind of being’ (CF, 154).
Works Cited
Borges, J. L. (1945). The Aleph. http://www.phinnweb.org/links/litera
ture/borges/aleph.html. Accessed 1 October 2021.
Deleuze, G., and Guattari, F. (1987). ‘Year Zero: Faciality’, trans.
farocki, harun 77
FAROCKI, HARUN
Maud Hagelstein
As the rebellious heir to critical iconology, so close to Aby Warburg yet
so harsh with regard to Erwin Panofsky, Didi-Huberman returns to the
question of the legibility of images in the volumes of his series entitled
L’Œil de l’histoire (The Eye of History). A rereading of the fragments of
Walter Benjamin’s Arcades Project allows him to dissociate himself from
the rigid arguments that surround the relations between the visible/the
legible in the perpetual debates regarding the ‘iconic turn’; and it allows
him to situate the investigation ‘beyond the endless nit-picking over the
primacy of the legible over the visible or vice versa, in which historians
or iconologists – even structuralists – have too often become bogged
down, as well as all those who seek to establish an order of ontological
hierarchy between the “symbolic” and the “imaginary”’ (2010b: 15). To
avoid falling into these sterile debates, image theorists must endeavour to
construct new models of legibility. In 1990, in Devant l’image (Confronting
Images), while refusing to give texts a natural, absolute authority over
images, Didi-Huberman had already begun to defend the idea that the
efficiency of images implied ‘transposed legibilities’ and ‘a work of opening
– and thus of breaking and entering, of symptom f ormation – effected in
the order of the legible, and beyond it’ (CI, 20). In his series of explicitly
political books L’Œil de l’histoire (2008b; 2010b; 2011b; 2012a; 2015b;
2016a; EH), Didi-Huberman shows how those reopened and transposed
legibilities are vectors of critical perspectives: images whose historical leg-
ibility has been ‘affronted’ (poorly read images) can then be received anew
and can speak differently.
The works of filmmaker Harun Farocki (1944–2014) fit perfectly within
this experimental research into alternative ways of reading images – and
Didi-Huberman pushes the problem to its greatest intensity. He begins
his work with an observation: images do not always speak in the moment
that they are captured. They can, however, find a new legibility later
on, once the ‘critical point’ or the ‘eddy in the stream of becoming’ (to
borrow an expression from Benjamin, 2019: 24), from which emerges the
78 f a r o c k i , h a r u n
possibility of a different gaze, has been found. This critical point must
be constructed. Didi-Huberman calls this ‘the eye of history’, just as we
speak of the eye of a cyclone, that is, the point around which we can, at a
given moment, make everything else rotate. Even when images speak or,
through innovative audiovisual means, find the point from which they
address us, they do not speak to bring to a close:
By relentlessly attacking the violence of the world, the films of Farocki – in spite
of their fundamental tact, their somewhat Bressonian way of organizing dialogue
between images and of never letting go of their subject, just as Bresson held his
frames very tightly – confront a certain pretension on the part of any viewer who
expects to be given conclusions. This violence is merely the perseverance of a
thinking that has understood that an image never has the last word (no more than
does a word). (2010b: 93)
The pictures taken in April 1944 in Silesia arrived for evaluation in Medenham,
England. The analysts discovered a power station, a carbide factory, a factory
under construction for Buna and another for petrol hydrogenation. They were
not under orders to look for the Auschwitz camp, and thus they did not find
it. (extract from the voice-over from Bilder der Welt und Inschrift des Krieges,
H. Farocki, 1988, translated by Karen Margolis and Bert Papenfuss-Gorek)
Yet the technical apparatus had indeed recorded and inscribed in these
aerial images the reality of the camp and clues to its organisation (selection
ramps, footsteps in the snow indicating the line of the new arrivals, gas
chambers, etc.). Everything was there except for the conditions that might
allow us to recognise in these images what w as – a lready – to be seen. And
these conditions of new legibility had to be constructed: ‘[f]or what is
recovered in the archive is always re-assembled into a montage by Farocki:
for it is his way to expose the lines of conflict rather than any assembled
groups [les ensembles], his way of dealing with the mass of archives in
order to construct a new legibility there’ (2010c: 109). By multiplying
the viewpoints, by bringing images (images that are initially mute) into
contact with other photographic documents produced from inside by the
fédida, pierre 79
Works Cited
Benjamin. W. (2019). Origin of the German Trauerspiel, trans. H. Eiland.
Harvard University Press.
FÉDIDA, PIERRE
Nigel Saint
The psychoanalyst and author Pierre Fédida (1934–2002) is an important
figure for Didi- Huberman both intellectually and personally. Fédida
taught and researched at the universities of Lyon, the Sorbonne and
Paris VII–Denis Diderot, establishing a new programme and laboratory
in ‘Fundamental Psychopathology’ and setting up the Centre d’études
du vivant (Stone-Richards, 2003–04; Mijolla-Mellor, 2002). Both men
contributed to each other’s seminars (CI, 9) and cite each other’s work
(Fédida, 1992: 142–3). Didi-Huberman frequently draws on Fédida’s
work on dreams, absence, melancholy and the temporality of images,
and devoted a long essay to his friend after his death entitled Gestes d’air et
de pierre: corps, parole, souffle, image (2005a).
‘Psychoanalysis is not to be applied to art, instead it should allow itself
to become more complicated as a result of its readiness to engage with the
many questions asked of it by art’ (Didi-Huberman, 2005a: 62). Fédida’s
questions for Didi-Huberman begin with the former’s work on dream-
images, where in a gloss on Freud’s discussion of perception and memory
in dreams, Fédida states that the dream-image is initially both speechless
and sightless: ‘The image [. . .] does not reflect anything because it is the
screen-mirror of a vision that is unable to speak and therefore unable to
look. It’s as if the image becomes, for a moment, a face with unsighted
eyes’ (Fédida, 1995: 187). Fédida also considered what kind of sight might
80 f é d i d a , p i e r r e
the art historical work of his intellectual hero in the field, Aby Warburg
(SI, 214).
From a radical configuration of the making of a dream-image in analysis
is developed an act of transmission in language, however indefinite or
incomplete. For Fédida, the individual instances of dream-images can
cohere according to a temporality that saves us from excessive melan-
choly: ‘Perhaps mourning’s great enigma is the way over time the living
can dream about death while they sleep and thus be protected from the
violence that afflicts sufferers from melancholia’ (Fédida, 1978: 78). In
Didi-Huberman’s case, working with a multitude of images carries the
possibility of revaluating the cultural dynamism of the present, of provid-
ing a critique of political structures and establishing an order to one’s
thoughts, pessimistic in the case of Walter Benjamin (SF, 61–70, 74).
Works Cited
Fédida, P. (1978). L’Absence. Gallimard.
Fédida, P. (1985). ‘Passé anachronique et présent réminiscent. Epos et
puissance mémoriale du langage’, L’Ecrit du temps, 10: 23–45.
Fédida, P. (1992). Crise et contre-transfert. Presses universitaires de France.
Fédida, P. (1994). ‘Compter les morts’, l’inactuel: psychanalyse, and
culture, 1: 49–59.
Fédida, P. (1995). Le Site de l’étranger: la situation psychanalytique. Presses
universitaires de France.
Mijolla-Mellor, S. (2002). ‘Hommage à Pierre Fédida: Pierre Fédida à
l’université’, Carnet/Psy, 77. https://www.cairn.info/revue-le-carnet
-psy-2002-9-page-37.htm. Accessed 20 January 2021.
Stone-Richards, M. (2003–04). ‘Pierre Fédida, 1934–2002: A Mémoire’,
Journal of Visual Culture, 2(1): 69–72.
FIGURATION
Adina Balint
When the book Devant l’image (1990a; CI) was first published, it won
immediate critical acclaim because of its far-reaching arguments about the
structure of images and Didi-Huberman’s claim that visual representation
has an ‘underside’, in which intelligible forms defy rational understanding
and trigger creativity and imagination. This underside harbours images’
overdetermination and contradictions beyond the evident assumption that
visual representation is made up of legible signs and is subject to rational
82 figuration
ity, and produces instead ‘transversal knowledge’ (AA, 13). In the atlas in
general or in the montage technique, ‘an empirical approach is combined
with an imaginative approach’ (De Cauwer and Smith, 2018: 4), while the
experience of seeing is doubled by the desire to search further, to forge
new figurations. For Didi-Huberman, as for Warburg, pathos is a key
element in this project.
Fundamental to the discussion on the notion of figuration is Didi-
Huberman’s book on Fra Angelico (1990b; FAD). Here he explores
the network of ideas evoked by the imagery, colours and compositions
of Fra Angelico, treating his paintings as virtual figurations of theologi-
cal speculations and vehicles of spiritual meditations. In order to explain
the means by which Fra Angelico portrayed spiritual truth rather than
physical veracity, Didi-Huberman explores the theses of figuration and
dissemblance. These themes are derived from Pseudo-Dionysius the
Areopagite’s theological concepts of dissimilitudo and figura, the first con-
noting the deceitfulness of earthly appearance, and the latter r eferring – i n
the Latin and medieval t raditions – to a thing other than what is seen with
the eye, the mystery of bodies beyond bodies or the supernatural in the
visible. Didi-Huberman writes that ‘to figure did not mean to present the
story’s aspect, but rather to apprehend the mystery pictorially by practis-
ing the diffraction of meaning, its perpetual displacement’ (FAD, 122).
The fact that Didi-Huberman explored Fra Angelico’s art as a blend of
scholastic exegesis and the figuration of a story by means of a pictorial
system is a testament to his ability to catch a glimpse of a gesture or idea,
and teach us the power of images (De Cauwer and Smith, 2018: 8).
Works Cited
De Cauwer, S., and Smith, L. K. (2018). ‘Critical Image Configurations:
The Work of Georges Didi-Huberman’, Angelaki 23(4): 3–10.
Lyotard, J.-F. (2009). Karel Appel. A Gesture of Colour/Un geste de couleur,
trans. V. Ionescu and P. W. Milne. Leuven University Press.
Merriam–Webster Online Dictionary. https://www.merriam-webster
.com. Accessed 18 May 2021.
Warburg, A. (2020 [1925–29]). Bilderatlas Mnemosyne: The Original.
Hatje Cantz.
84 form
FORM
Nigel Saint
Form, as Raymond Williams noted, has had a ‘complicated development’
as a word. It refers to both ‘a visible or outward shape’ and ‘an essential
shaping principle’ (Williams, 1988: 138). Didi-Huberman’s interest in
the making and the phenomenon of art means that form has remained a
constant concern in his work. The term both classifies and eludes clas-
sification, involving the multiple functions of art and the creative life of
forms as they reinvent themselves. It has a complex and disruptive role in
Didi-Huberman’s thinking, as if it threatens to coagulate if circumscribed.
It always incites and challenges, being the matrix and the crucible of the
work of art. Didi-Huberman sets himself the task of observing the energy
of forms forming, becoming and altering, with all the disturbing aspects of
this process when a recognisable form morphs into its abject, chaotic and
alarming other. ‘The Nightmare of Forms (on formlessness and dialectics
again)’ is the title of a 2017 lecture and subsequent essay (2019d).
‘Venus has turned into a document’ was Valéry’s verdict on the stulti-
fying modern museumification of art (Valéry, 1960 [1923]: 1293, cited in
Didi-Huberman, 2013i: 25). Ouvrir Vénus: nudité, rêve, cruauté was one
of Didi-Huberman’s responses to this situation, investigating how the
visual forms associated with female beauty in the work of Botticelli – line,
colour, expression and accoutrements, all parts perfectly combined into
a whole – r isked anaesthetising the powerful forces of desire and decay
present in an image of beauty (1999a). Looking at deliberate disturbances
of a beautiful body’s forms, when the intestines are shown in a wax sculp-
ture (1999a: 106–14), or when a woman’s back is cut open in the painting
of a tale from the Decameron by Boccaccio (1999a: 64–85) – reminds us of
the hidden organs and punishments accorded to the desired body, despite
its canonical rendering as an ideal vision of beauty. Thus, rather than
finished artistic forms, as Didi-Huberman notes in a discussion of Carl
Einstein, an alternative and symptomatic reading of artistic representa-
tion imagines ‘the discontents of form’ (2000a: 202–3). Forms are every-
where revealed to be in crisis, breaking down but also rendered for fresh
examination, as with Karl Blossfeldt’s photographs of flowers (2000a:
143–51), the contrasting poses of the hysteric (IH, 187–203), the inhuman
fate of the bodies in the Sonderkommando photographs (ISA), the
folding, withdrawal (repli) and unfolding of canvasses by Simon Hantaï
(1998b), and the screams from Theo Angelopoulos’s Ulysses’s Gaze
(1995) included in the ‘New Ghost Stories’ exhibition (Paris, Palais de
Tokyo, 2014).
form 85
Works Cited
Robertson, E. (2006). Arp: Painter, Poet, Sculptor. Yale University Press.
Valéry, P. (1960 [1923]). ‘Le Problème des musées’, in Œuvres II, ed.
J. Hytier, 1290–3. Gallimard, Bibliothèque de la Pléiade.
86 formless, the (l’informe)
Hanna Doroszuk
The notion of the formless (informe) was widely elaborated by Didi-
Huberman in La Ressemblance informe, ou le gai savoir visuel selon Georges
Bataille (1995a), a publication dedicated to the dissident surrealist maga-
zine Documents: doctrines, archéologie, beaux-arts, ethnographie, published
in Paris between 1929 and 1931, and edited by Georges Bataille.
The book starts with an excerpt from Saint Augustine’s Confessions,
where, in the twelfth chapter, the reader finds the following definition
of formless: ‘I called formless not something that lacked form’, writes
Augustine, ‘but something that had form of such a kind that, were it to
become perceptible, my power of perception would turn away, as from
something unaccustomed and unsuitable, and my human frailty would
have been thrown into confusion’ (1966: 371). For Augustine, the formless
was something not deprived of form, but, rather, something impossible
to consider when compared to ‘more beautiful formed things’ (1966: 371).
He recognised the difficulties in the renunciation of form, while attempt-
ing to articulate what is ‘genuinely formless’ (1966: 371).
Augustine’s idea of formless provided undoubtedly the principal theo-
retical reference for the concept of informe elaborated by Didi-Huberman in
La Ressemblance informe, alongside Bataille’s famous definition of informe,
found in ‘Critical Dictionary’ (in the seventh issue of the Documents
magazine; see Bataille et al., 1992). For Bataille (1929: 382, in Bataille
et al., 1992: 27), the notion of informe had the effect of ‘declassify[ing]’
(déclasser) the ‘require[ment] that each thing takes on a form’. Situated
against the philosophical and academic demand for a form, the notion of
informe, according to Bataille (1929: 382, in Bataille et al., 1992: 27), had
‘no claim in any sense, and [was] always trampled upon like a spider or an
earthworm’. He concluded that ‘to declare [. . .] that the universe is not
like anything, and is simply formless, is tantamount to saying [that] the
universe is something like a spider or spittle’ (Bataille, 1929: 382).
Didi- Huberman analyses Bataille’s notion of transgression and its
reference to the ‘transgression of form’ (1995a: 19). In this context, Didi-
Huberman paraphrases Michel Foucault’s postulate made in Language,
Counter-Memory, Practice, ‘limit and transgression depend on each other
for whatever density of being they possess’ (1977: 34), as ‘form and
formless, the (l’informe) 87
Works Cited
Bataille, G. (1929). ‘Informe’, Documents, 7: 382.
Bataille, G., Leiris, M., Einstein, C., and Griaule, M. (1992). ‘Critical
Dictionary’, trans. D. Faccini, October, 60: 25–31.
Fédida, P. (1994). ‘Le mouvement de l’informe’, La Part de l’Œil, 10
(dossier: Bataille et les arts plastiques).
Foucault, M. (1977). ‘A Preface to Transgression’, in Language, Counter-
memory, Practice ed. D. Bouchard, 29–52. Cornell University Press.
Leiris, M. (1929). ‘Débâcle’, Documents, 7: 381–2.
Saint Augustine (1966). Confessions, trans. B. Vernon. The Fathers of the
Church, 21. Catholic University of America Press.
FOUCAULT, MICHEL
Chari Larsson
Didi-Huberman’s investigation into the conditions of art history signals
an ongoing engagement with the work of Michel Foucault, and especially
with the Foucauldian notion of archeology that is hostile to the Hegelian-
inspired, progressivist views of historical continuity (see Foucault, 1989a).
Foucault’s postulate that history needed to be rethought from the
perspective that privileges its disruption and disjointedness resonates
strongly with Didi-Huberman’s anti-Hegelianism and his commitment to
a non-synthesised dialectics (see 2002c: 96–7). The impact of Foucault’s
emphasis on the necessity for discontinuous modes of knowledge is
perceptible, for instance, in Didi-Huberman’s fascination with montage,
understood as a tool executing an epistemological ‘cut’ in that it recon-
foucault, michel 89
the object, and his the death-of-man thesis, as well as the crisis of the
‘modern episteme’ (Foucault, 1994). Foucault’s critique of the human-
ism and anthropocentrism of modern historiography echoes with Didi-
Huberman’s claim that rational knowledge and the viewer’s control of the
image within the humanist tradition of art history are neither viable nor
desirable. Following Foucault, Didi-Huberman has called into question
the epistemic act of placing human beings at the centre of the discourse,
and the authority assumed by the subject position of an expert. Instead,
at hand is a dissolution of the modern subject as a privileged locus of dis-
course and representation.
Works Cited
Foucault, M. (1977). ‘Nietzsche, Genealogy, History’, trans. D. Bouchard
and S. Simon, in Language, Counter-Memory, Practice: Selected Essays
and Interviews, ed. D. Bouchard, 139–64. Cornell University Press.
Foucault, M. (1989a). The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans. A. M. Sheridan
Smith. Routledge.
Foucault, M. (1989b). The Birth of the Clinic, trans. A. M. Sheridan
Smith. Routledge.
Foucault, M. (1994). The Order of Things. Vintage.
FRA ANGELICO
Busra Copuroglu
Considered as a ‘sublime and exceptional talent’ by the Italian painter
Giorgio Vasari (1991: 175), the early Renaissance painter Fra Angelico
(c. 1387–1455) was celebrated for his ability to depict the ‘immortality
of the soul with the Incarnation doctrines of Saint Thomas Aquinas, the
Dominican doctor of the church’ (Spike, 1996: 11). Didi-Huberman’s
interest in Fra Angelico’s paintings was spiked by his discovery of ‘two
or three disconcerting things’ in Fra Angelico’s mural paintings in the
convent of San Marco in Florence which, he claims, would not generally
correspond to ‘what an art historian’s eye can generally expect from a
work produced during [this period]’ (FAD, 2). In his book Fra Angelico:
Dissemblance and Figuration (1995), in his own complex language, Didi-
Huberman examines Fra Angelico’s works that have been traditionally
categorised as works of ‘devotional practice and theological meditation’
(FAD, 3). Thus, aiming to ‘correct [the] usual categories of art history’
(FAD, 3) and attempting ‘to draw the gaze beyond the eye [and] the visible
fra angelico 91
Works Cited
Baert, B. (2018). ‘He or She who Glimpses, Desires, is Wounded’,
trans. E. Woodard, J. R. Solorzano, S. De Cauwer, and L. K. Smith,
Angelaki, 23(4): 47–79.
Barryte, B. (1997). ‘Review of G. Didi- Huberman, Fra Angelico
Dissemblance and Figuration’, Renaissance Quarterly, 50(4): 1261–2.
Freud, S. (1953). The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. J. Strachey, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. IV (1900), ed. J. Strachey, ix–627. Hogarth Press and the Institute
of Psycho-analysis.
Krasińska, M. (2018). ‘The Convergence of Phenomenology and Semiotics
in Georges Didi-Huberman’s Aesthetics of the Symptom’, The Polish
Journal of Aesthetics, 49: 27–40.
Panofsky, E. (1991 [1927]). Perspective as Symbolic Form, trans. C. S. Wood.
Zone Books.
Spike, J. T. (1996). Fra Angelico. Abbeville Press.
Vasari, Giorgio (1991). ‘Fra Angelico’, in The Lives of the Artists, trans.
J. Conaway Bondanella and P. Bondanella, 169–78. Oxford University
Press.
FREUD, SIGMUND
Maud Hagelstein
In the late 1970s, for his doctoral thesis on Charcot and the photographic
iconography of the Salpêtrière, which he then defended in 1981 at the
EHESS (Ecole des hautes études en sciences sociales) under the direction
of Louis Marin, Didi-Huberman began to immerse himself in the thinking
of Sigmund Freud, and began to construct from his readings the project
of an ‘aesthetics of the symptom’ (see IH). A particular scene caught his
attention in Freud’s descriptions: that of a body during an attack of hys-
teria. The scene – witnessed by Freud, a ‘true feat of plasticity’ (IH, 162),
where the woman suffers while offering the spectacle of a paradox (she
embodies both the aggressor and the aggressed) – made it possible for the
first time to establish the hypothesis that the symptom of hysteria could be
the expression of a compromise between two fantasies, the one feminine
and the other masculine:
freud, sigmund 93
In one case which I observed, for instance, the patient pressed her dress up against
her body with one hand (as the woman), while she tried to tear it off with the other
(as the man). This simultaneity of contradictory actions serves to a large extent to
obscure the situation, which is otherwise so plastically portrayed in the attack, and
it is thus well suited to conceal the unconscious phantasy that is at work. (Freud,
1959 [1924]: 166; see also Didi-Huberman, 1995c: 200–1; 1995a, 361; IH, 163;
CI, 260)
Works Cited
Freud, S. (1953). The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. J. Strachey, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. IV (1900), ed. J. Strachey, ix–627. Hogarth Press and the Institute
of Psycho-analysis.
Freud, S. (1959 [1924]). ‘Hysterical Phantasies and their Relation to
Bisexuality’, trans. D. Bryan, rev. J. Strachey, in The Standard Edition
of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, Vol. IX, ed.
J. Strachey, 155–66. Hogarth Press and the Institute of Psycho-analysis.
G
GAZE
Busra Copuroglu
Didi-Huberman’s concept of the gaze is one of the most fundamental
and complex terms he employs in the body of his work, and it becomes a
vehicle for the construction of an atlas of knowledge through montage.
For Didi-Huberman, the movement and the stillness of the eye mobilises
images and becomes instrumental in creating meaning.
Didi-Huberman considers the gaze not merely as the act of looking that
we take for granted in our relation to images, but as a regimen of seeing.
He conceptualises the gaze as it relates to art history (seeing and knowing
the image before our eyes), and the responsibility and the ethics of looking
at history (e.g., Sonderkommando photographs, Auschwitz-Birkenau).
As Sigrid Weigel observes, Didi-Huberman’s ‘works on and with images
are allied with poets and with poetical language’, and pervade his writing.
His work and thoughts on images, Weigel adds, are ‘the operations with
96 gaze
which a gaze schooled in art and poetry becomes fruitful to produce the
layered and condensed meanings, the configurations and conflicts [. . .] set
them in motion again’ and so, we learn how to look (2018 [2015]: 43). ‘[I]t
is very difficult to write the history of gazes, because gazes are never simply
verified in archives or even lodged there’, Didi-Huberman writes (FAD,
7). Nonetheless, one could argue that the depth, breadth and complexity
of his work appears as an attempt at writing the history of gazes. ‘We never
just look. We look with our groaning and our words’, he writes in Aperçues.
‘It is in writing that our gaze is released, how it unfolds, and makes sense
for us and becomes conceivable and readable to others’ (2018a: 257).
Didi-Huberman’s use of the gaze perhaps becomes most instrumental
in his interventions in the scientific practices and writing of art history
(CI; FAD; see Fra Angelico). The gaze posed to an art image, Didi-
Huberman says, paradoxically liberates and enslaves us by ‘the braid of
knowledge and non-knowledge’ on the ‘surface of a picture or sculpture
where nothing has been hidden, where everything before us has been
simply presented’; and ‘posing one’s gaze to an art images’, he continues,
becomes a matter of knowing how to name everything that one sees (CI,
1–3), which means the specific knowledge of the art object ‘called the
history of art’.
Not limited to the realm of aesthetics, for Didi-Huberman the gaze also
poses the question of the ethics of looking. Ludger Schwarte, reflecting on
the ethics of looking in Didi-Huberman’s analysis of the Sonderkommando
photographs, notes that the gaze ‘consist[s] in the restitution of a Seeing-
Power [Pouvoir/Voir] and thereby names the truth content of a sequence
of [the Sonderkommando] photographs’ (2018: 81). Another example of
how Didi-Huberman employs the gaze as the ethics of looking, distanc-
ing and subjectivation can be found in his book Bark, where he brings
together his reflections on his visit to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where his
grandparents died, in the photographs he has taken, and in the poetic
writings of fragmented memory (see bark). Didi-Huberman’s words here
are marked by a gaze directed at the tensions between the visible and the
disappeared or effaced traces of the camp. These traces are recognisable in
the present museum, as well as in the natural environment proximate to
it (such as the birch trees and the meadow), whereby the gaze responds to
their ‘disjointed temporalities’ (B, 30; Weigel, 2018 [2015]: 44).
In addition to the movements of the eye, for Didi-Huberman the
French word regarder (gaze) itself becomes a ground for further reflection.
Once broken down, what regarder captures and encapsulates is a nuanced
distinction between garder and re-garder that further complicates Didi-
Huberman’s theorisation of the gaze, as regarder connotes the mutual
implication of the image and the looking subject: it is that which ‘within
giacometti, alberto 97
Works Cited
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1968). The Visible and the Invisible, trans. A. Lingis.
Northwestern University Press.
Schwarte, L. (2018). ‘The People Image: The Political Philosophy of
Georges Didi-Huberman’, trans. C. Woodall, Angelaki, 23(4): 80–90.
Weigel, S. (2018 [2015]), ‘The Readability of Images (and) of History:
Laudatio on the Occasion of the Awarding of the Adorno Prize (2015)
to Georges Didi-Huberman’, trans. M. Rys and J. Vanvelk, Angelaki,
23(4): 42–6.
GIACOMETTI, ALBERTO
Elena Vogman
The name of Alberto Giacometti appears in several of Didi-Huberman’s
publications. However, the monograph on the Cube, Giacometti’s enig-
matic sculpture from 1934 (CF), seems to open up a series of themes
which Didi-Huberman will deal with in the years to come: from the
critique of an author’s ‘personal mythology’ to the heterodox surrealism
around the journal Documents, from the anthropological processuality
98 giacometti, alberto
GLIMPSES
Busra Copuroglu
In Didi-Huberman’s work, the glimpse emerges as a differentiated capa-
bility of seeing that catches the fleeting moments. For Didi-Huberman,
‘appearance is disappearance’ linked to survival (survivance), which reso-
nates with his persistent engagement with the idea of the fragile endurance
of traces, a mode of seeing that informs his thinking. Didi-Huberman’s
fascination with glimpses lies in the power of brevity and the mystery of
the passer-by. His understanding of the glimpse is always in the plural
form and resists theorisation, which is both the charm and difficulty of
this concept. Glimpses emerge as reflections on moments, movements and
gestures; they are the ‘appearance of disappearance’, and reflection on the
survival of traces left behind.
Dedicated to the fragile endurance of traces, Didi-Huberman’s book
on glimpses, Aperçues, organised around four chapters and comprised
of short fragmentary writings, is a massive project that gathers ‘evoca-
tive images – recollections – which he had collected over the years;
100 glimpses
Works Cited
Baert, B. (2018). ‘He or She who Glimpses, Desires, is Wounded’, trans.
E. Woodard, J. R. Solorzano, S. De Cauwer and L. K. Smith, Angelaki,
23(4): 47–79.
Bloch, E. (2006). Traces, trans. A. Nassar. Stanford University Press.
Freud, S. (1961 [1950]). ‘A Note Upon the Mystic Writing Pad’, trans.
J. Strachey, in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works
of Sigmund Freud, Vol. XIX, ed. J. Strachey, 225–32. Hogarth Press
and the Institute of Psycho-analysis.
Richter, G. (2007). Thought-Images: Frankfurt School Writers’ Reflections
from Damaged Life. Stanford University Press.
GODARD, JEAN-LUC
Stijn De Cauwer
Before becoming the subject of an entire book in 2015, Jean-Luc Godard’s
work, and especially Histoire(s) du cinéma (1988), was discussed in Didi-
Huberman’s writing as an exemplary artistic reflection on the relation
between images and history. In Images in Spite of All, Didi-Huberman
contrasts the approach of Godard in Histoire(s) du cinéma with that of
Claude Lanzmann in Shoah (1985; see ISA, 125–7). Lanzmann is scep-
tical of the possibility of images offering an adequate testimony of the
Holocaust, preferring verbal testimonies. Godard, however, makes an
elaborate montage of documentary images, words, citations and fictive
film footage. While Lanzmann refuses fictive cinema the capacity to be
able to offer a testimony of the Holocaust, Godard, conversely, looks
at cinema altogether in the light of the Holocaust. He contrasts, for
example, a still featuring Elizabeth Taylor from a A Place in the Sun (1951)
by George Stevens with stills from concentration camps, taken by the
same director earlier in his life during the liberation of the camps. Both
belong to the same history of war and cinema (ISA, 134–50).
Whereas Lanzmann’s montage is based on narrative, Godard’s use
of montage is based on the principle of the symptom, according
102 godard, jean-luc
H
HANTAÏ, SIMON
Nigel Saint
The artist Simon Hantaï (1922–2008) was born in Hungary, moved to
France in 1948, took part in Surrealist exhibitions and then developed
his own painting technique which involved the folding and unfolding
of canvases, in large and small scale, which were then sometimes cut up
and even buried in his garden. Didi-Huberman saw him often from late
1996 to 1998, culminating in the book L’Étoilement: conversation avec
Hantaï (1998b). Hantaï was included in Didi-Huberman’s exhibitions
L’Empreinte at the Centre Pompidou (1997f) and Fables du Lieu at Le
Fresnoy in 2001 (2001c). In 2008 Didi-Huberman spoke at a commemora-
tive event at the Pompidou (2018a: 170–5) and in 2012 he wrote an essay
for the Pompidou Hantaï exhibition catalogue (2013i), in addition to being
interviewed for the ‘extras’ of the DVD of two documentaries by Jean-
Michel Meurice (2013j).
In L’Étoilement, Hantaï is quoted abundantly, from letters, postcards
and notes sent to Didi-Huberman, from comments in films or publica-
tions, and from remarks on what Didi-Huberman has been writing and
saying. Hantaï likes a lapidary formulation, whether about ‘étoilement’
(‘You said “constellation”?’, Hantaï writes. ‘A knot that was invisible is
revealed’, 1998b: 87) or impurity (‘Impurity is the true condition’, 1998b:
105), which Didi-Huberman works into his interpretations. Hantaï also
deploys a wide range of philosophical and literary references, drawn for
example from his reading of Bataille and Blanchot, or from his interest
in colours, materials and the natural world, even the vocabulary of animal
droppings, like laissée, left by a wild boar, which became the title of a series
of works (1998b: 105). Words are accumulated, compacted and unfolded,
just as Hantaï does in his work (Fleischer, 2011: 16). Didi-Huberman
divides his text into a series of keywords and their definitions, anchoring
the conversation and his own reflections in the everyday objects linked to
Hantaï’s persona, practice or work (gag, net, apron, pocket, trellis, star,
mop). In the final section, the metaphors of burial and exhumation are
developed through the use of these and other key terms to explore the acts
of folding and unfolding: ‘Operations performed as if the work is both net
and mesh, apron front and back, pocket and shreds, trellis and u ndulation’
104 hantaï, simon
(1998b: 107). Finally, there are the gestures and actions of Hantaï: he is
initially very reticent, embodying the reclusive artist trope; soon he is
throwing his mother’s apron at Didi-Huberman’s feet (1998b: 43); and
later he hurls piles of photos at him (1998b: 107). Didi-Huberman aspired
to record Hantaï in thought and action, and in turn the artist saw the text
being produced as a vital account of his work (1998b: 23 n.22; Fourcade
et al., 2013: 303).
Didi-Huberman analyses the situation of the canvases. The surface of
the canvas is like a trap which would trick the artist into producing pure
painterly creations, whereas for Hantaï the painting surface is more like
an archaeological dig, where space and time are folded into each other
(1998b: 58). This affects both the function of sight and the role of the
hand in the production of works (1998b: 93), since the focus shifts to the
unpredictable imprint variations introduced by the mechanical actions,
with reference to Duchamp, followed by the visible modulations of shapes
and colours upon unfolding, with reference to Cézanne (1998b: 79–80;
Larsson, 2020: 101). Then the discussion of Hantaï’s later practice of
cutting into his canvases reminds Didi-Huberman of the artist’s lack of
fastidiousness about art. Impurity is adopted from Hantaï instead as a
watchword, which enables Didi-Huberman to halt his text with the evoca-
tion of a series of buried canvases, recovered ten to fifteen years later, in
terms of their mass, decay, surfaces and colours, and of an early collage
based on a photograph of an Egyptian mummy (1998b: 108–10). Didi-
Huberman’s talk in 2008 concentrated on the topic of repli (withdrawal/
refolding), as an intermediate state between folding and unfolding, an
invisible space within and suspension of activity that it was impossible to
exhibit (RFSH, 227–8).
Hantaï’s re-emergence with exhibitions in 1998 was later addressed in
Didi-Huberman’s essay for the Pompidou exhibition catalogue (2013i)
through a discussion of the sovereignty of the artist, referencing Bataille’s
1956 essay ‘L’Équivoque de la culture’ (as did the essay on Steve
McQueen [2013a: 31–85]). Sovereignty, for Bataille, is understood to be
power that is partly held in reserve and aware of its limitations, yet ready
to use its lack of real power to protest nevertheless. A sovereign artist is
wary of the consensual marketplace of culture: ‘Sovereignty means giving
without counting or calculating’ (Bataille, 1988: 440). Museums and gal-
leries were puzzled that Hantaï sometimes gave away his works, since
he considered art practice to be both inestimable and valueless, testing
the limits of cultural conventions and exposing art’s vulnerability. In the
catalogue text, Didi-Huberman recalls Hantaï ‘brutalising’ his canvases
with his hands and feet (2013i: 221). The gift ethic and value dialectic
signal an outlook labelled as unrealistic by some critics and artists, as
holocaust 105
Works Cited
Bataille, G. (1988). ‘L’Équivoque de la culture’, in Œuvres complètes, vol.
XII, ed. F. Marmande and S. Monod, 437–50. Gallimard.
Fleischer, A. (2011). Simon Hantaï: vers l’empreinte immaculée. Invenit
éditions, collection «Ekphrasis».
Fourcade, D., Monod-Fontaine, I., and Pacquement, A. (2013). Simon
Hantaï. Éditions Centre Pompidou.
Larsson, C. (2020). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
HOLOCAUST
Bruno Chaouat
What can the art historian do when confronted with the tragedy of the
century, the malheur du siècle (the disaster of the century) to use Alain
Besançon’s (1998) phrase? How should art history, and perhaps history
tout court, deal with the Holocaust? How can literature, film and painting
bear witness to a collective experience of dehumanisation and the loss of
the human face?
Philosophers and religious scholars have approached the Holocaust in
terms of the negative dialectic, the interruption of the Hegelian work of
negativity, or the eclipse of God (see, for example, Lyotard, 1986; Jonas,
1987). Some have argued that the only appropriate approach from an
aesthetic and ethical perspective is the sublime, understood as rejection
of figuration. They argued that narrative or figural representation was no
longer possible insofar as the Holocaust had destroyed a humanism rooted
in human likeness.
Didi-Huberman is above all a dialectical thinker (see dialectic).
As such, he was never comfortable with either position regarding the
representation of the Holocaust. He rejects what he deems an absurd
alternative: either representation, or no representation at all; either
images, or no images. The zero-sum game is alien to his thought. In 2001
he was criticised for an essay he wrote for the catalogue of an exhibition
of Auschwitz photographs taken clandestinely by the Polish resistance.
He published a long response to his opponents, who accused him of
106 holocaust
2 His essay in the catalogue forms the first section of the book Images malgré tout, pub-
lished two years after the exhibition. The second section of the book, entitled ‘Malgré
l’image toute’, is a long and scrupulous response to the accusations launched in Les
Temps modernes. Didi-Huberman uses the polemical responses to the catalogue of
the exhibition Mémoires des camps to elaborate a sophisticated ontology of images that
builds upon twenty years of intense reflection on the visible. Although these accusa-
tions were formulated by Elisabeth Pagnoux (2001) and Gerard Wajcman (2001), it
is worth noting that the editor of Les Temps modernes, Claude Lanzmann, initiated
the polemic in an interview published in Le Monde at the time of the exhibition (see
Lanzmann, 2001).
hysteria 107
Works Cited
Besançon, A. (1998). Le Malheur du siècle: sur le communisme, le nazisme et
l’unicité de la Shoah. Fayard.
Jonas, H. (1987). ‘The Concept of God after Auschwitz: A Jewish Voice’,
The Journal of Religion 67(1): 1–13.
Lanzmann, C. (2001). ‘Entre mémoire et histoire des camps, le role de
la photographie, Claude Lanzmann, écrivain et cineaste’, Le Monde,
19 January.
Lyotard, J.-F. (1986). ‘Discussion or Phrasing “After Auschwitz”’, trans.
G. Van Den Abbeele, Working Paper of the Center for Twentieth Century
Studies, 2: 1–32.
Pagnoux, E. (2001). ‘Reporter photographe à Auschwitz’, Les Temps mod-
ernes, 56(613): 84–108.
Wajcman, G. (2001). ‘De la croyance photographique’, Les Temps mod-
ernes, 56(613): 47–83.
HYSTERIA
Tomasz Swoboda
‘The Greek hystérikē can be translated by “she who is always late, she
who is intermittent.” Yes, she who is intermittent is the hysteric, she is
108 hysteria
the intermittent of her body’ (IH, 110). If the intermittence of the body
constitutes one of the axes of Didi-Huberman’s reflection on hysteria,
it is unquestionably not limited to this dimension; far from it. Already
in the introduction to his first book, Invention of Hysteria: Charcot and
the Photographic Iconography of the Salpêtrière, Didi-Huberman openly
admits that what interests him is ‘an extraordinary complicity between
patients and doctors, a relationship of desires, gazes, and knowledge’
(IH, xi). Indeed, at the Salpêtrière, under the eye of Jean-Martin
Charcot, hysteria was invented – carefully crafted as medical discourse
and as image – a nd spectacularised. While attending to the inextricable
link between pain and the hysterical experience, Didi-Huberman places at
the centre of his analysis the spectacularity of this pain and its meaning (he
writes: ‘what I want to speak of is the meaning of the extreme visibility of
this event of pain, the all too evident pain of hysteria’ (IH, 3)).
Didi-Huberman thus seeks to explain why hysteria was, as he calls it,
‘la bête noire’ of physicians. Hysteria, as he points out, offers all kinds of
symptoms but ‘these symptoms issue from nothing (they have no organic
basis)’ (IH, 75). Highlighting the difference between the Charcotian and
Freudian approach to the symptom, Didi-Huberman calls Charcot ‘the
great director of symptoms’ who, within the framework of the spectacle
of hysteria, transforms the symptom into a sign, ‘that is, the temporal
circumscription of the changeable, lacunal cryptography of the symptom’
(IH, 23). Focusing on the performative aspect of symptom formation, he
sees himself ‘nearly compelled to consider hysteria [. . .] as a chapter in
the history of art’ (IH, 4), and, accordingly, argues that hysteria be rec-
ognised and recorded as a collective work of art. This art would not have
existed without the invention and the specific use of photography. Indeed,
Iconographie photographique de la Salpêtrière constitutes a work of art in
its own right, including the components of ‘the aura, the clinical gaze
and power relations (between the photographer/stage director and the
photographed), the mise-en-scène (staging, and posing), various aesthetic
layers of the process (the tableau, the nature morte, the picturesque and
its indexical value), and the museality’ (Pustan, 2017: 149). To illustrate
his point, Didi-Huberman carefully examines the case study of Charcot’s
patient ‘Augustine’ (Louise Augustine Gleizes), the woman who, due to
her ‘ecstatic attacks’, became ‘an attested form, a classic or typical form of
hysteria’ (IH, 142). Observing Augustine’s play with the viewer’s d esire –
a play consisting in defying and at the same time consecrating the mastery
of the clinician’s gaze – D idi-Huberman highlights the role of Charcot
who, as the argument goes, was able to invent the theatre of hysteria versus
the theatricality of hysteria itself ‘so as to denounce the latter as a simula-
tion, as the excess and sin of mimesis’ (IH, 244).
hysteria 109
Works Cited
Gilman, S. L. (2004). ‘Georges Didi-Huberman, Invention of Hysteria:
Charcot and the Photographic Iconography of the Salpêtrière’ (Book
Review), Isis, 95(4): 716–17.
Pustan, E. (2017). ‘On the Artistic Propensity of Pathology: Georges
Didi-Huberman and the Invention of Hysteria’, Caietele Echinox, 32:
147–56.
110 iconography
I
ICONOGRAPHY
Nigel Saint
The critique of iconography proposed in Devant l’image (1990a) is part of
a complete reappraisal of the questions that we need to ask of images and
that images ask us. Reacting to the positive, though delayed, reception of
Panofsky in France, it questions the procession in his 1955 iconological
method from the recognition of objects or figures in a painting (the ‘pre-
iconographical description’), through an explanation of their historical
or mythological significance and symbolic associations (the ‘iconographi-
cal analysis’) to an overall understanding of a painting’s subject and
its combined associations (the ‘iconological interpretation’) (Panofsky,
1993: 51–81). The two epigraphs to Devant l’image, from Panofsky’s
earlier essay ‘The Concept of Artistic Volition’ (1920) and Bataille’s
L’Expérience intérieure (1943; CI, v), indicate that such an iconographical
model will be fully dismantled. Both passages involve a certain dialectical
tension, with Panofsky acknowledging that the difficulties in reconciling
the historical and ahistorical aspects of a work of art are considerable, since
a rigorous approach to art must both avoid a methodology based on over-
simplistic general laws and at the same time reflect the value ascribed to art
(Panofsky, 1981 [1920]: 17–18). The exploratory tone in this 1920 essay
reminds us of the contrast widely made between Panofsky’s ‘German’
years and his later career in the USA, which, in Didi-Huberman’s view,
involved the abandonment of Warburg’s pioneering work on the afterlives
of images in favour of a positivist outlook. In fact Panofsky already states
that it is going to be possible ‘to explain the sense of historical meaning as
an ideal unity’ (Panofsky, 1981 [1920]: 30). This underlying confidence is
radically undercut by the second prefatory quotation in Devant l’image,
from Bataille, since it suggests that advances in knowledge do not lead to
an ‘ideal unity’ but instead to further incompleteness:
Not-knowledge strips bare [le non-savoir dénude; ‘non-knowledge lays bare’ in Leslie
Ann Boldt’s translation]. This proposition is the summit, but should be under-
stood as follows: it strips bare, hence I see what knowledge previously had hidden;
but if I see, I know. In effect, I know, but what I knew, not-knowledge strips it
barer still. (Bataille, 1978 [1943]: 66; 1988: 52; CI, v)
iconography 111
Just after Panofsky has indicated how it ought to be possible to hold firm
to the path of a methodologically sound method, Bataille suggests the
opposite. This opening quotation from Bataille is the prelude to numerous
mentions of ‘le non-savoir’ and the Bataillean intertext (for example, the
additional allusions to ‘divisions intestines’ and ‘l’impensable’) is let loose
upon the discourse of art historical interpretation.
The method of interpretation being formulated in Devant l’image
pursues what may be called a negative iconography. Didi-Huberman’s
account of the experience of looking at art, and indeed images in general,
no longer posits a harmonious synthesis between the mind and the world
seen by the eye:
If we want to open the ‘box of representation’, then we must make a double split:
split the simple notion of image, and split the simple notion of logic. For the two
constantly agree to give the history of art the specific self-evidence of its simple
reason. To split the notion of the image would be [. . .] to return to a questioning
of the image that does not yet presuppose the ‘figured figure’ – by which I mean
the figure fixed as representational object – but only the figuring figure, namely the
process, the path, the question in action, made colours, made volume. (CI, 141)
Rather than a focus on the legible depicted figure, the visual phenomenon
being formed now occupies the spectator. There is no authority limiting
the action of the image, and the figure therefore resists any attempt on
the part of the interpreter to seize and circumscribe it in an humanist
iconographical manner. Furthermore, the idea of a figuring figure allows
the emerging figure to be dissimilar, which in the case of the system of
painting at work in Fra Angelico, for example, permits the image to refer
obscurely and negatively to the absent divinity (Didi-Huberman, 1990b:
80).
In the new iconography propounded by Didi-Huberman as a historian
of images, anthropologist of visual culture, philologist and exhibition
curator, the attention also shifts to different kinds of visual signs, such
as gestures, actions and movements. Didi-Huberman’s regular recourses
to Warburg’s Mnemosyne Atlas project show how images may be con-
nected across cultures and periods, whether, for example, to highlight
the political potency of Steve McQueen’s postage stamp project, Queen
and Country (2003–10; Didi-Huberman, 2013a: 31–85), or the emotional
force of the mourning tradition discernible in Pascal Convert’s Pietà de
Kosovo (1999–2000; Didi-Huberman, 2019c). The broader project reads
between and across cultures and periods, joining up forms of memory
(Didi-Huberman, 2002b). In place of discrete iconographic referents, the
dimensions of affect, gesture and time are examined under the umbrella
112 iconography
Works Cited
Bataille, G. (1978 [1943]). L’Expérience intérieure. Gallimard.
Bataille, G. (1988). Inner Experience, trans. L. A. Boldt. SUNY Press.
Panofsky, E. (1981 [1920]). ‘The Concept of Artistic Volition’, trans.
K. J. Northcott and J. Snyder, Critical Inquiry, 8(1): 17–33.
Panofsky, E. (1993). ‘Iconography and Iconology: An Introduction to
the Study of Renaissance Art’, in Meaning in the Visual Arts, 51–81.
Penguin.
Warburg, A. (2012). L’Atlas Mnemosyne. Warburg Institute and
l’Ecarquillé.
ICONOLOGY
Maud Hagelstein
From the 1990s onwards, visual theory reinvented itself by spreading out
into broader disciplinary territories and by developing a very original con-
ceptual arsenal. From the viewpoint of its philosophical grounding, image
theory has always had to take position in relation to critical iconology – a
field of interpretation of images launched in 1912 by art historian Aby
Warburg (1866–1929), enriched by the philosophy of symbolic forms of
Ernst Cassirer (1874–1945), and systematised by Erwin Panofsky (1892–
1968) in his Studies in Iconology (1972 [1939]) in particular. Towards the
end of the 1980s, this theoretical heritage was challenged by researchers
seeking to distance themselves from it, or at least to give a more up-to-date
meaning to the concept of iconology.
Criticisms aimed generally by contemporary theorists at the icono-
logical m ethod – and Didi-Huberman can be linked with this critical
movement, even if he developed specificities of his own that are discussed
below – are most often articulated around the problem of the language
paradigm. The question is whether it is possible to study the logic of the
visual (‘icono-logy’) outside any reference to language and to its syntax.
And it is thought that the domination of the language paradigm for the
interpretation of images can be overturned, and that their supposed
docility can be undone in order to rediscover their potential. Rather than
concentrate solely on the study of the symbolic content, several theorists
seek to envisage what constitutes the intrinsic specificity of the image and
to show how its materiality directly affects the production of meaning (the
tools of phenomenology are very often employed in this way). Against the
excessive semiotisation of forms of visual expression, it was necessary, for
114 iconology
When we face images we face strange things that open and close alternatively
to our senses – whether we understand this word to mean a fact of sensation or a
fact of meaning, the result of a sensible act or that of an intelligible faculty. Here,
it was thought that it had to do with a familiar image, when in fact, suddenly, it
closes up in front of us and becomes the ultimate inaccessible. There – another
version of that same uncanny – we have experienced the image as an insurmount-
able obstacle, a bottomless opacity, when suddenly it opens in front of us and
gives us the impression that it is violently sucking us into its depths. (Didi-
Huberman, 2007a: 25)
The image is conceived as an organism that opens and closes again (some-
times in a single movement) and whose meanings – rather than the single
signification – are grasped with patience only: nothing says that the image
always speaks, and when it is not mute, nothing guarantees that it speaks
with a single voice. For Didi-Huberman, it would appear that the critical
purpose of the constructed image is to shatter meaning, particularly when
it is ideological, to make it falter in order to make room for alternatives,
and to disassemble it to show what other possibilities it condemns, etc.
In his analyses, Didi-Huberman has often given back to images the
meanings that had been denied them, but he also reopened images
whose interpretation was thought to be sealed or completed – the most
116 images
s pectacular example being that of the frescoes by Fra Angelico. For many
years Didi-Huberman has worked hard to return a new legibility to the ele-
ments in our visual culture (artistic elements in particular), despite firmly
established readings. The renewed iconology – whose possibility can be
seen to emerge in the epistemological debates initiated by him and o thers
– in reality surpasses the framework of art history alone. The dialogue
undertaken by the work of Farocki in Remontages du temps subi shows
the critical and political dimension in the problem of legibility – w hich
constitutes a central and typical problem for iconological investigations:
Works Cited
Panofsky, E. (1972 [1939]). Studies in Iconology. Humanistic Themes in the
Art of the Renaissance. Westview Press.
IMAGES
Nigel Saint
Plurality strikes the reader when encountering the images in the many
books of Didi-Huberman. He himself encourages us to look at the images
first when opening any work of art history and always to consider an
image in relation to other images. His books range from the ancient to the
contemporary, with his selection of images from different media embrac-
ing not only the visual arts, but also conflicts and uprisings from the last
two centuries, the history of psychoanalysis, cinema, the natural sciences,
the history of medicine and the body, and philosophy. Throughout, the
guiding spirit is Warburg, to whose Mnemosyne Atlas Didi-Huberman
has regularly paid homage in his work and in his exhibitions. A sample
images 117
of images or ‘pans’ (see detail) discussed in his work might include the
following: the Farnese Atlas (2011b: 83–101), Fra Angelico’s frescoes at
the San Marco convent (1990a; 1990b), Enguerrand Quarton’s Coronation
of the Virgin (1998b), Niccolò dell’Arca’s Lamentation over the Dead Christ
(2002b: 176–9; 2007c: 238–9), the Susini and Zumbo sculptures in wax
(1999a: 106–18), the four Sonderkommando photographs (2003a) and
Turrell’s Blood Lust (2001a: 26–37).
In addition to the multiplicity of images, readers are struck by the
sustained attention that Didi-Huberman pays to the making of them.
Craft, the choice of materials (his essay on ex-votos includes objects in
metal, wood, marble, terracotta, stone and wax [2006b]), the experiments
with new forms and the potentialities of different media are all included
in his numerous studies. How a work is made and the skill demonstrated
therein are the first questions for artists, according to Henry Staten
(referring to Paul Valéry) in a discussion of aesthetics from Socrates to
Duchamp (Staten, 2011). Staten underlines how art is a knowledge-based
activity that involves the making of a form (poem or sculpture) before
we come to the evaluation of how the work succeeds mimetically or in
terms of any higher cultural value. In the same way, Didi-Huberman, in
Aristotelian and anti-Platonist mode, argues for specificity and precision
when describing, situating and elaborating upon works of art in his analy-
ses. The transformative power of an artwork is far from being overlooked,
as may be seen in Didi-Huberman’s interest in Rilke (2013c: 180–93) or
Blanchot (2013c: 249–79), but the effects are only possible because of the
manner in which the image has been made. Attention to production also
grounds the writing project in each of his studies: the relationship between
images and words remains open, alert, unending and noticeably uncertain.
Images in Didi-Huberman’s work are regularly discussed collectively
in sets and groups, partly to escape an excessive fascination with the
whole or part of single images and also to avoid a dangerous focus on
the uniqueness of any particular image. In his view, images need to be
connected and compared, for our own sake and in order to register their
cultural significance. Nevertheless, as made objects and as the first sites
of our encounters with new forms of the imagination, images are also
singular and specific (Larsson, 2020: 48–68). The eyes of the beholders
are undoubtedly moving rapidly while looking, but they are also pausing
and contemplating, taking time with individual images. In fact, due to
this rapid movement and prolonged gaze, the viewing subject experi-
ences the loss of certainty and order that Didi-Huberman equates with
Freud’s investigation into identity (1990a). In addition to an experience of
depleted self-knowledge, the loss is felt like an absence (Didi-Huberman,
2001a: 10–13), ‘nothing but the absence where every desire to see leads us’
118 images
(2001a: 83–4). The loss experienced is like a mourning for the self and for
order, as if the image has sought its own collapse; the experience leaves us
‘before the image as before a gaping limit, a disintegrating place’, as Didi-
Huberman writes with reference to Lacan (CI, 228). In the same text,
Didi-Huberman finishes by noting that ‘the whole difficulty [consists] in
being afraid neither of knowing, nor of not-knowing’ (CI, 228).
It is as sequences of singularities that the disarming force of images
is so striking across Didi-Huberman’s work, notably in the case of the
Sonderkommando photographs (2003a) or the stills from Eisenstein’s
Battleship Potemkin (2016a), as well as in his account of Pasolini’s La
Rabbia (2014a: 34–94) and indeed in his Atlas, Ghost Stories and Uprising
exhibitions. Didi-Huberman took up Benjamin’s notion of the dialecti-
cal image, both reading it back to reach his own view of Baudelaire’s
interest in the present and reading it forward to his study of the questions
of legibility and visibility in visual images and history (2002a; 2010b:
11–67). The most productive images, in his view, present a dynamic and
dialectical relation between the past and the present. This approach to
time is built into what Didi-Huberman calls a non-trivial model; his gloss
on Benjamin’s dialectical image reinforces the latter’s attention to the
critical stance taken towards both the present and the past when he (Didi-
Huberman) considers the potential for new artistic forms. If this happens,
the authentic modern artwork can overcome both the influence of the past
it has recognised and the present moment in which it participates (Didi-
Huberman, 1992b: 125–52). In this way, images can move across cultures
(migrate), ask awkward questions about cultural tradition and demonstrate
an agency that underlines our lack of mastery over them. Returning to the
issue of knowledge production, the power of images to imagine, speak and
act enhances the link between our knowledge of the world and the media
we engage with in order to apprehend this insight.
Finally, in the present overview, the essay ‘Burning Image’ finds
Didi-Huberman drawing together his ideas about the dialectic of the life
and death of images (2013c: 340–72). His work has shown that images
address both the mind and body of the spectator, at once our knowledge
and our senses. The reaction can be extreme, just as our ways of respond-
ing to an image can be too desultory or too appropriative (2003a: 45–56).
Conflagration is chosen as the paradoxical focus in ‘Burning Image’
because of Didi-Huberman’s appreciation of the dangers facing images and
the dangers that they represent for their spectators. Images are fragile and
often marked by non-knowledge, while also being the target of destructive
zealots or oppressive censors; and yet they postpone chaos and illuminate
the world more brightly while expiring. After patiently seeking a precise
series of questions to ask of images, so that their living contexts might be
imagination 119
Works Cited
Larsson, C. (2020). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
Staten, H. (2011). ‘The Wrong Turn of Aesthetics’, in J. Elliott and
D. Attridge (eds), Theory after ‘Theory’, 223–36. Routledge.
Woolf, V. (1966). ‘The Death of the Moth’, in V. Woolf, Collected Essays,
vol. I, 359–61. Chatto and Windus.
IMAGINATION
Robert Harvey
Western philosophy has tended to relegate the imagination to a minor
position, to a rank far beneath the putatively peerless rigour of reason.
This situation, as Didi-Huberman knows all too well, is little different
today than it was at the time of Plato: ‘We live in a time of the image in an
age of imagination torn’ (ISA, 181). Fear of imagination’s ‘oblique force’
is one reason for this: although ‘[d]rawing upon the force of imagination,
philosophy has also been obliged [. . .] to set imagination at a distance and
to provide itself with protection against the disruptiveness of [that] force’
(Sallis, 2000: 46). Altogether committed to that force, Didi-Huberman
welcomes that disruptiveness. A breathless line from a spare short prose
piece by Samuel Beckett could serve as his guiding maxim: ‘No trace any-
where of life, you say, pah, no difficulty there, imagination not dead yet,
yes, good, imagination dead imagine’ (Beckett 1995 [1965]: 182). More
than once does Didi-Huberman appeal to this imperative proffered on the
verge of imagination’s disappearance.
120 imagination
Yet on condition that the work of the imagination be applied to them, the
filmic, photographic or painted image – whether mediated by the screen,
the paper, or even the remanence of memory – become uncannily, uncom-
fortably, ethically here and now.
Works Cited
Agamben, G. (1998). Homo Sacer. Sovereign Power and Bare Life, trans.
D. Heller-Roazen. Stanford University Press.
Antelme, R. (1992). The Human Race, trans. J. Haight and A. Mahler.
Marlboro Press.
Beckett, S. (1995 [1965]). Imagination Dead Imagine, trans. S. Beckett, in
The Complete Short Prose: 1929–1989, 182–5. Grove Press.
Foucault, M. (1986). ‘Of Other Spaces’, trans. J. Miskowiec, diacritics
16(1): 22–7.
Harvey, R. (2017). Sharing Common Ground: A Space for Ethics.
Bloomsbury.
Kant, I. (2000). Critique of the Power of Judgement, trans. P. Guyer and
E. Matthews. Cambridge University Press.
Lanzmann, C. (dir.) (1985). Shoah.
Levi, P. (1989). The Drowned and the Saved, trans. R. Rosenthal. Vintage.
Sallis, J. (2000). Force of Imagination: The Sense of the Elemental. Indiana
University Press.
Henrik Gustafsson
The locution malgré tout, ‘in spite of all’ or ‘despite everything’, is first
and foremost associated with the vexed debate stirred by the exhibition
Mémoire des camps, which was organised in Paris in 2001, and the violent
reactions provoked by Didi- Huberman’s catalogue essay, ‘L’Images
malgré tout’, subsequently expanded into the eponymously titled book
in response to the fierce criticisms. Didi-Huberman’s conception of the
four photographs taken by a member of the Sonderkommando, the ‘special
units’ of Jewish prisoners whose task it was to dispose of the corpses at
Auschwitz-Birkenau, as acts of resistance, as visual testimonies and as
‘survivors’ (ISA, 46), was first attacked by Claude Lanzmann, in an inter-
view in Le Monde (2001), and soon followed by Gérard Wajcman in Les
Temps modernes (2001; see also Pagnoux, 2001). In his article, Wajcman
accused Didi-Huberman not only of corroborating the logic of Holocaust
in spite of all (malgré tout) 123
deniers, who insist that the event is yet to be proved, but, primarily, of
Christianising the Shoah by means of images.
Didi-Huberman’s conversation with Lanzmann goes further back,
though, beginning with a brief essay on Shoah titled ‘Le lieu malgré tout’,
the site in spite of all, written in 1995, which predates his book-length
retort in L’Images malgré tout (Images in Spite of All), by almost a decade
(2003a; ISA). Ten years after the Mémoire des camps dispute, the site and
the image come together in Didi-Huberman’s photo-essay Bark, written
after a visit to the state museum at Auschwitz-Birkenau in the summer of
2011 (2011a; B). In the birch forest surrounding the camp, he collected a
few pieces of bark that had curled off the trees and dropped to the ground.
While these flaky shards convey a loss of context and continuity, they
nonetheless maintain a relation to the living surroundings from which
they have been torn. It was precisely the edges of the cut, the aimless and
accidental framings, which Didi-Huberman called attention to in his close
reading of the Sonderkommando photographs. In common with these
‘stolen shreds’ and ‘tiny extractions’ clandestinely ‘snatched from a vast
hell’ (ISA, 33, 38, 47), the frayed edges of the bark show the marks of
the tearing. Mute and unresponsive, the pieces of bark are, to borrow a
phrase from Marc Bloch, ‘witnesses in spite of themselves’ (1992 [1954]:
51). Hence, their survival, their potential to ‘start an afterlife which sus-
tains our memory’ (OCCE, 116), depends on the historical subject who is
willing to pay them attention. Malgré tout denotes here a latent possibility
that resides as much in the salvaged fragments as in the subject who is pre-
pared to engage with them. It is in their very inconspicuousness that they
implore us to get involved. Signifying at once dearth and defiance, the
preposition malgré – despite, albeit, n
otwithstanding – thus accords equal
emphasis to the modesty of these vestiges and to the acts of resistance or
revolt that they may induce.
While the word tout generally denotes an overwhelming and oppres-
sive adversary in Didi-Huberman’s writings, such as amnesia, neglect,
ignorance or death, or the dire record of history as such, it attains a more
specific meaning in the aforementioned context. Lanzmann has described
Shoah as ‘an arid and pure film’, which ‘tells the truth’ and ‘teaches
everything’ (ISA, 127). Torn away from the proverbial ‘all’, the modest
tokens scrutinised by Didi-Huberman point us in the opposite direction,
as when he refers to the pieces of bark as ‘the impurity that comes from
the things themselves’ (B, 118). Against the ‘all image’ (ISA, 59), which
claims to encompass the historical event in its entirety, granting complete
knowledge and total recall, he mounts a defence of the historically ‘useless
images’ (ISA, 47). Never ceasing to caution the reader that memory,
in whatever form, is always flawed and frayed, and that knowledge is
124 in spite of all (malgré tout)
des camps is thus accurate when he proposes that the Holy Shroud is
the secret cipher for the art historian’s reading of the four photographs
from Auschwitz (2001: 83). Bruno Chaouat has similarly criticised Didi-
Huberman for interpreting these photographs within the discourse of
the Christian art of the Italian Renaissance, based on the template of his
1990 study of Fra Angelico: ‘the art historian and the Christian artist
yearn for the image In Spite of Everything, be it for the invisible image
of God as arch-Image or for Auschwitz as the limit of human imagina-
tion’ (2006: 93). Importantly, however, Didi-Huberman does not posit
Auschwitz as a unique event that demarcates such a limit. Imagination
is always limited, or rather, it is the limit that any historical investigation
has to expand. Memory work therefore always means to work with the
liminal. Consequently, no sign, whether verbal or visual, can lay claim to
the purity and singularity that Lanzmann insists on, as each sign at once
illuminates and obscures that to which it refers. Didi-Huberman urges his
readers that this is not an incentive to abandon signs, but to relentlessly
work on them, in spite of all.
Works Cited
Bloch, M. (1992 [1954]). The Historian’s Craft, trans. P. Putnam.
Manchester University Press.
Chaouat, B. (2006). ‘In the Image of Auschwitz’, diacritics, 36(1): 86–96.
Lanzmann, C. (2001). ‘Entre mémoire et histoire des camps, le role de
la photographie, Claude Lanzmann, écrivain et cineaste’, Le Monde,
19 January.
Pagnoux, E. (2001). ‘Reporter photographe à Auschwitz’, Les Temps mod-
ernes, 56(613): 84–108.
Wajcman, G. (2001). ‘De la croyance photographique’, Les Temps mod-
ernes, 56(613): 47–83.
INCARNATION
Ari Tanhuanpää
The problem of incarnation is a central theme in Didi- Huberman’s
La Peinture incarnée (1985a), Devant l’image (1990a; CI), Fra Angelico:
dissemblance et figuration (1990b; FAD) and L´Image ouverte: motifs de
l´incarnation dans les arts visuels (2007a). It should not be forgotten how
important the themes of the Annunciation and the Eucharist, discussed
in the fifth edition of the Logic of Port-Royal (Arnauld and Nicole, 1970
126 incarnation
of incarnation, the visible is connected to the visual (visuel) (CI, 24, 187–8;
cf. Buatois, 2011). The function of pan is comparable to Jacques Lacan’s
‘button ties’ (points de capiton), through which the subject comes in contact
with the Real (Didi-Huberman, 2007a: 35; CI, 187).
One of the first occurrences of pan in Didi-Huberman’s oeuvre is his
reading of Honoré Balzac’s 1831 short story ‘The Unknown Masterpiece’
in La Peinture incarnée (1985a). In the story the beginner Nicolas Poussin
and the established painter François Porbus are trying to catch a glimpse
of a painting that no one has ever seen, done by the master painter
Frenhofer, which depicts a young woman named Catherine Lescault.
Didi-Huberman describes the pan of Frenhofer’s masterpiece as the
‘announcement of a female body that does not manifest itself’. We are
dealing with a symptom: Catherine’s body is indicated, but not manifested
as such. ‘The effect of pan – what Lacan would have called “function of
painting” – would be [. . .] the symptom par excellence of the soma in the
pictorial sema’ (1985a: 61): a traumatic encounter with the Real (Recalcati,
2011: 52–62). Vinot associates the pan with transference: ‘[i]f the pan is
created by the artist in the painting, the analysand creates his or her pan in
transference’ (Vinot, 2009: 199). In Lacanian terms (1998 [1981]: 67–78),
the pan acts as the ‘vel of alienation’. Didi-Huberman describes pan as the
‘imminence of the hallucinatory moment in painting’, which is, however,
only a ‘quasi-hallucination’: what the pan accomplishes is only a quasi-
metamorphosis; a painting remains as such, albeit ‘tense to the extreme’
(1985a: 59). Didi-Huberman borrows Lacan’s diagram, which consists
of two overlapping circles representing the imaginary and the symbolic
spheres. The intersection of these circles is the Real, or the object-cause
of desire; in Lacanian terms, the objet a (1998 [1981]: 77; Barcella, 2012:
38–40). Didi-Huberman’s name for this object is le pan.
As Didi-Huberman mentions in L’Image ouverte (2007a: 25): ‘[t]he
images open and close like our bodies looking at them’. The pan acts as the
operator of this opening and closing. It is the ‘split between the eye and
the gaze’ (Lacan, 1998 [1981]: 67–8), in which the perspective turns from
what we see (ce que nous voyons) to that object of desire (objet a), the gaze
of the Other that stares at us (ce qui nous regarde) (Didi-Huberman, 1992b:
51–2). Our intentionality becomes inverted (cf. Hagelstein, 2006: 33–41).
An example of the effect of the pan is Didi-Huberman’s description
of Johannes Vermeer’s Lacemaker (c. 1665, Louvre, Paris) (Vinot, 2009).
Didi-Huberman first dealt with this subject in his 1983 essay ‘Le Sang de
la dentellière’ (1998a: 64–75), and he returned to it in Devant l’image (CI,
248–56). He tells us that at first glance the motif of the painting seems so
evident (cf. the Barthesian sens obvie, 1991 [1985]: 45–7), that it can be
easily identified. He points out, however, that there is something in it that
128 incarnation
Works Cited
Arnauld, A., and Nicole, P. (1970 [1683]). La Logique ou l’art de penser.
Flammarion.
Barcella, D. (2012). Sintomi, strappi, anacronismi. Il Potere delle immagini
secondo Georges Didi-Huberman. Et Al.
Barthes, R. (1991 [1985]). ‘The Third Meaning’, in The Responsibility of
Forms, trans. R. Howard, 41–62. University of California Press.
Bryant, L. R. (2008). Difference and Givenness. Deleuze’s Transcendental
Empiricism and the Ontology of Immanence. Northwestern University
Press.
Buatois, I. (2011). ‘La Figure comme moyen d’une approche critique
transdisciplinaire. Exemple de l’image ouverte de Georges Didi-
Huberman’, Figures et discours critique. Figura, 27: 123–38.
Davila, T. (2007). ‘Georges Didi-Huberman: l’image ouverte’, Art Press,
334: 62–3.
Gersant, M. (2020). ‘Le Placenta: approche historique, anthropologique
et psychanalytique’, Érès, ‘Dialogue’, 2(228): 181–200.
Hagelstein, M. (2006). ‘Georges Didi-Huberman: vers une intentionnalité
inversée?’, La Part de l´Œil, 21–22: 33–41.
Lacan, J. (1991). Le Séminaire de Jacques Lacan. Livre VIII. Le Transfert,
1960–61, ed. Jacques-Alain Miller. Éditions du Seuil.
Lacan, J. (1998 [1981). The Seminar of Jacques Lacan, Book XI. The
Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, trans. A. Sheridan.
W. W. Norton.
Marin, L. (1989a). Food for Thought, trans. M. Hjort. Johns Hopkins
University Press.
Marin, L. (1989b). Opacité de la peinture. Essais sur la représentation au
Quattrocento. Éditions de l´École des hautes études en sciences sociales.
Marin, L. (2001). On Representation, trans. C. Porter. Stanford University
Press.
Marion, J.-L. (2004). The Crossing of the Visible, trans. J. K. A. Smith.
Stanford University Press.
Munk Rösing, L. (2017). ‘I Kød og Blod: Om Signifiantens Materialitet
i Kunst og Psykoanalyse under Stadig Hensyntagen til Georges Didi-
Huberman’, Lamella. Tidsskrift for Teoretisk Psykoanalyse, 2(2): 41–61.
Proust, M. (1954). À la recherche du temps perdu. Gallimard.
Recalcati, M. (2011). Il Miracolo della forma. Per un’estetica psicoanalitica.
Mondadori.
130 kant, immanuel
K
KANT, IMMANUEL
Magdalena Krasińska
For Didi-Huberman, the critical philosophy of Immanuel Kant consti-
tutes an important historico-philosophical reference in his critique of the
history of art and its methodologies (see art history). Drawing atten-
tion to the limited potential of Erwin Panofsky’s positivist history of
art and of the iconological method of interpretation (see iconography;
iconology), Didi-Huberman proposes a kind of ‘regress’ back to Kant
and, in particular, to his Critique of the Power of Judgment (2000 [1790]).
According to Didi-Huberman, the conclusions of that treatise on fine
arts and aesthetic experience (see aesthetics) were, for a time, neglected
by most influential art historians. That left room for the attempts at
‘scientification’ of their discipline, which derived inspiration from Kant’s
Critique of Pure Reason (1998 [1781]) and the neo-Kantian tradition
of Ernst Cassirer and his Philosophy of Symbolic Forms (1980 [1923]).
Developing this claim, Didi-Huberman sketches out two pathways of the
‘development’ of the history of art as a science through its incorporation
of neo-Kantian elements: the pathway of representation, or symbol (in
the spirit of Cassirer’s philosophy and the iconology of Panofsky) and
the pathway of the symptom (integrating the concept of the aesthetic
idea from the Critique of the Power of Judgment and Sigmund Freud’s
concept of the symptom).
These two paths of the (neo-)Kantian discourse on art branch out
in different directions. The former, taking as its guidepost conclusions
drawn from the Critique of Pure Reason and orienting itself to the cultural
sciences, maintains that a subject lives surrounded by symbolic forms
and that their access to ‘reality’ is always already mediated by categorial
symbol. The second type of neo-Kantian discourse continues the train
of thought developed in the Critique of the Power of Judgment, including
the assertion that aesthetic experience is not reducible to knowledge and
concepts, because its nature is undefined. ‘The Kantism of pure reason’,
Didi-Huberman writes, pushed art historians precisely in the direction of
knowledge 131
knowledge, in that they made art the object of knowledge, thereby margin-
alising ‘the faculty of aesthetic taste’ (CI, 93).
In this way, at the opposite end from this scientific ‘tone of certainty’
(CI, 2–5), one finds something akin to an ‘economy of doubt’ (CI, 181):
an aspect of uncertainty that remains in close relation with the theory of
symptom, which it associates with excess (with ‘something more’ (CI,
155)). The two Kantian (or neo-Kantian) ‘keys’ (CI, 5) thus turn out to be
two separate modes, one of which (i.e., the iconological) is characterised
by the desire for knowledge, and the other by non-knowledge. The second
‘key’ grows out of the Critique of the Power of Judgment in that it absorbs
what Kant wrote about the aesthetic idea: that it is a ‘representation of
the imagination that occasions much thinking though without it being
possible for any determinate thought, i.e., concept, to be adequate to it’
(2000 [1790]: 192). Neo-Kantian iconology, according to Didi-Huberman,
‘pretends to define the conditions of what will be thinkable in a work of
art’, while ‘the opening to the symptom gives us access to something like
an unthinkable that comes before our very eyes to traverse images’ (CI,
182). Nevertheless, Didi-Huberman in no way invalidates the symbolic
manner of understanding an image; rather, he perceives the need to curb
excessive cognitive aspirations in positivist art history, and he indicates
the necessity of supplementing the iconological method with a description
of the work of the symptom.
Works Cited
Cassirer, E. (1980 [1923]). The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, trans.
R. Manheim. Yale University Press.
Kant, I. (1998 [1781]). Critique of Pure Reason, trans. P. Guyer and
A. W. Wood. Cambridge University Press.
Kant, I. (2000 [1790]). Critique of the Power of Judgment, trans. P. Guyer
and E. Matthews. Cambridge University Press.
KNOWLEDGE
Magdalena Krasińska
Didi-Huberman uses the concept of ‘knowledge’ above all in reference to
the ways of practising the history of art that take as its goal the deciphering
of meaning, that is, obtaining a result in the form of a specific significa-
tion, as if the aesthetic experience had its foundation solely in structure,
and not also in the event (see aesthetics). In Invention of Hysteria
132 knowledge
Works Cited
Boehm, G. (1978). ‘Zu einer Hermeneutik des Bildes’, in G. Boehm and
H. G. Gadamer (eds), Seminar: Die Hermeneutik un die Wissenschaften,
444–71. Frankfurt am Main.
L
LIGHT
Tomasz Swoboda
Considerations about light feature in Didi- Huberman’s first book,
Invention of Hysteria, which include light as a crucial and formative aspect
in the process of photography itself, as well as ‘the intrinsic material of
the [hysterical] drama’, ‘a light full of hatred for the mystery of catalepsy’
(IH, 227–8; see hysteria). But it was in his subsequent work, Confronting
Images, that light as luminous revelation gained greater significance.
Opening with a vision of the fresco in Fra Angelico’s cell in Florence,
the study approaches the whiteness of the lime, invoking the dialectic of
light and of the obstacles placed in its path (see dialectics), which leads,
in this particular case, to a theological reference to the Word made flesh
in the form of a luminous intensity in the uterus Mariae (CI, 25). While
neither light nor the white belong to the order of the visible (and have been
134 light
the second crossed with flashes’ (SF, 83). We are thus a bit like the little
match girl from the famous fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen that
Didi-Huberman evokes in Aperçues: dreaming of the great joyful lights,
striking the very last of her matches, she dies of cold on the evening of
New Year’s Day (Didi-Huberman, 2018a: 101).
LITERATURE
Busra Copuroglu
During a talk he gave in October 2020 at an event organised by La Maison
Française of New York University, Didi-Huberman admitted that he
doesn’t start writing anything without first reading Charles Baudelaire,
who, more than a mere source of inspiration, informs and shapes his
relation to glimpses, a mode of seeing that captures the trace-survivance
of a moment or a figure that has just passed us by. The way in which
Didi-Huberman engages with Baudelaire’s poetry is just one example
of his entanglement with literary texts. Though Didi-Huberman thinks
with and through literature, he is not interested in offering a systematic
literary criticism. He thinks with and through literature, and his literary
reflections are grounded in authors such as Baudelaire, Bataille, Joyce,
Brecht, Borges, who sometimes inform, sometimes accompany his imagi-
nal thinking. The texts and writers he thinks with give shape to his key
concepts such as atlas, montage, gaze, glimpse and distance.
Ce que nous voyons, ce qui nous regarde (1992b), Didi-Huberman’s poetic
treatise on gaze, opens with a fragment from James Joyce’s Ulysses on the
‘ineluctable modality of the visible’, where Joyce talks about ‘[thinking]
through’ his eyes, and ‘shut[ting] [. . .] eyes’ in order to see, an important
foundation of his phenomenology of seeing. Another important name that
has shaped Didi-Huberman’s philosophy of visuality is, as mentioned,
Charles Baudelaire, who he proclaims as the great master of glimpses.
Dedicated to a passer-by woman, a ‘fugitive beauty’, Baudelaire’s poem
‘À Une Passante’ (1857) in particular has been key to the development
of the notion of glimpses (aperçues), which Didi-Huberman also calls his
own ‘small intermittent literary genre’ (2018a: 18), a mode of writing
that becomes the premise of his book Aperçues (2018). Organised around
four big thematic chapters and written in the form of Denkbild (thought-
images), in Aperçues Didi-Huberman thus records the traces of passing
time, of moments, of his own scattered thoughts and desires.
On the other hand, on a more personal level, Didi-Huberman has also
been fascinated by Baudelaire’s 1853 essay ‘The Philosophy of Toys’
136 l i t e r a t u r e
(‘Morale du joujou’). The essay depicts a child at play with a toy, which
they manipulate and seek to prise open only to discover that the toy’s
inside lacks a soul – a moment that, as Baudelaire puts it (2012: 20), ‘is
the beginning of stupor and melancholy’. Baudelaire’s figuration of a child
playing with a toy is a playful reflection of Didi-Huberman’s own relation
to images: like the Baudelairean child, he ‘turns’ the images round and
round in his head, and classifies, annotates and frames them like a child
who is shaking his toy, trying to make something come out of it (2018a:
258).
Also important are Brecht’s Arbeitsjournal, which ‘confront [. . .] the
stories of a subject with the history of the world’ (EH, 12), and, which,
for Didi-Huberman, are ‘minuscule stories’ (EH, 12). In particular,
Brecht inspires Didi-Huberman’s conception of a montage, which is
key for constructing the atlas of political engagement and historical
knowledge in The Eye of History series. Working from Brecht’s exile jour-
nals, Didi‑Huberman builds his own library/atlas, and likens Brecht’s
Arbeitsjournal to Bataille’s Documents and Aby Warburg’s Bilderatlas
(2018a: 116).
Didi-Huberman’s entanglement with literature is also echoed in his
engagement with the atlas, an important form of knowledge grounded in
the processes of montage:
We use an atlas, [which is] made up of tables or of plates [and which] we consult
with a particular aim, or that we leaf through at leisure . . . i n a way that combines
. . . [these] two apparently dissimilar gestures: We open it, first, to look for precise
information. But once we find that information, we do not necessarily put the
atlas down; rather, we follow different pathways this way and that. (AA, 3)
Works Cited
Baudelaire, C. (2012). ‘The Philosophy of Toys’, in K. Gross (ed.), On
Dolls, 11–21 Notting Hill Editions.
De Cauwer, S., and Smith, L. K. (2018). ‘Critical Image Configurations:
The Work of Georges Didi-Huberman’, Angelaki 23(4): 3–10.
Joyce, J. (2008 [1922]). Ulysses. Oxford University Press.
M
MATERIALITY
Ari Tanhuanpää
A particularly interesting aspect of Didi-Huberman’s work is how he treats
an artwork’s materiality: it always falls within the limits of perceptibility
in one way or another; it is difficult to capture, simply because it is con-
tingent; and it is about latent virtualities and symptomatic intensities (see
symptom). Didi-Huberman often focuses on abject matter (la matière
basse) in the Bataillean sense. Inspired by Julius von Schlosser’s History
of Portraiture in Wax (1911), Didi-Huberman returns time and time again
to reflect on the uncanny plasticity of wax (1999l; 2000c; 2008a; EV; OM;
VS), which disrupts the temporal and stylistic categories of art history
(Larsson, 2020: 110). Other similar substances are, for example, dust, soot
and coal, which have been the materials used by Claudio Parmiggiani
and Giuseppe Penone (2001b; BS). Sometimes Didi-Huberman lowers
his gaze to see the rags set on the streets of Paris to channel dirty water
into the sewer (2002a: 45–55) – the drapé of the Warburgian ninfa, whose
dance combines high and low (see nymph) – or a glove someone has
dropped and forgotten on the p avement – it is still human (maintaining
the form of a hand and exuding the warmth of the living body), but already
becoming inhuman and formless. This is a process Georges Bataille
called informe (Didi- Huberman, 1995a; 2002a: 106; Barcella, 2012:
72–109; Bois and Krauss, 1997).
138 materiality
bumps effect, the effect which cannot be represented but which can only
be lived, suffered (2013c: 238–40).
Didi-Huberman shares his interest in air with Luce Irigaray (1999), who
has considered air to be an element forgotten by philosophers. In his Gestes
d’air et de pierre (2005a: 60), ‘gestures of air and stone’, Didi-Huberman
wonders whether breath (souffle) would be the matter of images. He
quotes Parmiggiani, according to whom the space surrounding a work
of art is its constituent physical part (2001b: 143). This is what Ludwig
Binswanger (1881–1966) – the Swiss psychoanalyst who treated Aby
Warburg at the Kreuzlingen sanatorium, and to whom Didi-Huberman
extensively refers in The Surviving Image – called a gestimmter Raum, a
‘thymic space’ (1994 [1932]). Binswanger’s student Pierre Fédida, who
was close to Didi-Huberman, used the idiom ‘le souffle indistinct de l’image’
(‘indistinct breath of the image’) (2009 [1995]: 187–220). This ‘invisible
animating principle’ is the breeze that raises the veil of a nereid sculpted
in marble, dancing in the wind – forming the improbable conjunction of
air and stone that Didi-Huberman calls grisaille: a ‘matter agitated by the
wind of time’ (2005a: 59–60; 2013c: 283).
Works Cited
Barcella, D. (2012). Sintomi, strappi, anacronismi. Il Potere delle immagini
secondo Georges Didi-Huberman. Et Al.
Binswanger, L. (1994 [1932]). Das Raumproblem in der Psychopathologie.
Ausgewählte Werke, Band III. Asanger.
Bois, Y.-A., and Krauss, R. (1997). Formless: A User’s Guide. Zone Books.
Fédida, P. (2009 [1995]). ‘Le souffle indistinct de l’image’, in P. Fédida,
Le site de l´étranger. La situation psychoanalytique, 187–220. Presses
Universitaires de France.
Irigaray, L. (1999). The Forgetting of Air in Martin Heidegger, trans.
M. B. Mader. University of Texas Press.
Larsson, C. (2020). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
Malabou, C. (2005). ‘La Plasticité en souffrance. Éditions de la Sorbonne’,
Sociétes, and Représentations, 20: 31–9.
Serres, M. (1995). Genesis, trans. G. James and J. Nielsen. University of
Michigan Press.
Simondon, G. (2017). On the Mode of Existence of Technical Objects, trans.
C. Malaspina and J. Rogove. Univocal.
140 mcqueen, steve
MCQUEEN, STEVE
Chari Larsson
Didi-Huberman’s essay on British artist and filmmaker Steve McQueen
draws together many of the recurring themes in his work, including
anachronism and memory. Written as a catalogue essay to accompany
McQueen’s 2013 exhibition at Schaulager Basel, the text was published
by Minuit in Sur le fil (2013a: 31–85). Writing in an essayistic style,
Didi-Huberman playfully juxtaposes his analysis of McQueen’s Queen
and Country (2003–10) with extracts drawn from Jean Genet’s essay ‘Le
funambule’ (‘The Tightrope Walker’) (1979 [1958]: 11–12). This in turn
creates a literary montage as fragments of text clash and rub against each
other. The technique also anticipates Didi-Huberman’s turn to increas-
ingly experimental, fragmentary forms of writing in recent texts such as
Aperçues.
Didi-Huberman commences with a contextual discussion of McQueen’s
Queen and Country. McQueen was selected as an official war artist by the
Imperial War Museum to document the war in Iraq. His task was to
travel to the war zone and produce a work of art about the British forces
in and around Basra. The situation, however, was extremely unstable and
dangerous, leaving McQueen unable to film and confined for the duration
of the six-day trip (2013a: 40). The challenge facing McQueen was akin
to the moral and ethical question faced by all officially embedded war
artists: how to produce a work that is authentic and true to the experience
of war, without possessing the necessary physical freedom to create such
a work? If filming was out of the question, how best to represent the war?
Moreover, how to commemorate a highly contested war?
Returning home, McQueen began creating a new commemorative
project, Queen and Country, with the goal of giving representation to the
British men and women who had died serving in Iraq. McQueen’s solu-
tion was modest: to create a sheet of commemorative postal stamps for
each of the British servicemen and women who lost their lives. McQueen
wrote to 115 families, inviting their assistance. His request was simple: to
please provide him with an image of their son or daughter. Ninety-eight
families responded positively, supporting the project. The images were
subsequently made into sheets of postage stamps, with each sheet contain-
ing 168 stamps. Each sheet was dedicated to an individual soldier, with
details of name, regiment, age and date of death printed in the margin.
Evoking Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, Didi-Huberman observes
that stamps are minor forms of images, especially when compared with
history painting, sculptured monuments, cinema, or even photography
mcqueen, steve 141
(2013a: 42). In their book on Kafka, Deleuze and Guattari outline the
principal characteristics of a minor literature. Importantly, minor lit-
erature does not originate in a minority language. Instead, it is a minority
construct within a major language. Didi-Huberman argues that stamps are
‘very powerful commemorative forms’ (2013a: 43).
To understand the stamps’ power, Didi-Huberman pulls McQueen’s
project in the direction of Aby Warburg and Walter Benjamin. Stamps
possess a complex temporality. They are bearers of information or news
that is always belated and has happened after the fact. They are purchased,
however, with the future in mind. They will arrive at a destination at a
point in the future from a moment in the past. Never up to date, stamps are
intrinsically anachronistic. Both Benjamin and Warburg loved stamps
and were enthusiastic stamp collectors. Plate 77 of Warburg’s incomplete
Mnemosyne Atlas (1924–29) famously included postage stamps. Warburg’s
interest in stamps focuses attention on an important concept in his body of
work: Nachleben (afterlife) or tracing the migration of images across ter-
ritories and time. Warburg would document the fluctuations in meaning
as images change according to cultural context. In one essay, Warburg
examined the visual motif of Neptune riding through the waves. This
ancient image was reclaimed by Charles II as an official seal and symbol of
British power. The motif made a colonial leap, crossing the Atlantic and
re-emerging as a stamp from Barbados and showing the King of England
on his chariot. These chains of associations were formulated by Warburg
as Nachleben, or survivals, and evidence of the ‘continuing vitality of
pagan nature’ (Warburg, 1999 [1927]: 348).
For Didi-Huberman, McQueen’s decision to utilise stamps to com-
memorate the dead soldiers reactivates the genre of state portraiture. This
is not a simple inversion or appropriation, by replacing the image of the
British monarch with images of soldiers. Instead, it may be understood as
a contemporary form of Nachleben, where images return, with a renewed
intensity after long periods of dormancy, and are invested with cultural
memory. Didi-Huberman argues that Queen and Country is a disruption to
the sovereign representations of power traditionally embodied by stamps.
McQueen was not simply taking sides in the highly controversial com-
mitment of British forces to the war in Iraq. To take a position is more
than delivering an argument. By electing the humble postage stamp as his
preferred medium, he disturbed the normalised flow of carefully managed
information that neutralises the soldier’s individuality. In Brechtian
terms, we might say that McQueen’s gesture is the creation of knowl-
edge through making strange (Verfremdungseffekt) (see Brecht, Bertolt).
McQueen forced a disruption in the British Ministry of Defence’s careful
orchestration of images in the war on terror.
142 memory
Works Cited
Deleuze, G., and Guattari, F. (1986). Kafka: Toward a Minor Literature,
trans. D. Polan. University of Minnesota Press.
Genet, J. (1979 [1958]). ‘Le funambule’, in J. Genet, Œuvres complètes,
vol. V, 11–12. Gallimard.
Warburg, A. (1999 [1927]). ‘Medicean Pageantry at the Valois Court in
the Flemish Tapestries of the Galleria degli Uffizi’, in K. W. Foster
(ed.), The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity: Contributions to the Cultural
History of the European Renaissance, 343–8. Getty Research Institute.
MEMORY
This time, which is not exactly the past, has a name: it is memory. She is the
one who decants the past from its accuracy. She is the one who humanizes and
configures time, interweaves its fibres, assumes its transmissions, devoting it to
an essential impurity. It is memory that the historian summons up and questions,
not exactly the past. [Ce temps qui n’est pas exactement le passé a un nom: c’est la
mémoire. C’est elle qui décante le passé de son exactitude. C’est elle qui humanise et
configure le temps, entrelace ses fibres, assume ses transmissions, le vouant à une essen-
tielle impureté. C’est la mémoire que l’historien convoque et interroge, non exactement
le passé.] (2000a: 37)
MIGRATION
Maud Hagelstein
While both discrete and forceful, the Warburgian concept of migration
works from within Didi-Huberman’s meditations on the image – probably
more and more over the last few years, or with a replayed dimension. His
interest in artistic or historical images of the nameless, the ‘extras’, the
‘people exposed’ to the shocks of modern democracies has led him to
observe the communities of those who rage to survive (see peoples). By
spending time on Warburgian themes, Didi-Huberman became sensitive
to the effort and the tearing away from oneself involved in migration,
which is why he works, today, to look straight at the catastrophe of migra-
tion policies in Europe (2017a).
Without succumbing to the reductive facility of biographical explana-
tion, it is worth noting that art historian Aby Warburg himself suffered
the threatening reality of migratory displacements, not firsthand (even if
he was not unfamiliar with psychological wandering), but in his antici-
pated and visionary paranoid fantasies, and then ‘materially’ after his
own death, since his whole world of research, his tools, his library and
his archives, were all displaced to London in the early 1930s to be pre-
served from the Nazi regime. Echoing this posthumous migratory reality,
we could reread with Didi-Huberman the essay by Adorno entitled
‘Bibliographical Musings’ in which Adorno shares a slightly anthropo-
morphised gaze on books damaged by travels in exile during the 1930s and
1940s, deported several times, finally devastated, mutilated, appearing as
the wounded survivors of a painful history (1992: 20–31). On this ground,
Didi-Huberman has, throughout his work, put into narrative one of
Warburg’s key ideas: important things can become uprooted. In his article
from 1912 on the astrological frescoes of Ferrare, Warburg attempted to
elucidate the origins of enigmatic divine figures, of very particular ‘pagan
migrants’, whose beating Greek heart he thought he could detect under
the sevenfold coat that had gradually covered them during their peregri-
nations. He sought to track these motifs, these forms and these gestures
that inhabit Western art, to identify the migratory paths or the ‘pathways
of culture’ (Wanderstrassen) through which they circulate. In the impres-
sive work in 2002 devoted to the ideas of the art historian, The Surviving
Image, Didi-Huberman measured the operative character of this concept
of migration.
Thus, the migrations of figures of art show that the time of the image is
impure, complex, and mixed (see temporality). Regarding the obstinate
circulations of certain motifs passing from earth to earth (passant de terre
146 montage
First, we do not stand confronted with or before an image the way we do before a
thing whose exact boundaries we can trace. The ensemble of definite c oordinates
– author, date, technique, iconography, etc. – is obviously insufficient for that. An
image, every image, is the result of movements that are provisionally sedimented
or crystallized in it. These movements traverse it through and through, each
one having its own trajectory – historical, anthropological, and p sychological –
starting from a distance and continuing beyond it. They oblige us to think of
the image as an energy-bearing or dynamic moment, even though it may have a
specific structure. (SI, 19)
For a person does not migrate as they might embark on any other journey;
migration is always costly. To circulate, the visual forms must be resilient;
they must also activate a resilient force of metamorphosis.
Translated by Shane Lillis
Works Cited
Adorno, T. W. (1992). ‘Bibliographical Musings’, trans. S. W. Nicholsen,
in T. W. Adorno, Notes to Literature, 20–31. Columbia University
Press.
MONTAGE
Henrik Gustafsson
‘How can we see time?’ (EH, xv). This question is raised in the opening
sentence of Didi-Huberman’s book-length study of Bertolt Brecht’s
1955 photobook Kriegsfibel (War Primer in English translation, 2017),
which was pieced together with scissors and glue from press clippings
montage 147
Works Cited
Benjamin, W. (1968 [1940]). ‘Theses on the Philosophy of History’,
trans. H. Zohn, in Illuminations: Essays and Reflections, ed. H. Arendt,
253–64. Schocken Books.
Brecht, B. (2017). War Primer, trans. and ed. J. Willett. Verso.
Foucault, M. (1977 [1969]). The Archaeology of Knowledge, trans.
A. M. Sheridan Smith. Pantheon.
150 nymph
N
NYMPH
Johnnie Gratton
Aby Warburg’s research on the Italian Renaissance famously highlighted
the artistic reappearance of ancient gestures expressing intense emo-
tions. These he conceptualised through the coinage pathos formula
(Pathosformel), a kind of time capsule. Among such recognisable pathos-
bearing figures, that of the nymph, or Ninfa, fascinated him most. While
writing The Surviving Image, Didi-Huberman too fell under her spell and
soon developed ideas for a book of his own about her. The completed
work soon found a home for publication in Gallimard’s prestigious Art
et Artistes series, a collection printed on glossy paper, designed to accom-
modate a generous number of high-quality illustrations. As of 2021,
Didi-Huberman has published four ‘essays’ in that series (his term), all
featuring Ninfa in their titles. Sadly, apart from odd fragments, none
has been translated into English, leaving a rich vein of Didi-Huberman’s
output inaccessible to much of his readership. Each essay has a title iden-
tifying a specific angle on the Ninfa figure. Do these angles materialise as
governing themes? Not necessarily. The essays speak to their titles, and
thus to the present topic, in varying degrees.
The first essay is titled Ninfa moderna: essai sur le drapé tombé (2002a),
‘an essay on fallen drapery’. Didi-Huberman’s basic idea is to propose
‘another possible extension’ (2002a: 133) of Ninfa’s already versatile
afterlife. The essay works teleologically, if not chronologically. It builds
on Warburg’s realisation that, during the Renaissance, the nymph motif
underwent a process of ‘dissociation’ that transferred affect from the
figures themselves to their edges, their ‘moving accessories’, such as
windswept hair and billowing garments. But what of such ‘dissociation’
in the modern iconographic archive? Didi-Huberman’s research yielded
an ingenious idea lying latent in his subtitle. The English ‘fallen drapery’,
nymph 151
like the French drapé tombé, denotes the hang of worn drapery, but
visual modernity supplies material that can be imaginatively construed
as representing the nymph’s clothing once fallen from her body. ‘She’
has disappeared, leaving a mere remnant of her former glory. Thus, the
essay’s highpoint, delivered early, but clearly marking the journey’s end,
settles our gaze on two photo-series of modern streetscapes (by Alain
Fleischer and Steve McQueen) featuring old cloth, bound or unbound,
placed in Parisian gutters to direct water gushing from the curb through
the spouts of the city’s nineteenth-century street-cleaning system. The
photos, and/or Didi-Huberman’s lush ekphrases, confer ‘textural dignity’
and ‘rhythmic movement’ (2002a: 80, 100) on to these otherwise lowly
objects, guaranteeing that the absent nymph will nevertheless continue to
survive. All in all, a substantial, occasionally questionable, contribution to
the iconographic history of Ninfa (see Gratton, 2011).
Second essay: Ninfa fluida: essai sur le drapé-désir (2015c), ‘an essay
on the drapery of desire’, first written between 2002 and 2004. This
project views Ninfa through the prism of fluidity. It arose through Didi-
Huberman’s rereading of Warburg’s 1893 thesis, centred on Botticelli’s
Primavera and The Birth of Venus. Emulating Ninfa moderna, he once
more selects the concept of ‘moving accessories’ to use as his launchpad.
Encouraged by Warburgian metaphorics, he adds further impetus to that
concept by attributing to it a power of ‘fluidification’ (2015c: 80, 214). In
this context, ‘fluidity’ denotes the power of form and figuration to visu-
alise flow, and to make the beholder feel flow as an intensifier of pathos.
He shows how fluidification enhances the commixture of motion and
emotion, and how it innervates images of dance, bodily grace, sensuality
and, above all, ‘the turbulences of desire’ (2015c: 81–123). There follows a
long ‘Post-Scriptum’ whose main interest lies in Didi-Huberman’s advo-
cacy and exemplification of the hypothesis that ‘images of fluidity [. . .] tell
us something very fundamental about the fluidity of images’ (2015c: 127;
emphasis in the original).
Third essay: Ninfa profunda: essai sur le drapé-tourmente (2017c), ‘an
essay on tormented drapery’, originally written between 2002 and 2004.
Despite the title, whether as nymph from the oceanic depths or as reclin-
ing nude, Ninfa appears only rarely in an otherwise impressive monograph
on Victor Hugo as poet, novelist and artist. The dialectic of simultaneous
physical turmoil and psychic torment dominates this plunge into the
natural world, accompanied by Didi-Huberman’s plunge into Hugo’s
imaginary universe. Lack of critical distance leaves him open to challenge
on his evocations of Hugo’s voyeuristic sexualisation of the female body.
More positively, readers interested in the concept of immanence will be
well served.
152 nymph
Fourth essay: Ninfa dolorosa: essai sur la mémoire d’un geste (2019c), ‘an
essay on the memory of a gesture’. Didi-Huberman initially focuses on
Georges Mérillon’s famous 1990 photograph of several Kosovan women
mourning the death of a young man recently killed by Serbian guns.
Though taken for journalistic purposes, the photo stood out for its quite
unintended affinities with the Christian iconographic tradition of the Pietà,
based on representations of the Virgin grieving over of the dead Christ’s
body. This focus seems incompatible with the book’s title, given that the
photo’s central figure, the Mater dolorosa, cannot be confused with Ninfa
dolorosa, for, as Didi-Huberman underlines, the latter is allied with Mary
Magdalene, a far more ambiguous character than the Virgin, given her
salacious past, as expressed figuratively in her overwrought performances
of mourning. Didi-Huberman uses much of his book to undertake a wide-
ranging, multidisciplinary investigation of ritual mourning conducted by
women across the complex cultural fabric of the Eastern Mediterranean.
To this end, he delves into specialist scholarly research, notably in the
fields of history and anthropology. Alongside, in more polemical vein, he
returns to his political theme of uprising, understood now, in relation to
collective mourning, as a dialectical process of transforming despondency
into ‘political uprising’ in the form of ‘women’s protest’ (2019c: 193–238).
This, in turn, proves part of a broader strategy whereby he is arguably
responding to certain virulent critiques of his Uprisings exhibition (Paris,
2016–17) by overtly espousing feminist perspectives and scholarship – a
rare move in his playbook.
The underlying aim of these explorations and exhortations is to allow
Didi-Huberman to return to Mérillon’s photo sufficiently empowered to
submit his hypothesis that, among the image’s cast of mourners, a ‘suf-
fering nymph’ turned belligerent protester can indeed be identified in
the form of Aferdita, the deceased’s younger sister. Didi-Huberman has
gathered the fruits of his research under three headings: iconographic,
genealogical, anthropological (2019c: 217–22). The transformation of
Aferdita into Ninfa starts immediately under the first heading with a
reference to Warburg’s Ninfa. Like her pre-incarnation, Aferdita is said
to be young and graceful, but also an unsettling presence. The youngest
member of the group, the only mourner with head uncovered, she sits at
the far right, at the image’s edge, exactly where Ninfa Fiorentina appears
in Ghirlandaio’s Birth of John the Baptist (c. 1486–90), a fresco analysed by
both Warburg and Didi-Huberman. Unlike that figure, however, Aferdita
is no fleet-footed gatecrasher from another time and place, despite which
Didi-Huberman sees her as ‘almost excluding herself from the com-
munity [. . .] subtly disturbing the normal regime’, manifesting a desire
sufficiently ‘other’ (dissensually enough) to associate her with the excesses
object 153
Works Cited
Gratton, J. (2011). ‘Georges Didi-Huberman’s Iconology of the Ninfa
Moderna: A Critique’, Irish Journal of French Studies, 11(1): 113–34.
O
OBJECT
Marie-Aude Baronian
Didi-Huberman is a writer and thinker of objects. This is evidenced
by the fact that, as an art historian, he inevitably applies his arsenal of
analytical methods to a multitude of objects belonging to the field of art.
His oeuvre relies on discussing and dissecting an extraordinarily wide and
versatile range of objects, mixing media, time periods and traditions that
clearly recall two of his main inspirations: Walter Benjamin and Aby
Warburg (who both addressed objects that keep returning and speaking
to us). In particular, Warburg’s historical anthropology of imagination
has deeply inspired Didi-Huberman to penetrate the micro-histories of
a single artwork or a detail from which to draw a broader structural and
‘symptomatic’ lesson (see symptom).
Moreover, the work of Didi-Huberman closely engages with material
and mundane objects (often unnoticed, overlooked or forgotten), showing
us that they deserve our attention, in spite of all. Such objects require
time and consideration, montage and contextualisation to unfold all
that we don’t know about them. This also explains why Didi-Huberman
has often insisted on the importance of ‘displacing the gaze’ (déplacer le
regard), as if each object worthy of careful reflection and dedication opens
up various, often unforeseen, archaeological readings.
Yet there is more at stake when we think of the centrality of the object
in his work. This is in line with what Hubert Damish terms a ‘theoretical
154 object
object’ as ‘an object that obliges one to do theory but also furnishes you
with the means of doing it’ (Blois et al., 1998: 8), or we could simply say
that thought draws from objects. As both an art historian and a philoso-
pher, Didi-Huberman balances the place of the object, aiming to find an
equilibrium between the impulse of the detailed mimetic ‘things’ and that
of the abstraction of concepts. The prominence of objects in his writings
also justifies its interdisciplinary nature, navigating unreservedly but
tightly between philosophy, art history, aesthetics, history, anthropol-
ogy, cinema, literature and psychoanalysis.
If objects epitomise the foundation of Didi-Huberman’s thinking and
are found everywhere in his oeuvre to be unravelled, scrutinised and
exposed, two texts, Phasmes (1998a) and Aperçues (2018a), are exemplary
in this regard. In Phasmes, Didi- Huberman offers a methodological
engagement with objects (things or images). In turn, Aperçues develops a
more meditative and tangible (even personal, self-reflexive and affective)
handling of objects. In Phasmes, Didi-Huberman writes about things
that appear and are profoundly disparate, thereby generating unexpected
narratives. The heteroclite range of objects – objects of daily life, dream
fragments, ink spots, pieces of wood, draperies, cinematic shots, canonical
texts and artworks, insects, archival photographs etc. – that engender such
‘narratives of apparition’ are indeed so disparate that they altogether tease
imagination and the interpretative trajectories of knowing. Analogous to
phasmid insects, Didi-Huberman’s commitment to objects translates
the productive tension between what we see and what we don’t see, what
is formed and what is dis-formed, or what could be situated ‘between the
crystallizing movement of the document (like a symptom of the object, born
from the real) and that of the disparate, more erratic and centrifugal (like
a symptom of the gaze, born from the imaginary)’ (1998a: 11). In other
words, objects are pivotal and formative if one wants to singularise the way
that Didi-Huberman thinks through and manoeuvres concepts, which,
in turn, is constitutive of his ‘method’. The phasmids thus enable him to
decentre certain set assumptions in order to reinject not merely a different
look at the object but also a different understanding of it. The phasmids
infuse and suffuse creative readings of objects as a sort of a critical and
poetic epistemology that is at once free and focused. In Aperçues, the brief
section entitled ‘J’objecte’ refers precisely to what is constituted under our
gaze and what is placed in front of it, and what is exposed in front of us also
similarly means that we expose ourselves to it: ‘I object: I cast this before
our eyes’ (2018a: 36).
In sum, Didi-Huberman is a thinker of objects because they constantly
regard us, implicate us and work upon us. The object is at once the origin
and the aim of developing a different anthropology that brings together
pan 155
Works Cited
Blois, Y.-A., Hollier, D., Krauss, R., and Damisch, H. (1998). ‘A
Conversation with Hubert Damisch’, October, 85: 3–17.
P
PAN
occupies most of the painting, the space between Mary and the angel.
To an iconographic interpreter of the painting, there is simply nothing
between the simple, poorly painted figures, but to Didi-Huberman, this
nothing, this lack of figurality, is indeed something, an excess of material-
ity: the overwhelming presence of the white pigment. The painting is not
as much about the figures representing the Annunciation as about the white
pigment incarnating what the Annunciation is all about: the announce-
ment that something is going to appear (see incarnation). The white
pigment incarnates this visual potentiality, it is the element of ‘the visual’,
which Didi-Huberman differentiates from ‘the visible’ (the figure) and
‘the invisible’ (the white pigment seen as ‘nothing’) (CI, 17).
Thus, pan is a central concept in Didi-Huberman’s pointing to ‘incar-
nation’ as an alternative (rooted in medieval, Christian painting) to the
ideal of ‘mimesis’ (rooted in antiquity and the Renaissance).
Works Cited
Lacan, J. (1973 [1964]). Les quatre concepts fondamentaux de la psychana-
lyse, le séminaire XI, ed. J.-A. Miller. Seuil
PANOFSKY, ERWIN
Magdalena Krasińska
The German art historian and founder of the iconological method, Erwin
Panofsky (1892–1968) is for Didi-Huberman the leading representative
of the positivist tradition of art scholarship. A student of Aby Warburg,
Panofsky was also under the strong influence of the neo-Kantian school
of Ernst Cassirer (see Kant, Immanuel). Inspired by the philosophy
of symbolic forms, Panofsky wrote Perspective as Symbolic Form (1927),
Studies in Iconology (1939) and The Life and Art of Albrecht Dürer (1943).
In these writings he developed the postulate that the history of art as
a humanistic discipline must take into account not only the problem of
artistic formation, but also the ideas that are expressed through plastic
form. Already in the work Hercules at the Crossroads (1930), Panofsky
wrote about imaging that confines itself to what he called the ‘first layer’
and about the art that belongs to the domain of the ‘second layer’, where
aesthetic experience was transformed into understanding. Later, in the
introduction to Studies in Iconology, Panofsky presented his well-known
table (1972 [1939]: 14–15), in which he distinguished between three stages
of interpretation: the ‘pre-iconographical description’, or ‘pseudo-formal
158 panofsky, erwin
delivered up all images to the tyranny of the concept, of definition, and, ulti-
mately, of the nameable and the legible: the legible understood as a synthetic,
iconological operation, whereby invisible ‘themes’, invisible ‘general and essential
tendencies of the human mind’ – invisible concepts or Ideas – are ‘translated’ into
the realm of the visible (the clear and distinct appearance of Panofsky’s ‘primary’
and ‘secondary’ meanings). (CI, 122)
Panofsky turned to Immanuel Kant because the author of the Critique of Pure
Reason had managed to open and reopen the question of knowledge [. . .] By
grasping the Kantian or neo-Kantian key – via Cassirer – Panofsky opened new
doors for his discipline. But no sooner were these doors open than he seems to
have securely closed them again. (CI, 5)
Study (1514) and Melancholia I (1514). Although they did not constitute
a set, Panofsky assumed their unity of content, that is, as an expression in
symbolic form of three different paths through life that reflected the scho-
lastic classification of virtues as moral, theological and intellectual (1955
[1943]: 151). All three interpretations are quite substantive, and analyse
symbolically every (even the most minute) detail noticeable in the image.
The longest analysis is dedicated to Melancholia I: Panofsky interprets this
work as a representation of the destiny of the Renaissance artist, and, in
fact, as a symbolic self-portrait of Dürer himself. Didi-Huberman has sug-
gested that such deciphering of the ‘message’ of Melancholia I neglects its
religious aspect, which is that of a symptom. Noting a similarity between
the figure from Melancholia I and Dürer’s image of Christ, Man of Sorrows
from the frontispiece of the Small Passion (1511) – and referring to the
relationship between Melancholia I and St Jerome, which were finished in
the same year and share a particular mood, as well as many complementary
oppositions – Didi-Huberman proposes that in his third engraving, Dürer
‘also articulates a religious paradigm, the imitation-of-Christ paradigm,
in which melancholy found a field of application as paradoxical as it was
sovereign’ (CI, 173).
Didi-Huberman also expresses his surprise that Panofsky – an accom-
plished expert on Renaissance art – d id not consider the aforementioned
context. Didi-Huberman finds an explanation in the neo-Kantian pre-
sumptions of iconology, which aims at ‘a synthetic unity’. If Panofsky had
introduced into his interpretation of Melancholia I the motif of imitatio
Christi, it would have produced a symptomatic ‘overdetermination’, an
equivocation, or an antithetical sense within the analysis. The reference to
the theme of imitatio Christi would also introduce an anachronistic element
in the form of ‘a medieval symptom into one of the most emblematic works
of the entire Renaissance’ (CI, 171). For Didi-Huberman, such inatten-
tion to traces and remnants equals a suppression of the symptom and a
‘tyranny of the system’, which subordinates it to the ‘will to synthesis’
(CI, 172). Panofsky’s approach does not permit itself to be subsumed
under the symbolic form but belongs to the type ‘I don’t want to know
anything about it’ (CI, 172). It thus becomes clear why Didi-Huberman
writes about Panofsky’s introduction to his Studies in Iconology that it
‘unfolds a semiological fable in which we start out from a certainty’ (CI,
180). This ‘tone of certainty’ is indeed a specific ‘Kantian tone’ (CI, 5–6,
90–4, 106–15), which in Panofsky’s work overlapped with his adoption of
Cassirer’s philosophy of symbolic forms. Didi-Huberman’s view is that in
consequence, Panofsky’s approach corresponds to the method of ‘unifica-
tion’, which is contrasted with the methods of ‘pathetic tensions’ proposed
by Aby Warburg (SI, 120; see pathos).
160 parmiggiani, claudio
Works Cited
Panofsky, E. (1955 [1943]). The Life and Art of Albrecht Dürer. Princeton
University Press.
Panofsky, E. (1972 [1939]). Studies in Iconology. Humanistic Themes in the
Art of the Renaissance. Westview Press.
Panofsky, E. (1991 [1927]). Perspective as Symbolic Form, trans. C. S. Wood.
Zone Books.
Panofsky, E. (1997 [1930]). Hercules am Scheidewege und andere antike
Bildstoffe in der neueren Kunst. Gebr. Mann Verlag.
PARMIGGIANI, CLAUDIO
Ari Tanhuanpää
Didi-Huberman’s Génie du non-lieu (2001b) is dedicated to the work of
the Italian artist Claudio Parmiggiani (b. 1943). The title of the artist’s
series Delocazioni (‘delocations’), which Parmiggiani began in 1970, is
the starting point for Didi-Huberman’s examination. The artist made his
artworks, which could be called fire-imprints, by first placing objects of
his choice (boxes, various containers and bottles placed on a table, plates,
ladders and bookshelves, etc.) to lean against a wall. Next, by burning
car tyres, he generated black smoke which was directed towards the wall.
When the objects placed against the wall had been removed, a white area
in their shape was left on the wall, contrasted with the black soot. Didi-
Huberman asks if the artist’s studio would already be conceivable as a
transition, delocazione, given that the studio, located in a red house on the
misty plateau of the river P o–w ith its air, its fog, its particular a tmosphere
– was destroyed in a fire. As such, the transformation of a surrounding
site would, thanks to the genius nonloci, the spirit of a non-place, become a
landscape of the psyche, and be transformed into an imprint of intimacy.
It is a place of surviving time. The fire is far away, but the burning is still
very close. It is first expressed v isually – chromatically, a tmospherically –
in the transformation of the same colour ratio: sections of red walls in the
greyness of the landscape, yellow and red flames devouring the intonaco
of the walls, grey and black ashes of the consumed house. The landscape
will have devoured in its greyness, the grisaille, the red house of child-
hood: all that remains is a deserted place, sand and mist. The red remains,
however; it is enough to imagine it moving, in a ceaseless delocazione.
Didi-Huberman sees that ‘the fire remains lying, hidden, latent, surviving
in the ashes’. Because ‘the dust will survive us’ (2001b: 56).
parmiggiani, claudio 161
Derrida argued (2005 [1986]: 43, 68] that the cinder or ash is almost
othing – is not being-that-remains, if one understands by that being-
n
that-subsists. It is a ‘figure of annihilation without remainder’. Cinder and
ash are not and have never been, but still, in accordance with the idiom Il
y a le cendre, ‘cinders, there are’, persistently. In Derridean terms, cinders
belong to the so-called ‘undecidables’, which ‘break up not only the meta-
physics of presence, but as well the distinction between literal and figural
(or metaphorical) meanings’ (Salaün, 2006: 99). Pleshette DeArmitt adds
(2016: 103): ‘[w]hile remainders, by falling outside that which is proper,
appear to allow for secure demarcations between inside and outside,
proper and improper, pure and impure, they also destabilize the very same
borders they make possible’. Even if neither cinder nor ash as remainders
are not, they remain. This restance, ‘remaindering’, remains nonetheless
logically and ontologically associated with the verb ‘to be’ (Derrida, 2002).
However, its relation to being is paradoxical: it tends to slip between its
verbal form (‘to remain’) and the substantive form (‘remainder’). ‘Cinders
there are [il y a là cendre]’, as well, although the cinder (la cendre) is not
(Derrida, 1991: 31, 39). It does not exist – it insists malgré tout. It is irrel-
evant to this matter whether Parmiggiani’s burned red cottage by the river
Po had ever existed; rather, it stubbornly insists – as do the cinders of the
victims of the Holocaust in Auschwitz-Birkenau, which Didi-Huberman
recounts in his Bark (2011a; B). It is our responsibility to make them exist
(cf. Caputo, 2013).
Parmiggiani’s works also evoke in Didi-Huberman an association of the
‘existence of the terrible in every particle of the air’ (2001b: 124; see Rilke,
2009 [1910]: 48). This remaindering as ‘ongoing incineration’ (Derrida,
1991: 37) takes place in the French word là, ‘there’ – a word homophoni-
cally indistinguishable from the feminine singular article la – which is
not a place. This word combines with another feminine figure of khōra
that Plato discussed in his Timaeus. Khōra as non-lieu disobeys the logic
of non-contradiction (Derrida, 1995: 89). It is what Ludwig Binswanger
called (1994 [1932]) a ‘thymic’ space, which is neither sensible nor intel-
ligible. Khōra is an imprint bearer where nothing takes place but the place.
It ‘does not proceed from the natural or legitimate logos [. . .] It comes as
in a dream’ (Derrida, 1995: 89). In this state, we are ‘detached from the
objective world but also from ourselves’. We have entered the faculty of
aisthēsis, sensation (sentir), or, in Erwin Strausian terms, Empfindung (Didi-
Huberman, 2001b: 146; Straus, 1956 [1935]: 195–279; cf. Maldiney, 1973:
175–200). Didi-Huberman feels that it is the air, the breath (souffle), which
acts as a khôra in Parmiggiani´s works. The air is the medium of survivance.
Didi-Huberman’s small artist monographs published in a series entitled
Fables de lieu (in addition to Génie du non-lieu dedicated to Parmiggiani,
162 pasolini, pier paolo
Works Cited
Adorno, T. (1984). ‘The Essay as Form’, trans. B. Hullot-Kentor and
F. Will, New German Critique, 32: 151–71.
Binswanger, L. (1994 [1932]). Das Raumproblem in der Psychopathologie.
Ausgewählte Werke, Band III. Asanger.
Caputo, J. D. (2013). The Insistence of God. A Theology of Perhaps. Indiana
University Press.
DeArmitt, P. (2016). ‘Cascade of Remainders’, Derrida Today, 9(2):
97–106.
Derrida, J. (1991). Cinders, trans. N. Lukacher. University of Nebraska
Press.
Derrida, J. (1995). ‘Khōra’, trans. I. McLeod, in On the Name, ed.
W. Hamacher and D. E. Wellbery, 87–127. Stanford University Press.
Derrida, J. (2002). ‘Reste – Le maître, ou le supplément d’infini’, Le Seuil,
‘Le Genre Humain’, 1(37): 25–64.
Derrida, J. (2005 [1986]). ‘Shibboleth. For Paul Celan’, trans. J. Wilner
and T. Dutoit, in Sovereignties in Question: The Poetics of Paul Celan, ed.
O. Pasanen and T. Dutoit, 1–64. Fordham University Press.
Maldiney, H. (1973). Regard parole espace. Les Éditions du Cerf.
Rilke, R. M. (2009 [1910]). The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, trans.
M. Hulse. Penguin.
Salaün, F. (2006). ‘Survivance et devenirs: fragments sur la notion de
reste’, in S. Lafont (ed.), Le Reste, 145–54. Presses Universitaires de la
Méditerranée.
Straus, E. (1956 [1935]). Vom Sinn der Sinne. Ein Beitrag zur Grundlegung
der Psychologie. Springer.
Paweł Mościcki
Pasolini became a paradigmatic artist for Didi-Huberman during the
work on his book cycle L’Œil de l’histoire (2008b; 2010b; 2011b; 2012a;
pasolini, pier paolo 163
2015b; 2016a). Not only did Pasolini fit perfectly with the subject matter
that interested Didi-Huberman, but he also embodied the specificity
of Didi-Huberman’s approach to various issues. Pasolini was a prolific
writer, poet and filmmaker, but he was truly passionate about developing
his own theory of cinema and of dialectal poetry, and he spoke out in the
most important polemics of his time, often provoking them. This constant
circling between practice and theory, the concrete of experience and
the attempt to give it a conceptual shape, is one of the reasons for Didi-
Huberman’s fascination with Pasolini.
Pasolini straddled more than one binary opposition. He was fully
absorbed in the formal concerns of art, and yet quite devoted to artistic
practice. His work shows that, as Didi-Huberman writes of La Rabbia
(1962), ‘there are documentary films that are more poetic and political than
any attempt to reinvent the world from scratch’ (2014a: 94). With desper-
ate vitality, Pasolini participated in the present while remaining faithful
to the archaic forms of expression enshrined in culture. That is why he
spoke out against all forms of normalisation and modernity understood as
processes of extermination of popular cultures and social diversity. Didi-
Huberman is certainly fascinated by Pasolini’s ability to combine political
passion with attentiveness to emotions, and a sense of universal matters
with love for the individuality and corporeality of all experience. For in
every ‘confronted people’ Pasolini always saw ‘confronted bodies’, and
vice versa (2012a: 182). The dialectical approach of Pasolini is also evident
in the fact that he was able to combine an uncompromising criticism
of modernity with an almost boundless tenderness towards its victims
(see dialectic). In so doing, he showed the authentic grace of an artist
that Didi-Huberman himself increasingly seeks in modesty. In this way,
Pasolini has also been instrumental in developing a position of resistance
against the contemporary mythologisation of the artist and the grandiosity
of art institutions.
Pasolini is a paradigmatic artist for Didi-Huberman not only because
of his complexity and the inherent dialecticality of his stance, but also
because of the system of references in which he appears. The originality of
Didi-Huberman’s reading lies, among other things, in the fact that he sit-
uates Pasolini within a constellation of authors and perspectives that is at
first glance quite surprising, and yet perfectly plausible. Didi-Huberman
himself has been developing his work in a similar constellation for years.
This includes, first, Walter Benjamin, with whom Pasolini is juxtaposed
in his search for the forms of expression of the oppressed. Didi-Huberman
devoted extensive sections of his book on extras in cinema to analysing
the strategy of the cinematic close-up as a form of bringing anonymous
actors of history (die Namenlosen) out of the shadows. He has also called
164 pasolini, pier paolo
PATHOS
Maud Hagelstein
In the autumn of 2016 Didi- Huberman presented his exhibition
Soulèvements (Uprisings) at the Jeu de Paume in Paris, which was shown
afterwards in Barcelona, Buenos Aires, Mexico and Montréal. What makes
us rise up? The exhibition was a five-step response to this question, which
would form the chapters of a history of revolt told through a political
anthropology of images. Like Aby Warburg, who had in the late 1920s
created a gigantic atlas of images which brought together thousands of
‘formulae of pathos’, Didi-Huberman created his own atlas (a collection
of images) for the figures of uprising. So how do we rise up? 1. With
(unchained) elements – 2. With (intense) gestures – 3. With (exclaimed)
words – 4. With (blazing) c onflicts – 5. With (indestructible) desires.
What link does Didi-Huberman trace between the political value of
historical revolutionary facts, and the poetic charge of the phenomena
of uprising? In an interview for the journal Vacarme, in response to
the question (announced as ‘brutal’) about his ‘real relation’ to politics,
Didi-Huberman said he felt incapable of having an authorised opinion on
political matters (WI). A certain reservation prevented him from speaking
publicly about all kinds of topical issues that we might have expected him
to speak about:
We only become engaged effectively in areas where we truly work, that is to say
where it is possible, through the work itself, to intervene effectively in a given
field. I feel quite unfit – a nd I am not trying to make excuses, but only recogniz-
ing my own limits – t o sign petitions on dossiers that I have only a second-hand
knowledge about, or to engage in concrete and complex political questions. (WI)
of emotion, and the question of gestures. These paths are not self-evident,
particularly the path of emotion. Numerous intellectuals have observed
that the present times are marked by lack and by anaesthesia: political
action, where it should be replenished, finds little hope, little energy, little
anger and little emotion.
Hence the importance of the problem of emotion, for which the heuris-
tic work of images can provide a new place, one that will allow us to ‘com-
pletely overturn our stereotypes concerning the “weakness” of affects (or
of passions) compared with the “strength” of facts (or of actions)’ (Didi-
Huberman, 2012a: 21). Traditionally, in Western philosophy, pathos
has been thought of as ‘the impasse of the logos’, as a sort of illness of
reason (2012a: 26). In the ‘little conference’ entitled Quelle émotion! Quelle
émotion? (2013f), Didi-Huberman starts from common sense to show the
extent to which emotionally stirred individuals (those who are crying or
shouting), exposed to others by their own nudity, in their own powerless-
ness or impotence, are often considered with disdain: such individuals are
called ‘pathetic’.
The very term ‘pathos’, in Aristotle’s categories of logic, flows directly
from what we refer to as the passive grammatical forms of the verb, and
it refers to the impossibility of acting or the ‘impasse of the act’. Yet can
we be sure that emotion is an impasse of the act? For Didi-Huberman
– who is close to the positive revalorisation of pathos in Nietzsche and
later in Warburg – emotional individuals, by taking the risk of showing
their impotence and ‘losing face’, stand out also by an act of honesty and
bravery: such individuals refuse to lie, refuse to pretend, and thereby
resist a state of the world that is imposed upon them (2013f: 23). In other
words, this has to do with a first transformation of passivity, inherent in
the trial of emotion itself. Immediately, something resists.
The subject of emotion transforms therefore his or her initial ‘passivity’ – that
‘existential impasse’ linked to the fact that this subject ‘is unable to face’ a certain
order of the world that is imposed upon them – into an insurrectional gesture
of his or her own body, an ‘activity’ that begins with the destruction, whether it
be psychological or visual destruction, of this objective world that must then be
‘shattered’. (2009a: 32)
On the one hand, we must note the universality – the geographic, temporal
universality – and the community of emotions: all children have cried, all children
will cry [. . .] On the other hand, we must acknowledge the singularity of emotions:
all children cry, but each creates the ‘fundamental tonality’ of their affect through
the play, which is different every time, of innervations, motor discharge, singular
sensations and reminiscences linked to the moment, to movement, and to the
desiring constitution of the subject. This is how emotion, that movement outside
of oneself, appears as a movement outside of the self, outside of the ‘I’. (2012a: 46)
motions – like beliefs or like the phenomena of ‘taste’ – are not those
E
little ‘personal’ things that an individual has to ‘possess’, to keep within
oneself: emotions are everyone’s business, they are the concern of all of us. It
is the aesthetic, ethical and even political extension of the idea according to
which emotions work on us like ‘movements outside of oneself’ or, even,
‘outside of the self’.
Translated by Shane Lillis
168 pathos formula (pathosformel)
Works Cited
Deleuze, G. (2003 [1981]). ‘La peinture enflame l’écriture’, in Deux
régimes de fous et autres textes (1975–1995), 167–72. Minuit.
Johnnie Gratton
The work of Aby Warburg is widely referenced across Didi-Huberman’s
oeuvre, but concentrated in two specific areas. The first comprises his
quartet of essays dedicated to the antique figure of Ninfa, herself the
ultimate embodiment of Warburg’s ‘pathos formula’ (see nymph). The
second consists of Didi- Huberman’s most sustained analysis of that
concept as found in his major work, The Surviving Image (2002b; SI).
Although wholly devoted to an in-depth study of Warburg’s theory and
practice, the author’s aim is not to be even-handed, but rather to explore
and further radicalise the conceptual innovations sparked by Warburg’s
intuition of the disruptive dynamics of anachronism. This theoretical
vista features two dominant conceptual landmarks, survival or after-
life (Nachleben) and pathos formula (Pathosformel), also translated as
‘emotive formula’. Nachleben is a neologism attributed to Anton Springer,
a nineteenth- century predecessor of Warburg, while Pathosformel is
Warburg’s own coinage. The former denotes an anomalous, historically
disorienting model of temporality whereby ancient hyper-emotive figural
gestures and evoked movements survive into more recent pasts without
necessarily being revived by anyone. The latter might initially be thought
of as the survival kit that stores, protects and eventually delivers ancient
image patterns that have migrated across time and space.
The Pathosformel is a confusing, counter- normative, open- ended
concept – hence the fact that neither Warburg, nor Didi-Huberman, ever
graced it with a formal definition. Where Warburg said relatively little
about his neologism, Didi-Huberman’s monograph uses it as an elastic
point of reference generating manifold observations that vary according to
context. Like many commentators on Warburg, however, he approvingly
quotes Giorgio Agamben’s succinct delineation of the elemental and
relational factors involved in the concept of pathos formula: ‘A concept
like the Pathosformel makes it impossible to separate form from content,
for it expresses the indissoluble intrication [read ‘entanglement’] of an
emotive charge and an iconographic formula’ (SI, 123). The identified
elements of ‘emotive charge’ and ‘iconographic formula’ have proven to
pathos formula (pathosformel) 169
Works Cited
Warburg, A. (1999). The Renewal of Pagan Antiquity: Contributions to
the Cultural History of the European Renaissance, trans. D. Britt. Getty
Research Institute.
PEOPLES
Magdalena Zolkos
Didi-Huberman’s concept of the people is developed through analy-
ses of photographic and cinematic representations of marginalised and
oppressed groups, including works by Philippe Bazin, Wang Bing, Bertolt
Brecht, Harun Farocki, Pier Paolo Pasolini, Sergei Eisenstein and
Laura Waddington. Didi-Huberman’s conceptualising of people rising
up against oppression and people ‘making-appear’ history that has been
erased or ‘disimagined’ (ISA, 46–7) also marks a point of engagement
with political philosophers, including Hannah Arendt and Jacques
Rancière, by way of articulating the link between the political aesthetics
of representation, political subjectivity and the question of freedom (see
uprising). Finally, Didi-Huberman’s notion of ‘people rising’ evidences
the importance of Walter Benjamin’s imaginal dialectic on his thought
in that appearance is closely linked to the act of making-appear ‘other
images’ and ‘other montages’ (see Rancière, 2018).
Didi-Huberman responds to two problems in the modern political
theory of ‘peoples’: 1) the projection on to heterogeneous peoples of a
unifying group identity and 2) the relation between specific actors and
historical roles (Bosteels, 2016: 14). Aligning closely the aesthetic and
political perspectives, he argues for the use of the plural form, ‘peoples’,
because, analogously to his notion of the irreducible plurality of images,
‘people’ always appear as a disunified multiplicity (TRS, 65; FH, 278).
This pluralising approach to the representation (and history) of marginal-
ised groups (Didi-Huberman, 2012a: 40–55), including the working class
(PEPE; TB; U), concentration camp inmates (ISA; B), ghetto residents
(PP) and asylum seekers (SF, 84–7), opposes the presentation of vic-
timised groups as singular and unified in their plight and struggle. The
172 peoples
bedience, resistance and popular protests, where people are never static
but always in movement, always ‘fleeing, hiding, burying evidence, going
elsewhere, finding a way out’ (SF, 82). Imaginal uprisings are not only
representations of deliberate acts of opposing or defying the state, but also
images of human precarity, because, as Rancière suggests (2018: 12), for
Didi-Huberman, people appear ‘not so much the lifting of a prohibition of
visibility as instances on the verge of non-being’.
Didi-Huberman frequently uses the vernacular of ‘the oppressed’ and
‘the degraded’ (borrowed from Benjamin and Pasolini), for example,
in his analysis of film extras in early European cinema (PEPE, 16–22),
regarded as an undifferentiated mass of human bodies forming the
backdrop for cinematic plot and ‘proper’ actors. For Didi-Huberman,
the appearance of extras poses an aesthetic and political challenge to the
key assumptions of the cinematic medium. He asks: ‘how should one
justly film those who have no name, those who [. . .] have no voice other
than their cry of suffering or revolt?’ (PEPE, 20). Battleship Potemkin is
a political film precisely insofar as Eisenstein gives ‘a place and a face’ to
those ‘who have no part in habitual social representation’ (PEPE, 22).
The act of ‘extras’ rising up as political people is also a key concern in
Didi-Huberman’s writings on Laura Waddington’s film about undocu-
mented migrants in Sangatte (SF) and on Wang Bing’s Man With No
Name (2012a). For Didi-Huberman, these films are not only representa-
tions of Europe’s cruel border policies, or of the human costs of economic
exclusion in modern China, but are also intimate portrayals of peoples’
capacity to resist and to appear.
Works Cited
Agamben, G. (2011). The Kingdom and the Glory: For a Theological
Genealogy of Economy and Government, trans. L. Chiesa and
M. Mandarini. Stanford University Press.
Bosteels, B. (2016). ‘Introduction: This People which is not One’, trans.
J. Gladding, in What is a People?, 1–20. Columbia University Press.
Foucault, M. (1978). The History of Sexuality, Volume 1: An Introduction,
trans. R. Hurley. Allen Lane.
Rancière, J. (2018). ‘Images Re-read. The Method of Georges Didi-
Huberman’, trans. E. Woodard, J. R. Solorzano, S. De Cauwer,, and
L. K. Smith, Angelaki, 23(4): 11–18.
Rosanvallon, P. (1998). Le Peuple introuvable: histoire de la représentation
démocratique en France. Gallimard.
Schmitt, C. (2001 [1933]). State, Movement, People. The Triadic Structure
of Political Unity, trans. S. Draghici. Plutarch Press.
174 phantom
PHANTOM
Maud Hagelstein
In 1929 art historian Aby Warburg wrote, in the unpublished notes for his
Grundbegriffe, a phrase that described the project of his Mnemosyne Atlas,
which Didi-Huberman cites on numerous occasions, that the history
of images is ‘ghost stories for grown-ups’ (Gespenstergeschichte für ganz
Erwachsene) (quoted in SI, 50). This phrase, for Didi-Huberman, eventu-
ally created an unwavering link between images and ghosts, a link that
photography had so often made possible for him to explore. Yet to speak
of images as ghostly realities or as ‘phantom-like’ (SI, 50) is neither the
naïve illustration of a more complex reality, nor a language game, nor an
easy metaphor. Instead, it concerns the very nature of the image: several
definitions of the image exist, but the majority describe a certain relation –
a new kind of relation on the ontological scene – of presence and absence.
The image escapes by staying there, and its absence (that part of the real
which withdraws into it) calls for reconstruction (we investigate what it
challenges us to grasp). Only phantoms can rival this type of existence.
Having studied phenomenology under Henri Maldiney (particularly
specialised in experiences of haunting related to art), and as a keen reader
of Merleau-Ponty, Didi-Huberman focused on giving back the complex
phenomenology of the image, or what he called the ‘double system’ of the
image, its dialectical system (1992b: 103). The image is not mere pres-
ence. In other words, it is not merely ‘the absolute denial of absence’, as
some – those who believe only what they s ee – tend to think (1992b: 96).
However, nor is it ever absence alone, for it has its own consistency and
an insurmountable materiality. There is something within it that does
not pass, that resists metabolisation, and that insists. It is situated in the
interval between what is there and what disappears. Its auratic nature
makes it a fragile but obstinate ‘survivor’. To insist on its ghostly existence
is to claim that the image has an ‘essentially lacunary nature’, and is never
whole, and is never full (ISA, 59).
There is an elective link between (phantom-)images and death; they flirt
with death, and in this way, they put pressure on the living, like the empty
tombs in American minimalist sculpture analysed in Ce que nous voyons, ce
phasmids 175
qui nous regarde (1992b). This link, this way of articulating ‘the question
of the matter of the image with that of the time of the dead’ (2005a: 66), is
one whose story Didi-Huberman has told in almost all of his research,
from the final development of Confronting Images, which calls for ‘opening
itself (such is the risk) to the sombre insistence of an always-returning
negativity’ and to ‘let death insist in the image’ (CI, 227), right up to his
very Warburgian focus on votive images: ‘their essential anthropomorphism
– which, as will by now be understood, has nothing to do with a more
or less “figurative” stylistic choice – makes these forms things that are
“everywhere escaping and everywhere similar to themselves,” types of
phantoms, in short’ (EV, 14).
Translated by Shane Lillis
PHASMIDS
Emmanuel Alloa
Belatedly, Didi- Huberman’s oeuvre is starting to be translated into
English and it comes as no surprise that his supposedly ‘main works’
have been published first, such as his readings of the iconography
of the Salpêtrière (IH) (see Charcot, Jean-Martin; hysteria), of
Fra Angelico (FAD), his groundbreaking readings of Warburg (SI)
or of the photographs of the Auschwitz Sonderkommando (ISA) (see
Sonderkommando photographs). As important as these works indis-
putably are, they might not necessarily offer the best entry points into
an often-asked question: what does Georges Didi-Huberman’s method
consist of? Arguably, the most concise answer might be found in the book
series Essais sur l’apparition, whose first volume came out in 1998, under
the title Phasmes (1998a), with the second in 2013, under the title Phalènes
(2013c). Rather than monographs, these are collections of short texts
about objects that, at face value, seem to be totally disconnected from
each other: an Etruscan ex-voto, a Neapolitan nativity set, an inkblot on
a manuscript page by Victor Hugo, a drapery by Loïe Fuller, a diagram
by Beckett, an anatomical Florentine wax figure, a Jewish prayer shawl.
The only thing connecting this disparate series is that the author never
actively searches for them; he fortuitously encounters them in the course
of a bigger research project, aimed at producing some contribution to
knowledge. What is the status of these things that suddenly come in
the way, that appear out of the blue? What to do with these encounters
that never match with the long-term goal, with that object of desire the
researcher was actively searching for?
176 phasmids
Such would be the double life of all research, its double pleasure or its double
task: not to lose the patience of the method, the long duration of the fixed idea,
the obstinacy of the predominant concerns, the rigour of the relevant things; not
to lose either the impatience or the impertinence of the fortuitous things, the brief
time of the discoveries, the unforeseen of the meetings, even accidents along the
way. A paradoxical task, difficult to hold on to its two contradictory ends – its two
temporalities. Time to explore the royal road, time to scrutinize the side roads.
The most intense times are probably those when the call of the side road makes us
change the royal road, or rather makes us discover it for what it was that we did
not yet understand. (1998a: 10)
see the phasmid means thinking differently about appearances, and thus
adopting a different style of thinking. Rather than an adaequatio rei ad
intellectum, it is the intellect that adopts the forms of things, and moulds
itself into its own style of appearing (at this very point Didi-Huberman
probably comes closest to Adorno’s idea of philosophy’s need to ‘snuggle
up to the object’ [Adorno, 1998: 134]). In looking at how Didi-Huberman
approaches the disparateness of objects – each time differently – trying to
be faithful to their contours, what might be glimpsed is why his method
radically parts with traditional concepts of critique. In his peculiar
combination of phenomenology, psychoanalysis and history of science,
classical issues of judgement or of categorisation are superseded by the
patient work of collecting singular appearances and of mounting them into
an archive of intensities.
While some of these might be related to felicitous epiphanies, others are
definitely more ghostly. The second volume of the Essays on Appearance
has the phalènes as its emblematic figure, that is, moths or nightflies (2013c).
Here again, the phalène’s appearance is a challenge for what we thought we
knew: dazzling, as short sparks in the dark, they require what Nietzsche
called a ‘dancing spirit’ to follow their unpredictable movement. Between
appearance and disappearance, or, to use Lacanian vernacular, between
phanisis and aphanisis, all these appearances of a life in standstill call for a
gaze that is ready to be questioned by what it encounters (2013c: 11). Like
the phasmid, Didi-Huberman’s writing immerses itself so profoundly into
the environment it studies that it draws the reader’s attention to all these
yet unseen aspects that surround an object (Alloa, 2018). One embarks
upon a dizzying reversal, whereby the background becomes the figure due
to its resemblance to the phasmid, which, in turn, appears simply by virtue
of its assimilation to its surrounding background. Hence the question: is it
the author who becomes imperceptible amid the ribbing of the microcosm
that the phasmid causes to appear, or is it this microcosm that can no
longer be distinguished from the author? Looking at Didi-Huberman’s
oeuvre, we might speculate that his thinking, perhaps more than any
other, effaces itself amid the image-worlds it creates, while also remaining
recognisable through its unmistakable phasmid inspiration.
Works Cited
Adorno, T. W. (1998). ‘Notes on Philosophical Thinking’, trans.
H. W. Pickford, in Critical Models: Interventions and Catchwords,
127–34. Columbia University Press.
Alloa, E. (2018). ‘Phasmid Thinking: On Georges Didi- Huberman’s
Method’, trans. C. Woodall, Angelaki, 23(4): 103–12.
178 p h o t o g r a p h y
PHOTOGRAPHY
Jonathan W. Marshall
Didi-Huberman’s doctoral thesis was published in 1982 as Invention of
Hysteria (IH; see also hysteria). It deals with the photographic archive
produced by neurologist Jean-Martin Charcot at the Salpêtrière
women’s hospital in Paris between 1875 and 1918. Although Didi-
Huberman moved beyond early photography to topics such as the
photo-realist paintings of Gerhard Richter (2014c; OP), serial portraits
by Philippe Bazin (2012a) and photographic installations by Alfredo Jaar
(EDI), his doctoral thesis introduced many themes that have recurred
throughout his oeuvre. These include concern for the dialectic and per-
formative character of photography as the modern indexical medium par
excellence.
Invention of Hysteria characterises photographic portraiture as a violent,
almost surgical imposition upon the subject, which severs a momentarily
elicited pose out of the phenomenal flow of experience (IH, 62; see also
peoples). In the words of the influential nineteenth-century physiolo-
gist Claude Bernard, photography was seen as documenting observations
‘provoked’ by the clinician (Didi-Huberman, 1984e: 8). Didi-Huberman
argues that the uncertain status of the photograph as a transparent
depiction of that which was staged in front of it was recognised from the
beginning (PH, 71–5; 1987; 1984: 8). Didi-Huberman cites the ‘spectral
theory’ of pioneering French photographer Nadar, who claimed that the
photographic plate was ‘made up of ghostly images superimposed in layers
to infinity, wrapped in infinitesimal films’ (quoted in IH, 89). He also
references work on X-ray photography and Spiritualist research, both of
which quite literally strove to photograph what Walter Benjamin called
the ‘aura’ of the photographic subject (IH, 85–114; PH, 74–5).
Charcot’s photographs provide the first example of what Didi-
Huberman calls the symptomatic image. This is an image that alludes to
something which has passed through the body or through another image,
but which may not be fully present and hence is only indirectly visible,
if at all (CI, 179; Marshall, 2020: 69–71). Hysterical seizures and altered
states resembling demonic possession, traumatic memories, as well as
chaotic symptoms of uncertain physical causality – all of these appear and
disappear across the pages of Bourneville’s and Regnard’s Iconographie
photography 179
Works Cited
Bourneville, D. M., and Regnard, P. (1875–80). Iconographie pho-
tographique de la Salpêtrière. Progrès médical, 3 vols.
Gunthert, A. (1997). ‘Georges Didi-Huberman, La ressemblance par
contact: Archéologie, anachronisme et modernité de l’empreinte’,
Études photographiques, 3: 1–2.
Marshall, J. W. (2016). Performing Neurology: The Dramaturgy of Dr Jean-
Martin Charcot. Palgrave.
Marshall, J. W. (2020). ‘Traumatic Dances of the “Non-Self”: Bodily
Incoherence and the Hysterical Archive’, in J. Braun (ed.), Performing
Hysteria: Contemporary Images and Imaginations of Hysteria, 61–83.
Leuven University Press.
potentiality 181
POTENTIALITY
Chari Larsson
What is potentiality for Didi-Huberman? The term was given its most
explicit treatment in the 2016 exhibition Soulèvements (Uprisings), curated
by Didi-Huberman for the Jeu de Paume in Paris (2016b; U). In the
exhibition, Didi-Huberman charted a trans-historical and transnational
iconography of gestures rising up against oppression. The exhibition was
an intensification of Aby Warburg’s concept of Pathosformel (pathos
formulas; see pathos formula) analysed in L’Image survivante (2002b;
SI). For Warburg, a typology of emotional gestures survived from antiq-
uity through history. Didi-Huberman writes, ‘gestures are transmitted,
surviving in spite of us and in spite of everything. They are our own
living fossils’ (U, 302). To rise up is a potentiality and occurs just prior to
carrying out an action, or the particular moment when desire is actualised.
Before the actualisation of the actual event, the potentiality surges forth
in the form of a gesture of protest. In this way, the notion of potentiality
is closely interconnected to Didi-Huberman’s formulation of desire as a
productive motor for change.
The opening montage sequence of Chris Marker’s film Le fond de l’air
est rouge (1977) is a particularly helpful entry point to Didi-Huberman’s
theorisation of potentiality, as the film was featured in the exhibition and
discussed in the catalogue. Marker creates juxtapositions between scenes
drawn from Sergei Eisenstein’s 1925 Battleship Potemkin and contempo-
rary news footage of demonstrations drawn from the 1960s and 1970s.
Marker draws a strong visual parallel between mourners of the 1962
Charonne metro station massacre and the lamentation sequence com-
memorating Vakulinchuk’s death in Potemkin. Marker’s notes, quoted by
Didi-Huberman, substantiate Didi-Huberman’s thesis that gestures are
forms of potentialities: ‘Burial of the dead of Charonne [. . .] A woman
wipes her eyes. Potemkin: close-up of a woman wiping her eyes, finishing
the gesture of the woman of Charonne’ (U, 290). In line with Warburg’s
theorisation of Pathosformel, the gesture is indestructible, as it re-emerges
across temporalities and nationalities.
Didi-Huberman makes a careful distinction between potentiality (puis-
sance) and power (pouvoir). For instance, the French Revolution is
understood in terms of pouvoir, where a monarchic power is replaced by a
182 psychoanalysis
republican power (U, 311). Working against this, the desire to rise up in
protest is considered by Didi-Huberman as a form of potentiality (puis-
sance). He writes:
When a people rises up (or even, in order for a people to rise up), the people
must always start from a situation of ‘unpower’. To rise up would then be the
gesture through which the subjects of unpower would give rise, in themselves, to
something like a fundamental potency (puissance) that would erupt or re-emerge.
(U, 311)
PSYCHOANALYSIS
Kathia Hanza
Psychoanalytic theory has been a key influence on Didi-Huberman’s phi-
losophy of image and visuality. As he argues, ‘[i]t is with the dream and the
symptom that Freud smashed the box of representation. And with them
that he opened, which is to say rent and liberated, the notion of image’
(CI, 144) (see dream; image; representation; symptom). Sigmund
Freud shows that in dreams and symptoms the categorial apparatus is
incoherent and dislocated – their ‘logic’, if there is any, is shown not to be
ruled by judgement (as articulated in the Kantian tradition). This rupture
coincides with a negative theory of subjectivity: the subject is no longer
the sole legislator of their judgements. As such, dreams and symptoms
radically challenge the notion of a subject as a holder and possessor of con-
scious knowledge. Rather, through his espousal of the psychoanalytic epis-
temic model, Didi-Huberman repudiates the Kantian conception of ‘the
object of knowledge as a simple image of the discourse that pronounces it
and judges it’ (CI, 139; emphasis in the original) (see knowledge; object).
psychoanalysis 183
Robert Morris. Across a range of other texts (DM, AA, SI), he draws
on the category of the symptom to analyse the work of Aby Warburg.
Elsewhere, he also approaches visual overdetermination through an
analysis of what he calls ‘an aporia of detail’ in Johannes Vermeer’s paint-
ing The Lacemaker (AN, 159). Pointing to a red colour stain, a ‘pan’ or a
‘patch’, Didi-Huberman describes it as an ‘[intrusive] pictorial moment’,
which acquires the philosophical status of a sovereign accident (a ‘sovereign
product of chance’) (AN, 154; emphases in the original). Like a Freudian
symptom, it does not carry referential meaning, but nevertheless bears and
exerts a force.
The third aspect of psychoanalytic theory that has influenced Didi-
Huberman’s work is Freud’s concept of desire. Bound to the notions of
dream-work and symptom-formation, in the work of Didi-Huberman
desire underlies the postulate of radical openness to works of art (2018a:
97). The concept of desire is of key importance in Invention of Hysteria
since it sheds light on the condition of excessive and uncontrollable
emotionality, which was at the origins of psychoanalysis. Jean-Martin
Charcot isolated hysteria as a gnoseological object, and, working across
iconographic, clinical and epistemological discourses, ‘invented’ hysteria
by situating it at the interstices of the regime of neuropsychiatric observa-
tion and photographic forms of medical documentation. Didi-Huberman
argues that ‘[a] reciprocity of charm was instituted between physicians,
with their insatiable desire for images of Hysteria, and hysterics, who
willingly participated and actually raised the stakes through their increas-
ingly theatricalized bodies. In this way, hysteria in the clinic became the
spectacle, the invention of hysteria’ (IH, xi).
Importantly, Didi-Huberman’s approach is not a ‘psychoanalytic inter-
pretation’ of latent or manifest contents of images (Décarie, 2015). Rather,
he makes critical use of the epistemological and heuristic model of psycho-
analysis, which is partly why he also takes interest in the work of Jacques
Lacan and Pierre Fédida. Didi-Huberman (2005a; CI, 157–8) shares
with Fédida the view that the importance of the dream paradigm is not the
recovery of the hidden content or object of the dream, but, rather, that it
rests in the interpretative procedure, or what Fédida calls the ‘solicitation
to interpret’ (1983: 6) and requires attention to the workings of the distor-
tive mechanisms. In turn, Lacan has been important to Didi-Huberman
because of his notion of the ‘elision of the gaze’ and ‘alienation’ (Lacan,
1998; Didi-Huberman, 1985a) (see gaze). The elision of the gaze is a way
of dialectising gaze (see dialectic), by way of sustaining its oppositions
and contradictions. When Didi-Huberman asserts the incongruity of
‘seeing an image’ and ‘conscious knowing’ (CI, 140), he also suggests that
the choice between these two positions would be akin to an ‘alienation’
rancière, jacques 185
and that ‘the desire [. . .] to look’ means to ‘lose the unity of an enclosed
world [and] to find himself in the uncomfortable opening of a universe
henceforth suspended’.
Works Cited
Décarie, I. (2015). ‘“Images pour que notre main s’émeuve”. Regard,
écriture et survivance chez Georges Didi-Huberman’, Études françaises,
51(2): 101–18.
Fédida, P. (1983). ‘La sollicitation à interpréter’, L’Écrit du temps, 4: 4–19.
Freud, S. (1953). The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. J. Strachey, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. IV (1900), ed. J. Strachey, ix–627. Hogarth Press and the Institute
of Psycho-analysis.
Hagelstein, M. (2005). ‘Georges Didi- Huberman: une esthétique du
symptôme’, Daímon. Revista de filosofía, 34: 81–96.
Lacan, J. (1998). The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, trans.
A. Sheridan. W. W. Norton.
R
RANCIÈRE, JACQUES
Stijn De Cauwer
As two of the most prominent and prolific theorists of images, often
writing on similar topics, Jacques Rancière and Georges Didi-Huberman
have repeatedly referred to each other’s works and entered into dialogue
with other, both in writing and during conferences. During these dia-
logues they have respectfully formulated their diverging opinions. Didi-
Huberman briefly takes Rancière’s theories into account in Images in Spite
of All, where he comments on Rancière’s writings on the role of history in
the cinematic work of Jean-Luc Godard and his criticisms of the alleged
unrepresentability of certain topics in the arts (ISA, 147–9, 156–7).
Rancière dismisses the claims made by Claude Lanzmann and others
that the Holocaust cannot be represented by means of images, writing:
‘There is no unrepresentable as a property of the event. There are only
choices’ (2009: 129). Didi-Huberman finds himself in agreement with this
view, claiming that we have an obligation to look at the Sonderkommando
186 r a n c i è r e , j a c q u e s
Works Cited
Brecht, B. (2017). War Primer, trans. S. S. Brecht. Verso.
Merleau-Ponty, M. (1968). The Visible and the Invisible, trans. A. Lingis.
Northwestern University Press.
Rancière, J. (2004). The Politics of Aesthetics: The Distribution of the
Sensible, trans. G. Rockhill. Continuum.
Rancière, J. (2009). The Future of the Image, trans. G. Elliott. Verso.
Rancière, J. (2012). Proletarian Nights: The Workers’ Dream in Nineteenth-
Century France, trans. J. Drury. Verso.
Rancière, J. (2016). ‘One Uprising Can Hide Another’, trans. S. B. Lillis,
in Uprisings, exhibition catalogue, 62–70. Gallimard/Jeu de Paume.
Rancière, J. (2018). ‘Images Re-read. The Method of Georges Didi-
Huberman’, trans. E. Woodard, J. R. Solorzano, S. De Cauwer and
L. K. Smith, Angelaki, 23(4): 11–18.
REND (DÉCHIRURE)
Patrick ffrench
In his response to the criticisms of his writing on the ‘four pieces of film
snatched from hell’ that makes up the first part of Images in Spite of All,
Didi-Huberman writes that in contrast to those who hold to the ‘mimetic
illusion’, his own work has ‘from the beginning [. . .] taken the opposite
direction, that of the tear-image [image-déchirure]’ (ISA, 79). He goes on
to qualify this direction as a ‘dialectical stirring together of the veil with its
rip’ (ISA, 80). The motif of the tear, rip or rend, the activity of rending
(déchirure, déchirement, déchirer), of the ‘tearing experience’ (expérience-
déchirante; ISA, 81) or of ‘torn consciousness’ (conscience déchirée; 1985:
128–9) are thus foregrounded in Didi-Huberman’s work as spatial and
material figurations of the mode of addressing the image that he advocates.
It is not only therefore a question of pointing to and witnessing the crisis
of representation, the rent image as such, but also its rending effect and
affect (2019e: 434). The rend thus extends beyond the object to the modus
operandi of Didi-Huberman’s writing.
Drawing explicit impetus from the work and thought of Georges
Bataille (see Didi-Huberman, 2019e), the motif is particularly salient in
the earlier work; the fourth part of Confronting Images, ‘Image as Rend’,
exhorts its readers to ‘think the fabric of representation with its rend’
(CI, 144) and ‘to think the rend as part of the fabric’ (CI, 8), a figural
rendering of the more abstract proposition to ‘think the thesis with its
representation 189
antithesis’ or to open a space for the negative, ‘that includes the power of
the negative within it’ (CI, 146). To rend is thus an act through which to
open up the Kantian schema of representation (figured as a box of mirrors
and as a magic circle; CI, 139; see Kant, Immanuel), and to fracture
its speculative self-sufficiency. The rend operates between knowing and
seeing, opening knowledge to what there is to see but also to a ‘dark’ effi-
cacy on ‘this side’ of the image, the process of its making and becoming
visible (CI, 142–3). This is to think Kant with Freud; alongside Bataille,
Didi-Huberman credits Freud as the most significant thinker of the image
as rend, highlighting the latter’s conception of the dream-image as a
non-graphic distortion (Entstellung) and its status as ‘work’, thus as trans-
formative process (CI, 144; see Freud, Sigmund). Freud’s dream-work
also informs Didi-Huberman’s proposition of a notion of resemblance dif-
ferent from that proposed by classical mimesis, one that eschews unity and
instead privileges a ‘work of figuration envisaged with its rend – its rend at
work’ (CI, 153). The rending of resemblance and mimetic self-sufficiency
also informs the violence of Didi-Huberman’s approach to the motif of
incarnation in the early work La Peinture incarnée (1985). The rend thus
operates persistently throughout Didi-Huberman’s writing and thought
and stands out as an emblem of the conceptual and material shifts he seeks
to make in the discourse of the theory and history of art.
REPRESENTATION
Chari Larsson
One of the ongoing preoccupations that have underwritten Didi-
Huberman’s project is a concern with representation. In Confronting
Images he writes, ‘we are frequently tempted (and more than ever since
Vasari) to fold all resemblance into the model of the mimetic drawing
of the Renaissance’ (CI, 150). Representation, mimesis and imitation
are frequently used interchangeably, and one of Didi-Huberman’s most
important achievements is to criticise mimesis as art history’s default
mode for understanding representation. He reminds us that the complex-
ity of the term is continuously at risk of being flattened or homogenised.
Didi-Huberman’s critique is part of a broader conversation and must
be understood as a shared commitment to rethinking mimesis by the
Strasbourg circle of scholars including Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe, Jean-
Luc Nancy and Mikkel Borch-Jacobsen. If we were to reach back further,
it is this critique that loosely connects the philosophical projects of
Gilles Deleuze, Jacques Derrida and Michel Foucault. In this context,
190 representation
RICHTER, GERHARD
Works Cited
Abraham, N., and Torok, M. (1986 [1976]). The Wolf Man’s Magic Word.
A Cryptonymy, trans. N. Rand. University of Minnesota Press.
Abraham, N., and Torok, M. (1994 [1987]). The Shell and the Kernel:
Renewals of Psychoanalysis, trans. N. Rand. University of Chicago Press.
screen 193
S
SCREEN
Belén Cerezo
In Plato’s allegory of the cave, shadows are cast on the cave’s wall which
acts as a screen. Hence, the notion of the screen occupies an important
place in philosophical thinking. Still, the word ‘screen’ encompasses
various definitions and understandings that have changed, from its origin
as an object of protection in the sixteenth century to later usages related to
separating, filtering, concealing or protecting, and to the association of the
screen with ‘a surface supporting a changing representation’ (Buckley et
al., 2019: 8, 9). This understanding was a result of the arrival of spectacles
such as the phantasmagoria and later cinema, so that by the 1910s the
term screen was a metonym for the motion-picture medium or industry
(Huhtamo, 2006: 39).
For many years now Didi-Huberman’s writings have provided tools
for reflecting on cinema and interrogating its philosophical and political
implications (Smith, 2021: 1). Didi-Huberman has discussed in depth
the work of several filmmakers including Harun Farocki, Pier Paolo
Pasolini, Jean-Luc Godard, Sergei Eisenstein and Robert Bresson.
Farocki’s use of the split-screen and his installations composed of two
or more screens is one the specific ways through which Didi-Huberman
has paid attention to the understanding of screens as displays of visual
representation. Didi-Huberman connects these installations with the
procedure of montage which is crucial in his thinking, and he affirms
that they ‘allow a very effective and healthy spatial deployment of the
processes of montage that the mono films reveal only in their tempo-
ral succession’ (RI, 85). Farocki has coined the term ‘soft montage’ to
refer to this type of montage (Farocki and Silverman, 1998: 142), of
which Jean-Luc Godard would be the pioneer, and which he explicitly
deploys in his film Numéro Deux (1975) (Didi-Huberman, 2010b: 153–4).
Further, soft montage could be described as an atlas-in-movement that,
194 s k u l l
Works Cited
Buckley, C., Campe, R., and Casetti, F. (eds) (2019). Screen Genealogies.
From Optical Device to Environmental Medium. Amsterdam University
Press.
Farocki, H., and Silverman, K. (1998). Speaking About Godard. New York
University Press.
Huhtamo, E. (2006). ‘Elements of Screenology: Towards an
Archaeology of the Screen’, Navigationen – Zeitschrift für Medien- und
Kulturwissenschaften, 6(2): 31–64.
Smith, A. (2021). Georges Didi-Huberman and Film: The Politics of the
Image. Bloomsbury.
SKULL
Ari Tanhuanpää
Didi-Huberman’s reflections on the skull as a philosophical and artistic
object can be found in his 2000 book Être Crâne, published in English
translation in 2016 as Being a Skull: Contact, Thought, Sculpture. In this
essay, inspired by the artworks of the contemporary Italian artist Giuseppe
Penone, Didi-Huberman delves into the depths of the union between the
soul and the body that René Descartes made the subject of his Meditations
(1641).
skull 195
all contacts, including the one between the skull and the brain – as Didi-
Huberman argues, ‘[w]hen we touch something with our hand, the exact
place where contact is made becomes invisible to us (we have to remove
our hand in order to see what we are touching). Such is the paradox spe-
cific to image-contacts, which produce their visuality itself within the event
of a blind take [prise aveugle]’ (BS, 75).
Didi-Huberman elaborates the brain’s relation to the skull as a kind of
‘tactile blindness’ by referencing Sigmund Freud’s posthumous note
‘[t]he psyche is extended; it knows nothing of it’ (Psyche ist ausgedehnt;
weiss nichts davon) (1964 [1938]: 300). While this note has been subject
to prior philosophical reflections by Jean- Luc Nancy (2008 [1992]),
who sees it as a statement on the psyche’s relation to the body, Didi-
Huberman’s intervention is due to the recognition of a tactile aspect of
the verb ausdehnen: ‘[t]he psyche is in contact, and does not know it’,
he writes (BS, 34). One could compare this strange topography to the
contact between a mould and clay and the process of ‘taking form’ (Didi-
Huberman, 2008a: 34–5; cf. Simondon, 2017 [1958]). This is captured in
Didi-Huberman’s analysis of Penone’s 1981 artwork Essere fiume, which
explores the ‘Being of a river’; the material ontogenesis of its form, and
the blind contacts where rocks and water currents touch each other (BS,
38, 46–7). Essere fiume brings together two temporalities of geological
plasticity and artistic sculpting. Didi-Huberman reflects in this context
on the difficulty of recognising one’s own cranium as a sculpted object;
a ‘mold [. . .] of the mother’s genital strait’ and ‘an imprint hardened by
our own years’ (BS, 54). This requires a perspective akin to ‘turning the
glove inside out’, as Merleau-Ponty (1968 [1964]: 263) and Lacan (2016
[1975–76]) suggested. It is as if Didi-Huberman were trying to show that
there is a sort of reversibility between the skullbone and the spirit. He
adopts here an almost Irigarayan tone, suggesting that at hand is an act of
looking at the body from within, seeing it within the mother´s womb, and
seeing ourselves as our own m atrix – in the ‘nascent state’ (BS, 54). Didi-
Huberman suggests that in order to understand Penone’s sculptures, one
should imagine a skull-site, an ‘aître’ (BS, 38, cf. Maldiney, 1975: VII–
IX) where incongruent or ‘disparate’ elements rub against each other, as
in a double sensation.
Works Cited
Freud, S. (1964 [1938]). ‘Findings, Ideas, Problems’, trans. J. Strachey,
in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund
Freud, Vol. XXIII, ed. J. Strachey. Hogarth Press and the Institute of
Psycho-analysis.
sonderkommando photographs 197
SONDERKOMMANDO PHOTOGRAPHS
Robert Harvey
A set of four photographs are the only ones known to have been taken
by victims of the Nazi extermination while it was in process and to have
survived obliteration. The film was exposed in August 1944 and smuggled
out of Auschwitz in a toothpaste tube. From what they show as a group
and in their original framing, the viewer can see what it is impossible to see:
the gas chambers in operation and glimpses of the immediate environs of
this industry. Bridging the infra-thin divide between an ‘impossible’ image
that the imagination might construct from tangible images is the focus
of Didi-Huberman’s powerful Images in Spite of All.
Images in Spite of All expands on the catalogue essay Didi-Huberman
wrote for Mémoire des camps, an exhibition in 2001 of concentration
camp photographs at the Hôtel de Sully. This set off a polemic insti-
gated by writers at Les Temps modernes whose editor-in-chief was Claude
198 sonderkommando photographs
Works Cited
Lanzmann, C. (dir.) (1985). Shoah.
Rousset, D. (1982). The Other Kingdom, trans. R. Guthrie. Howard Fertig.
SURVIVAL
Maud Hagelstein
The concept of ‘survival’ runs through Didi-Huberman’s entire theoreti-
cal work, from epistemological considerations to the more political devel-
opments of his theory of the image (see images). However, the survivals
that he finds in the history of images are not identical repetitions, nor are
they archetypes, and it would be a serious error of analysis of his work (and
that of historian Aby Warburg from whom he borrowed the concept) to
believe this. Survivals are not manifestations of a maintenance or a stabil-
ity of meaning. It is not the order of the Same that is expressed in them;
it is not a reassuring permanence, but rather a symptom of ‘temporal
200 survival
from not being captured by the gaze. Not only did Warburg not discount
contradictions – t he moments in which, for example, a secularised culture
reconnects with pagan beliefs – but he enjoyed looking for the flaws,
the exceptions, the moments when the dominant explanatory system is
shown to be defective. Culture is always already complicated by all kinds
of exteriorities, by the unknown that insists from far away. Culture does
not resist its inevitable contamination, the times and the influences that
it crosses, and from these incessant crossings there emerge ‘enigmatic
organisms’. The images studied by Warburg can rarely be assigned and
assimilated to a precise (social and historical) identity culture, for which
they would be the authorised representatives. Transformation alone is
permanent. Didi-Huberman is the heir to this idea, and the knowledge
concerning the image that he has built over these forty years seeks to be
on the same level.
Survival in Didi-Huberman’s work has gained a critical and political
aspect of its own. This is seen in the title of a work that not only solicits
this difficult concept, but defends the idea of a space of resistance specific
to art and popular culture – Survival of the Fireflies. Didi-Huberman
knows that political reason is made up of images, in the same way that the
‘imagination is political’, in other words that ‘in our way of imagining lies
a fundamental condition of our way of doing politics’ (SF, 30).
With an unfailing attentiveness, close to that of Walter Benjamin or
Hannah Arendt, Didi-Huberman distanced the concept of survival from
a messianism that would have been inconsistent. Even if it survives in
dark times, survival does not indicate a salvation with which we could be
content, or that might recreate a light without shade on forgotten cultural
motifs.
Only religious tradition promises a salvation beyond all apocalypse and beyond all
destruction of human things. Survivals, though, concern only the immanence of
historical time: they have no redemptive value. And as to their revelatory value,
it is always spotty, in flickers: symptomatic, to be honest. Survivals promise no
resurrection (what meaning could one expect from raising a ghost?) They are
nothing but glimmers, flashes, passing in the shadows, never the advent of a great
‘light of lights’. Because they teach us that d
estruction – e ven ongoing d
estruction
– is never absolute, survivals spare us from believing that a ‘last’ revelation or a
‘final’ salvation is necessary for our freedom. (SF, 42)
Works of art are full of survivals, that is to say they are full of desire, of
the desire to live. They are perforated with elements that insist, that stand
their ground, that leave traces (we find the layers and the passage of migra-
tions). With regard to Ninfa (see nymph), the young servant carrying a
202 symptom
This very young woman occurred in the image unexpectedly, breaking with her
strangeness the economy of representation which surrounded her – the Christian
imagery of the birth of Saint John the B
aptist – a nd this from something like a
very early Antiquity, as though the two temporalities of suddenly and since a very
long time were superimposed in the same event or figurative symptom. (2018a:
160)
SYMPTOM
Magdalena Krasińska
The symptom is a very important concept in Didi-Huberman’s critical
reflection on the perception of art. It appears in numerous works, from
Invention of Hysteria to Confronting Images to The Surviving Image. The
essay ‘Of Images and Ills’ recapitulates the implementation of the concept
of the symptom in Didi-Huberman’s critical method of art history
and imaginal analysis (it was written as a postface to the 2012 edition of
Invention de l’hystérie). In the essay Didi-Huberman reminisces that his
research interests developed in the direction of the painful experience of
an image (see pathos), by which he means a disturbed experience that
cannot be reduced to a result, a synthesis, an incontestable interpretation
or the recognition of a specific symbol within the work (II, 440–1).
In Didi-Huberman’s approach, the notion of the symptom is situated
as a counterpart to symbolic function and constitutes a crucial component
of his critical study of the history of art as knowledge (see art criti-
cism; art history).Adapted from Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis,
the notion of the symptom in Didi-Huberman’s writings in not used in
symptom 203
theory of art lies in the articulation of these two fields’ (CI, 263). Siding
with only one of these approaches – one that looks only at the structure
and the system of meaning, and the other that sees in an image first and
foremost an event and an impenetrable matter – is a choice that leads to
an impoverished understanding of the image and to a diminished aesthetic
experience. As Didi-Huberman writes, ‘it is more simply to strive to take
the measure of a work of figurability’, while recognising that ‘the relation
between the figure and its own “figuration” is never simple: this relation,
this work, is but a skein of paradoxes’ (CI, 262). Although the open and
torn (see rend) structure of the symptom lends to the image a specific
‘power of the negative’ (CI, 142), this negativity is reducible neither to a
simple privation nor to some kind of ineffability. Rather than inciting an
irrational poetics, silent contemplation or a nihilistic attitude, the symptom
sustains a boundary, paradoxical or dialectic status of experience itself,
‘between knowing and seeing’: ‘In no case is it a matter of replacing the
tyranny of a thesis with that of its antithesis. It’s a matter only of proceed-
ing dialectically: of thinking the thesis with its antithesis. . .’ (CI, 143–4).
Because of that, an imaginal analysis that limits itself to phenomenology
risks ‘a definitive self-silencing, through effusiveness before that which is
beautiful [. . .] losing oneself in immanence – in an empathic s ingularity
– of becoming inspired and mute, or indeed stupid’. At the same time,
an analysis limited to the semiological order risks ‘talking too much, and
silencing everything not strictly within its purview’ (CI, 263). For that
reason Didi-Huberman proposes a crossing of those fields:
The two Kantian keys mentioned by Didi-Huberman – t hat is, two modes
of description of the image (and hence also of the visual experience) – are
the semiological key (via Critique of Pure Reason) and the phenomeno-
logical key (via Critique of the Power of Judgment) (see Kant, Immanuel).
Observing that the former is closer to naming (conforming to the principle
of certainty) and the latter is linked to silence (conforming to the economy
of doubt), Didi-Huberman insists on combining both of them within the
philosophical rubric of the aesthetics of the symptom.
In The Surviving Image, the concept of the symptom is embedded in a
model of knowledge emerging from Aby Warburg’s writings. According
taking position (prendre position) 205
T
TAKING POSITION (PRENDRE POSITION)
Andrzej Leśniak
The concept of ‘taking position’ addresses the question of the political
engagement of intellectuals and the efficacy of images as political actors.
It was introduced by Didi-Huberman in Quand les images prennent posi-
tion (2009) in the context of the effects of montage, and the study of
Bertolt Brecht’s war photobook Kriegsfibel, though its earlier traces and
inspirations can be found in Didi-Huberman’s analyses of the gestures
and poses struck by hysterical women in Salpêtriere photographs (IH; see
Charcot, Jean-Martin). Didi-Huberman argues that ‘[m]ontage makes
206 taking position (prendre position)
Works Cited
Larsson, C. (2015). ‘When Images Take a Position: Didi-Huberman’s
Brechtian Intervention / Quand les images prennent position:
l’intervention brechtienne de Didi-Huberman’, Esse arts + opinions, 85:
36–43.
Larsson, C. (2020). Didi-Huberman and the Image. Manchester University
Press.
Leśniak, A. (2017). ‘Images Thinking the Political: On the Recent Works
of Georges Didi-Huberman’, Oxford Art Journal, 40(2): 305–18.
Rancière, J. (2018). ‘Images Re-read. The Method of Georges Didi-
Huberman’, trans. E. Woodard, J. R. Solorzano, S. De Cauwer and
L. K. Smith, Angelaki, 23(4): 11–18.
TEMPORALITY
Patrick ffrench
‘Whenever we are before the image, we are before time’ (BI, 31; Didi-
Huberman, 2000a: 9). The opening sentence of Didi-Huberman’s book
Devant le temps emphasises a consistent attention in his work to the
multiple temporalities of the image, which encompass both the ‘time’ of
the image itself, the historical and trans-historical dynamics it puts into
play, and the time of our engagement with it. Confronted by an image,
Didi-Huberman asserts, our present is continually reshaped, but so also
is the past; the image has a duration and a futurity, moreover, which has
the potential to endure and outlast us (BI, 33). The temporalities of the
image thus exceed the temporal categories through which we structure
our experience as subjects, and those which history and art history have
deployed to make sense and knowledge of the image. The challenge to the
epistemological and phenomenological categories through which we make
sense of time, implicit in this excess and this confrontation (in the strong
sense of the word), is what drives Didi-Huberman’s sustained attention to
the temporality of the image. His work is determined by a continuous and
varied effort to ‘be equal to’ this challenge, to make and remake a history
of art capable of comprehending this excessive hetero-chronology (BI, 33;
2000a: 10; SI, 32–8).
Across all of his work, but especially since Devant le temps, Didi-
Huberman has thus maintained a sustained engagement with a conception
of the temporality of the image as impure, departing from orthodox art
historical approaches, particularly those determined by the iconological
208 temporality
Works Cited
Barthes, R. (1981 [1980]). Camera Lucida. Vintage.
TEXTILE (DRAPÉ)
Marie-Aude Baronian
Textile is not a typical notion nor an evident focal point in the work of
Didi-Huberman. Yet it does crystallise (explicitly or implicitly) several
of his ongoing interests and concerns. In his writings, Didi-Huberman
dissects a plethora of artistic and cultural objects wherein textile elements
are de facto mentioned or conceptually described. Be it Loïe Fuller’s
famous white shirt-dress, the textile materials that constitute the work
of Sarkis, the folds (étoilement) in the paintings of Simon Hantaï, the
thread in Vermeer’s The Lacemaker, Baudelaire’s thoughts involving the
sartorial, or Lautréamont’s sewing m achine – t he list could go on. While
these might at first seem anecdotal or accidental, they are ultimately no
coincidence.
It is through his marked interest in the motif of le drapé – initially
explored by art historian Aby Warburg – that Didi-Huberman unpacks
the notion of textile. In Ninfa moderna: essai sur le drape-tombé (2002a),
Ninfa fluida: essai sur le drapé-désir (2015c), and Ninfa profunda: essai sur le
drapé-tourmente (2017c), Didi-Huberman zooms in on drapery as a leading
motif for reading the multifaceted, nomadic and reappearing figure of the
nymph as it keeps returning in various art movements and expressions
through different epochs. While Ninfa moderna and Ninfa fluida refer
explicitly to Aby Warburg, Ninfa profunda embarks on a reading of Victor
Hugo, presenting him as a ‘peintre-poète’ who manipulates matter and
textures to express questions of torment and turbulence (the books do not
follow each other as much as indicate a certain reapparition, not unlike a
symptom; cf. 2015c: 58).
In Ninfa fluida, for instance, Didi- Huberman pursues Warburg’s
original project in the iconographic (see iconography), poetic, anthro-
pological and psychic analysis of the nymph (Ninfa), while suggesting
a certain material anchoring. In following the detailed contemplation of
textile (drapé) 211
[t]he figure of Ninfa imposes itself as a crucial motif that enables the question to
be problematized – the question that I’d approached in the early 80s about the
relationship between the image and desire, the image and psychic time in general
[. . .] It’s thus a fully fledged theoretical character, carrying, as it were, a profound
lesson in method. (2015c: 126)
TURRELL, JAMES
Nigel Saint
The work of the American light artist James Turrell (b. 1943) features
in museums and art centres around the world, often in the form of per-
turrell, james 213
Works Cited
Derrida, J. (1995). ‘Khōra’, trans. I. McLeod, in On the Name, ed.
T. Dutoit, 89–127. Stanford University Press.
Plato (2008). Timaeus and Critias, trans. R. Waterfield, ed. A. Gregory.
Oxford University Press.
LACMA (Los Angeles County Museum of Art) (2013). James Turrell’s
Roden Crater. Dir. P. Vogt.
Warburg, A. (1938–39). ‘A Lecture on Serpent Ritual’, Journal of the
Warburg Institute, 2: 277–92.
U
UPRISING
Stijn De Cauwer
In 2016 Didi-Huberman curated the exhibition Soulèvements (Uprisings)
for the Jeu de Paume in Paris, marking the beginning of a research interest
in the visual forms of uprisings in his work (2016b; U). In this exhibition,
which was later displayed in slightly modified forms in Buenos Aires, Saõ
Paulo, Montreal, Mexico City and Barcelona, Didi-Huberman aimed to
explore the various visual forms of the desire to rise up against oppres-
sion, from photographs of Black Panther activists raising their fists and
teenagers in Northern Ireland throwing stones to written pamphlets and
visual artworks such as the ciné-tracts made during the protests in Paris in
1968. What interests Didi-Huberman are the gestural manifestations of
rising up against oppression, for example the famous shots of an elderly
woman in Eisenstein’s Battleship Potemkin mourning the murdered sailor,
whose dejected hand gradually clenches into a raised fist, ready to rise up
against the oppressors.
Didi-Huberman’s exploration of the visual forms of uprisings was
elaborated theoretically in the catalogue of the exhibition and the
essays included in Désirer désobeir. Didi-Huberman regards this project
as an extension of Aby Warburg’s Mnemosyne Atlas (2016a: 302–7).
uprising 215
289–90). Mourning can shake up our world, but we can also set m ourning
in motion, making it ‘rise up’ by funnelling it into certain activities or
gestures. In Pour commencer encore, Didi-Huberman recounts a moving
personal story about turning mourning into play. After his mother had
died, the young Didi-Huberman was walking in the hospital corridor and,
being a fan of John Coltrane, Coltrane’s tune Olé was stuck in his head.
Olé is based on an Andalusian melody, and the affirmative tone of the title
indicated two things to him: it affirmed that the pain was there, but it also
affirmed that, in spite of all, his life would go on, gradually transforming
his mourning into the interests he would pursue in the remainder of his
life (2019a: 62).
Works Cited
Freud, S. (1953). The Interpretation of Dreams, trans. J. Strachey, in The
Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud,
Vol. IV (1900), ed. J. Strachey, ix–627. Hogarth Press and the Institute
of Psycho-analysis.
Marcuse, H. (1955). Eros and Civilization: A Philosophical Inquiry into
Freud. Beacon Press.
Warburg, A. (2020). Bilderatlas Mnemosyne, The Original, ed. Haus der
Kulturen der Welt and the Warburg Institute, R. Ohrt, A. Heil. Hatje
Cantz.
V
VISUAL, THE (VISUEL)
Ari Tanhuanpää
Didi-Huberman makes an important distinction between the ‘visible’
and what he calls the ‘visual’ (visuel): ‘[w]ith the visible, we are [. . .] in
the realm of what manifests itself. The visual [visuel], by contrast, would
designate that irregular net of event-symptoms that reaches the visible
as so many gleams and radiances’ (CI, 31; 1990a: 41). He delves into this
dimension in his essay Dans la lueur du seuil, ‘in the glow of the threshold’
(1998a: 204–16), which is inspired by Yves Bonnefoy’s (1923–2016) essay
‘Les Tombeaux de Ravenne’, published in L´Improbable (1959: 13–30).
The starting point of Didi-Huberman’s essay is the alabaster windows
visual, the (visuel) 217
When through the water’s thickness I see the tiled bottom of the pool, I do not
see it despite the water and the reflections; I see it through them and because of
them. If there were no distortions, no ripples of sunlight, if it were without this
flesh that I saw the geometry of the tiles, then I would cease to see it as it is and
where it is – which is to say, beyond any identical, specific place. (Merleau-Ponty,
1964: 182)
One could compare these distortions with the Vitruvian motif of orna-
mental mouldings (strigilis or stria) on ancient Roman sarcophagi, which
create a threshold in motion and hold the viewer suspended between lure
(leurre) and glow (lueur). This imposes on the viewer the power of orna-
ment as a visual ontology of the threshold (1998a: 215–16). It must be
emphasised how central the figure of the threshold is to Didi-Huberman
(see, for example, 2019b: 59–60; 1992b: 183–200; cf. Nancy, 1993).
Our skin is naturally a threshold closest to us (Dagognet, 1998 [1993]).
Jean-Luc Nancy refers to the connection between the words carnation (a
‘local color’ but also a ‘skin color’) and incarnation. Nancy characterises
carnation as ‘vibration’ and ‘unique intensity’, it is something chang-
ing, ‘mobile’ and ‘multiple’, it is not a two-dimensional surface, but an
ontological ‘skin-event’ (2008: 15). Didi-Huberman postulates that the
‘concept of skin never stops oscillating between the integument (that
which covers) and the dermis (that which discovers)’ (1985a: 32). In this
context Didi-Huberman (1985a: 27) refers to Hegel, for whom
the most difficult thing in the matter of colour, the ideal or, as it were [das Ideale
gleichsam], the summit [der Gipfel] of colouring, is ‘carnation’, the colour tone of
human flesh which unites all other colours marvellously in itself without giving
independent emphasis to either one or another. The youthful and healthy red of
the cheeks is pure carmine without any dash of blue, violet, or yellow; but this red
is itself only a gloss, or rather a shimmer, which seems to press outwards from
within and then shades off unnoticeably into the rest of the flesh-colour, although
this latter is an ideal inter-association of all the fundamental colours. (Hegel,
1975: 846; 1838: 71)
Works Cited
Alloa, E. (2008). La Résistance du sensible. Merleau-Ponty. Critique de la
transparence. Éditions Kimé.
Alloa, E. (2017). Resistance of the Sensible World. An Introduction to
Merleau-Ponty, trans. J. M. Todd. Fordham University Press.
Benjamin, W. (1968). ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical
Reproduction’, trans. H. Zohn, in Illuminations. Essays and Reflections,
ed. H. Arendt, 217–51. Schocken Books.
220 warburg, aby
W
WARBURG, ABY
Maud Hagelstein
In the wake of the epistemological revolution that he launched with
his very first theoretical works (in Confronting Images especially), Didi-
Huberman has adopted a more overtly political gaze regarding images
(or rather, a more visibly political gaze). In this process, the theory of
culture defended by German Jewish historian Aby Warburg (1866–1929)
has certainly played an indispensable role, and for this reason constitutes
a key passage in Didi-Huberman’s work, creating a link between the first
warburg, aby 221
or pain. Warburg notes that these formulae are omnipresent, and that
most of them are borrowed from antiquity, from the Greek sarcophagi
for example. They are formulae that move (in every sense). For once they
have been taken up again in the paintings of the Renaissance, they find
another grounding, an alternative actualisation, and their meaning can
even be inversed (Warburg spoke of ‘energetic inversion’); in other words
they are ambivalent plastic formulae which are charged according to the
contexts in which they are reinvested.
Hoping to show these displacements, these circulations (to indicate
how images are charged), Warburg invented an atlas, an apparatus that
marked all theoreticians of the image who came after it, and beyond them
the artists, the avant-gardists, the historians; an atlas that is presented as a
gigantic visual juxtaposition of motifs of art history. With the Mnemosyne
Atlas, the art historian sought to capture the infinite variation of motifs
and deviations – ‘disfigurations’ – engaged in this phenomenon called the
‘survival’ (Nachleben) of forms. Through his use of documents, Warburg
restored the ‘life’ of images to a certain extent by activating their latent
effects. With regard to Warburg’s propositions, the interpretation (the
work of inquiry) basically seems to have no end, nor to have any final goal
other than to describe a movement.
Didi-Huberman brought his predecessor’s project to maximum inten-
sity. We might begin by understanding that the ‘legibility’ of works
remained the objective for Warburg. But by rethinking the strictly inter-
pretative function of the relation to works, by challenging the complicity
of the art historian with the order of reason, Didi-Huberman shed light
on the truly avant-garde character of Warburg’s project, insisting on the
implementation of a singular heuristics. Images are not to be read in the
sense of a reasoned deciphering, but are to be read alternatively, through
an alternative practice of manipulation of documents: images are to be
grasped, to be arranged, integrated into new, opening, poetic (in the
etymological sense) montages. During the First World War, deeply
affected by the horror in which he saw Europe foundering, Warburg
had seemingly ‘abandoned’ his research in art history in order to devote
himself to the study of conflicts. Haunted by the rise of devastating forces,
he reacted by compiling a mass of iconographic documents related to the
war (maps, newspaper cuttings, etc.). He explored in his own way a more
practical and urgent relation with images, struggling to understand their
logic and their effects. If Didi-Huberman teaches us to reread Warburg’s
propositions, if he follows his impulsions (even as an exhibition curator),
it is certainly with the idea of starting to build a new epistemological
framework, one in which montage would become both a concrete appa-
ratus for understanding the potential of images and a new interpretative
witnessing 223
WITNESSING
Robert Harvey
Didi-Huberman is altogether straightforward about how the conjunction
of images mobilises the imagination: ‘montage creates a third image
out of the assemblage of two’ (ISA, 138). Coming as she does between a
victim and a perpetrator, the third party that a witness is does exactly the
same thing: she bears testimony regarding a crime. This special position
and this special function meet in the Latin pun concerning witnessing: the
testis is a terstis. Like the work of the imagination, the work of witnessing
has the power to raise to 3 the sum of 1 + 1.
Witnessing is thus conceptually more complex than the single term
would seem to indicate. An event occurs in front of someone who sees
(hears, smells, etc.) what occurs in such a way that it makes an impression
on that person’s mind. This individual thereby becomes a witness. At
some later moment, this individual may be called upon to relay what she
saw (heard, smelled, etc.) in some context such as a court of law or a docu-
mentary film. This we call bearing witness. (Primo Levi and others have
noted that a sense of the burden of such transmission is the guilt felt by the
witness-bearing witness that she survived the event relatively unscathed.)
Not only are witnessing and bearing witness the two discrete yet inter-
related operations just outlined, occurring in two discrete yet interrelated
temporalities, the agents of these acts that witnesses are may be animate
or inanimate: a piece of evidence, an ‘exhibit’, that is, in a criminal trial
may be as eloquent as a speaking witness. The event is actualised when
(and if) the witness reproduces what she saw for the interpretative ear or
eye of the recipient of the testimony (the court, the spectator, the reader,
224 witnessing
Works Cited
Duchamp, M. (1957). ‘Marcel Duchamp, vite’, interviewed by J. Schuster,
Le Surréalisme, même, 2: 143–5.
Harvey, R. (2010). Witnessness: Beckett, Dante, Levi and the Foundations of
Responsibility. Continuum.
Levi, P. (1989). The Drowned and the Saved, trans. R. Rosenthal. Vintage.
L i st of W orks b y G e orge s D i di - H ub e r man
PRIOR TO 1982
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1990a. Devant l’image. Questions posées aux fins d’une histoire de l’art.
Minuit.
1990b. Fra Angelico. Dissemblance et figuration. Flammarion.
1990c. ‘L’incarnation figurale de la sentence: note sur la peau
autographique’, Bulletin de psychologie, 43(395): 359–67.
1990d. ‘Eloge du diaphane’, Sfr, Du point de vue de l’œuvre d’art, 1
(October): 12–25.
1990e. ‘L’Histoire de l’art face au symptôme. Interview with J. Criqui’,
artpress, 149 (July–August): 52–5.
1990f. ‘Celui qui inventa le verbe “photographier”’, Antigone: revue lit-
téraire de photographie, 14: 23–32.
1990g. ‘Le Disegno de Vasari, ou le bloc-notes magique de l’histoire de
l’art’, La Part de l’œil, 6: 30–51.
1990h. ‘Le Visage entre les draps’, Nouvelle revue de psychanalyse, 41
(May): 21–54
1990i. ‘Un rêve: le verbe voit’, Nouvelle revue de psychanalyse, 41 (May):
305–7.
1990j. ‘L’Art des rapprochements. Interview with H. Debailleux’,
Libération, 5 (May): 36–7.
1990k. ‘L’Homme qui marchait dans la couleur’, Artstudio, 16 (spring):
6–17 (with Y. Klein).
1990l. ‘Ressemblant et dissemblable: l’image, le vestige, le portrait’,
in Annuaire de l’EHESS, comptes rendus des cours et conférences,
1988–1989, 387–8. EHESS.
1990m. ‘Puissances de la figure: exégèse et visualité dans l’art chrétien’,
in Encyclopædia Universalis-Symposium, 596–609. Encyclopædia
Universalis.
1990k. ‘Le lieu virtuel: l’annonciation au delà de son espace’, in
D. Arasse, M. Brock and G. Didi-Huberman (eds), Symboles
de la Renaissance, III, 65–93. Presses de l’École Normale
Supérieure.
1990l. ‘Régions de dissemblance’, in Régions de dissemblance: Musée
uberman
list of works by georges didi-h 231
1991
1991a ‘Ce que nous voyons, ce qui nous regarde’, Les Cahiers du MNAM,
37 (autumn): 32–59.
1991b. ‘La Plus Simple Image’, Nouvelle revue de psychanalyse, 44
(autumn): 75–100.
1991c. ‘Le Visage et la terre’, Artstudio, 21 (Summer): 6–21.
1991d. ‘Devant l’image: entretien’, Lieux extrêmes, 2: 37–41.
1991e. ‘L’Observation de Célina (1876–1880): esthétique et expérimen-
tation chez Charcot’, Revue internationale de psychopathologie, 4:
267–80.
1991f. ‘Disparates sur la voracité’, Poandsie, 58: 765–79.
1991g. ‘Question posée aux fins de l’histoire de l’art’, in D. Payot (ed.),
Mort de Dieu, fin de l’art, 215–43. Le Cerf.
1991h. ‘L’image ouverte, le sacrifice et l’incorporation (problèmes
d’anthropologie du visuel)’, in Annuaire de l’EHESS, comptes
rendus des cours et conférences, 1989–1990, 498–9. EHESS.
1991i. ‘Sur les treize faces du cube’, in Alberto Giacometti: sculptures,
peintures, dessins, exhibition catalogue, 43–6. Musée d’art moderne
de la ville.
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2007b. ‘L’Emotion ne dit pas “je”. Dix fragments sur la liberté esthé-
tique’, in N. Schweizer and L. Bovier (eds), Alfredo Jaar: la
politique des images, exhibition catalogue, 57–69. JRP Ringier.
2007c. ‘Esquisse d’atlas’, in Pascal Convert: lamento [1998–2005], exhi-
bition catalogue, 199–261. Musée d’Art moderne Grand-Duc
Jean.
2007d. ‘Construire la durée’, in Pascal Convert: lamento [1998–2005],
exhibition catalogue, 25–51. Musée d’Art moderne Grand-Duc
Jean.
2007e. ‘Bertolt Brecht ABC de la guerre, 1955’, Artpress 2(5): 14–
19.
2007f. ‘Dessin, désir, métamorphose (esquissés sur les ailes d’un papil-
lon)’, in Le Plaisir au dessin: carte blanche à Jean-Luc Nancy,
exhibition catalogue, 214–26. Hazan.
2007g. ‘Das Archiv brennt’, trans. Emmanuel Alloa, in G. Didi-
Huberman and K. Ebling, Das Archiv brennt, 7–32. Kadmos.
2007h. ‘Le Lait de la mort’, in Sarkis: ‘au commencement, le toucher’,
exhibition catalogue, 99–120. Frac Alsace/Archibooks.
2008
2009
2009c. ‘La Terre se meurt sous les pas du danseur’, La Part de l’oeil, 24:
125–41.
2009d. ‘Gestes survivants, corps politiques’, Centquatrevue, 1 (May):
11–14.
2009e. ‘Image, événement, durée’, in D. Donadieu- Rigaut (ed.),
Traditions et temporalités des images, 237–48. Éditions de l’École
des hautes études en sciences sociales.
2009f. ‘L’Envisagement du monde’, in Philippe Bazin: la radicalisation
du monde, exhibition catalogue, 254–71. L’Atelier d’édition.
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021